Dangerous Men (Flynn Family Saga Book 2) (7 page)

Kate hugged her.  "Thank you,
Maggie."

Frank came out of his room in a
suit so old that the fabric was shiny.  He held out his arm.  Kate laid a
trembling hand on his wrist and let him lead her to Jasper Williams' office.

Sam was already there.  He stood
next to Jasper, who wore a black frock coat and striped trousers.  He looked
very dapper.  Frank placed Kate's hand in Sam's.  Kate handed Diane her
bouquet.  Jasper smiled at Kate and Sam.  Then, he cleared his throat. 
"Dearly beloved..."

Tears filled Maggie's eyes.  She
kept hoping that Flynn would come to the wedding, but there was no sign of him.

After the ceremony, Jasper provided
a bottle of champagne.  He cleared his throat again.  "I have a wedding
present for you, Sam."  He handed Sam a document.  A gold seal glittered
in the light of the candles.

Sam read it slowly.  Then, he
grinned.  "I should hand out cigars."

Frank frowned.  "Why?"

Sam grinned at Maggie.  "I
just became a father."

Slowly, Maggie's mouth opened.  She
swallowed hard.  "Oh, Papa!"

Sam held out his arms, and she ran
to him.  He hugged her, and then he stepped back.  Kate smiled at her. 
"And I just became a mother."  She, too, held out her arms.

Weeping openly, Maggie hugged her
adopted mother.

Frank tugged on her sleeve. 
"What does that make me?"

"A monkey's Uncle." 
Flynn's deep voice startled Maggie.

She turned.  He wore a black suit
and a white boiled shirt.  He looked unbearably handsome.  Maggie put her hands
on her hips.  "Robert Sean Flynn, you've got no business—”

"Sneaking up on people.  I
know."  He took a glass of champagne and held it aloft.  "To Mr. and
Mrs. Sam Anders.  Long life and happiness to them."

"Hear, hear!"  Jasper
lifted his glass as well.

Maggie picked up a glass, but Sam
snatched it away from her.  "You're too young for champagne, young
lady."

Jasper laughed.  "I think I
have some sarsaparilla."

Maggie laughed.  "The ink
isn't even dry, and they are acting like parents already."

Sam laughed with them.

Maggie lifted her glass of
sarsaparilla.  "To two of the nicest people I have ever known."

"To Sam and Kate!"

*  *  *

Kate and Sam rented a small house
near Hannah’s boarding house.  Maggie felt a little awkward, but Flynn took her
riding every day, giving the newlyweds a little privacy.

Then, the settlers came.

Maggie got up early and went to the
corral.

One man led a group of twelve
wagons.  He was a tall, imposing figure, with steel gray eyes and a full
beard.  He took one look at Maggie and strode straight toward Sam.  “Mr. Anders,
this is not acceptable.”

Sam pushed his hat back.  “What isn’t
acceptable, Elder Meade?”

“Having a young woman dressed like
a man.”

Sam nodded.  “All right, Mr.
Meade.  Come with me.”  He turned and started back toward the town.

Meade looked startled.  “What are
you going to do?”

Sam turned back to him.  “Give you
your money back.”

Meade drew himself up to his full
height.  “There are twelve wagons in my party, Mr. Anders.”

Sam nodded.  “And I expect I’ll
pick up twelve or fourteen more families before we leave.  Coming, Elder Meade?”

“Now wait a minute.  I didn’t say
anything about leaving the train.”

Sam sighed wearily.  “Elder Meade,
did you read those articles you signed before you joined my wagon train?”

Meade scowled.  “Of course.”

“Well read ‘em again.  They state,
quite clearly, that I have a right to choose my crew.  My daughter is one of
the best trainers I’ve ever had.  If she had to wear a dress, she wouldn’t be
able to do half the things she does for you greenhorns—like climbing under your
wagon and teaching you how to hook up your doubletree the right way.”

Meade turned around and stared at
his wagon.  “You mean it’s wrong?”

“Yup.”  Sam stuck his thumbs in his
belt.  “Now you have a choice.  You can join up with another train, or you can
accept my judgment.  And Maggie’s help.”

“Very well, Mr. Anders.  I will
accede to your judgment.  But there will come a day of reckoning, and she will
burn in hell for her effrontery.”

Sam’s face turned red.  He opened
his mouth and shut it.  “Maybe you ought to pick up your money, anyway.”

“Not unless you want to be stuck
here fighting a lawsuit, Mr. Anders.”  Meade smiled unpleasantly.

Sam drew a deep breath and let it
out.  He turned and walked away.

Maggie ran after him.  “Papa—”

Sam turned and smiled at her.  “Don’t
let that fool get your goat, Maggie.  I’ve met his kind before.  If I had any
sense, I’d throw him off the train right now.”  He sighed.  “But the truth is,
it’s a slow year.”

Maggie bit her lip.  “I’ll wear a
dress if it will help.”

Sam shook his head.  “No, honey. 
He’d just find something else to criticize.”  He turned away from her and
stared at Meade.

Coldness pooled in Maggie's belly. 

CHAPTER
SEVEN

April came, and Sam supervised the
loading of the barges.  Kate stood beside him, smiling.

For a moment, Maggie felt lonely. 
Then, Flynn rode up behind her.  “Come on, O’Brien.  Get your wagon onto that
barge.  We don’t have all day!”  He grinned to take the sting out of his words.

Maggie put her hands on her hips. 
“Look who’s talking.  If I had a penny for every time we had to wait for you, I
could buy three wagons and pay the men to drive them.

Flynn laughed and dismounted.  He
led Horatio onto the barge.

Smiling, Maggie followed him.

They spent the night on the other
side of the Missouri.  The sky was overcast, much to Maggie’s disappointment. 
She lay on the ground with her hands behind her head.

Kate came out of the wagon.  “You
sleep out here?”

Maggie nodded.

Kate frowned slightly.  “Aren’t you
worried?  About the men?”

Maggie looked at Kate solemnly. 
“Ben and Frank and the sentries keep an eye on me.  I’m safer here than I ever
was with my parents.  I grew up over a saloon, remember?"

Kate’s expression softened.  She
gathered Maggie into her arms.  “Oh, child!  I wish you hadn’t had to go
through all that.”

For a moment, Maggie let herself
relax in Kate’s arms.  For a moment, she let herself pretend that Kate was her
real mother who would always keep her safe.  Then, she pulled away and shook
her head.  “If I hadn’t gone through that, I wouldn’t have come here and met
you and Papa.  I love this life, Mrs. Anders.”

Kate nodded.  She touched Maggie’s
hair.  “I’d be honored if you called me Mama.”

Maggie’s throat tightened.  “Thank
you—Mama.”  Tears burned her eyes.

Without a word, Kate handed her a
lace handkerchief.

Maggie smiled at her gratefully.

Maggie woke before dawn.  The sky
was clear, and it was cold.  She shivered as she hurried to the picket line. 
Flynn grinned at her, and Horatio tossed his head.  The gelding nudged her
shoulder.

Laughing, Maggie fished out a sugar
lump for him and rubbed his nose.  “So, you’ve given up on Flynn, eh, boy?”

Horatio shook his head.

Flynn laughed and patted Horatio’s
neck.  “Good morning, Magpie.  Sleep well?”

Maggie nodded.  “I always sleep
better outside.”

Flynn sobered.  “So do I.”  He
handed her a brush.

Smiling, Maggie began to groom
Sebastian.

Kate sat beside Maggie as her wagon
bumped and lurched over the rutted trail.  They reached the prairie at sunset. 
Kate stared at the grass, stretching out to the horizon.  “Oh, Maggie!  It’s
beautiful!”

Maggie looked at her and smiled. 
“I had hoped you would like it.  Some people hate it.”

Kate shook her head.  “How could
they?  Look at that sky!”

The sunset blazed with colors:
flame and scarlet and deep, dark purple.

Kate sighed.  “It seems wrong to
enjoy anything since Richard...”

Maggie was silent a long time. 
When she spoke, her voice sounded very small.  “I felt the same way when my
parents died.  I love this life so much, and I felt guilty because I was so
happy.”

Kate stared at her.  “How did you
get to be so wise so young?”

Maggie looked away.  “I kind of had
to.  My parents weren’t very wise, so somebody had to be the grownup.”

Kate hugged her.  “Well now you’ve
got a whole bunch of grownups looking after you.”

Maggie looked back at her. 
“Including you?”

Kate nodded.  “Especially me.”

Maggie smiled shyly.  She jumped
down from the wagon and began to unhitch her team.

*  *  *

That night, the temperature
dropped.  Clouds blew in from the west, obscuring the stars.  Large flakes of
snow hissed as they struck the fire.

Maggie lay on her side and watched
the snow fall until sleep took her.  In the morning, the ground was covered in
a thin layer of white.  Filled with energy, Maggie got to the picket line
before Flynn did.  She picked up the brush and started to groom Sebastian. 
Coming up behind her, Flynn took the brush from her hands.  Maggie turned and
put her hands on her hips.  “Robert Sean Flynn, you’ve got to stop—”

“Sneaking up on people.”  He
grinned at her.  “I know.”  His hair was tousled, and he looked younger,
happier than she had ever seen him.

Maggie’s body warmed in places she
didn’t even know she had.  She turned away.

“Aren’t you going to say good
morning?”

“Good morning, Flynn.”  She
snatched the brush from his hand and continued to groom Sebastian.  Horatio
nudged her.  Laughing, Maggie fed him a sugar lump.

Flynn laughed with her.

As soon as they were finished with
the horses, they walked back to Frank’s cook fire.  Kate joined them.  She sat
next to Sam who smiled warmly at her.  She smiled back.

Ben and Frank exchanged looks.

Maggie grinned down at her coffee.

“Flynn, I want you to scout ahead. 
Three years in row, cholera hit this train.  The water’s got to be
contaminated.  I need you to find out where before we get hit again.”  Sam
sipped his coffee and made a face.  “Frank, this is the worst coffee I’ve ever
tasted.”

“Now that’s not fair.  Last year,
you said Maggie’s coffee was the worst you’ve ever tasted.”  Frank put his
hands on his skinny hips.  “It must be that new coffee pot.”

Grinning, Maggie leaned back and
watched the two men bicker back and forth.

After breakfast, she went to get
her team.  Flynn walked with her, carrying his saddle.  The leather creaked as
he walked.  Maggie smiled and waved at the people they passed.  Most of them
smiled back, all except the last twelve wagons in the line.

Maggie sighed.

Flynn squeezed her shoulder.  “Don’t
let Meade and his followers get to you, Maggie.”

Maggie nodded.

Suddenly, Flynn slipped.  He fell heavily,
encumbered by the saddle.  He tried to stand and couldn’t.

Maggie knelt beside him.  “Are you
hurt?”

Flynn shook his head, but his face
was white with pain.  He tried to stand, but when he put his weight on his left
foot, he winced.

Maggie eased him back onto the
ground and yanked off his boot.  His ankle was already swollen.  “Frank!  I
need a bandage!”

Frank ran to the supply wagon.

Sam knelt beside Flynn.  “How bad
is it?”

“Not bad,” Flynn said through
gritted teeth.

Maggie shook her head.  She probed
Flynn’s ankle thoroughly and sighed with relief.  “It’s just a sprain, but you
ought to stay off of it for a week or two.”

“A week!”  Sam swore softly.  “That’s
all I need.  Well, it can’t be helped.  I guess we’ll just have to pray that
the water is all right.”  He turned to leave.

Maggie licked her lips.  “I can do
it.”

Sam turned back to Maggie.  “No,
you can’t.”

Maggie tilted her chin up.  “Why
not?  Because I’m a girl?”

Sam nodded.

“She can do it, Sam.  She tracked
me across the badlands last year,” Flynn said quietly.

Sam rubbed his chin.  “I don’t
know.”

“I do.  She knows the maps as well
as I do.  Probably better, because she copied them.  It’s safe here, as safe as
anywhere is on the trail.”  Flynn looked at Maggie solemnly.  “And she’s good with
a pistol and a rifle.  I should know.  I trained her.”

Maggie looked from Flynn to the
Major.

Slowly, Sam nodded.  “All right,
Maggie.  But be careful.  Don’t try to go too far.  One week out, one week
back.  And don’t get lazy and forget to boil your own water when you’re out on
the trail.  We lost too many people to cholera last year.  I don’t want to lose
you, too.”

Maggie nodded solemnly.

Flynn laid his hand on her arm.  “Maggie,
get me my saddlebags, will you?”

Maggie picked up Flynn’s saddlebags
and brought them to him.  He unrolled one of the new maps on a crate.

Sam hunkered down next to them.  He
pointed to a jog in the trail.  “As I recall, there’s a steep hill about here.”

Flynn nodded.  “Windlass Hill. 
There’s a waterfall just beyond the hill.”  He turned to Maggie.  “You should
be able to make it there and back in two weeks.”

Maggie nodded.

Sam laid his huge hand on Maggie’s
shoulder.  “Find out what’s making people sick.”  He hesitated.  “And come back
safe.”

Maggie nodded.  “I will, Papa.” 
She walked back to the picket line and started to saddle Patches.  She heard
the soft thump of a crutch and turned, scowling.  “I thought I told you to stay
off that foot.”

Flynn shrugged.  His left leg was
bent, holding his foot off the ground.  “See?  I’m not putting any weight on
it.”

Maggie sighed and turned back to
Patches.  Her hands shook so badly she had trouble tightening the cinch strap.

“Scared, Magpie?”

Maggie nodded without turning
around.

“Good.”

She looked back at Flynn in
surprise.  “Good?”

He nodded solemnly.  “Only a fool
isn’t scared.  And you’re no fool, Maggie.”

“I’m excited, too.”  She licked her
lips.  “Is that possible?  To be scared and excited at the same time?”

Flynn smiled at her.  “Yes, Maggie,
it is.”  He turned and looked at the sunlight on the river.  “That’s the way I
feel before I ride out.  Every single time.”

“Thank you,” she said softly.

He turned back to her.  “For what?”

“For sticking up for me with the
Major.”

Flynn opened his mouth and shut
it.  He looked away from her.  “If you see any Indians, don’t draw your gun. 
The Lakota haven’t bothered this wagon train since after the war.  And Maggie?”

“Yes, Flynn?”

He looked at her with something
like tenderness.  “Come back safe.”

Maggie swallowed hard and nodded. 
She led Patches back to Sam’s wagon.  Frank handed her a pair of saddlebags.  “There’s
dried beef, hardtack and coffee.”

Maggie shook her head.  “Keep the
coffee, Frank.  My coffee really is worse than yours.  Do you have any tea?”

Frank handed her a small tin.

Maggie looked at him.  “I can’t
take your last tin.”

“There’s a general store in
Lancaster, Maggie.  I’ll be going in for supplies before we move on anyway.” 
Frank patted her arm.

Maggie hugged him.  She swung up on
Patches’ back and rode out of camp.

Maggie rode under a cloudless blue
sky.  In a few hours, the snow had melted.  The prairie stretched before her
like a rolling green sea of grass.  The wind hissed through the tall grass with
a sound like a falling rain.  Maggie sat and listened to it for a long time. 
She smiled and rode on.  After a few miles, the knot in her stomach
disappeared, and she began to enjoy herself.  She followed the Blue River,
looking for tributaries, but the river flowed along in solitary splendor for
miles.  At noon, she stopped and ate a little of the hardtack and dried beef. 
She let Patches graze and drink.  Then, she mounted again and rode until
nightfall.  She dug a shallow pit and lined it with rocks.  She found dry
branches under the cottonwoods that lined the river.  She built a fire and
leaned back against her saddle.  Patches cropped grass contentedly.  The river
gurgled to itself like a newborn baby as it wound its way between its banks. 
For a few moments, Maggie longed for the voices of Sam and Ben and Frank and Flynn.

Especially Flynn.

The stars came out, one by one. 
Maggie leaned back and watched them.  A shooting star burned across the sky. 
Maggie held her breath and made a wish, but she didn’t dare speak it out loud,
not even to the wind.

Then, she rolled up in her blanket
and went to sleep.  She dreamed that Flynn danced with her.  She wore a white
wedding gown, and he wore a black suit and a string tie.  His hand at her waist
was warm and strong, and he smiled at her.  Happiness filled her, warm and
gentle, like spring sunshine.

Maggie woke before dawn.  She
savored the remnants of the dream for a long time.  Then, she got up and began
to boil her water.  Mackerel-scale clouds edged in slowly from the
northwest.  Maggie took her slicker out of her saddlebags and tied it to the
cantle.  Then, she mounted and rode off.  She passed two graves.  The wooden
crosses tilted drunkenly, and there were no names etched into the wood, but
Maggie knew that her parents lay beneath the thick, Nebraska sod.  She
dismounted and took off her hat.  She waited to feel something, anything, but
she felt numb.  She sighed and put on her hat again.  She mounted and rode on.

When it was almost noon, she found a small creek that fed the Blue River.  She followed it upstream for about
a mile until she came to a farmhouse.

Six crosses stood sentinel over
fresh graves.  There was no sign of life except the windmill that creaked in a
fitful breeze.  Maggie bowed her head and said a silent prayer for the dead. 
She mounted Patches and turned back to the Blue River.

That night, the sky was starless. 
She camped under a pine tree, hoping that its needles would keep off the worst
of the rain.  She made sure that her supplies were wrapped tightly in oilskin. 
She lay down with her head resting on her saddle and drew her slicker over
her.  She shut her eyes, but sleep did not come easily, and when it did, she
dreamed of the night her parents died.  She heard their voices, arguing.

“Damn it, Lucy!  Give it back!”

“Mama, no!”  Maggie woke with a
start.  She hadn’t even realized that she had dozed off.  A solitary drop of
rain struck her face, cold and hard.  She threw a blanket over Patches’ back
and made a makeshift tent out of her slicker.  The rain drummed on it, with a
sound like rocks being thrown against canvas.  She gave up trying to sleep. 
She brewed herself a pot of tea and sipped it from an enameled mug while the
rain poured from the sky in sheets.  Finally, near midnight, it stopped.  The
ground was muddy.  With a sigh, she fashioned a hammock between two trees.  She
climbed into the hammock, but she could not sleep.