Hoofbeats of Danger (11 page)

Annie turned to him excitedly. “Yes—like her insides were on fire.”

The drover rubbed his lean, whiskered chin. “That sure sounds like belladonna poisoning.” He held up the bottle in his hand. “A little belladonna can cure a horse, but too much can … well, it could kill.”

Annie clasped her hands together. “How fast can belladonna poisoning take effect? The stagecoach hadn't been here more than a half hour before our horse took sick.”

“It depends on how big a dose the horse got,” the drover judged. “But it can take effect pretty quick.”

Ma gasped. “Who'd do such a thing?”

Annie burst out, “I think I know, Ma. It was that stagecoach guard. I have proof!” Her hand slipped into her pocket, feeling the little tuft of green threads she'd tucked away.

Her mother's face darkened with concern. “Chet Ambrose?”

The drover's eyes widened. “Chester Ambrose?” he repeated.

Ma frowned. “That's right—a stocky fellow, with dark hair and a big beard. He was working on the stage that came through here last night. Why, do you know him?”

The drover raised an eyebrow. “Don't know about the beard, but otherwise the description fits a feller I knew. He used to work the southern route for the Butterfield line when I did.”

Annie's heart leaped. Did he know something about the man she suspected of poisoning Magpie?

The drover scratched his neck and made a disgusted face. “He was a mean-spirited scoundrel, right enough. Last year, after I started working for the Overland Express, we caught him sneaking at night into our camp, just outside of Sacramento. He was trying to cut some of our harness traces.”

Annie's mother raised her eyebrows. “Why on earth would he do that?”

“Apparently he took the rivalry between Butterfield and the Overland way too serious,” the drover said. “But we got him arrested for that trick in Sacramento. The Butterfield bosses fired him afterward, or so I heard.”

“Good for them,” Ma declared.

“He was plenty sore,” the drover went on. “I still remember him yelling after us as the sheriff led him away in handcuffs, ‘I'll make the Overland Express pay for this! You can't ruin Chet Ambrose like this! I'll get my revenge!'”

Annie felt a chill creep up her spine.

She faced the drover with steady eyes and a pounding heart. “If this Chet Ambrose is the same Chet Ambrose you knew …”

Mrs. Dawson put an arm around Annie's shoulders. “But if he hates the Overland Express so much, why would he work for it?”

“He said he wanted revenge,” the drover said. “What better way to get revenge than by working from inside the company?”

As the drover walked off to treat his sick mule, Ma took Annie by the arm. “How can you be so sure Ambrose poisoned Magpie?”

Words bubbled out as Annie told her mother about the faked arrow wound, the boot print, the snagged green wool, and the blood-crusted pocketknife. As she was talking, Davy came running from the barn, waving the McGuffey's Reader. He proudly showed Ma his sketch of the boot print as Annie finished telling the story.

Ma sighed unhappily. “Your father did mention to me this morning that there was a wound on Magpie's flanks—just before the … accident. Oh, I wish he were here to help sort this out!”

Annie cast a worried look at the station house. “I know. But I've already sorted it out, Ma. Don't you see? Ambrose faked the arrow wound so we'd blame Magpie's poisoning on Indians. He figured it would stir up the old trouble between the Overland Express and the Indians. That's his revenge!”

“Now that I think on it,” Ma slowly recalled, “Ambrose was awful quick to blame Redbird for meddling with the horse this morning. Shooting off that gun and all, like he wanted to draw attention—”

Just then, the sound of crashing underbrush and pounding footsteps came from the pine scrub. Annie turned toward the noise, muscles tensed.

Billy burst from the trees and leaped across the yard, weaving through the clutter of freight wagons. “Annie, where's Redbird?” he yelled.

“In the station house,” Annie called.

“Quick, fetch her out here!” He gasped for breath. “Magpie's getting worse!”

C
HAPTER
13

N
O
T
IME TO
L
OSE

Curious drovers clustered around Billy, and Jeremiah came striding from the barn. Redbird darted out of the station house. “Billy? What's wrong?” Her slender dark face was taut with worry.

Billy fought to catch his breath. “For a while Magpie seemed to be calming down. But then suddenly she started to tremble and sweat, and she was fighting to breathe. She was trying to lie down—I had to keep pulling her back up. I came here quick as I could.”

“Sounds like the beginnings of colic,” Redbird said, frowning with concern.

Annie felt her stomach tighten like a fist. She knew colic could be deadly. All her excitement about solving the mystery turned sour. What good did it do to know
how
Magpie had been poisoned, if the poison still killed her?

Redbird laid a hand on Mrs. Dawson's shoulder. “If it's colic, I think I can help her. But you need me here, too, don't you?”

Ma sighed. “You said yourself there ain't much to do now 'cept wait for James to wake. You go on and help that pony. I'll stay by my husband.”

Redbird turned and ran back toward the station house. “I'll get my medicine pouch!” she called over her shoulder.

Annie tugged miserably on Billy's elbow. “Well, at least we know what's wrong with her—belladonna poisoning. It seems the stagecoach guard took some from Pa's remedy cabinet and gave her a whopping big dose.”

Jeremiah looked startled, and Billy whistled in surprise. “I thought you said he was a company spy,” Billy said.

“Well, Pa got it wrong. He ain't a spy, he's just crazy. He did it for revenge on the Overland.”

“Then who knows what sort of trouble he's been stirring up along the route?” Jeremiah put in.

Annie clenched her fists. “And just think what he could be up to next. We ought to stop him before he hurts any more horses.”

“Or people,” Jeremiah added, his voice thick with anger. “If he hadn't messed around with Magpie, your pa wouldn't have got hurt.” Annie felt warmed by Jeremiah's loyalty to her father.

“And to think that
he
was going to report
Pa
to the Overland bosses,” Annie said, her temper rising. “He said he'd get Pa fired!”

“He still might, when he gets to the end of the line,” Ma said. There was a sharp line of worry between her eyebrows.

“
If
he gets to the end of the line,” Billy said. “But he won't, not if I have anything to do with it. Annie's right. We've got to stop him!”

Just then, Redbird came running out of the station house. “I've got my pouch. Ready to go with me, Annie?”

Billy caught Annie by the arm. “But I need you to ride the trail east with me, to catch Ambrose!”

Annie stood uncertainly between Billy and Redbird. Her feelings seemed all jumbled inside. The only thing her mind could see was Magpie, staggering in the gully, shuddering with pain.

“You're the fastest rider at the station, Billy,” she began in a faltering voice. “Shoot, you're one of the fastest riders in the whole Pony Express. If anyone can catch up to the coach and stop Ambrose, it's you. Why do you need me?”

“Because you're the one who found the proof,” Billy insisted. “Nate Slocum won't be inclined to accuse his guard of such a crime. I reckon you can explain things better than I can.” He smiled ruefully. “I've kinda got a reputation as a tale-teller, remember? Slocum might disbelieve me.”

Ma blew out a sigh. “Billy's right, Annie,” she said. “Slocum will need a powerful lot of convincing. Ambrose has been filling his ear with all sorts of bad words about your pa and Red Buttes. He'll believe the two of you better than just one. Besides, you're a good rider—you won't slow Billy down much. The coach can't have gone too far. It's only been a couple of hours.”

Tears sprang to Annie's eyes. “But I can't go so far from the station with Pa sick,” she protested. “Going down into the scrub is one thing, but riding miles away to the east—”

Mrs. Dawson took her daughter squarely by both shoulders. “I'm here for Pa,” she said. “So is Redbird. The best thing you can do for him, Annie, is to clear his name and save his job. Now you saddle up and get going.”

Annie made her decision in a split second. “All right.” And suddenly, her spirits leaped at the thought of the ride she was about to take.

“Good luck, Annie,” Redbird said. “I'll do everything I can for Magpie, I promise. Mrs. Dawson, keep dabbing Mr. Dawson's head with water to hold the swelling down. I'll be back soon!” She turned, plunged into the scrub, and was quickly gone from sight.

Jeremiah clapped Billy on the shoulder. “Stormy's in the barn, ready and rested. You can saddle him up. I'll saddle Surefoot for you, Annie. You're used to riding him, ain't you?” He threw Annie a look that told her he knew exactly what she'd been up to last night.

Annie hesitated. “But what about regulations?” she asked her mother. “I know we ain't supposed to use those horses for personal affairs.”

Ma put her hands on her hips. “If this ain't official Pony Express business, what is? My stars, Annie, get a move on!”

Annie crouched tightly in Surefoot's saddle, feeling the wind sting her face. Her long pale braids bounced on her back as the horse galloped flat out. As if making up for yesterday's clouds and rain, the sun beat down hard as the trail swung eastward out of the pine scrub. Ahead of her rode Billy, astride the palomino named Stormy.

“I don't know this leg of the trail,” Billy shouted above the thunder of hoofbeats. “I always go the other direction, west towards Devil's Gate. Is it flat most of the way?”

“Nearly all the way to the Platte Bridge Station,” Annie called back, remembering the few trips she'd taken along this river road. “But there's lots of rocky parts.”

To their left, the red buttes thrust up out of the barren plain, miles in the distance. To their right, the rain-swollen North Platte churned furiously. The water foamed white as it rushed over a spill of rocks and a ruined beaver dam.

“They ain't even gone three hours, right?” Billy yelled over his shoulder. “We should catch them before the next relay station.”

“Depends on how fast Slocum was driving,” Annie answered. “Remember, he was making up for lost time.”

An hour later, they galloped into the relay station. Unlike Red Buttes, which was a home station, this smaller station was little more than a ramshackle shed, with a single station hand tending a few ponies. He popped out of his tiny cabin, surprised to see Billy and Annie galloping toward him. “We don't need to change horses,” Billy explained, reining in Stormy briefly. “Did the stagecoach just come through here?”

“About ten minutes ago,” the station hand reckoned. “What's doing?”

“Got to catch 'em—can't explain!” Billy whipped his black hat off his head and waved good-bye with it. He dug his heels into Stormy's sides and bolted down the trail. Annie waved her arm to the baffled station hand and urged Surefoot after Stormy.

Thundering up a small, rocky rise, Annie spotted the stagecoach, far in the distance. She pointed it out to Billy with a triumphant thrust of her arm. “There they are!”

Puzzled, Billy reined Stormy to a halt. “But why are they stopping? It looks like they're trying to ford the river.”

Annie pulled up Surefoot beside him. “That's odd. Stagecoaches 'most always cross the river at the new toll bridge, just a little ways east of here.”

Billy frowned. “Maybe Ambrose is afraid of being stopped at the toll bridge,” he suggested. “Maybe he talked Slocum into fording here instead.”

Annie studied the scene. Beside them, the North Platte surged past with a huge, deep rumble. She shook her head. “Generally this stretch of the river is wide and kind of lazy. But with all that rain last night, today it looks almost like flood season. It'd be plumb foolish to cross here today.” Her eyes widened. “You don't reckon Slocum's in cahoots with Ambrose, do you?”

“I doubt it,” Billy replied. “But I guess we'll find out soon!”

As they charged down the rocky slope, Annie peered ahead to see that the male passengers had all climbed out of the stagecoach. Most of them were putting their shoulders to the back of the coach, preparing to help trundle it across the rushing river.

Then she saw sunlight glint on blond hair a few yards from the coach. It looked like Goldilocks had gone off to one side and was wading across on his own. She felt a stab of misgiving. What was that fellow up to?