©2002 by Kathy
Sweetwater's newly-appointed marshal, Teaspoon Hunter, stood outside his office sipping coffee as he watched the stagecoach from Blue Creek making its way into town. It had rained almost non-stop for a week, and the mud sprayed up from the wheels. Always a good idea to see who comes in on the stage, he thought. I might find Kansas' most wanted desperado on the Sweetwater stage. The thought amused him. You just never know. Besides when Barnett, his inept but well-meaning deputy was sweeping, it was a good idea to get out of the way.
The stagecoach pulled up outside Thompkins' General Store. A blonde woman got off, obviously moving with difficulty, but with a look of determination on her face. Her pale blue blouse was a little lower than that usually worn by a 'good' woman without being offensive. Her blonde hair was in the usual bun, but not so tightly held in as to make her appear severe. Indeed, the state of déshabillé suited her. She was easily the most beautiful woman Teaspoon had seen for quite some time. I wonder why she's limping, he thought. What a pity.
She looked about, then began to make her slow, obviously painful way to the hotel. The young schoolteacher, Matthew Wilson, walked up to the blonde woman and spoke to her, obviously offering to carry her luggage. She smiled and nodded, handing him her small bag. No-one else got off the stagecoach so Teaspoon shook emptied the dregs of his coffee into the street, turned and went inside. Not much marshalling to do today. Nice and quiet, just right for a little nap. Then I'll have another think about getting a new cook for the waystation.
Teaspoon Hunter was also the manager for the Sweetwater Pony Express waystation. Ever since the firm of Russell, Majors & Waddell had come up with the idea for the fastest mail service between a and St. Joseph, Missouri and Sacramento, California, Teaspoon's life had been, well, interesting, to say the least. Playing mentor to the likes of Jimmy Hickok and William F. Cody was something akin to trying to control a herd of wild buffalo.
The job had been easier with the help of Emma Shannon, the owner of the waystation property and the cook, washer, cleaner and all-round mother to the boys, who were mainly orphans, as dictated by Russell' Majors and Waddell's policy. But when the previous marshal, Sam Caine, got promoted to Territorial marshal, Emma decided she couldn't face life without him and went and married him. She could at least have arranged for someone to feed the boys until I found someone permanent, Teaspoon grumbled. Hickok's cookin' gets worse everyday.
So far, despite Teaspoon's and the boys' best efforts, they'd been unable to find anyone suitable. Either the women had been rude, lazy or just plain unable to handle the riders. The boys' high-spirited natures, that made them all so good at their job, did make them a little hard to handle. In desperation, Teaspoon had inserted an advertisement in several of the nearby towns' newspapers, but as yet nothing had come of it. He was getting very tired of gruel. The dust from Barnett's so-called sweeping tickled his nose as he went in. Damn, Barnett can't even sweep right. Still can't understand why Sam kept him on.
"Barnett, go for a walk and make sure everythin's alright, will you?
"But Teaspoon, I just got back!" The whiny voice just irritated Teaspoon even more.
"I don't care Barnett. That's just the time someone will try sumthin' 'cos they don't think you'll be back then to see them do it, see?"
"All right Teaspoon, if you say so," Barnett left, his confusion plain on his face. Teaspoon sat in the old chair, put his booted feet up on the desk, tipped his battered hat over his eyes and promptly began to snore.
As she slowly and very, very carefully climbed the stairs to her hotel room, Rachel Dunne heaved a sigh of relief. The chains about her ankles hadn't clinked once. I've done it! I've escaped. Now if I can just get the job at the Pony Express station. No-one will ever expect to see Rachel Dunne hire on anywhere as a cook. As a gambler, certainly. Maybe even, if worse came to worst, something else. But never as a cook.
Inside her room, she smiled to herself as she washed the mud from her face. She was still attractive, which would certainly help her get the job. If only it's still open. It will be good to be someone respectable. She didn't dare to think about what might happen if it was already taken. She was out of money and out of places to go.
It had been two months since she escaped from the Blue Creek sheriff's posse. Sheriff McLellan had arrested RachelDunne for the murder of Tom Browning, the son of a well-to-do merchant in Blue Creek; a merchant who recognised the value of having the law on one's side - or at least, the sheriff. Sheriff McLellan knew I only shot Tom Browning in self-defence, she thought angrily. Tom's brother, Thad had drawn first and shot Rachel's husband, Henry Dunne, over and some money she had legitimately taken from him. She replayed the scene in her mind.
Hearing the shots, Rachel had run out of the house with an old Colt Henry kept for emergencies. Her frantic shot missed Thad but hit Tom square in the chest. He died instantly. The other Brownings had gone to their father, who used his 'influence' on McLellan to get Rachel arrested. Fortunately, the posse included a young deputy on whom Rachel been able to exert her considerable charm and she got away, although with chains on her ankles.
Over the last two months, she'd learned how to walk so the chains didn't clink and used her beauty to get men to buy her meals without ever getting what they expected for their trouble. But now the little money she had was gone. Henry Dunne had rescued her from herself, and the last thing she wanted to do was to go back to her old life. The job at the Pony Express was her last hope. I'm so tired of running.
Twenty minutes later Teaspoon was woken by the blonde woman who got off the stage. "Mr. Hunter? Mr. Hunter?" The smile on her face showed her amusement at finding Sweetwater's marshal sound asleep at ten o'clock in the morning. It made her more beautiful than ever.
" Huh! Oh, erţ Yes, yes, Ma'am." The marshal stood quickly.
"Marshal Teaspoon Hunter at your service." He bowed, touching his hat. "How may I help you, Ma'am?"
"I'm Rachel Dunne. I saw the advertisement in the 'Blue Creek Gazette' for the job of cook. I want to apply for the job."
"I see. Well, Ma'am, you'd better come in. Please, sit down." Teaspoon indicated the chair he'd just got up from. As she walked stiffly to the chair, Rachel Dunne was doing her own summing-up of the grizzled man the desk clerk at the hotel had identified as Teaspoon Hunter, marshal of Sweetwater and manager of the Sweetwater Pony Express Station. He's a bit old for marshalling, she thought. Most marshals are usually dead by that age. He's either very, very good with a gun or, if he's anything like McLellan, in the pocket of someone who makes sure he doesn't have to do any REAL marshalling. She put on her most engaging smile, the one that made the men forget their cards and concentrate solely on her.
"Pleased to meet you, Ma'am." Teaspoon moved easily to help the younger woman sit awkwardly on the chair as he moved it in for her. He showed none of his dismay at her affliction. Just think like you're playing poker. Play your cards carefully. Just 'cos she don't get the job don't mean she mightn't like a little male company.
"Can I get you some coffee?"
"No, thank you. I really just want to talk about the job. It is still open, isn't it?" Rachel allowed just a little of her anxiousness into her voice as she carefully lowered herself into the chair. Slowly, slowly, don't let those chains clink.
"Aaah, yes. Thank you for applying, Ma'am." Teaspoon's face smiled, but it didn't reach his eyes.
Damn. That means he's already decided I'm a cripple. I've got to convince him. I've got to find somewhere safe to hide. Rachel made certain that none of her desperation showed as she smiled again at the marshal. Her own years at poker tables made that almost second nature. Her blue eyes looked him over carefully.
For a man in his position, he seems a little, well, odd, she thought, looking at Hunter's unshaven face, the hat still sitting on his head and the dishevelled appearance. His slow Texican accent did not deceive her. Many a fast-thinking man was slow-speaking. It's his eyes - there's a smart man hiding behind those eyes, she realised. To win him over was going to take all the acting talent she possessed.
"I should explain, Mr Hunter. I'm not a cripple. It's just that I fell off a horse last week, and I'm still rather sore." As she spoke Rachel lowered her eyes, pretending an embarrassment she did not feel. "I promise, in a few days I'll be just fine."
Teaspoon's relief showed plainly. Thank God. This woman would make a fine addition to the Pony Express Station. Very easy on the eye.
"Oh. Well, that's , er, that's good. That you'll be better , I mean." Teaspoon seemed to pull his thoughts together. "Well, I guess I'd better start asking you questions, hadn't I? Let's see... Why do you want to get the job?"
Rachel began on her prepared story. Think carefully, say as little as possible and as much of the truth as is safe. Remember, the more truth there is in a lie, the less likely you are to be caught out later on. Here goes.
"I was widowed last month, Mr. Hunter. I have no family. My husband and I moved to Blue Creek just recently and I haven't really had to time to make friends."
The pain she felt when she thought of her husband showed; no lie was needed there. "I just wanted to get away. When I saw the advertisement in the paper it sounded just perfect."
Fair enough, Teaspoon thought. But there's just something... Again he concentrated on finding the right words to say. With a woman that beautiful in front of him, that wasn't simple. " Er.. The job, well, it won't be easy. There's six boys and myself to cook for, wash and clean for. And I have to admit, they can be a little... rambunctious at times."
Rachel's smile reached her eyes for the first time. "I can just imagine. Don't worry, I can handle boys." If only you knew, she thought, thinking of all the times she'd dealt with amorous youngsters in the places she'd had to work in .
She's confident, anyway, thought Teaspoon. That's good. She'll need that, to deal with Cody and Hickok especially. " I'm not sure you understand Ma'am. They, well, they are young and headstrong and there's the odd fight and..."
"And..." Rachel continued to put on a brave face as she waited expectantly, her heart like lead. Please, please don't say I haven't got the job. It's my last hope.
"Well, you're a beautiful woman, if you don't mind me sayin' so, Ma'am. And well, if you're not sure you can manage them. Damn, this isn't going as well as I'd hoped, Teaspoon thought. I'm supposed to be in charge here. 'Course they're good boys,really, they're just..." his voice trailed off.
"Rambunctious, I think you said." Rachel smiled. "I'm sure I can handle them."
"Well, that's fine then. The pay's not much, really, but well, we've become almost a family." Teaspoon's voice became just a little deeper, more confidential. "They're orphans, mostly, and they need a bit of motherin' now and then. A woman's influence, you might say."
Rachel couldn't hide the pain that rose in her eyes. I've just lost my baby, and now I'll have a ready-made family of six. Life's funny. The smile went back up almost immediately. "That sounds just like what I need, Mr Hunter. When can I start?"
She's too eager. What's she hiding? Teaspoon's instinct for people, which made him such a good marshal, rarely steered him wrong. She's not a bad woman, but she's sure in trouble. Well, ain't none of us perfect. He made his decision. "If you're sure Ma'am, we can leave right away. I've got the wagon right outside. The boys are sure lookin' forward to a home-cooked meal."
Teaspoon stopped short as he helped Rachel to her feet. Her heart seemed to stop beating as she waited for his next words. Now what? Did the chains clink? Does he know? "Er, you can cook, can't you Ma'am?"
What a relief! The reprieve made Rachel's laugh completely genuine.
"Yes, Mr. Hunter, I can cook."
Teaspoon waited for Rachel to begin walking, then moved to her side. Thank God. A real meal tonight. I can't wait. "Good. Those boys eat like there's no tomorrow. I'll help you get your things."
"No need. I only have a small bag. I'll meet you outside, Mr. Hunter."
"Teaspoon, Ma'am. The name's Teaspoon. I'll just be a minute, while I find my deputy. Have to let him know I'll be gone for awhile." He went off, yelling for Barnett at the top of his voice.
Rachel returned to the hotel, exultant. I got it! I got the job! The Brownings will ever find me in Sweetwater, at least, not working for a respectable firm like Russell, Majors & Waddell. I'm free. And her heart sang as she made her way slowly, carefully up the stairs to get her bag.
