A Love of Her Own (2 page)

Her thoughts were interrupted by the conductor announcing their arrival in Billings in his booming voice.

“Final stop, Billings, Montana!” he called, then continued walking down the aisle.

April couldn’t wait to disembark and stretch her legs. She was much more comfortable on horseback and preferred that way to travel. “Excuse me,” she said to the gentleman blocking the aisle. He was bent over trying to collect his paperwork in the seat across from her. “This is where I must get off.”

“Well, miss, it’s the last run of the evening”—he straightened to give her a level stare—“so there’s no hurry.”

“I beg your pardon.” April gazed back at the dark-haired man whose eyes twinkled with mischief in his affable face. He was of medium build with thick, dark hair, neatly combed, and his gray brocade vest stretched snugly across his trim build. He reached down to don his matching jacket, then hoisted a black bag from the train’s floor.
A doctor?
she wondered, but she was in no mood for humor. “
Please
don’t let me get in your way!” she snapped.

He seemed totally unruffled by her comment. “Can I help you with your bag there?” He indicated the small valise she held in her hand.

“I’m quite capable. Now if you don’t mind, could you please let me pass?”

The gentleman bowed, clicked his heels together slightly, then moved aside, gesturing with his hand for her to go before him down the aisle.

“Humph,” April muttered under her breath, her skirts swishing in her haste to get out of the train car. She had noticed him ever since he’d boarded the train at Union Station in Denver. There was no ring on his left hand, yet he hadn’t even acknowledged her presence throughout the long ride, completely absorbed in whatever he was reading.

April wasn’t used to being ignored, especially by a nice-looking gentleman.
Just as well
, she thought,
he’s probably engaged anyway.
Or was she losing her looks? The thought gave her a jolt. After all, she
had
aged in four years. At twenty-two now, had she lost her appeal? She wasn’t entirely sure that she was looking for more than friendship with any man. She was through trusting a man with her heart.

Stepping down the steep metal stairs with the aid of the conductor, April turned to thank him, but he had already returned to the boxcar. She looked in exasperation at her bags, which had been deposited at her feet, then saw the words Northern PACIFIC RAILROAD DEPOT painted above the large doorway of the depot.

A young boy of about thirteen ran up to her. “Need some help with your bags, lady?”

April eyed him with distaste. He was nothing but a street urchin, with his pants two sizes too big, held up by suspenders and torn at the knees. A cap sat cocked to one side of his head, covering his longer-than-normal, unruly hair beneath. He looked unbelievably thin.

“Well . . . I . . . guess so. You could carry them up to the ticket station for the next train to Lewistown.”

“There ain’t one,” he said, tilting his head up to see her better. “Surely there is one leaving in the morning?” April started for the ticket counter.

“No, ma’am. The train won’t come again until next week, and the stagecoach left for Lewistown early this mornin’.” He wiped his nose on the back of his sleeve.

She looked at him, hardly believing her ears. “I simply must be in Lewistown by Friday for a wedding, and we still have nearly a hundred miles to go. Where is the train conductor? Get him for me.” Her voice rose. “How am I supposed to get to Lewistown, pray tell?”

“Same as I will,” a voice behind her said.

April turned to see the gentleman from the train. “I beg your pardon?”

“You sure do use that phrase a lot.” He flipped the kid a couple of coins, and the boy jumped to catch them, his eyes wide. “I’ll get her trunk, but thanks, kid, for your offer.”

Now she was really irritated. “Why in the world would you keep count of
how
many times I’ve said that? I don’t even know your name,” she said with an icy glare. Her feet were killing her in her tight leather dress shoes. Oh, what she would give to have on her cowboy boots and britches.

He set his luggage down next to hers and stuck out his hand. “Name’s Mark Barnum. And you are?”

“April McBride.” She eyed him suspiciously and extended her hand into his warm handshake. “So the answer to my question is . . .”

“Stagecoach, but it won’t be leaving until the morning.”

“In the
morning
! But it’s Wednesday, and the wedding is Friday afternoon. That just won’t do. I have to have time to rest and clean up.”

Mark squinted back at her in the bright sunlight. “I’m afraid that’s the only way you’ll get there, Miss—it is Miss McBride, isn’t it?”

“Of course it is.”

“Then I know your brother, Josh.”

April drew her shoulders back. “Really? How do you know my brother?”

“I live in Lewistown. It’s a small town—hard not to know almost everyone.”

“Then you also know that he is
getting married
on Friday? I had planned on being there.”

Mark nodded. “With any luck you will. You’ll have to spend the night at a hotel and leave bright and early tomorrow.”

April rolled her eyes heavenward. She was spitting mad that there was only one stage a day to Lewistown. She didn’t come all this way to miss Josh’s wedding. She took a deep breath to collect her wits about her. There was simply nothing else to do.

“Could you point me in the direction of the nearest hotel, please, Mr. Barnum? Then I’ll be out of
your
way.” April placed her small valise under her arm, then gripped the leather strap of her trunk, struggling with all her strength to pull them across the street. Somehow she lost her grip, and her valise slid from her armpit and fell in a heap in the dust. It flew open, spilling its contents, including her unmentionables, right there in plain sight for Mr. Barnum to see.
Lord have mercy! What next?

“Please, Miss McBride. Let me hire a carriage to take all our bags to the hotel,” Mark said. He squatted down in front of April, who felt her face blanch with embarrassment. He picked up one of her dresses off the ground and placed it back in the valise, pretending not to notice the fine silky underwear as April hastily threw them in her case and slammed the lid shut with a vengeance.

They stood up, and April swallowed her pride. “That would be so kind of you. Thank you.”

The young boy was hanging back, watching. “I have a wagon, sir. I don’t mind helping ya at all. The only other one has already left.”

“Wonderful! Lead the way, young man, and take us to the Billings Hotel,” Mark replied, lifting his bag and one of April’s while letting the young boy haul April’s trunk.

April followed the boy toward the cart that he called a wagon. Stopping a few feet back, she almost laughed out loud, but caught herself when she saw Mark’s hard look.

“I can’t ride in that contraption,” she said softly to Mark as she watched the young boy throw her luggage into the cart. “Look at the old horse. She may drop dead before we go a half a block!” April loved horses and hated to see one so old having to work. At home, this horse would have been turned out to pasture long ago.

Mark took her elbow and gently propelled her forward. “Sure you can. It’ll only be for a couple of blocks.”

April jerked her arm back. “Well, I won’t be seen going down the streets in that
thing
,” she said through clenched teeth, pointing to the cart.

Mark stopped short with a quizzical frown. “Who cares? No one knows you here, Miss McBride, so what difference does it make?” He looked around. “Besides, I don’t see anyone paying us any mind.”

April stood with her arms crossed, not moving, surveying the situation. One person couldn’t carry all her luggage. The boy was right. Everyone had left the station. She eyed the cart that had room for only two. The boy motioned for them to come forward. She groaned. “Oh, all right. I guess it won’t kill me just this one time, but we can’t all three fit in that seat.”

“Don’t worry your pretty blonde head. I’ll hop in the back. I don’t mind, I’ve ridden in much worse.”

Before he assisted April into the small seat next to the boy, she paused to give the old nag a gentle stroke across her bony back. “Sweet friend, thank you for hauling my bags,” April whispered into the horse’s ear. The mare responded with a low snort and toss of her mane. The gentleman hopped into the back of the cart.

The boy gave her a sideways glance. “Her name is Ruby, named after my maw.” A shadow of sadness flickered in the boy’s eyes.

“That’s a nice name for your horse, and I’m sure she is honored to have your mother’s name.” She wanted to say,
I hope she has
the energy to pull this wagon
, but she bit her tongue. “My name is April McBride.”

The boy touched his fingers to the brim of his cap. “My name is Billy Taylor.”

April turned to look back at Mr. Barnum, who had already settled himself on the edge of the wagon with his legs dangling off the back edge, as if he did this sort of thing every day.

“All set?” the boy asked over his shoulder.

“Yes. Drive away, lad, and let’s get Miss McBride to the hotel before she perishes.”

April twisted back around to the front of her seat as the boy yelled, “Giddyap!” tapping the nag lightly across her rump. At first she didn’t move, so he gave her another light tap, then she trotted down the avenue, much to April’s surprise.

Billy grinned. “Sometimes she kinda goes to sleep while she’s awaitin’ my instructions.”

April suppressed a giggle behind her hand. “Is that what it is?”

“She knows she’s helping me earn a livin’,” Billy said in such a serious tone that April looked over at him.

“Billy, you don’t look a day over thirteen. You should be in school. Besides, Ruby here should be retired. She’s worn out and old. Don’t you think this load is too much for her?”

“Heck no! I reckon she ought to retire, but the fact is I need her to help me.”

April felt a twinge of pity momentarily for the boy, but it quickly vanished. He was not her problem.

Morgan Kincaid inspected the riggings on each of the six horses harnessed to the Wells Fargo stagecoach for any signs of wear, just as he always did before starting on the next trip to Lewistown. Leon, his partner, was at the back checking over the axle and adding a coat of grease to the bearings in the wheelbase. They’d already swept out the coach from his last crew of passengers when they’d arrived early this morning.

Morgan paused. If development had its way, they’d both be out of a job soon, as the Union Pacific and the Northern Pacific continued to spread out across Montana. People called it progress, but to Morgan’s way of thinking, it would be the end of an era that would directly affect him, and he was getting on up in age.

He watched his friend hustle about and thanked God for Leon’s friendship. Leon liked to joke, but he was a hard worker and a good companion on the long drives. It was unusual for Morgan to have a white man as his trusted partner, but their friendship was a natural one born out of working together for many years. Morgan had been a shotgun messenger long before he started driving the team, and he was good at it, but with his eyesight not what it used to be, he’d hired Leon.

Morgan had learned to handle the reins of a team when he was in his early twenties. It took great skill to handle six sets of reins wrapped securely around his fingers, then move each of them separately to guide the horses right or left. He’d learned early on how to use the muscles of his hands to adjust the pull of the reins. It allowed the horses some lack of restriction, but not so much that the horses could run free.

He pulled out his pocket watch, and the hands glinted off the silver as he flipped it open. Almost six o’clock. He surveyed the small crowd near the platform of the relay station. An older couple, a young woman with a baby, a man, and a beautiful blonde-haired lady who was clearly agitated made up the list of passengers for this trip. Leon gave him the signal that everything was all set on his end.

Morgan strode over to the group and addressed them in a rich Southern voice. “Good morning, ladies and gentlemen. My name is Morgan Kinkaid, and I’ll be your driver. We are ready to start our journey to Lewistown. First I want to inform you of a few rules if you’ve never ridden our coach before. When the driver asks you to get out and walk, do so without grumbling. I won’t request it unless it becomes absolutely necessary. Don’t growl at the food at the stations when we stop. Don’t smoke or drink on my coach, and don’t flop over your neighbor when sleeping.” He paused to let that sink in, watching for the reactions on their faces. “Don’t lollygag at the washbasin, and don’t keep the stage waiting—we may leave without you. Don’t think for one second that you are on a picnic; nothing could be further from the truth. Expect annoyances, discomfort, and some hardships, then we’ll all get along just fine,” he said with authority. “Are there any questions? If not, then let’s get started.”

Billy came rushing up to him. “Mister Morgan, is there room for one more?” He almost slid into the blonde-haired woman but caught himself on the hitching post.