The sun shone bright and warm on the woman in the buckboard as she paused outside the fence line of the sprawling ranch. Looking up she read the name and double checked it with the paper in her trembling hand.
More than once since Rose had set out for Rock Creek, she'd thought to turn back. She wasn't even sure what she was doing here. But now that she'd come all this way…well, she couldn't very well go home now. Of course she didn't really have a home to go to either. Not since Mama had passed on. The house was still there and she could've stayed. They'd never owned land or a house but they'd rented the same little place since shortly after Rose's birth. She could have stayed, she supposed. But it didn't feel like home anymore. Not without Mama. Without Mama, she was alone. There was no family, not really.
But there was this place. All her life, Rose had heard the stories. She craved them, lived on them like the air in her lungs. They were the stories of her father's people. The ones who loved him. His family. She'd never met the man but clung to every tiny piece she could grab of him. Every item he'd left behind, every story she got secondhand through Mama. Every story anyone could tell her was a precious piece of a puzzle that still had far too many large gaps in it for her to make out the whole picture.
While she'd always yearned to understand this man who was half responsible for her existence, it was different once her mother passed on. Before then, Rose felt strong. She felt loved and confident. They never had much but they had enough and they had each other.
The day that Rose watched her mother's casket lowered into the deep, dark hole, she'd been afraid for the first time in longer than she could remember. Maybe for the first time in her life. Suddenly she was young and small and frail. She'd never felt any of those things. But now, there was nothing to ground her. She had always been able to run free and full of whatever spirit struck her because she knew where she belonged, knew she was loved. Now she found herself in a world where nobody loved her, where she belonged nowhere. She was an orphan.
That seemed an odd word for a woman approaching her twenty-first birthday. The very word conjured images of raggedly clad street urchins. Children were orphans, not grown women.
But she didn't feel like a grown woman. Not anymore. She felt like a lost little girl. She knew there was no family to find from her mother. Her grandparents were long dead and her mother had been an only child, much like Rose herself.
But there were the stories. The stories of her father's family. She had thought throughout her girlhood to write to one or more of the people she'd heard about but she never had. Now it seemed far too late for letters, so she set out to find them. She had been able to track down two of the people her father had called family. One, well, she didn't dare. Perhaps she might have been bold enough at one time but she was no longer the bold vivacious girl she'd been. That left the other name.
That name led her to this ranch on this lovely summer day. Once more she thought to turn back. To hide. But then, where would she go? It's not like she had anywhere to be or anyone who cared where she went. And, besides, Jeannie Watson didn't raise a coward. Rose smiled at herself. Thinking of Mama looking down on her and what she might think was the only thing that spurred her into action.
With a resolute sigh, she set the horse in motion once more and headed toward the building that looked to be the main house. There was a small dark haired boy sitting on the large porch reading with a woman who seemed to look too old to be his mother. Possibly it was the lad's grandmother. The pair looked up as she approached.
Bringing the buckboard to a stop in front of the house, Rose climbed down and brushed as much dust from herself as she could before double checking that her hat was still properly in place. Maybe it shouldn't matter what they thought of her…but it did all the same.
"Good afternoon," the woman who had been on the porch swing called out as she neared the steps of the porch. "Can I help you with something?"
"I…I'm not sure," Rose said, suddenly realizing that she hadn't ever really planned out what she would do once she got here. "I was told that a man named Buck Cross lived here."
"That would be my husband," the woman replied with a smile that did not fully hide her suspicion. "I'm Mabel Cross. Can I ask your business with my husband?"
"It's sort of complicated, Mrs. Cross," Rose answered stopping herself from twisting her fingers as she did when nervous. "I'd prefer if I could speak directly with him. It concerns a mutual acquaintance…sort of."
"Sort of?" Mabel asked as the young boy looked on.
"Well, he was an old friend of Mr. Cross and…also…my mother," Rose tried to explain. "Again…I'd really rather speak to your husband directly. It will be hard enough…"
Her voice trailed and cracked. Mabel assessed the woman. She was young. Probably no older than her own youngest son, Jim.
"Paul," Mabel said addressing the young boy at her side. "Would you fetch your grandpa for Miss…"
"Watson," the woman supplied. "Rose Watson."
It looked as though she might say more but she stopped herself.
"Tell him there's a Miss Watson to see him," Mabel went on. Once Paul was making his way out toward the barn to do as he was told, she turned her attentions back to Rose. "In the meantime, you look like you could use a cold drink."
"I don't want to be any trouble," Rose began but was hushed by the waving of Mabel's hand.
"Got a pitcher of lemonade I just made. It's surely no trouble to pour a glass for a guest."
Rose was persuaded to take a seat on the porch and soon found herself presented with a tall, sweating glass of lemonade and a plate of cookies.
"They're nothing fancy," Mabel said in apology. "I don't do much entertaining except for the grandkids. They like my sugar cookies though so I make sure there's always some about."
"They look delicious," Rose said taking a nibble of one and closing her eyes in genuine appreciation. "Oh, they are delicious."
Mabel smiled and nodded at the compliment from the slender woman. It was now that Mabel finally took the time to appraise the woman before her. She was pretty to be sure. Her soft brown hair was pinned neatly beneath her hat but what showed was flecked and streaked with gold. Her eyes at first had appeared dark and brown but now shone a deep amber-gold color.
Mabel still wasn't sure what she could possibly want with Buck. More than anything she wanted to sit in on their conversation. But when he climbed the porch, she simply poured him a glass of lemonade and went into the house to work on her embroidery. He would tell her later. Or she would do her embroidery by the open kitchen window that looked out on the porch.
"Miss Watson?" Buck inquired as he settled himself into a chair opposite the young woman. "I'm Buck Cross. My grandson says you're looking for me."
"Yes, Mr. Cross."
"Please, call me Buck."
Buck felt an energy around them he couldn't explain. Something significant was happening or about to happen. He only wished he could tell if it was a good something or not.
"I don't know how to say what I have to say, Buck," Rose began as her hands unconsciously went to the edging of her coat. She fingered the worn material nervously even as she fought to keep her composure. "I'm not entirely sure why I'm here. I heard the stories and I felt like I needed to come. But now that I'm here…"
"I heard this had something to do with a friend we have in common," Buck said gently trying to help her along despite his own apprehensions. "How about we start there?"
"Well, not exactly…see…I was given your name and where to find you from my mother," Rose said daring a surreptitious glance at the man across from her. She didn't know what she expected to see. The stories she had weren't firsthand and were old besides. Yet, the man sitting here was exactly the one described in her father's stories. Long dark hair, now sporting some strands of silver, angular face, intense dark eyes, both warm and wary...even the peculiar earring she'd heard about. She almost lost her train of thought completely. "Watson is her last name. Jeannie Watson. I know the name won't mean a thing to you but that's who she was."
"Was it your pa I'm supposed to have known?" Buck asked with a frown. "I'm sure I've never known anyone by the name of Watson"
"His name wasn't Watson, Mama's was. They were never married...I…I never knew him," she barely whispered. "Don't think badly…he never knew about me. Mama wanted to tell him but…she said it wouldn't have been right. She had a lot of years to think about...the way things worked out...I guess I did too. All my years on this earth so far. Sometimes I think maybe it would have been better if she'd gotten word to him…I don't know. I know he died never knowing about me."
Buck furrowed his brow as he looked at the young woman. From a distance, she had seemed a self assured sort of person but now, as he sat across from her, he noticed she had not once lifted her eyes to meet his and she kept fidgeting with the trim on her jacket. Even seated he could tell she was a tall woman but everything in her demeanor seemed to beg him to not notice her presence. She seemed so small, so young. He guessed her to be around Jim's age yet he felt as if he was looking at a schoolgirl and a frightened one at that. He still didn't know why she was in front of him and her answers all seemed to beg more questions. But he was beginning to realize she was terrified and he had nothing to fear from her.
"Your mother gave you my name?" he asked. "But I never met her."
"I know. But the things my father told her about you, about certain other people…well, we both felt we knew you through the stories. But then these were stories told over twenty years ago," she laughed nervously. "That thought didn't occur to me until I was more than halfway here."
"Mine was not the only name given to you?"
"No…you were just the easiest one to find."
"Why come looking now?" he asked although he was becoming more and more certain he knew the answer.
"Mama died," she said flatly. "I don't have other family. I guess that means I don't have family at all. I just wanted to know who he was. I heard stories from Mama and I heard stories from other people and you'd think they were talking about two different men. I just want to know where I came from."
It was then that she raised her eyes to his and Buck could not help the gasp that escaped him.
"Jimmy…" he whispered.
"That's what Mama always called him too," Rose said with her voice shaking. "Other people call him something different."
"They're wrong," Buck said with greater intensity than he meant to. "Jimmy was a good man. Don't you listen to anyone talking about the other fellow."
"How did you know?" she asked. "Who my father was, I mean. I didn't say his name."
"Your eyes, Rose…they're his. I'd know my brother's eyes anywhere."
"Mama said I looked like him…"
"Spitting image," Buck agreed unable to tear his gaze from the woman in front of him. None of the remaining family had ever been able to reconcile themselves completely with Jimmy's death, the way it happened...that it had happened at all. There was so much unresolved with Jimmy. But here in front of him sat a piece of the brother Buck had lost so many years ago. She might never have known her father but she carried so much of him inside her. Buck could see it in her haunted, golden eyes.
There was an unsettled silence that fell between them until Buck cleared his throat and spoke again.
"So…what really brought you here?" Buck asked, his voice kind but thinly veiling an apprehensive suspicion. He never could quite trust people where Jimmy was concerned. Too many had tried to use him and far too many of them succeeded. Even in death, his brother hadn't been safe from those who sought to profit from him.
"I don't want you to think I came here to ask anything of you really."
"I wasn't suggesting…I'm sorry, I've offended you."
"No Buck, you haven't," she replied quickly. "I just…I don't want anyone to think that…I can make my way. I just…I want to know him. As much as I can anyway."
"Where do you live, Rose? Where are you staying while you're here?"
"We lived in Kansas while Mama was alive," Rose replied. "Now…well, I'll figure something out. Guess I'll see about finding a boarding house when I get back to town."
"You'll stay here," Buck said. It wasn't a suggestion and yet it wasn't an order exactly either. It was just a statement of fact.
"I couldn't put you out like that…"
"You're family, Rose. If you heard stories about me and the rest of us, then you know that. Jimmy and the rest of the guys are more family to me than any blood relation."
"But you don't even know me."
"But I do," Buck whispered as he patted her hand reassuringly. "I know you are my brother's child, my niece. I know that all the gentleness that the rest of the world didn't know was in your father is in you as well. I know you're haunted like he was and I know he'd want me to look after you. I know you are family to me and family is precious. I care for you. I care what happens to you. I'll go so far as to say I love you."
Rose just stared at him with her mouth hanging open.
"Besides, I can help you get to know him," Buck added. "And what I can't tell you, I know all the people who can."
"Buck, I don't even know what to say…I can work, you know," she added quickly. "I can cook and sew and I know my way around horses!"
"I don't doubt it," he assured her. "I'm sure you'll earn your keep."
"I will, you know. I've never taken anything I didn't earn but the love of my mama."
"Oh, you earned that too…by being born," Buck said with a wink and a loopy grin that tore the years away giving Rose a glimpse of the young man her father had known. She could not help but return the smile. Buck was once again taken aback by the light in her eyes as the corners of her mouth turned up. He had seen that mirth too seldom in his brother. But he always had felt they were seeing the real and true James Hickok when he smiled like that.
"Mabel!" Buck called and could not help the knowing grin that formed when a fraction of a second later his wife appeared at the window. "I should've known you'd be listening. I guess it won't surprise you that we'll need to set an extra place at the table."
"Already done," she said warmly with a girlish blush at the wink he sent her. "And Paul's getting some fresh linens out for the guest room. I hope you like blueberry cobbler, Rose. Paul picked nearly more of 'em than I can use."
Buck stood then and ushered Rose from the porch.
"Might's well show you around a little since this'll be home for a bit."
"Home," she whispered, turning the word over in her mind. Home had always been the little one room cottage she and her mother rented. Family had always just been Mama and her...and the memories of her father. It had been enough. She blinked and looked around at the large, white, two-story farmhouse with the well-tended flowers around it. Those flowers reminded her of the ones her mother would plant and tend every year.
"Just because our life is simple and our home small doesn't mean we can't take some pride in it," Jeannie had told her the one time she'd asked. Well, she hadn't really asked. She'd repeated what Homer Gill had said about their house and the flowers surrounding it. He'd said all that effort was like putting lip stain on a pig.
Sighing, Rose further assessed the place she was now to think of as home. In addition to the main house, there was the barn. It was well kept and in solid repair. And then there was a bunkhouse and generous corral. She wasn't sure how far the land that belonged to Buck stretched but surely it was farther than she could see. How could this be home?
More than the buildings and horses and land, Rose remembered the tender interaction between Buck and Mabel. It was as she always dreamed it would be on that day in her imaginings when her impossible wishes came true and her father walked in the door...home...she had seen homes like this. She'd even envied homes like this when she dared admit such a thing. But could this really be home, her home? All these trappings of comfort and these strangers who took her in because she possessed a dead man's eyes.
"Yeah home," he said draping his arm around her shoulders. He clearly remembered a time when home was a vague and foreign concept. Rose might have known home at one time but it was clear she hadn't dared to hope to find one here. "Come on, let's go see the horses."
They approached the corral and Rose drifted toward a young palomino mare. Buck stood back and watched with eyes moistening as she reached and petted the mare's velvety muzzle. The horse closed her eyes and nudged into Rose's hand.
"You like that one, huh?"
"She's beautiful," Rose said with awe.
"She looks just like her grandmother, Sundance. So much so that I named her that too."
"Beautiful name."
"I didn't come up with it…your father did," Buck said fighting the emotion that was overwhelming him. "Sundance…the first one anyway, was his horse. Guess that makes this one yours."
"Buck…no...I-I can't take her."
"You have to," he stated simply. "She's chosen you. She knows she's yours. I doubt she knows why but she knows it all the same. And you should have something of his besides those eyes. He would want you to have her."
Buck looked up when he heard Rose's hitching breath. She was sobbing against the horse's yellow mane.
"Hey, what's the matter?" he asked walking over to her. He frowned in concern as he wrapped an arm around her shoulder.
"Little pieces here and there," she sniffled. "That's all I have. Most times I know I'm lucky I had Mama and I don't feel so bad. But sometimes…I just want to meet him. I want to see his face. Not a photograph but his face. I want to hug him and I want to tell him I love him. I do, you know. I know I never met him but I love him all the same. I want him to know that. I want to think maybe he'd hug me back and maybe even love me too!"
"He would. I know it. He would have been so proud of you. You're all he ever could have wanted in life. And you know something else?"
Rose looked up in question.
"He knows about you. He might not have until he died but he knows."
Rose looked at him strangely but then nodded.
"I have an idea," Buck said suddenly. "Let's saddle up Sundance here and you ride alongside while I drive the buckboard into town. I'm guessing you hired this when you got into Rock Creek."
"I did," she confirmed.
"Well, you won't be needing it as long as you're here. You go on in and get changed for a ride and I'll get things ready out here."
Rose went over to the buckboard and picked up her one carpetbag. She owned nothing in the world except the contents of that bag…and now, apparently, a stunning palomino. Slowly she mounted the steps and made her way to the door. She stood a moment in uncertainty before knocking lightly. The door opened and she had to drop her eyes to see who had opened it. The young boy from earlier stood there looking at her curiously. He couldn't have been more than six or seven years old but he looked at her with dark eyes that seemed to have seen the world. Their intensity mirrored Buck's and Rose was fascinated by the quiet study the child was making of her.
"Why'd you knock? Grandma says you're staying."
"I don't know," she answered honestly. "It just didn't feel right to just go walking in without knocking."
"Paul, you go on and help your grandpa," Mabel interjected as she stepped out of the kitchen and offered Rose a warm and welcoming smile. "I'll get your cousin settled."
"But..." Paul began as he continued to eye Rose. His curiosity at the stranger who'd come to stay was barely contained.
"But nothing, Paul," Mabel said in a tone both kind and cautioning. "You do as you're told. When you come back in, I might be able to scrounge up some cookies for you."
"Yes Grandma," he replied, his dejected tone tempered with the promise of cookies. "See ya later, Cousin Rose!"
Then the boy ran off to do as he'd been asked.
"Cousin?"
"That's what you'd be to him," Mabel said. "First cousin to his pa and uncles. You come on in and I'll show you your room. Buck looked to be on a mission when you walked away from him. What's the plan?"
"We're going into town…I'm going to ride…"
"Sundance," Mabel finished for her. "Did he give her to you?"
Rose nodded and then looked up quickly.
"I didn't even so much as ask…I swear it!"
"I believe you. Probably right that she's yours. For him to decide something like that so quickly, he had a good reason. I've learned to trust such things."
Mabel led Rose up the stairs and to a crisp, clean room. It was simply and sparsely decorated but the quilt atop the bed looked cozy and lovingly made. Rose trailed her hands over the carved wood of the footboard of the bed and took in the matching chest of drawers wondering if Buck had made them.
"This room belonged to our middle son, Noah," Mabel explained. "Paul stays in his dad's old room. That would be Ike. Our youngest, Jim, is away at school so we keep his room for him for when he comes home. He's probably about your age. Kind of funny really since we named him for your dad."
"So many people to learn," Rose said in wonder as she sat her bag down on the bed and opened it in search of her riding skirt. She found it and set it aside as she unpinned her hat from her head.
"Your hair is so beautiful, Rose," Mabel remarked. She wanted to snatch back the words almost as soon as she said them. It was such an odd thing to say to a woman she'd just met. Mabel took note of such things though. She guessed it was a product of wishing she'd been granted at least one girl child whose hair she could tie with ribbons and tie rags in for curls. Mabel looked swiftly at the young woman standing next to the bed. She seemed lost in thought.
"Mama had lovely blonde hair," Rose replied absently. "I always wished mine was like hers."
"You have your father's hair…right down to the strands of gold mingled in with the brown."
"You met him?" Rose asked.
Mabel nodded.
"Just once. It was shortly after our wedding. He came to visit. After that, we didn't see him. I don't think anyone did...except Bill Cody that is. We'd get a letter every so often. He knew about our boys—the two older anyway—but he never met them."
"I always feel like he's just a step ahead of me," Rose said wistfully. "I can almost see him, almost touch him and then he's just beyond my grasp."
"I think even those of us who met him and maybe even those who knew him feel that way," mused Mabel. "I should let you get changed."
A short while later, Rose made her way down the stairs and found Buck waiting for her. He'd saddled a horse for himself and tethered it to the back of the buckboard. But he was standing there holding Sundance's reins to for her. Rose went over to the horse, grabbed the saddle horn and swung deftly into the saddle. Then she held out one gloved hand awaiting the reins.
Buck smiled at her show of skill on a horse. She would have fit in with the guys during the Express.
"Maybe when we're in town, we can pick you up some gloves that fit you," Buck offered taking note of how her dainty hands swam in the old gloves she wore.
"I prefer these," she said almost defensively.
Buck looked again at the black leather gloves. They'd seen better days. Certainly they were old and worn and he suddenly realized what they were, or, more to the point, whose they had been.
"I understand," he told her. "I didn't recognize them at first."
Rose smiled in sheepish acknowledgement at Buck as he climbed onto the buckboard and then they were off. Rose wondered how pathetic she seemed hanging on to such a thing. But Buck didn't look to judge her.
"So Buck," Rose began as she rode next to the buckboard. "I was wondering…I thought for sure I'd have to answer some questions…prove I'm who I say I am."
"You are the proof."
"I don't understand…"
"You do not have to."
Rose stayed silent after that. The stories she had gotten second hand from her mother had told her of how her father had described Buck as being nearly mystical.
"Why did Jimmy leave your ma, Rose? If he told her about us, he must've loved her. He didn't open that part of his life to many."
"I often wondered," Rose said thoughtfully. "I think maybe he really did. He left…well, Mama had told me the law was after him a lot around then. He had bad debts everywhere. She always felt he left to keep anyone from coming after her. He was so worried that Mama would get hurt because of him. He had to keep moving. That's what Mama said anyway."
"Did she know she was expecting you when he left?" Buck asked knowing full well that Jimmy wouldn't have left a woman behind who was carrying his child. Jeannie clearly hadn't told him she was expecting a baby. He would have stayed or taken her with him somewhere. He'd have found a way…unless Jimmy wasn't the same man Buck had known. Maybe too much of him had changed before his death.
Rose shook her head.
"Not even a suspicion," she told him. "When I was old enough to understand such a thing, she told me she was sure I was conceived on the last night they spent together," Rose continued with a blush. "She said he was so tender to her she thought he must have really meant it when he said he didn't want to leave her. We talked a lot about it over the years. I look back now and my questions about him must have hurt her terribly. But I just had to know. I know Mama thought a lot about that night. I have as well. Maybe…maybe he was extra determined to leave something of himself behind."
"And your ma didn't try to contact him when she found out?"
"He was married by then," Rose replied. "That broke Mama's heart when she heard. There she was, expecting a child by a man she loved, who said he loved her…and she reads in the papers that he's married himself to some widow who runs a circus. I think at times she took it to mean he didn't really love her…that his pretty words had been a lie. But I think other times she understood that he was just trying to get things together for himself. Trying to make things right…Mama didn't want to keep him from getting to where things might be good. And then…well, he died."
Her voice cracked and Buck had to strain to make out the words. She cleared her throat and blinked a couple times before continuing.
"He died in August. I was born in November."
"I see."
"I miss him," Rose whispered. "Absurd I know, missing someone I never met…"
Buck sat down to the breakfast table with a smile for the sounds of female chatter coming from the kitchen. He knew that Mabel had wanted a daughter. She couldn't have loved their boys more if they'd been girls but still she'd always hoped for just one more and for that one more to be a girl. It seemed in the last couple of weeks that Mabel's dream had almost come true. Rose wasn't theirs but she didn't really belong to anyone anymore and Mabel seemed more than happy to take ownership of the girl.
He looked up as he heard the door between kitchen and dining room swing open and returned Rose's warm smile as she brought a platter of hotcakes his way.
"'Morning, Rose. You're looking chipper today."
"Good morning, Uncle Buck," she replied with a smile. "It's a lovely morning. Who wouldn't be chipper on a beautiful morning like this?"
Buck chuckled at her. She was a cheerful sort once they'd gotten past her shyness and uncertainty of them. He thought that after the first week, they had finally met the real Rose, the one her mother had known.
He also could now see even more of the similarities between her and his brother. She had his sense of humor for one. Once she let her guard down, she teased him mercilessly and took the same ribbing from him as well. It was, at times, almost like the years had peeled back from him and he was once again a young man jesting with his friends.
Rose also had her serious side. She could get riled easily and at times would become quiet and withdrawn. The shadows would cross her face as he once had seen them cross her father's. There was no cheering her then. She just needed to be allowed to ride off alone for a while. Buck hoped he was close enough to a breakthrough with her that she might talk about her worries with him. He knew better than to push her though. She was surely her father's daughter and pushing her would only result in her blowing up and possibly running off.
Today though, she was sunnier and freer than Buck thought he had ever seen Jimmy. Perhaps this was the Jimmy that would have been under different circumstances or perhaps this was a piece of Jeannie coming through. If that was the case, Buck could see why Jimmy had fallen in love with the woman.
After setting down the platter, Rose glided over to Buck and gave him a small peck on the cheek.
"You're looking far too serious for such a glorious morning, Uncle Buck," she said with a lilt in her voice.
"Did you borrow this apron from Mabel?" Buck asked her with a raised eyebrow. He hadn't seen her in an apron before. She usually removed it before bringing out dishes for serving.
"No, it's mine. Why?"
"It looks familiar," he replied.
"I don't see how it could. It was Mama's. She said my father gave it to her."
Buck took one more look at her and laughed out loud.
"What?" Rose asked. "What's so funny?"
"That was Jimmy's apron," Buck explained when he could speak again for the laughter. "He was the only one of us who ever dared cook when Emma or Rachel was gone. And he wore that apron...with his black leather gloves and his Colts. He was a sight but none of us dared kid him too much. Some...but not much. He was unpredictable and none of us wanted to be staring down the barrel of one of those guns of his."
"My father? In this ruffly apron? I can't even picture it!"
"Doesn't fit with the stories other people tell about him, does it?"
"Doesn't even fit with Mama's stories," Rose said fingering the ruffles on the apron. "How did he end up like he did? You tell me I'm like him when I joke and this was his apron of all things...how could a man like that turn into...I don't understand."
"I'm not always sure I do either," Buck said gently. "But I think if anyone could understand, it would be you."
Rose looked at him strangely then. Buck thought that maybe she understood. Maybe she understood something inately. Maybe more than she thought he ought to be able to understand.
"What's important, Rose," he said strongly. "What's important is that you know all of him. Not just the bad things people say but the man I knew. And the man I knew made some of the worst porridge I've ever eaten and did it while wearing that frilly apron."
"So, Rose," Buck began as the two worked side by side cleaning the stalls in the stable. "How did Jimmy meet your mother? Surely she told you that story."
"Of course," Rose replied. "Many times...I suppose you would wonder about her. I know my father's reputation. But Mama didn't work in any saloon. She never did anything like that."
"I wasn't suggesting she did," Buck said gently. "I was just curious about her. There was a time Jimmy gave his heart almost too easily but then he seemed to swing too far in the other direction and withheld it from everyone. I think that's how he got that reputation to begin with. He would get lonely and yet he didn't trust many. He must have trusted her. He must have really loved her."
"You think so?"
"I'm nearly certain of it."
"Mama worked as a seamstress," Rose began. "She got a work order handed to her from the shop owner to repair a man's shirts. They were in terrible shape. Torn and there was even a bullet hole in one. Usually this shop catered to women needing dresses but when men didn't have a woman to see to their clothes, they would bring them in and work was work according to the boss. Mama fixed the shirts all up and happened to be working when he came in to pick them up. He wore a sling from the bullet wound in his upper arm but he was well dressed. He paid her before he ever even inspected the work. She apologized for the work on one of the shirts saying it wasn't as good as she would have liked but he brushed her apology aside. He said he knew there wasn't much to work with and these weren't his best shirts anyway. Once he'd looked at her work he gave her a big smile that reached into his eyes," Rose's voice took on a dreamlike quality as she recalled her mother's words. Where other girls read romantic novels about gallant men and true love, Rose had always had her mother's stories of her father. "She said they were gold and warm as firelight on a winter's night..."
Her voice trailed away with the memories of how her mother described those eyes. Jeannie Watson had been in love with her father like few women had the privilege to love anyone and for as sad as she could be about the loss of him, she was positively joyful whenever she recollected the time they had spent together. Seeming to suddenly remember herself, Rose blinked a few times and cleared her throat.
"He said she must have worked her poor fingers ragged doing such work for the likes of him."
"Sounds like something Jimmy would say," Buck commented. "With anyone else, that would be some line to get into a woman's good graces. Jimmy meant it when he said things like that though. Not sure everyone always understood that about him."
Rose smiled. Her mother had said something similar to her but she'd always thought Mama's memories had been colored by the love she had for this man.
"He set the shirts down on the counter and took her hands in his. Mama said his hands were so big and so strong. They swallowed hers whole. She said they always made her feel protected. He looked over each of her fingers and traced over every place she had jabbed herself with a needle. He got a faraway look in his eyes and said so softly that she almost didn't hear him, 'Such lovely hands shouldn't be working so hard. Others should work for these hands...and the woman they belong to.' Mama didn't even know what to say. Then he asked if she might not tell him her name. She did and she said she stuttered when she did because she was so taken aback by how intensely he watched her. Then he met her eyes squarely and said, 'It's a pleasure to meet you, Miss Watson. My name's Hickok. James Butler Hickok and whatever you might have heard, my real friends call me Jimmy.' And he flashed her another smile. She said she fell in love with him right then and there."
Buck studied the young woman in front of him. Within her eyes he saw a struggle. There was the romantic little girl who believed in true love at first sight doing battle with the woman who'd watched her mother work and strain to raise her without the love she spoke of so beautifully. There were the memories of shame and loneliness, of wondering who this man was who'd given her his eyes, his hair...so much. But not his presence, not his name.
The story she told offered something to Buck, something he was certain she didn't know she was giving him. He had worried for his brother. He had worried a great deal over the years at how much Jimmy had changed and how little of the tender spirit was left. The tale helped Buck see that his brother had still been there, still been open to love, to the things that once mattered more than any others.
He knew he had to say something, try to soothe the wounded child in front of him. Somehow she needed to understand the complicated man who'd fathered her. She needed to know what she would have meant to him. Buck knew he had to lead her to her father. More than stories of aprons or bar fights, she needed to understand him. He could do that for her.
"If he introduced himself that way, he might have already been in love with her as well. Bill had taken over by then for the most part. For him to even remember Jimmy existed...I wish I could thank your ma for that. I worried sometimes he thought Bill was all there was left. He never liked Bill, never wanted to be him."
"It's so strange how you talk about him," Rose marveled. "Wild Bill, I mean. Mama never talked about him at all. I heard it at school. Some boys were playing at being legends of the west and one said he was Wild Bill Hickok. I didn't say a thing but I went home and asked Mama if this Wild Bill was related to my father. She explained that some people called my father that. I didn't know what to say to that. I tried to learn about him that way...but...he didn't sound like the man Mama told me about. At times I thought she was lying to me about who he was."
"She wasn't. She knew Jimmy," Buck told her. "Jimmy was kind and loyal and I'm told could be something of a romantic. He wasn't cruel and he was never known to be anything but a gentleman where women were concerned. Even in the stories of the legend. Even in the gunfights and saloon girl stories, he would always defend someone against a bully and he was never mean to a woman. He felt he lost it but there was always a piece of Jimmy even in the worst of Wild Bill."
Rose was quiet for a while, thinking about what her uncle had told her. That she even had uncles was something she was still adjusting to. Somehow she felt suddenly closer to Buck, like they had broken down a barrier between them.
"Can I ask you something, Uncle Buck?" Rose asked leaning on the door of the stall she had just cleaned.
"Anything."
"Aunt Mabel said your son, Jim...was named after my father..."
"That's right," Buck confirmed.
"How old is he?"
"He's a couple months younger than you," Buck answered. "We hadn't been able to think of what we'd name a boy if that's what he was. But then we got word about Jimmy being killed...and Mabel looked at me and patted her belly and said, 'Well, I guess this one will be James if it's a boy.' And I just nodded at her."
"But then Kid and Lou's oldest is named James and he was born long before my father died...was he named for him as well?"
"I'm sure he is. Jimmy was real close friends with Lou and he and Kid were...well, they were like brothers. I think they respected each other even when they didn't want to admit it and even when they didn't like each other all that much."
Buck made his way into the house to the aroma of supper cooking. Mabel hadn't been much of a cook when they'd met but she'd learned over the years and his waistline showed the results. Smiling he made his way into the kitchen and was just about to snake his arms around her waist when she turned to him with her brow furrowed in worry.
"Do you know where Rose is?" she asked.
"Not exactly," he replied. "Sundance isn't in the corral so if I had to guess, I'd say she's off on a ride."
"I know she's riding," Mabel snapped at him sharply enough to make him wince. "She left right after breakfast. I'm worried for her, Buck."
"She'll come home once she's done what she needs to do," Buck assured her. "She's so much like Jimmy. It's hard to believe that they never so much as met."
"She's never been gone this long before," Mabel argued. "She's always here in time to help make supper."
"She's fine, Mabel," Buck said tenderly taking her face in his hands and kissing her forehead. "She's had a lot to think about the last few weeks. She needs to get off by herself once in a while and do her thinking when she's not in such a crowd."
"You and I are hardly a crowd," Mabel protested.
"We probably seem like one to her."
"Go look for her, Buck. Go find our girl."
"She's not ours…"
"Yes she is! There's no one else to claim her. And I've grown to care for her. You have too. I know she's our niece and not our daughter but…well, someone has to look after her and she came here…and…"
"Calm down, Mabel. She's alright. You don't know her like I do."
"You don't know her like you think you do either," Mabel said very deliberately. "She may have a lot of her father in her and you might know him better than I do…but she's a woman, Buck…and she's got her mama in her too. You go find her right now. There won't be a place set for you at the supper table until you bring our girl home."
After so many years together, Buck knew better than to argue with Mabel when she set her mind like this. He leaned down and kissed his wife's forehead once more and nodded his promise to her that he would return with Rose.
"Don't worry yourself so much," he whispered. "I'll be back soon. I'm sure she's fine."
Mabel looked at him, pleading with her steel grey eyes for him to be right and, at the same time, threatening him with her wrath if he wasn't.
"I promise I'll bring her home."
Then he turned away from her and headed out to saddle a horse and find Rose. If he was honest he was a little concerned as well. He didn't think anything had happened to her actually but he worried for the emotional state she might be able to work herself into. And that was the real reason he hadn't wanted to go after her. There was much he felt he could handle but he wasn't sure he was the man to set her heart to rights.
But he rode out anyway. Mabel didn't make idle threats and he knew that if he didn't find Rose, there would be no supper for him. He'd probably end up sleeping in Jim's room as well. Buck understood. As much as he protested that she wasn't their daughter, she was theirs all the same. He felt it the moment he first looked in her eyes. It was as if his brother had sent him a care package, only it was for him to care for.
As Buck mounted his horse, he contemplated where to begin looking and then decided there was only one place to start. There was a lovely hill out on the north pasture. If Buck were looking for Jimmy, that's where he'd head. So he determined that it was the best place to start looking for Rose.
Rose. The ride out to the hill was the perfect time to really think about the young woman he readily thought of as his niece. Buck had just taken it all in stride when she showed up, and what he needed to do for her. For all this time, he'd been running on instinct and hadn't really thought a great deal about the changes she had brought to their lives or the ones that he and Mabel had made in hers.
At times Rose seemed overwhelmed by the sheer number of family members she now had to learn. In addition to his and Mabel's three children and Paul, Ike's son, there was Paul's little sister, Lucy. Lucy hadn't been staying with them as Paul had been. But she had come with her parents when they came to pick the boy up.
Buck thought Rose might weep at the loss of Paul around. They had become fast friends even though Paul was all of six years old. Paul had followed Rose as she did her chores and she had taken over reading to the lad and tucking him in at night. When Mabel sought to scold him for something or other, Rose had stepped in and smoothed things over with a wink to the boy.
Buck sometimes felt guilty heaping all the information on her that he did. It wasn't just stories of the old days and her father he gave her but what happened after they had all gone their separate ways. What had become of Teaspoon and Rachel and Sam and Emma. Where Kid and Lou were and all their children...and of course, the famous Buffalo Bill Cody.
He asked once why she didn't seek out Cody as he'd surely have been easy enough to find. She said she didn't dare. It was frightening enough to come looking for him. And she didn't know where to find Kid and Lou exactly.
She, like her father, was nothing like she appeared at first blush. When he had first seen her sitting on his porch, he thought he was meeting some self-assured, confident woman. Instead, he had come to know the fragile child that front concealed...just as he had with her father. Jimmy protected that frightened little boy with two Colts and a wagonful of intimidation. Buck had never really talked to Jimmy about his past and what had wounded him so and he figured the same was true of their other brothers and their sister. Buck would go so far as to say Teaspoon had probably not delved into the issue either. At the time, it seemed prudent. Surely Jimmy would bolt if pressed too tightly. But, on the other hand, Buck now wondered if confronting those fears, putting them to rest for good...maybe that would have settled Jimmy as well. Maybe he wouldn't have left them. Maybe things would have gone differently. Maybe he wouldn't have left Jeannie...he could have known about Rose and raised a nice little family. He sighed, so many maybes.
It didn't matter. He was gone and whatever might have saved him, it was too late for it now. For twenty years now, all Buck could do for his brother was honor his memory. Now he could care for his child. And he did care for her. Not just out of duty either. He loved her at first for the man she reminded him of and now loved her for the woman she was in her own right. Often he thought how he couldn't wait for the others to meet her. Lou and Teaspoon especially. They each felt such guilt for Jimmy's death. Meeting his daughter could only help to heal them.
Approaching the hill, Buck could see Sundance tethered to a tree and munching happily on the soft, sweet grass there. Nearby he saw a shape he knew to be Rose sitting on the ground staring into the distance, her back to his approach. He heaved a sigh of relief and was surprised at how worried he'd been that he wouldn't find her or that something terrible might have happened to her.
She didn't react to his walking toward her even though he made no effort to be quiet and his horse had uttered a greeting of sorts to Sundance. She just sat motionless, staring off into the western sky where the sun was growing heavy as it began its descent toward the horizon.
Buck settled himself next to her and watched the sun for a while before speaking.
"It amazes me sometimes how much like him you are," he said.
"Don't," she choked out and it was then he could see she was crying, had been for quite some time. "Don't tell me about my eyes, don't tell me about how he joked with you or teased you or anything else. I can't take any more of it!"
"I'm sorry," Buck offered. "We'll talk about what you want to talk about."
"I don't want to talk at all."
"That's fine too...but I can't leave. Your aunt won't let me come back home unless you're with me."
"Suit yourself."
Buck bit his tongue to keep from telling her that being moody and short with people was just like her father too.
A few minutes passed. Rose was waiting for him to leave. She liked her uncle. She did but...she didn't need people around her right then. She needed some space. And some time.
But he didn't leave. He didn't move. Damn it! Why couldn't anyone just leave her alone? A part of her felt bad for worrying her Aunt Mabel. She was dear and sweet and gave her love without reserve. But Rose just couldn't handle the concern Aunt Mabel had for her. She didn't know how to take it.
"You talk about how much people loved him," she said suddenly, jumping to her feet and beginning to pace frantically. "You tell me about his sense of humor and how kind he was. You assure me he really loved Mama..."
She stopped pacing and then whirled quickly on him.
"Then why the hell did he leave?"
Buck opened his mouth to say something but Rose didn't want to hear it and just kept talking, ranting really.
"If he loved her, he would never have left! You wouldn't leave Mabel for anything. That's love! Love isn't leaving the one you love with only memories! You know who kept Mama company when the sadness overtook her? Me! Who watched her struggle to eke out a living? Me! I helped as soon as I could. I heard what people said about her. She moved while she was still expecting me and claimed to be a widow...but still, there were rumors. Mean things people said, speculation about who my father was, and if Mama had ever even been married...where she worked. The names they called her! Where the hell was he if he loved her so damned much?"
Buck stared at her. He was at a complete loss for words to offer her.
"A good man stands by the woman he loves," she went on desperately. "I can't hear any more words about what a wonderful person he was...not after what I saw my mother go through. Not after how he left her, how he hurt her. It broke her heart to see him leave that day. A good man...well, you should know...you're a good man, Uncle Buck! Why couldn't you be my father? Or Uncle Kid...he's a good man. He's stood by Aunt Lou through so much...and even Uncle Billy...why did it have to be him? Why Wild Bill Hickok? What does that leave me?"
The strength left her then and she sank to the ground.
"What does that leave me? Where do I fit with the great legend? The great gambling, shooting...whore visiting legend...I don't know what that leaves me."
"He wasn't..."
"He was more than you know. He must have been. How could he leave her?"
"I don't know," Buck said honestly. "You're right, nothing in the world could drag me from Mabel's side. But...Jimmy had ghosts. I guess I do too but mine are different. His...they were dark and ugly and chased him down. He was never...at peace. Nothing healed him...nothing gave him any solace at all. Jimmy just couldn't see past the man he was, what he felt he'd become, and how it could hurt the ones he cared for. I told you about how Lou was almost killed by a man trying to get to him. He just felt he tainted everything and everyone. If he was in trouble...he'd assume it would come to her. He wouldn't trust himself to keep her safe...I can't explain it any better than that."
Rose just stared at him a minute or two. Then her brow furrowed and she spoke again, her voice barely above a whisper.
"But then he married...her. Did you know her? Did you meet her? Did he love her too?"
"Agnes?" Buck asked for confirmation. "I met her a time or two...after he was already gone. She was nice enough. Her daughter rode in Cody's show for a while. Used your father's name even though I don't know as she'd ever met him. But he was her step-father. I don't think he did love Agnes, not really. I'm not sure she thought he did either. Maybe. I think she cared for him...but I'm not sure that I would call what she felt for him love. But she had tender feelings for him."
"If he loved Mama...how could he marry someone else?"
"Rose, I don't know," he told her. "I don't know what he was thinking then. I know I wish he hadn't left. If he had stayed long enough to know about you...he never would have left. I really believe that."
"But he didn't. He didn't stay."
Buck's heart broke at the sight of her tear stained face. For the first time he felt he saw her without seeing Jimmy. For the first time he saw Jimmy though her eyes, or really through the eyes of the little girl she'd once been. He saw the struggle and strain of her life. He saw the child in secondhand and worn clothes. The one hiding her hurt as her mother was raked over the coals by the careless talk of others. He could only imagine the words that flew. He, better than most, knew exactly how cruel people could be.
Buck reached and pulled her to him, holding her in a tight embrace. It was as Mabel had said. Rose was his girl as much as Ike, Noah and Jim were his boys. She was frightened and hurt and felt small and helpless and the only thing he wanted was to hold her and make right what he knew never could be.
She resisted his attempts to comfort her at first. He held her tightly even as she struggled against him.
"I'm sorry, Rose," he whispered. "I'm so sorry."
Rose wanted to resist his comforting arms, wanted to be strong and stand on her own but it had been so long…so long since anyone had held her and tried to be strong for her. She wilted against Buck and sobbed into his shirt.
"It's alright," Buck whispered through his own tears. They had all tried, each in their ways to come to terms with Jimmy's death. Buck had tried to focus on the good things but now his own anger surfaced and none of it had anything to do with the girl in his arms. He was mad that Jimmy had left them and not come around. He was mad at Jimmy for getting killed, for leaving himself vulnerable like that. He was mad that he'd had to name yet another son after a dead brother. "Let it out. I'm mad at him too. He broke all our hearts."
Rose clung desperately to her uncle. He smelled of outdoors and sunshine and hard work. It was safe and sheltered in his embrace and she thought that this must be what it was like to have a father. She had often thought what it would feel like to come home from the heartbreak the world could inflict and have strong arms attached to broad shoulders that smelled of work and masculinity to enfold her and hold her tight. Here she was at almost twenty-one years of age and just finding out what that really felt like.
But he wasn't her father. That thought made her cry harder. This wasn't her father. Her own flesh and blood father would never hold her like this. He was gone from her. Worse than that...if he was gone from her, that implied she'd had him. She had never had him at all. And she never would. She would never know what it was like to have him hold her tightly, allowing her to cry against him. She would never know what his arms felt like. She wouldn't even know what it was like to incur his anger and be scolded by him. She would never know him at all. Not really.
Rose knew her tears now bordered on hysteria. She was wailing and grasping at Buck as if he held her life in his hands. Her breathing was erratic and her eyes burned from the tears that would not stop.
Through it all he held her. He held her close to him and stroked her hair and whispered soothing words. Some were in English and some weren't. Somehow she understood all the same. He was there and would not leave her. He would be all that her father hadn't been...all he hadn't been able to be. He would be all she had lacked and she would never want for love or family again.
That realization renewed her tears once more but calmed her breathing and her heart. A sense of peace washed over her and she understood.
Buck felt the panic in Rose as she sobbed and wailed and even punched against him but then something changed in her. She still wept but something was different in it. In time she pulled away from him and he knew it was alright to let her.
"All this time," she began, her voice still thick with emotion. "All these years...I never knew whether to love him or hate him. I thought he abandoned us...I thought he left me with nothing."
"It's natural you should think that," Buck said soothingly. "It couldn't've been easy growing up like you did."
"It wasn't...but it's okay," she said and he could see her strength returning. It was not the false front of strength she often showed to others but an honest and genuine confidence. "I learned a lot more than most do. I came out alright, I think."
"I think you came out better than alright. Your ma must've been so proud of you. I know I would be...if you were my daughter. I know you might not want to hear it but...he would be proud too."
"I hope so," Rose told Buck. "I know he wasn't perfect. I'm not perfect...Mama wasn't perfect. I should never have expected him to be. I'm sure he really thought he was doing what was right by her."
"I know he did," Buck agreed. "He always tried to do right...especially by the people he cared for."
"He did though...he did just fine by me, I think. I was raised in love...I know I was created from it. I see that now. And...he didn't even know about me but he left me a family. I just wish...I just wish I could tell him..."
"You can tell him anything you want," Buck said gently. "I don't believe he could ever stray too far from you. And knowing Jimmy…this is the spot he'd want to spend time at. Go ahead, talk to him. He'll hear you."
Rose looked uncertain.
"I can go if you'd like some privacy," Buck offered.
"I'd rather you stay."
Buck watched as Rose settled herself cross-legged on the ground facing the horizon as it began to glow with the pinks and purples of the setting sun. He saw her shoulders shake as her breath hitched and fought the urge to go to her and wrap her once again in his arms. This wasn't his time with her. It was hard. He felt he'd just gotten her and now she was at the age where, to one extent or another, he would have to let her go. But then she'd come to him at that age.
"I...I don't know what to say..." Rose looked helplessly at Buck, searching his face for clues of what was expected of her.
"Yes you do," he assured her. "Everything you've ever wanted to say to him. Anything you've ever wanted him to know."
Rose nodded and then sat there awhile longer in thought. Her hands nervously fidgeted with a button on her blouse.
"Daddy?" her whisper cut through the stillness of the evening. "It's your daughter...Rose."
She frowned and looked down at her hands which were now picking apart a blade of grass she didn't remember plucking from the ground.
"That was stupid," Rose muttered under her breath. "There's so much...I just..."
Sighing in frustration, she looked to Buck once more. He scooted closer to her and placed a hand on her shoulder.
"Relax," he said gently. "It's not like this is the only time you can ever talk to him. I talk to Ike all the time...and I don't mean my son. Just take a breath and look into your heart. What you need to tell him will come to you."
Rose furrowed her brow doubtfully but took a deep breath and closed her eyes. Her thoughts turned to her life, her youth, her mother. She thought about all she knew of her father from the stories her mother passed on to her. She thought about him riding his lovely palomino horse into the horizon and how relieved he must have been every time he returned to his friends, his family, unscathed. She thought about how he had sisters and brothers alive who were blood to him but told Jeannie about the ones who'd chosen to be his family.
In her mind, she could see herself as a child, longing for her father to tuck her into bed...wishing for the man who would make her mother smile again. At times she had imagined she could see his warm eyes seeing her through a rough patch. More than once in her life, Rose was certain she had felt a hand on her shoulder, as her uncle's had just been. There had been no one there and yet, somehow, she felt stronger.
So long had she carried anger toward the man who'd left the piece of himself behind to grow within her mother. So long had she cursed his name all the while still wishing for the impossible...that he would ride over the ridge and into their lives once more. Her anger now turned to something else. She suddenly knew him like she hadn't ever before...understood him. Maybe she had all along and just didn't want to admit it. Maybe Buck was right and he was here right now, with her, beside her. Whatever it was, she was now remorseful for her mean thoughts about him. Perhaps she was justified but...she could now see there was so much more than she had known before.
Her fingers ceased their fidgeting and she became very still for a moment. There was love in this place. It wasn't just what her uncle felt for her and it wasn't the love of her mother that she would forever carry within her. This feeling of love, it was something new and she let it wash over her like baptismal waters.
Tears formed in her eyes but her breath was steady. Under the darkening sky, as she looked into the brilliant death throes of another day, Rose sensed something otherworldly. It wasn't frightening but magical, warm, comforting.
The message that needed delivering, the words her heart needed to express now came to her.
"I'm...I'm sorry, Daddy," she said at last. "I'm sorry for every time I cursed your name, every time I believed those dime books...every time I let Mama's tales put you on a pedestal so high you couldn't help but fall off. I'm so sorry, Daddy. I don't even know if that's what you would have wanted me to call you. It feels right though. I'm sorry...Oh God, I am sorry for so much. You should have had so much more in your life. I'm sorry you felt unworthy of your family. I'm sorry you thought you had to leave. Mama and I would have loved you around...we would have smothered you, I think."
She offered a half of a laugh that was swallowed by a sob.
"Maybe Mama would still be alive then too...and we all could still...But it doesn't really matter, now does it? I'm sorry for that too. I'm sorry that sometimes no matter what we do or how much we think it's right that sometimes it just goes wrong. I'm sorry I ever thought you would abandon me entirely. I'm sorry I thought you were the kind of man who could leave his child with nothing. You might not have known it...but you left me with everything. Your stories...it was like you knew how badly I would need them. Did you? Did you somehow know?
"I am so grateful for what you left. I will never be able to thank you enough for helping me find them...Uncle Buck, Aunt Mabel...soon I'll meet the rest. You did just fine by me, Daddy. If you ever wondered about that...you did just fine."
Rose grew very quiet and still. Buck watched her closely. Tears streamed down her face but she made no sound, no movement. He was beginning to worry about her and wonder if he shouldn't take her home but then she wiped the moisture from her face and smiled into the sunset.
"One more thing, Daddy," she choked out. "I love you."
With those last words she stood and looked at her uncle.
"I'm ready to go now," she said with her shoulders squared and her head held high. "Will Aunt Mabel be too upset about holding supper this long?"
"Your aunt will be so happy to have you home, she'll probably cook another whole meal," Buck replied.
Mabel tried to busy herself with her embroidery for a time. Supper was being kept warm until Buck brought their Rose back. And he would. She kept telling herself this over and over again.
Mabel's heart broke every time she looked at the young woman. She had tried to get the girl to open up but it had been no use. Buck told her not to worry. In time she would come around. Her father had been reserved in much the same way. He offered his love and loyalty quickly but not his trust. That had to be earned and it took a great deal of time to do it.
There was no doubt that Rose had a lot of her father in her. Mabel had only met him once but she could see all the similarities. Still, there were things about Rose that were all her own...or maybe came from her mother. Either way, Buck did not know all there was to Rose and it only made Mabel more certain that they needed to get the girl to open up to them. She had a good deal of hurt inside her that wasn't going to heal on its own.
When she didn't come back from her ride today...well, Mabel couldn't help but think the worst. Perhaps she ran away. Perhaps she decided to truly follow in her father's footsteps and cut herself off from everyone who loved her just as he had. If Buck wasn't able to bring her back, Mabel didn't know what she would do.
Staring at her embroidery lasted a short time. She just couldn't even pretend to herself that she cared about it. So she tried straightening the parlor. That was also a short lived endeavor.
Eventually Mabel just took to pacing and looking out the window for any sign of them and finally, she moved to the porch to better watch the horizon for riders coming in.
It wasn't the first time she had kept such a vigil. More than once as her boys were growing up, there were times when they weren't home when expected and she had sent Buck out for one or another of them. Always they had been found although once, when Jim was young, the reason for his delay in coming home had been a broken leg from being thrown from his horse. Typically though, they were just tired and a little grumpy for having their fun interrupted.
Rose was a big girl...full grown, even if Mabel didn't want to admit it. She could surely take care of herself and if she wanted to leave, there was nothing really they could do to stop her. Still, Mabel wanted at least the chance to say goodbye. Maybe even the chance to beg her to stay.
It felt good to have someone to look after and it felt even better to have another woman around. Mabel wanted Rose to feel at home here. She wanted her to stay until she got her bearings. Maybe she would go to school or maybe she would find some nice young man to court her. Whichever it was, Mabel wanted to be the one to help her make those decisions.
At long last—long enough that Mabel thought she might be imagining it—there was something on the horizon. It looked to be a horse and rider. Mabel's heart sank thinking that Buck was coming back alone, that he hadn't been able to find her. But then a second silhouette appeared and Mabel scurried into the house to get supper on the table. Surely they would be hungry.
Looking out the kitchen window, Mabel saw them ride into the yard and head into the barn to see to their horses. The table was set and the food sitting in wait for them. Mabel could not keep herself in the house any longer and stood on the porch waiting for them.
As the pair approached the porch, Buck shot Mabel a warning look telling her not to smother the poor girl. So Mabel held back. But it was Rose who broke into a run at the sight of the other woman and threw her arms around her aunt.
Once Mabel could extricate herself from the embrace, she set to looking Rose over.
"Are you alright, Rose? You've been crying! Are you hurt? I was so worried."
"I'm fine, Aunt Mabel...I'm so sorry...I didn't mean to...I just...I just needed some time. I didn't even think that it would worry anyone. I'm sorry."
"You're here now, sweetie," Mabel cooed. "Just come on in and get washed up for supper. You must be half starved."
"Are you sure I look alright, Uncle Buck?" Rose asked. She was seated next to him on the buckboard headed into town. It was hardly the first time she had gone into town with her uncle but never before had she concerned herself with her appearance.
"You look lovely, Rose," Buck assured her with a smile. He understood her anxiety but also knew it was unwarranted.
Rose felt the slight lurch as Buck brought the buckboard to a stop on the main street of the town. Sitting statue still, she watched as he gracefully hopped down to the ground with the fluid ease of a much younger man. Rose returned her attentions to her lap and found herself surprised when Buck was at her side offering a hand to help her from her perch.
Buck understood Rose's nervousness. He'd tried to make light conversation on the drive into town but was met with single syllable grunts and finally gave up and let the poor girl have her quiet. He helped her down from the buckboard and, seeing the worried frown on her face, quickly put an arm around her and gave her shoulders a squeeze.
"Relax," he whispered.
"I can't," she whispered back.
"Come on over here," he urged as he pulled her toward the small train depot. "I need to talk to you a little before the train gets here."
Rose followed obediently as he led her to a small bench near the platform.
"Look at me, Rose," Buck said softly drawing her eyes to his. He would never cease to be affected by her eyes. Even now that he could see more clearly the differences between Rose and her father, looking in her golden eyes was still like having a piece of his brother back. "I have some things to tell you. Important things...and I need you to listen."
"I'm listening."
"Back when we all first met...your father and me and the others...we were searching for something," he began. "Each of us searching for something. And if you'd asked any of us before we lined up at Emma's fence that first day, we would all have said we were searching for different things. But we weren't. Me, Ike, your father...Kid and Lou...Cody...hell, even Teaspoon and Emma. We were all looking for where we fit. We were looking for the support and love of family. We were looking for ourselves. Our true selves...the ones we can be when we are secure in being loved and cared for. Do you understand what I'm saying?"
"Of course I do...it's the same thing I was looking for when I came knocking at your door. I'm not sure I would have known it well enough to put it to words then but it's what I needed."
"The thing is...we found what we were looking for—every one of us—even if we didn't know that it was what we needed," he continued. "Like any family, we've had our losses. They all hurt. I know you understand what it all meant to me...just knowing what I named my sons. Your father...well, that might have been the one hardest to take. We all felt that as a personal hit to us. We all felt guilty. Ike...well, no one was going to stop him from doing what he did. Noah...Cody and your father took that guilt on themselves. But...Jimmy...well, we all played a part in that. Any one of us could have stepped up and...I don't even know. I just know that we could have done more. Maybe not Cody...he tried...got him to work in his show for a while...but...the rest of us weren't very good brothers to him, I think. I know he pushed us away...and it seemed pointless to try. But what seems pointless or too much work when someone's alive feels a hell of a lot different once they're dead."
"I don't think you could have saved him," Rose whispered. "I don't even think he wanted saving anymore."
"I know," he acknowledged. "It doesn't stop me from wanting to turn back time and try. Now here's where I really need you to pay attention and understand me. When you showed up...well, part of why we took you in was...it was a chance...a chance to do what we didn't before. We didn't work hard enough to keep your father around. We didn't look after him well enough and, frankly, I felt I owed it to him to take you in. And I felt guilty. If I had tried harder...maybe he wouldn't have died. You never knew him and I did and I can't help feeling I owe you a father."
Rose looked about to speak but Buck hushed her with a subtle shake of his head.
"I need you to know something else though. I had my selfish reasons for wanting you around too. I'm not just talking about how badly Mabel always wanted a daughter either. I'm talking about the pieces of you that you got from him. Your eyes, the way you stand sometimes...how you can seem so serious but be teasing me or Mabel all the same...it's like a little piece of him has come back to us. He didn't just leave a piece of himself for your ma...but for all of us. I know you're nervous today but...you don't need to be. Today, with just one of your smiles, you can do something for this man that none of the rest of us ever could."
"I'm still afraid..."
"I know, but you don't have to be."
Buck stood as the train came into view. He had written Teaspoon a long and newsy letter about his boys, about Mabel and the grandchildren. He had invited the man and told him only that he had a surprise for him, but wrote nothing of its nature. Now Buck found himself nearly giddy with excitement.
"There he is," Buck said breathlessly as he pointed at a grey-haired man stepping off of the train and onto the platform. "You stay here. I'll bring him over."
Rose fidgeted nervously as she watched Buck make his way to the man who had starred in so many of the stories her father had left in the care of her mother. The older man brightened at seeing one of the men he counted as a son. Rose felt awash with emotions she couldn't quite place as she watched the pair embrace and take stock of the changes in each other since their last meeting. Then they were walking toward her and she felt her palms start to sweat. There was still time to run.
But as she had so many times in her life, she felt...something. A presence maybe...or something. It calmed her and lent her strength. She was even able to conjure a smile for the approaching men. A confused look graced the face of the man she knew to be Teaspoon Hunter when he caught sight of her.
Before Buck could say a thing, Teaspoon had placed a hand on each of her shoulders and just stood staring at her, studying her.
"It can't be...can it?" his eyes lifted from hers to the deep brown eyes of her uncle.
"I told you I had a surprise," Buck beamed. "Teaspoon...I'd like you to meet Rose-"
"Rose Hickok," she filled in offering a warm smile. She quickly assessed the man before her as everything she had been told he was. There was something she couldn't name or put her finger on, something about him that was warm and calming. At the same time, she was even more nervous and worried that he wouldn't like her. She had feared as much before but now that she'd met him, it was so much more important that he like her, that he accept her. Rose willed her voice to remain steady. "It's so nice to meet you, Mr. Hunter."
"My God," Teaspoon whispered as he blinked back the moisture beginning to form in his eyes. One weathered hand lifted from her shoulder and traced her cheekbone and down her jaw line. He stared into the familiar golden eyes, eyes he never thought to see again, eyes that haunted him everywhere he went. He'd known, or at least had a suspicion who she was before she gave her name. It wasn't just her eyes either. Something in the way she stood as he'd approached, the way she held her head, the smile she gave him.
Her father was lost. Jimmy'd been lost long before he turned his back to the door in that saloon. Still, Teaspoon could feel in his old bones that they'd found him again at last. Seemingly without warning, he pulled her fiercely into a tight hug. He held onto her desperately, needing to cling tight to this piece of his lost boy the good lord had seen fit to send him. Swallowing hard to get past the lump in his throat he managed to find something of his voice.
"Mr. Hunter?" he asked with the hint of a playful smile draping itself over the rawness of his emotions. "That's a new one. The others just call me Grandpa."
Rose hugged him back and cried into his jacket. She hadn't expected to feel this close to Teaspoon so quickly. But she felt as if she knew him before she ever laid eyes on him and he was so genuine in his reaction to her. The way Teaspoon held her, she knew they were both grieving. They were missing the same person. His comfort was coming in the piece of his lost son he'd just received, hers in the pieces of her father this man could provide. In time the pair separated and Teaspoon once again looked back and forth between Buck and Rose.
"I know there's a good story here, Buck," Teaspoon said, regaining some of his usual composure. "I'll let you fill me in on the hows and whys later. How about we head for home so I can see that pretty little wife of yours, Buck?"
"Sounds good, Teaspoon," Buck replied. "Mabel's been busy as a bee roasting chicken and baking a shoofly pie. She knows it's your favorite."
"You got yourself a good one, Buck," Teaspoon replied with genuine admiration. "Maybe I can get to know my granddaughter a little on the way. How's that sound, Rosie?"
Rose looked up at the man who had been the father that her own father had so direly needed.
"I'd like that," Rose said overcoming her emotions and offering the older man a bright smile. "I'd like that a lot...Grandpa."
Blame Beulah! All her fault. She helped me with I Shall Be Released and while she was working on it, she mentioned that a story should be written about Rose. I had no idea what that would entail but it has been a very emotional journey.
I guess while I'm blaming, I should also thank her. Her insight on this, her questions, her ideas...brilliant...but please, Beulah dear, do not start asking for a story about how Buck and Mabel met...I need a break. Although I did come to really love Mabel.
And I very much came to love Rose. Though she broke my heart at times and Jimmy's still a little mad he never got to know her...
So...let me know what you think of Rose...and Mabel...and the story...or the world economy...or the make up of the US Olympic hockey team...or Cabrera's chances of repeating the triple crown...just anything at all you want to give an opinion on. We're all friends here.-J