Running From the Devil – Buck
She had never met anyone quite like this boy before. Only fifteen but Buck Wilmington already had a man's height and carried a man's guns. And if all he had on his cheeks was peach-fuzz at least his shoulders where broad and his hips narrow. The joy of living sparkled in his deep blue eyes and his laughter filled a room. It was that joy that drew her like a moth to flame. Gradually over a year a friendship formed between the boy on the cusp of manhood and the woman who teetered on the edge of sanity. She learned to trust his gentleness and her battered soul basked in his warmth and strength.
It was late one night by the light of the full moon that he found her perched on the roof. He crawled up next to her and sat, knees tucked up and his strong hands lightly clasped in front of him.
She glanced at him out of the corner of her eye. He sat patiently waiting, staring up at the moon.
"She would be four today," she said. Silent tears ran down her face leaving silver tracks in the moonlight. "Robert didn't want to wait for a wagon train, so we went alone. We almost made it too, but the renegades found us first and Robert trusted them because they were white." Despair thickened her voice.
Buck scooted nearer and draped a supportive arm around her shoulders. She flinched and he froze until he finally felt her relax. He pulled her close until she was nestled in his arms, head tucked under his chin. Minute shudders shook her thin body as he rocked her gently. "What happened?" he asked softly.
He had to strain to hear her answer. "They shot Robert as he stepped forward to greet them and when they found Anne in the wagon, they shot her too. And each and every one of them took their turn with me and then they took everything of value we had and left me for dead."
He rested his chin on the top of her head and she felt his tears dampening her hair.
"It's been a year now without them and I can't do this any more." She felt his denial as he held her tighter.
She pushed away from him, suddenly frantic to escape. "I want my family, I want it to be over and I am so damn tired of being scared." She sobbed.
Buck reached down and gently cradled her face. "Oh darlin, sometimes the bravest thing you can do is keep on living. You are one of the strongest ladies I have ever known and I am truly grateful that you're my friend." He drew her again into the comfort of his arms and held her while she wept.
Dawn came at last and she stirred. Her heart felt lighter for having purged the poison of despair she had carried for so long. She turned in his arms and gazed in wonder at this man God had seen fit to send her when she needed him most. She pressed a grateful kiss on his cheek.
He blushed and helped her to her feet and down the roofline to the window. He crawled back inside and leaned out to help her. Once safely inside he saw her to her room and there he tucked her into bed. He leaned down and brushed a tender kiss on her forehead. "Sleep darlin. Things will be better when ya wake." He smiled and tipped his hat and slipped out the door as she drifted into a healing sleep.
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Weeping may endure for a night, but joy comes in the morning. Psalm 30: 5b
To everyone who took a moment out of their busy day to review this story arc my deepest thanks. Your words of encouragement have made my day.
I tried to write Buck's story like the others but the man just flat out refused to be depressed. It wasn't until I turned the story on its head that it started to flow.
A special thank you to my betas DeckerM and Jessie. Without you this story would still be nothing but an idea, therefore this story arc is dedicated to Jessie and Mary. Ladies, your friendship and encouragement is a treasure worth far more than rubies.
Not mine, but the alphabet people didn't want them any more and in my opinion should be arrested for character neglect, so I am sneaking them out the back door to my place.
Feb. 19, 2011