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

52: On Ice

Cover painting by Angela Taratuta. Chapter artwork of Bender by Diego Candia. All graphics by me.

"Saint."

Saint jerked his head around at the sound of Jesse's voice cutting through the quiet of the barn. He put down the saddlebag he was hoisting and straightened up, eyeing Jesse warily. He didn't have the stomach for this. He didn't want to argue and he sure didn't want to get into another fist fight. It was bad enough they'd actually ended up rolling around on the bunkhouse floor, but Jesse didn't even want to discuss The Lily Situation with him.

Lily Situation, hell. There is no Situation, Lily or otherwise. I didn't mean anything by it. I don't want to talk about this, either, and anyways, there ain't nothing to talk about.

"Look...Jesse..." Saint started.

"Need the bolt cutters." Jesse was looking him over as well, his face tense with unease. The peppermint stick in his mouth rattled against his teeth as he spoke around it. If he was thinking of continuing the fight they'd had that morning, he gave no sign of it.

Saint flexed his back and raised an eyebrow. "Bolt cutters."

"Yeah..." Jesse leaned a lanky shoulder against the doorframe, his hands shoved down into the pockets on his buckskin coat. Saint was relieved to see that he at least had the sense to look slightly embarrassed. "And maybe a saw, if ya got one handy." His eyes strayed to Saint's face, no doubt inspecting the blood crusting in Saint's nostrils.

Saint was pretty sure his nose was not broken, but it had bled after Jesse had hit him. He'd cleaned himself up, but his nose itched like crazy, which usually meant blood was drying in there. It was a sensation he was familiar with. And his upper lip had an impressive split in it. If Jesse forced him to go another round, he doubted he'd have the self-restraint to avoid returning the favor. And if Lily was mad at him now, it was nothing compared how she'd react if Jesse showed up to supper with all the pretty pounded off his face.

Jesse clearly did not care to go another round. Instead, he gave a half-smile, half-grimace. He raised his hand and showed Saint his abraded and raw knuckles. "Lynch asked me how my hand got messed up. I told him I dropped a log on it out at the woodpile."

Saint nodded in understanding. "Yeah, it's dangerous around here. Walked into a door myself this morning."

"Yeah. I...uh...I reckon we oughta be more careful."

"Prob'bly so. So...va bene. Bolt cutters," Saint said, heading towards the back wall. "And a...saw..." The sudden, obvious implication of this stopped Saint in his tracks. "Wait a minute, Jesse, what the hell are you doing with this stuff? You can't go down to the jail and..."

Jesse shook his head. "Don't think I ain't thought of that, but I ain't going down to break Storm out. At least not yet. Although I'm here to tell you I ain't gonna sit by and let him get hanged, so if it comes to that...well...anyways, the Old Man sent me to get this stuff."

Saint stared at Jesse. "What, the Old Man is planning a jailbreak?" He cocked an eyebrow expectantly.

"Just come with me," Jesse smirked. "You gotta see."

Saint pulled the cutters down off the wall and held them out to Jesse. "I really need to get down to the jail to keep an eye on things. And don't you have an eastbound run today?"

"I do if the rider comes in." Jesse's face went serious. "And so far, he ain't. I'm ready to go, trust me. Had to get Comanche ready myself."

"Jesse, I ain't sure a rider will be coming eastbound." Saint glanced around the barn, then looked warily at Jesse. "Hungerford ain't back yet?"

"Look, just come on." Jesse, still smirking, turned and gestured with the bolt cutters for Saint to follow him. "You don't want to miss this."

"I really ain't got time for this," Saint muttered, grabbing the saw and following Jesse in spite of himself. "Storm's down there by himself. Where we going?"

"Upstairs," Jesse said, striding across the yard to the back door of the house.

Saint followed up up the stairs and stopped in front of Hungerford's bedroom door, gawking. Jesse turned to him, grinning around the candy stick.

"Toldja."

Hungerford's door was closed. A piece of lumber was fixed crossways to the door frame, held in place with a heavy length of chain. The chain ran through a large padlock someone had fixed to the doorknob.

Someone's trapped the fottuto bastardo in his room. A long, unbecoming snort of laughter grated out of Saint's nostrils in a rush and his hand flew to his mouth.

"Hey, Bender," Jesse called. "You still in there?"

Bender's voice sounded from behind the door. "What do you bloody think, mate?" He did not sound amused.

Saint began laughing in spite of his mood. "Well, you're right. I wouldn't have wanted to miss this." He leaned against the wall, watching Jesse fit the cutters to the shackle on the lock. "Who did this? No way Luis is back yet."

Jesse shrugged, genuinely baffled. "No. He ain't back. No idea who...""

"It was Fiona, fair bloody dinkum," Bender sighed tiredly.

Jesse paused with the cutters. "Fiona?" His mouth dropped open and he and Saint exchanged open mouthed stares. His hands began to shake with mirth. "What? Why?"

Saint had turned to the wall and now stood leaning his face into the crook of his crossed arms. This is too much. His ribs heaved with laughter. "She got you on bread and water, too?"

"Oh, you're a right dag, you are. Buggering hilarious. Because I told her I wasn't going to let her go down to the jail. She apparently didn't much care for that."

Jesse turned to Saint, distractedly pulling the cutters away from the shackle as he straightened up. "I ain't seen her or Lily for a while."

"Oh, bloody hell," The muffled voice said incredulously from behind the still-secured door. "Are you telling me Lily's involved in this. too?"

"Merda," Saint said, straightening up and becoming serious. A wave of worry washed over him and the situation had suddenly ceased to be funny. She went down to that horrible place? Just her and Fiona alone? "I gotta go." He walked back towards the stairwell, taking the bolt cutters out of Jesse's hand as he went.

"You blokes gonna make a fair go of opening the door?" Hungerford's voice followed him down the stairwell, fading in the distance. "Mates?"

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