Messenger by Moonlight by Stephanie Grace Whitson Page A

decide about the ball later,” Emmet said. “Right now, we’re supposed to meet Jake Finney and the others in the lobby. Apparently the riders all parade into the dining room together.”
    She might not go to the ball, Annie decided, but she couldn’t miss supper. She was too hungry. “Just give me a minute to ‘reconstitute,’” she said and shoved them both toward the door, closing it behind them.
    Slipping out of her blue calico, she washed up, all the while wishing she had an ensemble worthy of the hotel. She lifted her only other outfit out of the trunk. It, too, was calico, with small bouquets of bright pink and blue flowers scattered across a deep plum background. Not quite as faded as the blue, which had been her favorite for a long time.
    She wove a bit of blue ribbon through her hair and then stared at herself in the mirror for a moment. A lace collar and cuffs would be a great improvement. Ah, well. Finally, she removed her boots, peeled off her red stockings, and pulled on the nicer ivory pair. Next, she retrieved Ma’s old slippers from atop the silk gown. She didn’t know if she’d have the courage to so much as step into the ballroom, but if she did, she wasn’t about to clomp about with her feet clad in worn-out boots.

    In spite of his reluctance to leave the dream world, Frank awoke. Opening his eyes, he lifted his head and peered into the darkness until finally, moonlight confirmed it. He and Emmet really were here at the Patee House. He closed his eyes, smiling at the memory of men cheering. Remembering how happy Annie had been as he waltzed her around and around a vast ballroom. The future really did look promising. With a low grunt of satisfaction, he stretched and yawned.
    “What time is it?” Emmet muttered.
    “Time for chores.” He gave a low laugh. “Oh… wait. We don’t have any today.” With one hand, he reached over and gave Emmet a friendly nudge. “Time for bacon and eggs and ham and grits. All we can eat, courtesy of the Pony Express. Just the thought makes me hungry.”
    Emmet didn’t move. “How can you possibly be hungry? We both ate as much last night as we usually get in a week.”
    “And I’m going to eat as much again today.” Frank threw back the covers. “No ‘making do,’ no doing without. Ever again.” He pulled his jeans on. “I’m going down to the livery to spend some time with Outlaw before breakfast. I’ll catch up with you and Annie later.”
    “Outlaw? Why?”
    Frank answered while pulling on his boots. “He lost his job because of you and me. But he’s still not really broke, which makes him worth exactly nothing. No livery owner is going to keep a horse that can’t be ridden. If I can gentle Outlaw so he’s worth something, Ira might be grateful enough to agree to turn Bill and Bart out to pasture instead of—well, what we both know will probably happen to them.”
    “You going soft in your old age?”
    Frank could hear the smile in his brother’s voice. “Always have been soft when it comes to Annie, and she cares about those mules.”
    Emmet grunted. “Not that you aren’t good with horses, but we aren’t going to be in town long enough for you to turn Outlaw into a Sunday-go-to-meeting horse.”
    Frank shrugged into his shirt. “Then maybe I can turn him into a hell-bent-for-leather trail horse.”
    Emmet opened his eyes. “The truth comes out. You’re hoping to ride the outlaw west.” He lit the lamp on the table next to the bed and reached for the Bible he’d left out the previous night. “More power to ya. Think I’ll read a bit. Maybe write Luvina. Then I’ll rouse Annie and we’ll walk down together. It’s time to decide once and for all about the rig—and the mules. Maybe you could talk to Ira about your idea?”
    “I will. See you later.” Frank left the hotel alone. The streets were quiet, and instead of going straight to the livery, he decided this would be a good time to meander a bit. He spent most of his