Chapter 6
Shadow Valley, Texas 1870
Halona rocked back and forth on the balls of her feet, her eyes roaming the room around her. The absence of modern conveniences struck her immediately - no television, no gadgets, just sturdy, well-worn furniture, and faded rugs covering the rough wooden floor.
Her gaze swept across the cozy space. A cast-iron stove dominated one corner, its black surface gleaming in the soft light. A handmade quilt draped over the back of a chair, their intricate patterns telling stories of patience and skill. A bookshelf lined one wall, filled with leather-bound volumes and well-thumbed paperbacks. The mantelpiece above the stone fireplace held an assortment of curious objects - a few small animal skulls, a deer antler, and a collection of smooth river stones.
The scent of leather and beeswax lingered in the air, mingling with the earthy smell of the cabin itself. Halona's fingers brushed against the rough-hewn table, feeling the grooves and knots that spoke of years of use. Her mind drifted to a documentary she'd once seen about homesteading Alaskans, drawing parallels between their lifestyle and what she was witnessing here.
The creak of floorboards announced Buck's return to the living room. He paused, noticing the strange guest studying a framed photograph on the mantel. Halona's nervousness was palpable, her discomfort enhanced by the ill-fitting dress that hung awkwardly on her frame.
"Doesn't fit too well," Buck chuckled, his voice warm with amusement as Halona struggled with the too-long sleeves. "Patricia's a bit shorter and proportioned… differently."
Halona turned to face him, a soft smile gracing her face. She nodded, grateful for the kindness despite her awkwardness. "Please thank her for me," she replied softly, her fingers still fidgeting with the fabric. A moment of silence passed between them, broken only by the distant call of a whippoorwill.
"Where's your family?" Buck cleared his throat.
"Both my parents passed," she murmured, offering Buck the obligatory uncomfortable smile that such admissions often required.
"Where are you from?" Buck's kind face creased with curiosity as he pressed on.
"California,"
"Are you Kiowa?" Isaac asked, his bright eyes peeking around Buck's legs.
"My parents were Shoshone," Halona answered, her voice softening as she addressed the child. She noticed how his eyes widened with interest, a spark of connection forming between them.
Isaac stepped fully into the room, his chest puffing up with pride. "We're Kiowa," he declared. The boy's innocence and enthusiasm brought a genuine smile to her face, easing some of the tension that had built up during Buck's questioning.
"You're a smart boy," Halona grinned. "How old are you?"
"Seven." He said proudly, then turning to his sister he pointed. "She's five."
"I bet you do great in school," Halona said gently.
Isaac's face fell. "We don't go to school," he mumbled.
"Let's hit the road," Buck cut in, holding the door. "Figured you'd want a break from horseback."
Outside, a wagon without a cover was hitched to two horses. "What's that?" Halona asked.
"It's a buckboard," Buck explained, helping her up.
Doesn't anyone here have a car? Halona asked herself. The wagon creaked and swayed as it trundled down the dusty road, the rhythmic sound of the horses' hooves filling the air. She sat at Buck's side on the wooden bench, clutching the seat tightly.
Finally, Buck's curiosity got the better of him. "So, what brings you out here?" He asked, his voice casual but tinged with genuine interest.
"Work," Halona began, but her response was cut short as she winced suddenly. She scooted over on the bench, her hand searching for the source of discomfort. Her fingers found a thin splinter of wood pinching her thigh through the thin cotton dress.
Without thinking, she quickly pulled it out, her arm swinging wide and smacking Buck in the hip. Halona's eyes shot up, meeting his startled gaze. A flush crept up her neck as she muttered a soft apology and hastily repositioned herself on the seat.
Buck bit back a chuckle, his eyes crinkling at the corners with amusement. "What kind of work?" He pressed, steering the conversation back on track.
"I'm an actress," Halona admitted, a self-conscious laugh escaping her lips. She was used to being recognized instantly, her face plastered across magazine covers, her name a staple on every A-list party guest list. But here, in this dusty wagon under the vast open sky, she was just another stranger. The anonymity washed over her like a cool breeze, it was unexpectedly refreshing.
"Can't say I follow theater much," Buck replied with a good-natured chuckle.
"Movies, not stage," she smiled.
Buck looked confused. "I ain't seen one of those either."
"A Movie? You know, Hollywood? Big screens? Overpriced popcorn?" Halona searched his face, but there was no recognition. "Never mind," she sighed.
Buck grumbled something unintelligible, the words lost beneath the creak of wagon wheels and the steady clip-clop of hooves. His brow furrowed slightly, creating deep lines across his forehead. Halona felt a twinge of unease, wondering if she'd somehow offended him.
She slumped back against the rough wooden seat, her shoulders sagging. The borrowed dress scratched at her skin, a constant reminder of her displacement in this unfamiliar world. The silence stretched between them.
A peal of laughter broke through the tension, drawing Halona's attention to the back of the wagon. Her gaze fell upon Isaac and Megan, Buck's children, playing some sort of game with smooth stones. Their faces were alight with joy, small hands darting back and forth as they giggled and whispered to each other.
The sight of their innocent play tugged at something deep within Halona. A smile, genuine and warm, spread across her face. She turned back to Buck, her voice softening as she spoke.
"They're adorable," she said, gesturing towards the laughing pair. "your little ones."
"Thanks," Buck said proudly.
"Does your wife home-school them?"
"She died," Buck said quietly. "Few years back."
"I'm so sorry," Halona looked away, embarrassed.
"Thank you," Buck's smile wavered. "Isaac had trouble in school. I've been teaching them myself."
"He doesn't seem like a troublemaker."
Buck sighed. "It's tough for a kid with Indian blood. I'm sure you understand."
Halona felt guilty. Understand? Not really. Her wealthy SoCal upbringing was a world away from this.
"Shoshone, huh?" Buck asked.
"Mhmm," Halona nodded.
Buck squinted in the sun, thinking. He'd only met a few Shoshone, a once peaceful tribe that had turned hostile as more settlers took their land.
"Is that the town?" Halona pointed at some buildings shimmering in the heat haze.
"Ain't New York City," Buck chuckled.
Halona's hopes were dashed as they got closer. She'd been crossing her fingers for at least a tiny town with the basics. Even a crappy gas station would've kept that little spark of hope going. But damn, Halona felt like she'd stepped into some parallel universe or something.
Dirt roads everywhere, old wooden buildings with paint peeling off. The weird part was what was missing - no stoplights, no people rushing around, not even one car anywhere. Talk about a ghost town!
Halona's eyes searched for the comforts of modern life, finding none. No cell towers reached for the sky, no neon signs flickered in store windows. The silence was broken only by the distant neigh of horses and the creak of wooden boards under their feet.
"Is this an Amish community?" Turning to Buck, her brow furrowed in confusion. "Or Mennonites?"
The question hung in the air, as alien as she felt in this place frozen in time. Around her, the town continued its slow, steady rhythm.
"No, ma'am," Buck roared with laughter. "What makes you think that?"
"I'm losing my damn mind," she mumbled, then added quickly remembering that children were in earshot. "Sorry! Just... overwhelmed."
"It's okay," Isaac said. "Papa says damn all the time."
"Isaac..." Buck chided, amused. He patted Halona's shoulder. "Hey, you're alright."
Halona nodded, a tear rolling down her cheek. This wasn't a movie set or a prank. This was her reality, for now.