“That’s . . . wow, that’s so much more than I thought I’d be able to learn. Thank you.”
“Trust me, my pleasure.” Jake stood and moved back to the table. “May I ask you some more questions?”
“Sure.”
“What else do you know—I mean, are there any other stories about the Pony Express riders that were passed down to you? There are legends and there are facts, and sometimes those stories tend to melt together a little, but can you remember anything else that your family discussed?”
Esther thought a moment. “No, not really. I wish I could.”
“Believe it or not, I’ve actually heard an Express story,” I said. Jake and Esther nodded me on. “Well, they weren’t supposed to carry heavy weapons, no shotguns, but a rider did, and I’m not sure if I believe this, but the story is that halfway through his first ride, he threw the rifle off the horse mid-stride and it fired, scaring both the rider and the horse, but the noise also sped the horse up. They arrived at the next post in record time. The rider was a company star on his first ride, because he shot at himself.”
“That’s a good one,” Jake said, but I could see the uncertainty in his eyes. He wouldn’t want to make me feel uncomfortable, but I understood his doubt regarding the validity of the story.
“They needed weapons—though not shotguns—to protect themselves from, among other things, Native American attacks—at that time they were Indians. This doesn’t really have anything to do with Astin, but in Nevada, four Express men were killed and a station was burned by Paiutes in retribution for the rape of some young Paiute girls,” Jake added. “History isn’t always pretty and romantic, but I think it’s important to acknowledge the bad stuff with the good stuff.”
“Oh, Astin helped deliver a baby once,” Esther said.
“Really?” I said.
“Yes, he came upon a stalled stagecoach, and though it was against policy to ever stop, the riders were clearly in distress, so he broke policy, stopped, and helped deliver the baby. The woman who gave birth was the only female on board; she was traveling with her husband and the stagecoach driver. Apparently, neither of the men were up for the challenge. Astin had helped with Charlie’s birth—they lived out in the woods; everybody lived out in the woods at the time—so he had some idea of what to do. The baby was a healthy girl.”
“That’s wonderful,” Jake said, but he doubted her story, too, I could hear it in his voice, though he hid it better with her story than with mine.
Esther blinked and then fell into thought. “Yes, it’s a wonderful story.” She ran her finger over the letters on the mochila again. “This is more than I could have ever expected. Thank you,” she said. It seemed she was suddenly tired.
“It’s meant a lot to me, too, truly. Thank you for sharing,” Jake said.
“I’m a bit overwhelmed. I’m not going to faint again, and you’ve both been so kind, but I think I’d better head back to the campsite and rest a little.”
“Certainly.” Jake touched the phone to end the recording.
Before the faint, Esther hadn’t struck me as delicate or frail, but now I wondered if she’d be okay. I debated taking her back to the campsite myself as we stood and moved toward the door, but she seemed fine.
Esther turned and looked at us both. “It was terrible what happened out there today. I feel a little guilty for enjoying all this, but as long as I’m in town, I’ll let you know if something else comes to mind.”
“That would be great, and I’ll let you know what else, if anything, I find,” Jake said.