“No, sir. I believe he’s working at the smithy today.”
Dostie frowned. “I don’t suppose you’d have time to take it to him? I don’t like to leave the office that long.”
“Surely. Just let me give this to Augie, and I’ll be right back.”
Vashti hurried into the restaurant. Bitsy scurried about, serving several traveling men and a few local residents.
“Oh dear,” Vashti said as she plopped the sugar sack down on the serving counter. “Today you need me, and Mr. Dostie asked me to take a telegram over to Griffin.”
“Best run and do it,” Bitsy said. “Goldie’s in the kitchen filling glasses of cider for me. We’ll be all right.”
Vashti dashed back to the telegraph office.
“Here you go.” Dostie handed her an envelope. “He may want to send a reply.”
Vashti’s curiosity prickled, but she didn’t ask questions. She hurried down the street. Griffin was shoeing one of the coach horses when she rounded the corner. Justin hovered nearby, watching everything he did. She waited until Griffin stopped nailing and reached for a rasp.
“Mr. Dostie asked me to bring you a telegram.”
Griffin lowered the horse’s hoof to the ground and straightened. “Me? A telegram?”
“Yes, sir.” She held it out, watching his wary face. Telegrams were almost never good. She recalled his last one had announced Justin’s imminent arrival.
Griffin looked down at his filthy hands. “Can you open it, please?”
“Surely.” She ripped open the envelope and fished out the yellow paper.
“What’s it say?”
She looked down at it and froze. “Oh no.”
“What?” Griffin’s features went hard. “Read it.”
“‘Passengers, driver, and messenger fought off outlaws in ambush Catherine Road. One passenger killed. Advise.’ “
Griffin let out a deep sigh and bowed his head. Vashti waited, her heart aching. Nick Telford, an experienced driver, had that run now, on the same branch line with Johnny Conway. She sent up a prayer for him and the passengers, and for the safety of all the drivers and messengers on the road today. Though she wouldn’t like to admit it, an icy stab of fear struck her.
Griffin jerked his chin up and glared at her.
“You’re not driving tomorrow.”
CHAPTER 22
Griffin moved his toolbox farther from the horse and looked at Justin. “Stay here. I’ve got to send a telegram. If Marty comes over, tell him I’ll be right back and I’ll have the team ready in time.” He strode toward the street.
Vashti tagged after him in a swirl of green skirts. “What do you mean, I’m not driving?”
“Just what I said.” Griffin didn’t look at her. If he did, those eyes would make him think twice.
“But if they’re over on the Catherine Road now—”
“They could be back here tomorrow.”
“Oh, come on.” Vashti grabbed his arm, but he kept walking. “You don’t think they’d pull another job tomorrow, do you?”
He paused and glared down at her. “I don’t know what they’d do. If I did, my men wouldn’t have been attacked today, would they? And a man wouldn’t have been killed.”
That shut her up, at least temporarily. He marched on to Dostie’s office, not wanting to think about the ambush or what could have happened if it had been on Vashti’s route. He’d have to scare up another driver for her run tomorrow. He couldn’t go off himself again—not so soon. Justin needed him. He guessed he’d better advertise in the Avalanche and the Boise paper for more drivers, though he hated to. But if a lot of businessmen and geologists were going to be coming through to get to the old mines, he’d better make the stages keep their timetable. If traffic increased, they might even need a three-times-a-week schedule from Boise to Silver City and De Lamar.
He pushed into the telegraph office. Dostie sat behind his desk at the telegraph key.
“I’m sorry, Griffin. Tough luck.”
“No luck about it,” Griffin said. “Send back to the station agent. ‘Hire extra guard and send stage on time.’ Oh, and you’d best tell him I’ll ride over tomorrow and catch my men at Sinker. I need to talk to them personally.” He brought his fist down on the counter. Tomorrow was the day he’d hoped to take Justin for a leisurely ride to Reynolds Creek and check in with the station agent there, who stored extra feed for Griffin. That would have to wait.
A sound behind him alerted him that Vashti had followed him in. She cleared her throat delicately, but in a manner not to be ignored.
“Yes, ma’am?” Dostie asked, peering at her.
“Has the sheriff been informed?”
“I expect it’s a bit out of his territory,” Dostie said.
“Yes, but he’ll want to know.”
Griffin nodded. “You’re right. He might even take some men over to help look for those scoundrels.”
“I could tell him,” Vashti said.
“All right. I’d go myself, but I’ve got two more horses to shoe.”
She started for the door.
Griffin called, “Oh, wait a sec.”
Vashti turned toward him.
“Would you tell Ethan we’ll need extra guards tomorrow? Maybe he can help me round up a few extra men to make the run with you.” She smiled then. “Yes, sir.”
As she closed the door, Griffin kicked himself mentally. Why had he said that? He’d had no intention of letting her drive to Nampa tomorrow.
“That all you want to say in the telegram?” Dostie asked. “Reckon so.”
“Eight dollars and fifty cents.”
Griffin winced. “Let me see that.” He studied the spare message but couldn’t see how to eliminate more than one word. “All right,” he said at last. “I’ll have to come around later and pay you. Don’t have that much on me.”
Vashti put on her trousers and boy’s shirt the next morning. She frowned at herself in the mirror as she braided her hair and pinned it up. What if she got to the livery and Griffin had found another driver? She clenched her teeth. After he’d had her tell Ethan he needed more guards to go with her, she’d avoided seeing Griffin for the rest of the day. That way, he hadn’t had a chance to tell her that he didn’t mean it.
She eyed her reflection critically. The shirt had shrunk a little in the wash. She pulled the vest on and surveyed her figure from the front and the side. Maybe she had time to run into the emporium and buy a baggier shirt. Even if everyone local knew she wasn’t a man, she couldn’t drive in a dress, and she didn’t want to give the tenders or the passengers reason to think she was immodest. It was too warm to wear her coat.
She pulled on her boots, grabbed her hat, whip, and overnight bag, and dashed down the stairs. In the kitchen, Bitsy and Augie were peeling vegetables for the day’s guests.
“I’m heading out,” Vashti called. “Need me to bring you anything?”
“Just bring yourself back, honey.” Bitsy smiled at her.
“You want to take my shotgun?” Augie asked.
“No, thanks. I’ll be fine.” She patted her canvas bag, where her pistol lay. The last thing she needed was to lose Augie’s shotgun the way she’d lost Griffin’s rifle.
“Take your coat,” Bitsy said. “It’s fixing to rain.”
Vashti smiled at her. “It’s nice to have someone who cares whether or not I get wet.” She walked over to the dry sink and kissed Bitsy’s powdered cheek. Bitsy squeezed her.
Vashti waved at Augie and hurried over to the store. Goldie was helping Libby this morning, while several customers stocked up on groceries. Vashti went to the ready-mades section and pulled a men’s shirt off the rack. She sidled up to Libby, who was pouring out a quart of milk for Mrs. Walker.
“Would it be all right if I tried this on in the storeroom?”
Libby looked at her and the shirt and nodded. “Help yourself.”
The new shirt hung loosely on her, but Vashti figured that was good. She tucked it in and put the
vest on over it. If this one shrank, it would still fit. She stuffed the old one into her bag and went out into the store.
Goldie was totting up a large order for Terrence Thistle. She shot a sidelong glance toward Vashti. “Whatcha got today?”
“The shirt on my back.”
Mr. Thistle laughed. “You should hear the men when they come in off the stagecoach, arguing over whether you’re a girl or not.”
“Really?”
“My, yes. Last week I was afraid they’d come to fisticuffs over it. And then Griff Bane come in with his boy, so I says, ‘Fellas, here’s the division agent for the stage line. Whyn’t you ask him?’ “
Vashti gulped. “Did they?”
“Oh yes. And Griffin says, real somber-like, ‘What’s that? A woman driving one of my coaches?’ He shook his head and said,
‘What next?’ “
Goldie laughed. “What did the men say?”
“Not much after that. Griff’s so big, I think they was afraid to say any more.”
Vashti smiled, but she wondered how much ragging Griffin would take on her account. If he was stacking up reasons to fire her, he probably had quite a stockpile by now.
“All right, Mr. Thistle, you’re all set.” Goldie gave him a piece of paper with his total on it.
He picked up a small crate of groceries. “I’ll come back for the rest.”
Vashti watched him go out the door, struggling to shut it behind him. “Too bad he lost his arm in the war.”
“Yeah, but he does all right. Now, let’s see, one man’s cotton shirt.” Goldie named the price, and Vashti laid the money on the counter.
“Think this one will shrink much?”
“Oh, I wondered why you needed a new one.” She eyed the cuffs that fell down over Vashti’s wrists. “That one’s plenty big.”
“Good. Got to run.” Vashti whisked out the door and down the sidewalk. To her surprise, the door to the Wells Fargo office was open, and three people were lined up outside. She slowed her steps. As she came even with the office, she stepped down off the boardwalk to avoid the customers, but she could still hear Griffin’s loud voice from within the building.
“I’m telling you, Manny, it’ll be safe. I’m sending two outriders with the stage, and I’m putting an extra guard on the roof.”
So that was it. People had heard about the holdups and were afraid to ride the stage. She picked up speed and ran past the feed store and down the street, cutting behind the smithy to the livery. Marty was hitching up the last of the six-mule team. Vashti wished she hadn’t dawdled so long at the emporium. It must be nearly time for her to drive up to the office.
“Morning, Marty.” She stopped and stared at the two riders sitting astride their horses and the young woman standing near the coach. “Hello, Trudy. Mr. Dooley. Mr. Tinen.”
“Howdy,” Trudy said. “My brother and I and Arthur Jr. are riding along with you today. Hope you don’t mind.”
“I heard Mr. Bane say he was sending extra guards with me. Didn’t expect you folks.”
“Well, Ned’s still laid up,” Trudy said. “Griff asked for my husband this morning, but he’s over on Catherine Creek, helping the marshal’s deputies look for the outlaws. So I said I’d go.”
“I’m surprised Mr. Bane agreed.”
Trudy shrugged. “He said I couldn’t ride point, but I could ride on the stage with you. I suggested he stop at Hiram’s place and see if he felt like an adventure.”
Hiram smiled and nodded, but said nothing. He and Arthur Tinen Jr. had rifles in scabbards on their saddles, and Art also wore a sidearm.
Art said, “That’s about the way of it. I was over to Hiram’s to see if he could fix my leather punch for me when Griff came by, and we both thought it sounded like a noble thing to do.”
“Noble,” Trudy scoffed. “You only came because Griffin offered you five dollars for the trip, and even then you’re lucky Starr let you go.”
Arthur grinned and shrugged one shoulder. “We’d best get moving. Griffin said we had to be on time.”
“Right. Climb up, Trudy.” Vashti mounted the box. She stowed her canvas bag under the seat and readied her whip.
Trudy climbed up cautiously and took the seat Ned usually had. She held her rifle on her knees. “So far, this is fun. Wish I had trousers, though.” She smoothed down her brown divided skirt.
“All ready, Georgie,” Marty called from his place at the lead mules’ heads.
Vashti gathered the reins and gave him a nod. Hiram and Arthur rode out just ahead of them, and she put the mules into a trot. As they rounded the corner by the smithy, she looked over at Trudy.
“I have to admit it feels good to have two outriders … and to have the best shot in Fergus sitting beside me on the box.”
Trudy smiled. “I can see why you like this job.”
“Think Ethan will mind you doing it?”
“By the time he hears, I’ll be home. Besides, Griffin says we’ve likely got the safest route in Idaho today. Those outlaws are off east of here, hiding from the law.”
“I hope he’s right.” Vashti felt a flicker of fear but shook it off. “Will you stay at the stage stop with me tonight?”
“Yes, Griffin gave us money for our room and board.”
Vashti thought about that as she guided the mules to a stop before the Wells Fargo office. The holdup had cost Griffin a lot—more than just the horses and his rifle.
He stood, grim and foreboding, on the boardwalk. “Four of your six passengers decided not to go.”
Vashti gritted her teeth. “I’m sorry. I suppose you had to refund their ticket money.”
He nodded. “You okay with your new messenger?”
“Oh, sure. Trudy’s great.”
Griffin stepped closer and looked up at them earnestly. “You know I wouldn’t let the two of you go if I didn’t think the road would be safe today.”
Vashti nodded. “Thanks for giving us an escort.”
Griffin eyed Hiram and Arthur, who sat their horses ahead of the coach, waiting for the passengers to board. “Well, I don’t like putting my friends at risk, but I didn’t have anyone else on hand. I can’t go off and leave Justin again so soon. Guess I could have sent Marty, but … well, you know Marty.”
“Yeah, and he can’t shoot straight, either.”
Griffin cracked a smile. “All right then, Georgie. I’ll load the mail sacks and tuck the passengers in. Be safe.”
Vashti raised her coiled whip to her hat brim.
He turned away, and Trudy said, “That man cares about you.”
Vashti chuckled. “He cares about all his employees.”
“That’s not what I meant. He’s worried about you personally.”
Vashti tucked that comment away to examine later. The mail sacks thudded on the coach floor, making the stage sway; then the two hardy men who hadn’t demanded refunds climbed in. Griffin waved, and Vashti turned forward. “Up now!”
Ethan rode in tired, sweaty, and chilled. He’d been in the saddle all day, in the rain. He only wanted one thing: home. Home meant a hot meal to fill his belly, hot water to wash in, a cozy, comfortable bed to sleep in—and Trudy. He smiled as Scout plodded down the lane toward the ranch house. No smoke came from the chimney. That was odd on a chilly evening like this. The sun was bedding down for the night behind the mountains, but no lights shone from the kitchen window—or any other window.
Scout would have gone on toward the barn, which meant a meal and a dry bed for him, too, but Ethan pulled back on the reins.
“Whoa!” He stared at the silent house.
Across the sodden barnyard, a lantern glowed in the window of the little bunkhouse where the McDade brothers slept. He turned Scout toward it. Dismounting, he dropped the reins. After a brief knock, he opened the door a few inches and stuck his head into the gap.
“Spin?”
“Yeah, boss.” Spin jumped up from his chair near the stove and hurried toward him. “Didn’t expe
ct you tonight.”
“Where’s Trudy?”
“Uh …”
Ethan scowled at him. “What’s the matter with you?”
Johnny set his tin plate down and came to stand beside Spin. “Miz Chapman’s gone.”
Ethan scowled even harder at Johnny, so hard it hurt. “What do you mean, gone? Did she go over to Hiram’s this evening?”
“Nope. She went to Nampa.”
Ethan cocked his head to one side and considered whether the young man was teasing him or not. “That ain’t funny.”
“It’s true,” Spin said. “She went on the stagecoach. Mr. Dooley and Arthur Tinen Jr. went along on their horses.”
Ethan swiveled his gaze to Spin. “Whatever for? Did somebody die in Nampa?”
“Nope, but Griff Bane needed extra guards for the stagecoach,” Johnny said.
Ethan let that sink in. Very slowly, deliberately, as if the boys were still cutting their teeth and wearing short pants, he said, “Are you telling me that my wife is riding shotgun on a stagecoach?”
Spin nodded, a gleam in his eyes. “She said you wouldn’t know till after she came home tomorrow, but if you did get home first, to tell you not to worry.”
“That’s right,” Johnny added. “Griff said you was keeping them outlaws so busy they wouldn’t come anywhere near the stage today, so they’d be safe.”
Ethan narrowed his eyes. “Well, if it’s so all-fired safe, why did he send Hiram and Art and my wife along to protect it?”
Johnny looked away.
Spin shrugged. “Word is, folks don’t want to ride the stage unless they have extra guards.”
Johnny perked up again. “Yeah. I wanted to go. Griff was paying five bucks a man.”
“Or woman,” Spin put in.
“Yeah. Only he said I was too young.”
“That right?” Ethan was feeling a mite testy by this time. He glared at Spin. “Why didn’t you go?”
“Well, boss, I didn’t think you’d want me to. Not with the missus gone. I mean, would you want me to leave the ranch in the hands of a seventeen-year-old rapscallion?”
Ethan looked from him to his younger brother. “Guess not.” He let out a long, slow breath. “You boys got any grub?”
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