“It’s all right. Turns out it was jewelry, which I had suspected. Family pieces, worth a few hundred dollars, but of greater sentimental value to the one who would have received them.”
“Like my brooch.”
“Yes, sort of. But this was a pendant and a matching set of earrings. Garnets and marcasite.”
“Oh, it sounds lovely,” Polly said.
In the next room the baby cried, and Ava jumped up.
“Let Aunt Ava get her.”
She brought Amelia to the table and held her on her lap while she continued to eat, even giving her tiny bites of mashed potato off her plate. Joe marveled at how Ava took to the children. She seemed to outright adore young Harry Clyde, but without telling the little lad as much.
When they had finished eating and lingered over more coffee, Joe revealed that he would be moving the next day from his hotel to a boardinghouse.
Jacob leaned back in his chair and said, “So, does that mean you’re staying?”
Joe smiled. “I am. I’ve been hired by the railroad police.”
Ava gasped. “Your drawings. I knew they would be impressed.”
“Yes, that was what led to the offer. I’ll need some training, though. For the next couple of weeks I’ll be learning about firearms and studying maps and how safes are constructed—and demolished. Things like that.”
“That’s marvelous,” Ava said. “I know you were uncertain about your other job.”
“Yes. They fired me, first thing when they heard I’d lost the package. Two words on a telegram—it cost them sixty cents to tell me.” Joe shook his head. “Ah, well, the Lord knew, didn’t He?”
“That’s right,” Ava said. “Some good has come out of this.”
Polly chuckled. “Next thing, you’ll be saying you’re glad you were robbed.”
“I won’t go that far.”
Polly turned to Joe. “Do put cotton wool in your ears if you’re going to be doing a lot of shooting practice. Bob Dexter, the gunsmith, is deaf as a post from test-firing all those guns he fixes.”
“I’ll keep that in mind,” Joe said, but he was watching Ava. He hesitated to produce his gift but decided to go ahead. “Speaking of the robbery, though, reminds me of something I brought you.” He reached inside his jacket pocket and brought out a sheet of paper from his sketchbook and unfolded it. He passed it to Ava, observing her face anxiously.
“Why—it’s me!” She smiled and held the drawing out to her friend. “See, Polly? I’m wearing your cameo, just as I did on the train.”
“It’s not a very good likeness,” Joe said. “I can see that, now that I have you right here before me. But I was drawing from memory, and—”
“It’s excellent,” Polly declared, glancing from Ava to the drawing and back again.
“Next time, I shall do better.” Tonight when I get to my room. He hadn’t caught the shimmer of her glossy hair, or the exact tilt of her chin. But the next portrait would capture both.
“I’m immensely flattered,” Ava said. “Am I meant to keep this?”
“If you like.”
“I do. Very much.”
At the end of an evening of pleasant conversation, Ava walked with him to the door. Joe didn’t hesitate to put in a request.
“I wonder if I might call on you next week.”
Her lashes swept down, shielding her green eyes for a moment.
“Why, yes. I’d like that. And I don’t think Polly and Jacob would mind.”
They settled on the details of the meeting, and Joe set out for his hotel, whistling as he walked.
Chapter 6
Jacob came through the back door two nights later and scooped Harry Clyde up into his arms. “They’re saying in town that the marshal and the railroad detectives have gone out after the gang of train robbers,” he told Polly and Ava.
“Not another robbery, I hope,” Polly said, frowning.
“I don’t think so. Maybe they got a tip on where to find them.”
Polly sighed. “I hope they don’t start robbing the stagecoaches.”
“We don’t carry the really valuable stuff anymore,” Jacob said. “At least not often. But those outlaws were all my drivers could talk about today.”
“Well, I hope they catch the men who hit the train I came on,” Ava said.
Polly nodded emphatically. “So do I.”
Jacob carried Harry Clyde over to the rack near the back door. “Maybe Joe Logan can tell us more when he comes around on Saturday night.”
Ava said nothing, but her heart felt torn. Every time she thought about Joe’s impending call, she wanted to sing, but the thought of him chasing around the wilderness trying to catch a band of ruthless outlaws made her shudder. Did she really want a strong attachment to a lawman who was constantly in danger?
Jacob took Harry Clyde’s little hat from the rack and settled it on his head. “Going to help Papa with the chores tonight?”
Harry Clyde nodded so hard his whole body jiggled.
Jacob laughed and said to Polly, “We’ll be back.” He carried his son out the back door.
Polly came to Ava’s side and slipped an arm around her waist.
“Don’t worry, dear.”
“I try not to,” Ava said, “but whenever I think about those bandits, it scares me.”
“That’s how I used to be. Now it seems you’re worrying about Joe the same way I used to about Jacob whenever he was out of sight.”
Ava gazed at Polly, who always seemed joyful, even when her husband was on the road driving a stagecoach. “How do you do it, when Jacob’s away?”
Polly gave her a little squeeze. “I’ve come to where I’ve stopped fretting. It’s not as dangerous as it used to be for stage drivers, and if anything is going to happen to him, I certainly can’t stop it. I have to trust God for his safety.”
“That’s true,” Ava said, “and Jacob is a quick thinker. I’m sure if he has trouble, he finds a way out of it.”
“Yes, like the time his stage was stranded in a blizzard and some of the passengers were injured.”
“You wrote me about that.”
“Your Joe is no slouch in that department, either.”
Ava opened her mouth to protest at her designation of “your Joe,” but she snapped her jaws shut. Maybe she was starting to think of him that way. Hard to believe she had met him less than a fortnight ago, and yet he meant so much to her.
Polly went to the cupboard for a stack of plates. “It’s hard not to worry, but I can’t think about it all the time. I don’t know how to say this without sounding pious, but—”
“You, pious?” Ava chuckled. “A woman as jolly as you would never be thought pious.”
“All right, then take this in the spirit it’s meant: I give thanks for every day I’ve had Jacob, and I hope we get many more, but if not, we’ve had a wonderful time together. It’s men like him and Joe who have made this country safe for families.”
“I suppose you’re right—men like your father, too, and all the railroad men and wagon masters before them, and lawmen and ranchers. . .”
“This territory is full of brave men.” Polly began to set the table.
Ava couldn’t help wondering if Joe was with the lawmen trying to catch the robbers. Rather than voice her thoughts, she decided to follow Polly’s example. She sent up a prayer for Joe and the men he worked with and then tried to put it out of her mind.
A knock sent her to the front door. She opened it and stared in surprise at Joe.
“Come in,” Ava cried. “I’m so glad to see you. We tho-ught you might be off with the marshal, chasing robbers.”
“Not me this time,” Joe said. “I just came in on the train from Salt Lake City. I understand the outlaws have gotten away again though.”
Polly stood in the kitchen doorway, wiping her hands on her apron. “That’s a shame.”
“Yes,” Joe said. “Every time a posse trails them into the hills, they lose them. I’m afraid we’ve
got to catch them red-handed.”
Ava wasn’t sure she liked the sound of that. The desperados would be more likely to shed blood if they were cornered.
“Well, come on in,” Polly said cheerfully. “You’re just in time for supper.”
A week later, Joe set out on what might be his most dangerous assignment yet. The lawmen’s earlier attempts to catch up with the band of robbers had come to nothing. He had managed two visits to Ava in between his stints for the railroad, but depending on how things went today, he might not see her for several days.
He mounted his horse and rode after Detective Simms. He was joining a posse of eight railroad policemen determined to catch the train robbers. Tonight’s westbound train was carrying a load of silver to a bank in Salt Lake City. Concealing that knowledge had proved impossible, and any number of people seemed to have been on hand when the specie was loaded in St. Louis. Mr. Colson, Joe’s boss in Cheyenne, had received a telegram asking for extra men to be on guard when the train came through.
The train itself carried a dozen officers, riding with the treasure all the way from St. Louis, and several men had switched out at stops in the larger towns along the way. But west of Cheyenne, the open plains offered many miles of track through unpopulated country, where a robbery could be pulled off with impunity—and thousands of square miles of wilderness into which a gang of outlaws could disappear and never be found.
Colson had sent out posses before, but they had not been successful so far. They’d had eight robberies in various places since the beginning of the year. The increased losses to the railroad as well as the passengers’ fears spurred the railroad’s management to get rid of the outlaw gangs.
Still anticipating his first month’s pay, Joe was riding a borrowed horse and carrying weapons loaned to him by his boss and Simms. He patted the bay gelding’s neck and urged him to keep pace with the others.
They rode westward from Cheyenne, leaving the station thirty minutes before the train was due there. Several officers would be on hand while the train was stopped at the Cheyenne depot. Joe and the others with him would be waiting in case the robbers tried to stop the locomotive west of town. He and his fellow policemen knew the robbers could have planted confederates on the train, but no matter where the robbery took place, they would have to have cohorts waiting with horses to make their escape. The mounted officers rode beside the tracks for ten miles, when Simms signaled for them all to stop.
“Rest your horses, men. That train should have left Cheyenne by now. It will catch up to us soon.”
“I haven’t seen any signs of the outlaws,” one of the other men said.
Simms nodded. “I doubt that gang would hold up the train so close to Cheyenne, but you never know.” He pulled out his watch and looked at it. “If it passes us on schedule, we’ll follow along.”
“Should we scout the tracks ahead?” the man named Farris asked, gazing down the tracks westward.
“Yes, you and Logan go,” Simms said.
Joe was glad to keep moving, instead of doing nothing while they waited for the train. He and Farris loped their horses a half mile, gaining the top of a rise from which they could see down into a slight dip in the prairie.
“What’s that?” Joe pointed ahead at a dark blur on the tracks.
Farris’s jaw dropped. “They’ve blocked the tracks. Put some logs on them.”
“Logs?” Joe looked around at the treeless grassland.
“They must have hauled them out here in a wagon. Come on, we’ve got to tell Simms!”
They raced back along their path and began waving their hats when the posse came into view. Simms and the others loped their horses toward Joe and Farris.
“Obstruction on the tracks,” Farris yelled.
Simms hauled back on his reins and fumbled to take a red flag from the cantle of his saddle. He handed it to Farris just as they heard the eerie whistle of the locomotive in the distance.
“Flag the train,” Simms told Farris. “We’ll try to clear it.”
Joe didn’t wait but turned his horse and galloped back toward the knoll. As they began to ride down into the depression, Simms’s horse pounded up beside him.
“Hold on, Logan! The robbers are probably waiting nearby. I don’t want to get you killed.”
Joe slowed his mount to a trot and watched the skyline. Any fold in the open land could hide a dozen horsemen.
One of the posse members yelled and pointed. Half a dozen riders appeared on the next hill, streaking away across the prairie.
“It’s the gang,” one of the detectives shouted.
“Go,” Simms called to him, waving him and four other men on. “Logan, you’re with me. Quick, now!”
Joe followed Simms, whose horse cannoned down the hill to where three sizable logs lay across the steel rails. Both jumped from the saddle and ran to the logs. The smallest was about eight feet long and six inches thick. Each seized one end and carried it off the tracks. The train’s whistle blew, closer.
“Think they saw Farris in time?” Joe asked, panting, as they went back to try to move the next log. It was a couple of inches thicker.
“I don’t know,” Simms said. “Come on, put your back into it.”
The squeal and screech of the train’s brakes seemed almost on top of them as they rolled the second log off. Their horses snorted and galloped away from the tracks. Joe looked back the way they had come. The locomotive had crested the knoll and was rolling toward them amid a thunderous noise and the release of a big cloud of steam.
“We can do it,” he yelled to Simms, and they both heaved the last log from the tracks as the engine reached them. It had slowed considerably but did not completely halt until the cowcatcher on the front was a hundred feet past them. Farris’s horse galloped toward them, with Farris holding the red flag beneath one arm.
Joe and Simms stood panting beside the logs while two men climbed down from the second passenger car and walked toward them. Farris reined in his horse and waited with them.
“Detective Simms, is that you? What’s going on?” one of the men called when they were close.
Simms waved. “Hello, Peters. The outlaws had blocked the tracks. We weren’t sure we could clear it in time, so we had Farris flag you down. Good thing, too. If the engineer hadn’t started to brake when he did, we wouldn’t have made it, and you’d have derailed.”
“Takes a long time to stop these things,” Detective Peters agreed.
The train’s conductor came toward them from the first passenger car. “Everything all right?”
Simms nodded. “Now it is. A posse’s gone after the gang that was hiding out here waiting for you. Tell the engineer you can proceed. No one should bother you for the rest of this run. Sorry we had to stop you.”
“It’s better than the alternative,” the conductor said. He waved and turned toward the locomotive.
“We’d better get back on board,” Detective Peters said. “You’ll wire on down the line and let us know if you catch them?”
“I expect Mr. Colson will spread the word, whatever happens,” Simms said.
Peters and his companion climbed the steps to the passenger car’s platform and waved. Joe, Farris, and Simms waited until the engineer got the train moving again.
“I’ll go see if I can catch your horses now.” Farris jogged his bay over the nearest rise.
“I hope we can catch up with the posse,” Joe said. “I’d sure like to be there when they catch that bunch of robbers.”
Chapter 7
Ava sat down to write to her parents. Her heart was in turmoil, in spite of her determination to remain calm like Polly. She mustn’t let her agitation show through in her letter.
Dear Pa and Mama,
I am having the most wonderful time with Polly and Jacob and the children. The Independence Day celebration was done up in grand style, and if not quite as elaborate as yours, I guarantee it was more enthusiastic. The horse races and shooting matches drew out the ent
ire city, I’m sure.
She hesitated and dipped her pen in the ink again.
Do you remember the man I told you about from the train? Mr. Logan? Well, he has stopped here in Cheyenne. When outlaws stole the parcel he was to deliver, he had no need to go on, and he has taken a job with the railroad police. He drew sketches of two train robbers for them, and that was instrumental in the capture of one of the thieves. Apparently the railroad officials were impressed by Mr. Logan’s observation skills, and he is training to be a detective. He went to Jacob’s stagecoach depot one evening and came home with him for supper and has been to visit since. He is coming by again tomorrow.
Ava reread what she had written. Had she shown too much partiality for Mr. Logan—or Joe, as he had bid her call him? Her parents would surely read between the lines and see that she admired the man. She decided that was better than waiting to see if the acquaintance blossomed into more and then springing it on them. She let the paragraph stand but moved on to more mundane topics.
She had barely finished her letter when Harry Clyde entered the parlor, rubbing his eyes.
“Well, hello, young sir,” Ava said, rising. “Did you have a good nap?”
Harry Clyde shook his head but came to her and allowed her to take him up into her arms.
“Shall we go find your mama?” Ava asked. “I think she’s out back, hanging clothes.”
The little boy nodded and buried his head in her shoulder.
In the backyard, Polly grinned as she pinned one of Amelia’s diapers to the clothesline.
“Hello! Is Amelia up, too?”
“Still sleeping,” Ava said. She walked over with Harry Clyde and looked in the clothes basket. Half a load of wet laundry still awaited attention. “Why don’t you take Harry in for his snack, and I’ll finish this.”
“I can do it,” Polly replied, reaching for another diaper.
“Of course you can, but I want to.”
After a little more persuasion on Ava’s part, Polly and her son headed inside. The sunshine felt good on Ava’s shoulders as she hung up the rest of the wash. A soft wind blew from the west, and when her basket was empty, she walked along the line feeling the clean clothes. At the far end, she found quite a few items from an earlier washing that were dry, and she took them down and folded them into the basket.
The 12 Brides of Summer Novella Collection 1 Page 5