“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
