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

75: Cracked Armor

Cover painting by Angela Taratuta. Chapter artwork of Storm by Melissa Zayas. All graphics by me.

The jailhouse door opened abruptly, and Saint stuck his head out. "You can come in now, Little Miss, we're all decent in here. Well..." he closed the door behind her as she entered. "We all got our pants on, anyways."

Storm was finishing buttoning up a crisp, white dress shirt that glowed against his bronze skin. Bare feet stuck out of the bottoms of the dress pants she'd hemmed for him. Looks like Mr. Saint pinned those up just about perfect. "Hello, Mr. Storm." She forced a smile, trying very hard to pretend not to notice the faint disappointment in his eyes. No, Mr. Storm. Fiona's not here. I'm sorry. She...she just...couldn't.

He nodded, swallowing his hurt, and gave her a tight smile.

Saint was threading a cufflink through the holes in one of sleeve cuffs. "You almost look civilized, Lightnin'," he muttered around the other cufflink in his teeth. "Try not to lift any scalps on the way to the courtroom."

"I could lift yours. Then instead of being a handy scapegoat, I'd be the town hero."

Saint's lips tugged into a self-satisfied smirk as he took the link out of his mouth and fastened it into the remaining sleeve. "Well, if you do, try not to get any blood on my good shirt, eh?"

Lily gave them both exasperated looks. "You gents hush about that. Saint says he wants me to braid your hair for you. I...well..." she shrugged self-consciously. "I don't reckon you'll be needing a shave."

"No, ma'am." He sat down on the edge of the bunk. "I don't shave. But I could use a little help with my hair. I can't braid it myself right now. Still too sore to raise my arms that high."

Saint was right. Storm looked nice, if a bit out of place in his borrowed clothes. He was an unusually good-looking man, and it was a particularly nicely cut suit. Mr. Saint must have had it tailored. She was surprised that a man like Saint would own such a thing. He hardly seemed the type to wear fancy, expensive clothing, although she had to admit to herself he probably looked incredibly dashing in it.

"Alright, Mr. Storm," she said, nudging him to turn so she could stand behind him. She carefully parted his hair over his scalp injury, inspecting the stitches. "Looks to be healing. Does it hurt?"

"No ma'am. Itches, though."

She nodded, gently smoothing his hair back down. "That's normal." She pulled the comb out of her apron pocket and went to work on the knots that had formed while he had been locked up. .

"Let her take the feather out, Lightning."

"No."

Saint huffed, annoyed. "Storm, this is serious..."

"Do you honestly think something like that is going to win or lose the day for us?"

"It might. Merda!" Saint threw out his hands in a gesture of frustrated incredulity. "Stop being so damn stubborn for once!"

"Look here." Lily deftly folded the hawk's feather under a lock of hair so it couldn't be seen. "Gone. Stop arguing."

She glanced at Saint, who stood with his hands on his hips, glaring at the back of Storm's head. He gave her a silent scowl back, and she could imagine that he was thinking pretty much the same thing she was. If Storm is found guilty, all hell will break loose. Saint and the boys could find themselves wanted by the law themselves.

"Storm," Saint said, clearly trying to keep control of his temper. "Stop fighting us, brother."

Storm exhaled shakily, nodding. "Yeah. Sorry. Where's Luis?"

"Gone. No idea. Dev took him somewhere."

Lily focused on unraveling the knots in Storm's unkempt hair. She hit a thick tangle and cringed as she accidentally jerked at his scalp. Ouch. That had to hurt.

"Good." Storm didn't even react to the rough treatment. "Where is...I mean, is..Fiona... "

Lily cringed. I knew he was going to ask that. She's losing her mind, that's where she is. She can't even come down here anymore without going half crazy with fear. "She's..." what do I tell him? That she can't even bring herself to look at him? "She was feeling kind of poorly, Mr. Storm." It was not a lie. "So she stayed home."

He nodded again, saying nothing as she carefully divided his long fall of hair into three strands, deftly weaving them into a neat plait. Jesse usually wore his hair like this, but it was nowhere near as long nor as neat. She flipped the strands over each other, pulling them snug.

How can she be talking about leaving here and never coming back? How can she walk away from him?

She pictured him walking down a paved street in England, wearing clothes like this, shorn and polished and subdued. I don't know what's worse...him not being who he is anymore or he and Fiona never seeing each other again.

"Storm..." Saint said, keeping his voice low. "Ya ain't got to be a hero. Understand? We got Luis out of here...he's safe...so...don't say or do anything stupid."

"I'm just going to say the truth, Saint," Storm said quietly. "I doubt they'll want to believe me, but I'm certainly not going to lie about it. There's nothing to lie about."

Lily tied off the end of the braid with a strip of rawhide. "There you go, Mr. Storm."

He looked at her and gave her a soft, brief smile. "Thanks, Miss Lily."

"You're welcome," she said, nodding. She settled a hand on his shoulder. "You're going to get through this." she murmured, giving him a gentle squeeze. I just hope all the rest of us do.

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