Shattered Lives (Flynn Family Saga Book 1) (24 page)

Maggie turned and went back to her other patients.

“Maggie.”  Flynn’s voice was hoarse.

Maggie went over to his hammock.  “What is it?”

“There’s a willow by the river.  Scrape off some of
the bark and brew it, like it was tea.  It will help with the fever.”  His
hands gripped hers tightly.

Maggie nodded.  “All right.”  She walked to the
river.  A willow trailed its pale green leaves in the water.  She drew her
knife and scraped a little of the bark into a handkerchief.  She brought it
back to Frank’s fire.  She put the bark into her mother’s teapot.  Then, she
poured boiling water over it.

“What’s that?”  Frank peered over her shoulder.

“Willow bark tea.  Flynn says it’s good for fevers.” 
She picked up a metal mug and poured the tea into it.  Then, she carried it to Tommy
Lonnegan.  She lifted his head and poured the pale liquid into his mouth.  He
swallowed convulsively.

Maggie went back to Flynn's hammock.  She sat down and
held his hand.  She nodded off and dreamed of riding Rosalind across her
grandfather’s meadow.  The filly had the smoothest gait of any horse Maggie had
ever ridden.  It was like flying a few inches above the ground.

“Maggie!”  Ben’s shout woke her.

Maggie sighed and went to tend the latest cholera
patients.

*  *  *

It was morning before Maggie had a chance to check
on Flynn again.  His skin was cool, and his breathing was deep and even. 
Maggie turned away from him and went along the rows of patients.  There were
sixty-eight of them now.  Frank was frying bacon, and the aroma made her mouth
water.  Frank served her bacon and eggs and biscuits, and Maggie cleaned her
plate.

“Hey!  You’ve got a man over here dying of hunger.”

Frank smiled.  “He’s got to be delirious if he’s
asking for my food.”

Maggie smiled back.  “Actually, he’s a lot better
today.”

“Good.  I’ll fix him some bacon and eggs.”

Maggie shook her head.  “It’s too soon.  If the
fever stays down for a few days, then he can eat.”  She poured a cup of black
coffee and carried it over to Flynn.  “Here.”

Flynn eyed it suspiciously.  “Who made it?”

“Frank.”

Flynn grimaced.  “No thanks.  I’d like to live long
enough to die of cholera.”

Maggie laughed.  “I hate to disappoint you, but I
think you’re going to live.”  She started to stand up.

Flynn seized her wrist.  “Thanks, Magpie.”

“For what?”

He looked away.  “Saving my life.”

Maggie shook her head.  “I can’t take any credit for
that.”  She grinned.  “You’re just hard to kill, that’s all.”

Flynn laughed.

One by one, Ben brought the stricken to the
quarantine area.  Maggie and Ellie Lonnegan worked day and night tending the
sick.

Then, George Lonnegan died.

Maggie bowed her head.

Sam touched her back.  "Are you all
right?"

Maggie nodded.

Sam shook his head.  "I thought you couldn't
lie."

Maggie started to laugh, but there was an edge to
her laughter that frightened her.

Sam took her elbow and led her away from the
quarantine area.  He made her sit down next to Frank's fire.  Frank handed her
a cup of tea.  Maggie grimaced at the taste.  “Why do people always put too
much sugar in it?”

 “Because sugar helps when you’re in shock.”  He
squeezed her shoulder.

A wail split the air.

Maggie rubbed her face with her palms.  “That will
be Mrs. Lonnegan.”  She got up and went over to her friend.  Ellie struck
Maggie across her face.  “You let my husband die!”  She turned and walked away,
her long skirts brushing the ground.

Maggie said nothing.  There was nothing to say.

Sam squeezed her shoulder.  “It wasn’t your fault,
Maggie.”

Maggie looked away.

Together, they moved among the ones who still lived.

*  *  *

By the end of the third week, Maggie was numb.  She moved
from patient to patient like an automaton.  Sometimes, she caught Flynn looking
at her with lines of worry between his eyebrows.  She always forced herself to
smile at him, but she had a feeling that she wasn’t fooling him one bit.

Then, twenty-two days after Flynn got sick, Maggie
took three steps and collapsed.

She dreamed of the night her parents died.  She
heard their angry voices and scrambled into the wagon.  She watched,
helplessly, as Michael struck Lucy.  She couldn’t move, couldn’t speak, as he
picked up his shotgun and put the barrel into his mouth.

“Wake up, Magpie!”  Someone shook her shoulder
gently.

Maggie opened her eyes.  She lay in the back of her
wagon, and Flynn sat beside her.

He took her hand.  “You were having a nightmare.”

Maggie nodded.

“It was about your parents’ death, wasn’t it?”

She looked away from the concern in his face.

“You couldn’t have stopped it, Maggie.  Believe me,
I know.”  He drew a deep breath.  “My father was just like Michael, a drunkard
and a gambler.  When I was ten years old, he lost everything.”

Maggie looked back at him.  “Really?”

Flynn nodded.  He smiled sadly.  “And just like
Michael, he believed that everything would be better if he got to California.”

Maggie looked away again.  “What—what happened to him?”

Flynn was silent a long time.  “He died.  He
desecrated a pool that is sacred to the Lakota.  They killed him.”

Maggie turned back to him.  “I’m sorry.”

Flynn nodded.  “Thank you.”  He drew a deep breath. 
“But there was no way you could have saved Lucy or Michael.  Or George Lonnegan.”

“I let her down!  Ellie was kind to me, and I let
her down!”  Maggie started to cry.

Flynn held her.  When her sobs subsided, he held her
away from him.  “Listen to me, Maggie.  This is important.  Last year, cholera
hit us when we camped here.  We lost half of the people who came down with it. 
This year, we only lost one in twenty.  And that's because you knew what to do
for them."”

Maggie groped for his hand.  “Thank you, Flynn.”

He smiled and squeezed her hand.

“Well, look who has decided to rejoin us.”  Sam’s
voice boomed heartily as he stuck his head in the opening of the canvas.  “How
do you feel, Maggie?”

Maggie’s stomach growled.  She grinned sheepishly.  “Hungry.”

Sam laughed.  “Come on.  I’ll see if Frank has any
breakfast left.”

Maggie swayed on her feet.  Flynn took her arm and
supported her as they walked slowly to Frank’s cook fire.  She sat down with
her back against Sam’s wagon.  She listened to Flynn and Ben and Sam tease
Frank about his cooking, and a little of her grief ebbed away.

After breakfast, Sam set down his mug of coffee and
regarded Maggie solemnly.  “Maggie, as soon as you’re well enough to travel, I’m
going to send Ben with you to St. Jo.”

Pain struck her, harder than her father’s hand.

Ben stood up and threw his hat on the ground.  “No
sir.  I won’t.”

Sam raised an eyebrow.  “What did you say?”

Ben sighed.  “Major, you know I never interfere with
your decisions, but this time, you’re just plain wrong.”

Frank nodded.  “I’ll go on strike.  You’ll have to
do your own cooking!”

“As if that would be a hardship!”  Sam pushed his
hat back.  He turned to Maggie.  “I’m sorry, Maggie.  Get your things.  I guess
I’ll just have to do without Flynn for a while.”

“No.”  Flynn stepped between Maggie and Sam.  “If
you won’t take her to California, I will.”

“Flynn, you work for me.  You’ll do what I tell you
to.”

Flynn glared at him.  “I quit!”

“You’re fired!”

*  *  *

Flynn turned and stalked to the picket line.  He was
so angry that his hands shook as he tried to saddle Scout.  The stallion kept
sidling away from him.

“You’re scaring him, Flynn.”  Maggie’s soft voice
startled him.

Flynn turned.  He drew a deep breath.  “You’re
right.”  He turned back to Scout.  “I’m sorry, big fella.”

Scout tossed his head.

Maggie handed Flynn a sugar lump.

Flynn’s throat felt as if someone had tied a wet
rawhide thong around it and left him in the sun.  He held out the sugar lump
and patted Scout’s nose.  He turned and reached for his saddle.

“Don’t.”  Maggie’s voice was hoarse.

Flynn frowned.  “Don’t what?”  He turned back to
her.

Tears shone in her large green eyes.  “Don’t give up
doing what you love, not for me.”

“Maggie—”

She shook her head.  “Let me finish.  “You don’t—you
don’t know how much it means to me that you’re willing to do this, but don’t. 
Please don’t.  I’ll be all right with Mrs. Hamilton.  But I—I couldn’t live
with myself if I knew I had cost you the life you love.”

Flynn drew a ragged breath.  “Maggie O’Brien, where
did you come from?”

She smiled tremulously.  “Well, I was born in Manhattan...”

Flynn shut his eyes and let his hand fall to his
side.  He thought of the women he had fallen in love with on the wagon train. 
All of them wanted to give up his way of life and settle down.

All of them except Maggie.

"Maggie, I—"  He opened his eyes.

Maggie was gone.

*  *  *

Maggie turned away from Flynn, turned away from
everything she wanted, and walked back to her wagon.  She bit her lip to keep
from crying as she folded her clothes and placed them carefully in her old
carpetbag.  Then, she picked up Martha.

You’re never too old for dolls, Maggie.

She heard her grandmother’s voice as clearly as if
Tess stood beside her.  Tears slid down her cheeks.  She closed her eyes and
held the doll tightly against her chest.  Then, she drew a deep breath and put
the doll into the carpetbag.

Sam stuck his head inside the wagon.  “Ready?”

Maggie nodded.

Together, they walked to the picket line.

The greenhorns stood between Sam and Alexander, his
gray gelding.  Ellie Lonnegan stepped forward.  “Major, we heard that you’re
planning on taking Maggie back to St. Jo.”

Sam nodded cautiously.  “Yes.”

Ellie put her hands on her hips.  “Then you’re a
fool.  Oh, I know I was upset when my husband died, but Maggie saved the lives
of over a hundred people on this train.  And if you’re worried about a girl
traveling alone, well, she can travel with Tommy and me.”

Tears filled Maggie’s eyes.  She turned to the
Major.

Sam took off his hat.  “Well, now.  I guess it’s
unanimous.”  He turned to Maggie.  “What about California, Maggie?  What will
you do there?”

Maggie tilted her chin up.  “I’ll manage, Major.”

Slowly, Sam smiled.  “Yes, I imagine you will.  That
is, if you don’t want to come back with me and whip the next batch of
greenhorns into shape.”

Maggie’s eyes widened.  “Do you really mean it,
Major?”

He nodded solemnly and held out his hand.  “Is it a
deal, Maggie?”

Maggie nodded and took his hand.

*  *  *

The next day, Maggie woke before dawn.  She lay
still for a long time, afraid to open her eyes, afraid it had been a dream.

“Rise and shine, sleepyhead.”  Ben’s voice shredded
the remnants of her fear.

Maggie sighed and got up.  She ran to the picket
line.

Flynn patted his pocket and looked at her ruefully.

Laughing, she handed him a sugar lump for Scout. 
They walked side by side to Sam’s wagon.

Sam took a sip of his coffee and made a face.  “Frank,
this is the worst coffee I’ve ever tasted.”

Frank put his hands on his skinny hips.  “You said
Maggie’s coffee was the worst you ever tasted.”

Sam turned to Flynn.  “And where were you?”

“Helping Maggie with her team.”

Sam scowled.  “As if Maggie couldn’t hitch up a team
in half the time it takes you.  And you, young lady.  I’ll thank you not to
distract my scout when he has important things to do.”

Maggie’s heart beat very fast.  “Like making coffee?”

For a moment, Sam glared at her.  Then, his
expression softened, and he chuckled.  “Like a hand in a glove," he
muttered.  "Welcome home, Magpie.”

Maggie nodded.  Her heart was too full to speak.

She sat back and listened at the men continued to
bicker among themselves.  For the first time in her life, she
belonged
.

“
Tiyospaye
,” she said softly.

Flynn looked at her.  Slowly, he smiled and nodded. 
“
Tiyospaye
,” he whispered.