Chapter 34
Zion Encampment, Wyoming - July 1874
Buck stepped into the main room where Bishop Jameson, Luke, and Jane Peterson, and their children, who Buck presumed were the eldest, were all gathered. The youngsters, their faces pale and wide-eyed, were clearly experiencing their first encounter with an Indian. Buck fought back a chuckle as he noticed their white-knuckled grip on the arms of their chairs.
"I trust you found your sister in good health," the Bishop said, rising from his seat.
"Yes, sir," Buck replied.
"A remarkable recovery, indeed," the Bishop remarked, his gaze lingering on Buck for a moment before he shuffled towards the door.
"Praise be to the Lord," Jane echoed, offering the Bishop his hat with a warm smile.
"I don't have much to offer in return for your kindness," Buck began, searching for a way to express his gratitude, "but perhaps—"
"Nonsense, Brother Cross," Luke interrupted, placing a reassuring hand on Buck's arm. "This is the Lord's work. No repayment is necessary."
Buck nodded, his heart swelling with appreciation. "Thank you," he said sincerely.
The Bishop offered a curt nod. "Well then, Brother Cross, I do hope we see you at our Sunday service. You'd be most welcome." With that, the older man took his leave, his departure somewhat abrupt.
"Thank you again," Buck reiterated, turning his attention to Luke and Jane. "Your family has been incredibly kind to Gabrielle."
"She's a lovely young lady," Jane said softly, her voice filled with genuine warmth.
"These are our eldest," Luke introduced, gesturing towards the teenagers seated beside his wife. "Samuel, our sixteen-year-old, and Abigail, who is thirteen. The younger ones are tucked in for the night, but we'll introduce you properly later."
"Pleased to meet you both," Buck said with a nod.
"The Bishop tells us you're the sheriff in Butte Meadows," Luke continued, gesturing towards a chair. "Why don't you have a seat?"
"Thank you kindly," Buck accepted, settling into the offered chair. "Been the sheriff for goin' on two years now, I suppose."
"I don't mean to pry mister, but how come your sister isn't an Indian?" Samuel asked.
"Please forgive my son's curiosity." Jane interjected.
Buck chuckled softly. "No offense taken, ma'am," he replied. "She's more like a sister-in-law. My father married her mother after we were both born."
"So your pa was white, then?" Luke inquired.
"Yes, sir, he was."
"And you, were you raised by your mother's people or your father's?" Jane asked, a hint of concern in her voice.
Buck sensed her apprehension and decided to downplay the harsher aspects of his upbringing. "I left my tribe when I was very young," he explained carefully.
A flicker of movement from the doorway caught his eye. A young boy, no older than eight, peeked out from behind the doorframe, his eyes wide with curiosity.
"Ah, this must be one of the younger ones," Luke chuckled, his voice warm. "Come on in, Thomas, don't be shy. This is Brother Cross, Gabrielle's brother."
The boy shuffled forward hesitantly, his gaze glued to Buck. Buck offered a friendly smile.
"Howdy, Thomas," Buck greeted, extending a hand.
The boy hesitated for a moment, then slowly reached out and took Buck's hand in a firm handshake.
"Nice to meet you, sir," he mumbled shyly.
"The pleasure's all mine," Buck replied, giving the boy's hand a gentle squeeze.
"We should probably all be headin' to bed," Luke said, rising from his chair. "It's gonna be a long day tomorrow."
Buck nodded in agreement. "Of course. Thank you again for everything, Mr. and Mrs. Peterson. I truly appreciate your hospitality."
"We're happy to help in any way we can." Jane nodded
"Samuel, Abigail school will come early." Luke looked at the clock on the fireplace hearth and then at his children.
"Yes Father." Both said in unison and scurried off to bed.
"I should be heading out." Buck stood up and shook Luke's hand again. "I'll just make camp outside your town here, by the river if that's ok? Then come see Gabrielle once you get home."
"We don't have extra room in the house, but we have a barn that will offer you better shelter than the open prairie." Luke smiled and opened the door.
"Thank you." Buck smiled.
Luke led Buck outside to the barn, offering him a lantern and some blankets. The lantern cast long shadows across the dusty interior of the barn as Buck followed Luke. The pungent aroma of hay filled the air. Inside, a lone plow horse munched contentedly on a bale of hay, its large brown eyes regarding Buck with mild curiosity.
"This looks a sight more comfortable than the bare ground," Buck admitted, eyeing the fresh hay piled high in the loft. A roof overhead wouldn't hurt either, especially with the threat of a summer squall ever-present.
"Indeed," Luke chuckled. "There's a ladder right here if you prefer a softer bed than straw." He gestured towards a sturdy wooden structure leaning against the far wall.
Buck hoisted the lantern higher, its warm glow illuminating the rungs of the ladder. "Much appreciated, Mr. Peterson," he replied, extending the lantern towards Luke. "I'd be happy to lend a hand with whatever chores you need doing. Repairs around the house, anything you might need."
Luke studied him for a moment, then a grin lit up his face. "Well, as a matter of fact, that old fence by the south pasture could use some mending. We can tackle that first thing tomorrow, if you're up for it."
Relief and a surge of satisfaction washed over Buck. He wouldn't be sitting around twiddling his thumbs after all. "Sounds good to me," he said. "Just point me in the direction of some tools, and I'll get to work."