Courage to Love (Flynn Family Saga) (21 page)

He wiped his sweating palms against his trousers and walked up the steps.  He knocked on the door.

Maggie opened the door.  Her face was pale, and she looked as if she had been crying.  She swallowed hard.  “Sam is in the kitchen.  I’ll get him.”  She turned to go.

Flynn took her arm gently and turned her back to face him.  He shook his head.  “I came to see you, to say good-bye.”

Maggie blinked.  Her face lost what little color it had left.  “Where—where are you going?”  Then, she bit her lip.  “I’m sorry.  That’s prying.”

“No, Maggie.  You have a right to know.  You’re still my wife.  At least for now.”  He drew a deep breath.  “If you want a divorce, I won’t fight you.  I just—I just want you to wait until I get back.”  He swallowed hard.  “I’m going to Elmira.”

“Elmira?”  Maggie blinked.  “Why?”

Flynn sighed.  “I never grieved them, Maggie.  The men that died there.”

Maggie nodded slowly.  “I’m going with you.”

“No!”

“Yes!”  She tilted her chin up.

Flynn almost smiled—but he was afraid she’d punch him if he did.

Or shoot him.

“No, Maggie.  This is something I need to do alone.”

“Maggie’s right.  You shouldn’t go alone.”  Sam stepped out onto the porch.  “I’ll go with you.”

“No, Sam.”  Flynn did grin then.  “Kate’s mad at me already.  If anything happened to you, I think she’d track me down and shoot me.”

Sam chuckled.  “I think you’re right.”

Flynn turned to Maggie.  “I’m grateful for the offer, but—”

“I’m going, and that’s that!  If I don’t, I’m just going to have to come find you when you get into trouble.”  She folded her arms across her chest.

Relief flooded him, relief and hope.  He regarded her solemnly.  “Thank you, Maggie.  I’ll meet you after breakfast.”

Sam cleared his throat.  “There’s no need to walk all the way back to Hannah’s.  I’m sure Kate wouldn’t mind if you joined us.”

Flynn shook his head sadly.  “I’m sure she would, Sam, and she has every reason to feel that way.”  He turned to Maggie.  “I’ll meet you at the livery stable.”

Maggie nodded.

Flynn turned and walked back toward Hannah’s boarding house.  He ate breakfast without tasting it and hurried to the livery stable.

There was no sign of Maggie.

His hope flickered and went out, like the flame on a candle in a high wind.  He saddled Wakta.  Then he saddled Lady.  He heard footsteps and turned.

Maggie stood in the doorway, looking scared and lost.  But she carried her saddlebags over her shoulder, and she was wearing her sheepskin jacket.

He held out the reins to her.  Without a word, she took them and swung up onto Lady’s back.  Together, they rode out of the stable and down the street toward the eastern side of town.  The sky was clear, but a cold wind blew from the north.  Flynn shivered and turned up the collar on his jacket.  Beside him, Maggie rode Lady in silence.  They retraced the route they had taken six years earlier when Flynn escorted Maggie back to New Jersey to look after her grandparents.  Flynn cleared his throat.  “We could stop by the farm and see how it’s doing.”

Maggie shook her head.  “If Harvey Miller bought it, I don’t want to see what he has done to the place.”

Flynn nodded.  The silence stretched between them until they stopped for lunch.  Flynn built a fire.  They ate a little bread and dried meat.  He brewed some coffee and warmed his hands over the fire while it was boiling.

As soon as they finished lunch, they mounted and rode on.

Maggie broke the silence, first.  “Why, Flynn?”

He turned to her.  “Why what?”

Maggie looked away.  “Why go back there?”

Flynn touched his shirt pocket.  For ten years, he had carried that notebook with the names of the dead written in Corporal Addison’s cramped hand.  “I owe it to the men who died there.”

Maggie nodded slowly.  “Every year, Sam stopped at the graves of the people who had died along the trail.”

“So did you,” he said.

Maggie looked startled.  “I didn’t think anyone knew.”

Flynn shrugged.  “I’m the best scout this side of the Mississippi.”

“Second best scout.”  She smiled.

Flynn grinned at her.  “I thought we agreed it was a tie.”

Maggie’s smile vanished without a trace.  She looked away.  “I thought we agreed on a lot of things.”  She threw the dregs of her coffee into the fire, which hissed like an angry cat.  She mounted Lady and kicked her into a gallop.

With a sigh, Flynn broke camp.  He mounted Wakta.  The little horse galloped at a steady pace that ate up the distance between them.  The little horse caught up to the larger mare easily.  They rode neck and neck until Maggie reined in her horse.  She shook her head and smiled.  “Ike Tanner had no idea what kind of horse he was selling.”  She reached over and patted Wakta’s neck.

Flynn nodded agreement.  “How much
did
you pay for him?”

Maggie smiled fondly at the little horse.  “Fifteen dollars.”

“Fifteen dollars!  Are you crazy?  When you got him, he was all skin and bones.”

Maggie smiled smugly.  “I know a good horse when I see one.”  She kicked Lady into a trot.

Shaking his head, Flynn rode after her.

*  *  *

The weather held, and they made good time.  In four weeks, they reached the Delaware River.  There, they turned northward, following the course of the river through Port Jervis and westward, toward Elmira.  When they reached Elmira, Flynn led the way to Water Street.  He stopped in front of a house.  The sign read “Mrs. Carson’s Boarding House.”  Flynn walked up the stairs and knocked on the door.  A thin woman opened the door.

“Mrs. Carson?”

The woman nodded.

Flynn glanced at Maggie and looked back.  “Two rooms, please.”

Mrs. Carson nodded stiffly and held out her hand.  “That’s two bits a week, each.  Payable in advance.”

Before Flynn could get the money out of his pocket, Maggie handed the woman a quarter.  With a sigh, Flynn handed over his own quarter.  Mrs. Carson bit the coins and nodded again.  “Supper’s at seven.  Breakfast is at six.  I don’t provide lunch.”

Flynn nodded again.  “Thank you.”

Mrs. Carson led the way up the stairs to the third floor.  Flynn’s room looked out over the old prison camp.  The mounds of the graves were dark brown against the thin layer of snow around them.

He shivered and pulled the curtains tightly shut.  He didn’t bother to go downstairs for dinner.  For once in his life, he wasn’t hungry.  He undressed and took off his leg.  He lay on the bed with his arms behind his head, staring up at the ceiling.  He fell asleep and dreamed of the Hole.  The rain dripped down the sides of the pit, and he shivered with cold.  He heard footsteps, and he knew that he was going to be beaten again.  He tried to climb out, but the walls of the pit were slick with rain.  The footsteps came closer and closer.

“No!”  Flynn sat up.

Maggie stood beside his bed like a ghost.  “You cried out in your sleep.”

Flynn nodded.  “I had a nightmare.”

“About Jennie?”  Anger edged her voice.

Flynn shook his head.  “About Camp Sumter.”

“Why were you there, Flynn?  You fought for the south.”

Flynn sighed and ran his hand through his hair.  “I promised that I’d tell you about Jennie someday.  I guess it’s going to be tonight.  She was a Conductor on the Underground Railway.  I was stationed near her cabin, at Fort Wagner, South Carolina.  Colonel Ewell ordered me to find her.  He made me wear civilian clothes.”

Maggie’s eyes widened.  “If you had been caught, they could have shot you for a spy.”

Flynn nodded.  “I
was
shot.  Mrs. Wood—Jennie—nursed me back to health.  Then, she and her brother held me captive until the next group of slaves came through.  By the time I got back to Fort Wagner, Colonel Ewell thought I was a spy.”

“Were you—were you in love with her?”  Maggie’s voice sounded terribly fragile and tenderness welled up in him.

Flynn smiled sadly.  “I thought I was.”

Maggie frowned.  “What do you mean?”

Flynn sighed.  “She used me, Maggie.  Her husband had been killed in the Battle of Manassas.  She wanted to die, and she let me go so that I would lead Ewell back to her.”

“Did you?”

Flynn shook his head.  “But my tracks were easy enough to follow.”

“What did they do to her?”  Maggie’s voice was barely audible.

Flynn drew a deep breath.  “They hanged her, Maggie.”

“That’s why you couldn’t go to Richard Hamilton’s hanging,” she said softly.

Flynn nodded.

Maggie frowned.  “But if she used you, why did you always call for her when you were hurt or sick?”

“Because until I had smallpox, I didn’t remember that she used me.  I
couldn’t
remember, just like the names of the dead.”  He touched the notebook that lay on the nightstand.

Maggie’s frown deepened.  “I don’t understand.”

Flynn sighed.  “Neither do I, not really.  Last winter, I was lost in the past.”

“You never get lost!”

Flynn smiled.  “Not physically lost, but all I could see was the past.  The reason I didn’t follow you when you left was because I thought the whole Union Army was camped outside my door.”

“How can things like that happen?”

Flynn shrugged.  “I don’t know.  I only know that Sam went through the same thing.”

Maggie nodded slowly.  “He told me.  He said that a doctor took him to Gettysburg.  After he saw the graves of the men who died there, it got a little better.”

Flynn nodded back.  “That’s why I came here.”

Maggie blinked, and he wondered if she was blinking back tears.  “What happened?  How did you make the Union Army go away?”

“I didn’t, but I had to find you.  I wasn’t even sure if you had really come to me or if you were just another hallucination, but I had to find you.”

Maggie’s hand went to her mouth.  “You did that?  For me?”

Flynn nodded solemnly.

Maggie turned away.  “I’m sorry.  I didn’t realize.”

Flynn touched her hand gently.  “That’s all right, Magpie.”

Maggie drew her hand away.  She ran from the room, and he heard her door close.

Flynn sighed.  He rolled over onto his back, but he did not sleep again that night.  As soon as he heard Mrs. Carson in the kitchen, he went down the stairs.

Maggie was already there, helping Mrs. Carson with breakfast.  The two of them were chatting like old friends.  Smiling, Flynn picked up the coffee pot and started to make the coffee.

Mrs. Carson smiled shyly at him.  “That’s not necessary.”

Flynn shrugged.  “I’m glad to help, Mrs. Carson.”

“Maggie was telling me that you’re a scout for the Anders wagon train.”

Flynn nodded.

Mrs. Carson regarded him solemnly.  “When I saw you limping up the steps, I thought you were a vagabond.  I’m sorry.”

Flynn shook his head.  “No apology necessary, ma’am.”

Mrs. Carson smiled again.  Then, she started to pour pancake batter on the hot griddle from a chipped pitcher.

Breakfast was almost as good as Kate’s.  By the time they finished breakfast, church bells were ringing.  Flynn pushed away from the table.  Maggie stood up, too, but Flynn shook his head.  “This is something I need to do alone, Maggie.”

She nodded.

Mrs. Carson’s face grew hard again.  “What is it you need to do alone, Mr. Flynn?”

“I was a prisoner here, during the war, ma’am.  I need to make peace with the men who didn’t survive.”

“Oh.”  Mrs. Carson’s face reddened slightly.  “I’m sorry.  One of the guards still lives here.  His wife is my little sister.  I’m a little protective of them.”

Flynn smiled.  “Sergeant Layton is still here?”

Mrs. Carson nodded.

“Please tell him that Lieutenant Flynn sends his regards.”  He turned toward the door.

“I will, Lieutenant Flynn.”

Flynn left the boarding house and walked to the site of the prison camp.  It had snowed in the night, and the drifts were knee deep.  Row after row of graves stretched out in front of him.  He shut his eyes and saw a sea of faces, too many to count.  Some wept.  Some screamed.  Some cursed.  Their voices rose like the roar of the sea in a storm.

Suddenly, Flynn heard the sound of artillery fire.  Blue uniforms swarmed up Matthews Hill.

And he had no rifle.

He fell to his knees and bowed his head, waiting to die.

*  *  *

Maggie had no appetite for breakfast.  The knowledge of who Jennie really was and how she died had turned her world upside down.  All this time, she had been jealous of a ghost.

And Flynn had left without her.

Again.

That never ended well.

She heard the church bells, calling the faithful to Matins.  She thought of Brother Joseph, the monk who had befriended her when her father came home from the war and started to beat Lucy.  She hadn’t been to church in years, but she longed for the feeling of peace and safety she once felt in the little chapel near the docks.  So she put on her green gingham dress and left the house.  She found the church and went inside.  A monk walked down the aisle to the altar and started to light the candles, smiling and whistling.  Maggie watched him for a few moments, wondering, hoping.  Then, he turned toward the pews.

“Brother Joseph!”  Her voice sounded very loud in the silence of the church.

The little man frowned.  Then, slowly, he smiled.  “Maggie!  Maggie O’Brien!”  He ran to her pew and took her hands.  “Look at you, all grown up.”  He noticed the ring on her finger.  “And married!”

Maggie nodded.  She looked away.  “I need to talk to you about that.”

“Of course.  After Mass.  Will you join us for breakfast?”  He grinned.  “It’ll be like old times.”

“Us?  Is Sister Ignatius still with you?”

Brother Joseph nodded.  “We’re like an old married couple now, squabbling over things neither one of us can really remember clearly.”

Maggie laughed for the first time in a long time.  She nodded.  “I would love to see her again.”

Brother Joseph squeezed her hand gently.  Then, the priest came out of the vestry.  He spoke in Latin, but Maggie remembered the English words Brother Joseph had taught her.  “This is my Body which is given up for you.”  She understood the sacrifice now, much better than she had as a child.  She remembered the feel of Leroy Vaughn’s knife against her throat and shuddered.