The Blacksmith’s Bravery (34 page)

“Station's just over that rise.” She uncoiled her whip and cracked it. Had to make a good showing when you came into the station. Hiram and Art pulled off to the sides and let her pass them, then fell in behind the coach. The road was a bit muddy, but the mules managed to jog into the yard at a respectable pace.

“Whoa, boys,” Vashti called and laid on the reins a little. These mules needed a firmer touch than most horses.

The station agent came out. “Well, George, I see you made it.”

“Yes, sir.”

“Well, well, well.” He looked Trudy over. “I see Mr. Bane's hired a new messenger of the distaff side.”

Trudy laughed. “Ned Harmon was injured last week. My brother and I and Mr. Tinen, back there, rode along to give Mr. Bane peace of mind.”

“And you had no trouble on the road?”

“Just rain and mud,” Vashti said, bending down to retrieve her bag from beneath the seat.

“Good. Got a meal ready for you, but don't get too comfortable.”

Vashti paused. “What do you mean?”

“Buck Eastman busted his leg.”

Vashti caught her breath.

“Who's Buck Eastman?” Trudy asked.

“He's the driver on the run from here to Boise,” Vashti said.

“That's right.” The station agent made a sympathetic face. “Sorry, but you'll have to drive on to Boise. You've got twenty minutes to eat while we change the teams.”

CHAPTER 23

Y
ou don't have a choice?” Art Tinen asked.

“I'm afraid not. The contract I signed says if the next driver up the line can't make his run and they don't have a replacement ready, I have to make it.” Vashti shoveled mashed potatoes into her mouth.

Trudy frowned at her across the table. “But what if you get to Boise and the next driver's sick?”

“They can't make me do more than two runs in a row.”

Trudy, Hiram, and Art watched her eat for a minute. They'd get fed, too, but they'd have plenty of time. Vashti had to be on the box and ready to roll in ten more minutes.

Hiram rested his arm on the back of his sister's chair. His eyes matched Trudy's perfectly—stormy gray blue. “Do they have an escort for you?”

Vashti gulped down a swallow of milk. “Yes, the fellow who usually rides with Buck Eastman is here. And it's fairly civilized along the road from here to Boise. I don't think we'll see any road agents.”

“So… what should we do?” Art asked.

“Vashti, if you want us to go with you, we can,” Trudy said quietly.

“Don't be silly. You don't need to do that. I'll be fine. Stay here and rest. Besides, Ethan and Starr will worry their heads off if you don't come home tomorrow afternoon.”

“But won't you drive back here tomorrow and take your regular run back to Fergus?” Hiram asked.

She hadn't thought of that. Did they expect her to drive four legs in two days? Of course, the run to Boise was only twenty miles, and the road was pretty good. “I'd better speak to the station agent.”

She shoved her stool back and rose. Though she was tired, she knew she could drive as far as Boise with a fresh team. A couple of more hours wouldn't kill her. She'd spend the night in the territorial capital and head back in the morning. “It's really not that far.”

Outside, the tenders had the fresh team in place—four matched bays. Vashti found herself eager to drive them. She walked to where Jeremiah Gayle, the station agent, stood talking to another man.

“Here's your driver,” he said as Vashti approached. “George Edwards, meet Harold Day. He's your messenger as far as Boise, and he'll go on with the next driver from there.”

Vashti shook the shotgun rider's hand. “Nice to meet you, Harold. So they have someone ready to take over in Boise?”

Harold just stood looking at her with a half smile pasted on his face.

Mr. Gayle said, “Yes, they telegraphed. Sid Carver's there, rarin' to go. He's young, but he hopes to get a permanent driving job. This will be a little test for him. You'll just go as far as Boise and stay at the hotel there.”

“A hotel.”

“Yup. They put drivers up at a fancy place there, right, Harold?”

Harold spat on the ground. “Wouldn't call it fancy.”

Vashti gulped. She wanted to ask if it was safe for women. “And will I drive back here in the morning?”

“That's right. You'll have a different messenger with you. Likely Tom McPherson. You'll come back here and take your regular drive back to Fergus. You good with that? It means double pay.”

She hadn't thought of that. “Sure. And if my friends who came along from Fergus want to go, is that all right?”

“Well, we've got a full coach for you. And we wouldn't pay for the extra riders, though I understand you needed 'em to get here safely.”

“I'll be right back.” She turned toward the house.

“Be quick,” Gayle called. “You're scheduled to leave in three minutes.”

She hurried inside and explained the situation. Passengers bustled about, gathering their belongings.

Art looked at Hiram. “What do you think? We could just stay here and join Vashti again when she leaves here for Fergus tomorrow. Our room and food are all paid for here.”

Hiram nodded. “To be honest, I didn't come prepared to pay for a hotel and meals in Boise.”

Trudy's mouth drooped.

“How long since you've been to Boise City, Trudy?” Vashti asked.

Her friend looked at her and shrugged. “Quite a while.”

“You could probably share my room with me, if you wanted to ride along. Mr. Gayle says the coach is full, but there's always room outside.” She glanced toward the window. “Of course, the rain could start up again.”

Trudy's eyes glittered. “Hiram, can I borrow your hat? It'll keep the rain off better than mine.”

He sighed mournfully, but his lips quirked into a little smile as he handed her the old felt hat. “If you're going, maybe there's something you can check on for me. Can I talk to you for a second?”

Trudy followed him a few steps away from the others. Vashti tapped her foot. Mr. Gayle was probably looking at his watch and steaming. Hiram put something in Trudy's hand, and she shoved it quickly into her purse. She came back to Vashti smiling.

“I'm ready.”

“Mind you don't let her get into trouble,” Hiram said.

“I assure you, we'll be proper ladies. Well, as proper as I can be in these clothes.” For the first time, Vashti regretted not bringing a dress along on her stagecoach runs.

“Come on, then.” Trudy clapped the hat on. “Hiram, you boys be good.”

Hiram and Arthur laughed.

When they got outside, the coach was loaded and two men were sitting on the roof.

Vashti threw Trudy an apologetic glance. “Sorry—I didn't know we had
that
many passengers.”

“Don't fret.” Trudy was always game to lead the shooting club into adventure, and the prospect of an uncomfortable ride among strange men didn't seem to daunt her. She climbed up to the box and smiled at the passengers. “Excuse me, gentlemen. I'll be joining you.”

Harold Day already sat on the box. He caught Vashti's eye. “Your friend can sit here with us, if you don't think it'll interfere with your driving.”

At once Vashti said, “Hey, Trudy, sit with me and Harold.”

“Oh. All right.”

Vashti climbed up and considered whether she ought to sit on the outside or in the middle for the best control of the horses. At last she settled between Harold and Trudy and took up the reins.

“You're two minutes late leaving,” Mr. Gayle said from the ground.

“I'm sorry.” Vashti looked ahead to the tenders and nodded. As they released the horses' heads, she flicked her whip, careful not to jab Trudy with her elbow as she did. “Up, you.” The four bays broke immediately into their road trot, and the coach rolled forward.

Though the quarters were a little close, she found the ride to Boise almost as pleasant as her earlier drive with Trudy. They soon had Harold laughing with their tales of life in Fergus. Trudy drew out the messenger, looking past Vashti to question him. They learned he was a family man living in Nampa, and the father of three children. By the time they reached the swing station where the horses were changed, Trudy and Vashti had learned all the children's names and ages, and the fact that one of them had celebrated his fourth birthday the day before.

“That reminds me,” Trudy said. “Libby's birthday is next week. I'd like to get her something. Nothing big. Just something she doesn't have in the emporium, you know?”

“She and Hiram will have a cause for wedding gifts soon, too.” Vashti picked up her whip, ready to set out again with the new team. “The folks who are buying her business are supposed to return with us to Fergus tomorrow.”

Trudy gave her a mysterious smile and bounced a little on the seat.

“Remember when Hiram asked to talk to me at the last minute?”

“Yes.”

Trudy leaned closer and whispered in Vashti's ear, “He asked me to look for a wedding ring for Libby, so's he wouldn't have to buy it at her store.”

“That sounds like a fun errand.”

“Do you suppose the stores will still be open when we get to Boise?” Trudy looked up, but gray clouds blocked the sun.

“Should be,” Harold said. “The schedule puts us there at four.”

“Then let's be on time,” Vashti said. The new team was swiftly put in place, and she figured they might have made up their lost two minutes. One more passenger had climbed to the roof behind them. “Next stop Boise City,” she called and nodded to the tenders. The horses tried to jump into a canter, but she steadied them. No need to rush.

A raindrop plinked on her nose.

As soon as Vashti was free to leave the stagecoach stop, she and Trudy headed for the nearest cluster of shops. With the promise of double pay when she got home, Vashti splurged on a large umbrella.

“We can both fit under it,” she said.

They asked the clerk at the haberdashery what stores would be open latest and planned their itinerary accordingly. Carrying their meager luggage, they visited those between the stage stop and the hotel. Vashti found a serviceable black bombazine skirt, which she wore out of the store, carrying her trousers stuffed into her canvas bag.

“All the wedding rings they have look the same,” Trudy said when Vashti came out of the fitting booth at the back.

“Well, of course. They're supposed to, aren't they?”

“I guess. Hiram didn't give me much money, but I can get one.”

“I've got a little extra, if you need it.”

“No… but they have different sizes. What size do you suppose Libby wears?”

“Hmm. Her fingers are slender.”

“That's what I'm thinking.” Trudy perked up suddenly. “Let's try them on.”

Trying to hide their laughter, they slipped ring after ring onto their fingers as the clerk watched.