The Five Dollar Mail Book 3: The Road Home

72: Liars

Cover painting by Angela Taratuta. Chapter artwork of Fiona 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.

Fiona stopped and stared, her foray back to the guest cabin from the officer's mess tent forgotten. The stockade gates had opened up, and the wagon coming in with Lieutenant Collin's bedraggled detachment was carrying what looked exactly like a bloody, canvas-shrouded body.

Her stomach clenched in panic before she realized that this was not Captain Scarcliff's detachment. It wasn't Storm lying in the back of the wagon like a slain deer. The realization didn't put an end to her panic. She was shaking, swaying on her feet.

The handful of mounted soldiers filed inside the stockade, and the gate was secured behind them. Collin's blue uniform was heavily streaked with blackening blood. She felt her insides twist again when she saw the scout they called Wounded walking on a lead like an animal, his hands bound before him. The youngest of the scouts had ridden out with Collin's men, and she looked frantically over the returning men for him, a kind of panicked horror growing inside her.

Collin's return had caused a stir, and men were scurrying to help with the horses and assist the injured. A brawny, buckskin-clad man with a grizzled blond beard had come inside with them, and she wondered who he was. She heard Collins voice cut over the commotion.

"Throw this deserter into the brig," he snapped, aiming a kick to Wounded's shoulder before he dismounted. "I'll deal with him later."

Wounded stumbled, saying nothing as he steadied himself. His eyes were red and bloodshot, his face a fierce iron mask beneath the bruises and lacerations that marred it.

"The other one's dead," Collins went on. "We were attacked by Indians and he took an arrow through the throat."

She was trembling, and wanted desperately to sit down. Oh, that poor young man. Her eyes were burning and her throat was a painful lump. Bloody hell, what happened out there? Where's Storm?

"And it's just as well," Collins snapped, handing his horse off to one of the boys. 'The last thing he told me was that there was a war party headed this way, which is clearly not true. He was in on it and it went bad on him," he said, watching as three soldiers led Wounded away."They both were. I'd shoot that red cur right now, if I were willing to waste the bullet."

She made her way past the chaos to the relative quiet between the pavilion that served as a war room and a supply tent. Tears were coursing down her cheeks, and she didn't want anyone to see, We're in Hell right now, aren't we? We've done something dreadful, and we've been sent to Hell. She pressed her hands to her face, trying to gain control of her grief and terror. Oh, Storm...Beloved...come back. Come back. Please come back...

Men's voices were coming closer. "Thank you kindly for letting me in," the big stranger was saying, stalking alongside Collins as the two of them made their way to the war room. "We took a beating last night, and I'm nervous being out here."

Not wanting to be seen, Fiona shrank back against the stacked flour sacks and barrels of molasses tucked between the tents. She cupped her hand to ear, straining to hear.

"I don't blame you, Stone." Collins muttered, throwing open the door flap and going inside. "Not after my scout was shot and died right in front of me."

"Lieutenant, how are we to finish our job for the railroad when we can't even set up somewhere without being attacked by these Lakota out here?" The man's voice was barely muffled by the canvas wall. Fiona slowed her breathing, staying absolutely silent.

"You're saying it was the Lakota, eh? I suspected as much." She could hear the chair creaking inside the tent. "Right before he was shot, my scout said he'd overheard a war party headed towards the fort. I sent the other scout to tell Captain Scarcliff that he was in the wrong place and to get back to the fort. Caught him headed back towards where the war party was last seen. I believe he's turned over on us."

Fiona's mind went back to all the times Storm had made rude jokes at the Lakota's expense, how she knew the tribes were enemies. She frowned, trying to will her heart to beat more quietly in her chest She was almost afraid they'd hear it pounding.

"When are you going to do what has to be done, Lieutenant?" Stone growled. "There's no negotiation with these savages. You can't even trust your own scouts. That village has to go."

There was a long, excruciating silence, and Fiona found herself trying to force her gaze through the fabric separating them.

Stone's voice, when he finally spoke, was quiet, almost whispered. "That's not what your dead scout said." There was a beat, and she could hear big, moccasined feet pacing, "Is it, Lieutenant? And that old red boy you got in your brig has no idea why he's there."

"I think he does." Collin's voice was measured and careful. "Wounded's smart He probably knows exactly what's going on. Which is why I'm going to have to have him shot."

"Probably for the best." Stone's shaggy head popped out from around the wall of the tent, and Fiona fell backwards, scrambling among the sacks and barrels. "I do love a red-headed whore," he said, his icy eyes empty as a china doll's painted face.

Fiona gasped, struggling to stand amidst her skirts and the uneven footing. "Oh!" she cried out, letting herself trip again and pretending she didn't hear the slur. She fought her terror down and put a fluttering hand over her heart. "There was one of those dreadful crawling things with the legs! I was looking for biscuits for tea later, and..." She wiped at her eyes and waved her hand absently in front of her, as if shaking off something distasteful. "How dreadful! It ran across my hand!" She was breathing hard, letting them see her reddened eyes and tear-stained cheeks.

She put out a hand, using his forearm to brace herself as she regained her balance, "Well!" She giggled nervously through her tears. "I have quite lost my appetite for biscuits, haven't I?" She ignored Collins' startled face as she stumbled past the men before her luck ran out and before they had a chance to stop her.

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