The Blacksmith’s Bravery by Susan Page Davis Page B

said to her, ‘That could be a step toward the job you really want.’ I think it’s progress.”
    Vashti smiled her thanks across the room. “Now, if I can just figure out who to put down as next of kin.”
    â€œWhat’s that for?” Bitsy frowned with her knife hovering above the pie.
    â€œIn case I get killed on the job, I reckon.”
    â€œHumph.”
    Goldie nodded. “That’s what I think, too.”
    Vashti looked down at the paper again. At the top, she’d written as neatly as she could,
Georgia Edwards, age 24, Fergus, Idaho
.
But for “next of kin,” she had few options. The one relative she could think of was the last person she’d want notified on her behalf.
    Bitsy poured the customers’ coffee and set the pot back on the stove. “You’ve lived with me for more than four years, and you’re like kin to me and Augie. Why can’t you just put me down on that paper?”
    Vashti looked over at her. For a moment, she couldn’t speak. Her breath was knocked out of her, and tears filled her eyes. The weathered old Spur & Saddle building had indeed become her home, and Bitsy was closer to her than any legal family had been since she was a small child. “I like that.”
    Bitsy smiled at her. “Go ahead. If Griffin makes a fuss, send him to me. I’ll take care of him.”
    â€œThanks!” Vashti quickly wrote,
Mrs. Augustus Moore, Fergus, Idaho
, and folded up the paper.

    The next morning, Vashti ran along the dirt street, holding her skirt above her ankles. She turned in at the path to the pastor’s house, ran up the steps, and knocked, panting for breath.
    Apphia Benton opened the door. “Well, good morning, Vashti.
    I didn’t expect you until later.”
    â€œI can’t come this afternoon. I just wanted to let you know—I’ll be away.”
    Apphia stepped back and gestured for her to step inside. “Away? Where are you going?”
    â€œSorry, but I can’t stop long. Mr. Bane’s nephew is coming, and he has to go and get him. He’s taking the Boise stage today. But he’d been planning to ride shotgun to Silver City, in the other direction, so I’m taking his place.”
    â€œWhat? My dear, do come sit down and explain this to me. Surely you’re not—”
    â€œYes, ma’am. The shotgun messenger who usually has that run quit and headed for the Yukon.”
    â€œOh, I heard they’d found gold up there.”
    â€œThat’s right, so Mr. Bane is short a messenger, and he can’t send the coach without one today, on account of something I’m not supposed to tell you.”
    Apphia arched her eyebrows but said nothing. Vashti gulped. She’d almost blabbed about the treasure box coming down from one of the mines tomorrow. One of the first and most important rules Griffin had taught her when he let her tend the Wells Fargo office was to never reveal to anyone when money and other valuables would be on a stagecoach. Not that the minister’s wife would tell anyone, but it was the principle. That, and if Griffin found out, he’d fire Vashti immediately.
    â€œAnyway, he says I can do it this once, and I’m hoping that if everything goes well, he’ll let me try driving.”
    Apphia nodded slowly. “You told me you hoped for a chance to be a driver. I still think it’s a rather rough way for a young lady to earn her living, but—”
    â€œBut I love driving,” Vashti said. “I’ve prayed it over, like you told me I should, and I still want to do it. I don’t think God would put this in my heart if He didn’t want me to try it, do you?”
    â€œWell… sometimes the Lord lets us do things that aren’t especially good for us. We need to be careful not to think our wants are the same as God’s will.”
    â€œBut I’ve always loved horses.” Vashti eyed her friend