CHAPTER 21

Vashti went downstairs for breakfast early the next morning, wearing her driving clothes. The station agent’s wife handed her a plate full of eggs, fried potatoes, and sausage.

“You’ve got a full stage this morning, Georgie.”

“Oh?”

“Five fellows going up to Silver City stayed at the hotel last night. They’re going to look at the Poorman mines.”

Vashti arched her eyebrows. “That outfit’s been shut down for years.”

“I know. Wouldn’t it be something if they got things running again?”

“Isn’t the gold all gone?”

“Oh no. Most of the mines that closed did it because of the bank trouble in California. The owners mostly moved on. Oh, they say the easy pickings are done, but if these fellows have investors, they could get the machinery going again. The money’s in ore you have to crush.”

Vashti nodded. She didn’t know much about stamp mills and all of that, but any investment in the Owyhee Valley would be good news. It would mean more travel on the branch line and more business at places like the Spur & Saddle.

After eating quickly, she went out to the stable. She didn’t like to eat when the passengers did. She couldn’t politely wear her hat in the house, and if she sat at the table without it, they’d all stare. Of course, she hadn’t much hope of keeping her secret any longer.

Her favorite way to spend the last half hour before they left was getting to know the horses. The tenders were harnessing the team. Vashti took a brush and a hoof pick and checked over the leaders. With a pang of regret, she thought of the horses she’d lost last week.

When the stage from Boise rolled in, she was ready. She climbed the box and waited while the tenders hitched up the team—six horses this time—and loaded the mail and the luggage. Eight passengers climbed into the coach, and two men climbed up to sit in the seat on the roof, behind her and the shotgun messenger—Griffin. He was the last to board, looking chipper this morning. He’d greeted the mining men enthusiastically. Vashti eyed him sideways and decided he hadn’t been out drinking last night, or not much, anyway. That was good. He’d be alert this afternoon when they hit the stretch leading up to Democrat’s. Perhaps she’d misjudged him. Come to think of it, she couldn’t remember him ever drinking more than a glass or two. Why had she assumed he’d cut loose last night? Didn’t she know him better than that by now?

“Ready, Georgie?”

“Yes, sir.” She uncoiled her whip and cracked it. The horses sprang forward. Vashti settled into the rhythm of the stage. Good horses, plenty of paying passengers, and splendid weather. If not for the large man sitting next to her, she might have felt lighthearted. The hulk of a blacksmith had somehow become the man who occupied her thoughts and called to her heart.

Late that afternoon when the team was put away and Marty had reported on business at the livery, Griffin plodded across the street to the Fennel House. His hips and legs felt stiff from sitting so long on the box of the stage.

“Howdy, Mr. Bane,” Terrence Thistle called from the front porch. “The boy’s over to the jailhouse with the sheriff.”

“Thank you kindly. I expect we’ll eat supper here.” Griffin changed course and headed for Ethan’s office.

Sure enough, Justin sat across the desk from Ethan, pushing checkers. Hiram sat on a stool in the corner, whittling and watching the game.

“Well, look at the no-accounts we got here,” Griffin boomed.

Justin leaped from his chair. “Uncle Griff! I didn’t know you were back, or I’d have come and helped with the team.”

“That right?” His statement pleased Griffin, and he smiled at the boy. “You hungry?”

“Gettin’ there.”

“He’s whomping me at checkers,” Ethan said. Griffin touched the top of the stove. It was cold, so he sat on the edge. “Go ahead and finish the game.”

Justin eyed him for a second then resumed his seat. “Your turn,” Ethan said.

“Hey, we brought a whole flock of mining men up from Nampa,” Griffin said.

Ethan and Hiram looked interested.

“Five fellows from back East. They’re looking into reopening the Poorman mines.”

“Well, that’s news.” Ethan nodded, still watching the checkerboard. “I’ll keep my ears open when I make my round of the saloons tonight.”

Griffin pushed his hat back. “They told me they represent a syndicate in London and they’ve been negotiating with the owners. They’d like to start taking ore out again.”

“That’d be a boon to the valley.” Ethan frowned as Justin moved a checker.

“Yup, we need more paying jobs,” Griffin said. “They’d put the roads back in shape, too.” Of course, some of the mines were still operating, but the population of the Owyhee Valley was far below what it had been two decades earlier, and only a trickle of silver and gold found its way out these days.

Ethan picked up one of his pieces and jumped over two of Justin’s checkers. “There! I guess you won’t get me this time.”

“Did you find out any more about those outlaws?” Griffin asked.

Ethan shook his head. “I took Hi and my two ranch hands and spent all day yesterday looking for a place they could have holed up, but we didn’t find anything. Could be they swooped in here for one job and then cleared out.”

“Doubt it,” Griffin said. “They’ll probably show up on another one of my lines—or wait until they know we’ve got a payroll in the box.”

“Well, if the mines open up again, we’ll get some soldiers in here to escort the shipments.”

“True.”

Justin made his move and hopped all the way across the board. “King me, Sheriff.”

Ethan moaned. “How’d I not see that coming?” He slapped a checker on top of Justin’s piece.

“I talked to the deputy marshal in Nampa,” Griffin said. “He says a gang that used to operate in Cheyenne may have moved up here.”

“You think those are the ones who held up Vashti and Ned?” Ethan asked.

“Could be. But one of them was that fella who camped out there in the rocks last summer. Somehow, either he got some men with horses and guns to join him, or they moved in on him and took over his territory.”

“Maybe they recruited him into their gang and helped him get a horse.”

“Yeah, one of my stage horses.”

Ethan ran a hand through his hair and studied the checkerboard. “What I’m trying to figure out is how to prevent it from happening again.”

“You and me both,” Griffin said.

Hiram folded his knife and tucked it in his pocket. “You two eating at the boardinghouse?”

“Thought we would,” Griffin said. “But we’ll cook at home tomorrow.” He looked at Justin as he said it.

“Mrs. Chapman sent us a pie.” Justin smiled, and Griffin thought for the first time that he looked a little like Evelyn—that is, like the Banes.

Hiram fetched the broom from the corner and swept up his shavings. “Reckon I’ll head on home. Come and visit anytime.”

Justin finished the game in a matter of minutes, leaving Ethan complaining good-naturedly about getting beat again.

“It’s a sort of mathematical game, Sheriff,” Justin said solemnly. “You can only move so many ways, and if you think them all through, you can see what will happen.”

Ethan stared at him. “You see the whole game in your mind?”

“Not the whole game, but a ways down the road.”

Griffin laughed at Ethan’s baffled expression. “That’s why I’ve got this boy setting up a ledger for me. I want him to see down the road until I’m making money again.” He slapped Justin on the shoulder. “Come on, champ.”

They walked out into the street.

“Uncle Griff?”

“Hmm?”

“Marty showed me how to clean the horses’ feet. Well, he showed me on a mule, but I learned how.”

Griffin eyed him cautiously. “So, you think you like working with horses now?”

“Yes, sir. I’m getting used to them. If I do well with the bookkeeping, would you give me some more riding lessons?”

Griffin rested a hand on Justin’s shoulder. “I surely will.”

Vashti sat in the Wells Fargo office the next morning, selling tickets. Seemed everyone wanted to go somewhere now that spring had arrived. She’d have a day off before her next run to Nampa, and she’d enjoy the luxury of sleeping in. Having a bath last night and putting on a dress this morning had brought back all her feminine instincts.

Griffin had finally given her the combination to the safe, and when she closed the office at noon, she locked away the morning’s proceeds. She stopped in at the emporium before heading home.

“Vashti! How are you doing?” Libby came from behind the counter to take her hands. “I haven’t seen you since your last run. How did it go?”

“Fine. No problems.”

“That’s a relief. I hope that incident last week won’t be repeated.” Libby smiled. “Say, you should have some special passengers next time you come from Nampa.”

“Oh?”

“Yes. I had a letter from Mr. and Mrs. Hamilton in the mail you brought yesterday. They expect to arrive in Boise tomorrow, and they’ll ride up here with you the next day.”

Vashti tingled with excitement just from watching Libby’s shining face. “Oh, Miz Adams, I’m so happy for you. This means you’ll be getting married soon.”

Libby’s cheeks went a delicate pink. “Yes, it does. I don’t mind admitting that I’m delighted.”

“You and Mr. Dooley have been waiting a long time.”

“Not so long as some, but long enough.”

“Have you set a date?” Vashti asked.

“Not for certain, but I shouldn’t think we’d wait more than a few weeks, if all goes as planned.”

Vashti picked up a sack of sugar for Augie and carried it, along with Libby’s news, toward the Spur & Saddle. As she reached the sidewalk on the west side of Main Street, Maitland Dostie hurried out of the telegraph office. When he saw her, he pulled up short. “Is Mr. Bane at the Wells Fargo? I have a telegram for him.”

“No, sir. I believe he’s working at the smithy today.”

Dostie frowned. “I don’t suppose you’d have time to take it to him? I don’t like to leave the office that long.”

“Surely. Just let me give this to Augie, and I’ll be right back.”

Vashti hurried into the restaurant. Bitsy scurried about, serving several traveling men and a few local residents.

“Oh dear,” Vashti said as she plopped the sugar sack down on the serving counter. “Today you need me, and Mr. Dostie asked me to take a telegram over to Griffin.”

“Best run and do it,” Bitsy said. “Goldie’s in the kitchen filling glasses of cider for me. We’ll be all right.”

Vashti dashed back to the telegraph office.

“Here you go.” Dostie handed her an envelope. “He may want to send a reply.”

Vashti’s curiosity prickled, but she didn’t ask questions. She hurried down the street. Griffin was shoeing one of the coach horses when she rounded the corner. Justin hovered nearby, watching everything he did. She waited until Griffin stopped nailing and reached for a rasp.

“Mr. Dostie asked me to bring you a telegram.”

Griffin lowered the horse’s hoof to the ground and straightened. “Me? A telegram?”

“Yes, sir.” She held it out, watching his wary face. Telegrams were almost never good. She recalled his last one had announced Justin’s imminent arrival.

Griffin looked down at his filthy hands. “Can you open it, please?”

“Surely.” She ripped open the envelope and fished out the yellow paper.

“What’s it say?”

She looked down at it and froze. “Oh no.”

“What?” Griffin’s features went hard. “Read it.”

“‘Passengers, driver, and messenger fought off outlaws in ambush Catherine Road. One passenger killed. Advise.’ “

Griffin let out a deep sigh and bowed his head. Vashti waited, her heart aching. Nick Telford, an experienced driver, had that run now, on the same branch line with Johnny Conway. She sent up a prayer for him and the passengers, and for the safety of all the drivers and messengers on the road today. Though she wouldn’t like to admit it, an icy stab of fear struck her.

Griffin jerked his chin up and glared at her.

“You’re not driving tomorrow.”