Courage to Love (Flynn Family Saga) (17 page)

“Yes, ma’am.”  He touched his hat.  Then, he turned and started toward the picket line.

“And get your hair cut!”  Maggie put her hands on her hips.

“Yes, ma’am.”  There was a hint of laughter in Flynn’s voice, which only made Maggie angrier.

She turned to the small crowd that had gathered.  “What are you looking at?  Don’t you have anything better to do?  Ben, see to the horses!  And Frank, get supper started!  I’m starving!”

The men vanished amid a chorus of “Yes, ma’am!”

In spite of everything, Maggie’s mouth twitched into a smile.

*  *  *

That night, Maggie dreamed of first time she rescued Flynn from the Vaughns.  Flynn lay spread-eagled in the center of a clearing.  Rawhide thongs cut cruelly into his wrists and ankles.  His chest was bare, and his skin was burned red from the sun.  Nick Vaughn stood over him, grinning.  Four of his front teeth were missing.  “Thirsty?”

Flynn struggled against his bonds.

Nick Vaughn dripped water on Flynn’s sunburned chest.  Flynn winced.

Rage seared through Maggie, so powerful that it frightened her.  She drew her pistol and fired.

Maggie woke with a cry.

Flynn knelt beside her.  “Are you all right?”

Maggie nodded.  Flynn reached toward her, and she swatted his hand away.  “I’m fine!”

Flynn hesitated.  Then, he walked away.

Maggie almost called him back, but she was afraid, afraid of getting hurt again.  She rolled over and tried to sleep.  Near dawn, she gave up and went to Frank’s cook fire.  She poured herself a cup of coffee.  It was surprisingly good, and she knew that Flynn had made it.  It pleased her to think that he couldn’t sleep either.

And it pleased her to drink his coffee again.

*  *  *

For three weeks, they had good weather, and they made good time.

Then, their luck failed.  It started to rain, hard, and it kept on raining for six days.  The Snake River was impassable.

“We’ll have to go north.”  Flynn shook the rain off his hat as he stood under the tarp.

Maggie nodded.  “Be careful, Flynn.”  When she realized what she said, she bit her tongue.

“I’m always careful.”  He looked at her, but she couldn’t read his expression.

“Yeah, and you always manage to get into trouble anyway.”  Ben came under the tarp, dripping water from his canvas coat.

Flynn grinned at him.

Maggie turned away.  “You’d better get going.  The river is rising fast.”

She heard him turn and walk away.

Maggie turned back.  She almost went after him.  There were so many things she wanted to say to him, but she just wasn’t ready.  She wasn’t sure why he was here, what he wanted.

And what he had to give.

Ben touched her shoulder.  “He’ll be all right.”

“He’d better be,” Maggie muttered.  She sighed and started down the line, checking on the livestock.

*  *  *

Flynn was gone for three days.  The rain stopped, and people started to dry their things out.  Finally, near sundown, Flynn rode into camp.  He dismounted and limped over to her.  “There’s a ferry about ten miles north of here.  It’ll cost, but it’s the safest way.”

Maggie bit her lip, but she nodded.  She turned to Billy.  “Tell the folks to pack up their wagons.”

The roads were muddy.  Twice, wagons bogged down.  Maggie threw her shoulder into pushing them out of the mire just like the men.  It was almost dark by the time they reached the ferry.  Maggie hesitated, but she decided to play it safe.  “We’ll camp on this side of the river tonight and take the ferry tomorrow.”

Maggie unrolled her blanket and lay down.  She dreamed about Leroy Vaughn, the feel of his knife against her throat.  She struggled with him and ran, but he shot her.  The bullet struck her back, and she couldn’t breathe.  “No!”

“Wake up, Maggie.”

Maggie opened her eyes.  Flynn knelt beside her.  She looked away.  “It was just a dream.”

Flynn sighed.  He stood up and she heard him start to limp away.  She heard the hiss of leather passing through a buckle as he unfastened his artificial leg.

Maggie got up.  She went into the wagon and brought out the salve that helped with the chafing from the harness and took it to him.

Flynn looked up at her.

She hesitated, wondering if he would let her touch him, wondering if she really wanted to.

Gently, he took the jar from her hand.  “Thank you, Maggie.”

She went back to her bedroll.  She rolled over and tried to ignore the fact that her husband lay a few feet away from her.  Her body still wanted him, even if her heart was uncertain.  Eventually, she slept, but before dawn, the sound of rain woke her again.  She sighed and got up.  Frank handed her a hot cup of coffee.  Maggie took a sip and burned her mouth.  She hurled the cup away from her and sighed.  “I wish I knew more curses, Frank.  The ones I know are too guldurned tame.”

Frank laughed.

The rain slowed them down even more.  It was hard to harness a team with wet leather.  Finally, the wagons were ready.  Frank guided the lead wagon onto the barge.  Maggie turned to Paul Evans.  “You’re next.”

Paul nodded and slapped the reins against the backs of his horse.  With a sure, steady hand, he maneuvered his wagon onto the narrow raft.  The ferrymen started poling.  The river fought them, trying to tug the laden barge downstream.  Maggie watched anxiously, but the raft bumped safely on the other side.

It took all day for the wagons to cross.  The Anderson wagon went last.  Maggie watched as James Anderson slapped the reins against his horses’ back.  The leader was calm and steady, and so was his partner, but the second horse on the gee side flicked his ears back and forth at the sound of the rushing water.

Maggie moved forward.  She took the head of the skittish horse.  “Easy now, Chaucer.  Easy now.  If you lived through the plague, you can manage a river barge.”

“You are familiar with the writings of Chaucer, Mrs. Flynn?”

“Yes sir, I am.  Now watch your team or you will become all too familiar with Poseidon.”

“Not Poseidon, Mrs. Flynn.  He was the god of the oceans.  There are over thirty river gods.  Let’s see.  There’s Acheloios, Aiseopos...”

Maggie laughed.  “I stand corrected.”

James Anderson smiled.  “I loan you the book if you like.”

Maggie nodded.  “Thank you.  I’d like that.”  She led his team onto the barge.  Then, she stepped back onto the shore.

Halfway across the river, one of the ropes that guided the ferry snapped.  Chaucer tried to rear.  Anderson pulled on the reins, and the horse panicked, plunging and rearing.  Maggie vaulted onto Lady’s back.

Flynn grabbed the reins.  “Maggie, no!  The current is too fast here.”

Maggie glared at him, but she knew he was right.  She watched helplessly as the Anderson wagon slid off the ferry and into the river.  A book drifted by on the current.  Maggie wanted to cry.  She wanted to dive into the river and try to save James Anderson.  Instead, she turned to her people.  “All right, circle up.  We’ll camp here tonight.”

“Aren’t you going to do anything for Mr. Anderson?”  Ned Johnson towered over her, scowling.

Maggie met his anger levelly.  “Yes sir, I am.  As soon as we make camp, we’re going to have service for him.  Now move you wagon!”

Maggie climbed into her wagon.  She changed out of her wet clothes.  She toweled herself dry and put on her black dress.  As she did, she let herself cry for a few minutes.  Then, she drank some of Flynn’s coffee and ate some of Frank’s stew.  Finally, she went into the center of the circle of wagons.  Each wagon had a lantern, and each lantern was lit.  Maggie looked up at the immense darkness of the night sky and shivered.  Then, suddenly, she remembered the dream she had had when she almost died.  She remembered those other lights, and the enormous Presence that enfolded them all.

“Friends, we lost James Anderson today.  He was a good man.  He tried hard.  He was a schoolteacher, not a westerner.  He had never driven a team before we left St. Jo, and he was one of the quickest to learn.  I want you to know that what happened today was not his fault.  Anyone’s horse can panic.  Ben and I will work with those of you who are new to driving tomorrow to help you learn what to do when that happens to you.  Because it will.”  She looked around the circle, and the faces were solemn.

She nodded.  “I’m not a preacher, but I believe in certain things.  I believe that every man, woman and child has a soul.  I think of them as lights, shining against the darkness.  Every time we are kind to one another, those lights shine a little brighter.  James Anderson was a kind man, and I am sure that, wherever he is tonight, his light is shining brightly.”  She paused.  “Let us pray.  Almighty Father, we commend unto you the soul of our brother, James Anderson.  Amen.”

“Amen.”  Flynn stood beside her, his head bowed.

Maggie swallowed hard and went back to her wagon.  She changed and back into her trousers and work shirt.  She unrolled her blanket and lay down on it, but every time she closed her eyes, she saw James Anderson’s kind, smiling face.

She began to cry, silently.  A part of her wanted Flynn to come and comfort her.

A part of her was afraid that he would, afraid that she would just get used to him being there for her—and then he’d leave again.

*  *  *

Just outside the circle of light from the fires, Flynn stood and watched Maggie.  He shook his head.  She thought he didn’t know when she cried, but he always knew.  He took one step toward her and stopped.  He heard footsteps and turned.

Ben stood behind him.  “It’s just like gentling a horse.”

Flynn frowned.  “What is?”

“Making up with your woman.”  Ben took off his hat and ran his hand through his hair.  He sighed.  He looked westward and smiled sadly.  “I almost lost her.”

“Emma?”

Ben nodded.

Flynn drew a deep breath.  “What happened?”

Ben turned back to him.  His expression was solemn.  “We both remembered that we loved each other.”

Flynn looked away.  Tears filled his eyes.  “I’m not sure Maggie still loves me.”

Ben was silent a long time.  “Do you love her?”

Flynn nodded.

Ben laid his hand on Flynn’s shoulder.  “Then give her time.”

Flynn turned to him.  “I will.  Thanks.”

Ben nodded once.  Then, he continued to walk the perimeter of the circle.

*  *  *

The rain stopped, and the weather turned hot and dry.  Game was scarce.  They passed a Dakota reservation, and the people stared at them with hostile eyes.  The children were silent, their faces thin.

Maggie’s heart ached for the mothers of those children.  She kicked Lady into a gallop and caught up to Flynn.  “Flynn?”  She reached toward him and drew back her hand before she touched him.  She swallowed hard.  “Are you all right?”

He nodded.  He turned toward her, and anger burned his eyes.  “But
they
aren’t.”

Maggie nodded back.  She looked back at the people who lined the trail.  “Is what we’re doing wrong?  We’re bringing more and more people into a land that can’t sustain the people who have a right to it.”

Flynn blinked, and his anger faded.  “I forgot,” he whispered.

“Forgot what?”

“That you’re the most remarkable woman I’ve ever known.”  He kicked Wakta into a gallop and rode away.

CHAPTER THIRTEEN

That night, Luke Devereux began to play his violin.  Ramon went into his wagon and brought out his guitar.  He listened for a moment, and then he harmonized with the strains of Mozart coming from a Stradivarius.  Maggie was drawn to the music.  She listened for a while, and then nodded decisively.  “Luke, do you know any dance music?”

He smiled faintly.  “I used to play in a saloon, Mrs. Flynn.”

“Folks need cheering up.  Would you mind?”

Luke Devereux swept a deep bow.  “I would be honored, Mrs. Flynn.”

Maggie nodded.  “Thank you, Luke.”

“Would you like me to bring my guitar, Señora Flynn?”

Maggie smiled at him.  “Thank you, Ramon.  That would be great.”  She turned to one of the outriders.  “Slim, why don’t you get your guitar, too?”

Slim glowered at Ramon.  “I won’t play with the Mexican.”

Maggie snorted.  “
You
were a Mexican until Texas became a state.”  She turned to the assembled crowd.  “Now, I want the rest of you to bring your harmonicas and whatever else you play.”

There were murmurs of excitement, and Maggie smiled.  She went back to her wagon.  She hesitated, and then she opened her trunk and took out her old green gingham dress.  The tortoise shell combs that Flynn had given her glinted in the lantern light.  Tears blurred Maggie’s vision.  She left the combs in the trunk and shut the lid.

Luke played a reel first, one neither guitar player knew.  Maggie found herself tapping her foot.

“May I have this dance, Maggie?”  Ben’s eyes twinkled with mischief.

Maggie nodded and let Ben lead her into the reel.  She enjoyed dancing and hadn’t realized how much she missed it when she was carrying Sarah.  After the reel, the single men lined up for a chance to dance with her:  Henry Lascombe and Pete Richards and the others.  For the first time since Sarah’s death, Maggie felt happy.

Luke sat down to take a break.  Slim and Ramon stood up to play.  They whispered together a moment.  Then, Slim nodded, and Ramon began to play a waltz.  After a few bars, Slim joined him, playing harmony as if the two had played together for years.  The song was sad and sweet.  And then, Ramon began to sing.  The words were in Spanish, “Mi corazon...”

“My heart, when we are apart, it is as if a part of me has died.”

Maggie turned.

Flynn stood behind her.  For a moment, their eyes met.  For a moment, he looked at her the way he used to, with tenderness and longing.  “May I have this dance?”

Maggie wanted to.  She wanted to feel his arms around her again.  But she remembered her mother, the way she took Michael back, time after time.

She remembered the way Lucy died.

Maggie shook her head and walked back to her wagon.  She took off the dress and threw it onto the floor.  She cried for a little while.  Then, she picked up the dress and folded it carefully.  She put it away with her combs.  She pulled on her Levi's and work shirt and went to the picket line.  A part of her hoped that Flynn would be there, and a part of her was afraid that he would.  When she reached the picket line, Wakta was gone.