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

107: A Single Step

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

Merda, it's gonna be a long trip.

The sun was breaking in clear, cold shafts over the jagged horizon, throwing gold and rose glints over the hazy faces of the buttes and rock formations that shadowed the Green . The dry air was sharp, and Saint pulled his new wool scarf over his nose and mouth like a masked bandit, breathing through its prickly warmth.

He swung into Jersey's saddle, settling with a rustle of oilcloth and a creak of leather. Jersey whickered softly, giving her head a gentle toss as he leaned forward and scratched her ears. The solid warmth of her against his thighs was comforting and familiar. On one hand, he was sorry he was going on this trip. He had to admit to himself that being on the road with Hungerford was not something he was looking forward to. He didn't trust the man's motives, didn't like having to rely on him. He didn't like the way the farrier looked at Lily. On the other, he knew he'd be sorrier if he didn't go. It was never really a choice.

He knew there was no way he was letting Lily or Jesse out of his sight. I dunno if someone really incompetent tried to kill Lily, or someone real competent tried to scare the hell out of her and everyone else.

If it was the latter, they succeeded.

And since Jesse reported that he'd narrowly missed an ambush on the trail, Saint had to assume that the patch of land they were going out to investigate was nowhere near as worthless as had been reported. In fact, it would seem it was "the opposite of worthless" enough to be dangerous. And while he knew from firsthand experience that Hungerford was excellent in a fight, this wasn't going to be just some barroom brawl with a few drunken slobs. This was serious, and though the man no doubt had the ability to lay down an absolutely Biblical level of mayem, he wasn't entirely convinced Hungerford had the stomach for it. Although he sure as hell did when the two of us threw down and tore each other up...and I did hear from the crew that lawyer probably still has a bootprint in his ass....

Speaking of which, I really hope we run into him again. I got a little something' for him.

It unnerved him to leave the station vulnerable. Well, I guess they ain't entirely vulnerable. The Old Man is not an easy target. And Wash is there. There's more to the both of them than you'd think. And, frankly, after seeing what she did to Rob Yarl, I could say the same about England. The three of them would be a force to be reckoned with. He knew that on a good day, Lightning could be downright dangerous...but he was still recovering from his injuries and would be fairly easy to overpower right now. One hard shove in the chest and it would be all over. Hell, I've seen him sneeze. A five year old girl holding a feather duster could finish him. And Tommy and Luis could shoot well enough if they had to, he supposed, but it would take a lot more skill than either of them had to make up for their lack of physical brawn.

He glanced over at Lily swinging her leg over Mercury's silvery back. She had insisted on riding astride, which he guessed ought to have surprised him more than it did. After all, ain't like I didn't know the Little Miss has spunk. Fiona had offered to loan Lily her sidesaddle. Lily had declined, saying she was accustomed to riding astride as her uncle had taught her, and didn't want to be burdened with an unfamiliar riding style if they ran into trouble and had to make a break for it. She had, however, allowed Fiona to outfit her in a split skirt. He smiled, remembering how Fiona had tried to hide the fact she'd been a little shocked...and secretly pleased...at Lily's bold insistence at using a man's saddle.

He gave her a sideways look, taking in her hair braided down her back, and how the borrowed vest and the wide, swinging hem of the skirt accentuating her lithesome, girlish figure. She settled in the saddle and pushed her spectacles back up onto the bridge of her nose, a clumsy, self-conscious gesture that sent pangs of fondness and protectiveness surging through him.

Jesse and Bender were coming out of the barn, and Saint pulled his eyes from the delicate line of Lily's back, frowning and looking them over. "We about ready?" He growled, his hand straying to his pocket absently. "Sooner we get going, the sooner we can get back."

Jesse adjusted the brim of his hat down against the low glare of the morning sun, the leather fringe on his arms rustling as he expertly guided Comanche over. The horse's brown eyes appeared to be filled with molten brass in the pearly light as he tossed his head impatiently.

"Glad we're following the trail for a while." Jesse said, his teeth clicking around the ever-present peppermint stick perched on his lip. "Lets us travel lighter than we otherwise would."

Saint grunted, nodding. He watched Hungerford and the Little Miss glance at one another, saw a faint tug of a smile crease her chill-flushed cheek. He caught himself grinding his teeth and forced himself to stop. You gonna have my back, Hungerford? he wondered silently, narrowing his eyes and clenching his jaw, thinking back to the Silver Star and the brutal fight they'd had there and how his own sense of betrayal and resentment had simmered ever since. Or are you gonna stand down when you ought to fight?

His fingers found the tobacco pouch in in his pocket and had it halfway out before he even realized he'd been reaching for it. He paused, then slid it back inside, watching the sway of Lily's narrow shoulders as her horse trotted ahead. Air's too cold and dry right now, he told himself, and almost believed that was why he changed his mind about rolling a smoke. And no coffee till lunch. Can't risk it.

He adjusted his scarf across his face and gave Jersey a gentle nudge with his feet. "Let's do this thing, Jersey girl." He muttered as she started forward into the rising sun, her feet stepping into the long shadows of their three companions.

Gonna be a long damn trip.

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