by Reina Torres
Frank shrugged as if he relished the idea of being the center of their curiosity. “Well, we ought to take him to one of those fancy eye doctors, the boy might have a little bit of a sight problem.”
Slapping his knee, Frank shuffled off toward the cabin, his laughter trailing behind him.
Ransom heard Delia’s laughter, but he knew it wasn’t a full laugh. He heard the tight catch of her voice. When the cabin door swung shut, Ransom moved closer.
“He’s wrong.”
She turned, her hand lifting to his cheek. “Yes, he is,” she smiled at him, but the grin didn’t quite reach her eyes. “You definitely have a sight problem, if you think I’m lovely.”
“Don’t say that.” He settled his hand on her waist, wishing he’d taken off his riding gloves before he’d approached her. “Don’t listen to your father.”
Delia met his eyes with a shake of her head. “He’s not trying to hurt my feelings. He jokes to keep things light, and it’s been a long time since he’s laughed as much.” She drew in a breath and let it out slowly. “I know when we moved here to the station, my father and my brothers felt like it was some kind of sentence for a crime. Like the criminals sent to penal colonies, they felt like they were in exile.”
With a tender smile, Ransom set his other hand down on the either side of her waist. “Didn’t you feel like that? Just a little?”
She shrugged, her shoulders lifting just a little bit. “Perhaps,” her voice was a gentle whisper, “but I had my family.” Delia tried to blink away her tears. “I’m sure you felt the same loss when you lost your aunt,” she offered, “if someone had taken you and dropped you off in the wilderness, thousands of miles from anyone else, what if they had offered to give you your aunt to live with you? To keep you company?”
Ransom felt the pang of loss in his chest, but he also felt the tug of emotion toward Delia. He understood her loss through his own and he also felt he understood her need and her strength. He only hoped that he was strong enough for her.
“I would.”
“But even though his words upset you,” she looked away and then lifted her gaze to meet his, “it made me smile to see you upset. You do,” she drew in a breath that sighed out of her lips a moment later, “care about me.”
“More than care for you, Delia.” He heard the longing in her voice, but he also felt like there was something else under the soft whisper of sound, something that she was trying so hard to hide from him. So he wanted to reach her in his own way. “I’ve found a connection to you that I don’t think I’ve found with anyone else and I want to make that even stronger. Make us even stronger.”
She lifted her hand to her face and swept at a tear that fell onto her cheek. “I want to be strong because of you,” she smiled, but that only accentuated the lines at the corners of her eyes.
The lean-to gate banged open and Delia jumped a little.
The subtle tremble that Ransom didn’t see with his eyes was felt through his hands. “Delia?”
She started, pulling away from him as her chest struggled to expand under her dress. He knew she wore a corset, what woman didn’t even in the building heat of the season, but the pinch and push of the hard-boned garment must have played havoc. He knew that wasn’t at the heart of her difficulties.
“Delia, what is it?”
But her gaze was focused past him toward the hitching post.
He followed her gaze and saw Matthew standing there, holding the reins of his horse. The bay was tall enough that it almost hid him from view.
“I should go inside,” the words were soft and lifeless in her voice, “you need to get back to Three Rivers.”
He watched her turn and walk away from him. He wanted to call out to her and find out what was wrong, but as he turned back to look at Matthew Hawkins standing between their horses, ready to swing up into the saddle, he had a feeling that he’d get quite a few answers from the younger man.
Cordell had done everything possible to postpone his return to the bunkhouse. The free day in his schedule should have been restful, but he'd spent the better part of it riding back to Three Rivers in the most circuitous path possible.
The weekly requirement that Olivia Hawkins had levied on them was a horrible strain on his nerves. He subsisted on a cursory dunk from time to time in an available body of water. Hell, he'd even dunked his head in the horse trough to cool off from time to time in the summer.
But weekly bathing was barbaric. Instead of the motherly persona that Olivia tried to foist off on the world, she should just admit that she wanted them all to catch a cold and die.
“At least,” he grumbled, “she could be honest with us.”
Cordell felt his head hang a little further down toward his chest. Right, he'd forgotten about that little ‘issue’ of his.
He kept telling himself that it was all worth it. The express would flounder and fall sort when their chain of swing stations started to close. The distance between stations would mean that delivery times would slow, leading to a drop in revenue, or they'd run the horses into the ground and horseflesh, the kind they needed for such an endeavor, wasn't easy to find, and when you could, it wasn't cheap.
Forging onward, he crossed Main Street and was nearly back on Express property when he felt someone grab the back of his shirt and tug at him. There wasn’t enough strength in the motion to succeed, but he stopped in his tracks and turned to look at the face in the shadows.
“What are you doing?”
A hand shot out, and smacked into his chest, rocking him back on his heels. “You lied to me.”
Cordell lowered his gaze at the younger man. “Keep your mouth shut.”
Matthew shook his head. “You used me,” he spat the words out and advanced on Cordell again, stopping short with Cordell’s hands fisted in his shirt, “you used me to get to her.”
The older man stepped toward the shadows, pushing Matthew before him.
“For the last time, she wasn’t hurt.” Cordell held up his hand and Matthew saw the long scratches in his skin. “I was the one that lost blood and skin to her. Leave it alone.”
“You promised me that if I helped you,” Matthew seethed, his nostril’s flaring with each breath, “that everything would be fine.”
Cordell shook his head as if he had to clear his thoughts. “You thought that’s all it would take? We have to wait and see what happens. She’s had her warning. Now we just have to see if she’s smart enough to get her father to leave.”
Matthew grasped at Cordell’s wrist trying to make him let go. “That wasn’t what you told me.”
“You think I’m going to tell you everything?” Cordell tightened his hold on Matthew’s shirt, pulling it tight around his neck. “What did you tell Ransom?”
“Nothing,” the word spat from Matthew’s lips. “He harped on me over and over, but I didn’t tell him anything. I kept up my end of the deal,” his voice gasped out of his throat, “let me go.”
It took a moment, but Cordell let go of Matthew’s shirt. “You did your job. I delivered my message. Now just keep your head down and pray that Delia isn’t as hard-headed as her father is.”
That seemed to sour Matthew’s attitude. “If you’re pinning this on Mr. Burroughs,” Matthew groaned, “you’ll never win. He’s a grumpy old cuss.”
Cordell gave Matthew a look made of daggers. “He’ll do what we want, or I’ll just have to go back and visit Miss Burroughs again.”
Turning on his heel, Cordell was heading for the station when he felt something shove into his back from behind.
Whipping around, Cordell caught Matthew by surprise, knocking him to the ground with the side of his arm. Matthew came to rest against the side of a building, his eyes bleeding anger at the other man. “You leave her alone.”
Cordell moved closer, lifting his leg as if he was going to kick him in the side. “Stay out of my way. Don’t think for a moment that if your parents find out that you were involved, that they won’t send
you packing.”
He watched the words sink into Matthew, hot tears springing into his eyes.
“That’s right,” Cordell glared at him, “remember that the next time you want to push me around. Your parents may just push you out the door.”
When the door to the bunkhouse was shoved open by a boot, Ransom and Clay stopped what they were doing. Clay looked up from the letter that he was writing when the bunkhouse door opened up and nudged Ransom’s foot under the table. Ransom followed Clay’s pointed gaze and he watched Cordell walk through the room, easily navigating the furniture and any quizzical glances.
“I thought you went for a bath, Cordell.”
“I thought I left my Mama at home, Clay.” Cordell’s tone was clear. He wanted them to back off.
Cordell wasn’t friendly on the best of days, he was downright surly on the worst. Today was one of the later. Somehow, Ransom had expected the mood. It was something that his uncle used to say he, ‘felt in his gut.’
Ransom was already on his own edge. His conversation with Matthew Hawkins hadn’t been at all enlightening. He’d asked plenty of questions and he’d received the barest of answers. Together, they’d fed and cared for the horses. They’d readied the horses and curried them down after each exchange. Maintenance was done. Food was eaten. Water was hauled and drunk. According to Matthew, nothing out of the ordinary happened.
And that’s exactly why he was on edge. Everything was perfect and yet Delia was shaking. She was determined to make everyone think that things were perfect. And that was enough to tell Ransom that it wasn’t.
He felt something nudge his arm, Ransom looked at Clay with confusion.
The younger man tilted his head toward Cordell’s bunk. “You want to ask him?” He’d barely put any volume behind the words, giving it little more voice than air. “Where he’s been?”
Oh, he wanted to ask, but he didn’t say a thing. He watched Cordell shove things around in the trunk at the foot of his bed, listened as the other man muttered to himself. He didn’t like the way Cordell favored one knee over the other, or the way he rubbed one hand over the other.
Ransom was watching him carefully. So carefully that he saw the narrowed eyes that turned in his direction, but didn’t react until Cordell had turned to stare him full in the face, his hands balled up at his waist.
“Just say it.”
He didn’t react at first. It took a pointed look from Clay and a not-so-discreet cough from Wyeth to make words form on his lips. “I have nothing to say to you.”
“Then stop looking at me,” Cordell pushed on. “Stop watching me like you expect my head to fall off my shoulders and roll around in the dust.”
“But it’s not dusty.”
The comment from Luke in the corner turned Cordell’s head. He hissed out a curse at him. “Don’t stick your nose in, Cavendish.”
Luke shrugged at the churlish tone of the other man’s voice. “I wasn’t.” He turned to Ransom. “I wasn’t. He said it was dusty and it’s not.” Luke pointed at the opposite corner of the room. “It was my job to sweep today and I did it. Wall to wall, swept every bit I could find out the door.”
Wyeth tossed something at his head and Luke snatched it out of the air. “That’s your sock.”
Nodding, Wyeth gave him a pointed look. “Just took it off my foot. Stay out of the conversation.”
Luke dropped the sock on the floor and wiped his palms off on his pants. “Fine.”
Ransom got up from the table, his sudden but measured movement drew everyone's attention. He stopped when he stood directly in front of Cordell. “You make me nervous.” The tension in the room ratcheted up a notch, everyone held themselves still, watching. “I think you're hiding your true intentions… your true loyalty.”
“I'm loyal to myself.” The word was punctuated by a hiccup of silence that ended with Cordell’s rough chuckle. “That's the only thing you have to know about me. I work here because the pay is good. It won't last though.” He swung his gaze over the silent room, meeting every curious stare as he went. “They can't keep this kind of thing up for long. They’ll go back to the way it was, and then where will we be?”
Clay shook his head at the other rider. “You seem awfully sure of yourself.”
From his nearby bunk, Wyeth chimed in. “You know something we don't?”
Cordell’s smirk only widened. “I know plenty that you don't, and it's not like any of you ever treated me like one of you. Since the beginning, it's been all of you-”
He stopped short, a red flush nearly to the top of his ears. “You’ll regret it,” he'd addressed the room, but his eyes landed on Ransom, “especially you.”
Ransom heard the hard edge to Cordell’s tone, but there was a dark snap in the other man’s eyes that landed through his middle, setting him even more on edge.
The feeling didn't go away when Cordell left the room, and was still there when they sat down to supper.
Chapter 12
Two days later when she was clearing away the dishes from their morning meal, Delia heard the sudden blurt of sound that could only come from one of the Express horns. Casting a curious glance in her father’s direction she wondered aloud, “Is there something wrong with the clock?”
Frank looked up from the newspaper he’d been reading for the fourth time since it had come in from Laramie and gave the face of the clock a long, hard look. “No, Del, the clock is running just fine.” With a sigh he set aside his paper. “I guess I better go outside and see what the matter is.”
She gave him a smile and set the platter in the washbasin. “I’ll come with,” she announced and reached back to untie her apron strings.
He gave her a laughing sigh. “Ever prepared, hmm?”
Outside the mood changed a little when her father caught sight of the rider bent over the saddle. He wore no hat, or had lost it on the trail, neither was a good sign. Setting both reins in one hand, the rider waved a hand in the air, a frantic movement that had Delia darting back inside to grab the rifle they had propped up beside the door.
She returned outside in time to see Kit Monroe bring his horse to a skidding stop just a few lengths shy of her father. The spirited filly pranced closer and Delia saw the horse suck in breath after breath, her chest expanding wide enough to bow the rider’s legs.
“Mister Burroughs, I need your help.”
Delia found herself watching her father carefully. Stress wasn't something he reacted well to, at least not in the last few years, and not with the amount of drink that he usually consumed.
He walked a few steps closer and took hold of the horse’s bridle holding her steady enough for him to smooth a hand down her neck.
The mare responded to the reassuring touch and her frantic movements slowed, the frenetic power easing back.
“What's the problem, son?”
The boy’s expression was chagrin mixed with barely concealed contempt. “We were eatin’ and someone let the horses loose.”
“All of them?” Delia was shocked.
Kit grimaced. “All of ‘em. The only four legged things we’ve left in the stable are the mice.”
The young man gestured to the horse he rode. “Rosie was the only one we even came close to.” The strawberry roan seemed to know they were talking about her and nodded her big head. “And that’s only ‘cause she heard me whistle. The rest, well the men are on foot trying to find them and that's going to take a while.”
Her father nodded thoughtfully. She knew the schedule just as well as her father and she knew what that meant.
“Come on down and help me saddle up a few of the horses, Kit.” Turning, her father gave her a determined look. “I'll go with Kit and see if I can help the roundup.”
It made sense, as part of the stage company before the express, her father had an intimate knowledge of the area and where the horses might have run off to. Some of the horses had been found wild in the area and might have gone back to their old haunts.
&n
bsp; Delia didn't know she'd been lost in her own thoughts until she felt something touch her arm.
“Del? You gonna be all right by yourself?”
She felt horrible. She'd told her father that someone had frightened her in the dark when he'd been gone. But, she hadn't told him of the ultimatum. Her father needed this chance. He needed this job, and she wasn't going to take that away from him because she was afraid.
“Absolutely, Papa. Go.”
He took hold of her wrist and pulled her close enough to buss a kiss on her cheek. “You're a good girl.”
She laughed. “I’ll take care of Kit’s horse, hurry up.”
He and Kit rushed off to the lean-to while she led the filly to the hitching post. “I'll take you inside in a bit,” she reassured the young horse, “but right about now, my Pa’s saddling up at least three horses, and we’d just be in the way.”
Once they left. Three horses, two riders, leaving one sad little filly behind and Delia, who suddenly had so many things to do. Things that kept her from thinking about the fact that she was alone.
“It’s daylight.” She told herself the words over and over. “I can see everything around me.” The dishes were done. The floor and front steps swept and tidy. And when the clock chimed the right hour she was out in the lean-to and bringing SadieBelle out for her ride.
Sadie was a fine mare with a dappled coat, but her disposition was, well, a difficult one. Even when her bridle was on and affixed correctly, she did everything she could to try to take it right off, including rubbing her head along any post or wall that she could reach.
After the second time she had to pull Sadie’s head up from a patch of dandelion greens, Delia swung the mare’s head around so she could look into one of her big wide eyes. “Let’s get something straight between the two of us. I know my Pa works with you. I understand. I’m sure I’m a poor substitute, but I’m the one you have today.”
Sadie pulled back slightly, tilting her head slightly to look down at Delia.
