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

16: Smoke and Moonlight

Cover painting by Angela Taratuta. All graphics by yours truly. Picture of Saint is a ambrotype-look photo I made in Photoshop out of found images.

Saint took a long drag on his quirly, then let it out into the darkness in a long, silvery stream. His hands had long since stopped shaking, and now he just felt tired and cold. He pulled his duster tighter around himself and settled back in the porch rocker, his booted feet resting up on the porchrail.

The moonlight brought every shadow into sharp focus and glowed with a blue-white sheen on the barn's tin roof across the yard. In all honesty, he didn't expect any more trouble tonight. At least, not from outside the station. If he had to be honest with himself, he'd have to admit that his keeping the graveyard watch on the property had less to do with any real fear of intruders and more to do with his own restlessness. There was just too much going on inside his head tonight to sleep. And besides, if anyone needed anything inside the house, he wanted to be at hand. Especially if Storm took a turn for the worse.

Last time he'd looked in, the injured rider was asleep, and Fiona slumped in the overstuffed chair beside the bed, lightly dozing. Hungerford had tried to get her to go get some rest, but she refused to leave Storm's side for any length of time. Saint shrugged to himself and took another drag on his smoke.

He heard the door behind him open quietly and then close again. He turned to see Lily standing behind him in the shadows of the porch, looking surprised to see him. She looked exhausted, her hair in unkempt disarray as it frizzed out of its bun. She clutched a worn black shawl around her shoulders.

"He alright?" he grunted, raising an eyebrow at her.

She paused, hesitating while her eyes adjusted to the silvery darkness. "I think Mr. Bender's right, if he was bleeding bad inside, we'd probably know by now. He's not any worse, other than a little fever."

Saint let out a relieved, smokey breath. "Thank God for that, at least. You just checking on him?"

"Yes." Lily stood behind him.

Saint waved to the other rocker. "You can sit, you know, I don't bite."

Lily paused, then came around the chair and sat down stiffly. She was watching the red glow at the tip of his quirly with wary eyes.

"You want me to roll you one?" he smiled, teasing. "I won't tell on you."

"No, thank you."

"Can't say I blame you there, this is lousy tobacco."

"Well," she started, smiling slightly. "they why are you smoking it?"

He turned and looked at her, a realization forming in his mind. A faint smile tugged at his lips. "Jesse started eating a lot of peppermint sticks when you came to stay on here. Didn't he." It wasn't a question. "Sorry 'bout that, Little Miss." he licked his fingers and carefully pinched out the ember on the end of his smoke.

"No," she said, flustered. "I mean, it wasn't my intention to...."

"It's fine." he said, tucking the unsmoked portion of the quirly into his breast pocket. "It's terrible, and I oughtn't be smokin' around ladies, anyways."

"Sorry." she said in a small voice.

"Don't be." He brisked his hands over his arms and shifted in his seat. "Look, have you been to sleep at all tonight?"

"No." She admitted. "I'm scared if I do, something bad might happen."

He nodded in all-too-keen understanding, taking in her pale, worry-lined face. The silver-blue moonbeams bathing the yard gave her gray eyes a pearly light that seemed to pierce right though him. He broke her gaze to glance at his hands, suddenly acutely aware of her distrust of him. "So." he said, more in an attempt to dissipate his own self-consciousness than anything else, "Fiona still asleep in there?"

Lily nodded, settling a little more casually into the rocker. "Yes. Um...are they....I mean, I don't mean to pry, but is she...and...Storm....?"

Saint gave an amused smirk. "No. They ain't."

Lily looked frankly surprised. "Really? I thought...I mean,...she just..."

"I know." Saint's booted toes bobbed back and forth, rocking his chair slightly as his eyes wandered over the yard. "Nope. Just known each other for years. He was the first hire here, back when they were building it and she came here with Lynch and his wife. Company hired him as a scout when they were laying out the stations. So they're close, but...well, they ain't courting, if that's what you mean." He cut his eyes slyly at her, teasing her gently. "So if you're interested in him...."

Even in the shadows, Saint could see her cheeks darkening. "No! I...I mean..." she stammered, embarassed. "That's not why I asked."

"Ah, Little Miss, I'm just messin' with ya. Look here." He looked over at her and met her eyes again. He was glad of her presence on the porch. He'd wanted to talk to her alone for a moment for the last couple of hours. "Thanks for helping out tonight. I mean that. We're all grateful to you."

Her face relaxed and she nodded at him. "I'm just glad I could."

He stretched out his long legs, then recrossed his ankles on the porchrail. "Why doncha go on to sleep now, Little Miss," he said softly. Again, it wasn't a question. "It's alright. I'm gonna be watchin' out till sunup."