Chapter 51

South West Nebraska - September 1874

The sun dipped below the treeline, casting long shadows across the dusty trail. Buck reined in his horse, the rhythmic clopping of hooves replaced by a peaceful silence. He glanced back at Gabrielle, who rode a few paces behind, a thoughtful frown imprinted on her face.

"Looks like a good place to stop for the night," he said, dismounting and stretching his stiff legs.

Gabrielle blinked, pulled from her reverie, the daydream dissolving like mist. The memory of the sparkling blue river and the way sunlight glinted off Buck's wet skin as he emerged from the water sent a flutter to her stomach The way the water trickled down his muscles... she bit her lip and forced herself to take a deep breath. She swallowed hard, averting her gaze.

"Alright," she mumbled, climbing down from her horse.

Buck busied himself tending to the animals, unsaddling them and leading them to a patch of green grass by a nearby stream. Gabrielle watched him for a moment, his movements strong and practiced. Then, with a sigh, she turned to gather firewood.

Twigs snapped under her feet as she walked, the sound echoing in the stillness. Her mind kept replaying the scene at the river – the coolness of the water on her skin, the way Buck had looked at her when they emerged, both of them dripping, hair plastered to their foreheads. Heat rushed to her cheeks. This wasn't proper behavior, not for a woman traveling alone with a stranger. Yet, there was something undeniable about Buck, something that set her pulse racing in ways she hadn't experienced before.

"We're eating good tonight!" Buck emerged from the treeline smiling.

"What delicacy have you brought us this evening, fine sir?" She teased, adopting a mock British accent.

"Duck," Buck confirmed, laying the bird down with a flourish.

"Well, I have certainly enjoyed duck before," she countered with a laugh.

"Thank you for the firewood," Buck said, turning his attention to building a fire for their meal.

"How do you get the feathers off?" Gabrielle asked, hesitantly reaching out to touch the duck.

"He won't bite," Buck chuckled, sensing her apprehension.

"But how did you get close enough to shoot him?" She persisted, curiosity sparking in her eyes.

"An arrow," Buck replied simply, gesturing towards the log where his bow rested.

"Oh, I hadn't noticed you had a bow with you," Gabrielle admitted, surprised.

"Always good to have a bow and arrows," Buck explained. "Makes hunting a little easier." He began to prepare the duck, expertly removing its wings. "I keep them under my bedroll. Easy access, but they don't attract attention when I'm riding through town."

Gabrielle's gaze drifted towards the quiver of arrows. "May I touch them?" She inquired, her voice filled with a childlike wonder.

"Sure, go ahead," Buck replied with a nod.

As Buck focused on preparing their dinner, Gabrielle's full attention turned to the bow and arrows. Her fingers traced the smooth wood of the bow, lingering on the intricate leather wrapping of the quiver.

"Did you make these yourself?" She asked, her voice barely a whisper as she gently pulled an arrow out, her touch feather-light as she examined the craftmanship.

"I did," Buck confirmed, a hint of pride in his voice as he watched her closely.

"I've never seen a bow and arrow up close before," Gabrielle confessed, her voice tinged with awe. "Read about them, of course, and seen pictures, but this..." she trailed off, unable to express the wonder she felt.

"What do you think?" Buck prompted gently.

Her answer came swift and sure. "I want to learn how to use it."

Surprise flickered across Buck's face. "You do?"

A flicker of uncertainty crossed Gabrielle's features. "Is that wrong? Can women not use them?"

"No, no," Buck reassured her quickly. "I'll teach you if you'd like." He rinsed his hands with water from their canteen. "Let's get the duck cooking first. Why don't you set up the bedrolls, and then we can head over to those trees. I'll show you the basics of using the bow."

The rich aroma of dinner filled the air as Buck stirred the pot, the sound punctuated by the rhythmic clinking of the lid. He'd chopped the bird into hearty chunks, browning them in its own rendered fat for added flavor. Water bubbled merrily as he rummaged through his saddlebags, pulling out a handful of potatoes.

Gabrielle, who had finished laying out the bedrolls, caught his eye and he gestured for her to come closer.

"Ready to give that bow a try?" he asked with a smile.

Her face lit up with excitement. "Absolutely!" she exclaimed, jumping to her feet and following him towards the tree line.

They reached a cluster of trees bathed in the golden light of the setting sun. Buck pointed to a specific one. "See that oak with the hollow trunk over there? That's your target."

Taking a deep breath, Gabrielle accepted the bow from his outstretched hand. He started with her stance, guiding her to position her feet shoulder-width apart for stability. "Perfect," he said, his voice warm and encouraging. "Now, are you right or left-handed?"

"Right-handed," she replied.

"Good," he continued. "Take the bow in your left hand, nice and relaxed. Don't grip it too tightly."

Gabrielle adjusted her hold, mirroring his demonstration.

"The arrow goes on the string like this," Buck said, nocking an arrow onto the bowstring. He then gently positioned her fingers on the string. "This hand holds the shaft of the arrow in place."

A puzzled frown creased Gabrielle's brow. "So, the arrow just... stays?"

Chuckling softly, Buck reassured her. "Exactly. It'll rest on your hand for balance but don't grip it. See?" He pulled the string back, demonstrating the proper hand position. "Use your back muscles for the draw, not your arm. It'll give you more power and control."

Gabrielle mimicked his movement, but her initial attempt resulted in the arrow falling limply to the ground. "Oh!" She exclaimed, a touch of disappointment tinging her voice.

"No worries," Buck said calmly, retrieving the arrow. "Just let it glide along your hand as you draw back, don't hold onto it. Here, let me show you again." He re-nocked the arrow and guided her hand through the motion, emphasizing the use of back muscles for a smoother draw.

"Now, aim for the center of the tree," he instructed, gently guiding her aim. "Keep the string pulled back until you're ready to release, but hold the bow steady until the arrow hits."

Taking a deep breath to steady herself, Gabrielle focused on the target. With a hesitant release of her fingers, the string slipped free, sending the arrow whistling through the air.

"I hit it!" She cried out with delight, turning to Buck with a wide grin.

"Excellent aim!" Buck praised a hint of pride in his voice. "See? Natural talent."

As the sun dipped below the horizon, casting long shadows across the clearing, Gabrielle continued to practice under Buck's patient guidance. With each passing attempt, her accuracy improved, fueled by a mixture of newfound confidence and the thrill of hitting her mark. Finally, as dusk settled, Buck retrieved the arrows, and they headed back to camp, their bellies rumbling in anticipation of a well-earned dinner.