The Courageous Brides Collection

by Johnnie Alexander, Michelle Griep, Eileen Key, Debby Lee, Rose Allen McCauley, Donita Kathleen Paul, Jennifer Uhlarik, Jenness Walker, Renee Yancy

  Something deep within Finn broke, and he lunged across the porch. “Put the kid down. Now. He obviously don’t like the way you’re talking to him.”

  “This is none of your business, sir.” Dr. Tompkins hoisted Travis higher, causing Travis to squirm more.

  “Beggin’ your pardon, but my passengers are my business. I don’t cotton to folks manhandlin’ ’em.”

  The stage office door burst open, and shotgun rider Bob Racklin burst out, gripping his firearm in both hands. The man swept the scene with a glance. “Is there a problem?”

  Travis’s eyes grew huge, and his frame went rigid for an instant before he fell limp.

  “Whoa, Bob. Put that thing away.” Finn pulled the boy’s scrawny form from the doctor’s grasp and settled him onto the nearest bench. He laid a calming hand against the boy’s pounding chest. “Everything’s all right.”

  Travis darted a frightened look at each man, ending with Finn.

  Bob lowered the gun. “Thought you were in trouble. …”

  “Nothing I can’t handle, thanks.”

  When Miss Stockton slid up next to Travis, pulling him to her side like a mama bird sheltering her baby, Finn stepped away. The boy didn’t resist her nearness, though he eyed the doctor and Bob with distrust.

  “Real sorry, ma’am.”

  “You have nothing to apologize for, Mr. McCaffrey.” She cradled Travis’s head against her shoulder and brushed the boy’s dark hair back from his forehead.

  The sight of her soothing the boy and the feel of his undernourished frame stirred memories. His own ma had held him like that once, rocking him, petting his hair. A lump filled his throat, and he shoved the memory away, not wanting to recall the haunting images that came next.

  He retrieved Travis’s hat from the boardwalk then checked his pocket watch. “Ladies, I’ll thank you to climb aboard, please. Bob, let’s get the strongbox loaded up. Time we get rolling.”

  Chapter Two

  The paper in Hannah’s hand trembled, and not from the rhythmic rocking of the stagecoach. She stared at the messy scrawl, the words blurring just as they had the first time she read them:

  Oct. 20, 1862

  As told to Dr. Albert Tompkins: Clyde Alcott hereby resigns all his parental rights and responsibilities to Travis Alcott, relinquishing them to Miss Hannah Rose Stockton, representative of the California Institution for the Instruction of the Deaf and Dumb and Blind.

  Signed, X (Official mark of Clyde Alcott, as witnessed by Dr. A. Tompkins)

  She dabbed discreetly at her eyes then glanced to her right. Travis stared out the window at the scenery blurring past, just as he’d done most of the morning. She returned her attention to the letter.

  Mrs. Jamison leaned nearer on her left. “Staring at it isn’t going to change the contents, dear.” Her whisper cut through the rumbling of the coach’s wheels and the annoyingly loud conversations of the other passengers.

  Hannah lowered the soiled paper and turned to her companion. “It breaks my heart that Travis’s father would sign away all of his parental rights. Has he no interest in how his son will do at the school?”

  “The doctor said the man signed the paper then stated, ‘Good riddance. The kid’ll never amount to nothin’ anyway.’ ”

  The pointed words pierced Hannah’s aching heart. She refolded the page and tucked it into her bag with the other papers Dr. Tompkins had given them. She glanced again at the young man, who’d made no attempts to interact with either her or Mrs. Jamison since boarding the stage. “That’s Mr. Alcott’s loss. This boy will thrive in the proper environment.”

  “I do hope you’re right, though I admit I’m concerned. The child’s been nothing short of morose this morning.”

  Lord, has Mrs. Jamison no understanding of the isolation he must feel? “I think he s handling himself quite well. Imagine how frightened he might feel. He’s been removed from his home, given over to strangers, and placed on a stagecoach taking him away from anything familiar. With no ability to understand our words, he may think we’ve plans to abandon him in the mountains.”

  Mrs. Jamison looked at Travis. “I hadn’t considered how this must appear to him.”

  She hadn’t considered? Such thoughts had consumed Hannah’s mind. Before she could answer the woman, Travis perked up and craned his neck. At nearly the same moment, the stage slowed. Hannah touched his shoulder, and when he looked her way, she smiled.

  “What do you see?” She opened her hands wide, as if in a shrug, then pointed to him and then to her eyes. Hannah followed the gestures with arched brows, hoping he’d understand her question.

  His brow furrowed, though he looked out the window again without response.

  “We’re in spitting distance of town, ma’am,” a burly fellow said.

  Hannah offered the man a conciliatory nod. “Thank you.”

  After a moment, Travis turned and patted her forearm then pointed out the window. She peered out the window, catching sight of a roof not too far off. Hannah grinned at him, fighting the urge to draw him into a hug. He’d communicated, conveying there was something to see. A tiny breakthrough. As they got farther down the rutted path, a dusty town rose up from the earth.

  Carson City.

  The stage rolled between the buildings and tottered to a stop. After a moment, the door swung open and Finn McCaffrey smiled up at them. “Welcome to Carson. Iffen this is your destination, the Pioneer Stage Company thanks you for your business. Frank can help you retrieve your bags. I believe it’s just you ladies and the boy who’re traveling on. We’ll depart again in ten minutes.”

  Once the men on the center bench had exited, Mr. McCaffrey folded the seat out of their way and looked at Hannah. “Ma’am?” His intense blue eyes radiated warmth from under his hat brim when he offered her his hand. Clinging to it, she stepped down and turned to find Travis was on her heels, scrambling out of the stagecoach with no assistance.

  The jehu grinned as the boy trotted off a few feet to watch the hostlers change teams. “Looks like someone’s ready to stretch his legs.”

  “Indeed. We all are.”

  He turned to help Mrs. Jamison, though he spoke over his shoulder in her direction. “Iffen you don’t object, the boy’s welcome to help me treat the horses again before we leave.”

  “Thank you, Mr. McCaffrey. I’m sure he’d like that.”

  Mrs. Jamison stepped down and thanked the jehu then hurried toward Hannah, drawing her off a little way from the coach. The elder woman turned twinkling eyes and a sly smile on her. “Quite a handsome one, that Mr. McCaffrey. Wouldn’t you say?” Her tone was low, confidential.

  Hannah swallowed the sudden lump that knotted her throat. Handsome, yes. Quite. Though after what she’d overheard of his conversation with the young woman in Virginia City, he was hardly the sort she’d wish to know too well. She hadn’t meant to eavesdrop, though from her vantage point near the door, she couldn’t help but overhear the young woman’s timid announcement and his less-than-receptive response.

  “He seems quite attentive to you, dear.”

  She shook her head. “His interest appears to be in the comfort of his passengers. Particularly Travis. Precisely as it ought to be.”

  Across the way, Finn McCaffrey casually sidled up next to Travis and nudged him with his elbow. The boy looked up, startled, but smiled at the man. It was a warmer reception than he’d given to either her or Mrs. Jamison thus far. The jehu placed something in Travis’s left hand, and the boy looked at it then turned, wide-eyed, back to the driver. Finn McCaffrey looped an arm over the boy’s shoulders and guided him toward the new team. As they reached the nearest horse, Mr. McCaffrey smiled warmly at her.

  The older woman’s sly grin deepened, and she patted Hannah’s arm. “You’re fooling yourself, dear.”

  The stage rolled steadily up the steep, rocky terrain, high into the Sierra Nevada. The morning’s chill lingered, though the sun beat down on Finn’s shoulders, causing sweat to snake do
wn his spine. He arched his back and scanned the narrow road they followed, slowing the team through the sharp, winding turns while keeping a good pace.

  “You got something stuck in your craw?” Bob Racklin’s unexpected question snapped his thoughts back to the present.

  Finn glanced at his friend. “Pardon?”

  “I been jawing at you for the past five minutes about this pretty li’l gal I met, and you ain’t heard a word of it.”

  He slapped the backs of the horses lightly and scanned the rutted path. “Sorry. Not in a talking mood, I s’pose.”

  His friend snorted. “Nor in a listening one, I reckon.”

  He forced an apologetic smile. “Reckon not.”

  “This got something to do with Sam’s visit?”

  Truth was, his thoughts hovered in dangerous territory, only partly due to Sam’s news. The scene with Miss Stockton comforting the kid outside the Virginia station rattled him just as much, and the two episodes together had awakened a giant that threatened to drag him to a very dark place. He was left scrambling to find a rock big enough to slay it.

  Why’d the teacher have to be so blasted nurturing? He sighed. She’d unnerved him, and he was in a mad scramble to find his footing again.

  The boy was fortunate. A kid like Travis needed a mother-hen sort. The kid seemed plenty smart. He’d need to be challenged, and a woman like Hannah Rose Stockton could push him to better things.

  Not every kid was so lucky. He sure hadn’t been. Not when his ma had been taken from him by the time he was eight.

  They rounded a bend and drove between two huge rock outcroppings. As they passed through them, the path took a jog left, and the terrain on the right side dropped away. His heart pounded, and his muscles tensed. Beside him, Bob braced himself. Below the road, tall pines and boulders dotted the rugged landscape. To their left, a ten-foot-tall rock face rose sharply, several massive stones dangling precariously over the edge, ready to tumble down on them.

  If there was any stretch of the road between Carson and Strawberry he didn’t like, this was it, but once they made the sharp turn at the top of the hill, the downslope was less treacherous, and the view would be reward enough for the anxiety.

  The path dipped then climbed again. He flicked the reins once more. “Git on. Let’s move.”

  The team leaned into their harnesses, pulling hard, hooves rattling against the rocky path. They kept a decent pace, Finn nursing them along with an occasional hollered encouragement. The six horses negotiated the path like experts. Finally, as the road leveled momentarily at the top, Finn drew back on the reins, slowing the team to safely make the turn.

  As they rounded the blind curve, a dazzling flash of sunlight reflected off a distant lake, drawing his gaze. Finn squinted, drinking in the majestic view before he called to the horses.

  “Git!” He shifted his attention back to the road as he flicked the lines. The horses straightened after the sharp turn and picked up speed when the lead pair shied suddenly. Finn drew back on the lines to regain control, though before he could, a black bear lumbered out from behind a jutting rock and swiped a massive paw at the lead horse. The horse loosed a terrified scream as it reared, red streaks sprouting on its neck and shoulder.

  Finn braked hard. To no avail. The chestnut horses plunged forward, crashed against the rock face on the left then rolled back toward the right and the steep drop. The coach lurched, tottered, and slid from the path down the steep, tree-dotted slope.

  Chapter Three

  Please don’t die! Please.”

  The rasping, frantic words leeched into Hannah’s consciousness, rattling in her pounding skull. Who on earth was speaking? She didn’t recognize the voice.

  Something grabbed her, shook her, and with it came a gut-wrenching cry. Every nerve jangled warning, and she covered her ears and pried her eyes open. Her vision landed on the blurry shape of a boy.

  Travis. He’d spoken, voice rusty from disuse, but clear as could be—like the doctor said he could.

  Hannah wrapped clumsy hands around the boy’s wrists and blinked to clear her vision. After a second, he stopped shaking her, though his fingers didn’t untwine from her dress bodice. Again she blinked, her eyesight clearing enough to reveal Travis’s dirt-caked face marred with wet trails that stretched from his eyes to jawline.

  What happened? They’d been on the stage going home, but…Memories were hazy at best.

  She looked around. The whole scene was familiar, but not. The coach’s door had become its ceiling. The cushioned seats of the stage now occupied the walls from roof to floor, rather than side to side. Hannah grappled to make sense of things, her thoughts moving like sludge. She attempted to sit up, though her legs had somehow become wedged under the center bench. Had they crashed?

  Every movement was uncoordinated as she extracted herself from the tight quarters beneath the bench. Her back ached; her limbs trembled. No sooner had she righted herself than Travis launched himself at her, his spindly arms circling her torso. His shoulders wracked with sobs. She pulled him to her, her hand straying to his hair to brush it from his face, though her fingers contacted something sticky. He jerked away, and she pulled her hand back to find blood. Hannah pushed him back and turned his face to reveal a gash that trailed from his forehead to his ear, still oozing blood. Heart pounding, she found her valise nearby, pulled out the first cloth she laid hold of, and drawing the boy close, pressed it to the wound.

  “Lord, what’s happened here?” Where was Mrs. Jamison? She looked around the sideways coach. No sign of the woman.

  After several moments, the torrent of Travis’s tears abated, and Hannah pushed him away again. She checked the wound and, finding the blood flow had nearly stopped, she laid the cloth aside. Hannah smiled to reassure the boy, though she could use some reassuring herself. An unconvincing smile trembled on his lips.

  Lord, please calm this child’s fears, and give me wisdom in what to do. I’m just as frightened as he seems.

  She stood, legs aching, and Travis also tottered to his feet. On tiptoes, she pushed on the door above her. It wouldn’t budge. Travis watched for an instant then scooted to the opposite side of the center bench. There, he climbed the bench’s middle support like a ladder, guiding his head out through the wide window and scrambling out of the coach. With little effort, he lifted the door open, and kneeling on it, he beckoned her up.

  Hannah gathered her bag and his small pack, handed them up to him, and then planted her foot atop the bench’s center support. One hand gripping the door frame, the other clasping Travis’s, she climbed up and popped her head outside the coach. Body aching, she crawled out and sat, her legs dangling inside.

  All was deathly still. She swept the scene with a measured glance, her hand straying to cover her mouth as she did. The coach’s wheels were splintered beyond repair. The driver’s seat and tongue were sheered off, as was the metal rail that once sat atop the coach. Near the twisted railing lay Mr. McCaffrey. Hannah gulped a breath, scanning more of the wreckage.

  For a good ways up the steep incline, a wide swath of earth was churned up like a farmer’s field ready for planting. Trees were snapped off or uprooted where the coach had plowed over them. Scattered along the path were the still forms of five of the draft horses. The sixth one was still upright, fighting to loose itself from the harness now entangled in a downed tree. Also dotting the slope, Mr. Racklin’s and Mrs. Jamison’s forms.

  Hannah swung her legs over the side and jumped down. Her feet under her, she hiked her skirts and ran toward Mr. McCaffrey.

  “Oh, Father…please don’t let them all be dead.”

  Finn lay as still as possible, breath coming in sharp gasps. Nausea swept him in waves. Pain coursed like lightning through his body, concentrated along his left side. He squinted at the bright sky but quickly snapped his eyelids shut to block the sun’s blinding rays.

  Footsteps approached and skidded to a halt nearby. A shadow covered his head, and he blinked at the sh
adow’s source.

  “Mr. McCaffrey? Can you hear me?” Miss Stockton dropped to her knees, and the light blinded him once again.

  Jaw clenched, he nodded once.

  “Oh, thank God. I thought. …” The woman gulped a breath. “I thought you and the others were dead.”

  The others. Bob, Mrs. Jamison, and the boy. Gingerly, he turned his head but saw only trees, rocks, and broken stagecoach parts. “Are they?”

  “Travis has a nasty cut on his head. I haven’t checked on Mrs. Jamison or Mr. Racklin yet.”

  Finn attempted to push himself up on his elbow, but fire blazed through his side.

  “Please don’t move.” Miss Stockton planted a firm hand against his shoulder. “Your left leg appears to be broken, and I should check for other injuries.”

  “No …” He ground out the word between clenched teeth. Finn stole a glance toward the high mountain path they’d traveled, then shut his eyes tight.

  It was a miracle anyone had survived. That cliff was treacherous. Their saving grace was that the drop wasn’t as sheer on this side of the mountain.

  “Help me up.” He pleaded with his eyes, reaching for her arm. “Have to check…on the others …”

  “No, sir. I’ll check on them.”

  Finn bit back a curse. “I’m the jehu. Passengers’ safety…is my job.” A job at which he’d failed miserably.

  “You’re not going anywhere until we splint that leg and check you for other injuries.”

  He balled a fist as another wave of pain coursed through him. “Then go. Check them…please.”

  The woman’s disheveled red hair tumbled from its pins as she nodded. She beckoned to someone, and Travis appeared.

  “Travis, stay with Mr. McCaffrey. Understand?” She motioned and pantomimed, the boy looking confused. She put both hands out, palms toward him. “Stay here.”