A Life Restored (5 page)

Once the chestnut colored mare was ready, Thomas slung his saddle bags and the mail bags over the horse’s rump.
 
Mounting the horse, he walked it down to the post office to check for any last minute mail.
 
None waited, so he urged the horse out of town at a gallop.

Sometimes he hated riding the horses so hard.
 
Changing out horses every fifteen miles, while it enabled him to cover the distance between La Paz and Prescott in three days, seemed to wear out the horses over time.
 
He noticed the last time he rode this chestnut mare she fought against the hard pace.
 
Thankfully, whatever her ailment had been, she performed well today.

About five miles out of town, Thomas spotted something odd on the horizon.
 
His instincts told him to watch his back.
 
Whatever loomed in the middle of the road ahead, he needed to approach with caution.

On his very first run several months ago, one of the other Express employees explained the tactics bandits and Indians used to surprise riders.
 
One of their tactics was to block the road with a wagon or stagecoach—make it appear to be in distress.
 
When the rider slows as he approaches, the bandits would fire upon the unsuspecting man, stealing the mail or whatever goods he carried, often times leaving him for dead.

Pulling to a stop some distance from the obstruction, Thomas checked his pistol and rifle.
 
Both were loaded.
 
He studied the scene ahead of him, though he was still too far away to make out the details.
 
Some sort of carriage or wagon looked like it had been abandoned in the middle of the road.

A pile of something lay next to it.
 
Squinting, he tried to get a better look.
 
The white and brown colors made it difficult to tell for certain, but he thought those might be men.
 
If they were, they were either injured, dead, or waiting for him to ride by before they made their move.

Scanning the brush on both sides of the road, he bit back a sigh.
 
There was no cover.
 
The bushes were scattered and too low to the ground.
 
What he wouldn’t give for the dense Tennessee woods right now.

There was only one way past the obstacle.
 
He had no choice.
 
He had to ride by it.

Perhaps his best bet would be to ride at a gallop.
 
Then he would clear the danger before the bandits had a chance to act.

Digging his heels into the mare’s sides, he pushed her for her fastest speed.

Then the thought struck him.
 
What if someone really was in distress?
 
What if he was the only person to pass this way for days?
 
Should he slow down?

No.
 
It had to be a setup.

As he neared, the stagecoach took on a more solid form.
 
No horses.
 
The bodies on this side also became clearer, as did the flies hovering over them.

Slowing the horse’s pace some, he considered the scene.
 
If this was the Saturday stage and today was Monday, it had been here unnoticed for two days.
 
If there were any survivors, they would be in rough shape without water in this horrid heat.

Just as he passed the stage, a heavy object struck him hard in the chest.
 
Grabbing it with one hand, he released the reins and went for his pistol.
 
Turning toward the flash of yellow to his right, he pulled back on the hammer of his pistol and aimed.

Then he stopped and frowned.

“What did you do that for?” he hollered at the green-eyed beauty as he slowly uncocked his gun.

“You weren’t going to stop!”

“You don’t know that.”

“You were riding at a gallop just a moment ago.
 
I had to do something to get your attention.”

“Well, you’ve got it,” he said, dismounting the mare, still keeping one wary eye on the blonde woman.
 
Funny how she seemed even sassier than when he first met her in Wickenburg last week.

“Can I have my Bible back?”

“What?”

“My Bible,” she said, wiggling her fingers.

Looking down at the object in his hand, he realized she had thrown her Bible at him—it was the heavy thing that slammed into his chest.
 
Thrusting it towards her open hand, he held back a smirk.
 
This was definitely the first time someone had literally thrown the Good Book at him.

Clutching the book to her chest, she let out a large gasp.
 
“You!”

He had worse greetings from a woman before, though this one might just be the most dramatic if he counted the pelting with scripture.

Chapter 6

“You!” Caroline shrieked, nearly stumbling over her carpet bag as she took a step backwards from her rescuer, holding her Bible tightly.

“Miss.” Came the curt response.

“You’re the… the… The express rider.”

“Mouthy and observant.”

Confused.
 
Flustered.
 
Caroline could hardly believe
this
was God’s answer to her prayers for help.
 
The express rider?

When she first met him last week, she assumed she would never see him again.
 
Good thing too.
 
He rubbed her the wrong way then, just as he was doing now with that cocky grin twitching at the corners of his mouth.

“This is not funny.”

The grin faded.
 
“Never said it was, Miss.”

He looked past her toward the stagecoach.
 
His blue eyes seemed to take in every detail of the scene before him in only a matter of seconds.

“Care to tell me what’s going on here?”

A sigh escaped her lips.
 
She needed his help.
 
She ran out of water yesterday afternoon, despite her best efforts to ration it.
 
She hadn’t had food in more than a day.
 
Her lips were parched.
 
Her cheeks stung from sitting in the sun too long.
 
He was the first person to come along since the stage robbery.
 
If she didn’t get over her irritation with him and win him over fast, there was no telling when the next person might come along.

She couldn’t bear being left with the dead men and howling coyotes for one more night.

For a moment she felt dizzy.
 
As she swayed, he moved closer, though he didn’t touch her.
 
When she recovered, he asked again what happened.

“We were robbed within miles of leaving Wickenburg on Saturday morning.”

He turned toward his horse and retrieved a canteen.
 
Holding it out to her, he said, “Just a few sips.”

The urge to guzzle the canteen dry almost won over his firm instruction.
 
Savoring the water, she complied.

“After they robbed us, they took the horses.
 
Then they shot—”
 
Her voice cracked. “—all the men.
 
They were too heavy for me to move, so I…”

For the first time since meeting him, she caught a slight look of compassion.
 
He dug around in his saddle bags and pulled out a piece of beef jerky.

“Hungry?”

Caroline took the offered food, nibbling slowly.
 
His gaze felt intense as he studied her.

“Anyone else been by since Saturday?”

Her temper flared again.
 
“Do you really think I’d stay here and sun myself all day if there had been?”

His eyes narrowed, as if assessing the truth of her statement.

“Oh, for goodness sake!
 
You don’t think I had something to do with this, do you?”

Crossing his arms, he stared at her for another few seconds.
 
“I suppose not.”

As she swallowed the last of the jerky, she waited for him to say more.

“Come on,” he said, walking back to his horse.

“Wait.
 
Aren’t you going to bury those men?”

“No.”

Taken aback, she failed to keep the edge from her voice.
 
“Have you no decency?”

He turned and faced her now, his nose so close to hers she felt the warmth of his breath when he spoke.
 
“Look, lady, I’ve got plenty of decency.
 
The ground is incredibly hard out here.
 
Could take me the better part of a day to dig graves for that many men.
 
You’re already starving and thirsty.
 
We’re still ten miles or so to the next station.
 
That’d be the closest place to get you some water and grub.
 
With two of us on this horse, it’s gonna take us several hours to get there.”

Caroline wanted to argue.
 
It just didn’t seem right not to bury those poor men.

“If it’s alright with you, I’d like to get to the next station before nightfall.
 
Can’t do that if I’m spending the next few hours caring for the dead.
 
Seems to me it makes more sense to care for the living.”

“Very well,” she replied, seeing the sense in what he said, no matter how wrong it felt morally.
 
Stooping down, she grabbed her carpet bag.

“Leave it.”

“I most certainly will not!
 
This is all I have left to my name.”

Throwing his arms up in the air, he let out an exasperated groan.
 
“The horse is going to have a time of it carrying both of us and the mail.
 
There isn’t room for your bag.”

“I’m taking it.”

“You are not.”

“I am.”

He stared her down for a few seconds, then turned and mounted his horse.
 
He started it at a walk, moving away from her.

“What are you doing?”

“You either stay here with your bag, or you leave it and come with me.”

Stubborn man!
 
He was clearly not going to compromise.
 
He was going to force her to leave behind the only other change of clothing she could manage to squeeze into the bag.
 
She would have only this dirty, sweaty, torn dress to her name if he got his way.

“Wait!”

He stopped the horse.

“I’ll leave the bag.
 
But I need to take this,” she said, holding up the Bible Grandma Larson bought for her when she turned fourteen.
 
It meant too much to her to leave it behind.
 
“It’s not negotiable.”

“Fine.”

Dismounting his horse, he took the book from her hand and stuffed it in his saddle bag.
 
Then he mounted the horse and pulled her up behind him.

“Hold on,” he said as he started the horse forward at a walk again.

“To what?”

“Unless you see something else to hang on to, my waist will have to do.”

Heat flushed her face as she slowly leaned forward and loosely placed her arms around his waist.
 
She’d never been this close to a man before—unless she counted kissing Nathan or Jesse.
 
For some reason, neither of them struck her as men now that she was sitting on top of a horse with this one.
 
They certainly never smelled as bad.

“Forget to bathe?” she asked under her breath.

“I could ask the same question.”

Not more than a mile after he rescued this woman, Thomas felt her start to slip off the back of the horse as her hold around his waist slackened.

“Miss!”

A delayed reply confirmed that she dozed off.

“Get down.”

“Why?”

Did this woman have to question everything he said?

“We’re going to trade places.”

She slid off the back, amazingly without further protest.
 
He dismounted then lifted her to the horse before he mounted behind her.

As he slid his arms on both sides of her to hold the reins, his pulse quickened.
 
He had enjoyed her arms around his waist, but now found himself enjoying this more.
 
Stop it, he warned himself.
 
He couldn’t afford to get mixed up with this feisty woman, no matter how attractive she was.

Over the next incredibly slow mile, he waited for her to fall asleep again.
 
Her head dropped quickly to one side, then snapped to attention again.
 
This routine repeated several times before she leaned back into his chest and rested her head against him.
 
A light floral fragrance registered as he took a sharp breath in surprise.
 
He couldn’t believe she pressed against him.

Another mile passed.
 
He tried to control his reaction to her nearness.
 
He was losing.
 
He liked the way she felt against his chest and in his arms.
 
A quick image of him kissing her passed through his mind.
 
He tried to shake it off.

As she slept, she seemed much more amiable than when she argued with him.
 
Her blonde hair brushed against his face as a slight breeze blew by.
 
It had been a long time since he had been with a woman.
 
This one stirred him deeply.

Swallowing hard, Thomas decided he had to move.
 
Pulling back on the reins, he stopped the horse.
 
The young woman stirred.

“Are we there?” she asked, her voice groggy and soft.

“No.
 
Just thought I’d walk for a while.
 
Make it easier on the horse for a spell.”
 
And easier on himself.

Dismounting, he pulled the reins forward over the horse’s head so he could lead her forward.
 
It took almost the entire rest of the way to the next station before Thomas’s pulse returned to normal.

As he pulled the horse to a stop in front of the station, he looked around.
 
The horse that should have been ready and waiting was not.
 
After helping the woman down from the mare, he headed toward the door of the small shack.
 
Just as he reached up to knock, the station hand opened the door.

“Shoulda been here hours ago,” the station hand said.
 
As he stepped out into the late afternoon sun, he squinted.
 
A grin lit his face when he noticed Thomas’s traveling partner.

“Who’s the lady?”

“Ah…” Thomas hesitated, realizing he never asked her name.

“Miss Caroline Larson,” she introduced herself.

His stomach plummeted to his boots.
 
Larson.

“Any relation to the horse trainer, Larson?” The station hand asked.

“Adam?
 
He’s my brother.”

Of course, Thomas thought.
 
Wouldn’t that just be his luck?
 
Larson and Colter provided most of the horses for the Express line.
 
She just happened to be Larson’s sister.

As Caroline talked about the events leading her to the station, he considered his options.
 
Up until a minute ago, he had half a mind to leave her here until the next stage came through.
 
Now, seeing the station hand’s interest in her and given her connection to Adam Larson, he could hardly do that.

No, he would have to take her into Prescott himself.

“Saddle up two mounts,” Thomas instructed the station hand.

“Ya ain’t planning on pressing on, are ya?”

“Sure am.”

“But ya only got another hour or so of daylight left.
 
Seems a bit foolish to me.”

Thomas grunted.
 
“Don’t recall asking your opinion.”

The station hand stormed off to the stables cursing under his breath.
 
He didn’t care.
 
He’d already lost too much time as it was.
 
He had to get Caroline and the mail to Prescott tomorrow if at all possible.
 
At least then he’d only be one day late and would still have two days to rest up before his next run.
 
Hopefully Miss Larson had grit.

“We leave as soon as the horses are ready.”
 
Tossing her the canteen, he added, “Fill it up.
 
I’ll see if I can find another one.”

“But where are we going to stay for the night?”

“Wherever we find ourselves at twilight.”

She swallowed hard and looked out towards the grassy valley, fear rounding her eyes.