Shattered Lives (Flynn Family Saga Book 1) (23 page)

Grinning, Flynn turned and led Scout to the picket
line.  Maggie slid off Patches and patted his neck.  She unsaddled Patches and
rubbed him down.  Then, she tended to her team.

Flynn tethered Scout next to Portia and started to
groom her.

Maggie glanced at him and looked away.

“You’re welcome, Maggie.  It was fun.”

Maggie shut her eyes, wishing he didn’t think of her
as a kid.  She sighed and finished grooming the horses in silence.  When they
finished with the horses, they walked back to the lead wagon.  Maggie sat down
and let Frank scoop up a ladle of stew for her.  He’d made dumplings this time,
and they were light and airy.

Maggie took a bite and closed her eyes.  She opened
them and smiled at Frank.  She rubbed her stomach appreciatively.

Ben laid his hand on Maggie’s forehead.  “She must
be coming down with something, Flynn.”

Flynn nodded.  “She’s delirious, that’s what it is.”

Frank put his hands on his hips.  “Just because she
has refined tastes—“

Flynn laughed.  “Refined tastes?  You should have
seen her this afternoon eating fish with her fingers.”

Maggie shut her eyes.  She wanted to remember these
moments, but they hurt.  They hurt as much as losing her grandparents had.  She
wasn’t sure she could stand the pain.  She forced herself to finish her stew. 
Then, she helped Frank clean the dishes.

Halfway through, Frank wiped his eyes with his red
bandana.  “It ain’t right, Maggie.  You fit in here like a hand in a glove.”

She touched his arm.

He nodded.  “I know.  I talk too much.”

She shook her head again.  Then, she took a charred
stick from the fire and scratched, “Thank you,” in the dirt next to the
washtub.

Frank sighed.  “I can’t read, Maggie.  Ben!”

Ben came out of his wagon.  “What’s wrong, Frank?”

“What does this mean?”  Frank pointed to the words
in the dirt.

Ben looked at the words Maggie had written.  He
looked away.  “She’s saying thank you, Frank.”

Frank turned to Maggie.  His own throat worked hard,
and tears shone in his eyes.  “You’re welcome, Maggie.”

She hugged him briefly and then ran to the picket
line.  She hoped that Flynn would be there, but Scout stood alone.  He tossed
his head when he saw her.  Automatically, Maggie put her hand in her pocket and
took out a lump of sugar.  She held it on her palm, and Scout took it
delicately.  She rubbed his nose.  She heard footsteps and turned, but it was
just one of the sentries.

Maggie sighed.  She walked back to her wagon and
unrolled her blanket.  She listened for the sound of Flynn’s footsteps.  She
heard the sentries patrolling the circle of wagons.  She even heard the horses
moving restlessly in the night.

But she didn’t hear Flynn.

Worry began to gnaw at her.

That night, she dreamed of her parents’ death, over
and over again.  Usually, Flynn woke her when she had a nightmare, but Maggie
slept until dawn, tossing and turning and making a guttural sound deep in her
throat, like an animal in pain.  She woke feeling tired and depressed.  She
sighed and got up.  She took care of the horses and then walked to Sam’s wagon.

Ben and Frank were there, but Flynn was missing.

“Where’s Flynn?”  Ben poured himself a cup of
coffee.

Frank shook his head.  “I don’t know.”  He turned to
Maggie.  “Didn't you see him at the picket line?”

Maggie shook her head.

“That’s funny.”  Ben set down his plate.  “He’s
usually up before the sun.”

Coldness pooled in Maggie’s belly.

Ben stood up.  “I swear, if he spent the night with
some woman, I’ll kill him.  Come on, Frank.  We’d better go find him.”

Maggie picked up the plates and took them to the
washtub and put them to soak.  She felt too restless to stay and wash dishes. 
She shut her eyes and tried to remember where she had seen Flynn last.  She saw
him eating his dinner across the fire from her.  Then, he stood up and walked
away.

Maggie opened her eyes again.  She studied the
ground, but there were too many tracks.  She made wider and wider circles until
she left the wagons and entered the small wood that surrounded the train. 
There, she saw his footprints.  His boot heels were distinctive, and his stride
was longer than either Ben’s or Frank’s.  She followed it a little way until
she came to an opening in the trees that revealed the city of Lancaster in the
valley at the foot of the hill.

Flynn lay on the ground, face down, groaning.

CHAPTER TWENTY- THREE

Maggie’s mouth worked, and her throat ached.

Flynn’s long fingers curled into claws as his
muscles cramped.

Maggie tried to speak and couldn’t.

Flynn groaned again.

Maggie drew a deep breath.  “Ben!  Frank!”  Her
voice was hoarse from disuse.

Ben got there first.  “How did you find him?”

“I followed his tracks.”  Maggie looked up at Ben.  “He’s
sick, Ben.”

Ben knelt beside her and shook Flynn’s shoulder.

Flynn opened fever-bright eyes.  He shut his eyes
and his head rolled from side to side.  He began to vomit.  It was thin and
watery.

Maggie rolled him over onto his side so he wouldn’t
choke.  “Pull my wagon out of line.  Keep it a few hundred feet away from the
other wagons.  We can put him there.”

“Are you sure?”

“I’m sure.”

Ben nodded and started back toward the circle of
wagons.

“And Ben?”

He stopped and turned back to Maggie.

“Tell everyone to boil their drinking water.  And
rinse out all the dishes and pots and pans with boiling water, too.”

“Yes ma’am.”

Maggie sat with Flynn while Ben went back for the
wagon.  After a while, she heard the rattle of wheels.  She stood up.

Ben sat in the box.  He stopped the team a few feet
away from her.  He jumped down and came over to Flynn.  Together, they carried
Flynn into the back of the wagon and laid him on the bed.  Ben stood beside the
cot a moment with his hat in his hands.  He looked at Maggie.  “It’s cholera,
isn’t it?”

Maggie nodded.  "How did you know?"

Ben shrugged.  "I was a prisoner during the
war.  Camp Sumter.  We lost a lot of men to it."

Maggie sighed.  "My grandmother lost one in
twenty."  She covered Flynn with her father’s old Army blanket.  “I need
Frank to boil water and make broth.  By nightfall, we’ll probably have a dozen
more cases.”  She sighed.  “Bring them here.”

Ben pushed his hat back.  “Can you handle this
alone?”

Maggie shrugged.  “I’ll probably have to.  Most
folks won’t help with the sick.  But I’ll be all right.  My grandmother and I
used to tend the whole valley."  Flynn groaned, and his hands clenched. 
Maggie winced.  She turned back to Ben.  “I’m hoping that Flynn is sick because
he drank from a stream when we were out riding yesterday.  I’m hoping that
nobody else will get sick.”

Ben nodded.  “Did you drink from it?”

Maggie shook her head.  “No, but the fish we ate
came from that stream, so I don’t know...”  Fear squeezed her heart painfully.

Ben squeezed her shoulder.  “I’ll get Frank.”

When he was gone, Maggie closed her eyes and bowed
her head.  “Please, God, don’t let Flynn die.”

“I’m pretty hard to kill, Magpie.”

Maggie opened her eyes.

Flynn grinned at her.  Then, his face twisted in
pain.

She got the basin up to his mouth just in time.

A little while later, Frank stuck his head into the
wagon.  “What do you need, Maggie?”

“Boil as much drinking water as you can and then
start some broth.  He won’t be able to eat any solid food for at least a week,
and ten days would be safer.”

“A week?  He’ll kill you if you don’t let him have
some real food to eat.”

Maggie turned to Frank.  “And he’ll die if I do.”

Frank nodded.  “All right.  I’m boiling.  I’m
boiling.”

“Thank you, Frank.”  Maggie left the wagon.  She got
some cool water from the stream to bathe Flynn’s face.  Then, she climbed back
into the wagon.  She dipped a cloth into the water and draped it over his
forehead.

Almost immediately, he began to shiver.

Maggie covered him with another blanket.  She went
to help Frank.  She boiled the water while he made the broth.  She dipped the
bowl in the boiling water with tongs before she ladled in the broth.  She
climbed back into the wagon and knelt beside Flynn.  She held the spoon to his mouth.

He turned his head away.

“Open your mouth, Flynn!”  She did her best to
imitate Sam’s bark.  Flynn opened his mouth obediently.  Maggie got about half
a bowl into him before he turned his head away again.

She took the bowl out to Frank and saw Ellie Lonnegan
standing by the fire.  “I thought you might need some help, Maggie.”

Maggie smiled gratefully.  “Not yet, but if there’s
an epidemic...”  She drew a deep breath.  “Have you ever seen cholera before?”

Ellie shook her head.

Maggie rubbed her eyes.  “It’s contagious, and it’s
deadly.  Are you sure you want to do this?”

Ellie nodded.  “I’m sure.”

“All right.  Thanks.  If there are more people
infected, we’ll have our hands full.”  Behind her, Maggie heard a thump.  She
ran back to the wagon.

Flynn lay near the opening.  His breath came in
shallow gasps.

“Can’t breathe.  Have to get out.”

Maggie wrapped her arm around his shoulder.  “Come
on.  I have to get you back into bed.  And if you want to live, you’ll stay
there.”

He leaned heavily on her, but she managed to get him
back into the bed.  He thrashed around, and she had trouble keeping the blanket
on him.  Finally, as the sun began to set, his fever went down a little. 
Maggie held his head and gave him a drink of cool water.

His eyes focused on her face.  “Maggie?”

She nodded.

He looked away.  “You’re just a kid.  You shouldn’t
have to take care of me.”

“I used to help my grandmother nurse the sick.  Now
hush.”

A spasm struck him, and his hands curled into fists.

She smoothed his hair back from his face.  “When
Tess and I treated people with cholera in Lawrenceville, she told them to think
about pleasant memories.  Remember the river yesterday?”

“Was that only yesterday?”

Maggie nodded.

Slowly, Flynn smiled at her, a pale ghost of his old
sensuous grin.  “I remember.”

Maggie smiled shyly.  “Concentrate on that, then. 
Remember the wind in the prairie grass.  Think about how good the fish tasted. 
Think about riding Scout.”

At the mention of Scout, Flynn’s muscles relaxed. 
Gradually, some of the lines in his face smoothed out.  His breathing was
easier, too.  “Magpie?”

“Yes?”

“Keep talking.  Please.  It helps.”

“With what?”

He opened his eyes.  “The fear.”

“You’re not going to die, Mr. Flynn, and that’s
that.”

He smiled faintly.  “Oh?  And why is that?”

Maggie grinned at him.  “Because the Major would
kill me if I let his scout die.”

Flynn chuckled.  “He probably would at that.”  He
shut his eyes.  “I think I could sleep a little, Maggie.”

“Do you need another blanket?”

He shook his head.  “No.  Thanks.  I’m warm enough.”

Maggie nodded.  She waited until his breathing was
deep and even.  Then, she gathered up the dishes and took them outside.

“How is he?”  Frank looked worried.

Maggie forced a smile.  “He’s lucid.  That’s a good
sign.  And he drank a little water without throwing up.  That’s important.”

Frank nodded.  “Are you hungry?”

Maggie’s stomach growled.

Frank laughed.  “I’ll take that as a yes.”  He
scooped up some stew.

Maggie hesitated.  “Did you boil the cooking water?”

“Yup.”  He nodded.  “Just like you told me.”

Maggie picked up a forkful and put it in her mouth. 
“Frank, I don’t care what they say.  You’re the best cook this side of the Mississippi.”

“Right now, I’m the only cook this side of the Mississippi.”

Maggie laughed.

Frank patted her shoulder.  “That’s better.  For a
while there, you looked just like the Major.”  He scowled fiercely, and Maggie
laughed again.

Flynn began to cough.  Maggie ran to the wagon and
helped him sit up.

The paroxysm left him gasping for breath.  “Please,
Maggie.  Ask Frank to help me outside.  I can’t breathe in here.”

“It’s going to rain tonight.  You need to be
inside.”

Flynn closed his eyes wearily.  “You’re the
doctor.”  His breathing slowed as he drifted into sleep.

Maggie sighed.  She curled up in a blanket and began
her vigil.  She fell asleep sometime around midnight.

“Jennie!”

Flynn’s cry woke her.  She took his hand.  His head
thrashed back and forth.  “Jennie!  Jennie!”  He tried to sit up.

It hurt that Flynn called out for another woman. 
Maggie drew a deep breath and forced the pain aside.  She took his hand.  “I’m
here, Flynn.  I’m here.”

He gripped her hand so tightly that it hurt. 
“Jennie,” he whispered.  Slowly, his fingers relaxed their grip, and he slept.

Maggie’s eyes filled with tears.  Angrily, she
brushed them away.  She left the wagon and poured herself a cup of Frank’s
coffee.  She made a face, but she drank it.  She went back into the wagon and
sat up, holding Flynn’s hand, all night.

In the morning, Ben brought nineteen more patients.

Maggie helped Ben string hammocks and rig a canvas
canopy over her patients.  Ellie Lonnegan came and started to help her feed and
bathe the sick.  Maggie worked around the clock.  Whenever she could, she
stopped beside Flynn’s hammock.  For three days, he drifted in and out of
consciousness.  He grew thinner, and his face was deeply lined.

Then, Sam returned to camp.  He came straight to the
quarantine area.  He stood beside Flynn’s hammock.  Deep lines etched
themselves around the Major’s mouth.  “How is he, Maggie?”

Maggie shook her head.  “It’s too soon to tell.”

Sam took off his hat and ran his hand through his
hair.  “He saved my life when we were prisoners in Camp Sumter.”

“Sumter?”  Maggie frowned.  “I thought he was in Elmira.”

Sam nodded.  “He was in both camps.  It’s a long
story.  When this is over, I’ll tell you all about it, but right now, we’ve got
a lot of sick people to look after.”  He brushed Flynn’s hair back and sighed. 
“How long before you know?”

“Whether he’ll live or die?”  Tears shimmered in her
eyes.

Sam nodded.

“At least a week.”

Sam nodded tersely.

Maggie bit her lip.  “Are there any new cases?”

Sam hesitated.  He nodded.

Maggie swallowed hard.  “Who?”

“Tom Hanson.  George and Tommy Lonnegan.”

Maggie sighed.

Sam turned to go.

“Major?”

He turned back to her.  “Yes, Maggie?”

“Did you hear from Mrs. Hamilton?”

He nodded.  “She said she would be glad to have you.”

Maggie felt a pang of sorrow for her lost dream.

“Jennie!”

Flynn’s cry galvanized her into movement.  “Excuse
me, Major.  I have to get him calmed down.  When you bring the others, let me
know.”  She squared her shoulders and went over to Flynn.  His forehead was
hot, and his breathing was shallow.

“Jennie!”  Flynn twisted his head back and forth. 
He tried to stand up and fell back onto the hammock.

Maggie shut her eyes briefly and took his hand.  “I’m
here, Flynn.  I’m here.”

But this time, the delirium persisted, and the
thrashing grew worse.  Flynn fell out of the hammock and onto the ground.  He
tried to crawl away and collapsed.  Maggie touched the pulse in his throat.

She could hardly find it.

“Major, I need your help.”

Sam ran over to her.  Together, they carried Flynn
back to his hammock.  He roused slightly and tried to get up again.

“Hold him down.”  Maggie placed her hands on Flynn’s
shoulders.

Sam nodded.  He put his hands on Flynn’s chest and
pressed him back into the hammock.  Flynn tried to sit up, but Sam was too
strong.  Maggie ran to her wagon and brought out her grandmother’s medical
bag.  She took out a small vial of laudanum and forced the vial between Flynn’s
lips.  He made a face, but he stopped struggling against Sam’s hands.  Maggie
dipped a clean cloth in cool water and laid it on Flynn’s head.  She took his
hand again.

His eyes fluttered open.  “Maggie?”

She nodded.  “I’m here, Mr. Flynn.”

He sighed and shut his eyes again.  “Maggie.”  His
body went limp.

Sam looked questioningly at Maggie.  She nodded, and
he released his grip on Flynn’s chest.  He moved on to the next patient.

Maggie longed to stay with Flynn, but other people
needed her help.  With a sigh, she began to move down the aisles of the
afflicted.

By dawn, five more people had come down with it.

Maggie took a moment to sit beside Flynn.  She took
his hand.  His skin was hot and dry.  She dozed off, still holding his hand.

“Maggie!”  Mrs. Lonnegan’s voice was urgent.

Maggie started awake.  She ran to Ellie’s side. 
Tears swam in the older woman’s eyes.  “It’s Tommy!  His breathing—”

Maggie went over and knelt beside Tommy Lonnegan. 
His chest gurgled ominously with every breath.  George propped himself up on
one elbow and looked over at Tommy.  “Is my son going to die, Miss O’Brien?”

Maggie shook her head.  “Not if I can help it."

George sighed and shut his eyes.

Tommy began to cough, a deep, hollow sound.

Maggie shut her eyes a moment.  She brought a rolled
up blanket and put it behind his back.  She went back to Frank’s cook fire
slowly.

Ellie set down her mug of tea.  “How is he?”

Maggie looked away.  “It’s pneumonia.”

Ellie swayed.  Maggie took her elbow and steadied
her.

Ellie opened her eyes and looked at Maggie.  “I am
not
going to faint.”

Maggie squeezed her hand.  “Of course you won’t.” 
She poured a mug of tea and put two sugar lumps in it.  She pressed the mug
into Ellie Lonnegan's hands.

Ellie took a sip and made a face.  "It's too
sweet."

Maggie patted her hand.  "Someone told me once
that sugar helps when someone has had a shock."

Ellie smiled at her and started to drink her tea.