The Blacksmith’s Bravery

by Susan Page Davis

  “How about you, Mr. Dooley?”

  He gave her his shy smile. “You can call me Hiram. I’ll try some, with the meat loaf.”

  “Yes, meat loaf sounds good,” Libby said.

  “I brought your party in this afternoon.” Vashti watched Libby’s face.

  “Yes, and I appreciate it. They said that a cute boy drove them and they didn’t think he could be over sixteen.” Libby laughed. “We’re going ahead with the sale. The Hamiltons will take over the emporium a week from Monday. They’ll stay at the boardinghouse until I’ve moved out of my apartment.”

  Libby’s face was the picture of joy. Vashti felt a stab of envy. It must be wonderful to have the love of a good man. She might never find that. Even though she knew some decent men, they all knew her past—or thought they knew.

  She went to the kitchen, where Augie was putting a pan into the oven.

  “Big crowd tonight, my darlin’ tells me.”

  “She’s right,” Vashti said. “I’ve got two meat loaves for Mr. Dooley and Miz Adams. And they both want the dandelion greens.”

  “They make a right sweet couple.” Augie took a china plate from the stack and ladled a mound of mashed potatoes onto it. “Good thing I made plenty of gravy.”

  When she took their plates out on a tray, Hiram was holding Libby’s hand on the tablecloth. As Vashti approached, he let go and picked up his water glass. So cute. Vashti could see why Libby had fallen for the quiet man. He had a romantic spirit, that one.

  “Here you go, folks. I hope you enjoy your meal.”

  Libby glanced at Hiram then smiled up at her. “Vashti, I’m bursting to tell someone my news. Mr. Dooley and I just set the date for our wedding.”

  “Well now.” Vashti stood there holding the tray and grinning. “I’m very happy for you. When is it?”

  “Two weeks. From Saturday, that is.” Libby laughed and reached out to Hiram. He grabbed her hand again, beaming but saying nothing.

  “Oh my,” Vashti said. “That sounds like an excuse for a new hat to me.”

  Libby’s laugh burbled out, and other diners turned to look. She covered her mouth with one hand and continued to chuckle.

  “May I tell Bitsy and Augie?”

  “You certainly may. Goldie, too, if you like. It’s no secret.”

  “Or anyway, it won’t be for long,” Hiram said with a wink.

  When Vashti reported to the livery on Monday morning, Griffin greeted her with an anxious nod.

  “You’ve got a shotgun messenger I pulled from the Mountain Home line, but I’m also letting Zach and Annie Harper and Opal Knoff go along, provided there are enough seats, as guests of the line. All heavily armed, and they’ve signed a paper saying they won’t sue us if they’re injured.”

  “Terrific. I’m a little surprised Annie’s going.”

  Griffin shrugged. “She wanted to real bad, but Zach said he wouldn’t let her go without him. Zach’s a fair shot, and he’s packing a hundred rounds for that shotgun of his.”

  “And Opal?”

  “Ted says if she’s not back serving drinks at the Nugget by sundown tomorrow, she’s fired.”

  “Oh, that’s accommodating of him.” Vashti made a face as if she’d bitten into a crabapple. “At least he gives her a day off now and then. I’ll make sure she’s back on time.”

  Griffin slapped her shoulder lightly. “That’s what I told Ted. And that he can’t stop his employees from doing what they want on their own time. Of course, Art Tinen’s different. Starr wanted to go, and he put his foot down. He said she’s not going out and mixing it up with outlaws when they’ve got a baby in the house.”

  “Can’t blame him there.” Vashti imagined that when it came down to it, Starr couldn’t leave the nursing infant overnight, anyway. “She’s probably just jealous that Art went last time and feeling a little deprived.”

  “Cabin fever.” Griffin nodded. “Well, you stay on guard, especially near those rocks and when you’re coming to bridges. They hit the stage on the Catherine road by the bridge. I’ve had the station agent over there hire an extra man for Johnny Conway’s run tomorrow.”

  “I’ll keep it in mind. What are we carrying today?”

  Griffin looked around and leaned toward her. “Got some ore samples and a bit of gold dust coming down from Silver, and a bank deposit for Walker’s Feed. Libby Adams might want to send in the check those Hamiltons are giving her, too. I told her to bring it to the office, so I can stash it in the box when I load the mail.”

  Vashti gritted her teeth. Her first time carrying a significant amount of valuables. “We can handle it.”

  “Sure you can.” Griffin held her gaze for a moment then sighed. “If I could, I’d go myself. But I’ve got too much to do here.”

  She almost wished he was going. But that was crazy. “Don’t worry. We’ll get through just fine.”

  “There’s something new you’ll notice when you climb up to the driver’s box.”

  “What’s that?”

  “I bolted the treasure box to the floor of the driver’s boot. That way, if you do get stopped and they tell you to throw down the box, you tell ’em you can’t. They’re doing this on other lines, and sometimes it’s enough to stop the outlaws, or at least slow ’em down. And with the armed passengers and your messenger, that might be enough to tip the scales your way.”

  Vashti gulped. What if that only angered the robbers? “My plan is to not let them stop us in the first place.”

  “That’s the best way, all right. You want to grease your axles while Justin and I get the team hitched up?” he asked.

  “Yes, sir.” Bill had taught her how to do this, assuring her that any driver worth his pay would grease his own wheel fittings and do it liberally, thus ensuring that he wouldn’t have a “hot box” from the friction of the axle. Vashti didn’t especially like that part of the job, but she accepted it as one aspect of caring for the equipment. When she’d finished all four wheels, she handed the dope pot to Justin and wiped her hands on a rag.

  “Uncle Griffin’s going to hire some more men if we get the mail contract,” Justin said.

  “More drivers and messengers?”

  “Yes’m, and more help here at the livery, too. But he says I can keep on working for him. He’s paying me now.”

  Vashti raised her eyebrows. “That’s a fine thing. Is this your first paying job?”

  “Except for stacking wood for some neighbors back home.”

  She nodded. “Your uncle’s a fair-minded man, and I’m proof of that. Work hard, do a good job, and he’ll treat you right. He appreciates people who do their job well and do it on time.”

  “Not like Marty.”

  “Well, no. Marty wasn’t the best at either diligence or punctuality.”

  Justin frowned. “I guess. Anyhow, we heard he’s gone to California.”

  Twenty minutes later, Vashti drove the coach to the office. Griffin loaded the mail and put a small sack and an envelope in the green treasure box and locked it. Vashti shivered. If she lost the Walkers’ money, would the aging couple have enough to make do? And what would they do to her? She could envision Orissa Walker screeching at her and demanding that Griffin fire her, or even have her locked up.

  “That envelope has to go directly to the bank,” Griffin said. “Instructions are written on it. Make sure the driver who takes over at Nampa understands.”

  “Yes, sir.”

  Griffin drew a deep breath and held her gaze. His eyebrows pulled together the way they did when he wasn’t pleased. “It doesn’t seem right, sending a woman off like this. Georgie, if you want to change your mind…”

  She scowled at him. “Change my mind? What would you do if Johnny or Bill came to you and said, ‘Mr. Bane, I don’t want to drive today.’ Hmm?”

  He gave her a tight smile and looked away. “I wouldn’t blame them right now, I guess. Not with this gang plaguing our lines.”

  “Well, I’m in this for the long haul. A
nd we’ll get through just fine.” She nodded. “I’ll see you tomorrow.”

  She looked forward. Justin was holding the leaders’ heads. They were well-behaved mules, and he hardly needed to do it, but it made the boy feel important. She smiled and nodded firmly, and he let go of their bridles and jumped up on the boardwalk.

  Vashti cracked her whip three times before the mules settled into a road trot. Behind her, Opal, Annie, and Zach called good-bye to their friends who’d come to see them off. It seemed like a frolic as they breezed up the street. But once they’d passed the smithy and the Nugget, Vashti hunkered down and concentrated on driving and watching. Now and then, she shot a glance at the messenger, Cecil Watson. She half wished Griffin was beside her. Cecil had to be at least forty, but she didn’t hold that against him. Bill Stout was older than that, and he was still one of the best drivers in Idaho. She just hoped Watson had good eyesight—and an even better aim.

  CHAPTER 26

  Three hours after leaving Fergus, Vashti stood on the steps at the home station in Nampa, waving to the folks traveling on to Boise.

  “Have a good time, and be sure you get into Hubbard’s if there’s time this evening.”

  “No fear,” Opal called, waving her handkerchief. “Miz Harper and I both have shopping lists to fill.”

  Annie waved. “I’ve got a lot of things to buy for the wedding party dresses, not to mention gifts for the happy couple.”

  Vashti ran closer to the coach and spoke to her through the window. “I got them a china platter, so don’t get that, will you?”

  Annie smiled. “How lovely. We’ll remember, won’t we, Opal?”

  “Couldn’t forget.”

  The driver cracked his whip, and Vashti leaped back as the stage jerked forward. She would never start without warning like that, and she wouldn’t jump the horses into a canter, either. At least the coach was full of passengers. Several of the men on board were packing pistols. They ought to be all right. She’d heard the Boise run had been a favorite route for holdups back in the heyday of the mines. Was it coming to that again?

  Lord, keep them safe. She wished for a moment that she’d traveled on with them, but she knew she needed to rest. And she didn’t really want to jounce along another two hours and sleep at the hotel. The station here in Nampa was more comfortable, to her way of thinking.

  Mrs. Gayle kept a small loft chamber for her and other ladies who traveled through. The male drivers and messengers slept out in the bunkhouse with the hostlers.

  She climbed the steep stairs to her room. A framed mirror hung on one wall and a crewelwork sampler on another. The bottom bunk was made up with linen sheets and a woolen quilt, with an extra blanket folded at the foot of the bed. Vashti set her canvas bag on the wooden crate below the mirror.

  “Home away from home.” She gazed into the mirror at her dusty face. A sixteen-year-old boy? She smiled at the thought and tried to picture herself next to Justin. How could anyone mistake her for a boy, even in this getup? She frowned and turned her head at different angles, trying to see herself the way the passengers saw her. Her appearance might fool the unsuspecting and nearsighted.

  A layer of dust dulled her complexion. Her eyebrows were caked with it. No leisurely scented baths here. But it was a homelike, snug place, and she felt safe. She took off her hat and pushed the pins out of her hair, letting it cascade onto her shoulders. Mrs. Gayle had left her a white china pitcher of water and a chipped washbowl with green flowers traced on it. Vashti poured the bowl half full and found a washcloth on the rough shelf in the crate. She brushed her face with the dry cloth first, to get the worst of the dust off, then wet the fabric and carefully washed her cheeks, forehead, and chin. It took several rinsings of the cloth before the image in the mirror satisfied her. She took her hairbrush from her bag. The light from the small window at the end of the room wasn’t enough to show up the auburn glints in her hair, but she kept brushing vigorously for several minutes. Finally she went down to supper.

  She turned in early and slept deeply for several hours. The sun was peeking between the mountains when she jerked awake, gasping. For a moment, she wondered where she was, missing her familiar room at the Spur & Saddle. As she oriented herself, she sat up slowly and swung her feet over the edge of the bunk. Her dream had already faded, but one thing she remembered vividly—Luke’s face, sneering as he shoved her toward Ike Bell to settle his gambling debt.

  “No trouble?” Griffin asked anxiously as he carried the mail from the stage up the boardwalk toward the post office.

  Zach Harper walked beside him, puffing at a cigar. “Not a bit. That little Georgie girl is quite a Jehu.”

  “Oh yeah?” Griffin didn’t remember Vashti pushing the horses too hard when he was along.

  “We had to wait at the ferry landing, and once we were over, she made up some time, I’ll tell you. And not a sign of those bandits.” Zach laughed. “I think Annie was almost disappointed. But didn’t she and Opal have a time in Boise.”

  “Big doings?” Griffin asked as he mounted the Nashes’ steps.

  “Big spending is more like it.” Zach opened the door for him.

  Griffin entered the post office and plopped the sack on the counter. “Here you go, Mayor.”

  “Thank you very much, sir. Sorry I didn’t get down to the stage stop to get it myself.”

  “No trouble.”

  Peter nodded. “I take it the stagecoach didn’t have any trouble this time?”

  “Not a lick.”

  “Good. Maybe that gang has moved on.”

  “I hope so.” Griffin settled his hat by way of a farewell.

  For two weeks the ladies of the shooting club and a few of their husbands rode the Nampa stage for free. Once it was known they could ride that far in comfort and pay only for the short leg from Nampa to Boise, it became a favorite outing for the club members. They always took their role seriously and avoided idle chatter during the ride through the desolate territory between towns, but once they got to the city, they kicked up their heels. Micah Landry and Zach Harper laid down the law after their wives had done two runs each. They needed their women to home, in the kitchen.

  Even Bitsy went once, and after Libby had given over ownership of the Paragon Emporium to the Hamiltons, she rode to the city to shop for a trousseau and stayed over an extra day. Starr Tinen gave her husband no end of grief because he wouldn’t let her go, though her mother-in-law, Jessie, went along one sunny May day with Florence Nash and Apphia Benton. Not to be outdone, a few men had come in and offered their services.

  With no new robberies causing him headaches, Griffin began to wonder if he was a fool to let folks ride along for nothing and pay for their room and board in Nampa. Some of them just went for the novelty, he was sure, like Ollie Pooler. He wasn’t known to be a good shot, so why should he think Griffin would allow him to go along as an extra guard? Things were getting out of hand. Everyone in town seemed to think that if they carried a gun, they could get free passage.

  “Uncle Griff?”

  “Yeah?”

  “What’s the matter?” Justin asked.

  “Nothing. Why do you ask?”

  “You’re holding your face all pinched up while you do that.”

  Griffin had been hammering away for an hour, making a stack of horseshoes. He hadn’t realized he’d been holding his mouth in an odd position, but now that he thought about it, his cheeks were sore.

  He relaxed for a moment, letting his pritchel and rounding hammer hang loosely in his hands. “Truth is, I’m wondering if I’m going to go broke running this stage line.”

  “You should hear about the mail contract soon, right?” Justin brushed his hair back from his forehead.

  The boy needed a haircut. Griffin wondered if he could do it himself. Annie Harper would do it if he asked, but then he’d feel as though he should pay her. That was why he usually hacked away at his own when it got so long it bothered him.

  “Yes, we should. And y
ou’ve been a big help. So have the Nash boys. But unless we get that contract, pretty soon I won’t have any money left to pay you boys for keeping the livery clean and feeding the horses and all the other chores you’ve been doing.”

  Justin eyed him solemnly. “If you go broke, I’ll still help you for nothing.”

  Griffin smiled. “Thanks. That means a lot. And I guess if we don’t get the contract, I won’t need so much help around here, right?”

  Justin nodded slowly.

  “Well, I’ll still need you to help me train Champ.”

  That brought a smile from his nephew. “Have you thought about selling the smithy?”

  “Some.” Griffin put down his pritchel and used his tongs to pluck a hot bar of steel from the forge. As he began shaping it with his hammer, wrapping it around the horn of the anvil, Justin watched closely.

  When the metal cooled so that it was no longer malleable, Griffin stuck it back in the coals. Justin hadn’t moved a muscle.

  “The outlaws haven’t shown themselves since the holdup on the Catherine road.”

  “Maybe they got enough, and they’ve gone away,” Justin said.

  “Maybe.” Griffin pumped the bellows.

  “Uncle Griff?”

  “Yeah?”

  “I’m glad I’m working in the livery, not out there with the robbers.” Griffin inhaled deeply. “Me, too.”

  The Dooley-Adams wedding was the talk of the town. Every woman in town with money to spend ordered a hat from Rose Caplinger. Annie Harper skipped shooting club practice because she had so much sewing to do. Apphia Benton organized a bevy of women to clean the church thoroughly the week before the ceremony, and Isabel Fennel promised to take her schoolchildren out to gather armfuls of flowers the morning of the wedding.

  On Monday and Tuesday, most of the women of the Ladies’ Shooting Club met upstairs over the Paragon Emporium to help Libby pack up everything she was taking to the ranch. Griffin, Ethan, and Oscar and Josiah Runnels helped Hiram carry it all down to their waiting wagons and take it to the old Fennel ranch.