Night Rider

I heard them coming.
Cowboys in the wind today.
Heard their horses too.
The pony express riders.

~Caren Krutsinger

Chapter Text

Eliana walked demurely until she had passed out of the view of the kitchen window. Although Ma never said anything, Eliana knew that she was watching her. But now that Ma couldn't see, she pushed her bonnet back and skipped down the boardwalk. It had been a long morning of hard work, as usual, and it was certainly a relief to just throw her head back and allow herself the freedom she had longed for since sunup. It wasn't that she resented the work, it was just satisfying, not to mention glorious, to be finished. Just a trip to the general store... and she loved the store.

It was a dusty, windblown day... no different really than any other day in the wilds of Wyoming. Eliana held her sun-browned face to the wind, not minding the loose strands of hair that whipped around her. One thing that could certainly be said in North Platte's favor was that it was a peaceful, friendly sort of town. Good place to raise a family. No one was a stranger there, at least, not for long. And everyone Eliana passed greeted her by name.

"Afternoon, Ellie, how are all the Carters?" Elderly Mr. Wilson peered at her over his dusty spectacles with a kindly smile as he came from the back of the little store, wiping his hands on a huge brown apron that, in spite of its size, just barely covered his ample front.

"Afternoon, Mr. Wilson," Eliana returned brightly. "We're all right... except that we've run completely out of sugar."

"Out of sugar?" Mr. Wilson shook his head sadly. "A terrible calamity for any family. Just step right up here and I'll see if I can get ya fixed up."

As Eliana deposited her basket on the counter, Mr. Wilson busied himself with prying the lid off the sugar barrel. Long rows of carefully-polished glass jars lined the front of the counter, all filled with striped candies. Luxuries. Eliana no more than glanced at them for her attention was drawn, as it always was, to the shelf along the opposite wall, filled to its capacity with tattered paperbacks. It was all the library that the little town could boast... a few volumes of poetry but mostly poor-quality dime novels. Eliana ached for more and better literature for she had read nearly each of those old books two or three times but books were even slower than mail in coming. Mail reminded her of the express rider she had seen the day before and she turned back to Mr. Wilson who was carefully weighing out the twenty pounds of sugar she had requested.

"Did ya see the express rider yesterday?"

"Sure did, Ellie. Ridin' jest as fast as the wind, he was. Blew a cloud o' dust all over my windows." He sounded disapproving but the twinkling blue eyes were beaming at her over the spectacles. Eliana often wondered why he even bothered wearing them when he was always looking over the tops of them.

"D'ya know who he is?"

"Cain't rightly say, Ellie, cain't rightly say." Mr. Wilson deftly tied a knot in the top of the burlap sack and placed it into the basket. "Anything else I kin get ya?"

"A jar of honey and another of molasses, I think that's all," Eliana frowned. She had forgotten once again the list her mother had made for her.

"Coming right up. As I was sayin', Ellie, this here rider is jes' like all the others... no one really knows where any o' them came from. The important thing is jes' that they came."

"I suppose so," Eliana leaned on the counter as Mr. Wilson added the molasses and honey to the basket.

"Ya plannin' on makin' anything sweet?" he spoke casually but Eliana could hear the eager note of hope in his voice. Mr. Wilson had lost his wife a few years back and now cooked for himself. He had often commented on what he regarded the terrible quality of his baking and more than once had hinted for contributions.

"You'll have to wait and see," Eliana laughed, taking the basket from the counter. "I'll see ya later, Mr. Wilson,"

That evening, as Eliana finished the last of the supper dishes, she looked up suddenly, straining to hear over the chatter of voices coming from the main room. Out in the street was the sound of galloping hoofbeats once again. Eagerly she ran to throw open the door. It was dark but by the light of the moon and the flickering flame of the lantern she had snatched up from the table, she could just make out the figure of the horse and rider returning from the opposite direction... carrying the western mail east. Once again she waved and he called back in answer, though what he said, she never could tell. Only a moment and he vanished into the darkness of the prairie night.