Courage to Love (Flynn Family Saga) (13 page)

The clean linen was neatly folded on the bed.  The hearth had been swept.

And Flynn’s saddlebags were gone.

Maggie sank to her knees.  Her pain was so great that she didn’t think she could bear it.  For the first time, she understood why Romeo had taken his dagger and stabbed himself.  Slowly, she drew her knife.  Her hand trembled, and the blade shimmered as red as blood in the light of the setting sun.  Then, she heard her grandfather's voice as clearly as if James stood behind her. 
Romeo was a fool, and Juliet was no better.  If he had just done something worthwhile with his life...

Maggie raised her head.  Slowly, she got to her feet.  She turned back to the door and looked out.

The snow was beginning to melt, and the buds were swollen on the cottonwoods.  She drew a deep breath, and the air smelled fresh and clean.  She went back into the cabin and built a fire.  In the morning, she rode back to St. Jo.  She didn’t stop at Kate’s house.  Instead, she went straight to the corral.

Ben was already there.  He grabbed Lady’s reins and grinned up at her.  “Am I glad to see you.  I sure didn’t want to work for Hugh Townsend.”

“You wouldn’t!”  Maggie put her hands on her hips.

Ben shook his head.  “But Sam’s retired, and if you hadn’t come along, I don’t know what I would have done.”

“Where’s Frank?”

“At Grover’s.  Buying supplies.”

Maggie rolled her eyes.  She slid from Lady’s back and tethered her to the top rail of the corral fence.  “I’d better go stop him before he pays three times what he has to.”

Ben’s laughter followed her, and the ice around her heart began to melt a little.

In the morning, Maggie started to hire a crew.  She set up her table in front of Grover’s General store, just like she had the year before.  Flynn wasn't there, and that hurt, but whenever the pain threatened to overwhelm her, she tilted her chin up.  "Do something worthwhile with your life," she whispered, over and over again.

By the end of the day, most of the positions were filled, all except scout.  A few men stopped to apply for the job, but Maggie knew most of them, and she didn’t trust them.

Maggie lay awake a long time that night.  She thought about asking Sam to boss the train while she scouted, but she knew that his heart wouldn’t take the strain.  Dawn came, and light filtered through the lace curtains in her bedroom window.  Maggie sighed and went straight to Grover’s without stopping for breakfast.

Just as Grover was opening the store, Jake Ross, the town drunk, walked up to her.  He held his battered, sweat-stained hat in his hands.  “Miz Flynn?”

Maggie turned to him and nodded.

“I—I need a job.  I was a scout for the Army during the war.  I have my discharge papers.”  Ross rummaged in his jacket pocket.

Maggie sighed.  "I know your record, Ross.  Everyone in St. Jo does."  She sniffed, but she couldn’t smell any alcohol on him.

His round face reddened.  “I haven’t had a drop in three months, Miz Flynn.  Honest.”

Maggie bit her lip.  She wondered what would have happened if her father had been able to find honest work.

“I’ll tell you what.  You hold onto my pay until the end of the trip.  Now what could be fairer than that?”  His tone was light, but his eyes pleaded with her for a chance.

Maggie turned away.  She stared at the corral.  She remembered the rainy morning that Sam had given her a chance.  She drew a deep breath and turned back to Ross.  “All right.  But if I catch some much as a whiff of whiskey on your breath, you’re fired.”

“Yes ma’am!  You won’t regret it!”  Ross turned and strode down the street.

Ben tilted his hat back.  “I sure hope you know what you’re doing, Maggie.”

Maggie sighed.  “So do I.”

A young couple strolled toward them.  Both had jet-black hair.  The woman’s skin was a lovely color, like coffee with thick cream.  The man’s skin was white.  His eyes were as black as the night sky in Wyoming.  Her eyes were a rich dark brown.  She looked at Maggie and looked away shyly.  The man took off his hat and bowed.  “Allow me to introduce myself.  I am Lucas Devereux.  My friends call me Luke.  And this is my wife, Marie.”

Maggie stood and shook their hands.  “Pleased to meet you.  Where are you headed?”

“San Francisco.  I am a musician, and there is a symphony in need of a first violinist.”  Luke Devereux smiled, revealing brilliantly white teeth.

Maggie smiled back.  “Welcome, Mr. Devereux.  Mrs. Devereux.  Here are the articles.  Please feel free to ask any questions."

Luke picked up a pen and signed them with a flourish.  His smile faded.  “I knew your stepfather, Mrs. Flynn.  He would have treated my wife with the same courtesy you did.  We need look no further.  Am I right, Marie?”

Marie shook her head.  “She doesn’t understand, Luke.  She doesn’t know what I am.”

Maggie took Marie’s hands in hers.  “I know exactly what you are, Marie.  You are the wife of the future first violinist of the San Francisco Symphony Orchestra.”

Marie blinked.  “Mrs. Flynn, I don’t know what to say.”

“Thank you will do nicely.”  Maggie grinned at her.

Marie smiled shyly.  “Merci, Madame Flynn.”  Tears shone in her soft brown eyes.  Luke held out his arm to his wife.  She laid her delicate hand on his wrist, and together they turned and walked away.

Maggie began to pack up the signed articles when a solitary woman, dressed all in black, approached the table.  A black veil shrouded her face.  Maggie frowned.  "Can I help you?"

"You don't remember me, do you?"  The woman's voice was soft and musical.

Maggie shook her head.

The woman lifted her veil.  Her face was scarred from smallpox.  "I'm Elizabeth Barclay."

CHAPTER
TEN

Maggie's mouth fell open.  She came around the table and hugged the young woman who had helped her nurse two dozen girls and a handful of women through the  smallpox outbreak at Lois Banks' Boarding School.  "What are you doing here?  I thought you were getting married."

Elizabeth smiled wryly.  "So did I.  But my fiancé took one look at me and broke the engagement."  Her smile faded slowly, and she looked away.  "And then my father threw me out of his house.  He said I was no use to him anymore."

Maggie squeezed her hands.  "Well, I could use a friend right now."

Elizabeth looked back at Maggie, one delicate eyebrow raised questioningly.  "I thought you were getting married, too.  Where is Flynn?"

Maggie sighed.  "It's a long story, and I'm hungry.  Come on.  I'll treat you to dinner at my folks' house."

Elizabeth looked scared.  "I don't want to be a bother."

Maggie shook her head.  "It's no bother.  We always have room for one more."

Together they walked to Sam and Kate's house.  When the door opened, Kate looked surprised.

"Mama, this is Elizabeth Barclay.  She helped me when smallpox hit your cousin's school."

Kate smiled and embraced Elizabeth.  "Welcome.  Maggie told me how hard you worked.  Please come in.  We were just about to sit down to dinner."

Frank was in the kitchen, banging pots and pans on the stove.  "Ow!  Guldurn it!  I
always
do that."

Elizabeth laid a hand on Maggie's arm.  "What's going on in there?  It sounds like someone's committing murder."

Maggie laughed.  "That's just Frank Lennox.  He's the cook on the wagon train.  Come on.  I'll introduce you to him."  She led the way to the kitchen.  "Frank, there's someone I'd like you to meet.  Frank Lennox, this is Elizabeth Barclay."

The breeze from the kitchen window blew Elizabeth's veil off her head and onto the floor, revealing her face.

Frank stared at her.

Elizabeth stiffened.  "What are you staring at?  Haven't you ever seen anyone who had smallpox before?"

"Did you?  Oh, yeah.  I guess you did.  That's not what I was staring at.  I didn't notice at first.  I was looking at your eyes."

"My eyes?"

"Yeah.  They're blue."

Elizabeth sighed in exasperation.  "I know they're blue, Mr. Lennox."

"But what I bet you don't know is that they look exactly like the Montana sky at twilight."  He shook his head.  "Yes sir, I never saw such pretty eyes.  Oh.  Sorry.  You're probably married."

Elizabeth's mouth twitched.  "As a matter of fact, I'm not, Mr. Lennox."

"Call me Frank.  Everybody does."

Elizabeth smiled warmly at him.  "All right, Frank."

Frank bent and picked up her veil.  He held it out to her.  She took it.  She started to place it over her face again.  Then, she stopped.  She folded it and tucked it into her reticule.

Finally, dinner was ready.  Sam sat at one end of the table, and Kate sat at the other.  Elizabeth sat next to Frank, and Ben sat next to Maggie.

Ben glanced at Elizabeth and looked away quickly.  "Introduce me to your friend, Frank."

"Ben, this is Elizabeth Barclay.  Elizabeth, this is Ben Brewster."

"Pleased to meet you."  Elizabeth extended her hand across the table.

Ben frowned.  "Are you any relation to Terence Barclay?"

Elizabeth nodded.  "He's my father.  Why?"

Ben shoved his chair back to hard it struck the wall behind him.  "Excuse me, Kate, Sam.  I just lost my appetite."

Tears shimmered in Elizabeth's eyes.  She fumbled in her purse for her veil.

Sam reached over and touched her wrist.  "It isn't your face, Miss Barclay.  It's your father.  He owns the land next to Ben's ranch.  He doesn't use it for anything himself, but he won't sell it.  He won't even lease the grazing rights."

"Oh."  Elizabeth looked down at her plate.  Slowly, she raised her head.  "I knew what he was doing to my mother, and I did nothing to stop it.  Maybe there is something I can do to correct this situation."

"What have you got in mind?" Sam asked.

Elizabeth hesitated.  "He owes me my dowry.  Maybe I can persuade him to give me that land in lieu of the money."

Sam smiled slowly.  But then his smile faded.  "But that would leave you penniless."

Elizabeth shrugged.  "I'm a good cook.  Maybe I could start a restaurant."

"What do you think, Maggie?"  Sam turned to his adopted daughter.

Maggie grinned.  "My grandmother said you can do almost anything if you put your mind to it."

Sam nodded.  He turned back to Elizabeth.  "Tomorrow, I'll take you to meet Jasper Williams.  He's the best attorney this side of the Mississippi."

*  *  *

A week after Flynn left the dubious sanctuary of the cabin, he rode into Sees Far’s village.  Woman Who Dreams came to meet him.  “Welcome, brother-in-law.”

Flynn smiled back.  “Thank you, Woman Who Dreams.”

Woman Who Dreams nodded.  “Come.  Your brother is in our tipi.”

Flynn dismounted.  A small boy smiled and took the reins.  Flynn followed Woman Who Dreams to her tipi.  She opened the flap, and Flynn entered.  It took a moment for his eyes to adjust to the dim light inside.

Sees Far stood up.  “Flynn!  What happened to you?”

Flynn hesitated.  “Our baby was born dead.  Ever since then, I have been...lost.”

Sees Far frowned.  “Lost?”

Flynn nodded and looked away.  “I—I see things that aren’t there, old battles, the prison camps, a woman I once loved.”  He looked back at his brother.  “Then, Pathfinder came to me.  He said—he said it was time for me to come home."

Sees Far nodded slowly.  “Eat with us and sleep.  Tomorrow we will talk.”

Flynn nodded.  “You honor me, my brother.”

As Flynn ate, he listened to the talk around the fire.  The familiar sound of the Lakota language comforted him in a way he had not expected.  He fell asleep listening to the rise and fall of familiar and well-loved voices.

In the morning, Keeper sat across the fire from him.  “Tell me of your dreams.”

Flynn sat up and rubbed the sleep from his eyes.  “I dream only of dark things.  The war.  Death."

Keeper nodded.  "Your soul is wounded, and must heal.  You must come with me to the sweat lodge."

Flynn hesitated.  "I am not clean enough to enter the lodge."  He drew a deep breath and let it out slowly.  “I ran.  When our baby was born dead, I ran.”

Keeper stood swiftly, came around the fire and slapped Flynn so hard that his ears rang.  “You have lived too long among the whites.  You have become a coward.”

Flynn’s gaze never wavered.  “You’re right.”

Slowly, Keeper smiled.  He had the startled look of a man who has been leaning into a stiff wind all day when, suddenly, the wind dies.  “I didn’t expect you to admit it.”

Flynn shrugged.  "A lie will not give me the healing I seek.”

Keeper nodded slowly.  “Tell me of your father.”

“Pathfinder came to me.  He told me that Fire-haired Woman was alive, that she needed me.  I wanted to weep, but I couldn’t.  I saw her die.”

“Did you?  You just told me that you see things that are not there."

Hope jabbed Flynn like a dagger.  Then, he remembered.  He remembered that Maggie fell back onto the cot.  Her face was pale as the blood flowed from her body.  Slowly, he shook his head.  “She bled to death after the baby was born.”

"You saw her buried?”

Slowly, Flynn shook his head.  “No.  But there was so much blood...”

Keeper was silent a long time.  “Come with me to the sweat lodge.  We shall see if Pathfinder has anything more to say to you.”

Flynn nodded.  “Thank you.”

*  *  *

That night, Flynn went to the sweat lodge.  He took off his clothing and laid it aside.  He hesitated, and then he removed the wooden leg that Frank had made for him.  He felt terribly vulnerable.  He leaned on Sees Far’s shoulder and hobbled into the lodge.  He sat down on the earth.  He had forgotten the strength that came from the earth.  Instead of resisting the coldness and hardness of the ground, Eagle Heart gave himself to the earth, and a little of his pain ebbed away from him.

Keeper poured water on each of the four stones: north, south, east and west; summer, fall, winter and spring.

Eagle Heart breathed in the steam, expecting nothing, hoping for nothing, just
being
with the earth and the water and the fire that made the steam and the air in which the steam took shape.  He relaxed more deeply, felt the rhythm of the earth.  Something he had forgotten, work its way into his bones, a peace, a wholeness that transcended adversity.  For a long time, nothing happened.  He grew hungrier, and then the sensation of hunger left him.  Keeper handed him a ladle of cool water.  Eagle Heart took a sip and then poured the rest on the four stones.  The last of the tension left him, and he remembered.  He remembered feeling a-part-of, one of his
tiyospaye
.  He remembered the feeling of safety that gave him.