Part One – Promises Made
Chapter 1
Rock Creek, Nebraska - February 1861
Alyna sighed impatiently as Ms. Fitzsimmons continued to painstakingly inscribe the weekend assignments on the blackboard. It was a radiant, clear day outside, and Alyna's mind wandered to the myriad of activities awaiting her beyond the confines of the classroom.
Just a few more minutes, she reminded herself, only a few more minutes until class would be over. Out of the corner of her eye, she noticed two older boys pointing out the window, their whispers carrying excitement. She didn't need to look to know what, or rather who, had captured their attention. The whole town knew he was there.
"Alyna McAllister!" Ms. Fitzsimmons' sharp tone cut through the room, the yardstick striking the corner of Alyna's desk, narrowly missing her hand.
"Yes, Ma'am," Alyna replied, slightly startled, meeting the stern gaze of the elderly teacher.
"Pay attention!" Ms. Fitzsimmons admonished before returning to the front of the room to resume writing on the board.
Not wanting to invite further reprimand, Alyna diligently noted down the assignments. The thought of cleaning erasers or worse, facing the paddle in front of the whole class, made her nose crinkle in distaste.
She detested Ms. Fitzsimmons. It was no wonder the woman never married. Suppressing a giggle, Alyna couldn't help but compare her to the old witches in the fairy tales her mother used to tell her back in Ireland. Every day, Ms. Fitzsimmons donned the same plain brown dress, her grey hair pulled tightly back into a severe bun, giving her a witch-like appearance.
"Alyna!" Penelope nudged her friend, excitement dancing in her eyes as she grabbed Alyna's hand. "Come on! He's here!"
"I told you he would be!" Alyna giggled, following Penelope's lead toward the jailhouse.
"How long is he going to be here again?" Penelope's dreamy tone suggested she shared Alyna's captivation.
"My father said just a few months, until Marshal Hunter is better," Alyna replied, her gaze drifting toward the temporary marshal.
"Mrs. James Butler Hickok," Penelope giggled, indulging in the fantasy of romance with the temporary lawman.
The two girls were a flurry of giggles and whispered secrets as they strolled past the jailhouse. Alyna's gaze lingering for a moment on the temporary marshal before they disappeared into the welcoming shade of the general store. Inside, the air was cool and scented with the aroma of dried herbs and freshly cut wood. Penelope gravitated toward the window, her eyes fixated on the marshal outside, while Alyna meandered among the small rack of dresses, her fingers lightly tracing the soft fabrics.
Each dress seemed to tell a story, with its unique pattern and delicate stitching. Alyna paused to admire a particularly intricate design, imagining herself twirling in it at the upcoming picnic. The colors were vibrant, reminiscent of the wildflowers that adorned the meadows outside of town. Lost in her daydream, Alyna barely noticed as Mrs. Jameson approached, her presence heralded by the gentle rustle of her skirts.
"Beautiful, aren't they?" Mrs. Jameson remarked, her voice warm and grandmotherly.
Alyna smiled in agreement, her fingers still lingering on the fabric. "Yes, they are. I think I like this one the best." With a glint of excitement in her eyes, Alyna carefully plucked a dress from the rack, the deep teal fabric rich against her fingertips.
She held it up to her face, the color complementing the warmth of her complexion and her fiery red curls. The fabric was soft against her skin, and the thought of twirling in it at the upcoming picnic filled her with a sense of anticipation.
"It suits you," Mrs. Jameson remarked, a knowing smile playing on her lips as she observed Alyna's reflection in the mirror.
Alyna blushed, pleased by the compliment. "Thank you, Mrs. Jameson."
Mrs. Jameson nodded, her eyes twinkling with nostalgia. "Oh, if only I were young again. I would be the belle of the ball."
"You're not so old, Mrs. Jameson." Alyna chuckled, charmed by Mrs. Jameson's enthusiasm.
Mrs. Jameson laughed, a melodic sound that echoed through the quiet store. "Oh, you're too kind, my dear. But I think I'll leave twirling on the dance floor to the young ladies like you."
With a final pat on Alyna's hand, Mrs. Jameson continued her shopping, leaving the two girls to browse at their leisure. Sensing Penelope's distance, Alyna gently replaced the dress where it hung and moved to stand next to her friend. Following Penelope's gaze, she looked out the window at the man, who still stood vigil outside the jailhouse.
"Do you think he'll be at the picnic tomorrow?" Penelope interrupted, her cheeks flushed with a mixture of excitement and embarrassment.
Alyna turned to her friend, a mischievous glint in her eyes. "I suppose so. Why don't you just ask him?"
Penelope's eyes widened in horror. "Noooo!" she protested, her blush deepening as she imagined the prospect.
Alyna chuckled, taking a step toward the door. "I will then," she teased, teasing her friend with a playful grin.
"Alyna! You wouldn't dare!" Penelope exclaimed, quickly grabbing Alyna's arm and pulling her back.
Alyna relented, trying to catch her breath between fits of laughter as she nearly stumbled backward into Penelope's arms.
Suddenly, a deep voice interjected from behind them, teasingly asking, "Would you like me to ask him for you?"
Alyna and Penelope spun around, their laughter tapering off as they faced the source of the unexpected interruption. Standing before them was Deputy Buck Cross, a playful twinkle in his eyes and a smirk playing on his lips.
Alyna's cheeks flushed slightly at the unexpected attention, but she couldn't help but return the deputy's amused gaze with a smile. Penelope, however, seemed caught off guard, her blush deepening as she struggled to find her voice.
Buck leaned casually against the nearby shelf, his demeanor relaxed as he awaited their response. There was an undeniable charm about him, Alyna couldn't deny the flutter of excitement that stirred within her at his presence.
"I don't recall asking for your assistance," Penelope retorted haughtily, her cheeks still flushed with embarrassment.
With a swift motion, she grabbed Alyna's hand and hastily pulled her out the door, causing Alyna to stumble on the hem of her skirts.
"Penelope, stop, I'm going to fall!" Alyna laughed, disentangling herself from Penelope's grasp and regaining her balance.
"Stop laughing!" Penelope's voice grew sharper as the anger bubbled beneath her skin.
"I'm sorry, I didn't mean it." Alyna apologized, her laughter subsiding as she tried to catch her breath.
"How dare he embarrass me like that?" Penelope's voice rose, her indignation evident.
"He was just teasing you," Alyna offered, attempting to diffuse the tension.
"I don't care if he's a deputy. He's just a dirty half-breed," Penelope scowled, her words laced with disdain. "He needs to know his place in this town."
Alyna fell silent, her brow furrowing in concern. She understood Penelope's embarrassment, but she couldn't help feeling uneasy about her friend's harsh words. She didn't understand why the people of Rock Creek feared and disliked the deputy so much. Marshal Hunter trusted him, and that was good enough for her. She knew the renegade Indians in the area were dangerous, but not him. Not Buck Cross. With a smile, she glanced back at the two men sitting outside the jailhouse.