The Blacksmith’s Bravery (20 page)

“And just what do you mean by that?” She felt like smacking him.

“You know.” He shrugged. The horses took the slight flapping of the reins as permission to break into a canter. Johnny jerked to attention. “Here, now! Whoa, boys. Slow down.”

They careened toward a downhill curve. Vashti caught her breath and jammed the butt of the shotgun against her thigh, holding it tight with one hand and grabbing the edge of the seat with the other. She knew better than to say anything at that moment, though she wanted to scream at Johnny.

As they reached the curve, the leaders began to slow, but the swing team hadn't caught on yet, and they tried to keep running, nudging the leaders' tails. Johnny tried to hold them steady and work the brake lever, too. Even so, they hit the turn way too fast. As the leaders turned, the coach wheels slid and the whole framework swung wildly to one side.

Vashti gasped as she slid over and slammed against Johnny's hip.

“Whoa now! Whoa, Rolly! Sam!” He sawed at the reins.

Vashti wanted to tell him to keep his voice even, but she couldn't breathe.

“Hey!” The muffled cry came from one of the passengers inside the coach.

Before Vashti could grab another breath, the seat fell out from under her and she was falling.

CHAPTER 13

V
ashti and Johnny hit the ground in a heap.

With no time to think about injuries or indignities, Vashti sat up.

The coach had tipped over on its side. The terrorized horses dragged it, with the upper wheels spinning wildly, across the snow.

“Whoa, you lummoxes!” She clawed her way to her feet and found the shotgun lying in the snow. She'd lost her hat. “Johnny! You alive?”

Johnny sat up and shook his head. “Oh man!” He was on his feet in a flash and tore off after the horses.

Vashti gulped. There wasn't a thing she could do—she'd never catch up to him, let alone the horses. She looked around and found her hat a few yards back. After brushing the snow off it, she clamped it on her head and set off. Her hip and elbow smarted where she'd landed on them. A couple of hundred yards away, the horses had come to a halt and stood steaming and shivering. By the time she'd limped to where they'd stopped, Johnny was talking to them and running his hands over their sleek sides and down their legs.

“There, boys. Calm down now. It's all right.”

She walked over to the scarlet coach. “Ahoy there, passengers. You in there, gentlemen?”

The door on the top side of the coach cracked open, then swung upward, and a man's head appeared, minus his hat, with his disheveled hair hanging down about his ears.

“Yes, ma'am. Sir. Uh—” He blinked at her. “Sorry. We're shook
up, but we're all right.”

Vashti nodded. “Let's get you out of there, and we'll see if we can right the coach. I'm sorry you got tossed around like that.”

Johnny unhitched the team and secured them to the only tree within sight. He continued to talk to them and pet them.

When the two passengers stood on firm ground, one of them asked, “What do we do?”

Vashti eyed the overturned coach. Griff wasn't going to like this.

“I'll have to see what Johnny says. He has more experience than I do.”

“Oh, is that right?”

Something about the amusement in the man's gaze made Vashti flush and her blood boil. She turned on her heel and walked over to Johnny. “Whatcha reckon we should do?”

“After the horses are calm, we can hitch them to the coach broadside and let them pull it up onto the wheels again.”

“Sounds like you've done this before.”

“What driver hasn't?”

She let that pass. “What about damage?”

“What about it?” He glared at her. “This ain't my fault.”

“Oh yeah? Whose fault is it?”

“Ice. There was ice on the road, underneath the snow.”

“Whatever you say, Johnny.”

A few minutes later, they led the horses over to the coach, and Johnny took a coil of rope from the boot. He hitched it to the luggage rack on the top and tied the other end to the evener. Vashti held the leaders' heads while he worked, speaking softly to the horses.

“So that gal's got a nighttime job in a saloon, I hear,” one of the passengers said to Johnny, but Vashti had no trouble hearing him.

Her chest tightened, and she clamped her fingers around the bridle straps.

Johnny shook his head. “I don't know what you've been hearing, but Georgie's all right.”

“She's a woman, isn't she?” asked the other passenger. “Hard to tell with that coat she's wearing.”

Vashti kept her face turned away from them.

“I saw her red hair after you two fell off the coach,” said the first
man. “She didn't get it all up under her hat.”

“Bet she's a stunner in silk stockings,” said his companion.

“Look, gents,” Johnny said firmly, “Georgie's a girl, it's true. But she ain't that kind of girl. So just leave her alone, you hear?”

Vashti leaned her forehead against Sam's bony muzzle. “Thank You for Johnny, Lord.” Her tears fell on the horse's nose, and he snorted. She wiped her face with her sleeve before the next few tears could freeze on her cheek.

Griffin walked around the stage three times, searching out every scratch and scrape. His eyes narrowed when he looked at the cracked door panel and the broken spoke on the off front wheel. They were lucky the coach hadn't been ruined. Vashti stood perfectly still, waiting for him to explode. Johnny began to fidget. Justin stood in the shadow of the livery doorway, watching in silence.

The third time around, Griff stopped in front of Johnny. He stood six inches taller than the driver and outweighed him by at least fifty pounds, most of which was muscle made by hefting iron. He gazed down at Johnny through slits of eyes.

“Want to tell me again what happened?”

Johnny cleared his throat and looked away. “It's like I told you, boss. We came up on that corner two miles out from Democrat's, and it was slippery, and the horses got het up.”

“Uh-huh.” Griffin nodded. “You think that road's too treacherous for us to run any more this season?”

Johnny swallowed. “No, sir, I don't.”

“Then how are you going to keep this from happening next time, Conway? Answer me that.”

“I… uh…”

“You recall when Cyrus Fennel was your boss.”

It wasn't a question, but Johnny said, “Yes, sir.”

“What do you suppose he'd do if he were here now?”

Johnny's face lost its color. He opened his mouth and closed it again.

Griff nodded again. He took two steps and squinted down into

Vashti's face. “You get hurt?”

She gulped. “No, sir.”

“Good.” His momentary softening was gone. “All right, Georgie-boy, let's hear your version.”

Vashti's pulse raced. Surely Griffin wouldn't punish her. Or would he? She'd never seen him so dangerously quiet.

“We, uh, we left Democrat's, and everything was fine, but the horses were frisky. The snow and all, you know.”

He nodded.

“We, uh…”

“You
what?”

She jumped. “On that downhill, the team started running. Johnny tried to pull them in, but then the wheels slipped, and the stage overset.”

Griff held her gaze for a long moment, his dark eyes simmering. He paced back to Johnny. Each word distinct, he said, “You two will sand down the side of that coach this evening and repaint it. I will do the other repairs. The cost of the materials and my time will be deducted from your wages, Conway.”

Johnny winced. “Yes, boss.”

“And if this happens again while you're driving, I'll suspend you for a month of Sundays.” Griffin turned away.

Vashti sneaked a glance at Johnny. His mouth drooped, and he wouldn't meet her gaze.

An hour later, Vashti knelt in the straw on the barn floor, gently scrubbing at the door panel with a piece of fine sandpaper. Griffin had removed the damaged wheel and taken it over to the smithy. The axle was propped up on a chopping block.

Johnny worked on the body panel below the window. He swore softly.

Vashti cleared her throat and threw him a pointed glance. “Sorry,” he said.

“Swearing doesn't help.”

Johnny made a face at her. “If you was a boy, it wouldn't matter.

I'm as bad as that passenger—can't remember when you're a girl and when you're a boy.”

She clenched her fist. “Quit it, Johnny. You're a good driver. Most of the time, anyway.”

“Yeah?”

“Yeah. But you got sloppy today. We both know it. The whole world knows it.”

“One second. That's all it took. One second.”

“Yeah, that's about right. It takes one second for a team of horses to get out of control.”

“Oh, so now you know more about driving than I do.”

She straightened and faced him. “I'm not saying that.”

“Sure sounds like it.” He stood and towered over her, scowling.

Vashti let out a deep breath. “At least the horses didn't get hurt. Come on. Let's get this done.”

“You really think I'm a good driver?”

“When you're not being reckless. And it
was
slippery on that hill.”

“So it wasn't entirely my fault.”

She pressed her lips together and went back to rubbing the scrape on the door.

“Thanks for not telling Griff it was my fault,” Johnny said. “He'd have taken your word if you had.”

“I'm not out to get you in trouble.”

“You're not?”

She shook her head. “You can do that easy enough yourself.” “Ha!” He smiled ruefully. “Thought you wanted my job.”

“I wouldn't mind it, but I wouldn't want to do you out of your livelihood.”

He began rubbing the wood again. “Thanks.”

“Well, thank you for setting that passenger in his place.”

“You heard what he said?”