Cover painting by Angela Taratuta. Chapter artwork of Mr. Lynch by Diego Candia. 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.
It felt like a holiday in Abigail's, with the smell of beef stew and black German bread wafting through the homey dining room. The sun was going down orange and pink and outside the spotless glass windows. Saint felt a deep satisfaction, the wistful homesickness he'd learned to live with quieted. He reached down, intertwining his fingers with Lily's, and brought her hand briefly up to his lips.
Lynch's crew gathered around the cobbled collection of tables they'd shoved together, squabbling and laughing and bickering. It felt like home. It was home. He smiled, turning to look at Lily seated beside him, overwhelmed with the idea that he was hers, and she his, and he didn't have to feel any regret over it. And here he was, sitting with her, holding her hand. With what he now understood was family around him.
Lynch took the tray of black bread from Miss Abigail and passed the tray to Luis. "Thank you, Abigail, he said. "Alright, so Hanson...you're leaving us, eh?"
"Yessir, I'm afraid so." Jesse held up his bowl so Abigail's hired girl could fill it. "I'm sorry to be leaving. And I just wanna thank you, sir, for all you've done for me. Truly. For me and Lily both. I hate going, but I reckon it's time." A self-aware grin broke across his face, toothy and familiar. "'Sides...it's too quiet around here for me."
"'Too quiet', says he," Wash huffed derisively, giving Jesse a shove. "The lad's taking the piss out of us, so he is."
"Wash!" Rosie scolded, covering her mouth to hide her giggling. "You can't say that at the supper table!"
"Gonna meet up with Still Water Woman and her family tonight after supper," Jesse went on. We'll head out in the morning. You ain't seen the last of me; we ain't gonna be too far to visit. We'll be back for Christmas for sure."
Lynch nodded. "You ever find yourself needing work, you know where to find me."
"Thank you, sir." He turned his attention to Fiona, who had her arm in a sling and was trying awkwardly to manage her spoon with her other hand. "I put some of that money we got on the land sale to good use. Got a business proposition for you two."
"Us two?" Fiona said as Storm reached over and started cutting the chunks in her stew into smaller pieces. "A business proposition?"
"Yeah," Jesse nodded. "We'll talk after. I think you'll like my idea."
The cart with the stew pot stopped behind Bender. Abigail dusted bread crumbs from her fingers, taking the ladle from the server's hand. "Surely our handsome adventurer needs seconds, ya?" She spooned another helping of stew into Bender's bowl and reached for another chunk of bread.
"Thanks, Abby," Bender said, startled at the extra attention.
"Gern geschehen," she smiled a little too long at him, giving his shoulder a brief squeeze before handing the ladle back to her hired girl and scuttling off to the kitchen.
Saint raised an eyebrow. Huh. He smirked, amused at the sudden color blooming on the farrier's face.
"Boys," Lynch said. "I need to talk to you about something. Back in Bridger, I had a long conversation with Howard Egan from Salt Lake House and the man we met out there, Griffin."
Storm was buttering a piece of bread for Fiona. "The surveyor we picked up on Stone's trail? The man who survived the ambush?"
"Yeah." Lynch nodded. "He says he's been contacted by Western Union. They are doing extensive mapping out here right now."
Luis, seated next to Rosie, was sopping up his second bowl of stew with his fourth piece of bread. He looked up, his chin shiny with butter. "Is that another stage line?"
"No." Tommy put down his spoon, instantly giving Lynch his full attention. "It's a...it's a...that's a telegraph company."
Saint leaned forward, a kernel of foreboding forming in the pit of his stomach. The Old Man's tone and Tommy's sober pronouncement brought his giddy mood stumbling to a halt. "Go on."
"We talked," Lynch said, his woolly eyebrows hitching upwards across his skull as he soberly shook his head. "A lot, being stuck there as we were. If they manage to connect the eastern and western telegraph lines...we're done."
"That won't happen...will it?" Luis' face went pale. "People will always need mail delivered, right?"
Lily's brow furrowed. "Five dollars is a lot of money to send a letter."
"And even at that price, we're losing money," Lynch said. "Yes, I think it will happen. Howard Egan and I simply don't think the company can sustain itself at this rate. If the telegraph can send messages faster and cheaper, we're not going to survive the hit."
Saint felt as though he had been punched in the gut. Freight's always gonna need to be moved...but with the railroad being built...and now this... "So what's going to happen to the mail lines?"
"I don't know," Lynch said, holding up his coffee cup for a refill. "But what I wanted to talk to you all about is that I've signed a contract with Western Union. They're paying me a lot of money. It won't take effect immediately. You boys still have jobs running mail for a while. But the money's running out. And when it does, it's over."
"And then what?" Luis' voice cracked, and the stricken look on his face made Saint's heart hurt.
"That's it?" Saint said, feeling lost. "We just go our separate ways?"
The clamor at the table had gone silent. Everyone was staring at Lynch, stunned.
"I hope not," Lynch said slowly, the wrinkles at the corners of his eyes deepening. A broad smile broke across his face and he took a long, noisy slurp of coffee. "Because the reason Western Union is paying me all this money is because I listed you all as the assets and resources I'm bringing with me." He put down his cup and looked around, clearly amused by the open-mouthed stares surrounding him. "I'm a businessman," he said, narrowing his eyes shrewdly. "And you irritating sumbitches are one hell of a crew."
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