Still silence.
“Jonah?” his father finally spoke, but with a resigned quiet in his voice that Jonah hadn’t expected.
He couldn’t meet his father’s eyes.
A soft whinny carried on the slight breeze through the open window.
“Father, we are already behind schedule. And without Henry...” his voice trailed at the sadness that accompanied the realization of his words.
Henry had never been scared of anything—even when he should have been. This drive was going to be hard enough, but without him Jonah wasn’t sure how they’d manage.
“These horses have to be delivered to the Pony Express stations within a fortnight as promised or we’ll lose the contract,” Jonah said matter-of-factly. He crossed the room and opened the front door, then paused without looking back. “I’ll think about it.”
Before he could pull the door shut behind him, Gabe Deardon made up the distance between him and his second son and placed a booted foot in its path.
“We’ll get through this, son.” He placed a hand on Jonah’s shoulder. “We always do. Just remember what we’ve built here, Jonah. Keeping the ranch depends on more than fulfilling our contract with the Pony Express. It depends on retaining this land. Miss Foster is the key to that.”
Jonah met his father’s gaze without a word, turned on his heel, and headed to the corral. This drive would provide the time he needed to figure things out. There had to be a way to satisfy both sides without getting hitched in the process and he was going to find it.
“Where are we on finding another drover, Maxie?” he asked the man leaning against the corral fence with a long piece of wheat-colored grass protruding from his mouth.
Max pushed himself away from the fence and fell in step with Jonah as they circled the barn. “Sent one of the boys to the logging camp up river. Eli Whittaker has been the only other volunteer so far,” he said with a smirk.
Jonah jerked around to look at his longtime friend and best drover. “The kid’s barely twelve years old and scrawny as hell.”
“Just telling what we got, boss.”
Jonah narrowed his eyes at the unvoiced chuckle he knew was hovering just beneath the surface of Max’s serious façade and snorted. “We’re losing daylight standing around here. This mob needs to be ready to ride first thing tomorrow.” He grabbed his gloves from the small milking stool outside the stable and threw open the doors.
Maybe a ride would do him some good. Clear his head. Then, he thought about the long hours he’d have ahead in the saddle and thought better of it. He needed three horses for each of the selected Pony Express stations along the route between Salt Lake City and St. Joseph, Missouri. That meant delivering nearly one-hundred and fifty horses short one very experienced wrangler. It could be done. It would have to be.
“What bee crawled into your bonnet tonight?” Max threw the grass he’d been chewing to the ground, followed Jonah into the stable, and climbed up onto the rung of one of the stall gates.
Jonah shoved his hands through his hair and kicked at a small rock in the dirt. Glass shattered as it pierced the outer casing of the lantern on the work table.
“Damn.”
“Feel better?” Lucas Deardon, Jonah’s baby brother, leaned against the stable door and folded his arms.
“Why don’t you or Noah marry the girl? An ugly, no good scoundrel like yourself may never get another chance,” Jonah teased, trying to lighten his own mood.
His younger brothers, Noah and Lucas, were in no short supply of female attentions. And if he were honest with himself, there were a few gals in town that had not been too subtle about letting him know where he could hang his hat either.
“Not every woman is going to be like mama,” Lucas said out of nowhere.
Jonah didn’t want to think about the woman who’d abandoned her husband and four small boys thirteen years earlier because a fancy easterner had told her that a voice like hers deserved to been heard from a big city stage. She’d left for Chicago within the week. Jonah had been eleven years old, but Lucas had only been seven.
A loud boom nearly shook the ground and a streak of lightning split the sky.
“When is Aunt Leah expecting us at Redbourne Ranch for the wedding?” Noah ducked into the stable just as the clouds broke and the rain started to fall.
Jonah threw his hands in the air and walked out into the rain.
“What? What did I say?”
Jonah heard Noah’s question through the onslaught of water that slammed against his hat and dripped down the rim in surprisingly thick cascades. He’d sent word to Kansas of Henry’s accident just this morning, but with the way mail was handled, who knew how long it would be before they received word?
“You don’t have to marry her, you know.” Lucas patted him firmly on the shoulder.
“Tell that to him.” Jonah nodded his head toward the back door, where their father leaned against the frame with his coffee mug in hand.
The original plan had been to retrieve Miss Foster in St. Joseph and then head down to Stone Creek, Kansas where she and Henry would be wed at Redbourne Ranch. It would have all worked out fine, but Henry had to go and get himself killed and that changed everything.
Now, with just five weeks left, he had no idea if Miss Foster would receive his letter, let alone Aunt Leah. He couldn’t just leave a woman stranded. They were less than a week behind schedule, but that could be a lifetime if Emma Foster was waiting for Henry in St. Joseph, Missouri.
What was he going to say if and when he found her? Could he actually marry the girl to save his family’s ranch? Truth was, they’d collected about all the free land surrounding the ranch they could, but the Foster’s property claimed the pass, the best grazing land for miles, and the biggest source of water. They needed this parcel. There was no denying it.
Ezra, the old cook, stepped out onto the disheveled porch of the bunkhouse and clanked the metal triangle with his steel stick.
“Come on, boys,” Noah called as he pushed past Jonah and Lucas, “supper’s on,” he said with a laugh, attempting to block his uncovered head from the rain with his arms.
Jonah glanced back up at the front door.
His father was gone.
He pulled his hat down tighter on his head and put his arm around his brother.
“Let the drive begin.”
Chapter Three
St. Joseph, Missouri
“I’ll take those, ma’am,” Johnny called from the bottom of the train steps.
Emma smiled at how she’d warmed to the orphan children and their caretaker on their journey west.
“Why, thank you, kind sir,” she said in an exaggeratedly demure drawl as she handed her travelling case down.
Johnny rolled his eyes, but Emma didn’t miss the pink color that darkened his cheeks. A touch of melancholy set in as she realized this was where they would all part ways. She took a step down, but before she could reach the bottom, Johnny had raised a hand to help her. Emma placed her fingers in his palm and when she attained the platform, she bowed her head with a slight curtsy.
“Why, Johnny Dingle, if I didn’t know any better I would say you was whooped over Miss Foster,” Fran teased, her hands on her hips and braids swinging around her shoulders.
His smile froze in place and a deeper color flooded his face.
“Ma’am.” He tipped an imaginary hat toward her and turned on his heel.
Fran’s eyes widened when he barreled straight toward her.
Emma laughed.
“You sure you have to do this?” Hattie asked. “Oregon is awfully far, and for a man you’ve never even met.” She tsked.
Emma looked at her new friend and didn’t want to admit the truth. That her grandfather had taught her to be a lady with finer skills and attributes. She had no idea how to wash clothes, care for children, or keep a house. And the only other jobs for a woman were…unthinkable at best. She shook her head of the dreadful thoughts and smiled.
&n
bsp; “My grandfather knew what he was doing when he made this arrangement. I am sure that Mr. Deardon will take good care of me.” She glanced around from one end of the platform to the other, but it seemed no one was here waiting for her. She would not panic.
I’m sure he has just been delayed, she thought.
When Emma realized that Hattie was looking at her with creased brows, she smiled as warmly as she could and leaned down to hug the woman.
A little tug on her skirt drew her attention.
“Don’t go, Emma. I mean, Miss Foster. I want you to be our new mommy.” The child’s wide blue eyes brimmed with tears. “I think Johnny would like that too.”
Hattie laughed loudly and winked at Emma. She picked up the little girl. “Now, Callie, Miss Emma is going west to get married. Don’t you worry, we’ll find you and your brother a good family.”
Callie reached for Emma, but Hattie held her tight.
Emma stepped forward and placed a hand over the little girl’s and leaned in close to the child’s face. “But we’ll be great friends always, all right?” she whispered.
Callie nodded with a sniffle and Hattie set her down. The child remained still for a moment, not quite able to meet Emma’s eyes, but then, with a quick glance, she spun on her heel and ran to her brother, clasping him about his leg and tucking her head into the folds of his shirt. Johnny put his arm around his little sister and with a half-smile, squeezed her closer.
Emma had never really thought about children, but there was a slight tug to her heart as she stepped back and stood up straight.
“It’s time to go.” The deep, resonating voice of the man with the book from the train startled her. He’d appeared out of nowhere. “They are waiting for us at the new St. Joseph’s church.”
Hattie and Emma exchanged glances.
“Goodbye, my friend,” Hattie said with another quick hug. “And God speed.”
The hairs on Emma’s neck bristled again. Her head shot up, her eyes scanning the boardwalk. Most of the passengers had already made their way off the platform. A gangly man in a fashionable brown suit pulled a pocket watch from his vest. He twitched his nose, moving his spectacles higher, and shook his head.
An older woman ushered two young girls toward the station’s entrance and the train’s ticket taker stood to the side of the train carriage with his hands behind his back. There was no sign of anyone she thought could be Henry Deardon.
Emma looked at the large clock looming over the door of the covered area of the platform. Four o’clock. Surely he hadn’t left her over being half an hour later than expected. She spotted an empty bench on the landing just down a few steps on the far side of the station and reached for her travel bags. But when she lifted the large carrying case, the handle gave way and it dropped heavily back to the ground. She looked heavenward and closed her eyes.
Give me strength, she pleaded silently.
Luckily, the latch holding the bag together held firm and her belongings did not scatter across the train platform. She tucked her satchel beneath her arm and bent down in attempt to lift the monstrosity from the bottom.
“Looks like you’re needing some help there, little lady.”
Emma looked up to see a tall, fairly robust man with a shiny badge gleaming from outside the pocket of his vest.
“Why, yes, deputy. Thank you.”
“Where ya headed?”
“Oregon.”
He choked on a laugh that stumbled from his throat.
Emma giggled nervously.
The prickly feeling returned. She had been unable to rid herself of the feeling someone was watching her. Maybe the man she was intended to meet here and marry was observing her from afar, testing her somehow. She glanced around again.
No one.
“I’m sorry. I’m looking for Mr. Henry Deardon. He was supposed to meet me here at half past three and I’m afraid I do not see him.”
“Deardon, huh?” The deputy scratched the whiskers on his chin with the back of his hand. “Cain’t say I know any Henry Deardon. Is he from around these parts?”
It was a long story and Emma really didn’t want to explain it to the man.
“I think I’ll wait a while? I am sure he will be here to retrieve me shortly.”
The deputy nodded, picked up her bag, and together they walked right past the bench around to the front of the large, red brick railroad depot. Carriages and wagons lined the front walk. The deputy wasn’t much for small talk and she found herself nearly running to keep up with his long strides.
“Much more to see of our beautiful town on this side of the depot.” The deputy nodded at her again with a wink and a smile. He set her travelling case down at the foot of an iron bench resting against one of the three oversized brick arches that made up the front entrance to the station. “Most folks that stop by the station come in through here. Besides, I’ll feel better about you waiting alone if I can keep an eye on ya.”
“Thank you, deputy…”
“Jarvis, ma’am. You can just call me Jarvis.”
“Thank you…Jarvis.”
He tipped his hat and walked across the overly wide street toward a small collection of buildings and what appeared to be the jailhouse. The tall structures framing the boardwalk from the street behind them reminded Emma a little of home. Though, in reality, they were nothing compared to the towering edifices of Boston.
Her stomach grumbled. It had been hours since she’d had something to eat and the last of the dried fruit Livvy had packed for her had long since been devoured.
Emma sat down on the bench and opened her satchel. She glanced up and looked around to make sure no one was watching her and she pulled her coin purse from the bag. A few dollar bills remained, but mostly she had coins. There was not enough for a return ticket to Boston, although she knew she had nothing to go back to even if there were. She took a deep breath.
The sun fell down behind the buildings. Emma had no idea how long she had been waiting there, but she’d sat, stood, and paced for what seemed like an eternity waiting for her soon-to-be husband and had had quite a long time to think about what she would do if he didn’t show. Staying on the bench all night was certainly not an option.
Emma leaned her elbows against her knees and rested her chin in her hands.
A woman, clad in a blue gingham dress, sauntered across the street toward her.
Emma lifted her head, straightened her back, and quickly brushed at the unsightly crinkles in her new lavender travelling dress. She stood.
“Hello,” the woman said, pushing up the sleeves on her arms. She bent down and picked up the whole travelling case, turned, and started to walk away.
Emma’s mouth dropped wide open and she stared in disbelief.
Midway through the street, the odd woman turned back to look over her shoulder. “We’re about to have some supper. You comin’?”
Emma was speechless. At first, she didn’t move, then her stomach made a noise that she was near positive it had never made in her life. She quickly looked about. There was nothing else to grab but her satchel, which she snatched up into her hands. Then, she pinched her cheeks and hurriedly fell in step behind the kindly lady, a slight smile touching her lips.
When she reached the cobblestone half-wall with stairs that separated the street from the yard, she paused to look at the newly whitewashed two-story home with its quaint little railed porch and abundance of windows. The front door snapped shut behind the woman and Emma thought it would be best to get inside. Everything she owned was inside that travelling case and it would serve her well to keep it in her sights.
The warm and distinct scent of chicken and biscuits filled her nostrils and she closed her eyes to the welcoming aroma. Her mouth began to water and her stomach protested even louder than before.
“Come in, young’n and have a seat with the rest of us.”
Emma walked into the entry way, wiped her feet on the red woven rug, and followed the woman around a corner to w
here a near dozen assortment of people were already seated at a large candlelit table, including Jarvis.
“Ma’am,” he said with a nod and removed his hat.
Emma bit her bottom lip.
“I realize you’re waitin’ for your fella, but it looks like he may not make it tonight. I can’t leave ya sittin’ on that bench outside all night, so have yourself a seat and get some vittles in your belly.”
Emma unpinned her own hat, placed it on the large wooden chest to her left, and joined the rest of them at the table.
“Thank you, um…” she trailed when she realized she had not even gotten the woman’s name.
“Millie,” she provided. “And you’re welcome.”
Grace was said.
“Now, tell us what’s taking you to Oregon.”
Chapter Four
Three Days Later
Jonah had left Noah and Lucas back at the Pony Express stables. Most of the rest of the crew he’d paid in advance and when they’d hit the Nebraska territory, he’d stocked up Ezra’s wagon and sent those men back for home. He’d kept on a few drovers to aid them in the last leg of the journey, but by the time they’d reached St. Joseph, they were down to a mere twenty head or so. The men and the horses deserved a break. They’d ridden hard to make the journey in record time.
The Patee House hotel was the headquarters for the Pony Express and Jonah hoped he would find Mr. Russell, the benefactor of this drive, there. Jonah had never been comfortable around people with obvious wealth and the Patee House was exactly the kind of hotel that attracted those of affluence. He preferred the smaller inns and boarding houses that came with a nice home cooked meal and oft times a hot shave.
While he waited, he watched city folk walk in and out of the lobby with their fancy luggage and duds. He shifted his weight and leaned back against the wall, all but out of sight. Yes, the sooner he collected their payment and left, the better. When he spotted a young man in denims, a button down shirt, and a brown leather vest walking across the vast lobby area with purpose—the kid’s hair amuck and face lined in smudges—Jonah guessed him to be one of the famed Pony Express Riders. His hat went off to the kid. He’d have signed up for that kind of adventure himself, but with his size and stature, they would have just laughed at him.
The Deardons Complete Mini-Series Page 2