The Five Dollar Mail Book 3: The Road Home

The Story So Far (as dictated by Wash)

 Cover art by Angela Taratuta. Chapter art of Wash by Melissa Zayas. All graphics by me. 

Book 1: The Green, Book 2: Lynch's Boys, Book 3: The Road Home, and the Riders & Kickers Anthology are available on Amazon under the name Regina Shelley. So if you hate waiting for chapter posts and/or want a more polished read, the finished product is available now.

Howdy, all!

For Chapter 200, here is the recap of the last hundred chapters, as promised. Please be aware that this does contain spoilers up to chapter 199 if you have not read that far.

I know I've said it before, but it bears repeating: Thanks for reading. These two hundred chapters have been an amazing ride for me, and I can't thank you enough for coming along for them.

-gina

"So Saint flat out refused to recount the last hundred chapters for us, so he did. He said he was tired and in pain and didn't want to talk to anyone. And the squabbling and weeping taking place in the bunkhouse over who would have to do it instead got on me last nerve. 'Twas a ridiculous sodding din, so it was, so I decided to do it meself just to get some peace."

The rangy, wind-weathered man on the bunkhouse porch leaned back in his chair, crossing his ankles on the rail. He shifted the Sharps carbine across his lap, his fingers absently smoothing the wooden stock, worn and polished from years of use. A late afternoon breeze tousled the sparse, greening grass in the yard and ruffled the man's short, coppery locks.

"Tossers, the lot of them. Jaysus." His rust-colored eyebrows knitted themselves together in annoyance on his faintly freckled brow, but his lips tugged upwards into a fond smile. "Aye, then, you're stuck with me, so you are. Me name's George Monahan, but everyone calls me Wash. I'm a stagecoach guard, and Saint's trail partner. The surly wanker says he left off telling you the story at the point where the mail service being stopped and the lads were going into a tizzy not knowing what was to become of their jobs. Storm was thinking of going back out to his old job at Fort Bridger, Lily and the lads were getting ready to go see about her land, and so-on-and-so-on. Isn't that where the story left off?

He scratched behind his ear and grimaced, inspecting his fingernails. "Well, he didn't go, if you're wondering. Storm, I mean. I'm not sure of the whole of it, but he came in while we were fixing the roof, all rumpled and wobbly in the knees and announced he wasn't leaving after all. It wasn't too long after that I walked into the kitchen and he and Miss Fiona barely managed to pull themselves apart enough to pretend they weren't all over each other. Him with his shirt half buttoned and wrong and her with her hair all banjaxed up, both looking guilty as shite. Ended up getting a bonny wee mark on his sodding neck from all that, and of course I had to pretend I didn't see it, the tosser.

"So I'm thinking it's a safe bet the lad's nae going anywhere anytime soon. Don't repeat it, it's only a matter of time before the Old Man finds out and kills him. He's not going to have an easy go of it, and neither is she, I can tell you from me own experience. Yes, I know I pushed the lad to it, and I'd do it again. But life's short, so it is, and he might as well make the most of it while he's here.

"Then Miss Lily took her brother Jesse, Saint, and Bender off to Almond Station to see if they could find anything out about this deed she'd been holding on to. When they first set out, me main worry was that Saint and Bender would spend the entire trip in a never-ending row. They ran into a bit of trouble that kept them too busy for it, so they did, so much so that it ended up bringing trouble to us as well.

"But I'm getting ahead of meself, so I am. Lynch was planning on heading out to Bridger for a company meeting about the trouble down the mail line and wanted Storm to go as his interpreter in case they ran into a war party or the like. Well, you remember Storm's still recovering from that beating he took, and Fiona decided he was still too banjaxed to go, so she went instead. None of us liked that much, least of all Storm and the Old Man, but nobody was willing to argue with the lass. You know how she sodding is. So off she went with Lynch to Fort Bridger.

"In the meantime, the young lads, Tommy and Luis, are spending their time going to school. I know two compelling sodding reasons they were so keen to go, too. One was that it got them out of mucking the stables. And the other was that down at the school, there are lasses.

"In fact, one of them, a Miss Rosie Burgess, came out to the station to warn us that there might be an evil bugger on his way to make some grief for us. This tosser was sent by Rosie's own father. Turns out, Miss Lily's deed is for part ownership of a mine that's on some land Union Pacific Railroad's wanting to buy. Miss Rosie's father had hired this tosser to come over to put a scare into Miss Lily, and that's who burned our sodding kitchen, so it was. And it looked like he was on his way back for another go at us. As luck would have it, Rosie was only a couple hours ahead of him. He locked me arse in the barn, so he did, cut Tommy up with a knife, and then tortured Storm until Miss Miss Rosie, Luis, and meself got it sorted. Jayus, what a holy show. What a sodding night."

He squinted in the late afternoon sun, gazing out over the grounds, the golden light illuminating his indigo eyes and and turning his disheveled red hair into a fiery halo. "I opened up me big sodding mouth, so I did," he said softly, half to himself. "I told that wee lass I'd take care of her. What else could I do? She didn't have a soul in the world, poor little lamb, what with her Da arrested. Now I have to make good on that, and I don't mind telling you I'm sodding terrified."

He drew in a deep breath, letting it out between pursed lips, his broad shoulders deflating. "Seems Rosie's da has a wife out at Almond, in Point of Rocks, name of Hester. She's the sister of Richard Sodding Galloway, Esquire, that shite lawyer that came out here and tried to get rough with Miss Lily. The three of them had hatched a scheme to get control of the entire piece of land, and to do that meant getting Miss Lily and her brother Jesse out of the picture. It also, apparently, meant Hester trying to do the bold thing with Saint, so it did, and when that didn't work out for her, she shot him.

"Aye, I know, I know, it's a hell of a bit more complicated than that, so it is." He roached his hair back with his callused fingers and sighed impatiently. "Jesse ended up captured and held hostage in a cave, Miss Lily and Saint were trapped in a collapsed mine, and Bender had to find his way down to them for a rescue. They barely got out of that one alive, and Jesse got separated from them when he and Galloway were washed out of the cave by a waterfall.

"I suppose it's inevitable that a lass and a lad, who've spent a whole lot of time denying they're crazy about each other, would end up solidly in each other's arms after coming through a mess like that. It's not like I didn't see that coming. Especially when I found out Saint got shot shielding the lass from Hester's gun. I've known that lad for years, and I'm telling you straight when I say I've never seen him so turned around as he is for Miss Lily. He's lost, so he is. I can tell.

"And speaking of lost..." Wash dropped his gaze, pained. "Jesse. I don't know what's to become of the lad. Galloway's dead, scalped in the river. Jesse's breathing his last, dying of cold on the riverbank and nobody knows where." He turned his face away, roughly pressing his fingers into his eyes and grimacing. "Bollocks. That aint' entirely so...the Indians that scalped Galloway know where. Ah, Jaysus." He cleared his throat, reaching down and fumbling in his boot for his flask. He tipped it up, taking a long pull on it, then continued in a thick voice. "You know... they don't pay us enough by half for this shite. I'm sodding done here, so I am."