The Express Bride

by Kimberley Woodhouse

  I have worked by my father’s side since the beginning of the Express Route and I consider it an honor to serve in his stead. I will keep to the highest standards of the Pony Express and vow my allegiance just like my father before me.

  Your humble servant,

  Jack Rivers

  The twinge of guilt she felt as she signed her name lasted only a second. It would have to do. It was the truth. Marshall Rivers was her father, and he was dead. All the riders liked to call her Jack—like her father had—even though she insisted she preferred Jackie. Tears pricked the corners of her eyes. She hadn’t really preferred it. It had just been her way of arguing the point. In her small world surrounded by mostly men, she liked to make sure everyone knew that she liked being a girl.

  Jack. Jackie. Jacqueline.

  She’d never get to hear him call her name again. Perhaps from now on, she’d take on the beloved nickname with pride. At least it would always bring a smile.

  Using the blotter to keep the ink from smearing as it dried, she feltthe rumble under her chair. The rider would be here any moment, and it was her job to greet him.

  With a flick of her fingers, she had the letter folded and stuffed into an envelope she’d previously addressed and stamped with the Pony Express stamp. She tucked it into her apron pocket. Moving toward the door, she retied the ribbon around her thick braid and threw it over her shoulder.

  Everyone scurried about with their jobs as she exited her home, which was also the office for the station. The station served as a home station for the Pony Express as well as a way station for the stagecoach line.

  As she surveyed the goings-on, she saw a fresh horse ready and waiting, along with a new rider. Like clockwork, everyone was prepared.

  As young Timothy practically flew in on his mount, he pulled the California mustang to a halt and hopped off.

  She checked her watch and noted the time in her thoughts.

  Timothy had the leather mochila—which was the heart of the Express—wrested off the saddle in seconds and passed it to John with a nod. “I’m glad that run is over.” The skinny young man seemed to be covered in an inch-thick layer of dust. “Eighty miles today. I’m starvin’.” He headed to the cleaning station they kept for the riders to wash the dirt and grit from their faces.

  The small group of people laughed along as everyone did their duties. Checking the new mount, the saddle. Taking the exhausted horse for a good brush-down, food, and water.

  Theirs was a full home station. It meant they provided food, housing, and help to the riders. Several of the riders called this home as they made their runs to either the east or west and returned. They kept numerous horses for the riders since they needed to be changed out every ten to twenty miles. The success of the company rested on the speed of the journey. Day and night.

  Two scheduled runs came through every day, but being part of the Pony Express meant being ready for emergency runs—the specials—at any given time. And they happened a good deal. Especially if any news of import came through for government officials. With the threat of states seceding, the arguments over slavery, and a presidential election comingup, everyone felt the tremors of the possibility of war on the horizon.

  Jackie opened the way pocket on the mochila with a key from around her neck as John positioned the leather pouch over the small Express saddle on the new horse. They were all used to attending their duties together and in tandem—even as everything moved from one mount to another. She pulled out the oiled silk bundle and checked for any correspondence for them. Then she tucked her letter inside. She took the time card and documented the arrival time and checked her watch for the departure time and wrote it down as well. Wrapping everything back up in the oiled cloth to ensure no water could damage the important missives that people paid a pretty penny to send, she then finished the job by placing it back into the pocket and locking it up.

  John mounted and waved his hat at everyone as he took off at a breakneck pace. “See ya back here tomorra!” Off he went. A cloud of dust in his wake.

  With a hand above her eyes to shield her from the sinking sun, Jackie watched the rider until she couldn’t see him any longer. Something her father had always done, and she’d kept up the tradition. It only seemed fitting. The sadness that engulfed her at the thought of her father made it difficult to see. But she blinked away the tears and focused on the horse’s elegant stride.

  Every time she watched a rider head out, she prayed until he was out of sight. The number of riders and horses it took to cross the two-thousand-mile trail was extravagant. But to get the news in a week rather than a month or more was huge. It never ceased to amaze her, so every day she found herself praying for these young men who sacrificed so much.

  “Hey, Jack”—Timothy’s call made her turn around—“you got anything good to eat?” The grin that spread across his freshly scrubbed face made her giggle. The boy was always hungry.

  “You know better than to ask that, Timothy Peterson.” She brushed at the new layer of dust on her skirt from the exchange of riders. “Get on inside. I’ve got biscuits and gravy ready and waiting for dinner.”

  “You’re the best.” He ran over, lifted her hand, and kissed it. Another habit from her father. He’d taught all the young men to treat her like a lady even though they were in the middle of nowhere and, yes, eventhough they called her Jack.

  The memory made tears prick her eyes again. Her only hope was that eventually the pain of his passing wouldn’t hurt so much.

  “Marshall loved your biscuits and gravy. Almost as much as I do.” Timothy offered his arm.

  Jackie took it and smiled. “Well, I made three pans of biscuits this time. Try to save some for the rest of us, all right?”

  As she walked back into the station, the scent of freshly churned-up dirt was familiar and comfortable. She prayed that the owners of the COC&PP would leave the station in her hands. There was no need for them to know she was a woman. At least not right now. They had too many other troubles on their shoulders without worrying about one station keeper. Especially way out here. As long as she kept the Express going, fed and housed the riders, took care of the horses, and kept the Indians at bay, she should be safe continuing as she pleased. No one had ever been sent out to check up on them, so she wasn’t too worried about that. But her conscience still niggled at not disclosing her gender.

  They couldn’t very well shut her down. Who would run the station? Besides, the stage came through from Virginia City as well, and her outpost was needed. Her rooms were needed. As well as the meals.

  But even while she washed up and greeted everyone with a smile as they came in for dinner, she realized that all the reasoning and lists in the world couldn’t deny the truth.

  She was an unmarried young woman. With no parents. No family. Not a soul to claim her.

  As soon as the owners found out that she hadn’t told the truth, she could very well be out of a job and kicked out of the only home she’d ever known.

  October 10, 1860

  The stage rocked back and forth. Another stage. Another town. With every bump and rut in the trail sending a jolt through every bone in hisbody. If Elijah hadn’t felt old before, this journey certainly did the trick. He felt like he’d aged two decades with all the uncomfortable forms of travel he’d had to employ.

  He took out his handkerchief and wiped his face. It had been impossible to keep the dirt and grime from seeping into every crack and crevice as soon as he’d left civilization and the train line. Which had been ages and hundreds of miles ago. If they could ever get a train line built that traversed the entire country, that would be a glorious thing. But it would also be a daunting and very costly task. The government had been surveying for a good while, and how or when they would even begin connecting the East and the West was up in the air.

  As he looked out the window and watched the barren land pass in scrub brush and rolling hills, he prayed that he would be able to accomplish his job. There weren’t any
telegraph lines connecting him to Kansas City, and so he’d had to rely on the Express—with their ponies and skinny riders—to get his messages back to Mr. Vines. Grateful that such an extravagant service existed, it still didn’t help him feel any better about having nothing positive to report.

  At first he’d sent messages every few days. Especially when he found someone who remembered a woman with a baby traveling alone. But the descriptions of the woman varied—it was a long time ago—and he always hit a dead end. Back in 1834, all of this would have still been Mexico. The thought had crossed his mind on several occasions that it seemed almost crazy for a woman to journey this far on her own with a baby. But then again, if she was trying to hide, what better way than to leave the country? Even though the United States owned all of this land now, it was still quite desolate.

  With a sigh, he sat back on the seat. It would be another couple of hours before he’d make it to the next stop. He left the flap over the window open and allowed the crisp, clean air to fill his lungs. That much could be said for leaving the city—the fresh air had done his health good. If only Mr. Vines had been strong enough, the change in scenery might have done the same for him.

  Elijah wanted to please the man who’d given him so much, but thisquest had also brought up a flood of his own memories and feelings. Feelings he wasn’t quite sure what to do with. For years it had been easy to put it all behind him. Those names, Laura and Martha. He shivered, wondering if they would forever haunt him. He thought he’d had a handle on it. Until Mr. Vines brought it up.

  He shook his head and tried to focus. Why now, Lord? I don’t understand. This isn’t about me. It’s about Charles Vines. Please help me to ease his mind in this difficult time.

  The prayer for his boss brought their last conversation back to the forefront of his mind. His thoughts tumbled over all that had transpired.

  As he closed his eyes to the rocking of the stage, their exchange of words rushed back to his memory.

  “But then I did some terrible things.”

  Elijah’s heart thundered in his chest. The look on Mr. Vines’s face said it all. Something truly awful had happened. Elijah swallowed and waited.

  “You see … I had a problem with liquor.” The older man stood, an angry frown etched into his features. “No. It was more than a problem. Let’s face it. The devil himself had a hold on me through the bottle. I was rich and successful with a beautiful wife, yet I had this hole inside me that seemed unquenchable. I tried filling it with anything and everything. Eventually, drinking was the only way to numb the pain I felt from being hollowed out. And I turned into someone I didn’t recognize. A monster. I did … unspeakable things to the only woman I’ve ever loved.”

  For years Elijah had wondered about his boss’s lack of interest in romantic relationships. Even though women practically threw themselves at his feet. For the longest time, he just thought it was because he was focused on his businesses, and then there was the fact that he was a devout Christian man and wanted to honor the Lord. But Elijah had also noticed that Vines often acted like a recluse. It all made a bit more sense now. But how could the man in front of him have done horrible things? The facts didn’t equate in his mind.

  “I hurt her.” His voice cracked.

  “You don’t have to tell me anything more if you don’t wish to, sir.” As much as he was curious to know the whole story, he wondered if rehashing the past would make his boss sicker. What if it killed him? Elijah cared for the older mantoo much to see him in this amount of pain.

  “No. It’s important that you know the truth. I said horrendous things to her when I was drunk, and it escalated over time. I began to take out my vile temper on her.” The man choked on the last word and tears slipped out of his eyes. “I threw things at her. Hit her. One time I even shoved her down the stairs. It was a miracle she lived.” Great sobs took over, and Charles Vines shook like a leaf.

  Elijah went to his employer’s side and laid a hand on the man’s shoulder. Consoling wasn’t an option, but he could listen. “What happened?”

  “One night when I was exceedingly brutal, she must have decided that enough was enough. I don’t remember much, but I do recall running outside and throwing a bottle at a carriage as she left. I never saw her—or our daughter—again.” Charles swiped at his face with his hands and took a long, shaky breath.

  “You had a daughter?” Nothing could have shocked Elijah more. Not only had his employer kept the secret that he’d had a wife, but to find out that there was a child as well? The magnitude of it swirled in his brain.

  “Yes. Sadly, I know nothing about her. I was too imbibed for the short span of her life that she was here. I felt empty inside. Useless. So increasingly, I turned to the bottle. You don’t know how many times I’ve wished I could go back….”

  Things began to fall into place in Elijah’s mind. “What happened to your wife and daughter?”

  Mr. Vines held up the beautiful piece of jewelry and stared at it. “After they left, Anna sold this brooch—I’m assuming to pay for whatever she needed to survive. I found it several months later, bought it back, and paid for any information on her I could find. I followed the trail of her purchases and discovered she’d headed west. But after that, no matter how many men I sent to find her, they all came up empty-handed. She’d changed her appearance as far as I could tell by selling her custom clothes and paid people to keep quiet—at least that’s what the investigators discovered. Then the trail went completely cold. West of the Rocky Mountains, she vanished without a trace.

  “Then one day—years later—I received a cryptic letter in the mail. All it said was that he—the sender—thought I should know that my wife had passed on and she’d been happy the last few years of her life. No return address. No name. No word on our daughter. It broke me. I would never have the chanceto show Anna that I’d changed. No way to apologize. No opportunity to make amends. Then I began to question the validity of the letter. Maybe she wasn’t dead. I had hope that she was still alive. Perhaps because of my horrific behavior, she’d faked her death so she could be free of me. But it was odd to me that the letter said that my wife died and never mentioned our daughter. The investigators all agreed. They believed the letter. After all this time, I’d love to know that my Anna is alive. But I have more hope that perhaps our daughter is.”

  Elijah opened his eyes, and his boss’s voice faded from his mind. What horrible tragedy had brought the man to his knees. And having to face what he’d done and that he’d never see his wife again. But even through it all, good had come out of it for Charles Vines. Because he’d changed. Even though he’d committed unspeakable horrors, the man had found God. And through Him—repentance, faith, hope.

  Then God had brought Elijah to Charles Vines’s door. The encounter had changed Elijah’s life as well. The least he could do was fulfill this wish for his employer—now partner.

  Pulling out his notes and a pencil, Elijah studied the details of all Charles had shared.

  Charles had confessed that during the first fifteen years after their disappearance, he’d secretly investigated—hoping there was a slim chance his child had survived and lived happily somewhere. He’d spent large amounts of money on what proved to be futile endeavors. This search drove him to succeed in business. The more he expanded his empire, the more money he had to finance his search.

  But it had been to no avail. So Charles halted all the investigations and poured himself into growing his already enormous and wealthy empire with full gusto. All the while hoping for the day that there would be news.

  Then his health declined.

  Watching his boss and beloved mentor wrestle with the thought of his own mortality had been difficult for Elijah. But he’d supported and encouraged him as much as he could. Meanwhile, Mr. Vines made the decision to put everything he had into finding his child. And the man had quite a fortune. He was one of the richest men in America.

  The shock had been great. Elijah hadn’t believ
ed the stories at first. It all seemed surreal. But as he’d now spent months on the trail, traveling from one stage stop to the next, he found all the conversations he’d had with Mr. Vines replaying in his mind. It made him think about how he would feel if he were in the same situation.

  To think that he’d worked for the man for a decade and hadn’t understood the motivation behind his actions. The man he thought of as a mentor—even a father figure—had carried his horrible secret for so long that Elijah believed the weight of it had caused the man’s health to fail.

  Vines’s daughter would be all grown up now. Possibly married with children. Elijah made a note in the margin. She would be twenty-six years old. What if too much time had passed?

  But her father wanted to apologize and tell her the truth himself—no matter her age. And he wanted to be able to pass on his wealth to someone who deserved it, because he stated in no uncertain terms that he believed he didn’t.

  Elijah laid the pencil down in the crease of his book. The shocking news from his employer had made him examine his own life. For years he’d thought that working with Charles Vines was such an excellent career choice. He’d made more money than he could use because his boss was so good at investing and encouraged him to invest and buy as well. But while all the other young men were settling down with wives and having children and getting their businesses started, he’d been too busy working. At least that’s what he kept telling himself. The hurt and pain from the past had quite a bit of influence as well. Two women had made him decide that marriage was not for him. Ever. He’d rather be alone than be hurt again. That, his employer knew, was hard enough to deal with. But given how much time had elapsed, he felt like life was passing him by. How had he gotten to this point?

  The past few months he’d traveled thousands of miles searching and investigating. All the while remembering the misery in Vines’s eyes. Even after all Elijah had been through, his boss’s testimony pricked his soul. Realizing he did want a family for himself, Elijah cringed at the thought of ending up like his parents. But the clock was ticking. At twenty-eight, he had nothing to show for himself except wealth. That thought in light of eternity didn’t make him feel like he’d accomplished much of anything. He wouldn’t be taking any of the wealth with him when he died. So why wasn’t he investing in a relationship?