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direct me.”
    Marty managed to straighten the unconscious driver enough that she could take a seat. Calling down to the passengers,she released the brake. “We’re heading out, ladies.” It was the only warning Marty gave before she snapped the reins. “Yah!” she bellowed and the team stepped into action.
    By the time they reached Four Mile House, Marty’s forearms burned and her hands cramped. She had pushed aside her discomfort, knowing that the lives of the driver and shotgun were reliant upon her getting them medical attention. She had pressed the team to their limit and couldn’t help but sigh with relief at the sight of the station.
    The stagehouse operators appeared for the relay change. They stared up in stunned surprise at the small woman. “We were attacked,” Marty called down. “These men need a doctor fast!”
    The two men who’d come to change out the team quickly went into action to retrieve the wounded men from atop the stage. Meanwhile, the women passengers spilled out from the coach. The matron and her daughter were sobbing in each other’s arms, while the old women were chattering on and on about their brush with molestation and certain death. Marty waited patiently while the injured men were taken inside the house. She was relieved, however, when a young man bounded up the side of the stage and took the reins from her hands.
    â€œI’ll see to this now, ma’am.” He gave her a grin as big as Texas. “You sure are somethin’. Ain’t many women—especially one so purty—that could handle a team like this.”
    Marty looked at her bloodied clothes and thought of how disarrayed her hair and hat must be. She smiled and shook her head. “Perhaps you can tell me where I might clean up.”
    â€œI’ll help you, ma’am,” an older man called. “Let me get you down from there first.”
    Marty stepped to the side of the boot and allowed theman to help her from the stage. She felt her knees very nearly buckle as her feet hit the ground again.
    â€œEasy there, ma’am.” The man held fast to her arm as Marty drew in a deep breath and steadied herself.
    â€œThank you. I’m fine now.” She allowed him to escort her into the house, where the other women had gathered. Everyone paused and turned their gaze to Marty. One of the older women came forward and took Marty’s arm.
    â€œCome with me, deary. I’ll help you get cleaned up. You saved our lives, you know. You’re a heroine!”
    Marty shook her head. “No, I only helped our men. They are the real heroes.”
    The old woman kept moving Marty toward a stand with water and fresh towels. A woman Marty didn’t know appeared and began to help.
    â€œI’m Sallie,” the woman explained. “I’m wife to the station manager here. What’s your name?”
    â€œMrs. Marty Olson.” She glanced around the room. “Was there someone nearby to help our driver and his man?”
    Sallie smiled and stripped the bloodied gloves from Marty’s hands. “Dr. Bryant is just a mile away. I already sent my boy to get him and the sheriff. You did real good in bringing them on in, Mrs. Olson. Probably saved their lives. I’ll get these bloody gloves soaking in salt water. Since the blood is still fresh, I’m thinking we can get it out.”
    Marty’s mind flew in a thousand directions. She worried that the men had no one to tend them while these women were fussing over her. She wondered if the boy would get the doctor in time and whether the sheriff would be able to find the culprits who had attacked them. But most of all, Marty worried about what her betrothed might think once he heardabout the commotion and how Marty threw propriety aside to shoot at the bandits and then drive the stage. He had wanted a proper lady for his bride—a Lone Star bride, to be exact.
    Goodness, what will