by Karen Kirst
Her mouth fell slightly open and her eyes narrowed. Myles tried to maintain a deadpan expression, but he couldn’t hold back his chuckle for long. If she could dish out the sarcasm, she could certainly learn to swallow some herself.
With another chuckle, he pulled his horse ahead, relishing the pounding of the hooves against the prairie sod and the blessed sound of quiet from behind.
CHAPTER TWO
The Smith Hotel, in Troy, Kansas, appeared ahead. Myles rode straight to its large barn and jumped to the ground. One man held the reins of his next horse, while another yanked the mochila from the saddle to throw it over the new one.
“I need a second horse,” Myles explained as Delsie stopped her mare beside them. The two men gaped openly at her.
The man holding the new horse’s reins recovered first. “What’s wrong with this one, Patton?”
Myles hurried over to help Delsie dismount. “Nothing. But I need another horse—for the lady here.” When the man shot Myles a bewildered look, he added, “I’ll explain later, Rogers. Just get us another horse. She’ll pay to ride it.”
Thankfully, the man brooked no more complaint and raced into the barn to collect the second horse. Myles climbed into the saddle again, turning an expectant gaze on the hotel. Right on cue, a young lady exited the building and ran toward him. In each hand she held one of the fried pastries the Troy station was known for.
“Thank you,” Myles said, accepting the treats. He immediately handed one down to Delsie, then bit off a bite of the chewy, sweet dough. “Delicious,” he murmured.
Delsie sniffed at the pastry, then took a delicate bite. Myles rolled his eyes at her prim manners. Did she honestly think she could make it across half the country when she couldn’t even—The unfinished question died within his mind as he watched the fried treat disappear between her lips in less than a minute.
A startled laugh escaped his mouth. If Delsie heard it, she didn’t react. She simply stood there waiting for Rogers, looking as imperial and composed as a duchess, as if she hadn’t just devoured her pastry in two bites.
Well, I’ll be, Myles thought with a rueful shake of his head. She’d clearly been starving, though she hadn’t let on one bit. He glanced at his own half-eaten pastry and extended it toward her.
“No, thank you,” she responded politely, though she wouldn’t quite meet his gaze as she sipped water from the canteen one of the riders had found for her.
At that moment, Rogers led her new horse out of the barn. Delsie handed him a few dollars before he helped her into the saddle. Myles kneed his horse forward and they were off again.
The next four relay stations brought more of the same routine, minus the pastries. He’d ride in first, tell the men he needed a second horse, then he’d wait while they gawked a few seconds at Delsie before scrambling to collect and saddle another mount. Delsie seemed to take it all in stride, paying for the horses and climbing back into the saddle each time without hesitation and even offering courteous smiles to the other Express workers.
When they reached their fifth station, though, Myles could see she was beginning to wilt like a flower in the height of summer. Once astride her new horse, she paused and squeezed her eyes shut. He knew from his first few Express runs the discomfort of being in a saddle for so long. But it couldn’t be helped—not if he was to deliver the mail on time and not if she planned to ride this way from here to California.
Elijah left his shoulder to go hunt for a mouse or a smaller bird, reminding Myles of the hardtack he kept in his jacket. The Troy pastries and the promise of a full meal at Guittard’s was sufficient food for himself, but he imagined Delsie wasn’t used to such a long day with so little to eat.
With the ease of practice, he managed to remove the hardtack without slowing his horse. “Hungry?”
Delsie took a long moment to answer, her hand rubbing at the back of her neck. She’d been doing that more and more the past two hours. “Yes…thank you.” She took the piece of hardtack he handed her, and without hesitation or inquiry as to what it was, she bit into it.
After she’d finished off that piece, he extended the other to her. “Aren’t you hungry?” she asked, her gaze moving from his hand to his face. He couldn’t recall ever seeing another woman with such dark blue eyes. They were nearly black, like her hair, but still blue enough to add contrast.
“I don’t usually eat much till I get to Guittard’s. This is just for emergencies.”
“If you’re sure…”
When he nodded, she took the rest of the biscuit from him. Again, she lifted her hand to rub at her neck as she ate. She had to be sweating bullets in the thick fabric of her high-collared dress, and her silly hat barely shaded her eyes.
Myles reached for his canteen, an idea forming. “You got a handkerchief with you?”
Delsie reached into one sleeve and removed a white piece of cloth. “Yes, why?”
“Can I see it?”
She studied him quizzically, then handed him the handkerchief. Leaning slightly to the side, Myles poured a little water from the canteen onto the cloth and squeezed out some of the excess.
“Try putting this around your neck. It oughta help keep you cool.” He pressed the damp cloth into her gloved hand.
Delsie obeyed, draping the wet handkerchief against the exposed skin at the base of her neck. An audible sigh of contentment reached his ears and her eyes fell shut. “That feels…wonderful.”
Myles allowed himself a smile at her obvious relief, especially since she couldn’t see him. “You’re welcome.”
She opened her eyes to look at him. “Thank you.” The words were quiet and genuine, reminding him of the woman herself. At least when she wasn’t talking a mile a minute. To her credit, though, she’d spoken very little the past few hours, only breaking the silence between them with an occasional question about the landscape or the next relay station.
“How far have we come?” she asked, looking around them at the rolling prairie. The sunshine had held and the blue sky arched bright and cloudless overhead.
“When we reach Seneca in a few more hours, we’ll have come eighty miles from Saint Joseph.”
“So we’ll have forty-five more to go after that?”
He tipped his head in agreement, impressed with her quick figuring.
“Does that mean you aren’t going to leave me behind, then?” Her words were coated with as much teasing as they were challenge.
Myles cut her a look before facing forward again with a grin. “We’ll see, Miss Radford. We’ll see.”
*
“That’s Guittard’s Station there.”
Myles’s words took a moment to penetrate past the fog inside Delsie’s mind caused by the endless riding and movement and pain. She lifted her chin from where it drooped nearly to her chest. Ahead of them in the evening sun, past the woods and creek, she spied a two-story wooden structure with a front porch and plenty of windows flanking its sides. A large barn was also visible. While the place might appear rustic standing beside the ornate hotels back East or her own brick house back in Pennsylvania, Delsie couldn’t recall a more welcomed sight. Her first day on the trail was finally at an end.
They rode to the stable, where Myles dismounted first before coming to assist her. She was too exhausted in mind and body to pay much heed to the open stares from the other Express workers who’d come to collect the horses. She’d grown accustomed to the surprised looks or words exchanged at each station along the route when the men discovered her riding beside Myles and on a Pony Express horse, no less.
Myles lifted her to the ground, but when he released her waist, Delsie found her legs would no longer support her. Her knees crumbled beneath her riding habit, and she would have fallen onto the hard-packed dirt if Myles hadn’t gripped her arm.
“Careful,” he murmured, his voice surprisingly gentle. “You’re likely a little stiff by now.”
Stiff? She gave an unladylike snort. The single word didn’t even begin to
explain what she felt at the moment. Somewhere back on the trail, the throbbing ache in her back and legs had finally numbed, bringing temporary relief. But as she hazarded a step, with Myles still holding on to her elbow, sharp prickles of pain lanced through her lower body. She almost preferred the numbness.
Delsie bit her lip to keep from crying out as she hobbled next to Myles—she didn’t want the triumph of the day marred by complaint. But, oh, how she longed for her bed at home, with its laundered sheets and feather-soft mattress.
“Myles!” An older man approached them from the direction of the house. A gray beard and a friendly smile graced his weather-beaten face. His blue-gray eyes widened when he noticed Delsie limping alongside the Express rider. “Who’s this young lady?”
Myles stopped walking, forcing Delsie to follow suit. She didn’t think she could manage a single step on her own just yet. “Good to see you, Amos. This is Delsie Radford.” He motioned to the other man with his free hand. “Miss Radford, meet Hank Amos. Express worker, avid explorer and accomplished harmonica player.”
Hank Amos chuckled and extended his hand. “Guilty as charged. Pleased to meet you, Miss Radford.”
Delsie shook his hand. “Nice to meet you, too, Mr. Amos.”
His laughter deepened. “Not to contradict a lady, Miss Radford, but call me Amos. Everybody does.” He glanced at the sky. “Elijah off hunting?” he asked.
Myles nodded. “He flew off before we rode in.”
Amos considered Delsie, his gaze lingering on the spot where Myles still held her arm. “What brings you West…with Mr. Patton?”
Myles released Delsie’s elbow at once and took a deliberate step to the side. She swayed a moment, but her feet held firm. “I promised to escort her to Guittard’s today.”
Delsie threw him a questioning glance, but he wasn’t looking at her. He’d told her he would consider tonight whether to take her the rest of the way to California. She hoped he hadn’t already made up his mind. While she felt nigh unto death, she’d certainly kept up her end of the bargain by not slowing him down.
“Are you catching the stage from here, Miss Radford?”
“No. We’re actually going—”
“To be late for dinner,” Myles interjected. “Let’s get you some real food, Miss Radford.” With that, he clutched her elbow again and led her at a trot toward the house.
Delsie frowned up at him. Did he really care that much about her well-being? He had offered her his hardtack hours ago and helped her cool down with his wet-handkerchief trick. But something about his thoughtfulness right now struck her as false. Why hadn’t he let her tell his friend about her plans? She opened her mouth to ask him, but the words were forgotten the instant she inhaled the tantalizing smell of cooked ham and rolls floating from the house.
Her stomach grumbled in response, resurrecting the gnawing sensation she’d felt for hours. She placed a hand over her middle to squelch it. “That smells absolutely scrumptious,” she muttered, though not softly enough.
Amos gave another throaty chuckle. “Tastes even better.”
“I think if shoe leather smelled that wonderful, I’d eat my fill and die perfectly happy.”
There was a low rumbling that sounded in her right ear, not unlike distant thunder but more jovial. It took Delsie several seconds to realize the noise came from Myles—he was laughing at her remark.
Though she knew it shouldn’t, the sound of his laughter and the knowledge she’d solicited it filled her with momentary pleasure. Her father would be displeased at her errant thought. She was supposed to be deciding if she loved Flynn Coppell, the man who managed her father’s bank, not entertaining ideas of how to make some other man laugh once more. Of course what she was or wasn’t thinking would likely be the least cause for worry, if Owen Radford could see her now. Alone in Kansas, having ridden one hundred and twenty-five miles with a man she’d never met before this morning.
Myles steered her toward the back entrance. Inside the kitchen, Delsie found herself seated at a large wooden table beside Myles and across from Amos. Her backside instantly protested the return to a seated position, especially on the uncushioned seat, but Delsie chose to be grateful that neither the chair nor the table would be moving any time soon.
They were served ham, eggs, rolls and coffee by the station owner’s wife, who, upon discovering another woman in her kitchen, made a motherly fuss over Delsie. Uncertain why Myles wanted to keep quiet about her plans, she answered the woman’s questions, and those from the other Express workers as they trailed in, with the simple explanation that she was going to visit her sister in California.
Delsie ate everything on her plate and even accepted seconds of the ham and eggs. Her father would have been horrified by her ferocious appetite, but he’d never ridden so far in a single day.
Though she longed to sequester herself in a room upstairs and wash away the dust from the day’s ride, she lingered at the table, listening to the Express riders’ stories. The tales they told of dodging Indian arrows, riding through thunderstorms or racing buffalo across the prairie sent tremors of fear and excitement up her spine. Would she encounter all these experiences herself? The conversation soon turned to the Indian troubles farther west and the speculation on how the other Express stations and riders were faring.
“Come, now, boys,” the station owner’s wife gently scolded in her slight French accent as she refilled the coffee mugs. “No more of that kind of talk.” She tipped her head at Delsie. “Especially in the presence of a lady.”
Delsie scooted her chair back and stood. “That’s all right, Mrs. Guittard. I believe I shall retire for the night. Thank you for the delicious dinner. I can honestly say it was better than anything I’ve eaten back home in Pennsylvania.”
The woman blushed at the compliment. “I’ll show you to your room, Miss Radford.”
Delsie glanced at Myles, as did everyone else in the room, but he was gazing into his coffee cup. “I just need to locate my valise first…”
Myles scraped back his chair. “I’ll get it.”
After bidding the rest of the workers good-night, she followed Mrs. Guittard up the stairs to a large and tidy bedroom. “I’ll get you some water to wash up.” She exited the room, pulling the door shut behind her.
Delsie unpinned her hat and set it on the bureau. The mirror revealed a stretch of pink across her nose and upper cheeks. She touched the sunburned flesh with a sigh. Oh well. She’d likely only get browner as the days went by.
All for you, Lillie, she thought ruefully as she went to peer out the window. She pushed back the curtains and spied Myles talking with Amos near the barn. He shook his head at something the older man said, then removed his hat and ran a hand through his dark hair. His entire manner breathed agitation. Were they talking about her?
As if they sensed her watching, they both glanced at the house. She jumped back and let the curtain fall into place. A knock at the door alerted her that Mrs. Guittard had returned with the promised water. Delsie let her in and the woman emptied the pitcher she carried into the basin on the bureau.
“There you go, my dear. Let me know if you need anything else.” She crossed to the door, where she paused. “Will you be leaving early?”
“I believe so…” Delsie wished Myles had been more forthcoming about what to expect for the second day of their journey, but either way, she imagined they would be departing as early as they had today.
Once Mrs. Guittard left her, Delsie unwound her hair and released the top button of her collar. The simple act brought instant relief to her tender head and flushed neck. With the aid of a small towel, she bathed her face and hairline.
She was so caught up in the luxurious feel of the cool water against her heated skin that she yelped in surprise when someone pounded on her door. After dropping the towel into the basin, she threw open the door and found Myles standing there, her valise in one hand and his hat in the other.
“I brought you your…” His gaz
e shifted from the floorboards to her face and his eyes rounded in shock. Belatedly she remembered her unbound hair and loose collar.
Fresh heat burned her face as Delsie brought her hand up to cover her exposed throat. “Yes, my bag. Thank you.” She plucked it from his grip, prepared to retreat in mortification, but he didn’t make a move to leave. “Is there something else you needed, Mr. Patton?”
He shifted his weight from boot to boot. “Well, you see—”
“Oh, your money,” she finished for him. She lowered her hand to open her valise. “I believe we agreed upon twenty-five dollars…”
His hand closed over hers before she could locate the cash. The gentle, almost caring, touch felt different than the times he’d helped her on and off the Express horses today and succeeded in derailing her thoughts. A strange flurry of sensation churned inside her, similar to what she’d felt on the ferry ride that morning.
“I don’t want your money, Miss Radford.”
“You don’t?” The color of his eyes reminded her of warm, liquid chocolate, the kind she liked to sneak from the kitchen and drink in her room after her father was asleep. Myles released her hand, bringing clarity back to her muddled mind. “B-but I promised to pay you for today.”
“Look.” He ran a hand through his disheveled hair, mussing it more. “You did…pretty well today, Miss Radford.”
Pretty well? She cocked an eyebrow at him in defense. How many women did he know who could keep up with an Express rider for a hundred and twenty-five miles?
His lips twitched when he caught her look. “All right. I can give credit where it’s due.” He blew out his breath. “You rode as well as…as well as a new Express rider might.”
It was Delsie’s turn to hide a smile. “Seeing as you are a man of few words, Mr. Patton, I’ll take that remark as a compliment.”
“As you should.” The merriment in his dark eyes faded and his expression returned to one of complete somberness. “That being said, I think this is a fool’s errand.” She started to protest, but he held up his hand to stop her. “Let me finish. Whether it’s plain crazy or admirable that you want to be at your sister’s wedding on the twenty-second, it can’t be done.”
