The Five Dollar Mail Book 3: The Road Home

92: Convergence

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

Storm's anger had been simmering inside him the entire time they'd ridden towards the Lakota village. It was all he could do to contain it. The Voices of Rage and Terror were snarling inside him like rabid wolves, jerking hard against the chains that barely held them at bay. His skin felt hot, and sweat that had nothing to do with the day's warmth slid down his spine, making him shiver. He'd discarded the borrowed blue army jacket back at the fort. He had figured it made no sense at all to wear something that would completely eliminate any chance he might have for getting out of this mess alive. This mess was Collin's doing. Lundy Bad Medicine had been more right than he ever knew about the man being dangerous.

He glanced at Lynch, riding beside him in silence on Black. The man's craggy face seemed chipped of flint, and Storm was sure he'd never seen his employer look so old.

There was a chill between them that Storm didn't expect to be able to repair. The back of his scalp ached where he'd smacked it on the wall of the cabin when Lynch had shoved him, and his throat burned, bruised from the angry fingers around his neck. I'm not going to have a job after this, he thought. I suppose I'm lucky enough to be alive after that fiasco in the cabin. If we didn't have a bigger problem right now, I suspect I wouldn't be. It pained him that Lynch was angry with him. He had nothing but respect for his employer, and the knowledge that Lynch was furious enough to lay hands on him added to his already wretched state of mind.

"Mister Lynch," he said, keeping his voice low. "We're riding into a Lakota village that just got attacked by the army. You understand that they might kill us outright."

"Yep."

Storm nodded, his eyes fixing on the trail ahead, trying not to think about how vulnerable and helpless he felt. He didn't care if his hawk feather...his Medicine...was gone, as long as Fiona still had it with her, wherever she was. Maybe it will protect her. If it doesn't, if she... He squeezed his eyes shut against the thought. Then it doesn't matter anyway. He opened his eyes, looking around. "Someone's up ahead."

Lynch's hand went to his sidearm. "You heard something?"

"I can tell there's horses...and..." Something invisible was crawling across his chest, phantom fingers making his skin tingle, like ants right before they start to sting. He stopped, gasping, and he saw the brave behind a stand of pinyons, aiming a arrow directly at his heart. "Lynch..." He held up his hands, showing them empty.

The warrior was about his same age, haggard but fierce. Drying blood flecked his bare chest and streaked across his face in cracking stripes. His eyes bored into Storm's.

"I know the village was attacked by bluecoats," Storm said quickly in Lakota. "We had people there. We're not hostile to you."

The warrior opened his mouth to speak, but before he could say anything, he was interrupted by a husky, familiar twang. "Oh, shitfire, I might've reckoned you weren't far behind." Jesse stepped out of hiding, uncocking a pistol. "Didn't expect to see Mister Lynch, though. You heard what happened?"

Storm's mind was reeling in confusion. He glanced at Lynch who was staring at Jesse, stunned. 

Lynch's eyebrows had all but disappeared underneath his hat. "What the hell?" the old man rasped. "Hanson?"

Jesse was wearing Lakota clothing. Blood had streaked down the collar and side of his leather shirt, and a dirty bandage showed over his collarbone. He was unshaven, with the remnants of sunburn peeling from his stubbled cheeks. He gestured at them, saying "Eagle Bone, they're friends. Family." It took Storm a beat to realize he'd said it in Lakota, and another one to realize his own mouth was hanging open. The Lakota warrior let his aim drop to the ground, relaxing his bow.

Did he...what did I just...marda. "Yeah, I...Jesse, how did you get out here and what...I mean...?" The words stumbled stupidly out of Storm's mouth as he processed the impossible scenario before him. He shook his head, trying to shrug out of his shock. Accept it, the Voice of Reason whispered to him. He's here. You can ask why and how later. "Yeah, we know," he said, clearing his throat. "Where's Fiona and Dev?"

"She got drug off by Hezekiah Stone. Dev's back at the village being tended. Stone shot him. Give us a second to get our horses. We're goin' after her."

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