The Blacksmith’s Bravery (30 page)

The first few miles flew by, and she felt Griffin's gaze on her often while they were still near town. Of course he was watching her, evaluating her performance. She tried not to let it bother her, but she couldn't help being conscious of him every moment.

After their brief stop at the Democrat Station, where Mrs. Jordan ran out to say hello to “Georgie,” Griffin sat tall, constantly scanning the broken landscape. Neither of them mentioned the rocks, but as they approached the site of the robbery, Vashti felt his tension. He sat alert and tight as a bowstring, holding the shotgun at the ready.

She kept the horses moving at a swift trot. Her heart raced as they came to the spot where she'd first seen the lone outlaw six months ago.

“I think the robber who didn't have a horse last week was the one who was out here last summer,” she said suddenly.

“Ned told me as much.”

She looked over at him in surprise. “He did? I thought of it that day, but I paid more attention to their leader. Benny.” She shivered.

The horses kept on, never once breaking stride. She wondered where the others were now—the ones that were stolen. Would their own faithful coach horses be used to attack them?

Ahead was the narrow place where rocks loomed on both sides of the road. Vashti's lungs ached, and she held her breath.

Griffin never took his eyes off the rocks as they rolled smoothly toward the danger point. Of course, if that gang were to stop them again, the outriders would likely have shown themselves by now. You just never knew. And the coach traveled downhill. Far more likely they'd be attacked going the other way, as Vashti and Ned had been. A team plodding uphill was much easier to stop than one barreling down an incline. Still, he remained vigilant, aware of the nine passengers, the mail, and the treasure box. The weight of his responsibility pressed on his broad shoulders.

All of that and Vashti.

If his small part of the Wells Fargo line suffered another holdup, who knew what would happen? He might lose the mail contract. That could ruin him financially. Already he was hard pressed, and if he wasn't reimbursed for last week's losses, he'd have a difficult time of it. But worse—people's lives were at stake. Was he foolish to run a stage here when danger lurked?

The coach rumbled through the narrow place, and he exhaled heavily. Ahead lay more rocks—the ones most of the outlaws had hidden behind. But the best place to waylay them was now behind.

He glanced over at Vashti. A drop of sweat trickled down her temple, though it wasn't overly warm.

He wanted to assure her that they were safe, but he couldn't say that for sure. Not yet. So they rode on in silence, down out of the hills and toward the river.

As the rocks fell farther behind, Vashti uncoiled. Her jaw relaxed and her shoulders fell a little. She resumed talking to the horses now and then, as she had during the first part of the ride. He admired the way she kept all the reins almost taut—but without pressure on the horses' mouths. Gentle contact, that was all. She may not have driven long, but she had a feel for the horses.

He relaxed just a hair and scanned the terrain on both sides of the road. After looking ahead for a long minute, he allowed himself another glance at her. Watching Vashti drive was like listening to rippling music with auburn hair and green eyes.

She shot a reproachful glance at him, and he looked quickly away. When had he started caring for her? He'd known her for years in a general way—had let her bring him drinks when he visited the Spur & Saddle in the old days, before Bitsy got religion. She was a bar girl, that was all. Then she became a churchgoing member of the community. A sister in Christ, according to Pastor Benton, and Griffin supposed that was right. It had taken everyone awhile to get used to thinking of Bitsy and “the girls” that way.

Now she was much more. His employee. A member of the Ladies' Shooting Club. A holdup survivor. And one tough stage driver.

His gaze strayed to her face again, and she glanced over. She bit her bottom lip as she adjusted the reins. Was she nervous because he was here? He smiled.

Her green eyes widened for an instant, and she looked forward again, frowning slightly. The ferry lay a half mile ahead. Across the river, and they'd be nearly there. Griffin almost regretted that the end of their ride together approached. But there was the return trip tomorrow. And tonight in Nampa.

Normally if he rode one of the stages, he had a couple of drinks after dinner and hit the hay early. He didn't have enough spare cash to get into a poker game. He'd always figured he shouldn't gamble unless he wouldn't miss the money if he lost. Now and then, he found a saloon where they had a singer or dancers. One time in Boise, he'd
been to the theater. That was something he still thought about two years later. Colorful costumes, music, pretty ladies, and a magician who wasn't half bad.

But tonight… he made himself not look at Vashti, but he knew he wouldn't stray far from the home station if she stayed there tonight.

They rolled up to the ferry, and Vashti called, “Whoa now.”

The team halted smoothly. The ferryman and his two helpers came out of their shack.

“How many passengers?” the ferryman called.

“Nine,” said Vashti.

The man looked sharply at her.

“Good afternoon,” Griffin said, louder than he'd intended. At least he distracted the ferryman.

“Oh, Mr. Bane. How are you, sir?”

“Fair to middlin'.” It pleased Griffin to see the man straighten his shoulders and snap orders to his men. The ferryman knew who would pay him at the end of the month for the Wells Fargo coaches, employees, and passengers he carried.

Griffin climbed down and watched Vashti scramble to earth. If one didn't know, he supposed one might think she was a young man. But how many people between Fergus and Boise didn't know? The ferryman's helpers sneaked glances her way as they prepared to load the stage onto the ferry. After the horses and coach were aboard, the passengers and a few locals who'd been waiting to cross the river got on.

“Sir,” said one of the men who'd ridden the stage.

Griffin paused beside him. Vashti went forward to make sure the horses were calm.

“Can I help you?”

“Yes, sir. I want to get to Mountain Home as quickly as possible, and I wondered if I should have bought a ticket all the way through.”

“When you get to Boise you can get it, but I think you'd do better to take a train from there.” He looked toward Vashti.

One of the ferryman's helpers leaned on his pole, smiling at her. The ferry was pulled across the river with ropes and a team of mules on the other side, so the men didn't have to work too hard during the
crossing. This one seemed to think that gave him license to bother the passengers.

“So, you got plans for tonight, honey?” The man leaned toward Vashti and arched his eyebrows coyly.

Vashti appeared to notice him for the first time and moved around to the other side of the lead horses. The man followed her.

Griffin nodded to the man who was still talking to him. “Excuse me.” He cut behind the horses and came up behind Vashti. Over the swirling river, the ferry worker's sugary tones were clear.

“You shy, darlin'? 'Cause I know some fun places we could go.”

Vashti, with her back to Griffin, stood boulder still. “Leave me alone.”

“It'd be more fun if we was alone
together
.
I heard you know how to be a fun kind of girl.”

Strange, Griffin had always thought his bulk was too great to ignore, but this fellow had zeroed in on Vashti and didn't appear to see anything else.

Griffin reached out, grabbed the back of Vashti's vest, and yanked her back a step, putting her behind him. He stood in silence, glowering down at the man.

The ferryman's helper looked up at him with his mouth hanging open. “H—h—”

“You plaguing my driver?” Griffin roared.

“N—n—n—”

“Good. Because I could hurl you into the Snake with one pop.”

The man gulped and edged away between the horses. Griffin watched him, not moving a muscle until the man had disappeared behind Prince's head.

He turned around. The ferryman clung to the rudder at the other end of the boat, staring at him. Every passenger stared. Vashti stood two feet from him, her lips clamped together.

“You okay?” he asked.

“I could have handled it,” she said between clenched teeth.

Griffin blinked. Her face was red, and her eyes were slits of green fire.

“Uh…” He glanced up and saw the others still watching. He
leaned toward Vashti and said quietly, “Did I do something wrong?”

“You might say that.”

“I was just protecting you. You're my employee.”

“I told you, I could have handled it.”

“He knew—”

“That's right. He knew. And now
everybody
knows.” She shook as she spat the words out in ragged whispers. “I could have put him in his place without making a three-ring circus out of it.”

He glared down at her. “Fine. Next time I'll just let the womanizers and the drunks hang all over you.”

The lines of her face congealed. “He didn't touch me.”

“No, but he would have.”

“Oh, now you're a prophet.”

A man couldn't win. Nothing he could say right now would pacify her. Griffin stomped past her toward the far end of the ferry. The passengers ducked out of his way and grabbed the railing. His shifting weight actually made the ferry rock. He slowed his steps and stayed to the middle of the craft, until he was face-to-face with the ferry's owner.

“Your man was bothering my driver.”

The ferryman seemed to concentrate on steering the boat, though it was guided mostly by the pulley system.

“I'll speak to him, but I expect he was just trying to see if the rumors were true.”

“What rumors?”

“That you had a loose woman driving stage for you.”

Griffin clenched his fists. “I could kill you for saying that.”

“That's the word I heard. I saw her last week when she came through with Ned Harmon on the box. The boys didn't catch on 'til afterward, when I told 'em.”

Griffin squinted down at the much smaller man, trying to make sense of that. “Why'd you tell'em?”

The ferryman laughed. “It's a nine-days' wonder, Mr. Bane. Something curious.”

“Yeah. Curious.”

One of the stagecoach passengers edged in beside Griffin.

“Curious, all right. I had no idea a woman was driving us. She did a good job.”

“She's a good driver,” Griffin said. “And she's
not
a—” He glanced over his shoulder. Vashti had kept to the other end of the boat. “She's not what you said. I'd appreciate it if you didn't spread rumors to that effect.”

“I beg your pardon. I'd heard tell her last job was in a saloon.”

Griffin hesitated. “Well, that's not a lie. But there's respectable saloons, you know.”

The male passengers standing nearby broke out in laughter.

Griffin gritted his teeth and decided he'd said enough. He kept his distance from Vashti as the ferryman and his helpers brought the boat to shore. Once they'd unloaded and the passengers were back in the coach, he climbed up to the box. Vashti waited until he was settled and lifted the reins. She didn't look at him or speak as she drove toward Nampa. Griffin held his shotgun and watched the edges of the road.

Finally he couldn't stand it any longer.

“Vashti, listen to me. I didn't mean to embarrass you or make things worse for you. I honestly thought you could use some help.” He sighed. “You're such a little bit of a thing, and that fellow had the wrong idea about you. I just figured I'd set him to rights.”

She looked over at him. “What do you think would have happened if you hadn't been there? You think I'd have gotten mauled?”

He didn't know what to say.

“I'll tell you. I told him to leave me alone. If he hadn't respected that, I'd have gone back to where there were other people, so's he couldn't keep bothering me. If that wasn't enough, I'd have appealed to his boss.”

Griffin nodded slowly. “Sounds like it might have been enough.”

“Well, if it wasn't, I pack a decent punch.”

He chuckled. “I'll bet you do. I'm sorry. I should have let you tend to your own business.”

They rode on in silence. When they were a mile out from the home station in Nampa, she looked over at him, her green eyes anxious. “Are you going to stop me from driving?”

“Why would I do that?”

She didn't answer.

His mind whirled. There would be no hiding the fact now that one of his drivers was a female. Would that make his stages more vulnerable? Would robbers throng to the Owyhee Valley to take a crack at the girl driver? He mulled that over as Vashti drove up to the stop. He supposed outlaws might think it would be easier to rob a woman than a man. Or would they find it humiliating and tease each other about how they had to pick on a girl because the men who drove were too tough for them?