The Blacksmith’s Bravery

by Susan Page Davis

  When they were safely through it, Cecil sat back and relaxed. “They never stop you going downhill, but it doesn’t hurt to be aware.”

  “The last holdup happened at a bridge,” Vashti said.

  He nodded. “Anywhere you have to slow down and there’s no houses in sight.”

  “Well, we should be all right at least as far as the ferry now.”

  They rode in silence for a ways.

  “Any of those women staying over with you at Nampa?” he asked.

  Vashti eyed him askance. Cecil hadn’t engaged in much conversation with her since she’d put him in his place that one time.

  “I don’t think so. Why?”

  He shrugged. “They’ve got a minstrel show at the school building. Thought you might want to go over and see it.”

  “Maybe. If any of them stay in Nampa.” It might be fun, especially if Florence and her mother opted to stay.

  “I meant with me.”

  She locked her neck muscles to keep from turning and gawking at him. The man was older than Griffin—way older. And he certainly wasn’t the type she’d want to step out with.

  “Oh. You mean—you and me?”

  “Is that so far-fetched?”

  She stared at the leaders’ twitching ears, trying to form a reply that would be clear but not rude. “Thank you, but I don’t think so.”

  “You could wear them clothes, and no one would know you was my lady friend.”

  The idea of being Cecil Watson’s lady friend made her head swim.

  “We could get a drink after,” he said.

  “No, thank you.” She should have known there was to be an “after” to this proposed outing.

  “I heard your old employer stopped serving. Too bad. The Spur & Saddle was a top-notch watering hole.”

  “Well, now it’s a top-notch restaurant. And I don’t drink, no matter where it’s served.”

  “You’re joshing me.”

  “Do I look like I’m teasing?” She gave him her best glare.

  “Huh.”

  It rankled her that he assumed because she used to work in a saloon that she would go out drinking with a man she barely knew—namely himself.

  “Don’t you like to have a little fun now and then?” he asked, scanning the countryside.

  “I’m not sure what you consider fun.”

  “You know. Just—” He whipped his shotgun to his shoulder.

  Vashti’s heart raced and she stared in the direction he was aiming, but the ground sloped down on Cecil’s side of the road.

  “What is it?”

  He relaxed and lowered the gun. “A couple of pronghorns grazing on the hillside yonder. When I first saw movement, I wasn’t sure what it was. Reflex.”

  “It’s a good one to have in this job.”

  The horses had slowed to a jog. She unfurled her whip and cracked it in the air. “Move along, you.” She looked over at Cecil as she stowed the whip again. “I get all the excitement I can use driving this route.”

  “So that’s a no?”

  “That’s a no.”

  The four female passengers went on to Boise, as Vashti had anticipated. She ate her supper early, with Cecil sitting across the table from her. He wolfed down his pork roast, potatoes, and gravy, ignoring the mess of fresh greens Mrs. Gayle served with them. After that, he put back two pieces of pie and half a pot of coffee.

  When he was done, he shoved his chair back. “You sure you don’t want to see the show with me, George?”

  “I’m sure. You go ahead, Cecil.”

  He slapped his hat on and shuffled out the door.

  Vashti finished her pie and carried her dirty dishes and Cecil’s to the kitchen.

  “Bless you, child,” said Mrs. Gayle. “I’ll have seven sitting down in a few minutes.”

  “So many?”

  “Three men who came this afternoon and are staying over to take your stage in the morning, along with Mr. Gayle and the tenders. And myself, of course.”

  “Allow me to set the table for you,” Vashti said.

  “I won’t refuse.” As Mrs. Gayle counted out the forks for her, she kept talking. “I wrote my sister’s girl and asked her to come help me out here, but she said she expects she’ll get married before fall. I really do need some help.”

  “If I hear of any likely ladies needing work, I’ll tell them.”

  “Thank you. Decent girls only.” Mrs. Gayle put the silverware in her hand, and Vashti went to the dining room and laid places for seven. Was Mrs. Gayle saying that a woman with Vashti’s background wouldn’t be suitable for the job? She doubted that. The hostess was kindhearted and always treated her with respect. More likely she was only saying she didn’t want to take on an employee who would cause problems with the men about the place.

  When she’d finished, Vashti went to her little chamber with the bunk beds. She wished one of the women had stayed. She wouldn’t have thought it, but she longed for female companionship. Back in Fergus, she had Bitsy and Goldie to talk to, and sometimes Mrs. Benton. She wondered what the minstrel show was like. It might be fun to see it. If she went by herself, no one would bother her—they’d think she was a young man.

  At once she knew that was a bad idea. Cecil might spot her. Besides, enough people in Nampa knew her secret by now that she couldn’t count on going out alone in the evening without fear of being bothered. When the dining room quieted below and she knew the crew and guests had been fed, she went down and helped Mrs. Gayle wash the supper dishes.

  “You’re such a lovely young lady,” the hostess said. “Why haven’t you married, child?”

  Vashti hesitated. Surely this woman knew her background. “I don’t expect the Lord has that in mind for me,” she said at last.

  “No reason why not.”

  Vashti turned the topic, and when they finished, she borrowed an old magazine from Mrs. Gayle and retired to her room. Why hadn’t she married? The question came back to her as she sat staring at an advertisement for shoes. If only that option was open to her. If she had the chance, there was only one man she’d consider now—one she had come to trust—and she doubted he’d ever look at her with marriage in mind. Though he had looked at her a few times with a sober, wistful air.

  She turned the page of the magazine and began to read an article on cooking, something she loathed. Anything to keep from thinking of Griffin.

  The next morning, she rose and dressed, knowing she had a couple of hours until the Boise stage arrived for her to take over. She went to the kitchen and found Mrs. Gayle brewing the morning coffee.

  “That shotgun rider of yours never came in last night,” Mrs. Gayle said.

  Vashti stopped in her tracks. “Are you sure?”

  “Yes. My husband’s gone out to look for him.”

  Vashti’s throat went dry. “What’ll happen if he doesn’t find him?”

  “He’ll telegraph Mr. Bane. I suppose he could send one of our tenders along as a guard.”

  Vashti took an apron from a peg near the back door. “My friends who went to Boise yesterday should be back this morning. They can serve as my shotgun messengers.”

  “Those women?”

  “Yes. They all belong to the Ladies’ Shooting Club of Fergus.”

  “I heard about that club.” Mrs. Gayle shook her head. “Well, chances are my husband will find Watson, but whether he’ll be sober or nay, who can tell?”

  When the stage rounded the corner and rolled down the street toward him, Griffin let out a great sigh. Vashti was on time, coming in from Nampa. On the box beside her sat Florence Nash, her red hair flying. Vashti kept the mules at a spanking trot to the very last second. They pulled in and stopped on a dime, with the door of the coach directly in front of him. Ben Nash ran to take the near leader’s bridle.

  “You help with the bags,” Griffin said to his nephew. He opened the door and mustered a smile he didn’t feel.

  “Welcome to Fergus, folks.”

  Jessie Tinen,
Ellie Nash, and Isabel Fennel exited first.

  “Ladies, thank you so much. If you can stick around for a few minutes, I’d love to have a word with you all.”

  They nodded and smiled and allowed they could do that. Griffin turned to the other passengers.

  “Thank you for riding with us, gentlemen. I trust you had a good trip up from Nampa.”

  “Couldn’t have asked for a smoother ride or more congenial company,” said the first man out. A dapper man with graying hair peeking from beneath his derby, he walked over to Isabel. “Miss Fennel, may I offer you lunch? I’d love to talk with you further about your fine town and the real estate you’re considering selling.” He carried a black case, and Griffin pegged him for a drummer.

  Isabel’s face went pink, and she fluttered the fan she held. “Why thank you, Mr. Madden. My boardinghouse, just across the way, offers a fine luncheon.”

  “Excellent. Let me fetch my suitcase.”

  By this time, three other men had climbed out of the coach. Justin had scrambled to the roof and was tossing luggage down to Silas. The boys were doing a first-class job, Griffin noted.

  When the passengers had cleared, he took out the mail sacks. Peter had arrived by then and hugged his returning wife and daughter.

  “Did you have a good time?” he asked.

  “Yes, we did.” Ellie’s eyes glowed with satisfaction. “We got in a little shopping, and we ate in a restaurant fancier than the Spur & Saddle, if you can believe that.”

  “Wait until you see what I brought you, Papa.” Florence bounced on her toes.

  “I shall have to,” Peter said. “I need to take care of the mail first, but I’ll do it with great anticipation.”

  “Your boys can help you take the sacks to your house,” Griffin said. He looked up at Vashti. “Anything in the box?”

  “Just Mrs. Tinen’s handbag.”

  “Oh dear, I nearly forgot. I asked Vashti to put it in there so I wouldn’t have to keep track of it.” Jessie stepped over and accepted her leather purse from Vashti’s outstretched hand.

  “Well, ladies, we’re very grateful that you were along on this run. As I’m sure Miss Edwards told you, our shotgun messenger disappeared on us in Nampa.”

  “Shocking,” said Isabel. The drummer waited near her, listening avidly.

  “Yes. Well, I’m happy to say that in a couple more weeks we should have a military escort for the mail coaches. Meanwhile, we appreciate your services more than I can tell you. And as a token of my gratitude, even though I said I couldn’t pay you, I’d like to give you each a silver dollar, which I’m docking from Cecil Watson’s wages—if he ever shows up to collect them.”

  “You don’t need to do that, Mr. Bane,” Florence said. “We had a grand time.”

  “Yes, we did,” Jessie said.

  “I’m glad that you enjoyed yourselves. Because we had no regular messenger aboard, and because you were willing to step in and fill the role of protectors for our passengers if needed, I want to do this.” Griffin reached into his pocket and distributed the four silver dollars he’d put there for the purpose.

  The ladies accepted gracefully and said good-bye. The Nash family headed up the street toward their house, carrying the mail sacks and the ladies’ luggage. Isabel walked across to the Fennel House with the drummer, and Jessie waved to her husband, Arthur Tinen Sr., who was just rumbling into town in his buckboard.

  Griffin walked around the coach and climbed up beside Vashti. Justin had taken over the tender’s place from Ben.

  “Hold them long enough for Justin to jump in,” Griffin said.

  “Yes, sir.” Vashti nodded to the young man, and he released the mule’s bridle.

  “Climb aboard and ride over to the livery with us,” Griffin yelled.

  The mules fidgeted while Justin ran to the side of the coach, scrambled in, and closed the door. Vashti eased up on the reins and clucked to the team.

  When she stopped the coach a minute later in front of the livery, Griffin said, “Let the boys unhitch the team. I need to talk to you.”

  “All right.” She eyed him uneasily.

  “I just want to know what happened with Cecil.”

  “I don’t know.”

  “Uncle Griff?” Justin was out of the coach and looking up at him. “You want me to take the team in?”

  Griffin had forgotten the Nash boys went home with their parents. “Start unhitching. I’ll be right there.” He looked back into Vashti’s green eyes. “Everything go all right on the way to Nampa?”

  “Yes, sir. And Cecil and I ate our supper first thing when we got there.”

  “Then what?”

  “I’m not sure. Cecil went out.” She frowned. “He did say something earlier about going to see a minstrel show in town.”

  “Did you tell Mr. Gayle that?”

  “Yes, sir. When he came back this morning and said he hadn’t found Cecil at any of the saloons or… well, other places he’d checked, that’s when I remembered. I told him, and Mr. Gayle went to see the people in charge of the show.”

  “But he didn’t pick up Cecil’s trail.”

  “No, sir.” She gritted her teeth.

  “What aren’t you telling me, Vashti?” He tried to keep his voice gentle, so he wouldn’t spook her, and quiet enough that Justin wouldn’t hear.

  “Nothing, really. Just… he wanted me to go to the show with him. He asked me on the way if the ladies were staying in Nampa with me. Said we might want to see the show. I thought he meant all of us at first, but it turned out he meant just me and him. He wanted to make sure the others wouldn’t be there, I guess.”

  “That snake.”

  “Why do you say that? He wasn’t too obnoxious about it.”

  “But I told him to leave you alone.” How much should he tell her? He’d given Cecil the same ultimatum he’d given Marty last fall: Keep away from Vashti or be fired. Had he walked off the job to avoid being fired?

  She scrunched her lips together—shapely lips no boy would ever own up to—and looked down at the whip in her hands. “I can—”

  “I know. You can take care of yourself.”

  She glanced up. “Actually, I was going to say, I can appreciate your doing that. As an employee.”

  He nodded slowly. “Let me know if you think of anything else, all right?”

  “Yes, sir.”

  “Good. Let’s get these nags unhitched.”

  He clambered down, and Vashti unwound the reins from the brake handle.

  When Vashti walked to the livery in her driving outfit on Thursday, she looked about the shadowy barn. Justin and Griffin were bringing in the coach horses. Dr. Kincaid was saddling a dun gelding in one of the stalls, and the Nash boys were filling a wheelbarrow with manure.

  Vashti walked over to meet Griffin. “Who’s my messenger today?”

  He hitched the near leader’s halter to a tie rope. “You’re looking at him.”

  “You?”

  “Me.”

  “Bitsy plans to ride inside,” she said.

  “Good. The Dooleys are riding along, too.”

  “Hiram and Libby are coming?”

  “That’s right,” he said. “They’re taking a little trip.”

  Vashti bit her lip.

  “What?” Griffin asked. “You don’t like it?”

  “It’s so soon after their wedding.”

  “That’s the idea. It’s called a honeymoon.”

  She glared at him.

  “Well, we’re not getting stopped,” he said. “Right?”

  “Right.”

  “And the lovebirds will be well armed; you can count on that.”

  “No doubt. So… no word on Cecil?”

  “Nope. Maybe Jeremiah Gayle will have some news when we get to Nampa.”

  Vashti went to get the pot of axle grease. When the team was harnessed and she’d inspected the fittings on the coach and horses, she climbed to the box.

  Griffin sprang up beside her.
“The boys can ride up the street inside.”

  “All right.” Vashti waited until Justin, Ben, and Silas were inside the stage, then set out for the Wells Fargo office. “Where will Justin stay tonight?” she asked. “At the Fennel House?”

  “No, the Nashes invited him to spend the night. Ellie sent a note over with Ben saying it was all right.”

  “It’s nice that Justin’s made some good friends.”

  “Yes. I’ve had a few talks with Peter and Ellie about raising boys. They know heaps more about it than I do.”

  “I’m proud of you. You’ve made great progress with Justin.” She smiled at him. “Are you starting to feel like a father?”

  Griffin’s lips twitched. “Maybe more like an uncle should. I admit I wasn’t keen on the setup when he first arrived.”

  “It’s obvious things are going better. You’ve both come a long way.”

  He nodded soberly. “I think we turned a corner back around Christmastime.”

  “I’m glad.”

  She pulled up at the office, and he said offhandedly, “I’ll load the treasure box.”

  “We’re carrying money today?”

  “A deposit for Ted Hire and another for the Paragon.”

  He climbed down, and Vashti noted that the sheriff stood near the office door. Griffin must have told him they’d be carrying treasure. The Dooleys and Bitsy waited to one side with a couple of other passengers. Justin hopped out of the stage and ran to the horses’ heads. Ben and Silas approached the passengers.

  “Load your luggage, ma’am?” Ben asked Bitsy.

  “Thank you, but I just have this little bag, and I thought I’d keep it with me.”

  “You may load ours, Ben,” Libby said, and he took a tapestry satchel Hiram held out to him.

  Vashti wrapped the ends of the reins around the brake handle and climbed down. She walked over to her friends. “I’m glad you folks are coming along.”

  “Thank you, Vashti,” Libby said, all smiles.

  Bitsy elbowed Libby. “That’s Georgie,” she whispered, a bit too loudly for a secret.