Shattered Lives (Flynn Family Saga Book 1) (15 page)

Lucy and Michael were waiting outside in their
cabriolet.

Maggie was more frightened than she was the first
time she got on a horse and saw how far it was to the ground.

James hugged her.  “Just remember that we’ll always
be here, Maggie-my-girl.”

Maggie nodded against his chest.  He smelled of
peppermint and tobacco.

Maggie climbed into the carriage.  She turned and
stared back toward the farm long after it disappeared behind a hill.

*  *  *

They arrived in St. Joseph, Missouri on a cold
November day.

Maggie had forgotten just how bad a city smelled:
coal smoke and horse dung and garbage.  Lucy sat beside Michael with her hand
on his arm, staring at him, ignoring her daughter.

Maggie felt lonely and scared and homesick.

They drove up to a fancy hotel.  Inside the lobby,
there were brass spittoons and potted palms and thick carpet with a pattern of
pink roses woven into it, reminding her of the pitcher and washbasin in her
room.  Tears stung Maggie eyes.

Michael took them up to a room that was almost as
big as the farmhouse.  He threw open a door that led to a smaller room. 
“You’ll sleep here, Maggie.”

Maggie nodded.  She took her carpetbag into the room
and set it on the floor and sat on the edge of the bed.  It was soft and sagged
under her.

Lucy frowned at her.  “Aren’t you going to change,
Maggie?”

“Change?”

Lucy nodded.  “For dinner.  You can’t go to dinner
wearing trousers.”

Maggie’s face reddened.  “I—I forgot to pack my
dress.”

Lucy seemed to see her for the first time. 
“Dress?”  She frowned.  “You only have one dress?”

Maggie nodded.

Lucy smiled excitedly.  “Come on.  I’ll take you
shopping.”

Maggie just wanted to stay in her room and read
The
Tempest
.  She felt like Ferdinand, cast adrift on an island with people she
did not trust.  With a sigh, she stood up and followed her mother out onto the
street.

Lucy took her to a dressmaker’s shop.

Maggie stood just inside the door and stared.  Bolts
of fabric lined one wall of the shop.  A bolt of russet silk, the exact shade
of her hair, drew her.  She moved toward it like a sleepwalker and ran her hand
over it.

The shop girl smiled.  “It’s unusual for a boy to
appreciate good silk.”

“That’s my daughter, not a boy.  She’s been living
on a farm with her grandparents, and they let her run wild.”  Lucy’s tone was
sharp, and Maggie winced.  “And she’s only eleven years old, too young for that
bright a color.”

“I’m fourteen, Mama,” Maggie murmured.

Lucy didn’t seem to hear her.  She went to a bolt of
white muslin, embroidered with pink flowers.

Maggie wrinkled her nose in distaste.  “That’s for a
child.”

“Well, you
are
still a child, Maggie.”  Lucy
nodded to the dressmaker.  “We’ll take a gown made of this.  And do you have
anything already made that would fit her?”

The woman nodded.  “A woman ordered a dress for her
daughter, but they never picked it up.”  She went into the back.  She brought
out a plain white muslin dress.

Maggie sighed in relief.  If she had to wear white,
she wanted it to be as plain as possible.

“Let’s see, we’ll need ribbons for your hair.”  Lucy
picked out a green ribbon.  She held it up to Maggie’s face and nodded.  “It
matches your eyes.”

Maggie smiled shyly at her mother.

The dressmaker undressed her in a booth and measured
her.  Maggie felt uncomfortable being touched by a strange woman.

The dressmaker let her measuring tape fall to the
floor.  She touched Maggie’s arm gently.  “My name is Diane.  What’s yours?”

“Maggie.”

Diane smiled.  “That’s a pretty name.  Is this your
first time in a dress shop?”

Maggie nodded.

“It’s an ordeal, I know, but in your case, it will
be worth the effort.  You’re a very pretty girl.”

Maggie blinked.  “I am?”

Diane nodded.  She unfastened Maggie’s braids and
combed out her hair with her fingers.  She turned Maggie to face the mirror.

Maggie gasped.  “Is that really me?”

Diane nodded approving.  “And when you are older,
come back for that russet silk.  It suits you much better than rosebuds.”

Maggie smiled at her.  “Thank you.”

Diane smiled back.

*  *  *

Night after night, Lucy and Michael went out. 
Maggie lay awake alone in the hotel room, waiting for them to come home.  She
found it hard to sleep with the noise of the traffic in the street.

Maggie felt useless and adrift.

Then, one January morning, Lucy and Michael came in
at dawn.  “How could you be so stupid!  You
know
you can't drink!”

Maggie’s stomach knotted at the edge in Lucy’s
voice.

“I’m not stupid!  It was the biggest pot I've ever
seen, and I need the whiskey to steady my nerves."

"One whiskey would have settled your nerves
just fine!  But oh, no!  You have to drink ten of them, Michael."

"But if I had won, we’d have enough to travel
to California in style, Lucy!”

Maggie curled into a ball.  She hadn’t heard her
father sound so angry since they left Manhattan.

“But you didn’t, did you?  You got drunk and lost it
all, Michael!  Even the deed.  How could you do that to me?  How will we even
pay our hotel bill?”

“Do you think I lost deliberately?”

“I don’t know.  All I know is that we’re broke.” 
Lucy started to cry.

“Well, at least you can work as a seamstress.  That
useless daughter of yours can’t even hem a dress.”

Maggie winced.  She knew she was a disappointment to
her father.  She wanted to tell him that she could gentle a horse and plant a
field of corn.

But in St. Jo, girls weren’t allowed to work in
livery stables.  And there were no cornfields, only muddy streets and shops and
stockyards.

“Oh, so now you expect me to support you?”

Maggie shut her eyes.  She remembered the fights her
parents had had in Manhattan.  “Please stop, Mama.  Please,” she whispered.

“You’re my wife!”  Michael’s voice rang with rage.

“Yes.  More’s the pity.”

And then Maggie heard the sound she dreaded.  She
heard the sound of her father’s hand crack across her mother’s face.  She ran
into their room.  Michael’s fists pummeled Lucy.  With a gasp, Maggie grabbed
her father’s arm.  “Father, please.  Stop.”

His eyes focused on her face.  Then, he looked at
his wife, who huddled, sobbing, on the floor.  “Lucy, I’m sorry!”

Slowly, Lucy raised her head.  Her voice shook with
anger and hurt.  “Get out!” 

“Lucy—“

“I said get out!”

Michael turned and ran from the room.

Maggie winced as the door slammed.  With a sigh, she
dampened a cloth in water from the pitcher on the washstand.  She knelt beside
her mother.  “Roll over, Mama.”

Lucy shook her head.

“Come on.  You’re bleeding onto the carpet.”

Reluctantly, Lucy rolled over.

Maggie wiped the blood from the corner of her
mother’s mouth.

“What will become of us?”  Lucy wailed.

Maggie rinsed out the bloody washcloth.  “We could
go back to Lawrenceville.”

“I can’t!  I could never face my father!  Not after
this!”

Maggie turned to her mother.  She wanted to say that
James wasn’t like that, that he would understand and forgive.  And then she saw
it, saw the gleam of pleasure in Lucy’s eyes.  Maggie gasped.  “You
enjoy
this!  You like the drama and the excitement.”

Lucy slapped her, hard.

Maggie’s hands curled into fists. 
Pick up the
book, Maggie
.  She heard her grandfather’s voice, as clearly as if he stood
in the room, that Christmas morning when she wanted to throw away the book he
had given her because it was wet and soot-stained.

She forced her hands open.  She rinsed out the
washcloth and continued to clean Lucy’s face.

CHAPTER FIFTEEN

Michael didn’t come home that night.  Or the next.  Or
the next.

Maggie’s stomach growled, and there was no money for
food.  She pulled on the hated dress with the pink rosebuds and opened the door
of the suite.

“Where are you going?”  Lucy stopped crying long
enough to glare at her daughter.

Maggie turned back to her.  “I’m going to ask Diane
for a job.”

“Diane?”

Maggie nodded.  “The dressmaker.”

Lucy laughed harshly.  “You can’t even sew a hem.”

Maggie tilted her chin up.  “Grandmother says you
can do almost anything if you set your mind to it.”  She left the room and
walked to the shop.

On the way, a man grabbed her arm.  “What’s a pretty
little thing like you doing walking down the street alone?  You need a man to
take care of you.”  He touched her hair in a way that made her shudder.

“Is this man bothering you?”  The gravelly voice
behind her sounded familiar.

Maggie turned.  A tall, barrel-chested man
wearing a leather vest and a Stetson hat stood behind her.  He held a .45 in
his huge hand.

“Major Anders!”  Relief welled up in Maggie.

Sam gestured with his gun.  “Get lost.”

“I’m sorry, sir.  I didn’t realize you knew the
young lady.”  The man removed his hat and bowed to Maggie.

Sam took off his hat.  “You look familiar, but—“

“I’m Maggie.  Maggie O’Brien.  You rescued me once
before, when my father sent me into Farraday’s saloon for some whiskey.”

Slowly, Sam smiled.  He nodded.  “Mike O’Brien’s
daughter.  What are you doing out here alone?”

Maggie lifted her chin.  “I was going to look for
work.”

He scowled.

Maggie’s face reddened.  “Not that kind of work.” 
She lifted her chin.  “There’s a dressmaker in the next street.  She was kind
to me, and I—I was going to ask her for a job.”

His expression softened.  “Where are your parents?”

Maggie looked back toward the hotel.  “My mother is
there, in our room.”  She looked back at the Major.  There was something about
him that reminded her of her grandfather.  She decided to trust him.  She drew
a deep breath.  “I don’t know where my father is.  He lost all our money and
ran off.”

Sam held out his arm.  “Please allow me to escort
you, Miss O’Brien.”

Laughing, Maggie placed her hand on his wrist.

They came to the dress shop.  Diane smiled at Maggie. 
“Have you come for the russet silk?”

Maggie shook her head.  “No ma’am.  I—I came to ask
for a job.”

Diane smiled.  “I could use the help.  This is my
busiest time, when the greenhorns come through.  Do you have a sample of your
work?”

Maggie shook her head.  “I’m really not very good at
sewing, but I was hoping you could maybe teach me.”

“Oh, child, I’m sorry.”  Diane hugged her.  “I wish
I could, but I need an experienced seamstress.  So unless you already know how
to sew...”

Maggie nodded.  Her lower lip trembled, but she
forced herself to smile.  “I’m sorry I bothered you.”

“It’s no bother, child.  Come back anytime.  I’ll
tell you what.”  Diane grinned.  She picked up the bolt of russet silk.  “I’ll
just put this away until you’re back on your feet.”

Maggie nodded, unable to speak past the lump in her
throat.  She watched as Diane carried the silk to the back room.

Sam sighed.  “I wish I could help, but I’m just
getting my crew together for this season’s wagon train, and I’m short of cash. 
And there’s not much call for a dressmaker on a wagon train.”

Maggie drew a deep breath.  “I’m good with horses. 
I can drive a team and train them and—“

“And the good women of the train would have my hide
if I hired a female drover.”  Sam laid his huge hand on her shoulder.  “Come
on, Maggie.  We’ll think of something.”

Maggie nodded.

Sam walked her back to the hotel.  Inside the lobby,
he fished into his pocket and pulled out a handful of gold coins.  He jingled
them a moment.  Then, he sighed.  “Well, I guess I can make do with my old
wagon one more season.”  He walked up to the desk.  “Howdy.  I’d like to settle
the bill for the O’Briens.”

The clerk nodded knowingly.

Maggie felt sick inside.

Sam laid his hand on her shoulder again.  “I’m her
godfather.”

“Oh.”  It was the clerk’s turn to blush.  He looked
up the bill.  “That will be one hundred and twenty-three dollars.”

Maggie gasped.

Sam didn’t bat an eye.  He counted out the coins.  “Lead
the way, Maggie."

Maggie nodded.  She led him up the stairs to her
mother’s room.

Lucy was still crying when she opened the door. 
When she saw Sam, her hand went to her hair.  “Maggie, what do you mean
bringing a strange man to our room?”

Sam removed his hat.  “I was Mike’s commanding
officer, Mrs. O’Brien.  Major Sam Anders.  Your little girl tells me you’re
going through a difficult time.”

“We’ll manage, thank you,” Lucy said stiffly.

“No ma’am, you won’t.”  Sam’s expression hardened.  “I
knew Mike in the war.  He was a good soldier—when he was sober.  Now, I just
paid your hotel bill.  I know a good boarding house down the street.  It’s
clean and it’s safe.  And it doesn’t cost a hundred and twenty-three
dollars a month.”

Lucy’s eyes welled up with tears.  “But how will we
pay for it?”

“Well, I think we can fix that, too.  There’s a real
nice lady who owns a dress shop.  Her name is Diane, and she’s looking for someone
who can sew.  You
can
sew, can’t you, Mrs. O’Brien?”

Lucy lifted her chin.  “Yes, I can sew.”

“Good.  Then it’s all settled.  Pack your things,
and I’ll help you move.”  Sam stepped into the room, brushing past Lucy as if
she wasn’t there.

“But what about my husband?”  Lucy fluttered around
the room helplessly.

“Just leave a note for him at the desk, Mrs. O’Brien.” 
Sam took her elbow and guided her over to the writing desk by the window.  He
dipped the pen in the ink and handed it to her.

Lucy began to write.

Sam turned to Maggie and grinned.

Maggie hid her grin behind her hands.  Then, she
turned and began to pack.

Sam escorted them out of the hotel and down the
street.  The houses here were smaller, but still neatly painted and well
maintained.  The three of them climbed the stairs to the front porch.  Sam
knocked on the door.

A tall, thin woman with salt-and-pepper
hair met them at the door.  She smiled when she saw them.  “Hello, Sam.”

“Hello, Kate.”  Sam’s voice sounded husky, like he
was coming down with a cold or something.

Kate’s face colored slightly.  “You’re in town
early.”

Sam nodded.  He took off his hat and smiled at her
the same way James smiled at Tess.  “Mrs. Hamilton, this is Lucy O’Brien and
her daughter, Maggie.  Her husband fought with me in the war.”

Kate smiled warmly at Lucy.  “Pleased to meet you,
Mrs. O’Brien.”

Lucy inclined her head regally.

“I have a small suite that would be suitable.”  Kate
turned toward the stairs.

“No ma’am.  They just need the room with two beds.”

Kate turned back to Sam.  She raised one eyebrow,
and he nodded almost imperceptibly.  “Certainly.  This way please.”

Lucy and Maggie followed Kate up the stairs.

The room was small, but the morning light streamed
in through the dormer window that looked out on the street.  A fruit vendor
pushed his cart along the street.  “Fresh oranges!  Fresh oranges!”

Maggie’s mouth watered.

While Sam escorted Lucy to Diane’s shop, Maggie
stayed behind and unpacked.  It was dark out by the time her mother came back. 
Lucy’s eyes were red.  “Mama?  What’s the matter?  Didn’t you get the job?”

“I got the job.”  Lucy’s tone was bitter.  “A
seamstress!  I’m reduced to being a seamstress!”

“I wish
I
could work for Diane!”

Lucy looked at her daughter with contempt.  “You
would.”  She turned and threw herself down on the bed and started to cry.

Maggie sighed.  “Dinner’s ready downstairs.”

“I couldn’t possibly eat.”

Maggie put her hands on her hips.  “Major Anders
paid our hotel bill, and he paid our first week’s room and board here.  You can
cry your eyes out later, after supper.”

Lucy pushed herself up.  She glared at her daughter,
but she washed her face and sailed down the stairs as if she owned the place.

Maggie sighed and followed her.

Kate smiled when she saw them.  “Sam tells me you
work for Diane.  Such a lovely woman.  She lived here before her business took
off.  Now, she owns her own home on Mulberry Street.”

Maggie decided that she liked Mrs. Hamilton.

Sam sat across the table from them.  He ate heartily
and laughed with his whole chest.  After dessert, he turned to Maggie.  “So,
you train horses, do you?”

Maggie nodded.

“You break ‘em?”

“No sir.  My grandfather says that if you break a
horse, you break his spirit.  He said if you win a horse’s trust, you’ll have
the best horse in the world.”

“Did you have a horse of your own?”

“Kind of.”  Maggie smiled happily.  “Her name is
Rosalind.”  Her smile faded.  “But she really belongs to my grandfather.  I had
to leave her behind.”

Sam nodded.  “It’s hard to lose an animal.  I
remember when my first horse died.  I cried like a baby for three days.”

Lucy cleared her throat.  “Of course, as soon as we’re
on our feet financially, I will be sending Maggie to boarding school, and there
will be no more of this nonsense about training horses.”

Maggie looked down at her hands.

“I don’t know, Mrs. O’Brien.  Knowing how to train a
horse is a mighty handy skill.  Kind of like knowing how to sew.”

Maggie darted a glance at Sam.

He winked at her.

She looked at her mother.

Lucy’s face was beet red.

Maggie decided that she liked Major Anders, too.

*  *  *

In the morning, Lucy went to work.  Maggie moped
around the room for a little while until she heard sounds from the kitchen. 
She ran downstairs.

Kate was cleaning up the breakfast dishes.

Maggie cleared her throat.  “Can I help?”

Kate turned.  “You startled me, child.  I didn’t
hear you come in.”

“My grandfather says I move as silently as an
Indian.”

Kate smiled.  “Your grandfather is right.”  She
looked ruefully at the stack of dishes.  “I sure could use the help, but I can’t
afford to pay you.”

Maggie hesitated.  “That’s all right.  You took a
chance on us when I could tell you didn’t want to.  I figure I owe you.”

Kate tilted her head to one side and looked at her. 
“Well, you don’t just read horses, do you child?”

Maggie smiled.  “No ma’am.  I guess I read people,
too.”

Kate returned her smile.  “I reckon that’s a mighty
handy skill—like knowing how to train a horse.”

Maggie laughed.  She rolled up her sleeves and began
to wash.

“Can you cook, too?”

Maggie shook her head.  “I always burn stuff.”

Kate laughed.

*  *  *

The days passed quickly.  Maggie loved it in the
boarding house.  There were all kinds of people.  One man was a salesman from Philadelphia. 
He was on his way to California, and he was going on the Major’s train.  There
was a family of Germans, stoic and stolid—until their children came clattering
down the stairs.  Then, Mr. and Mrs. Schmidt smiled at each other the same way
Maggie’s grandparents did.

And there was the Major.  He always spoke to Maggie
as if she were a grownup.  He was unfailingly polite to her mother, but
somehow, whenever Lucy started to belittle Maggie, he found a way to correct
her.

Then, on Valentine’s Day, Michael O’Brien showed up
at the front door with a bouquet of flowers.

Lucy ran to him and threw her arms around him.

Laughing, Michael picked her up and swung her
around.  “It’s going to be all right, Lucy.  I got a stake, and there’s a big
game tomorrow.”

“No, Papa.  Don’t!”

Michael scowled at Maggie.  “How dare you speak to
me like that?”

Maggie lifted her chin.  “You’ve got no right to
tell me what to do!  You abandoned us, and—“

Michael hit her.

Maggie stood for a moment, stunned.  She felt the
pain where her teeth had cut the inside of her cheek.  She tasted blood. 
Michael raised his hand again.

“Don’t, Mike.”

Maggie turned.

Sam Anders stood behind her, with deep lines of
concern between his eyebrows.  He held out his handkerchief.

Embarrassed, Maggie wiped the blood from her chin.

“Let me talk to him, Maggie,” Sam said quietly.

Maggie nodded.  She ran up the stairs.  From her
room, she heard the rumble of voices.  She heard a door slam.  Then, she heard
her mother wail.

Maggie rolled over on her side and pretended to be
asleep.  Her mother ran into the room and threw herself onto her bed, sobbing
loudly.

This time, Maggie didn’t go to her.

After a while, Lucy stopped crying, and in the
morning, she went to work.

But the next night, Michael was back.  This time, he
brought a box of chocolates.

And this time, Lucy went with him.

Maggie waited up for them as the clock on the town
hall struck the hours: nine, ten, eleven, midnight.  She began to worry.  She
put on her dungarees and an old work shirt James had given her.  She braided
her hair and tucked it under her old Stetson.  She started down the stairs, but
she remembered the man who had accosted her on the way to Diane’s shop.  She
turned and knocked on the Major’s door.

He opened the door wearing his undershirt and a pair
of jeans.  He frowned.  “Can I help you, son?”  He took a second look.  “Maggie? 
Is that you?”