The Express Rider's Lady. Stacy Henrie
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her? If he did, there’d be no hope for reaching Lillie by the twenty-second—she’d be gone forever, assuming Delsie wanted nothing to do with her.
At last, Myles emitted a low growl and lowered his arms to his sides.
“Here’s what I’ll do, Miss Radford. I’ll take you with me on my route today.” A rush of gratitude prompted Delsie to step forward, with the intent of reaching for his arm again, but she stopped when Myles held up a hand. “I expect to be paid twenty-five dollars when we reach Guittard’s tonight. I’ll decide then if I think we can go the rest of the way to California.”
She nodded. “Thank you, Mr.—”
“I wouldn’t thank me just yet.” He pulled off his hat and ran a hand through his thick, black hair. “We have a hundred and twenty-five miles to ride, changing horses every ten to twelve. I can’t deliver the mail fast enough if we ride together, so you’ll have to ride your own horse.”
“I know how to ride.”
A glimmer of amusement flashed in his eyes as he replaced his hat on his head. “We’ll see. Since the station owners know me, I think we can get you a fresh mount each time I get one. But it’ll cost you a few dollars for the extra horse and we don’t waste time at any of the stations. We’re in and out in two minutes or less. The moment you start to slow me down, I’ll drop you off at the next station and collect you when I return to Saint Joseph. Is that clear?”
The reality of what she was about to do pressed down on her, momentarily bringing doubt and a panicked throbbing to her pulse. Could she really do this? A hundred and twenty-five miles in one day sounded suddenly daunting—and she had eighteen hundred to go to reach California.
The memory of Lillie’s tear-stained face as she’d ridden away from the house rose into Delsie’s mind. This same image still haunted her dreams. Surely she could endure anything to help her sister and keep her promise to their mother.
“I’ll keep up,” she said, infusing the words with haughty confidence, even if she didn’t feel it.
The merriment returned to Myles’s gaze, though she wasn’t sure if it meant he, too, doubted her abilities or if he found her show of bravery humorous. No matter, he’d agreed, at least for today’s ride.
“In that case, Miss Radford,” he said, doffing his hat and giving her a mocking smile, “let me be the first to welcome you to the Pony Express.”
* * *
Myles had plenty of reasons to suspect Delsie Radford, determined as she was, would falter in her resolve to travel to California—and soon. She was the epitome of a wealthy young lady, with her fine clothes, spotless gloves and a bag containing more money than he could make in six months working for the Pony Express.
Just like Cynthia. Myles ground his teeth against the thought.
Sure enough, the first crack in Delsie’s confident facade came the moment he led the horses out of the stable.
“You...um...don’t have a sidesaddle, do you?” She eyed the trimmed-down saddles on the two horses.
“Nope.” Myles walked toward her, his spurs clinking, his scabbard and revolvers bumping the legs of his decorative trousers. The morning sun glittered off the silver decorations adorning his uniform and his horse. He plucked at his collar with one hand, counting down the minutes until he could change out of the fancy getup. “We use these lighter ‘California tree’ saddles with the shorter, broader saddle horn. Not a sidesaddle in sight.” He stopped the horses beside her. “Change your mind?”
He saw her visibly swallow, then a grim smile graced her mouth. “If you’d be so kind as to help me up, Mr. Patton.”
Myles cocked an eyebrow. Did the girl possess more gumption than she first appeared to? He quickly dismissed the idea—all these rich girls were alike. She’d be lucky if she made it the fifteen miles to the Troy station, let alone the hundred and twenty-five to Guittard’s home station by tonight.
Once he’d helped her sit astride her horse, Myles swung up onto his own. Delsie did her best to pull down the hem of her dress, but she couldn’t quite hide her button-up shoes or the section of her lower calves clad in stockings that peeked above them. Myles jerked his gaze away.
“We’ll ride to the office at the Patee House to collect the mail, then we’ll—”
The blast of a cannon from the direction of the hotel silenced the rest of his words. It was time to go. He nudged his horse in the direction of the Patee House.
Glancing back over his shoulder, he made sure Delsie guided her mount behind his. The only telltale sign of her embarrassment at straddling the mare could be seen in the pink blush that stained her cheeks. But she kept her ridiculously flowered hat tilted high, even as they rode down the street past the few people out and about at this hour.
“Wait here,” he told her when they reached the office. He swung down and went inside to collect the mail. “Morning,” he called to the man at the counter.
“Morning, Patton. Here’s the mail from back East.” The man handed over the leather mochila or knapsack, which fit over the horse’s saddle and contained the mail inside four padlocked boxes.
Myles grunted in response. If he hurried out, maybe the other fellow wouldn’t notice Delsie outside. He figured the less he had to explain about his tagalong passenger, the better. He exited the office, the mochila in hand, but the other man followed him outside.
“Looks like a nice day for a—” The man’s friendly remark died the moment his eyes caught sight of Delsie. “Morning, ma’am.” He removed his hat. “Are you in need of directions?”
The color in her face increased as she shook her head. “No. I’m waiting for Mr. Patton.”
Myles felt the man’s gaze boring into his back as he placed the knapsack over his horse’s saddle.
“Didn’t know you had yourself a new girl, Patton...”
Myles scowled and mounted his horse again. “I don’t,” he bit off the words. “Let’s go, Miss Radford.” He swung the animal around. “We ride full out down the hill to the river. The ferry will be waiting.”
Not stopping to see if she followed or not, he charged his horse forward. They tore through the street at a full gallop. The boom of the cannon sounded behind him, signaling to the ferry that he was coming. He and his mount raced down the hill. The wind tore at his face and hat, and he had to keep a hand on the brim to keep from losing it. A few passersby cheered as he rode past and he lifted his chin in greeting.
At the river, he jerked his horse to a stop. The beast danced with energy from the spirited ride. Myles twisted in the saddle to see Delsie gallop toward him. Just when he thought her mare would ram into him, she yanked back on the reins and stopped the animal. Her hat had slipped off her hair to hang down her back by its ribbons, but her blue eyes, the color of deep twilight, glittered.
“Do you always ride this fast?” she asked, her voice breathless.
“No. Only when we’re being pursued by Indians.” Myles climbed out of the saddle. “It’s mostly for show—like my outfit here.”
He went to help her dismount. As he placed his hands on her trim waist and assisted her to the ground, Delsie frowned, her eyebrows dipping toward her pert nose. Did she look down on him and his lowly station in life as Cynthia had? Myles pulled his hands away and practically dropped her onto her feet.
“I know you’re trying to scare me, Mr. Patton,” she said, bracing herself against the saddle.
He tipped his hat up. “Come again?”
“With your remark about Indians.” She righted her own hat and tucked a few strands of hair back into the elaborate coil at the back of her neck. “I told you I am aware of the dangers, but I’m still intent on reaching my sister for her wedding on the twenty-second.”
She