CHAPTER II
POSTMISTRESS JENNIE
For a moment Jack Bailey did not know what to do. He looked at his father,who was evidently quite ill and suffering much pain. Then the lad glancedat the bags of mail and small express matter which lay over the saddle infront of Mr. Bailey.
"Take the mail, Jack, my boy!" the pony express rider exclaimed, with aneffort. "Take the mail, so the stage can get off. I'm late now, but Icouldn't make the trail any faster. Get the mail through, and then stop andbring a doctor back with you if he'll come."
"But I can't go away and leave you like this, Dad!"
"You must, Jack!"
"But you're too ill!"
"That can't be helped. The mail and express must go through on time if I'mto keep the contract. And I certainly don't want to lose it. I'll manage toget to the cottage. Once there, I can sit down, and if I get a cup of hottea I may feel better. It seems to be acute indigestion, though I don'tremember eating anything that didn't agree with me. But ride on, Jack. Anddon't worry. I'll get to the cottage all right and be there when you comeback."
"All right, Dad! I'll do it. But I sure do hate to leave you like this!"
"It's better than having the mail delayed. Ride on. Explain to Jed Montyhow it is. I think Jed takes the stage out to-night."
"Yes, he does. I'll tell him."
Jack quickly transferred to his own saddle the bags of mail and expressmatter. Mr. Bailey seemed easier now, though there was still that look ofpain on his face.
"Come on, Sunger," called the lad to his pony. "We've got to make time!"
The intelligent and beautiful animal whinnied as if he understood. Then,with a fond and anxious look at his father, Jack wheeled about and set offdown the trail at a gallop, Mr. Bailey going on more slowly, for everymotion of his horse gave him pain.
Jack was soon out of sight around a bend of the trail. He flashed past hiscottage, and thought with satisfaction that there was hot water on therange, so his father could make himself a cup of tea.
Jack paused long enough at Mrs. Watson's cabin to tell her what was thematter, and to inform her that he was taking the mail over the last mile ofthe route into town.
"Your father ill!" exclaimed Mrs. Watson. "I'll go right over there, Jack,and look after him."
"I wish you would. It will be awful good of you."
"Of course I'll go. Mary can look after things here," and she hurried intothe house to get ready for her second trip that day to the Bailey cottage.
Jack galloped on, trusting to the sure-footedness of his pony to avoid thedangers of the rough mountain trail. And Sunger justified the confidencereposed in him.
"Hello! We've been wondering what kept you! Why, it's Jack!" exclaimed JedMonty, the grizzled stage driver, as the lad galloped up to the MansionHotel, whence the start for the east was made.
"Sorry to be late, but dad's taken sick!" cried Jack, as he flung the bagsto the driver.
"Sick, eh? That's too bad. Well, I guess I can make up the lost time.Haven't much of a load on to-night."
The stage was all ready to start, the few passengers having beenimpatiently waiting.
"Pile in!" cried Jed, and with a crack of his long whip he sent the fourhorses off at a gallop.
Jack did not linger, but, wheeling his pony, set off for the doctor'soffice, hoping he would find the physician in. He was fortunate in thisrespect, and Dr. Brown promised to come at once. Jack did not wait for him,however, but hastened back to the cottage.
There he found that Mrs. Watson had made his father some hot tea, which hadrelieved him somewhat. The look of pain was not so apparent now.
"The doctor will be here right away," Jack reported. "Now tell me how ithappened, Dad. We were quite worried about you."
"Indeed we were, when you didn't come in on time, as you nearly always do,"said Mrs. Watson.
"I can't tell just how it did happen," said the pony express rider, "but Iwas taken with a sharp and sudden pain soon after leaving Golden Crossing.I'd have turned back then, and gotten some one else to ride the route forme, but I knew there were important letters in the mail, and it had to comethrough. So I kept on, hoping I would get better. But I grew worse, and Ihad to slow up. I thought I'd never get here! But I did." And he shut hislips grimly.
Pony express riders have to be made of stern stuff and they have to keep ontheir routes in rain or shine, calm or storm; and often when it is tortureto sit in the saddle on a galloping horse.
"You'd better get your supper, Jack," advised Mrs. Watson.
"No, I don't feel like eating," the lad objected.
"Yes, you'd better, son," said his father. "There's no telling what you mayhave to do tonight, and it is possible you will have to ride for meto-morrow, though I hope I'll be able. But eat, and keep up your strength."
This was good advice, and Jack realized it. So he sat down to the mealwhich Mrs. Watson had prepared as a finish to her housekeeping work earlierthat day. Jack had scarcely finished when Dr. Brown came in, and spent sometime ministering to Mr. Bailey.
The pony express rider felt much relieved after he had been given somequieting medicine, and as Dr. Brown was about to leave Mr. Bailey asked:
"Shall I be able to ride the route to-morrow?"
The physician shook his head.
"No, indeed!" he exclaimed. "I'm sorry to have to tell you that you have asevere illness. I'm afraid you're going to be laid up for several weeks, ifnot longer. You have been neglecting yourself too long, and you've beenworrying haven't you?"
"Well, yes, I have," admitted Mr. Bailey.
"Oh, Dad! worrying?" cried Jack. "Is it about that old Harrington matter?"
"Yes, Jack, it is. I can't get that off my mind."
"Why, every one knows that wasn't your fault!" exclaimed Dr. Brown.
"Of course," chimed in Mrs. Watson.
"Well I can't help thinking that the Harrington crowd believes I was toblame," went on the pony express rider. "But I never let that letter getaway from me. It never left my bag from the time it was put in until Idelivered it. But I can't prove that, and I can't help worrying over whatpeople think of me."
"You're foolish to let a thing like that annoy you," said Dr. Brown."That's what has helped to make you ill. Now you must take a good rest.I'll be in to see you to-morrow."
"But what about the trail, Doctor? Some one will have to carry the mail."
"You can't!" exclaimed the physician, with decision. "That's certain!"
"I will, Dad, of course!" cried Jack. "Who has a better right than I?"
"Well, I'd like to see you do it, Jack, for I'd be sure the mail andexpress would be safe with you and Sunger," said the man. "But I don't knowthat the company will consent. You're not of age--"
"I couldn't ride any better if I were twenty-one than I can now,"interrupted Jack. "I'll go to see Mr. Perkfeld the first thing in themorning. I'll meet the early stage and make the trip to Golden Crossing.Are they all well there?" he asked, trying to make his voice soundindifferent.
"Pretty well," answered his father. "Aunt Matilda is ailing a little, butJennie is a big help. She handles all the mail alone now. Well, Jack, Iguess it's the only thing to do. You see Perkfeld in the morning, andexplain things. The only thing I'm afraid of is that he may make theHarrington matter an excuse to take the contract away from me. There areseveral who want to ride the trail in my place. But do the best you can."
Amos Perkfeld was the president, as well as general manager of severalstage and pony express lines. He controlled the one between Golden Crossingand Rainbow Ridge, and it was he who had engaged Mr. Bailey.
The "Harrington matter" had taken place some time before. Tyler Harringtonwas an influential mine owner, and an important letter had been sent to himby one of his agents. This letter was carried by Mr. Bailey, and, in somemanner, the contents of it became known to interests opposed to Mr.Harrington and his associates. In this way they lost in a mining deal.
While there were no open accusations
, there had been hints on the part ofthe Harrington interests that the pony express rider might have been bribedto let some one open and read the letter on the journey over the mountains.Of course, Mr. Bailey had done nothing of the kind, and he had no idea howthe contents of the letter became known. He felt distressed because he wassuspected, and worried greatly over the matter. But he could not disprovethe unfounded suspicion against him.
As he had admitted, he had been worrying more than usual lately over theaffair, and this, with a general run-down condition, and the hardships ofhis calling, had made him ill.
Mrs. Watson offered to stay all night and help look after Mr. Bailey, andJack was glad to have her do so. The sick man was a little better in themorning, but far from being able to ride the mail route.
So Jack saddled Sunger and went into town to meet the early morning stagewhich arrived every other day with mail and express matter to be taken toGolden Crossing and points beyond. The pony express was a connecting linebetween the two settlements.
To Jack's relief Mr. Perkfeld made no objection to the young man's takinghis father's place.
"I can't say just how long it will last," went on the manager, "but we'llmake it a temporary arrangement, anyhow. You've ridden the route before,you say?"
"Yes, twice, when father was laid up with slight ailments."
"Well, do the best you can. And another matter. There are some valuableletters--But never mind. I'll speak about them later," and Mr. Perkfeldturned away. Jack wondered what he had been about to say.
"If there are any valuable letters to be carried," mused the young rider,"I hope none of them gets lost, or that the contents become known. I'llhave to be careful."
He was given the bags of mail and light express matter from the stage assoon as it rumbled in, and then Jack set off over the mountain trail to goto Golden Crossing. The trip would take about four hours, and if the othermail matter was ready he would come back with it, making the round trip inabout eight or nine hours.
But sometimes there were delays at one end or the other, for accidentshappened to the stages once in a while. There had been hold-ups, too, butnot since Mr. Bailey had taken charge.
If the stage at Golden Crossing was not on time the pony express rider hadto wait for it, sometimes all night. On such occasions Mr. Bailey hadstayed with his relative, Mrs. Blake, and Jack reasoned that he could dothe same thing. He caught himself almost wishing that the stage might belate this time, as it would give him a chance for a long visit with his"cousin" Jennie.
On his way past his cottage Jack stopped to see how his father was, andalso to report that he had been commissioned, at least temporarily, tocarry the mail.
Jack found his father better. Mrs. Watson said she thought it would be bestif he could be moved down to her house, and both Jack and Mr. Bailey agreedto this, Dr. Brown sanctioning the suggestion.
"I can look after him better then," said the housekeeper, "and my daughtercan help me. And then, too, Jack, if you're delayed and have to be away allnight, you'll know that he's being well cared for."
"Yes, it will be best," Jack agreed. And so, as he rode off, preparationswere made to transfer Mr. Bailey to the other place.
"Now, Sunger, we'll show 'em what we can do when we carry the mail!"exclaimed Jack, as his faithful pony started off along the mountain trailagain.
Nothing of moment occurred on that ride. Jack half-wished that he might becalled upon to defend the mail and express from bandits. He was armed, andhe dwelt on the thought of what a hero he might prove himself to be.
But everything was very prosaic. His pony did not even slip and fall, butcame through on schedule time, or, rather, a little ahead of it, for Jackurged Sunger on.
"Oh, it's you, is it, Jack!" exclaimed Jennie Blake, as our hero rode up tothe post office with the bags. "Why is this? Where's your father?"
"My father is ill. But aren't you glad to see me?"
"Oh, yes, of course!" she answered, and then she seemed obliged to lookdown very closely at some mail matter she was sorting.
"The in-stage will be five hours late," she said. "A messenger rode in tosay that one of the horses died, and he had to take back another. So you'llhave to stay over, Jack."
"That's good!" he exclaimed.
"What? Good that a poor horse died?"
"Oh, I don't mean that. But--er--say, what's that big official-lookingenvelope addressed to you? From Washington, too, and without a stamp," andJack looked over the girl's shoulder.
"Oh, official letters from the post office department don't requirestamps."
"What are you getting official letters for?" Jack wanted to know.
"Why, didn't I tell you?" Jennie asked with a teasing laugh. "I'm going tobe postmistress at Golden Crossing from now on. That's my officialappointment! Aren't you going to congratulate me?" and she looked archly atJack and smiled.