Dangerous Men (Flynn Family Saga Book 2) (22 page)

Maggie nodded.

Sam stood in front of Flynn. 
"Take care of her, son."

Take care of Maggie for me. 
Please.
  Flynn remembered the day Maggie's grandfather spoke those words to
him, and he shivered.  He nodded once.  "I will, Sam."

Sam smiled at him and squeezed his
shoulder.

Maggie mounted Patches and Flynn
mounted Wakta.  They rode out of the gate and down the trail side by side, and
despite his misgivings, Flynn was happy.  He reached over and took Maggie's
hand.

They traveled slowly, enjoying the
countryside and each other’s company.  Then, it began to snow.

Fear gripped him, like the iron
jaws of a bear trap.  He tried to keep his face expressionless, but Maggie
reached over and touched his hand.  “Flynn?”

“It’s nothing,” he said in clipped
tones.

Maggie bit her lip.

That night, they camped halfway
down the trail.  Flynn built a fire and hunched over it, shivering.  Maggie
knelt beside him and put her arm around him.  “Are you all right?”

Flynn nodded.

“Liar,” she said softly.

Flynn grimaced.  “You know me too
well.”

Maggie shook her head.  “Not nearly
well enough.”  She sighed.  “I hope we both live to be a hundred years old. 
Maybe that’ll be long enough."

Flynn laughed and put his arms
around her.  He held her tightly, and slowly, the shivering stopped.

That night, they did not make love.

Flynn lay awake a long time.  Every
time he closed his eyes, he saw the edge of the trail coming closer and closer.

Eventually, he slept.

He dreamed of the day he fell.  It
was cold, and snow fell in large, wet flakes.  He watched them melt on Scout’s
neck as the stallion trotted up the trail.  Then, Scout slipped.  He started to
fall—and woke with a start.

His missing foot throbbed in time
to the thudding of his heart.

Finally, he got up.  The air was
bitterly cold, and the wind howled like a lost soul.  The icy wind dried the
sweat on his face and body.  Slowly, his heartbeat returned to normal, but the
feeling of desolation remained.  Flynn pulled up his pants’ leg and stared at
his stump.  Revulsion rose in his throat, like bile.  A part of him was gone,
and he could not grieve, had not been able to cry since he was five years old.

Maggie touched his back.  “Flynn?”

“This was a mistake.”

“What was?  Coming here?”

He shook his head.  “Marrying you.”

Her breath caught.

“Why?”

He turned to her.  “Because you
deserve better.”

Maggie tilted her chin up.  “I want
you, Flynn.  Only you.”  She took his hand and tugged.  Her hand was strong and
warm and brown from the sun.  Flynn remembered his dream of the white house
with lace curtains, and the touch of a woman’s hand.  Tears filled his eyes,
and he buried his face in her hair.  Maggie reached up and cupped his face with
her hands.  She drew him down to her mouth and kissed him.  She led him back to
the fire and pulled him down onto their bedroll.  She ran her hands down his
chest.  He was already aroused, but when she touched him, he felt as if he
became his desire.  He gasped.

She stopped.  “I’m sorry.  Did I
shock you?”

He shook his head, unable to
speak.  He kissed her again, and his hands moved swiftly over her body.  Her
clothes fell away.  Then his.  Then, he took her.  Or she took him.  He could
no longer tell where he stopped and Maggie began.  Their lovemaking was a
fierce affirmation of life.  And when they shattered, together, he felt as if
he was falling again, but this time, he wasn’t afraid.

He knew that Maggie would catch
him.

He fell asleep, wrapped her arms.

*  *  *

They boarded the train at Sacramento. 
Patches trotted right into the boxcar, but Wakta eyed it suspiciously.  Two
months later, they rode into the hidden valley where Flynn and Alexander
Ridgeton had built their cabin.  The sky was darkening by the time they reached
the valley.  There was a lean-to for the horses, and a stack of firewood.

Beside him, Maggie’s breath
caught.  “Oh, Flynn!  It’s perfect!”  She turned to him.  “Did you really build
it yourself?”

“Well, Alexander Ridgeton helped a
little.”  He grinned at her.

Maggie laughed.

When they reached the cabin, Flynn
slid off Wakta’s side.  Then, he turned and put his hands around Maggie’s
waist.  He lifted her down from her horse and scooped her up in his arms. 
Laughing, he carried her across the threshold.  Inside, he set her on her feet. 
His smile faded slowly, and he regarded her solemnly.  “Welcome home, Mrs.
Flynn.”

Maggie’s face reddened slightly. 
“Thank you, Mr. Flynn.”  She turned and her eyes widened.  She ran to the
bookshelves that lined the far wall.  She touched the bindings reverently. 
Then, she turned to him.  “Oh, Flynn!  I hated leaving my grandparents’ books
behind.  I didn’t know you had copies of all my favorites.”

He grinned.  “There’s a lot you
don’t know about me, Maggie.”

Maggie touched his cheek.  “I look
forward to learning.”

He looked away.  “I’ll get the fire
started."

Maggie nodded.  She found a rag and
started to clean the dust from the table and chairs.  She aired the linen while
Flynn brought in firewood.  He picked up his rifle.  “What would you like for
supper, rabbit, deer or fish?”

Maggie shook her head.  “Surprise
me.”

He grinned and left the house.  He
shot a deer and carried it back to the house.  In the doorway, he stopped.

Maggie sat in one of the wooden
chairs.  Light from an oil lamp kindled highlights in her red hair.  She was
reading
A Tale of Two Cities
.

Flynn cleared his throat.  Maggie
turned to him and smiled.  Suddenly, his heart seemed too large for his chest.

He set the deer down on the table
and cut thick steaks.  He placed two of them on an iron grill over the fire. 
Before long, the steaks began to sizzle.  While they cooked, Maggie finished
cutting the meat from the carcass.  She placed it in the cold room and came
back to wash her hands.  Flynn watched her as she warmed the water over the
fire.

She turned and saw him watching
her.  “What?”

He shook his head.  “We work
together so well.  I’ve been alone so long.  I never thought—”  His throat
tightened.

Maggie came over to him.  She
touched his cheek.  “I was so afraid to tell you that I loved you, afraid that
we would lose this.  It’s—it’s one of the things I like best about us.”

“Us.”  Flynn shut his eyes.  “When
Scout fell on me, I thought I was going to lose more than my leg.  I thought
was I going to lose you.”

Maggie kissed him.  “You never gave
up, Flynn.  You kept trying, no matter what.  My red-haired knight.”

He opened his eyes and smiled at
her.  “My red-haired princess.”

The water began to hiss in the pan.

Flynn brought in the flour and made
biscuits.  When the steaks were done, he served them on the tin plates. 
“Later, we can buy real china if you like.”

Maggie shuddered.  “No, thank you.”

He reached across the table and
touched her hand.  “What is it, Magpie?”

"The day my mother died, she
fell and hit her head against the crate that held her china.  I threw it out,
all of it.”

He squeezed her hand.  “These
plates are just fine with me.”

Maggie smiled at him.  When her
plate was empty, she leaned back and sighed.  “That was delicious, Flynn. 
Thank you.”  She stood up and went to her saddlebags.  She took out a crumpled
paper sack.

Flynn stared at it.  “Gum drops?”

She nodded.

He grabbed the sack out of her
hand.  Laughing, she tried to grab it back.  He held it above her head.  Maggie
jumped, trying to reach it.  Flynn brought his arm down and wrapped it around
her waist.  He drew her against him and touched her cheek.  “Thank you,
Magpie.”

Maggie nodded.

Flynn took a gumdrop out of the
sack and popped it into her mouth.

Maggie smiled at him.  “Ank oo.”

Flynn laughed.  “It’s not polite to
talk with your mouth full.”  He popped a gumdrop in his own mouth.

They washed the dishes together. 
Flynn spread a bearskin on the floor in front of the fire.  He brought in more
wood.  He went back out and brought in his saddle.  Then he lowered himself
onto the floor and leaned his head against the saddle.  He held out his arm.

Maggie picked up
A Tale of Two
Cities
and sat next to him.  He put his arm around her shoulders.  She was
soft and warm and
his
.

They sat in silence a while.  The
fire popped and crackled.  Maggie sighed.  “Thank you, Flynn.”

“For what?  A gumdrop?  Because
that’s all you’re getting, you know.  Just one.”

Maggie laughed, but she sobered
quickly.  She looked up at his face.  “For bringing me here.”

He was silent a long time.  “Do you
remember the day it snowed when we were riding back from Princeton?”

Maggie nodded.

“I wanted to bring you here and
never leave again.  But you were only fourteen, and I was afraid you were in
love with Robert Sean Flynn, the legend.  I wanted you to have a chance to grow
up and meet boys your own age.”

“There aren’t any,” she said
dryly.  “They’re all too young for me.”

Flynn laughed.  He kissed her. 
They made love slowly, tenderly, in front of the fire.  And then, they fell
asleep in front of the fire, wrapped in a bearskin rug.

***

Winter ended all too soon.  Maggie cried when they
packed up their gear.

Flynn squeezed her hand.  “We’ll be back next
winter.”

Maggie nodded.  She carried with her a packet of
combs,
A Tale of Two Cities
and hope.

They rode into St. Jo, side by side, so close that
their legs touched.  Flynn looked over at his wife and smiled.  Maggie smiled
back.  He reached over and took her hand and kissed it.

She blushed.

He laughed out loud.  He didn’t know what the future
held, whether anyone would follow a woman and one-legged scout into the
wilderness, but he knew that whatever happened, Maggie would be at his side, to
see it through with him.