The Bride's Prerogative

by Davis, Susan Page

  Vashti felt a sick knot in her stomach. “I’m not sure. He looked like someone I used to know. But not here.”

  “Let’s get back to the hotel, and then you can tell me about it.”

  They hurried along, slightly uphill. The platter grew heavier, and Vashti’s feet began to drag.

  “Here, let me take that.” Trudy reached for the package.

  Vashti didn’t protest. She climbed the hotel steps wearily and went to the front desk to retrieve their room key. One more flight of stairs, and she could relax. Trudy held the package and the umbrella while Vashti unlocked the door.

  Their room would be their fortress. With the door closed and locked, Vashti sank down on the edge of the bed.

  “I’m sorry. I shouldn’t have let him scare me like that. It startled me, though.”

  “Are you sure it was the man you knew?”

  “No. I hope it wasn’t.” Vashti gulped and pulled off her gloves. “The man he looks like is one I never want to see again.”

  Trudy laid the platter carefully on the dresser and came around to sit beside her on the quilt. She put her arm around Vashti. “I’m sorry. We were having such a good time.” Her eyes filled with sympathetic tears, and Vashti felt a pang of guilt.

  “I didn’t mean to get you upset, either.”

  “I’m all right. Do you want to tell me about this fellow, so that I’ll know how to act if we meet him again?”

  Vashti pulled in a long, slow breath. “I thought he was Luke

  Hatley.”

  Trudy frowned. “Don’t know that name.”

  “He was a gambler. I met him back in Independence.”

  “Was he good at it?”

  “At gambling? Very. But not so good at winning.”

  Trudy snorted a laugh. “So what happened?”

  “I first met him when I was thirteen, outside a bakery. I was sniffing the bread baking and wondering if I could steal some.” She tugged off her coat and laid it, with her hat and gloves, on the bed. “Anyway, I was young, and I was desperate. I figured being with him was better than being with half the men in town, so to speak. He liked me, and he seemed decent. I guess that must sound funny to you—a fellow who would do to a thirteen-year-old what he did to me. But he seemed like a way out for me. A way to survive without …”

  Trudy stroked her back gently. “And then what? Did he leave you?”

  “Sort of.” Vashti jumped up and turned to face her. “Look, I didn’t mean to tell you all this. Haven’t told anyone but Bitsy. Well, I told Griffin some, but not this part.” Trudy seemed surprised, and Vashti felt she needed to explain. “He came to talk to me shortly after Justin came. I wanted him to understand how it is if you’re young and alone. If you don’t have a good, honest person like Griff to take care of you.”

  Trudy nodded. “Justin could have gotten into all sorts of trouble, I suppose.”

  “He’d already started to back where he came from. It wouldn’t take much for him to run away from Griffin and try to make it on his own. And then what? He’d end up with some toughs like those road agents or take to gambling and drinking. But one person—one good person—can turn a kid’s life around.”

  “I think you’re right.”

  “I thought Luke might be that for me, but I was wrong. He took me deeper into … what the reverend would call lasciviousness. And then crime.”

  “So you left him?”

  Vashti walked over to the dresser and opened her canvas bag. “No. He left me. When it was convenient, he dumped me and rode out of town, never looking back. See, he’d gotten into debt to a fellow who owned a place.”

  “What kind of place?”

  “A saloon.”

  “Oh.”

  Vashti turned to look at her face. Would Trudy still want to be her friend if she knew everything? “I shouldn’t have told you.”

  “No, I want to know. It helps me to understand some things.”

  Vashti pulled out her bandanna and dabbed at her cheeks. “Well, Luke gave me to this fellow Ike to cancel his debt. Ike said I had to work for him. I tried to get away, but he kept a strict eye on me and the other girls he had working there.”

  “You mean—”

  Vashti turned away, unable to meet her gaze. Trudy cleared her throat. “Well, obviously you got away after a while.”

  “Yes. Thanks to Bitsy. I ran away, and she helped me. But just seeing Luke tonight—or someone who looked a lot like him—gave me a turn. I … Trudy, I don’t want to see him again. Ever.”

  “That was—what? Five years ago?”

  “More like eight.”

  “So you worked for that Ike person for three years.”

  The tears flowed steadily, and Vashti nodded. She mopped her face again with the bandanna, conscious that Trudy was studying her profile.

  “I’m so sorry,” Trudy said.

  Vashti tried to shrug it off, but she couldn’t stop the tears. The intensity of her dread when she thought she’d seen Luke surprised her. Still, he hadn’t been mean to her during their time together. But at the end, he proved that he didn’t really care for her as much as he cared about money and winning and a good hand at the poker table. “It could have been worse, I guess. At least Luke, taking me with him like he did, put off the inevitable for almost three years.” She sat down again with a sob. “I thought he’d marry me someday. Was I ever wrong.”

  “You said Bitsy helped you.”

  Vashti sniffed. “Yes. My life is good now. I have a family. I have a good place to live and a real job and friends.”

  Trudy smiled and stood. “Let’s not think about that man we saw. It probably wasn’t him, anyway. A lot of men drift around the West, especially since the gold craziness.”

  “True.”

  Trudy eyed her anxiously. “Are you sleepy? You’ve got a long drive again tomorrow.”

  “Not really.”

  “Tell you what: I’ll go downstairs and see if we can get a pot of tea and maybe some cookies.”

  Vashti smiled. “That sounds good.” She fished in her pocket and brought out two dimes. “Take this and use it if they won’t add it to my bill.”

  “All right. Lock the door while I’m gone. I’ll be back in two shakes of a lamb’s tail.”

  She whisked out the door. Vashti walked over and locked it. She hung up her coat and put her hat and Trudy’s on hooks beside it.

  The window fronted the street. She walked over and moved the curtain aside with one finger. Lamplight lit the hotel’s dooryard and several other buildings down the street. At least they were a good distance from the saloon. But that man could have a room right here in this hotel. She shuddered and let the curtain fall into place.

  “Dear God, I guess this is one of those times when I should call on You. Please don’t let me see that fella again. Help me not to even think of him. And if he is Luke …” She stopped, not knowing what to say next.

  Griffin dashed for the smithy, holding a mule’s bridle in his hand. How on earth did Marty do it? He was always busting something. Griffin grabbed his leather punch off the wall of tools and rummaged in a crate of leather straps for one the right width. At least the mule’s mouth wasn’t torn up. A shadow fell across his work as he lined up the new strap with the one on the bridle.

  “Anything I can do to help, Uncle Griff?”

  The blacksmith paused and looked at the boy. “That’s nice of you to ask, Justin. You can run up to the office and tell Josiah Runnels we’ve got a small delay, but the team should be ready when the stage comes in. Ten minutes. And ask him how many passengers today. We’ve got two sacks of mail going out.”

  Justin sped off without another word. Griffin punched a couple of holes in the straps and turned to his workbench for rivets. His quick fix might chafe the mule’s cheek, but what else could he do? He didn’t have another harness bridle on hand to fit the mule. That robbery had really cut into his assets.

  At last the bridle was patched together. He’d have to s
titch it tomorrow, when this harness came home to him with the stagecoach. He dashed out the door and headed for the back of the livery. Ethan was dismounting near the corral gate.

  “Hey, Griff! Thought I’d turn Scout out while I wait for the stage.”

  “Sure, go ahead.” He hoped Ethan wasn’t upset with him for letting Trudy act as a shotgun messenger. “They’ll be here any minute. I’ve got to have this team ready, or I’d stop to chew the fat.”

  Ethan waved. “No problem. I’ll mosey on up there.”

  Griffin bridled the near swing mule. Done. He turned and looked for Marty. Found him sitting on a barrel of oats, chewing a straw. Griff felt like tearing into him. The man moved slower than a snake in winter.

  “Uncle Griff?”

  Justin stood in the open front door of the barn.

  “Yeah?”

  “Josiah says seven passengers to Silver City.”

  “Good.” There’d be room for all seven inside the coach, along with the mail sacks.

  At last the team was ready. Griffin pulled out his watch. The stage should arrive any minute.

  “Marty, you step lively when they bring the stage in.”

  “Sure, boss.”

  Griffin tried not to let that rankle him. Pastor Benton’s last sermon had included some warnings about anger. As he strode up the sidewalk to the Wells Fargo office, he tried to think about better things. Technically, Isabel still owned the building, but if his application for the mail contract came through for another year, he could buy it from her. That and a pile of new harnesses and maybe even another coach. He could hire more drivers and messengers….

  Ethan lolled against the wall of the office, and a few people who planned to meet passengers milled about on the walkway. Griffin went to the door. Peter Nash stood inside talking to Josiah Runnels. Two sacks of mail sat on the desk.

  “Hey, Griffin,” Peter said. “I’d better get back to the post office.”

  Griffin nodded. “We’ll take care of the mail, Mayor.”

  “Do you need me to help with the team?” Josiah asked.

  “Wouldn’t hurt. Marty moves slower every day.”

  “I’ll get over to the livery, then.” Josiah put on his hat and went out.

  Griffin took out his watch again. The stage was five minutes late. His stomach started doing odd things. Those outlaws—he couldn’t stand another robbery. Especially not with Vashti driving. Trudy was on the stage, too, and her husband waited outside, looking relaxed but probably tied up inside. At least it wasn’t raining today.

  As if Griffin’s thoughts had drawn him, Ethan appeared in the doorway, squinting into the dimly lit room.

  “Are they late, Griff?”

  Griffin snapped the watchcase shut. “Not much.”

  Ethan came in and leaned on the edge of the desk. “Can’t help fretting. Guess that doesn’t do any good, though.”

  “I know what you mean.”

  Ethan bit his lip and nodded. “Maybe I should ride out and meet them.”

  “They’ll be fine.” Griffin wished he believed it. He kept seeing that narrow place in the rocks.

  “Trudy’s pretty headstrong, but I didn’t expect her to go off overnight like this.”

  “I guess that’s my fault. Hiram and Arthur were going, and she was keen to go, too. I figured it wouldn’t hurt to have another crack shot along. Besides, I didn’t expect anything to happen. I’m sure they’re all right.” Griffin walked around the desk and sat down. “You like being married?”

  Ethan smiled. “Shoulda done it a long time ago.”

  Griffin took his hat off and laid it on the desk. He ran a hand through his bushy hair. “Sometimes I think about it.”

  “You surprise me.”

  “Have to admit there’s a gal I’m a little sweet on.” Griffin shot a glance at his friend. “Haven’t said anything to her. Yet.”

  “Might that be a certain person on the stagecoach?” Ethan asked.

  Griffin couldn’t help smiling as he thought of Vashti in her boy clothes, cracking her whip like the best of the old-time drivers. “She’s got pluck. I thought she was crazy when she first asked me for a job. But she really can drive. Bill Stout came around when he knew I was hard pressed to find drivers this spring and told me I should look twice at her. She’d been practicing.” He shook his head. “Didn’t expect her to mean anything to me, other than a driver.”

  “Well, take your time, Griff. Make sure it’s not just an infatuation. She’s pretty, and she’s independent, given her past.”

  “What about her past?” Griff scowled at him. How dare Ethan bring that up?

  “Easy, now. I’m just saying … a gal who’s been forced to take care of herself most of her life can find it hard to let other folks do things for her. She might have some ideas that aren’t quite like yours.” Ethan strolled to the doorway. “Your nephew’s running up the street.”

  “Justin?” Griffin jumped up. He’d forgotten all about the boy and left him at the livery.

  Justin hit the sidewalk as he reached the door and Ethan stepped aside.

  “Uncle Griff! The stage is coming!”

  Griffin walked past him, out onto the boardwalk. Sure enough, he could hear the team’s thudding hoofbeats and the sound of the wheels skimming over the road. He looked at his watch again. Nearly fifteen minutes late. But here, just the same. Passengers who planned to ride on up to Silver City, along with those there to meet folks getting off the stage, looked eagerly toward the sound. Libby Adams stood outside the emporium’s door watching.

  Hiram Dooley and Arthur Tinen Jr. rode around the corner by the smithy on their horses. They looked none the worse for wear. As the coach came into view, Griffin half expected to see arrows sticking out of the sides, but that was silly. Hadn’t been Indian trouble in ten years. He blew out a deep breath. Ethan came and stood beside him, bouncing on his toes.

  Trudy sat on the box beside Vashti. Trudy’s dark blond hair hung in a braid over her shoulder, but Vashti had her hair hidden beneath her felt hat, as he’d demanded she do. Too bad. She looked much better when she let her womanly charms show.

  Griffin frowned at his thoughts. He wasn’t about to let her start driving in a dress, with her hair all shiny and soft around her face, like it was that night he ate at the Spur & Saddle. She would make far too tempting a picture that way, and she traveled miles and miles of isolated roads. No, she’d best keep dressing like a boy, even if everyone in the territory knew she was anything but a man.

  Trudy started waving and grinning, and Griffin looked over at Ethan. His face looked about to crack, the sheriff was smiling so big.

  The coach eased to a stop, and Griffin opened the door. He took out the bag of mail for Fergus and entrusted it to Josiah to take over to Peter at the post office, then let the passengers out. The couple who’d come last fall to see Libby about buying her store got out first. Libby hurried down the boardwalk to greet them.

  “The stage will leave for Silver City in twenty minutes, folks,” Griffin said. “If you’re traveling on, coffee and a quick meal can be had at the Fennel House or the Spur & Saddle. If you’re late getting back, the stage won’t wait for you.”

  Four men tumbled out, and those who planned to ride on after the stop looked around and headed quickly across the street. Last out was a salesman with a large sample case.

  “I’d like to stop here overnight,” he said. “Is there a clean, reasonable place to stay?”

  “Fennel House.” Griff pointed across the street. He turned to those planning to board the coach. “Folks, we need to swap the team out. I know we’re a few minutes late, and I’m sorry about that. Let the driver take the stage around to the livery. They should be back so you can climb aboard in ten minutes.” He glanced up at Vashti, and she nodded at him. Trudy still sat on the box with her. Arthur and Hiram waited a few paces away on their horses. “Did you have any trouble?” Griffin asked in a low voice.

  Vashti shook her head and smiled.
“It was muddy in the creeks because of the rain, but not too bad. The ferry held us up. Had to wait nigh half an hour for it.”

  “All right. Good job, and I’ll see you after the stage leaves again.” He waved to Hiram and Arthur. “Come see me at the livery, boys. I’ll be down there soon.” Getting Vashti back in one piece—not to mention the livestock and equipment—was well worth their wages. He wished he had enough money to pay extra guards every day. If only the postmaster general would come through with that new contract …

  He went into his office and opened the safe. He’d be very low on cash once he paid off this week’s crew. Had Wells Fargo sent him money to buy new equipment? He hadn’t given up hope yet that the government would reimburse him for what he’d lost on the mail run, either, but it was probably too soon to look for a bank draft in the mail.

  Someone came in and stood behind him. Griffin was suddenly conscious of how vulnerable he was, bending over his open safe like that. He looked over his shoulder. Justin stood blocking the light from the doorway.

  “Anything I can do, Uncle Griff?” He sounded lonesome.

  Griffin took most of the cash that was in the Uneeda Biscuit box and closed the safe. “Sure. As soon as we see off the Silver City coach, you can go back to the livery with me. Vashti and the messengers will tell us about their run. I always have the drivers give me the details, so I know how the roads are and hear any news they picked up. Then we’ll go over the team that just came in, check their feet, and brush ‘em down real good.” Tight times or not, he determined he’d find a way to pay the boy something, now that he’d started showing a will to work.

  “One of the farmers brought in a great big chestnut horse after you left. Said it needs shoeing. Mr. Robinson.”

  “Rancher,” Griffin said. “Not a farmer, a rancher.”

  “Yes, sir.”

  Griff smiled and shoved the cash into his pocket. “Come on. Let’s go outside. The stage should be back soon, ready to leave for Silver.”

  “Uncle Griff?”

  “Hmm?” He hoped this wouldn’t be another philosophical question.

  “Do you s’pose I could learn to drive a four-in-hand?”