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

153: Blushing Pilgrims

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

"It's really coming down hard, Miz Rosie." Luis leaned against the windowsill in the parlor, watching the streams of water sluice across the panes. He liked seeing the tiny beads of trapped air inside the glass reflect light and water drops, sparkling like the surface of the Green. "It's getting dark...but surely, you ain' gonna ride out in this?"

He turned around and leaned on the sill, watching her as she sat on the green velveteen sofa and hoping she didn't notice the light freckling of tiny blood stains over one of the curving arms. Probably Storm's. Might be Saint's from back when the horse head butted him, but I don't remember him bleeding then. Or maybe when he got his nose broke that time. Might be from when Wash got shot...

If she noticed, she didn't let on. "I think I'll wait till it passes." She said, her hands folded neatly in her lap. "My father won't be expecting me back for a while, he'll know I'm just waiting the rain out." A look of worry crossed her face. "I mean, if you think that would be alright, of course."

"Si! Yes, of course, Miz Rosie. Stay as long as you want." Please don't let it stop raining.... "I'm...really glad you came out here." He walked over to the overstuffed chair and sat down stiffly. He was glad for the parlor...it was neat and warm and unlike the bunkhouse, he wasn't embarrassed to have her see it. But it was far fancier than he was used to, and always made him feel a little out of place.

"I wanted to show you all what I'd found." A smile stole across her face and she gave him a sweetly dimpled smile that made his heart beat a little faster. "I'm glad I came out, too. I didn't think supper was so bad."

"It don't bother me none, Señorita." He laughed, leaning back and feeling some of the tension drain out of him. "Although I admit, I like it better when the senoritas are doing the cooking."

He got up and strode over to the fireplace, unable to sit still. I'm sitting here talking to girl. Alone. A pretty blonde girl, who's sweet and looking at me like she thinks I hang the moon. Grabbing the fireplace poker, he absently jabbed at the glowing embers in the firebox. Orange sparks swirled upwards, and he hoped Wash was watching the chimney from the kitchen. After Luis had drawn the short straw for keeping Miz Rosie company in the parlor while the other three of them cleaned up after supper, Wash had threatened to do "something sodding brutal" to him if sparks were not floating out of the chimney every now and then.

Luis suspected that as long as Wash saw sparks, then he knew exactly where Luis' hands were. Or in this case, where they ain't. He felt his face grow hot and he put the poker back against the stone front of the fireplace, dusting his hands off on the back of his pants.

"I'll escort you home when it lets up," he said, not sure what to do with himself. "You know there ain't no way we're sending you out of here alone at night. 'Specially since now we know there might be someone watching us." He shoved his hands into his back pockets. "Nobody said this at supper...but Storm was pretty sure somebody was here last night."

Rosie froze, her mouth dropping open. "Here?" she breathed, her eyes wide.

The look on her face frightened him, made him feel as though he was not nearly as nervous about the possible threat as he should be. He tried to keep his face neutral. He nodded. "Not much spooks Storm." He turned back around and stirred up the fire again, more to give himself something to look at other than her sweet face and her blue eyes. She'd been so kind to him, so patient and sincere, and he'd found himself thinking about her often and feeling sorry he'd missed seeing her that afternoon.

I'm actually sorry I missed our reading lesson. The memory of seeing her in Abigail's that night the whole crew had all gone over there came rushing back, how she'd stolen glances at him from her table across the room, how her face had blushed so pink when their eyes met. How he'd been unable to concentrate on the conversation at his own table after that and he'd spent the entire supper forcing himself not to look at her again, not wanting to risk letting her catch him sneaking another peek. "You can come here anytime you wantm" he blurted, the gravity of the "Ledger Situation" evaporating in a rush. He fought to urge to light a quirly to steady his nerves. "I liked havin' you over for supper."

"I liked it, too, and I'm so relieved. I was worried you'd think I was too forward."

"No, Miz Rosie. I.... missed you today." He said, hooking a bootheel on the slight rise of the stone in front of the fireplace and shoving his hands into his pockets.

"You did?"

Rosie always seemed so surprised to find that he liked being around her. Luis found this baffling. He remembered how fast his heart had beat when she'd threaded her soft, warm hand through his arm yesterday as they walked to Abigail's. It was beating faster now just thinking about it. It had made him feel ten feet tall.

"Si." He shrugged, as if it ought to be obvious. "Who wouldn't?"

A couple of folks told me they hate waiting for updates. I am very flattered that many people are enjoying the story that much! You don't  have to wait if you don't want to. This story is finished, and has been edited and cleaned up and published. If you search Amazon for Regina Shelley, you will see the first two books (The Green and Lynch's Boys) and the anthology (Riders & Kickers), already available as eBooks and trade paperbacks. The third and final volume will join them (hopefully) by the end of the summer.

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