Dangerous Men (Flynn Family Saga Book 2) (15 page)

Flynn sighed.  “Jennie.”  His hand
relaxed in hers.

An hour later, Doc Robbins rode
into camp.  He climbed into the wagon and took one look at Flynn's leg and
turned to Maggie.  "I’m sorry.  The leg has to come off.”

“No!”  Maggie jumped from the wagon
and ran to the picket line where she leaned her face against Patches’ warm
flank.  She heard footsteps and turned.  For one absurd moment, she hoped it
was Flynn.

Horace Robbins stood behind her. 
“You tried, young lady.  You tried to save his leg.”

Maggie turned away.  “But I
failed.”

Horace laid a hand on her
shoulder.  “I’ve been practicing medicine longer than you’ve been alive. 
Sometimes, you do your best, and it just isn’t enough.  And you can drive
yourself crazy trying to figure out what went wrong, or you can try a little
harder the next time.”

Maggie nodded numbly.  She drew a
deep, shuddering breath.  “What can I do to help?”

Horace’s eyes widened slightly.  He
shook his head.  “I wish I’d had you with me at Gettysburg,” he muttered.  He
sighed.  “Come with me.”

Maggie nodded and followed him into
the wagon.  A few moments later, Ben, Sam and Kate followed.  The wagon was
crowded, and it was all Maggie could do to keep from running back outside.

“Hold Flynn’s hand, Maggie." 
Doc's voice was gentle.  "Talk to him.  Even though he’s unconscious,
it’ll help.”  Horace rummaged in his medical bag and took out a saw.

Maggie’s stomach twisted, but she
took Flynn’s hand.

Horace held a vial of laudanum to
Flynn’s mouth.  Flynn sighed and took a sip.  His eyes closed, and his
breathing slowed.  Horace turned to Sam and Ben.  “Sam, you’ve done this before. 
I want you to hold his leg real still.  Ben, hold his shoulders.  Mrs. Anders,
I want you to hold this bandage against the stump when I’m through.  Can you do
that?”

Kate nodded once.  Her face was
pale, but her hands were steady as she took the wadded bandage from the
doctor’s hands.

Horace nodded back.  Then, he laid
his scalpel midway between the thigh and the knee.

“No!”  Maggie grabbed his wrist. 
“The leg is healthy right up to the break.  You don’t have to take anymore than
that.”

Horace rubbed his chin.  “I don’t
know.”
Maggie drew a deep breath.  “You can always take more, but you can’t put it
back on again.”

Horace shook his head.  “Remind me
never to buy a horse from you, young lady.  All right.  We’ll try it your way.”

Maggie nodded once.  She took
Flynn’s hand again and held it tightly.

Horace drew a deep breath and began
to cut.

Flynn moaned.  His eyes opened. 
“Maggie?”

“Hush.”  She smoothed his damp hair
back from his forehead.  “It’s going to be all right.”

Flynn shut his eyes again.

Horace gave him more laudanum.  He
waited for a few moments, and then he continued to cut.  Flynn moaned and sweat
poured down his face.

Maggie wiped his face with a
cloth.  “Remember the time you put a garter snake in my bedroll?  I screamed so
loud the whole camp thought we were under attack.”

Flynn's eyes remained closed, but
he smiled.  Then, Horace cut deeper, and Flynn grunted.

Maggie bit her lip.  “Remember
crossing the Snake River last year?  How blue it was?  I’d never seen anything
as pretty as that.”

Blood spurted from Flynn’s leg and
struck her chest.  Maggie swallowed hard and continued.  “I love falling asleep
to the sound of the river, chuckling quietly at its own private joke.”

A little of the strain eased out of
Flynn’s face.

“Keeping talking, Magpie.”  Sam’s
voice was hoarse.

Maggie nodded.  “I remember the
first time I saw you.  It had been raining all morning, and suddenly, the sun
came out.  You tilted your hat back, and I fell in love with you that very
moment."

Flynn smiled again.  Then, the saw
grated against bone.

Flynn cried out.

Maggie shut her eyes; opened them
again.  “Listen to me, Robert Sean Flynn.  We are going to get through this
together.  We are going to get married and start our own wagon train.  I’m
going to be boss of the outfit, and you’re going to be my scout.  Do you hear
me, Flynn?”  Tears streamed down her face.

“Maggie, he passed out,” Sam said
gently.

Maggie nodded.  She wiped her eyes
with the back of her left hand.  She clung tightly to Flynn’s hand with her
right.

Horace finished swiftly, pressing a
heated knife against the stump to stop the bleeding.

The stench of burning flesh made
Maggie gag.  She ran from the wagon.  She stood at the edge of the circle of
wagons, staring east toward the mountains that stood against the sky.

Sam took her shoulders and turned
her.  He enfolded her in his arms and held her while she cried.  Finally, he
tilted her chin up.  “Maggie?”

Slowly, she lifted her face to
him.  Her hands curled into fists.  “It’s not fair!  He asked me to marry him! 
We were going to start a wagon train!”

“Maggie, life isn’t fair.  You know
that.”

Maggie bowed her head.  “I’m sorry,
Papa.”

Sam hugged her again.  “Oh, child. 
Don’t be sorry.  You’ve been so strong and brave.  Just a little bit longer.  I’ve
seen soldiers lose their legs in the war.  Some of them lose the will to live,
too.”

Maggie swallowed hard and nodded.  “All
right, Papa.  I’ll try.”

“Now, there are things you can do
to help him adjust.”  Sam laid his hand on her shoulder again.

“Like what?”

“Don’t treat him like a cripple. 
Treat him like you normally would.  And when you need to cry, come away where
he can’t see you.  And when you can’t be strong anymore, come to me, and I’ll
loan you some of my strength.”  Sam grinned suddenly.  “With interest, of
course.”

Maggie laughed shakily.  “Thank
you, Papa.”

He hugged her one more time.  “Now,
go get something to eat."

Maggie shuddered.  "I don't
feel like eating."

Sam scowled.  "That's an
order, young lady."

Maggie nodded meekly.  She went to
Frank’s cook fire.  Frank handed her a mug of tea.  Her hands shook so badly
that the tea slopped over the rim, scalding her.  She dropped the mug. 
"I'm sorry, Frank!"

Frank patted her shoulder.  He led
her over to the stream and plunged her hand into the icy water.

Maggie gasped, but the pain eased
in a few moments.

Frank led her back to the fire.  He
poured half a cup of tea and put a lump of sugar in it.  Maggie put in a second
one.  She sipped the tea.

“Jennie!”  Flynn’s voice was raw
with pain.

Maggie winced.  Then, slowly, she
climbed into the wagon.

Flynn’s face was still the color of
clay, and his shirt was drenched in sweat.  His head lashed back and forth.  “Jennie! 
Jennie!”

Maggie took his hand and held it
tightly.  She smoothed his damp hair back from his face.  “I’m here, Flynn.  I’m
right here.”

Flynn opened his eyes.  “Maggie?”

Maggie nodded.

He shut his eyes again and mumbled
something.

“What did you say?”

Flynn’s eyes opened again.  “I love
you very much.” 

Tears filled her eyes.  She raised
his hand and kissed it.  “I love you, too.  Very much.”

His smiled at her.  He shut his
eyes again and fell asleep, holding her hand tightly.

And Maggie let her tears fall.

CHAPTER
FIFTEEN

Flynn woke to pain, pain and hunger
and a kind of muzziness that he found disturbing.

Then, he remembered the laudanum. 
He smelled bacon and eggs and coffee, and his stomach growled.  “Hey?  Is
anybody out there?  I’m starving!”

Maggie came into the wagon,
carrying a mug.  Flynn reached for it eagerly.  He took a sip and made a face. 
“Broth?”

Maggie nodded.  Her face was pale,
and dark smudges underscored her eyes.

He pushed it away.  “I’d rather
have coffee.”

Maggie hesitated.  “I made the
coffee this morning.”

Slowly, Flynn smiled.  “Give me
that broth.”

Laughing, Maggie handed him the
mug.

Flynn took a sip and sighed.  “You
know, that doesn’t taste half bad.”

Maggie sat down on a crate beside
the bed.  “How is your leg this morning?”

Flynn shrugged.  “It hurts,
Maggie.  Especially my foot.”

Maggie looked away.

“Maggie?”

Maggie swallowed hard.  She turned
and faced him.  “Your foot isn't there, Flynn.  There was no way to—we couldn’t—”

Slowly, the blood drained from
Flynn’s face.  He threw back the covers and stared in horror at the stump.  “No,”
he whispered hoarsely.

“Flynn, I’m sorry.  I—”

“Get out.”  He turned away from
her.

“Flynn.”  She touched his back
gently.

Flynn turned on her.  “I said get
out!”

Maggie bowed her head and left the
wagon.

A few minutes later, Sam climbed
into the wagon.  He picked up the mug and held it out to Flynn.  “Finish your
broth.”

Flynn folded his arms across his
chest and shook his head.

“Finish it, or I’ll call Ben in
here, and we’ll pour it down your guldurned throat!”

Flynn snatched the mug from Sam’s
hand and began to drink it.

Sam sat down on the crate next to
the stretcher.  He took off his hat and ran his hand through his gray hair.  “You
owe Maggie an apology.”

“I owe
her
an apology?  She
took my leg!”

“No, she didn’t.  Doc Robbins did. 
Don’t you remember?”

Flynn closed his eyes.  He
remembered falling.  He remembered the crushing pain.  He remembered Jennie
giving him laudanum.  No.  Not Jennie.  Maggie.  He shook his head.  “She gave
me laudanum.  When I woke up, my leg was gone.”

Sam sighed and ran his hand through
his hair.  “You lost four whole days, Flynn.  Maggie pushed the bones back into
your skin, but something went wrong.  Your foot went bad.  She refused to take
your leg.  We had to send for Doc Robbins again.”

Flynn turned away.  “I’ll never be
able to scout again.”

“You don’t know that.  Maggie
should be cooking and sewing, and instead, she teaches greenhorns how to
survive in the wilderness.  And it’s a darned good thing she’s here.  She did a
fine job setting your leg.  You would have died without her.”

“I wish I had!”

Sam’s hand cracked across Flynn’s
face.  “I’ve tolerated a lot of nonsense from you this morning because I know
you’re in a lot of pain, but that’s enough.  If I ever hear you say that again,
I’ll—I’ll kill you myself!”

Slowly, Flynn grinned.  It was a
pale imitation of his usual grin, but it was the best he could manage.  “I don’t
suppose it would help to point out the lack of logic in that statement.”

“No!  It wouldn’t!”

Flynn’s grin faded, and he shut his
eyes.  “I don’t know if I can do this, Sam.”

Sam was silent a long time. 
Finally, he reached out and squeezed Flynn’s arm.  “You know, I say that very
same thing to myself every spring, right before I go down to the corral and
pretend that I know what I’m doing.”

Flynn’s eyes opened.  He stared at
his old friend in surprise.  “Really?”

Sam nodded solemnly.  “Really.”  He
sighed.  “Every season, there’s something new, something I’ve never had to
handle before.”  He grinned.  “Like adopting a sixteen-year-old girl.”

Flynn laughed briefly.

Sam’s smile faded.  “Flynn, there’s
no book of instructions for life.  We all just do the best we can.”

Flynn nodded.

“Maggie loves you.  That will
help.  And there’s something you want real bad, and that will help.”  Sam
stopped and drew a deep breath.  “And if there’s any man who can learn how to
walk and ride and fight again, it’s you.”

Flynn studied Sam’s face.  He
licked his lips.  “Do you mean that, Sam?”

Sam nodded.  “You risked your life
for a pair of men who fought for the other side.  You carried a ten-year-old
boy across fifteen miles of badlands.  And you won the heart of the prettiest
girl on the wagon train.  Hell, I don’t think there’s anything you
can’t
do.”

Flynn smiled.  “Thanks, Sam.”

Sam nodded.  “Now, there’s one more
thing.”

“What’s that?”

Sam tipped his hat back.  “You’re
going to apologize to my daughter or I’ll horsewhip you from here to San
Francisco!”

“Yes sir!”  Flynn saluted.

Sam grinned.  “I’ll send her in.” 
He stood up and climbed out of the wagon.

Maggie climbed in slowly.  She had
that hurt, bruised look he hated so much.  He took her hand and forced himself
to smile.  “I’m sorry, Maggie.  It was the laudanum.  The last thing I remember
was that you gave me laudanum.”

Maggie nodded solemnly.  “It does
that sometimes, Flynn.”

Flynn squeezed her hand.  “It
wasn’t your fault, Magpie.”

She nodded, but she could not meet
his gaze.

*  *  *

That night, Sam gave the same
speech he did every year.  Flynn listened to Sam’s voice and smiled.  Then he
heard the music, and his chest ached with the longing to dance with Maggie. 
Fear gnawed at him, fear that he might never be able to walk again, much less
dance.  He shut his eyes and tried to sleep.  His leg throbbed, but eventually,
exhaustion took him.  He dreamed of the war.  He dreamed that he was in the
Hole.  Cold rain dripped onto his head and down his back.  He started to
shiver.

“Flynn!”  Maggie’s voice woke him.

Flynn looked up at her.  “What?” 
He shivered.  He couldn’t stop shivering.  Maggie touched his forehead.  Her
hand felt cool.  He sighed.

“I’ll be right back, Flynn.”  He
heard her leave, but it felt so good to rest that he didn’t even try to open
his eyes again.  When he came to, Maggie was holding his hand.  She held a mug
of hot liquid to his lips.  It was bitter.

Flynn raised one eyebrow.  “Willow
bark tea?”

Maggie nodded.

“Where did you get it?”

Maggie bit her lip.  “You taught
me, remember?”

Flynn nodded.  He sipped the tea
slowly.  Warmth spread to his hands and feet.

Maggie sat down on a crate beside
the bed.  She held a glass of water to Flynn’s lips.  He drank a little and
fell back onto the pillow.  He hated the weakness that weighed on him like a
stone.  He hated his fear.  He stared up at the canvas.  Despair gnawed at him,
like a rat at a sack of grain.

Maggie picked up a book and started
to read.

“Shakespeare?”

She nodded.

Flynn shut his eyes.  “
Romeo and
Juliet
?”

“Nope.”  She made a face.  “I hate
that one.”

Flynn laughed.  “What are you
reading?”

“
The Taming of the Shrew
.”

“Read it out loud?  Please?”

Maggie hesitated.  “I have a
feeling that I’m going to regret this, but here goes.”  She cleared her throat
and began to read aloud.  “’I’ll pheeze you, in faith.’”

Flynn grinned faintly.  “Maggie?”

“Yes, Flynn.”

“Do you know what pheeze means?”

“Nope.”

His grin broadened.  “It’s probably
something that would make you blush.”

She turned a delightful shade of
red.

Flynn laughed softly.  “Thanks,
Maggie.”

“I haven’t done anything, yet. 
Now, where was I?  Oh yes.  ‘I pheeze you, in faith...’”

Flynn fell asleep, listening to the
sound of Maggie’s voice.  He slept deeply, without dreams.

*  *  *

Two weeks later, the wagon rattled
into a lane.  Flynn rolled over and looked out of the opening in the canvas.  A
farmhouse stood on a low knoll.  There was a barn behind the main house.  A
tall, slim woman with black hair stood on the front porch.  Ben and a young man
came over to the wagon.

Ben poked his head inside.  “Billy,
give me a hand with this no-good loafer.”

Ben and Billy climbed into the
wagon.  Together, they carried Flynn out of the wagon and into the house.  He
felt humiliated, being carried like a baby.

Like a cripple.

They carried him up the stairs and
into a sunny room.  The bed was narrow, but the quilt was clean.  Maggie drew
back the covers and Ben and Billy laid Flynn in the bed.

Maggie turned to Ben.  “Did you
bring the gear?”

Ben nodded.  “And my tools.”

“Good.  He’s been sitting idle much
too long.”

Flynn frowned.  “What are you two
talking about?”

Maggie grinned.  “You’ll see.”  She
ran lightly down the stairs.

Flynn felt a pang of envy.  He knew
he would never be able to move like that again.

Ben came back up with a small block
and tackle, some rope and wooden toolbox.  He screwed the block and tackle into
the beam over the bed.  Flynn stared at him as if he had lost his mind.

Maggie came into the room with a
bucket.  She hung the bucket from the pulley.

Flynn peered over the rim of the
bucket.  “Rocks?”

Maggie nodded.  She fastened the
other end of the rope around Flynn’s right leg.  His leg rose into the air.  “Now
lower it.”

Flynn stared at her.

Maggie put her hands on her slim
hips.  “Have you gone deaf?  I said lower your leg.”

Flynn tried, but his leg was weak. 
Ben and Billy still stood in the doorway, watching.  Flynn wasn’t about to fail
in front of them.  Sweat beaded his upper lip as he tried to lower his leg. 
Finally, the bucket moved.  He kept on trying until his leg rested on the bed.

Slowly, Ben grinned.  “That was a
good idea, Maggie.”

Flynn scowled at him.  “You’re not the
one who has to move rocks.”

“Nope.  I’ve got better things to
do with my time.”  He came over to the bed and laid a callused hand on Flynn’s
shoulder.  “I’ll see you downstairs.  Soon.”

Tears pricked Flynn’s eyes.  He
nodded without speaking.  He didn’t trust his voice.

Ben left the room.

“Again.”  Maggie’s voice cracked
like a bullwhip.

Resentment stung Flynn for a
moment, and then he grinned.  “You’re going to make a great wagon master
someday.  You’ve already got the voice for it.”

Maggie grinned back.  Then, she
frowned.  “Don’t think you can sweet-talk your way around me, Robert Sean
Flynn.  You’re going to have to raise and lower that bucket ten times with each
leg before I give you any supper.”

“Who’s cooking it?”

Maggie laughed.  “Emma.”

Flynn smiled at her.  He grunted
and moved the bucket of rocks a second time.

That night, Flynn dreamed of the
day Jennie died.  He stood and watched helplessly as the men in gray uniforms
put the noose around her neck and lifted her onto the back of her mare.  He
struggled against the hands that held him, but he could not move, could not
stop Nick Vaughn from striking the rump of the mare.  He watched in horror as
Jennie fell from the back of the horse and swung back and forth at the end of a
rope.

“Jennie!”  He sat up, drenched in
sweat.

Maggie sat beside his bed.  Her
face was pale and drawn.  “Who is she, Flynn?”

Flynn turned away from her.

Maggie got up and ran from the
room.

Flynn wished he could go after her,
wished he could comfort her, but he had no comfort to give.  He couldn’t even
tell her about Jennie.  He had never told anyone about Jennie, about the way
she died, not even Sam.  Flynn shut his eyes again, but it wasn’t Jennie’s face
he saw.

It was Maggie’s, the first day he
met her.  She was wearing a yellow slicker that was two sizes too big for her. 
She was dressed like a boy, and for a moment, she had him fooled.  But as soon
as he touched her hand, there was a spark, a connection between them.  He had
wanted her then, and he wanted her now.

And now he’d never be able to have
her.

He wanted to die.  The Lakota had
taught him how to do that.  It was his choice.  He didn’t want to live as a
cripple.  He sighed and stared out of the window.

One of the mullions framed the half
moon perfectly.  He sat up and swung what was left of his legs over the edge of
the bed.  He watched as the Ruler of the Night rose, half light, half
darkness.  He grew still.  The meaning was clear.  Half of him hoped.  Half of
him feared.  He bowed his head and prayed for the courage to continue to hope. 
Then, he watched until the moon disappeared, too high for him to see.

*  *  *

Every day, Maggie added more rocks
to the bucket.  Flynn swore, but he continued to exercise both legs.  Finally,
the bucket was full.  Flynn’s muscles trembled with the effort, but he managed
to raise and lower the bucket ten times with each leg.

Maggie smiled at him.  “Very good. 
You get a piece of chocolate cake as a reward.”

Flynn raised one eyebrow.  “Who
made it?”

Maggie tilted her head to one side. 
“What kind of question is that?”

Flynn grinned slowly.  “One that
could possibly save my life.  Did you make the cake?  Or did Emma?”

Maggie grinned back.  “I’m not
telling.”

Flynn threw his pillow at her.

Laughing, Maggie threw it back.

Flynn sobered.  “Thanks, Magpie.”

Maggie’s expression shifted.  She
looked surprised and very vulnerable.  “For—for what?”

“For not treating me like a
cripple.”