The Blacksmith’s Bravery (27 page)

She raised her whip, tempted to let the horses feel the lash. But that wasn't the way of a stagecoach driver. She cracked it again, first on the off side, then the near side. The team tore along the road with the coach swaying behind them on its leather thoroughbraces. Several shots powed behind her, loud and close. The passengers must be firing out the windows.

“How many?” she yelled at Ned.

“Three that I can see. One was on foot, but one's riding up behind.” He braced himself and rose so he could fire over the top of the coach. The blast deafened Vashti for several seconds.

As they neared the boulder closest to her route, a mounted man emerged from behind it. He planted his dark horse facing her, directly in their path.

Vashti gasped. She shot up a prayer and determined to use Johnny's strategy.
I'll run right over him!

“Hee-yah! Hee-yah!” She half stood and cracked her whip repeatedly. What she wouldn't give for the team of six matched bays Bill was likely driving today. They held the speed record for this stretch of road. She could feel the leaders' hesitation through the reins. They were almost on top of the rider. Could she hold them steady and pull out Griffin's rifle at the same time?

The outlaw turned his horse slightly sideways and trained his rifle on them.

“Ned?” Vashti called.

Ned's shotgun went off again with a crash. Emmaline screamed.

A horseman charged up beside them and edged past the front of the coach, up next to the wheelers. The rider had a cloth tied over his mouth and a hat pulled low over his eyes. As he gained on the stagecoach team, Vashti stared at the gunman in her path straight ahead.

Another shot cracked, and Ned dropped his gun. It slid down the box and lodged next to her feet.

“Ned!” She looked over at him as he crumpled on the seat, hugging his arm to his side.

CHAPTER 18

T
he horses gave up suddenly, with the leaders stopping in their tracks before the steely-eyed gunman in their path. The wheelers ran into them and stopped, too, with loud oofs and squeals. The second outlaw rode up to the leaders and grabbed the near horse's bridle. The gunman who'd sat his horse square in the path rode forward.

“Throw down your weapons.” He held his rifle aimed at Vashti.

She gulped, measuring their chances.

“Do it now, Driver.”

“I need to help my messenger. You've shot him.” She glared at the outlaw.

“Land, Benny, she's a girl.” The man holding her team laughed. “Shut up. I got eyes in my head.”

Vashti hadn't realized until that moment that after her hat flew off, her hair had tumbled down. Strands of it flew loose about her face in the breeze.

“Hand the gun down,” the one called Benny ordered.

A third outlaw had walked up to the side of the coach and stood just below her. He must be the one with no horse. Even in the chilly wind, beads of sweat stood on his brow. Vashti reached down and took Ned's shotgun. She was tempted to blast one of them.

The man on the ground must have sensed her thoughts. He pointed his gun at her and snarled, “Don't even think it, darlin'.”

She held the shotgun out barrel first, and the man took it. Would they find Griffin's rifle and her pistol? She tried not to give away any
more by staring coldly into his eyes, but it was hard not to think of the guns behind her feet.

“Now get down,” the one called Benny said.

Besides Benny, the man holding the team, and the man on foot, a fourth outlaw had dismounted and stalked over to the door of the coach. “Time to get out, folks.”

Vashti half hoped one of the passengers would let loose a barrage of gunfire so she could dive for Griff's rifle. The man covering her with his weapon glared at her.

“Move.”

She looped the reins around the brake handle and turned to Ned. He huddled on the box, squeezing his arm. Blood soaked the sleeve of his wool jacket.

“Ned, are you hurt bad?”

“Hurts like blazes but could be worse.” His teeth never opened as he ground out the words.

“I said get down, and I meant it. Both of you.” “Best do as they say.” Ned winced.

“I'll help you.” Vashti went over the side backward and groped for the step, keeping her eyes on Ned. “Can you come over this way?” He groaned and slid into her seat.

Vashti hopped down and stood, anxiously staring upward and trying to ignore the gunman at her back. She held up her hands in a futile gesture of aid. Ned's boot found the step, and he oozed over the side of the box, sliding down in a rush. As she tried to catch him, she got knocked to the ground for her trouble.

“Take it easy, folks. Just get out nice and slow,” the fourth robber said.

Vashti picked herself up and crouched beside Ned. “You okay?” He moaned and blinked up at her.

One of the horses whinnied, and she glanced over to see one of the outlaws cutting through the leaders' harness. She opened her mouth to protest, but a stern voice behind her said, “I wouldn't try anything if I were you.”

A quick assessment told her that one of the outlaws guarded her and Ned while another cut the horses free of their harness and
a third one terrorized the passengers on the other side of the coach. Their outraged spluttering was all she needed to hear. The outlaws were robbing them blind.

Vashti focused on Benny, the leader. She tried to memorize as much about him as she could, but he'd masked his features well.

The one who'd cut the lead team free called, “All right, Benny.

These two look good. Did you check for a money box?”

“Not yet.” He dismounted and came over to the coach.

On the ground beside Ned, Vashti could see his feet as he went to where the passengers stood. “We don't have a treasure box. No money today.”

“Shut up,” said the one standing over her.

Vashti watched him. When he shifted so he could see Benny checking the inside of the coach, she leaned close to Ned. “Can you help if I make a move?”

His eyes widened. “Don't. They'll shoot you.”

“Well, this ain't worth much.” Benny threw the two mail sacks out of the stage and hopped to the ground. He and one of the other outlaws cut open the sacks and turned them upside down, dumping the mail on the ground. Letters and advertisements fluttered in the breeze and skimmed over the damp earth.

Another outlaw crowed. The one who'd cut the harnesses had mounted the coach and found Griffin's rifle.

A bitter taste filled Vashti's mouth. “I should have dropped the reins and gone for the gun first thing.”

“We didn't know there were four of them.” Ned grimaced and closed his eyes. “Don't do anything stupid.”

She gritted her teeth and watched, but the man jumped down from the box with Griffin's rifle and extra ammunition.

“Got me a nice Spencer.”

The robbers gathered, showing each other their plunder. The one who'd robbed the passengers had taken two pistols, some money, and a pocket watch. The others had collected Ned's shotgun, Griffin's rifle, and the two lead horses.

“All right, let's get out of here,” Benny said.

The man who had guarded Vashti and Ned backed away from
them. From behind his neckerchief mask, he said, “You know, if we leave those other two horses, they'll be at the next station in ten minutes.”

“We don't need four horses,” said Benny. “Two is enough.”

“We could shoot the extras,” another man offered.

Heat surged through Vashti. She leaped up and faced them with clenched fists. “How could you be such monsters? I understand you wanting money, and even shooting Ned, because he'd have shot you if you didn't. But to kill innocent animals?”

Benny laughed. “Little spitfire. Maybe we should take her along with us.”

“She's got grit,” one of his friends admitted. “Hey, can you cook?” Benny called.

“Let's go,” the fourth man said, looking up the road toward the Democrat Station. “Someone else could come along any minute.”

“Come on. Bring the other nags.” Benny took the rope his cohort had tied to one of the lead team and rode off with the two horses in tow.

The man with no mount ran to the tongue of the coach and unhitched the wheelers from the whiffletrees. He stood on the tongue and swung onto the near horse's back, coiling up the long rein, and rode off after his comrades with the off wheeler still hitched to his mount and keeping stride.

Vashti stood staring after them. Tears streamed down her cheeks.

“My dear, are you all right?”

She turned. Emmaline and the other passengers had come around the coach.

“I'm fine, but I'm mad. They shot Ned and stole all our horses.”

Emmaline pulled her into her embrace. “We're all alive. That's what counts.”

“They took my gun and my watch,” one of the men said.

Another of the passengers knelt beside Ned. “Are you all right, sir?” Ned groaned.

“Do any of you have medical experience?” Vashti asked.

None of the men spoke, but Emmaline came forward. “I've tended the sick and wounded. I can take a look.”

Vashti sobbed. “I have to collect the mail.”

One of the miners shook his head. “What next? Girls driving stagecoaches!”

“We'll help you, ma'am,” said the cowboy. He stooped and grabbed an empty mail sack. “Come on, boys, let's get as much as we can. This little dab of a gal will probably be in trouble if we don't save the mail.”

Vashti wiped the tears from her cheeks and walked over to where Emmaline was prodding Ned's arm.

“I think we should take his coat off and try to stop the bleeding.” Vashti knelt beside her. “How bad is it?”

“I'm not sure, but it's possible he could bleed out while we wait for help.” Emmaline touched Ned's cheek. “Ned, can you hear me?”

He let out a groan, and his eyelids fluttered.

“Help me,” Emmaline said to Vashti. The two of them struggled with Ned's coat but at last got him out of it. He began to shiver.

“It looks real bad.” Vashti swallowed down her revulsion at the bloody mess.

“It must've hit the bone,” Emmaline said. “We'd best wrap it tight and run to the station.”

“Yes. And get his coat back on if we can. I'll see if there's a rug or a blanket in the boot of the stage.”

She hurried to the back of the coach but found nothing useful. The cowboy came over with a full mail sack.

“Here's what we've got so far, ma'am. Picked up the easy piles first. The other fellows are chasing letters that blew away.”

“Thank you. That's extremely good of you. I wonder if any of you have anything in your bags that we can use to keep Mr. Harmon warm?”

He tipped his hat back and looked into her eyes. “I could build a fire.”

“That would be wonderful. Thank you.” She hurried back to Emmaline. “The cowboy is going to try to find enough combustibles to light a fire. I think I'd better leave for the Democrat Station.”

“Ned needs the doctor.” Emmaline frowned down at the patient.

“If he loses too much blood…”

Vashti nodded. “All right. I'll check to see if those outlaws found my pistol. I think it's still in my bag.”

“I sure wish I'd had my gun with me. I was going to take my rifle, but Micah said we'd be fine with the stagecoach guard to protect us. Only two of the other passengers had weapons, and as far as I could see, they couldn't shoot worth beans. Of course, the stage was lurching and bumping.”

Vashti went to the front of the coach. Most of the harness had gone off with the horses, but the coach itself seemed unscathed except for some splintered wood on the front corner. She hugged herself and shivered. That must have been a bullet meant for her.

“Thank You, Lord.”

She climbed onto the box and rummaged under the seat. Her small canvas bag was intact. Nestled between her spare socks and pantalets and her hairbrush was the revolver she'd bought from Libby Adams last year. She tucked it in her belt and climbed down.