The Pony Express Romance Collection

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

  The sun came up the next morning, coloring the sky with shades of pink, a hint that warmer spring days would soon be upon them. Kimimela felt no better after a nearly sleepless night. Her cough was worse, and she felt feverish. If only she could stay in bed for the day, but that hope waned when she heard a stagecoach pull into the yard.

  After slipping on a robe, she padded to the kitchen. She placed some kindling over a small wad of paper in the cookstove and lit a match. When the fire sparked to life, she rubbed her hands together for warmth and proceeded to the front door to see who had arrived.

  “Good morning, everyone. It’s so wonderful to be back in Echo Canyon. The Obelisks are spectacular. I wish I had a photographer along with me. Pictures of those red bluffs would be a fine treat for those on the East Coast.”

  Kimimela recognized Mr. Webster and cringed.

  “I’m here to see an Indian Pony Express rider, Gabe Jackson. I’m to discuss plans with him regarding his Cherokee tribe here in the West. I aim to take him back to Washington, DC, with me when we pull out later this afternoon.”

  A cool wind blew past. She shivered.

  Marcus emerged from the barn. “Gabe is in the bunkhouse,” he said.

  Mr. Webster headed that direction. Kimimela went back inside to prepare breakfast for the travelers on the stage. Odds were they were mighty tired. She tried not to think of Gabe going east. If he did that, she would probably never see him again. She tried to surrender the thought to God, but her heart still ached at the notion.

  As she pulled the biscuits from the oven, Gabe appeared. The somber expression on his face sent chills through her.

  “I’d like to talk to you, Kimi. It’s important,” he said.

  By the sad look in Kimi’s wide eyes, Gabe could tell she’d heard of him going east. He had to assure her that everything would be okay.

  Cynthia strolled into the kitchen at that moment and Gabe couldn’t very well talk to Kimi in front of the woman, especially with what he had to say.

  “Could you finish breakfast while Kimi and I talk outside for a moment?” Gabe asked.

  “Why of course,” Cynthia replied. “But Mrs. Tressmont and I will be leaving on the stage today so I do need to get some packing done, so please don’t be long.”

  “Agreed,” Gabe said. He led Kimi out to a private area alongside the barn.

  “I’m heading east on the stage today. Mr. Webster has offered me a job in Washington, DC, and it pays well.”

  Kimi’s flushed face told him she didn’t care about Washington, DC, so he tried to clarify what he meant. “I love you, Kimi. When I get back, I want us to get married.”

  A frigid silence hung in the air between them. Gabe tried to guess what she might be thinking, but who could tell with women?

  “So,” she began, “you’re just gonna leave me here, pining away for you until the day you decide to meander back this way?”

  He gulped, shifted from foot to foot, and tried to think of something to say that would smooth her ruffled feathers. “Now don’t get a bee in your bonnet.”

  Quicker than a hornet could sting him, he knew he’d said the wrong thing and tried to talk his way out of trouble. “You have to know I care for you, and well, I want to provide a good home for you. I can’t do that unless I have enough cash to buy a place.”

  Kimi coughed and then wiped her forehead with the back of her hand. Tears glistened in her eyes. “Isn’t there some way to get the money without having to go? I mean, you won’t be leaving like you’re on a run. You’ll be going all the way to Washington, for months on end.”

  “I don’t have much money saved from Express runs, and who knows how much longer the company is going to be in business. I have to do something.” He was trying to justify leaving, but something told him he was only shoveling more dirt from the hole he’d gotten himself into.

  “Fine, leave.” She turned and started toward the house.

  “Kimi, wait!” Gabe called as he ran after her. He grabbed her by the shoulders and tried to make her stop and listen to reason. “Please, let’s try to talk about this.”

  “I said you were free to leave. Now, turn me loose. I have to make breakfast.”

  “Not until you promise to wait for me,” Gabe pleaded. He hated to see her so upset. Her face flushed a deeper shade of pink. Sweat beaded on her forehead.

  “And what if I say no?” Another coughing fit caused her to double over.

  “Kimi,” Gabe said. She didn’t respond. Instead, her eyes rolled back in her head and she slid into a faint.

  Chapter Nine

  Muffled voices reached Kimimela’s ears, but she couldn’t distinguish what was said. Her head ached and her eyelids were too heavy to open. She felt as though someone sat on her chest. Every time she drew a breath, fiery pain filled her lungs instead of air.

  “Water,” she gasped. Perhaps a bit of cool fluid would ease the burning in her throat and lungs.

  Someone lifted her head from the pillow and placed a cup to her lips. She swallowed a few sips, but it did little to ease her agony.

  “Kimimela, the doctor is here to see you. Please try to get better.”

  She recognized Cynthia’s voice and forced her eyelids to open to make sure it was really her. A hazy fog was the only thing she saw, so she shut her eyes. Where was Gabe? Wasn’t he due to leave her and go east? Could he have possibly postponed his trip, or even canceled it? Perhaps he had already left.

  Coated in her own sweat, Kimimela kept still while the doctor examined her. Not that she had the strength to move much anyway. The man looked into her eyes and then opened her mouth and peered down her throat.

  “There now, rest easy. I’ll do everything I can to see to it you recover.”

  The kind words, and the man’s gentle touch, gave her some comfort. Her body struggled against the sickness engulfing her, but perhaps she wouldn’t die after all. Either way, she had committed her fate to the Lord and was at peace with whatever He decided to do.

  A groan of pain and exhaustion escaped as the doctor and Cynthia lifted her to a sitting position. The doctor placed a stethoscope over her heart and listened.

  “Breathe deeply, please,” he said.

  Kimimela obliged, as much as her flaming lungs would allow. The three breaths she took exhausted her. She closed her eyes as they laid her back down, and she tried to rest.

  “She’s very sick,” Kimimela heard the doctor say. “Diphtheria. Didn’t you say that’s what claimed her sister?”

  “Yes, Doctor,” Cynthia murmured.

  “Dear God.”

  That was Gabe’s voice she heard. She cracked her eyes open and saw him standing in the doorway of her room. So, he had stayed behind after all. He did care.

  “You best send for her family.”

  “I’ll do that right now,” Gabe said.

  Footsteps echoed down the hallway. The rustle of instruments indicated the doctor was putting his things in his medical bag. He patted her on the head, and then she listened as he left the room.

  Her heart lurched. Whether it was because of her illness, the doctor’s cryptic diagnosis, or a combination of the two, Kimimela didn’t know.

  She prayed that her heart was right with her Savior. She extended it to those whom she thought had wronged her, including Gabe. Then she asked God to forgive her of her own transgressions. A rivulet of conviction went through her at some of the horrid things that had flown out of her mouth. She hoped the Lord would give her the chance to tell him how sorry she was for the hurtful things she had said.

  Tranquility settled over her. If she died, at least she was at peace with God.

  Gabe tramped into the kitchen where Cynthia, Mr. Webster, and his associates waited to board the stage. He reached for an empty bucket. “I’m getting water. The doctor said a cool cloth on her forehead might help bring down her fever.”

  “I’ve taken off everything but her thin nightgown. That should help. We can cut her hair if we have to. I have
a small pair of scissors in my trunk.” Cynthia rose from her chair, presumably to retrieve them.

  Gabe shook his head. “That won’t be necessary.” Most Indians would rather burn with fever before cutting their hair, but how would Cynthia know that?

  “I am so sorry I can’t stay. I promise to pray for Kimimela.” Cynthia smiled. “I wrote my address in Chicago down in a notebook. I’ll wait for a letter, hopefully one telling me of her recovery.”

  Gabe nodded. “And I was so mad at her for saying no when I asked her to marry me. I hope God gives me the chance to make it up to her, to ask her proper.” The moment she had turned him down he had wanted to leave and never return. Why bother if there was nothing left to return to?

  Regardless of if she married him or not, he couldn’t leave her in the condition she was in.

  “I won’t be going with you on the stage today,” he told Mr. Webster. “I’ll come to Washington, after she’s recovered, but heaven only knows when that will be.”

  “You have my address, son. Just keep me informed.” Mr. Webster shook hands with Gabe and went outside to wait.

  “The doctor said she might not live through the week,” Marcus said. “Don’t worry about summoning her family, Gabe. I’ll do that. You stay here and keep putting cold cloths on her forehead.”

  “Thank you,” Gabe said.

  Marcus continued. “We might be able to reach her family within the week if we send a telegram, but I doubt they’ll have the chance to get here before she passes.”

  “She can’t die!” Gabe’s harsh retort bounced off the kitchen walls. She very well could die, and he knew it.

  Gabe stomped from the kitchen and proceeded toward the water pump. While drawing water, he had time to pray. “Please, God, don’t take her.” He had been raised to believe in God and to trust Him, but now for the first time he had doubts about the One he considered his Savior.

  The bucket brimmed with water as Gabe lugged it back into the house. Marcus mounted a horse, said good-bye, and rode toward town. Gabe prayed the telegram would reach Kimi’s family swiftly and that they’d be able to make it to Weber Station soon.

  A basket of dish towels sat in the pantry. Gabe grabbed a few and went back to Kimi’s room. For the rest of the afternoon, he sat by her bedside and read books to her. He realized how much he loved her and didn’t want to see her die.

  Cynthia, Mrs. Tressmont, Mr. Webster, and the others had left on the stage. Marcus arrived from town and said he’d sent the telegram. He went out to do the evening chores and then came in and fixed his own dinner. Gabe wasn’t hungry.

  The sun slowly descended over the western horizon as a few twinkling stars rose in the east.

  Throughout the long dark night, Gabe kept a vigil by her bed. He lit a kerosene lantern and continued to read to her, but now he read the scripture Philippians 4:13. “‘I can do all things through Christ which strengtheneth me.’ Lord, give her strength.”

  Then Gabe flipped through the pages of his Bible until he came to his favorite passage, Romans 5:3–5. “My grandmother read this one to me a lot when I was growing up. It isn’t easy being both white and Cherokee, and the way it describes suffering really resonates with what we go through.”

  Gabe cleared his throat and continued. “And not only so, but we glory in tribulations also: knowing that tribulation worketh patience; And patience, experience; and experience, hope: And hope maketh not ashamed; because the love of God is shed abroad in our hearts by the Holy Ghost which is given unto us.”

  A thin sliver of moonlight crept across the heavens but did little, if anything, to illuminate Gabe’s world. Still, like the scriptures he’d just read, he had hope, and he would cling to that even in the worst part of this tribulation.

  “Why, God? Why Kimi, why now?” he asked. “After everything she’s been through, she still found the courage to come to You, and now she is sick.” Gabe shook his head. “I promise I’ll never leave her, just make her better.” Although he prayed, the words seemed hollow. A sharp fear had dug its way into his work gloves and cut into the tender parts of his palms. He couldn’t bear the thought of burying the woman, the friend, he’d come to love.

  He remembered how she wanted to know more about stories of the Bible. Gabe wasn’t sure if she could hear him, but he told her about David and Goliath anyway. From there he recounted the story of Noah’s ark. Fitting, considering she was going through a storm. He was halfway through the parable of the mustard seed when his eyelids grew heavy.

  Hours later, the first rays of the sun peeked over the horizon and colored the sky with shades of pink and gold. A rooster crowed, alerting folks to the fact that a new day was upon them. In the semidarkness of Kimi’s room, Gabe still sat by her bed, and she still burned with fever.

  The straight-backed chair didn’t make for comfortable sleeping. Gabe stood and then stretched his achy muscles. The water bucket was empty, and he hadn’t put cold cloths on her forehead for some time now.

  “She still lingering?” Marcus asked when he poked his head into the room.

  “She’s not going anywhere! The fever hasn’t gotten any worse, and she’s not the kind of person to give up.”

  The station manager didn’t say anything. He simply stood in the doorway and rubbed his whiskers.

  “Keep an eye on her for a minute, will you please? I’m getting more water.” Gabe reached for the bucket and then dragged his weary body to the water pump and back. When he entered her room, for the briefest of moments, he thought he saw her eyes flutter open and shut.

  He thought, hoped, prayed she might be waking up, but then her body twisted with convulsions.

  “Kimi!” Gabe rushed to the bed and helped Marcus hold her. Kimi stopped breathing, and in horror Gabe watched her face turn blue. How much longer could she hang on?

  Chapter Ten

  Kimimela’s mind crept through the fog toward the voices that called to her. Gabe. He said her name again and again, but his voice sounded as murky as a muddy creek bottom. Sickness had shrouded her—for how long, she didn’t know—but she didn’t want to die. That much she did know.

  Gabe melted into obscurity when blackness closed in. No, please don’t go, she thought. As glorious as heaven had to be, would she miss him? She longed to tell him how much she cared and would be willing to follow him to the ends of the earth if necessary.

  The dark fogginess swirled around her as if it wished to hug her tightly. Then another voice echoed through the darkness.

  Louisa? The voice sounded just like her sister!

  “Be still, small butterfly. Don’t fight against the cocoon that holds you. Rest, bask in the presence of the Lord of all Creation. He will give you peace, and when it is time to break free from the cocoon, you will be stronger because of what you’ve learned during this time.”

  Whether the voice was real or imagined, she didn’t know. She said a silent prayer to her Creator and then lapsed into darkness again.

  What seemed like hours passed. Strange, sometimes terrifying, dreams danced in her mind before her senses again crawled to the land of the living. Only this time, she spotted bits of light and shadows. Then she heard Gabe calling to her.

  “Water.” She shuddered at the croakiness in her tone. Her throat felt like she had swallowed a spoonful of hot sand. She sensed a rustling of noises and quick movements about her.

  “Kimi, it’s Gabe. Open your eyes.”

  It took enormous effort, but somehow she opened them. Light stabbed her, so she crunched them shut. “Gabe,” she muttered. She wanted to apologize to him for being rude earlier, but her tongue refused to move, and her mind struggled to put the right words together. There was great comfort, however, in knowing that he was near.

  “That’s okay, sweetheart. You’ll recover, but you gave us quite a scare. Your mama and papa are here to see you.” Gabe’s voice was much more distinct compared to the last time she heard him.

  “Mama, Papa,” she whispered.

  “
We’re here, little butterfly.”

  The sound of her mother also brought comfort to Kimimela. She felt her mother’s familiar hands gripping her own. Someone lifted her head and placed a cup to her lips. She drank in a cold but bitter-tasting drink. She recognized the feverfew herbs lacing the concoction, one of her mother’s remedies. The liquid went down without setting fire to her throat.

  Peace settled over her. Mother was here. She drank in another few sips, and then sleepiness washed over her and she slipped into darkness again.

  When she awoke the next morning, out her window she saw a bright sun creeping up over the eastern horizon. Both her mother and Gabe sat next to her bed. She felt much better.

  “I’m riding to town to send a telegram to Mr. Webster,” Gabe said as he donned his buckskin jacket.

  “What are you going to tell him?” Kimi asked. Three days had passed since she’d come back from the dead. Enough time to tell Gabe that the sickness wouldn’t claim her.

  “I’m telling him I can’t go all the way to Washington, DC. I nearly lost you once. I don’t care to risk it again.”

  “Gabe,” Kimi said. “I don’t want you to pass up this great opportunity for your people on my account.”

  She sat in a rocking chair, but her pale complexion and slow movements told him she was still weak. He gazed at her and noted her beauty, even though she was still on the mend.

  Her long black hair was braided, and when she smiled at him, it was like the sun breaking over the horizon after a dark night. An involuntary shudder coursed through him when he thought about how close she came to dying, but he thanked God for sparing her.

  “I care for you a great deal,” she continued, “but if you want to go, I don’t want to keep you from doing God’s will.”

  “I’m glad you’re getting better now, but I still don’t feel right about leaving. Why don’t we just commit this to the Lord’s hands and let Him decide what to do?”