The Express Rider's Lady

“Let her pray, if she wants, Myles.” Amos removed his hat and nodded at Delsie.

She looked at the younger man, waiting for him to take off his hat, as well. They locked glares for a moment before he removed his hat and dipped his head. Fighting a small smile of victory, she bowed her head, as well. “Thank You, Lord, for this good food. And thank You for keeping us in Thy watchful care. Please bless Lillie and help us reach her in time. Amen.”

Amos echoed her amen. Myles remained silent as he jammed his hat back on and started in on their meal. At least he hadn’t put up too much protest about her praying. She bit into the homemade bread with relish. Quiet descended over their group, but it wasn’t uncomfortable. A nice breeze gently swayed the trees and cooled her sunburned face.

Elijah, who’d flown off earlier, landed beside Myles. Something small and limp dropped onto the ground in front of him. As she watched, the bird began tearing into the rodent with its beak. Delsie’s stomach twisted at the sight, robbing her of the rest of her appetite.

“I think I’ll walk a bit.” She stood and managed to get beyond the trees without limping.

Out of sight, though, Delsie slowed her steps to a faltering walk as she massaged the backs of her legs. She followed the river, enjoying the chance, however painful, to move on her own.

The blue sky and rolling prairie were so vast, so endless. Myles might scoff at her for thinking so, at least out loud, but she saw the hand of the Lord in the beauty of it. Something inside her stirred and responded to this new open world—something she didn’t feel at home within the confines of her family’s elaborate parlor or in the midst of a grand party.

Was it this restlessness that had come over Lillie, prompting her to leave her family and home behind and strike out after her beau, Clay Weeks? Delsie hadn’t understood at the time why Lillie would defy their father’s wishes or ignore his threats to disown her if she ran off to find that farmer. Her older sister had confessed she loved Clay, and if the rigidness of their society life and their father’s disapproval wouldn’t allow her to be with the man she loved, then she’d go West with him. And so she had.

Now looking over this wide country, Delsie felt for the first time a piece of what Lillie must have felt. Her life at home suddenly felt a bit stale and narrow when compared to what she’d seen and experienced in the past two days.

A low whistle sounded from behind. She turned to see Myles motioning for her. It was time to ride again. A loud sigh fell from her lips. Too bad she couldn’t walk just as quickly to California. Even the thought of climbing back into that saddle sent tremors of fresh pain shooting through her legs and back.

“Only for you, Lillie,” she murmured. “And for Mother.”

When she reached the grove of trees where they’d stopped, she allowed Amos to assist her back onto her mare. Being the first to mount, she decided to move away from the trees to the open prairie, where she’d wait for the two men.

Delsie nudged the horse forward, dodging tree branches to keep from getting smacked in the face. One particularly long branch she pushed aside as far as she could while she passed by. But instead of swinging harmlessly through the air when she let go, the branch swung back and struck the rump of her horse with a loud thwack. The poor creature reared in fear. Delsie yelped and clung to the reins, her heart crashing hard against her ribs. The mare landed back onto all fours, then charged from the trees at a full run. From behind someone shouted, but she couldn’t make out the words.

Squeezing her knees as tightly as she could, she managed to stay in the saddle, despite the horse’s wild dash across the grass. The skin on her inner thighs stung with the effort. She tried to slow the mare by pulling back on the reins, but the frightened beast would have none of it. If anything, their careening pace increased.

Delsie held on, her fingers and hands aching, her pulse pounding as hard and as fast as the hooves below her. Would the horse eventually slow down or would she be forced to jump off in order to save herself? She peeked at the ground rushing dizzyingly beneath her and gulped. If she broke a bone, or worse, how would she manage to keep riding for the next seventeen days?

Oh please, Lord.

It was the shortest prayer she’d ever prayed, but she figured God understood why and what she was asking.

Off to her right, huge brown masses began turning tail and running at the approach of the runaway mare. Buffalo! Delsie managed only a quick look at their giant wooly frames, dozens of them, before they fled over a rise in the prairie. At least she could say she’d seen them, before it was too late.

The buffalo interrupted the mare’s path of retreat, causing it to angle back toward the river instead of the open plains. Ahead Delsie spied another thick grove of trees. If the horse made a dash through them, she’d surely be knocked off or struck in the head.

Time to jump, then. She eyed the ground again. The thought of striking the earth at this intense speed made her want to vomit with fear. But it couldn’t be helped.

She pressed her eyes shut, hoping the temporary blindness might squelch her nausea and ignite some confidence. She took a deep breath and leaned to the side. If she lived through this, she planned to share a few choice words with Lillie, though she instinctively knew her predicament was no one’s fault but her own.

Just as she was about to release the reins and leap to safety, or to her death, something jerked the mare hard to the right. Delsie scrambled to keep hold of the reins and opened her eyes. Myles rode next to her, his hand gripping her horse’s bridle in a firm fist. He didn’t let go, even as the mare tried to shake off his grasp. Eventually the scared creature was forced to slow its pace in order to follow Myles and his mount.

When her horse, at last, came to a shuttering halt, Delsie realized she was shaking.

“Are you all right?” Myles asked, still keeping a hand on the animal’s bridle.

Her teeth were chattering too much to speak, so she settled for a quick nod. When had it gotten so cold? She shivered and forced her fingers to release the reins. They would hardly uncurl from their clawlike grasp.

“Let’s get you down.” Myles finally released the mare’s bridle and dismounted. He talked soothingly to the horse, all the while rubbing its nose and patting the side of its head, before he circled around to help Delsie off.

For some unknown reason the sight of him calming the mare, instead of her, sparked anger inside her. His next words didn’t help. “You’re shaking, Miss Radford,” he said as he set her on her feet.

The tiny flame of anger roared to life. She’d come so close to being maimed or nearly killed. Her legs and skin hurt horribly from hours and hours in the saddle, and her face and neck were tender from the hot sun. And now this man had the audacity to turn his nose up at a little shivering after all she’d been through?

“Yes, I am, Mr. Patton,” she snapped. “Unlike you, I’m not accustomed to riding a hundred miles a day or dealing with frightened horses or having my skin clawed by that uncomfortable saddle.” Her voice hitched with unshed tears and she swallowed hard.

“I didn’t mean—”

“Please. I just need to...” She caught sight of Amos riding up. She didn’t want to dissolve into tears before them both. “I think I need to walk...”

Without waiting for Myles’s reply, she marched past them and the horses, heading west. At least if she was slowing them down, she was moving in the right direction. She walked as fast as she possibly could, in spite of the tremors that still shook her body. Folding her arms, she tried to ward off the cold inside her. A sob raced up her throat and she covered her mouth with her hand, willing the tears back. She was alive—no use wasting tears on what might have been.

Delsie spied a flat rock in the grass and sat down on it, her eyes on the western horizon. She’d only been on this portion of her journey for a day and a half, but already, it felt like months ago since she’d left Aunt Cissy’s house or her own home in Pennsylvania.

Measured footsteps approached. Delsie cut a glance in their direction, surprised to see it was Myles walking toward her and not Amos. What did he wish to say now? Probably more comments about how unsuited she was for this trip.

She turned away from him and set her jaw. If she didn’t speak, maybe he’d take the hint and leave her in peace to finish working through her earlier fear and adrenaline.

Something warm and leatherlike in smell settled over her shoulders. She recognized the buckskin jacket Myles wore. “Thank you...” she admitted begrudgingly. Her shivers began to subside as she pulled the jacket tighter around her.

He circled the rock and stood watching her from beneath his hat. “It gets easier.”

She tilted her head to give him a quizzical look.

“The riding, the soreness. You might want to get a pair of leather trousers, though.” He kicked at a clump of grass. “That’ll help with the chafing.”

Her cheeks flushed at his words, but she didn’t break eye contact. “I will not be wearing trousers, thank you.”

One side of his mouth lifted. “I meant under your dress.”

The heat on her face intensified. She ducked her chin and stared at the ground, hoping he would leave.

“Look, I didn’t mean anything unkind back there.” Myles removed his hat and ran a hand through his hair. She’d seen it mussed more times on their short journey than lying flat or slicked back like Flynn wore it.

Myles squatted down in front of her, his hat dangling between his knees. “I only mentioned the shakes because...well, because I wanted to be sure you really were all right. That horse was going mighty fast when I caught up.”

“Yes, it was.” Delsie toyed with the hem of his jacket, her anger deflating in the wake of his explanation. “Thank you...for coming to my aid. I was about to jump.” She gave a nervous laugh, grateful again she hadn’t been forced to fling herself from the mare.

His chocolate-colored eyes glinted with respect before he looked away. “You kept a level head, that’s for sure.”

“Is that another compliment, Mr. Patton?”

A deep chuckle erupted from him as he shook his head. “You are not what you seem, Miss Radford.”

“And neither are you.” She spoke the words so softly she wasn’t sure he heard, especially when he made no reply. The question she’d been asking herself all day resurfaced in her mind. “I know what you think of me and my privileged upbringing, so why are you helping me?”

He fiddled with the brim of his hat. “I need the money. For the land I want to own someday. A lot of land, out West maybe, where there’s fewer people.” His face had softened with his answer, its usual hardness transforming into earnest vulnerability for a brief moment.

Did she have a dream? Delsie wondered. Something to work toward? Right now it was reaching Lillie, of course, and continuing to fulfill her promise to her mother, but what about beyond that? Did she want to return to the sameness of her life at home? The thought brought another shiver of cold sweeping through her.

“You ready?” Myles asked as he stood and offered her his hand.

With a nod, she placed her hand in his. He pulled her gently to her feet, which brought her nearly toe-to-toe with him. Delsie peered up at his shadowed face. His gaze had lost its guard, if only for a moment. She’d thought him quite handsome before, even with his scowl, but his nearness and the glimpse at this gentler side of his had her middle erupting into flutters.

He broke contact first, releasing her hand and stepping back. “Shall we get you to that sister of yours, Miss Radford?”

She took a deep breath to steady her emotions. Clearly the horse escapade had played with her head. She wouldn’t follow in Lillie’s footsteps by choosing a man her father would never approve of. Not only would it break his heart, but it would be going against her promise to look after her papa.

“Yes, Mr. Patton.” She smiled and fell into step beside him. Only when they reached Amos and the waiting horses did she realize he hadn’t asked for his jacket back.

Chapter Four

When they arrived in Nebraska that evening, at the home station known as Liberty Farm, Myles discovered Delsie had fallen asleep in the saddle. And no wonder. For someone unaccustomed to riding more than a hundred miles in a single day, she had to be exhausted. She didn’t even stir when her mare—Amos had traded her horses after her other one had gotten spooked—came to a stop outside the stable.

Amos glanced over at her and chuckled. “You want me to wake her?”

An unfamiliar twinge of protectiveness rippled through Myles, then faded. “No, I will.” He released Elijah into the sky to hunt.

“I’ll go explain our situation to the owners,” Amos said, dismounting. “See how much they’ll charge for room and board for the night.”

Myles nodded and climbed off his horse. Taking the reins of both his and Amos’s animals in hand, he approached Delsie. “Miss Radford,” he called quietly so as not to startle her. “We’re here, at Liberty Farm. You can get down now.”

When she remained still, he crossed to her side and gave her arm a gentle shake. “Miss Radford?”

At his touch, her chin rose and her eyelids blinked open. She stared in confusion at the yard around them and the still-bright sky of the summer evening, then down at Myles. Her blue eyes lit with recognition and a smile angled one side of her lips. “Did I fall asleep?”

That smile, combined with the soft expression on her face and the way her hair had come loose in places beneath her hat, sent a jolt of feeling through him. Watch it, Myles, he warned himself. Money and a pretty face only lead to trouble.

“We need to get the horses in the stable,” he replied in a slightly gruff tone. “I’ll help you down.”

She complied, swinging her skirt over the side of the mare and allowing Myles to help her to the ground. Once her feet struck the dirt, she peered up at him, her lips parted as if to speak, but instead she remained silent. The open, earnest look on her face matched the one she’d worn earlier on the prairie after he’d rescued her. Awareness of her, both then and now, along with their close proximity, quickened his pulse and dulled the warning still ringing in his mind.

A strange terror had seized him as he’d watched Delsie and her horse burst from the trees and go charging at reckless speed over the plains. He kept imagining her being thrown and injured. His heart had beaten with as much fear as adrenaline when he’d jumped on his own steed and gone after her. Thankfully, he’d reached her in time, especially after hearing how close she’d come to leaping off.

Why should he care that much for a complete stranger, though? He mentally shook his head. Maybe stranger wasn’t the right word anymore—not after spending two full days together. He’d told himself he’d saved her today out of human decency and the money she’d promised to give him at their journey’s end. And yet, his logical reasoning didn’t explain the bizarre need growing inside him to look after her. Though truth be told, there were moments when he wondered if she needed his protection at all.

A smile curved his mouth at the thought. This tiny woman, regarding him solemnly, had the courage of a hundred trained soldiers. She hadn’t let out a single scream as her mare had spirited her away or fallen into uncontrollable sobs afterward. Myles couldn’t help but think if it had been Cynthia in that situation things would have gone much differently.

“What are you smiling about?”

Delsie’s innocent question broke whatever trance he’d been under. Myles stepped away from her and added her horse’s reins to the others in his grip.

“Nothin’,” he said over his shoulder as he walked toward the stable. “Amos is inside the house. You can join him in there.”

He didn’t wait to see if she’d listen or not. Instead he entered the structure through the open doors. The smell of hay and horses greeted him with all the familiarity and comfort of a friend. Memories of working with his stepfather at the livery stable rushed over him, clearing his mind of a certain dark-haired beauty.

As a young child, he’d trailed Charles everywhere around the spacious barn, doing the small jobs he was given. Myles had loved looking at the horses, feeding them, riding them when he could, even mucking their stalls. His stepfather had taught him to respect the power inherent in such creatures but also their fear and stubbornness.

There were other lessons Charles had imparted to him, ones he’d largely ignored since his stepfather’s death. Things like looking for God’s hand in his life or keeping his heart open and receptive to God’s will. His jaw hardened at the turn of his thoughts. God didn’t care any more for him than Cynthia had.

“Howdy, stranger,” a young man called out to him from the other end of the stable. He held a pitchfork in one hand.

“Evening.” Myles stopped the horses and quickly explained they were passing through and would pay to have the horses cared for tonight.

The boy, for he couldn’t be more than fourteen or fifteen, agreed to feed and groom the animals, if it was all right with the station owners. “For now, put them in those empty stalls.”

Myles did so as Amos appeared. “Everything’s taken care of,” the older man said. “For us and the horses.”

“Where’s Delsie?” Myles kept his voice devoid of interest.

“Inside, starting on supper. You coming?”

He wasn’t ready to be near her again, not until he had a stronghold on this growing attraction for her. Eying the three horses, Myles shook his head. “No, go ahead. I’ll help settle them in.”

Amos studied him for a moment, while Myles fought to keep his expression impassive. Finally his friend shrugged. “We’ll try to save you some.” With that he left the barn.

The young stable hand offered to help, but Myles encouraged him to join the others inside. He wanted the comfortable solace of a quiet barn, with no one else around except the beasts in the stalls.

Once the boy showed him where the tack and feed were located, he started in on grooming Amos’s horse. He ran the brush down its chestnut-colored sides, talking soothingly as he did so. When it gleamed as fresh and new as a colt, he brought the beast some hay, then started in on his horse next.

Soon his thoughts moved back to Delsie. That was the trouble with doing something so familiar—his hands stayed busy but his mind didn’t.

He had to remind himself, hourly if needed, that this journey to California was nothing more than a business arrangement. Acting on any possible attraction he felt for Delsie would be entirely futile. Her father, like Cynthia’s, wasn’t likely to approve of any interest in someone as poor and unconnected as Myles. Besides, a life out here in the West, with him or any other horseman or farmer, would likely drain her of whatever vitality and beauty she currently possessed. His life was about survival and weathering hardship, not choosing whom to invite for tea or which social engagement to attend on the weekend.

“Business,” he muttered to himself, causing the steed’s ears to flick backward. Myles reached out and ran a hand down its nose. “That’s all it’ll ever be.” A measure of relief filled him now that he’d gotten his head in the right place. But the tiniest sliver of disappointment cut through him all the same.

* * *

Delsie slipped inside the stable. Though she was growing more accustomed to the smell, the trapped heat and scent of manure still had the power to make her wrinkle her nose in protest. Down the line of occupied stalls, she caught sight of Myles standing next to his horse.

“You missed supper,” she said as she walked toward him.

He flinched as though struck, but he didn’t glance at her. “I thought I’d see to the animals first.”

Guilt trickled through her at his explanation. She’d been half-asleep when they’d arrived and had momentarily forgotten about the horses.

Delsie came to a stop beside the stall where he stood. Tentatively she lifted her hand to the steed and let it smell her.

“Where’d you learn to do that?” Myles asked, his voice bordering on sharpness.

She pulled her hand back. “Is that wrong?”

He’d removed his hat, giving her a full view of his face and beard. “No, that’s exactly what you’re supposed to do, but most people don’t know that, especially...” He let the words trail off.

“Rich people,” she supplied.

He frowned before picking up a brush and exiting the stall. Delsie stepped back to allow him room.

“I think it was Lillie’s beau, Clay, who taught us that. He was a farmer.”

“Your sister had a beau?”

“Still does. That’s who she followed to California and who she’s marrying on the twenty-second.” And the next day, Lillie and Clay would head to Oregon. Never to see or contact the family again, according to Lillie’s last letter, if she didn’t receive some word by then that Delsie still cared.

Myles entered the stall where Delsie’s mare stood. “Let me guess—your father didn’t approve of him.” His voice sounded flat, bitter. His manner was so different from when he’d woken her up in the saddle earlier.

Heat layered her face. “Papa had hoped she’d marry...” It was her turn to swallow back the rest of her words. She found she suddenly couldn’t say someone rich or of the same social circle as her family. Someone like Flynn.

“I get it,” Myles said, his tone no longer harsh but full of resignation. Silence descended between them as he began brushing the mare. Delsie watched him, mesmerized by the movement of his hands and the gentle murmurs falling from his mouth. Here he was in his element, like a duke in his castle.

“May I try?”

He jerked his head in her direction as if he’d forgotten her presence. “What? Brushing?”

She nodded. “I own them now, which means I ought to know how to care for them.”

Myles looked from her to the brush in his hand as if making a weightier decision than whether to teach her horse grooming or not. “All right.”

Smiling, Delsie entered the stall. “What do I do?”

“Stand beside the horse,” he said, moving behind her and pressing the brush into her hand, though he kept both in his grip. “Start up here on the animal’s neck...” He lifted his arm, bringing her hand and the brush along with it, then he placed both against the mare. “Now you brush from front to back.”

Together they moved the brush along the horse’s side. “Then you repeat the motion,” Myles said near her ear.

Gooseflesh rose along her arms, which thankfully, her long sleeves hid from view, at the low murmur of his voice and the warmth radiating from his solid chest behind her. When he leaned forward to help her again, his breath grazed the skin at the back of her neck. Delsie shivered, despite the temperate air inside the stable.

Myles stopped their motion, though their joined hands still held the brush to the horse’s coat. Even the mare itself stood perfectly still. Delsie held her breath, anticipating something, though she didn’t know what.

A soft touch skated her hair above her ear. Her heart drummed faster against her rib cage as she realized Myles was breathing in the scent of her hair.

“It smells like...” His nose skimmed her hair again.

“Lavender?” she whispered. After another full day of riding, she was surprised to learn she still smelled like her favorite soap and not just sweat and horse.

“Yes, lavender.” His voice held a smile. “Smells better than gardenias.”

Gardenias? Was that what his girl had worn, the one who’d bludgeoned his heart? Intent on asking him just that, Delsie lowered her arm and twisted slowly. Myles still held her hand over the brush and stood so close she could see where the sun had lightened some of the hairs of his beard. What would those dark bristles feel like beneath her fingertips? She lifted her free hand to find out.