“We’ve had two riders, and the manager from Chimney Rock Station, say there was an Indian girl who got killed riding for the company.”
Billy shifted from one foot to the other. Again he scanned the rocky terrain around him to check for rattlesnakes. He almost preferred facing a rattler to enduring any more questions from his boss.
“An Indian rider got killed a few weeks ago, but I didn’t exactly do a full examination of the body.” At least that much was the truth. Billy’s insides flipped. He hated keeping secrets from the man, but if the guy knew Daisy was out on a run, he’d be fired for letting her do so. When Billy mustered the courage to look his boss in the face, he noticed his gray whiskers twitching, as if the man tried to stifle a chuckle.
A lopsided grin stretched the corners of Billy’s mouth. He wanted to steer the conversation anywhere but toward Daisy Hollister.
“Dinner!”
Billy jumped at Johnny’s ear-piercing announcement. “Won’t you join us?” He hoped his boss would oblige and then leave.
“Sure thing,” Mr. Andrews said.
“Good.” Billy smiled. “There’s a pump by the bunkhouse. You can get washed up and then head inside.”
Turning to the main house where they ate their meals, Billy drew in a deep breath. The hired hands were in the kitchen cooking dinner in Daisy’s absence. He scuttled across the yard. Upon entering the kitchen he explained the situation to Sam and the rest of them.
Several minutes later Billy finished pleading with the other workers. They had agreed to keep quiet. He almost dropped the pan of burnt biscuits from his sweating palms. He coughed, and told himself it was probably from the smoldering contents of the pan in his hands.
Amid the smoke still pouring from the cookstove, he muttered something about hiring Adrianne Larson. He’d heard she quit cooking at the hotel after the owners scolded her for giving away too many free meals to every ruffian who happened along, human and otherwise.
“Supper’s on,” Billy mumbled and cleared his throat as his boss entered the room.
Dinner was a silent affair with the exception of his boss announcing that he planned to stay the night at the station. Billy suddenly lost his appetite, and not just because the biscuits were charred crispy.
The next morning, Billy woke to pounding on his door.
“What in tarnation?’ He rolled from his bed, staggered to the door, and opened it. He rubbed the sleep from his eyes and tried to focus on Jake Hunter’s face before him. The blinding rays of the rising sun didn’t make it easy.
“We found some information about Butch, evidence of his wrongdoing,” Jake said.
Billy was fully awake now. “What evidence?”
“My superior’s received a letter from Mr. Hollister, Daisy’s father. The man must have mailed it before he was killed. It gave details of Butch’s involvement in the rape of that Indian girl. The letter described a piece of jewelry that belonged to her, and it was found in Butch’s possession.”
“So they caught him?”
“He snuck out of camp through an unpatrolled section in the back. We’re looking for him now. That’s partly what I’m doing here, to ask if you or Miss Hollister have seen him.”
“Rider coming,” someone yelled as Johnny burst from the bunkhouse and hurried to saddle a fresh horse. Mr. Andrews ambled from the dwelling and over to where Billy and Jake stood. Mr. Andrews stood on his toes and peered down the road. Billy shielded his own eyes with the flat of his hand.
As the rider arrived in a cloud of dust, Billy’s heartbeat stumbled as if it had tripped over a rock and couldn’t quite regain its balance.
Daisy jumped down from the saddle.
Chapter Seven
The mochilla slipped from Daisy’s trembling fingers and fell to the ground. She hastily picked it up and tossed it over the saddle of her fresh mount, averting her face from the soldier standing next to Billy. The bewhiskered man didn’t seem a threat, but after receiving such a start at the last way station, she vowed to be more careful of men in army blue. She never knew which soldiers might be in alliance with Butch or when he might catch up to her.
“Ride hard, Daisy, and try to stay gone for a while.” Johnny leaned close and whispered in her ear. “That’s Mr. Andrews over there. He’s the local superintendent.”
“Oh.” Daisy adjusted the hat on her head to make sure her hair was covered.
“Thanks for the warning, Johnny,” she said and shot up into the saddle and kicked the flanks of the wild mustang.
The horse reared. Daisy gripped the reins as the animal took off at a gallop. She couldn’t get far enough away from that army man and the superintendent. Who was the soldier, and what was he doing at the way station? And why was the superintendent at the way station? She hoped his visit wouldn’t culminate in the loss of her job. As soon as she rode back that way, she’d be sure and ask Billy all about it. For now, she focused on the task at hand.
Several rugged miles passed while Daisy admired the landscape. Rocky buttes jutted from the earth like hands reaching toward heaven. She thanked God for protecting her on the job, and from Butch.
The next way station snuck up on her. She had ridden back and forth so much she didn’t remember which station she was at and hardly knew what direction she was headed. She climbed down from the horse and greeted the station manager.
“Can I get some breakfast before I go back out?” she asked.
Before the man had a chance to reply, another rider came in. The young lad slid from the saddle in a near faint.
“I’ve been going for almost two days. I can’t go on anymore.”
“Very well.” The station manager pointed to Daisy. “I need you to take the pouch and go back the way you came.”
“Okay, boss.” Daisy ignored her rumbling stomach, climbed onto a fresh horse, and cantered back the way she had come. She lifted her canteen to her lips and drank the last of her water. It hardly wetted her parched throat and dry lips, but the next station was only a few miles away. Exhaustion made her muscles ache. Lack of sleep left grit in her eyes, but she was grateful to be out from under the watchful gaze of the superintendent, Mr. Andrews.
A multitude of bright yellow, prickly pear blossoms dotted the side of the trail. They were edible and high in water content. If only she had the time to stop, pick a few, and savor the natural juices. Over and over she muttered to herself, “Just a little bit farther.”
A relief-filled chuckle rolled out of her mouth when the next station popped up on the horizon. Weariness crept over her, and she longed for something to eat and a warm bed when she arrived.
The station manager and a rider named Gabe Jackson emerged from the house. Daisy pulled her horse to a stop in front of the barn and helped them ready the tan-colored mustang for the next run. When Gabe hefted the mochilla on the saddle Daisy stepped back. She watched him mount the horse and ride off before stumbling to the house.
The cook set a plate of cold biscuits and jerked buffalo meat before her. It wasn’t a savory meal, but Daisy didn’t care. It was palatable, and that was all that mattered. When she finished eating she traipsed out to the barn and collapsed onto a pile of hay. The comforting smells of leather and the warm straw beneath her filled her nostrils as she drifted into slumber.
The next afternoon, after a good meal and some much-needed shut-eye, Daisy jumped astride the mustang and pointed him back toward Cottonwood Springs. If she was lucky, she’d have some pay waiting for her. On her next day off, she would ride out to see Green Grass’s family and take some food and medicine with her. As demanding as the job was, she was grateful for the money.
Daisy’s heart soared at the thought of seeing Billy again. Her feelings for the man were growing stronger, and she didn’t know just how to handle the situation. A part of her was afraid to admit she might be falling in love.
The sun hung high overhead, and Daisy felt its heat seep through her clothes. Perhaps a dunk in the swimming hole would be beneficial af
ter lunch. She was sure Clancy would love to get out of the paddock for a while and roam the countryside.
The miles passed in a blur, and before she could blink twice she arrived at the way station she called home. Daisy didn’t see any sign of the soldier and breathed deep with relief. She did notice the gray-whiskered man conversing with Billy over by the bunkhouse.
“Can you take this run from here?” Daisy asked Johnny, who had just exited the barn with a fresh horse.
“You bet.” Johnny placed the mochilla on the saddle, leaped onto the horse, and was off with a loud holler.
Daisy watched him go and walked toward the main house in search of some food. Billy jogged over and grabbed her arm.
“You need to lay low for a while Daisy. That’s the Pony Express superintendent, Mr. Andrews, over there. If he finds out you’re a girl, we’re both fired.”
Billy escorted the superintendent to town to catch the stage. The stagecoach arrived in a cloud of dust, carrying a sack teeming with new mail, and several patrons for the hotel. Mr. Andrews would be on it when it left and Billy stood to the side, eager to see it happen.
“Nice to see you again, sir.” Billy tipped his hat to Mr. Andrews. “Be sure and tell the company owners that everything is right as rain here.” He stepped back as Mr. Andrews climbed into the stage and the driver prepared to leave. The superintendent nodded and held up a hand in farewell. With the rattling of traces and the squeak of leather, the coach pulled away from the crowded and busy boardwalk. The air hissed from Billy’s lungs, and he wiped the sweat from his brow with his bandanna. Nothing pleased his soul more than to say good-bye to the man who could have cost him so much.
Billy pushed the troublesome thoughts to the back recesses of his mind and strode into the mercantile. The way station needed more supplies, and Johnny could handle things for only so long. After placing his order for additional beans, flour, and lamp oil, he moved on to the feed store. Horses that ran for an average of ten miles at a time sure went through fodder.
“Mr. Cook, Mr. Cook.”
Billy pivoted on his heel to see a lad approaching him, waving an envelope. He took the envelope and handed the boy a penny. The child beamed and skipped down the boardwalk swinging his arms the way Billy’s nephew always did.
Billy noticed the address on the letter. It was from the orphanage. Although tempted to read the news right there on the boardwalk, Billy decided against it. What if something terrible had happened to his nephew? He didn’t want to express any unmanly emotion on a public street in front of a gaggle of onlookers.
He stuffed the paper into his shirt pocket. He hurried to the feed store and placed an order for grain. With his Pony Express business in town completed, he drove the wagon out to the way station and brought it to a stop when he reached the barn.
Johnny emerged from the bunkhouse when Billy arrived.
“Can you get somebody to help unload this feed and put it in the back of the barn?” Billy asked.
Johnny nodded and proceeded to the back of the wagon.
In the privacy of the bunkhouse, Billy tore open the letter from the orphanage and hastily read through it. He kicked one of the wooden bed frames. The medicine he had sent to little Luke hadn’t helped him one lick. The youngster was getting sicker. For all he knew, the people at the orphanage had pocketed the money he sent and kept the medicine for themselves. Perhaps the letter was a ruse to get him to send more money. Maybe Luke wasn’t sick after all, and maybe Billy should just send for him.
After considering his options he decided to go ahead and bring the lad to Cottonwood Springs. He hated to send for the tyke and have him fall smack into the danger involving Butch, and all the other perils associated with the West, but what else could he do? At least around the way station Billy could keep an eye on him.
He stomped to the main house and penned a letter. If only he could afford to send it via Pony Express, but at five dollars an ounce he could ill afford it. In his short note he demanded that Luke be sent by train to Cottonwood Springs immediately. If he had to go to New York to personally retrieve the child, he would.
After sealing the envelope, Billy grabbed his hat and reached for his riding gloves. He had to get to the post office and send the letter. He hated making another trip into town the same day and shoving the responsibility of the station onto Johnny. The kid was reliable but still fairly young. If Indians or robbers decided to raid the way station, Johnny would be at great risk.
Billy shook his head as he stepped outside. If his nephew’s safety wasn’t so precarious, he wouldn’t take such a gamble, he reasoned with himself. He’d take the fastest horse available, gallop into town, and be back in no time, before anything awful could happen at the way station.
“Johnny.” Billy jogged to the barn.
“Me and Jack got all the feed put away, sir,” Johnny replied.
“Thank you, son. Look, I have to make another quick trip into town. I hate to ask, but I need you to keep an eye on things around here for just a spell, okay?” Billy slung a saddle onto the back of an energetic mustang and cinched it down. Then he climbed on and hoped the beast would cooperate and get him to town unscathed. One never knew with the wild horses from the plains.
“Will do, Mr. Cook.” Johnny puffed out his chest, and Billy felt a twinge of fatherly pride surge through him. He liked to think he was a good role model for the youth. Something told him Daisy Hollister was just as good a role model as he was. Just where she happened to be at the moment he couldn’t fathom, nor could he take the time to sit around and worry. A small child demanded his attention. He led his horse outside.
Darkness encroached. Billy drank in the beauty of the sun languishing in the distant horizon, coloring the sky with ribbons of magenta and bright gold. Another rider wasn’t due for another few hours. Billy would return by then. Perhaps he could complete his errand without having the misfortune of running into Butch.
Circumstances appeared bleak for his nephew, but Billy wouldn’t give up hope that things would get better. He scoffed at himself. Daisy Hollister’s praying ways must be getting to him. He wasn’t sure if he was ready to commit to the Gospel like she had, but what could it hurt to ask God for a favor? In a moment of sheer desperation, he uttered a prayer for the safety of little Luke.
Chapter Eight
A sliver of sun peeked over the rocky buttes in the distance. A stand of pines poked up from the ground, the branches waved in the breeze along with the tall green prairie grasses. Daisy wished she could pause and admire God’s handiwork. Instead, she rode hard. She had to get to Cottonwood Springs soon, before those Indians came after her again, and before she dropped from exhaustion.
“I know you’re tired, but c’mon boy, you can make it.” Daisy urged the pinto named Little Joe onward, hoping she could somehow infuse her own strength into the weary animal.
Ten minutes later Daisy reined the beast to a stop in front of the barn. Johnny emerged with a mustang that looked anxious to gallop. No sooner had she slid from her horse when Johnny grabbed the mochilla and slapped the mail pouch onto the back of his own mount.
Once Johnny rode off she blew out a weary sigh. Sam led a worn-out Little Joe to the barn. Daisy traipsed into the main house for breakfast. The new cook greeted her with a smile, and she returned the heartwarming gesture.
“Morning, Adrianne, would you like some help?” Daisy asked. The quicker the meal was cooked, the quicker she could eat, and get some sleep.
“Sure.” Adrianne turned the bacon sizzling in a cast-iron skillet.
The savory aroma wafted through the room, and Daisy’s mouth watered in anticipation. Adrianne was great at concocting fabulous meals and had always been a great friend. Daisy was glad Billy had hired her on at the way station.
“Morning, ladies.” Billy nodded as he strolled into the room.
He yawned and poured himself a cup of coffee as Daisy slid the biscuits into the oven. Tension had run high while Mr. Andrews lurked around th
e corners of the way station, but now that he was gone, she could relax.
When the meal was ready, they sat down to eat. Daisy prayed, hoping Billy wouldn’t mind too much. He didn’t seem to. Lately she had noticed him looking at her with a strange expression on his face whenever she prayed.
“That was kind of you to visit Green Grass’s family last week, Daisy. How are they getting on?” Adrianne asked.
“Much better now that Little Bear has his medicine. Thank you for asking.”
“Glad to hear they’re doing all right,” Billy said.
Daisy glanced up from her plate and stared into Billy’s enchanting blue eyes. Why was she so befuddled whenever he talked to her? She must be really tired. She shoved a biscuit into her mouth to keep from saying something stupid.
“Well, let me know next time you head out there, and I’ll make up a basket of food for you to give them.” Adrianne smiled so warmly Daisy couldn’t help but smile at this kindhearted woman.
When finished with the meal, she walked to the bunkhouse for some shut-eye. There weren’t any men around, and for that she was thankful. The riders and hired hands who did know she rode for the Pony Express were good to steer clear of her.
The empty cot against the back wall beckoned her. Without taking the time to undress, she dropped into it and snuggled the pillow close to her heart. She mumbled a prayer for her Indian friend’s family as sleep wafted in to claim her.
In the afternoon, after a long, peaceful nap, she sat up in bed and stretched her achy muscles. Straddling a horse all day and riding at breakneck speed sure did wear on a body.
Daisy rose from her bunk and quickly brushed her hair. Rather than pin it up, as she did when she was out on a run or working in the kitchen, she let her long tresses flow down her back. It was a welcome change.
Once she recinched her trousers tight, she moseyed to the barn. The comforting smells of fresh hay and horses met her as she strolled through the door. Clancy needed a brushing, some feed, and lots of attention. She had been neglecting him while she worked and wanted to make it up to him by taking him out on a walk.
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