Assault of the Mountain Man

Once Rebecca boarded, found her seat, and the train got underway, she reached into her purse to take out the letter. She had picked the letter up at the post office shortly before she left Fort Worth to come visit her aunt Mildred. The letter, which was addressed to her and not to her father, had come as a complete surprise. Her father knew nothing about it, nor did she show it to her aunt Mildred. The letter was from her real mother, and it was the first time in Rebecca’s life she had ever heard from her.

Rebecca’s first instinct had been to tear it up and throw it away, unread. After all, if her mother cared so little about her that she could abandon her when Rebecca was still a baby, why should Rebecca care what she had to say now?

But curiosity got the best of her, so she read the letter. Sitting in the train going back home, Rebecca read the letter again.

Dear Becca,

This letter is going to come as a shock to you, but I am your real mother. I am very sorry I left you when you were a baby, and I am even more sorry I have never attempted to contact you. I want you to know, however, that my not contacting you is not because you mean nothing to me. I have kept up with your life as best I can, and I know you have grown to be a very beautiful and very wonderful young woman.

That is exactly what I expected to happen when I left you with your father. I did that, and I have stayed out of your life because I thought it best. Certainly there was no way I could have given you the kind of life your father has been able to provide for you. But it would fulfill a lifetime desire if I could see you just once. If you can find it in your heart to forgive me, and to grant this wish, you will find me in Dodge City, Kansas. I am married to the owner of the Lucky Chance Saloon.

Your mother,

Janie Davenport

Rebecca knew about her mother. She had been told a long time ago that Julia was her stepmother. But she didn’t know anything about her real mother, and the few times she had asked, she had always been given the same answer.

“Your mother was a troubled soul, and things didn’t work out for her. I’m sure she believed, when she left you, that she was doing the right thing,” Big Ben always said.

“Have you ever heard from her again?” Rebecca wanted to know.

“No, I haven’t, and I don’t expect I will. To tell you the truth, darlin’, I’m not even sure she is still alive.”

That had satisfied Rebecca, and she had asked no more questions until, unexpectedly, she had received the letter.

From that moment, she had been debating with herself as to whether or not she should go to Dodge. And if so, should she ask her father for permission to go? Or should she just go? She was twenty-one years old, certainly old enough to make her own decision.

She just didn’t know what that decision should be.

She read the letter one more time, then folded it, put it back in her reticule, and settled in for the three and one-half hour train trip.

Fort Worth, Texas

The train had arrived in the middle of the night, and when Tom Whitman got off, he wondered if he should stay, or get back on the train and keep going. Six and one-half days earlier he had boarded a train in Boston with no particular destination in mind. His only goal at the time was to be somewhere other than Boston.

As he stood alongside the train, he became aware of a disturbance at the other end of the platform. A young woman was being bothered by two men. Looking in her direction, Tom saw that it was the same young woman he had seen board the train in Marshall.

“Please,” she was saying to the men. “Leave me alone.”

“Here now, you pretty little thing, you know you don’t mean that,” one of the men said. “Why, you wouldn’t be standin’ out here all alone in the middle of the night, if you wasn’t lookin’ for a little fun, would you now? And me ’n Pete here are just the men to show you how to have some fun. Right, Pete?”

“You got that right,” Pete said.

“What do you say, honey? Do you want to have a little fun with us?”

“No! Please, go away!”

“I know what it is, Dutch,” Pete said. “We ain’t offered her no money yet.”

“Is that it?” Dutch asked. “You’re waitin’ for us to offer you some money? How about two dollars? A dollar from me and one from Pete. Of course, that means you are going to have to be nice to both of us.”

“I asked you to go away. If you don’t, I will scream.”

Pete took off his bandanna and wadded it into a ball. “It’s goin’ to be hard for you to scream with this bandanna in your mouth.”

Tom walked down to the scene of the ruckus. “Excuse me, gentlemen, but I do believe I heard the lady ask you to leave her alone.”

Tom was six feet two inches tall, with broad shoulders and narrow hips. Ordinarily his size alone would be intimidating, but the way he was dressed made him appear almost foppish. He was wearing a brown tweed suit, complete with vest, tie, and collar. He was also wearing a bowler hat and was obviously unarmed. He could not have advertised himself as more of a stranger to the West if he had a sign hanging around his neck proclaiming the same.

The two men, itinerant cowboys, were wearing denim trousers and stained shirts. Both had Stetson hats on their heads, and pistols hanging at their sides. When they saw Tom, they laughed.

“Well now, tell me, Dutch, have you ever seen a prettier boy than this Eastern dude?” Pete slurred the word Eastern.

“Don’t believe I have,” Dutch replied. To Tom he said, “Go away, pretty boy, unless you want to get hurt.”

“Let’s hurt him anyway,” Pete said, smiling. “Let’s hurt him real bad for stickin’ his nose in where it don’t