The Express Rider's Lady. Stacy Henrie
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I help you, miss?” The horseman cocked an eyebrow at Delsie, his surprise evident in each line of his weathered face. Clearly he wasn’t used to finding ladies standing around the Pony Express Stables. Especially at this early hour.
Delsie forced her lips into a smile, despite the nervousness making her stomach roil. Good thing she hadn’t eaten any breakfast at the hotel. “I’d like to speak to your fastest Express rider.”
The man rubbed his stubbled chin. “I suppose that’d be Myles Patton, miss. But if you need a letter delivered right quick, you ought to take it to the office at the Patee House hotel.”
“This concerns more than a letter.” She drew herself up to full height, although the top of her rounded hat still didn’t reach the man’s shoulder. “May I speak with him please?”
The man shrugged. “I think he’s inside the stables. His run begins in less than an hour. If you’ll wait here, I’ll get him.”
“Thank you.” She exhaled with relief. One obstacle down. Now if she could only convince this Mr. Patton to go along with her plan.
Delsie turned her back on the open stable doors and brought her handkerchief to her nose. The smell of manure, permeating the morning air, made her nausea worse.
Hold on, Lillie. Delsie clutched her leather valise tighter in her hand as she thought of her sister. I’m coming.
Her luggage held a change of clothes, a nightgown, a few toiletries, money she’d received in exchange for selling nearly all of her inherited jewelry and the most recent letter from her older sister. One of many unopened letters Delsie had just discovered inside her father’s desk back home in Pennsylvania.
A man strode toward her, his face shadowed beneath his hat. He wore an elaborate riding uniform, complete with silver decorations and a scabbard hanging at his side. Delsie blinked in surprise; she’d been expecting a ruffian in a rawhide jacket and trousers.
“Mr. Patton?” She tucked her handkerchief into the sleeve of her blue riding habit.
He tipped up his hat, revealing black eyes and a dark beard that accentuated his strong jaw and bronzed skin. Delsie gulped. He was rather handsome, in a rough sort of way, minus the scowl on his face and the way he sized her up as if she were a pampered child.
“Who are you?” he asked in a tone bordering on rudeness. “And what do you want?”
He certainly wasn’t taken in by the beauty of her dark hair or her midnight-blue eyes like her would-be beau Flynn Coppell always claimed to be. But perhaps that was a good thing. If this Mr. Patton agreed to help her they’d be spending a great deal of time in each other’s company.
“My name is Delsie Radford,” she said with feigned cheerfulness. “I’m here to request a ride.”
“Livery stable’s down the street.” He turned away.
“Wait. You don’t understand.” She hazarded a step toward his retreating figure. “I need a ride to California.”
He spun back, his eyes traveling the length of her again. Delsie tried not to squirm under his scrutiny. “I’m guessing that fancy getup you’re wearing means you can read.”
She frowned. “Of course I can read.”
“Good. Then you’ll notice the sign above the building here says Pony Express Stables and not the Overland Stagecoach. Good day, Miss Radford.” He twisted on his spurred heel once more.
Throwing propriety to the wind, Delsie rushed after him. “I can’t take the stage, Mr. Patton. That’s a three-week journey and I must be in California in eighteen days. Not a day later.”
“Can’t be done,” he barked over his shoulder.
Delsie finally caught up with him, close enough to reach out and grip his sleeve. He froze immediately at her touch. An almost panicked expression flickered across his shadowed face, but at least he’d stopped.
“I read about the incredible feat the Express riders performed with that first run in April. Bringing the mail to California in ten days.” She hadn’t exactly read the newspaper article herself—Papa didn’t think perusing the paper a worthy pastime for women—but he’d read the news out loud to her and Flynn over dinner one evening.
Myles shook his head. “That wasn’t done by one Express rider. We ride a hundred miles or more along our assigned routes. Then we return with the eastbound mail a few days later to our starting point and do it all over again.”
He shrugged off her hold. “We carry mail, Miss Radford, not passengers. Besides, I’ve heard talk that Indian trouble has likely closed parts of the Pony Express between Utah and California—some of the mail might not even be getting through. What would you do once you reached Salt Lake City?”
“I am aware of the situation and the dangers, Mr. Patton.” She’d heard plenty of talk—first on the stagecoach and later on the train after she’d left her aunt’s home in Saint Louis. “But I’m willing to pay you.”
He harrumphed. “I doubt you’ve got enough to make it worth—”
“How’s five hundred dollars?” She patted the front of her valise.
His eyebrows rose and a flicker of emotion skimmed across his features. Was it interest?
“I recognize the absurdity of my request,” Delsie admitted. He needed to know she hadn’t worked out this solution with no thought to the consequences. “But I’m willing to pay you five hundred dollars, if you’ll help me get to California by the twenty-first of this month.”
With her request out in the open, she pressed her lips together and waited for his response. Please, Lord, she prayed through the ensuing silence. I know this may be a foolhardy venture, but surely Lillian is that important to You, and to me, to make this work.
Myles blew out his breath. Was he relenting? “What’s so important you gotta get to California for?”
A flush heated Delsie’s cheeks. “I’d rather keep the reason to myself.”
“Look, miss.” He readjusted his hat, pushing it up and pulling it back down again. “If I’m going to attempt this, even for five hundred dollars, I need to know what I’m getting myself into.”
“So you’ll do it, then?”
“Didn’t say that. What’s your reason for going all that way, Miss Radford?”
Delsie heaved her own sigh. “It’s for my sister.”
Myles frowned. “Is she dying or something?”
“No.” But there were things that would die if she failed to reach California in time—like Delsie’s promise to her mother on her deathbed and the chance to restore the close relationship she’d once shared with her sister.
A whisper of sadness swept through her at the reminder of their sweet and gentle mother. Lillian and their father, Owen Radford, were far more impetuous and stubborn, more prone to harbor a grudge. For this reason Delsie’s mother had made her promise to look after the other two in Lydia Radford’s absence.
Delsie had diligently done so, smoothing things as best she could between her father and sister for the past six years. At least until Lillian had refused to marry the man their father had chosen for her and instead followed her farmer beau to California ten months ago. Delsie hadn’t known where her sister had been living or if Lillie was even all right until she’d found the letters her father had hidden from her. Now the only way to keep her pledge to her mother was to go after Lillie herself.
“I know it may sound silly.” Delsie tilted her chin to meet Myles’s stern look. “But it’s imperative I be at my sister’s wedding on June twenty-second. If I’m not there, I will never see her again. She and her husband are bound for Oregon the following day and I don’t know where they’ll be living once they reach their destination.”