THE NAME TEDDY FLOOD’S AS WELL KNOWN AROUND THESE PARTS AS MUCH AS HECTOR ESCATON OR WYATT. Everybody knows or knows of Teddy Flood, be it for the right reason or the wrong reason, you couldn’t be sure. People say a lot of bad things about Teddy, but from what Clara’s come to see & know, he seems a sweet, genuine man. A rare thing in this town.

It’s something of a rarity to find him unaccompanied. He’s very popular with the Newcomers -- on her morning walks she often spots him with a band of merry men or with his sweetheart, Dolores. Harriet had been whisked away from her prematurely this morning, & with Bronson back at home she could use the company. Maybe he’d be keen for some, too.

          “     Mornin’, Teddy -- all by yer lonesome this lovely day?     ”

          CLARA’S NOT USUALLY ONE TO WANDER INTO THE MARIPOSA. She’s a simple woman with simple pleasures; rarely -- if at all -- finding them in places like this. But her usual spot in the Tavern was taken up by Newcomers, & as everybody in Sweetwater knows; everybody is welcome in the saloon. 

It’s hard to miss Ms Millay in her usual spot in the centre of the bar, though Clara tries to ignore her ever-piercing gaze as it follows her to the bar. She orders a pot of tea before her own eyes wander to the darker corners, hunting for a quiet place to read with minimal stains. Still, she can’t help the itching feeling of Maeve’s eyes on the back of her neck. She speaks without turning around, hoping the other woman will just tell her to fuck off rather than strike up a conversation. 

          “     ‘s there somethin’ on my face, Ms Millay?     ”

          MISS ABERNATHY WAS ALWAYS A PRETTY SIGHT. There was a lot of terrible people & terrible things in Sweetwater, but she was a ray of light through the dusty grit of the town & its inhabitants. Clara spotted her by her horse, loading some groceries into the saddlebags & noticed a loose can falling from a bag, rolling away through the dust.

Bronson wandered after it, Clara following behind the dog as he picked it up in his jaws & trotted over to the blonde. The teacher offered a smile upon approach; petting Bronson softly atop his head as she greeted Dolores. 

          “     Lovely mornin’, ain’t it, Miss?      ”

          SHE HAD THOUGHT ABOUT THIS DAY FOR FOUR YEARS. Thought about how the day may come when she might be able to avenge her husband’s death. Here stood her opportunity; six foot two & clad in black, with dusty boots & smoking gun. Hector Escaton. Not three feet in front of her.

Clara thought about what her husband might do ( what he HAD done ), & found strength enough to leave the safety of her quiet booth to take a bottle from the gambler’s table to beat the sonuva bitch over the head with.

          “     You no good, dirty, rotten little SNAKE!      ”

          CLARA HAD SOME PREVIOUS EXPERIENCE WITH BANDITS. Not the good kind, of course. Could there ever be such a thing as a good interaction with them? Depending on how optimistic you were, maybe -- maybe leaving a tussle alive WAS a good interaction. She was hoping for something like that as she noticed the dirty woman staring; her faithful pet Bronson growling lowly on his haunches beside her.

          “     Somethin’ Ah can help ya with, Miss...?     ”

Ever the good samaritan, Clara was hoping the other woman would just leave upon being approached. But, who knows? People in this town were far from regular.