Chapter Two
When Teaspoon made it back to the station, he found Rachel and Rebecca in the house. Rebecca looked to be trying to knit a pair of booties. "Rachel, can I speak with my daughter alone, please?" Teaspoon asked tersely.
"Of course," Rachel said, rising. Concern was all over her face, but she left without questioning.
Teaspoon began pacing as his daughter resumed her knitting. Sensing he was upset, Rebecca asked, "Is something bothering you, Pa?"
"Yeah, I should say so." Teaspoon pulled out the Wanted sign and shook it out. He watched Rebecca’s face pale as she asked softly, "Where did you get that?"
"Don’t matter where I got it. What matters is that you’re in a heapload of trouble. Now, you’d better start talking."
Rebecca sighed. Defeat was in her lovely eyes. "My husband beat me, and one night, he tried to kill me. I couldn’t let him kill me, so I shot him first. There was a small handgun on the table and I got to it before I could." She shrugged. "I didn’t really have much choice."
He eyed her skeptically. "That really the way it happened, Becca?"
"I swear," she said desperately. "I had to protect myself and my unborn child. After it happened, I needed someplace to go. I remember you once told me I could stay with you whenever I needed, even though we weren’t that close when I was growing up. I was afraid and I just wanted a place to have my baby." Her hands caressed her swollen stomach. "Are you gonna turn me in?"
"Becca, I don’t want to," Teaspoon said hesitantly. "But you’re wanted. I can’t rightly ignore that."
She clutched his hands in desperation. "I’m not asking you to. All I’m asking is that you let me have my baby in peace. Then I’ll go face whatever is against me."
"Well." Teaspoon pondered the situation carefully. "Since you are with child and you surely can’t have much longer till its born…you can lay low here until it comes."
She wiped a grateful tear from her eyes. "Thank you, Pa. That means a lot to me."
Teaspoon sat down in a nearby chair. "What are you planning to do with the baby, once its born?"
"I’m going to wire my friend, Jillian, in Fort Laramie. I know she’ll take care of it for me. She’s been a great friend."
Rebecca paused, then admitted, "I always thought the birth of my first child would be one of the happiest days of my life. Now I realize it’s going to be one of the saddest. It shouldn’t be that way."
Teaspoon couldn’t help but agree with her; nevertheless, he couldn’t ignore the fact that she was wanted for murder. "You’d better get washed up for supper."
"I’m not hungry," she replied, not looking at him.
Teaspoon wanted to comfort her, but he had never been big on emotions. Instead, he placed a consoling hand on her shoulder before walking out of the house.
Later that same afternoon, a mysterious stranger made his way into the saloon. He calmly ordered whiskey from the bartender, who commented, "Don’t think I’ve ever seen you around before. You new around here?"
"You could say that. Actually, I’m looking for my wife."
"Your wife?" the bartender echoed.
"That’s right. Her name is Rebecca Dalton," the man explained. "Pretty redhead. Happen to see anyone who matches that description?"
"No. Sorry, I haven’t."
"That’s ok." Mark Dalton fingered the gun at his hip as a menacing smile tugged at his lips. "I got all the time in the world to wait for her. I am a very patient man."
To Be Continued…