The Blacksmith’s Bravery

by Susan Page Davis

  “There’s a lot of stage lines around here,” Vashti said. “Could be they’ll strike again.”

  “They didn’t get much today.”

  “Huh. They got four good horses. I don’t know what my boss will say.”

  “He won’t fire you or anything, will he?”

  She shrugged. Her innards dragged, and she’d have turned back if Ned weren’t hurt so badly. Griffin had gone white-hot angry when Johnny had tipped the coach over last fall. She could picture his face when she told him what had happened this time.

  “My name’s Clell,” the cowboy said.

  “Oh.” She looked full at him for the first time. He was about thirty, medium height, and spare. “I’m George.” He laughed. “Right.”

  Vashti shrugged. She didn’t care what he thought.

  “What do you do when you’re not driving the mail coach?” Clell asked.

  Was he trying to flirt with her? What was he thinking, when Ned lay bleeding to death?

  “Come on if you’re coming.” She hurried her steps as they rounded a corner. Up the slope, she saw the northernmost fence line of the Democrat’s pasture.

  Griffin and the others saddled their mounts quickly and added Marty to the group. Three miles out of town, they met a lone rider.

  He cantered toward them and pulled up when he got close. “Hey, Sheriff!”

  “What is it?” Ethan called.

  Griffin recognized one of the tenders from the Democrat Station.

  “Where’s the Nampa stage?”

  “Robbed. My boss took two men and a fresh team out. It’s not supposed to be far from the station, but we didn’t hear any gunfire, so it must be a piece.”

  Griffin swallowed hard. “Where’s the driver?”

  The man grinned. “The boss made her stay at the station with his wife. She didn’t want to, but she was wore out and cold. Boss said they’d bring in the coach and passengers and then she could drive on to Fergus. But she says they need a doctor bad.”

  Griffin urged Pepper into a gallop. As he rode away he heard Ethan telling Justin to ride back to town as fast as he could and find Doc Kincaid and his deputies.

  At the stage stop, Griffin jumped to the ground and ran inside. Mrs. Jordan turned from where she was tending the stove. “Mr. Bane, you scared me.”

  “Where’s my driver? Georgie Edwards.”

  “She’s yonder.” Mrs. Jordan nodded toward a doorway. “Poor thing was plum tuckered out.” She stepped to the closed door and tapped on it. “Miss Edwards? You awake, honey? Mr. Bane’s here.”

  A moment later the door swung open. Vashti stood blinking at him, wearing her green woolen trousers and tan shirt, with the vest hanging open and her auburn hair spilling all rumpled about her shoulders. Her green eyes looked suspiciously red-rimmed.

  “I’m sorry.”

  “For what? Getting held up?”

  “Everything.” Tears coursed down her cheeks. “They wouldn’t let me ride back to the stage with them. I wanted to.”

  “Of course you did.”

  “She walked up here to tell us what happened,” Mrs. Jordan said.

  Ethan knocked at the front door and stuck his head in. “Should we go on, Griff?”

  “Yeah. I’m coming. Just wanted to hear from Vashti what happened.”

  “Four men, in the rocks. Three of them had horses, and the other one was on foot. They shot Ned and stole all four of our horses.” She raised one hand to her mouth. “He needs a doctor, Griff.”

  “We sent for Dr. Kincaid,” Ethan said.

  Griffin reached out and ran his hand over her tangled hair. “Are you all right, Georgie?”

  She nodded. “And the miners that rode with me tried to save the mail. I think they got most of it.”

  “All right. You rest, and we’ll head out there.”

  “Please let me come.” Her eyes brimmed with tears. “I hated to leave Ned like that.”

  “Anyone else hurt?”

  She gulped and shook her head. “They shot him in the arm, but it’s an awful mess. He’s bled a lot. Emmaline was tending him when I left. Please let me come with you.”

  Griffin looked at Ethan, and Ethan shrugged.

  “The men took all the horses we had here,” Mrs. Jordan said.

  “That fella that walked in with Georgie took one, and my husband and Buddy. We sent Hank to find you, Sheriff. That and the team of mules was all the critters we had.”

  “You can ride with me.” Griffin wasn’t sure where the words came from, but they popped out of his mouth. Vashti dashed back into the bedroom and came out hauling on her coat.

  He made sure she had a hat, her muffler, and gloves before he let her swing up behind him on Pepper’s back. She reached around him and hugged his middle as Pepper began to trot.

  “You going to be okay?” he yelled over his shoulder.

  “Yes. But loping would be better.”

  He loosened Pepper’s reins, and Vashti clung to him like a little burr. She was warm against his back, and when the road got steep and Pepper slowed down, she leaned her head against him. Griffin wished they could keep on riding like that a ways, but the coach wasn’t far. Ethan, Bitsy, Micah, and Marty reached it before he did.

  From a distance, he could see Emmaline run into her husband’s arms. Those two might bicker, but when it counted, their marriage was solid.

  The passengers surrounded Ethan. All of them talked at once, but he held up his hands.

  “Easy, folks. I want to hear from all of you, one at a time. First I want to take a look at Mr. Harmon and assess the damage. As soon as the rest of my deputies get here, I’ll be going after those outlaws. Anything you can tell me about them will help.

  Griffin pulled up near where Ned lay on the ground, turned, and grasped Vashti’s hand. She held on to him and slid to the ground.

  “How’s Ned?” she asked Emmaline.

  “Not very good, but the men from the station said they’d sent for a doctor.”

  “That’s right, and a couple of my deputies, too.”

  Emmaline nodded. “Well, I hope Ned makes it. Mr. Jordan brought two blankets when he came with the mule team, and we’ve got Ned lying on one, with the other bundled around him.”

  Vashti knelt beside Ned, and Griffin crouched on his other side.

  “Ned, can you hear me?” Vashti’s tone was a wheedling plea, but Ned didn’t open his eyes.

  Griffin clenched his teeth. He didn’t want to lose Ned, especially not this way. Vashti would never stop blaming herself, though it wasn’t her fault.

  “Harmon!”

  Ned twitched.

  “Harmon, open your eyes,” Griffin barked. “I want to know what happened here.”

  Slowly Ned’s eyelids lifted. “Sorry, boss. We tried.”

  “I know you did.” Griffin reached out a hand to clap him on the shoulder, but stopped. It would probably hurt Ned. “I’m not blaming you or Vashti. Listen, we’ve got Doc Kincaid coming, and some men are hitching up a new team. Will you let me lift you into the stage?”

  “Whatever you say, boss.”

  Griffin slid an arm under the wool cocoon, judging where Ned’s knees were. His other arm he carefully snaked under Ned’s back. Ned moaned, and Vashti reached from the other side to help lift him enough for Griffin to get his arms in place.

  “Make sure the coach door’s open,” Griff said. He stood with the limp burden in his arms and walked toward the stagecoach.

  CHAPTER 20

  Vashti’s stomach fluttered as Griffin counted out her pay. As each bill hit her palm, the tickle rose until she felt she’d burst. She’d be able to pay Bitsy and Augie for a month’s board and room and also pay what remained on her bill at the emporium.

  “Twenty-eight, twenty-nine, thirty.”

  “Thanks, Mr. Bane.”

  “Griffin. And you earned it.”

  She ducked her head. “I still feel like I ought to help pay to replace the horses and harness.”

&nbs
p; “Unfortunately, that’s part of my business expense.” Griffin’s eyes narrowed. “Are you sure you want to do the mail run again next week?”

  “Yes, sir. I’ll be ready.”

  “Because I could maybe find someone—”

  “I want to do it.”

  He looked down into her eyes for a long moment. Vashti felt the tickle move toward her heart. He looked handsome today, less shaggy. Must have trimmed his beard.

  “Vashti, I don’t want anything to happen to you.”

  She nodded. “Thanks. But don’t you think they’ll go more for the stages carrying treasure? Some of the mines will be shipping out gold again, and payrolls will be coming through regular.”

  “Yes. And you’ll be carrying some of them.”

  She gulped. “Think the outlaws know when we’re carrying something valuable?”

  “It’ll be pretty much even odds this summer. If they hit often enough, they’ll get something eventually.” Griffin scrunched up his mouth. “I guess I’d better line up some more guards. If we’ve got to deal with an outlaw gang this year, it’s going to be rough going, no matter what run you’re driving.”

  “Sheriff Chapman didn’t find any trace of them, did he?”

  “No. He was able to track them until they got into the rocks.”

  “I’m really sorry they got your rifle and Ned’s shotgun.”

  Griffin sat down on the edge of his desk. “Well, don’t fret over it. I’ll put in my claim to the government for the guns and horses, since it was a mail coach. And I’ll make sure you’ve got a good messenger next time.”

  She looked up at him. “Who will ride with me now that Ned’s laid up?”

  “We’ll see.” He looked worried, and she didn’t press him.

  “I’m really sorry we lost the horses, but I especially regret that Ned got hurt.”

  “Have you seen him since we brought him in?” Griffin asked.

  “Yeah, I went over to Doc’s yesterday. Ned was in a lot of pain.”

  “I saw him this morning.” Griffin’s brown eyes darkened. “The doc says his arm may never be right again. And he’ll need several weeks to recuperate.”

  “He lost a lot of blood,” Vashti said softly. “I should have stayed and helped Emmaline.”

  “You couldn’t do that and go for help, too. Besides, she had the other passengers. Doc said there wasn’t much else they could have done besides what she did—making a bandage and trying to stop the bleeding.”

  Vashti looked down at the money in her hand. Maybe she’d spend a dollar or so on a new petticoat for Emmaline, to replace the one she used to cover Ned’s wound.

  On Monday morning, Vashti mounted the stage box outside the livery and prepared to drive around to the Wells Fargo office. She had a team of four sorrel horses for a mostly downhill run. Warm sunshine beat down on her. She couldn’t see any snow left in town, though the mountains still wore their snowy cloaks, and the north slopes probably still held pockets of it. The horses stamped and nickered, ready to go. If not for the fresh memory of the robbery, she’d have sung a tune under her breath.

  To her surprise, when the mail and nine passengers were loaded and a green wooden treasure box was lodged in the front boot, behind her feet, Griffin himself mounted the box and sat down beside her, holding two guns. He slid a Sharps rifle under their seat and held the shotgun up against his shoulder.

  “Ready, Georgie?”

  She swallowed hard. “You’re riding with me?”

  “Yes, I am.”

  Her pulse rate doubled. Could she ride twenty-five miles with Griffin Bane sitting next to her? How would she ever concentrate on the horses? It was bad enough sitting next to her boss, but lately her heart had done strange things when he was close by. She’d pondered far too much on the brief ride she’d taken on his horse with him the day of the robbery.

  “What about Justin?” she asked. “What’ll he do tonight?”

  “Mrs. Thistle is happy to have him as a guest once more.”

  Vashti gathered the reins. If she put it off any longer, they’d start late, and keeping the conversation going wouldn’t put a different shotgun rider at her side. She signaled Marty, and he let go of the leaders’ heads. They broke into a smooth trot. This was her dream—good horses, a fine coach, and an open road. She wouldn’t think about the stretch that ran through the rocks.

  The first few miles flew by, and she felt Griffin’s gaze on her often while they were still near town. Of course he was watching her, evaluating her performance. She tried not to let it bother her, but she couldn’t help being conscious of him every moment.

  After their brief stop at the Democrat Station, where Mrs. Jordan ran out to say hello to “Georgie,” Griffin sat tall, constantly scanning the broken landscape. Neither of them mentioned the rocks, but as they approached the site of the robbery, Vashti felt his tension. He sat alert and tight as a bowstring, holding the shotgun at the ready.

  She kept the horses moving at a swift trot. Her heart raced as they came to the spot where she’d first seen the lone outlaw six months ago.

  “I think the robber who didn’t have a horse last week was the one who was out here last summer,” she said suddenly.

  “Ned told me as much.”

  She looked over at him in surprise. “He did? I thought of it that day, but I paid more attention to their leader. Benny.” She shivered.

  The horses kept on, never once breaking stride. She wondered where the others were now—the ones that were stolen. Would their own faithful coach horses be used to attack them?

  Ahead was the narrow place where rocks loomed on both sides of the road. Vashti’s lungs ached, and she held her breath.

  Griffin never took his eyes off the rocks as they rolled smoothly toward the danger point. Of course, if that gang were to stop them again, the outriders would likely have shown themselves by now. You just never knew. And the coach traveled downhill. Far more likely they’d be attacked going the other way, as Vashti and Ned had been. A team plodding uphill was much easier to stop than one barreling down an incline. Still, he remained vigilant, aware of the nine passengers, the mail, and the treasure box. The weight of his responsibility pressed on his broad shoulders.

  All of that and Vashti.

  If his small part of the Wells Fargo line suffered another holdup, who knew what would happen? He might lose the mail contract. That could ruin him financially. Already he was hard pressed, and if he wasn’t reimbursed for last week’s losses, he’d have a difficult time of it. But worse—people’s lives were at stake. Was he foolish to run a stage here when danger lurked?

  The coach rumbled through the narrow place, and he exhaled heavily. Ahead lay more rocks—the ones most of the outlaws had hidden behind. But the best place to waylay them was now behind.

  He glanced over at Vashti. A drop of sweat trickled down her temple, though it wasn’t overly warm.

  He wanted to assure her that they were safe, but he couldn’t say that for sure. Not yet. So they rode on in silence, down out of the hills and toward the river.

  As the rocks fell farther behind, Vashti uncoiled. Her jaw relaxed and her shoulders fell a little. She resumed talking to the horses now and then, as she had during the first part of the ride. He admired the way she kept all the reins almost taut—but without pressure on the horses’ mouths. Gentle contact, that was all. She may not have driven long, but she had a feel for the horses.

  He relaxed just a hair and scanned the terrain on both sides of the road. After looking ahead for a long minute, he allowed himself another glance at her. Watching Vashti drive was like listening to rippling music with auburn hair and green eyes.

  She shot a reproachful glance at him, and he looked quickly away. When had he started caring for her? He’d known her for years in a general way—had let her bring him drinks when he visited the Spur & Saddle in the old days, before Bitsy got religion. She was a bar girl, that was all. Then she became a churchgoing member of the community.
A sister in Christ, according to Pastor Benton, and Griffin supposed that was right. It had taken everyone awhile to get used to thinking of Bitsy and “the girls” that way.

  Now she was much more. His employee. A member of the Ladies’ Shooting Club. A holdup survivor. And one tough stage driver.

  His gaze strayed to her face again, and she glanced over. She bit her bottom lip as she adjusted the reins. Was she nervous because he was here? He smiled.

  Her green eyes widened for an instant, and she looked forward again, frowning slightly. The ferry lay a half mile ahead. Across the river, and they’d be nearly there. Griffin almost regretted that the end of their ride together approached. But there was the return trip tomorrow. And tonight in Nampa.

  Normally if he rode one of the stages, he had a couple of drinks after dinner and hit the hay early. He didn’t have enough spare cash to get into a poker game. He’d always figured he shouldn’t gamble unless he wouldn’t miss the money if he lost. Now and then, he found a saloon where they had a singer or dancers. One time in Boise, he’d been to the theater. That was something he still thought about two years later. Colorful costumes, music, pretty ladies, and a magician who wasn’t half bad.

  But tonight… he made himself not look at Vashti, but he knew he wouldn’t stray far from the home station if she stayed there tonight.

  They rolled up to the ferry, and Vashti called, “Whoa now.”

  The team halted smoothly. The ferryman and his two helpers came out of their shack.

  “How many passengers?” the ferryman called.

  “Nine,” said Vashti.

  The man looked sharply at her.

  “Good afternoon,” Griffin said, louder than he’d intended. At least he distracted the ferryman.

  “Oh, Mr. Bane. How are you, sir?”

  “Fair to middlin’.” It pleased Griffin to see the man straighten his shoulders and snap orders to his men. The ferryman knew who would pay him at the end of the month for the Wells Fargo coaches, employees, and passengers he carried.

  Griffin climbed down and watched Vashti scramble to earth. If one didn’t know, he supposed one might think she was a young man. But how many people between Fergus and Boise didn’t know? The ferryman’s helpers sneaked glances her way as they prepared to load the stage onto the ferry. After the horses and coach were aboard, the passengers and a few locals who’d been waiting to cross the river got on.