During the noon meal, Deke regaled everyone at the way station with a colorful story of the runaway team of horses and the heroic rescue by Thaddeus Jones. "How'd ya get onto your horse, anyway?" he asked.
"Well, I climbed to the back and cut her loose. Then I just had to call her close enough to jump on. She's sure a good horse," he added, as if to attribute the daring deed to his mare, rather than take full credit.
No one could argue with that.
When the station agent's wife, Mrs. Horton, served up dinner, they all dug in, helping themselves to creamed corn, buttery mashed potatoes, fried chicken, and fresh tomatoes.
"Would you like another helping, Mr. Jones? You certainly must have worked up an appetite," she asked, smiling at him admiringly as she brought the platter of chicken over.
"Don't mind if I do," answered the hero of the hour.
When all had their fill, Deke announced they were slightly ahead of schedule and that they had roughly thirty minutes to kill before departing.
Curry watched Amanda Grady wander out to the veranda with her sketchbook and settle in on the steps. Mr. Trent took the opportunity to encourage Timmy to run around in the grassy yard. Nielsen had retired to the back porch with one of the livery men to have a smoke. Kid decided to stretch his legs a bit.
Not ten minutes later, Curry was lounging against the corral fence feeling pleasantly full when Mrs. Batenhorst hurried up to him, out of breath and red in the face. "Mr. Jones, Mr. Jones," she called imperiously. "That young traveling man has just persuaded Miss Grady to walk down to those trees over yonder with him so he can show her some exotic flower or somesuch."
Kid looked up sharply to see the two figures disappearing into the treeline down the hill from the way station. "Thanks, Mrs. Batenhorst. I'll handle it," he said as he took off after the couple in an easy lope, inwardly kicking himself for not keeping a closer eye on his charge.
"That foolish girl simply has no idea…" he heard the old lady lecturing no one in particular as he departed.
Kid stepped into the shade of the trees, following the sound of voices.
"How much farther, Mr. Nielsen?" asked Amanda innocently.
"Oh just a little bit more," he answered. Curry narrowed his eyes as Nielsen hastily added, "but it's so worth the walk. This is a rare and beautiful flower that I'm sure you've never seen before."
Nielsen busily scanned the forest floor. "There, right there!" he called out in triumph, pointing into a small clearing.
As the girl approached the supposedly rare flower, the young salesman leered at her. He reached out his hand to take hers. "It's rough going Miss Grady. Here, let me help you. Or may I call you…Amanda?"
Curry stepped into the open, his right hand hanging loosely next to his Colt.
"Miss Grady," he announced. "Time to board."
"Oh, already?" she asked, turning to face him.
She couldn't see Nielsen scowling behind her at the unwelcome interruption, his hand still held out toward her.
"Deke said half an hour," he said with a little whine in his voice.
The Kid gave him his iciest gun-fighter stare.
"I said it's time for Miss Grady to get back," he stated firmly, resting his hand on the butt of his gun, his tone deadly serious.
"But there's a rare flower that only grows here that Mr. Nielsen is going to show me," she explained, apparently oblivious to the drummer's ulterior motives.
"That's columbine, Ma'am," Curry said. "Remember, you already saw it in Red Hill. It grows all over Colorado. Mr. Nielsen, you are obviously not an expert on plants. Maybe you should stick to your own business," he added significantly. "What was it again, pots and pans...?"
Curry held out his arm and Amanda took it, looking up into his face, but he was still glaring at the salesman. She wasn't quite sure what had just happened, but she had sensed the almost palpable tension between the two men. The trio walked back to the station yard, Nielsen torn between disappointment that he missed his chance to make time with the pretty young lady and relief that her formidable bodyguard didn't shoot him.
As they approached the cluster of buildings, they saw that Deke and the two livery men were harnessing the fresh team of horses. The passengers were beginning to gather nearby.
"Maybe someone else should take a turn up top so's I can ride inside to make sure Miss Grady's safe," Curry said pointedly, treating Nielsen to another dose of his own personal brand of glacial stare – a stare that had turned more than one man's bowels to water.
"Never you mind, Mr. Jones," commanded Mrs. Batenhorst. "You can climb right back up there and keep an eye out for trouble. I consider it my self-appointed Christian duty to protect Miss Grady's innocence. And while I'm in this coach with her, I am honor-bound to teach her some important deportment lessons that every lady should know. Not only for her own good, but to protect her future students from a corrupting influence. Young lady, I don't know what they taught you at that college, but it certainly wasn't decorum."
Amanda looked dismayed at the prospect of deportment lessons. Without much hope for deliverance, she nonetheless pleaded, "Can I please ride on top?"
"NO!" came the answer simultaneously from the Kid, Mrs. Batenhorst, Deke, and even Mr. Nielsen, who apparently did not relish the thought of sharing the interior of the coach with Mr. Jones.
