The man quoted the cost for the service, and Paden extended him the coins. “I need to secure tickets for the stagecoach, then I will be back to unload our trunk and bags.”
“Aye. The stagecoach is leaving soon. You best hurry,” the man directed.
Extending his arm toward Rosalie, they hurried across the dusty main road toward a building bearing a crude sign hanging over the door, announcing ‘Barlow Dispatch & Grizzly’s Peak Express’. They stepped into the small room and saw a young man with a broad face and a large nose sitting at a lone desk. He rose respectfully when he saw Rosalie.
“Howdy, folks. My name is Tim Rowdy, and I am the station keeper. What can I do for the two of you?”
“We would like two tickets for the stagecoach heading to Shelbrook,” Paden said.
The man’s face paled. “Are you sure, sir? It would be best if you waited for tomorrow’s trip.”
“Why is that?” Rosalie asked, her warm voice brightening the dingy room.
Tugging down on his worn, blue vest, the station keeper replied, “I am not at liberty to say, ma’am. All I can say is that this leg of the journey has been attacked multiple times by a group of ruthless road agents, and there is a greater risk that it might be attacked today.”
“What are road agents?” Rosalie asked, bringing her hand up to her chest and playing the part of a simpering woman very well. “Is that another name for Indians?”
Mr. Rowdy shook his head. “No, ma’am. ‘Road agents’ is a term we use for stagecoach robbers.”
“For what purpose would these men want to attack a stagecoach?” she pressed.
Opening his mouth, the station keeper started to respond, then he shut it quickly and shook his head. “I can’t say. I’m sorry.”
Paden had respect for this young man, because he doubted that he could have held his tongue with Rosalie looking at him like that. “Regardless, we will take our chances.”
“All right, but don’t say that I didn’t warn you,” Mr. Rowdy sighed as he reached into his desk and produced two tickets. “The good news is that there are only four other passengers that will be joining you. Typically, this stage fills up with nine passengers.”
Stepping forward, Paden paid the station keeper and collected the tickets. “When does the stagecoach depart?”
Mr. Rowdy looked at the clock. “It will leave promptly in twenty minutes.”
“Where is the mercantile located?” he inquired, eliciting a curious glance from Rosalie.
“Just two buildings over.”
As they stepped back onto the porch, Paden turned toward Rosalie and grew serious. “Since you turned down Sheriff Vance’s proposal, I think it is only fair that I treat you to a ready-made gown from the mercantile. Perhaps some ribbon too.”
“You heard that?”
He nodded. “I did. I thought he was quite generous in offering you a new gown that you didn’t have to make yourself. Frankly, I was surprised you didn’t agree to his proposal.”
She smiled, her countenance radiating happiness. “I missed this.”
“Me teasing you?”
“Yes. And a reason to smile.”
Before he could respond, the stagecoach pulled up and the driver shouted, “All aboard.”
Paden chuckled. “The dress will have to wait, my dear. Apparently, the stagecoach is early today.”
Chapter 5
Rosalie sat next to Paden in the back row of the stagecoach with her hands firmly in her lap. She didn’t want to be foolish enough to reach for his hand, despite being close enough that they were constantly brushing up against each other. Stubborn tendrils of hair were sticking to her skin due to the stifling heat inside the coach.
On the bench directly across from them sat an older lady, who introduced herself as Mrs. Weipert, and her sixteen-year-old granddaughter, Margaret. The woman’s faded brown hair was pulled into a tight bun, and she was wearing a worn dress of brown calico with a high neck. Every so often, Mrs. Weipert and Rosalie would catch each other’s eye and smile cordially at each other. It would be polite to engage in small talk, considering their closeness in the cramped stagecoach, but Rosalie wasn’t interested.
The far bench held a middle-aged couple, and the lady’s head was resting against the man’s shoulder. They both were dressed in black clothing, and Rosalie assumed they were in mourning.
“How long have you two been married?” Mrs. Weipert asked with a subtle German accent, her kind eyes darting between Paden and Rosalie.
An easy smile came to Paden’s lips, almost appearing as if he had anticipated the question. “We got married this morning.”
The woman gasped. “Good heavens. You two are newlyweds.”
“We are,” Paden admitted eagerly. He placed his arm over her shoulder, tugging her closer. “We are staying over in Shelbrook for our honeymoon.”
“How exciting,” Mrs. Weipert exclaimed. “I lost my dear husband about five years ago, but we were married for thirty years.”
Paden kissed her cheek, catching her completely off guard. “I can’t wait to spend the rest of my life with Rosalie, and I know she feels the same way,” he declared. “When we were still in the school room, my wife marched up to me and told me that we would be having five children.”
The older woman smiled approvingly. “Five is a good number.”
With a tight smile, Rosalie replied, “But, dear, I was young then. I might have been a little overeager to start a family. I think two, possibly, three children should be sufficient.”
“You are the apple of my eye,” Paden said, clearly enjoying her discomfort. “I want as many young ‘uns as I can get out of you.”
Blast him! He was enjoying making her squirm. Well, two could play at that game, she thought. Placing a hand on his leg, she replied coyly, “You are right, Paden. I can’t wait
