“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.
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
