Cover painting by Angela Taratuta. Chapter artwork of Fiona by Liezl Bueneventura. 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.
Captain Scarcliff could hardly be blamed for sending Fiona to her quarters and requesting that she lock the door and stay there. After all, he was responsible for her safety, and he didn't know what sort of trouble was brewing. And in his defense, it was abundantly clear that keeping her out of harm's way was not only a professional priority for him, but a personal one as well.
However, he probably should have realized that his orders would go unheeded, as he certainly did know it was Fiona he was dealing with.
She headed towards the low dugout she knew housed the brig, her heart pounding in her ears. She knew...she knew.
Storm.
It has to be him. And probably Mr. Devereaux with him. What have you two done this time?
She wanted to cry, and realized she was breathing hard, terror constricting her chest like a closing fist. Storm...you cannot be here, my love. You're not well and it's not safe. This is my fault. I shouldn't have sent that letter. She stopped in her tracks, closing her eyes and whispering to herself, "What the bloody hell did you expect, you stupid girl?" She breathed deeply, trying to calm herself. Surely we will get it sorted...
There were raised voices ahead, muffled by the thick timbers and sod of the building. She could hear Uncle Erastus, and the sound of his voice gave her some bit of comfort. The teenage sentry between her and the open doorway stepped in front of her, blocking her.
"Miss..." he attempted.
"My uncle's in there," she barked, practically snarling as she strode forwards into the young man's space. "Unless you plan on putting your hands on me, I suggest you move."
White-faced, the boy stumbled back, holding his hands up in front of himself defensively as she swept past him. She heard the voice of First Lieutenant Collins inside, raised in anger. She walked through the open doorway and paused, waiting for her eyes to adjust to the stuffy darkness inside the brig.
"...They could have just turned around and left, as they were ordered to. They were warned."
"These are my men, Captain, and I want them released!"
Lieutenant Collins, Captain Scarcliff, and Uncle Erastus stood before the holding cell, arguing. She barely saw them. Her eyes went immediately to the two figures beyond, shadowed in the dusty half-light, one of them wild haired and thick-limbed, the other lean and broad-shouldered.
"And I told you to let me handle it, Peltier!" Mr. Devereaux's gruff voice growled. "I told you you be quiet!"
She'd known it would be Storm and Mr. Devereaux. But that didn't stop her heart from squeezing in her chest with terror that her suspicions were confirmed.
"Well," she managed to choke out. The various squabbling male voices and heated arguments ground instantly to a halt as every eyeball in the room turned to look at her. She glanced as impassively as she could manage over at the two prisoners in the cell. Seeing Storm, his handsome face weary and pinched, made her want to hurl herself at the bars. She met his gaze for the briefest of moments before tearing her eyes away and directing them to Captain Scarcliff. Storm's eyes had seared her, the afterimage of them burned into her vision. She felt herself going slightly mad. She licked her lips, fighting to keep herself steady. "I see you've met two more of our employees, Captain. Why on earth...?"
"They went against orders!" Lieutenant Collins snapped."I told them to not utter another word and to turn around and leave!"
Uncle Erastus turned on Collins, scowling heavily . "They don't have to follow your orders, Lieutenant," he snapped. "They aren't enlisted."
"This is a military fort!" Collins' voice was sharp, high pitched with fury. "They have to follow..."
"That's enough, Lieutenant." Captain Scarcliff cut him off. He took off his hat and pressed his fingers against his eyelids. "We're supposed to be guarding the mail line, not impeding it." He looked embarrassed and tired.
The sight of Storm's face shadowed with iron bars was too much. It hadn't been that long ago when she'd seen him locked up like this back in Green River. They were going to kill him then, and she'd never felt so sick and helpless in her entire life. She fought to keep her breath from rattling in her throat. "Let him out," she whispered. "Captain Scarcliff," she said, finding her voice and her wits. She realized she had raised her voice until she was practically shouting. "Let them out of there! This isn't right!"
She locked eyes with the Scarcliff, watching him feel the squeeze of being trapped between her anger and the glowering Lieutenant. There was a time you' would have done the same thing, wasn't there, Captain? You'd have locked them up...maybe even shot them. How much are your promises worth now?
Scarcliff drew in a deep breath, and then let it out through pursed lips. "Let them out," he muttered, defeated. "And you two..." his attention snapped back to Storm and Mr. Devereaux. "...better have an extremely good reason for making a nuisance of yourselves at my gate."
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