Jo's Triumph by Nikki Tate

was not the welcome James had expected. His wild blue eyes widened as he stared at me and my gun. Then he turned tail and ran out intothe snow, the two militiamen and the stationmaster hot on his heels.
    He didn’t get but three feet before they brought him to the ground, dragged him back inside and arrested him.
    The men tied James hand and foot to a bunk. We took turns watching over him. When it was my turn, I kept my pistol close at hand. Every so often James scowled at me and spat on the floor.
    He looked awful scrawny all tied up like that and I wasn’t afraid of him no more.
    â€œSo how come you were reporting your own robbery?” I asked when the others were outside tending the stock and splitting more firewood.
    He glowered at me, but after a time he answered. “Figgered you tried to take my money. If I weren’t going to get it back, at least I could get a reward,” he said.
    Reward? I hadn’t thought of a reward.
    I don’t know what got into me then. I suppose I felt brave seeing as how I had my pistol and James was trussedup like a Christmas goose. But I asked him right out, “So, you gonna tell?”
    He sneered at me and laughed a short, nasty bark of a laugh.
    â€œWhat? And tell them a
girl
stopped me from getting what I wanted?” He shook his head. “I been in jail before and I’ve got out before. I’ll git out again. And when I do,
Miss
Joe, don’t you think I won’t be coming to find you.”
    I swallowed hard but kept my chin up and met his gaze with my own. “You can look,” I said. “But you ain’t going to find me. And if you do, don’t think I wouldn’t use this.” I raised my pistol and he shifted uneasily.
    I could have put a bullet between that snake’s eyes right then and there. But I didn’t. It wouldn’t have been right.
    When the snow stopped, the militiamen rode up to Sulphur Springs where they found the mochila stuffed with paper. That, and my statement, was all the evidence they needed to take James to the jailhouse in Carson City. The next day I headed back up to Ruby Valley.
    All the regulars were there but so was Bolivar Roberts. He slapped me on the back and said, “You’re one of the best, Joe. And, the Company looks after its best.”
    â€œThank you, sir. Mail first. Pony second. Rider last.”
    He winked and said, “That may be so. But a pony can’t use a reward. I suspect you can.” I sure didn’t know what to say when Mr. Roberts gave me a cash reward for saving the mail. I don’t suppose it was even close to whatever was in the mailbags, but when I added the money to what I’d saved of my wages I had more than enough for my coach ticket to California. Not only that, I had enough to keep myself through the winter and buy a mule and enough equipment so I’d be able to head to the gold fields just as soon as the weather was warm enough in the spring.
    I’d miss running the mail. But near as anybody could tell, they wouldn’t need riders much longer. The telegraph was coming along fast as anything. Assoon as the lines from east and west joined up, there wouldn’t be any more call for a mail service like the Pony Express.
    I didn’t know whether I was going to find my brothers, but as each day went by I cared a little less whether I ever saw them again. If we ever did meet up, my, wouldn’t I just give those boys a piece of my mind! And if not, well, it seemed to me there was enough gold out that way for anyone who dared to look and who wasn’t afraid of a little hard work. Maybe Sarah would make another trip to California and we could be friends again.
    I ran my fingers along the outside of my leather holster. Panning for gold couldn’t be more dangerous than riding back and forth through Utah Ter ritory, could it?
    I, for one, couldn’t wait to find out.

Author’s Note
    Jo’s Triumph
was inspired by