Courage to Love (Flynn Family Saga) (8 page)

He was silent a long time.  “I don’t know.”  He got up and walked away.

Maggie sighed and went back to her bedroll.  In the morning, she woke before dawn.  She got up and went to the lead wagon.

Flynn was there.  He glanced at her and looked away.  Maggie’s heart ached, but she tried to keep the pain from her face.

Frank looked from one to the other.  He scooped up some scrambled eggs for Maggie.

She ate them, but they tasted like dust.

*  *  *

The tension between Maggie and Flynn grew as the days passed.  Flynn did his job.  He ate with Maggie and Ben and Frank.  But he did not talk to her unless he had to, and they slept apart.

All along the trail, they saw Indians, watching them.  Maggie’s skin crawled almost every day.  Finally, one hot afternoon, she rode ahead.

Flynn met her about a mile from the train.  “What are you doing here?”

“What do they want?”  She gestured toward the bluff.

Flynn turned and spotted their escort.  He turned back to Maggie.  He shrugged.  “You’re the Indian expert.  You go talk to them.”  He kicked Wakta and rode back to the train.

Maggie turned to the low hills.  Six Indians watched her without moving.  She turned and followed Flynn back to the train.

CHAPTER
SIX

That night, as Maggie lay staring up at a beautiful full moon, she couldn’t bear it anymore.  She got up and walked to the picket line.  Flynn was there, grooming Wakta.  He glanced at her and looked away.

“Flynn, I can’t—I can’t apologize to you for doing the right thing.”

His hand stopped moving briefly, and then he resumed brushing his horse.

Maggie sighed.  She picked up a brush and started to curry Patches.  “I can’t apologize for what I did, but I can apologize for hurting you.”

He was silent a long time.  Slowly, he shook his head.  “Maggie, when did you get to be so wise?”

Maggie smiled wanly.  “When you weren’t looking.”

“Maggie, why won’t you let me rescue you once in a while?”

Maggie grinned.  “Because I almost never get into trouble.”

Flynn snorted.  “Beginner’s luck.”

Maggie put her hands on her hips.  “Like my ability to shoot straight?”

He grinned at her.  “I taught you everything you know.”  Slowly, his grin faded.  “Seriously, Maggie.  You never ask for help, not from me, not from anyone.”

Maggie nodded slowly.  “You’re right.  I never thought about it.”  She looked away.  “When my flesh-and-blood parents were alive, there was never anyone to help me.  I was the one who took care of them, so I guess got out of the habit of asking.”

Flynn took a step toward her.  He touched her belly.  “I want to take care of you.  I want to protect you.  You and our baby.”

Maggie nodded.  Tears filled her eyes.  “I know.  And sometimes, I want you to.  But I can’t let you do that when it undermines my authority as wagon master.”

“Mistress.”  He grinned.

She grinned back.  She sobered swiftly.  “You tried to rescue Peter because that’s who you are, and I love you for it.  And I—I had to punish you for doing it.”  Her tears brimmed over and slid down her cheeks.

Flynn reached forward and wiped them away with his long fingers.  “You were right.”

She stared at him.  “What?”

He looked away.  “You were right.”  He looked back, and anger replaced the pain.  “But how was I to know that you’d go back for the boy as soon as the train reached Fort Laramie?”

“You could have asked,” she said softly.

He nodded slowly.  “Yeah, I guess I could have.”  He sighed.  “I’ve never been married before, Maggie.  I’m not always going to get it right the first time.”

She smiled sadly.  “Me either.”

He nodded back.  “I’m sorry.”

Tears filled her eyes.  “Me too.  I wish
I
was the scout and you had to boss this train.  It’s a lot harder than I thought it would be.”  She shivered.

“Are you cold?”

Maggie shook her head.  “Scared.  I didn’t know what Last Buffalo would do, and I was scared I’d have to—to—”

Flynn put his arms around her.

Maggie rested her head on his shoulder.

“Maggie?”

She nodded.

“If they had hurt you...”  His voice trailed off.

Maggie sighed.  “Once I knew that he was Woman Who Dreams’ brother, it wasn’t much of a gamble.”

Flynn nodded against her hair.  “But it was still a gamble.”

“Yes.”  She shivered again.

Flynn’s arm tightened around her.  “I would have come back for you, Maggie.  I would have taken Peter to the fort and come back for you, even if it meant spending the rest of the trip in the jail wagon.”

Maggie started to cry.

Flynn tilted her head up.  “What’s wrong?”

Maggie shook her head.  “You’re a better person than I am.  I left you there for weeks, and you would have come right back for me.”

Flynn shook his head.  “Not better.  Just different.”

Maggie shut her eyes.  “I’ve missed you, Flynn.”

“I’ve missed you, too, Magpie.”

“Magpie.”  She opened her eyes.  “It’s been a long time since you called me that.”

Flynn nodded.  He kissed her.

Maggie smiled at him.  “I missed that too.”

Slowly, he smiled his lazy, sensuous grin.  “Me too.”  He led her away from the train.  He unrolled a blanket and drew her down beside her.  They made love slowly, cautiously, as if afraid to shatter the fragile peace between them.

Later, Maggie propped herself on one elbow.  “You mean so much to me.  It scares me, how much you mean to me.”  She studied his face.  “My mother lost herself in her husband.”

Flynn smiled at her.  “Maggie, I knew Lucy.  You’re nothing like her.  You love this life.  And you’re good at it.”  He sighed.  “I hate to admit this, but you are a better wagon master than I would have been.”

Maggie rested her head on his chest.  “I don’t want to lose you, Flynn.  I—I love you so.”

He nodded against her hair.  “I love you, too.  I used to think that love was enough, but it’s not.  That’s why I never married.”

Maggie nestled closer.  “I like being married to you—most of the time.”

He chuckled.  “Me too.”  He tilted her chin up, and his expression was solemn.  “Thank you.”

“For what?”

“Making me laugh.”

Maggie smiled slowly.  “We haven’t laughed much since St. Jo, have we?”

“Nope.”

Maggie sighed.  “Well, I’ll have to do better tomorrow.”

He smiled at her.  “I love the way you do that.”

“Do what?”

“End the day.  Put it behind you.  Sam never learned how to do that.”

Maggie’s smile faded.  “I learned how to do that when I was looking after my parents.”

Flynn nodded.  “Let me look after you, Maggie.  As much as I can.  Please?”

Maggie smiled at him and touched his cheek.  It was rough with whiskers.  “Yes, husband.”

He kissed her.  “Good night, wife.”

“Good night.”  She kissed him back.  With a sigh, she laid her head on his chest.

Flynn held her and stroked her back until she slept.

*  *  *

In the morning, they ate breakfast together.  Flynn made the coffee.  Maggie had two helpings of bacon and eggs.  Frank and Ben exchanged knowing looks.

Maggie blushed.

Just as they were finishing breakfast, Peter Ellis came to the lead wagon.  He looked from Flynn to Maggie and back again.  “Mr. Flynn?”

“Yes, Peter?”

“Why aren’t you mad at Mrs. Flynn anymore?”

Frank choked on his coffee.

Ben grinned.  “Yeah, Mr. Flynn.  Why
aren’t
you mad at Mrs. Flynn anymore?”

Maggie turned beet red, which made Ben’s grin even broader.

Flynn cleared his throat.  “When a man and a woman—when two people love each other—”  He, too, started to blush.

“You’ll understand when you’re older, Peter.”  Maggie patted his shoulder.

“Aw, gee.  My Pa says that all the time.”

Maggie’s mouth twitched.  “Your Pa is right.”

Flynn looked smug.

That day, they rode side by side at the head of the train with their knees touching.

*  *  *

Maggie rode more and more in the lead wagon.  Her back began to ache as her belly swelled, and at night, her legs cramped.  When they reached Fort Bridger, Maggie bought extra water barrels for the trek through Utah.  They topped off their water barrels in Salt Lake City and prepared for the trek across the salt flats.

Maggie saw very little of Flynn.  Time and time again, the creeks they usually used were dry.  They pushed as hard as they dared across the salt flats.  It was always a race between the distance between waterholes and the endurance of their horses and mules, but this was the worst drought Maggie had ever seen.  She began to ration the water.

Then, horses began to die.

Maggie went from wagon to wagon.  At the Danton wagon, Andrew Danton shook his head stubbornly.  “You can’t ask me to throw out my belongings.”

“Actually, Mr. Danton, I don’t have to ask.  Under the articles you signed, I have the right to take everything you own, if need be, and toss it off a cliff.”

Andrew Danton scowled at her.  “Why didn’t you tell us this at St. Jo?”

Maggie sighed.  “Because it’s in the contract.”

He folded his arms and shook his head.  “You can’t make me.  I have rights.  I—”

Maggie grabbed his arm and dragged him toward the lead wagon.  Books littered the ground.  Her eyes filled with tears.  “I’ve carried these books with me ever since my grandparents died.”  She turned to him.  “Now, what in tarnation is so all fired important in
your
wagon?”

His face reddened.  He opened his mouth and shut it.  Then, he turned and stalked away.

Maggie heard the sound of crates hitting the ground.

She closed her eyes and sighed.

*  *  *

Halfway across the desert, Flynn shook the water barrel next to Frank’s fire and frowned.  He turned to Maggie.  “We have maybe three or four days left.”

She nodded.  She looked solemn.  And scared.

Flynn turned away.  He stared at the mountains a long time.  Fear clawed at his belly, like a mountain lion trying to get out of a cage.  He walked away from the wagon train and sat down on the ground.  He shut his eyes and tried to
feel
the earth the way Keeper had taught him.  He smiled at the memory.  He could see Keeper, sitting across the fire from him, speaking softly in his deep voice.  "Feel the Earth.  Know her the way you will one day know a woman.  Learn her secrets in silence.  Then, you will feel the water that runs through her."

Flynn heard Maggie's voice, and fear yanked him back to the present.  He drew a deep breath and tried again.  Images of Maggie drifted into his mind:  Maggie walking into the corral in St. Jo wearing a yellow slicker two sizes too big for her; Maggie eating fish from a stick; Maggie lying in his arms, flushed and naked, with a smile that made him feel proud and humble at the same time; Maggie radiant and bulging with their child.

Ruthlessly, he thrust those images out of his mind.  He drew a deep breath, held it, and let it out.  He felt the hard, dry earth beneath him.  The wind stirred listlessly, and he felt the hot, dry air against his face.  He heard the pop and snap of Frank’s fire behind him.

And then, he felt it, felt the thin thread of water beneath the ground.

Flynn ran to the picket line and saddled Wakta.

Maggie followed him.  “Where are you going?”

“To find water.”  Flynn cinched Wakta’s saddle tightly.

“I’m going with you.”  Maggie tilted her chin up.

Flynn bowed his head a moment.  Slowly, he raised it.  “No, Maggie.  Not this time.  I need—I need you to be here when I get back.”  He touched her belly.  “I need you to take care of our child.”

Tears filled Maggie’s eyes, but she nodded.  “Billy!”

The young boy ran up to them.  “Yes, Mrs. Flynn?”

Maggie smiled at him.  “I want you to look after Flynn for me.”

Billy blushed.  “Yes ma’am.”

Flynn repressed a grin.  “Thanks, Billy.”  While Billy saddled Shadow, Flynn fastened two water barrels on either side of the little packhorse that Maggie had brought with her, all the way from Lawrenceville.  Sancho Panza looked at him lugubriously.

Flynn laughed.

Then, the two of them mounted and rode away.

Flynn looked back once.

Maggie stood at the edge of the circle of wagons, looking small and scared.

*  *  *

Three days later, Flynn and Billy were still gone.  Maggie walked to the edge of the circle of wagons.  Ben stood there, staring at the mountains.  “He’s just a boy, Maggie.”

Maggie touched Ben’s arm.  “But his father taught him everything he knew.”

Ben shook his head.  “Somehow, that’s not very comforting today.”

Maggie squeezed his arm gently.  “I know.  Neither of us is going to get much sleep tonight.”

They made camp under the shade of a wall of tumbled rocks.  It was a little cooler in the shade.  The horses couldn’t go on much longer without water, and in a few days, both people and livestock would start to die.

That night, Maggie took the first watch, hoping that exhaustion would make it possible for her to sleep.  She stared at the mountains.  The moon rose casting harsh shadows on the sand.  There was no sign of movement.

At midnight, Ben relieved her.

In the morning, Patches lay on his side, panting.

Maggie turned away and wept.

By noon, seven horses were dead, including Patches.

Maggie walked away from the wagons and glared at the desert.  “You’re not going to beat us!  You hear?”

Only the hiss of wind-blown sand answered her.

That night, Maggie could not sleep.  When Ben came to relieve her, she shook her head.  He nodded and walked back to the lead wagon.  Maggie heard footsteps behind her.  She turned, half-expecting to see Flynn.

Instead, it was Samantha.  She smiled at Maggie shyly.  “I heard about Patches.  I’m sorry.”

Maggie nodded.  Her throat ached too much to speak.

Samantha looked at the mountains.  “Henry and I have a spare horse.  Her name is Lady.  We’d like you to have her.”