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

51: False Witnesses, part 2

Cover art by Angela Taratuta. Character art of Storm by Marina Gimenez Matiazi. All graphic by me.

Storm's eyebrows shot skyward as Fiona turned back to the equally surprised deputy.

"Mr. Shannon. I trust my uncle's employee has been treated with civility? I'm sure you well know there's been problems in the past of our riders being abused while in custody?"

Blackie nodded. "Yes'm, of course." He shifted awkwardly. "You have my word I'm keeping a close eye to things here. You know that I won't allow anything like that."

She smiled tightly. "I'd like a word with Mr. Yarl, if you don't mind."

Now Yarl and Blackie both wore the same stunned expression that Storm did. They exchanged glances. Blackie nodded and gestured over to Yarl's cell.

Yarl had scrambled off his bunk as Fiona approached him. He stood towering over her on the other side of the bars, contrite and embarrassed. "Ma'am," he mumbled, nodding.

"Mr. Yarl." She nodded back. It was all she could do to restrain herself. Her hatred for this man was overwhelming. She kept a neutral expression on her face, enjoying the look of genuine fear in his eyes. He's at least smart enough to realized when someone has him cornered. Bastard.

"Ma'am..." he blurted clumsily. "I'm sorry, I didn't...I mean I never would have..."

"Well." She gave him a predatory smile. "Thank you, Mr. Yarl. I understand people make mistakes. I imagine if I could honestly feel that what happened was a misunderstanding, I could probably just explain to everyone that there was no wrongdoing on your part. I mean, I would certainly hate for a man to go to prison, perhaps for hard time over an assault charge that was really just an accident."

Yarl was staring at her, stunned. He glanced over at Storm, who was slouching into the bars with an expression of open disbelief on his face.

"Of course, you know most of the town think they saw what happened. They all know they saw a big strong man assault a little slip of a girl on the street in broad daylight. My dress now has a big rip in it, you saw that, didn't you? Everyone did. I imagine quite a bit has been said about that. " She smiled again and Yarl actually recoiled slightly.

Storm jerked upright as if he'd been jabbed with a hot coal. "He did what?"

"But we both know that sometimes things are not what they seem." Fiona, ignoring Storm's outburst, reached through the bars and patted Yarl's beefy arm with a delicate hand. "Wouldn't you agree with that, Mr. Yarl? That sometimes we think we see someone do something they didn't do? You understand, I'll have to consider it a bit more. It all happened so fast." She put a hand over her breast as if to calm her fluttering heart. "I am still trying to piece it all together for when the lawyer comes. We'll be getting one for both trials, of course."

"Fiona, what...?" Storm was now gripping the bars with white knuckles and trembling arms, as if he would tear the iron strapping out of the wall at any moment.

"Mr. Peltier, stay out of this, please." He didn't know. Damn it.

"Stay out of this? Are you joking? Are you saying he..."

Fiona strode over to the other cell, past the bewildered Blackie, and stopped in front of Storm. His face was twisting with fury, and when he got a close look at the bruise on her jaw, his eyes started going a bit mad.

She wanted nothing more than to take his hands in hers, to tell him it was alright. He was always the strong one, the aloof and unbreakable rock she had leaned on when she needed someone steady. But now there was helpless agony in his eyes, the look of a man forced to watch his world destroyed in front of him. This was breaking him. Here he was, hearing about how she'd supposedly been assaulted on the street while he sat in here like a kenneled dog. She wondered if he knew about what Luis had done. She hoped he didn't.

And she didn't dare touch him or even let on that she regarded him as anything more than some stray Crow halfbreed her uncle had hired to ride mail. He'd be murdered for that alone, if I were tender with him. If they thought I...that we...well...it would be all over for him, wouldn't it?

"Mr. Peltier," she said, her voice icy. She looked into his eyes and gave a nearly imperceptible shake of her head. "Please. Not another word."

He paused, then casually raised his hand beside his head, and twitched his index finger. Yes. It almost looked like he was brushing a strand of his hair back with his thumb, but Fiona knew better. She knew the gesture. He'd just agreed to hold his peace. For now.

Her heart lurched in her chest and she forced herself to turn away from the haunted black pools of his eyes. Leaving him to his pain and making sure none of the men in the room would ever imagine that it might matter to her. Who is going to watch over you when I am gone, Lights the Storm Peltier?

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