The Five Dollar Mail Book 3: The Road Home

113: Straight and Swift to My Wounded

Cover painting by Angela Taratuta. Chapter artwork of Fiona made of found artwork 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.

"Alex?" Fiona called softly as she stopped in the doorway of the medical tent, her sun-dazzled eyes adjusting to the relative darkness inside. She squinted, the swelling around her eye aching with the movement. She dropped the door flap back down behind her, fumbling it with her left hand. She could smell the cloying scent of opium and camphor and whiskey.

There was a rustling of linen as Captain Scarcliff shifted in the narrow cot. His voice was sleepy, hoarse. "Miss Lewis-Smythe?"

He was lying propped against a bank of pillows, his silver-streaked brown hair unbound and tousled, and his face pale. His vulnerable, helpless appearance nearly robbed her of her composure, tightening her throat into a painful lump. Dressed in a simple linen sleeping shirt and lost in a sea of bedding, he hardly looked like the same man. He certainly didn't look like the callous, overbearing military Captain she'd initially seen him as. "They told me you were awake," she said. "Alex, I'm so sorry you're hurt. This is all my fault. I don't expect you to forgive me..."

He shook his head, giving her a weak chuckle. "There's nothing to forgive, Miss Lewis-"

"Fiona," she corrected.

He stopped, holding her gaze, before nodding slowly. "Thank you for that." He sighed, waving a hand at the chair near the cot. "Please sit, and spare me this urge to rise" His brows furrowed unhappily. "It mortifies me to see you with your arm in a sling...and..." He winced as she approached, clearly taking inventory of her split lip and her blackened eye. "Or any of this. I should be apologizing to you. This happened on my watch, and I'll never forgive myself."

"You are certainly not to blame," she said. "Alex, I've caused you so much trouble You were trying to protect us. And you got shot..."

"I'm going to be fine, Fiona. I was on my feet this morning. I..." he met her raised eyebrow with a sheepish look. "I wasn't happy about being on my feet, mind...but I managed to walk a bit. I'll live."

"Thank goodness for that," she said, and meant it. "Storm...Mr. Peltier says it was Lieutenant Collins that shot you."

Alex nodded, sighing heavily. "I should have seen what he was planning. I didn't want to." His blue eyes were earnest. "He was out of his head. He thought getting rid of me would assure his promotion. That he got that many of his men to go along with his madness is...just..." He shook his head, huffing in disgust. "We'll be doing nothing but conducting court court martials in the weeks to come.You'll be glad to be gone before all that gets under way, I'm sure."

"I'm so sorry."

"It would have happened regardless. You didn't cause any of this. He was biding his time." He shook his head, as if clearing the way for less oppressive thoughts. "How is..." he gave her a look she could not read. "Peltier? They said he was injured."

"He was hurt before he even arrived. He didn't help himself coming here." She felt her eyes suddenly fill with heat and water. "Collins nearly shot him...well, Collins did shoot him. Thank goodness it was just a bad graze. And his ear is ruptured...he can't hear out of it. He says a pistol fired right next to his head."

"I've seen that happen before. His hearing may come back." Alex was looking at her, searching her face. "I know you'll be going back to Green River."

She nodded, averting her eyes. He'll see. He'll...know. "Yes," she said, her voice small. "I have to."

"I know. And Peltier will be going back with you and your uncle, I suppose."

She froze, her eyes fixed on the rough surface of the wool military blanket draped over the bed linens. Suddenly, the tent was sweltering, her breath catching in her throat. He does know. How can I lie to his face?

"Fiona," He shifted against the pillows, wincing. "Despite how badly I bungled things with Collins...and with you...I'm not blind."

Her heart was pounding. She looked up at him. "You..." She took a deep breath. "You understand, then?"

"No." He shook his head, tensing. "I don't. And I don't want to know any more than I do. But it seems I will have to accept it. It's best we don't mention it again. To anyone."

She sniffed, pulling the handkerchief she'd tucked into her sling out and wiping her eyes. "I would..." She cleared her throat. "I would hope you won't find me forward if I write you on occasion, Captain. To keep you appraised of what's happening out our way, of course."

His blue eyes softened, and the faintest hint of a smile curled his lips. "Of course."

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