Vicky bounced along reading when she could and trying not to be bored out of her mind the rest of her waking hours. At Tejon, Vicky was glad to get out and stretch her legs a little. She heard the shotgun rider tell the driver he was staying behind with the other passengers. That left only Vicky and the driver.
"Miss, you best be climbing back inside if you're taking this stage. I'm leaving in a few minutes."
"I'm a pretty good hand with horses and a rifle. I'd like to ride up top with you for a spell if you don't mind." She politely made her request hoping for yes but knowing he would say no.
"Miss, I can't say I wouldn't like the company of a pretty girl like you, but up top is no place for a lady. It's rough and hard and as for the rifle, I don't have one for you anyway."
"It's not that rough. I rode up top the whole way from St. Louis in the first place. Besides, I have my own rifle if you can spare a minute for me to get it out of my trunk."
"Miss, I don't mean to argue with a lady, but we don't have time to unpack the stage so you can go digging through your trunk. I think you'd best get inside now."
"I'll get on the stage." She turned and walked toward the stage. She looked back and saw the driver go inside for a moment, no doubt to tell them that the crazy lady with the guns wanted to ride up top. She smiled and ran to the stage.
Lickety-split, she climbed up top and crawled over the bags to her trunk. She only had to move one other bag to open it. Right on top were her rifle and a box of cartridges. Before the driver returned, she'd closed the trunk and returned the bag that was on top of it.
She stashed her box of cartridges in her secret pocket. Since she wore her gun belt, the large pocket meant to conceal her pistol was empty. When the driver returned, she was waiting for him up top with the butt of the rifle resting on her thigh, the barrel pointed to the sky. He was irritated when he saw her and began to protest.
"Look lady. It's all good and well you got a rifle, but it won't do you a darn blast bit of good if you can't use it! Now get down and climb inside where a woman belongs!"
He seemed unintimidated by the fact she wore a pistol on her hip and held a rifle in her hands. Vicky felt her temper stir. She was a woman again which meant she would never be taken at her word regarding her abilities. Unlike Vic, Vicky would have to prove herself in order to be taken seriously.
If that's the way the no good stinking son of a coyote wants it, FINE!
"You don't think I can use it? See that cactus yonder, the one between the station and the corral?" He looked where she pointed the barrel of her rifle.
"Lady, I see it, but that don't make no never mind. It's too far for you to hit from there anyways even if you was able to handle that gun." He shook his head dismissing her.
"I'm going to pick the fruit from the end of that large leaf part. Now shut up and watch."
He didn't reply but he spat on the ground and a look of disgust cast a dark cloud over him. He turned his head and watched. One by one she picked the fruit without damaging the leaf part they grew from. Her repeat rifle performed beautifully.
"I'm not only able to handle this rifle, Mister, I'm a crack shot with it." Anger and sarcasm dripped from the title of respect, "I proved as much to Mr. Butterfield's representative back in St. Louis. I was on the first stage that left, with Mr. Butterfield himself inside."
She was being rude and smug but she didn't care. He deserved it. He'd really gotten her dander up. To keep from shooting his hat off for spite, she shucked the empty shells to the ground and reloaded swiftly.
"Are you going to drive this stage or do I have to do that too?" She growled.
He walked around the stage. This pretty girl wasn't your average run of the mill girl. She was smart and sassy and could handle herself. He realized the gun she wore over the dress wasn't for show. If she could handle a rifle like that, she'd be lethal as lightening with that six-shooter.
"I'd be glad of the company if you would like to ride up top with me." He said grinning at her as he climbed up and sat next to her.
"I'd be delighted Mister. Thanks for the invite. It was mighty thoughtful of you." She smiled and teased in turn. She knew a little something about the male communication. He just apologized. She just let him know there were no hard feelings.
"No trouble at all Miss. Glad to oblige." With that he cracked the whip and they were off again.
That night she actually slept rather well despite the bumpy ride. The driver let her stretch out on top of the baggage and even took the road a little slower in the rough spots so he wouldn't jar her so much. Once toward morning she was bounced awake. As she settled back down, she noticed the driver look back to check on her.
She smiled. Perhaps there were advantages to being a woman after all. Her last thought as she drifted back to sleep was of Elisa. She thought Elisa would be proud of the way she'd handled things at Tejon. She'd earned the driver's grudging respect, and she'd done it as a woman.
***
Abigail stood outside her little adobe building looking through the window at her living area. She could actually see through the window now that it was cleaned. It had a real glass window, something not many of the residential dwellings in town had. It had taken her three days but the place was really starting to look almost livable.
The floors were swept and scrubbed. The beautiful stone fireplace was clean and ready for an evening fire. The dishes were washed and neatly stacked on the shelves. In the bedroom a few books and a framed tintype of Jeremy and Victoria sat on the small dresser. A washbasin and pitcher sat on the little stand near the window with towels folded neatly underneath.
A looking glass hung on the wall across from the window. It reflected the light from outside and made the room look bigger and brighter. An old jug held the fat stub of a candle. The top was covered with the drips from the previous candles. When there were enough drips, Isabel would show her how to scrape it clean and melt them over new wicks.
She filled the drawers with clothes that were appropriate for the climate and culture here. She kept one trunk where she stashed away their winter things. She carefully folded away her best dress and Joseph's evening suit for special occasions.
This afternoon, she and Isabel planned to hem new curtains for the windows. When she unpacked the trunks Hannah packed for her, she found beautiful fine things and her eyes filled with tears. Hannah sent little bits from home to help her feel less homesick away from her family. Photographs and trinkets were carefully wrapped among the linens.
When she came to a quilt at the bottom, the tears fell freely. This was a gesture of love from her father, for this quilt had rested on his bed since the day he'd wed her mother. She lifted the quilt reverently and held it to her, resting her cheek against it. She knew all of the love that was tucked into each stitch and right now, her heart overflowed with it.
She was exhausted but elated as held the lamp for Joseph as he built their first fire. They checked out of the hotel after a quick supper. Tonight she and Joseph would spend their first night in their new home. It was a strange feeling, even though they had already shared the marriage bed, that big brass bed in her room made the butterflies in her stomach go crazy.
Joseph sensed Abigail's nervousness. He decided to give her a little time to get used to the idea, besides, though they had shared a bed for weeks now, this was their first night in their own home, and he felt a little nervous himself. With the fire lit, he walked to the bedroom and closed the door behind him.
Abigail stood frozen for a moment, her heart beat wildly and her muscles tense. She was mentally berating herself for being silly when the door opened and Joseph crossed to the rocker near the fire where he settled in and began to read. He looked at her and offered a tender smile. She sighed and realized she'd been holding her breath.
She went to the bedroom and closed the door behind her. He'd left the candle lit for her. He had removed his vest and boots. His watch sat on the dresser with the contents of his pockets. He sat out there in rocker barefoot, with his shirt hanging loose, unbuttoned at the collar. If that is how he would look when he came home in the evenings, she decided she liked it...a lot.
Feeling the nervousness seep away, it was replaced instead with contentment, and love. Joseph was a good man, as she had known from the beginning. She was indeed silly to think this night would be much different from any other she'd spent in his arms. She changed into her nightgown and wrapped a shawl around her shoulders. Gathering her writing things, she went to the table to write a letter home.
Dear Daddy (and Hannah),
I am happy here in Franklin, in the west. At first, it is true, I didn't fare well. I was stubborn and compared everything to the east. Nothing measured up, of course. When I arrived at last in Franklin, I was undernourished and exhausted from lack of sleep. Joseph feared for my health and reluctantly decided it would be better for my health if we returned to Baltimore.
Once again I was stubborn. But so was he. Finally we compromised. I had four days until the next stage. I needed to show I could adjust to this new culture or we would go back without my arguing. I confess I never would have succeeded if it had not been for Isabel.
I met her entirely by chance. You see, I was determined to get some different clothes, like the ones I saw the villagers wearing here. They seemed happy and comfortable, but I didn't speak Spanish and didn't know if the merchants spoke English.
I mentioned this to the desk clerk, who is the owner of the hotel and Isabel's father. He insisted I bring Isabel, his 13-year-old daughter, to translate for me if I needed. It was a match made in heaven. We became friends at once and she's been my guiding light through this new culture.
She helped me find comfortable and appropriate clothing, a new taste for this Spanish food and definitely a taste for the style of architecture and the uncomplicated way in which they live their life. In return I gave her one of my fine gowns and I'm teaching her better English as well as how to read and write in English.
Our shop will be open soon. Joseph finished the inventory finally after 3 days and tomorrow will begin to organize the store. Our new home is also beginning to look like a home at last. It is small and simple and perfect. I love it.
I hope that you both will come to visit us for Thanksgiving. The Spanish culture has no equivalent, so it will be just Joseph and I, and we hope Jeremy and Victoria.
Jeremy has located Victoria at last. She's well, but she wants to tell her story herself and in her own time. I can understand that. Please respect her wishes and do not let people pry. She is journeying as we speak from San Francisco by the new Butterfield stage.
We don't know for certain when she will arrive, but we hope it will be before Thanksgiving. She hasn't said whether she would like to return east or not. She wanted only to speak to Jeremy first. Again, please help others to understand they must respect her wishes in this.
I know that it's been difficult for all of us, but perhaps it's at an end now. Although we don't know where that end will be for certain, I know it will be a happy one, for Victoria is well, and she and Jeremy are to be reunited subsequently. I don't know when they plan to wed; again, she wanted to speak to Jeremy first.
I have so much to tell, but I'm afraid I've already made this letter a bit long. I'll save a little for another letter on another day. Please send my love to all and pass this wonderful news on to Mr. and Mrs. Bradley for us.
All my love,
Abigail
She carefully blotted the last page and neatly creased the letter in half. As she slipped the letter into the envelope she looked up at Joseph. He'd fallen asleep in the rocker. She smiled lovingly at him, thinking of how dear he looked to her just then. She left the writing things on the table and went to him.
Gently she took the book from his hand and set it on the floor next to the rocker. She covered him with the woven blanket Isabel gave her that first day when she admired it. She turned out the lamps and went to bed. Perhaps Joseph would wake up and come to bed, perhaps not. She was too exhausted to think of anything but sleep anyway.
***
Vicky was glad to see Gila Bend station. In four-and-a-half days she would finally reach Franklin. She was so anxious to see Jeremy again. Her heart fluttered whenever she thought of him, and as the stage crossed the miles, she did little else. Her love had only grown in the time they'd been apart.
It changed from that giddy exciting feeling that new love gives a heart. It was something more real, safe and secure. Her doubts faded and a longing to be with him again grew in its place.
She'd formed a friendship with the driver from Tejon, Grady. When they changed drivers, Grady was concerned for her safety. He warned her they were riding into Indian Territory and there'd been trouble. He urged her to ride inside the, keeping her rifle out of sight but ready at hand if she was needed.
It took all the self-control she could muster not to laugh in his face. What a difference a skirt makes, she thought. As they were pulling in the stationmaster came running out, eyes wild and rifle in hand.
"Get inside, quick! Injuns are coming!"
He pointed off past the station and the shapes of horses and riders loomed from the cloud of dust fast approaching the station.
She grabbed her rifle from the seat. Her gun belt was full of bullets for her pistol and her pocket had a whole box of shells for the rifle. She sent up a prayer that it would be enough.