The Blacksmith’s Bravery (32 page)

“You think those are the ones who held up Vashti and Ned?” Ethan asked.

“Could be. But one of them was that fella who camped out there in the rocks last summer. Somehow, either he got some men with horses and guns to join him, or they moved in on him and took over his territory.”

“Maybe they recruited him into their gang and helped him get a horse.”

“Yeah, one of my stage horses.”

Ethan ran a hand through his hair and studied the checkerboard. “What I'm trying to figure out is how to prevent it from happening again.”

“You and me both,” Griffin said.

Hiram folded his knife and tucked it in his pocket. “You two eating at the boardinghouse?”

“Thought we would,” Griffin said. “But we'll cook at home tomorrow.” He looked at Justin as he said it.

“Mrs. Chapman sent us a pie.” Justin smiled, and Griffin thought for the first time that he looked a little like Evelyn—that is, like the Banes.

Hiram fetched the broom from the corner and swept up his
shavings. “Reckon I'll head on home. Come and visit anytime.”

Justin finished the game in a matter of minutes, leaving Ethan complaining good-naturedly about getting beat again.

“It's a sort of mathematical game, Sheriff,” Justin said solemnly. “You can only move so many ways, and if you think them all through, you can see what will happen.”

Ethan stared at him. “You see the whole game in your mind?”

“Not the whole game, but a ways down the road.”

Griffin laughed at Ethan's baffled expression. “That's why I've got this boy setting up a ledger for me. I want him to see down the road until I'm making money again.” He slapped Justin on the shoulder. “Come on, champ.”

They walked out into the street.

“Uncle Griff?”

“Hmm?”

“Marty showed me how to clean the horses' feet. Well, he showed me on a mule, but I learned how.”

Griffin eyed him cautiously. “So, you think you like working with horses now?”

“Yes, sir. I'm getting used to them. If I do well with the bookkeeping, would you give me some more riding lessons?”

Griffin rested a hand on Justin's shoulder. “I surely will.”

Vashti sat in the Wells Fargo office the next morning, selling tickets. Seemed everyone wanted to go somewhere now that spring had arrived. She'd have a day off before her next run to Nampa, and she'd enjoy the luxury of sleeping in. Having a bath last night and putting on a dress this morning had brought back all her feminine instincts.

Griffin had finally given her the combination to the safe, and when she closed the office at noon, she locked away the morning's proceeds. She stopped in at the emporium before heading home.

“Vashti! How are you doing?” Libby came from behind the counter to take her hands. “I haven't seen you since your last run. How did it go?”

“Fine. No problems.”

“That's a relief. I hope that incident last week won't be repeated.” Libby smiled. “Say, you should have some special passengers next time you come from Nampa.”

“Oh?”

“Yes. I had a letter from Mr. and Mrs. Hamilton in the mail you brought yesterday. They expect to arrive in Boise tomorrow, and they'll ride up here with you the next day.”

Vashti tingled with excitement just from watching Libby's shining face. “Oh, Miz Adams, I'm so happy for you. This means you'll be getting married soon.”

Libby's cheeks went a delicate pink. “Yes, it does. I don't mind admitting that I'm delighted.”

“You and Mr. Dooley have been waiting a long time.”

“Not so long as some, but long enough.”

“Have you set a date?” Vashti asked.

“Not for certain, but I shouldn't think we'd wait more than a few weeks, if all goes as planned.”

Vashti picked up a sack of sugar for Augie and carried it, along with Libby's news, toward the Spur & Saddle. As she reached the sidewalk on the west side of Main Street, Maitland Dostie hurried out of the telegraph office. When he saw her, he pulled up short. “Is Mr. Bane at the Wells Fargo? I have a telegram for him.”

“No, sir. I believe he's working at the smithy today.”

Dostie frowned. “I don't suppose you'd have time to take it to him? I don't like to leave the office that long.”

“Surely. Just let me give this to Augie, and I'll be right back.”

Vashti hurried into the restaurant. Bitsy scurried about, serving several traveling men and a few local residents.

“Oh dear,” Vashti said as she plopped the sugar sack down on the serving counter. “Today you need me, and Mr. Dostie asked me to take a telegram over to Griffin.”

“Best run and do it,” Bitsy said. “Goldie's in the kitchen filling glasses of cider for me. We'll be all right.”

Vashti dashed back to the telegraph office.

“Here you go.” Dostie handed her an envelope. “He may want to send a reply.”

Vashti's curiosity prickled, but she didn't ask questions. She hurried down the street. Griffin was shoeing one of the coach horses when she rounded the corner. Justin hovered nearby, watching everything he did. She waited until Griffin stopped nailing and reached for a rasp.

“Mr. Dostie asked me to bring you a telegram.”

Griffin lowered the horse's hoof to the ground and straightened. “Me? A telegram?”

“Yes, sir.” She held it out, watching his wary face. Telegrams were almost never good. She recalled his last one had announced Justin's imminent arrival.

Griffin looked down at his filthy hands. “Can you open it, please?”

“Surely.” She ripped open the envelope and fished out the yellow paper.

“What's it say?”

She looked down at it and froze. “Oh no.”

“What?” Griffin's features went hard. “Read it.”

“‘Passengers, driver, and messenger fought off outlaws in ambush Catherine Road. One passenger killed. Advise.'”

Griffin let out a deep sigh and bowed his head. Vashti waited, her heart aching. Nick Telford, an experienced driver, had that run now, on the same branch line with Johnny Conway. She sent up a prayer for him and the passengers, and for the safety of all the drivers and messengers on the road today. Though she wouldn't like to admit it, an icy stab of fear struck her.

Griffin jerked his chin up and glared at her.

“You're not driving tomorrow.”

CHAPTER 22

G
riffin moved his toolbox farther from the horse and looked at Justin. “Stay here. I've got to send a telegram. If Marty comes over, tell him I'll be right back and I'll have the team ready in time.” He strode toward the street.

Vashti tagged after him in a swirl of green skirts. “What do you mean, I'm not driving?”

“Just what I said.” Griffin didn't look at her. If he did, those eyes would make him think twice.

“But if they're over on the Catherine Road now—”

“They could be back here tomorrow.”

“Oh, come on.” Vashti grabbed his arm, but he kept walking. “You don't think they'd pull another job tomorrow, do you?”

He paused and glared down at her. “I don't know what they'd do. If I did, my men wouldn't have been attacked today, would they? And a man wouldn't have been killed.”

That shut her up, at least temporarily. He marched on to Dostie's office, not wanting to think about the ambush or what could have happened if it had been on Vashti's route. He'd have to scare up another driver for her run tomorrow. He couldn't go off himself again—not so soon. Justin needed him. He guessed he'd better advertise in the
Avalanche
and the Boise paper for more drivers, though he hated to. But if a lot of businessmen and geologists were going to be coming through to get to the old mines, he'd better make the stages keep their timetable. If traffic increased, they might
even need a three-times-a-week schedule from Boise to Silver City and De Lamar.

He pushed into the telegraph office. Dostie sat behind his desk at the telegraph key.

“I'm sorry, Griffin. Tough luck.”

“No luck about it,” Griffin said. “Send back to the station agent. ‘Hire extra guard and send stage on time.' Oh, and you'd best tell him I'll ride over tomorrow and catch my men at Sinker. I need to talk to them personally.” He brought his fist down on the counter. Tomorrow was the day he'd hoped to take Justin for a leisurely ride to Reynolds Creek and check in with the station agent there, who stored extra feed for Griffin. That would have to wait.

A sound behind him alerted him that Vashti had followed him in. She cleared her throat delicately, but in a manner not to be ignored.

“Yes, ma'am?” Dostie asked, peering at her.

“Has the sheriff been informed?”

“I expect it's a bit out of his territory,” Dostie said.

“Yes, but he'll want to know.”

Griffin nodded. “You're right. He might even take some men over to help look for those scoundrels.”

“I could tell him,” Vashti said.

“All right. I'd go myself, but I've got two more horses to shoe.”

She started for the door.

Griffin called, “Oh, wait a sec.”

Vashti turned toward him.

“Would you tell Ethan we'll need extra guards tomorrow? Maybe he can help me round up a few extra men to make the run with you.”

She smiled then. “Yes, sir.”

As she closed the door, Griffin kicked himself mentally. Why had he said that? He'd had no intention of letting her drive to Nampa tomorrow.

“That all you want to say in the telegram?” Dostie asked.

“Reckon so.”

“Eight dollars and fifty cents.”

Griffin winced. “Let me see that.” He studied the spare message
but couldn't see how to eliminate more than one word. “All right,” he said at last. “I'll have to come around later and pay you. Don't have that much on me.”

Vashti put on her trousers and boy's shirt the next morning. She frowned at herself in the mirror as she braided her hair and pinned it up. What if she got to the livery and Griffin had found another driver? She clenched her teeth. After he'd had her tell Ethan he needed more guards to go with her, she'd avoided seeing Griffin for the rest of the day. That way, he hadn't had a chance to tell her that he didn't mean it.

She eyed her reflection critically. The shirt had shrunk a little in the wash. She pulled the vest on and surveyed her figure from the front and the side. Maybe she had time to run into the emporium and buy a baggier shirt. Even if everyone local knew she wasn't a man, she couldn't drive in a dress, and she didn't want to give the tenders or the passengers reason to think she was immodest. It was too warm to wear her coat.

She pulled on her boots, grabbed her hat, whip, and overnight bag, and dashed down the stairs. In the kitchen, Bitsy and Augie were peeling vegetables for the day's guests.

“I'm heading out,” Vashti called. “Need me to bring you anything?”