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

130: Summer Sang In Me A Little While

Cover painting by Angela Taratuta. Chapter artwork of Rosie by Angela Taratuta. All graphics by me. 

It was unbelievable enough to Rosie that Tommy King and Luis Santana would be meeting with her after school at Abigail's for the second day in a row. She'd been waiting for the inevitable moment when they abandoned her for her more exciting classmates. So far, it hadn't happened.

Yet.

But she'd almost been able to relax enough to genuinely enjoy their company. To start to think that maybe...maybe...they genuinely enjoyed hers.

Tommy clearly hadn't needed her help with his lessons. Though he seemed slightly scatterbrained, he was clearly whip smart and far more competent than his eccentric, distracted manner might suggest. He was coming here to meet people and spend a little time out of the mail station. That much was pretty easy to figure out. She was so glad to see him she'd nearly laughed with delight when he'd walked in today. And while Tommy had spoken at length to Charlotte and her hangers-on, and even engaged in a bit of good-natured flirting, he'd left the schoolhouse with Rosie on his arm.

It was Luis she was having trouble figuring out. It had been very quickly obvious that Luis hated school. In fact, today he hadn't even bothered going through the motions of sitting through class. And when she'd gone in this morning, she'd been deeply disappointed that he wasn't there. It surprised her to realize she could miss someone that much after only having met him a day ago. 

But sure enough, there he was when school had let out, leaning against the greening oak tree in the yard, hands in his pockets and a smoke dangling from the corner of his mouth. She was starting to actually believe yesterday's claim that it had been she who he'd been waiting for.

She wondered what her father would think of her new friends and the fact she was sitting in Abigail's with them again, drinking sarsaparilla. She knew he didn't much care for Lynch's boys. The idea that his daughter was being squired about town by a couple of them would probably render him apoplectic. Would he be surprised to know how polite they are, and how kind? Would he care about that, or would he simply accuse me of unseemly behavior and keeping 'inappropriate' company with a Mormon and a Mexican? He likes that word a lot...'inappropriate'. Everything's inappropriate, isn't it? 

She looked around the room, with its polished ladder-backed chairs and fresh, checkered curtains. Light streamed through what must have been expensive sheet glass windows, and the smell of Mrs. Klaus's famous beef stew wafted through the mostly empty dining room, making Rosie's stomach growl. It would be time to head home for dinner soon. At this hour of the day, few patrons came here other than students. Most people seeking soda or stronger went to the Silver Star, which was just as well. There were plenty of folks in town who believed Mrs. Klaus was far too inclusive when it came to who she allowed in her dining room. 

I imagine there'll be plenty of talk soon enough...

The sound of jingling bells announced the opening of the door. A smooth, male voice with a distinctive Native lilt startled the three of them, and compelled Rosie to turn abruptly in her seat to look. 

"Thought I might find you here, Little Brother." A man who could have only been Mr. Lynch's half-Crow express rider, the one who'd been tried for attempted murder, strode casually over to the table. He smiled, his black eyes looking them over. "Hello, Miss." He nodded, acknowledging then. "Tommy." 

She'd never gotten a good look at "Lynch's injun", as he was called in town, but she had no doubt that it was him. Her mouth dropped open in surprise. 

Close behind him, the tall Irish coach guard took a deep breath, savoring the scent of good cooking wafting through the air. "Aye, lads, we're eating here today," he quipped cheerfully in a sweet, heavily accented voice. "This ungrateful wretch is cribbin' about me cooking. You should join us, because he's the one paying." 

"Well," Tommy said, kicking one of the empty chairs under the table so that it scooted out towards the newcomers. "If you're paying... the smell of that stew is driving me crazy. Miss Rosie Burgess..." He gestured to the two men who were settling in at the table. "Lights the Storm Peltier and George Monahan." 

Remembering the night she'd come in here with her father and been so excited to see the entire crew at the next table, Rosie almost wondered if she was in the middle of pleasant and implausible dream. 

"So pleased to meet you," she heard herself say in a shy, unsteady voice as they nodded and smiled at her. She'd never been this close to an Indian before, much less had any sort of conversation with one. He was so handsome, and so exotic with his long, black hair and the band of white bone and silver beads at his throat. He was dressed no differently than anyone else, with his worn flannel shirt and work pants, but he still looked like someone from another world to her. She found it hard not to openly stare at him, and was suddenly struck with overwhelming relief that they hadn't hanged him. And Mr.Monahan, with his tousled red hair and almost musical accent... She knew he was a professional gunman, though he hardly looked like one, with his sparkling blue eyes and smiling, lightly freckled face...why, last time I saw him, he was recovering from being shot and had his arm in a sling. These men are...well...they're kind of...scary.

It felt dangerous and exciting in the room and she felt her face starting to heat up and butterflies take off in her stomach. 

"So, how's things at school?" Mr.Monahan leaned back in his chair and crossed one ankle over his knee. "Miss Burgess keepin' the two of you in line, so she is." He gave Rosie a teasing wink, and she felt her cheeks flush pink in a euphoric rush. "Lessons going well?"

Tommy and Luis exchanged sheepish looks. A brief, trapped look raced across Luis' face, and Tommy glanced at her, saying, "Going great. Better than great, actually. Miss Rosie's helping Luis with his reading."

Rosie nodded, giving Luis a smile. She was doing her best at helping him, that part was true. However, Tommy charitably omitted the fact that so far, their reading lessons had, for the most part, gone nowhere.

"Tryin' to," Luis said casually, a sweet dimple appearing in his brown cheek. He gave her a conspiratorial look, his snapping brown eyes full of mischief. "She's a better teacher than I am un estudiante, si, Seniorita?"

Rosie felt her heart skip a beat at his roguish glance, something akin to panic rising in her chest. Sooner or later...and most likely sooner rather than later...her father was going to find out who she was keeping company with and it would be over. 

Somewhere inside her soul she had crossed a line that couldn't be uncrossed. And the thought of going back to how things were before the crossing seemed utterly desolate.

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