6. Clashes and Conversations

I shifted my skirts and adjusted my hat before reaching the Post Office door. It was a rather small building, with just one window in the front, were people would come and collect their mail.

"And just where do you think your going young lady?" 

A rather uppity voice called from around the corner. I turned away from the door and walked around, seeing a rather plump, blonde woman leaning out of the window. She wore wire-rimmed glasses and glared at me unwaveringly.

"I asked you a question"

"Oh, I'm sorry, I.......I was just about to enter the Post Office." "I wanted to find out about my aunt, where she lives I mean," I said shyly.

"Well, we don't just hand out information like that to strangers, what kinda uncivilized people do you think we are?" "And we don't allow people back here, its just for us postal workers".

"Oh......well, I don't think your uncivilized, its just I was looking for my aunt, her name is Margaret Lewis, and well......you see, I actually lost my par-"

"Alright, alright, I ain't now judge, don't need to hear all your problems, got plently of my own."  "Shush up and let me see what I can find," and with that she turned and walked further into the building.

"I hope not everyone here is like her", I mumbled to myself, as I walked over and waiting by the window. I glanced across the street, trying to see myself fitting in here, looking in at shop windows, buying things, making friends.....

"Here",

I jumped at the sound of her voice and turned back around. She had a rather displeased look on her face and held out a small piece of paper. I took it and read what was written.

Miss Margaret Lewis

107 Willow Lane

Pepper Creek, Kansas

"Thank you but you see I'm new here and I don't really know where this road is or any for that matter. Do you think you perhaps you could get someone to take me out and......."

Her face turned into a disgusted look and she leaned out closer out the window and said in a loud voice

"What do I look like?" "A driver for poor, little lost girls?" " I most certainly am not, and you listen here missy, I..........."

All of a sudden, a new, deep voice enter my ears and I turned to see where it came from.

"Hey, easy there Lil, this here is a new visitor to our fine town and here you go scaring the poor thing when she has barely been in town an hour, cut her a break."

It was my mystery man.

I didn't say a word. I turned back around to face Lil, and tried to fix my hair in an effort to distract attention to my face, which was now a bright crimson. Lil turned to me, then him, then me and finally him again.

"Oh, get off your high horse Trooper"

She said with exagrassion and ducked back in the building and slammed the window. I must have jumped at the sound because right after, Trooper turned to me and said,

"Hi, I'm Trooper Finch, sorry about ole Lil, Lil Jones that is, she's not as nasty as she seems once you get to know her," and as if to convince me, smiled sweetly.

"Thank you, I was rather unprepared for her............"

"Attack?" he finished, now fully grinning from ear to ear.

"Yes....her attack,"

"No problem, but you could tell me what your name is,"

"Oh, I said, embarressment flooding me once more.

"My....my name Tara Holden."

"Pleasure to meet you Miss Holden."

"And you as well Mr............"

"Finch, but please, it sounds so old, call me Trooper, if you would be so kind,"

"Then you must call me Tara,"  I insisted.

"Fine, Tara it is," he said and continued to smile.

"You mind me asking how you have a relation to our little town?" he said kindly.

"Well, actually my parents were killed in a wagon accident about a week ago and with no other family, I have come to find my Great-Aunt Margaret," I said, trying not to dwell on the reminder of my parents.

He reached over a placed an encouraging hand on my shoulder, and as I looked into his face, I saw a sincere look of compassion and sympathy.

"I'm truly sorry."

"Thank you."

You  know, maybe I can help you,"

I looked up in surprise.

"Really, don't you have to work........or.....or something?"

"Actually, I work at part-time at the sherriffs office and own my own ranch, but today's my day off and I've been awful bored till I saw a very distressed young lady," he said, winking.

I smiled and said,

"I would greatly appreicate any help,"

"Great, let me get my wagon down the street a spell, and I'll take you out to help you find your aunt's house"

And with that he took off down the street.

"Trooper!", Called the rather gruff and dingy looking town drunk. He was round and had a dirty, brown beard that fell onto his chest. He wore the most ugliest tan hat that had a large burn mark on the side and his hair stuck out from around the hat.

"Yes, Mr. Lawson"

Say, who's that pretty little gal you were talking to jest now"

"Her names Tara Holden and she is looking for her relative", Trooper replied, trying to keep the conversation short and restrain from telling too much about Tara.

"Relative hu, well now, I might just be that long-lost relative she's looking for." "Take me over there and introduce us boy," Jake Lawson said with a crooked grin.

"I'm sorry sir, but we have an erron to run and I don't think she would like for you, the town drunk, to be one of the first people she meets in our otherwise lovely, little town."

"Here there boy, no need to get nasty." "And I ain't the town drunk"

"Really?", "Then what's with the whiskey bottle in your back pocket?" said Trooper, motioning to Jake's bulging pocket.

Uh.....well.......ole Sam had an awful pain in his back and I was jest taking this over to him," replied Jake quickly, tucking his hand behind his back and into his pocket, a pitiful effort to hide the ever-present and noticeable bottle.

"Uh hu, well, like I said I have to be going."

"Now wait a minute here boy, I am your elder and asking you to do me a favor and you....." Jake said wagging his finger in Trooper's direction.

But his voice was drown in the sound of hoof beats and wagon wheels.

"Young people these days, no respect for their elders", he mumbled, taking the whiskey bottle out of his pocket and uncorking it, allowing the strong liquid to course down his throat.