by Karen Kirst
Delsie had never felt anything even remotely similar when it came to Flynn. Myles on the other hand… Her breath caught in her throat. Could she possibly be feeling more than friendship for this Express rider? It seemed ridiculous, having only known him a mere six days, and yet, she’d experienced many of those same emotions in regard to Myles that Lillie felt for Clay.
“Are you all right?” he asked.
Delsie realized she’d slowed and was no longer following his lead. “I’m sorry. I think I just need to…to sit down.” He didn’t look convinced until she added in a light tone, “All that twirling around.”
Myles finally released her. Taking a seat on the ground, she took in deep breaths of the summer air to slow her rapidly beating heart. He dropped down beside her. They listened in silence to the dance music.
When the song ended, the fiddler struck up a different sort of number. Instead of dancing, the emigrants began to sing. She couldn’t decipher the words, but the melody rang with conviction and hope.
“My father has a man at home he wants me to marry.” The admission was out before she even considered why she was saying it. Something about Myles’s comforting presence and the music pulled it from her. “His name is Flynn Coppell. He manages my father’s bank.”
Myles didn’t respond right away. Instead he leaned back on his elbows, his gaze on the emigrants. “Do you care for him?”
“I don’t know. He’s Papa’s choice.” She ripped up a piece of prairie grass and twisted it around her finger. “Did you care for…?”
“Cynthia?” he supplied.
“Yes, Cynthia.” She knew she was being overly bold by asking, but she couldn’t dismiss her curiosity about this woman who’d clearly captured Myles’s attention.
Myles sat up and rested his arms on his knees. “I did care for her. Thought she felt the same, too. But she didn’t.”
“What happened?” she asked quietly, fearing he wouldn’t answer.
A heavy sigh drifted toward her before he spoke again. “I guess you could say she was a lot like your sister. Except instead of choosing me, she chose the man her parents wanted.”
Sadness filled Delsie at his story along with a measure of irony at the similarities to Lillie’s. “How long had you known her?”
“Six years.” Picking up his hat off the grass, he fingered the brim. “She came into the livery stable three times in a matter of days. Charles finally told me it wasn’t because she had a real need of a horse. We saw each other at least twice a week after that.”
“Did her parents know?”
“Not for a few years.” His regretful tone wasn’t lost on Delsie. “Maybe if they had, things might have gone differently.” He shrugged. “Then again, I don’t know that she and I would have been happy together. Cynthia would have hated all this.”
She felt relief to hear his voice no longer held bitterness but resignation. “You mean the dirt and the weather and the scanty food?” She swept her arm in an arc to take in the Express station, the distant bluffs and the wagons. “Why, this is a palatial palace, Myles Patton.”
He chuckled, as she’d hoped. “Then that makes you the queen, Delsie Radford.”
Rather than teasing, the words sounded more like an endearment. One that filled her heart with warm pleasure. She busied herself with the grass she’d plucked up.
“We’d better head back,” he said, disrupting the quiet between them. “Early start again tomorrow.”
She dipped her head in a nod. Before she could climb to her feet, though, he offered her his hand. Delsie allowed him to help her up, though it meant she stood rather close to him again.
“Thank you for the dance lesson.” He brushed an errant hair from her face, her hand still gently gripped in his.
“You’re welcome,” she managed to get out over the pounding of her heartbeat in her throat. “Thank you for dancing with me.”
He smiled and released her hand. But even as they started back across the grass toward the home station, Delsie couldn’t quell her racing pulse. Why in the world had she let herself develop feelings for a man her father would never condone as a suitable husband? A man who, if she chose, would only further divide her splintered family?
CHAPTER NINE
After witnessing the distant bustle of Fort Laramie, Wyoming, as they’d ridden past, Delsie found the present hills almost too quiet, devoid of people or movement. She shifted in the saddle, tugging her hat farther down on her head against the incessant sun. Though she hadn’t wanted to stop at the fort after her last encounter near Fort Kearney, she couldn’t entirely squelch her curiosity at seeing a place that teemed with more life than she’d seen in several days. They’d been riding for a solid week now.
“Which means today is Sunday.” She’d forgotten until this moment. At home she would have been attending church with her father, but out here, there was no house of worship. That didn’t mean she couldn’t hold her own little service, though. Amos would certainly join her, but Delsie wasn’t sure about Myles. “No harm in asking.”
At the next stop, Delsie broached the subject as soon as she’d dismounted. “Gentlemen, I’ve realized it’s the Sabbath and I would like to hold a little service.” She caught the sudden rigidness of Myles’s shoulders even before she’d finished. “If you don’t wish to take part, that’s perfectly fine. I’ll be…” She motioned to a spot along the banks of the North Platte. “Over there.”
“I’ll join you.” Amos removed his hat. “It’s been far too long since I’ve had someone else to worship with.”
Delsie smiled her pleasure. “Wonderful. And you, Myles?” A strong hope stirred within her, but it was dashed the moment he spoke.
“I’ll tend to the horses,” he muttered.
“We’ll be over there should you change your mind,” she said with forced cheerfulness. She kept her chin up as she walked to the spot she’d indicated, Amos trailing her. But inside she felt like crying. Why should she care if Myles didn’t want to participate? Why couldn’t she be content with him asking her to bless their meal the other night and not hope for more?
Because I like him—very much, her heart admitted.
She pushed the thought aside. No good would come from exploring it. Her father would never approve of her choice, just as he hadn’t Lillie’s.
Once she was settled on the grass, Delsie watched the flow of the river for a moment. Too bad she didn’t have a Bible. “What shall we do first?” she asked Amos when he sat down next to her. She wasn’t entirely sure the best way to proceed.
He rubbed at his gray beard. “How about we start with prayer?”
“Yes.” She managed another smile. “That would be lovely. Would you say it, Amos?”
With a nod, he bowed his head and verbalized their gratitude for a safe journey and for God’s blessings in their lives. He prayed for her family, for her and Myles, and for continued protection and guidance. By the time he murmured “Amen,” there were tears swimming in Delsie’s eyes.
No matter her worries or unconventional situation, she felt certain she would be all right. God was looking out for her. And Myles, too, something whispered inside her. Don’t give up on him. The words echoed those Amos had said to her.
Brushing at her wet eyes, she smiled at the older man. “Thank you. Now how about we share our favorite Bible verses?”
*
The sound of singing reached Myles’s ears, even though he was trying hard to ignore the two figures seated by the river’s edge. Amos’s tenor mixed perfectly with Delsie’s sweet soprano. Against his better judgment, Myles found himself listening.
For the beauty of the earth,
For the glory of the skies,
For the love which from our birth
Over and around us lies:
Lord of all, to Thee we raise
This our hymn of grateful praise.
For the beauty of each hour,
Of the day and of the night,
Hill and vale, and t
ree and flower,
Sun and moon, and stars of light:
Lord of all, to Thee we raise
This our hymn of grateful praise.
Could there be more perfect words to describe their journey West this past week? Try as he might he couldn’t resist the pull and harmony of the music, even if he didn’t know the words. He began to hum baritone, quietly, as he walked toward them. On the now-familiar chorus, Myles finally joined his voice full force with theirs.
Delsie whirled around, her eyes wide with unconcealed surprise. She kept right on singing to the end of the chorus, though, as Myles lowered himself to the ground at her left.
The final harmonious notes floated crystal clear across the river. “That,” Delsie said, clearing her throat, “was lovely. Thank you, both.”
He couldn’t quite work up the nerve to look at her fully—not after refusing to join them earlier. But he was spared having to do so when Amos suggested they end with another prayer. Delsie offered it.
He’d grown accustomed to her simple, heartfelt prayers, ones that sounded more like a conversation than a list of blessings or needs. Perhaps if I could talk to God that way. The thought startled Myles enough that he opened his eyes. When had he started thinking he needed the Lord in his life again?
Probably about the time this dark-haired female sitting next to him had showed up at the Express stables, with her double measure of determination and faith.
After Delsie’s prayer, Amos volunteered to check on the horses. Myles let the not-so-subtle excuse go; he found he wasn’t ready yet to disrupt the peace he felt sitting here beside the river with Delsie. Though he might have to corner the older man later and ask what Amos was doing by constantly trying to give them time together. Nothing would come of it. They were both aware of that. Amos was wasting his time trying to create something that would never be.
“Did you like that hymn?” Delsie asked. Her tone sounded innocent enough, but he guessed what she was really asking. Why had he decided to join them at the end?
“It sounded like a good one.” He bit back a smile when his noncommittal answer brought a frown to her lips.
She started to rise. “Yes, well, I suppose it’s time to go.”
“I haven’t sung a hymn in years,” Myles admitted, keeping his gaze on the river. From the corner of his eye, he saw her slowly sit back down. “Haven’t been in a church, either.” He fingered his hat. “Not since before Charles died.”
Delsie drew her knees up to her chest and rested her chin there. “The death of a parent is very difficult, at any age.”
“I didn’t think I fit in after that,” Myles added. A part of him wanted to stop talking, to rebury the hurt, but a greater part of him wanted to share the burden weighing him down. “I had no family, no wife. What use did God have for me? He started to feel about as unobtainable and distant as Cynthia and her rich society life.”
Momentary silence met his words. Myles stared at his hat, embarrassment creeping over him. He’d gone and said too much. Delsie was likely to pity or condemn him, and he had no use for either.
“Why did you name your bird Elijah?”
The question caught him off guard. “What?”
“Elijah? Where did his name come from?”
Myles glanced up to see that determined glint in her dark blue eyes. He’d underestimated her—again. She wasn’t going to heap judgment on him; she was going to root around until she found even a single seed of faith still sprouting inside him.
“His name comes from the Bible,” Myles answered over a rueful smile. “But you knew that, didn’t you?”
She shrugged, but not without smiling herself. “I suspected as much. Which story inspired you to pick Elijah?”
He couldn’t help a grin. “The one when he and the pagan priests square off to call down fire from above. I always liked how he teases them to cry louder because he says maybe their god is sleeping.” He chuckled, remembering the animated way Charles would tell the story. “But my favorite part is how he douses the entire altar with water before praying. And then the fire comes, lots of it.”
Delsie remained silent, listening. Resting his hat on his knee, Myles found a pebble among the grass. “Elijah had no doubts God would hear him. Only faith and confidence.” He lobbed the small rock into the river. “Of course, I also like the story about the ravens feeding him. I guess both of those influenced the bird’s name.”
“Maybe influenced you, too.” She didn’t pose it as a question, but Myles nodded just the same. “I think those are excellent reasons for naming him Elijah. Especially since it looks like God sent you a little fire, too. In the form of the bird, I mean.”
Myles frowned in confusion. “Come again?”
Delsie twisted on the grass to face him. “When did you find Elijah?”
“About four months ago.”
“Before everything ended with Cynthia, right?”
He rubbed at his chin, trying to figure out her line of reasoning. “Well, yes.”
“See?” She sounded as if she’d just presented him with his horse ranch. “God knew you’d need someone. Someone who needed you, too.” Her face radiated confidence in a way that enhanced her natural beauty.
Myles turned to stare at the river again. Uncertainty clouded his mind. What did Delsie know of real hardship or real faith? She’d never been challenged before this week, living in her fancy house with every possible need provided for.
But she did lose her mother, a quiet voice inside reminded. Along with her sister. And now she’s caught in a tug-o-war with her father over her family, with very little freedom to choose her own life.
Tasting regret at his harsh judgment, he honestly considered her theory. Had God really sent Elijah to him, knowing Myles might need something in his life to care for if things didn’t work out with Cynthia? The idea seemed far-fetched, and yet, something deep within him stirred at the possibility. Were there other evidences that God hadn’t abandoned him like Cynthia had?
He catalogued his friendship with Amos and how the older man had stepped in after Charles’s death to be as much a father figure as a friend. Then there was the freedom Myles enjoyed, being able to give up the livery stable for the Pony Express without the worry of having to support a family yet.
A glance at Delsie plucking up grass beside him brought another revolutionary thought. Maybe their paths had crossed for more reasons than him helping her reach California on time. Maybe she was here to help him, as well.
Myles had no doubt God was watching over her—the experience near Fort Kearney had solidified that. And if He cared enough for Delsie to help her keep her family together, then perhaps He cared enough for Myles to bring her into his life.
“Time to go, you two,” Amos called from behind.
Myles plunked on his hat and stood, offering Delsie his hand and helping her to her feet. “Thank you for joining us, even if it was at the end.” The sincerity in her gaze and her feminine nearness brought a familiar jolt to his heart.
“You’re welcome.” He rubbed his thumb over the smooth skin on the back of her palm. She’d abandoned her gloves somewhere along the trail. “Thanks for your words.”
He led her back to the horses, her hand firmly gripped in his, though he knew he probably ought to let go. There was no sense meddling in things that weren’t meant to be. Still, he ignored the argument. Only when Delsie reached her mare did Myles finally release her.
But long afterward, he could still feel the coolness of her fingers against his and the heat of her faith in his heart.
*
Delsie dismounted in the shadow of Fort Bridger’s adobe wall. This fort and the other landmarks they’d passed in the past four days—Devil’s Gate, Independence Rock, Pacific Springs—were no longer mere names told to her by Amos. Each one now held a mental picture inside her mind.
“Why are we resting here?” A frisson of concern ran up her spine at being so near another fort. She wouldn’t soon forget the terr
or she’d experienced outside Fort Kearney—and she hadn’t even been close to the structure itself.
“Moses slipped a shoe,” Myles replied evenly as he gathered his horse’s reins.
Delsie pushed up her hat. “Moses?” Another Bible name, she thought with a smile. She’d sensed Myles’s faith during their impromptu church service, even if he’d insisted it was weak.
“Didn’t you name your horse?” he countered, his black eyes showing more mirth than irritation.
“Yes. It’s Horse.”
He barked a laugh. “Not very creative. What do you call your horse back home?”
“Gabriel,” she said, blushing. Lillie had teased her about the name, but Delsie refused to change it. The young foal had been given to her shortly after their mother’s death, and to Delsie, the horse was a comfort.
Myles’s teasing expression softened. “That’s a good one. I’ll have to keep it in mind.” He started for the fort entrance, calling over his shoulder, “Do you want to come?”
She pressed her lips together in indecision. She wanted to see the inside of a real fort, but what if something happened again?
“You’ll be fine,” Amos reassured as though he could read her mind. Perhaps the old man could. “This fort is quite safe. Just stick with Myles. I’ll watch out for the horses.”
On impulse, Delsie went up on tiptoe and pressed a quick kiss to the man’s whiskered cheek. “Thank you, Amos. For everything.” He would have made some boy or girl a wonderful father.
Amos shrugged and turned away, but not before she caught sight of his happy grin and tear-filled eyes. She would miss him when she reached Lillie—he and Myles both. Picking up her skirt in one hand, she hurried after Myles.
The fort teemed with noise and people. Trappers, Indians, horses and pioneers created a moving sea of color and conversation. Delsie paused to take it in, her gaze sweeping from the wooden and adobe structures of the fort to the different occupants. A dark-haired Indian dressed in leather leggings and shirt stared intently back at her with eyes as dark as coal. He wore round earrings and a number of beaded necklaces draped his neck.
