{"id":251,"date":"2024-12-30T16:08:54","date_gmt":"2024-12-30T16:08:54","guid":{"rendered":"https:\/\/storytimebyrk.com\/?p=251"},"modified":"2025-11-07T02:31:25","modified_gmt":"2025-11-07T02:31:25","slug":"the-pony-express","status":"publish","type":"post","link":"https:\/\/storytimebyrk.com\/index.php\/2024\/12\/30\/the-pony-express\/","title":{"rendered":"The Pony Express"},"content":{"rendered":"\n
\"\"<\/figure>\n\n\n

Genre: Historical Fiction
Plot: An orphan picked up along the Pony Express<\/p>\n

Words to use: horse, journey, quest, mail, carrier, origin, destination, danger, identity, survival, winter, hope, war, message, delivery.<\/p>\n

The chair creaked from the weight of Mr. Brecket\u2019s feet firmly pressing against the old wooden table he made 20 years earlier, a newspaper held in calloused hands, spread out in front of his crumby vest, the steamy cup of tea waiting for him. Outside the small office of the Pony Express station, the winter wind blew fiercely, the flames disturbed in the stove ablaze.<\/p>\n

Tensions between North and South were brewing according to the paper, his mouth turned down in a grimace, memories of the Mexican-American war. Still wearing his uniform, he made his journey out of danger. He didn\u2019t like the idea of war starting again. It was such a waste — of life and soul.<\/p>\n

Elias Brecket was a grey man – grey hair, always disheveled beneath a grey felt hat, intelligent grey eyes, sharp and piercing, always knowing two steps ahead of everyone else. His rugged grey appearance came from years of the Western sun, working with horses, and fixing anything broken. Once a firecracker always looking for a fight, now all he wanted was peace, quiet, and a comfortable place to lay his head. A stoic man who now was the image of survival. His dedication shifted to practicability to comfort and making sure the mail got to its destination within<\/p>\n

He checked his pocket watch, the carrier was due soon. Elias set the newspaper to the side and got up from the chair. The view out the window was the same scenery, except for the wind blowing all the leaves around. He enjoyed the solitude, but sometimes he got lonely. He decided to get some fresh air and check on the horses. The appearance of the next delivery man eased his mind, since it could be dangerous out here in the middle of nowhere.<\/p>\n

The brisk, icy air caused what was left of his teeth chattering. The sound of shuffling hooves made his eyebrows arch in surprise. Maybe the next driver, their identity still unknown, had arrived without making his presence known to him. He found that intolerable. Some muffled sound of horse bodies bumping against the walls of the barn made him attempt to move quicker. He wished for his stick to help him \u2013 and maybe his gun.<\/p>\n

Being a man of action, he pushed the barn doors open, calling out in his gruff voice, to whoever was in the barn. \u201cMake yourself known,\u201d he repeated. Horses snorted in their stalls while he peaked in each one. He heard fainted whimpers in the last stall, his own horse, Sally, wasn\u2019t in sight. He looked over the door and behind the brown body of Sally, a small child sat curled against the wall, his tear stained face looking imploringly at him.<\/p>\n

\u201cNow where did you come from, little man?\u201d Elias opened the door, trying to soothe the tears. Pinned on his buttoned up jacket, a note with a message, but the print had become illegible. \u201cWell, I can\u2019t read that, but don\u2019t you worry, son. Come on, you must be hungry.\u201d<\/p>\n

With a tiny nod, he got up from against the wall, the straw followed him. He crunched his way and took hold of the enormous hand with one of his and wiped his face with the other.<\/p>\n

\u201cI hope that bread tastes okay. I am expecting more provisions soon.\u201d<\/p>\n

The little boy hungrily ate and took a long drink of water. Elias let him eat while he added some logs to the fire. He kept silent while he devoured his food. \u201cGuess you haven\u2019t eaten in a while.\u201d<\/p>\n

\u201cDo you have a name?\u201d Elias asked him to which he nodded in the affirmative.<\/p>\n

\u201cSam,\u201d he replied.<\/p>\n

\u201cIt\u2019s nice to meet you, Sam. My name is Elias. I\u2019m in charge of this station. I belong here. Why are you out here all by yourself?\u201d<\/p>\n

Sam finished his food, his legs vigorously going back and forth above the floor, kicking the wood brace beneath the seat. A small shaky voice explained his presence. \u201cI am all alone,sir.\u201d<\/p>\n

\u201cYou have no kin,\u201d<\/p>\n

\u201cNo, sir,\u201d he said, shaking his head, a piece of straw fell from his hair.<\/p>\n

\u201cWell, what should I do with you?\u201d<\/p>\n

Sam shrugged his shoulders. \u201cJust don\u2019t send me back. They didn\u2019t like me much.\u201d<\/p>\n

\u201cOh, well why is that?\u201d<\/p>\n

\u201cThey said I was a spitfire. What\u2019s a spitfire?\u201d Sam asked him. It made Elias laugh.<\/p>\n

\u201cA spitfire huh? Well, I don\u2019t see a problem with that.\u201d<\/p>\n

Sam looked at the grey face and smiled, turned toward the fire dancing behind the glass door. \u201cWhat are you doing out here, sir.\u201d<\/p>\n

\u201cI am waiting for a rider. He should be here any time soon. They just started this line to deliver mail from one end of the country to the other. Do you understand?\u201d<\/p>\n

\u201cYes, sir. Is it like a quest?\u201d Sam asked.<\/p>\n

\u201cKinda. Letters need to get from one place to another quickly.\u201d Elias replied, and sat silently momentarily. \u201cNow, son, I have to figure out what to do with ya, just not sure. I might need to send you back to the orphanage.\u201d<\/p>\n

\u201cOh, no, sir. Please don\u2019t. They didn\u2019t want me, I told ya, and I don\u2019t want to be in no orphanage anymore.\u201d Sam looked even smaller, his eyes pleading, glistening from tears forming. He obviously didn\u2019t have a nice time there. Elias\u2019 earliest memories were of the orphanage he suffered through; he hadn\u2019t been too keen to send any child to experience that. The cramped quarter, listening to other kids crying during the night, the crack of the whip when someone misbehaved. Guilt and unconscious fear waved through Elias\u2019 body.<\/p>\n

\u201cWell, Sam, I won\u2019t do that.\u201d<\/p>\n

Elias\u2019 ears picked up the distant sound of hooves. Someone was coming toward them. Must be the rider he thought, getting up from the table and heading out of the door.<\/p>\n

\u201cI wasn\u2019t expecting you, Bill. Good to see you,\u201d the rider quickly got off the horse.<\/p>\n

\u201cIt\u2019s good to see you too Elias. It\u2019s been too long,\u201d he replied.<\/p>\n

\u201cI\u2019ve seen you in the paper,\u201d he said while they went inside the out building used for riders when they needed a rest. It wasn\u2019t much, nothing like the comforts of home, but there was a bed and some provisions for their return trip, if that was where they were going.<\/p>\n

\u201cThe rider should be here soon,\u201d Bill said.<\/p>\n

Elias turned to leave, get some coffee brewed, and some food for him to take for the journey, when he remembered something. \u201cI have a problem, Bill.\u201d<\/p>\n

Bill had laid down on the bed for a quick nap, \u201cwhat is it?\u201d<\/p>\n

\u201cI had a bit of a surprise waiting for me in the stables \u2013 someone who showed up unexpectedly.\u201d<\/p>\n

He had his hat laying over his eyes, the sun beat down through the dusty window onto his face. The statement made him remove the hat and cast a confused look at Elias.<\/p>\n

\u201cWhat do you mean someone? Another rider?\u201d<\/p>\n

\u201cNo, he had a note pinned to his jacket. His name is Sam and he looks to be about 5 or 6 years of age. An orphan that found his way to my stables. I don\u2019t know what to do with him.\u201d<\/p>\n

\u201cWhat did the note say?\u201d Bill asked him with a sputter. Elias had always been a slow talker. His mind was quick, but his mouth never seemed to match the speed. He tended to find frustration amongst his fellow man.<\/p>\n

\u201cIt used to say something, but all the print got smudged. Can\u2019t read it at all, and the boy didn\u2019t say,\u201d Bill pushed past Elias in the doorway. In front of the fire, Sam had pulled up a chair closer and had been waiting for Elias\u2019 return. The look of fear crossed his face when he saw another man come through the door, and scrambled toward the corner of the room. Bill did tower over most men and his long legs seemed to touch the ground even as he was on the back of his horse.<\/p>\n

\u201cDon\u2019t worry Sam, it is only Bill, a rider on the Pony Express. He was just concerned over your welfare.\u201d<\/p>\n

Bill was trying to get a hold of Sam, but he managed to stay out of reach. \u201cWhere is the note?\u201d<\/p>\n

\u201cIt\u2019s over here, on his jacket. I didn\u2019t take it off,\u201d Elias responded sharply. \u201cDon\u2019t scare the poor mite.\u201d<\/p>\n

Bill grabbed it, examining it at all angles, and handed it back to him. \u201cWell, Elias, I guess he is your problem now.\u201d<\/p>\n

\u201cI reckon so,\u201d he put the jacket aside. He got busy with getting the provisions ready, and placed the coffee percolator on the fire. \u201cWe will have some coffee and wait. Hopefully, there won\u2019t be too much delay.\u201d<\/p>\n

With the sound of another horse approaching, Bill ran out and toward the bunk house to grab his bag. What he had already will have to suffice until the next stop. There was a quick exchange. Bill had been told which horse to take and galloped off East.<\/p>\n

\u201cHey, Jack. Nice to see you. Staying long?\u201d Elias had come out of the warmth of his cabin.<\/p>\n

\u201cNaw. I need to get back, but I won\u2019t leave till the morning.\u201d<\/p>\n

\u201cWell, everything is in there for you. There\u2019s wood for a fire along the back, help yourself,\u201d he closed his door behind him. Sam had been watching through the window and retreated to behind the table when the door opened.<\/p>\n

\u201cDon\u2019t worry, Jack isn\u2019t much for socializing. He will be gone when he said he will, don\u2019t you worry, son.\u201d<\/p>\n

Sam tentatively came out and found his spot on the chair in front of the fire. Elias sat down on the other side of the table and took out his pipe. \u201cWould you like to hear about the origin of the Pony express, Sam?\u201d Sam agreed, his blue eyes wide and waited for Elias to light his pipe.
\u201cWell, not too long ago\u2026\u201d he started his story of the idea of the Pony Express.<\/p>\n

The Pony Express, which connected the West and East, didn\u2019t last long, but holds sway in American history. It began in April 1860 and ended in October 1861. It was a network of 156 stations from St. Joseph, MIssouri to Sacramento, California. Riders would ride horseback, mail in hand, for 75 – 100 miles, having to change horses every 10-15 miles, then hand over the mail to the next rider. It was thought to be the ideas of William H. Russel, John Scudder, or Frederick A. Bee. It was run by the Central Overland California and Pikes Peak Express Company.<\/p>\n

It was started because of the Gold rush, the Mormon exodus to Utah, and the thousands of people immigrating down the Oregon Trail, there was an increased need for faster mail service. Hence the birth of the Pony Express. Before then the mail was delivered by stagecoach over land or by sea, having to go around South America. The railroad only reached the Mississippi and would connect the entire country was still years away. The telegraph was close to completion but not quite. It could take months for people who moved west to receive mail from their families and there was a demand to shorten the waiting time.<\/p>\n

For the speed, everything needed to be as light as possible. The riders were not burly cowboys, but the size of jockeys \u2013 100 – 125 pounds and average age of 20, but there were some that claimed to have been 11 years old when they joined the Pony Express. They carried a \u201cmochilla\u201d, a specially designed light knapsack with locks for the documents. The riders had to take a loyalty oath, use no vulgar language, no alcohol, and carry the bible with them on their rides. The rules were rarely followed to the letter, according to sources at the time. They were paid $100-150 per month, which was a nice salary at the time. The riders had to deal with harsh weather conditions and terrain, along with the threat of attack by bandits and Native Americans. The more dangerous job would be those whose job was at the relay stations. During the Pyramid Lake war, a few stations were burned and about 16 stock hands lost their lives. Only 6 Pony riders died on duty during operations.<\/p>\n

William \u201cBuffalo Bill\u201d Cody claimed to have been a pony rider as a youth and made a single run of 384 miles, but there is no proof of his claims. There is evidence that he was still in school in Kansas during the time the Pony Express operated. No matter what, he kept the romance of the Pony Express alive in his vaudeville show, featuring riders and horse exchanges as a stunt display.<\/p>\n

The whole operation of the Pony Express was a financial failure, never turning a profit in its 18 month existence. It was not for general mail, initially costing $5 (about $130) then lowered to just $1, but it was still too expensive for the average person to send mail via the Pony Express. They never got a government contract, most of the mail sent was business related and important news reports. When it ended, the company lost around $200,000. When the telegraph was finished, within two days, the Pony Express ended operation.<\/p>\n

Sources:
History.com
https:\/\/www.history.com\/news\/10-things-you-may-not-know-about-the-pony-express<\/p>\n

National Park Service
https:\/\/www.nps.gov\/poex\/learn\/historyculture\/index.htm#:~:text=In%20the%20era%20before%20electronic,the%20Rocky%20Mountains%20became%20obvious.<\/p>\n

National Postal Museum
https:\/\/postalmuseum.si.edu\/research\/articles-from-enroute\/the-story-of-the-pony-express.html<\/p>\n\n\n

Thanks for reading.
<\/p>\n\n\n\n

Copyright \u00a9 Rachel D. Knepp.<\/strong><\/p>\n\n\n\n

All rights reserved. This is a work of fiction. Names, characters, places, and incidents are products of the author\u2019s imagination or are used fictitiously. Any resemblance to actual events, locales, or persons, living or dead, is entirely coincidental. No part of this publication may be reproduced, distributed, or transmitted in any form or by any means\u2014including photocopying, recording, or other electronic or mechanical methods\u2014without the prior written permission of the author, except in the case of brief quotations used in reviews or critical articles.<\/p>\n","protected":false},"excerpt":{"rendered":"

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