The Express Bride

by Kimberley Woodhouse

  Thinking about the Pony Express brought the owners to mind. Why couldn’t they just respond to her letter by now? It would help her to move forward with confidence.

  With a huff, she blew some stray strands of hair off her forehead.

  As she brought the food out, the dining room began to fill with all the workers and their two guests. Ten in all, they almost filled the table. When Mr. Johnson ended up in the chair next to hers, her heart sped up its rhythm.

  After everyone was seated, she turned to Michael. “Would you ask the Lord to bless our food, please?”

  “Yes, Jack.” Michael bowed his head. “God, we thank You for this food and ask that You bless our bodies with this nourishment. Amen.”

  “Amens” rounded the table. The two hurricane lamps filled the room with a soft glow. The sight of food overflowing the dishes made her want to chuckle. She used an astonishing amount of food to feed this crew every day. Steam spiraled upward from the mountain of fried pork chops. Two large bowls with creamy mashed potatoes sat on either side. Then her dad’s favorite—carrots she glazed in brown sugar when available.

  As the bowls and platters were passed and they began to eat, Jackie couldn’t help watching the man next to her out of the corner of her eye. What was it about him that drew her like a moth to the flame? And why? She’d just met the man.

  He cleared his throat. “This is delicious. My compliments to the chef.”

  She let out a nervous laugh. “That would be me. Thank you, Mr. Johnson.”

  Mr. Crowell nodded his agreement. “This is some of the tastiest fare I’ve ever had. I concur with Mr. Johnson. My compliments.”

  “You all are going to make her blush,” Michael piped up from the other side of the table. “This is nothin’. You should try her stew or her biscuits and gravy.”

  Murmurs of affirmation rounded the table.

  She felt the heat rising in her cheeks. “How was everyone’s day?” The best way to get the attention off her was to get a lively conversation started between the workers who lived like a giant family.

  It worked. Mark and Luke started bantering back and forth about the trouble they’d had with two of the horses, and Michael joined them.

  Mr. Johnson tilted his head toward her. “A very deft redirection of the conversation, Miss Rivers.”

  She quirked an eyebrow at him. “I don’t know what you mean.”

  His soft chuckle and Mr. Crowell’s grin made her smile. “May I ask you something?” His light blue eyes sparkled in the candlelight.

  “Of course.”

  “Are you two siblings?”

  Wiping her mouth with her napkin, she looked over at Michael and winked. “Not by blood. My father took him in when he lost his parents. But I think of him as my brother. And we squabble like siblings. How’s that for an answer?”

  Mr. Johnson’s smile made her stomach do funny things. “Perfectly sound to me.” He looked across the table at the young man. “Michael, might I ask you a question?”

  “Sure.” Michael shrugged his shoulders and took a sip from his cup.

  “I noticed that twice now you’ve referred to Miss Rivers as Jack. Is that a family name?”

  Water almost spewed from Michael’s mouth as he laughed andcovered his mouth with his napkin. It took a moment for him to gain his composure. “I’m sorry for my manners. But you took me off guard, Mr. Johnson.” His cheeks tinged pink.

  “Maybe it’s best if I explain.” Jackie turned toward their guest and gave Michael another wink. The young man got flustered easily when important men were around. He always wanted to impress them and imitate their manners and behavior—but instead he tended to have clumsy spells with either his actions or words. “My name is Jacqueline, and although I insisted I liked Jackie as a shorter version of it, my dad always called me Jack. It stuck. Most of the Express riders call me that now.”

  His eyes softened, and he blinked. “I like it.”

  The connection between them was overwhelming to Jackie. Especially since this man was a complete stranger. She broke eye contact and looked back to her plate. What had come over her?

  But Mr. Johnson leaned toward her. “Miss Rivers, perhaps we could take a walk later? I believe I could use your insight on a matter for my business.”

  Two different men. Asking for her insight on the same day. It all seemed a bit surreal. “Of course. I’d be happy to do anything I can to assist you in your work.”

  “Thank you.” He leaned back and cut into his pork chop.

  Turning back to Mark and Luke, she checked in on the happenings in the stables. Because frankly, Mr. Johnson’s nearness was doing strange things to her. And she had no idea why or how to control it. As the station manager, she needed to keep her wits about her.

  Dinner continued in lively conversation and plenty more compliments on the food. Their two guests seemed to enjoy talking to each of the workers about their jobs and how they liked living and working here. When they were all done, Jackie rose to clear the table.

  “Let us help you with this, Miss Rivers.” Mr. Crowell rose and nodded to Mr. Johnson. “Mr. Johnson and I discussed earlier how we would like to show our appreciation for the wonderful accommodations. Believe me, the West holds some questionable lodgings, and I’ve stayed in many of them. Not to mention the food I’ve been served, which I’m not sureeven deserves the designation of edible.” The older man began to roll up his shirtsleeves. “It’s the least we can do to show our relief and gratefulness for a meal and housing that is so welcoming.”

  Never in her life had she seen two men—gentlemen, no less—who had paid for their stay, help with dishes. It was unheard of. Did gentlemen in the city do this? She couldn’t imagine that they did. So why were they helping now?

  But in no time, the dishes were washed, dried, and put away. As everyone moved into the parlor, Mr. Johnson stepped next to her. “Perhaps we could take that—”

  The front door burst open.

  Mrs. June Liverpool—the only other woman in their little community and married to the local blacksmith for the Pony Express—sashayed her way into the parlor. “Jacqueline, have you seen the new Lady’s Book? You simply must read this article about sewing machines.” She pulled out the magazine she’d had tucked under her arm, flipped through the pages, and took a deep breath as she glanced around the room. “Oh, you have guests. How nice. Good evening.” She nodded and curtsied to each man and then plowed ahead. “Here, on page 174. Just look at that timetable right there.” June pointed to the upper-right-hand portion of the page that contained a table showing the hours and minutes of machine usage versus the hours and minutes needed to sew something by hand. “It’s astonishing how much time can be saved using the machine. Imagine a frock coat sewn in two and a half hours! That’s fourteen hours saved, right there. And imagine sewing a linen vest in forty-eight minutes. Forty—eight—minutes!” Her voice had risen an octave as she stabbed the page with her finger. “Look, the chart clearly shows that it takes five hours and fourteen minutes if we were to do that by hand. It’s miraculous. That’s what it is. Aren’t you enthralled?”

  Jackie smiled past June to Mr. Johnson, hoping the interruption hadn’t discouraged him from speaking to her again. Because she really did wish to speak with him. Was that inappropriate? Oh, how she wished Dad were here to talk to. If she’d ever needed his advice on men, it was now.

  Mr. Johnson appeared amused by their guest.

  She nodded to June. “Oh, well … yes, of course. That’s quite fascinating, isn’t it?”

  “Just listen to this: ‘Seams of considerable length are ordinarily sewed at the rate of a yard a minute.’ A yard a minute!” She clutched the magazine to her chest and let out a laborious sigh. “Imagine how much time that will save. I’ll have to convince Mr. Liverpool that I simply must order one.”

  Movement at the door caught Jackie’s attention. Mr. Elijah Johnson smiled, clearly entertained at her neighbor’s busy chatter. Tipping his hat in her dire
ction, he slipped out the door, and Jackie wished she’d had more time to speak to the interesting gentleman.

  Maybe she could convince Mrs. Liverpool to take a walk with her outside. As soon as the thought arose, June sat at the table and began flipping through the pages of Godey’s Lady’s Book. With a sigh, Jackie sat with her friend. This was going to take awhile.

  Elijah took long strides down the dirt path that was the lone road in Carson Sink. Only a smattering of buildings made up this little stop-off point. The stables and barn for the Pony Express were off to his right, while a couple of smaller buildings and what appeared to be another home were on the left across the so-called street.

  Then there was Miss Rivers’s home and station house. The large adobe building was quite the sight. Impressive too. On the other side of it was another long adobe building—perhaps the bunkhouse?

  Miss Rivers.

  He paced back in the other direction. She had blond hair and green eyes. Like the description of Anna Vines. But she looked entirely too young to be Vines’s daughter and had a different last name. Besides, he hadn’t been able to ask her any questions yet. But still … she admitted her mother was dead. Then who was the man she’d called Dad? The one who adopted Michael? It didn’t make any sense. At least not yet. He realized a bit more investigating was needed. And Miss Rivers was remarkable. He wouldn’t mind investigating one little bit.

  Looking around him, he took in his surroundings. The station house was well-maintained, clean, and quite comfortable. Whoever had built it had done a phenomenal job. Was her dad still around? She seemed awfully young to be the owner of such a fine establishment, especially as a woman—in most areas, women weren’t allowed to be landowners. It puzzled him. But she definitely stated that she ran the place. Perhaps shecould be a widow? That would account for the last name. But no. That couldn’t be. She’d introduced herself as Miss Rivers. There had to be an explanation, and whatever it was, he aimed to find out.

  Perhaps she had access to information about other visitors through this area. If her way station even existed back in 1834.

  The more he thought about her though, the more he realized she had captivated his thoughts for a different reason. Looking back toward the main building, he wondered what brought her here and why she stayed. Could she have only come out here since the beginning of the Pony Express? There was a definite attachment between her and the young men. The riders all adored her—that was plain as day.

  Then there was young Michael. She’d said that her dad had taken him in but didn’t mention anything else about him or where he was at dinner.

  If only Charles had known what sharing his story would set in motion. Perhaps the old man had known what he was doing all along—and that it would plague Elijah’s mind on the journey. Ever the thinker, Elijah often overthought many situations and business dealings.

  Even though Vines had encouraged him to open his heart and finally settle down, he couldn’t have known that Elijah would meet a woman like Jackie. He’d met a lot of eligible and beautiful women in his years, but never one like her.

  And she was nothing like Martha or Laura.

  Thoughts of his past invaded his mind again. Why was it he’d been able to keep them buried for years, and now everything seemed to be pummeling him in the face like it happened just yesterday? Martha’s sweet-smiling face mocked him as he paced. Her betrayal still festered like an open wound every time he thought about it, so he tried to push her as far from his thoughts as possible. As soon as the ache started in his heart again, Laura’s face came to mind. The haughty look she wore as she turned her back on him was the only memory he could conjure of her. He deserved it, but still. He closed his eyes against the memories and forced himself to come back to the present.

  A vision of Miss Rivers replaced images of the other two women. They were all quite beautiful. But the way Miss Rivers kept her blondhair pulled back in a long, thick braid made her look young and innocent. Especially compared to the other two. If he’d had the wisdom he possessed now ten years ago, would things have turned out differently? Would he have been able to see the lack of innocence in Martha’s eyes?

  When they’d first pulled into the station at Carson Sink, he thought Miss Rivers was a young girl—someone’s daughter out to see the visitors to their corner of the world. When she stepped up to greet them, he’d quickly discovered such was not the case.

  That she managed not only the Pony Express station but her own stage stop as well was amazing. Quite simply, she intrigued him.

  But what was he thinking? The last time a woman had fascinated him, things had ended in disaster and he’d fled the East. It was probably for the best that he’d been interrupted by the dramatic and loquacious Mrs. Liverpool. It wasn’t like he would ever have the opportunity to see Miss Rivers past his visit here. She lived in the middle of nowhere in the Utah Territory. He lived in Kansas City. Thousands of miles away. Even though she fascinated him, he should get his heart in check and focus on the task at hand. She might have answers to help him find Vines’s daughter. That had to come first.

  But he was weary. The weeks and months of traveling had taken their toll. This quest that he’d been sent on was proving fruitless. And as much as he hated to admit it, he’d have to tell Mr. Vines—in yet another letter—that there was no trace of Anna Vines and their daughter. No matter how many witnesses he’d found, it was all for naught if he couldn’t find them. But in his heart, he still knew he was close.

  More than anything, he wished he could fulfill this last wish for Charles. He hated seeing the man suffer.

  The humility he’d seen in Vines wasn’t something one normally saw in a man who had wealth beyond most people’s comprehension. The fact that he would trade it all for the chance to see his daughter and wife again showed how he longed to make things right.

  The man had truly been broken by his mistakes.

  As soon as he’d found out that Mr. Vines had lost his family though, something in Elijah changed. Abruptly. His own heart felt broken by theolder man’s loss. As much as he respected and admired Charles Vines, Elijah didn’t want to end up like him—drenched in regret and seeking forgiveness and restitution.

  Pacing the length of the only street at Carson Sink, he let his long legs eat up the short distance and then turned back toward the station. A lake sat close by—or so the stagecoach driver had said—and perhaps he could take some time to hike to it and do some praying. A flicker of something new started in his mind. Maybe he could invite Miss Rivers and Michael. To ask questions, of course. The thought made him smile.

  It wouldn’t be too terrible to stay awhile. It was definitely quiet here. If he went back to his room tonight and wrote a letter to Mr. Vines, he could send it out on the Express in the morning and perhaps just tell his partner that he would wait for a response here. There might be news that Mr. Vines had been trying to get to him anyway.

  As he thought of the beloved man back in Kansas City, emotion swelled in his throat. It would be hard to lose him. The man was more like family to him than his own. His parents were back east and didn’t have much time for things outside their social groups. Especially not after the shame he’d brought on the family. In all these years, they’d never journeyed farther west than Chicago.

  Watching Miss Rivers, Michael, and the rest of the crew at the table tonight made Elijah long for something he’d never experienced. Their sibling-like banter and closeness—well, all of the workers at the Express station were close—made him want more of that for himself. Especially when he thought of Miss Rivers. What was it that had gotten under his skin and riveted him so much? How had he been missing out on all this for so many years?

  Maybe city life and all his busyness had kept him from seeing it.

  Forcing his thoughts back to his employer, Elijah prayed as he walked and brought the older man to the Great Physician. A steady peace filled him. If Mr. Vines was following the doctor’s orders, there was still a chance he could heal
and have years left. But if he wasn’t? Elijah could only pray that his boss had listened.

  “Mr. Johnson?”

  Elijah stopped in the middle of the street, his deep thoughts broken by the voice. As he looked toward the sound, he saw a slight figure walking toward him in the twilight. “Yes, Miss Rivers?”

  “My apologies, Mr. Johnson. I don’t wish to intrude.”

  Everything else fell away as he watched her approach. “No need to apologize.”

  “I’m sorry we were interrupted earlier. Mrs. Liverpool normally comes over to share what she loves in the magazine, and we talk about baubles and trinkets, patterns and gowns for hours. She’s unaccustomed to many guests staying. And we are the only two women around.” She looked down at the ground for a moment. “I just wanted to make sure your accommodations suit your needs. Do you have everything you require?”

  “Yes, of course. The accommodations are most gracious.” His earlier thoughts warred with the feeling that grew in his stomach. “Would you care to take that walk now?”

  She stepped closer and smiled. “That would be lovely, but I’m afraid it’s getting too dark and that would be … Well, perhaps we could sit in the parlor, and I could take you up on the offer of a walk tomorrow evening while it is still light. Or sooner in the day if your business is urgent.”

  His gentlemanly skills were obviously wanting from lack of use. But her generous manner helped cover his faux pas. Of course it was completely inappropriate to ask a lady to walk after dark. What had he been thinking? “My apologies. I have been lost in thought and wasn’t paying attention as the hour grew later. It would be an honor to take our walk tomorrow evening.”

  “Thank you. That would be lovely. I will look forward to whatever it is you need my assistance with.”

  “I appreciate it.”

  “If you are planning to stay awhile, I could tell you about some of the unique aspects of our country out here.” She turned and walked back toward the station.

  He matched her steps. “I have actually decided to stay for a while, yes, so I would greatly appreciate any insight you could give me on the area.” Especially since he had Vines’s daughter to find. They entered thedoor into the parlor, where Mr. Crowell sat talking with Michael. “I hear there’s a lake around here?”