CHAPTER ONE They were all darlings in their own ways, but they were seven very different personalities, and just now, with all of them sitting around the bunkhouse and on the porch, sulking in their various ways for their own vastly different reasons, Rachel wanted to scream. The suffocating heat of the day seemed to have brought out the worst in everyone: Lou and Cody had quarreled over something truly stupid and sat like two petulant children, refusing to admit any blame; Jimmy had singed his hand on the hot stove earlier, and now lay prostrate on his bunk, for all the world as if he'd suffered a fatal blow. Earlier, while shoeing the new brown mare, the Kid had accidentally struck himself in the temple with his hammer -- lightly enough, thank God, but now a great, bulging purple lump was emerging, and a raging headache seared his brain. He was also lying on his bunk, but had more of Rachel's sympathy. His report of the incident had prompted snickers of amusement from Noah, who had remarked upon the fact that such a skilled horseman as the Kid was reported to be had been foolish enough to whack himself in the head while performing such a simple task. Subsequently, he and the Kid were not on speaking terms. Buck was in a foul mood, for reasons he apparently found it best to keep to himeslf, and even the ebullient Ike seemed sour as he sat at the kitchen table, writing in his journal, an expression of disgust on his normally composed face. All in all, Rachel thought to herself, they were a wretched group of young things, and it was beginning to wear on her nerves. When the first forlorn sigh emitted from Cody, the rest followed suit in stages, and soon it turned into the First Annual Great Mope-Out Contest, with each determined to outdo the other in sheer pitifulness. The last to heave a deep, poor-me sigh was Jimmy, who tacked on a groan of pain for good measure. Rachel stood, ready to howl with indignation, and it was likely Jimmy would have met a very unlucky fate at her hands, had Cody not stood up from the porch swing at that very moment and shouted, "Rider comin'!" in a voice that rang from the rooftops and bounced off the porch. Jimmy lifted his head, puzzled, and rose from his deathbed, and even the Kid shot to his feet -- deeply regretting it as the room began to spin around him -- and joined the others on the porch. They stood in a bunch, staring at the lone rider that drew nearer. "We weren't expectin' anyone," Jimmy said needlessly. The Pony Express had been shut down for nearly two months now, as the Army did their damnedest to clear up the problems riders had been having with some neighboring Indians. As a result, the Rock Creek outfit had grown restless with something akin to cabin fever. A month and a half with no work to relieve the monotony, and practically no break from one another, had factored in greatly to the riders' snappish nerves, not to mention Rachel's. They hadn't heard a word about the Express starting back up, but nobody cared for verification. Suddenly, with the prospect of working again, spirits lifted sky-high. "I'll go!" Buck practically shouted. As he was standing not more than a foot away from her ear, Lou winced sharply, then hollered right back, "No, I'll go!" A round of not-so-good-natured arguing began, except for the Kid, who, though he very much would have liked to go, actually looked as if he were ready to pass out, and was far more concerned with keeping vertical than anything else. In their haste to be the first back on the job, all seven pairs of eyes had turned away. Only Rachel still scanned the horizon, and in the few seconds since her riders had begun their vehement discussion, she noticed that the boy advancing towards them was slumped in his seat, one leg hanging out of his stirrup. "You all hush now!" Her clear voice was harsh. The bickering stopped abruptly. "What is it? What do you see, Rachel?" Noah squnted in the direction Rachel was looking. "Hell, there's somethin' wrong with that boy," Kid interjected. "He ain't ridin' none too steady now, is he?" added Jimmy. The rider was now less than a hundred yards away, and with each length the horse crossed it became more and more apparent that there was definitely something wrong with the figure in the saddle. They all stayed silent. Cody and Lou stepped down from the porch without thinking, and began walking in that direction, slowly, eyes watching carefully. The horse moved gently nearer, stepping cautiously, as if it knew the precious cargo it carried were in danger of being damaged. When it had reached Cody and Lou and stood not more than fifteen feet from them, the horse suddenly stopped, and the rider lifted his head weakly, looking as if his neck could barely support it. From under the dusty brim of the rider's hat Cody and Lou saw two huge, clouded-over blue eyes, one circled with a dark, mottled bruise that reached clear to his pale cheek, and a cut that snaked diagonally across the corner of his mouth. Blood had dried on his face, and Cody could make out purple marks around the boy's throat -- marks about the size and shape of a man's hands. The rider's eyes didn't so much as register that he was looking at other human beings, but he opened his mouth and rasped, "Please..." Cody could barely hear the word, and before either of them realized what was happening, the boy had tilted his head back down over the mane of the < horse, and slipped off the side, tumbling to the ground with a sickening thud. The others rushed to his side as if of one body, and Kid, fighting the dizzying ache in his head as he did so, knelt down beside the young man, and gently turned him over. His hat had slipped off his head, and the rider's ghostly white face was revealed to them. The realization that the boy was at once older than he appeared, and yet so young, nearly broke Rachel's heart. She raised a hand to her slim throat and tried to stop her trembling. With a tenderness that touched Lou deeply, the Kid rested the young man's head in one arm, and with the other, touched two fingers to his throat, and waited. "There's life," he said a moment later, and his friends sighed in relief. "Whoever he is, he is an Express rider," Buck informed them as he came around the side of the horse. A mochila rested in his hands. "I found this, but it's empty." 'Should we move him?' signed Ike. The Kid's hands roamed lightly over the rider's head, moving his hair around to be sure. "I don't see any serious head injuries, other than this here black eye." "Looks like his leg may be broke, though," Lou said, "and his left wrist don't look none too stable." "Maybe a few broken ribs," Rachel speculated. The young man's breathing sounded shallow and harsh, as if he were struggling for each lungful of air. Noah nodded. "Best to move him, I think." The rider wasn't big by any means. Cody knelt, gathered him up in his arms, and headed to the bunkhouse, Jimmy beside him keeping a firm hand under the boy's neck, which hung so loosely it threatened to snap. Inside, Cody laid the boy down on his own bunk, and Rachel busied herself fetching rags and liniment. Lou ran for the bucket of fresh water, and Buck began tearing an old pillowcase into strips. Everyone became preoccupied at once, and no one heard Teaspoon's arrival until he banged his way into the bunkhouse with his usual gusto and twice the usual fanfare. They all looked up, startled to hear his thunderous, "Howdy, all!" Before Rachel could put her finger to her lips in the classic schoolmarm warning of silence, a low moan emanated from Cody's bunk, and as all heads whipped around, the boy opened large, dark blue eyes and within seconds look scared to death. "Where am I?" His voice was hoarse, his throat parched from lack of moisture. "You're safe, son," Rachel said kindly. "You're among friends." "We're Express riders, too," added Jimmy. "Don't you worry, we're gonna take good care of you." "Take care of me?" The boy sat up quickly, then looked as if he wished he hadn't. He put a hand to his head. "What's...what's wrong with me?" "Will someone tell me exactly what the hell is goin' on?" Teaspoon demanded. Rachel shushed him. She sat down beside the boy, a washcloth and a basin of water in her hands. "You've got some nasty cuts and bruises, darlin', and we think a few broken bones, but you're gonna be just fine, all right? Like Jimmy says, we're gonna take real good care of you. Once we get you properly examined and get a few weeks' worth of rest in you, you'll be good as new and makin' your round with the best of 'em." "Properly examined?" the boy repeated. To Cody's surprise he turned whiter than before. "Is somethin' really wrong with me?" "We hope not, sugar, but...well, that is, we're none of us proper doctors here, but we've seen enough battle scars and accidents that between the bunch of us we can take care of most anything." Rachel's voice was soothing as she tried to reassure the frightened boy. He seemed to want none of it, and slid back down on the bed, crossing his arms over his chest and glaring as defiantly as he could with one eye practically swollen shut. "I won't be examined," was his startling reply. For the first time the riders all noticed that he had an accent, an unusual one that none but Teaspoon could place. This boy was from England or he was much mistaken. "I won't be examined," the rider said again. "I'll be fine. You let me stay here tonight to rest up and I'll make it back to St Joe with no trouble." Teaspoon saw it fit to intervene, and in his most patient tone, urged, "Son, I think that would be mighty foolish of you. Now, I don't know what's goin' on here, but you're mighty tore up, and if Rachel says you ought to be examined and rest for a while, well, I'll have to agree with her." As the boy opened his mouth once more, Teaspoon raised a hand. "Now, I can appreciate a man's obligations, son; hell, I can even sympathize if you're feelin' too much of a man to need any doctorin', but the fact remains that you do need it." He paused, one white eyebrow raised. "And from the look of that twisted ankle and that dried blood on your shirt, I'd say it wouldn't be none too soon." "I won't be examined," was the staunch, familiar reply. "There's no need for it." The same thought passed through each and every rider: 'What a damn fool.' "Son, you're not makin' any sense." "I have business that needs attending to. I don't have time for this." "Damn it, boy, look at that ankle!" the Kid nearly shouted. "It's hangin' out of its socket!" "Set it, then," the boy replied, his eyes glittering with fury. "Now you're talkin' sense," Lou said approvingly, privately adding, 'And we'll take care of the rest of you, too, whether you like it or not, you fool!' As time went on she had less and less patience for the follies and disasters of male pride. She didn't have time to discuss it further with him. The moment Jimmy laid his hands on the puffed-up ankle the boy's eyes rolled back in his head, and he passed out cold. Cody looked on with unconcealed amusement. "Well, for such a young firecracker, he certainly don't hold up too well to pain, now does he?" Jimmy grinned. With gritted teeth and careful hands he pushed the boy's ankle back into its proper place, and Cody quickly wrapped a protective layer of bandages around it. His work done, Jimmy was relieved to leave the rest up to Rachel. "That was a fine how-do-you-do," Jimmy commented. "We don't even know his name." 'Idiot,' Ike signed, and they all grinned. Teaspoon shook his head good-naturedly. "I've seen so many boys just like him, I couldn't begin to tell you." He winked at Lou. "Seen a few girls like him, too." Lou smiled back at him. "Wouldn't admit they were in agony if they had a Bowie knife in their back; just kinda sit there and groan and say, 'I'm all right, 'cept for this dern pain in my shoulderblades'." Everyone laughed, though Rachel pretended to look disapproving. "You all go on, now, and let me tend to this poor thing." She waved them away with a 'shoo'. "Rachel, can I stay and help?" Lou asked, as the boys shuffled out. She < could hear Teaspoon's surly, "Now will someone tell me what the hell is goin' on?", and grinned. "'Course you can, sugar,. I think it would be best if I work on his wrist, if you wouldn't mind cleanin' up his face." Lou moved to sit by the boy's head, and with great care, dipped the rag in water and began to clean his face. Time was she would have done everything to avoid this kind of helping out, would have turned up her nose and it and said she could do better than just being an old nursemaid. But with the help of Rachel, and Emma before her, she was beginning to appreciate the nobility and honor of the tender administrations that were so often referred to as "women's work". "There's somethin' kinda familiar about him," Lou suddenly said, studying the invalid's pale young face. "Oh?" Rachel was interested. "Yeah, but I don't know what it is." Lou narrowed her eyes, concentrating. "I can't say as I've ever met him before, and I don't forget a face." She continued to bathe his cuts and bruises, thinking aloud as she spoke, "Maybe it's not so much that I've seen him before...I just don't know." They worked on in silence. Rachel watched Lou's face intently, wondering if her young friend might, by some strange coincidence, have a clue to this poor boy's identity of past. For her part, Lou was getting slightly frustrated. Looking at this boy, something somewhere deep inside her was drawn to him in a way she seldom, if ever, felt with strangers. How could she explain it to anyone? It was as if her soul recognized a new friend. Perhaps that was it, more than the feeling that he was somehow familiar to her. "He's sweet-lookin'," Lou whispered. Rachel smiled at her. "Don't let the Kid hear you say that." "No, no, not like that," admonished Lou. "Just sweet-lookin', like you ought to be nice to him, like he could be your best friend. I prefer the Kid's looks, myself," she admitted, and blushed, "but this boy's got a friendly face under all that bruisin'." Rachel carefully wrapped the damaged wrist. "I can't say I blame you," she said. "Fancyin' the Kid's looks, I mean. He is a mighty..." she struggled with the scissors, "handsome..." with a pleased look she pinned the bandage into place, "fellow! There!" She murmured approvingly. "That'll settle nicely as well. Anyhow, Louise darlin', the Kid is a good person and he's goin' to grow into a mighty fine young man. He just worships the ground you walk on, and that is a mighty fine quality in a man!" Lou continued cleaning the dirty, damaged face, and Rachel set her sights on examining his leg. She slid the scissors under the ankle of the breeches and began cutting upward till she reached just below his thigh. The leg was bruised and scraped, but not broken, as Lou had prophesied. Rachel cleaned and dressed it, then took a look at the other one. It was in far better shape and required less attention. When this work was done, Rachel reached for the button of the rider's shirt, hesitated, and then stopped. "What's wrong, Rachel?" Rachel bit her lip. "I really do think this boy's ribs are broken, Lou, and I just don't feel you and I could maneuver him without the boy's help. He's little, but right now he's dead weight I tell you what...we've pretty much taken care of everything. Let's give our patient a bit more rest, and then we'll call Doc to take care of the rest." Rachel pulled a cool sheet over the sleeping boy's body, and Lou smoothed his long bangs away from his face. They practically tiptoed out of the room. Outside they saw Teaspoon and the boys in a semicircle around the rider's horse, and they joined them. They were inspecting the contents of the mochila. "Look's like his name's Jack Townsend, best as we can tell," Jimmy called out as they approached. He held out a Bible, the same version and cover they had all been given when joining on with Russell, Major and Waddell. "There's no mail in here," added Buck, "and Teaspoon says there's no way the Express started back up without our knowin' it, so whatever this boy's doin' on this part of the route, it ain't business." "Let's get this poor horse into the barn and feed it," Teaspoon ordered. "Ike, Lou, I want you two to ride out a-ways and see if you can't find out what might have happened to this boy. I doubt we'll find who did it, but we may just run into some loose tongues who'll have some ideas. Hickok, I sure would appreciate it if you'd run back into town with me for an errand or two. The rest of you, see what you can do to help Rachel for a change." Within the brief span of twenty minutes, the riders, Rachel, and Teaspoon had all scattered. Left behind, Noah and the Kid led the horse to the barn. Buck and Cody went about assisting Rachel around the grounds, despite their protests, as she tended to the few animals and the washing. Teaspoon and Jimmy returned shortly after the chores were done. When they got back to the bunkhouse, Jack Townsend was gone. "That stupid boy," Rachel spat out in disgust. She turned to Cody and Jimmy. "Go out and look for him, boys. He hasn't taken any of the horses or we would have heard him, and in his condition he can't have gone far." In fact, Cody and Jimmy found him not thirty feet from the edge of the station grounds, face down in the dirt. Cody leaped from his horse and gingerly turned Jack's face up. He bent his head and listened. "Still breathing!" he assured Jimmy. "He's one stupid, lucky cuss," his friend sighed. "Hand him up and we'll cart him back to Mama Rachel." Once more Cody lifted Jack, this time passing him over to Hickok. Jimmy gathered Jack in a bundle in his arms and reached for the reins. His eyes glanced over Jack, and he paused, frowning. He turned to Cody, who had climbed back on his horse. "Uh, Cody?" Jimmy's eyebrows were raised practically off his head, a deep wrinkle in his broad forehead. "Yeah?" "You notice anything...uh," he gulped, "you notice anything about the way Jack is, ah...breathing?" "Dammit, Hickok, what in the sam hill are you on about?" "Just look." Cody rolled his eyes and watched Jack's shallow breathing. He was ready to roll his eyes again and lead his horse away when he suddenly caught on, and stopped, jaw hanging in midair. "Am I right?" Jimmy prompted, eyes wide. Cody watched the strange rise and fall of Jack's chest, and it was clear that Jimmy had not been mistaken. Cody closed his eyes and wiped his gloved hand over his face. "Holy Mary and all the Saints," he muttered, "we got us another one." "Rachel!" Jimmy hollered as they trotted the horses back to the station. "Break out the petticoats!" "So," Cody asked with a feigned air of seriousness as they stopped on the porch, "what do you think 'Jack' stands for?" Chapter Two

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