Total pages in book: 38
Estimated words: 35908 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 180(@200wpm)___ 144(@250wpm)___ 120(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 35908 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 180(@200wpm)___ 144(@250wpm)___ 120(@300wpm)
As close as I’ll get to being part of the Pony Express.
Shaking off his uncertainty, he ran to the bunkhouse and woke the next rider before hurrying to the stable. He knew he had about five minutes before the rider made it all the way in. The horse was saddled in half that and ready when Bill stumbled from the building, food shoved in his mouth buckling his woolen pants.
The riders who did this were amazing. Anytime day or night they were ready when called upon. Bill was no different from the others. An orphan, he’d joined the Pony Express when it started and was one of the more trusted riders.
“The boy’s early.”
Cy didn’t do anymore than grunt. Bill and Robert had a strenuous relationship, but it always remained professional. He handed over the reins and Bill swung up. Together they watched the dust cloud grow closer.
A large dun pounded into view and came to a halt. Gloved hands deftly undid and extended the pouch. Cy took it. He looked up and found himself staring into Robert’s eyes.
“Robert,” he said with a nod. “Made good time.”
No response so he glanced back up to find him still watching him. With a shake of his head, he turned to Bill and attached the delivery. Bill wheeled his horse around, said, “Boy,” and then took off.
Cy turned back to see Robert heading for the stable which thankfully hadn’t been burned completely to the ground during the attack so repairs hadn’t taken too long. Crossing his arms, he observed them. Something was different. He just couldn’t quite put his finger on it. True, he didn’t know Robert all that well, but he was a man who paid attention to the small things.
Most obvious was the horse. Yes, the Pony Express had plenty of mounts. Still most men he knew had a favorite. And Robert’s favorite was a roan not this dun. This horse looked barely winded as it continued to move easily. And, it wasn’t shod.
“Where’s Reaver?” he called out.
“Lame.”
The voice sounded a bit graveled as if he’d been sick. “So who’s this?”
“Polaris.”
He blinked. Robert had mentioned Polaris. His sister’s horse. She’d gotten him as a yearling from some Indians. Cy didn’t know much more about it than that but he knew the horse was strong, fast, and everything to the man’s sister.
“She let you take her horse?”
A slight stiffening followed by a brief nod. “After a fashion.”
He chuckled. Siblings. “I can take care of him.” It was part of his job. More hesitation before Robert slid free of the stirrups and hit the ground with a spur jarring thud. “There’re about four over there now sleeping but I reckon they’ll be getting up soon.”
Saddlebags slung over one shoulder, Robert walked off without a word.
Something still bothered him but Cy shook it off and went to take care of the mount. After he stripped Polaris, who hadn’t wanted to go with him but after Robert, he checked him over carefully to ensure he’d acquired no injuries. Content the horse was sound, he fed him and left him for some well-deserved rest.
The other riders other than Robert eventually woke and another dispatch heading the other way came in. About three hours later, he had just finished shoeing one of his horses when Thomas, another rider who was going to be heading toward Sacramento on the next run let out a yell.
“Cy! We’ve got a problem.”
Stripping off the leather apron, he hurried out into the bright sun. The urgency in the tone prompted him to not dally. The problem could be anything. Thieves, Indians, they had it all out here. Rifle in hand he headed to Thomas’ side.
“What?” he asked scanning the horizon.
Thomas gestured with his chin. Cy squinted in that direction and frowned when he saw a horse approaching at a trot. His scowl deepened when he recognized it as Bill’s horse…without Bill.
“What the…?”
They hurried toward the skittish gelding. When they captured him, Cy noticed the blood on the saddle and along one shoulder was a deep gash. Damn it! Thankfully, the mochila sat secured to the saddle.
“Do you think the Injuns got him?” Thomas asked as they hurried back to the stable.
“I have no idea.” He had a hunch though. And not a good one. “Take him and give him some water. I’ll be over shortly to patch him up.” He headed toward the bunkhouse, dispatches in hand.
Pushing through the darker and thankfully cooler interior, he paused to take it all in. Two of the guys were drinking which they weren’t supposed to do in excess. To the right he spied Robert lying on a bottom bunk, back to the wall.
“Bill’s horse came back,” he announced. “There was blood on the saddle. I need a rider to head out.”
Silence reined and he felt his disappointment rise. Then a graveled voice came to him.