Blaze lifted his feet proudly while trotting around the corral, and I hung onto the reins. The feeling of his strong muscles moving under me lulled me into a dream-like state, where nothing else existed. We kept riding until a sliver of light appeared on the eastern horizon.
“Oh no!” I exclaimed. “Ma'll be up.”
Without any urging, Blaze took me back to the fence and waited while I climbed off his back. I took off the bit and hung it on a fence post. In minutes, she would chase Peter and Paul out of their beds to do chores.
“We'll ride again tomorrow,” I whispered.
The troublesome twins' protests filled the still chilly air. I ran over to the chicken coop and took care of them. There were less eggs than usual so I began a hunt, certain the hens had hidden them. To my horror, I found eggs spattered against the side of the coop.
“The Johnsons,” I said but knew I couldn't say their name around Ma, or even tell her about the ruined eggs. “Why do they keep coming around?”
My brothers would have agreed with me and gone looking for the Johnsons. A more annoying group of men existed nowhere else on Earth. Surely, the Lord wouldn't have made more like them to vex decent folk.
While returning to the house, I glanced at the barn. We owned four cows, and none of them sounded happy. I hurried into the kitchen and set the egg basket on the counter.
“You're up early again.” Ma glanced at me. “Are you messing around with the horses?”
Chapter Four
Worry chased across her face, leading me to believe my nightmares might have some truth attached to them. Her look sharpened as she studied me closely. The examination made me want to squirm, but the cows saved me from further interrogation when they mooed again.
“Peter, Paul, I sent you to do your chores an hour ago!” she called out. She handed me a long, two-pronged fork and took off for the boys' sleeping quarters. “I won't tolerate your impudence any longer.”
Their outraged howls sent me into a flurry of motion. I pulled biscuits from the oven, stirred grits, and turned ham as they bolted through the hallway with her on their heels. Both boys scrambled past me and raced toward the door. They were bare foot and tugging up their pants while pleading for mercy.
“Ma'll be in an awful mood.” I set the table and covered the food. “I'll start some pie filling. That'll make her forget about my going outside too early.”
After going into the pantry, I picked up a packet of dried peaches from a case her mother sent us from Kentucky. My hand hovered over another case, and I lifted a package of dried apples.
“Maybe having two pies will make the others come home,” I whispered.
I put the fruit on to simmer with water and sugar on the back of the stove. A delightful aroma floated around me, and I lost myself in the day Trapper Andy's words had brought out of my memories.
Grace and I had played in front of the porch. A boy threw pebbles at us. Adam, Bart, Charles, and Mark had raced in circles around the barn. Peter and Paul had sneaked across the porch and tried to slide off it. Pa and Trapper Andy caught them before they made it to the ground.
“David, stop throwing rocks at the girls,” Ma had yelled. “I'll hunt up my broom if you don't.”
So, the boy's name was David, but that still didn't tell me who he really was. I thought hard but jerked when a door slammed, dragging me back to reality.
“Get moving,” she yelled out the open door. “My broom is right handy this morning.”
I smiled and thought about how she hadn't changed much. She always looked for her broom when a child acted up.
She marched into the kitchen, dusting her hands and throwing disgusted looks out the window.
“Those two will be the death of me.” She peered into the pots. “Cobbler or pie?”
“Pies,” I said. “I know it's childish, but I thought if I made two the others would come home today.”
She gave me a hard look that softened as a smile turned up the corners of her lips.
“Chicken sounds good for tonight.” She opened the kitchen door. “Bring me a couple of chickens. Make sure they're nice and fat,” she hollered and turned to face me. “It's not childish, Abigail, to wish your family home safe. That's a burden all women carry.”
Funny thing about her was how she showed gratitude. She never turned all mushy; like my grandma had the one time she rode a train for a week to visit. Ma's gruff explanations offered more comfort than a hug. I had long ago figured out she had developed a tough outer skin to survive the harsh frontier.
* * * *
When it was time to prepare supper, I made the pies first. The peaches and apples filled the deep pans and heaped high in the middle. After sliding them into the oven, I shelled peas while Ma floured chicken pieces. She dropped them into hot fat in two cast iron skillets on our wood burning stove. Pops and spatters punctuated the silence. We didn't speak but once in a while, our eyes drifted to the window.
She tsked after staring at the barn, where Peter and Paul should have finished their chores long ago. Whoops and hollers drifted on the quiet air back to us.
Something moved out of the corner of my eye. I glanced out the window in time to see Peter jumping from the upper window of the barn. He swung back and forth on a rope hanging from a beam. She would pitch a hissy if she discovered him playing instead of mucking out the stalls.
“Stop daydreaming!” Her sharp tone alerted me to my own peril.
Pa and the others still weren't home, and supper would be done soon. Since the midday meal, she had grown more and more tense. I was beginning to worry something awful might have happened to the absent members of my family. But unless I paid better attention, her hand would light up my backside. Then those lazy brothers playing outside would have enough amusement to embarrass me for years.
“Yes, ma'am.” I tipped the peas into a pot of warm water.
“Call Peter and Paul inside.” Ma turned the chicken pieces and checked on a large pot where potatoes boiled.
I ran to the door, happy for a release from my chores. The heat inside our kitchen made it almost impossible to breathe, even with the kitchen door and windows open wide.
“Don't run off, just holler for them,” she said. “You need to get the pies out of the oven and set them in the window to cool.”
Holy heck! Foiled again.
The forbidden expression eased some of my anger at having to remain in the house instead of playing for at least fifteen minutes. Yet, the smell of peach and apple pies as they finished baking made my mouth water.
“Peter, Paul, Ma wants you inside,” I shouted.
“Ah, don't get your knickers in a twist!” Peter shouted in return.
Goodness, was he in trouble. Pa had told both of them they could never use that expression after they heard it from one of our neighbors.
Ma's eyes widened, and she stared out the window as Paul swung out of the upper barn opening. Her lips twisted into a grimace, and she grunted.
“Take care of supper.” She handed me the fork.
With a flash of snow-white petticoats, she sped across the open expanse between the house and barn. A few minutes later, the twins' howls echoed as her hand connected with their bottoms. Smiling, I returned to the stove and saved the pies in the nick of time.
Ma returned with an apologetic Peter and Paul. I had flipped the chicken when it turned the perfect hue of golden brown, stirred the potatoes and tested them, and settled the peas on the back of the stove so they would simmer without overcooking.
“Good job, but you need to set the table. You guessed right.” She gave me one of her rare smiles that were worth more than the fabled gold any number of men were seeking further west. “I saw dust on the horizon. Your pa and older brothers will be here soon.”
Peter and Paul rushed around the room, almost tripping me as I laid out tin plates and flatware. Nine place settings soon graced the long trestle table. I stopped and stared as a memory returned. We used to put ten place settings down, and I wondere
d why that had changed.
A boy sat at the table in my memories, a seventh boy in a family I already thought was too big.
“Don't slow down,” Ma said.
The image of another boy at the table faded. I scurried back and forth while settling platters and bowls of food, and then covering everything with cloth napkins to keep the flies off.
Right as Peter placed two pitchers of milk on either end, and Paul poured the rest of the creamy liquid into a butter churn, two shots startled us. Two shots meant trouble on the frontier.
“Find out what's going on,” Ma ordered. “You too, Abigail. It must be bad or your pa would have waited until he was in the corral before setting off the warning.”
I scampered out the door before Peter and Paul.
“Wait for us,” Peter yelled.
“Don't rush for the corral,” Paul shouted. “It's too dangerous.”
They wouldn't stop me from getting to the gate first. I leapt upon the wooden crossbeams and poised my hand over the leather strap holding the gate closed.
Pa thundered ahead of a herd of ponies. His horse ran as if Satan himself had pursued them the entire trip.
“Abby, open the gate. Peter, Paul, mount up and help,” he hollered.
My four oldest brothers kept the stampeding horses together with little success. Peter and Paul darted into the barn and then burst out atop their mustangs. Neither had bothered with a saddle. I released the leather loop and kicked against the fence to swing the gate wide as Pa pulled up beside me.
“Wait for Adam and do as he tells you,” he said in a no nonsense voice.
He took off before I could answer, and I was faced with all those horses racing in my direction.
My brothers herded the horses into the corral. After the longest and most blissful interval, Adam rode up and grabbed me around the waist.
“Come on, short stuff,” he said. “I'll take you back to the house.”
He swung me onto the saddle behind him and turned the animal. Just as he spurred his horse, Pa looked over at us.
“Adam, load all the rifles. Make sure your ma and Abby stay safe,” he said. “Don't come back out here, no matter what you hear.”
My blood turned to ice in spite of the warmth still seeping from the ground. Something bad must have happened. Not only did Pa still have our latest shipment, he had brought almost as many other horses with him. Paiute must have taken him unaware, or bandits may have tried to steal the mustangs.
“What happened?” I asked.
“I'll explain inside,” Adam said. “I suppose Ma made a huge spread.”
“Fried chicken with all the works. I made pies.”
“What kind?” His question almost disappeared into a snort from his horse as he slowed to a stop near the kitchen door.
“Peach and apple,” I said.
He leapt from his mustang and landed near the back porch. He then helped me down. A slap on the horse's flank with his hat sent the animal racing for the barn.
“Get inside,” he said and pushed me into the house.
“What's wrong?” Ma asked from the stove.
“Pony's stopped. Stations burned. Horses stolen,” he said without a greeting or stopping for a breath. “The Paiute are on the warpath. We need to load the rifles.”
He stalked through the kitchen and toward Pa's gunroom without making sure I had obeyed him. There was no way I could have moved to go outside and protect Blaze or any of the other horses.
“Abigail, take over here.” She trotted after him.
Worry overwhelmed me. Adam must have made a mistake. Surely, nothing could stop The Pony Express.
Chapter Five
My mouth dropped open, wider than the kitchen door still letting every fly in the state into the house. I closed my mouth, grabbed a dishtowel, and twisted it tight, and then I proceeded to chase the bothersome creatures outside. Those attempting to light on the pies, I executed without a second thought.
“Oh, bother!” I exclaimed after I had the kitchen free of living flies. “Where's the broom?”
Ma and I kept a clean house, no matter how much I hated doing my chores. We did it for our menfolk but mostly for Pa. While he would never criticize how we did it, seeing all those flies littering the floor bothered me. He and my brothers must have had a terrifying ride home, what with wondering if Paiute had attacked us in addition to what they found at the station. With all the worries pressing against my family, I wouldn't let them eat such a delicious meal in a room where the floor looked like the one in the barn.
It took me ten minutes to hunt up the broom. I had to go outside, where I finally spotted it lying in the narrow space between the wash shed and the house.
“Do Peter and Paul really believe Ma won't punish them if she can't find this?” I snatched up the broom. “Why, she'd chase them clear to Carson City and chew off their ears with the worst scolding they've ever heard every step of the way.”
Before going inside, I checked out the corral. Pa worked to settle the horses with Bart and Charles. I saw no sign of Mark, Peter, and Paul.
“Those cows need milking until you empty their udders,” Mark hollered from the barn. “Not until your fingers hurt. Grab those pails and get to work.”
Two loud smacks followed his order. A few minutes later, he carried two large pails to the corral and filled a wooden trough beside a massive tin one used to water the horses.
“I suppose I'll have to talk to Peter and Paul again.” Pa shaded his eyes and faced the barn. “Did you see any other chores they shirked?”
“Yes, sir,” Mark said. “Weeds are nearly choking the vegetable garden, and the pig looks a bit peaked. She squealed quite a bit when I gave her fresh water.”
“I'll take care of it now.” Pa walked toward the barn. “Bart, you're in charge.”
His stiff stance and thumping stride prodded me into action. I went inside and swept every bit of dirt and all the flies out the door. The grit and loathsome creatures didn't stop flying until they landed far from the porch.
Not long after I finished, Adam and Ma came back into the kitchen with a rifle under each arm. They left the weapons beside the door and went back to the gunroom. Bart and Charles leaned in and grabbed the guns.
“Looks like you and Ma worked hard on that spread,” Bart said. “Maybe we'll get a chance to chow down later.”
Charles snuck into the room and snatched a chicken leg. I grabbed the cooking fork, a large, two-pronged utensil, and chased them out the door. They yelped and ran for the corral.
“Good job, short stuff.” Adam chuckled.
I spun around to find him standing in the doorway with another rifle tucked into the crook of his arm.
“Can't you take a break? Ma and I worked hard on supper. It's a shame for all that food to go to waste.” I set the fork on the table.
He ruffled my hair. “Sure would like to, but those Paiute chased us halfway home. Pa wants to make sure we're safe.”
“Did they come near the house?” I asked.
For as long back as I could remember, the Paiute had presented a danger. It was a danger as in they might attack at any time, rather than them breathing down our necks. Tales from neighbors had frightened me about the possibility, but I'd never experienced an Indian attack. And I never wanted to!
“Nah.”
“Pa probably made you split up the herd and go in all sorts of directions.”
“Sure did.” Adam shook his head. “You sound almost like you watched us, but you know Pa as well as the rest of us. He won't rest easy until he's sure the Paiute won't attack the house.”
“Can't you sit down for a nice meal while the food is hot? We'd hear the Indians coming,” I said. “It'll near break Ma's heart if you don't appreciate what she took so long to make.”
He leaned over the table and drew in a deep breath. “She used buttermilk on the chicken, didn't she?”
The whole kitchen still smelled of Ma's special buttermilk mix. She not only
used the milk that came off the top from the cows, but also a few seasonings she promised to tell me about one day.
“Yup,” I said.
“Pa would never forgive himself if he missed all this good food.” He raised his voice. “Ma, I'm taking Abigail to round up the hungry horde.”
She scurried back into the kitchen. “Are you sure she won't get hurt?”
Had I imagined more than normal worry in her voice? Was there something to all my strange dreams? Without thought, my hand rose to touch the scar on my neck. She frowned.
“She'll probably sweet talk the Indians into peace.” Adam grinned. “Our little gal can charm a man into anything.”
“You keep a good eye on her.” She dunked pots into the dishwater. “Abigail, don't you dare set one toe inside the corral. Those horses aren't settling well.”
“Yes, ma'am,” I said.
Visions of all the times I had done just that danced through my head. I gulped as I imagined her reaction if she ever found out.
“Nothing will happen, Ma.” Adam grabbed my hand.
“See that it doesn't,” she snapped.
We scampered to the corral. The whole time, he scanned the nearby area. I tried to figure out what he was looking for, even asked once or twice. He never said a word until we reached the rest of our family.
“Hey, Pa,” he called. “You really need to come up to the house. Ma soaked the chicken in buttermilk, and Abby made a couple of pies. Supper smells downright delicious after cold meals on the trail.”
Blaze trotted over to the fence and whinnied. I ran over to him and stroked his forelock, but held back the urge to use his name.
“You don't say. You're right, Adam, sounds like your ma made us something really good tonight,” Pa said. “Charles, go find out if Peter and Paul have finished. It's supper time.”
“Yes, sir,” Charles said.
Even though I wanted to ride Blaze, and prove how good I was at training, I backed away. Pa stopped inspecting the fence. A smile relieved the tension on his face.
“Come here, child.”
I ran into his arms, and he swung me into the air. His way of greeting me hadn't changed, even after Ma made me wear full-length skirts and put up my hair, for which I was very grateful. My pa said he still thanked the Good Lord whenever he laid eyes on me.
Pony Dreams Page 3