The Five Dollar Mail Book 3: The Road Home

58: Fall Like A Thunderbolt

Cover painting by Angela Taratuta. Chapter artwork of Fiona by Diego Candia. 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.

When Fiona opened the door to see who was knocking on the guest cabin door, she was not at all happy to see Captain Scarcliff standing there, holding his hat in his hands. She was not in a good mood, and the sight of the Captain didn't do anything to improve that fact.

She stood scowling at him for a moment before her temper flared anew. To hell with him. She started to push the door shut in his face.

"Please," he said, muffled through the door as it clicked into place. "At least let me apologize." He paused. "For everything."

"I have nothing to say to you, Captain." Her anger was percolating inside her, threatening to consume her. Held here against my will...Collins with his accusations and disrespect...Storm thinking I don't know my own mind. To hell with them both. To hell with them all. And to hell with their 'trying to protect me'. They can all take their condescension and their so-called nobility and choke on it. I've had enough.

"Miss Lewis-Smythe..." Scarcliff went on, sounding pathetic and lost from the other side of the door. "My Lieutenant was grossly out of line and I deeply regret what he said to you. I want you do know he's been reprimanded and it won't happen again. That this happened under my watch is mortifying to me. Please accept my apologies."

She turned and stalked across the cabin, sitting down at the table and saying nothing.

Apparently undaunted, Captain Scarcliff soldiered on. "I was hoping you'd join me for tea."

Fiona jerked to her feet and strode across the room. The gall of this man... She snatched open the door, relishing how he actually recoiled from her. "You cannot be serious," she snapped.

"Miss Lewis-Smythe, I am sick over this." His face was pinched with stress, and the red spiderwebs in his blue eyes told of more sleepless nights than a man his age should have to endure.

"As am I," she said angrily.

"I don't know what's gotten into Collins. It won't happen again."

"I should hope not."

"Please...come to tea with me. I'm trying to work out a strategy to protect the homesteaders in the trouble area." He gave her a faint, helpless smile. "I am certain smoke is about to start pouring out of my ears. I need to clear my head so I can think clearly, and all I can think about is what happened and how angry you are."

Fiona stared at him, narrowing her eyes. "What about the homesteaders? What are you thinking?"