“Uhmm,” she said, sleepily. “Why have we stopped?” She kissed Matt just under his ear, and he sat up quickly.
“To change teams,” he said.
“Oh!” Jennie gasped. She put her hand over her mouth. “Oh, my goodness what did I ... oh, please forgive me. I must have been dreaming!”
“It’s all right, no harm done,” Matt said. “I’ll, uh, step outside and see what is going on.”
They were at the Soda Lake way station, and here the driver and guard that had brought the stage from Medicine Bow were being relieved by a new driver and guard. Matt was standing outside the coach as the switch was made and he recognized Ed Mercier, the new driver, and Gary Conners, the new shotgun guard. Their regular route was between Sussex and the Soda Lake station, and Matt had met them on the way down. The driver and guard were both small men, the company believing that the smaller the drivers and shotgun guards were, the less they would weigh and the easier it would be on the horses.
“Hello, Mr. Jensen,” Ed said as he approached the coach. “Did you meet the passengers you went for?”
“Yes, they are asleep in the coach,” Matt said.
“Ah, then I’ll shut up so as not to wake them,” Ed said. He took a chew of tobacco, then walked forward to check on the horses. In the meantime, the driver who had brought them this far stretched and yawned, then headed for the way station and some much-needed sleep.
Ed came back from checking the team, spit out a wad of tobacco, then signaled to his shotgun guard. “Climb up there, Gary, and let’s get this thing on the road.”
By mid-morning the next day, they had picked up three more passengers: a grandmother, mother, and daughter. The young girl was about nine years old and she quickly developed an interest in Winnie.
“I’ve never heard anyone talk like you do,” the little girl said. “Where do you live?”
“Blenheim Palace near Oxford,” Churchill said.
The girl’s eyes grew big. “You live in a palace?” she asked. “Are you a prince?”
Winnie laughed. “No,” he said. “Your papa has to be a king or your mama a queen for you to be a prince. Papa isn’t a king. He is a lord, but it is an honorary title only, because he is the third son of the Duke of Marlborough.”
Matt was listening to the conversation with amusement as he was looking through the window. That was when saw the riders on the crest of a hill looking down toward the coach. They watched the coach with what seemed to Matt to be an intense degree of interest for a long moment, then all three disappeared on the other side of the hill.
It may have been nothing, but Matt got the feeling that they were up to no good. Without saying anything to anyone inside the coach, he opened the door then climbed up on top.
“My word!” one of the other women said. “Where is he going?”
When Matt got on top of the coach, he moved forward, then tapped the driver on the shoulder.
“Ed, I just saw three riders up on top of the ridge. Maybe it was nothing, but seemed to me like they were checking us over pretty close.”
“It’s good that you spotted them,” Ed said. “We’ll be doing a hairpin turn around the pinnacle up there. There’s a perfect spot for an ambush just around on the other side.”
“How hard would it be for me to go over the hill here, and get behind them?” Matt asked.
“Not all that hard, I don’t reckon. Don’t know if you could get there before I do, though.”
“I can if you slow the team down to a walk,” Matt said.
“All right,” Ed said. He pointed ahead. “Your best bet would probably be to just step off the top of the coach right there just this side of that big rock. That’s about as easy a way across as any.”
“Ha,” the shotgun guard said. “Like you’ve clumb over it before.”
“I didn’t say I’d ever clumb over it,” Ed said. “But I’ve been driving this route for three years, and I know it pretty well.”
“Have you been held up here before?” Matt asked.
“Four times,” Ed answered.
“There won’t be a fifth,” Matt said. “At least not today.”
As the coach approached the rock Ed had pointed out, Matt jumped easily from the top of the coach onto the side of the hill. “Remember, drive slow enough to give me a chance to get over.”
“You got it, Matt,” Ed called as he pulled back on the reins, slowing the team to a walk.
From inside the coach, Winnie saw Matt.
“Mama, Mr. Jensen is climbing over that hill and he has his gun in his hand.”
“Maybe he just doesn’t want the gun to fall out of his holster,” Jennie suggested.
“But why is he climbing that hill?”
When Matt reached the top of the hill, he saw three men waiting behind a row of sagebrush, guns in hand, looking toward the end of the butte where the road would make its turn. He also saw three horses, ground-tethered. Untying the horses, he slapped them on their rumps and sent them running. Then he squatted behind a big rock.
“What the hell! Our horses is gettin’ away!” one of the men said. The three came running back toward their horses.
“You boys just stop right there,” Matt said, raising up from behind them.
