Shattered Lives (Flynn Family Saga Book 1) (16 page)

Maggie nodded.  She bit her lip.  “I’m sorry to
bother you, Major, but my parents went out earlier tonight, and they’re not
back yet.  If my mother doesn’t go to work tomorrow, she’ll lose her job.  I—I
want to go look for them, but...”

Sam nodded.  “You did the right thing, Maggie.  I’ll
go look for them.”

Maggie lifted her chin.  “I’m coming with you.”

“Maggie, it’s not safe.”

“It’s not safe for me to stay here alone, either.”

Sam sighed, but there was a twinkle in his eyes.  “Remind
me never to try to buy a horse from you.”  He sobered.  “Wait here.  I’ll be
right out.”

Maggie nodded.

A few minutes later, the door opened again, and Sam
emerged.  He wore his checked shirt and a .45 on his hip.

Maggie swallowed hard.  “I don’t even know where to
look.”

“I do.”  Sam’s expression was grim.  “There’s a big
card game down by the river.  Stay close to me, you hear?”

Maggie nodded.  “Yes sir.”

Together, they left the boarding house.

St. Jo was a different town at night.  Women with
painted faces walked the streets.  Cowboys whistled at them, but the women
ignored them and went with the city slickers in their fancy suits.  Sam led the
way to the docks.  Torches burned outside a seedy saloon.  The sound of raucous
laughter drifted out to them.  Maggie wrinkled her nose at the stench, a
combination of beer and dirty river water.  Sam led the way inside, and Maggie
followed close behind.

She saw her father, seated at a table in the center
of the room.  The table was filled with men.  Some were cowboys; some were
businessmen in suits.  A few women stood beside their men, including Lucy.

Maggie wanted to run to her mother and drag her from
the saloon, but she knew that she would never be able to come between Lucy and
Michael.  The Major sat down at a table with a good view of the game.  Maggie
sat beside him and watched.

“Can I get you a drink?”  A woman wearing a low-cut
black gown sauntered over to the Major.

He nodded.  “Whiskey for me.  Sarsaparilla for the
boy here.”

The waitress nodded and walked away, swinging her
hips provocatively.  When the waitress came back, the Major set his drink on
the table beside him, untouched, and watched the players.

Maggie didn’t know anything about poker, but it
looked as if her father was winning.  At least, he had the biggest pile of
chips.  Lucy’s eyes sparkled with excitement, and she looked more alive than
she had since Michael had disappeared, a month before.  Maggie shook her head. 
She set down her sarsaparilla next to the Major’s whiskey.

Michael won hand after hand.  His grin grew, and so
did Lucy’s, but the Major looked more and more worried.

Finally, there were only two men left in the game,
Michael and a tall, thin man with black hair and a moustache that gleamed in
the lamp light.  He wore a jet-black suit and a silk tie.  His black eyes
glittered, too, as he watched Michael deal the cards.

Maggie’s stomach started to hurt, and she was glad
she hadn’t touched her sarsaparilla.

Finally, Michael pushed his chips into the center of
the table.  "Call."

The man with the black moustache laid down his
cards.  "Four deuces."

Grinning, Michael laid down four aces.  He reached
toward the pile of chips.

A gun appeared in the other man’s hand so fast that
Maggie hadn’t even seen him move.  “Put it back, O’Brien.”

CHAPTER SIXTEEN

Michael’s grin wavered.  “What do you mean?  I won
it, fair and square.”

“You won, all right, but you cheated.”

Silence filled the saloon like icy water, and
Michael’s grin winked out.  “Take that back!”

The man in the suit shook his head slowly.  He
cocked his pistol.

“Give it back, Mike.”  Sam’s quiet growl carried
easily in the silence.

Michael’s head jerked up.  “Major?”

Sam nodded.

Michael glared at him.  “You keep out of this,
Major.”

Sam shook his head.  “Sorry, Mike.  I can’t.  I’ve
been watching you, and the man’s right.  You’ve been cheating.”

Michael fumbled for his gun.

Sam’s appeared even faster than gambler's had.  “You
saved my life in the war, Mike.  Please don’t make me shoot you.”

Michael glared at Sam.  Then, he noticed Maggie.  “You! 
This is your fault!”

Sam shook his head.  “No, Mike.  It’s not.  You’re
the one who cheated.  Now give the money back.”

Michael’s hands curled into fists.  He shook with fury. 
Then, slowly, his hands opened.  He pushed the money into the center of the
table and stood up.  He grabbed Lucy’s arm and dragged her toward the door.  He
stopped in front of Maggie.  “You’re no child of mine!”

Maggie’s eyes burned with tears, but she met his
gaze levelly.

Michael spat at her feet.  Then, he turned and left
the saloon with Lucy trailing along behind him.

The men at the table started to split up the money.

Sam sighed and holstered his pistol.  “Come on,
Maggie.”

Maggie stumbled along beside the Major.  When they
got to the boarding house, Michael and Lucy were gone, along with their bags.

Sam took off his hat and ran his hand through his
graying hair.  “How can a man do that?  Abandon his only child?”

Maggie looked down at her hands.  “He wants to go to
California so badly, Major.  Nothing else matters to him.  Maybe if he got
there, he’d stop drinking.”

“Oh, Maggie.  It doesn’t work like that.”  He sat
down on the chair in front of the writing desk.  “I’ve seen a lot of men who
lose themselves in a bottle.  Precious few of them ever crawl out.  I’m sorry,
but that’s the way it is.”

Maggie nodded.  She rubbed her eyes.  “I’d better
pack.  It’s a long walk back to Lawrenceville.”

“Lawrenceville?  Kansas?”

Maggie shook her head.  “New Jersey.  My
grandparents live there.”

“Maggie, you can’t walk halfway across the country
by yourself.”

Maggie’s hands trembled as she packed her rag doll. 
“I don’t know what else to do.  I can’t afford to stay here alone.”

Sam rubbed his chin thoughtfully.  “Can you really
train horses?”

Maggie nodded.

“You wait right here.”  He left the room.

Maggie hesitated, and then she continued to pack.  A
few moments later, Sam knocked on the door.  “Maggie?”

Maggie opened the door.  Sam and Mrs. Hamilton stood
side by side.

Sam took off his hat.  “Maggie, I need your help. 
The settlers will be here any day now, and not one in five knows anything about
horses.  The pay is a dollar a week.”

Maggie looked at Mrs. Hamilton.

She smiled.  “You can sleep on the couch in my rooms
for fifty cents a week.”

“Twenty-five.”  Maggie started to dicker
without thinking.  Embarrassed, and a little afraid, she put her hand to her
mouth.

Mrs. Hamilton’s eyes twinkled.  “Thirty-five.”

Slowly, Maggie smiled.  “Thirty.”

“Done.”  Kate held out her hand.

Maggie took it.  The two women smiled at each other
with respect and understanding.

Sam grinned.  “Yes sir.  Remind me never to try to
buy a horse from you, Maggie O’Brien.”

Maggie laughed.

Sam picked up her carpetbag.  The three of them
walked down the stairs to Mrs. Hamilton’s rooms.  The furniture was old, but it
was clean.  Lace antimacassars lay on the backs and arms of a comfortable
looking sofa.  Mrs. Hamilton went into her bedroom and brought out a blanket. 
Maggie’s teeth were chattering, and not just from the cold, damp wind by the
river.  Mrs. Hamilton padded into the kitchen.  While she was gone, Maggie
undressed, pulled on her nightgown and lay down on the sofa.

Smiling, Mrs. Hamilton handed her a mug of hot
chocolate.  Maggie sipped it gratefully.  Mrs. Hamilton’s smile faded.  “Richard
and I never had children.  I wish I'd had a daughter just like you, Maggie.”

Maggie started to cry, great racking sobs.  Mrs.
Hamilton held her and rocked her back and forth.  Finally, Maggie stopped crying. 
Mrs. Hamilton bent and smoothed her hair back from her face.  “Sleep well,
Maggie.”

Maggie nodded.  “Mrs. Hamilton?”

“Yes?”

“Do you think my parents will ever come back?”

Mrs. Hamilton’s smile faded.  “I don’t know,
Maggie.  I just don’t know.”  She sighed.  “My husband left me, five years
before the war, and I never heard from him again.”

Maggie touched Mrs. Hamilton’s arm.  “I’m sorry.”
Mrs. Hamilton smiled faintly.  “It was a long time ago.  Sleep, now.  It’ll be
morning in a few more hours.”

Maggie nodded.  Mrs. Hamilton took the lamp with
her, and in the darkness, all Maggie could see was the hatred in her father’s
eyes.

Eventually, she fell asleep.  She dreamed of a large
white house that stood on a hill overlooking a green valley.  A porch wrapped
around three sides of the house, and gingerbread trim hung like bunting from
the porch roof.  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.

Maggie woke with tears on her face, longing for a
home she'd never had.

In the morning, Maggie tucked her braids under her
old battered hat and went down to the stockyards.  She watched as the
greenhorns bought their supplies and began the arduous process of learning how
to harness a team and drive it.  She smiled as one man struggled to get the bit
into the horse’s mouth.  The stallion kept tossing his head, just out of reach.

Maggie climbed the fence and went over to him.  She
patted the horse’s flank.  “Whoa, there.  Easy boy.  No one’s going to hurt
you.”  She turned to the greenhorn.  “May I?”  She held out her hand.  The man
handed her the harness.  “Just keep talking to him.  Have you named him, yet?”

“Nope.”

“It helps if you do.  Have you read Shakespeare?” 
She slipped the bit between the horse’s teeth and slid the halter up and over
his ears.

“Nope, but I’ve read Mr. Dickens.”

“Ah.  How about Sidney?”

“After Sidney Carton?”  The man grinned.  He turned
to the horse.  “’It is a far, far better thing I do...’”

“’Than I have ever done.’”  Maggie nodded.  She
scratched Sidney between the ears, and the horse nudged her chest.  She
laughed.  She helped the man harness his team.

He held out his hand.  “My name is Thompson, Ed
Thompson.”

Maggie took his hand.  “Pleased to meet you, Mr.
Thompson.  My name is M—  It's O'Brien.”

Mr. Thompson nodded.  “Thanks for your help, O’Brien.”

The next day, it rained.  Mrs. Hamilton rummaged in
a trunk and took out a yellow slicker.  She held it out to Maggie.  Smiling
shyly, Maggie put it on.  The sleeves hung down over her hands.  Laughing, she
rolled up the sleeves.  “Thank you, Mrs. Hamilton.”

Mrs. Hamilton smiled.  “You’re welcome, Maggie.”

Maggie ran to the corral.  Mr. Thompson was late, as
usual.  He was out of breath as he climbed the fence.  "Sorry,
O'Brien."

Maggie simply nodded.  Sidney whinnied and tossed
his head.  Ed Thompson backed away.  Maggie sighed.  "You're the boss, Mr.
Thompson.  Don't ever forget that, and Sidney won't, either."  She handed
him a sugar lump.  "Hold your palm out flat."

Thompson nodded uncertainly.  He held the sugar lump
in the palm of his hand.  Sidney nibbled it delicately.  A smile spread slowly
across Ed Thompson's thin face.  "I think he likes me."

Maggie laughed.  "Well, he likes sugar, that's
for sure."

Thompson laughed with her.  He patted Sidney's nose,
and the stallion tossed his head.

Maggie shook out the harness.  Thompson got the bit
into the horse's mouth and the reins over his back.  He wrapped the reins
around his wrists.

"Don't!"  Maggie began.

Thunder cracked, and Sidney bolted.  Mr. Thompson
fell into the mud with the reins wrapped around his wrist.  The stallion
dragged him several feet before Maggie could get in front of them.  Sidney
stopped and reared, his hooves just inches from the top of Maggie’s head.  She
held her breath, but Sidney settled down quickly.  With a sigh, Maggie turned to
the man, still lying in the mud.  “Are you hurt?”

Slowly, shakily Ed Thompson got to his feet.  He
shook his head.

“Maybe you ought to rethink using a stallion as your
lead horse.”

Maggie turned.  A tall, thin man wearing a canvas duster,
lounged against the fence.  She nodded.  “That’s what I’ve been telling him,
but he wants breeding stock when he reaches Wyoming.”  She grinned.  “And Mr.
Thompson is as stubborn as Sidney is.”

“Sidney?”  The tall man tilted back his hat,
revealing a face that took Maggie’s breath away, all planes and angles.  She
stared for a long time into his dark brown eyes.  Then, she nodded and looked
back at the horses.  “Sidney Carton.  That’s what he calls the stallion.  His
name is Edward Thompson.”  She climbed the fence and held out a muddy hand. 
She realized how dirty her hand was and rubbed it on her pants’ leg until it
was clean and held it out again.  “My name is O’Brien.”

“Flynn.  I’m scout for this outfit.”  Flynn clasped
her hand firmly.

Maggie felt a strange sensation in the pit of her
stomach.  Her face felt hot despite the cold rain.  Then, the name registered. 
Maggie’s eyes widened.  “You’re not Robert Sean Flynn, are you?”

Flynn nodded.  “Yes, I am.”

“You’re the best scout this side of the Mississippi! 
I've read every book Mr. Henderson wrote about you."

Flynn’s face reddened.  “Don’t believe everything
you read.”

“O’Brien!  Are you going to stand there all day?”

Sam’s growl startled her.  Maggie climbed the fence
and picked up the reins.  “Never, ever wrap the reins around your wrist like
that.  If the tongue breaks free—and it will if you hit a big enough rock—you
could break your neck.  Now, hold the reins like this.”  She put the loop over
her wrists.  "This way, you can hold on tightly, but if you have to, you
can let the loops slip over your hands."  She turned back to ask Flynn for
his opinion, but he was gone.

*  *  *

The next day, Maggie woke before dawn.  The sky was
clear, and she ran to the corral as soon as she wolfed down her breakfast.

Flynn was already there, grooming a large chestnut
stallion.  Flynn’s hair was exactly the same color as his horse, and Maggie had
to take several deep breaths before she could speak.  “Morning, Flynn.”

He started and turned.  “Didn’t anyone ever tell you
it was rude to sneak up on people?”

Maggie winced.  She looked down at her scuffed
boots.  “I’m sorry, Mr. Flynn.”

Flynn laughed.  “It’s all right, O’Brien.  There
aren’t many people who can sneak up on me like that.”  His horse nudged his
chest.  Flynn patted his shirt pockets and swore.  “I’m sorry, big fella.  I
forgot your sugar lumps.”

Maggie vaulted the fence and walked over to the
stallion.  She took a sugar lump from her shirt pocket and held it on her palm.

“Don’t—“  Flynn began.

The big horse nibbled the sugar from Maggie’s palm
as delicately as a lady.  Maggie smiled and patted the stallion’s nose.

Flynn tilted his hat back.  “You’re lucky you still
have your fingers.”

Maggie shrugged.  “I’m good with horses, Mr. Flynn. 
What’s his name?”

“Scout.”

Maggie laughed.  “That’s not very original.”

Flynn scowled.  “Maybe not.  But it’s accurate.”  He
patted Scout’s neck.  “He can smell water better than a mule.  He can find his
way home through a blizzard.  He can—“

Maggie snorted.  “He sounds like he’s descended from
Pecos Bill.”

Flynn laughed.  “All right.  Maybe he
can’t
find his way home through a blizzard.”  His expression softened as he rubbed
Scout’s nose.  “But he has found water in the desert when I had given up.”

Maggie sighed.  “I had a horse I loved that much
once.”

Flynn turned to her, and his expression was solemn,
as if she were his equal.  “What happened to him?”

“Her,” Maggie said softly.  She turned away from the
kindness in Flynn’s eyes.  “I had to come here.  She’s still in Lawrenceville. 
I hope.”

“You hope?  Don’t you know?”

Tears burned Maggie’s eyes.  “Rosalind belongs to my
grandfather.  It has been a while since I heard from them.”

Flynn laid a hand on her shoulder.  “The mails aren’t
very reliable, O’Brien.  Write to them again.”

Maggie nodded.  She drew a deep breath.  “Well, I’d
better go help Mr. Thompson.  His team is going to have to do some real work
today, and I shudder to think what trouble Sidney will get into this time.”

Flynn laughed.  He turned to Scout and patted his
neck.  “What would you call him?”

 “Adonis,” she said.  Then, suddenly, she realized
that she was looking at Flynn, not his horse.  She turned and ran away.

Flynn’s laughter followed her.

*  *  *

Day followed day, and there was no sign of Michael
or Lucy O’Brien.  At first, Maggie missed them, but after a while, she realized
that her life was a lot easier living with Mrs. Hamilton.  She loved working
with the greenhorns.