“Never knew you were a rider! A-ma-aze-ing race!” exclaimed Susanna as she shook Montana’s hand. “Yes, ma’am,” Montana tipped his hat. “The Sheriff delivered horses from Caleb’s ranch to our relay station. Those fresh horses saved lives. I sorely miss Sheriff Howie’s wisdom.” Montana pulled Susanna and June through the crowd to the riverfront. “A group of us riders are painting this memorial. Work in progress. We hope to honor the spirit of those involved in the Pony Express.” Susanna’s throat felt tighter than her grip on June’s arm.
“For the which cause I also suffer these things: nevertheless I am not ashamed: for I know whom I have believed, and am persuaded that he is able to keep that which I have committed unto him against that day.”
—2 Timothy 1:12 KJV
“For the Lord himself shall descend from heaven with a shout, with the voice of the archangel, and with the trump of God: and the dead in Christ shall rise first:
Then we which are alive and remain shall be caught up together with them in the clouds, to meet the Lord in the air: and so shall we ever be with the Lord.