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

95: Worse Things

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

Luis wondered if the crew could hear his heart pounding in his chest. It was just about the loudest thing in his ears. He leaned his hands against the rough stone of the fireplace, his head down, hiding his face. His eyes burned hotly, and he tasted panic and acid as it crawled up the back of his throat.

I can't go back to...back to...Back to what? He didn't have anything to go back to and he knew it. Back to slow starvation and thievery and never being warm enough and never enough money to buy even a cheap room out of the rain. Back to being way too young to be as alone as he was.

Nothing good ever lasts, ese. You know that. His legs were shaking. Ah, shit. What now? What the hell am I supposed to do now?

His crewmates were behind him, milling around the bunkhouse, their voices a chaotic din as they talked over and through each other. They were all he had, they and Mr. Lynch and the girls. He would have been alright if he'd never known what having them all around was like, never would have felt the cold if he'd never known what it was like to be warm. They would all go their separate ways and that would be the end of the only good thing that had ever happened to him.

"Lads..." Wash was saying, his calm, melodic voice soothing on Luis' frazzled nerves. "Come now, we aren't needing to panic just yet."

"I'd say now's a damn good time to panic," Jesse spat bitterly.

"Nobody's talking about anyone losing their jobs," Wash persisted patiently. "You're all getting worked up over nothing, so you are."

"Wash, I actually had to...I had to turn around and ride home before I finished my run," Tommy said, his voice surprisingly steady. "That's sort of...well...the opposite of good, wouldn't you say? We're not going to have jobs if we can't deliver the mail. I mean, people are getting...getting...they're killing people out there. People are dead. Bad dead. We're actually safer making the run than we are sleeping in the stations!"

"Tommy, lad..."

"What's worse? Losing our jobs or getting...eviscerated while we're trying to sleep?"

Luis turned around abruptly. "Losing our jobs." Everyone looked at him, surprised. He pressed on, his voice cracking. "I don't care how dangerous it is."

"Luis," Jesse said. "You don't care because you don't know what's going on out there..."

"I do know! And I don't care!" He leaned back hard against the warm stone, embarrassed at how his voice warbled into a higher register, the way it did when he was stressed. "There's worse things than gettin' killed."

Tommy had told him before he'd gone on this last run he'd been having nightmares about the trouble on the western mail line. He'd said he had dreamed he'd come upon a burning coach while he was on a run, and found what was left of Wash and Saint. He'd dreamed he'd come back to the station to find the girls murdered, or the crew dead inside the bunkhouse as it burned. Once, he'd dreamed he had been captured by Utes. It had made the hair stand up on Luis' arms to hear him tell it. But it had been his own dreams that truly terrified him, made him sit bolt upright in his bed breathing hard and covered in sweat. In Luis' dreams, nobody died. There was no fire or torture or murder. In his dreams, he'd simply ridden back to the Green to find everyone gone without a trace.

"Wash's right," Storm said, his voice controlled and quiet. "Nobody's even saying the mail's stopped. It's just stopped for now. This isn't permanent." He sat down on his bunk. "Stop talking like our jobs are gone. And Little Brother, just calm down. We're going to be alright."

Luis swallowed hard. "What if they are gone? You goin' back to work for the Army?"

There was a long pause that made his stomach clutch with fresh panic.

"I've thought about it," Storm said finally.

"Just like that?" Luis spat. "You just gonna leave without...without even lookin' back?"

"No, Luis." Storm sighed, leaning forward with his elbows on his knees. "I didn't say I was leaving, just that I'd thought about it. And if it comes to that, you can come if you want."

The idea that Storm wasn't planning on abandoning him outright made him feel better only until he realized that he'd be having to leave everyone else here. Like...well... "What about...Fiona?" he ventured warily.

Storm's expression darkened. "Luis..." he warned.

"Ah, thunderin' Jaysus, there it is." Wash sat down on his bunk heavily. "Can we all sodding stop pretending we don't know now that Luis has gone and said it in front of God and everyone else?"

Storm squeezed his eyes shut and grimaced. "Nobody asked any of you to..."

"Nobody had to." Wash pulled his boots off and lay down, his voice softening. "Storm, we don' have to talk about Miss Fiona if you don't want to, but believe me when I tell ya, laddie, we all know about it. And we're damn weary of pretendin' we don't, so we are."

There was a long, excruciating silence. Storm drew in a deep breath, wincing, and exhaled slowly. "We aren't talking about Fiona," he muttered finally. "We're talking about our jobs."

"If you had seen her," Jesse said seriously, ignoring Storm's attempt to dodge the subject. "When you were in jail..and..." he walked over to the fireplace and picked up another log from off the hearth. "She about made herself sick during the trial. If they'd a' hanged you, it woulda killed her. She spent the whole morning holding onto my arm and I have the bruises to prove it. Look here..." He tossed the log into the fireplace and turned around, looking hard at Storm. "If you're plannin' on leaving, you need to know the girl's got feelings for ya. I don't want to see her hurt any more."

"Do you think I do?" Storm spat. "Why the hell do you think I've been thinking of leaving?"

"What?" Luis squeaked. I can't believe what I'm hearing. "What? You're telling me the woman every man in the this room would give anything to have wants you and that makes you want to leave?"

"Knowing I can't do anything about it? That being with me would ruin her life and make her an outcast? " Storm shook his head and laughed bitterly. "No, Luis, it doesn't make me want to leave. It makes me want to die."

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