"Here boy, give him a good rub-down and plenty of oats. Had to ride him pretty hard this afternoon." The smartly dressed gentleman tossed the reins to the small livery hand and walked away knowing his horse would receive the best care. He didn't care for the owner of Stiles Livery but the hired help took great care with his mount.

Lou took the reins and started walking the tired beast around the corral. The animal was hot and breathing heavily so Lou, feeling sorry, spoke soft encouraging words to him. Running an animal this hard for sport was cruel. This was too fine a horse to be abused for the sake of a man's fun.

Lou didn't like Lightning's owner, Henry Wadsworth Jennings. He strutted around the small Missouri town like he was European nobility or the President or something, not just a rich partner in the local shipping company. Someday she'd love to wipe the smirk off his pertinent face but for the present she bit her tongue.

Never staying in one town very long, she'd hoped this was the place to change her wandering ways. Working with the horses was pure heaven even if the smell wasn't all that pleasant. Her boss constantly chided her for the work around the livery. Trying hard to meet his expectations left her emotionally and physically drained.

"Hey Lou. You seen this flier?"

She looked over at the group of young boys clustered around a poster nailed to the livery wall.

"That's me," bragged one of the other boys. "I bet I could win and get hired by this here Pony Express."

"Heck, Abel. You're too big to be called wiry."

The boy turned toward the other fellow and shoved him into the pile of straw. "Don't matter, Bobby. Everyone knows I'm the best rider we got in these parts."

"Yah, but it also say they want orphans. You can't take your mama along if'n you got the job," said another of the boys.

"That's why Lou ought to go try. He's an orphan, is small and wiry and we all know who won the race last week. What'cha say, Lou?"

Lou shook her head, "Can't do it Bobby. I ain't got a horse for one thing. Stiles wouldn't give me time off to check it out. I've got to get this horse rubbed down." The livery hand walked into the dark stable interior and tied the black horse to its stall. Fresh hay and oats were waiting in the manger. She'd take him for a drink after brushing the dried sweat out of his beautiful coat.

The repetitive strokes with the brush gave her time to reflect on her situation. Flitting from job to job after running away from an orphanage four years earlier, Lou longed for a place to belong, a place to call home. She left behind her younger brother and sister in St. Joseph after promising to return for them after earning a grubstake. Both goals seemed impossible to the seventeen-year-old girl. Trouble seemed to follow her after she escaped from the orphanage so she took to living and acting like a boy. Few bothered to notice the small, puny boy behind the wire-rim glasses, wearing oversized clothes and short hair. When someone discovered her true identity she quickly vacated the town and moved onto another area.

"Boy, get your lazy self out here. Who nailed this piece of propaganda to my wall? You know better than to let riff-raff use my property for their garbage and shenanigans."

"I don't know Mr. Stiles. It was just there. I was out back cooling down Lightning."

"I don't know, Mr. Stiles. I don't know." He repeated in a mocking tone. "I leave the place for a few minutes and you practically give the place away. Such nonsense this Pony Express anyhow. Who'd ever want to ride a hundred miles one way just to turn around and ride back to where he'd come from. Seems pure loco to me." He looked up from the poster and glared at Lou standing in the doorway. "I ain't payin' you to stand around gawking at me. Get back to work and don't let no more of this garbage get put on my walls."

He pushed the flier into her hands and stomped off towards the local saloon. Not knowing what to do with the announcement, she wadded it up and stuffed it into her coat pocket. She had chores to do.

"That should just about wipe you out, Mr. Jennings. Anyone else care to parley a hand or two of poker?" The nattily dressed gambler looked around at the watchful audience, sizing up his crowd. Would they pounce on him for bringing down the snooty Henry W. Jennings or were they cheering his success?

"I am not through yet, Saunders."

Surprised the man didn't accept defeat graciously, James Saunders looked back at his opponent. "Just what do you intend to offer now, Mr. Jennings?"

"My horse. Everyone knows Lightning's the fastest animal in town." "Why don't you race him against them Pony Express boys?" someone from back in the crowd yelled. Saunders saw his chance. He already owned most of Jennings' shares in the shipping company and won all his cash. Dare he take the man's pride and joy as well?

"I'm a wagering man, Mr. Jennings. How about I give you a chance to win back your company stock? You just offered your horse. That contest on Thursday seems like an interesting opportunity. I'll choose someone to ride your horse. If he gets hired by the Express, he wins your horse but you win your stock back." He waved the official documents under the man's nose. "If he looses I keep the stock certificates and take your horse. What's more important Jennings? Your ownership of the company or your precious horse? What did you say its name was again?"

Jennings sat still, his face dark but his mind racing. He knew better than to sit down and play poker with the likes of Saunders and he knew better than to wager all of his property. He could always get another horse though none were as fast as the black gelding. "How do I know whoever you get to ride will even try to win?"

The gambler puckered his lips and said, "Life is a gamble. I already own you lock, stock and barrel. Everyone here heard you wager your horse. We could play one hand of cards where I'd own everything plus your horse or we could take a chance on fate." Jennings chewed on the inside of his lower lip. The crowd in the room offered their opinion. He needed to do something or loose face in this town forever.

"Alright, at least pick someone who can ride."

Saunders looked around the room. Only old men, a few local businessmen and some out of work drovers filled the smoky room. His eyes feel on the old man, sitting alone nursing one shot glass of amber liquid. Smiling he looked up at Jennings and replied nodding in Stiles direction. "That stable boy, the one who wears glasses. I pick him to ride your horse and try to get a job with the Pony Express."

"That kid? He isn't big enough to handle Lightning."

"He ain't available. He works for me and he don't want nothin' to do with that damn foolishness no how."

Saunders rose from his chair and approached the grizzled livery owner. "Now Mr. Stiles. Think of the publicity having one of your own getting hired by an important company like Russells, Major and Waddell. Few right words here and there and you'd have so much business you wouldn't know what to do."

"Yah and I wouldn't have no body to do the work neither. The boy ain't available.""Don't you think we should give him the chance to say yes or no?"

Stiles shook his head, his gray hair waving. "If'n you go ask him and he agrees, just tell him he don't work for me no more."

"You'd fire him?" Jennings queried.

"Damn right I would. Ain't got no time for lazy, good-for-nothin' fellows that got nothin' better to do than sit around drinkin' and making sport of my help. Same goes for that darn Express business too. They ain't hirin' no one from these parts. Just another excuse to get out of a day's work."

The gambler and businessman looked at each other, contemplating their next move. Saunders smiled and nodded his head to the crowd. "What shall it be boys? Ask his kid to ride, given the choice of loosing his job for the slim chance to get another one that's much more dangerous plus a fine horse to boot? Or should I look for someone else?"

"You made your choice. If he don't ride, I get my stock back and I get to keep my horse," Jennings insisted.

The plainly dressed man sat the small table looking over the group of youth gathered, hoping to win a coveted job with the Pony Express. He doubted these eager young boys really understood the danger and hardships of what they were seeking. But it was his job to search Missouri for riders and that he would do. If he hired anyone from this part of the state they were to report to Sweetwater, a thousand miles away, by the end of the month. He hired no one in the last three towns he visited but he'd heard of the additional wager on today's contest here in Jefferson. Jacobs felt sorry for the poor boy being used by the adults in their games of chance. Well he'd see. That boy had to be exceptional before he'd hire him.

"Boys, I pray you have all thought long and hard about this contest. If I do decide to hire any of you, it means leaving immediately after I give you the oath. The rider must report to the Sweetwater Station, west of Fort Casper by the end of the month. Now that's more than a thousand miles from here and just three and a half weeks to get there on your own horse. The first express run will commence April 3rd from St. Joe."

"Mr., we're ready to ride. Enough talking; get on with the contest." The older men in the audience looked on with greedy gleams. More wagering than Saunder's and Jenning's were on the line with the outcome of this day.

Jacobs explained the course to the eager applicants and they took their positions. Each rider needed to complete a designated course within a limited time, including dismounting, unsaddling and resaddling their horse. Near the end of the race each rider needed to exchange mounts with another boy and ride the new animal to the finish line. The city streets soon became engulfed with a cloud of fine dust as the hopeful candidates attempted to outride the previous contestants. An hour later three hopefuls stood near Jacobs table waiting for the final instructions. "Bobby Fetters, Abel Smith and Lou McCloud. Before we go any further I need to know. Are you sure you want to leave your homes and family, to work long, I mean long hours in the saddle, just to turn around and do it all over again the next day? The natives don't want you there; the outlaws will try to stop you; even God himself ain't very forgiving out there sending weather like you ain't never seen the likes of here in our green, lush state. Your life will be your work, living with the other riders with no privacy. Eatin' dust for most of your meals. The heat and dust, the cold and blizzards. There's never a good time in that desert. Think about it. If you got any goodbys to say get them said now. In five minutes we'll have one last contest with pistols and then I make my choice. Ain't no one gonna look down on you if you decide to quit right here."

"Give the boys a chance. Quit with all your gloom and doom old man. We got money on this here outcome!"

Only one stood before Adolph Jacobs that early March day and recited the Pony Express oath. "I do hereby swear, before the Great and Living God, that during my engagement, and while I am an employee of Russell, Majors & Waddell, that I will, under no circumstances, use profane language; that I will drink no intoxicating liquors; that I will not quarrel or fight with any other employee of the firm, and that in every respect I will conduct myself honestly, be faithful to my duties, and so direct all my acts as to win the confidence of my employers. So help me God."

She mounted her new black horse, a Bible in her saddlebag, a cash advance in her pants pocket and a new future waiting over the horizon.

"Glad I never got him mad at me."

"Did you see where Lou hit that target. I never knew the kid could shoot like that."

"Good luck Lou," waved Bobby as he watched his friend ride toward a new life.

Approaching the cluster of buildings, the small rider, astride the black horse, rode with trepidation. Beginning a new job scared most people. It wasn't the work that caused fear, but the idea of living, eating and sleeping with a group of strangers. Would they get along or would the others be out to prove themselves to each other and the world? The rider looked around for signs of the other new employees. Weren't they to report to the Sweetwater Station by today? Several horses grazed the new spring grass inside the corral while a couple of horses, still wearing their gear, stood tied to the fence. Voices from behind the small barn revealed the presence of someone.

Slowly dismounting, the wiry rider neared the voices, pulling her hat down low, and buttoned the oversized coat, ready for the first test. Five boys stood leaning against the fence, staring at the horse trough. The recent arrival joined the end of the line, not daring to look at the others down the line but quickly glanced at only the nearest one. He stood almost a head taller and wore fringed buckskin clothes and boots. No one spoke as an older man slowly emerged from the water trough and began wiping his face with a nearby horse's tail.

"Bear grease boys. The savor of health!" Was this their boss, the head of this station? Water ran off the grimy clinging long johns as the gray haired, older man pulled on pants and boots. The embarrassed boys, trying not to laughed, stared at the ground, waiting for him to finish dressing. Though he looked a mite touched a certain intelligence showed through his blue eyes.

"Name's Teaspoon Hunter. I'm the head of this here station, and you've got a bag of tricks to learn.

They watched as the older man inspected each of the new recruits to the Pony Express.

"Half blood, huh?"

"Kiowa," answered the raven-haired boy at the far end of the row.

Teaspoon asked him the origins of several arrows. He moved down the line asking each boy some questions, "Hair trigger?"

The boy dressed in black responded in a cocky voice. The next one was bald and didn't talk. Further down the line, one showed off his prowess with a rifle. What kind of a crew was this? Finally the old man stopped before the boy in buckskins, asking, "Got a rifle?" The russet haired boy shook his head. "Want me to issue you one?"

"I'd rather save the weight," was his reply.

The stationmaster shook his head; "You don't seem as thick as these others. We'll see."

Oh dear, the last in line worried anxiously as the man stood looking down at the puny prospective rider. "You sure you can handle this?" Without answering, she removed her wire-frames spectacles, handed them to the older man and quickly ran toward the horse standing next to the trough. She'd show them, after a few tricks of her own on the horse, that though she was small she could handle this job. Jumping the trough, she dismounted and walked back to his place in line. Impressed, the stationmaster handed back the glasses and said, "Puny but spry."

Relieved to have passed the first test, Lou joined the other boys as Hunter explained what was expected of them, how they would help tie together the United States, riding the mail across the country. Their training and adventures were about to begin.

The End

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