Daring Rescue at Sonora Pass

By Stephen Bly

The Joyton family runs a station for the famed Butterfield Stage Line on a mountain pass in southern Arizona Territory. It is a pleasant, solitary life until a stagecoach arrives with a dead man inside. They are told the mysterious man accidentally shot himself. But 14-year-old Drew Joyton suspects foul play. A new family arrives and begins to build a store, even though there is no town nearby. Meanwhile, a dangerous stranger appears. Then hostile Apaches pin down two wagon drivers headed for the pass. As Drew and his sister Blaze risk their lives to help the wounded men to safety, their family comes together to conquer some of the dangers of the untamed Western frontier. Through all these adventures, the Joytons' unreserved commitment to one another and their unflagging faith inspire those who meet them.

• Language: English
• Publisher: Bly Books
• Release date: Jan 4, 2014
• ISBN: 9781311259134

Stephen Bly

Stephen Bly (1944-2011) authored and co-authored with his wife, Janet Chester Bly, more than 100 books, both historical and contemporary fiction and nonfiction. He won the Christy Award in the category western novel for The Long Trail Home, from The Fortunes of the Black Hills Series. Other novels were Christy Award finalists: The Outlaw's Twin Sister, Picture Rock, and Last of the Texas Camp. His last novel, Stuart Brannon's Final Shot, finished with the help of his widow, Janet Chester Bly, and three sons--Russell, Michael, and Aaron--was a SELAH Award finalist. She just completed her first solo adult Indie novel, Wind in the Wires, Book 1, Trails of Reba Cahill.

Book preview

Adventures on the American Frontier Series

Book One

Daring Rescue At Sonora Pass

Stephen Bly

Smashwords Edition

Daring Rescue At Sonora Pass

Copyright © 2003,2013 by publisher Janet Chester Bly

Smashwords Edition, License Notes

This ebook is licensed for your personal enjoyment only. This ebook may not be re-sold or given away to other people. If you would like to share this book with another person, please purchase an additional copy for each recipient. If you’re reading this book and did not purchase it, or it was not purchased for your use only, then please return to Smashwords.com and purchase your own copy. Thank you for respecting the hard work of this author.

Dedication:

for my trail partners

at Heights Elementary

Clarkston, Washington

"And who knoweth

whether thou art

come to the kingdom

for such a time as this?"

Esther 4:14 (KJV)

CHAPTER ONE

Friday, June 1st, 1859, Sonora Pass Station, Arizona Territory

Talby Joyton hurdled the low adobe wall and waved a brass telescope above his head. They just passed Scalp Creek and Whap Martin is holdin' the ribbons.

How many on top? Ceva Joyton called from the front step of the station.

Two others besides Whap and J.J.

Mrs. Joyton spun and ducked under the five foot, five inch doorway. Blaze, set the table for twelve with two spares in the kitchen.

Drew Joyton led two black horses to his father at the rail. Whap is drivin'. We've got time. He never wants to hurry mama's cookin'.

Rand Joyton harnessed the two horses as easy as leashing a cocker spaniel. It don't matter, son. We hook them up as fast as we can. No driver has ever had to wait at Sonora Pass. You know that's our reputation.

Talby raced over to his brother and father. You reckon they have my balsa wood?

I told you it would take two months to get that balsa here from New York City. Maybe longer, Drew said.

I don't know why it should take so long. I could ride the stagecoach to St. Louis, take a train to New York and buy it and come back here quicker than that.

Mr. Joyton laughed. I reckon you could.

Talby sprinted to the ladder that leaned against the house. You want me to go on the roof and signal you?

Fine, since you're goin' do it whether I say so or not, Mr. Joyton said.

Drew brought another pair of gray horses out of the corral.

They just passed Deception Rock, Talby shouted from his perch next to the granite river rock chimney on top the cedar shake roof.

Mrs. Joyton stooped through the doorway. Do you see any women in the coach?

A red hen led her chicks across the packed dirt yard.

Can't see no one in the coach. They must be leanin' back and sleepin', Talby shouted.

No one sleeps coming up Sonora Pass grade with Whap Martin driving, Mrs. Joyton remarked. Drew, when you're through helping Daddy, draw me up another bucket of well water, only strain out the bugs this time.

Blaze Joyton crouched under the short door frame. Everything is all set, Mama.

Thanks, honey. Pour the coffee as soon as Whap stops the wagon.

Drew waited by his father with the horses. Joyton women are quite handsome, Daddy. Did you ever notice that?

I think I might have recognized that fact a time or two.

Maybe they are the purdiest red-headed mama and daughter in the territory, Drew added.

That's quite an observation for a fourteen-year-old. I know they are the tallest mama and daughter pair in the territory. Mr. Joyton harnessed the horses.

I think I'm as tall as mama. You need to measure me again.

You'll be taller than me within the year. I've got this crew about lashed down. You go stand ready for that six-up that Whap is bringin' us.

They're at Washburn Creek and Whap ain't slowin' them one tad, Talby shouted down.

Whap always drives like he was tryin' to impress Mr. Butterfield himself, Mr. Joyton said. Must be behind schedule.

Drew settled by the road, next to the low adobe wall, and surveyed the grounds. To the south stretched the treeless, smooth-topped Dragoon Mountains. In the foreground, large granite boulders the size of privies outlined the yard. Three green leafed cottonwoods circled the well. The adobe fenced corrals checkered against the base of Frenchman's Mountain. The tall, adobe barn resembled a Spanish Mission from a distance and fooled more than one pilgrim.

The station house sprawled room by room across the mountain pass, surrounded by a three foot adobe wall and a packed dirt yard, home to six to twelve chickens, depending on the shade. A northern mountain dropped off like a giant slide. Drew could see across the valley for a hundred empty miles.

While Mr. Joyton, six-up team in hand, waited at the corrals, Mrs. Joyton in green gingham with white apron stood with arms crossed at the road's opening.

Sixteen-year-old Blaze played with her long, auburn braid on the front step. The shortest of the Joytons, twelve-year-old Talby, scouted from the shake roof of the station as twenty-four hooves thundered closer. Dry axles squeaked. The fog of yellow brown dirt raced ahead of the stagecoach.

Whap Martin yelled commands, yanked the lead lines, and stomped on the hand brake. The huge Concord Stagecoach slid to a stop between Drew and his mother.

J.J. Jones shoved his shotgun under the coach seat and climbed down.

Afternoon, Mrs. Joyton, Whap hollered as if hooves still pounded.

Welcome to Sonora Pass, all of you. How many for dinner, Mr. Martin?

Drew unhitched the team.

Only us four. Whap hopped down.

Mrs. Joyton glanced again at the coach. Only four? No one's in the coach?

Just that dead man, J.J. Jones replied. Don't reckon he'll be eatin'.

Oh, dear, did you have Apache trouble again?

A man in expensive gray suit and gray hat covered with yellow-brown dirt, climbed off the stage. No, ma'am. He shot himself.

A small, unshaven man with nervous, dark eyes, suit coat patched at the elbows, white shirt with yellowed collar, also scooted down. He yanked his pocket pistol and accidentally plumb shot himself in the heart. I ain't never seen anything like it.

Drew lead the six horse team away from the wagon. By the time he pulled the rigging and turned the horses out, everyone retired to the station dining room except his father. Is that man really dead, Daddy?

Mr. Joyton hooked up fresh horses to the stagecoach. Take a peek for yourself.

Drew shoved his black boot on the step. A man in a black frock coat slumped over the rear seat. Did he really shoot himself?

That's what the two passengers said.

Why was he pulling his gun?

That's what they don't know. They thought he was reaching for a cigar. Suddenly there was an explosion.

What are we goin' to do?

Hook up this team and eat dinner. The dead man's okay for now. You go on.

Drew leaned down to enter the dining room. Big northern windows brightened the room without any lanterns. The two drivers and two passengers sat at one end of the long table set for twelve, with Talby at the other end.

Mrs. Joyton and Blaze served the food from large, bright colored pottery bowls.

Is your daddy comin' in? Whap Martin mumbled through a big bite of stew.

The multi-colored hooked rug muted Drew's steps. Yes, sir. He'll be right in.

The stage driver waved his knife. Did you boys ever see a family as tall as the Joytons? Makes me and J.J. seem like dwarfs ever' time we stop. Must be the spring water here at Sonora Pass.

Drew plopped down next to his brother. Talby, did you see that dead guy? he whispered.

No, Mama wouldn't let me. Did you?

Yeah.

How did he look?

Drew shrugged. Dead.

Was there blood and guts ever'where?

He was so slumped over, I couldn't see anything like that.

Was his eyes open?

Couldn't tell.

You're no help.

Blaze set out bowls of apple cobbler, then scooted on the bench next to Drew. He handed her the stew. I'm not very hungry. I can't believe we are calmly eating and there's a dead man in the stage.

What are we supposed to do?