The Express Bride

by Kimberley Woodhouse

  The man gave a slow nod and looked off into the distance. “I came here because your father was a trusted friend of the secretary, Mr. Howell Cobb. They hadn’t seen each other in decades, but I had the privilege of meeting Marshall a few years ago. We’ve corresponded frequently on behalf of my boss. I’m sorry for your loss.”

  She nodded. “You knew my dad?”

  “Yes. He was a good man.”

  Biting her lip, she took a long, deep breath. Oh, how she missed him.

  “I apologize for adding to your grief, but time is of the essence. Because the situation is delicate, I had been enlisting your father’s help. Because of his unfortunate death, we have nowhere else to turn but to ask you to take up the mantle. In his last letter, he told me that you could be trusted if anything happened to him.”

  What on earth was the man talking about? It sounded grave indeed. But hearing of Dad’s confidence in her bolstered her spirits. “I will do whatever I can to assist you.”

  “I’m glad to hear that. I know your father would be proud.” He sighed and placed his hands behind his back. “We face two different situations. Both are illegal matters, and we’re unsure if they are linked. Regardless, the culprits must be caught, but the only way to do that is to have someone on the inside keeping an eye on things.”

  Keeping an eye on things? That sounded an awful lot like spying. Maybe not being a full-fledged spy but still doing the work of a spy. Wasn’t it? She’d only read of such things in periodical serials. As scary as it sounded, it also seemed a little exciting and quite intriguing. “What kinds of things?”

  “I’ll get to the specifics in a moment, but it has to do with the Express and the mail it carries.”

  “Will this put any of my riders in danger?”

  “No. I don’t believe so. But it is admirable of you to be concerned for them over your own safety.”

  “Does that mean that you believe I may be in danger if I take on this position?”

  “It’s highly unlikely because you’re a woman. No one will expect it. But I can’t say that we weren’t ready to insist your father take precautionary measures.”

  “Such as?”

  He held up a hand. “How about I fill you in on the details, and then you and I can discuss such measures if you think they will be necessary.”

  “All right.” Crossing her arms over her middle, she listened.

  “We have reason to believe that bonds from the Indian Trust have been used illegally to help finance the COC&PP and cover its debts. That’s the first situation.”

  She sucked in her breath. Could that really be happening?

  “The second is that we now believe we have treasury note forgers on our hands. This could be devastating for our country and its economy. All our information to this point leads to a small area. Within about eight stations. That’s where you come in. This investigation has been going on for many months. The culprits are probably feeling confident that they’ve gotten away with it. We need to know if there’s any evidence of these crimes, if we can find the source, and if they are connected in any way.”

  “Am I to assume that one of the stations in the small area is my own?”

  Mr. Crowell nodded. “Yes, but your father had been investigated before I asked him to come on. He checked out, and so do you. That’s why I’ve come to you to ask for your assistance.”

  It pleased her to no end to know that her father had been a trusted friend to this man and that the government had come to ask for his assistance in a matter of such importance. Even as tears of pride for her dad stung her eyes, she straightened her shoulders and said without hesitation, “I am honored to help.” But her heart was heavy to think that anyone with the COC&PP could be corrupt.

  “Thank you, Miss Rivers.” He pulled an envelope out of his coatpocket. “This is what we’ve gathered so far. Included are both a genuine treasury note and a forged one. It’s tough to see the difference, but study them. If you come across any, feel free to examine them further. They may come through the Express, and as the station manager, you have access to the mail.”

  “You’re not asking me to open all the mail, are you?” The thought horrified her and went against everything she stood for.

  “No.” He tilted his head and gave a little shrug. “I’m not asking you to open it necessarily. But there may be an opportunity to take a peek through the corner of an envelope. Some of the missives are sent without envelopes as it is to make them lighter and thus cheaper to send. I’m simply asking you to look at what you can. Carefully. Be aware of every piece that comes through here. Especially if anyone attempts to use a treasury note as payment.”

  “Has that been happening?”

  “Quite a bit. And right under our noses. But your father never saw any of them here. Only in Virginia City.” He pointed to the envelope he’d given her. “There are no names or locations listed so that you are protected should anyone find these treasury notes and information. After dinner this evening I will give you a code to use in case you need to send any missives to me.”

  “Code? What exactly is the code used for?” She took the packet and slipped it into her dress pocket. “And where will you be?”

  “The code is just for backup. We have other people in place. But in case you need us or we need you, you’ll have the necessary means. As for me, I’ll need to travel to continue my investigation. But this is going to be my home base, so to speak.”

  It all sounded mysterious and a little dangerous. “I need to make sure we are clear on one important area.”

  “What is that?”

  “I must take care of my station and my riders.”

  “That won’t be a problem.”

  “They come first.”

  “Of course.”

  She stuck out her hand, and he took it with a firm shake. “I’ll do whatever I can.”

  “I know you will. Thank you.”

  She nodded and felt a slight rumble beneath her feet. “If you’ll excuse me, the Express is coming, and he’s early.” Leaving Mr. Crowell on the other side of the street, she ran back over to the station house. The others were already out the door and attending to their duties.

  Mr. Johnson walked out and nodded at her. “Is it all right if I watch?”

  “Of course. Just make sure you stay out of the way.” She emphasized her words by gently pushing him back a step. “He’s going to come in at a fast speed. Believe me, you don’t want to be near the horse’s hooves.”

  Mark brought the fresh mount—a spotted gray named Horace—to her and she gave the horse a quick check. The pounding of the incoming horse made Horace prance and shake his head. He knew it was his turn to run.

  Elijah leaned up against the station house to stay out of the way as instructed. In all his days, he’d never seen anything quite so exciting. As soon as he caught sight of the Pony Express rider, he marveled at the speed and agility of both rider and animal. To know that these young men—most of whom he’d heard were under twenty years of age—rode at such incredible speeds for upwards of seventy-five to one hundred miles a day. Through all types of terrain, weather, and dangers.

  Miss Rivers had been correct to keep him back because the horse and rider didn’t slow until they stopped in front of the station.

  In smooth and quick motions, the rider dismounted and lifted the mail pouch—what did she call it? Motilla? Mochila? Yes, that was it—off one horse and took it to the fresh mount. Miss Rivers checked her watch, walked with the pouch, unlocked a pocket, and removed a bundle. Opening it up, she flipped through the missives with deft fingers, pulled out a couple, and put them in her apron pocket. Then she put new items into the bundle, pulled out something else, checked her watch again, wrote on whatever it was, and put everything back into the bundle and back in thepocket in a matter of seconds.

  Two other Express riders took the horse the young man had come in on to the barn. Miss Rivers handed a small, napkin-wrapped bundle to him as he mounted the fresh hor
se. He took a sip from a dipper that Michael held up to him.

  And in a whirlwind of dust and shouts, the Pony Express rider was back on the trail.

  Elijah walked to Miss Rivers’s side as she watched the rider speed eastward. “That was exhilarating.”

  She beamed a brief smile at him and looked back to the horse and rider. “Wasn’t it? I never get tired of seeing it all in action. And to think that we do this every day, covering thousands of miles.”

  “Makes the five-dollar fee worth it just to see it in action.”

  She laughed—a sound that was full and musical, not like the tittering giggles of the simpering ladies back east. “I bet it does. It takes a lot of people and horses to carry a letter across the country at such a speed.”

  “Why didn’t the rider change out this time?”

  “One of the riders from Virginia City was sick, so Luke took the extra leg.”

  “How do you keep it all straight?”

  “Lots of organization and lists.”

  “I can imagine. Thank you for giving me the privilege of watching.”

  “Of course.”

  He ventured into uncertain territory. “I’m looking forward to our walk this evening, Miss Rivers.” Would she still agree to it after he’d offended her not once but twice?

  She held up a hand. “Please. We need to stop with the ‘Miss Rivers’ title. It’s exhausting just to hear it. Why don’t you call me Jackie?”

  “All right, I’m looking forward to our walk this evening, Jackie.”

  “I am too. That is, I’m hoping I will be able to assist you.” Her smile didn’t make her eyes shine, but it was a start. “I must apologize for—”

  “Please.” It was his turn to hold up his hand. “Forgive me for interrupting. There’s no need to apologize again. It was my fault for not thinking before I spoke.”

  Jackie ducked her head for a moment, and when she raised it, the smile reached her eyes and made her face glow. “My dad taught me to believe in second chances. It’s only fair since God does that for us each and every day.” She held out her hand.

  He took her offered hand and shook it, trying to keep his face from showing his amusement. But it didn’t work—he felt the smile creep out. “That is definitely something I can shake on.” He bowed, and before he could say anything else, she removed her hand and walked away toward the barn.

  “I wish I understood women better….” The mumbled words tumbled out.

  “Good luck figuring her out.” Michael stepped from behind Elijah and patted him on the arm. “I’ve known her all my life and I still don’t understand her half the time.”

  Charles Vines stared out his study window. Since Elijah had left, the months had passed in an achingly slow repetition. He missed the man he thought of as a son. He missed the strength and health that he’d taken for granted for far too long. He missed … life.

  Why God had chosen to spare him when he’d been such an atrocious human being was beyond his comprehension. But he was grateful.

  His wife had left him more than a quarter of a century ago, and he’d thought for a long time that she would return sooner rather than later. But the months passed, and when she didn’t return, he fell into a deep depression. After a year and a half of drinking himself into oblivion, Vines was found in a gutter by the pastor of a nearby church. He could only imagine the state he’d been in at the time.

  But the pastor took him home, dried him out, and cleaned him up. If only all men of the cloth were so loving and steadfast. Pastor Wright had challenged Vines to be the man God made him to be. And as the pastor dared him to quit the bottle and get right with God, Charles began to understand that repentance was his only hope.

  So he’d gotten on his knees and done just that. Repented. His deeds had been ugly. But thankfully, God dealt with ugly all the time and loved humanity anyway.

  Vines and Pastor Wright became close friends. Charles turned his life around.

  But the damage had already been done, and he knew it. His wife wasnowhere to be found, and Charles didn’t even know his daughter’s name because he’d been too drunk to try to find out. He was a successful businessman surrounded by wealth, but he felt empty and hollow until God entered his life.

  Determined now to do something for others with his wealth, Charles understood that whatever legacy he left needed to testify to God’s grace and nothing of his own merit. Money and things vanished. But people … they had the opportunity to spend eternity with Almighty God.

  He wanted to wait until Elijah returned to implement his plans, but he’d had a lot of time to think about the future. His hope was that his long-lost daughter would be part of that.

  “Mr. Vines, sir.” Colson’s voice at the door interrupted his thoughts. “I’ve found something I thought you would want to see immediately.”

  “Of course. Come in.” Charles waved him in and sat back down in the chair by his bed. He reached for his spectacles on the nightstand and put them on.

  Colson held out what looked to be a small painting.

  Charles reached for it and gasped. His heart clenched at the sight. After all these years, he thought he’d never see it again. But here it was. In his shaking hands.

  The portrait of his Anna. The small one he’d had commissioned to put on his desk because he wanted to have her with him everywhere. Back when he was young and first in love.

  Memories and guilt flooded him as he gazed at her beautiful face. Oh Anna. I’m so sorry. Not long after they were married, he’d turned into a monster. He couldn’t blame her for leaving. It was his own doing. But when he found that she’d burned all the pictures of herself in their home, he’d been angry. Then grief had set in when he realized she wasn’t coming back.

  He thought he’d never see her again.

  With a trembling hand, he swiped at his eyes and held the small portrait closer.

  He’d loved her so much. If only he’d given his life to God sooner. Maybe he could have avoided all the pain and sorrow. And the loss of Anna.

  But there was still hope. He took a deep breath. This portrait could help him find his daughter. And maybe Anna too—there was still a chance she lived, wasn’t there?

  Where could Elijah be? The West was a vast frontier, and it had been weeks since his last letter from Elijah. But everything had changed with Colson’s discovery today. This could be exactly what Elijah needed.

  The necessity of getting the portrait to his new partner sent his mind to whirling. He must get the painting to him. Before his time ran out.

  In the barn, Jackie went into Romeo’s stall to have a moment to herself. Picking up the brush, she gave her prized horse a quick rub-down. His black coat turned shiny again as she brushed away the dust and dirt. He was a beautiful animal. Dad had bought him for her birthday last year, and they’d had an instant connection. “How are you doing, boy?” she murmured.

  The horse nickered and rubbed his head up against her hair.

  “Yeah, me too.” She held his face between her hands. “Maybe we can go for a ride later. It would do us both some good.”

  Romeo huffed in response.

  Jackie laughed. “I know I’ve neglected you, but I promise to do better.” She laid one hand on his nose while reaching with her other hand into her pocket. “Right now, I need a quiet place to read this letter. And you, my friend, are great at keeping secrets, so that’s why I came out here.”

  His head bobbed.

  Tearing into the envelope, Jackie took a deep breath. Hopefully it would be good news.

  October 9, 1860

  Mr. Rivers,

  We are very sorry to hear of your father’s passing, but also grateful that you are there in his place. Please continue to run the Carson Sink Station with our full approval. Payments for yourservices will continue at the same rate we paid your father.

  Thank you for your service to the COC&PP as well as to your country.

  Sincerely,

  Mr. William Russell

/>   She let out her breath in a whoosh as she reread the short letter. Thank You, Lord. She looked heavenward. At least she had their permission to carry on as she had been. Jackie folded the letter up against her chest and closed her eyes. Releasing a long sigh, she felt relief and another surge of guilt. Yes, they’d granted her permission to keep running the station—which was a wonderful thing—but they also still thought she was Mr. Rivers.

  As good as the news felt, she knew that soon she’d need to tell them the truth. The thought of doing that wasn’t pleasant. What if they didn’t allow her to stay?

  Being a woman all on her own wasn’t easy out here. But Dad had left detailed papers signed by him and a lawyer that legally gave her their home. Because of the Preemption Act of 1841, he’d been able to obtain the legal title for the 160 acres surrounding their stage stop and station. He’d paid $1.25 per acre and named Jacqueline his heir. The lawyer had been clever indeed in the will and showed that Marshall Rivers had taken in young Michael and had sworn Jacqueline to raise him and take care of him should Marshall be incapacitated or die while Michael was still under age. That made Jackie a head of household when Marshall died, and that allowed her to now own the land.

  The COC&PP hadn’t paid for a station here because Marshall Rivers had already been here with the stage stop and boardinghouse. Maybe that would keep them from trying to kick her out. She could only hope. The Pony Express station was what really kept things moving daily. Could the owners and officials do something to her because she was a woman? When they found out that she hadn’t been honest, would they use that against her to try to take her land away?

  Maybe she could ask Mr. Crowell to write her a letter ofrecommendation when she sent her apology. If she was working honorably for the secretary of the treasury, surely she could be trusted with the station as well.

  The thought of her job for Mr. Crowell brought his instructions to the forefront of her mind. She’d read the packet, but without the code it didn’t make complete sense. This much she knew: she would travel to nearby stations and ask some questions. The people at those stations knew her and had respected her father. If she kept things as normal as possible, they would never suspect she was doing any investigating. So what excuse could she use for the visit?