The Five Dollar Mail Book 3: The Road Home

73: Romance Language

Cover painting by Angela Taratuta. Chapter artwork of Wash made by found images by me. 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.

Mrs. Plunkett adored George Monahan. From the time she'd first laid eyes on him, back when he was fevered and semi-conscious and being dragged into her husband's medical practice by Peter Bari, up to this moment where he stood in the doorway to the schoolhouse. She was filled with doting affection at the sight of him. His tousled ginger hair and freckled, sun-flushed face gave him a perpetually boyish charm that was only intensified by his delightful Irish brogue and slightly awkward manner.

He might be Erastus Lynch's sharpshooter, the Irishman from New York who never missed anything he aimed at. The man who had, by all reports, saved Lynch's crew by shooting a dangerous murderer dead. But in her mind, he was the sad, gentle stranger who'd spent the first weeks of her acquaintance helpless and clad in an ill-fitting, borrowed nightshirt. He'd been so lost then. He hadn't talked about it, but she knew that whatever brutal force had propelled him so violently out of his former life had left him bereft of everything and lucky to be alive.

She reckoned Peter Bari had saved his life that day. If the pushy coach driver hadn't realized one of his passengers was injured and desperately ill, and physically forced him into her husband's practice, Mr. Monahan would be dead. His body had healed quickly enough. It had been his heart that had taken a long time to mend. And to this day, his jaunty manner made her own heart flutter with joy. His was cheerfulness like no other. It was like a green shoot doggedly blooming on a shattered tree stump.

So she couldn't help but smile when he appeared in the doorway of the classroom at the end of the school day, uncomfortably clutching his battered brown hat in his hands.

"Mr. Monahan," she said brightly. "So good to see you today!"

Iris, sitting in the back of the room going over test papers, looked up, her eyes glancing around before falling on him. Iris wasn't the sort of woman to wear her emotions plainly, but Mrs. Plunkett couldn't help but notice the faint flush creeping across the woman's fine complexion. He makes her as nervous as she makes him. They're really not even speaking the same language, bless their hearts.

"Begging your pardon, misses," he said, "Come to collect Rosie and the lads, so I have, and wanted to ask Miss Sullivan if there was any danger of her maybe meeting me at Abigail's again for our lesson." His cinnamon-flecked fingers worried the frayed brim of his hat and he gestured in the general direction of the restaurant. "I thought being able to get a bit of beak in town saved us some time and trouble, last time. And...well...I can smell the bread baking, so I can."

"Oh!" Iris said, putting down her pencil. "Uh..."

"Our sweet lass Miss Lily's, back home with us, but she's had a rough time of it. We'd rather she get some rest, rather than having to bother with the likes of us. And..." A faint blush boomed in his cheeks and Mrs. Plunkett pretended not to notice. He cleared his throat. "I wouldn't mind another go at the stew."

"Very well," Iris said, looking amused. "I supposed I could stand 'another go at the stew" myself."

"Aye, so the regular time..."

A youthful voice cut in from behind him, and he cringed, turning to see who stood behind him just outside the doorway. "Hey, Mr. Monahan! Excuse me, I gotta ask Mrs. Plunkett a question about homework."

Mr. Monahan cringed, stepping aside to let Jed Smith into the room. It was obvious to everyone but Jed that the coach guard was uncomfortable fielding Jed's constant questions about the violence in his past. Mrs. Plunkett couldn't decide if the boy was just that rude, or if he was just plain thick in the skull. Having taught him since he was small, she knew that it was quite possibly both. She sighed heavily.

She spoke quickly before the boy could start firing questions and foolish observations at Mr. Monahan. "Hello, Jed," she said, smiling. "What can we help you with?"

"I forgot the write down the reading assignment for this week," he said, reluctantly turning his attention away from Mr. Monahan.

"Let's see...ah, here it is," she said, finding the page numbers in her notes. "Page 114 to page 342.'

"Thank you, ma'am...say, Mr. Monahan, what was it like..."

"Jaysus, laddie," Mr. Monahan whistled, roaching his hair back in a gesture of disbelief. "that sounds like a lot of reading, so it does. Two hundred and twenty eight pages! When do you have to do it by?"

"Uh..." Jed stammered, looking at Mrs. Plunkett.

"The end of the week, Jed."

"Oh." The boy cringed. "That's not a lot of time."

"Aye," Mr. Monahan went on. "You don't have much time, do you laddie? Best get on it, then."

"But..." Jed pointed at the pistol at Mr. Monahan's hip. "I wanted to..."

"No time to waste, me boyo, you have two hundred and twenty eight pages to get through!" Mr. Monahan was ushering the protesting youth out the door. "You don't want a bad mark, sure. You'll look like an eedgit, so you will. Get along with you now, lad, if you start now, you might finish in time!"

The coach driver was smiling, waving out the door and gesturing Jed to keep walking. He stood there a moment, and then sagged against the door frame in relief. "He's a right itchy spot, that one," he muttered.

Iris was staring, one delicate eyebrow arched in surprise. She turned and exchanged a look with Mrs. Plunkett. Her lips were moving silently, as if she were counting in her head. She nodded slowly. "Yes, Mr. Monahan," she said, deliberately and significantly. "They have two hundred and twenty eight pages...page 114 to page 342. That's correct."

And stunning how fast he came up with it. Mrs. Plunkett looked at Mr. Monahan as though she were seeing him for the first time. Maybe he speaks the same language as Iris after all.

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