Title: The Swear Jar Chapter 2
Author: Romantique
Email: dolph1n
Classification: Raylan/Winona Family/General
Rating: T for language (but no worse than the show)
Summary: Raylan is a new dad. This one is a stand-alone, not a sequel to 'A Change of Scenery.'
Disclaimer: It's 'Justified' hiatus time, and I'm bored. This fic is based on nothing but my imagination and takes place sometime after the end of Season 3.
Legal: These characters do not belong to me. I'm just a fan and have not made a dime. Please email me to obtain permission to post.
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The next morning ...
Baby Caitlyn awoke at about 6:30 a.m. needing to be fed. After a bottle and a diaper change, Raylan was able to rock her back to sleep in no time. He also returned to bed for a few more winks.
A couple of hours later, his cell phone vibrated in his pocket, as he had fallen asleep in his clothes.
He quickly glanced at the screen and answered, "Givens."
"Raylan?" Art Mullen began. "I need to inform you that Arlo escaped from prison early this morning."
Before Raylan could give Art any guff for bringing up his old man's name, Art quickly added, "You are his next of kin."
"Escaped?" Raylan asked, as he sat upright in bed. "Well, shit," he exclaimed, as he raked his fingers through his hair. "Are you lookin' for Boyd?"
Boyd Crowder was the first thing that came to Raylan's mind upon hearing this news. He honestly didn't know if he was more pissed off at Arlo or at Boyd. Then, he decided he was more pissed at Boyd because Arlo wouldn't have the smarts to pull something like this off.
"We're on it," Art said. "I just thought you'd like to come down here. You know, wait here to be up on the latest."
"I've got the baby, today," he admitted. "Can't I be up on the latest where I am?"
Art was a little perplexed. While he knew Raylan couldn't care less about this father, usually the mention of picking up Boyd Crowder on criminal charges got more a rise out of him.
Catching his boss's awkward silence, Raylan further explained, "I'm over at Gayle's, Winona's sister's house. They're all out of town, and I'm takin' care of my daughter."
"You mean Winona's gone, too?" Art asked.
Raylan exhaled. "She's gone to Bowlin' Green pickin' up some Continuin' Ed credits for her court reportin' certification."
"Oh," Art uttered, finally tracking with his marshal. "Well, I guess you could bring the little one here. Maybe you could talk Rachael or Tim into helpin' you to keep an eye on her?"
Raylan thought about it for few beats. "Give me about half an hour."
And he disconnected the call. He looked over and down into the bassinette. Cait was still sleeping. He made a b-line into the bathroom and took one of the fastest showers he'd ever taken in his life. Afterwards, dressed with hair still damp, he quickly packed the diaper bag and went to the kitchen, where he grabbed a 6-pack of prepared breast milk from the freezer, along with an ice pack, a couple of water bottles, and some sterilized baby bottles. Last but not least, he changed Cait's diaper. Although the messy ones were his least favorite, he thought at least it was less likely the next one would be anything but a wet one.
He then grabbed his phone and his car keys and the base of the carseat. Upon passing the Swear Jar, he said, "Yeah, I owe you one for that 'shit' that slipped out to Art. I'll catch you later."
Raylan quickly ran out to the driveway and strapped the carseat base into the backseat of his car. Taking a quick inventory in his mind, he next went back in the house to the bassinette. He gently placed his slumbering Cait into her infant car seat and grabbed the diaper bag. Only a few minutes later, she was strapped securely in place, and they were ready to go.
The Lexington Office ...
About 45 minutes later, Raylan sauntered into the Marshals Office with Caitlyn in her car seat gently swinging from his one hand and the diaper bag strapped around his other shoulder. As he approached Art's office, he noticed his team was in the glass conference room.
"C'mon in," Art waved his marshal in.
Tim and Rachael were already seated at the conference table with file folders spread out over one end.
"Oh, let me see her," Rachael smiled, as she stood up from her chair.
Peeking into the infant seat, Caitlyn's arms were by her side, her tiny hands clenched in fists. Raylan pulled the handle of the seat around and propped the seat up on top of the conference table next to where Rachael was seated.
Then, the baby's arms flailed in excitment, and she gave Rachael a toothless grin.
Rachael smiled in delight. "She's an angel," she softly said, maintaining eye contact with the babe.
Tim leaned over.
"Looks nothing like you," he observed and reported to Raylan. "Good thing, too. You'd make one ugly girl."
Raylan nodded in agreement.
"I hate to break this little visit up," Art bellowed, "but we need to continue."
The sound of his loud voice startled Cait, and she began to whimper.
"Nice going," Tim quipped to his boss. "You often have that same effect on me."
Rachael reached into the carrier, unlocked the restraint and picked up Cait. Raylan was quick to place a diaper over her shoulder before she pulled the babe in closer ... just in case.
"Shhhhhh," Rachael whispered into Cait's ear, as she patted her back to soothe her.
"Oh, Jeez," Art said, this time in a much softer tone. "I didn't mean to make her cry."
"If you swear or curse in Caitlyn's presence again, you owe her Swear Jar a dollar," Raylan informed Art, as well as Tim. "Not my rule, it's Winona's. Although, I must say ... Cait's got quite the college fund goin'."
"I can't curse in front of a two-month-old baby?" Tim asked in astonishment.
Then, the sharp shooter immediately dug his wallet out of his back pocket, pulled out a twenty, and handed it to Raylan.
"Here," Tim said. "I can't handle the pressure. I'd rather be ahead of the game. Now, I've got 20 slip-ups covered, in advance."
Raylan kindly transferred the money into his wallet.
"That's a good strategy," Raylan remarked. "I should probably go to that payment plan myself."
Now that the baby was calmed down in Rachael's arms, Art took the opportunity to proceed.
"Can we get started now?" he asked. Not waiting for an answer, he continued. "Boyd Crowder has been staying over at your father's Indian Line house with Ava," he reported, glancing over at Raylan. "Since the new Harlan sheriff is a wild card, in terms of his loyalties to Crowder, I'd like you to go over there, Raylan, with Tim to see what you can find out. A State Trooper car will meet you there. If Arlo is there, they have a vested interest in seeing that he goes directly back to prison. You and Tim can transport him. That way, we've got jurisdiction covered. Arlo's escape is a State matter for now, not a local one. We're there to assist the Troopers."
Raylan nodded. He didn't want to go, but he would be the logical one to see if Boyd knew anything or was telling the truth. He glanced over at Rachael.
"Would you watch Cait while I'm gone?" he asked.
"I would if I could," she said, "but I have to go Trumbull for a prison transport."
Art winced, looking at Raylan. "I'm sorry. I forgot Rachael's had this scheduled for a couple of days."
"Well, what about you?" Raylan asked. "Would you come along with me? And maybe Tim could watch her until we get back?"
Tim interjected, holding up his hands as if he was surrendering. "Oh, no. I know nothing about babies."
Raylan then flashed a look back at Art.
"Well, don't look at me," Art defensively shot back. "I'm riding to Trumbull with Rachael. I don't want her going without backup. And besides, Crowder is less likely to be candid if I'm there."
"Well, shit," Raylan hissed, with his hands on his hips.
"That's a dollar for Caitlyn's Swear Jar," Rachael gently reminded him.
"Aw, hell, I already owe one from this morning," Raylan admitted.
"That's two more," Tim chimed in.
"I'll stop by an ATM on my way home and pull out some twenties," Raylan caved. "I think I'd better start payin' up in advance, too."
"What are you going to do with Caitlyn?" Rachael asked, gently placing the baby back in her seat. "You can't take her to Harlan."
"Ohhhh, no," Raylan shook his head with a sullen look on his face. "You are right about that."
Art stood and shoved his hands in his pants pockets. "What are you gonna do?"
Raylan thought for a moment. "Let me make some phone calls, and I'll let you know."
Enroute to Harlan ...
Raylan drove his Lincoln with Cait in her carseat and Tim up front, but first, he had a stop to make.
"You were lucky she was home," Tim commented.
Raylan gave an obligatory nod. He was deep in thought, thinking that Winona would chap his hide if she knew what he was about to do. He decided then and there she would never find out.
He soon reached his destination and drove up into the driveway. Tim waited in the car, while Raylan retrieved Cait in her infant seat, along with her diaper bag. He pulled the hood down over the basket, to shade his baby's eyes from the bright morning son. Before he made it up to the entry of the house, Loretta McCready opened the front door.
"Marshall," she acknowledged his presence. "So, this is yours? I didn't even realize you were married much less had a new baby."
"I'm not," he corrected her. "Can we go inside?"
Loretta opened the door wider to give him access. Dressed like she always was, in jeans and a t-shirt, she looked about the same as the last time Raylan saw her.
"Where's your foster mom?" Raylan asked, immediately noting how quiet the home was.
Typically, there were children running all over the place.
"She had an appointment in Lexington. The kids are in school. She'll be back this afternoon," Loretta reported in her characteristic flat voice that was void of any emotion, as she crept forward to take a peek at the baby. "She's cute."
"Thanks," Raylan said, and he sat down to scribble down some instructions with Caitlyn on the floor near his feet. "I'm lucky you're not, but why aren't you in school, today?" he asked, looking up at her out of the corner of his eye and sounding rather fatherly.
She answered in a flip tone, "I'm doing the Internet Academy this year."
Raylan furrowed his brow and narrowed his eyes, not knowing whether to believe her or not.
"Well, I appreciate you doin' this for me," he said, not wanting to look a gift horse in the mouth, as he placed his baby's infant seat up on the kitchen table. "I was really in a bind."
"Try not make it a habit, Marshal, but I do owe you," she said.
Then, she threw Raylan a bone.
"You don't need to worry, either. I'll take real good care of her," she said, crossing her arms in front of her.
"Who's owns the new Jetta out in front of the house?" he asked, completely changing the subject.
Knowing it probably wasn't a good idea to lie to a Federal marshal, she admitted, "It's mine. I'm allowed a car, money for insurance, and an allowance until I graduate from college."
Loretta's money was set up into a trust. It was Raylan who helped set that up for her, so that she would not foolishly go through all her money or be taken advantage of. It also paid her foster parents a monthly stipend, in addition to the funds they received from the County for her care, making for a much nicer home life for the girl.
"It's a nice, safe car," he said, giving his approval. "But please do not ever take my baby ridin' in your car. She's to stay right here until I get back ... which shouldn't be but a couple of hours."
He walked over to Loretta and handed her his list of instructions.
"I just changed and fed her," he said. "She should be good for a couple of hours ... about the time I return. Her feeding schedule's all spelled out here, along with my numbers to reach me. In the diaper bag is a pacifier and just about anything else you could possibly need."
"We'll be fine," Loretta said flatly, yet trying to reassure the apprehensive new father. "You're new at this. It shows."
Raising his eyebrows, he responded with, "And you're not?"
She gave a little chuckle. "I've changed my share of diapers, fed my share of babies," she tried to reassure him.
He tipped his Stetson to her. "That's good 'cause I'm countin' on it."
He walked over to the kitchen table and gently kissed his baby girl goodbye on her forehead.
(To be continued ...)