The Five Dollar Mail Book 3: The Road Home

30: Poor Restless Dove

Cover painting by Angela Taratuta. Chapter artwork of Captain Scarcliff by Laura 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.

Alex Scarcliff almost wished that someone would attack Fort Bridger. He wished they would just start firing flaming arrows over the walls, screaming and baying for blood as they smashed into the barred gates.

Because if that happened, he wouldn't have to face Miss Lewis-Smythe. He wouldn't have to endure the fury he knew would be shooting out of her green eyes, piercing him. Incinerating him.

He'd almost rather take a warclub through the skull. It would hurt less than what he knew was sure to be the aftermath of what he was going to have to tell them.

He figured God must surely be watching out for him, so that gave him at least a little comfort. If He hadn't been, then Collins would have simply had the two obnoxious breeds at the gate shot, leaving him to face Miss Lewis-Smythe and Mister Lynch, and explain to them why two of their men were lying dead under a tarp on the parade ground.

That would have been...unpleasant.

He swallowed hard, trying to steady himself as he headed to the guest quarters. This is ridiculous, he chastised himself. I'm the Captain of this fort. I do not have to seek approval or explain myself to civilians. It's not my fault their hired men decided to come here and make spectacles of themselves. They should be thankful I had them released from the brig.

Stalking up to the closed door of the small cabin where Mister Lynch was staying, Scarcliff rapped sharply, steeling himself. He was surprised when the door was pulled open, and he was met with Miss Lewis-Smythe's stunning, mind-emptying eyes. All the resolve he'd managed to collect on his way over here, all the brave words and defiant thoughts he'd had crumbled under the onslaught of that bewitching emerald gaze.

She arched an eyebrow and wordlessly opened the door for him, standing aside to let him enter. Her face was pinched and colorless, as if she'd either recently wept or was in imminent danger of doing so.

What's happening? His mind raced, desperately hoping she wasn't angry at him over this. Something awful must have happened for these two men to ride all the way out here and for her to look so upset. Mister Lynch sat at the small writing desk, and the two newcomers stood loitering, clearly interrupted in the middle of a heavy conversation. She quietly closed the door behind him as he entered.

Scarcliff drew in a deep breath. "Is everything alright?"

Mister Lynch grunted, leaning across the desk to briefly shake Scarcliff's hand. "Don't know, Captain. Been trouble back home."