CHAPTER 20

Vashti’s stomach fluttered as Griffin counted out her pay. As each bill hit her palm, the tickle rose until she felt she’d burst. She’d be able to pay Bitsy and Augie for a month’s board and room and also pay what remained on her bill at the emporium.

“Twenty-eight, twenty-nine, thirty.”

“Thanks, Mr. Bane.”

“Griffin. And you earned it.”

She ducked her head. “I still feel like I ought to help pay to replace the horses and harness.”

“Unfortunately, that’s part of my business expense.” Griffin’s eyes narrowed. “Are you sure you want to do the mail run again next week?”

“Yes, sir. I’ll be ready.”

“Because I could maybe find someone—”

“I want to do it.”

He looked down into her eyes for a long moment. Vashti felt the tickle move toward her heart. He looked handsome today, less shaggy. Must have trimmed his beard.

“Vashti, I don’t want anything to happen to you.”

She nodded. “Thanks. But don’t you think they’ll go more for the stages carrying treasure? Some of the mines will be shipping out gold again, and payrolls will be coming through regular.”

“Yes. And you’ll be carrying some of them.”

She gulped. “Think the outlaws know when we’re carrying something valuable?”

“It’ll be pretty much even odds this summer. If they hit often enough, they’ll get something eventually.” Griffin scrunched up his mouth. “I guess I’d better line up some more guards. If we’ve got to deal with an outlaw gang this year, it’s going to be rough going, no matter what run you’re driving.”

“Sheriff Chapman didn’t find any trace of them, did he?”

“No. He was able to track them until they got into the rocks.”

“I’m really sorry they got your rifle and Ned’s shotgun.”

Griffin sat down on the edge of his desk. “Well, don’t fret over it. I’ll put in my claim to the government for the guns and horses, since it was a mail coach. And I’ll make sure you’ve got a good messenger next time.”

She looked up at him. “Who will ride with me now that Ned’s laid up?”

“We’ll see.” He looked worried, and she didn’t press him. “I’m really sorry we lost the horses, but I especially regret that Ned got hurt.”

“Have you seen him since we brought him in?” Griffin asked.

“Yeah, I went over to Doc’s yesterday. Ned was in a lot of pain.”

“I saw him this morning.” Griffin’s brown eyes darkened. “The doc says his arm may never be right again. And he’ll need several weeks to recuperate.”

“He lost a lot of blood,” Vashti said softly. “I should have stayed and helped Emmaline.”

“You couldn’t do that and go for help, too. Besides, she had the other passengers. Doc said there wasn’t much else they could have done besides what she did—making a bandage and trying to stop the bleeding.”

Vashti looked down at the money in her hand. Maybe she’d spend a dollar or so on a new petticoat for Emmaline, to replace the one she used to cover Ned’s wound.

On Monday morning, Vashti mounted the stage box outside the livery and prepared to drive around to the Wells Fargo office. She had a team of four sorrel horses for a mostly downhill run. Warm sunshine beat down on her. She couldn’t see any snow left in town, though the mountains still wore their snowy cloaks, and the north slopes probably still held pockets of it. The horses stamped and nickered, ready to go. If not for the fresh memory of the robbery, she’d have sung a tune under her breath.

To her surprise, when the mail and nine passengers were loaded and a green wooden treasure box was lodged in the front boot, behind her feet, Griffin himself mounted the box and sat down beside her, holding two guns. He slid a Sharps rifle under their seat and held the shotgun up against his shoulder.

“Ready, Georgie?”

She swallowed hard. “You’re riding with me?”

“Yes, I am.”

Her pulse rate doubled. Could she ride twenty-five miles with Griffin Bane sitting next to her? How would she ever concentrate on the horses? It was bad enough sitting next to her boss, but lately her heart had done strange things when he was close by. She’d pondered far too much on the brief ride she’d taken on his horse with him the day of the robbery.

“What about Justin?” she asked. “What’ll he do tonight?”

“Mrs. Thistle is happy to have him as a guest once more.”

Vashti gathered the reins. If she put it off any longer, they’d start late, and keeping the conversation going wouldn’t put a different shotgun rider at her side. She signaled Marty, and he let go of the leaders’ heads. They broke into a smooth trot. This was her dream—good horses, a fine coach, and an open road. She wouldn’t think about the stretch that ran through the rocks.

The first few miles flew by, and she felt Griffin’s gaze on her often while they were still near town. Of course he was watching her, evaluating her performance. She tried not to let it bother her, but she couldn’t help being conscious of him every moment.

After their brief stop at the Democrat Station, where Mrs. Jordan ran out to say hello to “Georgie,” Griffin sat tall, constantly scanning the broken landscape. Neither of them mentioned the rocks, but as they approached the site of the robbery, Vashti felt his tension. He sat alert and tight as a bowstring, holding the shotgun at the ready.

She kept the horses moving at a swift trot. Her heart raced as they came to the spot where she’d first seen the lone outlaw six months ago.

“I think the robber who didn’t have a horse last week was the one who was out here last summer,” she said suddenly. “Ned told me as much.”

She looked over at him in surprise. “He did? I thought of it that day, but I paid more attention to their leader. Benny.” She shivered.

The horses kept on, never once breaking stride. She wondered where the others were now—the ones that were stolen. Would their own faithful coach horses be used to attack them?

Ahead was the narrow place where rocks loomed on both sides of the road. Vashti’s lungs ached, and she held her breath.

Griffin never took his eyes off the rocks as they rolled smoothly toward the danger point. Of course, if that gang were to stop them again, the outriders would likely have shown themselves by now. You just never knew. And the coach traveled downhill. Far more likely they’d be attacked going the other way, as Vashti and Ned had been. A team plodding uphill was much easier to stop than one barreling down an incline. Still, he remained vigilant, aware of the nine passengers, the mail, and the treasure box. The weight of his responsibility pressed on his broad shoulders.

All of that and Vashti.

If his small part of the Wells Fargo line suffered another holdup, who knew what would happen? He might lose the mail contract. That could ruin him financially. Already he was hard pressed, and if he wasn’t reimbursed for last week’s losses, he’d have a difficult time of it. But worse—people’s lives were at stake. Was he foolish to run a stage here when danger lurked?

The coach rumbled through the narrow place, and he exhaled heavily. Ahead lay more rocks—the ones most of the outlaws had hidden behind. But the best place to waylay them was now behind.

He glanced over at Vashti. A drop of sweat trickled down her temple, though it wasn’t overly warm.

He wanted to assure her that they were safe, but he couldn’t say that for sure. Not yet. So they rode on in silence, down out of the hills and toward the river.

As the rocks fell farther behind, Vashti uncoiled. Her jaw relaxed and her shoulders fell a little. She resumed talking to the horses now and then, as she had during the first part of the ride. He admired the way she kept all the reins almost taut—but without pressure on the horses’ mouths. Gentle contact, that was all. She may not have driven long, but she had a feel for the horses.

He relaxed just a hair and scanned the terrain on both sides of the road. After looking ahead for a long minute, he allowed himself another glance at her. Watching Vashti drive was like listening to rippling music with auburn hair and green eyes.

She shot a reproachful glance at him, and he looked quickly away. When had he started caring for her? He’d known her for years in a general way—had let her bring him drinks when he visited the Spur & Saddle in the old days, before Bitsy got religion. She was a bar girl, that was all. Then she became a churchgoing member of the community. A sister in Christ, according to Pastor Benton, and Griffin supposed that was right. It had taken everyone awhile to get used to thinking of Bitsy and “the girls” that way.

Now she was much more. His employee. A member of the Ladies’ Shooting Club. A holdup survivor. And one tough stage driver.

His gaze strayed to her face again, and she glanced over. She bit her bottom lip as she adjusted the reins. Was she nervous because he was here? He smiled.

Her green eyes widened for an instant, and she looked forward again, frowning slightly. The ferry lay a half mile ahead. Across the river, and they’d be nearly there. Griffin almost regretted that the end of their ride together approached. But there was the return trip tomorrow. And tonight in Nampa.

Normally if he rode one of the stages, he had a couple of drinks after dinner and hit the hay early. He didn’t have enough spare cash to get into a poker game. He’d always figured he shouldn’t gamble unless he wouldn’t miss the money if he lost. Now and then, he found a saloon where they had a singer or dancers. One time in Boise, he’d been to the theater. That was something he still thought about two years later. Colorful costumes, music, pretty ladies, and a magician who wasn’t half bad.

But tonight … he made himself not look at Vashti, but he knew he wouldn’t stray far from the home station if she stayed there tonight.

They rolled up to the ferry, and Vashti called, “Whoa now.” The team halted smoothly. The ferryman and his two helpers came out of their shack.

“How many passengers?” the ferryman called.

“Nine,” said Vashti.

The man looked sharply at her.

“Good afternoon,” Griffin said, louder than he’d intended. At least he distracted the ferryman.

“Oh, Mr. Bane. How are you, sir?”

“Fair to middlin’.” It pleased Griffin to see the man straighten his shoulders and snap orders to his men. The ferryman knew who would pay him at the end of the month for the Wells Fargo coaches, employees, and passengers he carried.

Griffin climbed down and watched Vashti scramble to earth. If one didn’t know, he supposed one might think she was a young man. But how many people between Fergus and Boise didn’t know? The ferryman’s helpers sneaked glances her way as they prepared to load the stage onto the ferry. After the horses and coach were aboard, the passengers and a few locals who’d been waiting to cross the river got on.

“Sir,” said one of the men who’d ridden the stage. Griffin paused beside him. Vashti went forward to make sure the horses were calm. “Can I help you?”

“Yes, sir. I want to get to Mountain Home as quickly as possible, and I wondered if I should have bought a ticket all the way through.”

“When you get to Boise you can get it, but I think you’d do better to take a train from there.” He looked toward Vashti.

One of the ferryman’s helpers leaned on his pole, smiling at her. The ferry was pulled across the river with ropes and a team of mules on the other side, so the men didn’t have to work too hard during the crossing. This one seemed to think that gave him license to bother the passengers.

“So, you got plans for tonight, honey?” The man leaned toward Vashti and arched his eyebrows coyly.

Vashti appeared to notice him for the first time and moved around to the other side of the lead horses. The man followed her.

Griffin nodded to the man who was still talking to him. “Excuse me.” He cut behind the horses and came up behind Vashti. Over the swirling river, the ferry worker’s sugary tones were clear.

“You shy, darlin’? ‘Cause I know some fun places we could go.”

Vashti, with her back to Griffin, stood boulder still. “Leave me alone.”

“It’d be more fun if we was alone together. I heard you know how to be a fun kind of girl.”

Strange, Griffin had always thought his bulk was too great to ignore, but this fellow had zeroed in on Vashti and didn’t appear to see anything else.

Griffin reached out, grabbed the back of Vashti’s vest, and yanked her back a step, putting her behind him. He stood in silence, glowering down at the man.

The ferryman’s helper looked up at him with his mouth hanging open. “H–h—”

“You plaguing my driver?” Griffin roared.

“N–n–n—”

“Good. Because I could hurl you into the Snake with one pop.”

The man gulped and edged away between the horses. Griffin watched him, not moving a muscle until the man had disappeared behind Prince’s head.

He turned around. The ferryman clung to the rudder at the other end of the boat, staring at him. Every passenger stared. Vashti stood two feet from him, her lips clamped together.

“You okay?” he asked.

“I could have handled it,” she said between clenched teeth. Griffin blinked. Her face was red, and her eyes were slits of green fire.

“Uh …” He glanced up and saw the others still watching. He leaned toward Vashti and said quietly, “Did I do something wrong?”

“You might say that.”

“I was just protecting you. You’re my employee.”

“I told you, I could have handled it.”

“He knew—”

“That’s right. He knew. And now everybody knows.” She shook as she spat the words out in ragged whispers. “I could have put him in his place without making a three-ring circus out of it.”

He glared down at her.” Fine. Next time I’ll just let the womanizers and the drunks hang all over you.”

The lines of her face congealed. “He didn’t touch me.”

“No, but he would have.”

“Oh, now you’re a prophet.”

A man couldn’t win. Nothing he could say right now would pacify her. Griffin stomped past her toward the far end of the ferry. The passengers ducked out of his way and grabbed the railing. His shifting weight actually made the ferry rock. He slowed his steps and stayed to the middle of the craft, until he was face-to-face with the ferry’s owner.

“Your man was bothering my driver.”

The ferryman seemed to concentrate on steering the boat, though it was guided mostly by the pulley system.

“I’ll speak to him, but I expect he was just trying to see if the rumors were true.”

“What rumors?”

“That you had a loose woman driving stage for you.”

Griffin clenched his fists. “I could kill you for saying that.”

“That’s the word I heard. I saw her last week when she came through with Ned Harmon on the box. The boys didn’t catch on till afterward, when I told ‘em.”

Griffin squinted down at the much smaller man, trying to make sense of that. “Why’d you tell ‘em?”

The ferryman laughed. “It’s a nine-days’ wonder, Mr. Bane. Something curious.”

“Yeah. Curious.”

One of the stagecoach passengers edged in beside Griffin. “Curious, all right. I had no idea a woman was driving us. She did a good job.”

“She’s a good driver,” Griffin said. “And she’s not a—” He glanced over his shoulder. Vashti had kept to the other end of the boat. “She’s not what you said. I’d appreciate it if you didn’t spread rumors to that effect.”

“I beg your pardon. I’d heard tell her last job was in a saloon.”

Griffin hesitated. “Well, that’s not a lie. But there’s respectable saloons, you know.”

The male passengers standing nearby broke out in laughter.

Griffin gritted his teeth and decided he’d said enough. He kept his distance from Vashti as the ferryman and his helpers brought the boat to shore. Once they’d unloaded and the passengers were back in the coach, he climbed up to the box. Vashti waited until he was settled and lifted the reins. She didn’t look at him or speak as she drove toward Nampa. Griffin held his shotgun and watched the edges of the road.

Finally he couldn’t stand it any longer.

“Vashti, listen to me. I didn’t mean to embarrass you or make things worse for you. I honestly thought you could use some help.” He sighed. “You’re such a little bit of a thing, and that fellow had the wrong idea about you. I just figured I’d set him to rights.”

She looked over at him. “What do you think would have happened if you hadn’t been there? You think I’d have gotten mauled?”

He didn’t know what to say.

“I’ll tell you. I told him to leave me alone. If he hadn’t respected that, I’d have gone back to where there were other people, so’s he couldn’t keep bothering me. If that wasn’t enough, I’d have appealed to his boss.”

Griffin nodded slowly. “Sounds like it might have been enough.”

“Well, if it wasn’t, I pack a decent punch.”

He chuckled. “I’ll bet you do. I’m sorry. I should have let you tend to your own business.”

They rode on in silence. When they were a mile out from the home station in Nampa, she looked over at him, her green eyes anxious. “Are you going to stop me from driving?”

“Why would I do that?”

She didn’t answer.

His mind whirled. There would be no hiding the fact now that one of his drivers was a female. Would that make his stages more vulnerable? Would robbers throng to the Owyhee Valley to take a crack at the girl driver? He mulled that over as Vashti drove up to the stop. He supposed outlaws might think it would be easier to rob a woman than a man. Or would they find it humiliating and tease each other about how they had to pick on a girl because the men who drove were too tough for them?

He climbed down from the box wearily. He’d had some vague notion this morning of asking Vashti to see the town with him tonight. He almost laughed aloud at the thought now.

Businesslike, Vashti gathered her personal possessions and clambered down. The station agent had opened the door for the passengers, and they piled out, exclaiming about the smooth ride the “girl driver” had given them. Each of the nine men made a point of thanking Vashti before they scattered. She stood there and took it well, smiling and returning their comments.

When the last one walked away with his luggage, she sighed and turned back toward the coach. One tender was leading the team away, and another led out the new four-in-hand.

“How many of the passengers thanked you when they thought you were a man?” Griffin asked.

Vashti’s lips twitched. “Nary a one. But then, they’d been terrorized and robbed, so you can’t really blame them.”

Was this really only her second run? Griffin stared after her as she headed for the house.

Vashti walked slowly and deliberately. She knew Griffin was watching her. She’d hardly had a moment all day when she wasn’t conscious of his gaze. Well, she intended to ignore him until time to mount the stage again in the morning.

The next driver, who wasn’t under Griffin’s supervision, ambled out onto the porch. He nodded at Vashti.

“You George?”

“That’s right.” Vashti stuck out her hand. “George Edwards, of Fergus.”

The other driver, a man of about forty, gripped her hand. “Buck Eastman. I heard you had a holdup last week.”

“Yes.”

“An’ I heard Ned Harmon got shot.”

“He did. Our doctor thinks he’ll recover all right, but his arm’s pretty stove up.”

“Too bad.”

“Yes, we miss him.”

“Who’s riding with you?” He looked toward the stage. “Griffin Bane.”

Eastman turned wide eyes on her. “Your boss?”

“That’s right.”

He shrugged. “I heard he’s fair. Maybe doesn’t run as tight a ship as old Fennel did.”

“Mr. Bane’s all right,” Vashti said.

Buck nodded. She expected him to move on, but he just stood there.

“Well, I’m hungry, Mr. Eastman, so if you’ll excuse me—”

“I heard other things, too, and I guess I heard right.”

She pulled back and eyed him suspiciously. “What sort of things?”

“Heard Bane had a woman on his Fergus-to-Nampa run.”

“Well?”

He looked her up and down. “I reckon you’re the one.”

She set down her bag and put her hands on her hips. “Mr. Eastman, I’m a driver. The rest doesn’t matter. If you want to make something of it, you go right ahead. But I’d hate to see one driver make trouble for another, even if they work on different branch lines, and even if one dislikes the other.”

“I didn’t say I disliked you.”

“Maybe I wasn’t talking about you.”

His eyes narrowed, and he held her gaze for a moment. Vashti wondered if she’d made a mistake. He no doubt had a friend nearby—he must have a shotgun messenger going with him. And she’d told Griffin not to mix into her business.

About the time she’d begun to wonder if she ought to apologize, Buck threw back his head and laughed. “Ain’tchou somethin’? Wait’ll I tell Jack.”

“Tell anyone you want,” Vashti said. “It’s no secret anymore.”

Buck pulled his hat off and slapped it against his thigh. “Good luck to you, missy. I reckon you’re a good driver. I heard it took a whole gang of outlaws to stop you. You take care, now, y’hear?”

“I will. Thanks.”

She watched him swagger down to the coach. Griffin stood next to the wheelers, watching as usual. When Eastman stopped to speak to him, Vashti turned away and went inside. Supper and a bunk sounded mighty good. For a brief moment, she wondered what Griffin would do for the evening. The sun was just going down behind the distant mountains. Would he make the rounds of the saloons in Nampa?

She walked to the dining table. “Not even going to think about it.”