Expressly Yours, Samantha (Cotillion Ball Saga Book 7)

by Becky Lower

  She stood next to her favorite of the Pony Express horses, speaking softly to him as she brushed his coat. He’d be the next horse to run the route, as soon as Val arrived from St. Joe with the mochila. Tommy, the rider, was asleep—the last sleep he’d get in a day or so. He didn’t need to add to his troubles by having to ride a mount that wasn’t ready. Samantha would make certain both the horse and saddle were in top shape.

  Gus strolled into the barn as she was finishing up and caught her crooning to the animal.

  “Damned if you don’t sound like an Injun,” Gus laughed as he ran his hand over the mustang’s flank.

  “Singing, or speaking softly, keeps the horses calm, which is what they need before galloping across the plains. Wouldn’t do to have them nervous before they run. It would wear them out, and they need every ounce of strength for the ride.”

  “Well, whatever you’re doing to these horses, keep it up. I got a message from the Division Super, Mr. Lewis. We’ve been getting praise along the line for our mounts. Is this one about ready?”

  “Yep, he’s raring to go. I’m trying to keep him calm until right before he heads out. I’ll put him in the corral in about twenty minutes or so, since Val is due in a half-hour.”

  “Yep, I need to get inside and wake up Tommy, make sure he’s got some food in him, and he’ll be ready to roll. Stagecoach is set to come in before dark, you know.”

  “I’ll be ready for their horses.”

  “You’ll let me know if this gets to be too much for you, okay? I can hire another stable boy.”

  Samantha’s shoulders twitched. “I work better by myself.”

  “All right then. I’ll head in and make sure Tommy’s awake. Val should be arriving shortly.”

  Samantha didn’t let out the breath she was holding until Gus left the building. Maybe he truly hadn’t suspected anything out of the ordinary before when her long hair was falling in her eyes. He treated her no differently than he did the Pony Express riders. Little details, she reminded herself. She certainly didn’t want to be tripped up by a lock of hair.

  Chapter 9

  The horse was in the paddock, and Tommy waited anxiously alongside, bouncing from foot to foot. Val was late in arriving. Samantha’s worry for him heightened with each passing minute, until at last the three sharp blasts from the horn pierced the silence, signaling his approach. She picked up the blanket and saddle, which had been flung over the railing, and quickly cinched it around the horse. Taking the reins, she led the horse out to the front of the paddock where the mochila exchange would take place.

  She finally spied Valerian in the distance, riding at breakneck speed. He didn’t slow the horse until he was into the yard. A great cloud of dust had followed him and was only now beginning to settle. Guests at the inn came onto the porch to witness the exchange of riders and clapped their hands as Valerian approached. He leapt off the horse, grabbed the mochila from the saddle, and handed it to Tommy, who was up and away on the fresh horse before two minutes had passed.

  Samantha took the reins of the spent horse and led him into the paddock. Val followed her. She removed the saddle and walked the horse for a few minutes before leading him into the barn. Val didn’t say a word to her, but his gaze never left her. She rolled her shoulders, not appreciating his hard stare. She’d trimmed her hair and eyelashes, and had her hat pulled low over her face, so she couldn’t understand what his problem was.

  Val got feed and water for the horse and brought another bucket of water over to the stall so Samantha could wash the horse off. As she grabbed for the bucket, he laid his hand over hers. She lifted her gaze to him.

  “You need to get out of here.”

  She bristled at his command. “I’m fully capable of taking care of this horse on my own. Maybe you need to get out of here.”

  “I’m not talking about your ability with a horse. You need to clear out until after the next stagecoach arrives and departs again. There are two Pinkerton agents aboard, and they’re searching for a fugitive. I tried to find out for sure who they were on the hunt for, but they were cagey with their answers. Only told me it wasn’t a slave they were after. Guess they didn’t want me tipping off anyone along the route.”

  Samantha’s stomach roiled, and she tasted her last meal in the back of her throat as it threatened to make a reappearance, but she tried to play it off. “Why would you assume it’s me they’re on the lookout for?”

  “Because I know.”

  Samantha’s stomach pitched again, and her voice got squeaky. “You know what?”

  “I don’t know what you’ve done, nor do I care. But I know you’re running from something, or someone, and I got a bad feeling in my gut when I noticed those agents climbing aboard the stage. So you need to clear out of here until tomorrow morning, when the stagecoach moves on. Take some grub and hide out in the woods. I’ll blow on the horn when it’s safe to come back.”

  “But the horses …”

  “I’ll take care of them for you. I’ll change from my red shirt so they won’t know I’m a Pony Express rider. I’ll stay out here tonight and guard the horses for you. Now you need to get moving.”

  Samantha didn’t need any more encouragement. She could feel the hot breath of Uncle Jack on the back of her neck. Could he have found some money? Money enough to hire Pinkertons to search for her? It didn’t matter if these particular Pinkerton agents were searching for her or not, she didn’t want to be anywhere close when they arrived. The fewer brushes she took with Pinkertons, or a sheriff, the better. At least until she was eighteen and Uncle Jack would not have the law on his side. She threw some food onto a cloth, grabbed the picture of her parents, tied the little bundle up, and went back to Valerian, who was busy washing down the horse he’d rode in on.

  “Thank you, Val. I owe you.”

  He lifted his eyes from the horse and stared at her. She shifted her feet, uncomfortable under his gaze.

  “I hope someday you’ll trust me enough to tell me what you’re running from. Right now, though, you need to hightail it into the woods. I passed the stagecoach a while back, but they should be rolling in here within the hour. Hide yourself well, and I’ll see you tomorrow.”

  Samantha let herself out the back door of the barn. She stayed in the lengthening shadows while she checked to make certain no one was around. She clung to the wall as she walked around to the side of the barn away from the hotel. If anyone spied her from a window as she headed into the woods, she’d be done for. She crouched and ran, smashing her way into the shelter of the trees behind the barn.

  The trees blocked out the remaining sunlight as she worked her way farther into the forest. She’d share these woods tonight with the wild animals. They might be able to smell her fear, and she doubted she’d get much sleep. But they’d be better company than her uncle.

  When darkness completely fell, she stopped her headlong dash and fell to the ground in a heap, struggling for breath. As her breathing leveled out, tears smarted at her eyes as she thought about what had happened. In the few short weeks since she’d settled into her routine in Seneca, she’d begun to feel safe. She’d even left the relative safety of the barn more than once and spent time with the Express riders in their loft over the hotel. They’d played cards, bragged about their prowess with the womenfolk, and talked about the runs they’d made with the mail. But it was all an illusion. She wasn’t safe. If Uncle Jack had come into some money somehow and hired the Pinkertons to find her, she wouldn’t be free even if she hid in the woods each time the stagecoach rolled in. Valerian might cover for her tonight, but if she kept dashing into the woods to hide, she’d be out of a job in no time. If Gus noticed she was missing tonight, he’d show her the door when she returned. Of that, she was sure.

  If she remained undetected, she’d have to put her guard up again and have it be even stronger. There would be no next time for her. Seneca had begun to feel comfortable to her, almost a home. She should have known better. It was still too clos
e to civilization, too close to Uncle Jack. And she had too many months yet to go. She needed to get away.

  But getting away, by whatever method she could, meant leaving Valerian. He’d tipped her off about the agents, acted as an extra set of eyes for her. She couldn’t leave him, could she? When was the last time someone had watched out for her? And it wasn’t only the trust and aid he gave to her. She had tried to control her feelings toward him. Womanly feelings. And had failed, miserably. She had to put up a guard each time he came near so her true feelings, her longing for his touch, would not be revealed. She hoped she could hide the crackle of excitement she had whenever he came into view from Val, Gus, and the rest of the riders.

  Val didn’t know anything about her, yet he wanted to help her. Had helped her. But he thought she was a boy, not a girl. He had no lustful thoughts about her. He was merely helping out a pal. That was the way it should be. So, as payback for his help, was she really planning to take one of his brother-in-law’s horses and hightail it out of Seneca? What kind of person was she?

  A desperate one. And a desperate person would do whatever was needed to stay safe.

  • • •

  Valerian had no doubt those Pinkerton agents were looking for Sam. He didn’t know why, and didn’t care. The sheer terror on Sam’s face when Valerian mentioned them was enough for him. Whatever had caused his plight, Val knew Sam was innocent, and it was up to Val to ensure his safety. At least for tonight. Even though Val chafed at the added responsibility it presented, he couldn’t leave Sam to fend entirely for himself.

  The stagecoach pulled up an hour and a half after he had arrived at Seneca. He had taken care of his spent horse, changed his shirt from the telltale red, Pony Express one, and waited until all the passengers alighted from the carriage and the driver pulled the coach around to the front of the barn. Together, he and the driver unhitched the six horses and stabled them. Val was in for a long night, since each horse needed to be washed, brushed, and checked for any signs of chafing or other sores.

  “Where’s the other fella?” the driver asked.

  “He’s not feeling good tonight.”

  “A mite much to drink, eh?”

  “Nah. Just can’t control his bowels.” Val thought that would keep the driver from checking to see if Val was telling the truth.

  “Dysentery, is it? Nasty stuff. I’ll leave him to it. And leave the horses to you. I’m starving.”

  Val breathed a bit easier when the driver left the barn without searching for Sam. But he still was on edge. The Pinkerton agents would search the barn once they’d eaten their fill. He hoped they wouldn’t find anything telling. There’d be no time to fill a plate with food for himself until very late into the night. He pulled the last bit of jerky from his shirt pocket and munched on the hard meat as he worked on the stagecoach horses.

  The agents showed up about an hour later. It was dark in the barn, with the light from a few oil lamps the only illumination. He tried to ignore the men as they poked around by the light of the lantern they carried, crinkling their noses as they moved through the stalls Val hadn’t yet gotten to. Soon enough, they stood in front of him.

  “Who else is working out here?”

  “No one else. I can handle all this on my own. Who are you searching for?”

  “A runaway. That’s all you need to know.”

  A runaway. Was Sam a runaway? From what? Or whom? Could he be an indentured servant?

  “Well, maybe if you’d give me a description of your runaway, I’d be on the lookout for him and could get word back to you.”

  The agents exchanged a glance. One of them, the head guy, Valerian assumed, got a wry smile on his face. “So, you’d rather become an Pinkerton than shovel horse dung? Don’t blame you at all. But we’re not about to hand you the reward money. We’ve got this covered.”

  They searched a bit more, went into Sam’s little room and rooted through his things, but didn’t find whatever it was they were looking for. Val’s breathing leveled out once they took their leave and returned to the inn for the night. He was finished with the horses, so he made his way into the kitchen by the back door and grabbed some rolls and a slice of custard pie left on the counter. He’d have to wait until morning for anything of substance.

  He thought of Sam, out there alone in the forest with less food than he had and even less shelter. At least Val had a cot to sleep on and some food in his belly. Sam had it a whole lot worse. Val wondered again what Sam had been accused of, what would make him run from civilized society. Whatever it was must have been serious to have Pinkerton agents searching the countryside for him. And he wondered again why it mattered so much to him.

  Val flopped onto the cot Sam normally slept in, and got comfortable. Summer was coming on, and the nights were getting warmer, but there was still a chill in the night air. He stayed in his long johns, and pulled a thin blanket over him. He quickly became drowsy, and tried to put thoughts of Sam, as he tried to stay warm out in the middle of the woods, out of his mind. Val wouldn’t breathe easy until the stage pulled out in the morning and the agents were off to the next stop on the trail. Of course, if they got to Marysville and decided they were following a dead end, they’d turn around and come back on the next stagecoach east, which would mean another stop here in Seneca. Val and Sam could not afford to let down their guard. Val had never before been on the wrong side of the law, but he was now. He only hoped his intuition about Sam was right, and Sam hadn’t committed any crime.

  • • •

  Valerian was up at dawn, helping the stagecoach driver hitch up the horses and get on the road before the sun got so high in the sky it’d be in his eyes. After all, the stage was headed west, and the driver needed to outrun the sun in order to keep it from blinding him along the way. The occupants of the stage emerged from the hotel and climbed aboard, yawning and cheerfully calling out to one another as they settled in for the ride, all well rested and fed. The Pinkerton agents took one final assessment of the inn and its surroundings before climbing into the coach. Val stood patiently beside the horses until everyone was aboard and the driver flicked the reins. The horses were as well fed and well rested as the occupants of the stage, so they took off at a smart trot, leaving a cloud of dust in their wake.

  When they were well away from the inn, Valerian finally got his own breakfast and took it to the barn to eat. Gus raised an eyebrow in his direction but didn’t question his moves or ask where Sam was, so Val breathed a bit easier. Still, he hesitated blowing on the horn until the stagecoach had been gone for more than an hour. Then he went to the back of the barn, facing the forest, and blew hard on the horn one time.

  And waited.

  He didn’t want to use the horn more than once, since Gus would undoubtedly come out from the hotel office and demand to know what was up, but the minutes lengthened as he searched for Sam’s slight body to emerge from the woods. Fifteen minutes dragged by and still no sign of him. Val waited a few more minutes, wondering what conditions Sam had encountered in the open forest during the night. Maybe he’d come face to face with a bear. Or a wolf. Finally, he noticed some rustling in the underbrush, and Sam cautiously stepped from the woods.

  Valerian exhaled and hung up the horn. Sam dashed from the woods to the barn.

  “Have they gone then?”

  “Yep, left about an hour ago. Did you do all right last night?”

  “Yes. Fine. Thanks so much for covering for me. Did you have any trouble?”

  “The stage driver wanted to know where you were. I told him you had the runs, which put him off searching the barn for you.” Val grinned as he shared his clever cover with Sam. “And then the agents came out, once they’d filled their bellies with dinner, and searched the barn. They still wouldn’t tell me who they were searching for, since they thought I wanted to collect the bounty. They took off on the stage for Marysville today, which means they’ll turn around and come back if they don’t find whoever it is they’re on the hunt fo
r.”

  Sam’s already pale face lost the remainder of its color.

  “Want to tell me what’s going on, Sam? Those agents are searching for a runaway. What are you running from?”

  “I’m not saying anything, Val. Thank you for your help, though. I don’t want to involve you any further. It’s best you don’t know.”

  Val searched Sam’s face again, then grinned at him. “Okay, keep your secrets for now. You have to be hungry. Let’s head inside and grab some lunch, shall we?”

  Val noticed how Sam released his breath when the subject changed. Obviously, the kid was in trouble. And he thought it was trouble best kept to himself. But if Pinkertons were involved, it must be something dire. Val would wait and try to gain Sam’s trust before he asked again. He punched Sam in the arm lightly as they walked into the inn. He had a feeling there was a whole lot more Sam was hiding, but he couldn’t quite put his finger on what it might be.

  Regardless of what he did or didn’t know, he’d keep his eyes peeled for more Pinkertons.

  Over lunch, Sam tore into the salty ham sandwich and the cheesy potatoes, smacking his lips in appreciation as he told Valerian bits and pieces about his night in the woods. Val registered the words cold, hard, hungry, and sleepless. But his mind was otherwise occupied. Again, he thought of Joseph’s notion that he and Sam were fated to meet. If so, it was Val’s job, as much as it was Sam’s, to keep him from the hands of the people who were searching for him. He had no doubt of Sam’s innocence. Of what, he didn’t know. Val rolled his shoulders to adjust to the heavy weight of being responsible for someone other than himself, and found the extra burden was not really a problem. He could get used to it.