The Five Dollar Mail Book 3: The Road Home

9: War Theatre

Cover painting by Angela Taratuta. Chapter artwork of Captain Alexander Scarcliff by Angela Hollingsworth. 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.

Alexander Scarcliff was more on edge right now than he was when he found out his last supply shipment was delayed. With that problem, all he had to do was to keep his men in good spirits and make do as best he could with dwindling supplies. All while bracing for the possibility of being attacked and probably killed by a massive Indian war party.

Right now, though, it was different. Right now, he had to guard every word he said for fear of ruining Miss Fiona Lewis-Smythe's relatively good humor.

He sat in the officer's quarters across the table from her, watching her take a sip of tea. His starched collar bit into his neck, and he felt uncomfortably warm as he poured himself another cup. Eyes burned into the back of his blue coat, and he could see his fellow officers trying to sneak unnoticed glances at his beautiful companion.

Subtlety is clearly not their strength, he thought, annoyed. I don't care how she wants to word it, Mr. Lynch was a fool to bring her out here. A woman like this attracts too much attention. From everyone. He glared heavily at a lower ranking officer he caught staring a little too long. Still...a beautiful lady sharing tea with me is not a bad problem to have. He tried to settle his nerves and relax his face into a smile. "Thank you for giving me another chance," he said sincerely.

She cocked her head and regarded him from beneath an arched eyebrow. Her lips twitched into an almost-smile. "I have to admit that your knowledge of London has helped your case immensely. I never would have imagined to be able to have this conversation, and over tea no less, here at Fort Bridger."

"Nor would I." He put down his cup and refilled hers. "I apologize...it's not the best tea."

"It's quite adequate." Miss Lewis-Smythe said charitably. "I don't imagine the trip here was kind to it. And besides, it's quite a bit better than no tea at all. It was kind of you to invite me."

"It was kind of you to accept." He gave her a direct look, nearly faltering at the impact of her cinnamon-lashed green eyes meeting his. He steadied himself. "So, you're not angry at me anymore?"

She scoffed, reaching for her cup. "Captain, I'm livid. Don't think I forgive you this."

He felt himself flinch, felt his face start to burn. He nodded, embarrassed.

"But to some extent I understand." She narrowed her eyes at him. "However, if you ever threaten to shoot any of our crew again..."

He cleared his throat. "I won't.You have my word." The memory of the encounter with the Green River coach crew vexed and irritated him, and he found himself wishing it had never happened. The Irishman had stood down, but the other man, the one he figured must have been of Mediterranean blood, had been loud and confrontational. Allowing that in front of his men would have been disastrous to his reputation. If the Irishman gunner hadn't calmed his partner down, Scarcliff would have at the very least been forced to throw the coach driver into the brig. He gritted his teeth. Miss Lewis Smythe has one thing correct...I can't resist redheads. Am I lying to her? Will I ever confiscate a cargo and hold the crew at gunpoint again if the situation arises? I certainly don't...intend...to. I don't want to. I didn't want to that time. That much is true.

She wrinkled her nose and took a sip. "Dreadful topic for tea, isn't it? So. London. It's wonderful that you have family there." She put her cup down and gave him a smile, the dimpling in her cheek making his heart flutter. "I can't tell you how much I enjoy talking to you about it. It's been a very long time since I've been home. I so miss it." There was a pensive wistfulness clouding her eyes. "I had long thought I'd go home as soon as I was able."

A woman like this...I'd take her there myself and stay there with her. Hell, I'd swim there. "So..." he asked tentatively. "You're returning to London? You've...made plans?"

Thoughts he couldn't read were tumbling behind her face, her secret stories unfolding themselves to her alone. She nodded slowly, her gaze still turned inward. "I was."

"But you've perhaps changed your mind?" He was alarmed at the sudden change in her mood, thinking frantically back to how he might have somehow offended her. "Have you..." The thought struck him with an unpleasant jolt. He realized it hadn't come to him sooner because it wasn't something he wanted to consider. Alex...you're an idiot. "You have a beau."

Her eyes snapped back to meet his, and he was stunned at the startled fear in them. She hesitated, a trapped look on her face. Then she sighed, her shoulders slumping as she cut her gaze to the table. "Yes," she said finally, heartbreakingly.

The word felt like an arrowhead through his heart.

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