life. He and his brother Philip had everything they needed. They attended to the Pony Express station that rested on the far side of the Young Home Station, which was always their first and last stop on their rides. Their ma liked this because it meant she got to see her adopted sons at least once a week. The home stations offered a bed and meal, whereas their small station offered only a fresh horse and more miles to ride between home stations.
Thomas heard the bugle blow seconds before the young man came into sight. The Pony Express rider came in fast and hard. Not all the riders used the bugle, but this one did. Thomas pushed himself away from the fireplace wall. He hurried to the barn and pulled out the already saddled horse that the rider would exchange. He’d take care of the exhausted horse as soon as the Express rider was on his way.
The young boy rode low over his horse’s neck. The powdery snow lifted from the horse’s hooves like steam from an overheated kettle.
Thomas braced himself for the horse exchange. The boy practically leaped from one horse to the other in one motion. Thomas recognized him as Juan. “Adios!” he called after the retreating back. The pony beside him heaved. Juan had ridden him hard.
The rider waved and shouted back. “Buenos Dias, Senor Young!”
He smiled and then gently tugged on the reins of the spent horse. “Come along, boy. We’ll have fresh oats in your belly in a few moments.” Thomas took the horse to the small barn that housed six Pony Express horses. His own gelding was behind the barn in the lean-to it shared with Philip’s horse.
The smell of hay and oats filled his nostrils. The warmth of the barn wrapped around his chilled body. Philip had been gone for almost four days. He’d planned to ride his part of the trail and then stop in at their adoptive mother’s home station near Dove Creek.
As he worked, Thomas talked to the horses. “Philip should be home later today, boys. I’ve missed his constant chatter. How about you?”
One of the animals kicked its stall door in answer. Thomas laughed. “Well, at least one of you missed him, too.” He took off the Pony Express–issued saddle and began rubbing down the horse that had just arrived.
“I see you are still talking to the animals.”
Thomas turned to smile at the little woman who stood in the doorway. Hazel Gorman was short, round and full of wrinkles. Her hazel eyes twinkled as she looked at him. He wasn’t sure of her age and had never been brave enough to ask. “Hello, Hazel. I didn’t hear you arrive.” He put the horse into a stall, where fresh oats awaited it.
She continued into the barn carrying a big basket. “With the way you and these horses were yammering on, I’m not surprised.” There was a teasing glint in her voice that assured him she was joking.
“What’s in the basket?” Thomas knew it contained some kind of eatable. Hazel was their nearest neighbor and enjoyed bringing them some form of baked good at least once a week. She also brought them canned goods and warm soups or stews.
“It’s getting colder, so I thought you two boys might like a couple of loaves of bread, and I’ve also jarred up my favorite beef stew. It should last you a few days.” Her wrinkled face crinkled up into a smile.
The old woman had more or less adopted Thomas and Philip and used the excuse of feeding them as a reason to come over and check on them. Thomas knew she grew lonely out on her place and, to be honest, he enjoyed her frequent visits.
“Well, thank you. Come on into the house. I just put on a fresh pot of coffee.”
She fell into step with him. “When is Phil coming home?”
Thomas grinned. “Anytime now. He should have already arrived.”
As if she heard the loneliness in his voice, Hazel grunted. “You two boys need wives to help you pass the time when the other is working.”
He held the door open for her. Thomas didn’t point out that he was working, too. And he wasn’t about to talk about getting wives. Instead he said, “That stew smells good.”
Hazel playfully slapped his arm as she passed. “You can’t smell the stew. You’re just trying to change the subject.” She walked to the kitchen area and set the bread and jars on the table.
He closed the door and shut out the cold air and lightly falling snow. “Look, Hazel, I know you mean well, but Philip and I are doing just fine without wives.”
She ignored him and moved to the cabinet that contained four tin mugs, the remainder of the clean dishes in the house. Hazel filled two of them with hot coffee and motioned for him to join her at the table.
Thomas sat down with a sigh. If he knew Hazel, and he believed he did, she was going to start a running conversation on the benefits of having a wife.
Hazel studied his features over the rim of her coffee cup.
He turned his face so that she could see only the right side. The last thing Thomas wanted was for her to focus on the scar that ran from his temple to his chin on the right side. It wasn’t pretty and no woman should have to look at it straight on.
“You are a handsome young man, Tom. Look at me.” She lowered her cup.
Thomas tried a teasing tone. “You are mighty pretty, too, Miss Hazel. Are you hinting you’d like to marry me?” He continued to keep his face tilted from her sight.
“You rascal. We both know I’m too old for you. Besides, I want a man who isn’t ashamed of his looks.” Her tone had lost its teasing tone.
Thomas didn’t have a chance to answer. The door burst open and Philip came into the cabin. Cold air and a petite young woman followed him inside.
Without so much as a how-do-you-do, Philip blurted, “Hey, Thomas! Look what I brought home!”
This couldn’t be good. Philip looked a little too cheerful. The pixie-looking girl beside him smiled shyly and clutched a worn piece of luggage in her small hands. She was a pretty little thing with big brown eyes, a mass of short red hair and the cutest turned-up nose he’d ever seen. Thomas didn’t know how to answer his brother. He had no idea what was going on. “Um...”
Hazel got to her feet. “Did you up and get married, Phil?” She hurried forward and hugged him.
Shock filled Philip’s face as he held his hands up like a bank robber in front of the sheriff. “No.”
Hazel stood back and frowned. “Then maybe you should explain who this young lady is.” She released him and crossed her arms over her ample bosom.
Philip reached behind him and pulled the pixie forward. “This is Josephine Dooly. Thomas’s mail-order bride.” His laughing blue eyes met Thomas’s.
“What?” Thomas’s and Hazel’s shocked voices echoed each other.
The young woman seemed to have found her tongue. “I know I should have waited till you sent for me, but, well, under the circumstances, I came as fast as I could.”
“What circumstances?”
Her cheeks reddened. “I told you in the letter.” Small hands clutched the carpetbag as if she were afraid they’d take it from her.
“What letter?” Thomas stood and raked his hand down the side of his scarred face.
Philip looked as pleased as punch. His blue eyes danced with merriment as the scene unfolded before him.
Hazel’s gaze darted between the three of them. She finally focused her eyes upon Josephine. “I’m Hazel Gorman. Let’s sit down at the table and see if we can sort this all out.” Her wrinkled hand waved toward Thomas and the chairs that remained empty behind him.
Josephine nodded. She sat her bag beside the door and walked toward him.
Philip shook his head. “I need to unload the wagon before the storm hits.”
“It will wait.” The steel