Chapter 11

Shadow Valley, Texas 1870

Patricia's voice echoed from the back porch, calling everyone to dinner. Fiona, a recent arrival, stood chatting with Patricia in the kitchen, swirling a glass of fresh apple cider.

"Buck told me he had a guest staying here," Fiona remarked, watching as Isaac and Megan raced around the young woman.

"That's right," Patricia confirmed. "His brother found her and brought her here a couple of days ago. Isaac, Megan, go wash up for dinner, would you please?"

Halona scurried past them, breathless. "Mrs. Fitz, I brought the laundry in…" Her voice trailed off as she caught sight of Fiona.

The woman defied Halona's vision of a plain, unfashionable homesteader. Standing before her was a vision in stark contrast. Delicate features framed by blonde curls were accentuated by wide blue eyes. Her dress held a tailored elegance that put Halona's borrowed calico to shame.

Fiona offered a cool greeting. "Hello."

"Hi, you must be Fiona." Halona extended a hand, waiting as Fiona reluctantly reciprocated the gesture. "I'm Halona."

"Sweetheart!" Fiona chirped, practically shoving Halona aside as she rushed towards Buck, who was entering the kitchen. Her smile was all sweetness and light.

"Hello, Fee." Buck leaned down, receiving a peck on the cheek.

"Oh, Buck, you're positively filthy!" Fiona recoiled dramatically, her face contorted in disgust.

"Sorry, ladies." Buck chuckled, removing his hat and hanging it by the door. "Let me just clean up. I'll be right in."

He disappeared around the corner, heading for his room. As he stripped off his sweaty shirt, Patricia appeared in the doorway, her expression etched with concern. "What is it?" Buck asked.

"It's a delicate subject," Patricia hedged, her voice hushed.

"Are the children alright?" Buck's tone sharpened with worry.

"Yes they are just fine. It's that woman," Patricia mumbled, her face creased in disapproval.

"Again?" Buck sighed.

"She's got these strange undergarments."

Buck burst out laughing. "Really, Patricia? That's what's got you worried?"

She shot him a withering look. "It's nothing to laugh about! I'm serious. They're just… inappropriate."

"Inappropriate?" Buck tried, and failed, to maintain a straight face.

"Well, you wouldn't believe it," Patricia said, her voice dropping to a conspiratorial whisper. "I've never seen anything like them in my life."

Buck's amusement faded. "Look, Patricia, I appreciate your concern, but frankly, what that woman wears under her clothes ain't any of our business."

Patricia insisted, her eyes wide. "But… these, wh-what she's wearing, would make the saloon girls blush."

Buck's jaw clenched. "Are you suggesting she's some kind of… of…" His voice trailed off as he tried to find polite words.

"I don't know…" Patricia admitted, glancing around nervously. "But if she is what I suspect…" She left the sentence hanging, her disapproval clear.

"Even if she is a workin' lady," Buck interrupted, his voice firm, "she deserves our kindness."

Patricia huffed, clearly unconvinced. Buck, however, had made his point. He grabbed a towel and headed back towards the kitchen, leaving Patricia to stew in her disapproval.

By the time Buck returned, the children were settled at the table, scrubbed clean, and seemingly unfazed by the recent arrival. The dining room hummed with the gentle clink of cutlery and the soft murmur of conversation.

"So, Fiona, what do you do?" Halona asked, her tone polite but guarded.

Fiona's smile widened, her perfectly white teeth gleaming in the candlelight. "Why, I simply adore sewing! And of course, cooking, embroidery, and a good book every now and then." She paused, her eyes flicking to Buck before continuing. "Oh, and I've recently taken up playing the new organ at the church. It's simply divine!"

Her gaze settled on Halona, saccharine sweetness dripping from her words. "Do you play any instruments, dear? The piano, perhaps?"

Halona nodded, her posture straightening slightly. "Yes, I play the piano and guitar."

"How... quaint," Fiona replied, her voice syrupy. "Perhaps we could duet sometime, and I could give you some pointers."

Patricia placed a steaming roasted chicken on the table. "Speaking of talents," she announced, "Fiona here took first prize at the pie-baking contest last July!"

"That sounds delicious," Buck said, taking a seat beside Fiona.

Isaac and Megan, oblivious to the tension, chattered excitedly about their day, while Fiona maintained a polite conversation with Buck, mostly about the goings-on around the ranch. Her hand occasionally brushed his arm, her laughter a little too melodious at his jokes.

"Buck, darling," Fiona cooed, her voice dripping with honey. "You simply must come hear me play at the church sometime. I'm sure even a man of your... rustic tastes would appreciate the beauty of a well-played organ."

The double entendre hung in the air like a thick fog. Patricia continued serving, oblivious, while Isaac and Megan chattered away, their innocent minds far from adult implications. But for Buck and Halona, the world seemed to screech to a halt.

Halona's fork clattered against her plate, her mouth falling open in shock. Her eyes darted between Fiona's smug expression and Buck's face, which had turned an interesting shade of red. Buck's eyes widened, his Adam's apple bobbing as he swallowed hard.

Fiona's gaze locked onto Halona, her smile never wavering. But her eyes... they were sharp as flint, filled with a warning that needed no words. The message was clear: 'Back off, he's mine.'

The silence stretched for what seamed like eternity. Buck cleared his throat, his voice slightly strained as he replied, "That's... uh, that's very kind of you, Fiona."

Halona felt a wave of isolation wash over her. Fiona's hostility, thinly veiled beneath a veneer of sweetness, was suffocating. Patricia's disapproving glances only added to the weight pressing down on her chest. She found herself shrinking in her chair, feeling more out of place with each passing moment.

Desperately seeking some form of connection, Halona stole another glance at Buck. She hoped to find reassurance in his eyes, a silent acknowledgment of the absurdity of the situation. But Buck seemed preoccupied, his gaze fixed on Fiona. His smile looked a touch too eager, his attention captured by the woman across from him.

The dinner continued, conversation flowing around Halona like a river around a stone. She sat, silent and still, as Fiona's laughter rang out, as Buck responded with increasing animation to her stories. With each passing moment, Halona felt herself fading further into the background, a stranger at a table full of family and friends.

Buck wasn't manufactured. She noticed the way one corner of his mouth lifted higher than the other, a charming quirk that she found attractive. The few men in her past had all been sculpted products of Hollywood grooming, as comfortable under studio lights as she was.

They were polished, educated, either in the biz or trust fund types – a stark contrast to Buck's rugged appeal. His dark windswept hair and sun-kissed skin spoke of a life spent outdoors. His well-muscled frame, honed by hard work, hinted at a strength that went beyond the physical. And beneath his quiet exterior, the man oozed charm in the most unassuming way.