The Blacksmith’s Bravery (49 page)

She nodded, frowning. “I'll be all right. I'm a little sore in places.”

He reached out and touched her cheek gently. “You sure?”

“Yes.”

“We'll have Doc check you over.”

She nodded and on impulse grabbed his hand. “How about you? Hiram said one of the outlaws was Cecil Watson.”

“That's right. He's dead. Him and Hatley and the one they called Benny. So now we know: They had an insider who knew when there would be treasure in the box.”

She sucked in a breath. “Thank you, Griff. You and Hiram.” Her tears let loose, and she turned her face away.

Two hours later, Griffin and Vashti rode together in the stagecoach.

Mr. Jordan had insisted he could drive a team of mules back to his station. It wasn't that far, and the injured parties needed to sit inside, in relative comfort.

Libby, Bitsy, and Hiram opted to ride on the roof with Jordan, and the other passengers rode the two healthy horses from their original team. Griffin thought they'd all gone to great lengths to put him and Vashti alone in the stage together, but he didn't mind. If his knee didn't hurt so much, he'd have been tickled.

“You'd better have Doc check out that knee,” Vashti said. She hadn't protested when he sat beside her on the cushioned seat at the back of the coach, instead of one of the other seats. He took that as a good sign.

“My knee will be fine. It's you I'm worried about.”

“I'm just bruised up. Nothing's broken.” Her clothes were still damp, but she'd dried out considerably. She probably would heal up within a couple of weeks, but it wasn't her bumps and bruises that worried him.

“What about Luke?” he asked.

“What about him?”

Griffin drew in a deep breath. “Did you know he was in these parts?”

She was quiet for a moment; then she looked at him. “I thought I saw him in Boise, that one time I drove through. Trudy was with me. I saw a man come out of a saloon, and I thought it was Luke. Scared me something awful.”

“Did you tell Trudy?”

Vashti nodded. “I decided it wasn't really him—just my imagination.”

“Do you think he came here looking for you?”

“No. He probably came looking for a chance to make some easy money. When he heard about me, he probably thought it was a streak of luck.”

“Folks have been talking about the female driver,” Griffin said.

“Yes. And if he heard my name was George Edwards…”

“He knew you as Georgia?”

“Yes. I changed my name after I left Ike's.” She sighed and shrank
away from him, into the corner of the seat.

Griffin reached over and found her icy cold hand. He cradled it in his and stroked it with his thumb. “That's all in the past.”

“I know.” Her voice had gone tiny, but she didn't pull her hand away.

He inhaled deeply and let the breath out in a puff. “So why did you pick the name Vashti?”

She blinked at him. “You sure you want to chitchat now?”

“Might as well.”

She looked out the coach window. They were going uphill, only half a mile or so from Democrat. She sat back with a sigh, still letting him hold her hand. “When I came here to Idaho, I wanted a new name. Somebody told me once that Vashti was the name of a queen in the Bible.”

“I reckon that's right.”

“Yeah. But see, after we got the parson and I started going to church, I found out the king got mad at Vashti and kicked her out. He got himself a new queen.”

Griffin nodded. “Esther.”

“That's the one. And Esther was the really pretty one, and she ended up being the honorable queen. Vashti was thrown out of the palace in disgrace. Esther saved her people.”

“That's true, but I wouldn't be so hard on Vashti if I were you.”

“You wouldn't?”

“Nope. From what Reverend Benton says, I'd say Queen Vashti was quite a lady.”

“You think so?”

“Yes. Her husband wanted her to act in an unseemly manner, and she refused.”

Vashti pondered that. “I thought she was bad because she wouldn't do what the king said.”

“Maybe. But I think she had a reason for that. Maybe if you ask Miz Benton, she can tell you more about Queen Vashti.”

“I might do that.”

“Good. Because I happen to think the name suits you more than you know.”

“Really?”

“Yup. You don't stand by convention, and… well, if anyone was to ask me, I'd say you had a regal way of moving, and you're pretty enough to show off, too.”

She eyed him critically, as if she thought he was making fun of her.

“I mean it,” he said softly. “I think a heap of you, Vashti Edwards.”

She sucked in a breath. “Honest?”

He squeezed her hand. “Honest.”

Halfway back to Fergus they met the welcoming party. Jordan had taken the stage and its paying passengers on to Nampa himself, driving the mule team and taking one of his hostlers along as shotgun messenger. He'd loaned Griffin his farm wagon. With Hiram driving, they'd headed out with the two sound horses from the stage team in harness. Libby and Bitsy sat on the seat with Hiram, and Griffin and Vashti sat in the back on a quilt.

From the road ahead, a whooping broke out with the sound of pounding hoofbeats. Vashti held on to the side of the wagon and raised herself until she could see three horses approaching at breakneck speed.

Ethan and Trudy Chapman galloped toward them, and out in front came Justin on Griffin's gelding, Pepper.

“Uncle Griff!” When Justin saw his uncle in the wagon, he halted Pepper and slid to the ground. Hiram stopped the team, and Justin climbed over the wheel into the wagon bed. He flung himself into Griffin's arms. “What happened? Mrs. Chapman and I were worried, so the sheriff telegraphed Nampa. They said you were late.”

“We got waylaid.” Griffin slapped the boy on the back. “We're all right, so quit fretting.”

Justin looked at Vashti. “You, too, Miss Edwards?”

“I'm going to be fine, Justin,” she said.

Ethan and Trudy rode up to the wagon and greeted them all. Bitsy launched into a colorful account of the day's events.

“So where are all these road agents you whipped?” Ethan asked. “Down to Democrat's,” Bitsy said. “Two living and three killed.”

Ethan looked them over solemnly. “You folks all right?”

“We're fine,” Hiram said. “One of the passengers was grazed, but he wanted to go on to Nampa.”

“Griffin and Vashti both need to see Doc when we get home,” Libby said.

Trudy rode Crinkles around the wagon. When she came close, Vashti reached out and petted the mare's nose, glad to see Trudy's mount had been returned to her.

“You sure you're all right?” Trudy asked.

“Scrapes and bruises,” Vashti said. “Griffin hurt his knee, but we'll make it.”

“I guess I'd better go on to Democrat's,” Ethan said.

“They've got the prisoners locked in the corn crib,” Hiram said. “Maybe you'd better get a few men to help you take them to Boise.”

“I'll loan you a wagon, if you want to come to the livery,” Griffin said.

“You're not going alone to take two prisoners in.” Trudy eyed her husband sternly.

“I'll get a couple of my deputies.” Ethan returned her stubborn look. “My male deputies. This isn't a job for ladies.”

“For once, I'm going to agree with you,” Bitsy said. “Can we go home now?”

Two nights later, Griffin walked slowly down the street to the Spur & Saddle. He still limped, but his knee didn't hurt so bad anymore. He went slowly up the steps and into the building. Bitsy was wiping off a table. Doc Kincaid and Isabel Fennel sat in one corner, chatting softly. Rose Caplinger lingered at a table across the room, sipping coffee with Maitland Dostie. Griffin looked, then looked again. He supposed it made sense—Rose had opened her millinery shop last year in the vacant storefront next to the telegraph office. The two must see each other every day.

Bitsy looked up and smiled. “Hello, Griff. Where's your shadow?”

“I left Justin over to the Nashes' playing Chinese checkers with Ben and Silas.”

Bitsy nodded. “Have you eaten?”

“Yes, ma'am.”

“Piece of pie, then? Coffee? Or did you just come for the company?”

Griffin smiled and glanced toward the kitchen. “I came to see one of my drivers.”

“She's in the dishpan, as usual.”

“Is my apron hanging by the door?” Griffin asked.

She laughed and shooed him toward the kitchen. Griffin found Vashti scrubbing Augie's saucepans.

“Evening, Griff,” Augie called. He picked up a bucket of slops and went out the back door.

Vashti smiled at him but kept on scrubbing the pan. “What brings you out?”

Griffin grabbed an apron off a hook and walked toward her. “I came to see how you were doing and if you'll be ready to drive again Monday.”

“You mean you'd let me?”

He smiled. “I don't think we'll see any outlaws on the Nampa run for a while.” He held out the apron.

She took it and pulled up the neckband. Griffin stooped toward her. She slid it over his head, then leaned close and kissed his cheek.

He straightened, eyeing her closely. “What's that for?”

“You saved my life. I've already been to see Hiram and thanked him personally.”

“Did you kiss him?”

Her face went scarlet. “No, I…”

Griffin laughed.

She eyed him askance and began to laugh, too. “That was just for you.” She turned back to her dishwater.

“Aren't you going to tie my apron strings?”

“If you want.”

“Vashti…”

“Yes?”

He could look into those leaf-green eyes forever. He reached for her, and she came into his arms before he even knew what he was
going to do. Her kiss was sweeter than Augie's cinnamon rolls.

He held her close against his apron front and sighed. “You can drive anytime you want, sweetheart.”

She reached all the way around him and squeezed him tight. Griffin held her, wanting never to let go. After a while, he dared to reach up and stroke her hair. “You know I only opposed your driving because I wanted to take care of you.”

“Is that so?” Her tone held amusement.

He pulled back a little and looked down at her. “Maybe not at first. But… well, you're a strong woman. I didn't know how strong. But I'd still like to take care of you. For the rest of my life, if you'll have me.”

Her lips curved into a smile. “What kind of talk is that?
If
I'll have you.”

I mean it.

She shook her head. “I'm the one who's got a load of baggage. Are you sure you can overlook everything?”

“It's in the past. I'll make sure it stays in the past.”

She looked away, frowning, then turned back to face him. “I never…” Tears glistened in her eyes. She cleared her throat. “I never got close to a man except those that had bad intentions.”

“Well, my intentions are honorable.”

She nodded slowly. “And you won't make me quit driving?”

“No.” A sudden thought came to him. “Well, not unless… well, you know.” Blood rushed to his cheeks, and he wished he still had his beard to hide it. “If you were in a delicate way…”

She reached up and stroked his stubbly cheek. “I love you, Griffin Bane.”

It was the one thing he'd meant to say, but hadn't been sure how—and now she'd said it first. “I love you, too. Can we go see the parson after services tomorrow?”

“That would be lovely.”

He kissed her again, and the dishes would have sat unwashed for hours if Augie hadn't come in with his empty slop bucket and slammed the back door.

“Well now! Wait 'til Bitsy hears about this! She'll be some tickled.”