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

45: Rain

Cover painting by Angela Taratuta. All graphics by me. Character art of Lily by Liezl Buenaventura.

Lily's head jerked up and she fixed her eyes on the kitchen door. The footfalls on the wooden porch drew closer and the door swung open. She watched Saint shrug out of his rain-soaked duster, a mixture of dread, anger, and self-consciousness swirling around inside her. She watched him warily as he hung the dripping coat on an outside peg, stepped inside, and closed the door behind himself. His boots and lower pants legs were wet, but at least he'd changed into a dry flannel shirt. It hung open in the front, revealing a white flannel union suit underneath. She frowned disapprovingly. Well, he's habitually inappropriate, but at least he's more or less dry.

He pulled off his hat, revealing hastily toweled hair. Glancing nervously at her, he hung it on the peg near the door.

She narrowed her eyes at him, gesturing to the bench.

He sat.

Being alone with him again, after...after What Had Just Happened...was awkward, to say the least. And Saint's obvious discomfiture was not making it any better. Is he sorry? Embarrassed? Ashamed? What? Her ears started burning again. Is he...repulsed??

She peered over his shoulder at his ear. Yep. Bullet took a little chunk right out of his earlobe, near the side of his head. She had warmed a basin of water and gotten some clean rags ready while he was changing, so she wrung out one in the water and pressed it gently to the reddened and crusted ridge of torn skin. Looks like it bled a lot, but it's not serious.

He inhaled sharply, flinching. He had clearly not done a single thing to tend it since it happened, and the neglect had left it swollen and festering.

She pushed his head gently to the side and back, sweeping his damp hair back. "Hurts?"

"No," he lied.

"Letting it go didn't help it any." She felt another wave of anger sweep through her when she realized her fingers were unsteady. No telling what he thinks he can get away with now...I suppose he thinks I...that I... She drew in a deep, bracing breath and forced her mind back to the task at hand.

He said nothing, obediently sitting still with his head tilted back, letting her work.

She rinsed out the rag and wrung it again, gently scrubbing the crusted blood at the hinge of his jaw. He'd bled down the side of his throat and it had pooled above his collarbone and crusted in blackened stains where his clothes had trapped and smeared it. How narrowly he had escaped being killed weighed on her, made her heart pound heavily in her chest.

She traced the angle of his jaw, scrubbing carefully at the soft depression in his neck where blood had channeled. His pulse fluttered against her fingers, and she pulled her hand away, startled by the intimacy of feeling his heart beat. It didn't seem possible that the wolf-like, insolent, pushy rounder she'd been frightened of in the kitchen that first day, that obnoxious jackass she'd been angry enough to confront only hours later, and who had had the unmitigated gall to just kiss her like he did, was this same man now. This exhausted, bloodied creature fighting off sleep as she held his throat in her hands.

He sighed tiredly, the masculine contours of his chest rising and falling beneath the clinging union shirt. She felt the warmth of a blush creeping into her cheeks and forced her gaze back to the basin of water and Bender's nearly empty bottle of liquor. Holding a dry rag to the side of Saint's neck, she carefully poised the whiskey over his injury. "Hold still, Mr. Bari, it's going to sting some."

He winced as the whiskey soaked his torn ear, but he didn't move.

"Sorry," Lily apologized, sopping up the stray drips, and then immediately cringed at her own unchristian thoughts. Good. I'm not sorry. I hope it stung like hell.

"How come Wash gets honey and I get whiskey?"

"Because he was smart enough not to come in here festering, Mr. Bari. You weren't," she snapped, no longer able to hold her tongue. "And I suppose you think you're already sweet enough."

He flinched at that, and opened his mouth as if to say something. Instead, he fell silent, brooding.

"Short of wrapping your entire head, I have no idea how to bandage this. So I can't poultice it. We'll just keep it clean and wait for it to scab over."

She poised over the bloody trail she's been following, watching it disappear inside the partially unbuttoned top of the union shirt and imagined slipping her hand inside his collar. Straightening up suddenly, she wadded the rag into a ball, and tossed it with a messy splash into the basin. There is no way I am going any further with this. No way. He's going to have to clean himself up from this point on. The thought of her hand inside his shirt had made her bones feel like they were made out of marshmallow and she blamed that unwanted and embarrassing response entirely on him.

"Look," he sighed, wearily. "I..."

"What in Heaven were you thinking?" She rounded on him, hands on her hips, and wondered if he could see her shaking.

"Little Miss..." He started over. "Lily...I didn't mean to upset you, alright?"

"No, it most certainly is not alright!"

"You're upset an' I'm sorry for that." He glanced at her and ran his hand through the mess of his hair, exasperated and beaten. "I was just real glad to be back. We...let's just say we had a rough trip, and then I saw...well, look, I just didn't think an' I'm sorry you're angry. I meant no disrespect to ya."

"But not sorry you did it in the first place." No. Not this time. Lily was holding her indignation to herself like a piece of floating wreckage in the middle of a stormy sea, unwilling to relinquish it. Don't think your trite little apologies are going to make your behavior alright this time.

He looked at her and his dark eyes were wicked. The dimple hinted in his unshaven cheek. "Do you want me to be sorry I did it?" He shook his head. "Either way, you're going to be mad at me."

Now it was Lily's turn to gape like a fish. The nerve... "Mr. Bari," she finally sputtered. "We work at the same station, nothing more. How dare you come in here and...and...assume that..."

"It won't happen again." He got up, walked calmly across the room to the door, and put his hat back on.

"See that it doesn't!"

"Thanks for..." he gestured towards the basin and jerked his head in the direction of the house. "Everything." She couldn't read his expression, especially now that his face was obscured in the shadows under his hat. He touched his brim to her and disappeared into the rain.

She sat down hard at the table, vainly willing her hands to stop shaking, and was genuinely shocked when her eyes filled with tears and her vision went hot and hazy.

Thanks for reading! If you enjoyed the chapter, don't forget to let me know what you think, or just give me a vote! Updates on Monday and Friday.