Mara settled the saddle in place on the chestnut Express horse. She rubbed a hand along the gelding’s neck. “You’ll be good today, boy?” He’d better be. This ol’ boy was the quietest Express horse they had. And that’s what Josiah would need on his first official ride after the accident.
The barn door opened, splashing light down the aisle and across the gelding’s saddle. Josiah’s lean, rugged outline filled the opening. Mara’s heartbeat stuttered in her chest. He was so handsome.
He allowed the door to close behind him, then strolled through the barn in her direction. “Thought I’d come see if I could help.” His mouth tipped in that look only he could give.
Mara raised a brow. “I’ll bet you just want to make sure I do it right.”
Lines crinkled around his eyes, and she could imagine the sparkle that the shadows concealed. “I’d never question anything you did with a horse.”
How did he have the power to melt her like snow in a hot kettle? This love that overflowed in her chest—it started in the deepest place and poured out so much, it hurt sometimes. Like now, when he was about to leave on another dangerous ride. It wasn’t snowing at the moment, but fresh powder from the night before covered the ground, and the rocks would be slippery. He could have another accident, maybe worse than before.
Josiah stepped around the gelding and stopped in front of her. He touched her chin and raised it, until her gaze met his. Two valleys formed between his brows. “What’s wrong?”
Her body craved his arms around her. Wanted the feel of his protection. The solid strength of him. Wanted him to stay here with her. Always. But instead of stepping into his arms, she swallowed. “Just worried.”
“About?” He kept two fingers under her chin, and skimmed his other hand down the back of her arm. Goose bumps raised everywhere he touched, and a tingle shot down her back.
“You.” Mara nibbled her lower lip, but kept his gaze. In truth, she didn’t want to turn away. “What if something else happens? It would be so easy to reinjure your shoulder.”
The side of his mouth pulled again. “You think I’m that bad of a rider?”
Heat flushed her neck. “Of course not. But it’s icy out, and you never know what can happen.”
He slipped his arms around her then, enveloping her in the warmth she’d dreamed of. But it was so much better in reality. His strength around her. Emotion welling in her chest. Bliss and love and terror and sheer joy. A drop of it leaked from one of her eyes. Then another. God, please bring him back. What would I do without him?
Josiah’s arms tightened, and he held her that way for several long moments. How long she couldn’t have said. She wanted him to keep holding her forever.
A whistle drifted through the air, and his hold loosened. He pulled away, then lowered his mouth to hers for a gentle kiss. It was only a quick meeting, but gave her one last memory to cling to.
Then he stepped around her and reached to slip the bridle on the gelding. When all was done, he closed her hand in his, and she walked beside him out the barn door.
A few minutes later, she stood in the courtyard watching him ride away. Man and horse in unison, cantering through the snow. A magnificent sight.
If only it didn’t hurt so much.
Josiah’s horse crested the ridge of the hill in the darkness, bringing the twinkling lanterns of Three Crossing Station into view. Exhaustion seeped from every pore in his body. He’d been back in the Express saddle for two weeks now, riding the two hundred mile round trip every Monday and Friday. His layup had stripped away more muscle than he’d first thought, but the rides were less grueling each time. It helped when he’d learned how to hold the reins so his left shoulder didn’t take the abuse of the high-strung horses jerking on the leathers.
He released a piercing whistle as the horse descended the familiar rocky hill into the station yard. A cluster of lanterns gathered in the center of the open area, outlining the figures of two horses.
He was late. The Sweetwater River had been high from thawing snow, so it’d taken longer than usual at all the crossings. Since the relief rider now waited for him, he wouldn’t get a break before climbing on a fresh horse and riding back the way he’d come.
The tired gelding beneath him slowed to a stop when they reached the cluster of men and horses.
“Ho there, English.” Brantley’s voice drifted above the others as the older man took Josiah’s reins.
He slid from his horse, and allowed the other Express rider to remove the leather mochila from atop his saddle. Josiah took the replacement mail pack from the man and positioned it on his fresh horse.
“Nelson here brought news from the Express.”
The other rider turned to acknowledge his name before mounting his horse. Was that a dark expression on his face? “I’m off then.” Dirt and mud flew as he whirled the horse and sped away into the darkness.
Josiah turned back to Brantley and reached for his reins as Hellman led the spent mount away. “What’s the news?”
“The Express is closin’ down.”
Josiah stiffened, then stared at the man. “What?” Surely he hadn’t said what it sounded like.
“Goin’ outta business. Government awarded the mail contract to the stage, so the whole Pony line’s shuttin’ down, ‘scept for the stretch from Salt Lake City to Sacramento.”
Josiah’s muscles wouldn’t work. The edges of his vision faded blurry. What did that mean for him?
“You all right?” Brantley eyed him with head cocked, his voice a little softer than normal.
Pull yourself together, English. He pushed through the cobwebs in his head. “Did they say when they’ll stop the mail rides?”
Brantley’s mouth thinned. “Soon. They’re cuttin’ back to one run next week. It’ll just be the Friday ride for you. Have to wait an’ see about the rest of it.” He shook his head. “Not good.”
Josiah couldn’t shake the daze as he mounted his fresh horse. The animal bobbed its head, jerking on the reins. He loosened the leathers and allowed it to leap into a canter.
But as they bounded up the hill and across the bluff, he couldn’t stop the thoughts roiling. What now? Never in any of his plans did he expect the Pony Express to shut down. It had seemed like a gift from God. Not that God had done him many favors through the years. But he’d dared to think the Almighty might have actually helped things work out for him this time. First with the Express. Then with Mara.
But he should’ve realized. The accident should have been a clue. Nothing in this life was handed to him. Nothing ever came without grit, and hard work, and determination to fight his way to the top. He had to maintain control of what happened to him, or he'd never get anywhere.
So that brought him back to his question. What now? Maybe the Express would let him transfer to the line they were keeping open in California. But that line already had riders, and probably a swarm of men across the country eager to fill any empty spots.
No. He’d have to look elsewhere for a job. Maybe the stage needed drivers. Probably nothing would pay as well as the hundred dollars a month from the Express, but he’d have to start somewhere.
Mara added another log to the fire in the cook stove, then closed the iron door and brushed wood dust from her hands. She scanned the kitchen. Lunch dishes were clean and put away. Dough rising in pans on the counter to bake later. Table clean. Nothing left to do in here.
And Josiah still hadn’t come out of the bunkhouse.
Ezra had helped change out horses when Josiah arrived early that morning. And the news he’d brought wasn’t good. What would he do when the Express shut down? There were ranches a little farther east. Maybe he could find work at one of them. Did he have enough saved to start his own? Probably not. He’d only been working for the Express three months, and one of those he’d been unable to ride.
The sick knot in her stomach tightened. If he left, would he take her with him? She needed to talk to him. Hear what he was thinking.
But she couldn’t wake him up. He’d ridden all night and was exhausted.
She started toward the door. The yearlings needed their daily workouts. Now was as good a time as any. And maybe Josiah would be up soon and come talk to her while she worked.
But after losing her temper with Bandita, and spending more time watching the bunkhouse door than the other two colts she attempted, it seemed like a better idea to head back inside to put the bread in the oven. Warm sourdough bread with dinner might cheer Josiah up. And maybe she could make cinnamon crisps for dessert. Too bad she was out of preserves. A pie would’ve been even better.
She released Jericho into the pasture, then hung the halter on a fencepost and trudged toward the house. Another glance at the bunkhouse showed no movement still. She refocused her gaze on the main house and didn’t let her eyes stray again. It would be too easy for her feet to follow, but she would not disturb Josiah while he slept. This uncertainty and worry were driving her mad.
It wasn’t until she rang the bell for dinner that the bunkhouse door finally squeaked open. Mara stood on the steps of the main house as Josiah emerged from the smaller building across the courtyard. She had to clutch the door frame to keep from sprinting to him and slipping her arms around his waist.
Zeche and Ezra exited the barn at the same time, and Josiah fell into step with them. As they neared the house, Mara scanned Josiah’s face. Was he worried? Exhausted? Fine lines had settled around his eyes, and their depths were a dull gray-blue today. His mouth pressed tight, and his back stood rigid. Yet something about the set of his shoulders seemed like they slouched under a heavier weight than normal.
Her body craved to touch him. Rub the strain away. But she had to settle for turning back to the stove to gather the coffee pot. She’d find a chance to talk alone with Josiah after the meal.
They all sat and bowed for Zeche’s blessing on the food. Mara peeked at Josiah once during the prayer, half expecting him to be watching her as he sometimes did. But only the crown of his dark brown hair stared back at her. She squeezed her eyes shut. She should use this time to pray for him, but so many thoughts twisted in her mind. So many emotions swirled in her chest. She couldn’t fight through them to put together a coherent prayer to their Maker.
Please help us, Lord. It was the best she could do.
A solemn mood settled over the group while they piled the beef and potatoes onto plates and ate. Josiah took only a single scoop of each, then dropped his head and forked one piece into his mouth at a time.
After a few moments with only the sounds of eating, Ezra cleared his throat. “Any thought about what you’ll do, Josiah?”
Josiah raised his head, shoulders still slumped. He chewed and swallowed the small bite of potatoes in his mouth, his dull eyes staring at her brother, as if from a long way away. “Thought I’d ride to South Pass City tomorrow. Maybe on to Pushroot. See if anyone’s hiring.” His jaw clamped for a moment before he spoke again. “Maybe I can get on with the Butterfield stage.”
Zechariah stroked his chin as if he had a beard there. “Not much steady work in these parts with so few people here. The stage line is probably your best bet, unless you go farther west to California. Or back East, of course.”
Mara clasped her fingers together until her nails dug into her palms. Surely he could find work nearby.
But if he did have to travel, she could go with him. It would be hard, not knowing where they would end up. But she could sleep under the stars as well as he could. And she would be a helpmate to him, just like any good wife. The best wife.
She fixed her gaze on Josiah. Please, look at me. If she could just connect with him, she would tell him with her eyes. They could make this work. They could even hire onto a ranch. Maybe go south to Texas. Men coming through on the stage talked about cattle ranches in Texas all the time. She could help him. They would be all right.
But Josiah didn’t look at her. He nodded, his head barely moving, his heart not committed to the motion. Then he dropped his gaze back to the plate, speared a potato with his fork, and raised it to his mouth. A strange kind of stiffness—maybe even formality—radiated from him. A sudden urge filled her to grab him by the shoulders and shake some sense into the man. This wasn’t the end of their dreams. Maybe it could even be the catalyst to something more. Something better.
The rest of the meal crawled by. Mara finished long before the others, and refilled coffee cups, then started wiping out pans. Zeche shot her a frown when she must have made too much clatter, the kind of look that said he knew what she was up to and didn’t approve. But there was no way he knew everything running through her mind. Were her brothers dragging the meal out on purpose? She needed a moment alone with Josiah.
Ezra finished first, and she carried his used plate and fork to the wash bucket. She had them washed, dried and put away before Zeche emptied the last forkful of potatoes from his plate.
Josiah finished at the same time, then rose and started for the door. “Thanks for dinner.”
He was leaving? Mara dropped the used dishes in the bucket of water, then hurried after him, grabbing her coat from the peg on the way out. He was already several strides into the yard when she caught up with him.
“Josiah.” She touched his arm and he stopped and turned to her, but still didn’t meet her gaze. “Want to come help me milk Hannah?”
He ran a hand through his brown hair. “I better turn in. Need to get an early start tomorrow.”
His words hit like a hoof in her gut, knocking her back a step. “I…thought it might be good to talk about things.” We need to make some decisions. But she couldn’t say that. Not when he hadn’t officially asked her to marry him.
“I’m sorry, Mara.” His voice was hollow, distant, as if he were walking to his own hanging. The muscles in his jaw rippled.
Another sock to her stomach, and this one left her breathless. I’m sorry? What was that supposed to mean?
He turned and walked away. Leaving her with more questions than she’d started with, and a nagging fear that tightened the ache in her chest.