The Blacksmith’s Bravery (46 page)

“Excuse me, folks.” Griffin nudged the cowboy aside and climbed partway up to the box.

“Maybe we'd ought to pray together.” Bitsy looked around at them timidly, as though expecting her suggestion to be rejected.

“Good idea.” Vashti looked toward Libby and Hiram.

“I could lead us if you wish,” Libby said. “My husband can join the sheriff in keeping watch.”

“Thank you,” Vashti said.

Hiram nodded and took a step away, cradling his Sharps rifle in his arms and gazing out over the quiet town.

Vashti bowed her head, determined not to think about the other waiting passengers and their opinions.

“Our heavenly Father,” Libby said softly, “we thank Thee for this opportunity to help our friends and to travel. We ask Thy protection as we go. Bring us safely here again. In the name of Jesus we pray. Amen.”

“Amen,” said Vashti and Bitsy.

Vashti opened her eyes and turned around. Griffin was locking the treasure box in the driver's boot. Since he had bolted the chests to his coaches, he couldn't lift them down to load and unload them. It made the transfer of treasure a little awkward, but that was a minor inconvenience.

When he'd finished, Griffin stepped down to the boardwalk and glanced at the boys. All the luggage was loaded. He took the mail sack from Peter and placed it in the coach, then walked over to Vashti and the volunteers.

“Folks, we thank you for offering your services. Just remember, lives are the most precious thing we're carrying, then the U.S. Mail. The front box is important, but it's nothing to die for.”

They nodded.

“I suggest you keep your weapons loaded and close at hand, but ride with them pointing in a safe direction. I'll be on the box, watching the road all the time, but it wouldn't hurt to have you folks paying attention, too.”

“You want me to ride on the roof?” Hiram asked.

Griffin smiled. “I think you should stick with your bride. I don't anticipate trouble today, but lately things haven't been exactly predictable.”

They all nodded soberly. Griffin turned and walked to the coach and opened the door. “All aboard.” The men stood back to allow the ladies to enter first.

Vashti hurried to the front of the coach and climbed up. A moment later, Griffin loomed beside her and settled into his seat, holding a new shotgun. The driving box seemed much smaller with him sitting there.

Though his presence set her on edge, the feeling was not entirely unpleasant. The more she saw of him, the more she liked him. Lately, she had begun to think that she might be persuaded to love him.

The very thought sent a flood of heat to her face.

“Anytime, Georgie,” he said softly.

She gathered the reins and picked up her whip.

CHAPTER 31

A
mile out of Fergus, the stagecoach passed the Dooleys' ranch, then the Chapmans'. Griffin wished Hiram sat on the box with him to talk cattle and horses. On the other hand, he didn't mind being near Vashti. She concentrated on her driving and stayed aware of what each horse did. He watched the road ahead, but there wasn't much chance of a holdup on this stretch.

They wound down out of the hills, with the horses trotting steadily.

“How's Justin doing with the bookkeeping?” Vashti asked.

“Good. He made out my monthly report for Wells Fargo at the end of May. Did a fine job.”

“I'm glad to hear it. His attitude has changed since he came.”

“I think the colt helps.”

“You told me Justin seemed interested in him last fall.” She flicked the reins to keep the horses from lagging on a slight upgrade.

“Yes, he up and named it first thing. Champ.” Griffin smiled. “He took to that colt right away. I let him take care of it, and he does a fine job. Of course, I told him that if he got into trouble or tried to jump ahead of the training program, I'd take the colt away.”

“And how's Champ doing?”

Griffin smiled. “He's terrific. We've started saddle training, and Justin loves it. He's still green, but he's learning as fast as the colt is.”

She grinned at him. “I'd like to see Justin work with him sometime.”

“All right. I'll tell him.”

When they stopped at the Democrat Station, the passengers got out to use the necessary while the tenders switched teams. Griffin stayed out near the coach while the tenders unhitched the team and brought out the new horses—four well-muscled bays that matched except for their leg markings. In just twenty minutes the coach was ready, with one new passenger added.

“Hello, Rice,” Griffin greeted the man as he boarded the stage. “Going to town?”

“Yeah, just a quick jaunt in and back.”

Griffin shut the people in. There were six inside now, not crowded, though they did have the mail sack to contend with. He mounted the box, and Vashti took them out with a stylish flurry of whip cracking.

After they'd gone a short ways and settled into the rhythm of the road, Griffin eyed her frankly. “You're doing well, Georgie.”

“Thank you.”

When she smiled, her face took on decidedly feminine lines. He realized no one who looked closely would believe she was a man. Maybe she could wear a false mustache. The thought made him smile. No, a beard would be needed to disguise her dainty chin and the smooth curve of her neck.

“What?” she asked.

He snapped his gaze forward, realizing they would soon be at the rocky stretch of road where the outlaws sometimes lurked. “Nothing. Just admiring your skill.” He could feel her sneaking glances at him as he scanned the terrain ahead and to the sides.

The next time he looked at the driver, her mouth was set in a determined scowl. She was watching, too. Watching and probably remembering the other holdup.

“They don't stop you going downhill,” he said.

“That fellow tried once when I was with Johnny. And if he's got friends now…”

She said no more, but Griffin renewed his vigilance. No chatter could be heard from within the coach. The others must also know this was one of the most dangerous spots on the road.

When they emerged on the downhill side of the tumbled boulders, Vashti sighed. Her shoulders fell slightly, and she cast Griffin a glance.

“I appreciate the good stock you keep for the teams.”

“It pays in the long run.”

“Well, I'll always be sorry for the horses Ned and I lost you.”

“Can't be helped.” He took a broad view, swinging his head all around to inspect the vista spread below them. The desolate country lay empty for the most part. A few ranches lay farther on, but the rocky foothills remained largely unsettled. He turned the other way, and Vashti's gaze met his. Her leaf-green eyes smiled at him. He couldn't think of any other way to describe it, and his heart jolted.

She looked forward again. “This stretch of road will be pretty when the flowers come out.”

Griffin inhaled deeply. Was he out of his mind, putting a beautiful woman like her in danger day after day? His hands tightened on the stock of his gun. Was this danger any worse than what she'd lived through to get this far?

“You started telling me a bit about your past once.” He looked over at her, trying to judge her reaction. “I don't want to pry, but I admit I'm curious, and I'd like to know more about you. How you came here, and why. If you don't mind telling it.”

Her smile was not a happy one, and he regretted broaching the topic.

“Why did you come here?” she countered without looking at him. “Work. A chance to be my own boss.”

She nodded. “Well, I've never had that. I tried being on my own when I ran away from Aunt Mary and Uncle Joshua, but I wasn't ready to take care of myself. I tried asking for work, and a man in St. Joe actually let me sweep the front stoop of his store for him and gave me some food. But his wife found out and wouldn't let me stay on. I kicked around town, first asking for work, then begging… then stealing.”

Griffin eyed her narrowly, thinking of the desperate twelve-year-old girl, but said nothing.

“Then I stole from the wrong person.”

“You got caught?”

She nodded. “I'd been swiping food, but it was getting on for fall and the cold was setting in. I needed money, so I practiced lifting things out of sacks and pockets. I did all right the first couple of times. I got a coin purse out of a lady's handbag, and I picked up the change off a store counter. But when I tried to lift a man's wallet, he grabbed my wrist and wouldn't let go. I'd surely picked the wrong mark.”

“A lawman?”

“Nope. He owned a saloon.”

“Oh.” Griffin frowned and looked away. He'd known it had to be in there somewhere, that plunge from petty crime into hopeless, inky darkness.

“I was there near two years,” she said. “He had me sweep and scrub and wash glasses. I wasn't allowed to go out in the barroom when there were men out there drinking.”

“So he had some sense of morality.”

Vashti shrugged. “Not much.” The pace had lagged a little, and she clucked to the horses. They quickened their trot. “After a while I caught on to what the bar girls were up to when they took a fellow upstairs. I heard one of them arguing with the owner about me one day. She kept saying I was too young. I wasn't fourteen yet. He said youth was worth big money. Well, I didn't need to hear more. I lit out first chance I had. And this time I didn't take his wallet. I knew where to get some cash from a box he kept in the kitchen.” She raised her chin and looked Griffin in the eye. “I could have taken fifty dollars, but I didn't. I took three dollars and fifty cents—enough to get me out of St. Joe.”

“You should have taken more.”

“Yeah. That's what I figured when I got to Independence. I'd been really stupid, and now I was in worse straits than I was before. Because now men were looking at me like I was more than just an orphaned little kid.”

She faced forward. The breeze past his ears, the creak of leather, and the rattle of the wheels on the hard-packed road were the only sounds he heard. Griffin's heart had gone all mushy and mournful.

He shifted on the seat and watched her as she adjusted the reins. “I'm sorry.”

She shrugged it off. “I didn't pay much account to God back then, but in a way, I guess He looked after me. At least, He sent along a fella who kept me with him for a long time. He took pretty good care of me. Mostly.” She flicked a glance at Griffin.

He didn't buy it. A man who took advantage of a girl that young was
not
taking care of her.

“Well, he asked for favors in return,” she admitted, though he hadn't asked. “But that was better than working for somebody like my next employer.” She made a face, as though she'd tasted foul medicine.

Griffin drew in a deep, painful breath. “You didn't stay with him—the fellow you said took care of you.”

She shook her head. “He owed someone money, and he… he gave me to the man he was in debt to. The wrong kind of man.” She blinked rapidly and turned her face a little to the side, but he saw a tear escape and trickle down her cheek. Did she regret revealing how far she'd sunk before she came to Fergus? Surely she wasn't actually missing the fellow who'd debauched her and sold her into slavery.

“Look, I don't want to talk about this anymore, all right?”

“Sorry. I respect that. But a man who'll give over the woman he's been protecting to settle a debt—that ain't right.”

“Yeah.” The horses started down a gradual slope toward a creek bottom, where they would cross a wooden bridge. Vashti took in a little rein and focused on the leaders. He was surprised when she spoke again.

“I'll just say that Bitsy Shepard was my angel. I met up with her at the dry goods store in Cheyenne, and she asked me what I was doing there. I told her I was working at the Pony, and she got this look on her face. Asked me how old I was. I told her twenty, because I was, by then. I told her I'd been with Ike—he's the one who owned the Pony—for nigh on three years. Felt like a century. You know what she did?”