The Five Dollar Mail (Book 1: The Green & Book 2: Lynch's Boys)

6: Gentleman Caller

Book cover art by Angela Taratuta, graphics by me. Featured chapter artwork is by the incredible Laura Hollingsworth, the writer/illustrator of The Siver Eye webcomic at http://www.thesilvereye.com/.

In the aftermath of Luis’ needling Saint over breakfast, while Saint squirmed and Lily flinched, and Fiona glowered over the whole affair with a disgusted, disapproving glare, it was Tommy who had come to the rescue.

He had announced, out-of-the-blue and in his quirky, breathless way of speaking, that his socks were full of holes. 

Everyone had turned to look at him as if he’d lost his mind.

Everyone but Wash, actually. Wash was apparently used to him.

But everyone else had, and he’d gone on to say that socks were a thing that could make or break a man’s day, and that he was sure that worn-out socks were something condemned souls in the Bad Place were doomed to wear for eternity. It was awful enough to have socks that slid down into a man’s boots and wad up around his arches, he had explained earnestly, as the tense conversation around him ground abruptly to a halt. And according to Tommy, having to endure that horror in addition to having one’s toes burst through and poke out of the holes was nigh unbearable.

Especially when it was cold.

So when Lily had offered to darn his and anyone else’s socks after breakfast, he happily and noisily took her up on it, thanking her profusely. Breakfast quickly broke up, and the crew hurried to the bunkhouse to gather their mending.

Lily was in her room, going over the morning’s events in her head. She had just gotten her sewing basket together when a sharp knocking sounded at her door.

“Oh, come on in.” She called. Luis appeared in the open doorway, a bundle of worn socks in his hand. “Good.” she smiled. She was glad to see him. He was, she was beginning to suspect, a career troublemaker. But she didn't care. He was the first of the boys she'd met, and his presence put her at ease. “You got your mending?”

"Yes’m." he nodded. "I got Storm’s, too, cuz he ain’t here. An’ Jesse’s. Listen, Miz Lily, there’s a man downstairs to see you. He's in the kitchen.”

Lily stopped and stared at him. “A man?”

The boy nodded, eyes earnest and black curls bobbing. Lily frowned, her brow furrowing. She took the bundle of socks from him. “Who is it?”

Luis shrugged. “Some perfume-stinking git in a fancy suit, a stupid looking hat, an’ a book bag. You want us to get rid of him for you?”

More perplexed by the moment, Lily’s frown grew deeper. Who on earth? Who even knows me out here? “No, no. Of course not. I’ll see him.” She smoothed her hair and straightened her apron. “Are you absolutely sure it’s me he wants?”

“Yes’m. He knew your name and all. Asked for Miz Lily McMillian.” A teasing smile dimpled Luis’ smooth brown cheek. “So, Miz Lily, you ain’t got any lawmen out lookin’ for you, eh? Or maybe he heard about your cooking and found out you can sew an’ he’s come callin’?”

Lily laughed at that. “Oh, you. Don’t be silly.” She picked up her basket and headed for the door. “Can’t imagine what he could want from me, but we’ll find out, I reckon.”

By the time Lily got down the stairs, through the parlor and out the back door, then through the garden and to the propped-open kitchen door, she was consumed with rabid curiosity. Who in the blazes could be here? And looking for me no less?

The man rose from his seat on the bench where he’d been seated when she entered the kitchen. He was tall, with short, neatly combed blond hair and a handsome face. He wore a tailored brown suit, and a dress style hat sat politely on the table beside his coffee cup. An official-looking case of ledgers and papers sat open on the table, gently shifting in the warming spring breeze wafting through the open doorway.