“Sir,” said one of the men who’d ridden the stage.
Griffin paused beside him. Vashti went forward to make sure the horses were calm.
“Can I help you?”
“Yes, sir. I want to get to Mountain Home as quickly as possible, and I wondered if I should have bought a ticket all the way through.”
“When you get to Boise you can get it, but I think you’d do better to take a train from there.” He looked toward Vashti.
One of the ferryman’s helpers leaned on his pole, smiling at her. The ferry was pulled across the river with ropes and a team of mules on the other side, so the men didn’t have to work too hard during the crossing. This one seemed to think that gave him license to bother the passengers.
“So, you got plans for tonight, honey?” The man leaned toward Vashti and arched his eyebrows coyly.
Vashti appeared to notice him for the first time and moved around to the other side of the lead horses. The man followed her.
Griffin nodded to the man who was still talking to him. “Excuse me.” He cut behind the horses and came up behind Vashti. Over the swirling river, the ferry worker’s sugary tones were clear.
“You shy, darlin’? ’Cause I know some fun places we could go.”
Vashti, with her back to Griffin, stood boulder still. “Leave me alone.”
“It’d be more fun if we was alone together. I heard you know how to be a fun kind of girl.”
Strange, Griffin had always thought his bulk was too great to ignore, but this fellow had zeroed in on Vashti and didn’t appear to see anything else.
Griffin reached out, grabbed the back of Vashti’s vest, and yanked her back a step, putting her behind him. He stood in silence, glowering down at the man.
The ferryman’s helper looked up at him with his mouth hanging open. “H—h—”
“You plaguing my driver?” Griffin roared.
“N—n—n—”
“Good. Because I could hurl you into the Snake with one pop.”
The man gulped and edged away between the horses. Griffin watched him, not moving a muscle until the man had disappeared behind Prince’s head.
He turned around. The ferryman clung to the rudder at the other end of the boat, staring at him. Every passenger stared. Vashti stood two feet from him, her lips clamped together.
“You okay?” he asked.
“I could have handled it,” she said between clenched teeth.
Griffin blinked. Her face was red, and her eyes were slits of green fire.
“Uh…” He glanced up and saw the others still watching. He leaned toward Vashti and said quietly, “Did I do something wrong?”
“You might say that.”
“I was just protecting you. You’re my employee.”
“I told you, I could have handled it.”
“He knew—”
“That’s right. He knew. And now everybody knows.” She shook as she spat the words out in ragged whispers. “I could have put him in his place without making a three-ring circus out of it.”
He glared down at her. “Fine. Next time I’ll just let the womanizers and the drunks hang all over you.”
The lines of her face congealed. “He didn’t touch me.”
“No, but he would have.”
“Oh, now you’re a prophet.”
A man couldn’t win. Nothing he could say right now would pacify her. Griffin stomped past her toward the far end of the ferry. The passengers ducked out of his way and grabbed the railing. His shifting weight actually made the ferry rock. He slowed his steps and stayed to the middle of the craft, until he was face-to-face with the ferry’s owner.
“Your man was bothering my driver.”
The ferryman seemed to concentrate on steering the boat, though it was guided mostly by the pulley system.
“I’ll speak to him, but I expect he was just trying to see if the rumors were true.”
“What rumors?”
“That you had a loose woman driving stage for you.”
Griffin clenched his fists. “I could kill you for saying that.”
“That’s the word I heard. I saw her last week when she came through with Ned Harmon on the box. The boys didn’t catch on ’til afterward, when I told ’em.”
Griffin squinted down at the much smaller man, trying to make sense of that. “Why’d you tell’em?”
The ferryman laughed. “It’s a nine-days’ wonder, Mr. Bane. Something curious.”
“Yeah. Curious.”
One of the stagecoach passengers edged in beside Griffin.
“Curious, all right. I had no idea a woman was driving us. She did a good job.”
“She’s a good driver,” Griffin said. “And she’s not a—” He glanced over his shoulder. Vashti had kept to the other end of the boat. “She’s not what you said. I’d appreciate it if you didn’t spread rumors to that effect.”
“I beg your pardon. I’d heard tell her last job was in a saloon.”
Griffin hesitated. “Well, that’s not a lie. But there’s respectable saloons, you know.”
The male passengers standing nearby broke out in laughter.
Griffin gritted his teeth and decided he’d said enough. He kept his distance from Vashti as the ferryman and his helpers brought the boat to shore. Once they’d unloaded and the passengers were back in the coach, he climbed up to the box. Vashti waited until he was settled and lifted the reins. She didn’t look at him or speak as she drove toward Nampa. Griffin held his shotgun and watched the edges of the road.
Finally he couldn’t stand it any longer.
“Vashti, listen to me. I didn’t mean to embarrass you or make things worse for you. I honestly thought you could use some help.” He sighed. “You’re such a little bit of a thing, and that fellow had the wrong idea about you. I just figured I’d set him to rights.”
She looked over at him. “What do you think would have happened if you hadn’t been there? You think I’d have gotten mauled?”
He didn’t know what to say.
“I’ll tell you. I told him to leave me alone. If he hadn’t respected that, I’d have gone back to where there were other people, so’s he couldn’t keep bothering me. If that wasn’t enough, I’d have appealed to his boss.”
Griffin nodded slowly. “Sounds like it might have been enough.”
“Well, if it wasn’t, I pack a decent punch.”
He chuckled. “I’ll bet you do. I’m sorry. I should have let you tend to your own business.”
They rode on in silence. When they were a mile out from the home station in Nampa, she looked over at him, her green eyes anxious. “Are you going to stop me from driving?”
“Why would I do that?”
She didn’t answer.
His mind whirled. There would be no hiding the fact now that one of his drivers was a female. Would that make his stages more vulnerable? Would robbers throng to the Owyhee Valley to take a crack at the girl driver? He mulled that over as Vashti drove up to the stop. He supposed outlaws might think it would be easier to rob a woman than a man. Or would they find it humiliating and tease each other about how they had to pick on a girl because the men who drove were too tough for them?
He climbed down from the box wearily. He’d had some vague notion this morning of asking Vashti to see the town with him tonight. He almost laughed aloud at the thought now.
Businesslike, Vashti gathered her personal possessions and clambered down. The station agent had opened the door for the passengers, and they piled out, exclaiming about the smooth ride the “girl driver” had given them. Each of the nine men made a point of thanking Vashti before they scattered. She stood there and took it well, smiling and returning their comments.
When the last one walked away with his luggage, she sighed and turned back toward the coach. One tender was leading the team away, and another led out the new four-in-hand.
“How many of the passengers thanked you when they thought you were a man?” Griffin asked
.
Vashti’s lips twitched. “Nary a one. But then, they’d been terrorized and robbed, so you can’t really blame them.”
Was this really only her second run? Griffin stared after her as she headed for the house.
Vashti walked slowly and deliberately. She knew Griffin was watching her. She’d hardly had a moment all day when she wasn’t conscious of his gaze. Well, she intended to ignore him until time to mount the stage again in the morning.
The next driver, who wasn’t under Griffin’s supervision, ambled out onto the porch. He nodded at Vashti.
“You George?”
“That’s right.” Vashti stuck out her hand. “George Edwards, of Fergus.”
The other driver, a man of about forty, gripped her hand. “Buck Eastman. I heard you had a holdup last week.”
“Yes.”
“An’ I heard Ned Harmon got shot.”
“He did. Our doctor thinks he’ll recover all right, but his arm’s pretty stove up.”
“Too bad.”
“Yes, we miss him.”
“Who’s riding with you?” He looked toward the stage.
“Griffin Bane.”
Eastman turned wide eyes on her. “Your boss?”
“That’s right.”
He shrugged. “I heard he’s fair. Maybe doesn’t run as tight a ship as old Fennel did.”
“Mr. Bane’s all right,” Vashti said.
Buck nodded. She expected him to move on, but he just stood there.
“Well, I’m hungry, Mr. Eastman, so if you’ll excuse me—”
“I heard other things, too, and I guess I heard right.”
She pulled back and eyed him suspiciously. “What sort of things?”
“Heard Bane had a woman on his Fergus-to-Nampa run.”
“Well?”
He looked her up and down. “I reckon you’re the one.”
She set down her bag and put her hands on her hips. “Mr. Eastman, I’m a driver. The rest doesn’t matter. If you want to make something of it, you go right ahead. But I’d hate to see one driver make trouble for another, even if they work on different branch lines, and even if one dislikes the other.”
“I didn’t say I disliked you.”
“Maybe I wasn’t talking about you.”
His eyes narrowed, and he held her gaze for a moment. Vashti wondered if she’d made a mistake. He no doubt had a friend nearby—he must have a shotgun messenger going with him. And she’d told Griffin not to mix into her business.
About the time she’d begun to wonder if she ought to apologize, Buck threw back his head and laughed. “Ain’tchou somethin’? Wait’ll I tell Jack.”
“Tell anyone you want,” Vashti said. “It’s no secret anymore.”
Buck pulled his hat off and slapped it against his thigh. “Good luck to you, missy. I reckon you’re a good driver. I heard it took a whole gang of outlaws to stop you. You take care, now, y’hear?”
“I will. Thanks.”
She watched him swagger down to the coach. Griffin stood next to the wheelers, watching as usual. When Eastman stopped to speak to him, Vashti turned away and went inside. Supper and a bunk sounded mighty good. For a brief moment, she wondered what Griffin would do for the evening. The sun was just going down behind the distant mountains. Would he make the rounds of the saloons in Nampa?
She walked to the dining table. “Not even going to think about it.”
CHAPTER 21
Vashti went downstairs for breakfast early the next morning, wearing her driving clothes. The station agent’s wife handed her a plate full of eggs, fried potatoes, and sausage.
“You’ve got a full stage this morning, Georgie.”
“Oh?”
“Five fellows going up to Silver City stayed at the hotel last night. They’re going to look at the Poorman mines.”
Vashti arched her eyebrows. “That outfit’s been shut down for years.”
“I know. Wouldn’t it be something if they got things running again?”
“Isn’t the gold all gone?”
“Oh no. Most of the mines that closed did it because of the bank trouble in California. The owners mostly moved on. Oh, they say the easy pickings are done, but if these fellows have investors, they could get the machinery going again. The money’s in ore you have to crush.”
Vashti nodded. She didn’t know much about stamp mills and all of that, but any investment in the Owyhee Valley would be good news. It would mean more travel on the branch line and more business at places like the Spur & Saddle.
After eating quickly, she went out to the stable. She didn’t like to eat when the passengers did. She couldn’t politely wear her hat in the house, and if she sat at the table without it, they’d all stare. Of course, she hadn’t much hope of keeping her secret any longer.
Her favorite way to spend the last half hour before they left was getting to know the horses. The tenders were harnessing the team. Vashti took a brush and a hoof pick and checked over the leaders. With a pang of regret, she thought of the horses she’d lost last week.
When the stage from Boise rolled in, she was ready. She climbed the box and waited while the tenders hitched up the team—six horses this time—and loaded the mail and the luggage. Eight passengers climbed into the coach, and two men climbed up to sit in the seat on the roof, behind her and the shotgun messenger—Griffin. He was the last to board, looking chipper this morning. He’d greeted the mining men enthusiastically. Vashti eyed him sideways and decided he hadn’t been out drinking last night, or not much, anyway. That was good. He’d be alert this afternoon when they hit the stretch leading up to Democrat’s. Perhaps she’d misjudged him. Come to think of it, she couldn’t remember him ever drinking more than a glass or two. Why had she assumed he’d cut loose last night? Didn’t she know him better than that by now?
“Ready, Georgie?”
“Yes, sir.” She uncoiled her whip and cracked it. The horses sprang forward. Vashti settled into the rhythm of the stage. Good horses, plenty of paying passengers, and splendid weather. If not for the large man sitting next to her, she might have felt lighthearted. The hulk of a blacksmith had somehow become the man who occupied her thoughts and called to her heart.
Late that afternoon when the team was put away and Marty had reported on business at the livery, Griffin plodded across the street to the Fennel House. His hips and legs felt stiff from sitting so long on the box of the stage.
“Howdy, Mr. Bane,” Terrence Thistle called from the front porch. “The boy’s over to the jailhouse with the sheriff.”
“Thank you kindly. I expect we’ll eat supper here.” Griffin changed course and headed for Ethan’s office.
Sure enough, Justin sat across the desk from Ethan, pushing checkers. Hiram sat on a stool in the corner, whittling and watching the game.
“Well, look at the no-accounts we got here,” Griffin boomed.
Justin leaped from his chair. “Uncle Griff! I didn’t know you were back, or I’d have come and helped with the team.”
“That right?” His statement pleased Griffin, and he smiled at the boy. “You hungry?”
“Gettin’ there.”
“He’s whomping me at checkers,” Ethan said.
Griffin touched the top of the stove. It was cold, so he sat on the edge. “Go ahead and finish the game.”
Justin eyed him for a second then resumed his seat.
“Your turn,” Ethan said.
“Hey, we brought a whole flock of mining men up from Nampa,” Griffin said.
Ethan and Hiram looked interested.
“Five fellows from back East. They’re looking into reopening the Poorman mines.”
“Well, that’s news.” Ethan nodded, still watching the checkerboard. “I’ll keep my ears open when I make my round of the saloons tonight.”
Griffin pushed his hat back. “They told me they represent a syndicate in London and they’ve been negotiating with the owners. They’d like to start taking ore out aga
in.”
“That’d be a boon to the valley.” Ethan frowned as Justin moved a checker.
“Yup, we need more paying jobs,” Griffin said. “They’d put the roads back in shape, too.” Of course, some of the mines were still operating, but the population of the Owyhee Valley was far below what it had been two decades earlier, and only a trickle of silver and gold found its way out these days.
Ethan picked up one of his pieces and jumped over two of Justin’s checkers. “There! I guess you won’t get me this time.”
“Did you find out any more about those outlaws?” Griffin asked.
Ethan shook his head. “I took Hi and my two ranch hands and spent all day yesterday looking for a place they could have holed up, but we didn’t find anything. Could be they swooped in here for one job and then cleared out.”
“Doubt it,” Griffin said. “They’ll probably show up on another one of my lines—or wait until they know we’ve got a payroll in the box.”
“Well, if the mines open up again, we’ll get some soldiers in here to escort the shipments.”
“True.”
Justin made his move and hopped all the way across the board. “King me, Sheriff.”
Ethan moaned. “How’d I not see that coming?” He slapped a checker on top of Justin’s piece.
“I talked to the deputy marshal in Nampa,” Griffin said. “He says a gang that used to operate in Cheyenne may have moved up here.”
“You think those are the ones who held up Vashti and Ned?” Ethan asked.
“Could be. But one of them was that fella who camped out there in the rocks last summer. Somehow, either he got some men with horses and guns to join him, or they moved in on him and took over his territory.”
“Maybe they recruited him into their gang and helped him get a horse.”
“Yeah, one of my stage horses.”
Ethan ran a hand through his hair and studied the checkerboard. “What I’m trying to figure out is how to prevent it from happening again.”
The Blacksmith’s Bravery Page 20
