Her Lonely Heart: Hearts of Courage

By Cynthia Hickey

Widow Sadie Mathewson wants to find love again.

But when an injured pony express rider shows up at her station, love finds her in an unexpected way. Luke Stetson arrives at Sadie's pony express station searching for his runaway brother. He doesn't expect to have to stay, nor does he expect to fall in love with the lovely, lonely widow. Circumstances spiral out of control.

Can the two come together to protect those they love and admit their love for each other?

• Language: English
• Publisher: Cynthia Hickey
• Release date: Jul 13, 2022
• ISBN: 9798201534004

Cynthia Hickey

Multi-published and best-selling author, Cynthia Hickey, has taught writing at many conferences and small writing retreats. She and her husband run the publishing press, Winged Publications, which includes some of the CBA's best well-known authors. They live in Arizona and Arkansas, becoming snowbirds with two dogs and one cat. They have ten grandchildren who them busy and tell everyone they know that "Nana is a writer."   

Book preview

"Never will I leave you;

never will I forsake you."[

Hebrews 13:5b

Cottonwood Station, Kansas, 1860

Chapter One

Sadie Mathewson shaded her eyes against the harsh prairie sun. The Pony Express rider was over an hour late and his replacement had long since finished his biscuits and gravy.

I gotta go, Mrs. Mathewson. The lanky replacement rider slapped his hat on his head. Whatever the fella is carryin’ will have to go with the next rider through here. I’ll go late, after him.

Yes, I’ll fetch your horse.

I’m going with him. Josiah, her twelve-year-old son, stomped from the house.

No, son. We’ve gone over this before. The advertisement said orphans preferred.

Preferred, not mandatory. His face wore a sullen look. This trading post is boring. I want adventure.

I thought you enjoyed the horses and watching the wagon trains head west.

Not anymore. I want to be a Pony Express rider.

Just last week, he wanted to be a farmer. We’ve gone over this subject until I’m numb. We’ll speak no more about it. Sadie twitched her skirts and headed into the cool dimness of the building where her ten-year-old daughter Ruth wiped down the one counter.

Is Josiah really going to join the Pony Express? Ruth tossed the rag into a bucket. I want to go. I don’t see why girls can’t ride horses.

Girls can ride horses, just not as Express riders. Maybe the paper wasn’t such a good idea for her children to read. It put ridiculous notions in their heads.

Ma? Come quick. Josiah peered into the building just long enough to call out for her.

What now? Sometimes the duty of running the post and exchange station was more than Sadie could bear. She missed her husband. With a heavy sigh, she joined her son outside.

A rider, leading another horse, headed toward the station. As he got closer, Sadie was able to see that he was an Indian. On the second horse slouched a smaller form. Josiah, fetch my rifle. Quick now.

He dashed away, returning as the Indian stopped in front of Sadie. She cradled the rifle in her arms. State your business.

I found rider. He slung his leg over the saddle horn and slid to the ground. Boy fell from horse and hit head. He yours?

While she’d not had trouble with the neighboring Kickapoo tribe, Sadie kept her distance and moved to the other side of the boy’s horse. The leather mochila draped over the horse’s flanks clued her in to the poor boy’s identity. He’s a Pony Express rider.

I take into hut. The Indian pulled the boy into his arms and marched into the building.

Sadie hurried, but not before Ruth let out a blood-curdling scream at the sight of their visitor. Hush, child, and fix a pallet in the corner. She propped her rifle against the counter. I thank you, Mister...

Name Fox. He laid the boy on a worn quilt.

Well, Mr. Fox. I’d like to repay you for your kindness.

He straightened and fixed stern dark eyes on her before his gaze moved to the shelves. I take that red cloth.

Very well. She’d hoped to sew herself and Ruth new dresses, but hopefully someone would come along with more material to trade. A boy’s life was more important than vanity, anyway. She pulled the bolt of fabric from the shelf and handed it to Mr. Fox.

You no man?

She stiffened. He’s gone.

Away or dead?

Dead.

You the nice widow people talk about. He gave a nod and ducked back outside. Seconds later, the sound of hoofbeats signaled he’d left.

Sadie sagged against the counter to catch her breath then knelt next to the unconscious boy. Blood matted dark hair over a lump the size of a chicken egg. Josiah!

Yeah?

Excuse me? She narrowed her eyes.

I mean...yes ma’am?

Much better. I need clean water and rags. Ruth, fetch me the canteen.

While her children scurried to do her bidding, she ran her hands over the boy’s arms and legs looking for fractures. Nothing appeared broken. God willing, he’d open his eyes soon and tell her his name.

Here’s the water. I’ll care for the horse. Josiah stared down at the boy. I could take his place, Ma.

No. She dipped the rag into the water and worked at washing the boy’s face and wound. I said to say no more about riding. You’re the man of the house with your pa gone. What would I do without you? Loneliness already assailed her from morning to night. With one of her children gone, she feared her knees would buckle from the weight of it and she’d never get up again.

~

What do you mean he’s gone? Luke Stetson folded his newspaper and set it on the table next to his empty plate.

Mrs. Rotsman, his housekeeper, twisted her apron in her hands then dug a note from her pocket. He left you this.

Luke frowned and unfolded the slip of paper. Gone to be a Pony Express rider. Will come back when I’m grown. Mark.

That confounded boy! Luke had told his younger brother numerous times that he wasn’t a good enough rider for the Pony Express. At fourteen, he was frail and small for his age, not to mention his frequent bouts of asthma. Ma must be rolling over in her grave at the misconduct of her youngest. When had he found the time to disappear and sign up?

What do you plan to do, son? Father peered over the financial section of the paper. I’ve a medical office to run. One I hope to leave to you someday. I can’t go traipsing after that fool boy.

I’ll have to go after him. Luke didn’t have time to chase a wayward boy either. He groaned and pushed to his feet. Pack me enough food for a week, please, Mrs. Rotsman. I’ll be leaving within the hour. Mark couldn’t have gotten far. All Luke needed to do was follow the Express trail.

Make it fast. Father rattled the paper. There’s business a plenty for both of us here.

By hour’s end Luke had saddled his horse and headed west, his father’s orders to bring Mark back quickly ringing through his head. Ten miles later, he came to the last stop in Kansas, the Cottonwood Station. He dismounted and looped the reins