“Wow,” Esther said as she glanced around and then behind us to the door we’d come through. “It’s like magic.”
Jake laughed lightly. “Our storefronts are very much for decoration and entertainment, but some of our back rooms are taller than the front rooms’ short ceilings, and they’re built for business. It’s an illusion, and we’re pretty good at illusion.”
“No kidding,” Esther said.
“Have a seat,” Jake said as he pulled two stools out from under one side of the large worktable. “I have a file on things pertinent to the Pony Express and Broken Rope. It’s not thick, but I’m pretty sure it has some information regarding your ancestor.”
“Really?” Esther said.
“Jake’s done an amazing job of keeping a living record of our history. He’s the best,” I said, though I cleared my throat immediately after—I’d sounded like I was trying to sell him. He didn’t need selling. He blinked at me and then moved on.
“Let’s see.” He ran his fingers over some of the big archival folders, stopping at one almost directly in the middle of a set of shelves. “Here it is.”
The file was neither thick nor tall, and my heart sunk a little. Jake was right, he didn’t have much information.
“You know,” Jake said as he reached into the folder and pulled out a short stack of items, “many people think that the Pony Express existed for a long time. Not true. In fact,” he lifted a small piece of paper from the top of the stack and inspected it, “it was in existence only from 1860 to 1861. Let’s see, yes, April to the following October, eighteen months. Before the telegraph was completed, the country needed a way to get communication—mostly government papers and such—across to California, so some freighting businessmen founded the Pony Express. There were stops for the riders to change horses or riders or both, drop off things, and pick up things, about every ten miles. The trail originated up in St. Joseph. The stable’s still there, but I haven’t been there for years.”
“How long did it take them to get from Missouri to California?” I asked.
“I think they got it down to about ten days to make the trip.”
“Yes, that’s right,” Esther said. She reached into her pocket and pulled out a small, shiny object. “I have this. I guess it was my great-great-grandfather’s, but no one has been able to tell me for sure. This is the item that sparked my curiosity, and it made me want to study both my past and the history of the Pony Express. And that’s why I came to Broken Rope.”
“Oh, my, is that a real badge?” Jake said as he reached for the item that reminded me somewhat of his fake sheriff’s badge, and unquestionably of the badge I’d seen on Joe’s chest. Jake pulled his hand back, but Esther smiled and handed it to him.
“Yes, I think so. I think it’s a real one,” she said.
“But your great-great-grandfather disappeared. Wouldn’t his badge have disappeared with him?” I said.
Esther shrugged. “He must have had more than one.”
Jake held the item so I could look at it, too. An eagle rode the top of the badge, which was emblazoned with a rider on a horse and the words Pony Express Messenger. I was never as touched or affected by items from the past as Jake was, but I thought this was a pretty interesting artifact, and it was clear that it was working its magic on him. One side of his mouth smiled as he gently held the old, tarnished item.
“It’s beautiful,” he said as he handed it back to Esther. He cringed slightly when she simply put it back into her pocket. “Oh! Wait, I have something else, something other than the information in the file. I can’t believe I forgot about it. Hang on a second,” he added.