Dangerous Men (Flynn Family Saga Book 2) (3 page)

Maggie shut her eyes.  She saw
Flynn walk with that easy, rolling gait of his.  She drew a deep breath and
opened her eyes.  She concentrated on the ground, on following the tracks.  She
mounted Patches and continued followed Flynn tracks.

But by noon, she had lost the trail.  The ground was just too hard.  She slid off Patches and buried her
face against the little horse’s flank.  “It’s no use, Ben.  I can’t—”

“Maggie, look!”  Ben shook his head
and pointed to the sky.  A dozen buzzards circled lazily against a slate blue
sky.

A single sob escaped her lips.  “We’re
too late!”

“No, Maggie.”  Ben squeezed her
shoulder reassuringly.  “See?  They’re still hovering.  Whatever they want to
eat isn’t dead yet.”

Hope stung her like a wasp.  Maggie
swung up onto Patches’ back and kicked him into a gallop.  She heard Lightning
follow her, heard Ben’s voice calling to her, but she could not have stopped if
she wanted to.  Fear and hope both drove her.

She topped a ridge of sharp rock. 
She reined in Patches and scanned the broken country in front of her.

A solitary figure staggered forward.

“Flynn.”  The word was a prayer,
coming from Maggie’s aching heart.

Flynn kept on walking.

“Flynn!”  The cry hurt Maggie's
throat.  She kicked Patches into a gallop.  Ben caught up to her, rode beside
her.

Flynn stopped and turned.  He
stood, swaying.  His lips moved, but he made no sound.

Maggie rode hard until she reached
him.  Then, she jumped from Patches’ back.  “Flynn?”

“Do you have any water, Magpie? 
Tommy—”  His voice broke.

Maggie looked down at the limp form
in Flynn’s arms.  The boy’s lips were cracked.  Gently, tenderly, she took
Tommy’s body from Flynn’s trembling arms and laid the boy on the ground.  She
held her canteen to the boy’s lips.  At first, he choked.  Then, he started to
drink greedily.

“Don’t let him drink too much,
Maggie.”  Flynn’s voice was hoarse.

Maggie nodded.  She handed Flynn
her canteen and then checked Tommy’s leg.  The bones were aligned perfectly. 
She smiled at Flynn.  “You did a good job setting his leg.”

Flynn nodded.  He tried to cap her
canteen, but the cap fell from his hand.  Maggie knelt beside Flynn and took
his hand.  “You’re wounded.

Flynn winced and his eyes opened.  “It’s
not safe, Maggie.  They—Mrs. Lonnegan—they—”

Maggie nodded solemnly.  “I know,
Flynn.  We found her.”

“There are eight of them, Maggie.” 
His voice rasped in his throat.

“And there are three of us.”  Ben
knelt beside Flynn and squeezed his shoulder.

Maggie nodded.  “Heck, with just
you and me, they’d be outnumbered.”

Flynn started to grin, but his
upper lip split and started to bleed.  He grimaced.  Maggie held the canteen to
his lips again.  Flynn took another sip and closed his eyes.  Blood caked his
face and chest, and the wound on his hand was inflamed.  Maggie wished with all
her heart that they had enough water to clean him up so she could examine his
wounds properly.  She sighed and had to make do with probing with her hands.

Flynn moaned softly.

“Sorry.”  Maggie continued to
probe.  “You’re lucky.  I don’t think these ribs are broken.  Just bruised.”

Flynn nodded.  “I tried to fight them,
Maggie.”

Maggie smiled crookedly.  “Of
course you did.  There were only eight of them.”

He started to laugh but it slid
into a cough.

Maggie held the canteen to his lips
again and let him drink a little.  She went to her saddlebags and brought back
bandages and salve.  As gently as she could, Maggie rubbed the salve into his
wounds, and his muscles relaxed under her hands.

“That’s better, Magpie.  Thanks.” 
Flynn sighed and shut his eyes.

For a moment, panic stung Maggie,
but his breathing was deep and even.

Maggie and Ben rigged a pair of stretchers
using branches from a solitary ponderosa pine and their blankets.  Maggie
lifted Tommy onto one, and Ben carried Flynn onto the other.  Flynn grunted in
pain as they lashed him to the travois.  Maggie bit her lip and mounted
Patches.  Slowly, they began to travel back toward the wagon train.  That
night, they camped beside a small water hole.  The water was brackish, but it
was safe to drink.  Maggie cleaned off Flynn’s face and chest.  He winced, but
he didn’t open his eyes.  Lines of pain bracketed his mouth.  She lanced the
wound on his hand.  He cried out in pain, and her stomach knotted.  “I’m sorry,
Flynn.  I have to drain the infection.”

He nodded.  His face was very pale.

She squeezed out the pus and poured
alcohol over the open wound.  Flynn cried out again.  Maggie shut her eyes for
a moment.  Then, she rubbed salve into the wound.

Flynn sighed and shut his eyes. 
She reached toward his matted hair and hesitated.  Her hand fell back to her
side before she touched him.  She bandaged his hand with clean linen and stood
up.

“How is he, Maggie?”

Maggie shook her head.  “His hand
was badly infected.  We won’t know for a few days.

Ben nodded solemnly.  He took the
first watch.  Maggie unrolled her blanket next to Flynn.  She fell asleep
watching the play of firelight on Flynn’s face as he slept.

“Jennie!”

Flynn’s anguished cry woke her. 
Maggie sighed.  She took his hand.  It was hot to the touch.  “I’m here,
Flynn.  I’m right here.”

He sighed, and the tension eased
out of his hand.

Maggie’s throat ached so badly that
she had trouble swallowing.  She got up and went over to Ben.  “I’ll take over.” 
She hesitated.  “Ben, do you know who Jennie is?”

Ben shook his head.  “But he used
to call out her name when we were in Camp Sumter together.”

Maggie blinked.  “Camp Sumter?  I
thought Flynn was imprisoned in Elmira.”

Ben nodded.  “He was, later on. 
But first, he ended up in Camp Sumter.  It’s a darned good thing, too.  He
saved our lives, the Major and me.”

Maggie shook her head.  “I didn’t
know.”  She shuddered, thinking of her the men she loved suffering in that
hellhole.  She kept watch, but the only thing that stirred was the dawn breeze,
which tugged at the blanket that covered Tommy.  She wrapped it more securely
around him.

Tommy opened his eyes.  “Mommy?”

Maggie’s heart ached.  “No, honey. 
Your Mommy had to go away.”

Tommy’s eyes filled with tears.  “Those
men hurt her, didn’t they?”

Maggie nodded again.  She felt as
if she had swallowed a large, sharp rock and it had lodged in her throat.  She
drew a deep breath.  “Yes, Tommy.  They did.  But she isn’t hurting anymore.”

Tommy nodded.  “Then she’s with my
Pop.”

Maggie swallowed a sob.  “Yes,
Tommy.  She’s with your father.”

As soon as Tommy went back to sleep,
she stirred the fire.  Ben woke and stretched.  He smiled at Maggie and started
the coffee.  Maggie sliced the bacon, but her hands shook so badly that she cut
her finger.  As soon as breakfast was ready, she took a plate over to Flynn’s
stretcher.

He turned his face away without
opening his eyes.

Worried, Maggie helped Ben pack up
the camp.  As she was kicking dirt over the fire, it began to rain.

Flynn started to shiver.

Maggie bit her lip.  “We need to
hurry, Ben.”

Ben nodded.

CHAPTER
THREE

Flynn drifted in and out of
delirium.  Once, he thought that Jennie came to him and held his hand.  Then,
rain began to pelt him, hard and cold.  The dream shifted, and he lay at the
bottom of the Hole in Camp Sumter.  Cold rain fell through the grill that
covered the pit and ran down the sides of the Hole, turning the dirt floor to
mud.  He shivered uncontrollably, which made his ribs ache.  He heard the sound
of booted feet, and he knew the guards were going to beat him again.

“No!”  He struggled against the
ropes that bound him.

“Hush, Flynn.  Hush.  It’s all
right.”

Strong hands smoothed the hair back
from his face.  He opened his eyes.

Maggie knelt beside the travois. 
Tears shimmered in her eyes.  “I’m sorry, Flynn.  I know it hurts, but we have
to keep moving.  Tommy’s sick.”

Terror stabbed him in the gut.  He
nodded, unable to speak.

Maggie nodded back.  She mounted
Patches, and the travois jolted forward.

Finally, the travois stopped
moving.  He heard Sam’s deep, gruff voice.  “How bad is he, Maggie?”

“Bad, Major.”

Tommy Lonnegan started to cough, a
deep, hollow sound.

Flynn struggled up out of the
darkness that clung to him like seaweed.  “Maggie, the pouch on my belt.  Use
some of the bark to make tea.  Give it to him.”

Maggie nodded and went away.

Flynn shut his eyes and tried to
cling to consciousness.  He didn’t hear Maggie come back.  Instead, he felt her
lift his head and hold a mug to his lips.  He shook his head.  “No,” he said
hoarsely.  “Tommy first.”

Maggie nodded.  “I did, Flynn. 
Now, it’s your turn.”

He blinked at her.  “How long was I
unconscious?”

“About an hour.  Now drink this
before I have to get Ben to hold you down.”

He laughed softly, but pain stabbed
his chest.  He started to cough.  Maggie lifted him up until the coughing
stopped.  Then, she held the mug to his lips.  The willow bark tea was bitter,
but it warmed him, and he knew it was the only chance he had of surviving.  He
sighed and shut his eyes.  “Thanks, Maggie.”

She smoothed his hair back from his
forehead.  “Get some sleep if you can, Flynn.”

He nodded.  In moments, he slept.

He dreamed of Jennie.  He lay on a
cot in the storage room of her cabin.  She came to him and smiled.  She began
to unfasten the buttons of her blouse.  His blood pounded with longing.  She
lay beside him, and he kissed her.  But her lips were cold and her eyes stared
at nothing.

“No!”  Flynn sat upright.

Maggie sat beside him.  Her face
was pale in the firelight.  “Jennie?”

He nodded.

She sighed and looked away.

“How is Tommy?”

Maggie smiled at him.  “His fever
broke.  He’s going to live, thanks to you.”

Flynn shook his head.  “You
doctored him.”

“Using your herbs.”  Maggie put her
hands on her hips.

“Are you two fighting again?”  Sam’s
voice startled Flynn.

Flynn turned to his old friend and
shook his head.  “We’re just having a difference of opinion, Major.”

Maggie nodded.  “Flynn thinks I
saved Tommy’s life.”

Flynn nodded.  “And Maggie thinks
I
did.”

“When all along, it was me.” 
Grinning, Ben hunkered down next to Flynn with a steaming mug in his hand.  “Frank
thought you might be sick of that bitter tea Maggie’s been giving you.”

Flynn shuddered dramatically.  “Not
sick enough to drink that swill.”

Ben laughed.  “I see you’re back to
normal.”

Grinning, Flynn nodded.  Then, he
sobered.  “Thanks, Ben.”

Ben tilted his hat back from his
forehead.  “You’d do the same for me, Flynn.”  He grinned again.  “Besides, it
was Maggie that found you.”

Maggie blushed.

Flynn laughed.  He took a sip of
coffee and made a face.  “Sam, when are you going to hire a cook who can make a
decent pot of coffee?”

“About the same time I hire a scout
who doesn’t need to be rescued every other day.  Maybe I ought to hire Maggie. 
She’s at least as good as you are, maybe better.”  Sam squeezed his shoulder
gently to take the sting out of his words.  “Do you feel up to traveling?”

Flynn nodded.

Sam nodded back.  He strode to the
front of the line and swung up onto Alexander.  “Wagons, ho!”

Flynn winced as the wagon jolted
forward.  Maggie looked at him with a crease of worry between her delicate
eyebrows.  Flynn shook his head.  “I’m fine, Magpie.”

Maggie snorted derisively.  “You’re
suffering from dehydration and exposure, and you just got over pneumonia. 
Robert Sean Flynn, you are anything but fine.”

“I’m alive, Maggie.  That’s a lot.”

Maggie nodded solemnly.  She
reached toward him and drew her hand back before she actually touched him.  She
cleared her throat.  “Get some rest.”

Flynn nodded.  He finished his
coffee and handed her the mug.  He shut his eyes, and in spite of the pain in
his chest, he slept.

*  *  *

That night, Flynn dreamed of Jennie
again.  They lay together, a tangle of bodies, warm and wanting.  The dream
shifted abruptly, and Jennie sat on the white horse with her hands tied behind
her.  He watched as Vaughn raised his hand and brought it down on the horse’s
rump.

“No!”  He sat bolt upright.

Maggie was there.  “It was just a
dream, Flynn.”

He looked away from the concern in
her face.

“Flynn?”

“Yes, Maggie?”

“Who is she?”

“Who?”  Flynn pretended ignorance.

“Jennie.”  Her voice was edged with
pain.

Flynn hesitated.  A part of him
wanted to tell her.  Another part of him didn’t.  He sighed.  “Someday,
Maggie.  I promise I’ll tell you someday.  Just not tonight.”

Maggie nodded.  “All right.”

He shut his eyes, but the memory of
Tommy’s bruised face haunted him.

“It wasn’t your fault, you know,”
Maggie said softly.

Flynn opened his eyes.  “How did
you—?”

Maggie smiled sadly.  “I know you,
Flynn.  You blame yourself for Ellie Lonnegan’s death.  And it wasn’t your
fault.”

Flynn shut his eyes again.  “I wish
I could believe that.”

“Me too.”  Maggie spoke so softly
that he wasn’t sure he heard her.

Flynn opened his eyes.

Maggie looked as haunted as he
felt.  “I—I couldn’t save them.”

“Your parents?”

She nodded.

Flynn was silent a moment.  “You
never talk about the night they died.  Just the dreams.”

Maggie looked away.  “And you never
talk about Jennie.”

“Touché.”

Maggie frowned.  “What does that
mean?”

Flynn smiled at her.  “It’s a
fencing term.  It means you hit the mark.”

“Oh.”  She rubbed her hands
together.  “I’ll make a deal with you.  When you tell me about Jennie, I’ll
tell you about the night my folks died.”

“Deal.”  Flynn held out his hand.

Maggie took it.  She looked at him
with tenderness and something that might be love.

“Don’t Maggie.”  Flynn looked away
again.

“Don’t what?”

He looked back at her.  “Don’t fall
in love with me.”

Maggie looked away.  She said
nothing.

Flynn shut his eyes again.  This
time, it was Maggie’s face he saw.  His grief eased a little.  He sighed and
slid towards sleep.  Just before it took him, he heard Maggie’s soft voice.

“It’s too late, Flynn.”  Her hand,
strong and warm, smoothed his hair back from his forehead.  “I already have.”

He opened his eyes.  Maggie had
gone.  “Must have dreamed it,” he muttered.  And yet, the thought that Maggie
cared about him was comforting.  He shut his eyes again, and this time, he
dreamed of a girl with hair the color of flame and eyes as green as the sea who
could shoot like an outlaw and track a man across the wastelands.

*  *  *

A week later, Flynn was almost back
to normal.  He woke before dawn and went looking for the Major.  Sam was still
asleep.  Flynn made a pot of coffee and brought a mug over to his friend.

Sam smiled at him.  “Thanks, Flynn.” 
He took a sip of the black coffee.  “What’s on your mind?”

“Major, I’m going after them.”

Sam’s smile winked out.  He ran his
hand through his thinning hair.  “I’m sorry, Flynn.  I can’t spare any men. 
Not this trip.”

“Fine!  If you won’t send anyone
with me, I’ll go alone!”

“Flynn, you can’t go after eight
men alone!”

Flynn turned on his heel and
stalked away.

“Robert Sean Flynn, you come back
here!  Come back here or by golly I’ll throw you into the jail wagon!”

Flynn turned back to Sam.  His
hands curled into fists.  That simple move made his healing ribs ache.  “You
could try!”

“I can still take you, Flynn!”  Sam
brought up his huge fists.

Maggie stepped between the two
men.  “Stop it!  Both of you!”

Sam drew a deep breath.  “When we
reach Fort Laramie, I will tell Colonel Madsen.  He’ll send out a platoon.”

Flynn shook his head stubbornly.  “They
already have a three-week lead.”

Sam sighed.  “We’re already behind
schedule as it is. 
And
it has been a dry year. 
And
I need you
to find water. 
And
—”

Flynn turned and stalked away. 
Anger roiled in his belly like boiling water.  He tried to saddle a gray
gelding, but the horse kept sidling away from him.  He yanked angrily on
Horatio’s reins.  “Stand still, damn it!”

“You’re scaring the horse, Flynn.”

He glared at Maggie.  Then, he
turned back to the horse.

She swallowed hard.  “You’re
scaring
me
.”

He ignored her. 

Maggie took the horse’s head and
stroked his nose.  “Easy, Horatio.  Easy.”  The horse stopped moving.  Flynn
tightened the cinch.  Maggie walked away and started to saddle Patches.

Flynn grabbed her arm.  “What do
you think you’re doing?”

“You’re hurting me, Flynn,” she
said quietly.

Flynn looked down at his hand as if
it didn’t belong to him.  He let go of her wrist and leaned his face against
Patches’ flank.  “Maggie, I’m sorry.”

Maggie opened her mouth and shut
it.  She pushed him aside and tightened the cinch strap on Patches’ saddle.

Flynn sighed.  “Maggie, please. 
Stay here.”

Tears filled her eyes.  “I want to
help, Flynn.”

Flynn swung up onto Horatio’s
back.  He could barely breathe for the feelings that tumbled in his chest like
stones in a prospector’s pan.  He drew a deep breath and looked back at
Maggie.  “Then give me one hour before you tell Sam.  Can you do that for me?”

Maggie bit her lip.  Slowly, she
nodded.

Flynn turned Horatio and rode away.

*  *  *

Maggie took one step toward the
lead wagon.  Then, she turned.  She went to the supply wagon instead.  She
packed hardtack and a few other items.  Then, she mounted Patches and rode
after Flynn.  Horatio had a large lead on the little paint.  Maggie kicked
Patches into a gallop.  Little by little, they gained on Flynn and the gelding.

Flynn looked back at her and
grinned.  Maggie found herself grinning back.  And then, suddenly, Patches
stumbled, throwing Maggie.  She fell hard, and it took a moment for her to
catch her breath.  She stood up shakily and checked Patches.  He favored his
right foreleg.

Maggie rubbed his leg gently.  “I’m
sorry, boy.”

Patches whickered softly.

Maggie heard the sound of a horse and
turned.  Flynn was riding toward her.  He looked worried.  She smiled despite
the ache in her back from her fall.  She took one step toward him and heard a
sound that stopped her heart.

The rattle of a snake.

Maggie froze, but Patches
panicked.  The little horse reared, and the snake struck.  She drew her pistol
and fired.  Pieces of snake struck her face, reminding her of the night her
father stuck a shotgun in his mouth and pulled the trigger, when pieces of
flesh and bone struck her face.  She shut her eyes.  Pain lanced up her leg,
and she fell onto one knee.

Flynn leaped from Horatio’s back
before the horse stopped.  He knelt beside her.  He drew his knife and cut her
pants’ leg swiftly.  He used the thong from her holster as a tourniquet.  Then,
he cut the bite itself.  It hurt.  Maggie winced.

“Sorry.”  Flynn bent and began to
suck out the poison.

“Don’t!”  She tried to push him
away, but she was too weak.

Flynn ignored her.  Finally, he
released the tourniquet.  “Maggie, can you stand?”

She nodded and tried to stand up,
but both legs gave out this time.  She felt hot and cold at the same time.

Flynn picked her up and put her
onto Horatio’s back.  He swung up behind her.  He put his arms around her waist
and held her upright.  He clucked to Horatio.  The gelding galloped smoothly
across the broken ground toward the train.

Maggie lost consciousness.  She
dreamed of a white house that stood on a hill overlooking a green valley.  A
stream curled protectively around the hill, reflecting a perfect blue sky.  The
sound of children laughing mingled with the sound of the water rushing over
mossy rocks.  Someone took her hand.  His hand was strong, and when he touched
her, she felt safe for the first time in her life.

Pain woke her.  For a moment,
Maggie couldn’t remember where she was.  Then, she heard the rattle of wagon
wheels and the creak of wood as the wagon jolted over the rutted trail.

Flynn took her hand.  “Maggie?”

She swallowed hard.  “It hurts,
Flynn.”

He nodded.  “I know.  Hold on,
Magpie.”

“I’ll try.”  The wagon hit another
rut, and Maggie winced in pain.

Flynn’s hand tightened on hers.  “Are
you too old for stories?”

Maggie shook her head without
opening her eyes.