The Express Rider's Lady. Stacy Henrie
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window again. The yard sat empty, though light from the open doors of the stable attested to someone’s presence. Weariness had certainly affected her mind when she and Myles had ridden up earlier, but Delsie thought she recalled seeing a number of filled stalls inside the barn. Would the Guittards allow her to purchase three of their horses?
A figure exited the stable. It was Amos. As Delsie watched, the man lifted his arm and whistled, his eyes toward the western sky. Elijah soon appeared and swooped down to settle onto Amos’s arm. She hadn’t seen the bird come to anyone else all day, except Myles. Clearly the creature saw something in both men that others might not.
What was it Myles had said about his friend? Express worker, avid explorer and accomplished harmonica player. Was it possible Amos knew the terrain beyond Nebraska?
Delsie studied the man’s face as he gently ran his finger over the feathers on Elijah’s head. Though she knew next to nothing about him, she instinctively sensed kindness within him, as the hawk obviously did. Just as she’d sensed integrity and honor within Myles, despite all his gruffness and sarcasm. Would the old man agree to join them? Would Myles be willing to split his money from her if Amos came along, too? There was only one way to find out.
Determination welled inside Delsie and she spun away from the window. She quickly did up her collar and arranged her hair in a hasty twist at the nape of her neck. There’d be enough time later on to finish washing and dressing for bed. Right now, she needed to corner Amos and present him with her new plan before Myles came to collect his bird.
She slipped into the hallway, down the stairs and out the front door without encountering anyone. As she stole around the side of the house, her eyes went to the streaks of pink and orange smearing the darkening sky overhead. The same sun was setting over Lillie. Delsie smiled at the thought. The assurance she’d felt earlier while reading once again filled her heart. Tomorrow she’d be back on her way to California and to her sister—she just knew it.
Let the West do its worst, she mused. She had Someone far greater on her side than all the Express riders and horses and hazards from here to the coast.
Myles pushed his eggs around his plate, his appetite not its usual hearty self. Sleep had eluded him for several hours last night, as it had after Cynthia’s betrayal two months earlier. He kept thinking of Delsie’s soulful eyes filled with disappointment and grief when he’d conveyed the impossibility of her plans. She was clearly disheartened, but she hadn’t raged at him or laid blame at his feet as he might’ve been tempted to do.
Her quiet acceptance of defeat wasn’t the only thing that had kept him awake. He’d had a difficult time erasing the image of her unbound hair and cream-colored skin from his memory, too.
So she’s pretty, Myles thought, scowling at his half-eaten breakfast. Any man would say the same.
Not for the first time since meeting Delsie the day before, he felt some relief at the knowledge that they would be parting company very, very soon. She kept surprising him, acting in ways that contradicted his opinions about rich folk, and he didn’t like it one bit. He liked routine, consistency and taking risks only when he knew for certain what the outcome would be.
Funny that she’d all but admitted to being the same way on the boat yesterday. Except this harebrained scheme of hers clearly meant she’d thrown her normal caution out the window.
“Thank you for the breakfast, Mrs. Guittard.” He stood, hoping she didn’t take offense to him not finishing everything.
The woman smiled. “You’re welcome, Mr. Patton.”
Myles glanced at the kitchen doorway. “Should I let Miss Radford know it’s time to eat?”
“She’s already had her breakfast.”
“Oh.” He’d suspected she would sleep in, especially knowing how sore she’d be today.
“I believe she’s in the stables,” Mrs. Guittard added over her shoulder from where she was working over a pot of something at the stove.
Myles put on his hat and let himself out the back door. Apparently Delsie was as anxious to get back to Saint Joseph as he was. The thought erased some of his guilt over frustrating her plans, however unintentionally.
Good thing he hadn’t let Amos in on her notion to reach California before the twenty-second—the man would have tried to make it work, no matter the foolhardiness of the venture. Amos hated to see a woman in distress. Myles suspected it was the fatherly nature in him, one he hadn’t been able to practice on with his own children. Amos and his wife, who had passed away seven years earlier, had remained childless, despite a strong desire for a family.
The lightening sky overhead promised to be as clear and blue as the day before. The sight brought a whistle to Myles’s lips, a tune he’d heard Amos play plenty of times on the harmonica. Elijah swooped down over the stable roof and landed on his shoulder.
“You get breakfast, boy?” He ran his hand over the bird’s head, his gaze on the western horizon.
For one brief moment, he considered what it would’ve been like to travel farther than he’d ever been, all the way to California. His stepfather used to tell him a place like that, so far west, would have enough room for a horse ranch.
Someday.
Myles turned toward the stables. It was time to return to Saint Joseph and his current life. The longer he stayed with the Pony Express, the more money he’d make—money he could use to purchase that sprawling horse ranch in the future. Now that Cynthia no longer wanted to marry him, the ranch was his only dream and focus. It was the reason he’d considered Delsie’s proposal to take her to California in the first place. But he’d just have to be content with earning the money slow and steady instead.
The whistle returned to his lips as he entered the nearest stable. Inside Delsie stood talking quietly to Amos, but she closed her mouth the moment Myles walked up. She had on a different dress than yesterday, her hair pinned up again beneath her ridiculous flowered hat. He looked past them and spied one, two...three?...saddled horses. His merry tune ended on a sour note. Something was afoot.
“You planning a trip to Saint Joe?” he asked Amos with an attitude of nonchalance, despite the wariness churning inside him. Delsie avoided his gaze.
“Nope,” Amos answered. The glitter in the man’s blue-gray eyes only heightened Myles’s suspicion.
“What’s with the third horse, then?”
“Can’t very well walk to California, can we?”
We? Myles scowled at Delsie’s bent head. Sure enough she’d convinced Amos to go along with her wild scheme, just as he’d feared last night. Well, he’d put a stop to all this nonsense right now. “Miss Radford, we talked about this last night. It can’t be done.”
“But you said if we had our own horses—”
Myles tightened his jaw in exasperation. Had the woman heard the rest of his explanation? “I said even if we had our own horses, it still wouldn’t work. They can’t go fast enough.”
“Not necessarily. I’ve figured out—”
“The supplies you’d need to travel that far will weigh them down. At that slow pace you wouldn’t reach California until—”
“Myles?” Amos said, quietly but firmly.
“What?” he growled. Elijah ruffled his wings as if startled.
“Let the lady finish. She’s come up with a plan that might work.”
Myles took a moment to swallow back his irritation, then through ground teeth he managed to ask, “What do you propose, Miss Radford?”
Delsie glanced between him and Amos and back to him before her chin rose a notch.