Emma hummed softly to herself as she prepared for the night. The rain drummed against her window, making traces on the surface, which reflected the soft light from the candle on her bedside table. She looked wistfully at the book, hoping to be able to read a few pages before sleep overtook her. It had been a long day. The rain had made the trails muddy. Teaspoon had stopped all rides until the weather got better after Kid had returned covered in mud, explaining that the trails south were washed away.

For the first time in weeks, all riders were at the station and unaccustomed to the overcrowded bunkhouse, there had been several disagreements and toes stepped on. For Emma, it had been a constant rush to settle disputes and calm over-heated emotions. Now, a quiet evening with a good book and a good night’s sleep seemed like paradise.

She sighed contentedly as she removed her shawl from her shoulders and hung it on the chair, when somebody knocked loudly on the front door. Muttering something about her riding troublemakers, she wrapped the shawl around her and with the candle in her hand she marched to the door.

"Can't you even go to bed without starting a ruckus?" she stated as she flung the door open.

Immediately she stopped in her tracks. On her porch wasn't one of her riders. On her porch stood a young girl, drenched to the skin, with a sullen expression on her face. Water dripped from her dark hair, which hanged in wet ringlets around her face, onto the boards creating a puddle of water. She was pale and dirty and her clothes had seen better days. However, she stared defiantly at Emma with gray eyes that had seen more than her young age gave an account for. Emma was stunned for a few seconds, before she found her tongue.

"What are you doing here?" she asked with a frown. A young girl shouldn't be out wandering in the middle of the night.

"My name's Rawnie. I'm looking for my uncle," she replied. "Aloysius Hunter."

***

Emma took the coffee pot off the stove and filled the two cups on the kitchen table before seating herself. Picking up the cup, she carefully blew on the hot coffee before looking at the man opposite her.

"So, is she who she says she is?" she asked gently.

Teaspoon shrugged. "I have no reason to doubt her story," he said tiredly. "For all I know, it might as well be true. My brother and I went our separate ways 18 years ago, and she can't be more than - what, sixteen or seventeen years old."

He thankfully accepted his second cup of coffee for the night. It felt almost like an eternity since Emma had come to get him from his shed. Over a cup of coffee, he and Emma had heard the young girl's explanation as to why she had appeared on Emma's doorstep in the middle of the night.

Rawnie hadn't said much, except that her mother was dead and that she was looking for her father, Logan Hunter. Her only lead had been her mother’s stories about her father and his older brother, Teaspoon. When she had found out where Teaspoon was after a long time searching, she had taken the last of her Mama's savings and traveled to Sweetwater. She had run out of money buying the stagecoach ticket, so she had walked the long way from town out to the station.

Upon hearing this, Emma had immediately sent the girl upstairs to get out of the wet clothes and into bed, explaining that they would sort everything out in the morning. However, still curious about Teaspoon's brother since she had never heard the stationmaster mentioning anything about any relatives, Emma had offered Teaspoon another cup of coffee after the girl had left them.

"You think your brother left them?" Emma asked with a hint of a frown.

"Logan was always in trouble," Teaspoon confessed. "I did my best to keep him out of it, but I'm afraid I failed. It wouldn't surprise me if he had."

"So do you know where he is now?"

Teaspoon turned away and gazed out the window for a second, reminiscing about the past. It wasn't too long ago he had received the letter informing him of his brother's death. He turned back too Emma.

"He's dead. He was sent to prison for shooting a man in the back and was killed in a ruckus inside the prison only three months ago."

Emma looked sympathetically at him. She reached out and placed her hand over his. "I'm sorry," she said softly.

"It didn't come as a surprise." Teaspoon smiled wearily at her words. "I wish it would have been different, but some things in life you can't change." Something in his words, told Emma he was feeling guilty and she smiled at him.

"You know, she can stay her for as long as you like."

"Thank you, Emma, I appreciate that. I guess I better find a way to tell her that her father is dead first. Then we'll see what we can do. Maybe some of her mother's relatives can take her in, or we can find a place for her to stay. A Pony Express station ain't really a place for a girl."

***

Rawnie carefully rose from the top of the stairs where she had been eavesdropping.

So her father was dead. Well, she hadn't really expected anything else. From what her mother told her, he'd been nothing but a troublemaker and there had never been any love between them. He had paid for her services - enough for her to stay as his kept lady for six months until he ran out of money and headed out.

When she had told Emma and Teaspoon her story, she had deliberately left out that her mother had been a prostitute. Her mother had occasionally spoken of her father, certain that his family was rich. In fact, that was one of the reasons why Rawnie had looked him up. She needed money and she had no wish following in her mother's footsteps. She had seen what happened to women who sold their bodies. Eventually they sold more than a few hours of their bodies, they sold their souls. She had gazed in the empty eyes of older prostitutes, seeing the lack of life in there and vowed never to end up like that. And the only way out was with enough money.

She felt a deep disappointment when she finally had stood face to face with her uncle. He certainly didn't look rich and he apparently wasn't even the owner of the ranch. The young woman was. She shrugged. It didn't really matter. She wasn't welcomed here; that much she had realized from listening in.

She bit her lip hesitantly. It would have been nice to find somebody who cared for her. Part of her, a part of her that she tried not to acknowledge, desperately wanted to find a family, a family that would stand by her no matter what. Well, if her uncle didn’t want her around, he didn't have to worry. All she wanted was whatever money she could get and she'd be on her way. She quietly made her way back to the guestroom as she tried to ignore the black stone that had settled in her chest.