The Blacksmith’s Bravery

by Susan Page Davis

  On Monday morning, Vashti bundled up and walked over to the Bentons’ house. She didn’t go to the door but walked around back in the crunchy snow, to the stable behind the house. She came every morning that Bitsy didn’t need her help. Augie had rigged up a little box stove so she could have some heat while she practiced her driving. She didn’t like to burn much fuel, as firewood and coal were expensive. But Bitsy said it was an investment in her future and a better job, so she kept coming.

  She rolled the door open and jumped back. Three figures huddled together on the board floor near the stove. Cautiously, she poked her head back inside and eyed the young men critically.

  “What are you boys doing here?”

  “Uh…” Ben Nash stared at her, clearly groping for a believable explanation.

  Justin, on the other hand, just looked at her with his jaw set in a determined frown.

  Will Ingram spoke up. “We’re meeting here for a clubhouse, ma’am.”

  “A clubhouse?” Vashti focused on Will. “Shouldn’t you be in school?”

  “I ain’t going anymore. Justin doesn’t go to school, and he’s my age, so I told my pa I’d had enough learning.”

  “Oh really.” She turned her gaze on Justin. No sense blaming him. It wasn’t his fault that Griffin hadn’t enrolled him in school.

  “How about you, Ben? Has your father let you quit school, too?”

  “Uh… no, ma’am. I just ran over here on recess, and…” He trailed off, his face flushing.

  “Mighty long recess.” Vashti stepped forward and closed the rolling door, then held her hands to the stove. “Thanks for making my fire up for me. What are you doing?”

  “Uh…” Ben seemed to be stuck on that syllable. It didn’t matter. She’d seen them shove cards and coins into their pockets when she’d arrived.

  “Well, let me tell you something,” she said, looking around sternly at the three. “Mr. and Mrs. Benton are friends of mine. They let me use this stable to practice my driving.” She nodded toward the rig hanging from the rafters and the reins threaded from it to her wagon seat. “I’m pretty sure they wouldn’t like it if someone else came in here without their permission. Especially not if those people were doing something they would consider immoral.”

  “Like what?” Will asked with a smirk.

  “Oh, like drinking, or smoking, or… gambling.”

  “Huh. You should talk.”

  Vashti glared at him. “I beg your pardon.”

  Justin whirled on Will. “Hey, quit that. She’s a nice lady. And she works for my uncle.”

  Will scowled at Vashti. “Well, I’ve had enough for today, anyhow. You kids need to grow up.” He walked to the door and let himself out.

  Ben gulped and edged toward the gap. “I’d best get back to the schoolhouse.”

  “Yes, I’m sure Miss Fennel wonders what’s keeping you,” Vashti said.

  Ben scooted out. She turned to face Justin.

  “Well now, it’s just you and me. How’d you come to be trespassing with them?”

  Justin gulped. “Are you going to tell Uncle Griff?”

  “Should I?”

  “No, ma’am. Because it will never happen again.”

  “Here? Or anyplace?”

  Justin was silent for a long moment, holding her gaze.

  “You know your uncle cares about you, Justin. He wants to see you grow into a responsible man.”

  Justin’s chin sank, and he lowered his gaze. “I don’t want to make him mad.”

  Vashti considered that. Was he afraid Griffin would punish him harshly? At last she said, “Griffin treats you all right, doesn’t he?”

  “Yes, ma’am. And I don’t want to make him sorry that he took me in.”

  “Then you shouldn’t sneak around places you shouldn’t be, doing things you know you shouldn’t do.”

  Slowly Justin nodded. “I know that’s right. And I’m sorry I did it. I’m sorry Ben got involved, too. He’s a good kid, and his dad would be really upset if he found out Ben skipped school.”

  Vashti walked over to the wagon seat and climbed onto it. She found it very important that Griffin should succeed as a father and that Justin shouldn’t go astray. But would he listen to her?

  “This is a very small town, Justin. Ben’s father sees most of the residents several times a week. If you don’t think that one of them—or Ben’s younger brother or the teacher—will tell him Ben wasn’t in school this morning, then you underestimate the power of the wagging tongues in a small town.”

  He stood still, staring at the floor for a minute.

  “Where’s your uncle this morning?” Vashti asked.

  “He had to drive down to the swing station to pick up a wagonload of oats. I wanted to go, but…”

  “But what?”

  He flicked a glance at her. “He told me to stay and clean up the barn.”

  “Did you do it?”

  “Partly.”

  “Hmm. Do you wish you were in school with Ben and his brother?”

  Justin shrugged. “I don’t mind being done with it. I like helping at the livery. Didn’t think I would, but I sort of do, now that I’m not afraid of the horses anymore.”

  She untied the reins and laced them through her fingers. “Let me ask you something. How do think Griffin will feel if he comes home this afternoon and you haven’t done the work he set you?”

  “Disappointed, I guess.”

  “Now imagine him coming home and finding the livery all cleaned up, even neater than he asked you to make it. How would he feel then?”

  Justin pressed his lips together. “Good, I guess.”

  “Mmm. And you’d feel good, too. Griffin’s not a hard man, Justin. I thought he was at first, but I was wrong. He’s got a big heart, and he’s got a soft spot for you.”

  He took two steps toward her and looked her in the eye. “I didn’t mean to do anything bad today.”

  “Maybe you should tell Mr. and Mrs. Benton that.”

  He sucked in a breath. “Do they have to know?”

  “The way I see it, if you don’t tell them and I don’t tell them, and then their stable burns down or they find something broken or missing from here, that wouldn’t be good, would it?”

  “I won’t come back. Honest.”

  “No, but Will might. If not here, then somebody else’s barn where they don’t go very often. Will’s a kid who has a nose for trouble. You don’t want to be like him, Justin.” She looked him up and down. “I think you want to be a man, not a brat of a kid that folks hate to see coming.”

  “Is that what people think of Will?”

  “I didn’t say that.”

  Justin stood frowning for a moment, then went over near the stove and picked up his hat. “I guess that was your wood we burned.” “I’ll make good use of what heat’s left.”

  He nodded and went to the door. “If you’re going to tell Uncle Griff…”

  Vashti smiled. “Why don’t you just make things so that it won’t matter whether I tell him or not?”

  He eyed her suspiciously, then gave a nod and went out. He rolled the door shut behind him.

  Vashti laid down the reins and hurried to the entrance. She pushed the door over an inch and squinted through the crack. Justin walked to the back door of the pastor’s house and knocked. Mrs. Benton opened the door and greeted him with a wide smile. Vashti pushed the door shut and went back to her imaginary stagecoach, sending up a prayer for Griffin and Justin. Even if Griffin didn’t like her, she wanted to see that family turn out all right.

  CHAPTER 16

  Spring came slowly to Fergus, a gradual shrinking of the snow and a hint of red on the ends of branches as buds swelled. Mud the length of Main Street heralded the thaw, and suddenly ranchers were putting their wagon boxes back on the axles and leaving the sleigh runners in the barn.

  As the bare earth appeared, ground squirrels came out, and large flocks of birds winged overhead. Vashti spent more time in the Wells
Fargo office, selling tickets for the stagecoaches to the flat regions and telling folks who wanted a ride up to Silver City or Delamar that they’d have to wait a little longer.

  Bill Stout came in one morning, his eyes twinkling. “Well now, Miss Edwards, you been practicing your driving skills?”

  “I surely have. Missed a few days during the coldest of the cold spells, but I’ve been out there every day this past month and more.”

  “Want to try driving real horseflesh?”

  She caught her breath. “You mean it?”

  Bill nodded. “Hiram Dooley’s got a team of four we can borrow this afternoon with his wagon. Thought we’d take them out the Mountain Road, just to let you get the feel of them.”

  “I’d love to!” She’d rather drive a six-horse hitch and a fine Concord coach, but this would be experience driving genuine, living horses.

  She and Bill bundled up in their overcoats, woolen hats, and mufflers, and she pulled on her trousers beneath her skirt. Bill borrowed two saddle horses from the livery, and they rode out to the ranch Hiram Dooley managed. The rancher met them in the dooryard to help hitch up the horses. Vashti doffed her gloves when she took the reins. Bill joined her on the wagon seat, and they set off. The exhilaration of really driving kept her warm for the first half hour on the road, but then her hands began to chill.

  “How do you keep your hands warm on a cold day?” she asked.

  “Sometimes you’ve got to wear gloves, but unless it’s a flat, smooth road and a steady team, I wouldn’t recommend it. What I have in my gear is a blanket with slits in it for the reins. It’s not ideal, but it lets me thread the reins through and keep my hands under the blanket. It’s awkward, but it’s a sight better than frostbite. Short of that, in a pinch you can take all the reins in one hand for a short time and put the other hand in your pocket, but you’re not really in control if you do that.”

  Vashti nodded. Maybe sitting out the winter driving season hadn’t been such a hardship, after all.

  The horses shied as a small herd of pronghorns appeared in the road ahead.

  “Easy now.” She kept firm pressure on the lines and talked calmly to the team. The pronghorns skipped off across the hillside, and the horses gradually fell back into their road gait.

  Bill nodded. “Spring’s coming, for sure.”

  “Seems like it took its time.”

  When they returned from their drive, Bill nodded toward the hitching post before the ranch house, where a buckskin mare was tied. “Looks like Miz Chapman’s here to see her brother.” He helped Vashti down from the wagon. “Go on into the house and visit with her. I’ll put the horses away.”

  “Oh no,” Vashti said. “You’re not doing all the work.”

  He frowned at her flowing skirt. “But you’re not wearing your boy togs.”

  “Well, it won’t be the first time I’ve unhitched a team while wearing a dress.”

  While they worked, Hiram came into the barn. “How’d your driving go?”

  “Wonderful,” Vashti said. “Thank you so much for letting me use your team.”

  Hiram nodded and looked to Bill.

  “She did fine,” Bill said. “I reckon she can handle six if she gets a chance.”

  Vashti glowed inside. “That’s nice of you.” Bill shrugged.

  “Trudy’s here,” Hiram said. “She’s putting the kettle on.”

  “Go on.” Bill reached to unbuckle the last harness. “We’ll take care of this. Scoot.”

  “All right, since you gentlemen insist.” Vashti hurried to the back door of the house. The ranch had belonged to Cyrus Fennel, the schoolteacher’s father. Mr. Fennel had owned half the town in the old days, and now Isabel did. But after her father’s death, Isabel had reached some sort of arrangement with Hiram to run the ranch for her so she could live in town. Vashti wasn’t sure what Hiram’s duties entailed, but she knew his job made it possible for him and Libby Adams to get married soon. At one of the shooting club meetings, Libby had told the ladies of her engagement amid blushes and prompts from Trudy.

  Vashti had never been to the ranch before. She couldn’t tell much so far. The barn was huge, and several outbuildings circled the barnyard. A bunkhouse, she supposed, and maybe a smokehouse and a woodshed. And the house was fine. Nicer than any in town, with the possible exception of Charles and Orissa Walker’s yellow frame house.

  She knocked timidly on the kitchen door. Trudy opened it, grinning. A large, flower-print apron covered most of her blue wool dress, and her hair was done up in braids, wrapped on top of her head.

  “Hello! Come right in. How was your drive?”

  “Magnolious,” Vashti said. “Not like sitting on the box of a stage, but closer than I’ve been all winter.”

  Trudy chuckled and led her to the table. A plain brown teapot sat steaming in the middle, and two ironstone mugs and a jug of cream waited for them.

  “Isn’t this the grandest kitchen you ever saw?” Trudy asked.

  Vashti looked around. “It’s almost as big as the one at the Spur & Saddle.”

  “Yes, and that nickel-trimmed stove cost old Cy Fennel a pretty penny, I’ll wager.”

  “Must have taken a lot of effort for Oscar Runnels to haul it up here with a mule team,” Vashti said.

  Trudy sat down and poured the tea. “Isabel took the fine china with her to her new place in town, but she left a lot of dishes and things here for Hiram. Of course, Libby has her own dishes, too, and furniture and linens. I’m not sure where they’ll put everything when they get married.”

  “I’ve been in Mrs. Adams’s rooms,” Vashti said. “She’s got beautiful things.”

  “Yes. Hiram’s going to move it all out here before the wedding. The whole shooting club can help them move.”

  “That will be exciting. When’s the day?”

  Trudy shrugged. “The Hamiltons said they’d come back in the spring and bring her the rest of the money for the emporium. When they take over, she’ll be ready to marry my brother. And the Hamiltons want to buy her whole building and live in the apartment upstairs, so it’s perfect.”

  “Say, maybe you could give some of the extra things to Griffin and Justin.”

  “That’s a good idea.”

  The men came in and joined them for hot tea, but as soon as he’d downed his cupful, Bill said, “We’d best push off, Georgie. It’ll be getting dark soon.”

  “Georgie?” Trudy eyed him askance.

  “It’s actually my real name,” Vashti said. “Georgia. When I’m riding the stage, the fellows call me George so the passengers won’t know I’m—” She broke off and felt her face warm. “I guess it’s no secret. Folks hereabouts know, anyway.”

  “Might protect you some,” Hiram said.

  Vashti looked over at him. It was the first thing Hiram had said since he came in from the barn. She’d rarely heard him speak, but she guessed he’d found enough words to convince Libby Adams to accept his suit.

  When she and Bill got back to the livery stable, Griffin had one of the stagecoaches on the main barn floor and was greasing the axles. Its red paint and gold trim glinted in the afternoon light. He glanced up as they led their mounts in.

  “Road to Silver’s open.”

  Bill smiled. “Well now.”

  “You up to taking the run tomorrow?”

  “Sure.”

  Griffin straightened and picked up the grease bucket. “If it doesn’t rain, you should be able to go all the way through. There’s a couple of real soft spots, though. If we do get some weather, you might have to lay over at Sinker Creek.”

  “I can handle it, boss.”

  Griffin nodded and fixed his gaze on Vashti. “What about you? You ready to shake out your pants and boots?”

  She caught her breath. “You want me to ride shotgun for Bill tomorrow?”

  “No, I’ve got another job in mind for you.” He came over and stood facing her soberly. “I’m taking over the mail run as far as Catherine. Johnny’s
going to drive that route for the time being. Thought I’d put you on the Reynolds-Nampa run.”

  Vashti almost said, “Who’s driving?” but Griffin said, almost as an afterthought, “With Ned Harmon.”

  Her heart raced. “You mean—”

  “That’s right, missy. You’ll drive and Ned will watch your back.”

  She could hardly breathe. “Oh! Oh! Thank you!” She flung herself at him and reached up to embrace him. His bushy beard tickled her cheek.

  “Hey! Watch it!”

  She backed away, mortified.

  Griffin laughed. “I’m holding a bucket of axle grease, gal. Don’t think you want that all over your pretty dress, do you?”

  “No, sir.” Vashti laced her fingers together and squeezed her hands tight. She was going to drive the stage. And she’d hugged Griffin. But maybe it didn’t matter. He thought her dress was pretty.

  Did that mean anything?

  She gulped and looked over at Bill.

  His eyes twinkled. “Well, there. I guess your hard work paid off.”

  The next morning, Vashti came down the stairs at the Spur & Saddle in her masculine attire. Augie and Bitsy were laying out clean dishes for the noon traffic, which had been dismally slow, and Augie was polishing the big mirror behind the serving counter that used to be the bar.

  “Look at that, dearest,” Augie said to Bitsy. “It’s our little boy going out to play.”

  Bitsy laughed. “Don’t mind him, honey.” She came over to stand before Vashti and placed both hands on her shoulders. “You take care.”

  “I will. And they treat me nice at the home station in Nampa.”

  “Good.”

  “Who’s riding shotgun for you?” Augie asked.

  “Ned Harmon.”

  “Well, he’s not so bad. Just don’t let him go carousing tonight. Remind him he’s got to bring you home safe tomorrow.”

  “She can’t stop Ned if he wants to drink.” Bitsy frowned. “I expect knowing Griffin will be watching him when you get back here will keep him from doing too much damage.”

  “I hope so.” Though Vashti had never ridden with Ned before, she remembered nights when he’d come into the saloon and drunk himself under the table. But those weren’t times when he had to go on duty the next morning. Cyrus Fennel ran the line then, and he wouldn’t have stood it. “I’m just glad I’ll finally be sitting in the driver’s seat.”