Courage to Love (Flynn Family Saga) Read Free Page B

the corral.  As usual.  And I'm going to pay you $200, the same as Sam did."
    "What about Billy?"
    Maggie snorted.  "I should charge you for training him."
    Ben shook his head.  "I taught him everything I know..."
    The two friends dickered amiably over Billy's salary and came up with $50.  They shook hands on it.
    "$50?"  Billy's eyes widened.  "I've never even seen that much money."
    Maggie thought of the empty rangeland, a few miles north of Ben's ranch house.  She thought of the barbed wire and riders with guns who kept Ben's cattle and horses from grazing there, and the stubbornness of Terence Barclay, the man who owned the land and refused to sell.  She sighed.  "Well, you will at the end of this trip, Billy."
    Billy nodded and smiled.
    *  *  *
     Six weeks later, the Flynn wagon train camped beside the Blue River.  Forty-eight wagons stood alone, a small, fragile circle of light against the darkness.
    Ben took a forkful of stew and made a face.  “Frank, that’s the worst stew you’ve ever made.”
    “Yeah?  Well, if you and Flynn would get me some fresh meat, I could make you a real stew.”
    Flynn took a sip of the coffee and made a face.  “Frank, did you even bother to measure how much coffee you put into this?”
    “Well, if you’d stop spooning with your new wife, you could make the coffee.”  Frank winked at Maggie to let her know he wasn’t serious.
    Maggie smiled back.  The familiar banter was as comforting as the return of spring.
    And then, suddenly, an arrow appeared out of the darkness, a burning torch that struck her wagon and kindled the canvas into flame.
    Frank picked up the coffee pot and tossed the contents onto the flames.  Maggie ran to the side of the wagon and plunged a bucket into the water barrel.
    Flynn took the bucket from her hand.  “I’ll take care of the wagon.  You take care of the people."
    Maggie nodded.  “Ben, you go left.  Barricades and water and rifles.”
    “Yes ma’am.”
    Maggie picked up the rod and clanged it around and around the inside of the metal triangle that hung from the wagon.  “Indians!  This is not a drill, people.  Get your weapons.  Abby!”
    Abby Barrett ran up to her.  “Yes, Maggie?”
    “You get the women and children and bring them to the center of the circle.”
    Abby nodded.  She ran to the next wagon, while Maggie and Ben supervised the building of barricades.  Frank organized the bucket brigade, while Flynn made sure that everyone had rifles and ammunition.
    Despite the pounding of her heart, Maggie noticed how smoothly they worked together, and she felt a thrill of pride.
    And then, she heard the war cries.  She shivered and pumped her own rifle.  “Don’t fire until you get my signal!”
    She drew a deep breath and let it out slowly.  A little of the tension ebbed out of her.  Her hands were steady, and her pulse slowed to normal.
    The moments crawled by.  Then, she saw the first warrior, lit by the light of the fire.  His face was streaked with brightly colored paint.  She swallowed hard and waited until he was so close even David Ellis couldn’t miss him.  “Fire!”
    Rifles fired in a ragged volley.  The Lakota warriors fell, silently.  As Maggie watched, the lead horse struck his fallen rider’s head with his left hind foot, crushing the man’s skull.  She winced and fired again, and another young man fell.  Maggie lost count of the number of times she fired, but not of the men who fell.
    Finally, the cries ended.
    Two dozen Lakota lay dead around the wagons.
    Maggie swallowed hard.  “Flynn, these men belong to your brother’s tribe.  What happened?”
    His face was as hard as stone.  “I don’t know.”
    She sighed.  Still carrying her rifle, she turned to check the dead and wounded.  Mary Ellis had a flesh wound, but Peter and David were unharmed.
    “Mrs. Flynn!  You should have seen Mama!  She stood there and loaded the rifle with blood dripping down her arm!”