The Five Dollar Mail Book 3: The Road Home

35: Torches Burning Bright

Cover painting by Angela Taratuta. Chapter artwork 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.

Wash had never felt more like a brutish thug in his life, nor did the revolver hanging against his hip ever feel so heavy. The boy's howled questions hung accusingly in the air, echoing among the previously peaceful stillness. He cringed.

The woman sitting at Mrs. Plunkett's desk stared at him, startled, like a doe in the woods preparing to bolt away. Her brown eyes were wide with surprise, her mouth open as she stared.

This is a sodding fine way to make a first impression on someone, sure. Jaysus. He cleared his throat, nervously fingering his battered hat as he held it to his chest. "I'm so sorry to startle you, ma'am," he apologized, the words falling over each other as he scrambled to put her at ease. "I'm Wash Monahan. I was hoping for a word with Mrs. Plunkett, so I was." He cut his eyes to the loitering youth in the doorway, giving him a warning nod. To his immense relief, the boy ducked back out the door.

"Oh." The woman glanced at Luis, and then at Rosie, before looking back at his face and relaxing a bit. "I'm filling in for Mrs. Plunkett today, I'm afraid. I'm Miss Sullivan, Doctor Plunkett's bookkeeper." She put down her quill and gave him a nervous smile. "Is there something I can help you with?"

It had never really occurred to Wash to be embarrassed about being unable to read. Most of the people he associated with back in the Five Points couldn't, and here out in the territories, illiteracy wasn't unusual, either. But standing here in a schoolhouse, with the scent of books and chalk hanging in the air, he felt uncivilized and out of place. He would not have felt nearly so self-conscious if it had been kindly old Mrs. Plunkett sitting there. Another lifetime ago, back when he'd first gotten off the stagecoach in Green River, he'd been injured and ill, and the Plunketts took care of him until he'd recovered. The missus is an angel on earth, so she is. Reminds me of me own ma. I suppose I should be thankful for that tosser of a stagecoach driver dragging me to the Doc's against me will, he thought wryly, remembering how he'd met Saint. The sodding wog.

He glanced over at Luis and Rosie, hoping the sight of them would put a little steel into his resolve. Rosie nodded at him, giving his arm a squeeze. He drew in a deep breath. I am not doing this for meself. "I'm wondering if Mrs. Plunkett might do reading lessons for..." He winced, bracing himself. "...well, people who might have to work during the day."

"Are you asking me if there are night classes for adults?" Her demeanor had changed, and she'd visibly deflated, relaxing. She had a cultured lilt in her voice that spoke of old money and education. "Is this for you, sir?"

"Uh..." Heat flooded his face. He realized the brim of his hat had become damp under his white-knucked fingers. Balls. I am one thick, gormless tosser, sure. "Aye. Yes, ma'am."

"Well," she said, her face serious. "Usually when a student needs tutoring, they need it in maths. That's the subject I tutor for Mrs. Plunkett after hours."

"You do the tutoring?" Wash felt the bottom fall out of his stomach. When it was Mrs. Plunkett, who'd seen him shuffling around in an ill-fitting nightshirt, and who had spooned soup into his mouth with her own blessed hands, the whole affair had seemed doable. But this...this is going to be even more mortifying than I thought. I wasn't counting on bareing me sodding soul in front of a pretty lass. Particularly one that now thinks I'm a murdering criminal. He felt his nerve beginning to fail him. I dinna think I can do this...

"What evenings are you available?" she asked in a clipped, no-nonsense tone. "We'll discuss payment after we determine how much help you need."

"I..." Wash's head was reeling at the speed at which the situation was spiraling out of his control. "I hadn't really..."

"And you're going to have to study hard on your own between sessions. I'm not going to waste my time if you're not serious." She was looking him over, sizing him up. Her eyes flicked to the gun on his hip and then back to his face. "I expect hard work."

"I don't think..."

"Tuesday and Thursday nights, then. Seven o'clock, here."

"Um..." Wash realized his mouth was hanging open. He closed it a bit harder than he meant to. "Aye," he heard himself say.

"Good. See you then, Mr. Monahan." She was watching him shrewdly, her eyes narrowing as if she were trying to see his thoughts.

He nodded, and turned away, glancing at Rosie and Luis. Rosie looked as though she were trying to stifle a giggle.

Jamming the hat back onto his head, he headed for the door, completely bewildered. What in the sodding hell just happened?

Thanks for reading! If you are enjoying this story, please let me know by giving me a star or a comment! I appreciate your support!