The Five Dollar Mail Book 3: The Road Home

95: Criminal Element

Cover painting by Angela Taratuta. Chapter artwork of Iris composed of found images 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.

Sorry I'm late this week, got a lot going on and I literally forgot what day it was. Hope you all are having a pleasant holiday season. Happy Hanukka and Solstice to those that celebrate!

Iris was glad it was too dark on the boarding house porch for Mr. Monahan to see her face. She knew it was red, heat flushing in her cheeks and causing her collar to stick to the back of her neck. She didn't know if her discomfiture was from the fact that he was sitting on the porch rail holding a wanted poster with her picture on it, or from the fact that she now knew about the lean ripples of muscles across his belly, and how they crested like a wave over his hip before curving beneath the waist of his trousers. She drew the back of her hand across her brow, desperately trying to settle her jangled nerves.

I cannot believe he just lifted up his shirt like that and... His scar had lanced like jagged bolt of lightning under the sweep of his rib. She blinked, forcing away the memory. The man just told me was a criminal in a gang...and now he knows I'm not much better. It could be over for me...and what I am preoccupied with is...is... She cleared her throat, focusing on the hazy shadows of his face. "Now you know," she said, slowly letting out a breath between her lips. "I'm not judging you, Mr. Monahan. I hardly have that right."

"It's alright, lass," he muttered, keeping his voice low. "You canna blame me for being a bit banjaxed."

"I owe you an explanation," she said, rocking forward in the chair, leaning close to him. "I'm sorry I was so...I'm just...not very good at this. I never would have imagined things would go this far."

He shook his head. "You owe me nothing, Miss Sullivan. I've been lying to you from the start, so I have."

"So have I," She shook her head, feeling her eyes. burn. "I'm sorry. I didn't know what to do. I wasn't..." she huffed, she chest clenching with a bitter laugh that was more of a sob. "I wasn't cut out to be a thief, or a liar." She dabbed her eyes with her sleeve, the words rolling out of her in a gush. It was terrible and wonderful to be able to finally talk about it. "I never meant to be like this. Things just got out of control and I didn't know what to do."

"Lass." Mr. Monahan drew in a deep breath, the shadow of his rangy shoulders rising and then falling. "I didn't set out to be an ignorant, gun toting criminal, either. Sometimes we don't have a lot of sodding choices." He reached into the breast pocket on his shirt, pulled out a crisp handkerchief, and handed it to her.

She dabbed at her eyes with the linen square, the scent of laundry soap and leather and gunpowder filling her senses. "I didn't come out here looking for work," she mumbled. "I was an accountant in Saint Joseph. I worked for the coach line." She sighed, a great, shuddering gust of regret rattling through her. "A man was courting me. He was a fine man." She nodded, looking up at Mr. Monahan, and giving him a tight smile. "He had children. I grew very fond of them."

Mr. Monahan was looking at her intently, letting her talk. She could see him nod, shifting to a more comfortable position on the porch rail. I can't believe I actually thought, even briefly, that this man might actually be thinking of calling the law on me. And I will never forgive myself for thinking of him as an outlaw when it's me with my face on a poster. "My beau died in an accident."

"Aw, lass. I'm sorry, so I am."

She nodded, pressing on. "Thank you. His family was back east, in Virginia. There was no money...and so..." She'd never spoken of it, never told another soul what she'd done. Somehow, speaking it aloud made it too real, too terrible. "I...uh...I...embezzled some money...I had to buy the children safe passage. It..." She pressed the handkerchief to her lips, steadying herself. "It was the most important thing to me, that the children were safe and looked after. Jeremiah had a married sister, she wanted the children to come live with her. I didn't know what else to do."

The gunman slouching on the porch rail cocked his head, and there was an almost incredulous tone in his voice. "Miss Sullivan..." he said. "Are you telling me stole money from California and Pike's Peak and you're hiding out here? In Green River?"

"Yes! I didn't know what else to do. I knew the coach line because I worked for the company. That's...well, that's how I knew you didn't."

"Green River, as in 'Green River that Contains a California and Pike's Peak Coach Station'?" She could tell he was grinning, in spite of everything. "That Green River?"

She laughed, her voice coming out in a sobbing hiccup. "I told you I wasn't very good at being a criminal."

"Jaysus, lass!" He scratched his unshaven chin, shaking his head. "You've got some sand, so you do!"

Thanks for reading! If you are enjoying this story, please let me know by giving me a star or a comment! I appreciate your support!