Westward Wedding Journey

Delsie Radford is going to make it to California, no matter the danger or difficulty. Her father may have kept her and her sister apart, but Delsie refuses to miss her sister’s wedding—even with only eighteen days to get there. And she’s found the perfect escort in Pony Express rider Myles Patton.

Myles can’t believe it when a pretty socialite hires him to take her cross-country through rough terrain and dangerous territory. Surely she’ll quit before they reach their destination—he’s known girls like her before. But the longer they ride together, the more Myles notices Delsie’s toughness and kindness beneath her polished exterior. And though they may be worlds apart...they might just be perfect for each other.

Now look at her, he thought with a wry shake of his head, traipsing through the brush without a care for her dress and wearing that hat like a real rider.

He could hardly believe they’d only met less than a week ago. It seemed more like a month with all they’d been through.

At the base of the rock spire, Delsie stopped. Myles came up beside her. Instead of the lofty height of the formation, her attention seemed riveted on the names and initials carved into the soft rock. There were dozens and dozens of them, some fresh, others growing faint from the effects of the sun, rain and wind.

“Just think how many people have passed by this very rock.” Delsie reached out and traced a name with her finger. “All looking for a new life out West.” Her voice held the same wistfulness it did whenever she spoke of her sister. Did Delsie hold out hope of possibly carving a new life out here, too?

Myles reached into his boot and withdrew his knife. “I say we add our names to theirs.”

Delsie looked from the knife to him, then smiled fully. “All right.”

STACY HENRIE has always had a love for history, fiction and chocolate. She earned her BA in public relations before turning her attentions to raising a family and writing inspirational historical romances. Wife of an entrepreneur husband and a mother to three, Stacy loves to live out history through her fictional characters. In addition to author, she is also a reader, a road trip enthusiast and a novice interior decorator.

The Express Rider’s Lady

Stacy Henrie

www.millsandboon.co.uk

Be strong and of a good courage; be not afraid, neither be thou dismayed: for the Lord thy God is with thee whithersoever thou goest.

—Joshua 1:9

For my three families—the one I call my own, the one I grew up in and the one I married into. Love you all.

Thank you to my agent, Jessica Alvarez, the best advocate an author could ask for, and to my editor Elizabeth Mazer, who was as excited as me to see Myles and Delsie’s story come together. Thanks also to Giselle Regus for her excellent editorial help and suggestions. A final thanks to my readers, especially those of you who’ve traveled with me from the Old West to the battlefronts of WWI and back again.

Contents

Cover

Back Cover Text

Introduction

About the Author

Title Page

Bible Verse

Dedication

Chapter One

Chapter Two

Chapter Three

Chapter Four

Chapter Five

Chapter Six

Chapter Seven

Chapter Eight

Chapter Nine

Chapter Ten

Chapter Eleven

Chapter Twelve

Chapter Thirteen

Chapter Fourteen

Chapter Fifteen

Chapter Sixteen

Chapter Seventeen

Dear Reader

Extract

Copyright

Chapter One

Saint Joseph, Missouri, June 1860

“Can 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.” Gripping her valise tighter, she added in a clear voice, “I’m willing to risk whatever this journey may bring to be there and fulfill a promise I made a long time ago. Surely helping family is something you can understand.”

The lines around his dark eyes tightened. “I don’t have any family.”

Compassion filled her, but she schooled her tongue, certain he didn’t want her pity. This loneliness must be what Lillie felt, without family there in California, thinking Delsie had no desire to contact her.

“Why me?” Myles asked, jerking Delsie from thoughts of her sister.

“That other gentleman said you were the fastest—”

“No. Why have me take you the whole way? Why not ask a different Express rider at each home station? Pay each one?”

“Because convincing one man to help me is proving to be most difficult,” Delsie quipped. The barest hint of a smile twitched at his masculine lips before he suppressed it. “I also don’t want to end up in the middle of Nebraska with no one willing to help me move forward or back.”

He folded his arms, stretching his shirt tighter and hinting at the sinewy muscles beneath. Delsie glanced away. She watched the toe of his boot kick at a dirt clod and resisted the urge to do the same. Would he refuse to help her? If he did, there’d be no hope for reaching Lillie by the twenty-second—she’d be gone forever, assuming Delsie wanted nothing to do with her.

At last, Myles emitted a low growl and lowered his arms to his sides.

“Here’s what I’ll do, Miss Radford. I’ll take you with me on my route today.” A rush of gratitude prompted Delsie to step forward, with the intent of reaching for his arm again, but she stopped when Myles held up a hand. “I expect to be paid twenty-five dollars when we reach Guittard’s tonight. I’ll decide then if I think we can go the rest of the way to California.”

She nodded. “Thank you, Mr.—”

“I wouldn’t thank me just yet.” He pulled off his hat and ran a hand through his thick, black hair. “We have a hundred and twenty-five miles to ride, changing horses every ten to twelve. I can’t deliver the mail fast enough if we ride together, so you’ll have to ride your own horse.”

“I know how to ride.”

A glimmer of amusement flashed in his eyes as he replaced his hat on his head. “We’ll see. Since the station owners know me, I think we can get you a fresh mount each time I get one. But it’ll cost you a few dollars for the extra horse and we don’t waste time at any of the stations. We’re in and out in two minutes or less. The moment you start to slow me down, I’ll drop you off at the next station and collect you when I return to Saint Joseph. Is that clear?”

The reality of what she was about to do pressed down on her, momentarily bringing doubt and a panicked throbbing to her pulse. Could she really do this? A hundred and twenty-five miles in one day sounded suddenly daunting—and she had eighteen hundred to go to reach California.

The memory of Lillie’s tear-stained face as she’d ridden away from the house rose into Delsie’s mind. This same image still haunted her dreams. Surely she could endure anything to help her sister and keep her promise to their mother.

“I’ll keep up,” she said, infusing the words with haughty confidence, even if she didn’t feel it.

The merriment returned to Myles’s gaze, though she wasn’t sure if it meant he, too, doubted her abilities or if he found her show of bravery humorous. No matter, he’d agreed, at least for today’s ride.

“In that case, Miss Radford,” he said, doffing his hat and giving her a mocking smile, “let me be the first to welcome you to the Pony Express.”

* * *

Myles had plenty of reasons to suspect Delsie Radford, determined as she was, would falter in her resolve to travel to California—and soon. She was the epitome of a wealthy young lady, with her fine clothes, spotless gloves and a bag containing more money than he could make in six months working for the Pony Express.

Just like Cynthia. Myles ground his teeth against the thought.

Sure enough, the first crack in Delsie’s confident facade came the moment he led the horses out of the stable.

“You...um...don’t have a sidesaddle, do you?” She eyed the trimmed-down saddles on the two horses.

“Nope.” Myles walked toward her, his spurs clinking, his scabbard and revolvers bumping the legs of his decorative trousers. The morning sun glittered off the silver decorations adorning his uniform and his horse. He plucked at his collar with one hand, counting down the minutes until he could change out of the fancy getup. “We use these lighter ‘California tree’ saddles with the shorter, broader saddle horn. Not a sidesaddle in sight.” He stopped the horses beside her. “Change your mind?”

He saw her visibly swallow, then a grim smile graced her mouth. “If you’d be so kind as to help me up, Mr. Patton.”

Myles cocked an eyebrow. Did the girl possess more gumption than she first appeared to? He quickly dismissed the idea—all these rich girls were alike. She’d be lucky if she made it the fifteen miles to the Troy station, let alone the hundred and twenty-five to Guittard’s home station by tonight.

Once he’d helped her sit astride her horse, Myles swung up onto his own. Delsie did her best to pull down the hem of her dress, but she couldn’t quite hide her button-up shoes or the section of her lower calves clad in stockings that peeked above them. Myles jerked his gaze away.

“We’ll ride to the office at the Patee House to collect the mail, then we’ll—”

The blast of a cannon from the direction of the hotel silenced the rest of his words. It was time to go. He nudged his horse in the direction of the Patee House.

Glancing back over his shoulder, he made sure Delsie guided her mount behind his. The only telltale sign of her embarrassment at straddling the mare could be seen in the pink blush that stained her cheeks. But she kept her ridiculously flowered hat tilted high, even as they rode down the street past the few people out and about at this hour.

“Wait here,” he told her when they reached the office. He swung down and went inside to collect the mail. “Morning,” he called to the man at the counter.

“Morning, Patton. Here’s the mail from back East.” The man handed over the leather mochila or knapsack, which fit over the horse’s saddle and contained the mail inside four padlocked boxes.

Myles grunted in response. If he hurried out, maybe the other fellow wouldn’t notice Delsie outside. He figured the less he had to explain about his tagalong passenger, the better. He exited the office, the mochila in hand, but the other man followed him outside.

“Looks like a nice day for a—” The man’s friendly remark died the moment his eyes caught sight of Delsie. “Morning, ma’am.” He removed his hat. “Are you in need of directions?”

The color in her face increased as she shook her head. “No. I’m waiting for Mr. Patton.”

Myles felt the man’s gaze boring into his back as he placed the knapsack over his horse’s saddle.

“Didn’t know you had yourself a new girl, Patton...”

Myles scowled and mounted his horse again. “I don’t,” he bit off the words. “Let’s go, Miss Radford.” He swung the animal around. “We ride full out down the hill to the river. The ferry will be waiting.”

Not stopping to see if she followed or not, he charged his horse forward. They tore through the street at a full gallop. The boom of the cannon sounded behind him, signaling to the ferry that he was coming. He and his mount raced down the hill. The wind tore at his face and hat, and he had to keep a hand on the brim to keep from losing it. A few passersby cheered as he rode past and he lifted his chin in greeting.

At the river, he jerked his horse to a stop. The beast danced with energy from the spirited ride. Myles twisted in the saddle to see Delsie gallop toward him. Just when he thought her mare would ram into him, she yanked back on the reins and stopped the animal. Her hat had slipped off her hair to hang down her back by its ribbons, but her blue eyes, the color of deep twilight, glittered.

“Do you always ride this fast?” she asked, her voice breathless.

“No. Only when we’re being pursued by Indians.” Myles climbed out of the saddle. “It’s mostly for show—like my outfit here.”

He went to help her dismount. As he placed his hands on her trim waist and assisted her to the ground, Delsie frowned, her eyebrows dipping toward her pert nose. Did she look down on him and his lowly station in life as Cynthia had? Myles pulled his hands away and practically dropped her onto her feet.

“I know you’re trying to scare me, Mr. Patton,” she said, bracing herself against the saddle.

He tipped his hat up. “Come again?”

“With your remark about Indians.” She righted her own hat and tucked a few strands of hair back into the elaborate coil at the back of her neck. “I told you I am aware of the dangers, but I’m still intent on reaching my sister for her wedding on the twenty-second.”

She knew of the dangers? Myles resisted the impulse to laugh at her naïveté. “Can’t say I didn’t warn you.” He took the reins of his horse and started toward the waiting boat. “Come on. It’s time to board the ferry.”

Once the mounts were situated on the boat and it had pulled away from the bank, Myles excused himself.

“Where are you going?” Delsie asked, a note of alarm in her voice.

“I’m not up and leaving. Like I said, this uniform is only for show. We always change on the boat.”

Her face relaxed, though he noticed lines of worry still pinched her eyes.

“You ever been on a boat before?”

She shook her head. If a short ferry crossing made her this nervous, how in the world did she expect to survive the next eighteen days? Myles battled the urge to ask the captain to take Delsie back to the Saint Joseph shore. He’d given his word to accompany her all the way to Guittard’s, though, and he’d do it. Not only because his stepfather had ingrained in him the importance of integrity, but Myles had also sworn an oath as a rider to conduct himself honestly.

He ducked into the room the Express riders used for changing and traded the fancy uniform and scabbard for a trail-worn shirt and a buckskin jacket and trousers, though he kept his Colt revolvers. Despite loving Cynthia, he’d always loathed the idea of having to dress up if they married. He much preferred the ease and comfort of his riding clothes, and the absence of stiff collars and scratchy fabrics.

When he emerged from the changing room, he was surprised to find Delsie standing at the railing. Her gloved hands held the metal rail in a vise-like grip, but she stood there nonetheless, her face turned toward the western horizon.

“Is trying new things a first for you?” he couldn’t help asking.

She glanced at him, without loosening her hold on the railing. “Is it that obvious?” Her lips curved into a crooked smile. “Lillian, my sister, was the adventurous one. I was more content to stay near the house or our governess. But eventually she would coax me to join her in some harebrained scheme, in which one or both of us ended up dirty or in tears.”

A feeling of loneliness cut through Myles at the familial picture she presented. His parents had both died of illness before he turned five. He’d been taken in by his stepfather after that. Charles Patton had lost his wife and new baby a few months earlier. The man soon became the only father Myles could remember—so much so that he’d taken on Charles’s last name as his own. His stepfather had taught him everything he knew about horses and had encouraged Myles’s dream of owning a horse ranch one day. Even five years after his death, Myles still mourned the man and the loss of the only family he’d ever known.

He cleared his throat to ward off the emotion collecting there. “Does your sister know you’re coming to her wedding?”

Delsie shook herself as though she’d been caught up in memories, as well. “No...she doesn’t. I considered writing, but when I heard the mail wasn’t necessarily getting through out West, I decided to go in person instead. I didn’t want to risk a letter not reaching her in time.”

“Suppose that makes sense.”

The ferry bumped against the shoreline. Myles led his horse down the gangplank, Delsie and her mare following behind. “Welcome to Kansas,” he said drily.

“What do we do now?” Delsie asked as he assisted her into the saddle again.

“We ride.”

Myles climbed onto his horse and urged it forward, whistling for his sparrow hawk, Elijah. He’d let the bird fly off earlier, as was his custom, to collect some breakfast of its own. A few seconds later, the brown-and-blue hawk swooped over the wharf and landed on Myles’s shoulder. The bird would remain there most of the trip, except when Myles changed horses at the different swing stations or when it felt more inclined to fly ahead.

“Is that your bird?” Delsie nudged the mare closer and eyed the hawk with obvious fascination.

“I found him, out on the prairie, if that’s what you mean.” He rubbed the speckled breast of the hawk. “He was hurt, so I brought him home and fixed him up.”

“Does the bird have a name?”

“Elijah,” Myles muttered.

“Elijah? That’s an unusual name for a pet.”

He frowned at her remark, not wishing to get into the particulars. “Pick up the pace, Miss Radford. We’ve got mail to deliver.”

Without waiting to see if she complied or not, Myles urged his horse to move faster. A few people called out in greeting to him as he made his way swiftly through town. Myles tipped his hat in response. If anyone thought it strange that a woman, and a well-dressed one at that, dogged his heels, no one said so. He’d have enough explaining to do at the stations along the route today.

Once the people and buildings gave way to open prairie, Myles pushed his horse into the usual slow gallop. The sunshine had burned away the coolness of the early-morning air and now it glistened off the dewdrops dotting the grass. The clean, fresh smell of wind and prairie filled Myles’s nostrils and he sucked in a deep breath, filling his lungs completely. Only out here, charging across the plains, did he feel at home, with the sky, the earth and Elijah for companions.

Of course he couldn’t entirely forget the woman riding several feet behind him. He shot a look over his shoulder to ensure Delsie was keeping up. Her hands seemed to grip the reins as tightly as she had the boat railing, but her wide-eyed stare appeared to hold more interest than fear.

“It’s so big...and wide,” she called to his back. A few moments later her horse drew alongside his. “I’m from Pennsylvania, you see. It’s very different than this. Are you from Missouri originally, Mr. Patton?”

“Yes.”

“Have you ever been back East?”

“No.”

“What’s the farthest west you’ve been?”

“Nebraska.”

He eyed her with mounting irritation. Did she plan to talk the entire one hundred and twenty-five miles to Guittard’s? He wasn’t accustomed to hearing much but the thud of the horse’s hooves beneath him and the occasional trill of birds in the distance. Elijah watched her, too, his head cocked to the side as though trying to figure out the strange creature tagging along with them today.

“How far is it to the first station?”

Was she already uncomfortable? He stifled a groan. She rode well enough, despite the absence of a sidesaddle. “The Troy station is about fifteen miles from Saint Joseph,” he answered. “It’s at the Smith Hotel. We’ll change horses there and head on to the hotel in Syracuse.”

A smile quirked her lips, though she tried to hide it. Myles got the instinct impression she was laughing at him. “Something funny?”

She shook her head, but her deep blue eyes danced in a way that belied the gesture.

He raised his eyebrows in silent question.

“I was only thinking that was the longest speech I’ve heard from you since we started riding.” She drew herself up in the saddle and glanced away at the distant trees. “I was beginning to think you couldn’t sit a horse and talk at the same time.”

Myles watched her shoulders rise with stifled laughter, bringing a low growl from his throat. This only added to her fit of merriment. He scowled at her hat. What had he gotten himself into by agreeing to bring her along?

“I’m sorry,” she said, turning to face him again. “That was...unkind.”

“Not at all.” He feigned a forgiving smile. “If we could all talk a streak like you, Miss Radford, news would travel even faster than the Pony Express.”

Her mouth fell slightly open and her eyes narrowed. Myles tried to maintain a deadpan expression, but he couldn’t hold back his chuckle for long. If she could dish out the sarcasm, she could certainly learn to swallow some herself.

With another chuckle, he pulled his horse ahead, relishing the pounding of the hooves against the prairie sod and the blessed sound of quiet from behind.

Chapter Two

The Smith Hotel, in Troy, Kansas, appeared ahead. Myles rode straight to its large barn and jumped to the ground. One man held the reins of his next horse, while another yanked the mochila from the saddle to throw it over the new one.

“I need a second horse,” Myles explained as Delsie stopped her mare beside them. The two men gaped openly at her.

The man holding the new horse’s reins recovered first. “What’s wrong with this one, Patton?”

Myles hurried over to help Delsie dismount. “Nothing. But I need another horse—for the lady here.” When the man shot Myles a bewildered look, he added, “I’ll explain later, Rogers. Just get us another horse. She’ll pay to ride it.”

Thankfully, the man brooked no more complaint and raced into the barn to collect the second horse. Myles climbed into the saddle again, turning an expectant gaze on the hotel. Right on cue, a young lady exited the building and ran toward him. In each hand she held one of the fried pastries the Troy station was known for.

“Thank you,” Myles said, accepting the treats. He immediately handed one down to Delsie, then bit off a bite of the chewy, sweet dough. “Delicious,” he murmured.

Delsie sniffed at the pastry, then took a delicate bite. Myles rolled his eyes at her prim manners. Did she honestly think she could make it across half the country when she couldn’t even— The unfinished question died within his mind as he watched the fried treat disappear between her lips in less than a minute.

A startled laugh escaped his mouth. If Delsie heard it, she didn’t react. She simply stood there waiting for Rogers, looking as imperial and composed as a duchess, as if she hadn’t just devoured her pastry in two bites.

Well, I’ll be, Myles thought with a rueful shake of his head. She’d clearly been starving, though she hadn’t let on one bit. He glanced at his own half-eaten pastry and extended it toward her.

“No, thank you,” she responded politely, though she wouldn’t quite meet his gaze as she sipped water from the canteen one of the riders had found for her.

At that moment, Rogers led her new horse out of the barn. Delsie handed him a few dollars before he helped her into the saddle. Myles kneed his horse forward and they were off again.

The next four relay stations brought more of the same routine, minus the pastries. He’d ride in first, tell the men he needed a second horse, then he’d wait while they gawked a few seconds at Delsie before scrambling to collect and saddle another mount. Delsie seemed to take it all in stride, paying for the horses and climbing back into the saddle each time without hesitation and even offering courteous smiles to the other Express workers.

When they reached their fifth station, though, Myles could see she was beginning to wilt like a flower in the height of summer. Once astride her new horse, she paused and squeezed her eyes shut. He knew from his first few Express runs the discomfort of being in a saddle for so long. But it couldn’t be helped—not if he was to deliver the mail on time and not if she planned to ride this way from here to California.

Elijah left his shoulder to go hunt for a mouse or a smaller bird, reminding Myles of the hardtack he kept in his jacket. The Troy pastries and the promise of a full meal at Guittard’s was sufficient food for himself, but he imagined Delsie wasn’t used to such a long day with so little to eat.

With the ease of practice, he managed to remove the hardtack without slowing his horse. “Hungry?”

Delsie took a long moment to answer, her hand rubbing at the back of her neck. She’d been doing that more and more the past two hours. “Yes...thank you.” She took the piece of hardtack he handed her, and without hesitation or inquiry as to what it was, she bit into it.

After she’d finished off that piece, he extended the other to her. “Aren’t you hungry?” she asked, her gaze moving from his hand to his face. He couldn’t recall ever seeing another woman with such dark blue eyes. They were nearly black, like her hair, but still blue enough to add contrast.

“I don’t usually eat much till I get to Guittard’s. This is just for emergencies.”

“If you’re sure...”

When he nodded, she took the rest of the biscuit from him. Again, she lifted her hand to rub at her neck as she ate. She had to be sweating bullets in the thick fabric of her high-collared dress, and her silly hat barely shaded her eyes.

Myles reached for his canteen, an idea forming. “You got a handkerchief with you?”

Delsie reached into one sleeve and removed a white piece of cloth. “Yes, why?”

“Can I see it?”

She studied him quizzically, then handed him the handkerchief. Leaning slightly to the side, Myles poured a little water from the canteen onto the cloth and squeezed out some of the excess.

“Try putting this around your neck. It oughta help keep you cool.” He pressed the damp cloth into her gloved hand.

Delsie obeyed, draping the wet handkerchief against the exposed skin at the base of her neck. An audible sigh of contentment reached his ears and her eyes fell shut. “That feels...wonderful.”

Myles allowed himself a smile at her obvious relief, especially since she couldn’t see him. “You’re welcome.”

She opened her eyes to look at him. “Thank you.” The words were quiet and genuine, reminding him of the woman herself. At least when she wasn’t talking a mile a minute. To her credit, though, she’d spoken very little the past few hours, only breaking the silence between them with an occasional question about the landscape or the next relay station.

“How far have we come?” she asked, looking around them at the rolling prairie. The sunshine had held and the blue sky arched bright and cloudless overhead.

“When we reach Seneca in a few more hours, we’ll have come eighty miles from Saint Joseph.”

“So we’ll have forty-five more to go after that?”

He tipped his head in agreement, impressed with her quick figuring.

“Does that mean you aren’t going to leave me behind, then?” Her words were coated with as much teasing as they were challenge.

Myles cut her a look before facing forward again with a grin. “We’ll see, Miss Radford. We’ll see.”

* * *

“That’s Guittard’s Station there.”

Myles’s words took a moment to penetrate past the fog inside Delsie’s mind caused by the endless riding and movement and pain. She lifted her chin from where it drooped nearly to her chest. Ahead of them in the evening sun, past the woods and creek, she spied a two-story wooden structure with a front porch and plenty of windows flanking its sides. A large barn was also visible. While the place might appear rustic standing beside the ornate hotels back East or her own brick house back in Pennsylvania, Delsie couldn’t recall a more welcomed sight. Her first day on the trail was finally at an end.

They rode to the stable, where Myles dismounted first before coming to assist her. She was too exhausted in mind and body to pay much heed to the open stares from the other Express workers who’d come to collect the horses. She’d grown accustomed to the surprised looks or words exchanged at each station along the route when the men discovered her riding beside Myles and on a Pony Express horse, no less.

Myles lifted her to the ground, but when he released her waist, Delsie found her legs would no longer support her. Her knees crumbled beneath her riding habit, and she would have fallen onto the hard-packed dirt if Myles hadn’t gripped her arm.

“Careful,” he murmured, his voice surprisingly gentle. “You’re likely a little stiff by now.”

Stiff? She gave an unladylike snort. The single word didn’t even begin to explain what she felt at the moment. Somewhere back on the trail, the throbbing ache in her back and legs had finally numbed, bringing temporary relief. But as she hazarded a step, with Myles still holding on to her elbow, sharp prickles of pain lanced through her lower body. She almost preferred the numbness.

Delsie bit her lip to keep from crying out as she hobbled next to Myles—she didn’t want the triumph of the day marred by complaint. But, oh, how she longed for her bed at home, with its laundered sheets and feather-soft mattress.

“Myles!” An older man approached them from the direction of the house. A gray beard and a friendly smile graced his weather-beaten face. His blue-gray eyes widened when he noticed Delsie limping alongside the Express rider. “Who’s this young lady?”

Myles stopped walking, forcing Delsie to follow suit. She didn’t think she could manage a single step on her own just yet. “Good to see you, Amos. This is Delsie Radford.” He motioned to the other man with his free hand. “Miss Radford, meet Hank Amos. Express worker, avid explorer and accomplished harmonica player.”

Hank Amos chuckled and extended his hand. “Guilty as charged. Pleased to meet you, Miss Radford.”

Delsie shook his hand. “Nice to meet you, too, Mr. Amos.”

His laughter deepened. “Not to contradict a lady, Miss Radford, but call me Amos. Everybody does.” He glanced at the sky. “Elijah off hunting?” he asked.

Myles nodded. “He flew off before we rode in.”

Amos considered Delsie, his gaze lingering on the spot where Myles still held her arm. “What brings you West...with Mr. Patton?”

Myles released Delsie’s elbow at once and took a deliberate step to the side. She swayed a moment, but her feet held firm. “I promised to escort her to Guittard’s today.”

Delsie threw him a questioning glance, but he wasn’t looking at her. He’d told her he would consider tonight whether to take her the rest of the way to California. She hoped he hadn’t already made up his mind. While she felt nigh unto death, she’d certainly kept up her end of the bargain by not slowing him down.

“Are you catching the stage from here, Miss Radford?”

“No. We’re actually going—”

“To be late for dinner,” Myles interjected. “Let’s get you some real food, Miss Radford.” With that, he clutched her elbow again and led her at a trot toward the house.

Delsie frowned up at him. Did he really care that much about her well-being? He had offered her his hardtack hours ago and helped her cool down with his wet-handkerchief trick. But something about his thoughtfulness right now struck her as false. Why hadn’t he let her tell his friend about her plans? She opened her mouth to ask him, but the words were forgotten the instant she inhaled the tantalizing smell of cooked ham and rolls floating from the house.

Her stomach grumbled in response, resurrecting the gnawing sensation she’d felt for hours. She placed a hand over her middle to squelch it. “That smells absolutely scrumptious,” she muttered, though not softly enough.

Amos gave another throaty chuckle. “Tastes even better.”

“I think if shoe leather smelled that wonderful, I’d eat my fill and die perfectly happy.”

There was a low rumbling that sounded in her right ear, not unlike distant thunder but more jovial. It took Delsie several seconds to realize the noise came from Myles—he was laughing at her remark.

Though she knew it shouldn’t, the sound of his laughter and the knowledge she’d solicited it filled her with momentary pleasure. Her father would be displeased at her errant thought. She was supposed to be deciding if she loved Flynn Coppell, the man who managed her father’s bank, not entertaining ideas of how to make some other man laugh once more. Of course what she was or wasn’t thinking would likely be the least cause for worry, if Owen Radford could see her now. Alone in Kansas, having ridden one hundred and twenty-five miles with a man she’d never met before this morning.

Myles steered her toward the back entrance. Inside the kitchen, Delsie found herself seated at a large wooden table beside Myles and across from Amos. Her backside instantly protested the return to a seated position, especially on the uncushioned seat, but Delsie chose to be grateful that neither the chair nor the table would be moving any time soon.

They were served ham, eggs, rolls and coffee by the station owner’s wife, who, upon discovering another woman in her kitchen, made a motherly fuss over Delsie. Uncertain why Myles wanted to keep quiet about her plans, she answered the woman’s questions, and those from the other Express workers as they trailed in, with the simple explanation that she was going to visit her sister in California.

Delsie ate everything on her plate and even accepted seconds of the ham and eggs. Her father would have been horrified by her ferocious appetite, but he’d never ridden so far in a single day.

Though she longed to sequester herself in a room upstairs and wash away the dust from the day’s ride, she lingered at the table, listening to the Express riders’ stories. The tales they told of dodging Indian arrows, riding through thunderstorms or racing buffalo across the prairie sent tremors of fear and excitement up her spine. Would she encounter all these experiences herself? The conversation soon turned to the Indian troubles farther west and the speculation on how the other Express stations and riders were faring.

“Come, now, boys,” the station owner’s wife gently scolded in her slight French accent as she refilled the coffee mugs. “No more of that kind of talk.” She tipped her head at Delsie. “Especially in the presence of a lady.”

Delsie scooted her chair back and stood. “That’s all right, Mrs. Guittard. I believe I shall retire for the night. Thank you for the delicious dinner. I can honestly say it was better than anything I’ve eaten back home in Pennsylvania.”

The woman blushed at the compliment. “I’ll show you to your room, Miss Radford.”

Delsie glanced at Myles, as did everyone else in the room, but he was gazing into his coffee cup. “I just need to locate my valise first...”

Myles scraped back his chair. “I’ll get it.”

After bidding the rest of the workers good-night, she followed Mrs. Guittard up the stairs to a large and tidy bedroom. “I’ll get you some water to wash up.” She exited the room, pulling the door shut behind her.

Delsie unpinned her hat and set it on the bureau. The mirror revealed a stretch of pink across her nose and upper cheeks. She touched the sunburned flesh with a sigh. Oh well. She’d likely only get browner as the days went by.

All for you, Lillie, she thought ruefully as she went to peer out the window. She pushed back the curtains and spied Myles talking with Amos near the barn. He shook his head at something the older man said, then removed his hat and ran a hand through his dark hair. His entire manner breathed agitation. Were they talking about her?

As if they sensed her watching, they both glanced at the house. She jumped back and let the curtain fall into place. A knock at the door alerted her that Mrs. Guittard had returned with the promised water. Delsie let her in and the woman emptied the pitcher she carried into the basin on the bureau.

“There you go, my dear. Let me know if you need anything else.” She crossed to the door, where she paused. “Will you be leaving early?”

“I believe so...” Delsie wished Myles had been more forthcoming about what to expect for the second day of their journey, but either way, she imagined they would be departing as early as they had today.

Once Mrs. Guittard left her, Delsie unwound her hair and released the top button of her collar. The simple act brought instant relief to her tender head and flushed neck. With the aid of a small towel, she bathed her face and hairline.

She was so caught up in the luxurious feel of the cool water against her heated skin that she yelped in surprise when someone pounded on her door. After dropping the towel into the basin, she threw open the door and found Myles standing there, her valise in one hand and his hat in the other.

“I brought you your...” His gaze shifted from the floorboards to her face and his eyes rounded in shock. Belatedly she remembered her unbound hair and loose collar.

Fresh heat burned her face as Delsie brought her hand up to cover her exposed throat. “Yes, my bag. Thank you.” She plucked it from his grip, prepared to retreat in mortification, but he didn’t make a move to leave. “Is there something else you needed, Mr. Patton?”

He shifted his weight from boot to boot. “Well, you see—”

“Oh, your money,” she finished for him. She lowered her hand to open her valise. “I believe we agreed upon twenty-five dollars...”

His hand closed over hers before she could locate the cash. The gentle, almost caring, touch felt different than the times he’d helped her on and off the Express horses today and succeeded in derailing her thoughts. A strange flurry of sensation churned inside her, similar to what she’d felt on the ferry ride that morning.

“I don’t want your money, Miss Radford.”

“You don’t?” The color of his eyes reminded her of warm, liquid chocolate, the kind she liked to sneak from the kitchen and drink in her room after her father was asleep. Myles released her hand, bringing clarity back to her muddled mind. “B-but I promised to pay you for today.”

“Look.” He ran a hand through his disheveled hair, mussing it more. “You did...pretty well today, Miss Radford.”

Pretty well? She cocked an eyebrow at him in defense. How many women did he know who could keep up with an Express rider for a hundred and twenty-five miles?

His lips twitched when he caught her look. “All right. I can give credit where it’s due.” He blew out his breath. “You rode as well as...as well as a new Express rider might.”

It was Delsie’s turn to hide a smile. “Seeing as you are a man of few words, Mr. Patton, I’ll take that remark as a compliment.”

“As you should.” The merriment in his dark eyes faded and his expression returned to one of complete somberness. “That being said, I think this is a fool’s errand.” She started to protest, but he held up his hand to stop her. “Let me finish. Whether it’s plain crazy or admirable that you want to be at your sister’s wedding on the twenty-second, it can’t be done.”

Spikes of alarm shot through her. “But what about today?”

“Today was different.” He jammed his hat on his head and began to pace the hall in front of her door, his boots clomping against the floorboards. “I know these station owners. But that ends tomorrow. No one past Guittard’s knows me. You’ll have to pay—possibly double what you did today—to take a horse at every station. Two horses.” He held up two fingers as if she didn’t remember. “And another thing. Like I told you before, I’ve never been farther west than Nebraska. I don’t know the terrain, the stations or the dangers beyond that.”

Myles stopped pacing to face her directly. “The time it would take to learn all of that, to convince these station owners to lend you their Express horses...”

The dread that had tightened her stomach when he’d first begun his little speech grew worse, even before he half whispered his next words. “You won’t make it to California when you need to.”

“I...I have to.” She clutched the valise to her chest, hoping to stop the panic rising into her throat and spilling over into tears. “There must be a way.”

He shook his head, his look bordering on compassion. “Even if you rummaged up a guide and a couple of horses, the poor beasts wouldn’t make it that far that fast. It’s impossible. That’s why we change out animals every ten to twelve miles. Besides, the supplies you’d need to strike out on your own would weigh the horses down too much.”

The need to cry was growing stronger, the sting of tears forcing Delsie to blink. Had she left behind everything familiar, in order to reach Lillie, only to be turned back now?

“I’m sorry, Miss Radford.” For once his voice held nothing but kindness. “If you’d like, we’ll take it slow heading back to Saint Joe tomorrow.”

“What I’d like is to go to California,” she whispered, but she knew he heard her by the way he glanced at the floor again.

“Good night.” He lifted his gaze to hers and held it for a moment. Though he didn’t say it, Delsie sensed he, too, had experienced the bitter disappointment of having a dream ripped from one’s grasp. “I’ll see you at breakfast.”

She gave a wordless nod and stepped back to shut the door. Alone once more, she sank onto the neatly made bed, her valise still crushed in her arms. She’d never felt such fatigue, such despair. Every muscle in her wearied body seemed to echo Myles’s sentiment, It can’t be done. The first of her tears skidded down her cheeks. In seventeen more days, her sister would be lost to her forever and her promise to their mother would be broken. There was nothing she could do to change either one.

Unable to hold back the sobs any longer, Delsie dropped onto the bed and buried her head in the pillow to muffle the sound. She’d managed this first part of her journey without crying once, despite the new and somewhat terrifying things she’d experienced since leaving her aunt’s house.

Aunt Cissy had assumed Delsie was returning straight to Pennsylvania, after her two-week stay in Saint Louis, and Delsie hadn’t bothered to correct her. She’d been so full of optimism once she’d concocted her plan to go to Lillie, just as she had today when she’d convinced Myles to take her with him. But now... The failure tasted worse than the hardtack she’d stomached earlier.

Twisting onto her side, she stared at the room’s nice furnishings, not so different from the opulence she was accustomed to at home. What sort of room did Lillie live in? Did she enjoy being on her own as she’d claimed to in the letters Delsie had discovered?

Her eyes narrowed in on the book lying on top of the low table beside the bed. Delsie released her bag to the floor and sat up. She pulled the book onto her lap. Her own Bible would’ve weighed her luggage down too much, so she hadn’t brought it, but she was grateful to find one here.

She flipped aimlessly through the pages, wondering where to read, where to find solace. At her aunt’s house, she’d been working her way through Hebrews. Delsie turned there now and located the last place she recalled reading. She began in chapter 10, but her mind was as much on her predicament as it was on the words before her. Until she reached verses thirty-five and thirty-six.

Cast not away therefore your confidence, which hath great recompence of reward. For ye have need of patience, that, after ye have done the will of God, ye might receive the promise.

A feeling of warmth began near her heart and spread all the way to her tired fingers and toes as she reread the two verses. She’d felt that confidence from the moment she’d decided to go to Lillie and at every step up to now. Why should she doubt, then? If God wanted her to be in California before the twenty-second—and everything inside her said He did—then she had to trust and be patient that He would make that possible. That she would receive the promise, the reward, of fulfilling their dying mother’s wishes and reuniting with Lillie before it was too late.

Delsie set the Bible on the bed and stood to pace the room, her arms tucked tight against her. Myles thought it impossible to either procure horses at every station or to travel with their own for so long. But was there a third solution they’d overlooked? One obvious to the Lord?

“Please help me see it, too,” she prayed in a soft voice.

Calculations appeared in her mind’s eye like figures on a chalkboard, the way they always did—the number of miles they had to go, the number of miles a horse could reasonably trot before needing to rest. She dug through her valise to find a pencil and Lillie’s last letter. Using the back of one of the pages, Delsie wrote down the numbers in her head. She began playing with them, organizing them, rearranging them.

And then she saw it—the answer—as plain as day and as clear as the sky had been earlier. So simple and yet so hidden until this moment. A ripple of excitement and gratitude ran through her. Thank You, Lord. One problem solved. Now she only needed a guide and three horses.

She left the paper on her bed and crossed to the 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.

Chapter Three

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. “I calculated everything out last night.” She lifted her hand and showed him a piece of paper with numbers scrawled all over the back of it. “We can average a hundred miles a day, if we rest the horses for an hour about every fifteen miles. If we start at six in the morning, we could reach one of the Express stations, at that pace, by eight o’clock that evening.”

“And supplies?” he countered, mostly in an attempt to hide how impressed he was with her calculations. Clearly Delsie Radford was more than a pretty face with a sudden penchant for adventure. She’d managed to come up with a fairly logical plan...so far.

“Instead of paying to use the stations’ horses, I’ll pay them for room and board and feed for the animals for the single night we stay there.”

Myles scrubbed a hand over the stubble on his face. He hadn’t bothered to trim his beard this morning in his anticipation of getting Delsie back to Missouri. “What about water or feed for the horses during breaks?”

Delsie slid a glance at Amos. “That’s where Mr....I mean, Amos comes in. He’s familiar with the route. He knows most of the rivers and creeks along the way, as well as the Express stations.”

A sardonic laugh nearly escaped Myles’s lips. She’d clearly thought of everything, the little conspirator. While he’d lain in his bed awake last night, feeling guilty as he’d imagined her heartbroken and weeping in her room upstairs, Delsie had actually been scheming behind his back. And doing a decent job of it as evidenced by her clever equations and her solicitation of Amos’s help as a guide.

“What do you need me for, then?” He crossed his arms over his chest as a feeling he couldn’t quite name settled there, tight and uncomfortable. It reminded him of the taunts he’d experienced as a child at school, about being an orphan, about how Charles wasn’t his real pa. He’d quit going at age ten.

“Because I promised to pay you first...” Myles frowned, ready to argue with her. While the money would be nice, even if he got less than she’d originally offered after she paid the station owners and Amos, he wouldn’t be pitied. “And because you know the most about horses,” she added before he could protest. “Amos told me you worked for years at a livery stable. You know better than either of us when to rest the animals, when to push them. So you see, I need you...”

An attractive blush stained her cheeks at her words. The image of her long hair and exposed collarbone from last night entered Myles’s mind again. “What I mean is we need you. Me, Amos and my sister.”

Myles blew out his breath and absently rubbed Elijah’s feathers. Did he still want to help her? A good portion of him preferred climbing into the saddle and heading east, never to see Miss Delsie Radford again. But the other part of him, growing more insistent the longer the silence stretched between them, wanted to see if she—if they—could really do this.

Could they reach California in seventeen more days? The challenge, and the chance to earn more money for his future ranch, was as alluring as the woman watching him with those dark blue eyes. Eyes framed with long lashes, above a slightly pink nose. If anything the sunburn only added to her beauty.

Careful, Myles, he warned himself.

He’d fallen for a pretty face once before, only to be spurned. Clever and attractive as Delsie might be, Myles knew all too well the impossibility of their two worlds ever coexisting. It had been that way with Cynthia and it would be no different with any other spoiled rich girl who came along.

“All right, Miss Radford. I’ll send word to Saint Joe that I’ll be gone for a few weeks. But mind you, if I lose my job over this, I’ll hunt you down and demand more money.” He regarded her with a level look. “Got it?”

A slight smile toyed with her mouth. “Yes, Mr. Patton.”

He tugged his hat lower onto his head. “What do you want to do now?”

“Now,” she said, smiling fully, “we ride.”

* * *

If she’d thought she was sore after her first day of riding more than a hundred miles, Delsie knew better now. Nothing could compare to the pain and stiffness of a second day in the saddle. Her limbs felt as heavy as logs and as hard and unyielding as granite. Every rise and fall of the prairie ground seemed to radiate from her mare’s hooves up through her back and all the way to her stiff neck. Sheer determination, coupled with the constant memory of her sister’s tearstained face on the day Lillie had left, kept her from begging Myles and Amos to turn around.

Their pace nearly matched that of yesterday’s, except for the rests that, according to Amos’s fancy pocket watch and Myles’s knowledge of horses, they were taking every hour and a half. Even Amos, riding behind her, didn’t look the least bit uncomfortable, though he had to be in his early fifties. Perhaps by the time they reached her sister, Delsie would be just as seasoned on a horse.

She shifted in the saddle, hoping to find a position that didn’t chafe her legs or add to her pain. Up ahead, Myles remained silent and alert as he had the day before, his bird perched on his shoulder. Delsie had fully expected him to refuse to accompany her any farther, despite her new and improved plan. But then he’d surprised her by agreeing.

Why is he really here? she wondered, not for the first time since they’d set out. Why hadn’t Myles left her and Amos to fend for themselves?

Amos had told her his reasons for coming—the promise of adventure and a soft spot for helping women. She’d found herself telling him more about her sister, and why she had to reach her, than she’d confessed to Myles. Not that she trusted Amos more. But the older man seemed to grasp—and appreciate—her willingness to face whatever obstacles to help Lillie and her family by keeping her promise. It was something she sensed Myles didn’t quite understand. Delsie could still visualize his hardened expression when he’d declared he had no family. The memory filled her with the same measure of sadness his words had on the boat.

Was it this pain and loneliness that made him hide behind a mask of curtness and annoyance? For it surely was a mask. She’d seen a glimpse here and there in the past twenty-four hours of a different man. One who possessed integrity and determination but also kindness and compassion. At other times, though, she could almost believe she’d imagined this different side to Myles. He hadn’t spoken more than a handful of words to her since they’d begun riding. If he disliked her company so, why wasn’t he headed straight back to Missouri?

With an amused sniff, she realized her questions had come full circle again.

“The horses need to stop soon,” Myles called over his shoulder.

“Let’s rest by those trees there,” Amos answered.

In the distance Delsie spied a patch of trees alongside the river they’d been riding beside—according to Amos it was called the Little Blue. She sighed with relief at the thought of a rest. Perhaps some walking would ease the continued agony of riding.

Amos drew alongside her and examined his pocket watch. Shaking his head, he grinned. “Look at that. An hour and a half almost to the minute. The man’s got a way with horses.”

Just not with people. She instantly regretted the unkind thought. “How long have you known Mr. Patton, Amos?”

The older man squinted up at the blue sky. “Let’s see, it’s been about seven years now. Right after my wife died, God rest her soul.”

“I’m sorry...about your wife. Did you have any children?”

“No.” A wistful look passed over his weathered face. “Not for wanting, that’s for sure. We hoped and prayed for a family, but we came to realize that God had other plans.” His gaze traveled from her to Myles. “Myles is the closest thing I have to family now. He’s the one who encouraged me to hire on with the Pony Express, despite my being up there in years—as he likes to remind me.” His mouth curved up in a broad smile.

Delsie rubbed at the back of her neck. As soon as they stopped, she’d wet her handkerchief, as Myles had done yesterday, to help prevent a sunburn. The longer she rode, the more she realized the impracticality of her stylish riding hat. Maybe she could trade it somewhere for a wide-brimmed one like the two men wore.

“Has he always been...um...” She searched for the right word.

“Hard-edged?” Amos supplied with a chuckle.

She bit back a smile and nodded.

“No, he hasn’t.” Amos wiped at his brow with his sleeve, then tugged his hat lower. “His folks died when he was real young, but he was raised by a good and godly man—his stepfather, Charles Patton. Myles took his stepfather’s death pretty hard.” He glanced at Delsie. She’d told him last night about her mother dying when she was thirteen. “But things really turned bad for him two months ago when his girl, this rich young lady from Saint Joe, refused to marry him after stringing him along for six years.”

Delsie turned her attention to the man in front of them, riding tall and straight in his saddle. What had the man at the hotel in Saint Joseph said yesterday? Didn’t know you had yourself a new girl, Patton. No wonder Myles had looked ready to pummel him.

Would Flynn feel the same, angry and bitter, if she returned home and told him she couldn’t marry him? She couldn’t picture him acting that way, but then again, did Flynn truly love her as it seemed Myles had this wealthy woman?

Flynn had told her she was the most beautiful woman in the world and would make him the happiest man alive she if agreed to marry him. But was it her that he truly looked forward to having or was it her inheritance? She’d been asking herself that question ever since she’d left Pennsylvania to visit Aunt Cissy in Saint Louis.

Now that Lillie had been struck from their father’s will, Delsie stood to gain a great deal of money. Some she would inherit when she married, the rest she would receive upon her father’s death, and Flynn knew the particulars. Despite her father’s encouragement of the match, the thought that Flynn might be more interested in her wealth than in Delsie herself brought a mixture of unease and confusion to her stomach.

When they reached the trees Amos had indicated, the older man helped Delsie off her mare. She stumbled forward and braced herself against a nearby tree trunk as she waited for her legs to work properly again. Myles led the three horses to the riverbank and let them drink.

“Shall we eat the food Mrs. Guittard gave us?” Delsie asked. She didn’t know if it was time for lunch, but the hunger in her middle could no longer be ignored.

“Fine by me,” Amos said, taking a seat in the shade.

Myles gave a grunt of approval as he looped the horses’ reins around several low-hanging branches. He removed the simple meal of bread, cheese and apples from one of the saddlebags.

Delsie eyed the ground, trying to decide if she preferred sitting or standing at the moment.

“You’re going to get dirty, Miss Radford,” Myles said with a shake of his head, “so you might as well start now.”

“But I wasn’t...” She pressed her lips over her defense and glared at his bent head as he set out the lunch things. The man could truly be insufferable, even if he had good reason to be.

Chin up, she stepped away from the tree and plopped right onto the dirt as unladylike as possible. A cry barreled up her throat as pain shot through her spine, but she swallowed it back when she saw Myles quirk an eyebrow at her. Was that amusement or admiration glittering in his dark eyes?

She accepted the food he handed her, then waited until he and Amos had their portions before she spoke up. “May I say grace?”

Myles leaned back against the tree trunk and scowled in response.

Maybe he needed an explanation. “I’d like to give thanks for the food...and for a safe journey so far.”

“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.

A throat cleared behind them, as loud as a gunshot in the quiet barn. Myles jerked his hand from hers so fast that she dropped the brush into the hay at their feet.

“Came to see if you needed help,” Amos announced.

Delsie bent to retrieve the brush and hide her flushed face. Myles practically bolted from the stall. “I think you got the hang of it,” he said when she straightened. He wouldn’t look at her. “Amos can show you how to feed them. I’m gonna get me some supper.”

Moving to the other side of her mare, she tried to ignore the sound of Myles’s retreating steps and the searching glances Amos kept throwing her way. She ran the brush over and over across the horse’s coat, fighting a sudden desire to cry.

Why should she waste a single tear on that ornery Express rider? They came from two completely different worlds, as Myles himself seemed to enjoy pointing out. Even if her heart should stray from what her father wanted for her, she’d witnessed firsthand what Lillie’s choice had done to him. While Delsie didn’t agree with his decision to disown her sister for going after Clay, deep down, she recognized he’d only wanted the best for Lillie. His wrath had masked his fear. She wouldn’t follow the same path and tear apart what remained of their small family.

“You all right, Miss Radford?” Amos held a pitchfork in his hand.

“Of course.” She kept her head tilted high, but she sensed the older man saw through the bluff.

Why did she have to feel this attraction toward Myles, one stronger than any she’d ever felt for Flynn, and after only two days? She needed to place all her energies and focus on reaching Lillie in time, and nothing more.

“Will you show me how to feed the horses?” she asked, infusing as much cheerfulness as she could into her tone.

Amos watched her, his blue-gray eyes keen. What did he see? Did he read the hurt on her face over Myles’s rude behavior just now, how he’d acted as if nothing had happened between them? Could Amos see how hard she was trying not to care? Finally, the older man nodded and motioned for her to exit the stall.

The lesson proved to be the perfect distraction. Amos patiently taught her how to pitch the hay into the stall and how to feed some carrots to the mare. Perhaps she’d take more interest in the animals and in riding, when she returned home.

By the time they left the stable, Delsie had almost forgotten Myles and his shifting moods—until they met up with him on the front porch. He sat on the bottom step, feeding Elijah pieces of meat from his supper. Amos took a seat beside Myles and removed his harmonica from his pocket.

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