Gingersnaps

Eliana finished darning what seemed like her hundredth sock, but which was only her thirteenth and bit off the thread with a sigh, tossing it back into her brimming basket.

"Ellie, girl, you know your mother doesn't want you biting that thread," her father frowned at her over his newspaper but his eyes were twinkling. "Not good for your teeth. Use the scissors."

Eliana grinned ruefully as she bent over to dig in her basket and came up again with a rather dull pair of scissors.

"Pa," she began slowly.

"Hmmm?"

"How far do the express riders go?"

"I think around ninety miles or so…" Josiah Carter seemed more interested in the paper than in his daughter's question.

"Ninety miles!" Eliana sat bolt upright in her chair, the scissors sliding to the floor along with the fourteenth sock. "That's… that's… where does he come from, anyway?"

"Who?" her father answered, absently.

"The express rider, Pa. The one that goes through here."

Josiah slowly turned to the next page of his newspaper and frowned contemplatively.

"I think they change riders up at Navajo Flats."

"How far is that from here?"

"Around forty miles…"

"Forty miles? That means that… that he crosses the North Platte River! And if he goes fifty miles beyond North Platte… then he goes across the badlands too! That's… unbelievable…"

"Mmm. They're desperate enough. For the mail, I mean."

"Do you know who the rider is?"

Josiah put the paper down then and looked at his daughter curiously.

"Why all these questions?"

Eliana simply shrugged, not knowing how to answer. She didn't know, really, why she wanted to know so badly who the mysterious express rider was… she just did, that was all.

"I haven't the slightest clue who the rider is…" her father shook his head. "It doesn't matter, really. He's just another link in the chain to get the mail West. That's what's really important… getting that mail to California."

oOo

As the next few weeks flew past, so did the express rider. Although his appearance was, at first, a novelty, he quickly faded into the background, hardly any more noticed than the sagebrush that blew down the dusty streets. The people of North Platte could hardly remember a time when the express rider was not there to gallop wildly down Main Street and then vanish off into the distance… a mere shadow passing along down the plains.

But to Eliana, the sight of the express rider never became common. She soon learned the schedule of the Pony Express and never failed to be out in the street to wave when he passed, and to hear his shouted greeting that she never understood. Well, perhaps she couldn't distinguish his words. But she knew his meaning… he always seemed glad to see her… and more so as the weeks and then the months wore on.

It was during a particularly grey and rainy day that Eliana suddenly got the idea. She was standing before the kitchen window, staring dismally out at the rain streaking its slow, meandering way down Ma's already-sparkling window-panes, as she mixed up a batch of gingersnaps… Jacob's favorite. He never could seem to get enough of them. Perhaps that was why her best friend Rachel had been begging her for the recipe… it was commonly known in the North Platte community that Jacob Carter and Rachel Buchanan were "sweet on each other".

She wondered, absently, if the express rider had anyone to make gingersnaps for him. Probably not. He most likely lived alone and fended for himself in the way of baking. Or just went without.

She grinned suddenly. Why not remedy that? Half an hour later, as she drew the cookies from the oven, she set a few aside with a smile.

The express rider came through the next day at four. Eliana was standing alongside the road, as usual, but in her outstretched hand, she held the gingersnaps. He slowed suddenly, as he noticed her, going past at a canter as he leaned down to take the cookies. It's not exactly the easiest thing in the world to reach for something from the back of a cantering horse… he had to turn back and slow down even more before he could even take them. But he flashed her a quick smile and she read both gratitude and surprise in that look. Then he spurred his horse into a gallop and dashed off. She noticed that one of the cookies fell to the street as he sped away… but at least he had the others. Surely, though, there was an easier and faster way? She knew the crucial importance of every moment on a pony express route… that was why the rider never stopped.

He went past again the next evening, seven thirty. Eliana had made more cookies by then… each with a large hole in the center. Perhaps it was a crazy idea but if it worked… then perhaps it wasn't so crazy after all.

He slowed again, then grinned when he noticed the holes in the cookies. His ever-ready rifle lay in the scabbard of the saddle… he drew it now and extended it, pushing the barrel through the holes. She could hear his laughter with his call of thanks as he rode off and she smiled.

Notes:

Might sound like a joke, but this is pure historic fact. Lots of girls would wait along the Pony Express routes to give baked goods to the riders but, as stated in the chapter, it's not always easy to grab something from the back of a galloping horse. So they would make cookies and cakes with holes in the center and the riders would push their rifle barrels through the holes. Some say this is how the doughnut was invented, but that part of it, at least, is just a legend.