by Reina Torres
Always, Ellis
Book Five - Three Rivers Express Series
Reina Torres
Always, Wyeth
Copyright © 2017 by Reina Torres
All rights reserved. No part of this book may be reproduced, transmitted in any form or by any other means without written permission from the author.
Do note, this book is a work of fiction. Any references to real people, real places, or real events described or coincidental and if not are used fictitiously.
All trademarks, service marks, registered trademarks, and registered service marks are property of their respective owners and are used here for identification purposes only.
Created with Vellum
Much love and Aloha to Nan O’Berry - our shared loved of Westerns and stalwart heroes and strong heroines facing the rigors and dangers of life in 19th century America. Thanks for joining me on this journey!
My Beta Readers - those that slog through the drafts and give me that precious first read through - Barbara, Thuy, & Heather - you have my thanks so many times over!
My Readers & Reviewers - what does it matter if I have a story to tell if there’s no one to read them? - so THANKS for reading my stories and even more for Reviewing them
Sandy McMahon – who answered the call to name Ellis’ pony “Freedom”
Marian Bunnell - who named Virginia’s horse “Flaxen” which is perfect for the horse of a seamstress
Contents
Introduction
Prologue
Chapter 1
Chapter 2
Chapter 3
Chapter 4
Chapter 5
Chapter 6
Chapter 7
Chapter 8
Chapter 9
Chapter 10
Chapter 11
Chapter 12
Chapter 13
Chapter 14
Chapter 15
Chapter 16
Epilogue
Always, Ransom - Book 1
Always, Clay - Book 2
Always, Wyeth - Book 3
Always, Stone - Book 4
About the Author
Also by Reina Torres
Introduction
The Three Rivers Express Series is a set of Sweet Western Historical Romance novels which will be written alternately by Reina Torres and Nan O’Berry
Starting with the Spring of 1860 when the Pony Express began their service of mail delivery between St. Joseph, Missouri and Sacramento, California, each of the Three Rivers Express books will take on a new season and a different rider.
Spring 1860 - “Always, Ransom” by: Reina Torres
Summer 1860 - “Always, Clay” by: Nan O’Berry
Fall 1860 - “Always, Wyeth” by: Reina Torres
Winter 1860 - “Always, Stone” by: Nan O’Berry
Spring 1861 - “Always, Ellis” by: Reina Torres
Summer 1861 - “Always, Brett” by: Nan O’Berry
Ride the trails with our intrepid heroes and the heartwarming heroines of Three Rivers, Wyoming
Prologue
February 19, 1861
Blackwell Prison
Building Three
Mama,
I want to apologize again for my mistakes. There isn’t a day that I don’t think about the look on your face when they put me in shackles and took me away. Your letters over the years were the only thing that gave me hope that there was a life for me outside these walls. That I’ll be able to find a place without bars on the windows.
A place where I can build a life without the label of criminal branded across my forehead. It will not be an easy path, but as you struggled to get me to understand, nothing truly worthwhile comes easily.
Uncle Samuel sent me a letter and said there might be a job in the town of Three Rivers with the Pony Express. He seems to think that the man who runs the station would be willing to take a chance and help me.
I hope you will think good thoughts for me. I could certainly use a whole bushel of those before I meet with Mr. Hawkins.
My greatest regret, Mama, is that my mistakes kept me from you. I hope you are looking down on me with love and forgiveness. I will do everything I can to make you proud of me.
And maybe then, I can be proud of me, too.
Love keeps you with me, Mama.
Always,
Ellis
Chapter 1
When the stage came to a stop in Three Rivers, Wyoming, Ellis was eager to get out of the cramped space. He’d spent the last day with a man’s elbow jammed into his side and another man’s boot rammed up against his. Ellis had always been on the slim side no matter how much his mama fed him. He didn’t think that either man needed to take up as much space as they were, but he wasn’t about to rock the boat.
Not fresh from jail as he was. If something happened, he was sure he’d be the first person blamed no matter what. That was inducement enough to keep him quiet and bear the close space with the practice he’d had during his years in Blackwell Prison.
When he finally set his foot down on the ground, he let out an audible sigh and bent his knees enough to stretch his back. It felt good to breathe fresh air. It felt almost like heaven.
Until he got a nose full of cheap tobacco smoke.
Turning his face away from the acrid cloud, Ellis made his way to the back of the coach to get his saddle down from the luggage rack. The loud-mouthed gambler, who’d had days to tell them all about his exploits, gave him a long assessing look as the shotgun rider handed the well-worn saddle down into Ellis’ waiting hands.
“You some kind of cowboy, son?”
It took Ellis a moment of thought to realize that the man was addressing him. “Sorry, sir.” He gave the man a somewhat-friendly smile. “I ride, but no, I’m not much of anything.”
The other man looked to be in no rush to leave, even with his bags piled haphazardly at his feet. Blowing out another puff of smoke, he hissed a breath in. “Looks like that saddle’s worth a pretty penny, but it ain’t much without a horse.” He looked up at the top of the stage and then down at the boot. “What happened to yours?”
Ellis adjusted his hold on the saddle and managed to lift it up onto his shoulder, leaning a little bit in the opposite direction to keep it balanced. “He was sold a while ago. Have a nice day, sir.”
Without waiting for the other man to speak, Ellis leaned down and picked up his pack and set off down the street toward the smithy.
Even without his Uncle’s directions, it wouldn’t have taken Ellis long to find the man. It was a still day with a clear sky and he could hear the heavy clang of metal against metal from the stagecoach depot.
Hearing the familiar sound made his smile brighten a bit. For all of his worries about starting over, he knew he would welcome the chance to see his uncle again. Samuel Cooper had a singular strength about him. It wasn’t just his size and his broad shoulders, the man had a strong moral compass.
Ellis envied his uncle for many reasons, but now he was hoping that some of Samuel’s strength would rub off on him and make this new part of his life a little brighter for the company he was going to keep.
He walked up to the smithy, keeping his gaze on the sight before him. It would be folly to interrupt his uncle while he was at work. Folks tended to believe that a blacksmith was all about power and how hard you could hit something.
But Samuel Cooper was all about precision. How hot to make the fire. How to temper the metal. Quench the fire. Shape the pieces necessary to shoe a horse, repair a wagon, live a life out on the open prairie.
A smithy was as necessary to a community as a General Store or a Saloon, and his uncle was an excellent blacksmith.
Lost in the rhythm of the hammer and anvil, he was startled to reali
ze that the world around him had gone silent.
“Ellis? That you, son?”
When he heard that voice, those very words, it made him feel like he was back in short pants. “Yes, Uncle Samuel. It’s me.”
The grin on Ellis’ face sobered a little at Samuel’s next words. “You have your mother’s eyes.”
Swallowing at the knot in his throat, Ellis nodded slowly. “It’s the only thing I have left of my Mama, Uncle Samuel. Every time I look at myself, I remember that she had so many hopes for me.” He had to pry his lips apart from each other to finish speaking. “That she died before I could serve out my sentence and be there for her at the end… it will always haunt me.”
Samuel stepped closer and set a hand on Ellis’ arm. “You know that’s the last thing she would want, Ellis. She wanted you to be happy and healthy and someday, a father who would want the same for his children.”
That last little bit unsettled Ellis more than the whole conversation. “I guess that would be what most people would want.”
Samuel reached up a hand and scratched at the back of his neck. “You probably do, but I guess there would be other concerns now.”
Ellis’ smile was a bit tight at the corners. “Like a job.” Shrugging the saddle off his arm, he set it gently in the grass. “There are a few things that I lost when they put me in jail, the things that I miss the most.” He licked his lips, trying to fix the dry abrasions on them from the long trip down the trail. “My horse was taken from me when they put me in jail. I have hopes of finding one at least half as smart but can still ride like the wind.”
Samuel chuckled. “You don’t ask for much, huh?”
“I don’t want much.”
“And a woman?”
Ellis winced again. “I don’t think many women would want to saddle themselves with a prisoner.”
“Former,” Samuel corrected. “You served your time. Now it’s time for you to make your life a better one.”
“We’ll see what Mr. Hawkins has to say. He’ll be the first measure of what kind of reception I’m liable to get here in Three Rivers.”
Lifting his face to read the sun’s position in the sky, Samuel gave his nephew a broad grin. “Go ahead and set your things down inside. We’ll wash up and go see Levi.”
Ellis bent over and picked up his pack and his saddle, lifting it into his arms.
“Uncle Samuel?”
The larger man splashed his hands into a bucket of water before he reached for the cake of soap. “Hmm?”
“Thank you for believing in me.”
The other man blew out a breath. “Your father was my brother, and your mother was the sweetest woman I’ve ever known. When he died, we all missed him terribly. When you went to prison she mourned you like she’d mourned him.”
Guilt swept over him again as he rolled his sleeves back and took the hunk of soap from his uncle.
“But the two of us never believed deep down that you’d done what they’d convicted you of, but that didn’t make it any easier on her. Now that you’ve served your sentence, I want to try to make it easier for her to be at rest.”
“Me too.” Ellis sighed. “I’m willing to prove to you, to Mr. Hawkins, that I deserve this chance.”
“The Express has a lot of rules, but the Hawkins family is as fair as they are loyal. You prove yourself to them, you’ll have friends for life. Three Rivers has a lot of good folks about and I hope you’ll remember that.”
“I won’t shame you, Uncle.”
Samuel smiled, his eyes focused firmly on Ellis’ face. “I know you won’t. You’re a good man, Ellis. Maybe now you’ll prove it to yourself, which just might be the biggest challenge.”
Samuel shook the extra water off his hands and reached for a towel, then handed it to Ellis to dry his hands. “Let’s go meet the Hawkins family.”
Virginia was a woman who liked to make the best out of any situation. It was an outlook that didn’t always come naturally. In fact, finding the good in certain situations was hard enough when it was just herself, but when she added her father into the mix, it could be a pain even on the best days.
Thom Halston was a pragmatic man. He believed in things you could see, touch, and weigh. Those things made sense.
Humans were the problem. Humans could be kind and gentle and then they could also be murderous animals with little to no morals and less smarts than God gave a gnat.
She wondered if her father’s success as a lawman could be attributed to his lack of inherent trust in his fellow man, but then again, she also wondered if that was the reason he despaired of her ever living on her own. Because she, Virginia Evelyn Halston, liked to believe there was a little good in everyone.
“Ginnie!”
Looking back at the Marshal’s office she hesitated just a moment before answering her father. “Yes, Papa?”
“Ginnie Halston, what in Heaven’s name are you up to?”
Placing a smile firmly on her lips she moved toward the side door of the small house. A couple of steps mitigated the strange slant of the land under the building, and the door knob turned easily enough under her hand.
One step inside and she nearly fell back outside onto the steps. The only thing that saved her was that her father’s reflexes were still quite good. He grabbed her upper arm and hauled her back inside. “Are you trying to get yourself killed?”
She gave him a winsome smile, unwilling to draw attention to the fact that it was his headlong rush toward the door that had nearly knocked her down.
“I was just trying to come inside and find out what you were bellowing about, Papa.”
“Bellowing?” He gave her a frown that only made her laugh. “If I was, Ginnie, then you only have yourself to blame. I swear that every time I need to find you or talk to you, you’re never there!”
Narrowing his gaze on her hands he gave her a little huff. “Just what were you doing outside?”
Her smile only grew as she shrugged. “Getting some fresh air, Papa. I’ve been inside all morning and I needed to do some thinking.”
“Thinking?”
She tried not to wince too much at the rough scrape of his laughter on her nerves. “I needed to decide where to put the laundry line.” He didn’t seem to have a reaction at all. “Outside.” He still didn’t move. It was almost cause for a bit of alarm. “To dry our clothes when I wash them.”
His lips pinched in the corner of his mouth. “Can’t you wash them inside?”
“Inside?”
“I’m not sure I like the idea of you outside for so long.”
A little twinge of pain in her temple had her lifting her hand and pressing her fingertips against the ache. “I thought we’d talked about this, Papa. Three Rivers is a nice town. The people here are nice,” as he raised his eyebrows to interject, she tried to beat him to it, “as far as we know, but first impressions are rarely the truth.”
Her father’s tension eased slightly. He’d always taught her to be overly cautious.
“If you want clean clothes to wear while we’re living here, you’re going to have to let me outside to do the laundry. If I did the wash inside, you’d have me mopping up water from the floor. I have no wish to make more work for myself.”
Her father’s expression was on the verge of exasperation. She knew the look well. It had been her father’s constant companion since she’d started to grow and lose some of the awkwardness of her childhood. Any man or boy anywhere within speaking distance of her received a pointed look or a strongly worded warning.
“It’s nothing to worry yourself about,” she assured him and knew he didn’t believe her. “Mrs. Hawkins came by yesterday for tea and let me know that she could ask the riders if anyone would be willing to help put up a line for me in the back of the house.”
“You’re talking about one of those Express riders?”
“I do believe that’s what she meant, Papa. I think she said that she’d already asked the boys if any of them had some extra ti
me to help with a few things around the house.” She turned and looked at the main room with a curious tilt of her head. “One of the windows in the back sticks a little.”
“You’ll do nothing of the sort, Virginia Halston. If there is a laundry line that you need put up I will take care of it. If you need me to fix a window. I will.”
“You’re busy, Papa. You still haven’t hired a deputy yet and you’re spending your time getting to know the town and the ranches in the area. I can take care of the small things around the house.”
He shook his head and looked at the surrounding area. “I don’t like leaving you alone.”
“Alone?” She smiled back at him. “Alone with a small arsenal of weapons, starting with a shot gun just inside the door and a rifle on the wall. I’m perfectly safe.”
He blew out a huff of breath. “You’re still just a girl, Ginnie. I taught you how to use a weapon, but you’ve never actually used one on a man. It’s not the same as hunting with me.”
His words sobered her, and she folded her hands before her to keep them from shaking. “Papa, if you didn’t think it was safe to bring me here, maybe you should have left me in Houston.”
“Leave you?” He shook his head. “In a city of that size, growing every day with men looking for quick money? Not likely. You’re my responsibility, Ginnie. I promised your Mama that I’d never let anything happen to you.”
Her heart melted a little. Her father was a hard, demanding man, but he loved her deeply. Of that, she had no doubts, but he’d loved his wife, her mother, with a boundless love that still ached in his chest. She could see it written plainly on his features.
