by Nan O'Berry
Always, Clay
Book Two -Three Rivers Express Series
Nan O’Berry
Always, Clay
©2017 Nancy O’Berry
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
To my husband, thanks for letting me give up laundry to get this story done.
To Reina Torres, thank you for allowing me to join you in this wild and crazy ride. It’s a blast. I wouldn’t trade the insanity for all the tea in China.
To Aliyah Burke, who held my hand and kept me from hiding in the corner.
A special thanks to, Martha Redden Dunlap for naming Clay’s beautiful steed, Spirit, the perfect name for a horse that carries a man to his destiny. Thank you all bunches!
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
Epilogue
About the Author
Coming Up in the Series
Always, Ransom – Book 1
Books by Nan O’Berry
Introduction
The Three Rivers Express Series is a set of Sweet Western Historical Romance 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
Ride the trails with our intrepid heroes and heartwarming heroines of the town of Three Rivers, Wyoming.
Prologue
Sarah Adams
Sunflower, Texas
Triple A Ranch
Dear Ma,
I hope this note finds you well. I know that if Pa gets this note, it might be more likely to find the fireplace than your hands, so I’m asking Sheriff Thomas to bring it out to you instead. I have taken some time in the past few days, to think about all that went down. It hurts my heart to have left home the way I did. It was not fair to you, to Seth or to Laura Leigh. However, Pa’s words left little doubt for what might have happened next.
All this talk about secession, state rights, and preserving the Union seems to be stirring up a hornets’ nest of trouble. I know that Uncle Dan, Pa, and Seth believe in that ‘particular institution.’ For my heart, I can’t hold no love in owning another man like one would a dog or horse. If that means I am no longer a McDaniel, then so be it.
Our parting was not pleasant. Three against one were never good odds in a fight. I know with Seth’s election to Austin, my beliefs would have hurt his future plans. But to have been disowned by my own father was the last straw. Maybe, one day in the not too distant future, our tempers will have cooled. I look forward to the time we can meet again on the banks of the Trinity and shake hands. Until that time, I shall consider myself an orphan.
Please know that I am doing well. I have a good roof over my head and a good job. I plan on saving some cash and putting a steady sum aside for some good Texas soil. I send my love to you and Laura Leigh.
Always,
Clay
Chapter 1
Clayton Adams stood quietly in the shadows of the barn and watched the crowd grow. Surreys, buckboards, men on horseback lined the south end of town as they awaited the rider from St. Joe to barrel into town.
Behind him, Ransom’s mount, Jackson, chewed nervously on his bit.
“Sure are a lot of folks out here to see you ride, Ransom.” Clay glanced back and gave him a wicked grin. “Do us all a favor and don’t fall off.”
The snap of leather punctuated his words as Ransom pulled the stirrup down.
Levi’s chuckle followed Clay’s words. “Yes, I hear it is important to stay mounted,” Levi Hawkins added.
“Ha. Ha.” Ransom snorted at the good natured teasing.
“Even a troop from the fort is here,” Clay announced. He stepped back to allow the two men a full glimpse of the soldiers riding by two by two.
“Well, I’ll be,” Ransom whispered, awe in his voice.
Boots shuffled across the dry straw as they made their way to the open door and watched the young men ride past. One soldier carried the stars and stripes, the other carried the regimental flag with its ribbons fluttering in the slight breeze. Dressed in their best uniforms, the band of their caps tucked smart around the base of their chin. Their eyes trained forward.
Clay could almost swear he heard the ladies gasp in delight as they moved toward the end of Main Street to take their position on either side of the beginning of the trail.
“All this to do for a bunch of letters.” Ransom sighed.
“A growing nation needs communication,” Levi interjected.
Clay watched as a fatherly hand grasped his best friend’s shoulder. A bit of envy shot through him, but he quickly dismissed it. Ransom was a good rider. One of the best he’d ever seen. It was only fitting that he should have the first ride.
Levi pulled his gold pocket watch from his vest. With his thumb pressed to the top knob, the case opened against his calloused palms. Soft notes followed.
Clay didn’t recall the name but the notes echoed with a haunting tune in the quiet of the barn.
“Time to go, boys.” Levi closed the lid and slid the time piece back into his vest pocket. “Clay, you bring Jackson. Ransom, walk with me.”
Stepping back to the bay dun gelding, Clay unwrapped the leather reins from the board on the side of the stall and led the horse to where Ransom stood listening to Levi’s instructions.
“We aren’t trying to break records. Ride quick, but safe,” Levi continued.
“Yes, sir,” Ransom replied.
Clay paused as Levi extended his hand to Ransom and they shook.
Turning to Clay, Ransom moved to the other side of his mount. “All right, let’s get outside.”
As they stepped into the late morning sun, Jackson’s ears pointed forward as if the animal was aware of his meaningful ride. Levi stepped into the street ahead of them. Clay leading the horse followed, with Ransom walking on the other side. A spontaneous round of applause exploded from the crowd. The gelding arched his neck and with a toss of his elegant dark mane, snorted. His feet prancing light against the hot ground, proving he was eager to run. They drew to a stop in the middle of the street. Clay placed a comforting hand on Jackson’s neck as all eyes turned east.
“Rider coming!” a man perched in the steeple of the church cried.
Clay tossed the leathers over the animal’s head as Ransom moved beside him to mount. Hooves thundered sending dust flying as the rider drew his mount up short. Levi grabbed the bridle as the rider swung down and tossed the mochila into Ransom’s h
ands. Heaving the heavy pouches over his saddle horn, Ransom climbed aboard and gathered the leathers in his hands. Clay turned loose and Ransom sank his heels into Jackson’s sides.
The crowd roared to life as Jackson leapt forward and raced breakneck toward the trail leading to the next station. The horse and rider passed by the soldiers, each rose in their stirrups and shouted, “For the Union!”
The sight sent chills down Clay’s spine. “God speed, Ransom.”
“Amen,” Levi replied.
As his best friend faded against the horizon, the crowds began to disperse. Many heading home, others hurried to Benders or Crystal Dawn to celebrate history in the making.
Clay shuffled his way back to the barn, for there were still three stalls to clean and horses that needed water.
Weeks turned to months, the crowds that once filled the streets to see the riders depart had long since dwindled. Whether it was due to the summer heat or the growing familiarity of riders barreling into town, Clay didn’t know. He had grown accustomed to the route, so much so, that he felt as though he could ride with his eyes closed. The pay was good. However, the never ending list of chores seemed to wear a good man down. It seemed to be a growing custom that riders rode for a few months, then moved on.
He had been saddened when his good friend, Ransom announced his move from the express. But his wedding to Delia Burroughs had been a thing of beauty. He’d almost been envious. Looking out over the now empty street, he watched the dry wind gather dust and rolled it toward the west end of town. The moan seemed to mock him.
Love was not something he chose to invite into his life. He had done so once and the brutal rejection was enough to sour him upon the institution of marriage for now. He took a deep breath, then shuffled to where the rake stood propped against the edge of the empty stall.
Reaching out, he drew the tool toward him and entered the stall. He sent the rake into the corner of the stall and drew the bedding toward him. He wished Ransom well with all his heart and he enjoyed Delia’s company, but giving his heart to another would be harder than any ride for the Pony Express.
“Just forget it,” he grumbled.
With a shake of his head, he turned back to Jackson’s stall. As he pushed the soiled bedding to the opening, his thoughts turned toward the home he once grew up in. The bitter memory caused his anger to be renewed. Clay recalled the loud voices raised in anger. The command from his father that he had a duty to the land and it was ordained that he should take up the practice of slavery in order to raise cotton. When he refused, his father had damned his soul and disowned him in front of the family and the woman who he hoped to make his wife.
The pain in her eyes was more than he could take. Clay had left that night, turning his back on his family name and for all purposes, becoming an orphan. It was the one falsehood that bothered him–signing with the express under his mother’s maiden name, claiming he was an orphan.
“One day, I will return. One day, I will gain my name back,” the words hissed like blasphemy on his lips.
He paused and ran his hand along the left side of his chest, hoping to ease the pain. Drawing it back, he gazed down at his palm somewhat surprised that no blood stained his skin.
“Clay?”
Levi Hawkins’ voice startled him. Clay whipped around to stare at the station manager’s concerned expression. “I-I…” He was stammering. Something he had not done since a childhood.
Levi stepped into the shadows and moved toward the other side of Jackson’s stall. For a moment, the station master stood and stared at the wood.
Knowing he should hold his tongue, as his new boss gathered his thoughts, Clay stood patiently.
When the time was right, Levi stepped up to the wood and placed a boot against the bottom rail while leaning his arms over the top. “Is there something bothering you? Something I can help with?”
Clay gave a shake of his head.
The corners of Levi’s mouth curled as if he’d bit into an unripe persimmon. “You know, we consider you all family.”
Clay swallowed. “Yes sir, I do.”
“Good.” Levi relaxed. “I was just looking out over the new horses brought in today.”
Clay stopped and moved toward the side of the stall that separated them. “I haven’t had time to do more than run my hands across their sides,” he explained. “But they seem in very good condition. Their temperament seems good, not once have I had to go out and separate animals.”
Levi nodded. “I knew they came for a good ranch but, it is always a twist when you bring new horses together.”
“Will you be putting them to saddle soon?”
Levi took a deep breath before answering, “Perhaps, I would like for you to bring them on slowly between your runs. This was a new ranch. I’m not sure just how saddle savvy they are. I can’t afford to have riders laid up with the more mail packets arriving on a regular basis.”
“So, business is good?” Clay questioned.
“Business is satisfactory,” Levi assured him.
Yet, as Clay watched, a cloud passed over Levi’s eyes. “Sir? Is there a problem?”
The lines around Levi’s eyes deepened. “There has been some talk in town. Some of our young men are being tested.”
Clay’s shoulder’s eased. “I haven’t heard a grumble in the bunkhouse.”
“That is good to hear. Some of our riders may not have the calmness of nature as you do.”
The remark surprised him. Clay found himself a bit surprised and embarrassed to find himself on the receiving end of his boss’s compliment. He stared down at the ground. “Thank you, sir.”
“You are welcome, Clay.”
Lifting his gaze, he found Levi smiling down at him. Only two words, thank you, but they seemed of far greater value than the eight letters.
“Mr. Hawkins!” Olivia’s voice drifted into the barn.
Levi turned. “I believe my dear wife has found us.”
Clay watched his smile grow.
“From the sound of her voice, I believe we are about to be recruited for some mission.” Levi winked. “Remember to be brave.”
Clay chuckled as he walked toward the open barn door.
“Here, Mother. I’m talking to Clay.”
“Ah…” Olivia Hawkins moved into the barn and to her husband’s side. “There you are. Hiding with the horses again,” she tsked.
“Forgive me, Madame.”
Levi leaned in to brush a soft kiss upon her cheek. “I am notorious for bad manners.”
She scoffed. “Do not let this rub off on you, Clay.”
“No ma’am, I wouldn’t think of it.”
“Now, Mother, don’t trouble the lad. What brings you to my kingdom?”
“I need the lamps filled.” She sighed. “Matthew was to do it, but he has taken leave and his fishing pole is missing. I fear we shall not see him until dark.”
“I can do that for you, Mrs. Hawkins,” Clay volunteered.
Olivia graced him with a smile. “No, I think my husband must bend an elbow and help. I am in need of you for another errand.”
“And here it comes,” Levi whispered.
“Shush.” She fussed good-naturedly. “I need some things from the General Store. Could you walk Anna over to O’Neals?” Her lips thinned. “There are far too many riff-raff in town than I am comfortable with.”
“Yes, ma’am.”
“Thank you, Clay. I knew I could count on you.” She took her husband’s arm. “We are going to have a serious talk with our son.”
“Indeed,” Levi agreed. Placing a hand over hers, they walked out of the barn in deep conversation.
Clay finished the stall and filled the buckets with water. It would not take long to escort Anna to the General Store. By dusk, he’d have the other stalls completed and still have time to clean up before dinner. Walking over to the doorway, he placed the rake against the wall. Moving outside, he doffed his hat and swept it across his pants legs to remove the
dirt and grime from his work. Marching over to the water trough, he untied his handkerchief and dipped it into the water to wipe his face.
“Don’t forget behind your ears.”
There was laughter in Anna’s voice as Clay turned around to find her laughing. Clay’s eyes narrowed, then he leaned over and scooped just enough water in his hand to toss in her direction.
Anna’s eyes widened as the water flew in her direction. With a squeal, she side stepped the droplets that managed to go the distance.
“Be careful, little girl,” he warned with mock seriousness. “You might endup with an early Saturday night bath.”
Bouncing on her feet, Anna moved toward him, her face alive with energy that seemed palpable. “Are you ready?”
He breathed deep and flipped the red cloth to ring out the water to antagonize her just a few minutes more.
“Clay,” she whined.
He cut his glance toward her and she grew silent as he fastened the handkerchief back around his neck.
“All right,” he agreed. “Let’s go to O’Neal’s.” One hand on her elbow, Clay steered Anna to the right side away from the traffic of the street.
“Wasn’t that exciting?” She gushed as they moved along toward the center of Three Rivers.
Looking down, Clay could see her upturned face staring back at him. “What?”
Her eyes flared. She came to a sudden halt so quick that he nearly tripped over his own two feet.
“Court days. You know when the Captain comes to town. New faces to see.”
Clay arched a brow at her. “Oh, that. I take it you are on the hunt for a new beau again? Which one of the Captain’s hands has caught your eye?”
