Chapter 11

Rock Creek, Nebraska

June 1872

Buck paced the wooden porch of his house, scanning the horizon for her silhouette. She had taken one of his horses that morning, leaving a note that she would return by nightfall. As the sun sank, washing the sky a hazy shade of pink, Buck's impatience grew unbearable. Unable to wait any longer, he saddled up and rode towards the river.

The air hung heavy in the valley, moisture clinging to Buck as he urged his horse forward. By the time he reached the river, night had fully descended. He searched the muddy bank, but there was no sign of Lara.

"Get off your horse, mister," a deep voice commanded, accompanied by the distinctive sound of a rifle cocking. "Drop the gun."

"I don't have any money," Buck replied to the voice behind him as he complied by tossing his gun aside.

"I don't want your money," the man scoffed, stepping out of the shadows.

"I'm not here for you," Buck clarified, recognizing the stranger from the wanted posters in town.

The man's accent was only slightly noticeable, and his voice was quiet as he spoke, "Maybe no."

"I'm looking for Lara." Buck stated, his patience wearing thin. The silence stretched on, and Buck drew his knife, lunging at the man in one fluid motion. He pinned him down, blade at his throat. "Where is she?"

"She didn't show up," Joaquin grunted angrily.

"What?" Buck's frown deepened, the thought that Lara might be hurt or worse only occurring to him then. Slowly, he released Joaquin and re-sheathed his knife. As he turned to his horse, pain erupted in his side, and he barely dodged the incoming blows. Buck evaded Joaquin's punches until he could tackle him to the ground.

"I told you, I ain't here for you!" Buck pushed him away. "We both want the same thing."

Joaquin remained silent, winded.

"Now either you help me find her, or get out here," Buck demanded, extending his hand to help Joaquin up. "She hasn't been here."

"Perhaps," Joaquin replied, his gaze searching the darkness for any sign of Lara.

"Her tracks ain't here," Buck pointed out. "We can backtrack, find her trail."

They rode through the darkness until Buck caught sight of Lara's horse wandering in the tall grass. Urging their horses forward, they made their way towards the limping mare.

"She's hurt,"

"Hmm," Buck grumbled as he scanned the area.

"Lara's a good rider," Joaquin reassured himself. she wouldn't have let her horse go without reason.

The two split up, Joaquin veering towards the forest's edge while Buck rode in the opposite direction, heading back towards town. The storm brewed overhead, its ominous clouds further darkening the already gloomy night. Buck's heart pounded in his chest as he searched frantically for any sign of Lara. The howling wind and driving rain only added to the urgency.

Suddenly, Joaquin's voice pierced the darkness, breaking the eerie silence that surrounded them. Buck's heart lurched as he turned his horse sharply, galloping towards the source of the cry. Dread coiled in his stomach like a tightening knot as he approached the scene.

He dismounted and knelt beside her, his heart sinking at the sight of Lara's limp form. Despite the deafening sounds of the rain and the wind, he could hear her shallow breaths, a slight reassurance. He exchanged a look with Joaquin, the silent communication conveying the realization of their shared concern.

In Joaquin's eyes, Buck glimpsed the depth of anguish and worry echoed in his own heart. Lara had claimed Joaquin was like her brother, but Buck knew better. The unspoken understanding between the two men spoke louder than the thunder crackling above them.

As Buck rode through the storm, each clap of thunder echoed the emotions raging within him. He held Lara close, her form heavy against him, yet he refused to yield to the weight of despair. Her faint stirrings, gave him hope. He urged his horse onward, his heart pounding. With each passing moment, the urgency increased, driving Buck to push his horse to its limits. The usual twenty-minute ride to the doctor's home felt like an eternity.

They finally reached the safety of the doctor's home. As it was late Buck roused the doctor from his sleep with his persistent shouts and banging on the door. He watched anxiously as the doctor tended to Lara. Flashbacks were instant, they hit him so quickly he almost dropped her before he laid her on the bed. It was as if Ike were laying there and he had been transported back to haunt him.

Buck sat in the corner of the room, his heart pounding with every mumble of the doctor. His mind raced with worry as he braced himself for whatever news might come next. He had seen the blood on her dress. It had stained his shirt as they rode. Buck looked up as the doctor tucked the blanket in around her shoulders.

"How is she?" His voice trembled.

"She'll be alright," the doctor reassured him.

"Thank you." Buck breathed in deeply.

"She's a fighter. I've given her some laudanum for the pain. She's got a gash on the back of her head, but I stitched her up. She'll need rest and care for the next few days. No strain on those stitches."

With a heavy heart, he approached the table where Lara lay, her complexion unnaturally pale against the crimson stains that marred her honey-colored locks, now matted with blood.

"She can sleep here tonight, just be careful riding home tomorrow." The doctor took a lantern and retreated to his room.

"Buck?" Lara's eyes fluttered weakly.

"Shhh," Buck whispered soothingly, his voice a gentle reassurance as he reached for Lara's hand. "You're gonna to be okay."