to the West, but had of necessity found her own way to Wyoming.
Josephine knew she’d had no choice. After her mother’s death, her father had become depressed and one day just disappeared. Leaving her behind to fend for herself. At first her uncle had paid little attention to her, but soon he’d realized that she could become profitable to him. To escape her uncle and his plans, she’d signed on with the Pony Express and never looked back.
Josephine pulled her shoulders back and raised her chin, readying herself to meet Philip Young. She touched her hand lightly against her chest, comforted by the warmth of her mother’s locket. The jewelry was the only thing left of her mother, besides Josephine’s memories, and she cherished it above all her possessions. Fortunately, her uncle hadn’t known she possessed it or it would have been long gone.
She pushed the sad thoughts aside and entered the bunkhouse. She yawned and weariness filled her. Josephine knew that once she told Philip who she really was, she’d need a couple of hours’ sleep before heading to the town of Dove Creek. She hadn’t waited for Thomas’s letter and now only hoped that she’d be given the directions to the relay station that he ran. If she understood correctly, it was a mere five miles on the other side of Dove Creek, so shouldn’t be too hard to find.
Nerves warred with hunger as she thought about this new life she planned to carve out for herself. Josephine prayed once more that she’d made the right decisions in answering a mail-order-bride ad, joining the Pony Express to escape her uncle and then marrying a man she didn’t know. Some might say she’d jumped out of the frying pan and into the fire; Josephine didn’t know, but she was about to find out.
* * *
Thomas Young leaned against the stone fireplace, watching snow drift silently to the ground in light, fluffy flakes. Living at a Pony Express relay station was the perfect life. He and his brother Philip had everything they needed. They attended to the Pony Express station that rested on the far side of the Young Home Station, which was always their first and last stop on their rides. Their ma liked this because it meant she got to see her adopted sons at least once a week. The home stations offered a bed and meal, whereas their small station offered only a fresh horse and more miles to ride between home stations.
Thomas heard the bugle blow seconds before the young man came into sight. The Pony Express rider came in fast and hard. Not all the riders used the bugle, but this one did. Thomas pushed himself away from the fireplace wall. He hurried to the barn and pulled out the already saddled horse that the rider would exchange. He’d take care of the exhausted horse as soon as the Express rider was on his way.
The young boy rode low over his horse’s neck. The powdery snow lifted from the horse’s hooves like steam from an overheated kettle.
Thomas braced himself for the horse exchange. The boy practically leaped from one horse to the other in one motion. Thomas recognized him as Juan. “Adios!” he called after the retreating back. The pony beside him heaved. Juan had ridden him hard.
The rider waved and shouted back. “Buenos Dias, Senor Young!”
He smiled and then gently tugged on the reins of the spent horse. “Come along, boy. We’ll have fresh oats in your belly in a few moments.” Thomas took the horse to the small barn that housed six Pony Express horses. His own gelding was behind the barn in the lean-to it shared with Philip’s horse.
The smell of hay and oats filled his nostrils. The warmth of the barn wrapped around his chilled body. Philip had been gone for almost four days. He’d planned to ride his part of the trail and then stop in at their adoptive mother’s home station near Dove Creek.
As he worked, Thomas talked to the horses. “Philip should be home later today, boys. I’ve missed his constant chatter. How about you?”
One of the animals kicked its stall door in answer. Thomas laughed. “Well, at least one of you missed him, too.” He took off the Pony Express–issued saddle and began rubbing down the horse that had just arrived.
“I see you are still talking to the animals.”
Thomas turned to smile at the little woman who stood in the doorway. Hazel Gorman was short, round and full of wrinkles. Her hazel eyes twinkled as she looked at him. He wasn’t sure of her age and had never been brave enough to ask. “Hello, Hazel. I didn’t hear you arrive.” He put the horse into a stall, where fresh oats awaited it.
She continued into the barn carrying a big basket. “With the way you and these horses were yammering on, I’m not surprised.” There was a teasing glint in her voice that assured him she was joking.
“What’s in the basket?” Thomas knew it contained some kind of eatable. Hazel was their nearest neighbor and enjoyed bringing them some form of baked good at least once a week. She also brought them canned goods and warm soups or stews.
“It’s getting colder, so I thought you two boys might like a couple of loaves of bread, and I’ve also jarred up my favorite beef stew. It should last you a few days.” Her wrinkled face crinkled up into a smile.
The old woman had more or less adopted Thomas and Philip and used the excuse of feeding them as a reason to come over and check on them. Thomas knew she grew lonely out on her place and, to be honest, he enjoyed her frequent visits.
“Well, thank you. Come on into the house. I just put on a fresh pot of coffee.”
She fell into step with him. “When is Phil coming home?”
Thomas grinned. “Anytime now. He should have already arrived.”
As if she heard the loneliness in his voice, Hazel grunted. “You two boys need wives to help you pass the time when the other is working.”
He held the door open for her. Thomas didn’t point out that he was working, too. And he wasn’t about to talk about getting wives. Instead he said, “That stew smells good.”
Hazel playfully slapped his arm as she passed. “You can’t smell the stew. You’re just trying to change the subject.” She walked to the kitchen area and set the bread and jars on the table.
He closed the door and shut out the cold air and lightly falling snow. “Look, Hazel, I know you mean well, but Philip and I are doing just fine without wives.”
She ignored him and moved to the cabinet that contained four tin mugs, the remainder of the clean dishes in the house. Hazel filled two of them with hot coffee and motioned for him to join her at the table.
Thomas sat down with a sigh. If he knew Hazel, and he believed he did, she was going to start a running conversation on the benefits of having a wife.
Hazel studied his features over the rim of her coffee cup.
He turned his face so that she could see only the right side. The last thing Thomas wanted was for her to focus on the scar that ran from his temple to his chin on the right side. It wasn’t pretty and no woman should have to look at it straight on.
“You are a handsome young man, Tom. Look at me.” She lowered her cup.
Thomas tried a teasing tone. “You are mighty pretty, too, Miss Hazel. Are you hinting you’d like to marry me?” He continued to keep his face tilted from her sight.
“You rascal. We both know I’m too old for you. Besides, I want a man who isn’t ashamed of his looks.” Her tone had lost its
