The Express Bride Page 6
“Yep. It’s pretty neat,” Michael chimed in.
“Maybe that’s something you all could show me while I’m here.”
“Sure. We go out there all the time.” The young man stared at him. “Maybe later this week, Jack?”
“Sounds wonderful.” She sat in a chair and picked up a piece of mending, but her cheeks were pink and she wouldn’t look up at Elijah.
Hopefully he hadn’t embarrassed her. The clock on the mantel chimed. If he was going to stay, he’d better write his letter to Mr. Vines. He turned back to Miss Rivers. “How long does it normally take to receive a response from an Express?”
“Two to three weeks. Depending on which direction you’ve sent the Express from here and where it’s going and will return from.” She used her hands as she talked. “For instance, if you are wanting to get a letter back east but you put it on the Express that’s heading west, it will take a few more days for it to get on the line to return east. I’ve had several people who’ve been quite insistent about getting messages on the next Express run, rather than waiting for the one that is headed in the correct direction.”
“Still, that’s incredibly fast.” Elijah nodded.
“It’s what we live by. Ten days or faster from San Francisco all the way to St. Joseph, Missouri.”
“I’m amazed. Especially to get to see it in action.” He cleared his throat. “You should probably count on my needing a room for that amount of time. While I’m here, I might as well learn all about the fascinating Express. My employer has long wanted to know more about it since he is well acquainted with the owners and has invested in them.”
Her blond hair in its long braid still made him think of a young girl, but the crinkles at the corners of her eyes attested to wisdom, experience, and a good bit of time spent smiling and laughing. But it was her eyes that fascinated him the most. Green—they practically lit up when she smiled. “I would love to share more about the Pony Express with you. Dad and I were privileged to be a part of it.”
“Were? Is this not a stop anymore? Where is your father now? I would greatly like to meet him.” Elijah couldn’t keep the questions from spilling out.
Her smile slipped from her face. “We’re still a stop. I apologize for the misunderstanding. It’s just … Dad died a few weeks ago.” She turned to the fireplace and brushed a tear from under her eye.
Michael came out of his chair immediately and wrapped an arm around Jackie’s shoulders.
“Oh. I’m so sorry for your loss, Miss Rivers.” Now he truly felt like a heel. He’d been so determined to get answers that he hadn’t used his manners. That was that. She couldn’t be Charles’s daughter. And now he’d hurt her to boot.
A forced smile back in place, she took a deep breath. “It’s been difficult. He was a wonderful man.” She looked at Michael. “I’m fine. Thank you.”
The lad returned to his seat but gave Elijah a look that clearly said, Don’t you dare make her cry.
“You run the station on your own now? That must be quite a task for a woman. I’d been wondering how you did it all.”
Standing abruptly, she took a deep breath and brushed threads from her skirt. “If you will excuse me, gentlemen.” She looked at Mr. Crowell and then back to Elijah. “I’m sure Michael can see to any of your needs, but I am quite spent. I will see you in the morning for breakfast. We dine at seven o’clock.” Turning on her heel to go, she grasped her hands at her waist. But not before Elijah noticed them shaking.
Michael walked over to him and sat down. “You shouldn’t discount Jack’s capability because she’s a woman.”
“I’m sorry. I didn’t realize I had.”
“Yeah, well. You said it must be quite a task for a woman.” The young boy lifted his chin and sat straighter. “It’s been hard enough on her to lose her dad. They were really close. She doesn’t need to feel like we doubt her. Because we don’t. She’s amazing.”
The young man stood and his brows were tipped down in a very serious expression.
Elijah was impressed with the young man’s closeness to Miss Rivers once again—and this time because he showed his loyalty and love for the woman who was his only family. Elijah wanted to kick himself or simply go back in time and keep from sticking his foot in his mouth. He hadn’t meant anything insulting by his comment.
“I agree. My apologies, Michael.” Next time, he wouldn’t jump to conclusions so quickly.
Tomorrow he would have to apologize and try to make it up to Miss Rivers.
Of course, it was quite possible that she’d taken his words in the absolute worst way and wouldn’t wish to speak to him again. Perhaps ever.
That was a horrible thought.
Mrs. Liverpool entered through the back door and marched into the parlor. She smoothed her skirt as she sat in a chair. “Now, where were we in our discussion this evening? These are my favorite times, you know, when we talk about what we’ve—” She looked up and twisted her head to glance around the room, a puzzled look on her face. “Where did Jacqueline get off to?”
Michael frowned in Elijah’s direction. “She went to bed early.”
“Oh.” She blinked at him and waved her hand. “Well then, why don’t you two gentlemen catch me up on all the news from the East. We haven’t had such fine guests in a long time.”
Elijah turned and looked to Crowell for help. But the older man was nodding off. No wonder the man hadn’t said anything.
“Come now. Don’t be shy. I’ll be quite entertained, I assure you.”
Looked like the duty fell to his shoulders. He would have to write his letter later and figure out how on earth to apologize to Miss Jackie Rivers.
The morning had not gone well so far.
Jackie wiped sweat from her brow as she stirred the potato hash. So far, she’d dropped a basket filled with a dozen eggs on the floor, hit her head on a beam as she’d run down to the cellar, and burned her tongue on some coffee. She’d been able to pull breakfast together, but it still felt like a disaster.
These incidents—compounded by her lack of sleep last night—seriously lowered her expectations for the day.
She went back to the thoughts that had her mind swirling last night. First, there was the handsome Mr. Johnson whom she’d left abruptly in the parlor because grief had overwhelmed her. Feeling inadequate to do anything of import while suffering the loss of her father, she couldn’t bear his sympathy. Or was it that he thought she was incapable?
Embarrassed by her quick departure—no matter the reason—she figured it best to give the man a wide berth this morning until she fully regained her composure as hostess and station manager.
She also faced the conundrum that both Mr. Crowell and Mr. Johnson wanted to meet with her to ask for her assistance. But assistance with what? And why her? Her little station in Carson Sink didn’t amount to much.
It was all a bit overwhelming. And she needed a nap.
She checked the clock on the mantel that she’d asked Dad for last year with its bell-like chimes and fancy gold face. Every time it chimed the quarter hour, it made her smile and think of him, remembering howhe would look at his pocket watch and declare, “Well, I’ll be, it’s right on time.”
After looking around to ensure everything was ready, she wiped her hands on a towel and headed toward the door. If she hurried, she could take a moment to gather her thoughts.
Michael sat at the table, reading one of the papers that had come through from the East.
“I’ll be back in a few minutes to dish everything up.”
“All right.” He never even looked up.
Jackie scurried out the door and headed for the small hill where her parents were buried. A graying wooden cross that had weathered many years out in the harsh Utah Territory read HANNAH, 1811–1837. Next to it was a freshly constructed cross that made her swallow against the wave of grief. It read MARSHALL RIVERS, 1809–1860.
Standing between the two, she let out a long sigh. “I miss you. Bot
h of you. And now that I’m faced with … life completely on my own, I have to admit it’s a bit overwhelming. Dad, I miss getting to work by your side each and every day. I need your wisdom right now. Hopefully I haven’t messed everything up, but I promise to do better.” She turned a bit to see her mother’s cross. “Mom, I wish you were still here. There’s so much I wish I could ask you. So many times I just needed your womanly direction. I always wanted to remember more about you….” Closing her mouth, she realized she couldn’t say anything else. Her throat was clogged with emotion. And it wasn’t like going out there was going to fix anything. Her parents were dead. Lord, I don’t know what to do. It hurts so much. Please give me strength.
Turning on her heel, she headed back to her home. She’d have to continue on with what she knew—taking care of the people around her and running the station. At least she could do that. Hopefully without further mishap.
When she walked back in, Michael, Mark, Peter, Timothy, and John were all sitting at the table. Michael quirked an eyebrow at her. “Everything all right?”
“Yep.” Dishing up the potatoes into a serving bowl, Jackie heard morefootsteps and chatter as the others gathered. She turned back toward the table and put on what she hoped was a decent smile that said, Everything is perfectly all right. “Good morning, everyone.”
They all spoke at once, which was fine with her. Maybe she could get away with just eating her breakfast in peace and pray that the coffee would wake her up sooner rather than later.
“Would you like me to offer the blessing?” Mr. Crowell’s voice boomed over the talkative group.
“Yes, thank you.” Jackie placed her napkin in her lap and closed her eyes as the man prayed. Which she realized was a mistake. As soon as her lids closed, she wanted to go to sleep. So she popped her eyes open. Which was another mistake. Because now she was looking across the table at Mr. Johnson’s firm jawline. His eyes were closed—thank the good Lord—but his reverent expression just about took her breath away. What was going on with her? Perhaps she needed a good smack upside her head with a cast-iron skillet to jolt her back to the real world.
As soon as the “Amen” was heard, she picked up her coffee cup and took a long sip. This was not how her thoughts should be going. Scolding herself to wake up and get her thoughts in order, she kept her eyes lowered as they passed around the food.
“What time does the Express come through?” Even looking from the corner of her eye, she saw that Mr. Johnson’s question was clearly directed at her.
Blinking several times, Jackie took another sip of coffee and passed the bowl of bacon as nonchalantly as she could. “Which one, the one heading east or the one heading west?”
“Preferably the east one. My letter needs to get back to Kansas City.”
“Then you’ll want the morning Express. The afternoon Express heads west. Is your letter ready to go?”
He nodded as he chewed a bite of hash. “Yes. I just need to pay the fee.”
“I’ll take care of that after breakfast and stamp it.”
“Thank you. I’m sure the owners must be thrilled that you have Michael here to help you keep the station running.” Mr. Johnson’s words pierced her heart and made her blood run cold. His tone made it sound like she shouldn’t be allowed to carry such a burden alone.
Michael made a face. “Why would they be thrilled that I’m here? I don’t even think they know about me. Jack here does all the work. She understands the ins and outs of the Express. I wouldn’t want to have to deal with all the boring details anyway. I just do what I’m told. One day, I want to climb mountains or sail the ocean.”
As much as Michael’s words encouraged her, his defense was because he loved her, not out of admiration for her abilities. He didn’t notice such things. Because they were boring, as he so graciously stated. But the longer she thought about Mr. Johnson’s statement, the more it got her dander up. Was he suggesting a woman shouldn’t be in charge? Was that what his comment last night was all about?
He didn’t seem to have a problem with her running the place when she introduced herself yesterday. “What is it exactly that you do, Mr. Johnson?”
His eyebrows shot up at her hard tone of voice. “I’m an investor and business owner, Miss Rivers. Is there a problem?”
“No. There’s not any problem. I’m simply not entirely certain that I understand what you were implying.” She raised her eyebrows and tilted her head. “Do you have a problem with how any of the business here has been handled?”
Mr. Johnson at least had the good manners to look embarrassed. “My apologies, Miss Rivers. I simply meant that since you are a woman here all by yourself …” He pulled his collar away from his neck as his words came to a halt.
“Yes? What does that have to do with anything?” Her anger flared—probably from lack of sleep—but she wasn’t tired right now.
“Nothing. I’m sorry.” The man visibly paled and swallowed. He attacked his plate of food with gusto and didn’t look up again.
“I’m sure Mr. Johnson meant no insult, Miss Rivers.” Mr. Crowell wiped his mouth with his napkin. “I think I can speak for all of us when I say that I’m quite amazed at your adept and efficient ways of running thestation. And I haven’t even had the privilege of seeing the Express come through yet.”
Jackie felt her nerves ease a bit as she looked at the older gentleman.
Obviously trying to keep the peace, the man smiled at her.
Remorse filled her for her heated words. What was she doing? Throwing a tantrum like a petulant child? She was the station manager. It was time to act like it. She would do her job and do it well. Forcing herself to calm her ire, she gave him a slight smile in return. She decided to go with a more diplomatic response. “My apologies, gentlemen. I realize that I dislike being questioned about my abilities because I’m a woman. I’ve never had to deal with this before, and I’m afraid it is uncharted territory. Especially since the loss of my father is so fresh.” Not to mention the guilt she carried knowing she’d lied to the owners. This wasn’t her position. Not truly. Not until they knew the truth and gave their permission.
“You do the best job out here, Jack. Don’t worry about what anyone else thinks.” This time it was Mark—one of the riders—who spoke up between bites. “No one understands us riders and our jobs like you do. And that’s what makes a great station manager. Believe us, because we’re the ones who see it. Day in and day out. So who cares what anyone else thinks?” The young man shrugged his shoulders and dug right back into his food.
Pride filled her chest. All the riders were like family to her, and she held a special place in her heart for the gangly bunch who risked life and limb every time they ventured out at crazy speeds. “Thank you, Mark.”
She rose from the table and began to clear some of the dishes. She was too embarrassed to even look at either Mr. Crowell or Mr. Johnson. The rest of the table was filled with people who loved her and respected her. But she needed to gather her wits and restore her composure because she had agreed to help Mr. Crowell. Horrified at losing her temper, she took several deep breaths and turned back around.
“I’m incredibly sorry for my outburst, everyone.” She made herself look the men in the eyes. “Especially to our guests.”
“We should be the ones apologizing, Miss Rivers.” Elijah stood. “Well, no, I should be the one. I had no idea about the loss of your father, and frankly, I’ve done a splendid job of sticking my foot in my mouth.” He held up a hand and put the other over his chest. “I promise you that my intention was never to insult you. I think too highly of you to do that.”
“Thank you. But it’s not necessary. I was the one in the wrong.” She gave him a half smile and felt her cheeks heat. “I’d best get back to the dishes.” With a quick turn, she went back to what was safe. A mess to clean up. She shaved soap into the large dishpan and started pumping water into the bowl. She’d add hot water from the stove as soon as she gathered her wits about her.
Mr. Johnson stood a foot away with a sheepish look on his face and the rest of the dishes stacked precariously in his arms.
“Thank you.” The whispered words slipped past her lips.
The left side of his mouth twitched. “Truce?”
After sharing a laugh with Mr. Johnson and having washed, dried, and put away a considerable number of dishes, she took off her apron and headed to the business counter near the front window.
Mr. Johnson met her there with an envelope in his hand. She calculated the cost to mail it, then accepted his money and stamped the letter.
When she was finished, Mr. Crowell entered the room, his top hat in his hand. “Is there a place where we could speak in private?” he asked.
Glancing around the room at the riders and workers fixing two of the small Express saddles, Jackie understood the request for privacy. The man had asked for her assistance, and he worked for the United States Treasury. She just wasn’t sure why he needed her help. “Of course. Maybe if we go outside?”
“That would be wonderful.” He donned his hat and extended his arm toward the door. “After you.”
Clasping her hands at her waist, she took a deep breath and prayed for wisdom. They walked to the other side of the street, which was vacant.
Mr. Crowell appeared very serious. “Miss Rivers, what I need to discuss with you is of the utmost importance, and confidentiality is required at all costs. Are you willing to swear an oath to that extent?”
The question took her off guard. “Of course, Mr. Crowell.” She swallowed. “I swear to you that I will keep the confidentiality of whatever matter you wish to discuss.”