by Nan O'Berry
Turning, they made their way up the steps.
No sooner had Stone placed his foot upon the porch, did the two sentries, posted on either side of the door, lower their rifles baring their entry.
“Halt. No one is allowed inside.”
Stone leveled a look of indifference at them. “I have a message for the Major.”
The sentries seemed unconcerned.
“We have a message for Major Arnold,”He added. “From the Three Rivers Pony Express.”
For a moment, the sentries stood.
Then, the taller one stepped forward and held out a gloved hand. “I shall take it.”
“No.” Stone’s voice was swift and firm. “By orders of the station manager, I am to deliver it myself to the Major only.”
The man swallowed and seemed to weigh his intensions. Bringing his arm down, he stared at Stone. “Your name?”
Battle won. “Stone.Stone Brown.”
The soldier gave a curt nod and turned smartly on his heel heading inside.
Stone let out a deep breath he was surprised to be holding. “Let’s wait by the horses.”
Heading back down the steps, they stood with their backs to the building, leaning their forearms against the rail.
“It’s awful strange,” Brett whispered.
Stone said nothing. Lifting a hand, he stroked his horses face. Brett had indeed uttered the thought that had been churning in his own mind. As the wind stirred, he drew his jacket tighter around his lanky frame. Out of the corner of his eye, he caught Brett cupping his hands around his mouth and blowing against his fingers to create a sense of warmth.
“I remember now why I hate the cold,” Brett grumbled.
Stone chuckled.
Behind them the sound of the wooden door opening drew their attention. As they watched, three Indians moved onto the porch followed by a young man in a blue uniform. Stone noted that there wasn’t the slightest smudge of dirt against the blue wool. His boots cast such a glow; he wanted to bet his next pay that if he moved closer he could see his own reflection. They were close enough to hear the exchange of words.
“Chief Running Deer, I will look into the matter and voice your concerns, but as you know, the Bureau of Indian Affairs handles these matters.”
The old Indian chief drew his shoulders taut. “You are the voice of our nation to the Great White Father. You speak and it will be done. Our people suffer.”
“I will do what I can,” the man in the impeccable uniform spoke. Yet, even to Stone’s ears, the words had a hollow ring.
The old chief said nothing else. He turned and catching Stone’s eyes sent him a stoic glance.
“Say,” Brett whispered. “Isn’t that Swift Eagle and Coyote with him?”
“Yep.” Stone’s gaze followed the three as they crossed the parade ground to where an enlisted man held their ponies.
“Don’t that beat all?” Brett whistled. “Never thought I’d see these tribes come together.”
Stone stepped away from the rail and watched them mount. Suddenly, the letter in his pocket grew heavy. “Not a good sign, if they are together.”
“You.” The voice paused. “You there? Are you Mr. Brown?”
Stone turned to see the man in the uniform leaning on the porch rail, the insignia of the rank of Major on each sleeve. “I am. And you are Major Arnold, correct?”
“Indeed.”
“I have a letter for you.”
“Come inside,” the major ordered. “It is way too cold to stand out here.”
Stone climbed the steps with Brett at his side as they were escorted in.
The Major led them down the hallway to a larger room. Like the rest of the fort, it seemed rather Spartan. A desk stood against one wall, behind it a map of the territory framed by two flags but little else.
Stone and Brett moved to stand in front of the desk.
Major Arnold dropped his white gloves on the corner of the desk and moved behind the structure. “Gentlemen, you have an important communication for me?”
Stone reached inside his jacket and pulled the envelope from his breast pocket. “From the war department.” He paused and then added, “In Washington, sir.”
The major seemed to draw himself to attention as he reached for the message. Without dismissing them, he ran his finger beneath the flap and flipped it open. The paper rattled as he pulled it free. Unfolding, he scanned the first few lines.
Stone watched the muscles along his cheeks tighten. “Sir?” he spoke. “Is there a return communication?”
The major folded the letter and dropped it onto the table. “Tell me something, Mr. Brown. Do you have any idea how many men I have at my disposal?”
“Sir?”
The major pointed at the map. “I have three hundred men to ensure that the two thousand mile border of this territory is safe. My time would be better spent organizing this rather than meeting with the cattle ranchers and Indians on trivial matters. Now, I’m tasked with keeping the citizens of Wyoming safe from the angry natives.”
Stone absorbed the bits of information released in the tirade.
Beside him, Brett scuffed this boot toe across the floor.
“Thank you, Mr. Brown. No, there will not be a return communication. I suggest you ride back to Three Rivers and tell your manager that all precaution should be given to the riders along the mail route.”
Stone swallowed heavily at this warning. “Yes, sir.”
“Dismissed, gentleman.” The Major sighed as he lowered himself into his chair.
Chapter 3
“How is he?”Laiden pushed away from the wall as Charity stepped from the small room in the rear of the saloon.
With a quiet motion, she pulled the door to, so as not to disturb the sleeping patient she left behind. “He will live,” she whispered. Walking toward where Laiden stood she took a breath and explained, “Mr. Mills said that it’s a good thing Hank likes to enjoy a well satisfying meal. The bullet went through his side and according to him, did not damage any vital organs.”
Her comment made McMasters chuckle and for a moment everything seemed light.
“Mr. Mills is going to stay with him tonight.” She glanced at the door. “In case he develops a high fever.”
Laiden nodded. “I agree.”
Silence stretched and Charity felt the change in his attitude.
Her boss stared at his hands before speaking, “Tell me, Charity, what do you have on Pierson?”
At this question, a sharp intake of breath came from her lips.
Laiden’s gaze traveled up from her toes to settle onto her face.
The intent look brought a rash of goose bumps along her arms. She pressed her lips together and stared back, unwilling to speak.
Her boss’s eyes grew hooded as he gave a shake of his head in despair. “I take it you’re not about to tell me.”
Charity tore her gaze away and looked down at the floor.
His footsteps move toward her and suddenly, his hand was at her chin tilting her head to meet his gaze. “Charity, you must tell me.”
She met his gaze without flinching. “I cannot.”
Laiden hand dropped to his side. “Can’t or won’t?”
Charity remained mute. The clock in the hallway ticked slow and steady as it counted the seconds between the beat of her heart.
When the silence grew heavy, her boss blew out an angry breath, “Alright, have it your own way. Captain Merrick is in my office. He wishes to speak to you.”
Suddenly, she struggled to swallow. The ramifications of her silence became crystal clear. I am, she mused, between a rock and that hard place. Should I speak, I am dead and yet if I don’t tell something, I am libel to be unemployed. A cold sheen of perspiration dotted her brow as McMasters stepped toward his office. With no other choice than to follow, Charity fell in line behind him.
They wound their way through the tables in the saloon and up what folks in Three Rivers thought of as the grand staircase to
the second floor. Instead of turning to the left and going to the bedrooms, they moved to the right down a small hallway that led to McMasters own suite and office.
He paused at the doorway.
Charity waited wondering what she would say to the Captain.
“Charity?”
She glanced to her boss.
The look on his face surprised her. Laiden McMasters had always treated her, a cut above the other women he employed. She enjoyed the respect and protection he offered. Tonight, the expression on his face resembled one of a benevolent uncle.
“Yes?”
“My dear, the captain is not here to hurt you. I want you to relax and tell the truth. Just like you did when Wyeth was on trial.”
Her eyes rounded and she gave a nod of understanding.
A soft smile eased the tension along his lips and softened his eyes. His hand reached out and turned the brass knob.
The door swung open and Captain Anselm Merrick glanced up from the paper in his hand. Pushing himself to rise, the captain gave a gentile smile. “Miss Charity, won’t you join us?”
Nodding, she walked into the room and over to the chair in front of the desk. She’d always thought the furniture in the room was large and powerful, but with Captain Merrick standing behind it, the mahogany seemed dwarfed.
“Please, sit down.”There was nothing condemning in the blue of his eyes.
She bent her knees and sank slowly onto the chair.
“I’m sure you have had a long evening, Miss Charity. I appreciate you taking the time to talk to me.”
She bent her head to acknowledge his kindness.
“A glass of sherry, perhaps?” He lifted the glass that was half filled.
She shook her head no.
His brow arched. “No?” He seemed somewhat surprised.
“I do not partake in spirits,” she murmured.
“Ah.” He nodded. “A very good rule.” He took a seat behind the desk.
Charity watched the light from the lamp dance on his dark locks. Sitting across from him, she could see why he set women’s heart aflutter. The waves of dark hair were brushed away from his temple. A small glimmer of silver garnished his temples making him quite striking.
He gazed up at her and smiled.
Her shoulders relaxed.
“I would like to know your version of what happened tonight in the saloon. Please, feel free to take your time before you speak.”
She nodded. “I came down as always. Mr. McMasters met me at the bottom of the stairs. We walked into the saloon and I began to serve the men playing cards drinks.”
“Was Mr. Pierson in the saloon at this time?” Merrick asked.
She shook her head. “If he was, I did not see him.”
The captain made a note on the paper before him. “Continue.”
She dampened her lips and spoke, “I carried some drinks over to the table where Hank was playing cards. We spoke and when I turned, there was Pierson and his men.”
Merrick glanced up. “How many men did he have?”
“Two. I-I don’t know their names.”
“It is alright, please go on.”
“Pierson made an advance and when I refused, he grabbed my arm. Hank tried to intervene and that’s when Pierson’s men shot him.”
Merrick nodded.
“You say that Pierson made an advance.”
Charity lifted her chin. “He did. He wanted to know how much it would cost for…my time.” She glanced at McMasters, who stood in the shadows over by the window.
“I take it Hank did not like that?”
“No, sir, he did not. He tried to stand up to Pierson and get him to remove his hand. He-he called me a lady and Pierson took exception to that term.”
“I see.” Merrick took a deep breath. “Would you show me your arm? The one Pierson grabbed.”
Charity rose to her feet and extended her right arm.
“May I?”
She nodded.
Merrick pulled the lamp closer and gently took her arm, turning it to the light. Four purple bruises rose to the surface at her wrist.
The captain looked to McMasters who walked toward the desk and stared at Charity’s arm.
She waited while they exchanged a look of disgust.
“Does it hurt?”Merrick asked.
Charity shook her head. “No, not really, only my pride.”
He released her arm. “You have my deepest regrets this happened in our town.”
Charity again took her seat and looked straight into Merrick’s eyes. “I have been reminded that this town is no different than others. My position in life was not of my choosing, but of man’s. I can, however, decide on how to conduct myself and I choose to be a lady.”
At this statement, McMasters took deep inhale.
Merrick held her gaze while not a bit of mirth reflected in his gaze. “I can see you are a woman of impeccable breeding, Miss Charity. I am truly sorry that life has cast this shadow upon your character. But I shall let it be known that you have shown yourself to be honest and trustworthy.”
His words gave her comfort as she gave a slight nod. “That is all I can ask for, sir.” She rose. “Should you need any other information, you know where to find me.”
“Indeed.”
Merrick rose. His heels came together and he bowed slightly.
“Thank you,” Charity murmured and with her head held high, she left the room.
Stone’s saddle bags slapped against the wood of the front desk. The sound caused the portly man in the dark suit behind the wooden structure to swirl on his heel. A plastered smile matched the jelly slicked hair parted in the center on his head. “May I help you?”
Stone picked up the pen on the desk and studied the book in front of him. “A room, please. We prefer two beds.”
The clerk’s brilliant smile faded just a bit. He turned back to the cubbyhole on the wall and searched the remaining keys. “We have lots of folks in town this week. Let me see.”
Stone gave Brett a doubtful glance.
“Let me see.” He pulled a key from the second row. “I have a room. It’s not large, but I believe you will be agreeable.”
Stone felt his gaze study them both as if sizing them for trouble.
“It has two single beds, not doubles and resides on the second floor.”
“All I want is a warm bed,” Brett grumbled. “Sleeping on that cold ground last night has made me a might stiff.”
The clerk grinned. “That will be a dollar a night…” He paused, and added, “Paid in advance, of course.”
“Of course,” Stone growled and fished the money out of his pocket. His hand hovered above the polished wood, then reached back into his pocket and withdrew a second bill. “I want fresh linen.”
“I can assure you that all of our linen is bug free.”
Stone gave him a hardened stare. “Fresh linen.”
He slid the two bills across the top of the desk. His fingers pressed the money tight against the grain.
Try as he might, the clerk could not wrestle the bills from Stone’s grasp. “Very well, sir. Fresh linen will be brought to your room shortly.”
Stone lifted his fingers and the money vanished in a blink of an eye.
“If you’ll just sign the ledger.”
Stone wrote his name and Brett’s.
“Three Rivers. Nice little town.”
“It is,” Stone agreed.
“Well, Mr. Brown, I hope you and your friend will enjoy your stay.”
“Can you recommend a place to eat?”
“I can. We have a wonderful café just across the way. You can find anything from a good steak to a chicken dinner and all reasonably priced.”
Stone pulled his saddlebags from the desktop and took a step away only to turn back to face the clerk. “Oh, is there a bath house?”
The clerk nodded. “Our hotel has all the latest features. There is a bath house in the rear of our facility.” He pointed to the back
of the structure with the end of the pen. “Just follow the hallway and turn to your left. Bath cost is two bits for an hour soak.”
With a nod, Stone turned toward the grand stairway that led to the second floor.
Brett’s footsteps seconded his as they climbed the stairs. “Maybe we should have taken time to soak in the horse trough at the livery.”
Stone paused and stepped toward the wall so a woman in a grey dress and her escort could pass. “I don’t think cold water will melt the dirt off your hide.”
Brett moved beside him as they climbed the last two steps to the second story. “Wonder why so many folks are in town?”
Stone paused at the head of the stairs and stared down at the visitors passing toward the café. “Good question. Maybe we can find out. Look for room twelve.”
Continuing down the hallway, they found their room next to the end of the hall.
Stone slid the key into the lock and opened the door. “Here we are, home sweet home for the next twelve or so hours.”
Brett sighed as he crossed over to the first single bed and flopped down causing the springs to whine.
“I’d be careful if I was you,” Stone warned as he slung his bags onto the second single bed.
“Oh?”
Stone moved to the table near the doorway and lifted the lamp globe. “Haven’t you ever heard that saying don’t let the bed bugs bite?” He pulled a match from the glass beside the lamp and brushed the head down the wood igniting it. Placing the match next to the wick, he brought light into the room.
Brett rolled from the bed and began to swat at his backsides to remove the imaginary critters. “The devil you say!” He whirled around. “You see any?”
Stone tried to hide behind a straight face as his friend continued his strange dance. “Nope, just a pony express rider dancing like a dang fool. Good thing Anna isn’t here.”
Brett came to a stop. “Think you’re funny do you?”
Stone could only grin. “Got you thinking didn’t it?”
His friend glanced back at the colorful quilt. “Yeah, it did. Makes me appreciate Mrs. Hawkins a bit more. Perhaps we should tell her when we return.”
The words sobered Stone and he gave a slow nod. “Good idea.” He moved back to his bed and released the strap on his bags, removing the clean shirt from inside. “I want to clean up before we eat. I’ve worn this dust long enough.”