“The hotel has a very good dining room,” Matt said.
“Would you take dinner with us?” Jennie asked.
“I would be honored to.”
“Will I get to see any wild Indians while I am here?” Winnie asked.
“I’m sure that while you are here, you will see some Indians.”
“Are they wild?”
“There is no such thing as a ‘wild’ Indian,” Matt said. “The Indians were living here with their own culture for thousands of years before the white man ever came.”
“I meant no disrespect, sir,” Winnie apologized.
Matt laughed at the boy’s excellent vocabulary. “Young man, I don’t think it would be in your nature to show disrespect to anyone.”
When they reached the hotel, Matt made arrangements for the trunk, then led Jennie and Winnie into the dining room.
Chapter Thirteen
“You’re sure he’ll be on the stagecoach coming from Medicine Bow?” Logan asked.
“I’m quite sure,” Teasdale said. “Mrs. Frewen told my wife that she was expecting her sister and nephew, so she convinced Frewen to send Jensen to Medicine Bow to meet them and take the coach back to Sussex with them.”
Logan nodded. “Good. We can not only get rid of him, we can make it look just like the coach was held up. Which it will be.”
“Remember, no harm is to come to Lady Churchill or her son,” Teasdale said.
“Why not? If they get kilt too, it would just make it seem even more like it wasn’t nothin’ but a stagecoach holdup.”
“No!” Teasdale said. “Nothing is to happen to the woman or her child. I must insist on that.”
“All right, nothing will happen to them. They’ll just have a little excitement they can talk about when they get back to England.”
“And, while I don’t want to tell you how to run your business, I would suggest that you don’t wear your yellow scarves for this.”
“Oh, don’t worry none about that,” Logan said. “We won’t be the ones doin’ it. I’ve got some friends that sort of specialize in holdin’ up stagecoaches.”
Back in Medicine Bow, Matt, Jennie and Winnie were taking their dinner at the dining room of the Railroad Hotel. “I’m quite sure I have never eaten buffalo,” Jennie said after they ordered their dinner. “What does it taste like?”
“It has a somewhat lighter and sweeter taste than beef,” Matt explained. “And it’s not as fat.”
“Have you ever shot your gun?” Winnie asked.
“I’ve shot it, yes.”
“Have you ever shot anyone with it?”
“Winnie!” Jennie scolded. “What an awful question to ask!”
“It’s all right,” Matt said. “I know that boys his age are interested in such things.”
“Well, have you?” Winnie asked.
“Yes,” Matt answered without elaborating.
“I have read of cowboys, and how they can draw their guns very quickly and shoot very accurately,” Winnie said. “Are you very fast, and can you shoot very accurately?”
“There is something much more important than being fast and accurate,” Matt said.
“What could possibly be more important than that?”
“The most important thing in any fight is who is right and who is wrong. You must always be on the side of right, and by that I don’t just mean what is legal, I mean what is morally and ethically right.”
“I will remember that, Mr. Jensen,” Winnie said.
Although there was a stagecoach depot, the Railroad Hotel had an arrangement with the stagecoach company to stop at the hotel to deliver or pick up passengers. Matt, Jennie and Winnie barely had time to finish their breakfast the next morning before the coach arrived out front to pick them up.
Winnie was most intrigued by the great Concord Coach. Considered the finest passenger vehicle of the time, the stagecoach could seat as many as nine people on the three inside benches. It was big, with the driver and another man sitting up over the front wheels. The team consisted of six horses, more horses than Winnie had ever seen in one team.
For this trip, there were only six passengers and Matt was glad, because the fewer passengers there were, the more comfortable was the coach.
Matt secured the backseat for them because he thought it would be more comfortable if they were looking forward. Also, the mounting of the coach on the leather through braces, plus the heavy load in the boot, meant that anyone sitting in the front seat would be leaning forward slightly, whereas those on the rear seat would have some support for their backs.
They started out with Winnie riding between them, but as the trip grew longer, he asked to be by the window so he could see outside. That rearrangement put Jennie in the middle of the seat, pressed up against Matt. Matt thought the closeness would make Jennie uncomfortable, but she didn’t seem to mind.
“How long before we get to Uncle Moreton’s ranch?” Winnie asked.
“We’ll be there by this time tomorrow,” Matt replied.
The coach averaged between five and seven miles per hour while underway, but every twelve miles the driver would blow his trumpet as a signal to the operators of the way stops. The stops were very brief, just long enough for the passengers to attend to whatever personal needs may be necessary, and to attach a new and fresh team which, because the hostler had been notified by the bleat of the trumpet, was already in harness waiting to be attached to the coach.
At their noon stop they had a meal of stewed dried apples, fried ham, biscuits, and coffee. For supper that evening they had eggs, potatoes, beans, steak, honey, and baked bread. Matt had taken many stagecoach trips and he knew that this was much better food than the normal fare. He was sure that the meals weren’t up to the standard that Jennie was used to, but he was pleased that she didn’t complain.
By late afternoon, the other three passengers had left the coach so that only Matt, Jennie and Winnie remained. Then it got dark, but the coach continued.
“I would have thought we would be stopped for the night by now,” Jennie said. Where will we stop?” Jennie asked.
“We won’t.”
“You mean we will be riding in this thing all night long?”
“Yes, but it won’t be so bad,” Matt said. “There are only three of us, so it shouldn’t be that hard for us to get some sleep.”
“Get some sleep where? How?”
“Here,” Matt said. “Let me show you.”
Reaching up to the middle and the front seat, Matt folded them down. The result was a flattened cushioned area that could be used as a bed.
“We’ve also got blankets,” Matt said, producing them from a compartment under the middle seat. “And believe me, the nights up here are cold, even at this time of year.”
Spreading one blanket out over the folded-down seats, Matt invited Jennie and her son to lay down. Then he lay down beside them and pulled the other blanket over them.
Jennie chuckled.
“What is it?” Matt asked.
“I had almost forgotten how quaint America could be,” Jennie said with a chuckle. “I’ve known you only two days and already we are going to bed together.”
Matt cleared his throat in embarrassment. “If you would prefer, I can ride on top of the coach tonight.”
“Nonsense. Please forgive my joking. I meant nothing by it.”
The coach was well sprung and the road was smooth, and that, plus the normal exhaustion of travel, enabled all three to get to sleep rather quickly that night. When they went to sleep, Winnie was lying between Matt and Jennie. But when Matt woke up at one of the middle-of-the-night stops, Jennie had changed places with Winnie and was now lying with her head on Matt’s shoulder.
“Uhmm,” she said, sleepily. “Why have we stopped?” She kissed Matt just under his ear, and he sat up quickly.