Messenger by Moonlight Part 2

Orphans preferred.

Wages $25 per week.

Apply, GOULD LIVERY St. Joseph, Missouri "St. Joseph to San Francisco... in ten days?" Frank glanced over at Emmet. "How far is that? Has to be-"

Luther interrupted. "Nearly two thousand miles." He lowered his voice. "It hasn't been officially announced yet, but Mr. Gould said he has it on good authority that St. Jo.'s been selected as the jumping-off spot. Keep that to yourselves. It's supposed to be an all-fired secret." Frank and Emmet swore to keep the secret, and Luther continued. "First rider leaves April third. Fresh horses every ten or fifteen miles. Switching at Overland Stage stations wherever there is one, but they've had to add plenty of relay stations along the way. It's all about speed. I've seen the stock, and there's some fine animals lined up to make those runs. The Pony paid nearly two hundred dollars for some of 'em."

Frank whistled low.

"Like I said, some fine animals."

"And they're still hiring riders?"

"Yep. Outlaw's being treated like a king to keep him in shape for the 'interviews.'"

Frank pointed at the $25. "Is that real?"

"Real as spring rain on the prairie," Luther said. "I'd be trying for it myself if I was half a foot shorter, a hundred pounds lighter, and twenty years younger."

"With money like that-" Frank swallowed. "Shoot." He looked over at Emmet.

"It says 'not over eighteen.'" Emmet said. "We're both too old."

"Not by much," Frank said. He looked at Luther. "I'm nineteen. Emmet's twenty-four. But we're good riders. Better than most."

Luther shrugged. "I think the age is more of a guideline than a rule. And they aren't all orphans. I know that for a fact. Mostly they want fellers willing to ride like Old Scratch himself is after them. Night and day, rain or snow."

Frank grinned. Emmet nodded. Together, they asked, "When do we ride?"

Chapter 3.

It was all Annie could do to keep from skipping alongside Mr. Gould when the time came to return to the livery. She couldn't wait to see Frank and Emmet. "I don't care what Frank said about her, I think we're going to get on just fine with Miss Stanton." She smiled up at Mr. Gould. "She seemed so stern when we talked to her last night. But she didn't hesitate to show me those two rooms just now-thanks to you. I don't quite know how to thank you for all you've done." In a rush of enthusiasm, she stood on tiptoe and planted a kiss on the old man's weathered cheek. If she had a grandfather, she'd want him to be kind, just like Mr. Gould.

"Well now," Mr. Gould bl.u.s.tered, "I'd say you just did. Don't give it another thought. And call me Ira, why don't you. I've known Ellie since the two of us were knee-high to a gra.s.shopper. She's not to be trifled with, but she has a good heart. As for Fern up at the Patee House, just-be sure you keep her happy, or I'll never hear the end of it." He cleared his throat. "I, um, I squire Fern to church now and then."

"I won't let you down. You have my solemn promise." Annie smiled up at him. "You don't happen to need help at the livery do you? My brothers are just about the finest hors.e.m.e.n anywhere."

"Hors.e.m.e.n, you say." He sounded doubtful.

"I know what you're thinking," Annie said. "Bart and Bill aren't exactly a good advertis.e.m.e.nt for their abilities. But-have you heard of Hillsdale Farms?"

"Who hasn't? Mr. Hillsdale's sold dozens of mounts to the Pony Express."

Annie didn't know what a "pony express" was, but that wasn't the point. Mention of Mr. Hillsdale had made an impression, and so she continued that thread. "Frank was one of Mr. Hillsdale's jockeys for a while. Our pa was the head man over the broodmares before Mama died. Pa quit then. Said he needed to stay closer to home and that he'd take up farming. But then he started drinking and-" She broke off. It wouldn't do to make Ira think she was appealing to his sympathy. When it came to horsemans.h.i.+p, neither Frank nor Emmet needed anyone's sympathy. "Both Frank and Emmet spent a lot of time in those fancy Hillsdale barns."

Ira frowned. "Why aren't they working for Hillsdale instead of mucking out my livery to earn a night's keep?"

"Emmet's good with horses, but his heart's in farming. As for Frank, he and Mr. Hillsdale had a falling out." She hurried to explain. "Not because of anything Frank did wrong, mind you. It's just-well, I don't like to speak ill of a man, but when Frank was riding for him, if a horse won, Mr. Hillsdale took the credit. And if a horse lost-"

"-he blamed Frank?"

Annie grinned. "You really do know Mr. Hillsdale." Ira laughed, then broke off abruptly when a cheer rang out from a crowd gathered around the larger of the two corrals in the livery's back lot. Standing on tiptoe, she could just see a black horse pitching and fighting to escape the hold of several men. How had they managed to get a saddle on the crazed animal?

"You don't want to see that," Ira said. With Annie in tow, he led the way to the opposite side of the barn and the wide double doors that opened onto the street.

Annie glanced at a handbill nailed to the doorframe. "That wasn't there last night. We would have seen it when we drove in."

PONY EXPRESS. EXPERT RIDERS...

"I nailed it up myself this morning on my way back from the printer. Got a few boys hired to put 'em up around town today." He paused. "That horse in the corral? That's Outlaw. The Pony hired me to board him. Outlaw sorts the men from the boys when it comes to riding for the Pony."

The crowd whooped and hollered-and then fell quiet, as if taking a collective breath. A redheaded youth wearing a red s.h.i.+rt charged past the open stable doors. Shouting something about getting a doctor, he raced off up the street. Just as Annie's heart lurched, Emmet stepped through the single door they'd used when they returned to the livery last night.

Catching sight of Annie, Emmet called out, "It's not Frank." He hurried to where Annie stood, directing his next few words to Ira. "Jake Finney went for the doctor. Broken leg, most likely."

Annie tottered over to a rustic bench near the blacksmith's forge and sat down.

Emmet sat beside her. "Darned fool greenhorn had no business trying it. That horse is-evil. After he throws 'em, he wants to pound 'em into the dirt." He took his hat off and swiped his forehead with a dusty forearm. "You'd best stay here when we go. Won't be long, now."

"When you go... where?" Annie asked. Emmet reached into his s.h.i.+rt pocket and pulled out a copy of the same flyer Annie had just read. "I know about that." She s.n.a.t.c.hed it away.

Emmet scratched the back of his neck, then raked his hand through his hair. "You can't expect us to turn down two hundred dollars a month."

"You just said that horse is a killer." She crumpled the handbill. "And you said there's plenty of work here. In St. Joseph."

The redhead named Jake sprinted past again, this time with an older man in tow. "Hey, Emmet! You chickening out?" he called. Then he paused and turned to Ira as the doctor hurried on. "Doctor wants to use one of the wagons to haul the patient away."

The old man departed to help with the injured rider, and Annie latched onto Emmet's arm. "Don't do it," she begged. "Please. What would Luvina say?"

That made him hesitate. He seemed to mull it over, but then he shrugged. "Doesn't really matter. Earl Aiken will never give permission for us to get hitched unless I can provide for his daughter." Gently, he pried her hand off his arm. "This is my chance to do that and get you a little place-before Luvina forgets me."

"She won't forget," Annie said. Guilt flickered at the burden sharing her dream of a little house had placed on her brothers. She should have kept that to herself. She'd never meant it to weigh them down. "I don't expect you and Frank to do everything on your own. I got-" The words a job and rooms were drowned out by renewed shouting and hollering from the back lot.

Emmet stood up and put his hat back on. "You don't have to watch," he hollered. "It'll be over before you know it."

Emmet hurried back outside. Again, the horse screamed. The horrible sound sent a chill up Annie's spine. What if Frank or Emmet got hurt? Or worse. She couldn't bear to just sit here and wait. Nor could she bring herself to join the raucous crowd. If Emmet saw her, he'd probably order her back inside, anyway. She glanced up. The loft. No one would expect her to be up there. She'd be able to see into the back lot. She could watch in peace-or hide. At the moment she wasn't sure which it would be. At least she'd have a chance to collect herself before facing-whatever might happen.

Gathering her skirts, she scaled the ladder and made her way across to the open haymow door, ducking down behind a pile of fresh hay so the men below wouldn't see her. She could see a bit of what was going on if she peered over the top. Luther was in the corral helping three other men restrain the horse. Near the street, two men hoisted a makes.h.i.+ft litter and bore the injured man away.

When a boy she'd never seen before slid into the saddle, the animal screamed and lunged, but failed to break free. Annie ducked down, her heart pounding. When the crowd roared, she looked again. The hopeful rider signaled that he was ready and the men who'd been restraining the horse dove through the corral poles to safety. The creature reared. Coming down on all fours, it twisted and bucked. In seconds, the young rider went flying. He rolled beneath the bottom corral pole, barely ahead of the flas.h.i.+ng hooves.

Frank was up next. That horse is evil Emmet had said. Annie gulped. She directed a please toward heaven just before Frank scaled the corral poles and settled into the saddle. The horse strained to be released. Frank tugged at his hat to settle it firmly on his head. He s.h.i.+fted his weight in the saddle. The animal whinnied a protest. The second it was released, the creature reared up, pawing the air. Terrified, Annie ducked down, desperate for it to be over. Listening. Wis.h.i.+ng she could pray better.

The second Frank slid into the saddle, he felt the horse collect himself, ready to explode with fury the moment the men holding him let go. Envisioning closing an iron vise about the horse's midsection with his legs, Frank gathered the reins to keep the animal in check. He nodded. The men let go and dove out of the way.

The shouts and sounds of the crowd faded. Frank was aware of nothing but the surging beast; its flying mane and flas.h.i.+ng hooves; the tremendous power rippling beneath a gleaming black coat, all of it focused on freeing itself of the unwelcome weight on its back. When Outlaw arched his back and crow-hopped across the corral, Frank clenched his jaw and stayed put. The horse twisted and bounced, surged and fought. Every muscle in Frank's body screamed, every joint protested. He choked on dust, but still he hung on. Finally, after what felt like an eternity, a shot rang out, signaling the end of the longest three minutes of Frank's life. He flung himself out of the saddle, keenly aware of Outlaw charging to the far side of the corral. Taking a hasty bow, Frank trotted to safety. Men pounded him on the back. Congratulations rang out.

The redheaded kid who'd helped haul the injured rider away grabbed his hand and pumped it. "That was something! Best ride yet!"

This was better than winning a race for old man Hillsdale. Today, no one else would try to take the credit.

Annie hadn't wanted to watch, but in the end she hadn't been able to resist. She nearly cried with relief when Frank ducked out of the corral. Safe. Whole. The joy lasted only seconds, though, for Emmet would ride next-and Emmet wasn't quite as good as Frank. When he mounted, she closed her eyes. Please don't let him get hurt. He talks to you all the time. Just-please. She heard rather than saw what happened next. A loud crack, a collective oh, a thud, and horrible silence. With her hand clamped over her mouth to keep the scream in, she peered over the hay and down into the back lot. Emmet lay in the dust just outside the corral. Still.

Her heart in her throat, Annie spun about and charged toward the ladder, but before she reached it, a collective cry went up from the crowd. "He's okay!" She hurried back to the haymow door to see what was happening below. Frank was helping Emmet up. Talking. Nodding. Slapping him on the back.

"He wants to go again," Frank called out.

Anger replaced fear and dread. Go again? Had they both lost their minds? The crowd was silent for a moment, and then a tall man wearing a knee-length black coat and a broad-brimmed hat stepped forward. Emmet strode to where the stranger was standing and argued his case. He must have argued well. The man raised one hand and drew a circle in the air, as if preparing to throw a la.s.so. The crowd cheered. Luther Mufsy and the others took the black horse in hand.

Annie hunkered down again. Hiding. Closing her eyes, she waited, alternating between inwardly cursing the gol-durned horse and swearing at her dad-gummed brothers. And then she begged G.o.d to please forgive her bad thoughts and to keep Emmet from breaking his fool neck. I'm not good at the words, but you know what I want. What we need. Please.

It seemed to take an eternity, but when cheers finally rang out and Annie dared to look down, Emmet was-miraculously-safe. The black horse stood in the middle of the corral, head down. Four men moved in to subdue him, but the animal seemed done in. When he submitted to the removal of saddle and bridle without protest, someone shouted that the Paxton brothers had broken Outlaw. "Three cheers for the Paxtons! Three cheers for the Pony Express!"

Annie stayed seated, trembling with fear. The black-and-white cat emerged from a corner of the loft and minced toward her. Inviting itself to curl up in her lap, it began to purr as Annie stroked the soft fur absentmindedly. It seemed a long time since she'd traipsed into St. Joseph with such a clear vision of what lay ahead. It hurt to face the stark truth that both her brothers had abandoned their plan-at the first opportunity. Without so much as talking to her about it. Without considering her feelings. Without including her. Apparently, neither Emmet nor Frank shared her vision of the future, after all.

Chapter 4.

The crowd in the back lot had dispersed and Annie had calmed down before one of her brothers came looking for her. You've always known they'd go their own way at some point. It's just happening sooner than you expected. There was always a ray of light if a body looked hard enough. She would find it-although it might take a while. In the meantime she wasn't going to pretend to be happy about the way things were turning out.

At the first sound of someone climbing the ladder, the cat bolted. Annie sat with her hands folded in her lap. Waiting. The top of a head appeared. Auburn hair. Of course. Frank would be the one to talk to her first. Being twins, she and Frank had always been closer to one another than to Emmet. But that wasn't going to matter today. If Frank expected her to make this easy, he was going to be disappointed.

Instead of sitting down beside her, Frank leaned against the haymow doorframe, staring down into the back lot for a while. Saying nothing. Annie curled her arms about her knees and tucked her chin. Waiting. Staring off toward the opposite end of the loft.

Finally, Frank took a deep breath and said quietly, "Two hundred dollars a month, Annie. With both Emmet and me riding for the Pony, we'll be able to give you the home you want."

She didn't look at him. "Unless you break your neck on some midnight run aboard a half-wild horse. Or get shot by road agents. Or run over by stampeding buffalo. Or scalped by Indians."

Frank snorted. "We both just rode the worst they had to offer, and we broke him. Outlaw's no threat to anyone anymore. Shoot, I might even ask the Pony to let me ride him on my part of the trail. One thing that horse has is grit."

Annie shrugged. She could feel him looking at her, but she refused to look back.

"As to road agents, the Pony only carries mail-no money. There's nothing valuable to rob. And there's no Indians scalping people where we're going."

Where we're going. Not "where we might go." Where we're going. That made her look at him. Frowning. "You've already agreed to it?"

He came to sit beside her. "The station's called Clearwater. Luther told us all about it. It started out as a trading post. Now it's also a regular stop for the Overland Stage. It sounds like a good place. Better than our old farm, for sure. Almost a village, spring through fall. There's a store inside the station, a big barn, and several corrals. Two wells with cold, clear water. Emmet and I will both ride out of there. I'll ride west and Emmet will bring the California mail back this way. A hundred miles each way and then back again, with Clearwater as home. Luther says there isn't any serious Indian trouble to worry about. It's less than a dozen miles to Fort Kearny, and they send out daily patrols." He paused, obviously waiting for Annie to say something.

All she could manage was, "It's not what we talked about."

Frank reached over to chuck her under the chin. "But it could be better."

She shrugged. "I got the job at the Patee House. And rooms at Miss Stanton's. Ira-he said I should call him Ira-put in a good word for us."

"He told us. You did good, Annie. Real good. But-Emmet says this is better. The answer to his prayers. I think he's right."

"When have you ever cared about Emmet's prayers?" She regretted the bitter tone, but she didn't apologize for it.

Frank nudged her shoulder. "Just because I don't talk to G.o.d doesn't mean I don't think he'd listen to a good man like Emmet and help him out." When Annie remained quiet, he said, "There's more to it than just making money. We'll be making history. Think of it, Annie. The president in Was.h.i.+ngton City telegraphs a letter, and ten days after it leaves St. Jo., the governor of California is reading it. Ten days. Not weeks. Days." He paused. "Only about eighty men in the history of the world will ever be able to say they were good enough to be part of that first ride. Imagine it, Annie-carrying a letter written by the president's own hand. Emmet and I will be telling our grandchildren about it when we're old."

Grandchildren. It was the first time Frank had ever come close to talking about getting married and having children. She couldn't remember the last time she'd seen Frank this excited about anything.

He ducked his head and looked her in the eye. "We're supposed to report to the Pony office at that fancy hotel in a little while-Emmet, Jake, and me. To take the rider's oath." Again, he nudged her shoulder. "You'll come and witness it-right?"

They're going. No matter what I say. It's done. Annie's throat constricted. Frank reached for her hand and gave it a squeeze. "Please. We came to St. Jo. for a fresh start. This is it. We'll earn enough money to get a little house here in town. Emmet will be able to get married. He'll have a hope of putting a down payment on some good land." He arched one eyebrow and adjusted the kerchief knotted about his neck as if it were a fancy cravat. "I'll be famous. Everybody wins." He winked at her.

Annie had never been able to stay angry with Frank for long. He was just too... charming. "It's a lot to take in. Especially when we didn't so much as talk about it before you both took the job." She cleared her throat to keep her voice from wavering. "I thought we'd stay together. Not always, of course, but-at least for a little while. I didn't think you'd both go off on your own all at once. So soon."

Frank frowned. "Wait a minute-you thought-you think Emmet and me-that we were leaving you here in St. Jo.? Alone?" Palms up, he waggled both hands back and forth. "No, no. That is not gonna happen. Clearwater's more than just a stage stop. Like I said, it's a trading post. A blacksmith and a crew work the place, spring through fall. The station keeper needs a cook. We got you the job-and you'll stay as long as we ride for the Pony Express."

Speechless, Annie just stared at him.

Frank leaned close and nudged her shoulder. "You didn't think you'd get rid of us that easy, did you? You're going with us."

She twisted about so she could face him. "You got me a job. Cooking. At a place that's hundreds of miles from St. Jo. Without talking to me?"

The furrow between his brows deepened. "You were upset when you thought we were leaving without you. Now you're upset because we aren't?" He reached for both her hands and gave them a little shake. "It's only for a couple of years-at the most. We'll save our money, and when we all come back to St. Jo.-together-we won't need any sour-faced landlady's charity. Luvina's pa won't be able to stand in Emmet's way. We'll get you a little house and I'll paint the trim. By the way, is it still blue?" The black-and-white cat came into view. It sat, looking first at Annie and then at Frank. "New friend?" he asked. Letting go of her hands, he picked up a long piece of straw, and enticed the animal to play.

At the sound of a distant steam whistle, Annie looked across the tops of the buildings toward the river just in time to see a puff of steam dissipate. Beyond the river, the rolling landscape was just beginning to turn green. With a sigh, she asked, "You said two years at most?"

"At most."

"And then we're coming back to St. Jo."

"Isn't that what I just said? '... when we all come back to St. Jo. together.'"

Slowly, Annie stood up. As she headed for the ladder, she called over her shoulder. "Yes. Blue trim. But before you paint the trim, I want those window boxes so I can plant flowers."

Annie had barely stepped off the last rung of the ladder when Emmet joined them, clearly bent on doing his part to prove that working for the Pony Express was a wonderful opportunity. "We'll use Pa's cash box. When the paymaster comes through, Frank and I will hand every penny over to you. You can keep the key on that ribbon around your neck." He looked over at Frank. "Did you tell her how much she's earning?" Frank shook his head, and Emmet said, "Twenty dollars a month. Between the three of us, in just two years we could have almost five thousand dollars."

Annie tried to envision someone handing her a twenty-dollar gold piece at the end of every month. She'd never had that much money in her life. And thousands of dollars? It was too much to take in.

"There's more," Frank said. "All the Pony Express riders stay and eat at the Patee House. And since you'll be working at Clearwater, so will you. Starting today and going until we leave."