bowls and cups in the washtub. The sound of Dinah going up the stairs filled his ears. As soon as she was up, he said, “I talked to Gus this morning and asked why there were no men stationed at the house yesterday.”
“What did he say?”
He heard the weariness in her voice. “That he needed all the men to repair the fences.”
“Did you tell him I’d had the baby?”
Clayton nodded as he filled the pan with hot water. He saw a bar of soap and shaved a few slivers into the water. “I did.”
She exhaled. “Well, that explains his visit today.”
“What did he want?” Clayton turned and faced her. He leaned against the sideboard and waited for her answer.
Maggie laughed bitterly. “He wants the ranch.”
Clayton turned back around. He’d known Maggie only two days and already he cared about her and the children. Not in a romantic way but in the way a friend would care for another friend. He made quick work of the dirty dishes and put the last one in the drainer to dry.
When he turned again, Maggie and the baby were asleep. Her face had softened in sleep, and she looked very young. Clayton felt a surge of protection for her and the child. He hated that Gus was using his status as a relative of her husband’s to bully the young widow. If all Dinah had told him was true, there was no doubt in his mind that that was exactly what the other man was doing. Still, it was none of his business. His job was to keep the Pony Express moving, and he intended to do just that.
As if she sensed his gaze upon her, Maggie stirred. Her hazel-green eyes opened slowly. She looked up at him. “I’m sorry, I dozed off.”
Clayton was thankful that she felt comfortable enough with him to fall asleep in his presence. “Nonsense. You have nothing to be sorry about.”
She groaned as she balanced the baby and stood. “I guess I should get my family to bed. Tomorrow will come soon enough.”
He nodded. “I agree.” Clayton laid the dish towel to the side and took the dirty water to the back door where he tossed it into the yard.
“Thank you for—” she looked about the kitchen, then focused on his face once more “—everything.”
“It was my pleasure.” Clayton returned the dishpan to its place and then asked, “Do you need help getting up the stairs?”
She shook her head. “No, you’ve done plenty. I’ll just bolt the door after you.”
Clayton nodded. He stopped by the door to slip into his coat. “If you need anything, call out or send Dinah and I’ll come runnin’.”
Maggie followed him slowly. “I will.”
He opened the door and grinned at her. “See that you do.”
At her nod, Clayton turned and walked off the porch. He stopped just off it and listened until he heard the wooden beam fall across the door.
The full moon lit the yard, making it easier for him to find his way to the barn. He pulled the big door open and entered. The smells of hay and horseflesh filled his nostrils.
He walked to the back room that was to be his new home.
It was small with a cot and table. The cot had a homespun quilt on the top and a pillow of sorts. The table was low to the ground and had a small mirror over the top. A washbasin rested in the middle of it, and he noted several nails filled the back wall.
His bundle of clothes rested on the cot where he’d thrown them the night before. Clayton saw the potbellied stove and a small rack of wood beside it. He made his way to the stove and began making a fire. The coldness in the air hinted that winter wasn’t finished with the ranch just yet.
After starting the fire, he opened the bundle of clothes and hung up his pants and shirts. One nail was bigger than the others, so he took off his coat and hung it on that nail. His extra pair of long johns, he folded and placed on the far end of the table. He set his razor and comb beside the washbasin. Lastly, he pulled out the small Bible that Seth, his adoptive father, had given him and laid it on the bed.
Clayton sat down on the edge of the bed. In the last forty-eight hours, he’d delivered a baby, comforted a little girl, and became friends with the local doctor and the young widow woman.
He’d decided he disliked Gus Fillmore almost the moment he’d met him. Gus had seemed arrogant and uncaring. By confronting Maggie when she was weak from having the baby, Gus had shown his greed for the ranch.
Clayton decided he’d protect Maggie and her small family from Gus and his greed. How was he going to do it, though? He had no proof that Gus meant Maggie any harm, but something in his gut said that Gus would be more than happy to get rid of the widow and her son as well as sweet Dinah.
The next morning, Clayton felt as if he’d ridden the Pony Express trail hard. He’d tossed and turned throughout the night as his thoughts turned into nightmares of Gus Fillmore kicking Maggie and the children off the ranch. He went through the morning chores and then met his first Pony Express rider.
He was a young man with a wild head of curly red hair. From the ledger Bill had left behind, Clayton had learned the boy’s name was Sam and that he was skilled at avoiding the Indians. That was good information for a Pony Express station manager to know.
“Did you have any trouble?” Clayton asked as they exchanged horses.
Sam bounded into the saddle. “Nope. Any news from the other direction?”
“Nope. Safe journeys.” Clayton slapped the horse on the rump and Sam was well on his way to the next station.
He turned back to the barn with the spent horse. Standing in the doorway was a man who looked to be in his early twenties. Muscles filled his shirt and chest.
“Mr. Young, would you like for me to take care of the horse for you?”
Clayton continued to walk the horse toward the man. “You seem to have me at a disadvantage. Seems you know me but I have no idea who you are.” He continued into the barn. It was nice of the stranger to offer to take care of the Pony Express horse, but until he knew whom he was talking to, Clayton wasn’t about to turn over Pony Express property to the man.
The man followed him into the barn. “I’m sorry. Name’s Hal. I work for Mrs. Fillmore. I usually take care of the horses.” He held out a big beefy hand.
Clayton took his hand and shook it. “From what I’ve seen you do a good job, Hal.”
“Much appreciative.” Hal picked up a pitchfork and began tossing fresh hay into the horse’s pen next to the one Clayton and the spent pony stood in.
Clayton filled a feed sack with oats and hung it over the horse’s stall door. Then he proceeded to brush the animal down as it ate. “Where have you disappeared to the last couple of days?” he asked.
Hal stopped shoveling and leaned on the fork. “Boss had us fixing fences.”
“They’re all fixed now?” Clayton continued brushing as if the
