Chapter 16

Cheyenne, Wyoming 1867

A loud squelch accompanied Buck with each weary step. Winter was upon them and the cold rainy days had turned the usual dusty into a clinging, unforgiving mud that clung to his boots. He trudged back towards the outskirts of town, squinting against the sting of wind-whipped sleet that lashed his face. A grueling day's labor hauling rough-hewn timbers for the railroad had thoroughly exhausted his reserves. All he craved was the simple comfort of a steaming bowl of stew and a bedroll – anything softer than the taut, unforgiving canvas that currently awaited him.

But as Buck rounded the final building obstructing his path homeward, a fleeting splash of vivid blue against the dusty, monochrome horizon gave him a momentary pause. It was Róisín, her periwinkle dress fluttering behind her as she sprinted towards the edge of the treeline marking the boundaries of the wilderness beyond.

A harsh curse escaped Buck's lips in a guttural rasp as realization dawned. He had cautioned the headstrong girl a hundred times, if not more, about the dangers lurking in those vast, unexplored woodlands - venomous diamondbacks, to say nothing of the Territory's most unforgiving predators, both four-legged and two.

A fusion of anger and terror roiled in the pit of his stomach as he broke into a loping gait, his booted strides devouring the distance between. Yet when Buck finally drew alongside the distraught young woman, one glance at her tear-stained cheeks instantly extinguished the smoldering flames of his irritation.

Tracks of shed tears streaked Róisín's flushed cheeks. Most alarming was the angry welt discoloring her left cheekbone - the unmistakable imprint of a callous, backhanded strike.

"Róise..." Buck rasped, his voicing cracking with an anguished rasp of concern as he reached out to tenderly tuck an errant lock of hair behind her ear. "What happened?"

She instinctively flinched away from his touch, her eyes sparking with a defiance that stabbed at his heart. "Nothing," Róisín mumbled as she attempted to push past his towering frame. "It's...it's nothing, Buck. Please, just leave me be."

"Look at me," he grumbled and gently tilted her face up, his fingers wrapped in the hair at her nape. " I can see plain as day 'nothing' didn't put that mark on your face."

For a prolonged moment, shame flickered across Róisín's face. Then, with a choked sob she flung herself against his chest. Without hesitation, Buck engulfed her slight figure in an embrace both protective and soothing, stoically weathering the flood of tears soaking through the threadbare cotton of his shirt.

"Darlin'," he murmured into the fragrant tangle of her hair, his thumb tracing soothing arcs along her trembling shoulder blades. "Who did this?"

"H-he...he didn't mean it," she choked out, the words muffled against Buck's chest. "He gets angry sometimes...loses his temper. But I know in my heart he didn't mean to strike me."

"Lochlan did this?" Buck growled, a muscle twitching along the clenched line of his jaw. He had witnessed Lochlan's unpredictable temperament erupt without warning on more than one occasion.

Róisín nodded jerkily, her confession seeming to drain what little reserves of strength she had. "Carson...he - he asked me to marry him," she whispered. "And Lochlan didn't...I've never seen him so angry before. I-I tried to explain that I don't love Carson, not in the way a wife should love her husband. But Lochlan...h-he..."

She trailed off, her words disintegrating into a series of quiet, hiccuping sobs that lanced straight through Buck's heart. Wordlessly, he bent until their foreheads brushed, his lips grazing the crown of her head in a lingering kiss. "I reckon your brother's right about one thing," he murmured at last, chest tightening with every wounded breath she drew. "Carson could provide a good life for you. One without concerns over where your next meal might come from or how you'll stay sheltered when winter's chill sets in."

Róisín recoiled visibly from his pragmatic words, almost violently so, her heart thundering up into her throat. "Is that...is that what you want, then?" She pleaded, her voice awash with fear and desperation.

The tenderness permeating Buck's expression at that moment was all the reassurance Róisín required. His scowl softened, eyes crinkling at their corners in a way that never failed to stir the yearnings within the deepest corners of her heart.

With an aching tenderness, Buck's fingers delved into the tangled curls framing her face, cradling her head as he tilted it back, searching her eyes. The world around them seemed to shudder to a halt. Buck's lips found hers. It was a kiss of possession, of barely restrained urgency and silent promises. When at last they pulled apart, their shared breaths intermingling.

"I swear to you, Róise..." he murmured, hands shaking at her waist until his knuckles showed bone-white against the tanned tone of his skin. "If that miserable bastard ever lays his hands on you again—"

Jaw clenched until the tendons along his neck strained, Buck's next breath was a harsh rasp. Yet he seemed to contain his fury, his expression fracturing into one of anguished torment. The menacing undercurrent surging through his words caused the fine hairs along the nape of Róisín's neck to prickle.

"Buck, please..." Róisín's whispered her fingers trailing down his face and resting on his neck. "He's my brother. For all his faults, he's still the only blood kin I have left."

"Hmmm." He exhaled loudly. "You ask a helluva lot from me, darlin'," he murmured defeatedly, lifting her hand to his lips to brush a tormented kiss against her knuckles.

He cupped her face between his rough palms, gently brushing away the remnants of her tears with the pads of his thumbs. There was a nakedness to his gaze that Róisín had never witnessed before, a vulnerability that left her pulse fluttering with mindless devotion.

"Make no mistake, Róise - if he ever crosses that line again." He swallowed hard and looked deep into her eyes. "I'm settlin' the score."