Archive of Our Own ^beta

Chapter Text

"Nobody knows his name... a silhouette on the hills and a shadow on the plains..."

~David Rhodes (adapted)

Eliana Carter threw back her head, taking a deep breath to fill her lungs with fresh air. Since sunrise that morning she had been indoors... getting the breakfast on for the menfolk, preparing the lunch for later on, scrubbing the kitchen floor... Ma was pretty bent on a floor clean enough to eat off of... and then finishing off the mending. Eliana hated the scrubbing but mending wasn't so bad. Only that Ma insisted on her sitting inside to do it. She would have preferred to sit on the porch... it was so much cooler out there, away from the heat of the kitchen fire... and so much more interesting.

The Carter family lived on the very edge of town. So much on the edge that, while on one side of their little house and shop was the long row of crude wooden buildings, on the other side was nothing but wide open prairie as far as the eye could see. In the far distance glimmered the narrow silver ribbon of the North Platte River and farther to the west lay the ragged outline of the Wyoming badlands. The empty prairie in between was dotted here and there with small ranches... nothing more than clusters of crude shacks and barns surrounded by acres of pastureland. Nothing much to look at. But Eliana thought it was beautiful. North Platte was the only home she had ever known. She had been born out here on the prairie... the youngest of a large family and the only one not born on the family's Pennsylvania homestead many hundreds of miles away. She was a part of that wild land... the windswept plains, the torrents of summer rains, the heavy blankets of winter snow.

But in spite of her love for the land, there were times... plenty of times... when Eliana found North Platte dull. There was the occasional blizzard, the occasional Indian scare, the occasional buffalo stampede, and the occasional wagon train. That was the only excitement the town really afforded and there wasn't much a girl of seventeen could do. It was a commonplace little sort of town. Four main rows of buildings and a few outliers. A general store, a barber shop, a dressmaker's, a couple of boarding houses, one small hotel, the little church, and any number of workshops. The carpenter, the cooper, the ropemaker... there were quite a few of them. And they did good business too. Eliana's father was the blacksmith. She was delighted with that fact. Blacksmithing, thank heaven, was the most exciting trade of all of them, save perhaps the hotel. Any traveler passing through North Platte usually had to make a stop there. In spite of being on the edge of town, it was practically the center of the community. As strangers and wayfarers from all parts of the country stopped to have their horse reshod or their wagon mended, a crowd would gather to hear the news. News was scarce in those days, indeed. It traveled slowly. It didn't matter if the news meant practically nothing, if it had nothing to do with anything, the people of North Platte devoured it greedily, as if half-starved.

But there was no crowd in the smithy that day and Eliana sighed as she leaned against the porch post. Perhaps Ma wouldn't mind if she went for a ride. The chores were completed, after all, and there was practically nothing else to do.

In the far distance, against the backdrop of the badlands, a dark shape appeared... little more than a speck. Eliana noticed it, there being not much else to notice. She was already perfectly acquainted with the sights and sounds of the town and they no longer drew her attention. She straightened up, reaching up to shade her eyes as she peered out across the plains at the distant object. At first she thought it must be an animal of sorts. But it was getting closer, and quickly too. More quickly than she thought it possible for anything to move. A moment later, although it looked little more than a shadow, she could make out the outline of a horse and rider. Galloping just as fast as the wind.

Her first thought was that of alarm. Perhaps it was one of the local ranchers... and the only reason anyone would ride that fast would be if there was an emergency. Her mind swirled with sudden imagined catastrophes... prairie fire... buffalo stampede... perhaps Comanches on the warpath!

The horse and rider were now almost at the edge of the town and she could see them clearly now. No, there was no cause for alarm. If there was, the rider would have been calling out to rouse the town. But he was silent. No sound but the thunder of those galloping hoofbeats.

She caught but a glimpse of the rider... a young man, hunched low over the neck of the mountain pony. A gleam of spurs, dusty boots, hat pulled low over his forehead. Full leather bags swung from the saddle horn.

She stepped to the front of the little porch just as he was passing by and leaned over the railing. Impulsively, she waved at the rider. He lifted his arm in greeting and yelled... it sounded more like an Indian war cry than anything else, but she couldn't be sure. For one brief moment, she caught sight of a friendly smile. But he was past already and nearly through the town. Windows were raised all over North Platte and heads thrust out of each, watching the rider in curious confusion. Everyone on the streets had drawn back to the sidelines. It was as if the entire town had frozen still while the rider passed through. In another moment he was gone and the dust settled slowly back to the ground.

The town was abuzz with voices now as everyone swarmed from the shops and houses, staring out at the distant prairie in the direction the rider had taken, leaving nothing behind but a cloud of dust. He was only a distant speck on the horizon once again.

"What was it... who was it?" Eliana called down to her older brother Jacob who had stepped from the smithy to cheer as the rider shot past.

"That was the Pony Express, Ellie!" he laughed, his eyes aglow with excitement. "What wouldn't I give to be one of them? Did y'see how fast he was a'goin now?"

"D'ya really think they can get th' mail to California in ten days, Jacob? I'da never thought it could be possible..."

"Sure, it's possible. And at that speed... wow!"

For the past months, the talk had been of nothing but that Pony Express. And Eliana had heard plenty of it... the lightning mail service from New England to California in just ten days. There were many scoffers. And even more disbelievers. It took months of grueling travel to get to California. No one... absolutely no one could make it in ten days... even with as many fresh riders and horses as the Pony Express boasted of. And now here was the very first trial of the express.

In spite of her initial disbelief in the future success of the crazy venture, with the appearance of that first rider, Eliana felt herself swept up into the adventure and the romance of it all. To think of those daring men defying death to cross the wilderness of the west... over mountain passes, across rivers, through the badlands themselves! This was excitement in the extreme... a hero had just passed through the sleepy little town of North Platte.

And Eliana noted the time and the day. 'Twas a Friday, at four o'clock. When would the rider pass through again? She found herself looking with eager excitement to that next appearance.

Chapter Text

Arrival at the destination
came after a trip so wracking...

The stars still swam
and the night breeze still blew
but something changed for this man
his frantic trip was now through

~Mike F.

It was past sundown when the lone rider sped towards the final station on his route. The next rider was mounted and waiting eagerly. In just a few moments the leather mail bags were transferred to the next rider's saddle and he was off... like a bullet from a gun.

Having finished his ninety-mile route through Comanche territory, over the North Platte river, and across the Badlands, the rider dismounted wearily as the station master led the pony into the crude wooden stables of the lonely wilderness station.

"Howdy!" the station master nodded with a companionable grin. "How'd it go? Ya shore look tuckered out!"

"Roughest ridin' I ever did," the rider bent over to brace his hands on his knees, still breathing hard from the exertion of the eight hour ride.

"Ain't s'prised," the station master grunted. "Ya've got the roughest route in this part o' th' country. Think ya'll stand it from here on out?"

"Don't worry 'bout me," the rider laughed. "I'll make it, all right."

"Wal, git on in here. There's a hot meal an' a bed waitin' fer ya."

"Sure is quiet out here," the rider commented as he followed the older man inside. "Beautiful."

"Lonely," the station master grunted with a shrug. "Tell ya somethin', young man. Ya'll see a lot o' things out here... every infernal animal known to God... plenty o' savages... but ya'll never see ya a girl. A civilized white girl, that is. Purty lonely life out here."

The rider laughed.

"I saw a girl today," he answered in a low voice.

"Huh? Tryin' t' prove me wrong, eh? What sort o' a girl?"

"Just a plain girl."

"Plain?"

"Wal, say a pretty sort of girl. But a regular girl all the same."

"What'd she look like?" The station master was grinning in a way that was rather irritating to the rider.

"I was ridin' fast. All I saw was that she had big brown eyes. An' long brown hair."

"North Platte? That's th' only town, fur as I can figger."

"Yes. North Platte."

"I guess ya'll be seein' her often enough."

"Can't count on that." the rider was by now eagerly devouring the plate of rather soggy meat and potatoes with coarse brown bread that the station master offered him. Rather poor fare, but better than the young bachelor was used to.

"Ya live all alone, boy?"

"Yup."

"No family a'tall?"

"None."

"Wal, that's th' case with most o' our riders... Sad, that. They want orphans. Guessin' that's because o' th' danger." the older man seemed almost to be talking to himself by now. The rider was paying more attention to his meal than to the steady stream of quiet words. "Ya don't seem much like the descriptions, though. Ya ain't really skinny... slim an' fit but not skinny or wiry."

"I kin ride good."

"Guess so... but ye're older than eighteen, I'm guessin'?"

"Twenty, last month."

"Ha! They're not much filling the description, eh? But I saw ya comin' in and yer ridin' is enough to fill in if ya lack some o' the requirements. But off t' bed with ya now. Ninety miles is a purty wild ride."

Chapter Text

Eliana walked demurely until she had passed out of the view of the kitchen window. Although Ma never said anything, Eliana knew that she was watching her. But now that Ma couldn't see, she pushed her bonnet back and skipped down the boardwalk. It had been a long morning of hard work, as usual, and it was certainly a relief to just throw her head back and allow herself the freedom she had longed for since sunup. It wasn't that she resented the work, it was just satisfying, not to mention glorious, to be finished. Just a trip to the general store... and she loved the store.

It was a dusty, windblown day... no different really than any other day in the wilds of Wyoming. Eliana held her sun-browned face to the wind, not minding the loose strands of hair that whipped around her. One thing that could certainly be said in North Platte's favor was that it was a peaceful, friendly sort of town. Good place to raise a family. No one was a stranger there, at least, not for long. And everyone Eliana passed greeted her by name.

"Afternoon, Ellie, how are all the Carters?" Elderly Mr. Wilson peered at her over his dusty spectacles with a kindly smile as he came from the back of the little store, wiping his hands on a huge brown apron that, in spite of its size, just barely covered his ample front.

"Afternoon, Mr. Wilson," Eliana returned brightly. "We're all right... except that we've run completely out of sugar."

"Out of sugar?" Mr. Wilson shook his head sadly. "A terrible calamity for any family. Just step right up here and I'll see if I can get ya fixed up."

As Eliana deposited her basket on the counter, Mr. Wilson busied himself with prying the lid off the sugar barrel. Long rows of carefully-polished glass jars lined the front of the counter, all filled with striped candies. Luxuries. Eliana no more than glanced at them for her attention was drawn, as it always was, to the shelf along the opposite wall, filled to its capacity with tattered paperbacks. It was all the library that the little town could boast... a few volumes of poetry but mostly poor-quality dime novels. Eliana ached for more and better literature for she had read nearly each of those old books two or three times but books were even slower than mail in coming. Mail reminded her of the express rider she had seen the day before and she turned back to Mr. Wilson who was carefully weighing out the twenty pounds of sugar she had requested.

"Did ya see the express rider yesterday?"

"Sure did, Ellie. Ridin' jest as fast as the wind, he was. Blew a cloud o' dust all over my windows." He sounded disapproving but the twinkling blue eyes were beaming at her over the spectacles. Eliana often wondered why he even bothered wearing them when he was always looking over the tops of them.

"D'ya know who he is?"

"Cain't rightly say, Ellie, cain't rightly say." Mr. Wilson deftly tied a knot in the top of the burlap sack and placed it into the basket. "Anything else I kin get ya?"

"A jar of honey and another of molasses, I think that's all," Eliana frowned. She had forgotten once again the list her mother had made for her.

"Coming right up. As I was sayin', Ellie, this here rider is jes' like all the others... no one really knows where any o' them came from. The important thing is jes' that they came."

"I suppose so," Eliana leaned on the counter as Mr. Wilson added the molasses and honey to the basket.

"Ya plannin' on makin' anything sweet?" he spoke casually but Eliana could hear the eager note of hope in his voice. Mr. Wilson had lost his wife a few years back and now cooked for himself. He had often commented on what he regarded the terrible quality of his baking and more than once had hinted for contributions.

"You'll have to wait and see," Eliana laughed, taking the basket from the counter. "I'll see ya later, Mr. Wilson,"

That evening, as Eliana finished the last of the supper dishes, she looked up suddenly, straining to hear over the chatter of voices coming from the main room. Out in the street was the sound of galloping hoofbeats once again. Eagerly she ran to throw open the door. It was dark but by the light of the moon and the flickering flame of the lantern she had snatched up from the table, she could just make out the figure of the horse and rider returning from the opposite direction... carrying the western mail east. Once again she waved and he called back in answer, though what he said, she never could tell. Only a moment and he vanished into the darkness of the prairie night.

Chapter Text

Eliana finished darning what seemed like her hundredth sock, but which was only her thirteenth and bit off the thread with a sigh, tossing it back into her brimming basket.

"Ellie, girl, you know your mother doesn't want you biting that thread," her father frowned at her over his newspaper but his eyes were twinkling. "Not good for your teeth. Use the scissors."

Eliana grinned ruefully as she bent over to dig in her basket and came up again with a rather dull pair of scissors.

"Pa," she began slowly.

"Hmmm?"

"How far do the express riders go?"

"I think around ninety miles or so…" Josiah Carter seemed more interested in the paper than in his daughter's question.

"Ninety miles!" Eliana sat bolt upright in her chair, the scissors sliding to the floor along with the fourteenth sock. "That's… that's… where does he come from, anyway?"

"Who?" her father answered, absently.

"The express rider, Pa. The one that goes through here."

Josiah slowly turned to the next page of his newspaper and frowned contemplatively.

"I think they change riders up at Navajo Flats."

"How far is that from here?"

"Around forty miles…"

"Forty miles? That means that… that he crosses the North Platte River! And if he goes fifty miles beyond North Platte… then he goes across the badlands too! That's… unbelievable…"

"Mmm. They're desperate enough. For the mail, I mean."

"Do you know who the rider is?"

Josiah put the paper down then and looked at his daughter curiously.

"Why all these questions?"

Eliana simply shrugged, not knowing how to answer. She didn't know, really, why she wanted to know so badly who the mysterious express rider was… she just did, that was all.

"I haven't the slightest clue who the rider is…" her father shook his head. "It doesn't matter, really. He's just another link in the chain to get the mail West. That's what's really important… getting that mail to California."

oOo

As the next few weeks flew past, so did the express rider. Although his appearance was, at first, a novelty, he quickly faded into the background, hardly any more noticed than the sagebrush that blew down the dusty streets. The people of North Platte could hardly remember a time when the express rider was not there to gallop wildly down Main Street and then vanish off into the distance… a mere shadow passing along down the plains.

But to Eliana, the sight of the express rider never became common. She soon learned the schedule of the Pony Express and never failed to be out in the street to wave when he passed, and to hear his shouted greeting that she never understood. Well, perhaps she couldn't distinguish his words. But she knew his meaning… he always seemed glad to see her… and more so as the weeks and then the months wore on.

It was during a particularly grey and rainy day that Eliana suddenly got the idea. She was standing before the kitchen window, staring dismally out at the rain streaking its slow, meandering way down Ma's already-sparkling window-panes, as she mixed up a batch of gingersnaps… Jacob's favorite. He never could seem to get enough of them. Perhaps that was why her best friend Rachel had been begging her for the recipe… it was commonly known in the North Platte community that Jacob Carter and Rachel Buchanan were "sweet on each other".

She wondered, absently, if the express rider had anyone to make gingersnaps for him. Probably not. He most likely lived alone and fended for himself in the way of baking. Or just went without.

She grinned suddenly. Why not remedy that? Half an hour later, as she drew the cookies from the oven, she set a few aside with a smile.

The express rider came through the next day at four. Eliana was standing alongside the road, as usual, but in her outstretched hand, she held the gingersnaps. He slowed suddenly, as he noticed her, going past at a canter as he leaned down to take the cookies. It's not exactly the easiest thing in the world to reach for something from the back of a cantering horse… he had to turn back and slow down even more before he could even take them. But he flashed her a quick smile and she read both gratitude and surprise in that look. Then he spurred his horse into a gallop and dashed off. She noticed that one of the cookies fell to the street as he sped away… but at least he had the others. Surely, though, there was an easier and faster way? She knew the crucial importance of every moment on a pony express route… that was why the rider never stopped.

He went past again the next evening, seven thirty. Eliana had made more cookies by then… each with a large hole in the center. Perhaps it was a crazy idea but if it worked… then perhaps it wasn't so crazy after all.

He slowed again, then grinned when he noticed the holes in the cookies. His ever-ready rifle lay in the scabbard of the saddle… he drew it now and extended it, pushing the barrel through the holes. She could hear his laughter with his call of thanks as he rode off and she smiled.

Chapter Text

"How was the ride?" The station master greeted the weary rider with his customary question. He didn't much care about the answer, but was there any other way, really, to open conversation?

The rider shrugged as he slid from the saddle and pulled his rifle from the scabbard. The pony and saddle belonged to the Pony Express but the rifle was his and he was never without it… not for a moment.

" 'Bout the same as always."

"Have ya seen that girl o' yers again?"

"She's not 'my' girl," But the young man's face betrayed him. Why, he didn't really know. He didn't know anything about her, not even her name. But she was the only person in the world, besides the station masters and the other riders, who ever took notice of him. And, boy, was she a good cook!

"Well?" The station master raised his eyebrows and grinned as he ushered the rider inside the little log station.

"Sure, I've seen her." The rider seemed content to stop there but the station master pressed for more. He was desperate for something to talk about other than the weather and the condition of the prairie routes… news was precious little, and so was company. The express riders spent about ninety percent of their time at the station sleeping. Consequently, the station master spent about ninety percent of his life at the station in silence, unless he chose to talk to himself, which he usually did. But one's self is never a very good source for new information.

"She's taken to givin' me cookies an' things, when I ride by," the rider continued as he accepted the usual meal of soggy, warmed-over meat and potatoes with the accompaniment of coarse-ground johnny cake, instead of the usual brown bread. Not entirely a welcome change. "She sure is a better cook 'n you, let me tell ya."

"They didn't hire me for m' cookin'," the station master grunted.

"Guess not."

For a few minutes, both were silent. Then the station master spoke up again.

"Guess ye're pretty lucky… havin' a girl to wait fer ya along the route an' all."

"Guess I am," the rider agreed. He laughed softly to himself. "She's like… like a ray of sunshine in an otherwise pretty gloomy existence."

The subject was dropped then, mostly because of the fact that the western mail would be coming along in fewer hours than the rider would like to think and he had been in the saddle for eight hours that day.

As the rider mounted a fresh horse the next day, preparing for the ninety mile gallop to Apache Flats, the station master stood leaning against the wall of the log building, arms crossed. He was grinning in a way that was rather annoying… really, he could mind his own business. But he wouldn't.

"Hey, be sure an' bring me one o' them cookies when ya come back," he called as the galloping hoofbeats of the next rider were heard in the distance. "An' tell the sunshine girl hello from me."

The rider didn't answer. The approaching horse and rider were almost there… the mochila… the mail bag… was being held out at arm's length… the rider spurred his horse into a gallop and snatched the mochila, fastening it to his saddle horn as he moved swiftly toward the distant skyline of the Wyoming badlands.

Chapter Text

"Ellie!" At her friend's call, Eliana dropped her scrub brush and hurried to the open kitchen door, wiping her hands on her already-soaking apron. Something was in Rachel's voice that she had never heard before… and she wasn't entirely certain if she was glad to hear it or not.

"Rachel! What is it?"

Rachel Buchanan stood in the doorway, bonnet falling back on her shoulders, cheeks flushed, eyes shining. Usually so quiet and demure, there was an unmistakable note of pure joy in the girl's voice.

"Is... is your mother here?"

"No, she's helping out at Lizzie's today," Eliana answered. "I'll be headin' over there just as soon as I finish gettin' lunch for Pa an' Jacob. You know," she continued, purposely stalling, since she could see Rachel's impatience to tell her news, "She gets more and more worried with each new baby. Every time one of my sisters or sisters-in-law is expecting, she spends more time with them than here at home." She laughed, but then frowned. "She... she really hasn't been the same since Abby and her little one both passed. But... what is it that's got you so flustered?"

"Oh, Ellie, you won't believe it!" Rachel wrapped her arms around her surprised friend, breathless in her excitement.

"Don't tell me," Eliana laughed. "Let me guess."

"Alright, see if you can."

"Your dog… had her puppies?" Eliana teased.

"Much better than that," Rachel mistook Eliana's meaning, believing her to be serious.

"Well then, your rosebush is blooming?"

"Ellie! It's been blooming all summer! Guess again!"

"Then… then it must be…" Eliana paused and looked sideways at her friend with an almost wistful smile. She knew exactly what it was that made Rachel's eyes shine. And she wished… almost… that she had the same kind of news to share.

"Jacob has proposed," she said finally and Rachel beamed.

"Yes! He has! And… oh, Ellie, I'm so happy… I didn't know it was possible to be so happy…"

"Jacob has some explaining to do," Eliana nodded severely. "That old sneak. He never breathed a word! Come on." Taking Rachel's hand, she pulled her along toward the Carter's smithy. But she needn't have pulled. Rachel went willingly enough.

The interior of the smithy was dark, except for the bright orange glow of the flames in the forge. But the black smoke billowing from the forge nearly obscured the light. Jacob was bent over the hoof of a rather flighty paint pony, just hammering in the last of the nails in the shoe. Josiah was helping the owner of the pony to hold it quiet. The pony seemed but green broke and thrashed hard. Jacob was working fast, faster than Eliana had ever seen him work before and before long, he set down the pony's hoof and straightened up, wiping his face with the back of his hand.

"There y'are," Josiah was saying to the young man who stood at the pony's head. "Sorry we couldn't do it any faster."

"That was 'bout as fast as I could expect," he answered as he reached into his saddlebag and began to count out silver dollars. "I sure appreciate it. Bad luck today."

It was then that Eliana noticed the leather mochila hanging over the saddle. This was no mere rancher but the express rider himself! Her heart skipped a beat but she forced herself to remain quiet. Her father was waving away the money with a smile.

"No charge. Thank you for your service."

"God bless you, Sir," the two men shook hands and the express rider turned to lead his horse from the smithy. His eyes met Eliana's then and he smiled. She hardly knew what to say, feeling suddenly shy and awkward at meeting him face to face. She had never really expected his eyes to be so blue… as blue as the prairie sky. Nor did he seem quite so tall from the back of a horse.

"You're the sunshine girl," he laughed. "We meet at last." he swung into the saddle as he spoke. "I'm sorry I can't stay an' get acquainted…" He tipped his hat as he turned the pony toward the west. "Thank ya… for the cookies an' all…"

"I…" Eliana hesitated as she felt the color rush into her cheeks. "You're… you're very welcome…"

He had already spurred his horse on but was half-turned in the saddle, waving back at her. Sunshine Girl. Was that what he had called her? What… what exactly did that mean? It was then that she realized she hadn't even asked his name.

Chapter Text

Eliana guided the steady stream of wool across the shuttle, spinning it both expertly and effortlessly as she worked in silence, listening to the hum of her spinning wheel and the click of her mother's knitting needles.

Margaret Carter was a daughter of the South... once the reigning beauty of Kentucky's plantations. But her strong aversion to slavery had driven her North, where she had met and married Josiah Carter. Life in Pennsylvania had been difficult for her, with her gentle Southern accent and mannerisms... she just couldn't fit into the tight little community of Yankee farmers. That had been just one of many reasons that the Carter family had packed up their family of what was then seven children and made the long and dangerous trip west to Wyoming. A year after their arrival, Eliana had been born... the last of their children. Then Abby, Margaret's oldest daughter and, consequently, dearest friend, died in child labor, along with her little son. As Eliana had confided to Rachel the day before, Margaret hadn't been the same since. Her third oldest, Lizzie, was now expecting her third and the poor mother was frightened to death. As always, when a daughter of hers was "in the family way", she applied herself to working as hard and as much as she possibly could... anything to keep her mind off her fears. The much-anticipated little one already had five sweaters, three hats, and four pairs of booties and already had Margaret started on a baby afghan. Both her house and Lizzie's was painfully clean and the pantries were filled full to bursting. So what had she left to do but to knit and to do so furiously?

Jacob was spending the evening with the Buchanan's or, more specifically, with Rachel. Eliana was terribly happy, of course, that her best friend was to be her sister, but she couldn't help but feel... well... left out. Now both her best friend and her favorite brother were to occupied with each other to even notice her. With an impatient sigh, she lunged the spinning wheel faster and her thread snapped. Groaning inwardly, she stopped the wheel and applied herself to mending her thread.

Someone knocked then and Josiah Carter shoved his account books aside, rising from his chair by the fire to answer the door. It was dark outside now and, although Eliana craned her neck, she couldn't quite make out who it was that stood on the porch when her father opened the door. But she knew at least that it was a young man. Her father seemed surprised at first, then stepped out onto the porch and closed the door behind him. The murmur of low voices could be heard, but no words distinguished. Margaret looked up from her knitting to smile knowingly at her daughter.

At length the door opened and Josiah reentered, followed by a tall, thin young man who stood nervously twisting his hat in his hands. John Halliday, the banker's son. Eliana knew him well. They had gone to school together and, although he had been a couple of grades ahead of her, they had been friends of a sort. The Halliday's were the richest family in town and, consequently, John was the most sought-after young man in town. But Eliana did not join the other girls in their unanimous admiration. After all, she and John had only ever been friends. And in the years since they had both completed their schooling, they had drifted apart. What was it that he wanted?

"Ellie, my girl," Josiah spoke with almost a catch in his voice. "John Halliday, here, has just asked for my permission to call on you."

Eliana caught her breath and the thread slipped, unheeded from her fingers. Her heart was pounding so loudly that she could scarce hear her own thoughts. John looked up then, his face red, and cleared his throat.

"If... if that is agreeable to you, of course, Eliana... I mean... Miss Carter." he stammered, reaching up to fidget with his collar.

"Eliana is fine," she stood, clasping her hands to hide their shaking. "We... there is no need to be formal. We're still friends... aren't we?" He nodded, smiling slightly. Her mind was spinning wildly and she reached out to hold onto the spinning wheel as if it would help balance her mentally. Hadn't she waited so long for a caller? John Halliday... well... he wasn't exactly what she had hoped for but...

"I... would be most honored... if you would come calling," she found herself saying and was relieved to find that she had said it properly. Her mother was nodding, smiling, but there seemed to almost be tears in her eyes.

And so John Halliday was welcomed into the Carter home that evening and stayed to sit and talk with Eliana while Margaret brought in popcorn and Josiah returned to his account books.

When the express rider rode past that night at seven thirty, for the first time, Eliana was not out in the street to greet him. He was surprised. In the past few months that he had been riding for the Pony Express, she had never failed to be out when he passed. Not only surprised, but worried also. Was something wrong that she was not there? But he had no claim on her attention. He had no reason at all to expect her to be there. Winding the leather reins more tightly around his work-roughened hands, he bent lower over the neck of his mount, urging it faster yet as they left the town far behind and sped quickly toward the shining silver ribbon of the North Platte River.

Chapter Text

In spite of her initial misgivings, Eliana was pleasantly surprised to find that she enjoyed John's company. He became a regular visitor at the Carter home and she was always glad to see him. He was rather quiet at first, but interesting to talk to. Working in the bank as he did, he was usually full of stories about the customers that came in. There apparently had even been a holdup at the North Platte Bank, several years before, when John was fourteen. He remembered it well and Eliana was thrilled by the story.

She began to bake even more often than usual, trying her hand at all sorts of new recipes, which he always raved about. But every time she made cookies or cakes of any kind, even for John, she always inevitably set aside the special few, marked with their large hole in the center. After that first night when John had asked to call, she remembered and regretted that she had missed the express rider and pledged herself not to forget again. She still sometimes did forget, from time to time, but she tried harder after that.

In her excitement and happiness, just one thing did Eliana find wrong with her beau and that was... well... she first noticed it in his hands. They were pale and smooth... had never known hard work. Nor was his face tanned by the sun. He didn't seem to care much for riding and he almost never would go into the smithy... said he couldn't stand the smoke.

Eliana felt this defect keenly one late-summer afternoon as she saddled up Cheyenne, her little brown mare. There was nothing more to do, now that her work was all done, and she found herself longing for a ride across the prairie... to feel the wind in her hair and the sun on her face. But she didn't necessarily want to be alone. And so she had been thrilled when, as she led Cheyenne out into the street, she had met John on his way to visit.

"Will you come riding with me?" she asked eagerly, before he even had time to speak. "I wanted to go down the prairie, along towards the river. There's a little creek that branches off the river, with some beautiful trees and we could stop there..."

"I'd rather not," John interrupted, shaking his head. "It's pretty rough riding out there. Maybe we could walk through the town instead?"

"Maybe later," Eliana's smile dropped. "I guess I can go riding alone." In spite of her annoyance, she accepted his help as she mounted and turned Cheyenne in the direction of the prairie. "I... I guess I'll see you this evening, John."

"Till tonight, then." He agreed and she rode off toward the North Platte River.

The prairie is a lonely place. Even if you are not more than a mile from town and surrounded by ranches on every side. The wide open sky ran on endlessly to meet the grassy plain that, likewise, ran on endlessly. An eagle flew, screeching, overhead. Such a lonely, mournful sound. Eliana sighed as she urged Cheyenne into a canter. The brook was in sight just ahead.

She sat by the brook a long time, just staring into the pale blue water and the fish floating lazily beneath the surface. She dropped a stone and watched listlessly as the ripples slowly vanished. Cheyenne raised her head and shook it with an impatient whinny and the girl laughed.

"You're right, Cheyenne. We should be getting back. It's... so quiet out here... so peaceful... One loses track of time so quickly."

With some little difficulty, she mounted her horse, frowning at the sidesaddle. She would have so much preferred to cast it aside and ride bareback, astride. But what would Ma think? As she gathered up the reins and prepared to start back, Cheyenne suddenly lifted her head higher and pricked her ears back.

"What is it, girl? Do you hear something?" Eliana turned and looked back toward the river. Moving swiftly in her direction was the distant figure of a horse and rider... the Pony Express. Already she could hear the galloping hoofbeats. He was closer now... almost beside her... and waving his hat wildly. Something inside of her responded to his call and she dug her heels into her horse's sides, leaning forward as she urged her mount into a swift gallop. Faster and faster, till she matched stride with him and they were riding side by side. He turned, grinning widely, and let out a whoop that sounded like an Indian cry. She laughed in response and kicked her horse again. The town was in view just up ahead but she couldn't see it. Never in all her life had she moved so fast... the prairie was flashing dizzily past and the wind was whistling by so hard that she felt certain it would tear her from the back of her horse. It was a feeling unlike anything she had experienced before... an exhilarating ecstasy. She didn't even stop when at last they reached the border of North Platte but continued on with him, down the main street of town and past the bank, where John Halliday was standing in the doorway. She didn't see him but he gaped in surprise at seeing his girl galloping wildly past with a Pony Express rider.

It was with regret that she reined her horse in, just as they passed out of town. The express rider went on alone and Eliana watched him go with a smile and a sigh.