Chapter Twenty-Two
Wyoming
January 1861
Philip Young’s horse raced into the Turnstone Pony Express relay station. Extremely tired and chilled to the bone, Philip prepared himself to jump onto the cold saddle that awaited him. Relay stations were every ten to fifteen miles on the trail and this one had been fifteen. They were the places where Pony Express riders exchanged horses and continued on until they reached their home station.
Thankfully this was the last time he’d change horses before he would reach his family’s farm and his home station. After a couple of days’ rest at the home station, Philip would head on to the relay station he and his brother Thomas ran on the other side of Dove Creek.
He prepared to swing onto the saddle of the horse that the relay station manager, John Turnstone, held for him. “Glad to see you made it.” John’s grin spoke volumes of his pleasure and yet didn’t tell him anything as to what he was getting pleasure from.
Philip paused with his foot in the stirrup. “What’s going on?”
John’s shoulders shook as he tried to hold back his laughter. He held the horse’s head and said, “A special delivery arrived for you today by stage.”
Philip dropped his foot back to the ground. “What kind of special delivery?” The need to get onto the waiting horse battled with his curiosity.
His job was to keep the mail going through, but then again John’s curious behavior had him hesitating. Philip felt torn. John tossed him the reins to the horse Philip had just rode in on and then jumped on the back of the fresh mustang. “You best go inside and see. I’ll finish your run. See you later.”
Philip didn’t take time to watch John and the horse speed away. He tied the spent horse to the hitching post by the barn and then hurried to the house. He took the steps two at a time.
The door banged against the wall as he called out to John’s wife, Cara. “Cara, John says I have a package waiting and felt it was urgent enough to take the rest of my run.”
His gaze fell on two little boys who sat side by side on the couch. Their big blue eyes stared at him in fear. He’d never seen them before and for a brief moment wondered as to their presence. Surely they weren’t his special delivery.
“Cara isn’t here. She went to check on Mrs. Brooks, their neighbor.”
He looked to the kitchen, where a young woman with blond hair, blue eyes and a heart-shaped face stood in the doorway. He couldn’t help but notice a dimple in her left cheek that came to life when she smiled. She motioned for him to join her. Hesitant, Philip moved into the warm kitchen.
John and Cara’s house was small but comfortable. Most relay stations were manned by one man and consisted of a small shanty or barn for the man and Pony Express horses. This one wasn’t like most; it held warmth and a sense of family.
He held out his hand. “I’m Philip Young.”
She placed her smaller hand in his palm. Her fingers shook slightly. “Bella Wilson.” Bella pulled her hand from his grasp.
Philip looked to the boys. They had stopped watching the adults and were playing with small wooden horses. His gaze returned to Bella. “Do you happen to know where the package is that the stage dropped off for me?”
A weak smile touched her lips. “I guess you’re looking at it.” At his frown, she pressed on. “I’m your mail-order bride.”
“What?” Philip wished he could cover the shock in his voice, but he couldn’t.
Bella twisted her hands in her skirt. “I answered your advertisement for a mail-order bride.” Her cheeks flushed and her gaze darted to the little boys on the couch.
Philip didn’t know what to think. She didn’t appear to be lying, but he’d not placed an ad for marriage in any newspaper. He motioned for her to sit down at the small square table. When she did, he said, “I have no idea what you are talking about. I didn’t place a mail-order-bride ad in any newspaper.” Well, he had once—not for himself but for his brother Thomas.
She frowned and stood. “Hold on a moment.” Her skirt swished across the floor as she walked to where the boys sat playing. Bella dug around in the largest of the three bags that rested beside the couch and then she stood.
Dread filled him as she made her way back holding a small piece of newspaper. Bella handed it to him, still frowning. His gaze fell upon the writing.
November 1860
Wanted: Wife as soon as possible. Must be willing to live at a Pony Express relay station. Must be between the ages of eighteen and twenty-five. Looks are not important. Write to: Philip Young, Dove Creek, Wyoming, Pony Express relay station.
Philip looked up at her. He hadn’t placed the ad but had a sinking feeling he knew who had. Just because he’d advertised for a mail-order bride for his brother, didn’t give Thomas the right to do the same to him. “Did you send a letter to this address?”
Bella shook her head. “No, I didn’t have the extra money to spare for postage. I just hoped I’d make it to Dove Creek before another woman.” She ran her tongue over her lips. “I did, didn’t I?”
He sighed. “Well, since this is the first I’ve heard of the advertisement—” he shook the paper in his hand “—I’d say your chances of being first are good. But this is dated back in November and it is now January, so I’m curious as to what took you so long to get here.” He didn’t add that he was also curious as to why he hadn’t gotten letters from other ladies.
“Well, I didn’t actually see the advertisement until a few weeks ago. My sister and her husband had recently passed and I was going through their belongings when I stumbled upon the paper. Your ad leaped out at me as if it was from God.” Once more she looked to the two boys playing on the couch.
Philip’s gaze moved to the boys, too. “Are they your boys?”
“They are now.”
Sadness flooded her eyes. The family resemblance was too close for them not to be blood relatives. And since she’d just mentioned her sister’s death, Philip didn’t think