The Blacksmith’s Bravery

by Susan Page Davis

  “Ned, are you hurt bad?”

  “Hurts like blazes but could be worse.” His teeth never opened as he ground out the words.

  “I said get down, and I meant it. Both of you.” “Best do as they say.” Ned winced.

  “I’ll help you.” Vashti went over the side backward and groped for the step, keeping her eyes on Ned. “Can you come over this way?” He groaned and slid into her seat.

  Vashti hopped down and stood, anxiously staring upward and trying to ignore the gunman at her back. She held up her hands in a futile gesture of aid. Ned’s boot found the step, and he oozed over the side of the box, sliding down in a rush. As she tried to catch him, she got knocked to the ground for her trouble.

  “Take it easy, folks. Just get out nice and slow,” the fourth robber said.

  Vashti picked herself up and crouched beside Ned. “You okay?” He moaned and blinked up at her.

  One of the horses whinnied, and she glanced over to see one of the outlaws cutting through the leaders’ harness. She opened her mouth to protest, but a stern voice behind her said, “I wouldn’t try anything if I were you.”

  A quick assessment told her that one of the outlaws guarded her and Ned while another cut the horses free of their harness and a third one terrorized the passengers on the other side of the coach. Their outraged spluttering was all she needed to hear. The outlaws were robbing them blind.

  Vashti focused on Benny, the leader. She tried to memorize as much about him as she could, but he’d masked his features well.

  The one who’d cut the lead team free called, “All right, Benny.

  These two look good. Did you check for a money box?”

  “Not yet.” He dismounted and came over to the coach.

  On the ground beside Ned, Vashti could see his feet as he went to where the passengers stood. “We don’t have a treasure box. No money today.”

  “Shut up,” said the one standing over her.

  Vashti watched him. When he shifted so he could see Benny checking the inside of the coach, she leaned close to Ned. “Can you help if I make a move?”

  His eyes widened. “Don’t. They’ll shoot you.”

  “Well, this ain’t worth much.” Benny threw the two mail sacks out of the stage and hopped to the ground. He and one of the other outlaws cut open the sacks and turned them upside down, dumping the mail on the ground. Letters and advertisements fluttered in the breeze and skimmed over the damp earth.

  Another outlaw crowed. The one who’d cut the harnesses had mounted the coach and found Griffin’s rifle.

  A bitter taste filled Vashti’s mouth. “I should have dropped the reins and gone for the gun first thing.”

  “We didn’t know there were four of them.” Ned grimaced and closed his eyes. “Don’t do anything stupid.”

  She gritted her teeth and watched, but the man jumped down from the box with Griffin’s rifle and extra ammunition.

  “Got me a nice Spencer.”

  The robbers gathered, showing each other their plunder. The one who’d robbed the passengers had taken two pistols, some money, and a pocket watch. The others had collected Ned’s shotgun, Griffin’s rifle, and the two lead horses.

  “All right, let’s get out of here,” Benny said.

  The man who had guarded Vashti and Ned backed away from them. From behind his neckerchief mask, he said, “You know, if we leave those other two horses, they’ll be at the next station in ten minutes.”

  “We don’t need four horses,” said Benny. “Two is enough.”

  “We could shoot the extras,” another man offered.

  Heat surged through Vashti. She leaped up and faced them with clenched fists. “How could you be such monsters? I understand you wanting money, and even shooting Ned, because he’d have shot you if you didn’t. But to kill innocent animals?”

  Benny laughed. “Little spitfire. Maybe we should take her along with us.”

  “She’s got grit,” one of his friends admitted. “Hey, can you cook?” Benny called.

  “Let’s go,” the fourth man said, looking up the road toward the Democrat Station. “Someone else could come along any minute.”

  “Come on. Bring the other nags.” Benny took the rope his cohort had tied to one of the lead team and rode off with the two horses in tow.

  The man with no mount ran to the tongue of the coach and unhitched the wheelers from the whiffletrees. He stood on the tongue and swung onto the near horse’s back, coiling up the long rein, and rode off after his comrades with the off wheeler still hitched to his mount and keeping stride.

  Vashti stood staring after them. Tears streamed down her cheeks.

  “My dear, are you all right?”

  She turned. Emmaline and the other passengers had come around the coach.

  “I’m fine, but I’m mad. They shot Ned and stole all our horses.”

  Emmaline pulled her into her embrace. “We’re all alive. That’s what counts.”

  “They took my gun and my watch,” one of the men said.

  Another of the passengers knelt beside Ned. “Are you all right, sir?” Ned groaned.

  “Do any of you have medical experience?” Vashti asked.

  None of the men spoke, but Emmaline came forward. “I’ve tended the sick and wounded. I can take a look.”

  Vashti sobbed. “I have to collect the mail.”

  One of the miners shook his head. “What next? Girls driving stagecoaches!”

  “We’ll help you, ma’am,” said the cowboy. He stooped and grabbed an empty mail sack. “Come on, boys, let’s get as much as we can. This little dab of a gal will probably be in trouble if we don’t save the mail.”

  Vashti wiped the tears from her cheeks and walked over to where Emmaline was prodding Ned’s arm.

  “I think we should take his coat off and try to stop the bleeding.” Vashti knelt beside her. “How bad is it?”

  “I’m not sure, but it’s possible he could bleed out while we wait for help.” Emmaline touched Ned’s cheek. “Ned, can you hear me?”

  He let out a groan, and his eyelids fluttered.

  “Help me,” Emmaline said to Vashti. The two of them struggled with Ned’s coat but at last got him out of it. He began to shiver.

  “It looks real bad.” Vashti swallowed down her revulsion at the bloody mess.

  “It must’ve hit the bone,” Emmaline said. “We’d best wrap it tight and run to the station.”

  “Yes. And get his coat back on if we can. I’ll see if there’s a rug or a blanket in the boot of the stage.”

  She hurried to the back of the coach but found nothing useful. The cowboy came over with a full mail sack.

  “Here’s what we’ve got so far, ma’am. Picked up the easy piles first. The other fellows are chasing letters that blew away.”

  “Thank you. That’s extremely good of you. I wonder if any of you have anything in your bags that we can use to keep Mr. Harmon warm?”

  He tipped his hat back and looked into her eyes. “I could build a fire.”

  “That would be wonderful. Thank you.” She hurried back to Emmaline. “The cowboy is going to try to find enough combustibles to light a fire. I think I’d better leave for the Democrat Station.”

  “Ned needs the doctor.” Emmaline frowned down at the patient.

  “If he loses too much blood…”

  Vashti nodded. “All right. I’ll check to see if those outlaws found my pistol. I think it’s still in my bag.”

  “I sure wish I’d had my gun with me. I was going to take my rifle, but Micah said we’d be fine with the stagecoach guard to protect us. Only two of the other passengers had weapons, and as far as I could see, they couldn’t shoot worth beans. Of course, the stage was lurching and bumping.”

  Vashti went to the front of the coach. Most of the harness had gone off with the horses, but the coach itself seemed unscathed except for some splintered wood on the front corner. She hugged herself and shivered. That must have been a bullet meant
for her.

  “Thank You, Lord.”

  She climbed onto the box and rummaged under the seat. Her small canvas bag was intact. Nestled between her spare socks and pantalets and her hairbrush was the revolver she’d bought from Libby Adams last year. She tucked it in her belt and climbed down.

  She walked back to Emmaline and Ned. “Guess I’d better hoof it for the next station. It’ll probably take me a half hour, so don’t expect anyone to come too soon.”

  Emmaline stood. “I’ll try to keep Ned comfortable. I was thinking we should get him off the ground, but if that fella’s going to light a fire…”

  Vashti squinted up the road. “Someone will come along before dark, I’m sure, but we can’t count on it. If I get to the Democrat Station, we can bring the relief team of mules to come and haul the coach in.”

  Emmaline nodded. “Makes sense to me. They don’t have a telegraph, do they?”

  “No. But they might send a rider for Sheriff Chapman—or back to Nampa for the lawman there.”

  “And the doctor. Don’t forget to tell Ethan to bring Doc along.”

  “Right.”

  Vashti could see the cowboy on the hillside, breaking low branches off a small pine tree. The miners had scattered, chasing the mail. She was thankful for that, but Ned’s condition worried her. She waved at Emmaline and set out.

  When she was out of sight of the stagecoach, the vastness of the land swept over her. She quickened her steps. These hills could swallow up a woman—or a stagecoach full of people or a band of outlaws.

  Years ago, she’d felt alone like this—when she’d left home. She’d set out alone then, too, but not in a desolate place like this. Her only thought then had been to escape Uncle Joshua. Aunt Mary didn’t believe her when she’d told her that her uncle had grabbed her in the barn and kissed her. Vashti was Georgia then, and eleven years old. The kiss had repulsed and confused her.

  Aunt Mary confronted her husband when he came in later. “What did you do to this child?”

  “Nothing. Just teased her a little. What did she say?”

  “Said you kissed her.”

  He laughed. “She doesn’t like me. She’ll say anything.”

  She’d avoided him for weeks but saw him watching her. Aunt Mary sent her out to gather eggs before school one morning. He caught her as she came from the chicken yard.

  “No, no!” she screamed. As she writhed in his grip and tried to pull away, the seam of her dress tore at the waist. At last she got away and ran for the house. She burst through the back door, crying.

  “Why are you running, Georgia? And where is your egg basket?”

  She halted before Aunt Mary’s disapproving glare.

  “I… I dropped it.”

  “Oh, look, you’ve torn your dress.”

  Uncle Joshua came through the back door. “Is the little girl all right?”

  “She ripped her dress.” Aunt Mary looked at him questioningly.

  “I told her not to climb over the fence like that.” He shook his head.

  Georgia stared at him.

  “Go on,” Aunt Mary said with a sigh. “You’ll have to wear your Sunday dress today. And if you come home with a tear in it, young lady, you’ll be in trouble.”

  “Yes, ma’am.” Georgia scurried to her attic room and changed. She hoped Uncle Joshua would be gone when she went down the ladder and took the torn dress to Aunt Mary, but he was sitting by the cookstove, drinking coffee and talking about planting corn. Vashti snatched her lunch pail off the windowsill and ran out the door. But she didn’t go to school that day. Instead, she took the road for Cincinnati.

  Now she wasn’t terrified the way she had been then, but she’d be lying if she said she wasn’t afraid. Ned could die before she got back. The outlaws’ brazen thievery and disregard for life angered her, but it might have been worse. They could have killed her and the passengers as easily as not.

  “Thank You, Lord, for preserving us. Please keep Ned alive until we get him some help.” She began to jog, but the cool wind tore her breath away. She’d heard it was harder to breathe, the higher you got in the mountains. Wolves might lurk out here, and there were outlaws, though they’d probably ridden off a good ways to divide their plunder. Was one of the four in the gang the same man who had tried unsuccessfully to rob the stagecoaches last year? Maybe Ned was right and he’d rounded up some friends to come and help him.

  She reckoned she was halfway to the station when she heard footsteps behind her.

  CHAPTER 19

  Griffin paced the boardwalk in front of the Wells Fargo office. He shoved his hand in his pants pocket and pulled out Cy Fennel’s old watch. No getting around it. The stage was an hour late.

  Micah Landry came out of the Nugget and strode across the street toward him. “No sign of them?”

  Griffin shook his head and came to a decision. “I’m going for the sheriff.”

  Micah tailed him over to the jailhouse, next to where Griffin and Justin now lived. Ethan’s paint horse was tied out front. Griffin hurried up the walk and threw the door open. Justin was seated across Ethan’s desk from him, playing a game of checkers with the sheriff. The small potbellied stove kept the office toasty, and a pot of coffee steamed on top.

  “Howdy, Griff.” Ethan straightened and smiled at him.

  “The stage is late.”

  “Oh?” Ethan frowned. “How late?”

  “A whole hour.”

  Micah came in behind Ethan and shut the door. “That’s right, Sheriff, and my wife is supposed to be on it.”

  “Let’s telegraph Nampa and see if they left on time.” “Good thinking.”

  Ethan slapped his hat on and reached for his jacket. Justin tagged along as they left the jail. They reached the boardwalk, and Bitsy Moore met them in front of the old haberdashery. Beneath her wool coat she had on her red bloomer costume, and a jaunty red hat with a dyed pheasant feather graced her head.

  “Griffin Bane! Where’s Vashti?” She hurried toward them, her high-buttoned boots clomping on the walkway.

  “Don’t know,” Griffin said.

  “So I was right and the stage is late?”

  “Looks that way.”

  Bitsy seized Ethan’s wrist. “What are you going to do, Sheriff?”

  “Send a telegram to Nampa. If they left on time, we’ll ride out and see if we can get word of them.”

  Maitland Dostie’s cramped office barely held them all. They waited in silence after Maitland sent Ethan’s message off.

  After ten minutes, Micah Landry swore. “I could have been halfway to the first stage stop by now.”

  “Take it easy,” Ethan said.

  Griffin started to speak but thought better of it. The river was high this time of year. Maybe they shouldn’t have started running the stages yet. But it hadn’t rained for several days, and the ferrymen didn’t take foolish chances.

  The telegraph clicked. “Here comes something.” Maitland picked up his pencil and began to write. After a moment, he sighed and shook his head. “Not for you.”

  They all let out a pent-up breath.

  “I’ve got to take this message to Ted Hire at the Nugget,” Maitland said.

  Griffin grabbed his arm. “You can’t leave now. This is an emergency.”

  “I could deliver the telegram,” Justin said.

  Griffin had almost forgotten he was there. “To the Nugget?

  I don’t think so.”

  “I’ll run it down there,” Micah said. “But if you hear anything while I’m gone, make sure you let me know.”

  Maitland held out the sheet of paper, and Micah ran out the door.

  Griffin resumed pacing. Bitsy leaned against the counter and drummed her fingers, while Ethan leaned against the wall with his arms folded. Justin stood in the corner, quiet for once.

  Micah came back five minutes later, and as he opened the door, Maitland’s telegraph key began to click again.

  “That’s your message,” he said aft
er a moment. The others crowded up to the counter and watched him. After a minute, the clicking stopped, and he looked up and read: “‘To Sheriff Chapman, Fergus, from Wells Fargo agent Gayle, Nampa. Confirmed stage left 9:00 a.m., crossed river safely.’”

  Griffin exhaled again. “They got across the river.”

  Ethan nodded. “That’s good news. I guess we’d better ride out and see where they are.”

  “I’m coming with you,” Bitsy said.

  Ethan frowned. “Best not, Miz Moore.”

  “My girl is on that stage. If something’s happened, you may need a woman along.”

  “My Emmaline’s on it, too,” Micah said. He and Bitsy eyed each other.

  Bitsy nodded. “I hope they’re a comfort to each other. Sheriff, we’re going with you.”

  Ethan threw his hands in the air. “All right, but hurry.”

  “Will you lend me a horse, Griffin?” Bitsy asked.

  He nodded. “Let’s not waste any more time.”

  “Me, too?” Justin jogged along beside him, down the street toward the livery.

  Griffin shot him a glance. “You’d best stay home.”

  “He’s nearly a man grown,” Ethan said quietly.

  Griffin frowned. “All right. But if there’s trouble, you do what I say, you hear?”

  “Yes, sir.” Justin sped ahead of them to the stable.

  Vashti whipped around, holding her pistol in front of her. Fifty feet behind her was the cowboy who’d gathered the fuel for a fire. He held his hands up and stopped walking, but he smiled.

  “Hey, there! Didn’t mean to scare you. I thought, in light of what happened, it might be good for you to have some company.”

  Vashti let out her breath and stuck the holster back in her belt. “Come on, then. It’s not much farther.”

  “A gal like you shouldn’t be out here alone.”

  “It’s broad daylight,” she said.

  “Yes, and we was robbed in broad daylight.”

  She walked along, kicking at a stone now and then. When it came down to it, she was glad it wasn’t dark, but she didn’t say so. “Think those outlaws went far?”

  The cowboy shoved his hat back a little. “I dunno. They could have a hideout somewhere close.”