Dangerous Men (Flynn Family Saga Book 2) (11 page)

Maggie nodded.  Kate tucked her in,
and in a little while, she slept.  She dreamed of the white house on the hill
with lace curtains in the windows.  She heard the sound of children's voices,
and a feeling of joy and peace filled her, a joy and a peace she had never
known before.

In the morning, Maggie helped Billy
clean the stables.  Then she washed up and helped Emma with breakfast.  Emma
smiled at her.  “I don’t know what we’re going to do without you, Maggie.”

Maggie smiled shyly.  “I’ll miss
you, too.  It was nice staying here.”

Emma hugged her.

After breakfast, Sam and Kate and
Maggie rode south.  It was snowing in the passes, but it wasn’t very deep yet. 
Maggie looked back at the small ranch house and sighed.  “Papa...”

“I know, Magpie.  We’ll think of
some way to help them.”  He squeezed her shoulder.

Smiling, Maggie nodded.

They took their time traveling. 
They reached Sacramento in time for the boat to New Orleans.  Maggie had never
been on a ship before, and she was seasick for the entire journey.

New Orleans was hot and humid, in
spite of the fact that it was November.  Kate looked pale.

Sam squeezed her hand.  “Was this a
mistake, Kate?”

Kate shook her head.  “No.  I have
to face my demons someday.”

Sam smiled at her and squeezed her
hand.  They led Patches and Alexander and Portia down the gangplank.  They
stopped at the house where Kate had grown up.  Her hand shook as she picked up
the heavy brass knocker and rapped on the door.

A tall black man opened the door.  “Yes?”

“My name is Katherine Beauchamp
Anders.”

The black man smiled.  “I remember
you, Miss Kate!”

Kate smiled.  “How are you,
Johnson?”

“I’m well, Miz Kate.”  His smile
broadened.  “I’ll go tell your papa you’re here.”  He turned and disappeared
into the dark foyer.  A few minutes later, he returned.  He could not look at
Kate.  “I’m sorry, Miss Kate.  Mr. Louis said he don’t want to see you.”

Tears shone in Kate’s violet eyes. 
She brushed them away.  “I’m sorry to have bothered you, Johnson.”

“It’s no bother, Miss Kate.”

Sam lifted his chin.  “Tell him we’ll
be back next year.”

Smiling, Johnson nodded.  “I will,
sir.”

Sam nodded back.  “Come on, Kate. 
Let’s shake the dust of this town off our shoes.”

They rode away slowly, and Maggie
noticed for the first time that Kate didn’t sit straight and tall in the
saddle.

Sam reached over and took Kate’s
hand.

Maggie looked away.  She thought of
Flynn with a longing that was like a knife in her belly.

CHAPTER
ELEVEN

In the morning, they began to ride
toward St. Jo.  Sam and Kate spoke with each other quietly most of the day, and
Maggie felt a little lonely.  That afternoon, after they made camp, Maggie and
Sam went hunting for supper.  Maggie brought down a deer, and Sam squeezed her
shoulder proudly.  Maggie blushed.  They cleaned the deer together and brought
it back to camp.

Sam grinned.  “Maggie shot us some
supper, Kate.”

Kate looked surprised.

They ate in near silence, and for
the next few days, Maggie caught Kate looking at her with concern.  Then, one
day, Sam went hunting alone, leaving Kate and Maggie together.

Kate made them both a pot of tea. 
She looked at Maggie over the rim of the enamel mug.  “Do you know what you
want to be when you grow up, Maggie?”

Maggie nodded.  “A scout.”

She frowned.  “Magpie, it’s too
dangerous for a woman to be on the trail alone.”

Maggie shrugged.  “It’s dangerous
for a man, too.”

Kate bit her lip.  “That’s not what
I mean.  Did your mother ever tell you about, well, about men and women?”

“Oh.  You mean rape?”

Kate nodded.  “How do you know
about rape?”

Maggie looked away.  “A little over
a year ago, a wagon left the train, headed for Jensen’s Wells.  A band of outlaws
attacked it.  They raped Mrs. Lonnegan, and she died.  I found them.”  She met
Kate’s gaze levelly.  “So I know the risks.  But my father caught consumption
in New York City.  And he almost got himself killed in a card game.  My
grandparents—”  Her voice broke.  She drew a deep breath.  “My grandparents
died of cholera.  They died in their own bed.”

Kate sighed.  “I want a better life
for you than that.”

Maggie’s jaw tightened.  “I’ve seen
what a better life is like.  Right before we came to live at your boarding
house, we lived in the St. Joseph Hotel.  I was miserable.  I was afraid to
even walk on the carpet.”

Kate nodded solemnly.  “I know what
you mean.  Sam took me to dinner at a place like that in San Francisco, and we
didn’t know what half the things on the menu were.”

Maggie nodded.  “And when your
husband came back, nobody would even talk to you.  Ben and Frank wouldn’t treat
me like that.”

Kate sighed.  “I know.  It’s just
that—”

“You want me to be safe.”  Maggie
set down her mug.  “I know.”  Tears shimmered in her eyes.  “I don’t think I
was ever really happy until I started working on the wagon train.  I loved my
grandparents, but sometimes, I’d ride to the top of the hill, west of their
farm, and look out and wonder what was around the bend in the road.”

Kate looked away.  “Just like
Flynn.”

“Yes.”  Maggie’s heart ached at the
mention of his name.

Kate came around the campfire and
hugged Maggie gently.  “I just worry.”  Kate grinned suddenly.  “Isn’t that
what mothers are supposed to do?”

Maggie laughed, but her laughter
was short-lived.  “I don’t know.  I never had a real mother before.  Lucy was
so caught up in Michael that there wasn’t anything left for me.”

“I know.”  Kate stood up and hugged
her.  “Well, you’ve got a real mother now, Maggie.”

Overcome with emotion, Maggie shut
her eyes and rested her head on Kate’s soft shoulder.

*  *  *

They reached St. Jo a few days
before Thanksgiving.  Kate turned her horse toward Hannah’s boarding house on River
Street.  Sam took her reins and shook his head.  “I have a surprise for you.” 
He led the way toward Main Street.  There was a small house, not far from Mrs.
Hudson’s old boarding house.  He opened the door and carried Kate across the
threshold.

Smiling, Maggie followed.

Sam set Kate down in the foyer.  He
smiled at her.  “I had Jasper buy this house for us.”  While Kate was examining
the kitchen, he took Maggie up the stairs to the second floor and threw open
one of the doors that lined the hallway.

Maggie gasped.  Her grandmother’s
quilt lay on the bed, and the china basin and pitcher stood on the washstand. 
She turned to Sam.  “How...?”

Sam grinned.  “Flynn told Jasper
Williams about them.”

“Flynn did that?”

Sam nodded solemnly.  “Jasper made
sure that his brother didn’t sell them.  When Jeffrey Williams and his wife
came out to visit Jasper last summer, he brought these with them.”

Maggie sat down on the edge of the
bed.  For the first time in a long time, she let herself hope that Flynn loved
her.

*  *  *

The days passed slowly, but they
passed.  On Christmas Eve, Maggie woke early.  She helped Kate by slicing
apples for the pies.  When she was finished, she ran up the stairs.  She
changed into her old green dress.  She heard a knock at the door and ran back
down with her hair flying out behind her.  She opened the door.

Flynn stood in the doorway with his
saddlebags slung over his shoulder.  He looked pale, but he grinned when he saw
her.  “Hello, Magpie.”

“Hello, Flynn.”  She stepped back
to let him in.

He walked straight to the kitchen. 
He kissed Kate and shook Sam’s hand.

“Well, Flynn, just in time for
dinner.  As usual.”  Sam scowled, but his eyes twinkled.

Flynn grinned at him.  “Of course.” 
He helped himself to a cookie from the earthenware jar and wandered into the
parlor.

Maggie followed him.  A fire
crackled in the fireplace.  Flynn held his hands out toward the flames and
rubbed them together.  “Are you cold, Flynn?”

“I’m always cold.  Ever since Elmira.”

“How are the nightmares?”

He shrugged.  “Fine.”

“Liar,” she said softly.

Flynn turned to her and smiled.  “You
wore your hair down.”

Maggie’s hands flew to her hair.  “I’m
sorry.  I didn’t have time to braid it.”

He shook his head.  “It looks
beautiful that way, Magpie.”  He took a step toward her.  Then, he turned back
to the fire.

Flynn was unusually quiet at
dinner.  Maggie bit her lip.  He looked thin and drawn, and she wondered if he
was sick.

When dinner was over, Flynn helped
her clear the table.  As soon as the dishes were done, they all went into the
parlor.  Kate handed Flynn a package.  Flynn opened it and laughed.  “Sugar
lumps.”  He showed Maggie the tin.

Maggie laughed.

Kate handed Maggie a long, soft
package.  Maggie opened it carefully.  A shawl, embroidered with russet thread,
nestled in the tissue paper.  She looked at Kate in awe.  “You embroidered this
yourself, didn’t you?”

Kate nodded.

Maggie touched the delicate
embroidery reverently.  “Thank you, Mama.”

Kate hugged her.  “You’re welcome.”

Maggie handed Kate a box.  Kate
opened it carefully.  Inside, a hand-painted teacup nestled in tissue paper. 
Tears filled Kate’s eyes.  “Maggie, thank you.”

Maggie nodded.  She handed Sam a
package.

He opened it slowly.  Inside was a
hand-bound portfolio.  He opened it.  Inside were Maggie’s sketches of Melanie
and the twins and Ben and Frank and a dozen other people from the wagon train. 
Sam hugged her.  “Thank you, Magpie.”  He handed her a rectangular package.

Inside were a pair of leather work
gloves.

Maggie grinned.  “Thank you, Papa.” 
She put her arm around Sam’s neck.

Sam gave her a one-armed hug.

“Hey, don’t I get a hug?”  Flynn
stood in front of her.

Maggie shook her head.  “Not until
I get my present.”

He laughed and picked up a small
package.

Maggie opened it.  It was a book of
poetry by Swinburne.  “Thank you.”  She hugged him.  Her breath caught, and she
did not want to let go.  Sam cleared his throat, and she forced herself to step
back.

Maggie bent and picked up the last
package.  Flynn opened it and smiled.  It was a string tie with silver tips.  “Thank
you, Maggie.  I’ll wear it to the dance at Lake McConnaughy.”

Maggie nodded silently.

Kate went over to the spinet and
began to play.  Flynn and Sam joined her.  Maggie stood for a moment, filled
with love and tenderness for the people who had become her family.

That night, she had trouble
sleeping.  She knew that Flynn was in the next room.  She watched as the
shadows of the bare branches outside her window waved back and forth across the
ceiling of her room.  The wind moaned, a lonely, mournful sound.

Maggie sighed and rolled over.  She
ran her fingers lightly over the blanket Flynn had given her.

“Jennie!”

Maggie got up.  She ran to the door
of Flynn’s room.  She hesitated, but she knew that she would have gone to him
if they were on the trail.  She opened the door.  His eyes were closed.  He
looked as if he were in physical pain, the lines in his face were so deep.  She
sat on the edge of the bed and took his hand.  “I’m here, Flynn.  I’m here.”

His cold hand tightened around
hers.  “Jennie.”  He sighed, and his face relaxed.

Maggie sat watching him sleep for a
long time.  Then, she sighed and went back to bed.

In the morning, Flynn was gone.

*  *  *

March came at last.  Flynn returned
to St. Jo, but he avoided Maggie.  He was drawn to her, more than he had ever
been drawn to a woman before.  It was like Belle Isle, when he felt drawn to
Sam and Ben.  But Jennie stood between them.

The weather was unseasonably warm
and dry.  Sam stared at the sky and shook his head.  “I don’t like it, Flynn. 
If it’s this hot in the badlands, we might not make it across.”

Flynn nodded.  He pulled on his
gloves.  “Alexander Ridgeton showed me some water holes that seldom go dry. 
They’re not on the trail, but we can take a wagon with empty barrels and bring
the water back to the train.”

Sam grinned at him.  “I guess you’ll
earn your pay this year.”

Flynn grinned back.

*  *  *

A month later, the barges crossed
the Missouri.  The river was low, and Maggie bit her lip.  She got up before
daylight to help the greenhorns harness their wagons and take care of her own
team.

But Flynn continued to avoid her,
and it hurt.

They crossed Sees Far’s territory. 
One night, she heard a very strange bird.  She got up and left the circle of
wagons.

Speaks To Birds grinned at her.  “I
wondered if you’d notice.”

Maggie grinned back.  “I noticed. 
How are you?”

“I am well.  And you?  Have you
come to your senses yet?”

Maggie’s grin faded and she shook
her head.  “No.”

Speaks To Birds sighed.  “When you
change your mind, you will know where to find me.”

Maggie nodded.

Speaks To Birds turned and left
silently.

Maggie stared into the darkness and
wondered if she was a fool for loving a man who did not love her back.

*  *  *

They reached Lake McConnaughy,
Maggie put on her old green gingham dress.  Kate had let out the seams and
fixed her hair, using the combs Flynn had given her.  She left the wagon and
went to the edge of the circle.  She stood and watched the couples dance.

“Hello, Magpie.”

Maggie turned.  Her heart beat very
hard.  “Hello, Flynn.”

He wore his black pants and white
shirt, with the string tie she had given him knotted at his throat.  He held
out his hand.  Maggie took it, and he led her onto the boards the outriders had
put down on the grass.  The band played a waltz.  Flynn held her so close she
could feel his thighs against hers.  Heat coursed through her, pooling in
places she wasn’t supposed to think about.

Maggie swallowed hard.

“You wore the combs.”  His voice
was husky with emotion.

Maggie nodded.  “You wore the tie.” 
Her voice was barely a whisper.

The music ended.  Flynn escorted
her out of the circle.  He bowed and left her standing breathless and alone.

In the morning, he was gone.

Tears stung Maggie’s eyes.

*  *  *

They crossed into Wyoming.  The air
was hot and still, reminding Maggie of the week she and Ben had spent looking
for Flynn and the Lonnegans.

She shivered, despite the heat.

Day followed day, and nothing
unusual happened.  Then, it began to rain, and the road turned to mud. 
Everyone was cold and tired and out of sorts.  Ben and Frank had a real
argument about the supplies.  Someone had left the lid open, and the flour had
gotten wet.

When they reached the Laramie River,
the waters were too high to ford.  Flynn chose that moment to ride into camp.

Sam scowled.  “Where in tarnation
have you been?”

“Looking for water.”

Sam put his hands on his hips.  “Well
it looks like you found it.”

Flynn grinned.

Sam turned to the river.  “Look at
this mess.  We can’t cross here.”

Flynn nodded.  He turned Horatio
and rode south without even speaking to Maggie.

Maggie bit her lip.

Two days later, Flynn returned.  He
shook his head.  “That crossing is washed out, too.  I’ll try the north
crossing.”

Sam sighed.  “Get some hot food
first.”

Flynn nodded.  He sat down under
the shelter of a tarp.  He took off his hat and ran his hand through his wet
hair.  He shivered.  Maggie got up and poured a mug of coffee.  She put three
sugar lumps in it and brought it back to Flynn.

He smiled wanly at her and sipped
the hot coffee.  He made a face.  “Who made this?”

Maggie hesitated.  “I did.”

Flynn shook his head.  “I’ve got to
teach you how to make coffee.”

Maggie smiled tentatively.

Flynn grinned back at her.

Maggie shut her eyes and the knot
in the pit of her stomach uncoiled.  That night, she slept without dreaming. 
In the morning, she got up and stretched.  She ran to the picket line, but
Flynn was gone.  Disappointed, she groomed her horses and went to Frank’s cook
fire.  “When did Flynn leave?”