Chapter 24

Johnny Dogs lifted the canvas flap of the bivouac and recoiled slightly as the dense musky odour of sweaty young men invaded his nostrils. He'd grown up under canvas himself though, so although the smell was ripe it was familiar rather than offensive. Scratching at the end of his nose absentmindedly, he peered inside.

The youngest Shelby was right near the front, nestled in a tangle of rough blankets and sheepskins along with two of the unmarried Lee boys. He was laid flat-out on his back with his arms thrown out wide, as relaxed as a babe in its crib. His slow, steady breathing indicated that he was deeply asleep.

Finn looked as hale as he had been the last time Johnny had seen him - and it was clear from the smile that split his sweet, sun-warmed face that he was dreaming of something interesting. Johnny Dogs snorted in amusement when he looked more closely and saw just how 'interesting' it appeared to be.

He could guess was running thorough the lad's head right now, and he could hardly blame him. Molly was a choice piece alright. She had a talent for shoeing and, from Finn's blushing whispers, it seemed like she knew a woman's business well enough. The girl wasn't beautiful but a wise man soon learned to look beyond the things that faded.

Johnny had watched the pair's relationship develop over the last couple of months – the shy courtship, the blushing, the gifts of food, the new swagger that occasionally overwhelmed Finn's natural reticence. He was too cynical to find it romantic but knew that the lad was both smitten and struggling with what to do next.

Finn was in an awkward position. He wasn't the 'love 'em and leave 'em' kind, like his brothers. On the other hand, if he took a gadgie girl like Mollie to wife, he risked causing issues with clans linked to the Shelby's such as the Lees – and loss of face was a serious problem.

Even a diplomat like Johnny, who looked on the lad like a nephew, couldn't think of a way to keep everyone happy if Finn decided to make a permanent thing of his relationship with the nailer girl. So, he watched and waited… and now he came to force the lad to make a decision, even if only by default. It was almost a shame to rouse him but needs must.

Reaching forward with the tip of one grimy boot, Johnny Dogs prodded Finn awake.

'Wake up now, boy. There's business to be done an' Tommy's callin' ya home.' Johnny Dogs' dark eyes sparkled with excitement even in the pre-dawn light. There was money to be made and he was keen to get as much of it for himself as he could.

Finn woke with a groan and ground the heels of his hands against his eyes. Blinking up at his brother's most trusted friend, who loomed above him in the half-light, he gave him a half-hearted glare.

'At this time of day?' He growled, sitting up and pulling some of the blankets over himself in an effort to cover his erection. 'What's his bloody rush?'

'Tommy's got himself a new hobby.' Johnny chortled to himself. 'You're off to the footba'!

Finn groaned and rolled his eyes. His brother had become involved all kind of strange new shit since he'd got into politics - and that wasn't the worst of it. Recently, he'd been getting harder, more unstable. He was almost as bad now as he had been right after he had been demobbed in 1918. Even the devoted Lizzie was finding it hard to bite her tongue over his behaviour.

Tommy had tried taking the family legit. When that had failed, he'd tried simply cutting his brothers off from the shadier side of the business. Unfortunately, Michael had fucked all that up by losing most of the family's clean money in the Wall Street crash. Tommy was being forced to diversify and so god only knew what this new wheeze was about. Finn doubted it was anything he would enjoy.

Above all, Finn was not pleased to have been woken up so early and, though he couldn't put words to it, he wasn't keen to be taken away from his burgeoning relationship with Molly either. At the beginning he'd thought that familiarity would take the edge off his desire for her, but the more time he spent with her, the more he wanted.

Almost entirely against his will she had become an all-encompassing need; as vital to his survival as his family, oxygen, or one of the tasty stews the Lee women cooked up in a succession battered tins over the campfire. Part of him was excited by the novelty of it. Part of him was terrified of the power it had over him. He hardly dared think what Tommy would say if he told him.

Molly now invaded his thoughts constantly and almost anything could trigger a flash of desire: the swish of a girl's kilted skirts as she laid out the clean laundry to dry; the crackle of a banked cook-fire; the scent of horseflesh. Even the sting of nettle leaves on his skin could leave him with an erection that could knock down walls.

If anything, the nights were worse. More than once one of his tent mates had elbowed or kicked him for disturbing them with one of his nocturnal fantasies. That morning had been no exception.

When Johnny arrived, Finn had been in the grip of a very intense dream in which Molly was instructing him in the art of shoeing horses. In the heat of the forge, she had stripped completely naked, and her sweaty, soot-smudged body had glistened enticingly in the light from the coals as she bent and twisted, then swung her hammer to form iron into whatever shapes she required. He had wanted very badly to fuck her but each time he had reached for her she had laughed and slipped out of his grasp.

The ache of frustrated lust had remained with him as he woke, and his embarrassed attempts to cover his erection whilst talking to Johnny Dogs had only served to disturb his tent mates further. With bad grace, and a series of cutting observations, they had begun their usual dawn chorus of farts, yawns, and oaths.

Watching on, Johnny sniggered at Finn's discomfort, and then said something obscene in Shelta which set the Lees to laughing.

With bad grace and flaming cheeks, Finn began to pack.