Marta was intrigued by Buck Cross before she even knew his name. It was the buttons. One minute she was worried she'd miss the stage on account of Mrs. Stibler, the next she couldn't take her eyes off the unlikely couple across the street from her. They weren't romantically involved, she instantly could see that, but there was a deep care between the two of them. The red headed woman was maybe a dozen years older than the man, she seemed to have a motherly way about her, and the man, well, she wasn't sure what to make of the man. He was handsome, and part Indian, she could tell that much. He was about her age, maybe a bit older. He was wearing the clothes common to white men on the frontier, but stood unique for reasons beyond his darker complexion. His black hair hung long and loose. He wore a large and she assumed deadly knife strapped to his boot, and a gun slung low on his hip. An earring with a strange design hung from one of his ears. She couldn't tell what the design was from her distance, but she wanted to get a closer look. Marta internally scolded herself. That was just the kind of wild impulse that always got her in trouble with her aunt. She needed to focus on getting to Rock Creek. Then she saw the woman look to the sky and then frown at the man's jacket in concern. The woman across the street was worried that this man, who looked more than capable of taking care of himself, was going to catch a chill. She was further surprised when the man smiled back at the woman and buttoned his jacket.

The simple gesture spoke volumes to his character, she wanted to know more. She convinced Mrs. Stibler to go to the stop for the stage and crossed the street. That's when he turned and stared at her. Not just a glance, noticing her approach, but full on starring. His eyes held naked admiration for her, and something else... kindness. His warm brown eyes were alight with kindness. She could feel the goodness in him and couldn't help but smile and return his gaze as the butterflies danced in her stomach. She managed to find her voice to speak to him and the woman next to him and before she knew it, she had her arm looped through his, declaring she had found her escort, defying Mrs. Stibler to say otherwise.

"I have half a mind to find my Charles and make you stay, Marta Erbach. This sort of heedless disregard for propriety will lead to your utter ruin, and if you think I will stand idly to watch you do it, well, you have another thing coming," Mrs. Stibler huffed as she chased after Marta, who ran ahead, up the stairs to the hotel and her waiting possessions.

Marta turned on her heel and came to a dead stop so abruptly Mrs. Stibler almost ran into her.

"Mrs. Stibler, I am going to take that stage. Mrs. Cain said that Buck is a proper escort and I believe her. He's a deputy, a man of the law. That badge supersedes whatever opinion you have on the color of his skin. Now, if you will excuse me, I don't want to keep them waiting," Marta did not wait for a response as she raced to get her things.

Mrs. Stibler called out to her one last time,

"Are you willing to gamble with your life, Miss Marta, on the word of a half breed?"

"Yes," she answered, not bothering to look behind her.

Her boldness to get on the stage and defy Mrs. Stibler, and by extension, her aunt, surprised her a little. She had put up with Mrs. Stibler's less than pleasant demeanor for hundreds of miles and managed to hold her tongue through it all. It was the price she had to pay to get what she wanted. At first she thought what she wanted was just to see her father again. To live in the same place without a looming deadline of when they'd have to part. Yes, she wanted that, but as she sat across the stage from Buck, waiting for the scowling Mrs. Collins to fall asleep, she realized she wanted so much more. She was drawn to this man. He was different than anyone she had ever met. When she finally got her chance to talk to him and listen as he told her about himself, the longing inside her heart only grew. She was attracted to him, in more ways than one.

The sound of his voice was soothing and exciting at the same time. The way he looked at her made her heart race. She saw an intensity in his brown eyes that told her things he hadn't yet said in words. He had experienced more, loved more and lost more. He had the freedom she had not felt since personally her mother died and she was forced to move away from her father. Her desire to experience what he had, even vicariously, was so strong that she put aside her usual reserve with men and pursued conversation with him. It was not proper. It wasn't proper to sit next to him and touch his arm. It wasn't proper to notice the strength in his hands and wonder what his hands would feel like in her own. It wasn't proper to want to do all the things he had done; ride hard all day, play cards in saloons, swim in a watering hole or sit in nothing but underwear in a sweat lodge. She was sure she had blushed to the roots of her hair, imaging him stripped down and sweating. Yes, he was causing her more improper thoughts than any other man ever had. Being so close to him, sensing his strength was a heady experience, and it left her addled.

He was physically attractive, in an exotic way and his experiences were attractive too. The quality that drew her to him the most however, was how he talked about his "family". They were not blood, but they may as well have been and she could hear his love and loyalty for this disparate group of individuals in every story he told. She had many relatives and friends from school but had only felt such love and closeness from her mother and father. Hearing him talk about the adventures he had with his family made her realize just how lonely she had been, for most of her life.

As she listened to him, she thought how nice it was that he lived in Rock Creek; she had no illusions that a friendship would be easy, or that her father would even approve but she dared to hope that maybe they'd be able to find a way. She was going to tell him as much when it was her turn to talk, but she decided to press him a little further about Cody and Noah. He had looked so sad when he mentioned their names and she cared if he was sad. Then she heard her father's name. Buck spit her father's name out like it was poison. It made her blood run cold. The anguish was written all over his face, his voice shook from his anger, his pain. It hurt her heart to see and it hurt her heart even more to think Buck believed her father was the cause. Her father was a good man. He had been a soldier her whole life because, in his words, it was his duty to defend and serve his country. In Marta's eyes that made him a hero, her hero.

She started to tremble as she realized Buck knew something was wrong. His eyes saw everything and she wouldn't be able to hold the truth of who her father was inside of her, even if she wanted to. Not when Buck was looking at her with such concern. Words spilled out of her... about her mother, how she grew up, the freedom she sought by coming to find her father, even though he thought it too dangerous to come. Then with a racing heart she let the words cross her lips,

"Captain Erbach is my father,"

Buck's eyes grew wide and he shook his head,

"No," he said softly, although one look at her tear filled eyes confirmed the sinking feeling in the pit of his stomach.

She nodded her head yes, feeling her sense of dread grow.

"You don't look anything like him."

"I'm told I look like my mother. My father always said how lucky I was, that I didn't get his 'ugly mug'." she almost laughed, but the frown on Buck's face held the sound in her throat.

Buck noticed her flinch under his gaze and realized he must be glowering at her something fierce. He made a conscious effort to smile, but the corners of his mouth barely turned up.

"I agree with him, you mother must've been beautiful." he muttered before letting his eyes travel past her to the window.

"Thank you," Marta said tentatively.

She waited for him to look her in the eye, but he looked everywhere else instead. He only acknowledged she said something with a curt nod her direction. Marta tried to think of something to say, but the ease she had felt previously talking with him, had evaporated. She looked down in her lap to her hands, and resisted wringing them together. The uncomfortable silence grew as the minutes ticked by.

Buck felt like cursing. He was completely at a loss now with the girl sitting next to him. The Captain was her father. If he hadn't been so distracted by how she made him feel, he would've figured out who she was the first time she mentioned anything about her father's work and that she had grown up in Texas. No, he had been too overwhelmed by her charms, her openness, and her smile to notice much of anything else. He took a deep breath, it wasn't like she had held this back from him on purpose. She had no idea who he was or how he felt about the army in general or her father in specific until he flat out told her and she responded to that by gently explaining the truth as soon as the opportunity presented itself. He cast a sidelong glance at her, she looked forlorn, staring at her hands. It was easy to imagine her as she described, a little girl, running after her father in her Sunday best. The image made him smile just a little. She must've been an adorable and precocious child. She managed to get under his skin in a way few people ever had in only a few hours. She was something special and deserved better than his misplaced frustration.

"Marty..."

"Buck..."

They both turned and said at once. Buck smiled and she did too, in relief. He was going to continue and apologize when he heard three sharp thuds against the side of the coach, followed instantly by a shout from the driver,

"Buck, you better look out the window, we got trouble!"

The driver picked up speed and the coach lurched, jostling Marta right into his arms. He held her steady and then stood half way to look out the window. He cursed loudly this time, waking Mrs. Collins.

"What is it, what are you seeing?" Marta asked as she tried to stand up and see for herself.

Buck pushed her back down firmly,

"It's a Sioux war party, they're up ahead in the middle of the road," he said tersely.

"And that sound we just heard?"

"Arrows."

Buck looked at her for what seemed like forever, but in actuality was only a second or two, before shouting out the window.

"You're going to have to stop, we can't outrun them!"

"Are you crazy? They'll kill us all!" the man outside shrieked.

"If they wanted to kill us, we'd already be dead... slow the coach down." Buck answered.

Mrs. Collins started to scream loudly,

"I don't want to die, I don't want to die!"

Buck took one look at her and growled,

"Shut up! I don't have time for you to be hysterical. Your best hope to stay alive is to keep quiet, no matter what."

Buck felt the coach start to slow. He only had a minute, if that. He turned to Marta suddenly and crouched beside her. He grabbed both of her shoulders firmly.

"Look at me," he said in a low and deadly tone. She raised her eyes to his. She was terrified. He continued on, "as soon as this coach stops, I'm getting out and I'm going to go talk to them..."

"No, don't... it's dangerous, you could..." she started, trying to keep the panic out of her voice.

"It's the best chance we got. Now I need you to listen to me. No matter what happens outside of this coach, you do not step out of it, without me saying so. You don't even look out the window... do you understand?"

"Why?" she asked, before really looking at him.

His face was etched with anger and his eyes blazed.

She nodded slowly, "alright. I won't move. I won't look."

The stage coach lurched to a halt. Buck turned to throw open the door when Marta grabbed his hand.

"Be careful, please..."

He looked back and felt his heart thud in his chest. She was breathtakingly beautiful and she had eyes only for him.

"You're going to be fine, Marty. I made a promise." He reached out his hand and gently ran his fingers down the side of her cheek.

Then without another word he turned and jumped out of the stage. The door closed with a bang.

Buck went to the driver first,

"I'm going to talk to them. Keep your hands where they can see them and don't do anything stupid," Buck paused and winced, "unless they kill me. Then gallop this thing out of here as fast as you can."

The driver nodded repeatedly, his eyes bugging out of his head,

"I hope you know what you're doing." the driver choked out.

"Me too," Buck said under his breath as he gave his full attention to the Sioux.

Six braves waited on horseback on the hill just ahead of them, while two braves rode straight towards the coach. They stopped their horses a few feet from him and regarded Buck silently.

The younger looking brave said to the older,

"He is part Indian, do you think he knows the words of our people?"

Buck's ears perked up and answered in their language,

"I know Lakota."

"What are you?" the younger one asked again.

"My mother's people are Kiowa."

"You know we are Souix." the younger one looked down with curiosity.

"Yes."

"Our people have made war with the Kiowa many times."

"There is a time of peace now. My mother's son is Red Bear, a chief among the Kiowa. He knows there is a bigger enemy than the Sioux," Buck looked to both of them and realized he had seen them before, from a distance, "the sons of the great Sioux Chief Grey Wolf know the Blue Coat soldiers are far more dangerous than the Kiowa."

The two brothers looked at each other and dismounted their horses as one.

"What is your name?" the older one spoke for the first time.

"Running Buck."

"How do you recognize our faces?"

"I was at the last pow wow between the Blue Coats and your father and elders," Buck answered honestly.

"You are a dog to the white men!" the younger said with a sneer.

Buck felt his anger rise, but had no outward reaction.

"The white chiefs wanted a translator. I wanted to make sure the treaty was fair. The written words were fair. The men your father smoked the peace pipe with, do not have honor. They have ignored the words of the treaty." Buck said carefully.

"I see in your heart you have wanted to help the Sioux... why?" the older one asked.

Before Buck could answer the older suddenly added,

"I am Black Elk, eldest son of the Great Chief Grey Wolf. This is his second son, Kicking Pony. We rode out in war paint, because the White Man ride their wagons into our hunting grounds. They scare away the game. There is no food so we killed and ate their animals. The Blue Coats tell us to pay the White Man coin for the slaughtered animals. We will not do this..." Black Elk looked behind him to the hill where the rest of his men waited.. "their hearts burn to make war against the White Man. We are not the dust under their feet to be trampled. We are Sioux. My brother desired to set fire to this wagon and kill everyone on it as a warning. I would not let him. The Great Spirit told me to wait... and see. Running Buck, I ask you again. Why do you want to help the Sioux?"

Buck took a deep breath, he was sure whatever words he said next would seal their fate,

"I have lived in the White Man's world for a long time, but they do not see my white blood. They only see Indian. When there are problems with the Pawnee, I am Pawnee. When there are problems with the Arapaho, I am Arapaho. To the White Man, all Indians are the same. So, to fight for our ancestor's lands and way of life, we must see ourselves as the White Man sees us. The same. The Sioux are my brothers. Their hunting grounds, my hunting grounds. Scattered we are weak, but united we are strong."

Kicking Pony looked appalled,

"I will never call the Pawnee my brothers!" he spit on the ground to prove his point but Black Elk stood still and nodded. He then tilted his head at Buck as if bemused,

"You ride on the backs of two swift horses. May the Great Spirit give you the strength to keep your balance... for the words you say are wise. Come, brother, we will leave him. Go to the White Chiefs, Running Buck. Tell them our tomahawks are raised to make war."

Kicking Pony walked back to his horse,

"You are a strange warrior, with no horse," he laughed.

Buck frowned in spite of himself. It only made Kicking Pony laugh harder.

"I ride this stage to protect the passengers," Buck hedged.

"They are women," Kicking Pony nodded in understanding, "I want to see them."

Buck crossed his arms calmly,

"If I let you see them, I wouldn't be protecting them."

Kicking Pony opened his mouth to argue, but Black Elk glared at his brother,

"Enough."

They started to mount their houses, and Buck almost relaxed his stance when he heard a shriek from the stage coach. The door flew open and Buck could only watch helplessly as a screaming Mrs. Collins tumbled out.

"I can't... breathe... the savages... the savages!" she wailed as she looked wildly at a stunned Black Elk and Kicking Pony.

Mrs. Collins ran as fast as her little legs could carry her, straight for the woods. The driver cursed, hopped off his perch, and chased after her,

"Mrs. Collins, you fool woman, come back here!"

Then at once all three pair of remaining eyes flew to the door. There stood Marta, pale as a sheet, her blue eyes as wide as they could go,

"I tried to make her stay, Buck. She was too strong, I couldn't..." she stopped once she realized she had their complete attention.

Buck glanced over to both brothers, then strode over to Marta purposefully and said through gritted teeth,

"Drop your eyes, stand behind me."

She immediately obeyed and stood behind Buck so she could no longer be seen. Buck could feel her place her trembling hands on his back. Buck's heart raced and the sound of his own blood roared in his ears. Outwardly he remained calm and let his hand rest casually on the butt of his gun. Kicking Pony walked over to him until they were face to face.

"The Sky Eyes, I want her. Give her to me,"

"You will not take her. She's mine."

A/N: I'm sure many of you have guessed where the name "Mrs. Collins" comes from. Good old Jane Austen.

I already have started chapter three and in the process of tweaking some things. This story has totally taken over my brain. I hope you're enjoying it, so far... let me know! :)