The Pony Express Romance Collection

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

  “The bread should be ready to go in the oven,” Greta said. “I lost track of the time.”

  “That’s not what I wanted to talk to you about. Sit, please.” Sadie waved a hand toward the table.

  “Yes, ma’am.” Greta sat and folded her hands on the table.

  Sadie sat across from her. There was no easy way to broach the subject. “I’m concerned about what seems like your infatuation with Eagle.”

  “He’s kind to me.” She lifted her chin, her eyes hardening. “You’ve got Dr. Stetson. Do you want Mr. Eagle, too?”

  “Of course not, and I don’t have anyone.” She reached across the table and placed her hand over Greta’s. “I just want you to be careful. People won’t take kindly to a white woman and an Indian.”

  “What about a prostitute and an Indian, Sadie?” Tears glimmered in her eyes. “Folks won’t accept me no matter what I do. If I find a man who will accept me, I don’t care if he’s purple. Not as long as he treats me good.”

  “Has he stated feelings for you?”

  “The man rarely talks, but I know. I see it in his eyes, and it ain’t like the way other men used to look at me.”

  “All right, Greta. I trust your intuition. I only want you to be happy and to know what you’ll be up against.”

  “I may not be able to read or write, but I’m not stupid. I know the hardships.” She got to her feet. “I’ll finish the bread now.”

  “I meant no harm.”

  Greta gave Sadie a sad smile. “I know. You concentrate on getting Dr. Stetson to confess his feelings and leave Eagle to me.”

  If it were only that easy. Sadie glanced out the window to where Luke and Eagle headed for the barn. Two fine men from two completely opposite ways of life. Yet they seemed to be friends. Her gaze drifted to Greta. Much as she and Greta could be if Sadie stopped treating her like a child.

  “Love is pouring from your eyes.” Greta waved a dish towel at her. “Either tell the man how you feel or stop letting it show on your face.”

  Sadie’s cheeks heated. “I’ll take coffee to Mr. Weston.”

  “That won’t solve the problem in your heart.” Greta’s giggles followed Sadie from the room.

  If Sadie thought talking to Greta was important, Luke would question Eagle. While he enjoyed the man’s company and relied on his help, he didn’t know him well. “What are your intentions toward Greta?” he asked him as they reached the barn.

  “She is lovely, like the meadow at spring.”

  Poetic, but it didn’t answer Luke’s question. “Do you have feelings for her?”

  “Maybe.”

  “You’re harder to get words out of than a mule.” Luke stabbed the pitchfork into a bale of hay. “I want to know whether you want to marry that girl.”

  “Ugh.”

  Luke stormed from the barn. The man was impossible.

  “Do you plan on marrying Mrs. Mathewson?” Eagle’s words followed him.

  Touché! Luke grinned and headed for the house. The man could form complete sentences after all.

  The closer Luke got to the house, the more his smile faded. He wouldn’t be able to disregard Eagle’s question. Especially since he planned on leaving the station at some point. He did, didn’t he? Things had gotten so muddled with his growing affection for Sadie, he didn’t know which end was up or what he really wanted to do.

  He stopped and watched through the open door of the kitchen as Sadie and Greta prepared the midday meal. He could envision seeing that scene of Sadie flushed from the heat of the stove every day for the rest of his life. Then, Father’s words rose to the forefront of his mind. Words that would condemn Sadie as a simple woman from a kind of life not suited to a city doctor. Could he subject her to those comments?

  If he chose to stay on the prairie, could he keep his mind busy? Sure, he would be there to help wounded stagecoach passengers and Pony Express riders, but what about the rest of the time? Would he grow bored with farm life?

  Sadie turned and caught him staring. A shy smile graced her lips. Yes, he could stay there if it meant staying with her.

  “Are you hungry?” She took a step toward him. “Wash up and call the children. By then, the food will be on the table.”

  Steps light, he put two fingers to his lips and let out a shrill whistle. Josiah and Ruth came running from the garden.

  Luke watched as they fought over space at the pump, then stepped up to wash the grime from his own hands and face when they were finished. A ready-made family waited for him. All he needed was the courage to reach out and grasp hold.

  Cleaned the best he could be without a bath, he followed the children to the dining room and took his seat at the head of the table. The motion wasn’t lost on him. He’d been sitting there over half of the meals he’d eaten with the Mathewson family. Had God shown him His plan days ago but Luke had been too blind to see?

  “I found a corn snake,” Josiah said, reaching into his pocket.

  “Gracious, son, not at the table!” Sadie took a step back.

  Greta shrieked.

  Ruth screamed.

  Josiah tossed the snake onto the table.

  Luke laughed so hard tears came to his eyes. Thank You, Lord for giving me this gift. Ignoring the green slithering snake coming toward him, he picked up his fork and dug into his potatoes.

  “Luke, do something,” Sadie implored him. “I can’t abide those things.”

  “They don’t bother me,” he said, grinning.

  “Please.”

  He grabbed the snake and tossed it into the corner.

  “Outside!”

  Still laughing, he pushed his chair back and grabbed the snake. He yanked open the front door and tossed it onto the polished boots of his father.

  Father grunted and crushed the snake’s head with his heel. “It’s good to see you, too, son.”

  Luke peered around him at the hired buggy. “We’re just sitting down to eat. Come on in.”

  “You act as if you live here.”

  “I do.”

  Father snorted and entered the house.

  All conversation ceased as everyone turned to stare. Sadie wiped her hands on her apron. “Welcome, Mister…”

  “Doctor. Doctor Stetson. I’m Luke’s father. Where is my son Mark?”

  “He’s on a run.” Luke motioned for his father to sit next to Mr. Weston. “He’ll return tomorrow or the next day.”

  Father fixed a stern glance on him. “Then that is the day we return home together.”

  Ignoring Sadie’s offered hand, he sat in the chair chosen by Luke and perused the fork in front of him. Scowling, he wiped it on a napkin.

  Sadie dropped her hand, her shoulders slumping. “I’ll fix you a plate.” With her back straight, she headed for the kitchen.

  “Do not be rude to our hostess,” Luke hissed.

  “I wasn’t in the slightest. I prefer not to shake hands with women.” Father set his fork down and spread the napkin in his lap. Noticing the children and Greta, he frowned. “Have you not seen a man in a suit before?”

  “I’ve seen plenty,” Greta said, “and had very little use for any of them.” She picked up her plate and went to sit at a different table.

  “That,” Father said, pointing, “is rude behavior.”

  “Leave her alone.” Luke glanced toward the kitchen. Not seeing Sadie returning, he excused himself.

  She was slapping potatoes onto a plate, not taking her usual care with presentation. She stopped and turned when Luke approached. “I’m sorry. I shouldn’t have dashed away like a petulant child.”

  “He deserved it.” He placed his hands on her shoulders. “I’m afraid he’ll be here for a day or two.”

  “I’ll manage.” She forced a smile and stepped back. “I’d better take him his food before it gets cold.” She left Luke standing in the kitchen.

  With a quick prayer heavenward, he followed. He respected his father as the man who conceived him, but he would not stand back and l
et him insult Sadie. He intended to have a serious conversation with him as soon as the meal was over.

  He could only pray he didn’t make things worse.

  Chapter Eight

  Come walk with me.” Luke held out his hand to Sadie.

  She untied her apron and slid her hand in his. “This sounds serious.”

  His lips thinned as he led her to what Sadie now considered their spot. The creek.

  Luke helped her settle on a log then sat beside her. Taking both her hands in his, he turned her to look at him. “I want to let you know a bit about my father and how he views the world.”

  “Warning me?” She gave him a shaky smile.

  “In a sense.” He exhaled sharply. “My father has certain…standards. He feels that we, as doctors, have a persona to uphold.”

  “He’s a snob, you mean.” She pulled her hands free. This was it. The moment when Luke told her they had no chance of a relationship. She stared at the moon casting diamonds of light across the water. “I’m sorry. I shouldn’t speak of your father that way.”

  “It’s true. Father married into money. He worked hard to get into a good medical school and felt proud of me when I followed in his footsteps. Over the years, as he spent more time with my mother’s family, he lost where he came from. Then, when Mother died, he latched onto the rigid rules of high society as if they were a lifeline. My father is a very unhappy man and seems determined to make everyone around him feel the same way.”

  She turned back to him. “Why are you telling me this?”

  “I want you to know what to expect. He doesn’t look favorably on a woman alone running a Pony Express station.”

  “I’m not ashamed of my life, Luke.” She stood. “I’m as good as he is. My ancestors came over on the Mayflower and helped settle this land. Living a simple life on the prairie is no less important than a life in the city.”

  “I wasn’t putting you down, Sadie. I would never do that.” His eyes glittered in the light squeezing through the tree branches. “I almost envy the life you have here.”

  “Truly?” She grasped his hands. “Could you see yourself living here?”

  His hesitation was all the answer she needed. “Good night, Luke. I can handle myself around your father.” With a swish of her skirts, she left him and did her best to keep a ladylike pace as she headed for the house.

  She stopped and looked in the window at her children and Greta. They were enough. Whatever decision she made in regard to her future would affect them. She glanced back toward the creek. They were the ones she must consider, not Luke. Tears burned her throat. Squaring her shoulders, she opened the door and entered the house, pasting a smile on her face.

  Dr. Stetson sat next to the stone fireplace reading a newspaper that was three weeks old. “How do you bear it out here?”

  “If you’ve already read the paper, sir, there is a Bible on the stand next to you.” Sadie picked up a sock from the mending basket.

  “Fables.”

  She raised her eyebrows. “True accounts of history.”

  “Made-up stories.”

  “The life of our Savior.”

  “Pshaw! Only simpleminded people believe such rubbish.”

  “Then I am proud to be simpleminded.” She jabbed a needle through the sock and into her finger. Holding back her hiss of pain, she stitched the hole in Josiah’s sock shut. “What is the purpose of living, sir, if there is nothing better at the end?”

  He stared at her as if she had just grown a second head. “You truly believe what is in this book.”

  “Yes, I do.” She met his stare. “It saved me after my husband’s death.”

  “And now, you’re after a new husband. My son.”

  “I’m not after anyone.” She rolled the sock and reached for a shirt missing a button. “If God intends me to remarry, He will make a way.”

  “My son deserves better.”

  “Perhaps.” The man’s words cut to the very center of her. How did one get through to someone so coldhearted? She set the shirt in her lap. “I’m a strong woman who can shoot, hunt, plant a garden, and defend my home. Can your city women do that?”

  “They have no need for such unladylike pursuits.”

  “Well, I do.” She raised her eyebrows. “Where would my children be if I threw up my hands in despair when my husband drowned? Starved or raised by Indians, most likely. No, I do not envy the life of your society women. I know which fork to use at the table, how to handle a full dance card, and can play Chopin’s piano sonatas. I sew my family’s clothes and that landscape over the fireplace was painted by my hand.” Her gaze clashed with his. “I’m from the New York Mathewsons, Dr. Stetson. I chose this life.”

  “Your family owns the chain of department stores?”

  A smile was the only answer she would give him. “My family disowned me when I married and moved from the city with my husband. You seem to be a lot like them.”

  He scowled. “Explain.”

  “In your mind, your way is the only way.” She set her mending aside and picked up the Bible. “In my mind, this”—she tapped the book’s cover—“is the only way. It has served me well. Good night, sir.”

  “You are an impudent woman.”

  She grinned. “I reckon I am.” At the bottom of the stairs, she turned. “Thank you, Dr. Stetson.”

  “For what?” he growled.

  “For making a very important decision for me.” Still smiling, she climbed the stairs.

  His ridicule of her life convinced her just how much she loved life on the prairie. When the need for a Pony Express station no longer existed, she would figure out the next step. For now, she would remain in her home, raising her children to know God’s love.

  Luke listened from outside the dining room. Normally, eavesdropping wouldn’t be something he succumbed to, but curiosity had won out. The moment Sadie headed upstairs, he entered the house and sat across from his father.

  “I suppose you heard what that…woman said to me.” Father folded the newspaper in his lap. “That is who you call friend?”

  Luke chuckled. “Not only a strong-willed woman, but a Kickapoo Indian and a former prostitute.”

  His father’s face darkened. “Surely not.”

  “These people are the salt of the earth, and I’m proud to be here with them.”

  “You plan on staying?”

  Luke shrugged. “I’m contemplating that very thing.”

  “You would give up everything to be a farmer?” He spit the word.

  “Maybe. Or maybe I’ll set up a doctor’s office to treat travelers. I haven’t really decided for sure. All I know is that I want to spend time with Sadie.”

  Father looked as if he were going to have apoplexy. A vein throbbed in his neck. “I forbid it.”

  “I’m a grown man. You cannot forbid me anything I choose to do. I respect your opinion, but the decision is ultimately mine.”

  “You aren’t cut out for life on the prairie.”

  “I guess only time will tell.” Luke crossed one ankle over his knee.

  “I’m sorely disappointed in you, son.” Father stood. “Will you show me to my room?”

  Luke grinned. “You’ll be pleased to know we’re sharing a bed. A man healing from a gunshot wound has the other empty room. I’m sure you agree he needs it more.”

  Father mumbled something Luke didn’t catch, then…“Which room?”

  “Second on the right.”

  Luke watched as his father climbed the stairs, then reached for the paper he’d left behind. Even three-week-old news was news. Except in this case, it wasn’t. They’d already heard about the renegades from the riders. He sighed and left the folded paper on the table.

  “You reckon I’m good to go tomorrow when the stage pulls in?” Weston sat across from him.

  “Yes, but no driving for another two weeks at least. Use your judgment. When your stitches no longer pull, you can give it a try.”

  “I can’t think o
f a better place to recuperate,” he said. “Mrs. Mathewson is a right fine nurse, not to say anything bad about your doctoring. I’m obliged to both of you.” A sly glint shone in his eyes. “I’m tempted to propose marriage to the woman and stay right here.”

  “Very funny. You’re much too old for her.”

  “Well, if you’re not going to do anything—”

  “I’ll do something when I’m good and ready.” Why did everyone insist on telling him his own business?

  “What are you waiting for? Christmas? That’s months away.”

  Luke growled and got to his feet. “Shut your trap.” He stomped up the stairs, not realizing until he reached the top that he wouldn’t find peace in his room. Fine. The attic would suit him. He pulled down a small door in the ceiling and climbed the stairs that unfolded.

  From the small window in the alcove, he could see for miles. The full moon lit up the area like a gas lamp. It would be the perfect vantage point to keep a lookout for the renegades. Maybe he could persuade Josiah to spend an hour or two up here. Even Ruth could look for telltale signs of dust on the horizon.

  A bat swooped past the window, no doubt startled from its resting place by Luke, then darted away in search of insects. Other than that, the night was quiet except for the occasional moo from the milk cow.

  Luke folded his arms on the windowsill. How could anyone prefer the bustle of city life to the serenity of the country? Hard work promised to keep a man from being bored. The prairie seemed more like God’s handiwork than a street lined with buildings built by man.

  While he had never kept his faith a secret, he admired Sadie’s open declaration despite the animosity coming from Father. Rather than speak up, Luke often remained silent. No more. Sadie’s courage had rubbed off on him.

  He closed his eyes and prayed for forgiveness. Forgiveness for not openly living his faith, and forgiveness for being an indecisive coward. As he prayed, peace descended on his heart and he felt more free than he could ever remember feeling. He had a lot to thank Sadie for.

  Straightening, he popped the kinks from his back and took another glance out the window. In the distance, highlighted by the moonlight, was the dust of a rider. As he watched, the single rider approached at breakneck speed.