A Shadow on the Plains

The Sunshine Girl

"How was the ride?" The station master greeted the weary rider with his customary question. He didn't much care about the answer, but was there any other way, really, to open conversation?

The rider shrugged as he slid from the saddle and pulled his rifle from the scabbard. The pony and saddle belonged to the Pony Express but the rifle was his and he was never without it... not for a moment.

" 'Bout the same as always."

"Have ya seen that girl o' yers again?"

"She's not 'my' girl," But the young man's face betrayed him. Why, he didn't really know. He didn't know anything about her, not even her name. But she was the only person in the world, besides the station masters and the other riders, who ever took notice of him. And, boy, was she a good cook!

"Well?" The station master raised his eyebrows and grinned as he ushered the rider inside the little log station.

"Sure, I've seen her." The rider seemed content to stop there but the station master pressed for more. He was desperate for something to talk about other than the weather and the condition of the prairie routes... news was precious little, and so was company. The express riders spent about ninety percent of their time at the station sleeping. Consequently, the station master spent about ninety percent of his life at the station in silence, unless he chose to talk to himself, which he usually did. But one's self is never a very good source for new information.

"She's taken to givin' me cookies an' things, when I ride by," the rider continued as he accepted the usual meal of soggy, warmed-over meat and potatoes with the accompaniment of coarse-ground johnny cake, instead of the usual brown bread. Not entirely a welcome change. "She sure is a better cook 'n you, let me tell ya."

"They didn't hire me for m' cookin'," the station master grunted.

"Guess not."

For a few minutes, both were silent. Then the station master spoke up again.

"Guess ye're pretty lucky... havin' a girl to wait fer ya along the route an' all."

"Guess I am," the rider agreed. He laughed softly to himself. "She's like... like a ray of sunshine in an otherwise pretty gloomy existence."

The subject was dropped then, mostly because of the fact that the western mail would be coming along in fewer hours than the rider would like to think and he had been in the saddle for eight hours that day.

As the rider mounted a fresh horse the next day, preparing for the ninety mile gallop to Apache Flats, the station master stood leaning against the wall of the log building, arms crossed. He was grinning in a way that was rather annoying... really, he could mind his own business. But he wouldn't.

"Hey, be sure an' bring me one o' them cookies when ya come back," he called as the galloping hoofbeats of the next rider were heard in the distance. "An' tell the sunshine girl hello from me."

The rider didn't answer. The approaching horse and rider were almost there... the mochila... the mail bag... was being held out at arm's length... the rider spurred his horse into a gallop and snatched the mochila, fastening it to his saddle horn as he moved swiftly toward the distant skyline of the Wyoming badlands.