The Pony Express Romance Collection

by Blakey, Barbara Tifft; Davis, Mary; Franklin, Darlene

  “‘All in a day’s work’? I doubt your work detail includes rescuing careless little girls.”

  “Hey, I’m not a little girl.” Molly straightened. “I’m a young lady.”

  “A young lady wouldn’t have been gawking in the middle of the road.” The older sister motioned to the younger. “Come along and let the man eat.”

  Molly slid onto the bench across from him. “I’ll stay here in case he needs anything.”

  Fox shrugged and nodded that he didn’t mind the girl staying. It would give him a chance to find out the older sister’s name.

  The older squinted at the younger. “Don’t bother him. You let him eat. He works hard.” She turned and sashayed into the kitchen.

  He wished she were the one staying.

  Molly propped her elbows onto the table and rested her chin in her hands. “Eat, Mr. Fox. You don’t want it to get cold. My sister is a real good cook. Not one of the men have complained. They say they haven’t had such fine victuals in a long while. And there is peach pie for dessert. You don’t want to miss that. I made the pie.”

  “Molly!” her sister called from the kitchen.

  “My talking don’t stop him from eating!” The girl turned back to him and spoke in a normal tone. “My talking don’t stop you from eating, does it, Mr. Fox?”

  He shook his head.

  She called back to the kitchen. “I’m not stopping him!”

  Fox chuckled to himself. This girl was a refreshing change from the bunch of rabble-rousers at the station.

  The girl inclined her head toward his plate. “Well, eat.”

  He held up his finger. “In a moment.” He bowed his head and thanked the Lord for a meal worth eating. Then he spooned up the first bite of beef stew and savored it in his mouth. Good cook didn’t come close to an adequate description. He hadn’t tasted food this delicious in over a year and a half. Not that Mrs. Greenberg wasn’t a good cook. But this was better. Or maybe it was because the men had been cooking for the past two months and this was a huge improvement.

  After two or three bites, the girl called toward the kitchen again. “He likes your cooking!”

  After a couple more bites, he paused long enough to ask a question. “Did you and your sister miss the stagecoach?” The girl had probably needed time to recover from nearly getting run down by several hundred pounds of speeding horseflesh.

  “Naw. Mr. Greenberg gave us jobs cooking, so we decided to stay on for a while.”

  So he was going to be eating this well from now on. “I hope it’s a good long while. I know your name’s Molly. What’s your sister’s?”

  “BethAnn.”

  BethAnn. Nice name. Pretty and feminine, like the woman it belonged to.

  “I’m twelve. She’s twent—”

  “Molly!”

  Obviously, BethAnn was listening.

  The girl leaned forward and lowered her voice. “She doesn’t like people to know her age. She thinks she’s an old maid. She doesn’t look old to you, does she?”

  Not old. Just right. Fox hid his smile behind another mouthful of stew and shook his head.

  She changed back to her normal voice. “I hope we stay here a long time. I like horses a whole bunch. I never rode one before.” She lowered her voice again. “Maybe you could teach me. Don’t tell BethAnn. She thinks horse riding is too dangerous for girls. But with the proper teaching, I’d be safe, wouldn’t I?”

  And with a gentle horse. Possibly Methuselah. He nodded.

  She scrunched up her face. “You don’t say much.”

  He was never much for words and darted a glance toward the kitchen. “I don’t want to get in trouble for not eating.”

  Molly nodded in understanding. “You wouldn’t truly be in trouble. She can’t make you eat if you don’t want to.”

  He leaned forward and whispered, “It’s never a good idea to get on the bad side of the cook.” He took a swig of coffee then stared into the cup. Not the usual swill.

  Yes sirree. He hoped BethAnn stayed a good long while.

  BethAnn listened from the kitchen.

  He was being quite kind and patient with Molly. She could talk the hind leg off a mule.

  BethAnn had originally planned to get as far east from Salt Lake City as her meager money would take them in the hopes that Mr. Hall wouldn’t find them. But she’d agreed to stay at the station because of the pay and all the men who might be willing to protect her and Molly should the need arise.

  How could she have been so naive to think a man like Vince Hall would just loan her money out of the goodness of his heart without some mighty tight strings attached? She had been grieving too deeply to look at the situation clearly.

  But she felt safe here at the station, even though men populated it. These men fell all over themselves to be courteous and helpful. They appreciated her cooking and nothing more.

  Besides, her money wouldn’t have gotten them much farther anyway. That was the real reason she’d stayed. Wasn’t it?

  When it appeared Mr. Fox had polished off his meal and swigged down the last of his coffee, she eagerly carried out a slice of Molly’s peach pie and the coffeepot. She set the plate down and filled his cup. “Come on, Molly. I think you’ve disturbed this poor man long enough. Gather up his dishes.”

  Molly moaned.

  “Now, now. Is that any way for a lady to behave?”

  Her little sister huffed. “No.”

  The rider caught her with his gaze. “I don’t mind. You can sit as well. I’m sure you’ve been on your feet for some time.”

  She should decline and take Molly with her out to the garden to pick some vegetables for supper but sat instead. He had kind, gentle green eyes with flecks of gold.

  “Mr. Fox really has been with this station since the first day it opened.” Molly hardly took a breath between sentences. “He’s made hundreds of rides. Haven’t you, Mr. Fox?”

  The poor man looked embarrassed. He shrugged. “Haven’t counted.”

  Of course, Mr. Fox wasn’t his real name. It was some sort of nickname the men had given him like Kentucky, Rocky, or One-Eyed Jack. But she wasn’t about to call this man The Fox nor allow her baby sister to use that name. Just because they were orphans didn’t mean she would allow decorum to go by the wayside.

  Chapter Three

  Two weeks later, Fox stood in line at Wayne’s desk in the main building to receive his weekly pay. Each man took some of what they earned and put it in the can to pay BethAnn and Molly to cook. Not one of the men complained.

  When it was Fox’s turn, Wayne counted out his pay, noted the amount in his ledger, and handed him a parcel. “This came by the stage. I don’t know why you don’t just carry it back with you on your run. It would be faster.”

  “Wouldn’t be right. And I can’t afford the cost of Pony Express postage.” He tucked the flat, square package under his arm. Though it cut into his savings for buying himself a spread once the Pony ended—and it would end—he didn’t mind. He ate well and got to see BethAnn every day he wasn’t on a run.

  Talk was, it was only another two or three months before the Pony was outdated. Once the telegraph wires stretched from one coast to the other, there would be no need for riders. Messages could go from Washington, DC, all the way to California in a matter of moments.

  He would miss running the mail, but he looked forward to settling down on a place of his own. A permanent place to call home.

  After putting his share—plus some—into BethAnn and Molly’s earnings can and pocketing his pay, Fox settled on a bench to open his parcel. Two new sketchbooks and a half dozen of his favorite drawing pencils.

  When Wayne was done with payroll and everyone had left the building, Fox approached the desk again and dug in his pocket.

  The stationmaster pulled out a second ledger. “How much this time?”

  Fox held back a couple of dollars and handed over the rest.

  Wayne recorded the amount. “You’re collecting quit
e a little nest egg.” Not many people knew he had a strongbox in his quarters. The fewer people who knew, the safer everyone was.

  “I appreciate you keeping my money secure.” Fox headed toward the kitchen.

  BethAnn and Molly weren’t in there, but he could hear their voices through the open kitchen door.

  He strode out back and found them in the fenced garden. “Good afternoon, ladies.”

  Molly waved from where she crouched next to her sister. “Mr. Fox.”

  How endearing the way these two called him Mr. Fox. He’d tried to get them to drop the mister, but BethAnn was too stubborn. She let him and all the men call her by her first name, but she called all the men mister something. Except Rusty, since he’d refused to tell her his last name.

  Well, he could be just as stubborn and wouldn’t tell her his real name. He’d been the Fox since he arrived, and he’d be the Fox until he left. He held up the pair of sketchbooks. “I brought you something.”

  Molly jumped up, her arms flapping, and met him at the gate. “What is it?”

  He entered and closed the gate behind him.

  BethAnn stood and brushed her hands together. “Molly, mind your manners.”

  The girl tucked her hands in close to her body as though that could tame her enthusiasm.

  BethAnn crossed to Molly and draped her arm around her sister’s shoulder. “It’s nice to see you, Mr. Fox. We hope you’re having a pleasant day.”

  “I am. Thank you. Wayne just divvied out the payroll and your pay tin is full.”

  “Thank you. I’ll get it when we’re through here.”

  Molly gave a little squeaky moan.

  “All right.” He held out a sketchbook to each of them. “These are for you to draw in.”

  Molly’s hand shot out and took the proffered book.

  BethAnn kept hers at her sides. “You’re very kind, but I can’t.”

  “Why not?” He figured if he got something for Molly, BethAnn wouldn’t realize he had really wanted to get her something and therefore wouldn’t refuse. But here she was, refusing.

  “Oh, I can’t draw.”

  Molly nodded at the periphery of his vision. “She’s right. You should see her—”

  “That’s quite enough.” BethAnn gave a tight, embarrassed smile.

  So she wasn’t rejecting his gift so much as ashamed of her ability. “I could teach you.”

  “That’s a very kind offer, but I’m afraid I wouldn’t be a good student.”

  He wanted to say something to convince her but didn’t know what.

  “You can teach me.” Molly stepped forward.

  “Of course.” He smiled at the girl then gazed back at BethAnn. “If that’s all right with you?”

  “That would be fine.”

  “Can I start right now?”

  BethAnn nodded.

  Though disappointed at having only one student, he took off his vest and set it on the ground right there in the garden enclosure. “This is so you don’t get your dress dirty.”

  Molly sat and flipped open her book. “I don’t have anything to draw with.”

  He pulled two pencils out of his shirt pocket, a pocketknife from his trousers, and sat. “These are my favorite pencils to draw with.” He sharpened them both and handed one to the girl. Then he pointed to the nearest plant and instructed her on how to draw it, all the while keeping track of where BethAnn was and keeping her in his thoughts.

  BethAnn balanced Mrs. Greenberg’s lunch tray on one hand as she closed the door to the stationmaster’s rooms. The woman was doing well and anxious to get out of bed, but her husband insisted she stay put for the safety of both her and the baby. BethAnn encouraged Mrs. Greenberg to rest as well. She and Molly had things well in hand. There was nothing for the woman to worry about.

  Five weeks had passed, and BethAnn had fallen into the ebb and flow of the station’s activity. All the riders and wranglers pitched in to pay her and Molly to cook three meals a day. Some of the men paid them extra to mend and launder their clothes. She saved all she could. It still wasn’t nearly enough to repay Mr. Hall. Not even enough to appease him.

  BethAnn knew she should move on. She’d already stayed a lot longer than she’d intended. Longer than would be safe. Staying in one place so close to Salt Lake City could be dangerous. But if Mr. Hall had been searching for her, wouldn’t he have found her by now? Maybe he had given up.

  She liked it here. She was comfortable here. She was needed here. Mrs. Greenberg couldn’t be up and cooking for so many. The men felt like family. If she went someplace else, it would be her and Molly all alone again, like after their parents and sisters died.

  She knew she and Molly couldn’t stay here for the long term, but for now, it was good work. They had already earned enough money to get them far away from here. They could continue east. Or better, head north. Mr. Hall wouldn’t suspect she would go that direction. But every time she thought of leaving, her heart said to stay, and then her thoughts would turn to Mr. Fox.

  Even now, she watched him and Molly sitting on the bunkhouse porch. Her sister spent her spare time with Mr. Fox, drawing.

  BethAnn, on the other hand, developed a friendship with Rusty. If Mr. Hall tracked her down, the blacksmith was the biggest man at the station, aside from the stationmaster. The riders were all small men because the horses could travel faster with less weight. The wranglers were taller, but not as tall and broad as the blacksmith. Mr. Hall would think twice about approaching her if Rusty was near. Which he always was, since he was always at the station, never on a run.

  But still, she kept wishing she was sitting with Molly and Mr. Fox.

  “You haven’t heard a word I’ve said.” Rusty pointed with his hammer. “Why don’t you go over and join them?”

  BethAnn sighed. She had forgotten about the blacksmith. “I need to start lunch. There’ll be a stage coming in. Thank you for showing me how you make a horseshoe.” Though he’d been right that she hadn’t been paying attention.

  She headed toward Mr. Fox and Molly. They had moved to a patch of wildflowers he was teaching her how to draw. She wished she’d never refused his offer to teach her. Approaching the pair, she spoke. “Time to start lunch.”

  “Do I have to?”

  “Yes. That’s what we were hired for.”

  Mr. Fox raised his gaze to her.

  A tingly sensation skimmed over her skin. She drew in a deep breath to straighten out her thoughts. “Now thank Mr. Fox and come on.”

  Molly heaved a sigh. “Thank you.”

  Fox stood, helped Molly to her feet, and spoke to BethAnn. “I’ll help you. Put me to work.”

  “But this is your day off. You shouldn’t have to work.”

  “This won’t be like work to me. I’m glad to learn anything about cooking I can.”

  How sweet.

  Molly grabbed his hand and pulled. “Then come on.”

  BethAnn thought her little sister’s boldness bordered on rude, but she wasn’t about to chastise. Mr. Fox might be discouraged and change his mind.

  Chapter Four

  Fox grew more and more uncomfortable with Molly’s constant presence. At first he’d really liked it because he could learn about BethAnn and he hoped maybe BethAnn would join them, but she rarely did. She spent her free time with Rusty. It was obvious whom she fancied. Fox wasn’t surprised. He knew he was no prize for any woman. He was puny, had hair the color of flames, freckles, and a crooked tooth.

  He had hoped maybe BethAnn could see past all that. The way she gazed at him had him believing that maybe a lady like her could develop feelings for a fellow like him. Such was not the case. And obviously Molly did fancy him in the way he’d hoped BethAnn would. Wasn’t right to let this little girl think he might return her affections.

  “Molly, I’ve been thinking. You need to be with your sister more instead of me.”

  “I’m with her plenty in the kitchen.”

  “What I mean is, in your free time
, you shouldn’t be sitting here with me.”

  “Why not?” She ducked her head. “I like being with you.”

  “That’s what I mean. You shouldn’t like spending all your time with me. I’m twice your age.”

  “I don’t mind. You’ll wait for me, won’t you?”

  Was this little girl going to be his only prospect for marriage? Although her affection was flattering in one sense, he wouldn’t mislead her. “I’m sorry, darling. I don’t feel that way for you. When you’re older, you’ll find some nice young man about your age to fall in love with. I’m not that man.”

  Her eyes glistened. “But I couldn’t like anyone as much as I like you.”

  She was too innocent to realize what she felt for him wasn’t real. “The reason you have feelings for me is because I saved your life from that horse. You shouldn’t care about me in that way. I’m too old for you. I should be more like a brother figure.”

  “That’s not true. I would have cared for you even if you didn’t rescue me.”

  He knew better. “I’ll always be your friend.”

  A tear slipped down the girl’s cheek. “I don’t want you to be just my friend.” She jumped to her feet and ran off. Her book fell into the dirt.

  He picked up her sketchbook and brushed it off. He would return it to BethAnn at supper. The less contact he had with Molly right now, the better.

  BethAnn peered out the back door of the kitchen. Molly wasn’t in the garden or in the main station building. BethAnn headed to the barn. On her way, she glanced toward the bunkhouse, but her little sister wasn’t in her usual place on the porch with Mr. Fox. He was missing as well. Her sister wasn’t in the barn or around the corral either. None of the men had seen her. BethAnn followed the clanging around the back of the barn to the blacksmith shop.

  Rusty pounded on a horseshoe. When he caught sight of her, he dunked his metalwork into the barrel of water with a hiss. “You have just brightened my morning.” He glanced at her empty hands.

  She usually came bearing either something to eat or drink. Today, she had neither. “Have you seen Molly? I can’t find her anywhere.”