Chapter 20
Eagle Canyon, Nebraska - 1867
The rooster's crow shattered the morning stillness, signaling the bittersweet moment of Camille and Billy's departure. Siobhan's heart felt heavy as she approached her friend.
"Camille," she began softly, "I'm not sure about this. I came to visit you, and now you're leaving. It doesn't feel right."
Camille's expression turned serious. "Siobhan, stop it right now," she said firmly. "For once, think about yourself and what you want!" Her eyes darted to a familiar figure approaching on the dusty road. Buck.
With a swift movement, Camille pulled Siobhan close to the wagon. "This," she whispered, nodding towards Buck, "might be your second chance. Can't you see that?"
Understanding dawned on Siobhan's face. She hugged Camille tightly before joining Buck on the boardwalk. With a final wave, she watched her friends disappear down the road.
A moment of silence stretched between them, filled with nervous questions. Siobhan cleared her throat, but Buck simply smiled, his eyes warm with fondness.
"Mornin', Siobhan," he said, his deep voice sending a pleasant shiver through her.
"Good morning, Buck," she replied, a smile playing at her lips.
Buck cleared his throat, breaking the silence. "Regrettably, duty calls," he admitted, disappointment coloring his tone. "There's trouble brewing at the saloon I need to handle before it gets out of hand."
"I understand," Siobhan nodded.
Buck leaned in slightly, his voice low. "Perhaps this evening we could have dinner?" A slow smile spread across his face, reminiscent of the mischievous boy she once knew.
"I'd like that very much," Siobhan replied, her smile mirroring his.
With the day stretching before her, Siobhan decided to explore the town. The main street, though dusty, held a quaint charm. She browsed the general store, marveling at the eclectic mix of essentials. Bolts of fabric sat beside canned goods, while farming tools hung from the ceiling. The shopkeeper, a kindly older man, answered her curious questions about frontier life.
Her wanderings led her to a tiny room proudly labeled "Town Library." Inside, the scent of old paper and leather enveloped her. Though small, the shelves held a surprising variety of books. Siobhan ran her fingers along the spines, smiling at familiar titles mixed with practical guides on homesteading. She lost track of time, engrossed in a worn copy of "Jane Eyre" until the lowering sun reminded her of her dinner plans.
Back at the hotel, Siobhan fretted over her limited wardrobe. She finally settled on a pale yellow dress. With nimble fingers, she pinned her hair up, allowing a few tendrils to frame her face. A touch of stain on her lips completed the look.
Her heart fluttered as she descended to the lobby. There stood Buck, a far cry from the lanky boy of her memories. He cut an impressive figure in a crisp white shirt and dark vest. His shoulders had broadened, filling out his frame with a strength born of hard work. Yet his eyes, warm and kind, were exactly as she remembered.
Buck's gaze swept over her, a mix of admiration and something deeper flickering in his eyes. He held out his hand, and Siobhan's breath caught as her smaller one was enveloped in his warm, calloused grip.
"Siobhan," he breathed, his voice low and husky. "You look... absolutely beautiful."
A blush crept up Siobhan's cheeks. "Thank you," she murmured, suddenly shy under his intense gaze. "You clean up quite nicely yourself."
A grin played at the corners of Buck's mouth. "I try every so often," he teased, his thumb gently tracing lazy circles on her hand.