Promises of Innocence
By: H Forbes
Adult Spicy Romance
Multiple explicit and very detailed intimate scenes, also explicit descriptive language.
Themes & Tropes
Ingénue, First Kiss, Slow Burn, Forbidden Love, Hate that I Love you, Native American Culture/Lore, 2nd Chance, Forced Proximity, Single Parent, Soul Mates, Wealth
Content Warnings
Violence/Blood/Gore, Murder, Domestic Violence, Child Abuse/Neglect
10/2024 - Edited for Typos, New formatting
Part One – Promises Made
Chapter 1
Rock Creek, Nebraska - 1861
The scent of chalk dust mingled with the musty odor of well-worn textbooks as Alyna McAllister shifted restlessly in her seat. Outside, a warm breeze rustled through the cottonwoods, beckoning her with promises of freedom. Ms. Fitzsimmons' gnarled fingers scraped across the blackboard, etching out the weekend's assignments with agonizing slowness.
Alyna's gaze drifted to the window, where golden sunlight danced on the dusty street. Her fingers absently toyed with a stray copper curl that had escaped her careful braid. Just a few more minutes, she reminded herself, only a few more minutes until—
"Alyna McAllister!"
The sharp crack of Ms. Fitzsimmons' yardstick against her desk jolted Alyna back to attention. She blinked rapidly, meeting the teacher's stern gaze.
"Yes, Ma'am?" Alyna's voice came out as a startled squeak.
Ms. Fitzsimmons' lips pursed into a thin line. "I expect your full attention, young lady. Unless you'd prefer to stay after class and clean the erasers?"
"No, Ma'am," Alyna mumbled, ducking her head to hide the flush creeping up her neck. She forced herself to focus on the assignments, her pencil scratching across the paper with renewed vigor.
As soon as Ms. Fitzsimmons set down the eraser and dismissed the class, Alyna sprang into action. With barely contained excitement, she gathered her books and nearly leapt from her seat. At the door, her friend Penelope was already waiting, practically bouncing on her toes in anticipation.
"Come on!" Penelope hissed, grabbing Alyna's hand. "He's here!"
The girls burst out of the school house, their giggles carried away by the warm afternoon breeze. They slowed their pace as they approached the jailhouse, trying to appear nonchalant.
"How long did your pa say he'd be here?" Penelope asked, her eyes fixed on the figure lounging outside the building.
Alyna shrugged, sneaking a glance at the temporary marshal. "Just a few months, 'til Marshal Hunter's back on his feet."
Penelope sighed dreamily. "Mrs. James Butler Hickok," she murmured, testing the name on her tongue.
Despite her eye roll, Alyna found herself fighting back a smile. "You're hopeless, Penny."
They ducked into the General Store, the little bell above the door announcing their arrival. The cool interior was a welcome respite from the afternoon heat. While Penelope gravitated toward the window, Alyna found herself drawn to a rack of dresses. Her fingers traced the intricate stitching of a deep teal gown, imagining how the rich fabric would complement her fiery hair.
"It suits you," a warm voice remarked. Alyna turned to find Mrs. Jameson smiling at her, the older woman's eyes twinkling with grandmotherly affection.
"Thank you," Alyna replied, a pleased blush coloring her cheeks. She carefully replaced the dress, her mind already spinning with possibilities for the upcoming town picnic.
A commotion outside drew their attention. Alyna joined Penelope at the window, their eyes fixed on the scene unfolding below. The temporary marshal, James Hickok, sauntered down the boardwalk with an easy stride that spoke of a man comfortable in his own skin. His long, dark hair gleamed in the sunlight, catching the eye almost as much as the twin Colts at his hips. The ivory handles of his revolvers shone bright in the sun, a stark contrast to his dark attire and an unmistakable symbol of his reputation.
"Bet he'll be at the picnic tomorrow," Alyna mused, nudging Penelope with her elbow.
Penelope's eyes widened. "You think so?"
"Why don't you ask him yourself?" A deep voice rumbled from behind them.
The girls whirled around to find Deputy Cross leaning against the doorframe, an amused smirk playing on his lips. Up close, Alyna couldn't help but notice the way his bronze skin seemed to glow in the diffused light of the store.
Penelope sputtered, her face flushing crimson. "I... we... that is..."
Alyna bit back a laugh, sensing her friend's mounting embarrassment. "We were just leaving, Deputy," she said smoothly, taking Penelope's arm. "Good day to you."
As they hurried out of the store, Penelope's mortification gave way to indignation. "The nerve of him!" she huffed. "Eavesdropping like that!"
Alyna frowned, taken aback by the venom in her friend's voice. "He was just teasing, Pen. No harm meant."
Penelope's lips curled into a sneer. "Deputy or not, he's still just a half-breed. He ought to remember his place."
Their conversation weighed heavily on both of them. Alyna felt a chill run down her back and her stomach tighten, even though the afternoon was warm. She opened her mouth to say something, then changed her mind. Instead, they walked home in tense silence.
Alyna's mind wandered to Buck. She could still remember when the express riders had opened the Rock Creek station. How all the young women in town tripped over themselves trying to catch the eye of one of the young men.
She smiled softly and moistened her lower lip when she recalled the first time she saw Buck. It had been a warm spring day, and her cat, George, had somehow gotten out of the house and up old Mr. Johnson's oak tree. Alyna had been near tears, calling for him, when Buck and his mute friend happened by. Without a word, Buck had climbed the tree, gently coaxing George into his arms. His friend had stood ready below, and together they'd safely returned her beloved pet. Buck's kind smile and gentle touch had stayed with her long after.
Her thoughts drifted to the day that boy had been shot at the saloon. She didn't know him other than in passing, but she remembered attending his service. It was the first funeral she could truly recall.
The memory stirred another, hazier recollection - her mother's funeral when she was young. She barely remembered it now, just fragments: the patter of rain, the sickly scent of lilies, her small hand clutching her father's larger one. The smell of fresh-turned earth and the deep, aching sadness that had crept into her heart that day.
She glanced at Penelope, knowing her friend didn't see things the same way. Alyna's curiosity about Buck wasn't something she could easily explain, even to herself. It was a mix of innocent wonder and a flutter in her chest she'd never felt before. She had heard tales of Indians from the older folks in town, but looking at Buck, she struggled to connect those stories with the man she saw.
Alyna kept her thoughts to herself, aware that such musings would be met with shock or worse if she voiced them. Instead, she let her mind drift to safer topics, like the picnic tomorrow and the possibilities it might bring. With a small shake of her head, Alyna turned toward home, pushing aside her unconventional thoughts for now, but unable to completely banish the image of Buck's handsome face from her mind.
Chapter 2
Rock Creek, Nebraska - 1861
"What's got you grinnin'?" Jimmy drawled, tilting his head as his friend sauntered over, looking like the cat that got the cream.
"Oh, nothin'," Buck replied innocently, leaning on the railing. "Just noticin' you've got yourself an admirer."
"The Mayor's daughter?" Jimmy perked up, puffing out his chest. He spotted the pretty redhead and her friend ambling towards the edge of town, stealing glances back at him between fits of giggles.
"In your dreams," Buck snorted, his eyes dancing with mischief. "I'm talkin' about the other one. You know, the blonde one who laughs like a donkey with the hiccups? Seems she's taken quite a shine to our resident gunslinger."
"Keep it up," Jimmy grinned at his friend mockingly. "and I'll tell Rachel who really ate the last of her apple cobbler
"Now, now, children," Teaspoon's stern voice cut through their banter. "Neither of you boys should be oglin' those girls like they're the last biscuits at supper."
"Aw, Teaspoon," Jimmy protested, donning his best puppy-dog eyes. "We're just appreciatin' the local... scenery."
"Jimmy Hickok, those girls are too young for you to be 'appreciatin'' anything about them," Rachel retorted, turning her stern gaze to Buck, who was failing miserably at hiding his snickers. "And you, Buck can wipe that smirk off your face. That goes for you too."
"Yes, ma'am," Buck replied. "No more admirin' the... uh, architecture."
Once Rachel was safely out of earshot, Jimmy leaned in close to Buck. "Sure are pretty, though," he whispered, waggling his eyebrows comically. "No harm in lookin', right?"
"Jimmy," Buck sighed dramatically, clapping a hand on his friend's shoulder. "The day you can look at a pretty girl without gettin' into trouble is the day pigs'll sprout wings and fly."
"Hey!" Jimmy protested, but couldn't help chuckling. "I resemble that remark."
"Don't I know it," Buck grinned. "Now come on, Lover Boy. Let's go find some trouble Rachel won't tan our hides for."
Chapter 3
Rock Creek, Nebraska –1861
Alyna flopped onto Penelope's pink coverlet, drumming her fingers impatiently on the bed. She'd been waiting for what felt like an eternity while her friend rummaged through her wardrobe.
"Penny, would you hurry up?" Alyna sighed, exasperation creeping into her voice.
Penelope's muffled reply came from behind a mountain of dresses. "I want to catch his eye, Alyna. That takes time."
"If you don't hurry, he'll be gone before we even get there," Alyna pointed out.
"Fine," Penelope huffed, emerging with a pink taffeta dress. "It's not like you have anyone to impress anyway."
Alyna bit her tongue, swallowing the retort that threatened to spill out. These moments made her question their friendship, highlighting the differences between them. Sometimes she wondered if they were truly compatible or just thrown together by circumstance.
"Well?" Penelope twirled, her bright blonde hair bouncing around her face. "How do I look?"
"You look wonderful," Alyna said sincerely, offering a warm smile.
As they strolled along the dusty path towards the picnic grounds, Penelope chattered excitedly, occasionally patting her carefully arranged hair. Alyna, meanwhile, found her thoughts drifting. She had taken extra care with her appearance too, pinning her copper curls just so and choosing a pale lavender dress with white lace trim. Her heart fluttered at the thought of seeing him at the gathering.
"Alyna? Are you even listening to me?" Penelope's sharp tone cut through her daydream.
Alyna's daydream shattered as Penelope's words finally registered. "Hmm? Oh, yes," she mumbled, hastily steadying the plate of cookies she'd baked for the town picnic.
Before Alyna could fully regain her composure, Penelope's attention had already darted elsewhere. With a sudden gasp, she clutched Alyna's arm, nearly upsetting the carefully arranged treats.
"Look!" Penelope hissed, her eyes gleaming with excitement. "There he is, just ahead. I'm thinking of 'accidentally' bumping into him. Brilliant plan, don't you think?"
The girls slowed their pace, the picnic grounds now in sight, as Penelope plotted her "accidental" encounter.
Penelope was off, weaving through the crowd towards James Hickok. Alyna shook her head, both amused and impressed by her friend's boldness.
Alyna made her way to the food tables, carefully balancing her plate of homemade cookies. She set them down among the other desserts, arranging them neatly before stepping back to survey the scene. Women in their finest dresses mingled with men in high spirits, creating a lively atmosphere. Picking up an empty plate for herself, she helped herself to a slice of apple, savoring its crisp sweetness.
"Let me carry that for you, Alyna." A familiar voice interrupted her reverie.
She turned to see Gabriel Fredrickson, his wavy blonde hair slightly tousled and his smoky blue eyes fixed on her. "Thank you, Gabe," she said, handing him her plate.
"You look mighty pretty today," he said, a shy smile playing on his lips.
As they filled their plates, Alyna couldn't help but think about their friendship. Gabriel was handsome, kind, and a good friend. But ever since he'd kissed her at the church social, things had felt... different. She valued their friendship, but she wasn't sure if she could see him as anything more.
"Alyna?" Gabriel pulled out a chair for her. "Are you alright? You seem preoccupied."
"Oh, I'm fine," she assured him. "Just thinking about how lucky I am to have such a good friend. You're like the brother I never had."
A flicker of disappointment crossed Gabriel's face, but he quickly masked it. Alyna felt a twinge of guilt, knowing she might be hurting him. But she couldn't lead him on, especially when she knew her father had given his blessing for Gabriel to court her after her next birthday.
Their conversation was interrupted by Penelope's breathless return. "Oh, Alyna! You'll never believe it! He said hello to me! He knew my name!"
"Penelope, everyone knows your name," Gabriel pointed out. "Your father is the richest man in town."
Penelope shot him an irritated look before launching into a detailed account of her interaction with James Hickok. Her chatter only ceased when Marshal Hunter and Deputy Cross passed by their table, tipping their hats in greeting.
Alyna's heart skipped a beat as her eyes met Deputy Cross's. She couldn't help but smile, grateful for the brief interaction.
"Good day, ladies," Marshal Hunter said, nodding to Gabriel.
"Good day, Marshal. Deputy," Alyna replied, quickly looking down at her plate to hide her flushed cheeks.
As the lawmen moved on, Penelope rolled her eyes dramatically. "I can't believe he's here."
"He is still our marshal, Penny," Alyna said, exasperated. "Mr. Hickok is just filling in until Marshal Hunter's recovered."
"I was talking about him," Penelope clarified, pointing at Deputy Cross. "It makes me ill eating in the same place as him."
"Well, he does live in this town," Gabriel said diplomatically. "He has just as much right to be here, I suppose."
"You forget he also protects our town daily," Alyna added, her voice gentle but firm. "He deserves our respect."
Penelope scoffed. "Respect a savage? Honestly Alyna, you've lost your mind. When did you become such an Indian lover?"
"I would hardly call her that, Penelope," Gabriel came to Alyna's defense. "She's simply stating that Deputy Cross serves our town and deserves at least a modicum of respect."
"He's a dirty savage, and I won't see him as anything more," Penelope insisted. "My father says if he didn't have a badge, he'd probably be drunk in an alley or off scalping settlers."
Alyna sighed inwardly, disappointed by her friend's harsh words. As Penelope and Gabriel continued to gossip, Alyna's attention wandered. She found herself watching Deputy Cross from afar, admiring the way the breeze tousled his long, dark hair.
While her friends chattered on, Alyna made the occasional sound of acknowledgment, but her mind was elsewhere. She couldn't help but feel a sense of excitement at Deputy Cross's presence, a stark contrast to Penelope's disdain. As she watched him move through the crowd, Alyna knew that her interest in the deputy was more than just idle curiosity. It was the beginning of something she didn't quite understand yet, but something that made her heart race all the same.
Chapter 4
Rock Creek, Nebraska - 1861
Alyna breathed in deeply, savoring the crisp morning air as Destiny carried her through the lush valley. The first rays of sunlight painted the sky in soft hues of pink and gold, promising a beautiful spring day ahead. A sense of exhilaration coursed through her veins, mingled with a hint of guilt for disobeying her father's strict rules.
"This is what freedom feels like," she whispered to herself, running her fingers through Destiny's silky mane.
As they crossed a small stream, the cool water splashing against her boots, Alyna couldn't help but smile. The world seemed so much bigger, so full of possibilities beyond the confines of Rock Creek. She urged Destiny forward, eager to explore more of this hidden paradise.
The valley stretched out before them, a canvas of vibrant green dotted with splashes of colorful wildflowers. Alyna closed her eyes for a moment, letting the gentle rhythm of Destiny's gait and the symphony of nature wash over her. The soft rustle of leaves, the melodious chirping of birds, and the babbling of the nearby stream created a soothing harmony that made her heart swell with joy.
"Oh, Destiny," Alyna sighed contentedly, patting the horse's neck. "I wish we could stay out here forever."
As the sun climbed higher in the sky, Alyna guided Destiny towards a shady spot near a cluster of trees. The air was filled with the sweet scent of blooming flowers, and a gentle breeze carried the aroma of fresh grass. Alyna dismounted, her legs slightly stiff from the long ride.
"Are you hungry, girl?" she asked, reaching into her saddlebag for an apple. Destiny whinnied softly in response, her ears perking up at the sight of the treat.
Alyna laughed, the sound light and carefree, as she held out the apple for Destiny. The horse's velvety lips tickled her palm as she took the offered fruit. In that moment, surrounded by nature's beauty and with her loyal companion by her side, Alyna felt a profound sense of peace settle over her.
But the tranquility was shattered in an instant.
"Tell me you brought enough to share," a gravelly voice sliced through the silence, freezing Alyna in her tracks.
She whirled around, her heart leaping into her throat as she saw two men approaching slowly. Their appearance was rough and unkempt, their eyes glinting with a predatory gleam that made Alyna's stomach churn.
Fear gripped her heart as she realized the danger she was in. Her father's warnings echoed in her mind, and she silently cursed herself for venturing so far from town alone. With trembling hands, she reached for the pistol in her saddlebag.
"Well, well, looks like the little lady's got a gun," one of the men chuckled, his sneer revealing yellowed teeth.
"Don't worry, she don't look like a killer to me," his companion added, licking his lips as he edged closer. "You ain't a killer, are ya, lady?"
Alyna's hands shook as she pointed the gun at them, her voice quavering despite her attempt to sound brave. "J-just stay back. I'll shoot you."
"Okay, we're staying put," one man said mockingly, raising his hands. But his friend continued to advance, and panic clawed at Alyna's throat.
"Stop! I mean it!" she cried, her voice cracking with desperation.
The smell of unwashed bodies assaulted her senses as they drew nearer. Alyna's finger tightened on the trigger, and the gun's report echoed through the valley. The bullet went wide, missing its mark by a foot, but the men paused briefly.
Alyna's free hand reached out instinctively for Destiny, seeking comfort in her loyal companion. But her fingers grasped only empty air. Destiny was gone, spooked by the gunshot. A wave of loneliness crashed over Alyna, intensifying her fear.
With shaking hands, she fired again. And again. Each shot drained her resolve, each miss chipping away at her hope. But then, miraculously, a bullet found its mark. One of the men stumbled back, clutching his arm as blood seeped through his grimy shirt.
"Damn, she got me, Frank," he growled, pain etched across his face.
"Don't worry. This little girl can't do too much harm," Frank replied, his cold smile sending shivers down Alyna's spine.
Alyna began to back away, her mind racing. She felt something give way beneath her foot, and her heart sank as she realized she was trapped. Tangled roots held her ankle fast, and no amount of tugging could free her.
Tears of frustration and fear welled in her eyes. Alyna had always prided herself on her independence, on being able to handle anything. But now, faced with real danger, she felt small and helpless. She thought of her father, of how worried he would be if he knew. She thought of Gabriel, of Penelope, of Deputy Cross. Would she ever see them again?
With the last of her courage, Alyna raised the gun once more. Her hands were steady now, steadied by the grim realization that these might be her final moments. She fired the remaining bullets, each shot a defiant cry against the fate that seemed to be closing in on her.
As the echo of the last shot faded, Alyna screamed. It was a primal sound, born of terror and determination. If this was to be her end, she would not go quietly. She would fight with every ounce of strength she possessed.
As fear and resolve warred within her, Alyna felt a strange sense of clarity. She saw her life stretched out before her – the joys, the sorrows, the dreams yet unfulfilled. And she knew, with unwavering certainty, that she was not ready for it to end.
Chapter 5
Rock Creek, Nebraska - 1861
The flickering lamplight cast a warm glow across Buck's small kitchen, softening the edges of the modest furnishings. Alyna sat across from him, her borrowed shirt hanging loosely on her frame, making her appear even younger and more vulnerable than she already was. Buck couldn't help but feel a surge of protectiveness as he watched her pick at the simple meal he had prepared.
"You should eat," Buck said gently, his voice low and reassuring. "It'll help you feel better."
Alyna looked up, her eyes still red-rimmed from crying earlier. She managed a small smile and took a bite of the bread he had set out. "Thank you," she murmured, her voice barely above a whisper.
Buck nodded, his own meal forgotten as he studied her. The events of the day had clearly taken their toll on her, and he found himself wishing he could somehow erase the trauma she had experienced. But he knew better than most that some scars ran too deep to simply vanish.
"Alyna," he began, choosing his words carefully. "What happened today... it wasn't your fault. You know that, right?"
Alyna's lower lip trembled slightly, and she looked down at her plate. "I shouldn't have been out there alone," she said, her voice thick with guilt. "If I had just listened to my father..."
"Hey now," Buck interrupted softly. He reached across the table, his large hand gently covering hers. "Those men were the ones at fault, not you. You hear me?"
Alyna nodded, though Buck could see the doubt lingering in her eyes. He wished he could do more to comfort her, but he was acutely aware of the line he couldn't cross. She was young, vulnerable, and he was in a position of authority. His role now was to be a protector, a safe harbor in the storm she had weathered.
"I was so scared," Alyna admitted after a moment of silence. "When I saw you... I've never felt so relieved in my life."
Buck felt a warmth spread through his chest at her words, but he tamped it down. "That's my job," he said with a gentle smile. "To protect and serve. I'm just glad I was nearby."
They lapsed into silence again, the only sounds the soft clink of utensils against plates and the distant chirping of crickets outside. Buck found himself stealing glances at Alyna, noticing the way the lamplight caught the fiery red in her hair and illuminated her warm brown eyes, making them sparkle.
"Deputy?" Alyna's voice broke through his thoughts. "Can I ask you something?"
"Of course," he replied, giving her his full attention.
"I know it's a serious topic, but I can't help wondering about the war. What do you think is going to happen?"
Buck leaned back in his chair, his expression turning somber. "It's a complicated situation," he said after a moment. "I'm not excited about the prospect of war, that's for certain. But I don't see much reason to stay out of it either."
Alyna nodded, her brow furrowed. "Do you... do you plan to enlist?"
"I ain't sure," Buck replied, his voice low. "I've been approached to scout for the Union. My skills as a rider and my knowledge of the land could be valuable."
"That sounds incredibly dangerous." Alyna's eyes widened, a mix of admiration and worry crossing her face. "You're very brave to consider it."
Embarrassed by her compliment, he tried to brush it off. "Anyone would do the same," he insisted, but couldn't entirely suppress the smile that formed.
As the evening wore on, Buck noticed Alyna's eyelids growing heavy. "I should get you home," he said, rising from his chair.
Alyna nodded, stifling a yawn. As they stepped outside into the cool night air, Buck helped her onto Destiny, his hands strong and steady as he lifted her into the saddle. He mounted his own horse, and they set off towards town at a leisurely pace.
The ride was quiet, the darkness around them broken only by the soft glow of the moon and the sound of hoofbeats. Buck kept a watchful eye on Alyna, ready to catch her should she start to nod off.
As they approached the outskirts of town, Alyna spoke up. "Deputy?" She said, her voice soft in the night air.
"Yes?" he replied, turning to look at her.
"Thank you," she said simply, but her eyes conveyed a depth of gratitude that words couldn't express.
Buck felt a lump form in his throat. "You're welcome." He managed, his voice rougher than usual. "You're safe now. That's all that matters."
As they reached Alyna's house, Buck helped her down from her horse. For a moment, they stood facing each other, an unspoken current of emotion passing between them. Then, mindful of his position and her youth, Buck took a step back.
"Get some rest," he said gently. "And Alyna? If you need anything – anything at all – you know where to find me."
Alyna nodded, a small smile gracing her lips. "Yes sir." She said softly, before turning and heading inside.
Buck waited until he saw a lamp flicker on in the house before mounting his horse and heading back to town. As he rode, he found his thoughts drifting back to Alyna – her bravery, her vulnerability, the trust she had placed in him.
He knew his duty was to protect her, to be a steady presence in her life. But as the town drifted out of view, A sense of profound change lingered in Buck's mind, as if the seeds of something significant had been planted between them. He couldn't help but feel that their lives were about to intertwine in ways he could barely imagine, let alone understand.
Chapter 6
Rock Creek, Nebraska - 1861
As Alyna yawned and rolled over in her soft, warm bed, the sun's gentle rays filtered through the lace curtains, casting a warm glow on her skin. Stretching languidly, she lazily opened her eyes to find her large orange cat already perched on the bed, emitting a soft mew in greeting.
Despite knowing she should have woken up early and attended church as her father expected, Alyna couldn't resist the temptation to indulge in a little extra sleep after the previous day's events. After all, she reasoned, sleeping in couldn't be such a grievous sin every now and then.
"Good morning George." She reached down and scratched his soft orange fur, receiving a warm purr in return. She knew church was almost concluded, which meant Penelope would soon be over, and she was not much in the mood for entertaining her friend's mindless conversation.
Quickly throwing on her robe, Alyna padded down the stairs to the kitchen, her stomach already growling with hunger. Her father often teased her about her appetite, joking that if she kept eating as much as she did, she'd better marry early before she got as round as he was. Downing the last drop of apple juice in the kitchen, she jumped slightly at the sudden rapping on the door.
Frowning, she made her way to the parlor, hoping to dress and leave before Penelope arrived. Unfortunately, she had slept longer than expected. Alyna unlocked the door and swung it open, bracing herself to feign illness or a headache. However, to her surprise, her petite friend wasn't standing on her porch.
"Deputy?" Alyna's surprise was evident in her voice.
"Sorry, I didn't mean to disturb you." Buck's eyes flickered briefly over her state of undress before quickly averting his gaze.
"No, it's alright." Alyna pulled her robe closed, a faint blush coloring her cheeks. "I wasn't expecting you."
"Well, I, uh, wanted to make sure you were alright," Buck said, his usual confidence faltering slightly.
"Thanks to you." Alyna's voice softened, a small smile playing on her lips. She opened the door a little wider. "Do you want to come in? I was just about to make breakfast."
Buck chuckled, shaking his head. "Tempting as that offer is, I don't think that's a good idea."
"Oh," Alyna said, her smile faltering slightly.
"It wouldn't look right, not with you alone," Buck explained gently.
"Right, of course," Alyna nodded, trying to hide her disappointment. "Well, thank you for checking on me."
As Buck turned to leave, Alyna called out, "Deputy?"
He paused on the steps, looking back at her. "Yes?"
"I was wondering." Alyna bit her lower lip. "My father is going to be gone for a few more days, and I really would like to go riding again."
Buck's brow furrowed. "Didn't you learn from yesterday?"
"Well yes," Alyna said quickly. "That's why I was wondering if maybe you, if you weren't too busy, if you would come riding with me?" She fidgeted with the doorknob, awaiting his answer.
Buck's resolve wavered as he looked up at the young woman. Her long auburn hair cascaded in curls down her waist, and those large brown eyes framed by lush lashes seemed to look right through him.
"Consider it your civic duty to keep me out of trouble."
"Pretty sure that's not in my job description," Buck grumbled, but there was no real resistance in his tone.
"Then consider it a personal favor," Alyna countered. "Unless you're afraid you can't keep up with me?"
Buck's eyebrows arched in surprise at her challenge. "Hmmm…" He studied her for a moment, his expression a blend of intrigue and caution. "You're trouble, you know that?" he said, the words sounding as much like a reminder to himself as a statement to her.
Alyna's eyes danced with mischief. "So I've been told. Is that a yes?"
Buck knew he should say no. He knew it was the right thing to do. But as the word 'no' formed in his mind, it inexplicably transformed into a "Yes, but we're sticking to the main trails, you hear?"
Alyna's face lit up with a smile that made Buck's heart skip a beat. "Deal! Thank you, Deputy. You won't regret it."
As Buck turned to leave, he couldn't help but mutter under his breath, "I'm pretty sure I already do." But the smile on his face betrayed his true feelings as he headed back to town, already looking forward to their ride.
Chapter 7
Rock Creek, Nebraska – 1861
Buck leaned against a gnarled oak at the edge of town, his hat tipped low to shield his eyes from the afternoon sun. As he waited for Alyna, memories of the past mingled with the present, stirring up a whirlwind of doubts and apprehension.
What was he doing? He chastised himself silently. She was the mayor's daughter, for heaven's sake. Though she couldn't be more than a few years his junior, their lives were as different as night and day. The trails he'd ridden, the hardships he'd faced - they had aged him far beyond his mere twenty years.
He couldn't help but wonder what drew him to her, what made him agree to this simple request. Perhaps it was the easiness of her affection, the genuine warmth in her eyes that spoke to something deep within him, something he thought he'd long since buried.
The sound of hoofbeats pulled Buck from his reverie. As Alyna approached, he straightened, adjusting his hat and brushing off his clothes. He hadn't said a word, but he saw the look of infatuation in her eyes. He knew better, this was a dangerous game he was playing.
"Afternoon, Deputy," Alyna called out, her voice light and teasing. "I was wondering if you would be here."
Buck's lips quirked into a half-smile. "And miss out on all the trouble you're bound to get into? Not a chance, Miss McAllister."
Alyna laughed, the sound as clear and refreshing as a mountain stream. "Oh ye of little faith. I'll have you know I can be perfectly well-behaved when I choose to be."
"That so?" Buck raised an eyebrow. "And how often do you choose to be, exactly?"
"Often enough," Alyna replied with a mischievous grin. "Just not today."
Despite his reservations, Buck couldn't deny the flutter of excitement as he took in her appearance. She wore a split skirt that was both practical and flattering, and a black hat tipped low in the front gave her an air of mystery that was utterly captivating.
"Well, don't you clean up nice," Buck said, immediately regretting how gruff he sounded.
Alyna's cheeks flushed pink, but her smile only grew wider. "Why, Deputy Cross, I do believe that's the nicest thing you've ever said to me."
"Yeah, well, don't let it go to your head." Buck cleared his throat, suddenly feeling out of his depth. "You ready?"
"Lead the way," Alyna said, gesturing grandly. "I promise to be on my best behavior... for at least the first five minutes."
As they set off down the trail, Buck found himself relaxing despite his earlier misgivings. Alyna's infectious laughter and radiant smile seemed to wash away all reason, leaving him with a warmth he hadn't felt in years.
"So, Deputy," Alyna said after a while, "are you going to regale me with tales of your heroic exploits, or do I have to pry them out of you?"
Buck chuckled, shaking his head. "Not much to tell, I'm afraid. Just doing my job, same as anyone else."
"Oh, come now," Alyna pressed, her eyes twinkling with curiosity. "Surely you must have some exciting stories. Daring rescues, perhaps? Outsmarting cunning outlaws?"
"Well," Buck's expression softened into a teasing smile as he began, "there was this one time I had to rescue a particularly troublesome young lady from her own recklessness..."
Alyna gasped in mock indignation. "Why, Deputy Cross, I do believe you're teasing me!"
"Wouldn't dream of it, Miss McAllister," Buck replied, his voice warm with amusement.
As they continued their ride, trading quips and stories, Buck found himself opening up in a way he hadn't in years. There was something about Alyna that made him want to lower his guard.
Chapter 8
Rock Creek, Nebraska – 1861
Teaspoon Hunter leaned back in his chair, the wood creaking in protest. With a practiced motion, he tipped his hat up, revealing a face weathered by years of sun and hard living. His eyes, sharp despite his age, fixed on Buck as the young deputy fidgeted near the door.
"Headin' out so soon?" Teaspoon drawled, his voice gruff but tinged with amusement.
Buck's hand froze on the doorknob. "Well, it's pretty quiet," he said, aiming for nonchalance. "Thought I'd take care of some things around the house."
"You need some help?" Teaspoon's eyes twinkled mischievously.
From his seat in the corner, Jimmy Hickok snorted. "Aw, Teaspoon, if Buck don't wanna talk about his sneakin' off with McAllister's daughter—" He paused, noting Buck's suddenly pale complexion. "What? You think we didn't know?"
Buck's mouth opened and closed, words failing him. "I thought that, well I didn't think," he stammered, then quickly added, "Nothin's going on."
Teaspoon leaned forward, his expression turning serious. "Hope you know what you're doin', son. Her father's an awfully powerful man in this town."
"I'm just takin' her riding. That's all," Buck insisted, his tone defensive.
Jimmy's grin widened. "Ridin', huh?" He nodded, sarcasm dripping from every word. "That what they're callin' it these days?"
Buck's face flushed, a mix of embarrassment and anger. "It ain't like that, Jimmy, and you know it."
"Oh, I know plenty," Jimmy retorted, his eyes dancing with humor. "Like how you've been moonin' over her somethin' fierce. Or how you always seem to have 'errands' when she's out ridin'."
Teaspoon held up a hand, silencing Jimmy's teasing. "Now, boys, let's not get our britches in a twist. Buck's a grown man, capable of makin' his own decisions." He fixed Buck with a penetrating stare. "Ain't that right, son?"
Buck nodded, grateful for Teaspoon's intervention. "Yes, sir."
"Well, then," Teaspoon said, leaning back in his chair. "Best you get to it. Them 'errands' won't run themselves."
With a final nod, Buck yanked open the door and stepped out into the afternoon sun, Jimmy's laughter following him down the street.
As he mounted his horse, Buck couldn't shake the unease that had settled in his stomach. Teaspoon's words echoed in his mind, reminding him of the precarious situation he found himself in. But as he urged his horse forward, thoughts of Alyna pushed everything else aside.
The ride to their meeting place seemed to take an eternity. As he rounded the bend into the valley, he spotted her immediately. Alyna's long hair fluttered like russet ribbons in the breeze, and her hand went up in a friendly wave as she caught sight of him.
"I thought you weren't coming," she called out softly as he reined to a stop beside her.
Buck's earlier resolve wavered at the sight of her smile. "I promised, didn't I?" he replied, dismounting. "Alyna, we need to talk."
"Of course," she agreed readily. Then, as if sensing his hesitation, she grabbed his arm and pulled him towards a small grove of trees. "Come here, see what I found."
Buck allowed himself to be led, his concerns momentarily forgotten as Alyna pointed out a nest tucked away in the hollow of a tree. Three small brown eggs nestled among the twigs, a promise of new life.
"Looks like they'll hatch pretty soon," Buck murmured, acutely aware of Alyna's body pressed against his as she leaned in for a closer look.
The peaceful moment stretched between them, filled with unspoken words and growing tension. Finally, Buck took a deep breath, steeling himself for what he needed to say.
"Alyna," he began, his voice low and serious. "I think we should be more careful about the time we spend together."
Her brow furrowed in confusion. "Why? We're not doing anything wrong."
Buck sighed, running a hand through his hair. "It's not that simple. People in town, they talk. And your father—"
"My father doesn't dictate my life," Alyna interrupted, a hint of defiance in her tone.
Despite himself, Buck smiled at her spirit. "No, but he is an important man in this town. And I'm... well, I'm just a deputy."
Alyna's hand found his, her touch soft but insistent. "You're not 'just' anything, Buck. You're brave, and kind, and..." She trailed off, a blush coloring her cheeks. "Handsome."
Buck felt a warmth spread through his chest at her words. He looked down at their joined hands, marveling at how natural it felt. "Alyna, I—"
But before he could finish his thought, Alyna leaned in, her lips brushing against his in a tentative kiss. Buck froze for a moment, caught off guard by her boldness. Then, almost against his will, he found himself responding, his free hand coming up to cup her cheek.
The kiss was gentle, exploratory. Buck could feel Alyna's inexperience in the slight trembling of her lips, the uncertain movements of her hand as it came to rest on his shoulder. He kept the kiss light, resisting the urge to deepen it, acutely aware of their surroundings and the delicate balance they were treading.
When they finally parted, Buck rested his forehead against Alyna's, his eyes closed as he tried to steady his breathing. "We shouldn't," he murmured.
"Why not?" Alyna whispered back, her breath warm against his skin.
Buck opened his eyes, meeting Alyna's gaze. The trust and affection he saw there both thrilled and terrified him. "Because once we start down this path, there's no going back," he explained softly.
Alyna's hand moved from his shoulder to the nape of his neck, her fingers tangling in his hair. "Maybe I don't want to go back," she said, her voice barely audible.
The sun began its descent, painting the grove in warm hues and stretching shadows across the ground. In that golden light, Buck felt a certainty settle over him. Whatever trials the future held, whatever hurdles they might encounter, he knew this moment – and the emotions it stirred – was something he'd willingly face any storm to protect.
Chapter 9
Rock Creek, Nebraska - 1861
The grandfather clock in the corner of the McAllister parlor ticked relentlessly, each sound echoing Garrison's mounting tension. He paced the room, his footsteps heavy with purpose, as the late afternoon light slowly faded. The clock seemed to mock him, counting down the moments until his daughter's return. Weeks of piecing together the puzzle of Alyna's frequent absences had led to a truth that left a bitter taste in his mouth
.The sound of laughter drifted through the open window, and Garrison's jaw clenched. He recognized Alyna's voice, light and carefree, so at odds with the gravity of the situation. As he heard her footsteps on the porch, he straightened, steeling himself for the confrontation to come.
"Alyna, get in here this minute." His voice was carefully controlled as he opened the door.
"Hello Papa." Alyna breezed in, her books balanced on one hip as she leaned in to kiss his cheek.
The familiar gesture nearly broke Garrison's resolve. This was his little girl, the spitting image of her mother. But he couldn't let sentimentality cloud his judgment. Not now.
"I don't approve of your behavior, young lady."
Alyna's smile faltered. "Papa, Ms. Fitzsimmons is exaggerating, I swear—"
"I'm talking about that deputy!" Garrison's voice rose, his carefully maintained composure cracking.
Alyna flinched, and Garrison saw a flicker of fear in her eyes. It pained him to see it, but he pressed on. "You cannot sneak around behind my back! Alyna, you were raised better than this!"
"Father, it's not what you think," Alyna protested, her voice small.
"It's precisely what I know!" Garrison's face flushed with anger. "Throwing yourself at that man like some—" He stumbled over his words, propriety warring with his rage. "Some strumpet! As the mayor of this town, such behavior is utterly unacceptable!"
Alyna slumped in a nearby chair, her eyes fixed on the floorboards. Garrison recognized the stubborn set of her jaw, so like his own. He continued his tirade, each word chosen to impress upon her the gravity of her actions.
"Are you listening to me, young lady?"
"Yes, Father." The words were dutiful, but Garrison could hear the defiance simmering beneath.
He took a deep breath, steeling himself for what came next. "You will be on the first train to Boston. You will stay with your Aunt Maggie while you attend finishing school."
Alyna's head snapped up, her eyes wide with disbelief. "What? Father, you can't—"
"You heard exactly what I said." Garrison's voice brooked no argument.
"But Papa, please—" Alyna's plea was cut short as Garrison grasped her arm, propelling her towards the stairs.
"Go to bed. You leave tomorrow morning."
As Alyna stumbled up the stairs, Garrison felt a twinge of regret at his harshness. But he quashed it ruthlessly. This was for her own good, he reminded himself. He wouldn't let her throw away her future on some ill-conceived dalliance with a man so far beneath her station.
Garrison returned to the parlor, pouring himself a generous measure of whiskey. As he sank into his armchair, he couldn't help but think of Buck Cross. The young deputy had always been a thorn in his side, a constant reminder of the changing times Garrison struggled against.
He had tolerated the man's presence in town, even grudgingly acknowledged his competence as a lawman. But this... this was a step too far. To think that his Alyna, his precious daughter, could be entangled with someone like that. It was unconscionable.
As the whiskey burned its way down his throat, Garrison's resolve hardened. He would do whatever it took to protect Alyna, even if it meant sending her away. She would thank him for it one day, he was sure. And as for Deputy Cross... well, Garrison would deal with him in due time.
With a heavy sigh, he set down his empty glass. The ticking of the clock seemed louder now, each second bringing them closer to morning, to the train that would carry Alyna away from Rock Creek – and away from the influences that threatened to ruin her.
Upstairs, muffled sobs drifted down the hallway. Garrison closed his eyes, his heart heavy. "It's for the best," he murmured to himself, though the words rang hollow in the empty room.
Chapter 10
Omaha, Nebraska - June 1861
The stagecoach rattled along the dusty road back to Rock Creek, but Garrison McAllister barely noticed the jolting ride. His mind was consumed by a storm of emotions - anger, betrayal, and a fierce determination that bordered on obsession.
The image of Alyna's tear-stained face as she boarded the train to Omaha haunted him. He had done what was necessary, he told himself. A finishing school would shape her into the proper young lady she was meant to be, far from the corrupting influence of Rock Creek - and far from him.
Garrison's jaw clenched at the thought of Deputy Cross. The man's very existence in their town was an affront, but his audacity in pursuing Alyna... it was unforgivable.
"I'll see him run out of town," Garrison muttered, his voice barely audible over the creaking of the stagecoach. "Or worse."
The other passengers gave him a wide berth, sensing the fury radiating off him in waves. Garrison paid them no mind. His thoughts were focused solely on the vengeance he would exact.
As the coach rolled into Rock Creek, Garrison's eyes narrowed at the sight of the jailhouse. He knew Deputy Cross would be there, likely unaware of the storm about to break over him.
Garrison disembarked, his boots stirring up dust as he strode purposefully down the main street. Townsfolk nodded in greeting, but quickly stepped aside, recognizing the dangerous glint in his eye.
The door to the marshal's office creaked as Garrison pushed it open. Marshal Hunter looked up from his desk, surprise flickering across his weathered features.
"Garrison," he greeted cautiously. "Didn't expect to see you back so soon. Everything alright?"
Garrison's gaze swept the room, landing on Deputy Cross, who stood by the window. The younger man met his eyes steadily, a hint of defiance in his posture.
"We need to talk, Marshal," Garrison said, his voice low and controlled. "About the future of law enforcement in this town."
Marshal Hunter's brow furrowed. "What's this about, Garrison?"
Garrison's eyes never left Deputy Cross as he spoke. "It's about maintaining order. About ensuring that those who wear the badge are worthy of the trust we place in them."
Deputy Cross stepped forward, his hand resting casually on his gun belt. "If you have something to say, Mr. McAllister, say it plain."
The tension in the room was palpable. Marshal Hunter rose slowly from his chair, his eyes darting between the two men.
"Now, let's all take a breath here," he said, his tone placating. "Whatever's going on, I'm sure we can discuss it civilly."
Garrison's lip curled in a sneer. "Civility? That's rich, coming from a man who employs a—"
"Choose your next words carefully, Mr. McAllister," Deputy Cross interrupted, his voice hard as steel.
For a moment, silence reigned. Then Garrison spoke, his words dripping with venom. "I'm going to make this very clear. Your days in this town are numbered, Deputy. I'll see to that personally."
With that, he turned on his heel and strode out of the office, leaving a stunned silence in his wake.
As he walked back to his home, Garrison's mind raced with plans. He had connections, influence. He would use every tool at his disposal to see Deputy Cross removed from his position and driven from Rock Creek.
And if legal means failed... well, there were other ways to deal with unwanted elements in a frontier town.
Garrison paused at his front door, looking back towards the jailhouse. A cold smile played across his lips.
"Enjoy your badge while you can, half-breed," he murmured. "Your time is running out."
As he entered his empty house, the silence that greeted him only fueled his resolve. He would restore order to his world, no matter the cost. And when Alyna returned, she would find Rock Creek as it should be - free from the taint of those who didn't belong.
Garrison settled into his study, pulling out pen and paper. He had letters to write, favors to call in. His campaign against Deputy Cross began now, and he would not rest until he saw it through to its bitter end.
Chapter 11
Rock Creek, Nebraska - 1861
The first rays of dawn found Garrison McAllister at his desk, a stack of sealed letters before him. Each bore the name of a powerful friend or ally - judges, businessmen, even the Territorial Marshal. His quill scratched across paper as he penned the final missive, a grim smile playing on his lips.
With his groundwork laid, Garrison made his way to the saloon. The streets of Rock Creek were just beginning to stir, but he knew news traveled fast in a small town. By nightfall, everyone would be talking about Buck Cross.
"Boy, come here," he barked at a young lad sweeping the boardwalk.
"Yes, Mr. Mayor?" The boy looked up, eyes wide.
Garrison pressed a few coins and a folded note into the child's hand. "Take this to Marshal Hunter. These are for you if you're quick about it."
As the boy scampered off, Garrison entered the saloon. The bartender nodded, already reaching for the whiskey bottle. Perfect, Garrison thought. Witnesses.
He had barely taken his first sip when Marshal Hunter pushed through the swinging doors, his face a mask of concern. Garrison allowed himself a moment of satisfaction. The trap was set.
"McAllister," Teaspoon acknowledged, sliding into the chair across from him. "Your note said it was urgent."
Garrison took a long pull of whiskey, schooling his features into an expression of grief and rage. "It's about why I sent Alyna away, Marshal. There's been a grievous crime committed in our town."
Teaspoon's brow furrowed. "What are you talking about, Garrison?"
Leaning in close, Garrison lowered his voice to a harsh whisper. "It's your deputy, Cross. He... he forced himself on my Alyna."
The color drained from Teaspoon's face. "Now wait just a minute—"
But Garrison was already raising his voice, ensuring the other patrons could hear. "Are you calling my daughter a liar, Marshal? She came home in tears, her dress torn. Said your half-breed offered to escort her home from Widow O'Malley's, then took advantage of her!"
A hush fell over the saloon. Teaspoon's eyes darted around, noting the shocked and angry faces of the townsfolk. His heart sank, knowing the damage was already done.
"Garrison, please," Teaspoon implored, his voice low. "Let's discuss this in private. These are serious accusations—"
"Accusations backed by evidence," Garrison interrupted. "The Territorial Marshal is already on his way, Teaspoon. Judge Brooker too. They'll see justice done, even if you won't."
Teaspoon felt the weight of the situation settling on his shoulders. He knew Buck, considered him a son. The young man wasn't capable of such a heinous act. But Garrison's influence, the "evidence" he claimed to have...
"What do you want, Garrison?" Teaspoon asked, his voice heavy with resignation.
A cold smile played across Garrison's lips. "Justice, Marshal. I want that animal run out of town. Or better yet, swinging from the end of a rope."
Teaspoon's mind raced. He had to protect Buck, but how? The boy wouldn't stand a chance against a lynch mob, and a trial... well, frontier justice wasn't known for its fairness, especially not for a man with Indian blood.
"Give me time," Teaspoon said finally. "Let me talk to him. If he leaves town peacefully—"
"He has until sundown," Garrison declared, loud enough for everyone to hear. "After that, I can't be held responsible for what the good people of this town might do."
As Teaspoon hurried out of the saloon, Garrison allowed himself a moment of triumph. Everything was falling into place. Soon, Rock Creek would be rid of Buck Cross, and order would be restored.
But as he raised his glass in a silent toast to his own cunning, a flicker of doubt passed through Garrison's mind. He pushed it aside ruthlessly. This was for Alyna's own good, he told himself. No matter the cost.
Part Two – Promises Lost
Chapter 12
Omaha, Nebraska - May 1867
The harsh Nebraska sunlight assaulted Alyna's eyes as she stepped off the train, her vision adjusting slowly after days of traveling in the dimly lit railcar from Boston. She blinked rapidly, raising a gloved hand to shield her face. The bustling Omaha station was a far cry from the quiet town she'd left six years ago.
"Alyna! Over here." A familiar voice called out.
She turned, spotting Gabriel Frederickson weaving through the crowd. His dirty blonde hair caught the light, and his blue-grey eyes sparkled with recognition. He extended a hand to help her down.
"Gabriel," Alyna greeted, accepting his assistance. She gave him a quick peck on the cheek, the scent of his aftershave bringing back a flood of memories. "You look... different."
Gabriel chuckled, leading her towards a waiting carriage. "Different good or different bad?"
"Just... different," Alyna replied, studying his face. The boyish features she remembered had sharpened, lines etched at the corners of his eyes speaking of experiences she couldn't begin to imagine. "The war, I suppose."
Gabriel's smile faltered for a moment. "It changes a man," he said quietly, then brightened again. "But look at you! Boston clearly agreed with you."
Alyna smoothed her skirts, suddenly self-conscious. "Oh, I don't know about that."
"No, truly," Gabriel insisted, helping her into the carriage. "You've grown into quite the lady, Miss McAllister."
As the carriage lurched into motion, a comfortable silence fell between them.
"How is my father?" she finally asked, turning back to Gabriel.
"He's well enough," Gabriel replied. "In St. Joseph on business at the moment. We weren't expecting you for another week."
Alyna nodded, a mix of relief and disappointment washing over her. "I see."
The journey to Rock Creek took two days, with an overnight stay in Lincoln. As they traveled, Alyna found herself stealing glances at Gabriel, noting the changes time had wrought. He seemed more reserved.
For his part, Gabriel couldn't help but marvel at the woman Alyna had become. The spirited girl he remembered had transformed into a poised young lady, her fiery red hair tamed into an elegant updo, though a few errant curls escaped to frame her face. Her soft warm brown eyes, however, seemed somehow dimmed, lacking the mischievous spark he remembered so fondly.
As they neared Rock Creek, familiar landmarks began to appear. Alyna leaned forward, drinking in the sight of home.
"Do you remember that creek?" Gabriel asked, pointing. "Where we used to catch frogs as kids?"
Alyna smiled, a genuine one this time. "How could I forget? Penelope was always so squeamish about it."
"Speaking of Penelope," Gabriel said, "she'll be thrilled to see you. She's been talking about your return for weeks."
"I've missed her," Alyna admitted. "Boston was... lonely, at times."
Gabriel's hand twitched, as if he wanted to reach out to her, but he restrained himself. "Well, you're home now," he said softly.
As they pulled up to the McAllister mansion, an older woman bustled out onto the porch. "Miss McAllister?" she called, her Irish brogue thick and welcoming.
"Yes?" Alyna replied, accepting Gabriel's hand as she stepped down from the carriage.
"I'm Nora Hanford, takin' care of yer father, lass," the woman introduced herself. "He'll be back in a few days' time. For now, let's get ye settled. Supper'll be ready shortly."
Alyna nodded, suddenly overwhelmed by the reality of her homecoming. She turned to Gabriel. "Thank you for the escort, Gabe. Perhaps... perhaps we could have lunch later this week? Once I'm settled?"
Gabriel's face lit up. "I'd like that very much," he said. "Welcome home, Alyna."
As he rode away, Alyna took a deep breath and followed Nora into the house. The familiar creak of the third step, the faint smell of lemon oil on the banister – it all rushed back to her. She paused at the door to her old room, her hand hovering over the doorknob.
"Everything alright, Miss?" Nora asked, concern etching her weathered face.
Alyna nodded, squaring her shoulders. "Yes, thank you, Nora. I just... I think I need a moment."
As the housekeeper retreated downstairs, Alyna pushed open the door. The room was just as she remembered, yet somehow smaller. She moved to the window, looking out over the sprawling grounds. The old oak tree still stood proud, its swing swaying gently in the breeze.
A knock at the door startled her from her reverie. "Miss?" Nora called. "Supper's ready, if you'd like to come down."
Alyna took one last look around the room, then turned to the door. "Coming," she replied, smoothing her skirts. It was time to face her new old life, whatever it might bring.
Chapter 13
Rock Creek, Nebraska - 1867
Gabriel leaned against his carriage, the weight of anticipation settling over him like the heat of the day. The McAllister estate loomed before him, its windows reflecting the harsh light of late morning. The creak of the front door caught his attention. Alyna emerged, a vision in a pale blue dress that accentuated her eyes. She wore a wide-brimmed hat, shielding her fair skin from the sun.
"Good morning, Gabe," Alyna called out, her voice carrying a forced cheerfulness.
Gabriel moved to help her into the carriage, noting how she tensed slightly at his touch. "Alyna," he greeted, tipping his hat. "How are you today?"
"Well, thank you," she replied, settling into her seat. "It's... good to be home."
As Gabriel climbed up to take the reins, he cast a sidelong glance at her. "And your father? How is he?"
Alyna's fingers twisted in her lap. "He's well. We've been catching up since he returned from St. Joseph."
Gabriel nodded, sensing the underlying tension in her words. He clucked to the horses, and they set off down the dusty road towards town.
As they traveled, Gabriel filled the silence with news of Rock Creek's developments. "You'll hardly recognize Main Street," he said. "We've got a new library now, thanks to Mrs. Holloway's generous donation."
Alyna nodded politely, but her gaze had drifted to the landscape beyond the carriage. The rolling hills, painted gold by the summer sun, were dotted with familiar oak trees. It was all so achingly familiar, yet somehow foreign.
Her thoughts wandered to Buck, the boy – now man – she'd left behind. Had he heard of her return? Did he care? Or had he moved on, perhaps married with children of his own now? The letters she'd sent from Boston had gone unanswered, leaving her to wonder what he must have thought of her sudden departure.
A stray tear escaped, leaving a faint trail through her carefully applied powder. Alyna quickly dabbed it away, hoping Gabriel hadn't noticed.
But he had. Gabriel's jaw clenched, silently cursing the circumstances that had driven Alyna away and the town that now seemed poised to judge her. He placed a gentle hand over hers. "It'll be alright, Alyna," he said softly. "I'm here."
As they approached the outskirts of Rock Creek, a figure came into view. Penelope sat primly on her porch, her blonde curls perfectly arranged beneath a dainty hat. She waved politely as the carriage neared, then stood to greet them.
"Alyna!" Penelope called out, rushing to meet them. She waited for Gabriel to help Alyna down before embracing her friend. "My heavens, Boston has been good to you! You look absolutely wonderful."
Alyna returned the hug, grateful for the familiar face. "So do you, Penny. It's good to see you."
"You simply must tell me everything," Penelope gushed, linking her arm through Alyna's. "It must have been fabulous to escape this little town for the big city!"
Gabriel rolled his eyes. "Give her a moment to breathe, Penny."
Penelope shot him a look. "Oh, mind your business! Gabe's been an absolute pill since he returned from the war," she confided to Alyna. "All he does is complain, complain, complain! It's just marvelous having you back to liven things up."
As Penelope's chatter washed over her, Alyna found herself smiling. Some things, at least, hadn't changed.
The town itself, however, was another matter. As they made their way down Main Street, Alyna realized how much had shifted in her absence. Faces she once knew had been replaced by strangers, and new buildings stood where empty lots had been.
She caught sight of a group of ladies outside the milliner's shop, their heads bent close in conversation. As the carriage passed, they looked up, their gazes fixing on Alyna. One woman whispered something, and the others nodded, their eyes never leaving her.
Alyna turned away, her cheeks burning. She felt Gabriel's hand on her arm, a silent gesture of support.
"Don't mind them," Penelope said, having noticed the exchange. "They're just starved for gossip. Give it a week, and they'll find someone new to talk about."
"So," she said, forcing brightness into her voice, "tell me about this new library, Gabe. I'd love to see it."
Chapter 14
Rock Creek, Nebraska - 1867
Slowing her pace, Alyna stroked Destiny's mane reassuringly. The morning air was crisp, but she knew she had to leave before anyone else awoke to stop her. As she passed through the valley, The fog hung heavy in the morning air as Alyna saddled Destiny, her heart pounding with a mix of determination and frustration. For weeks now, she'd been treated like a porcelain doll, fragile and in need of protection from some unknown threat. Everyone walked on eggshells around her, their smiles too bright, their words too carefully chosen. It was maddening, and Alyna was determined to uncover the truth that seemed to elude only her.
Gabe, once her confidant, now avoided her gaze when she asked about the past. He'd stammer out vague platitudes before finding an excuse to leave. Her father, usually so forthright, would change the subject whenever she broached anything related to her time away or the events that led to her sudden departure. Even Penny, her dearest friend since childhood, had broken down in tears and fled the room when Alyna had pressed her for answers.
What had happened in her absence? Why did everyone treat her as if she might shatter at any moment? The town itself seemed changed, and not just in the expected ways of progress and time.
The absence of familiar faces weighed heavily on her. The old marshal Teaspoon Hunter, she'd learned, had passed away just before the war's end. His loss left a palpable void in the community, his wisdom and quirky humor sorely missed. James Hickok, Wild Bill as some had taken to calling him, had served as a scout for the Union Army. Beyond that, news of him was scarce.
But it was Buck Cross whose absence gnawed at her the most. No one would speak of him, their eyes darting away at the mere mention of his name. It was as if he'd vanished into thin air, leaving no trace behind. The mystery surrounding his disappearance ate at her, fueling her determination to uncover the truth.
Soon, Buck's house came into view, but Alyna's heart sank at the sight. No horses in the coral, the porch covered in leaves and dirt – it was a picture of abandonment. Approaching cautiously, she tied Destiny to the post and surveyed the scene. The windows were grimy with neglect, and when Alyna wiped off a patch of glass to peer inside, she saw no signs of life.
A sharp neigh from Destiny broke the silence, causing Alyna to startle. She soothed the horse's coat, trying to calm her own nerves. "Buck?" She called tentatively. "Hello?" With a shaky breath, Alyna knocked on the door, which swung open slightly at her touch.
The interior of the house was just as she remembered, yet heavy with neglect. Thick layers of dust coated every surface, as if the rooms had been untouched for years. The kitchen's grimy floor bore telltale signs of fresh tracks, causing Alyna's skin to prickle with unease.
Her eyes fell upon a stack of letters on the hearth – her letters, untouched and unopened. The realization stung like a fresh wound. Buck hadn't bothered to read a single one of her heartfelt messages. Fighting back tears, Alyna turned away from the abandoned house, the weight of rejection settling heavily on her shoulders.
As she mounted Destiny once more, the sun began to rise above the mountains. Alyna knew she had to return home before Nora noticed her absence. After a moment's hesitation, she decided to take the shortcut through the valley, hoping to avoid any encounters on the main road.
The air vibrated with an unsettling hum, raising goosebumps along Alyna's arms and neck. At first, she mistook it for an injured animal, but as she scanned the area, she spotted a figure lying face down a few yards away.
Instinct urged her to approach and offer aid, yet doubt crept in. What if it was a trap? Despite her apprehension, Alyna couldn't ignore the possibility that the person might be in dire need of help. With a conflicted expression, she urged Destiny forward, her mind racing with uncertainty.
As she drew closer, the extent of the man's injuries became apparent. A large, ominous stain of red marked his leg, and swarms of flies buzzed around the wound. Alyna's stomach churned with unease. "Sir?" She called out, her voice wavering.
Receiving no response, Alyna snapped off a twig from a nearby tree and, remaining atop Destiny, cautiously prodded the body. To her relief, the man emitted a low groan. Offering a silent prayer, she dismounted and approached the injured stranger.
As Alyna knelt down to roll him over, she gagged at the stench. Her soft gasp echoed in the stillness as the black overcoat fell back, revealing buckskin clothing beneath – the man was an Indian.
"Ómakiya yo," the man groaned before lapsing back into unconsciousness.
Alyna's mind raced. She knew no doctor would come to the aid of a wounded Indian, but she couldn't abandon him to die alone in the wilderness. With grim determination, she began the arduous task of dragging the large man towards Destiny.
Several attempts to lift him onto the horse failed, each time the man slumping back to the dirt. As exhaustion began to set in, Alyna paused to catch her breath, leaning against Destiny's side with a weary sigh.
Suddenly, she realized the injured man was now alert and staring at her. The intensity of his gaze unsettled her, but she reminded herself that she had already disarmed him, and he was in no condition to harm her.
"I can't lift you alone," Alyna said softly, struggling to bring the man to his feet. "I need your help."
As if understanding her plea, the man raised his arms over the horse. With her assistance, he managed to sit upright before slipping back into unconsciousness.
As Alyna guided Destiny forward, questions swirled in her mind. Who had shot this man? Where were his tribe? The uncertainty weighed heavily on her as she continued her journey, now responsible for the life of this mysterious stranger. Little did Alyna know that her act of compassion would set in motion a series of events that would change her life forever.
Chapter 15
Rock Creek, Nebraska - 1867
Consciousness returned to the wounded man in a wave of searing pain. He attempted to sit up, but his muscles betrayed him, refusing to obey his commands. As his vision cleared, he took stock of his surroundings. His clothes were gone, replaced by white cloth packed tightly over his wounds.
His gaze fell to his leg, and worry deepened the lines on his face. The signs of infection were clear, and he knew all too well the dire consequences that could follow without proper care. Gingerly, he touched the bandages, feeling the heat radiating from beneath.
The creak of the barn door interrupted his thoughts. Alyna entered, balancing a plate in her hands.
"Well, good morning," she said, her voice hushed as she approached. "I brought food. Food." She mimed eating, then showed him the plate, repeating, "Food."
"Philámayaye," he grunted, accepting the offering.
Alyna watched him eat with satisfaction. "You are doing so much better today," she remarked, pride evident in her voice. She had tended to him diligently for several days now.
"You're certainly hungry. Do you speak English?" She waited, but he continued eating as if she hadn't spoken. "Well, I don't know how to heal you properly. The bleeding has stopped, but that just doesn't look good." She pointed to his swollen leg. "I have some medicine. Maybe it will help."
She set some bottles on the ground and hurried away to fetch fresh linen. The man observed her actions with a mix of curiosity and suspicion. Her kindness puzzled him; he knew well the ways of white people, their compassion often masking ulterior motives. Despite her assistance, he remained wary.
Alyna returned with clean bandages and knelt beside him. "Did you like it? The food?" she asked as she began to peel off the soiled bandage from his leg. It stuck to the skin, and he winced as she carefully removed it.
"I'm sorry, but they need to be changed," she murmured, noticing the flinch of his stomach muscles. She couldn't help but notice his well-muscled body, her cheeks flushing as she bent her head to hide her reaction.
"Now, you'll have to keep quiet. I'm sorry, this is going to hurt." Slowly, she dripped a clear liquid onto his badly swollen leg. The man dug his hands into the blanket, clenching his fists tightly.
Alyna frowned, running her hand tenderly over the swollen skin. The heat emanating from the wound worried her. She had visited the doctor earlier, fabricating a story about Nora's injury to obtain medicine. But now, faced with the reality of the man's condition, she felt helpless.
"I just don't know what to do for you," she sighed. "I'm sure that's infected, and Doc Miller won't come out to look at you."
The man slowly moved his hand to where she had laid the plate. "Are you still hungry?" Alyna reached for the plate. "I'll get you more."
Suddenly, the man held up the butter knife she had given him with his food. Alyna jumped back, eyes wide with alarm. But he quickly extended his hand in a placating gesture, pointing towards his bloodied clothes in the corner of the room.
"You want your knife?" Alyna looked across the room, then back at the man.
"Haŋ," he nodded, thrusting the butter knife into her hand.
"No way," she shook her head adamantly.
"Haŋ." He reached out, gently taking hold of her trembling hand. He pointed again towards the pile of bloodied clothes, then to his injured leg.
"I want to help you, but I'm afraid of you," Alyna confessed, her voice quavering. Reluctantly, she edged across the floor and retrieved his knife from the discarded clothes.
After a moment's hesitation, she handed it over, hoping she had made the right choice. Her heart lurched as she watched in horror as he made a slash through the skin just under the wound. A loud cry pierced the air, and she couldn't tell if it came from her or from him.
Nora's voice echoed from below, asking what the matter was. Alyna scrambled down the ladder, her mind racing for an excuse.
"Sorry to have worried you," she lied smoothly. "A spider startled me. Everything is fine."
When Alyna returned, the man was either unconscious or dead. She moved towards him slowly, preparing for the worst. Suddenly, his hand closed around her wrist. He guided her hand to his leg, which was bleeding freely. He pushed her hand against a lump, causing a foul-smelling mass to ooze from the new wound.
Understanding dawned on Alyna as she continued to press softly, drawing more of the substance out. She cleaned the cut and bandaged it tightly, grateful that he remained unconscious through the painful process.
As she wiped his brow and propped up his head, Alyna felt a mix of fear and admiration. If he made it through the night, she was sure he would survive. And then... well, she would face that challenge when it came.
For now, all she could do was wait, and hope that her impulsive act of kindness wouldn't lead to disaster.
Chapter 16
Rock Creek, Nebraska - 1867
The weeks had flown by, each day bringing a new rhythm to Alyna's life. This morning, she hummed contentedly as she piled a plate high with fresh rolls, bacon, and eggs. With Nora away visiting her sister and her father in town discussing finances with the banker, Alyna had the house to herself. She relished the freedom, her steps light as she made her way to the barn.
As she entered, she caught sight of her patient attempting to descend the ladder. "Hey! You be careful, will you?" She called out, rushing to his side.
He looked up, his wild ebony eyes shining in the barn's dim light. Alyna's breath caught for a moment, struck by the intensity of his gaze.
"I brought you food," she said, helping him settle onto a bale of hay before handing him the plate.
"Philámayaye," he grunted, offering her one of the rolls.
"Oh, thank you," Alyna replied, tearing off a corner and eating with him. As they shared the meal in companionable silence, she found herself studying his profile. The weeks of care had brought color back to his face, and his movements were becoming more fluid each day.
"I think you're able to take a short walk outside if you'd like," Alyna suggested. "It's beautiful today. The grass is so green now, and it smells so sweet." She shook her head, laughing softly at herself. "You're very easy to talk to, you know."
When he finished eating, Alyna helped him to his feet. He could mostly stand on his own now, just needing her for balance. As they made their way outside, Alyna couldn't help but notice the warmth of his body against hers, the solid strength of him even after weeks of convalescence.
They hadn't gone far when he stumbled slightly, pressing against her. He leaned closer, and Alyna felt his breath on her neck as his hair brushed across her face. An involuntary tremor coursed through her, born of something deeper than mere worry for his safety.
"Are you alright?" she asked, her arms instinctively encircling his waist to steady him. He nodded gruffly, but the tightness around his eyes betrayed his pain.
Alyna rolled her eyes at his stubborn pride. "Why didn't you tell me you were hurting? Sit here," she commanded, leading him to a grassy patch under a large oak tree.
"Hiyú wó," he said, patting the grass beside him.
Alyna hesitated, looking at the ground where his hand rested. With a shake of his head, he gently grasped her hand and pulled her down beside him.
"My name is Alyna," she said as she settled against the tree trunk. "Ah-lee-nah," she repeated, pointing to herself and enunciating clearly.
"Wakíŋyaŋ Ská," he responded, tapping his chest.
"Wa-kiaska?" Alyna attempted, her tongue stumbling over the unfamiliar sounds.
"Wah-KEEN-yahn skah," he repeated, a broad smile spreading across his face at her effort.
Encouraged by his reaction, Alyna perked up. "Grass," she said, running her hand through the long blades surrounding them.
"Pheží," Wakíŋyaŋ Ská replied, grasping her hand in his.
"Hand," Alyna nodded, a spark of excitement in her eyes.
"Napé," he said, turning her hand over and softly tracing the lines on her palm. His touch sent a tremor through her that she tried to ignore.
Wakíŋyaŋ Ská reached out, gently grasping a lock of her long red hair. "Pȟehíŋ," he murmured as the silky strands slipped between his fingers.
"Hair," Alyna echoed, mirroring his action by running her fingers through his coarse black locks.
His smile deepened as he continued the impromptu lesson. He touched her eyelid gently. "Ištá…" His finger trailed down her nose. "Pȟasú…" He paused, his fingertip hovering for a moment before resting on her lips. "ihá…"
Alyna's breath hitched as he leaned in, his scent enveloping her. "Iputáke," he whispered, his lips grazing hers in the softest of kisses.
Flustered, Alyna sat back with a nervous laugh. "I don't believe I caught all of that," she said, her cheeks flushed.
As the sun began to set Alyna stole glances at Wakíŋyaŋ Ská. His face, etched with the marks of a life lived in the elements, was striking in profile against the twilight sky. There was a rawness to him, an absence of pretense that she found refreshing.
Wakíŋyaŋ Ská retained her hand in his, his thumb moving rhythmically over her skin, sketching invisible patterns. His thoughts drifted to his people, just a few days' ride over the mountains. Soon, he would be strong enough to return.
Alyna's hand tightened around Wakíŋyaŋ Ská's, pulling his attention back. He looked at her, taking in the warmth of her eyes - brown like his, but flecked with lighter hues. Her red hair caught the last bit of sunlight, standing out against the dimming sky. She was beautiful, perhaps the most beautiful white woman he'd ever seen. For a moment, he was reminded of Ziηtkála Wašté, a young maiden in his village.
As evening settled in, neither spoke. They just sat there, two unlikely friends finding a moment of quiet understanding. The differences between them seemed less important now, out here with the day fading around them.
Chapter 17
Rock Creek, Nebraska - 1867
Alyna rummaged through her closet once more, sensing the urgent need to declutter. Her eyes lingered on several dresses that hadn't seen daylight in years. Failing to find the dress she sought, Alyna ventured into the library and peeked inside.
"Nora? Have you seen my yellow day dress?" she inquired.
"It's on the line. I'm just on my way to retrieve the wash," Nora replied, setting down her book and preparing to rise.
"I'll do it!" Alyna offered, stepping forward to take over the task.
Alyna smiled and grabbed the large basket by the door, happy to take over the chore of hanging the clothes. She enjoyed the simple task, especially on warm sunny days. Humming softly to herself, she carefully removed each garment, ensuring they didn't drag on the ground.
Suddenly, she felt a pair of strong hands around her waist, and she turned around quickly, expecting to see Gabe. To her surprise, it was Wakíŋyaŋ Ská instead. Her eyes widened in shock, and she instinctively tried to pull away, but his grip was firm. Before she could react further, he leaned in and pressed his lips to hers.
At first, she resisted, but as he persisted, she found herself yielding to his advances. Her fingers entwined in his hair as he pulled her closer, and soon she became an active participant in the passionate embrace.
As the heat of the moment faded, Alyna quickly came to her senses. She pulled back from his embrace and urgently tried to guide him back to the barn, reminding him of the danger they faced if her father caught them together.
"You can't just go running around," Alyna scolded, her eyes darting nervously towards the house. "If my father finds out, he'll have my head!"
Wakíŋyaŋ Ská's lips twitched with barely suppressed laughter. His eyes sparkled with amusement as he regarded the small, fiery woman before him. The idea that her aging, plump father posed any threat to him was absurd. Even on his worst day, weakened by injury and in unfamiliar territory, Wakíŋyaŋ Ská knew he could outmaneuver the old man without breaking a sweat.
Despite his inner laughter, Wakíŋyaŋ Ská allowed Alyna to tug him towards the barn. Her persistence was endearing, and he found himself charmed by her protective instincts, misplaced as they were. With an indulgent smile, he ducked his head and followed her into the shadowy safety of the barn, deciding to humor her concerns for now.
Alyna sighed and smiled back at him. "I'm glad you are better though." A sudden flash of sadness swept over her. "I guess you are going to be leaving soon, now that you are well." She hadn't realized just how lonely she was going to be without his company. "You'll need these." She handed him his knife and gun.
"Ah-lee-nah." He took the weapons gratefully.
"I'll miss you." She sucked in a quick breath.
Wakíŋyaŋ Ská moved towards Alyna with determined strides, his long legs closing the distance between them swiftly. He had never imagined that this woman would find her way into his heart, yet now he knew he would miss her deeply.
Cupping her cheek with his large hand, he gently pulled her face towards his own. Her lips, always soft and warm, met his eagerly, igniting a surge of emotions within him. Closing his eyes, he savored every sensation of the moment—the way her body pressed against his, the taste of her lips, the gentle breeze tousling her hair and tickling his arms.
Alyna wrestled with conflicting emotions as she gazed into Wakíŋyaŋ Ská's intense eyes. She knew she shouldn't allow herself to feel this way about the handsome stranger. After all, he was only there temporarily, destined to move on once he had healed. It was nothing more than a purely physical attraction, she tried to convince herself. But how could she not be drawn to him?
His commanding presence demanded attention, and his eyes, though fierce and piercing, held a softness and passion that stirred something within her. She couldn't resist the urge to run her fingers across his cheeks, gently brushing his hair back. With each passing moment, she reminded herself that once he was gone, life would continue as normal. But for now, she couldn't deny herself the pleasure of his company.
She stood on her toes and wrapped her arms around his neck, shamelessly giving in to her desires. She felt his eager tongue slip past her lips and touch hers lightly. Her heart raced. It had been many years since she had been kissed with such passion. It awakened something inside her she thought was lost.
Alyna's heart skipped a beat as a sharp, loud cry pierced the air, jolting her away from Wakíŋyaŋ Ská's embrace. Frowning, she strained to identify the source of the cries as they grew louder and more urgent.
Alyna's heart raced as she dashed out of the open barn door, her footsteps echoing in the stillness. As she rounded the corner, her eyes widened in alarm at the sight of Nora slumped against the oak tree.
"Nora!" Alyna cried out, rushing to the older woman's side. But even as she reached out, she knew it was too late. Nora's eyes stared blankly at the sky, unseeing.
Before Alyna could process the loss, a shadow fell over her. She spun around, expecting—hoping—to see Wakíŋyaŋ Ská. Instead, she found herself face-to-face with a towering stranger, his face adorned with war paint and splattered with blood—Nora's blood, she realized with a sickening lurch.
The warrior's hand shot out, gripping Alyna's arm with bruising force.
Alyna's mind raced, fear clouding her thoughts. Where was Wakíŋyaŋ Ská? As if summoned by her silent plea, he appeared, striding towards them with purpose, his eyes blazing with a fierce intensity she'd never seen before.
Wakíŋyaŋ Ská's voice cut through the chaos, low and dangerous. "WíyakA iyúha."
The air crackled with tension as the two men faced off. Alyna could feel the stranger's grip on her arm tighten, could sense the tremble in her own body as she stood caught between them.
"I šni na Wiwayaka," the stranger shouted.
Wakíŋyaŋ Ská's mouth curved into a faint, predatory smirk, causing Alyna's blood to run cold. In a flash, he closed the distance between them. His hand shot out, gripping the stranger's wrist with crushing force. The other man's eyes widened in surprise and pain.
" I na," Wakíŋyaŋ Ská growled.
"Iháŋniŋ kȟé!" the man growled and sheathed a large knife.
He twisted, using the man's momentum against him. In one fluid motion, he had the stranger on his knees, arm wrenched behind his back. Alyna stumbled free, backing away from the struggle.
"Wa ohola sni nitawa Itáŋčhaŋ?" Wakíŋyaŋ Ská leaned in close, his words for the warrior's ears alone.
After a tense moment, the man nodded, a gesture of grudging respect. Wakíŋyaŋ Ská released him, stepping back but remaining alert.
As the stranger rose, rubbing his wrist, Wakíŋyaŋ Ská moved to Alyna's side. His hand on her arm was gentler than the other warrior's had been, but no less insistent. She looked up at him, confusion and fear warring in her eyes.
"What's happening?" Alyna's voice trembled.
But Wakíŋyaŋ Ská's response came in a stream of words she couldn't understand. His tone was insistent, his eyes darting around them, alert for danger. Without waiting for her to comprehend, he began pulling her towards the horse corral.
Alyna dug in her heels, resisting. "No!"
Wakíŋyaŋ Ská cut her off with a sharp word she didn't know, but his meaning was clear. There was no time. In one fluid motion, he lifted her, his strength apparent despite his recent injury. Alyna struggled against him, her fists pounding ineffectually against his chest.
"Put me down! Wakíŋyaŋ Ská, stop!"
But her protests fell on deaf ears. They reached Destiny, her palomino, and with a grunt of effort, Wakíŋyaŋ Ská hoisted her onto the horse's back. Before she could slide off the other side, he swung up behind her, his arm like an iron band around her waist.
Alyna twisted in his grasp, her eyes wild with panic and betrayal. As they rode, following behind the other warriors, a desperate plan formed in her mind. Gathering her courage, she drove her elbow hard into Wakíŋyaŋ Ská's thigh, right where his recent wound was still healing.
The sudden pain caused his grip to loosen, just for a moment. It was all Alyna needed. She slipped from his grasp and threw herself off the side of the horse, tumbling down a steep ravine into the semi-dry creek bed below.
The impact knocked the wind from her lungs, but fear and adrenaline propelled her forward. Scrambling to her feet, Alyna began to run. She knew this creek. It ran behind her house. If she could just follow it...
But her hope was short-lived. She'd barely made it a dozen yards when strong hands seized her from behind. Wakíŋyaŋ Ská had caught up to her with ease, his long strides and warrior's stamina no match for her desperate flight.
Alyna could see the anger in his eyes as he hauled her back up the ravine, but there was something else there too - a flicker of understanding, perhaps even respect for her daring. Still, it didn't stop him from roughly depositing her back on Destiny's back.
This time, when he mounted behind her, his grip was unbreakable. Alyna felt the fight drain out of her as the reality of her situation sank in. She was truly trapped now, being carried away from everything she knew and loved.
As they rejoined the band of warriors, Alyna's heart pounded with fear. She'd played her one card, and lost. Now, as the landscape grew unfamiliar around her, she could only wonder with growing dread what fate awaited her at the end of this journey.
Chapter 18
Near the Nebraska and Dakota boarder - 1867
With a quick look behind her, Alyna saw the sun melting into the horizon, its soft light casting a golden haze over the rolling plains. It felt like a never-ending nightmare, one she desperately hoped to wake up from soon. Swatting at yet another mosquito, she cursed under her breath. Her skin was already dotted with a dozen red welts from their relentless bites.
In the distance, the group of men had gathered, their murmured conversation barely audible. Alyna shivered, feeling the chill of the evening creeping into her bones. She watched anxiously as Wakíŋyaŋ Ská's familiar silhouette approached, her heart racing with a mix of fear and fury.
The thought of running flickered in her mind, but she knew he would catch her again, and the consequences could be severe. The darkness pressed in around her, suffocating and alive with the sounds of unseen creatures. She feared the dark almost as much as she feared Wakíŋyaŋ Ská, knowing that beyond the shadows lurked animals that prowled the night. No, she would wait, biding her time for the right moment to make her escape.
"Ah-lee-nah." Wakíŋyaŋ Ská's voice was low as he approached.
Alyna pursed her lips tightly and turned her back to him, a silent gesture of defiance and resentment.
"Listen now." He roughly turned her back around facing him.
"You speak English?" Her mouth gaped open in surprise.
"Haŋ." He nodded and kept his voice low, so that the others couldn't hear them.
"You are a monster! A filthy savage!" Alyna yanked herself out of his grasp, her voice trembling with anger and disgust. The word "savage" left a bitter taste in her mouth, reminding her of the hurtful labels thrown around in town. Despite its accuracy in describing him in that moment, she couldn't help but flinch at the word. "I saved your rotten life, and this is how you repay me? I hate you!"
"There was no choice." He clamped his large hand over her mouth to keep her quiet. He pointed to the large fierce looking man. "Mató Ehate would have taken you, as his."
"And being your prisoner is so much better!" Alyna's fury boiled inside her, causing her to shake as she yelled at him, though her words were muffled by his hand, he understood her anger.
"You do not want to know what it is like to be his prisoner." Wakíŋyaŋ Ská pulled a fur skin around her shivering frame. "I give you my word, you will not be harmed."
"What do you plan to do? Tie me outside your teepee like a dog?" She gritted her teeth as he removed his hand from her mouth.
"Do not be angry." He scowled. "I do what is best for you."
"I trusted you, a mistake I will never make again." Her eyes fired hatred at him. "You could have left me there."
"I told you—"
"You're stronger than him, if you really wanted to you could have left me. You could have made him understand."
He looked across the camp. "I'm not strong yet. I could not have challenged him."
"Let me go now then. I can make it to the nearest town by myself."
"No." His voice was firm.
"I hate you!"
"Maybe so." He laid down beside her. "Go to sleep."
"This smells bad." She wrinkled her nose at the blanket.
"Do you want to freeze?"
"I didn't know that was an option I had!"
"Go to sleep Ah-lee-nah. It will be a difficult day tomorrow. We have much land to cross."
As her anger subsided, he felt her body gradually relax, surrendering to exhaustion. He sensed her inching closer to him in the night, seeking warmth from his body. Despite his desire to ease her burden, he knew he had to be harsh. It was necessary for her survival.
Wakíŋyaŋ Ská lay awake, his senses alert to any danger. He glanced at Alyna's sleeping form, conflicting emotions warring within him. He hadn't wanted to take her, but the alternative was unthinkable. Mató Ehate's reputation for cruelty was well-known, and Wakíŋyaŋ Ská couldn't bear the thought of Alyna suffering that fate.
His wound still ached, a constant reminder of his vulnerability. In his weakened state, he couldn't openly challenge Mató Ehate, but he could protect Alyna by claiming her as his own. It was a delicate balance – appearing strong enough to deter challenges, yet not so strong as to provoke a fight he might lose.
As the night wore on, Wakíŋyaŋ Ská's mind drifted to the journey ahead. He knew Alyna was ill-equipped for the harsh life that awaited them. Her skin was already reddening from the sun, unused to such exposure. He made a mental note to prepare some sunflower oil and pine needle salve for her in the morning.
Alyna stirred in her sleep, unconsciously pressing closer to his warmth. Wakíŋyaŋ Ská allowed himself a moment of gentleness, adjusting the fur to cover her more fully. He silently vowed to protect her, even if it meant making difficult decisions along the way.
Chapter 19
Dakota Territory - 1867
The midday sun warmed Alyna's skin as Wakíŋyaŋ Ská gently dabbed her neck. Their journey across the prairie had taken its toll, leaving her arms and legs marked with scratches and insect bites. Alyna's skin, more accustomed to sheltered city life, was flushed and tender under the open sky. She winced, feeling the sting of sunburn on her shoulders as they continued their trek through the swaying grasslands.
As they rode, Wakíŋyaŋ Ská tried his best to shield her from the worst of the sun's rays, but he could see the pain etched in every line of her body. Her neck was an angry red, hot to the touch. It wasn't until the sun began its descent that they finally stopped at the banks of a wide river - the Mnisose, or Missouri River, as Wakíŋyaŋ Ská knew it.
He was almost home.
Alyna practically leapt from the horse, stumbling in her haste to reach the cool, refreshing water. Every muscle in her body screamed in protest, the strain of the journey evident in her slow and jerky movements. As she knelt by the water's edge, splashing her face and arms, she watched Wakíŋyaŋ Ská dismount and join his companions.
In that moment, as the men conversed in their native tongue, Alyna realized no one was paying her any mind. Her heart began to race, a desperate plan forming in her mind. Without a second thought, she bolted.
She heard Wakíŋyaŋ Ská's cry behind her, but fear propelled her forward. She glanced back, seeing him gaining on her, and made a split-second decision. Wading out into the deepest part of the river, she attempted to swim to the other side.
But the current was stronger than she anticipated. Her waterlogged skirts dragged her down, each stroke a battle against the river's pull. Panic surged through her as she felt something catch on her dress, slowly dragging her under. She was treading water furiously by the time Wakíŋyaŋ Ská reached her, feeling like a trapped animal.
Without a word, he cut away her dress and began dragging her back to shore. When she struggled, he pushed her head under the water. She came up sputtering and cursing, only to be dunked again. This continued until she was sobbing hysterically, all fight gone out of her.
Finally, she clung to him, allowing him to pull her to the rocky bank. As she wept against his chest, Wakíŋyaŋ Ská felt a twinge of guilt. Her body, warm and wet, trembled in his embrace as he held her tightly, stroking her back.
"You should have let me drown," Alyna mumbled between sobs, her voice small and broken.
Wakíŋyaŋ Ská's jaw clenched at the desperation in her tone. "I gave you my word. You will not be harmed."
"I can't do this," she cried, fresh tears spilling down her cheeks. "Please, just leave me to die here."
"You are stronger than this," he said firmly, pulling her to her feet. "I have seen your spirit. Do not let this break you."
"Please, let me go home," Alyna begged, her eyes pleading.
"Ah-lee-nah," he stopped, turning her to face him. "Do not ask me again." His tone was stern, a hint of threat underlying his words.
Alyna nodded, fear flickering in her eyes. Wakíŋyaŋ Ská pulled a blanket from his horse and handed it to her. When she flinched at his approach, he felt a pang of regret.
"It's not for your comfort," he explained, his gaze trailing over her body, barely concealed by the wet chemise.
"Savage," she spat, blushing furiously as she snatched the blanket.
For the next several days, Alyna rode in defeated silence. On the fourth day, as dusk fell, they arrived at the Lakota village. The sight of so many Indians in one place sent ripple of fear through her body. Wakíŋyaŋ Ská felt her trembling as they rode through the gathering crowd.
As they dismounted, Alyna stumbled over a rock. Wakíŋyaŋ Ská extended his hand to help her, but she stubbornly crossed her arms, keeping her distance. Her pride was all she had left.
A young woman approached, speaking rapidly to Wakíŋyaŋ Ská and glancing occasionally at Alyna. Suddenly, Alyna felt a sharp yank on her hair. In an instant, Wakíŋyaŋ Ská was at her side, speaking sternly to the woman responsible. His protective hand encircled Alyna's waist, guiding her to a large teepee.
Inside, Wakíŋyaŋ Ská began building a fire. "Ah-lee-nah, watch me closely," he instructed. "You'll need to tend to this fire to keep it burning. It is better to keep the fire than make a new one. Do you understand?"
"Yes," Alyna choked out, her voice barely above a whisper.
As night fell, Alyna huddled by the fire, her arms wrapped tightly around herself. The reality of her situation crashed over her in waves. She was alone, in a strange place, surrounded by people she didn't understand and who clearly didn't want her there. The fire blurred before her as fresh tears welled in her eyes.
She thought of her father, of Gabe, of the life she'd left behind. Would they be looking for her? Did they think she was dead? As the flames flickered, casting dancing shadows on the teepee walls, Alyna felt the last vestiges of hope drain from her body. This was her life now, and there was no escape.
With trembling hands, she added another stick to the fire, determined to keep it burning through the night. It was a small act of defiance against the despair threatening to consume her. As long as the fire burned, so too would the tiniest spark of her spirit.
Chapter 20
Dakota Territory - 1867
Alyna leaned against a small tree, her hands raw and aching. She scowled as she felt the calluses that had formed on her once-soft palms. Her previously manicured nails were now short, ragged nubs, a testament to the grueling work of the past two months. From dawn to well after dusk, she toiled ceaselessly, her body pushed to limits she never knew existed.
The list of daily chores seemed endless: cooking meals she could barely stomach, gathering wood until her arms ached, fetching water that left her back screaming in protest, and endless mending that made her eyes strain in the dim light of the teepee. She swore to herself that if she ever made it home, she'd take the longest, hottest bath of her life and never touch another piece of firewood again.
With a heavy sigh, Alyna trudged back to the village, dumping her meager pile of wood next to the teepee door. As she entered, she saw Wakíŋyaŋ Ská hunched over a collection of arrows and weapons he'd been preparing for days.
"What are you doing?" She asked, though she feared she already knew the answer.
Wakíŋyaŋ Ská looked up briefly. "We need meat before the snow."
A knot formed in Alyna's stomach. "Will you be long?"
"Ah-lee-nah, we will go far away," he replied, his focus returning to his task. "It will be many days."
"You can't leave me here," Alyna said, her voice trembling with a mix of fear and anger.
Wakíŋyaŋ Ská paused, searching for the right words. "We need food. You are... Zišipe lá." He gestured towards her slender frame, concern etched on his face. He placed a hand on his own stomach, mimicking eating, then pointed at her, repeating " Zišipe la." with urgency.
"I'm too skinny?" Alyna scowled, though her protesting stomach betrayed her with a loud growl.
"We will have fresh meat," Wakíŋyaŋ Ská nodded. "You will be happy."
"Please don't leave me here," Alyna begged, hating the desperation in her voice.
"Ahwayela Tȟaté, she will help you," he assured her.
Alyna's scowl deepened. "I don't need help from your sister."
"Do not worry, Mató Iha will not be here," Wakíŋyaŋ Ská added, noticing her face soften slightly at this news.
"I don't care," Alyna muttered, turning back to stack the firewood.
Wakíŋyaŋ Ská watched her silently, a mix of emotions playing across his face. He felt pride in her progress, knowing how difficult it must be for her to adapt to this new life. Yet, he also saw her struggle, the way she barely touched the food she prepared, pushing it around her bowl with barely concealed distaste.
"For your hands," he said softly, offering her a small bag of balm. "It will help."
Alyna ignored the gesture, moving to place a large pot over the fire. "I'll get your food ready."
As she worked, Wakíŋyaŋ Ská's voice took on a serious tone. "Ah-lee-nah. While I am away, you will not leave."
Alyna's hands stilled for a moment. "I can't promise you that," she replied harshly.
"I will ask Matoskah to stand guard. But I want to trust you."
"Fine," Alyna snapped, not meeting his eyes.
Wakíŋyaŋ Ská moved closer, gently tilting her chin up to look into her eyes. "Promise me."
For a moment, Alyna's resolve wavered. Despite everything, there was something in Wakíŋyaŋ Ská's gaze that made her heart flutter. But the memory of her home, of her father and friends, of the life she'd left behind, steeled her once more.
"I promise," she said compliantly, quickly looking away to hide the conflict in her eyes.
As night fell and Wakíŋyaŋ Ská slept, Alyna sat by the dying embers of the fire. Her mind raced with thoughts of escape, of finding her way back to civilization. But fear held her back – fear of the unknown wilderness, of hostile tribes, of wild animals. And beneath it all, a tiny spark of something else, something she wasn't ready to acknowledge.
She looked at Wakíŋyaŋ Ská's sleeping form, her emotions a turbulent mix of resentment, gratitude, and confusion. He had taken her from her home, yet he had also protected her, taught her, and shown her kindness in his own way.
As she finally lay down to sleep, Alyna's last thoughts were of home. But for the first time, she wasn't sure exactly what – or where – home was anymore.
Chapter 21
Dakota Territory - 1867
The sun's rays pierced through the teepee's flap, rousing Alyna from her fitful sleep. She stretched, wincing at the ache in her bones from the hard, fur-lined pallet. Realizing she had overslept, Alyna sighed, her gaze falling on the extinguished coals.
"I didn't want to eat anyway," she muttered, her frown deepening despite the gnawing hunger in her stomach.
As she dressed, Alyna's fingers traced the soft buckskin of her dress. Wakíŋyaŋ Ská had insisted she wear it instead of her torn chemise and pantaloons, and though she'd initially resisted, she'd grown accustomed to its feel. The soft-soled moccasins, however, were a comfort she readily embraced, appreciating the freedom they offered compared to her old shoes.
Grabbing a small basket, Alyna followed the path to the river just outside the village. A thicket of berries on the far bank promised a sweet breakfast. She waded across, noting the women filling water bags and children playing in the cool stream. Settling on the riverbank, Alyna savored a few juicy berries before filling her basket to the brim.
As she crossed back over the river, a sharp voice cut through the air.
"Ayúštaŋ yo!"
Alyna recognized Lowáŋ Ziηtkála's command to stop, but quickened her pace instead. The weight of the berries slowed her down, and within moments, Lowáŋ Ziηtkála blocked her path. Though shorter than Alyna, the woman's sturdy frame radiated strength that Alyna, in her malnourished state, couldn't hope to match.
Avoiding her gaze, Alyna tried to sidestep her, but Lowáŋ Ziηtkála moved to block her again. In a swift motion, she knocked the basket from Alyna's hands and shoved her hard.
Caught off guard, Alyna stumbled backward. "Leave me alone!" She screamed, reaching for the scattered berries.
It was the wrong move. Lowáŋ Ziηtkála's hands connected with Alyna's shoulders, sending her crashing to the ground. This time, Alyna couldn't catch herself. Her face struck a sharp rock, and she rolled over quickly, hand flying to the injury. Tears mixed with dirt, causing the cut to burn fiercely.
Curling into a ball, Alyna waited as Lowáŋ Ziηtkála's angry words washed over her. When the tirade finally ended, Alyna gingerly touched the wound, feeling blood trickle down her nose. She stumbled back to the river, rinsing her face and assessing the damage. The cut ran from her forehead near her hairline to her eyebrow.
Back in the teepee, Alyna rummaged through her meager belongings, relief flooding her as she found her old chemise. She tore strips from it, fashioning a makeshift bandage for her head.
Hours passed as Alyna lay in the middle of the teepee, staring at the ceiling. Hunger gnawed at her empty stomach, but fear of Lowáŋ Ziηtkála's return kept her rooted in place. Eventually, exhaustion won out, and she fell into a restless sleep.
For days, Alyna remained in the teepee, venturing out only in the dead of night to bathe in the river and relieve herself in the woods. Unable to forage, she subsisted on pemmican and dried foods, her hunger a constant companion.
Time blurred, days and nights melding into a haze of loneliness and despair. In her isolation, Alyna found solace in memories of happier times. She wondered about her father, Penny, and Gabe, imagining their lives and longing for their company. Buck's fate also lingered in her mind. Had he remained in law enforcement, or pursued a different path?
Mostly, though, boredom overwhelmed her, and she slept away the hours, finding temporary escape in her dreams.
When the commotion of the returning hunting party filled the air, Alyna's heart leapt. She yearned to run outside, to be among people again, to see Wakíŋyaŋ Ská. But the memory of Lowáŋ Ziηtkála's attack held her back. Even with Wakíŋyaŋ Ská's return, she knew his protection wouldn't last forever. Ahwayela Tȟaté's revelation that her brother intended to marry Lowáŋ Ziηtkála echoed in her mind, a ticking clock on her already precarious situation.
As the sounds of celebration filtered through the teepee walls, Alyna's resolve hardened. She had to convince Wakíŋyaŋ Ská to take her home before it was too late. And if he refused... well, she'd risk escape on her own, no matter the dangers that awaited her in the wilderness.
Chapter 22
Dakota Territory - 1867
Lowáŋ Ziηtkála's eyes narrowed as she watched Ahwayela Tȟaté approach Wakíŋyaŋ Ská's teepee, a bag of food and water clutched in her hands. The woman's lips curled into a sneer, her disapproval evident in every line of her face.
"What are you doing?" Lowáŋ Ziηtkála's voice was sharp, cutting through the air like a knife.
Ahwayela Tȟaté paused, turning to face the other woman. "My brother left the white woman in my care," she explained, her tone even but firm.
Lowáŋ Ziηtkála scoffed, taking a step closer. "You are not her servant," she spat. "That spotted-faced woman is lazy. She should be the one fetching her own food and water."
Ahwayela Tȟaté stood her ground, though her grip on the bag tightened. "Wakíŋyaŋ Ská asked me to look after her. I'm honoring my brother's request."
"Your brother," Lowáŋ Ziηtkála said, her voice dripping with disdain, "is too soft on that outsider. When I marry him, she will learn quickly her place here."
The younger woman's eyes widened slightly at this declaration. "My brother has not announced any intentions to marry," she said carefully.
Lowáŋ Ziηtkála's laugh was harsh. "It's only a matter of time. And when that day comes, things will change in this village. Starting with her."
Ahwayela Tȟaté felt a pang of sympathy for Alyna. She had seen the fear in the white woman's eyes, the way she flinched at sudden movements. "She is alone and afraid," she said softly. "Is it not our way to show kindness to those in need?"
"Kindness?" Lowáŋ Ziηtkála sneered, her eyes flashing with anger. "She is an intruder, a burden. Your brother should have left her where he found her."
"But she has done nothing to harm us," Ahwayela Tȟaté protested.
Lowáŋ Ziηtkála's face hardened. "Nothing? This woman is nothing to us, but her people are everything that threatens our way of life. Have you forgotten how the white men are driving us from our lands? How they break treaties as easily as they make them?"
She took a step closer to Ahwayela Tȟaté, her voice low and intense. "Every day, more of them come. They kill our buffalo, they poison our rivers, they force us onto smaller and smaller pieces of land. And you want to show kindness to one of them?"
Ahwayela Tȟaté faltered, the weight of Lowáŋ Ziηtkála's words settling heavily on her shoulders. "But she is just one woman," she said, her voice barely above a whisper.
"One woman today," Lowáŋ Ziηtkála countered, "but what about tomorrow? If we show weakness now, if we let them think they can simply walk into our homes and be welcomed, where will it end? No, Ahwayela Tȟaté, your brother has made a grave mistake in bringing her here. And mark my words, we will all pay the price for his foolishness if we do not act."
The younger woman fell silent, torn between her instinct for compassion and the harsh truths Lowáŋ Ziηtkála spoke. She knew the stories of broken promises and stolen lands, had seen the worry lines deepen on the elders' faces with each passing season. But when she thought of Alyna, huddled alone and afraid in the teepee, she couldn't reconcile the trembling woman with the threat Lowáŋ Ziηtkála described.
Before Ahwayela Tȟaté could formulate a response, the sudden commotion from the edge of the village caught both women's attention. The hunting party was returning, their travois laden with game.
Chapter 23
Dakota Territory - 1867
The teepee flap flew open as Wakíŋyaŋ Ská entered, his eyes immediately landing on Alyna's turned back. "Ah-lee-nah, we have returned. Did you not hear?" He called out, his voice a mixture of curiosity and concern.
"I heard," Alyna replied softly, moving slowly to pour him some water.
"Philámayaye," he said, taking the water. "Hiyú wó."
His heart clenched when she flinched away from his outstretched hand.
Wakíŋyaŋ Ská's brow furrowed. "Are you still displeased with me? We have fresh meat now."
"I don't feel well," Alyna murmured, turning back to the fire.
Gently, Wakíŋyaŋ Ská turned her to face him, his eyes widening as he noticed the bandage. "Ah-lee-nah, what happened?" His gaze traveled over her, noting how her clothes hung even looser on her frame than before he left.
"I fell, it's nothing," Alyna lied, her voice barely above a whisper.
Sensing her reluctance to speak further, Wakíŋyaŋ Ská didn't press the issue. Instead, he settled down and began to clean himself. Alyna, noticing his fatigue, knelt beside him and took the cloth from his hand. With gentle strokes, she began washing away the layers of paint, dirt, and dried blood.
As she worked, her fingers traced over a fresh wound on his chest. "Is this from the hunt?" she asked softly.
"No," Wakíŋyaŋ Ská replied, his jaw clenching. "Mató Ehate challenged me."
"What does that mean?"
"He wanted you. I refused."
Alyna's hand stilled. "You fought with him?"
"Haŋ," he confirmed, pulling her face towards his. "I promised you, I will not let anyone harm you."
As Alyna continued her ministrations, something caught her eye. "What is this?" she asked, noticing a glint of silver in his pouch.
"For you," Wakíŋyaŋ Ská said, retrieving a small silver mirror.
Alyna's fingers skimmed the surface delicately. "Where did you get this?"
"We found an old cabin."
"Did you kill them?" Alyna gasped, her mind jumping to the worst conclusion.
"Who?"
"The people in the cabin."
"No, whoever lived there had moved on long ago."
"Oh," Alyna breathed, relief evident in her voice.
"Do you like it?" Wakíŋyaŋ Ská asked, running his fingers through her hair and encircling her with his arms.
"Thank you," Alyna said quickly, setting the mirror down after catching a glimpse of herself. She couldn't bear to confront her reflection – the thin, pale figure, dark-rimmed eyes, and lifeless hair. It was a stark reminder of her current reality.
Sensing her discomfort, Wakíŋyaŋ Ská released her. "Ah-lee-nah, this is a gift. You owe me nothing," he said, grasping her hands when he saw her relax slightly. "Hiyú wó."
Reluctantly, Alyna followed him outside. The village was alive with activity – women preparing food, men sharing animated tales of the hunt. The hairs on Alyna's neck stood on end as she felt the heat of watchful eyes upon her. She grasped Wakíŋyaŋ Ská's hand tighter, seeking safety in his presence.
"You have no need to be afraid, Ah-lee-nah. No one here will harm you," he whispered as she pressed closer to his side.
He explained the tradition of sharing hunt stories with the children, assuring her that everything would be alright before leaving her among the other women.
For Alyna, the food preparation felt endless. She consciously avoided Lowáŋ Ziηtkála, but couldn't shake the weight of the other woman's gaze. Her nerves frayed, Alyna cut herself twice and burned her fingertips on the fire. As the sun began to set, signaling the feast's completion, she filled a bowl and carefully made her way to Wakíŋyaŋ Ská.
Her heart sank when she saw Lowáŋ Ziηtkála beside him, her scowl cutting through Alyna like a knife. Knowing it was expected of her, Alyna quickly handed Wakíŋyaŋ Ská the bowl before fleeing back to the teepee.
Inside, Alyna's breath came in short gasps. The brief interaction had left her shaken, the reality of her situation pressing in on all sides. She thought of the mirror, of her gaunt reflection, of Wakíŋyaŋ Ská's promise of protection. But as Lowáŋ Ziηtkála's glare burned in her memory, Alyna wondered how long that protection would last.
She sank onto her pallet, her mind racing. The village outside continued its celebration, but inside the teepee, Alyna felt more alone than ever. She touched the bandage on her head, a reminder of the danger that lurked even in everyday tasks. As night fell, Alyna huddled under her blanket, torn between gratitude for Wakíŋyaŋ Ská's kindness and fear of what the future held.
Chapter 24
Dakota Territory - 1867
Wakíŋyaŋ Ská's initial frustration at Alyna's outburst faded when he found her face-down, weeping. He lay beside her, gently stroking her hair until her sobs subsided. When he turned her to face him, her swollen eyes were visible even in the teepee's dim light. The vibrant spirit he'd come to love seemed diminished, and it pained him deeply.
"Ah-lee-nah, what has happened?" he whispered, his voice strained.
Alyna buried her face in his chest. "I want to go home," she pleaded. "Please don't keep me here."
"It will improve," he assured her.
"When? When Lowáŋ Ziηtkála becomes your wife? When I'm your slave?" Her voice cracked. "I'd rather die."
"Don't speak like that," Wakíŋyaŋ Ská said, alarmed.
"I mean it. I'll drown myself before that day comes."
He kissed her forehead gently. "You're not a slave here. I won't let Lowáŋ Ziηtkála harm you."
"I don't believe you," Alyna said, rubbing her eyes.
His fingertip traced the outline of her lips. "Was it Lowáŋ Ziηtkála who harmed you?"
Alyna nestled closer, finding temporary solace in his embrace. Her lack of response spoke volumes.
When his hand moved to the wound above her eye, she instinctively recoiled. The flash of fear in her gaze didn't escape his notice.
"Ah-lee-nah," he murmured, maintaining his gentle hold, "I need your honesty always."
"I was scared," she whimpered.
"Of me?" The hurt in his voice was evident. He kissed her forehead, nose, lips, then along her jaw. "You have nothing to fear from me."
"You're never going to take me home, are you?" Alyna turned away. He drew her back, her back pressed to his chest.
"Ah-lee-nah—"
"Why do you hate me so much?" she cried.
"Are you truly so unhappy here?" he asked, disappointed.
"Yes."
His heart ached. "Do you feel nothing for me?"
"No."
"I don't believe you, Ah-lee-nah." He stroked her back.
"I hate you," she said, trying to harden her heart despite knowing he wasn't solely to blame.
"Thechíhíla," Wakíŋyaŋ Ská whispered, turning her to face him. "I love you." He repeated it, ensuring she understood the depth of his feelings.
Alyna's fingertips trailed over the hardened scars on his chest, careful to avoid the fresh one that still held a rosy tinge. She noticed how he flinched slightly, a subtle reaction that showed the pain he must have endured. Her gaze drifted downwards to his abdomen, where she could feel the tension in his muscles beneath her touch.
Exploring further, her fingers glided lower, tracing the contours of his bronzed skin and causing him to let out a soft groan. His movements were deliberate as he untied the back of her garment, revealing her own smooth skin. The fabric fell to the floor, baring her body to him. As his warm breath cascaded over her neck, she couldn't help but gasp in anticipation.
His lips traced a path downwards, leaving a trail of gentle kisses along her skin. She shivered with pleasure as his tongue followed suit, igniting a heat within her. She tangled her fingers into his hair, pulling him closer as he continued to kiss and caress her.
With care and urgency, he laid her down on the fur pallet, they continued their journey towards each other's bodies. The moonlight seeped through the opening of the teepee, casting a soft glow.
His tongue flickered along the curve of one breast while his hands roamed freely over every inch of her flesh with affection. He guided her hand to his swollen, throbbing member and demonstrated how best to stroke him, relishing in each motion she made. In turn, his own hands were ceaselessly attentive — kneading her breasts, feathering fingers between trembling thighs, exploring every crevice and fold.
She complied, matching his rhythm with eager strokes of her own. He groaned into her flesh as she learned the art of pleasure-giving, feeling each shuddering exhale from him spurred her on.
The man was relentless in his pursuit of pleasure. Alyna's heart pounded in her chest as Wakíŋyaŋ Ská continued his exploration of her body. His touch sent waves of sensation through her, making her feel alive and desired. She closed her eyes and lost herself in the moment, allowing him to lead her through this dance of passion.
Alyna let out a soft sigh as their actions continued. Her thighs spread even wider for him, inviting his touch. He traced her entrance with his fingers before settling between her legs and gradually pushing into her, giving her time to adjust to his presence inch by inch.
As he entered her fully, she gasped in surprise at the fullness she felt. It was a strange mixture of pleasure and discomfort, but it was quickly eclipsed by pure ecstasy as he began to move inside her. His rhythm was slow and measured at first, but then gradually increased in speed.
Alyna wrapped her legs around him, pulling him closer, urging him on. She could feel her body responding to his every movement, a warm heat building within her. Her hands clutched at his back, digging into his skin as the pleasure intensified.
Wakíŋyaŋ Ská continued to pump into her with relentless energy, his breath hot against her neck as he whispered words of love and desire. Each motion drove them closer to the edge, their bodies slick with sweat and passion.
Alyna's heart raced, her pulse pounding in her ears as she felt herself teetering on the edge of bliss. Wakíŋyaŋ Ská's thrusts became more erratic, his breathing labored as he neared his own climax. His hands gripped Alyna's hips tightly, holding her in place as he surged forward one final time, burying himself deep within her. Their bodies shook as they reached their peak simultaneously, the intensity of their orgasms causing them to cry out in unison.
As the waves of pleasure subsided, Alyna and Wakíŋyaŋ Ská lay entwined in each other's arms, catching their breath. The air was thick with the scent of sweat and passion, and the only sound was the steady rhythm of their heartbeats syncing together and the fire crackling just a few feet away.
Slowly, they disentangled themselves and snuggled close, basking in the afterglow of their union.
Chapter 25
Oklahoma Territory, Kiowa Village - 1867
The night air was crisp with the hint of approaching winter as Buck settled beside his wife in their tepee. He placed a tender kiss on her forehead, then reached out to stroke the soft head of their son, who snored softly from his nest of furs nearby. The gentle domesticity of the moment stood in stark contrast to the chaotic thoughts swirling in Buck's mind.
As the village around them quieted, preparing for the coming relocation, Buck found himself unable to find peace. His eyes remained open, staring into the darkness as memories of Rock Creek crept unbidden into his consciousness. Though years had passed since he'd left that life behind, the ghosts of his past refused to be silenced.
In these quiet moments, when the world around him slept, Buck's thoughts inevitably drifted to Alyna. Her face, her laugh, the feel of her hand in his – all were etched into his memory with painful clarity. The life he'd built here, with his wife and son, was one of duty and honor. Yet the specter of what might have been with Alyna loomed large, casting shadows over his hard-won contentment.
Buck's relationship with his wife had been born of tragedy and obligation. When her husband, a close friend, had fallen during a hunting expedition, Buck had stepped forward to fulfill his vow of protection. Now, as they lay together in the stillness of the night, their child a living testament to their union, Buck couldn't fully quell the doubts that gnawed at his soul.
A tremor ran through Buck as he revisited his last moments in Rock Creek. The scene played out vividly: Teaspoon's face etched with concern, his tone carrying the weight of impending doom. McCallister's words had poisoned the air, leaving Buck gasping for breath.
"Buck," Teaspoon had said, his voice heavy with regret, "McCallister's accusing you of... well, of forcing yourself on his daughter. Says he's got evidence."
The shock of those words had hit Buck like a physical blow. Disbelief had quickly given way to fear and desperation as the implications sank in.
"You know I'd never–" Buck had started, but Teaspoon cut him off with a raised hand.
"What I know don't matter now, son. McCallister's out for blood. You've got two choices – leave town tonight, or face the gallows."
Even now, years later, the injustice of that moment burned in Buck's chest. It was a betrayal of everything he'd believed in, everything he'd worked for in Rock Creek. The life he'd built, the respect he'd earned – all of it swept away in an instant by McCallister's words.
As he lay in the darkness, Buck allowed his mind to wander down paths long abandoned. Had Alyna's father discovered their secret meetings? Had he forced his daughter to level false accusations against Buck? Or had Alyna herself turned on him, bowing to the pressure of her father's prejudice?
The truth remained elusive, buried beneath layers of hurt and betrayal. In his darkest moments, Buck wondered if he'd ever truly known Alyna at all. Had their love been real, or merely a foolish fantasy?
Yet even as doubt gnawed at him, Buck couldn't help but remember the sweetness of their time together. The stolen moments of passion, the whispered promises of a future they'd never have. Alyna's smile, the way her eyes lit up when she saw him – these memories were soothing to his wounded spirit, even as they reopened old scars.
Buck's hand tightened involuntarily, and his wife stirred beside him. He forced himself to relax, pushing thoughts of Alyna and Rock Creek to the back of his mind. This was his life now – here, with his wife and son, among people who finally accepted him without question.
As sleep finally began to claim him, Buck made a silent vow. He would honor the choices he'd made, the promises he'd kept. The past was gone, as unreachable as the stars above. His future lay here, in this teepee, with the family he'd sworn to protect.
Yet even as he drifted off, a small part of him wondered – if given the chance, would he make the same choices again?
Part Three - Promises Understood
Chapter 26
Dakota Territory - 1871
It had been many years since Wakíŋyaŋ Ská first brought Alyna to his home. The tribe's numbers had dwindled, ravaged by disease and hunger. In response, some members split into smaller villages, seeking to evade the army's watchful eye and gain greater mobility. This shift in their community reflected the harsh realities they faced and their struggle to adapt in a changing world. Over the years, Alyna had immersed herself in the Lakota way of life. With patience and determination, she had learned to speak the language.
The village now housed just over a hundred souls. As she stood near her dwelling, the worn leather of her moccasins scuffing the dusty earth, she spotted Mato Nunpa and Wambli Ska barreling down the narrow path. Their little sister, Kimimela, trailed behind, her tiny legs working double-time to keep up.
"Wíyaka Lúta!" Kimimela's high-pitched voice rang out.
Alyna's lips curved into a smile at the sound of her Lakota name. Red Feather – a moniker bestowed upon her by Wakíŋyaŋ Ská after their first winter together. It was a reminder of how far she'd come, how much she'd changed since leaving her old life behind.
As Kimimela approached, Alyna crouched down. "Where are you off to in such a hurry, little one?" She asked in Lakota, the words flowing smoothly from her tongue.
The girl's eyes sparkled with excitement. "To the river! Mother said we could swim today."
"Is that so?" Alyna chuckled, lifting the child onto her shoulders. "Well then, we'd better not keep the water waiting."
They set off towards the riverbank, Kimimela's small hands gripping Alyna's braids for balance. The sound of rushing water grew louder, mingling with the chatter of birds and the rustling of leaves in the breeze.
As they crested the small hill, Alyna caught sight of Lowáŋ Ziηtkála on the opposite shore. The woman's gaze burned with undisguised contempt, her body rigid with tension. Alyna's stomach clenched, a familiar discomfort settling over her.
Wakíŋyaŋ Ská's deep voice carried across the water. "Come, join us!"
Alyna waded into the cool current, relishing the feel of smooth pebbles beneath her feet. She helped Kimimela float on her back, supporting the girl's small body as she giggled and splashed.
"Look at me, Wíyaka Lúta!" Mato Nunpa called out, executing a clumsy dive that sent water spraying in all directions.
Alyna laughed, shielding her eyes from the spray. "Very impressive! You'll be outswimming the fish in no time," she responded.
As Wakíŋyaŋ Ská approached, Alyna couldn't help but glance back towards the far bank. Lowáŋ Ziηtkála was gone, leaving behind only the echo of her unspoken resentment.
Wakíŋyaŋ Ská placed a gentle hand on Alyna's shoulder. "Is something troubling you, my love?" He asked softly.
Alyna shook her head, forcing a smile. "It's nothing. Just enjoying the water," she replied.
But as they continued their afternoon of play Alyna couldn't shake the weight of Lowáŋ Ziηtkála's glare from her mind. She knew that no matter how many years passed, some wounds refused to heal – and some divides might never be bridged, even with a shared language.
Chapter 27
Dakota Territory - 1871
"Swim with me," she called, beckoning to Wakíŋyaŋ Ská with a playful wave. Her eyes glinted with mischief as she glanced towards a cluster of dense willows downstream. Her invitation sent his heart racing, and he grinned as he followed her into the refreshing water.
"Where are you going in such a hurry?" Wakíŋyaŋ Ská teased as he caught up, his eyes dancing with amusement.
Alyna stopped at the edge of the bend, turning to face him, her smile turning mischievous. "Can't fault me for wanting to spend some time alone with my husband, can you?" Her voice dipped to a husky whisper as she reached out, tracing a finger down his chest. With a tug of his hand, she led him around the river's curve.
Sheltered by overhanging branches and towering cottonwoods, a secluded eddy lay hidden from the main river. As Alyna and Wakíŋyaŋ Ská slipped into this natural alcove, the sounds of the village faded, replaced by the gentle swirl of water around them.
In the privacy of their retreat, he drew her close, their eyes meeting in a moment of shared understanding. Their kiss was soft and familiar. As they parted, his fingers gently brushed a damp strand of hair from her face.
With a mischievous glint in her eye, Alyna reached down and teasingly pulled aside his breechcloth, revealing his hardened flesh beneath. Wakíŋyaŋ Ská lifted up the bottom of her dress and guided himself inside of her. Each movement sent waves rippling through the water as they rocked together.
Alyna gasped softly, her eyes locked with Wakíŋyaŋ Ská's as she felt the familiar warmth build within her. She pressed herself against him harder, almost desperate to feel closer, to be consumed by his love. The passion between them grew stronger with each passing moment, and even the air seemed to hum with anticipation.
At last, Alyna released a low moan as the warmth spread through her body like wildfire, engulfing her in its embrace until she was gasping for breath against his shoulder. Wakíŋyaŋ Ská's own breathing became sharp and rapid, and he held Alyna tightly as they both reached their peak of desire. Each movement felt more intense than the last, and he knew that this union was not just physical but spiritual as well.
Alyna lay on his chest, her breathing still ragged. They floated in the calm waters, their bodies intertwined. The world around them faded into the background...
Alyna's head snapped up, her eyes wide. Wakíŋyaŋ Ská tensed beneath her.
Another scream. Closer. Unmistakable.
They locked eyes for a split second before scrambling out of the water. Branches whipped their faces as they ran, feet pounding the earth. The screams grew louder, joined by sharp cracks that echoed through the trees.
Gunshots.
They burst from the tree line, coming to a halt at the village's edge. Smoke. Fire. Bodies on the ground. Soldiers everywhere. Wakíŋyaŋ Ská gripped Alyna's shoulders. His words barely registered as her mind reeled.
"Gather the children," he instructed. "Take them to the caves. Remember where I showed you last summer?"
Alyna stood frozen, her throat tight as she watched Wakíŋyaŋ Ská turn to face the approaching soldiers. His stance was protective, defiant in the face of the oncoming threat.
The village had become a maze of confusion and fear. Alyna moved carefully through the chaos until she found Ahwayela Tȟaté. Together, they began gathering the children, coaxing them from hiding spots and calming their fears.
"Take the children," Alyna said, her voice low and urgent as she gripped Ahwayela Tȟaté's arm. She paused, swallowing hard before adding, "I need to find your brother."
"Wíyaka Lúta! No!" Ahwayela Tȟaté's eyes widened in alarm. She opened her mouth to argue further, but the children's frightened whimpers drew her attention. With a last, worried glance at Alyna, she began guiding the little ones towards the forest edge.
Alyna took a deep breath, steeling herself before plunging back into the heart of the battle. Her eyes scanned the scene, searching for any sign of her husband. The sounds of shouting and gunfire seemed to fade as she focused on her task.
Then she saw him. Wakíŋyaŋ Ská stood in a small clearing, facing down a soldier whose rifle was raised and ready. Time seemed to slow, each second stretching painfully as Alyna realized what was about to happen.
She began to run, her legs feeling leaden and slow. Her scream tore from her throat, raw with desperation, but it was too late. The crack of the rifle shot echoed across the clearing, and Alyna watched in horror as Wakíŋyaŋ Ská crumpled to the ground.
The distance between them felt endless. When she finally reached him, Alyna fell to her knees beside his body. Her hands trembled as she pulled at his tunic, revealing the wound beneath. The sight of so much blood made her head swim, but she pressed her hands firmly against it, trying to stem the flow.
"My love," Wakíŋyaŋ Ská's voice was weak, barely audible. His hand moved slowly, reaching for her face.
"Don't you leave me!" Alyna pleaded, her voice cracking. She pulled him closer, cradling his body against hers. But even as she held him, she felt the warmth seeping away, his breaths growing fainter with each passing moment.
His last exhale ghosted across her cheek, a final caress as life abandoned him. Alyna sat frozen, clutching Wakíŋyaŋ Ská's lifeless form. The battle faded to a distant roar as waves of anguish crashed over her. Her world imploded, collapsing to this single point of devastating loss.
Chapter 28
Dakota Territory, Lakota Village - 1871
Ahwayela Tȟaté stood frozen at the forest's edge, her eyes wide with horror as she watched her brother crumple to the ground. The sight of his body hitting the earth sent a jolt through her. Before she could move, Alyna's scream cut through the air. Ahwayela Tȟaté saw her sister-in-law sprint towards her fallen brother, oblivious to the danger around them.
As Ahwayela Tȟaté drew closer, she witnessed Alyna's breakdown. The sound that tore from Alyna's throat was unlike anything she had ever heard - raw and primal. It made her steps falter. She watched as Alyna clutched at her brother's body, rocking back and forth, her clothes quickly becoming stained with his blood.
The brutality of the scene hit Ahwayela Tȟaté full force as she approached. Her brother lay motionless, his life draining into the ground beneath him. Alyna knelt beside him, her entire body shaking. Even from where she stood, Ahwayela Tȟaté could see the tears carving paths through the blood and soot on Alyna's face.
"He is home now, his fight is over," Ahwayela Tȟaté managed to say, her own voice thick with emotion. She reached down to pull Alyna up, but Alyna resisted.
"Wait," Alyna gasped. Ahwayela Tȟaté watched as Alyna's trembling hands removed the necklace from her brother's neck and placed it around her own.
"Come, we must go," Ahwayela Tȟaté insisted, her heart pounding. She gripped Alyna's arm, pulling her to her feet and away from the body. Ahwayela Tȟaté felt Alyna stumble beside her as they moved, the other woman's grief profound in every halting step.
As they moved away from the horrific scene, Ahwayela Tȟaté's mind drifted to memories of when she first met Alyna. She remembered how she had never quite understood what her brother saw in the white woman, beyond her obvious beauty. Skepticism had filled her heart when Wakíŋyaŋ Ská had brought the stranger to their village years ago. But it hadn't been her place to question her older brother's choices.
Over the years, however, Ahwayela Tȟaté had watched the once timid and fearful woman blossom. Alyna had grown into someone kind, loving, and passionate - a woman Ahwayela Tȟaté was now proud to call sister. The transformation had been gradual but profound, and Ahwayela Tȟaté had come to see why her brother had cared for Alyna so deeply.
Now, as she guided the grief-stricken Alyna away from danger, Ahwayela Tȟaté felt a surge of protectiveness. Her brother was gone, but his love remained, embodied in the woman stumbling beside her.
Chapter 29
Dakota Territory, Lakota Village - 1871
The lieutenant's eyes narrowed as he spotted the Indian woman grabbing the white captive and pulling her towards the forest edge. Intel had been correct - there were indeed white captives at this location. Without hesitation, he sprang into action, his boots pounding the earth as he gave chase. Raising his rifle, he took aim with practiced precision. The crack of the shot split the air as he fired, watching with grim satisfaction as the Indian woman jerked and fell.
Alyna felt Ahwayela Tȟaté's body suddenly jerk forward, then crumple to the ground. Time seemed to slow once again as she turned, her eyes widening in horror at the sight of the gaping wound in Ahwayela Tȟaté's back. With trembling hands, she rolled her sister-in-law over, only to be met by blank, lifeless eyes. In that moment, Alyna knew Ahwayela Tȟaté had joined her brother.
A piercing wail filled the air, and it took Alyna a moment to realize the sound was coming from her own throat. The world around her blurred, grief and shock overwhelming her senses. She barely registered the strong hands gripping her waist, lifting her onto a horse. The soldier's words - promises of safety and home - felt hollow, meaningless.
As they rode away, Alyna twisted in the saddle, desperately trying to keep sight of Ahwayela Tȟaté's body. The image of those vacant eyes burned into her memory, a haunting reminder of all she had lost in mere moments.
She fought against the soldier's firm grip, her screams fading to hoarse cries as they rode across the plains. Time lost all meaning, hours blending together in a haze of despair and disbelief. Eventually, exhaustion overtook her, and Alyna sat motionless, her mind reeling with fear and uncertainty.
The officer's continued assurances of her safety grated on her nerves. Yes, there were white women in the village who had been captives, as she once was. But that was a lifetime ago, before Wakíŋyaŋ Ská, before she found love and belonging among people, she had called family.
Closing her eyes against the harsh reality around her, Alyna tried to shut out the world. The thunderous pounding of hooves beneath her became a bitter reminder of how quickly life could change. Mere hours ago, she had been laughing by the river, playing with the children, basking in the warmth of the sun and her husband's tender embrace. Now, she was being forcibly torn from everything and everyone she had grown to love and cherish. With each mile, she felt pieces of her heart being left behind.
Chapter 30
Fort Laramie, Wyoming – 1871
Exhaustion and dread washed over Alyna as they arrived at Fort Laramie. The imposing structure loomed before her, sending an involuntary shiver down her spine as they passed through its gates. She closed her eyes briefly, trying to steel herself against the overwhelming sense of confinement.
Inside, Alyna and the other women were led to a small room filled with beds. They were told to wait there until the officer in charge could interview them individually. The atmosphere was tense, despite small gestures of civility like new clothes and food. Alyna recognized the unspoken expectation of compliance, reminiscent of her early days in the Lakota village.
With a heavy heart, Alyna removed her bloodstained buckskin dress, carefully folding it before donning the provided cotton frock. She struggled with the thin fabric, the ill-fitting garment straining against her figure. As she adjusted the dress, she felt the weight of scrutinizing gazes from the other women.
Many of them she recognized from recent raids, their silent accusations palpable in the air. Alyna knew she had found happiness with the Lakota, but she was painfully aware that many of these women had not been so fortunate.
Catching sight of herself in the mirror, Alyna's eyes lingered on the scar above her eyebrow. The face staring back at her seemed older somehow, a stark reminder of how much she had changed.
Several days passed before Alyna's turn came to speak with Captain Jorgensen. As she settled into the padded chair across from his desk, her mind raced with apprehension.
"If this becomes too difficult, just let me know," the captain said, his tone sincere. "My wife was held captive by Apache many years ago. I'm sensitive to your situation."
"Pilamaya—" Alyna replied, the Lakota word slipping out before she caught herself. She blinked, surprised at how swiftly the English phrases she hadn't used in years came flooding back. "I mean, thank you,"
As the interview progressed, Alyna found herself navigating between two worlds. The English words felt strange on her tongue at first, as if she were speaking through a dream. Yet with each sentence, the language of her childhood flowed easily.
"I wasn't a prisoner there," she explained, carefully choosing her words as a few tears slipped down her cheeks. The delicate balance between honesty and self-preservation weighed heavily on her mind. "At first it was hard, learning their way of life. But I was accepted after a while."
The lieutenant's gaze fell on the beaded necklace she wore. "That looks like it belonged to someone of high respect in the tribe."
"It was my husband's," Alyna said, her hand moving to tuck it under her dress before she stopped herself.
"Your husband, was he a chief?"
"I imagine if he hadn't been killed, he would have been," she replied, biting her lip to keep from breaking down.
"I'm truly sorry for all you've endured," Lieutenant Jorgensen said, his voice softening.
Alyna remained silent, offering only a faint smile as she shifted uncomfortably in her ill-fitting dress and shoes. Her gaze dropped to her lap, where her fingers nervously played with the fabric.
Clearing his throat, the captain continued, "We should inform your family of your recovery. Could you tell me your family name?"
"It's McAllister," Alyna replied, her voice barely above a whisper. "My father is Garrison McAllister. Last I knew, he was living in Rock Creek." She swallowed hard, her throat suddenly dry.
At the mention of her father's name, Captain Jorgensen's eyebrows shot up in surprise. "Garrison McAllister?" he repeated, a note of recognition in his voice.
"Yes. Do you know my father?" Alyna noticed the recognition in his expression.
"A few years back your father was campaigning for government office, I don't recall exactly what."
"Oh."
"I'll make sure to send word to him. I'm certain he'll be happy to know you are recovered."
"Yes, thank you." Alyna forced herself to smile.
"I'll have my wife show you around and get you some more appropriate clothes."
As the interview concluded, Alyna found herself escorted by the captain's wife, Christine, to more comfortable quarters. Christine helped her bathe and comb through her long auburn hair.
"What's going on?" Alyna asked, looking out into the courtyard.
Christine explained about the captured Indians, horse thieves, and drunks awaiting trial. When Alyna inquired about the children, Christine told her they would be sent to mission schools to "learn to be productive members of society."
Later, as Alyna sat alone by the window, she watched the commotion in the courtyard below. The sight of captured warriors, their buckskin garments smeared with dirt and blood, brought a flood of memories she struggled to suppress.
Night after night, Alyna cried herself to sleep, the pain of her loss consuming her. She participated in meals with the officers' families but remained withdrawn, finding solace only in her solitary walks through the nearby grove of walnut trees.
In those quiet moments, surrounded by nature, Alyna grappled with her grief and the uncertain future that lay ahead. She tried to find meaning in a world that had been turned upside down, her thoughts drifting between the two languages that now divided her life.
Chapter 31
Fort Laramie, Wyoming – 1871
Just as Alyna was growing accustomed to life at the fort, Gabe's arrival stirred up memories of her old life. He explained her father's illness prevented him from traveling, but the news of her survival had brought him immense joy. They had feared the worst upon discovering the housekeeper's body. Gabe's eyes lingered on the faint scar on her forehead, curiosity evident in his gaze, though he refrained from asking.
Alyna assured him of her well-being, choosing to keep the details of her life private. Gabe didn't pry, instead informing her of travel arrangements for the following Sunday to take her home. The word "home" stirred conflicting emotions within her. Her true home now lay with White Thunder and his family, yet here she was, facing the prospect of reuniting with a father she barely knew.
She gazed at Gabe's hand gently clasping hers, her mind elsewhere. "What about you, Gabe? Did Penny become Mrs. Gabriel Fredrickson?"
"No," he chuckled softly. "Penny proved too... spirited for my tastes. I did marry, but my wife..." His voice trailed off, a shadow crossing his features. "She passed during childbirth."
"I'm so sorry," Alyna murmured, genuine sympathy in her voice.
Gabe's eyes met hers, a mix of sorrow and hope reflected in them. "Life has its reasons. I prayed for your safety, and here you are – like an answer to those prayers."
Alyna forced a smile, uncomfortable with the direction of the conversation. "You've always been kind, Gabe."
"Alyna, my feelings for you never wavered. I always hoped we'd meet again."
She sighed, her gaze drifting to the courtyard. A group of warriors were being herded into the cramped prison. One was singled out, bound to a post under the scorching sun. Alyna's heart constricted, empathy for the stranger washing over her.
Gabe's voice pierced through her thoughts. "Did you hear me, Alyna?"
"Yes, I did," she replied, her attention divided.
"Well, what do you say?"
Alyna turned to face him, her eyes brimming with unshed tears. "Gabe, I'm sorry. This isn't the right time. I've just witnessed the slaughter of my friends and family – women and children."
His brow furrowed in confusion. "The people who kidnapped you? Who held you captive?"
"I can't expect you to understand," she whispered, her voice heavy with emotion.
"I want to," he insisted, reaching for her hand. "I want to help you."
Alyna pulled away, her voice barely audible. "I wish the army had never found our camp. I was... happy there."
Gabe's face contorted in disbelief. "How can you say that? They stole you from your family!"
"Things changed." She sighed, her gaze distant. "I've changed."
"You'll come around. You've been through an ordeal," Gabe reassured her, his tone patronizing.
Anger flashed in Alyna's eyes. "My husband died in my arms. His sister was murdered beside me. You have no idea what I've endured."
"Husband?" Gabe recoiled, horror etched across his face.
Alyna shook her head and strode across the dusty courtyard, leaving Gabe stunned in her wake. How could she make him understand? He only knew the version of her that her father had crafted – polite, well-groomed, perpetually ladylike. The daughter Garrison McAllister had always wanted.
Alyna's thoughts drifted to her mother's accident. The memory, though hazy, still caused a pang in her heart. Her father had forbidden her mother to ride the spirited mare, but she insisted. The horse spooked, rearing up and throwing her mother off, trampling her to death. It was this tragedy that had made Garrison McAllister so fiercely protective of his only daughter.
As she gazed out the window, Alyna realized how suffocating her life would have been had she not been taken to the Lakota village. She would likely be married to Gabriel by now, surrounded by a brood of children, her heart empty and yearning for something more. Though she and Wakíŋyaŋ Ská had longed for children of their own, they hadn't been fortunate enough to conceive. Her lips trembled, the sadness creeping in before she could stop it.
Alyna's gaze lingered on the warrior, still tethered to the post in the courtyard as twilight descended. In the fading light, she noticed his head lift, eyes darting around, likely searching for a chance at freedom. Suddenly, his gaze seemed to lock onto her window. Their eyes met across the expanse, and Alyna's breath caught. She retreated from view, her fingers trembling slightly as she drew the flimsy curtain closed.
A mixture of curiosity and compassion stirred within her. She gathered her leftover dinner and a canteen of water, her mind made up. Under the cover of darkness, with most of the fort asleep save for a few guards at the front gate, Alyna slipped out of her room. Her heart pounded as she made her way towards the bound warrior, uncertainty and determination warring within her.
The cool night air brushed against her skin as she moved silently across the courtyard. She could hear the faint sounds of the night watch making their rounds, but they were far enough away not to notice her. As she approached the warrior, she could see the tension in his shoulders, the way he held himself despite his bindings. She inhaled deeply, summoning the strength she knew she'd need.
Chapter 32
Fort Laramie, Wyoming - 1871
Alyna's heart thundered in her chest as she crept closer to the bound warrior. Her courage wavered with each step, but the sight of his tight bindings bolstered her resolve. Kneeling beside him, she offered the canteen first, acutely aware of how parched he must be after hours in the merciless sun.
"Drink," she whispered, her voice barely audible above the night's gentle sounds.
In the moonlight's soft glow, she watched as his long hair parted, revealing remnants of war paint still clinging to his face. The canteen trembled slightly in her grip as he drank deeply.
"Here, eat this," Alyna murmured, holding out morsels of food.
As he ate, the full moon cast enough light for her to see his bloodied back. Without hesitation, she tore the sash from her waist, dipping it in water. "This may hurt," she warned softly before gently dabbing at his wounds, wincing at each quiet hiss of pain he couldn't suppress.
"Did... did the soldiers do this to you?" Her voice quavered, a mix of anger and sorrow coloring her words.
"Yes," he groaned, the single word laden with pain and defiance.
"Are you still hungry?" Alyna asked, relief washing over her that he understood her words.
"Thank you," he rasped, his voice cracking with a vulnerability that tugged at her heart.
As he accepted more food from her hand, Alyna noticed a shift in his demeanor. His initial wariness seemed to give way to confusion, then shock. She watched, puzzled, as he suddenly choked on the food, coughing violently.
As Alyna tended to his wounds, she failed to notice the storm of emotions brewing within the warrior. At first, skepticism clouded his thoughts. He wouldn't put it past the soldiers to poison him, yet compared to the brutal treatment he had endured earlier that day, he would welcome a quick death from poison.
But as the clouds parted, allowing the dim light to illuminate the courtyard, he looked up and felt a sharp stab of pain when he recognized the woman helping him. Memories long buried surged back with startling clarity, flooding his mind as if it were yesterday.
She had changed so much since he last saw her. A decade had passed, and she must be around twenty-seven now. Buck observed her closely through the curtain of his long hair, noting her gaunt appearance and the way her dress hung loosely on her frame. Had she married one of the officers at the fort? He glanced at her hands, searching for a wedding ring, but found none.
Perhaps her father had some dealings with the army that brought her here. His gaze lingered on the intricately beaded necklace adorning her neck. Why would she wear such a piece? Had it been a prize claimed from a fallen warrior?
As he accepted more food from her hand, Alyna noticed a shift in his demeanor. His initial wariness seemed to give way to confusion, then shock. She watched, puzzled, as he suddenly choked on the food, coughing violently.
In the moonlight, their eyes met fully for the first time. Alyna gasped, a jolt of recognition surging through her. Those deep brown eyes – she knew them, but from where? A decade-old memory stirred, hazy yet insistent.
The warrior stared at her with an intensity that made her breath catch. His gaze roamed over her, lingering on the beaded necklace at her throat, a gift from White Thunder. Confusion, pain, and something deeper flickered across his face.
Alyna's heart raced as she studied him through the curtain of his long hair. He looked different, older, but there was something hauntingly familiar about him. She noticed how thin he was, his skin feverish to the touch.
The sound of approaching footsteps sent a chill racing through Alyna's body. Panic seized her as she frantically looked for a hiding place. "I need to hide," she whispered hurriedly. "I'll be back when they're gone."
She scurried behind a stack of crates near the south wall, her heart pounding as she watched two soldiers approach. They taunted the bound man, one of them striking him with the butt of his rifle. Alyna clenched her fists, forcing herself to remain hidden until they moved on.
Chapter 33
Fort Laramie, Wyoming - 1871
When the coast was clear, Alyna rushed back to the warrior, now barely conscious. As she gently cleaned his face, wiping away layers of paint, blood, and dirt, his eyes fluttered open. Their gazes locked, and suddenly, everything fell into place.
The man – Buck, she now remembered – seemed to struggle for words, his mind clearly racing with the same shock and confusion that gripped her.
"I don't believe it," she breathed, cupping his face in her hands, studying every feature as if to convince herself this wasn't a dream.
Alyna worked feverishly to cut through the ropes binding him, her hands trembling with a mix of urgency and pent-up emotion. The silence between them was heavy, laden with unspoken words and years of misunderstanding. Once free, she helped him to his feet, his body weak from the ordeal.
"What are you doing here in Laramie anyway?" Buck asked, leaning heavily against her as they made their way across the courtyard.
"I've been living with a small party of Lakota near here," Alyna replied, her voice low.
Buck's eyebrows shot up in surprise. "You lived with the Lakota?"
"It's a long story," she said, avoiding his gaze.
"Someday you'll have to tell me," he murmured.
Following Buck's instructions, Alyna led an Indian horse from the corral, careful to avoid the army horses with their distinctive hoofprints. As she helped him onto the horse, Buck's face contorted with pain, but his eyes were fixed on her with an intensity that made her heart race.
"Alyna," he said, his voice barely above a whisper, "I still need to know."
She looked up at him. "What?"
"How could you do it?" The words seemed to catch in his throat.
"Do what? Go to Boston?" Alyna's brow furrowed. "You know I didn't have a choice. I wrote to you every week," Alyna hissed, her voice barely audible but trembling with suppressed anger. Her eyes flashed in the dim light as she leaned closer, her words sharp and clipped. "When I came home, I went to your house. I saw all my letters. You didn't read any of them."
Suddenly, Buck's body tensed. His eyes, scanning their surroundings, locked onto something in the distance. Before Alyna could react, he gripped her arms and spun her around, pressing her against the wall. In one fluid motion, he captured her lips with his own.
Alyna's eyes widened in shock, but Buck's grip held firm. She could feel the urgency in his actions, devoid of any romance or tenderness. This was survival.
In the distance, the rhythmic footsteps of a patrolling soldier grew closer. The guard's eyes swept over the shadowy corner where a couple stood. All he could make out was the silhouette of what appeared to be one of the fort's women locked in an embrace with a soldier. A knowing snicker escaped his lips as he continued his rounds, the sound of his boots fading into the night.
As the danger passed, Buck released Alyna and stepped back. Their eyes met, a mix of relief and lingering tension passing between them.
"It was all a mistake," Buck whispered, his eyes filled with regret.
Alyna could see the conflict in his face, years of anger giving way to confusion and dawning understanding. She took a deep breath, pushing aside her own hurt and focusing on the present danger.
"There are more pressing things at the moment than what happened when we were young," she said firmly.
"I need you to promise me something before I go," Buck nodded, his expression grave. "My son was taken. I want you to take him with you."
Alyna's heart skipped a beat. "How will I recognize him?"
"He's four, and has a small scar on his chin. His name is Dohasan." Buck fumbled with something, then pressed his earring into her hand. "Take this. He'll recognize it."
"Let me help you," Alyna whispered, moving closer as Buck struggled to mount the horse.
He nodded, grimacing as he gripped the saddle. Alyna supported his weight, feeling him tremble with the effort. She could sense the heat of fever through his clothes and see the way he favored his left side. With a stifled groan, Buck finally settled into the saddle, his breathing labored.
Alyna's heart clenched with worry. In his current state, she wasn't sure he'd make it more than a few miles. "Are you sure you can ride?" she asked, her voice tight with concern.
Buck met her gaze, his eyes reflecting a mix of determination and gratitude. "I have to," he said simply, his voice barely above a whisper. "I'll find you," he promised, his voice low and determined.
"Be careful," Alyna whispered, her voice barely audible over the soft nickering of the horse.
"Alyna, if something happens to me, promise me you'll raise him."
Without hesitation, Alyna nodded. "I promise."
Alyna stepped back as Buck urged the horse forward. She watched as horse and rider moved swiftly and silently away from the fort, melding into the darkness of the night.
As the sound of muffled hoofbeats faded, Alyna remained rooted to the spot, her mind reeling. She closed her eyes, taking a deep breath to steady herself. The events of the past few months crashed over her like relentless waves.
With a deep breath, Alyna turned back toward the fort. There was work to be done, a child to save, and a future – uncertain as it was – to face. As she slipped back into the shadows, Alyna steeled herself for whatever lay ahead.
Chapter 34
Fort Laramie, Wyoming - 1871
Alyna watched as Buck's silhouette faded into the horizon. A mix of relief and uncertainty washed over her as she slipped back to her room, closing the heavy door behind her with a soft thud.
"What are you doing?"
Alyna's heart leapt into her throat at the low voice in the darkness. She spun around, squinting to make out the figure. "Who's there?"
As the man stepped into the candlelight, Alyna's racing heart slowed. "Gabe, you scared the hell out of me. What are you doing in my room?"
"I came to check on you," he said, moving to the window. "I saw you out there with that Indian."
Alyna's eyes widened with fear. "You're not going to tell anyone, are you?"
"No," Gabe reassured her. "Who was he? Part of the tribe you lived with?"
"No, just... an old friend." Alyna sighed, sinking onto the edge of the bed. The weight of the night's events seemed to press down on her shoulders.
Gabe studied her for a moment, his expression a mix of concern and curiosity. He moved to sit beside her, the mattress dipping slightly under his weight.
"Life's full of surprises," Gabe said, a bitter smile playing on his lips. "I didn't expect to lose my wife. I'm sure you didn't expect to be living with savages."
Alyna bristled at his words, her back straightening. "They're not all savages, Gabriel. We do what we must to survive. I'm grateful for how I was treated."
Gabe hesitated, his eyes searching her face. Then, in a softer tone, he asked, "Were you forced to marry that man?"
The question struck Alyna forcefully, as if she'd been struck. Her eyes welled up as she grappled for a response. "I'm afraid to answer that," she finally managed, her voice barely above a whisper.
"What do you mean?"
"If I say I was forced, they're savages and I'm a victim," Alyna explained, her voice tight. "If I say I married him willingly, I'm a whore."
"I would never—"
"I know what people say behind my back," Alyna cut him off. "None of them have the guts to say it to my face because of my father, but I hear what they say about the other women brought here."
Gabe's face softened. "Alyna, I didn't mean to upset you. I was just curious."
Alyna took a deep breath. "I hated him at first, when he brought me to his village. I planned my escape daily, begged him to take me home. But slowly, I began to respect him, and then... to love him. He didn't force me."
"I'm glad," Gabe said, pulling her into a hug.
"Are you?" Alyna asked, disbelief coloring her tone.
"Of course. If you had to go through that again, my heart would break."
Confusion flickered across Alyna's face. "Go through what again?"
"The summer before you left for Boston," Gabe explained, surprise evident in his voice. "Your father sent you away to save you from the shame."
Alyna's confusion deepened. "What aren't you saying?"
"That deputy," Gabe said gently. "The marshal ran him out of town before they could hang him for what he did to you."
"Hang him?!" Alyna's voice rose in shock. "Are you saying my father told the marshal that Deputy Cross forced himself on me?"
Gabe nodded slowly. "Your father wanted the man brought to justice."
Realization dawned on Alyna's face, quickly replaced by fury. "Buck Cross never laid a hand on me."
"It wasn't your fault," Gabe tried to soothe her. "You were just a young girl."
"I would know if he raped me, Gabriel!" Alyna snapped. "He never touched me. My father ruined a good man's life over his vanity."
"Alyna, calm down—"
"How can I calm down?" Tears streamed down her face. "If it wasn't for me, or rather my father, Buck wouldn't be half dead running for his life across the plains right now."
Gabe's eyes widened in recognition. "That man... that was him?"
Alyna nodded, her body wracked with sobs. "He asked me why I did it. All these years, he thought I condemned him. He thought I was responsible for..."
Her words dissolved into uncontrollable weeping. Gabe held her, murmuring soft words of comfort until, exhausted by the weight of revelations and long-buried truths, Alyna finally fell into a deep, troubled sleep.
Chapter 35
Fort Laramie, Wyoming - 1871
When Alyna awoke the next morning, Fort Laramie buzzed with tension. Snippets of conversation about an escaped prisoner reached her ears, sending a ripple of apprehension through her. Her fears of discovery eased when she overheard officers speculating that the man must have had a hidden weapon to cut himself free.
Captain Jorgensen approached her, his face etched with concern. "Miss McAllister, you're safe within the fort, but I'd advise against your daily rides. There might be Indians who aided the escape."
Alyna nodded, feigning gratitude. "Thank you, Captain. I'll stay within the fort." She added, almost to herself, "I'll be heading home soon anyway." The words felt hollow – her father's house no longer felt like home.
With Buck's son weighing heavily on her mind, Alyna made her way to where the children were kept. She convinced the guards to let her in, citing a desire to check on survivors from her village.
The large room was dim and crowded, with children packed onto thin bedding mere inches apart. Alyna's heart clenched at the sight. She called out Dohasan's name, her voice barely carrying over the low hum of whispers and shuffling.
Finally, a small boy, about four years old, looked up at her. Alyna knelt beside him, her movements slow and gentle. " Dohasan?" she asked softly.
The boy's eyes widened in recognition of his name. Alyna smiled, then began to sign. Friend of father, she gestured. Dohasan frowned, not sure he understood. She repeated the signs, and this time, he nodded slowly.
Is my father dead? he signed back, his small hands trembling.
"No," Alyna said aloud, shaking her head. She handed him Buck's earring. Dohasan's eyes lit up with recognition.
Take you to father, she signed, but listen to me. Follow instructions.
Hope surged in Dohasan's chest. He nodded eagerly and took her hand, clinging to it like a lifeline as they left the crowded room.
Outside, Dohasan tensed as he heard raised voices. Alyna was arguing with some soldiers. He pressed closer to her side, terrified they'd send him back to that awful room.
Alyna, perceiving Dohasan's apprehension, instinctively drew the boy closer to her side, her arm wrapping protectively around his small shoulders. Her voice firm and resolute, she turned to the officer and demanded, "I need to speak with Captain Jorgensen immediately!"
A few minutes later, the soldier returned with the captain. Alyna, her arm still protectively around Dohasan, explained her fabricated story. "This is my son," she lied smoothly. "I thought he hadn't survived, but I saw him the other day when the children were in the courtyard. I won't leave him here."
As the adults argued, Alyna kept signing reassurances to Dohasan. Don't worry. I won't let them take you.
Dohasan watched the exchange intently, unable to understand the words but reading the emotions on their faces. He saw the man in charge—the one the lady called Captain—wave his hand, and the other men stepped back.
Though he couldn't comprehend the spoken words, Dohasan sensed that the kind lady had won. Relief washed over him as he realized he wouldn't be returning to that crowded, dark room with the other children.
Alyna squeezed his hand gently and signed, We can go now. You're safe.
As they walked away, Dohasan kept pace with Alyna, his small hand still firmly clasped in hers. He didn't know exactly where they were going, but the lady had promised to take him to his father. For the first time since being taken from his home, Dohasan felt a flicker of hope.
Chapter 36
Wyoming – 1871
The stagecoach rumbled along, its steady rhythm a stark contrast to the turmoil in Alyna's mind. Beside her, Dohasan slept peacefully, his small body nestled against her side. Alyna stroked his long black hair, her touch gentle and protective.
Gabe's voice cut through her reverie. "You know, it's not too late to leave him behind," he said, not for the first time. "It would be better for you to move on, leave the past where it belongs."
Alyna's jaw tightened. "We've been over this, Gabe. He's coming with me."
"I just don't understand why you're so set on this," Gabe persisted. "He's not your responsibility."
"He is now," Alyna said firmly, her arms tightening around the sleeping child.
Gabe sighed, shaking his head. "Your father won't like this, you know."
"My father will have to accept it," Alyna replied, her voice low but resolute.
The conversation lapsed into silence, broken only by the rhythmic clatter of hooves and creaking of wheels. Alyna was grateful for Dohasan's presence, a constant reminder of purpose amidst her grief.
Hours later, the stagecoach jolted to a stop, startling Alyna awake. She blinked, disoriented, as she peered out the window at an unfamiliar cityscape.
"Gabe," she said, confusion evident in her voice, "where are we? This isn't Rock Creek."
Gabe had the grace to look slightly sheepish. "Ah, yes. I forgot to mention. We're in Omaha."
"Omaha?" Alyna's brow furrowed. "Why?"
"There's been a change of plans," Gabe explained as he helped her and Dohasan out of the stagecoach and into a waiting carriage. "Your father... well, he's moved."
Alyna's eyes widened. "Moved? Where?"
The carriage rattled through the streets, coming to a stop at a bustling railway station. Gabe's answer hit her like the train they were boarding. "Sacramento," he said. "California."
Alyna felt the blood drain from her face. "California? I can't go to California!"
"What do you mean?" Gabe looked genuinely puzzled. "Of course you can. Your father is waiting for you."
"But it's so far," Alyna protested weakly, her mind reeling. "I... I didn't expect..."
Gabe's hand on her arm was meant to be comforting, but it felt constraining. "Stop worrying so much, Alyna. You're going home now. Everything will be alright."
Alyna bit back a retort. Home. The word felt hollow, meaningless. Instead, she focused on guiding Dohasan up the steps and onto the train, his wide-eyed wonder at the massive locomotive momentarily distracting her from her own chaotic thoughts.
As they settled into the plush red seats, Dohasan on her lap, Alyna's mind raced. California. It was so far from everything she knew, everything she had planned. How could she find Buck again if she was on the other side of the country?
She glanced down at Dohasan, his small hand curled trustingly in hers. Whatever happened, she had made a promise. She would keep this child safe, come what may. With a deep breath, Alyna steeled herself for the long journey ahead, both physical and emotional, as the train began to move, carrying them inexorably westward.
Chapter 37
Sacramento, California - 1871
The train journey stretched across several days, each passing hour marked by the rhythmic clatter of wheels on rails. Alyna found herself drawn to the window, watching as the landscape transformed from rolling plains to rugged mountains. The ever-changing scenery mirrored her tumultuous thoughts, oscillating between memories of Wakíŋyaŋ Ská and apprehension about her father's home.
Conversation with Gabe remained sparse, their words as fleeting as the towns they passed. Instead, Alyna focused her energy on Dohasan, teaching him simple English words and phrases. The boy's eagerness to learn brought a smile to her face, a welcome distraction from her inner turmoil.
"Tree," Alyna would say, pointing out the window.
"Tree," Dohasan would repeat, his pronunciation improving with each attempt.
By the time they reached Sacramento, Alyna's legs ached for solid ground. The bustling platform was a stark contrast to the quiet of their train compartment. As they stepped off, the cacophony of the city enveloped them – a symphony of horse hooves, wagon wheels, and the chatter of a thousand voices.
Gabe hailed a carriage, and as they wound through the streets, Alyna and Dohasan marveled at the sights. Dohasan's eyes were wide with wonder, taking in the towering buildings and bustling crowds. For Alyna, the city was a bittersweet reminder of the life she'd left behind.
The carriage finally came to a stop before an impressive mansion. Alyna's breath caught in her throat as she took in the sight of her father's estate. The manicured lawns and grand facade seemed a world away from the life she'd known with the Lakota.
As they entered, the house's stillness was oppressive. Their footsteps echoed through the hallway, each sound amplifying Alyna's unease. And then, she saw him – her father, Garrison McAllister, seated by the window, his silhouette outlined against the fading light.
"I'm so happy to have you home again, my dear," he said, his voice softer than she remembered.
Alyna stood frozen, a flurry of emotions churning within her. This man, both loved and resented, seemed somehow diminished from the towering figure of her memories.
"And who is this young man?" Garrison asked, his gaze settling on the boy at her side.
"His name is Dohasan," Alyna replied, her arm instinctively wrapping around the boy's shoulders.
The conversation continued, each exchange revealing a man changed by time and circumstance. As Garrison interacted with Dohasan, Alyna watched with a mixture of curiosity and caution. The stern patriarch of her youth seemed to have softened, yet there was a weariness in his eyes that spoke of untold burdens.
"You'll be a strapping young man, won't you?" Garrison chuckled, patting Dohasan's head. "Alyna, why don't you take this young man upstairs to rest? Any room on the east wing will do. I'd like to have some time with you afterwards."
Alyna nodded, quickly signing to Dohasan that they were going to find a place for him to rest. She could see the hesitancy in his eyes, but she reassured him that everything was alright.
As they climbed the grand staircase, Alyna couldn't help but notice how out of place they both seemed in this opulent setting. She chose a room that seemed less imposing, with large windows that let in plenty of light.
"Rest now," she signed to Dohasan, helping him onto the bed. "I'll be back soon."
With a last reassuring smile, she closed the door softly and made her way back downstairs. The air between her and her father was thick with unspoken words and lingering questions as she re-entered the study.
"It is so good to see you, my child," Garrison said, his voice cracking slightly. "I thought you were lost forever."
Alyna studied him, noting the lines etched deep in his face, the slight tremor in his hands. "What's happened to you, Father?"
"What do you mean?"
"You are very different than I remember."
"You are different as well."
Alyna nodded, her eyes distant.
Garrison's face softened with understanding and regret. "I'm so sorry, my dear. I can't imagine what you've been through."
A heavy silence fell between them. Alyna's mind drifted to Dohasan, resting upstairs.
"The boy," Garrison began hesitantly. "Is he...?"
The question hung in the air, heavy with implication. Alyna's response was guarded. "Would it matter?"
To her surprise, her father waved his hand dismissively. "There's no need to be defensive, child. There were such times that I cared about things like that. But when one grows older, you find there are more important things in life."
"He is not mine by birth," Alyna said quietly.
Garrison nodded slowly. "I see. And his parents?"
Alyna's voice caught. "I don't know."
Another silence, this one filled with unspoken grief.
"Will you tell me about him?" Garrison asked gently.
Alyna looked up, surprised by the genuine interest in her father's eyes. "Sometime," she replied softly, her voice heavy with weariness.
Sensing her fatigue, Garrison rose from his chair. He approached Alyna and, with a tenderness that surprised her, wrapped her in a warm embrace. He kissed her forehead softly, his beard tickling her skin just as it had when she was a child.
"I'm so happy you're home, my dear," he murmured, his voice thick with emotion. "There will be time for all of that later. For now, you need rest."
Alyna felt herself lean into her father's embrace, allowing herself a moment of vulnerability. When they parted, Garrison's eyes were misty.
"Go on," he said, gesturing towards the stairs. "Get some sleep. We'll talk more when you're ready."
With a grateful nod, Alyna made her way upstairs. Her feet felt heavier with each step, the events of the day catching up with her. When she reached the room where she had left Dohasan, she opened the door quietly and slipped inside.
As Dohasan curled up next to her on the unfamiliar bed, Alyna felt a sudden surge of protectiveness wash over her. In the midst of her grief, a warmth began to blossom in her chest.
She gazed down at the boy, his small form so vulnerable in this strange new world. His long eyelashes fluttered against his cheeks as he fought off sleep, determined to stay alert in these unfamiliar surroundings. Alyna ran her hand gently through his dark hair, the gesture as soothing to her as it was to him.
In this quiet moment, Alyna realized that Dohasan had become more than just a responsibility, more than a promise she had made to Buck. He had become a lifeline, a reason to push forward through the haze of her grief. The love she felt for this child was different from anything she had experienced before – not the passionate love she had shared with Wakíŋyaŋ Ská, nor the complicated love she held for her father. This was something pure, unconditional, and fiercely protective.
As Dohasan's breathing evened out, signaling his descent into sleep, Alyna felt a sense of purpose solidify within her. She may have lost her husband, her home, and her way of life, but here, in this child, she had found a new kind of family. A tear slipped down her cheek, but for the first time in weeks, it wasn't solely born of sorrow. It was a tear of gratitude, of hope, of love.
Chapter 38
Sacramento, California - 1871
The heavy oak door creaked as Alyna pushed it open, revealing the dimly lit expanse of the library. She stepped tentatively into the room, her eyes scanning the shelves lined with leather-bound volumes. She felt a sense of nostalgia wash over her as she traced her fingers along the worn bindings, each one a testament to the passage of time.
"Father?" Alyna's voice broke the silence of the library, her words echoing softly against the walls. "You wanted to see me?"
"Come in my dear." Garrison cleared his throat loudly.
Alyna approached her father's chair, her heart heavy with the weight of unresolved emotions. As she drew closer, she couldn't help but notice the frailty of his form. Alyna's gaze softened with sympathy as she regarded her father, his once-vibrant spirit dimmed by the passage of time and the weight of his regrets.
"Sit child, I need to get this off my chest. I should have been a better father. I shouldn't have done a lot of things I did." He scowled.
"Father, what's in the past is the past. You can't do anything to change it."
"I'm dying Alyna. I don't want you to have regrets about your life, like I do mine." He looked at her seriously.
"I don't father." She smiled simply.
"Will you stay here? With me, just stay here until I am gone? I know I don't deserve your love, and you are free to leave, but if you could find it in your heart to stay." More tears ran down his weathered face.
Alyna nodded, her eyes glistening as she tried to hold back the emotions threatening to overwhelm her. This reunion was far from what she had imagined. With a gentle touch, she leaned over and adjusted the blanket across her father's lap, tucking it in more securely. The simple act of care spoke volumes, a quiet acknowledgment of their shared history and the bond that still existed despite the years apart.
"There's something I need to tell you before you decide to stay," Garrison began, his voice heavy. He cleared his throat, clearly struggling with what he was about to say. "It's been weighing on me for years."
He paused, his eyes distant. "When I sent you to Boston, I was... I was angry with you. But not for the reasons you might think." Garrison's hands trembled slightly as he continued, "I wasn't ready to see my little girl growing up. It scared me, watching you turn into a woman."
"Father don't." She knew what was coming. Alyna didn't want to hear him say it. She didn't want to forgive him.
"I did a terrible thing, I ruined a man's life and I can never repay that."
"Father I know." Hot tears ran down her cheeks. "I know what you did."
"Oh darling, I'm so ashamed. Can you ever forgive me?" He sobbed.
Alyna's heart clenched at the sight of her father's tears. She had never seen her father cry. She had never seen him so broken as he was now. She hadn't wanted to forgive him. She wanted to hate him for what he did. she found herself unable to harbor hatred in the face of such raw emotion. In that moment her heart softened. He was contrite and remorseful. She put her arms around him and stroked his grey hair softly.
"I'm not the one you need to ask forgiveness from." She whispered. "But I do forgive you father."
"I was a coward." Garrison collapsed into the chair.
"You can make more amends than you know, father," Alyna said softly. "Dohasan is Buck's son."
Garrison's eyes widened, a mix of shock and disappointment crossing his face. "So you did run off with that deputy after all?"
Alyna shook her head firmly. "No, father. I was very fond of Buck, and we cared about each other, but it was just that - a youthful love. After that day you sent me away, I hadn't set eyes on him until recently at Fort Laramie."
Confusion clouded Garrison's features. "But then, how...?"
Alyna took a deep breath, choosing her words carefully. "I was taken to a Lakota camp up north, I believe in the Dakota territories. I didn't see Buck again until I was at Fort Laramie. He was there as a captive, badly hurt. He begged me to save his son, Dohasan. I promised I would care for him until he could come for him."
Horror dawned on her father's face. "Abducted by Indians ? Oh, Alyna... that's even worse than I imagined. I thought... I hoped you had run off with a man, as terrible as that seemed."
"Don't fret, father," Alyna said gently. "My life with the Lakota was good. They treated me well, for the most part."
Garrison's eyes caught the glint of the beaded necklace peeking out from Alyna's blouse. "That necklace... is it from them?"
Alyna's hand instinctively went to the necklace, her fingers tracing the intricate beadwork. "Yes," she said softly. "There are things I'm not ready to talk about yet, father. Please understand."
Garrison nodded slowly, respecting her wishes despite the questions burning in his eyes.
"I've written a letter to the marshal of Rock Creek," Alyna said, changing the subject. "I'm sure Buck will check there first when he's able."
Garrison reached out, taking his daughter's hand in his. "You are so much like your mother," he said softly. "I see her in your eyes. She would be proud of the woman you've become, Alyna."
With a gentle squeeze of her father's hand, Alyna stood. "I should check on Dohasan," she said. "He's probably wondering where I am."
Garrison watched as his daughter left the library, her steps lighter than when she had entered. Through the window, he saw her emerge into the garden, where Dohasan was playing. The boy's face lit up at the sight of her, and Alyna scooped him into her arms, twirling him around.
As he observed their interaction, Garrison felt a mix of emotions wash over him. Regret for the years lost with his own daughter, admiration for the strong, compassionate woman she had become, and a glimmer of hope for the future. Perhaps, he thought, it wasn't too late to make amends, to be the father he should have been.
The sound of Alyna and Dohasan's laughter drifted through the open window, a promise of healing and new beginnings. Garrison smiled, a genuine smile, the first time in years, as he watched his daughter and the boy she had taken under her wing play in the fading light of the afternoon.
Part Four – Promises Kept
Chapter 39
Oregon - 1878
The sound of Alyna's laughter echoed along the shoreline as she playfully chased after Dohasan. With each step, she marveled at how swiftly time had passed, hardly believing that the boy was already nearing twelve years old. Watching him dart and weave along the sandy expanse, she couldn't help but feel a swell of affection for the young boy who had become such an integral part of her life.
"You are very slow today, Mama. You're getting old," he teased, tugging on her long braids.
"I'm letting you win, Dohasan." Alyna smiled teasingly, wrapping an arm around his shoulders. "I'm going back to the house to check on supper. Just a few more minutes, alright?"
"Yes, ma'am," he replied, giving her a quick hug before running into the surf.
As she watched Dohasan skillfully ride the tide back to shore, Alyna couldn't help but notice the striking resemblance he bore to his father. It stirred a bittersweet longing within her, prompting thoughts of what might have been. She contemplated the notion of a life with Buck, recognizing it as a path never meant to be. Even if circumstances had allowed, she acknowledged the sacrifices it would have demanded—ones she wasn't willing to make.
Instead, she took solace in her memories of Wakíŋyaŋ Ská and the Lakota, experiences that had shaped her in profound ways. Her father's passing, mere months after settling in Sacramento, had left her with a sense of loss. Yet life had continued, and Alyna had found purpose in building a new home for herself and Dohasan on the Oregon coast.
Her love for horses remained undiminished. She and Dohasan often explored the ever-changing coastline on horseback, and Gabe had encouraged her to try her hand at breeding. The idea had sparked a new passion, leading to trips all over the country to purchase stock.
Lost in thought, Alyna was surprised to see Gabe's horse tied near the barn. She rushed into the house, finding him in the parlor.
"I wasn't expecting you for weeks! Is everything alright?" She exclaimed, greeting him with a quick kiss on the cheek and an affectionate hug. "Did you find good stock? What have you brought back?"
Gabe laughed, amused by her rapid-fire questions. "No, nothing's wrong," he began, but Alyna's excitement was irrepressible.
"Then why are you back so soon? Miss Georgia Anderson will be pleased. She's been asking about you at church. I didn't see any new horses in the pasture. Have you brought anything?"
"Alyna," Gabe chuckled, shaking his head, "I don't think you've taken one breath since you walked in."
She apologized, explaining her high spirits from spending the day with Dohasan. As if on cue, the boy entered, presenting Alyna with wildflowers and greeting Gabe politely.
In the kitchen, surrounded by the aroma of freshly baked biscuits, Alyna pressed Gabe for details about the horse show. His vague responses only piqued her curiosity further.
"You're not making any sense, Gabriel," she said, arranging the wildflowers. "You didn't have time for horses because of an old friend, yet you came home early?"
"Well—" Gabe began, but Alyna interrupted with a knowing smile.
"I think you're sweet on Miss Georgia and missed her. Am I right?"
Gabe's eyes twinkled with mischief. "No," he said, taking her hand and leading her to the door. "I have a surprise for you."
"You did get a horse, didn't you!" Alyna squealed with delight.
Gabe's smirk widened, a hint of playfulness in his voice. "I found a horse, but the owner and I couldn't quite see eye-to-eye on the price. I didn't want to make any decisions without your approval first."
Alyna's brow furrowed slightly, intrigued by his hesitation. She leaned in, planting a quick kiss on his cheek. "What are you up to, Gabe Fredrickson?"
His smirk deepened, eyes twinkling with barely contained excitement. "Why don't you go see for yourself? It's in the barn."
As Alyna rushed towards the barn, her curiosity building with each step, Gabe watched her go, his smirk softening into a warm smile. He knew that what awaited her in the barn would change everything, and he couldn't wait to see her reaction. With a contented sigh, he followed her at a leisurely pace, savoring the moment of anticipation.
Chapter 40
Oregon - 1878
Seeing the smirk on Gabe's face, Alyna knew he was hiding something. Her excitement grew as she rushed outside to find the surprise. As she reached the barn door, her steps quickened. Why the secrecy? She'd given Gabe full authority to acquire any animal he deemed worthy. What was he hiding? A knot of unease tightened in her stomach as she pushed open the barn doors, determined to find out.
"Hello?" She peered into the dim interior.
As her eyes adjusted to the darkness, Alyna spotted a horse standing near the side door. It was an imposing figure, standing at least eighteen hands high, if not more. She approached cautiously, allowing it to sniff her hand before moving closer. The horse was a magnificent ebony specimen, with a long, flowing mane and tail.
"Hello?" Alyna called out softly, her voice echoing in the quiet space. She scanned the barn, finding no sign of the owner at first. Then, she noticed a shadowy figure standing near the back. Despite a slight apprehension at being alone with a stranger, Alyna reassured herself that Gabe must trust this man, or he would have accompanied her.
"He's a beautiful horse," she commented, trying to break the tension.
The man remained silent, lurking in the shadows. Alyna fidgeted nervously, reaching up to rub the horse's nose, seeking comfort in the familiar presence of the animal.
"I understand there was some difficulty settling on a price," she ventured.
"There's no difficulty settling on a price," the man replied firmly, his voice oddly familiar. "He's not for sale."
Alyna's brow furrowed in confusion. She resumed petting the horse, her movements deliberate and calming. She wasn't sure what game this man was playing, but she wasn't inclined to play along.
"If you're not interested in selling him, then why come all this way?" she asked, a hint of frustration in her voice.
The man began to emerge from the shadows, his movements deliberate and unhurried. With each step he took, the distance between them shrank, and Alyna couldn't shake the sense of unease creeping over her. She took a small step backward, instinctively creating space between them, her gaze fixed on him with a mixture of caution and growing curiosity.
As he stepped into a shaft of light streaming through a high window, Alyna's breath caught in her throat. There was something achingly familiar about his silhouette, the way he carried himself.
"I told you I would find you," he said softly, removing his hat and meeting her eyes. "It just took a lot longer than I thought it would."
Alyna's disbelief turned to joy as she processed his words, recognizing Buck at last. "I thought you were dead," she exclaimed, her eyes wide with amazement and relief. "You look much better than when I last saw you."
Buck's lips curved into a wry smile. "Being I was one step away from death, I won't let that go to my head."
Alyna stepped towards him, enveloping him in a tight embrace. Surprised by the intensity of her reaction, Buck returned the hug, holding her close and savoring the moment. With each gentle stroke of her back, he felt a sense of peace wash over him, grateful for this unexpected reunion.
As they made their way to the house, Alyna's excitement bubbled over, her words tumbling out in a rush. Buck couldn't help but smile at her enthusiasm, feeling a sense of joy welling up inside him at the prospect of seeing Dohasan again.
Chapter 41
Oregon - 1878
Alyna guided Buck through the threshold of the main house. The familiar scent of home enveloped them as they stepped into the spacious foyer. She took a deep breath, steadying herself before calling out for Dohasan, her voice echoing softly off the walls.
"Yes, mother?" Came the reply, followed by the sound of approaching footsteps.
As Dohasan appeared in the doorway, time seemed to stand still. Buck's breath caught in his throat, his eyes drinking in the sight of his son – no longer the small child he remembered, but a boy on the cusp of becoming a young man. Dohasan's gaze locked onto Buck, a flicker of recognition sparking in his eyes.
"Father?" Dohasan whispered, his voice trembling with a mixture of disbelief and hope.
Buck nodded, unable to speak past the lump in his throat. He took a tentative step forward, his arms opening slightly. For a moment, Dohasan hesitated, years of absence and uncertainty hanging between them. Then, as if a dam had broken, he rushed into his father's embrace.
Buck enveloped his son in his arms, holding him tight as if afraid he might disappear. Tears streamed down his cheeks as he pressed his face into Dohasan's hair, inhaling the scent of his child – a scent he had feared he'd forgotten.
"My son," Buck murmured, his voice thick with emotion.
Dohasan clung to his father, his small frame shaking with quiet sobs. "You came back," he whispered. "You really came back."
Buck pulled back slightly, cupping Dohasan's face in his hands. He gazed into his son's eyes, seeing a reflection of himself and a promise of the future. "I'm here now," he said softly, his thumb gently wiping away Dohasan's tears. "And I'm not going anywhere."
Alyna watched the reunion, her own eyes brimming with tears. The love between father and son was palpable, filling the room with a warmth that seemed to touch her very soul.
Later, as they gathered around the dinner table, the warm glow of candlelight cast flickering shadows across their faces. Gabe recounted the chance encounter that had brought Buck back into their lives, his voice filled with warmth and a hint of wonder at the serendipity of it all.
Alyna listened intently, her gaze alternating between Gabe's earnest expression and Buck's familiar face. She marveled at the resilience etched into his features, a testament to the trials he had endured. Her heart raced with the sheer improbability of it all, gratitude washing over her in waves.
As the evening drew to a close, Dohasan's eyes began to droop despite his best efforts to stay awake. He turned to his father, a hint of worry in his voice. "Will you be here tomorrow?"
Buck smiled, reaching out to squeeze his son's shoulder. "Of course, I will. I promise."
Reassured, Dohasan nodded. He then turned to Alyna, wrapping his arms around her in a tight hug. "Goodnight, Mama," he murmured. "I love you."
Alyna held him close, her heart swelling with affection. "I love you too, sweetheart," she replied, pressing a kiss to his forehead. "Sleep well."
As Dohasan's footsteps faded upstairs, Gabe rose from his seat, sensing the need for privacy. "I think I'll turn in as well," he said, offering a warm smile to Buck and Alyna. "You two have a lot to catch up on. Goodnight, both of you."
With Gabe's departure, Buck and Alyna found themselves alone, the weight of their choices hanging between them. Buck's eyes met Alyna's, a mixture of gratitude and tender affection in his gaze. "Thank you," he said softly, "for keeping your promise. For loving him and keeping him safe."
Alyna reached out, taking his hand in hers. "We have a lot to talk about," she replied gently. "Come with me."
She led Buck through the back of the house to the porch. As they stepped outside, the crisp coastal air greeted them, carrying the scent of blooming flowers. They settled onto the porch swing, its familiar creak a comforting sound in the quiet evening.
Chapter 42
Oregon - 1878
In the hush of the evening, Alyna and Buck found themselves on the porch swing, side by side, her hand resting tentatively in his. Despite the warmth of their reunion, a silence hung between them, heavy with unspoken words and the weight of years apart.
Buck's voice was low when he finally spoke. "I went to Sacramento looking for you."
"Did you get the letters I sent to Rock Creek?" Alyna asked, her voice barely above a whisper.
"No," Buck replied, a hint of regret in his tone. "I tracked your father there."
Alyna noticed the flicker of anger in Buck's eyes at the mention of her father. She understood his feelings - what her father had done was unforgivable. Yet, she had made her peace with it long ago.
"I know what my father did," she began carefully, her gaze steady as she met his eyes. "I didn't before, when I saw you at the fort. I didn't understand what you were talking about then."
Buck's jaw tightened slightly. "It's in the past. You're not to blame."
Alyna sighed, her voice tinged with raw emotion. "I'm not making excuses for him. I've hated him myself. But... you should know that my father wanted to apologize. He was so ashamed."
"I can't forgive that man," Buck said, his voice tight.
"I know." Alyna squeezed his hand gently. "But let it soften your heart knowing he was kind to Dohasan, doted on him like a grandparent would. He provided the means for me to raise him in comfort. We can't erase the past, but it's made us who we are."
Alyna's words lingered, heavy with the weight of their complicated past. Buck found himself considering a perspective he had never entertained before. Years of dwelling on missed opportunities and pain caused by lies began to shift, making room for an unexpected sense of gratitude.
"I can't thank you enough for raising Dohasan," he whispered, his eyes full of genuine appreciation.
Alyna's next words caught him off guard. "Please don't take him away from me," she pleaded softly, fighting back tears.
"What?" Buck was taken aback. "I would never do that. You're the only mother he's ever known. I'm indebted to you."
As their eyes met, Buck saw a depth in Alyna that transcended his memories. She had weathered storms, endured hardships, and emerged stronger. The girl he once knew had transformed into a woman of remarkable courage and fortitude.
"What do we do now?" Alyna asked, her voice a mixture of hope and uncertainty.
Buck took a deep breath. "I'm not the same man you remember, and I know you've changed too," he confessed. "But I refuse to believe that we've endured all we have, only to be brought back together if we weren't meant to be. I'm sorry if that's out of line."
His words stirred a whirlwind of emotions within Alyna. She gazed into his eyes, seeing sincerity and determination reflected back at her. A flicker of hope danced across her features, mingling with vulnerability and uncertainty.
As the sun dipped below the horizon, painting the sky with soft pinks and gold, they sat in comfortable silence, their hands still clasped together. The vast ocean before them mirrored the depth of emotions swirling within.
"I want to get to know the woman you've become," Buck finally said, his voice warm and sincere. He gently rubbed his thumb across the back of her hand.
Alyna met his gaze, her heart brimming with a mixture of gratitude and apprehension. "I'd like that too," she replied softly.
In the quiet embrace of twilight, they found solace in each other's presence. The future stretched before them, hand in hand, they were ready to face whatever lay ahead. Their journey, a new chapter in a story already rich with experience, had just begun. This time, they would write it together, one day at a time.
Lakota Names and Translations
Wakíŋyaŋ Ská – White Thunder
lowáŋ Ziηtkála – Singing Bird
Mató Ehate – Laughing Bear
Ahwayela Tȟaté – Gentle Wind Blowing
Matoskah – White Bear
Wíyaka Lúta – Red Feather
Mato Nunpa – Two Bears
Kiya Wambli – Flying Eagle
Kimimela - Butterfly
Ómakiya yo – Help me
Hiyú wó – Come here
Pheží – Grass
Nape - Hand
Pȟehíŋ - Hair
Ištá - Eye
Pȟasú - Nose
Ihá - Lips
Iputáke - Kiss
Ayúštaŋ yo - Stop
Thechíhíla – I love you
Zišipe lá – Skinny/Thin
Thaló Wote – To eat meat
I šni na Wiwayaka – She is my prisoner
I na – She is mine
Iháŋniŋ kȟé – I challenge you
Wa ohola sni nitawa Itáŋčhaŋ – You disrespect your leader
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Afterword
Buck Cross and other characters from the TV show The Young Riders belong to the copyright holders of The Young Riders. (1989-1992)
No infringements of copyright by any rights-holder to The Young Riders is intended or implied.
The author receives NO monetary benefit from the electronic or physical distribution of this work.
ALL original characters created by the author, as well as plot and book art, are copyrighted by the author.
Please do not distribute these works without permission from the author.
About the Author
Holly, a 2nd generation California Native, relocated to the Midwest after the 2018 Camp Fire devastated her hometown. She brought along with her unwavering love of her home state, her loyal companion Cass, better known as Cass the Stinky Chicken.
In the 90's she became a devoted fan of 'The Young Riders' series. Inspired by the characters and the time period, she crafts tales set in the Wild West, often featuring the beloved character, Buck Cross.
In addition to her historical interests, Holly is a recognized fashion designer and custom doll artist under the brand D.A. Fashion.
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