Why? Because it hurt. Because he might be just a tad bit afraid.
That thought irked him. God didn’t want him living in fear. Yet that was exactly what he was doing.
With a deep breath, he picked up the pencil and focused back on Vines. He couldn’t deal with his own emotions right now. There’d be plenty of time for that later. But Charles might not have that luxury. With new determination, he promised himself that as soon as he fulfilled this search for his employer, he would change his priorities. God willing.
If he’d learned anything from his boss’s revelation and their subsequent discussions, it was that first and foremost he needed to keep God as his focus. He’d worry about the rest later.
Right now, he had a woman to find. And he was close—he could feel it. Looking at the list of possible sightings of the woman and child, he tapped the page with the pencil.
She couldn’t have simply disappeared.
Outside Virginia City
“Whatcha think?” The fat man squeezed himself into a chair as he puffed on his cigar.
Taking a look at the forged treasury note in front of him, Carl tilted his head. He walked over to the window, took a magnifying glass out of his pocket, and positioned it over the document. With a lift of his brows, he gave a slight nod. “Much better than the last. Still might need some work around the edges.” He put the magnifying glass back.
“It’s gonna cost ya. That’s detail work and I can’t just make these out of nothin’.” A puff of smoke accentuated his words.
Whipping his Colt out of its holster, Carl leveled it between the man’s eyes. “We’ve already agreed on a price, my friend. The agreement was foracceptable documents, and you know quite well what happened to the last man who crossed me, so why don’t you rethink that statement?” He pulled back the hammer and let his words sink in.
Two pudgy hands lifted in the air. “You don’t have to get snippy with me. I’m just trying to put food on the table.” The man didn’t seem at all fazed by the threat of a loaded gun pointed at his head.
“Food on the table? Looks like you’ve had plenty. Seems to me you’re just getting greedy.”
“You gotta admit my work is worth it.” A slimy grin spread across his face.
“I don’t need to admit anything. Not until it’s complete and I’m satisfied.” Carl clicked the hammer back into place and lowered the gun. “The last guy was good. Real good. But sadly, we had a difference of opinion, and he no longer works for me.”
A deep chuckle made the man’s thick belly shake. “He ain’t workin’ for anyone from six feet under.”
Carl narrowed his eyes and studied the man. The brash confidence and lack of fear made the man more dangerous than he wanted to admit. He’d have to keep a close eye on this one. But his work was top-notch. Not that he had to admit that. Tossing the forgery back on the table, he took a deep breath. “Fix the scrollwork on the edges. It needs to be perfect. I’ll be back in two days for the lot.” Not waiting for a response, he walked over to the door and let himself out. Let the man think whatever he wanted. As long as Carl had the forgeries in his hands and completed on time, his plan would go off without a hitch.
Jackie smoothed her apron over her skirt as she stood outside the station and the stage rumbled toward her little stop. Everyone in their small town—if they could even call the gathering of a few buildings an actual town—came out to watch the stage and of course to see what kind of mail, passengers, and news would be brought from Virginia City. The arrival of a stage was always an exciting event because it connected them with the rest of the world.
Sometimes out here in the remote area of the Utah Territory, she’d long for something new and different. But in reality she just felt alone. Especially since her father’s death. Then she’d feel guilty because her friends—the few people who inhabited their little community—were all like family. And even though she longed sometimes to see the cities that she read about or to wear the fine fashions from Godey’s Lady’s Book, all she really wanted was to stay in her home and run the station. She loved this barren, salt-covered desert area. They were close to a lake and had a nice spring for fresh water, and the craggy hills always made her feel welcome and safe. Because it was home.
Hopefully the men who owned the Pony Express would send word soon and she could continue on with their permission.
Guilt twinged in her stomach at the thought. Was it wrong to have signed her name as Jack when that was her nickname? She hadn’t outright lied to them.
Well. Maybe she had. Because omitting the truth was just as much a lie, wasn’t it?
Everything she stood for was based on honesty. It had been her way of life. So it shamed her to think that she hadn’t been completely honest with the owners. The truth was, she had run this station at her father’s side. She did know what she was doing and she wanted to serve her country by helping with this very important service. Her father was also very much dead.
But she hadn’t told the men who hired him the truth. It wasn’t just an omission. She’d misled them by signing her name as Jack. And when she wrote the letter, she’d been determined to sound masculine. There weren’t any excuses.
Did it matter that she was a woman? Wouldn’t they simply be concerned that there was someone to run the station who knew the rules and regulations of the Pony Express?
The argument could go round and round in her mind. With a deep breath, she focused on the team of horses that snorted and huffed as they came to a stop. God forgave her for her sin. She’d just have to confess it to the owners.
Someday.
It wouldn’t do for her to be wringing her hands in worry when she had customers to attend to.
“Carson Sink Station!” the driver of the stage yelled. He secured the reins and then started grabbing luggage from the top of the stage and lowering it to the boot to be handed down.
The door of the stage swung open, and a handsome, middle-aged man ducked as he exited through the opening. His tall, wide-banded top hat gleamed in the sunlight. Which was quite the feat considering he’d been riding in the dusty stage.
Jackie admired his neat attire. A pair of blue checked trousers peeked out from underneath his navy blue knee-length overcoat. He must be from the city. The thought made her smile to herself. What was it about her and fashion? She loved to look at it in the magazines and often asked Dad to buy her a stylish dress out of one of the catalogs. Shaking her head, she sucked in a breath as another man exited. His eyes landed on her and she couldn’t help but appreciate what she saw there. The lightcolor of his blue eyes in contrast to his dark hair made them very striking.
Younger than the first, the second man wore a top hat that wasn’t quite so shiny. Perhaps he’d been traveling for longer so it had accumulated a bit more dust? But his suit was made of fine material and appeared custom tailored. Both of the passengers seemed to be men of wealth. What were they doing in this area of the country? While she’d had plenty of guests travel through here, the arrival of two gentlemen from the city was rare. Especially at the same time.
The owners couldn’t have sent them … could they?
No. They wouldn’t have had time to get here. And why would they send anyone out? It was too costly. She needed to banish her worry and welcome the customers.
Stepping forward, Jackie greeted them. “Welcome to Carson Sink Station, gentlemen. I’m Miss Rivers. How can I help you today? A hot meal and a place to stay?”
The older man nodded at her and smiled. “That would be lovely. Thank you, Miss Rivers.”
“And you are?”
“My name is James Crowell. It’s a pleasure to make your acquaintance.”
The man with the striking eyes stepped forward after their exchange and gave her a bow and a smile. “Elijah Johnson, Miss Rivers. It’s indeed a pleasure.”
“Where do you hail from?”
“Washington, DC,” Mr. Crowell tipped his hat at her.
“Kansas City.”
“I see.” A tiny bit of relief filled her mind as their responses confirmed they couldn’t be from the COC&PP. She could relax and be herself. “I run the station and stop here. Are you here on business?”
“Yes.” Mr. Crowell nodded his head and looked back at the other man. “At least that is my understanding of Mr. Johnson as well. We just met on this last leg of the journey here from Virginia City.”
“Yes, business for me as well.” Mr. Johnson gave her a slight nod.
She motioned her hand toward her home. “It’s nice to have you here in our little part of the Utah Territory. If you’ll follow me, I’ll getyou situated for the evening.”
“Thank you.”
“Thank you.” The men’s voices blended in a bass and baritone harmony that made her feel comfortable and feminine.
Michael, who’d worked for her dad since he’d been orphaned at age seven, carried the men’s luggage behind them. “Will you be putting them in the two larger rooms, Jack?”
“That would be perfect.” As she entered the home she loved so much, she gave the men a smile. “This is the parlor, dining area, and kitchen. Feel free to make use of the parlor, and all meals will be served at the dining room table.” The large open area always made her think of large families gathering together and how wonderful that would be. She loved when all the riders were back at their station and they could have dinner together and share stories and laughter.
Leading them to the counter by the front window that they used for the way station and Express mail business, she gave them the details. “It will be fifty cents a night or three dollars for the week. That includes breakfast and the evening meal. If you would like to join us for lunch as well, that will be an additional five cents. How long will you be staying with us?”
“At least two nights for me.” Mr. Crowell gave her a smile.
“I’m not sure.” Mr. Johnson studied her for a long moment. “It could be at least a week. And I’d be very grateful to partake of all meals here. Thank you. In case you need to let the cook know.”
She gave him a smile. He’d know soon enough that she was the cook as well. She turned the open ledger to them and dipped her pen in the ink. Handing it to Mr. Crowell, she pointed to the line he needed to sign. “Would you please sign in?”
“Of course. Thank you.” Mr. Crowell wrote his name in the finest penmanship she’d seen in a long time. “Will you be requiring a deposit?” He passed the pen to Mr. Johnson.
“For the first night, yes. We can settle the rest tomorrow.”
Both of the men paid and she checked off the ledger.
“Gentlemen.” Off the main area were two hallways. One to theright and one to the left. “If you’ll follow me to your rooms.” She led them down the left hallway, quite lengthy and lined with well-furnished guest rooms, six in all. It was a large place for an area of the country where most people lived in one-room cabins or adobe-walled structures. The other hallway off the parlor led to her room and personal parlor. They used to be her dad’s rooms, but since his death, she’d changed them around and spruced them up, trying to make the spaces as homey as she could without him. The change had been hard, but she wanted to try to move on. It was proving to be much harder than she anticipated. And some days she longed to have left the living spaces as they had been.
Emotion clogged her throat for a moment and she swallowed against it. She went to the first room on the left and stood at the entryway, “This can be yours, Mr. Crowell. Mr. Johnson, yours is the next down the hall.”
“Thank you.”
“Thank you, Miss Rivers.”
“Make yourselves comfortable. Dinner will be served in an hour.” As she glanced back and forth between the men, her stomach did a little flip.
For one, she didn’t understand what business these fine gentlemen could have here, and having such wealthy customers made her a tad bit nervous—she hoped with all her might that she would live up to their standards. And two, they were both handsome men. Especially the younger one.
“Miss Rivers?”
She turned back to find Mr. Johnson with his hat in his hands and felt heat creep up her neck at her previous thoughts.
“Thank you again.”
“You’re welcome, Mr. Johnson.” As she gazed at the man, her stomach did that weird little flip again.
“Do you run the station alone?”
“Um … yes. But as you can see, I have lots of help.” The question stabbed her and made her miss her father. She hadn’t been asked about him since he passed.
“Is your mother around?”
That was an odd question. “No. My mother has been gone since I was a child.”
“Oh. I’m so sorry.” The intensity of his gaze softened.
The man’s attractive features drew her in. Something about his eyes fascinated her. With a nod, she turned and walked back toward the kitchen area. Dad had told her many times over the years that one day she’d find herself attracted to a man. It had never happened. Sure, she’d found plenty of men handsome over time. But none of them stayed more than a night or two, and not one of them sparked her fancy. None until now.
Placing a hand on her stomach to still the butterflies that had taken up residence, she shook her head. “Jackie Rivers, you need to get your mind back on the business at hand. This is no time for silly shenanigans.” Just because she found Mr. Johnson handsome didn’t mean she should be acting like a silly schoolgirl.
“Talking to yourself again?” Michael’s teasing washed over her.
“Of course. No one else listens to me quite as well.” She put her hands on her hips. “Don’t you have some chores to do?”
“So bossy.” He nudged her with his elbow and waggled his eyebrows.
She watched him snag one of the biscuits she’d just taken from the oven. It had only been a year since Dad had brought the stove in here. For years they’d cooked over the open fire in the giant fireplace. The memory made her a touch despondent. Glancing back at the giant cast-iron piece, she wished she could hear his voice one more time.
“You’re thinking about your dad, aren’t ya?” Michael touched her shoulder. “That big ol’ thing makes me think of him too. I’ll never forget when we had to drag this monster in here. I got my fingers pinched in the doorframe, and then Marshall set that stove down on my boot. At the time, I wasn’t so sure having a cookstove inside was worth it.”
The memory helped her to push the sad thoughts behind her. “And then you made Dad laugh so hard with your antics, it took him a minute to lift it off of you.”
“I miss him.” Michael’s voice turned raspy as he wrapped an arm around her shoulders.
“Me too.”
He swiped at his face and took a deep breath. “I’d better get back out and check on the horses.”
“Thanks. Me too—not the horses … but I’d better get back to dinner.” Her blunder made them both chuckle. The memories were wonderful, but they also left her feeling melancholy. So far, she thought she’d done pretty well with her grief. She just needed to focus on the boys. They needed her.
At fourteen, Michael was as close to a brother as she’d ever have. Even though she thought of most of the young Express riders like younger brothers, Michael was different. He’d been with them for a long time, where the Pony Express had just started this year. Dad had taken him into their home and raised him like a son. Jackie hoped that Michael would stay and continue to help here, but what if he decided to spread his wings one day and leave? He’d always had big dreams. She couldn’t imagine that he would actually want to stay in this isolated place. And watching him mourn for her father made her heart ache for him. Sometimes the memories overwhelmed her. Did they do the same to Michael?
Then there were Timothy, John, Mark, Luke, and Paul. Hired to be Express riders, Dad liked to call them his preacher boys. They were all so young, none of them more than seventeen, but they loved studying the Bible with Dad and he had been a wonderful influence in their lives. His
passing left a huge void. How would she ever be able to fill it?
As she finished setting the extra plates for dinner, she wondered if she should sit down soon and have a chat with Michael and the other boys. Dad would want her to do the best she could to make sure they had their feet under them. But did she know what to do?
“Miss Rivers?” Her guest’s voice brought her out of her thoughts.
She looked up at him and pasted on a smile. “I’m sorry, Mr. Crowell, did you need something?”
“My apologies for interrupting your work, but I was hoping to find a time when we could talk privately.”
She swallowed hard. Had she done something wrong? “Of … of course. May I ask what this is about?” The silverware in her hands clanked against the dishes as she laid them out.
“I serve the secretary of the treasury of the United States as hissecretary.” He stood a little straighter after he said his title. “I’m in the middle of an investigation for my boss, and I think you might be able to help me.”
Investigation. Out here? For the Treasury? That was odd. “Of course I will do whatever I can to help. Would tomorrow morning be a good time to chat? After I feed everyone breakfast, I have an hour before the Express is scheduled to come through.”
“That would work splendidly. I appreciate your willingness to help, Miss Rivers. Thank you.” He gave a slight bow and left the room.
Twenty minutes later, her mind had tried to imagine what Mr. Crowell could want to talk to her about. It baffled her. Did it have anything to do with the Express? She hoped not. The company had already suffered financial setbacks.
The Express Bride Page 4
