by Becky Lower
Chapter 10
Samantha not only breathed a little easier when Valerian changed the subject but she also sighed in relief when he got up on his horse and galloped off toward St. Joseph again late in the afternoon. He’d be riding most of the way back to St. Joe in total darkness, but there was a full moon tonight, so he should be all right. In this part of Kansas, he didn’t have the worry about Indian attacks as the riders did farther west, but animals, especially bison and wolves, were a constant threat. Riding headlong into a herd of sleeping bison could spell disaster for both horse and rider.
She had chafed under Val’s gaze the remainder of the morning, sure she was about to be exposed. Try as she might to keep her features schooled, she went all soft and gooey inside when Valerian was near. So far, Val didn’t suspect she was anything more than a male friend who was in a heap of trouble. He wanted to know her whole story, but she couldn’t reveal herself to him, much as she wanted to. Valerian loved being a Pony Express rider, and he’d be forced to quit if he shared her secret. She liked Val too much to let that happen to him. He made her body hum when he was near her. Yes, she cared about him way too much for her own good. And for his. If she did happen to be found out as a total sham and was turned out from her job, she’d be able to take care of herself without any help from Val. She already had a plan in place. She’d steal one of Joseph’s mustangs, head west to the gold fields, and become a gambler. She was getting really good at poker and had no doubts she could make a living at it.
As she pulled the thin cover over her body in the evening, she thought about Val and her feelings toward him. He’d shown her unconditional friendship since the day they’d met, so he cared about her. But only as one guy to another. What would his feelings be if he discovered she was a girl? She had to admit she became jealous of the girls along the Express route who plied the colorful riders with sweets to eat along the ride. If she worked at the hotel as a chambermaid, perhaps, instead of posing as a man and living in the stables, would he find her attractive? Lavish attention on her? If only things could be different. But they weren’t different and never could be. Thoughts such as these could spell disaster for her. The best thing to do would be to move on before she lost control of her feelings completely. It would be best for both of them.
She rolled over to her side and punched the pillow. She had no business thinking of Val in any way other than as a buddy. If she were exposed as a woman, she’d be forced to leave the employ of the Pony Express, and she’d never see Val again. Perhaps someday, she could revert back to the woman she was and entertain the attentions of a man, maybe even get married and have some children. But if and when it happened, it was a long way off. Val wouldn’t be a part of the picture, and she’d best not think about it. Right now, her only concern should be avoiding Pinkertons. She hadn’t counted on them.
She wondered, briefly, if she really was the fugitive, the runaway the agents were searching for. After all, Pinkerton agents cost money, and she couldn’t imagine how her uncle had gotten enough together to hire agents to search for her. Maybe he’d found another of Aunt Hilda’s stash of coins, if there were any more. Lord knows, if Uncle Jack had discovered the pitiful little Aunt Hilda had managed to put aside, it’d be mostly gone by now, spent on drink and doxies. And she doubted he’d spend what little there was on searching for her. He’d rather gamble it away. So, if he had in fact hired the Pinkertons, he must have a mighty big reason for wanting her to be returned to him. She couldn’t believe he was so taken by her beauty he wanted her only for himself. No, there must be another reason. A more nefarious one. A more frightening one. What could it be?
Her eyes snapped open, and she stared at the ceiling as a large pit began to open in her stomach. The only place Uncle Jack frequented, other than the saloon, was the town bordello. Had he promised her to the madam of the business, after he broke Samantha in? Yes, that was the only answer. He was going to sell her into a life of prostitution. Good God. Aunt Hilda must have just rolled over in her grave.
She had no proof of any of this, but she couldn’t risk being seen by the agents, regardless. Uncle Jack was ruthless enough to devise a plan to sell her. She wondered if Val could find out more from the agents should he see them again.
Tears burned at her eyes. She sat up, taking deep breaths to overcome the queasiness her thoughts had brought on. She whispered into the silence, “Don’t you worry, Aunt Hilda. I’ll never let him take me. I’ll kill him, or kill myself, before I let that happen.”
She lay back down. Nine months and seventeen days to go.
• • •
The sharp blast of a horn, three times in rapid succession, woke Samantha from a troubled sleep. She rolled out of bed, jumped into her boots, and ran to the stall to prepare the horse she had decided on for the next rider to head west. She quickly got his bridle on and led him from the barn into the corral, where she tied him loosely to the fence. Then she ran to the tack room for the saddle and blanket. She threw the saddle blanket over his back, followed by the saddle, and tightened the cinch. All was in readiness.
She turned from the horse when the clattering of boots on the inn’s porch reached her ears. Gus came running to her, and she grinned at his labored gait. The man obviously didn’t run every day, and it showed. His breathing was heavy as he hung to the fence of the corral.
“Sam, you need to mount up and do this next leg.”
“What?” Excitement rolled through her body. She usually got excited as the Express riders came into view and she got the next one up and on his way, but to actually be part of the ride, to be a rider, was something she’d only been able to dream about. She never thought it would happen.
“Levi’s taken sick. He’s not even able to stand up. And he’s the only rider we’ve got right now since Travis’s accident. He can’t ride with a busted arm. So, it’s up to you or me, and I’m too big.”
“But I’m small and scrappy. I can do it, Gus. I just need to shorten these stirrups and grab some food from my room, and I’ll be ready to go.”
“While you do that, I’ll go back to the office and get you the red Express shirt and a horn, so you’ll be official.”
She ran back into the barn, giddy with excitement. She was going to be a Pony Express rider! Granted it was only this once, but that was good enough for her. She took the apple from her chest of drawers, picked up the picture of her parents, and stashed it into her pocket along with some jerky. She placed her duster coat over her arm as she ran back outside. She was adjusting the stirrups as the rider came into view. Her heart pounded in unison with the horse’s steps.
The rider from the east threw the reins to her before he dismounted and took the mochila from the horse.
“Where’s the next rider?” he asked Gus, who had just returned to the yard with the shirt,.
“We’ve got a problem, and Sam here needs to take the next leg of the trail. He just needs to follow the trail, so he’ll do fine.” Gus grabbed the reins of the tired horse from Samantha.
The rider ran his hand over his face, wiping sweat from his brow. “I can do it, Gus. Just need to get some coffee in me, and I’ll be ready to go.”
“Nah, there’s no sense in you doing another leg of the trail. It would mean at least sixteen straight hours in the saddle. And we’ve got a capable person right here who can do it.”
The rider glanced at Samantha, who had donned her red shirt and duster. He slapped her on the back, making her cough.
“Yeah, I guess so. You’re a scrappy one. And daylight’s about to break, so you should be all right.”
Samantha threw the mochila, stuffed with twenty pounds of important letters and papers, over the saddle, hooked it in place, and climbed aboard. The horse sensed her excitement and danced in the corral, eager to be off. Gus gazed up at her.
“Be safe, Sam. No funny business. Stick to the trail and ride as fast as you can, but don’t be afraid to slow down if you get into some trouble. There’s a big rainstorm a
bout to break, so you’ll probably be riding through it. Not the best of conditions, but you’ll be fine.”
Samantha tipped her hat to her employer. “I’ll be all right. Have Jeremy over there help you with mucking out the stalls until I get back.” She smiled over to the rider who had come in, kicked the horse’s sides with her heels, and was off before they changed their minds.
As she made her way to the first relay post where she’d change horses and get a fresh mount, the sun came up, so she could see where she was going, but the clouds were moving in fast. The wind whipping her face became stronger as she rode toward the storm, and she could smell rain in the air. She was going to get wet. There was no way around it. She galloped along, into the storm, and passed the stagecoach coming east from Marysville. If those Pinkerton agents were passengers on it, they wouldn’t find her back in Seneca.
This time, anyway.
The storm finally broke wide open, giving her little time to think about the Pinkertons, the stagecoach, or Valerian. She had to keep alert, keep her horse from slipping in the mud, and keep heading west. Another relay post came into view, and she blew on the horn three times. The usual routine was to send a signal when the rider was still a bit away from the post, but she wasn’t sure where the relay stations were, so she waited until she could see them before blowing on her horn. The return trip would be easier now that she knew where they were. She didn’t slow her horse until they reached the yard, where she hopped off the spent horse, threw the mochila over the fresh mount, and took off. She was halfway to Marysville, still had at least four hours in the saddle, and was wet to the core, but she couldn’t control the grin on her face.
“Ah, Momma and Daddy, if you could only see me now. I’m a rider on the Pony Express! And making good time. Making my way, on my own.”
She spoke her thoughts in an attempt to soothe the horse and to keep herself awake. Some of the adrenaline had worn off, and she was tired but still thrilled to be on this leg of the journey. Maybe she’d stay in Marysville if they needed help. She didn’t care for the idea of bailing on Gus, but she was well aware that Seneca was not far enough away from the long arm of Uncle Jack.
• • •
Valerian stood outside the Patee House in St. Joseph when the stagecoach from Marysville rolled into the driveway. He studied each occupant as they clattered down from the coach. He suspected the Pinkerton agents had returned to St. Joe, and wanted to make certain they’d either come back alone or with a fugitive other than Sam.
First one, then the other, emerged. Empty-handed. Valerian breathed a bit easier.
He walked up to the two travel-weary men. “Back from out west, eh? Did you find everything to your liking?”
They glared at him. “We didn’t find our fugitive, if that’s what you’re asking. It was a wild goose chase from the start anyway. But the money was good, so we didn’t mind the trip.”
“So you’re done now?”
“We have better things to do with our time. There are real criminals out there who need to be rounded up. A runaway is the least of our problems.”
The men picked their suitcases off the stage and made their way into the hotel.
It may not even be Sam these guys were searching for. But Val had a feeling in his gut that it was. So he’d continue to be on the lookout and would check the passengers on the coach leaving tomorrow morning. If a new set of agents were on it, he’d have to outrun the stagecoach once again and give Sam time to hide.
The next morning, Valerian rode his horse from the stable two blocks away into the driveway in front of the hotel. The stagecoach was outfitted with its six horses and was ready to go. Val waited beside his horse for the mochila, which had just been delivered to the headquarters office. It provided him a good vantage point from which to study the passengers of the coach. He casually read again the first letter he’d received from home. His mother was righteously indignant, but by the end of the letter, her pride in what Valerian was doing showed through. Val took a deep breath as he got to the end of the letter and the stagecoach patrons began to board. By ones and twos, they emerged from the Patee House, rubbing their bellies, which were full of the good breakfast the hotel provided. There were no agents this trip, only two gentlemen and an old man. Val would still outpace them, but this time, he had no urgent news to pass along. When he got back to Seneca, he could sleep instead of taking care of the horses.
Eighty bleak miles of rolling prairie later, Val pulled into the Seneca station as dusk settled over the land. He glanced around the yard, searching for Sam. A horse was waiting in the paddock for the next rider to take over. Jeremy, the rider, was with the horse, but Sam was nowhere to be found. Valerian feared the worst for his friend, but he didn’t want to bring suspicion to Sam, so he tried for nonchalance.
“Hey, Jeremy. You all alone out here?” Val slid off the heaving horse and removed the mochila, handing it over to the rider.
“Yep. Sam took the last run to Marysville since Levi took sick and Travis has a broke arm. He’s got to be on his way back from Marysville now. I’ll probably pass him when I head out.”
Sam had initially wanted to be stationed in Marysville. He might not return at all. Not having a stable boy in Seneca, even for a few days or weeks, would pose a headache. Val had gotten used to handing the horse off when he rode in, dead tired from his run. Jeremy didn’t need to know any of what Val was thinking, though. He helped Jeremy adjust the mochila and saddle in preparation for him to mount up.
“Not a bad ride coming over from St. Joe this time. Ran into a few bison, which startled them more than me and my horse. But other than that, not much going on.”
“It’s for the best. The boys out farther west have been used for target practice by the Indians. Most of the time, they suffer nothing more than a nick in the arm or leg, but enough to slow them down a bit. But a couple of the guys have been killed by an arrow.”
Val nodded. “Damn shame. But I guess if I were an Indian, I’d be doing the same thing. Protecting my way of life the best way I could.”
“Yep. But it’s a losing battle. The country is being settled by whites, and there’s more of us than there are Indians. More coming into the country all the time, too. And once the telegraph line gets stretched across the country, they’ll be no stopping the migration. The Indians can’t kill us all.” Jeremy adjusted the mochila over the saddle, hooking it in place over the saddle’s horn and cantle. He took one last gulp of coffee and handed the cup to Valerian. “See you later, Val.”
Valerian urged his spent horse to walk around the paddock for a few minutes, cooling him off. Then he led the horse into the barn, to a warm stall filled with food and water. He washed the lather off the horse, but his mind buzzed with thoughts. If Sam decided to stay in Marysville, it could possibly be weeks before Val had a chance to see him again. Would it be necessarily a bad thing? It really wasn’t up to him to ensure Sam’s safety, was it?
Despite Joseph’s comment that Sam and Val were destined to meet, Val found himself chafing a bit at the responsibility for someone else’s life. After all, conditions on the trail were perilous enough, and as the Pony Express poster stated, all riders must be willing to face death daily. It was enough of a struggle to take care of himself, to make certain he got through each ride intact. The last thing he needed was to ensure the safety of a stable boy as well. He didn’t need the headache.
So why did he have a niggling feeling in his gut Sam was in trouble right now? Not just Pinkerton trouble, but something more? Was he one of the riders the Indians thought to use for target practice? Did he run into a herd of bison and fall from his horse? A million different scenarios ran quickly through Valerian’s head, none of them pretty. It was probably nothing more than his active imagination at work. Sam would pull in shortly, and the rider heading east from here would take over. He sure hoped Levi was sufficiently recovered so Val could spend a few days here in Seneca, getting some answers to his many questions about Sam.
After he got some food and sleep, he needed to write another letter home. He’d give his sister, Rosemary, ideas so she could write a dime novel about the perils facing the Pony Express riders. And he’d reassure his mother there was nothing to worry about. Kind of contradictory letters, but still. And he’d sign them both Expressly Yours, Valerian.
Chapter 11
Samantha was on the return leg from Marysville to Seneca, finally. The rain had been a constant for three days now, and the trail was a long line of slippery mud. Even with the days in between runs, her duster coat was still soaked and provided little in the way of protection. It was just a heavy layer, weighing her down. She opted to tie it onto the rump of her horse and ride in only her red shirt and jeans. The rain was warm, and once she got on the back of her horse, she’d work up a sweat in no time.
The mud was slick, and even with her superb horsemanship skills, the road was treacherous. She backed off from a full gallop, opting instead to keep her horse’s feet under him. The sky was still gray, even in mid-afternoon. As she approached the last relay station before Seneca, she blew on her horn in warning.
A fresh horse waited, along with a biscuit sandwich and coffee. Samantha took her time, knowing she had only one more leg of her journey before she’d be back in the barn, mucking out stalls instead of riding for the Express. She wanted to savor her moment. Soon enough, though, she was back on the trail, with ten miles between her and the Seneca station. Ten miles until she could get out of the rain and get some sleep. Almost as if in response to her thoughts, the skies opened up again, sending torrents of rain down, making visibility almost nil.
