How long she stood there, she didn’t know. She found her handkerchief, tucked in her sleeve—the same one she’d used an hour ago at the wedding. The voices around her faded as people moved away from the coach. Unable to stop crying, she clenched her hands around the tug strap and gritted her teeth. Dear old Bill.
A large hand rested on her shoulder.
“Come on, Georgie. Let go, so’s Johnny can take the team around to the livery.”
Griffin. She’d never heard his voice so gentle. Her throat was hot and achy. She stared at her hands, curled around the strap so tightly that her knuckles were white. She sobbed again.
“There now.” His hand stroked her hair lightly and came down on her shoulder again. “Come on.” His large, warm hands closed over her stiff fingers. He gently pried her hand from the harness. “Let Pete and Johnny take the team.”
Her fingers came loose, and she backed away from the mule into Griffin’s solid form. She turned and looked at the front of his shirt, clean white for the wedding. Her gaze traveled slowly up to the necktie that looked so foreign around Griffin’s neck, to his neatly trimmed beard, his grim mouth, and at last his compassionate eyes.
She dove toward him, a new sob racking her body. He folded her in his arms and pulled her close against his wedding shirt.
“There now.”
He eased her away from the mules and the stage. A whip cracked, and Johnny Conway clucked to the mules. The wheels rolled as the mules started forward.
Griffin held her for a minute, stroking her back softly. Finally she pulled back and took a deep breath.
“Where did they take Bill?”
“Over to the boardinghouse. Mr. Thistle said they can lay him out in the parlor.”
Vashti sniffed. “Not the livery?” Somehow it seemed odd that, with all the bodies they’d laid out at the livery, a stagecoach driver should be taken somewhere else.
“The sheriff’s getting up a posse. The livery’s going to be busy.”
She pulled away from him and turned to survey the crowd. Now that Bill’s body had been removed and the coach was gone, the people focused on Ethan Chapman. The sheriff stood on the boardwalk in front of the Wells Fargo office.
“If you need to change your clothes, be quick about it,” he called. “I’ll leave from the livery in about ten minutes. I’ll take any man who’s ready to ride up to Sinker Creek with me, but you have to supply your own weapons and horses.”
A dozen men broke from the crowd and ran toward the livery or their homes. Vashti hauled in a deep breath and turned toward the Spur & Saddle. Before she took one step, Griffin’s hand clamped on her shoulder.
“Where you going, Vashti?”
“To get changed. I’m going with Ethan.”
“That’s not a good idea.”
“I think it’s an excellent idea.” She wrenched away from him and ran.
The Boise stage pulled out ten minutes late, with Johnny Conway and Pete Gilbert on the box. Pete still looked shaken, and Griffin almost replaced him. But whom could he ask? Not any of the women after this catastrophe, and not Hiram Dooley on his wedding day.
Griffin dashed about the stable, saddling every spare horse. Even though Ethan had specified that the posse supply its own horsepower, some men like Dr. Kincaid depended on him for transportation. Justin ran back and forth from the corral to the barn, fetching tack and bringing in the few available mounts.
“Uncle Griff?”
Griffin tossed his own saddle over the back of his gray gelding.
“What?”
“Can I go this time?”
Griffin eyed him over Pepper’s withers. Instead of showing boyish eagerness, Justin’s face was troubled. “I don’t think so, son.”
“I liked Bill.”
“We all did. But I need you to stay here. Folks will come around wanting news, and the stock will need to be fed at sundown. You can get Ben and Silas Nash to help you. Oh, and Justin …”
“Yeah?” The boy—no, the young man—didn’t argue, but his mouth drooped in disappointment.
“If I’m not back by eight o’clock, you go over to the Fennel House and ask Mrs. Thistle to put you up.”
“I can stay by myself. I’m old enough.”
Augie ran in through the front door of the livery, with his wife on his heels in her bloomer costume and Vashti wearing her dungarees and boy’s shirt, vest, and hat.
“Griff, you got any extra mounts? I know folks are supposed to have—”
“Sure, Augie, but no women.” Griffin looked sternly at Bitsy and Vashti.
“Please, Griff,” Bitsy said. “We’re good shots. We won’t slow you down.”
“Trudy’s outside. She’s riding with her husband,” Vashti said.
Griffin snatched his hat off and slapped it against his thigh. “Next I’ll have the bride and groom coming around, wanting to ride out on their wedding day.”
“Nope.” Augie shook his bald head. “The sheriff told Hiram absolutely no way would he let him go along.”
Ethan’s voice sounded at that moment, out front. “All right, men, let’s move!”
Griffin shot a glance at Justin. “Give Augie the chestnut and Mrs. Moore the paint mare. There’s two spare mules out back. You and Vashti can take them. Don’t know if they’ll keep up, but it’s all I’ve got left. The team that just came in from Silver needs to rest.”
He walked Pepper out of the barn and swung into the saddle. Ethan and a band of twenty or so men already cantered toward the Mountain Road. He urged Pepper to follow, half hoping Justin and Vashti wouldn’t catch up. Justin wasn’t even armed. Griffin had had a couple of shooting sessions with him, but his nephew was nowhere near being a marksman, even if he had a weapon.
He clamped his teeth together. What would Evelyn say if she knew he was teaching her boy to use a gun? Out here, it was a necessary skill for a man.
Hoofbeats drummed behind him on the packed road. He looked over his shoulder. Augie and Bitsy were coming already. No. A second glance made him say something he tried not to say when Justin was around. The second rider wasn’t wearing the bright red suit. It was Vashti, riding the horse he’d said Bitsy could take, and she was pulling ahead of Augie’s chestnut.
“Too bad we couldn’t pick up their trail.” Bitsy held her hands out to the campfire that evening.
“Bill deserves better than this,” Vashti said.
“It could have been you.”
Vashti didn’t respond. She preferred not to discuss that angle.
Ethan came to the fire, carrying his tin cup.
“More coffee, Sheriff?” Bitsy asked.
“Much obliged.” She rose and poured it for him.
“I still don’t know how you folks managed to grab so much stuff so fast,” Ethan said.
“That’s why we were late. While Augie and I were getting out of our glad rags, Goldie was down in the kitchen packing supplies for us.”
Ethan smiled. “Sounds like Trudy. I wasn’t of a mind to let her come, but she’d ridden in for the wedding and stashed her riding skirt at the Bentons’.”
Parnell Oxley and Micah Landry sauntered over.
“What’s the plan for morning, Sheriff?” Parnell asked.
“We’ll look around a little more after daybreak, but most of these men have families and businesses they should be tending to.”
Vashti’s spirits plummeted even lower at Ethan’s words. This was for Bill! They ought to be able to do better for him.
The other men drifted over, some still chewing their meager meal of jerky and a biscuit apiece.
“We found that mask,” Josiah said.
“Yes. But that was before we got into the rocks. Awfully hard trying to track anything in these mountains.” Ethan sipped his coffee.
The rough cloth mask was a gray hood with eyeholes cut into it. Josiah had found it among the brush near the creek bank. It matched what Pete Gilbert had said the robbers wore.
“Think they’ll hit
another stage while we’re up here?” Micah asked.
Ethan shook his head. “So far they’ve gone two or three weeks between holdups. And they got quite a bit of money off the passengers today, as well as two thousand dollars from the treasure box. That’ll keep them going for a while, I expect.”
Justin and Griffin stood next to each other. Their dark eyes reflected the firelight—the giant of a man next to the slender boy. Justin had grown since he’d come last fall. In six months, he’d shot up several inches. Vashti had noticed how short his trousers were and mentioned to Griffin that the boy needed new clothes.
“Hate to head back with nothing to show for it,” Griffin said.
Parnell nodded. “That’s right. I say we keep after ‘em.”
Ethan shook his head. “I know how you feel. We all want to bring these men in. But they could be halfway to Salt Lake by now. We can’t stay out here for days on end looking for them.”
“Then what can we do?” Micah asked.
Ethan turned to Griffin. “Can’t you ask for military escorts for the mail coaches?”
“I put in a request a few weeks ago, but I haven’t heard anything yet. Maybe if we send a telegram and put your name on it, and Peter Nash’s.”
“Yeah,” said Augie. “The sheriff and the postmaster ought to carry some influence.”
“We can try it.” Ethan dumped the dregs from his cup and set it on the rocks by the fire. “I could stay out here another day or two, but we don’t have supplies, and most of you men need to get back to your regular work.”
“I hate to give up,” Griffin said. “After what they did to Bill. But you’re right. I need to be where I can contact other people along the stage line and make sure all the routes are covered for Monday.”
“We should go home and open up tomorrow,” Augie said, looking at Bitsy.
Vashti reached for Bitsy’s hand and clasped it. The Moores would lose money for every meal they didn’t serve at the Spur & Saddle. She ought to go back with them first thing in the morning and help prepare the usual Sunday chicken dinner. Would Goldie get things ready tonight?
As much as she hated to give up the chase, she knew Ethan was right.
“You all right?” Bitsy asked her. “I know Bill was special to you.”
“I’ll be fine.” She gritted her teeth thinking of how the brave white-haired man had died. “But I’ll honor Bill’s memory the best way I know how—and that’s to never let my stage be held up again.”
Bitsy eyed her thoughtfully. “You think you can make sure of that?”
She shrugged. “I’ll do whatever I can.”
“Bill probably did whatever he could, too.”
Vashti didn’t want to think about that. If an experienced driver like Bill was vulnerable, even with a good shotgun messenger, she would be even more so.
“It’s a risky business,” Trudy said.
Vashti looked over at her. She hadn’t realized Trudy had come near enough to hear their conversation.
“I know, but we’re sworn to protect the mail. And the passengers, of course. But the federal government gets involved when you’re carrying mail.”
“So why isn’t the federal government out here combing these hills for that gang of road agents?” Bitsy asked. “I don’t know.”
Vashti shivered and leaned closer to the fire. None of them had brought bedrolls or enough food for breakfast. Bitsy and Trudy had their husbands along to nestle up to until morning. Vashti would have to make do with her horse blanket, and nights got freezing cold this high in the mountains, even in early June.
“You’ve got to trust in God,” Trudy said firmly. “Only He can keep you and the passengers safe. Oh, and let’s not forget the U.S.
Mail, too.”
That hurt a little bit. Vashti was used to insults, but not from Trudy.
“I didn’t mean that the mail is more important than the passengers. I just meant …” Tears filled Vashti’s eyes, and she shook her head.
Trudy sat down beside her. “I’m sorry. I know you care about the passengers, too.”
“I do.” Vashti put her hands to her head. “It’s just that Bill—why did it have to be him? Why does it have to be anyone? First Ned, now Bill. Those robbers are killers. We need to bring them to justice.”
“Only if God wants us to,” Trudy said. “But I’ll tell you one thing: Until you get a military escort, the Ladies’ Shooting Club will be riding your coaches, whether Griffin can afford to pay us or not. If he says no, we’ll buy tickets and ride anyway. And if the stages are full, we’ll ride on top, or go alongside on our own horses. We’re not going to lose you, Vashti.”
“Your husband—”
“Ethan knows I’m right. We have to do this. You’d do it if I were the one driving.”
“Yes, I would. But I don’t expect other women to risk their lives for me.”
Trudy nodded, her face sober in the firelight.
Griffin and Justin walked around the fire ring and stopped near where they sat.
“Are you all right, Vashti?” Griffin asked.
“I’m fine.”
He nodded. “I’ve been talking some more to Ethan. We’ll head back in the morning. You ride with me and Justin.”
Trudy stood and faced him. “Griffin, I’m going to call a meeting of the Ladies’ Shooting Club about this. After shooting practice on Monday, in my kitchen at the ranch. If you’re able to come address us, we’d appreciate it. And we’ll set up a roster of members to ride with Vashti on every single one of her runs—like we’ve been doing, only more shooters. We’ve got to put a stop to this.”
“We’ll be there,” Bitsy said.
“Not me. I’ll be in Nampa.” Vashti looked up at Griffin’s glowering face.
“No, you won’t. I don’t want you to drive anymore.” Bitsy caught her breath.
Vashti jumped to her feet. “Why are you doing this?”
“Isn’t it obvious?”
“Not to me.”
Griffin glared down at her. “It’s too dangerous. I’ll put a man in your place, and if I can’t find one at short notice, I’ll drive your route myself.”
“You can’t.”
“Can’t I? Let’s see, last time I looked, I was the division agent for this line. But I won’t be known as the one who let women get killed driving his stages.”
“I’ve earned the right to keep my route.”
“Oh, you have? Been driving six weeks, and you’re a veteran?”
They stood smoldering at each other for a long moment.
Bitsy laughed. “Come on, you two. Do I have to get my husband to bust your heads together? Settle down. You can talk about this in the morning.”
“That’s right,” Trudy said, a little shakily. “Things will look better by daylight. Vashti, come sleep over here beside me. Ethan’s going to sit up awhile with the men.”
Vashti wasn’t ready to give up the fight, but Griffin had already turned away and was walking off with his hand on Justin’s shoulder.
Slowly she unclenched her fists and let out a long breath.
“Come on,” Trudy said again.
“He can’t do this.”
“Well, yes, he can,” Bitsy said. “I’m not so sure it’s a bad thing, either. Honey, lots of people care about you. And unless I’m greatly mistaken, that man is one of them.”
Impossible. If he cared, he’d know how he’d hurt her. If he cared, he’d show everyone he believed in her and let her keep driving.
CHAPTER 29
On Sunday morning after a long, difficult ride in the dawn, the posse trotted grimly into Fergus. Griffin and Justin led the procession, and the Chapmans brought up the rear.
Vashti and the Moores left their borrowed mounts at the livery and walked down the street to the Spur & Saddle. They’d have time to get cleaned up for church and, with Goldie’s help, prepare the chickens for the dozens of patrons they expected for dinner. A lot of people who hadn’t ridden with the posse wo
uld come, hoping for news.
Vashti hadn’t slept well on the cold mountainside, and she was sure Augie and Bitsy hadn’t either, but they all arrived at church on time. As Vashti followed Goldie into the pew, Hiram and Libby came in the door.
“What are you doing here this morning?” Oscar Runnels’s loud voice carried throughout the sanctuary, and the newlyweds blushed scarlet.
“Good morning to you, too, Oscar.” Hiram shook his hand and guided Libby into the nearest vacant pew.
Justin came in with the other boys from his Sunday school class. Griffin may not be the ideal parent, but he was doing something right with that boy.
Vashti swung around to face forward, but she heard his voice when he entered the church. Someone greeted him near the door, and Griffin’s hearty “Good morning” rang off the rafters. She didn’t turn around, but she could tell by the bustle and cheerful comments that accompanied him up the aisle that he was close by.
His large form moved between her and the window across the aisle. His dark shadow lingered on her, and all grew still around them. She looked up.
Griffin stood with his hat in his hands and his Bible tucked under his arm.
“Mr. Bane,” she said.
“Morning. I’d like to speak to you after church.”
“I’ll be helping with the chicken dinner.”
“Then I’ll come eat some. Can I talk to you after that?”
She hesitated. He’d only hammer home his declaration that she was done driving. She wouldn’t make that easy for him. “I’ll likely be washing dishes until three o’clock.”
“Then I’ll help you.”
That surprised her. She’d expected him to say he’d wait, or he’d come around later. She squinted up at him. The sunlight from the window made his hair glow around his head. He was clean shaven—the first time she’d ever seen him without a beard. She wished he wasn’t standing with his back to the light that way, so she could see his face better.
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