Deception's Embrace
By: H Forbes
Closed Door Romance
There is a heavy romance theme, and kissing, but anything past that is completely fade to black. Intimacy is behind closed doors.
Themes & Tropes
Marriage before Intimacy, Love Triangle, Slow Burn, Ingenue, Age Gap, Farm/Ranch Life
Content Warnings
Infidelity, Violence/Gore/Blood, Murder, Substance Abuse, Child Abuse/Neglect, Mental Health
10/2024 - Edited for typos, New formatting
Chapter 1
Shadow Valley, Texas - March 1872
The dust swirled around Bethany's boots, each gritty puff a stark reminder of the miles they'd traveled. She stretched, wincing as every muscle in her body protested. The rickety stagecoach had offered little comfort on their journey from Dallas, but freedom from that stifling town was worth every ache.
Bethany brushed a stray strand of hair from her face, her gaze falling on the tear in her mother's traveling dress. Desiree, with a practiced flick of her wrist, draped her shawl over the rip, avoiding eye contact. Bethany sighed. It wasn't the first time, nor would it be the last, they were forced to hide tattered clothes and empty stomachs.
"Hurry up Samantha!" Desiree's sighed impatiently.
Bethany surveyed the small town. Children shrieked with laughter, their frantic mother chasing them along the sun-drenched boardwalk. The scent of fresh bread hung heavy in the air, a tantalizing reminder of a life she craved. Yet, she knew this was just another stop on their endless journey.
It had been seven years since they'd fled Charleston, their lives draped in mourning after her father and brother fell in the war. The remnants of their once-comfortable life were long gone, sold to finance their escape from the South's ravaged landscape.
Charleston had been a dream Bethany clung to, a memory of bustling streets and laughter-filled evenings. Now, it was a distant ache in her heart. Her mother harbored a different dream, a relentless pursuit of a wealthy suitor for her daughter, a man who could bankroll their former life.
Dallas had offered that possibility, in the form of Mr. Oliver Buchanan, a portly banker with a fondness for whiskey and a heavy hand. Bethany had seen through his facade, the lecherous glint in his eyes, the way his gaze lingered too long. The bruises on her arm and the sting on her cheek were stark reminders of the night she'd convinced her mother to leave.
"Samantha!" Desiree's voice cracked with a touch of hysteria. "Leave those horses alone!"
Samantha, offered a final pat to the russet-colored horse's nose before reluctantly rejoining her mother. Bethany wrapped a comforting arm around her younger sister, planting a kiss on her cheek. Samantha's love for animals was a constant source of sadness. Their transient lifestyle made it impossible to keep any pets, a truth that often brought tears to Samantha's eyes.
Desiree approached the general store, her gaze flickering to the group of men engrossed in conversation. Her ears perked up as a list of supplies – lumber, tools, a wagonload of equipment – filled the air. The West, with its wealthy ranchers, was exactly what she'd been searching for.
"Excuse me, ma'am," the storekeeper apologized, his voice harried. "I'll be with you shortly."
Desiree smiled politely. "No rush, take your time." Her gaze drifted back to the men, curiosity gnawing at her.
"He'll be more than a few minutes." A gruff voice cut in.
Desiree turned, her smile faltering slightly at the sight of a short, bald man with a bushy mustache. "Pardon me?"
"Walt Morgan, at your service, ma'am," he offered his hand eagerly. "I own the newspaper in town."
Desiree took his hand, a glint entering her eyes. "Desiree Mills." This chance encounter could be useful.
"You'll be waiting a while then." Walt shook his head, his gaze shifting to the men restocking their supplies. "Those folks come in from the Flying Arrow Ranch every month, practically take over the store with their orders."
"Flying Arrow Ranch?" Desiree's voice sharpened with interest.
"Cattle and horse operation, just north of here." Walt pointed towards the tall figure in a black hat and white shirt. "That fella there owns the place."
Desiree followed his finger, her smile faltering slightly as she scrutinized the man. "Him?" She questioned, a sliver of doubt creeping in.
"Buck Cross," Walt confirmed, his voice laced with disapproval. "Half the town wouldn't do business with the halfbreed, but he's got more money than God himself."
Desiree's eyes narrowed. "Surely there are other ranchers around?"
"He's the only one close enough to do business here."
Suddenly, the air shattered by the sharp crack of gunfire. Three men on horseback tore down the dusty street, shooting wildly into the air. Desiree shrieked, scrambling for cover behind a large barrel. Panic surged through her as she searched for her daughters. There! Bethany, huddled in the doorway of the dressmaker's shop across the street.
But a wave of horror washed over her as she spotted Samantha. Her youngest daughter lay sprawled on the ground near the horses, a chilling reminder of her warning just moments prior. The large chestnut mare, startled by the gunfire, reared high on its hind legs, its massive hooves aimed at Samantha's crumpled form.
Time seemed to slow down for Desiree. The world narrowed to Samantha, the panicked whinny of the horse, and the horrifying image of her daughter being trampled. A primal scream tore from her throat, a sound raw with terror and desperation.
Chapter 2
Shadow Valley, Texas - March 1872
Buck cursed under his breath, the sound swallowed by the chaos erupting in the dusty street. The thunder of hooves and the crack of gunfire had been bad enough, but the bloodcurdling scream that followed sent a jolt of adrenaline through him. He tossed the bag of oats he was carrying aside, the grain scattering in the wind. His gaze fell on the source of the scream - a woman, her face a mask of terror, sprinting towards the hitching post where his horses were tied.
One of the bays, spooked by the ruckus, reared back, its powerful hind legs lashing out. A sickening thud echoed as the hoof connected with something fragile. Buck's stomach lurched. He was already running before he fully registered the scene.
He skidded to a stop beside the crumpled figure lying in the dirt. A young girl, no older than ten, whimpered in pain, her leg twisted at an unnatural angle. Guilt gnawed at Buck. This was his fault. He shouldn't have left his horses unattended.
Taking a deep breath, he knelt beside her, ignoring the throbbing in his knee from the hasty descent. A glance confirmed his worst fear - a clean break above the knee. He needed to get her to Doc Evans fast, but moving her would be agonizing.
"Hey there," he spoke gently, his voice rough around the edges. "It's going to be okay. I'm Buck, and I'm going to help you."
The girl, her face streaked with tears and grit, looked up at him with wide, terrified eyes. "It hurts." She whimpered her voice barely a whisper.
"I know, honey." Buck soothed, his calloused hand brushing a stray strand of hair from her forehead.
He evaluated his options. He couldn't risk lifting her and worsening the injury. He signaled for one of his workers to come over and bring a blanket from the buckboard. Swiftly, he spread the blanket beside her. He knelt next to the young girl, held her hands, and squeezed them tightly.
Buck felt a glimmer of relief at the girl's slight nod. Her trust, so readily given despite the pain, touched his heart. "That's a brave girl," he murmured, his voice softer than usual.
He looked at the woman, he assumed was her mother, her face marked with a desperate worry mirroring his unease. "You should go settle in the doctor's waiting room," he advised, his voice firm but gentle. "It'll be easier on her if you're not right here when we move her."
The woman hesitated, her eyes flitting between Buck and her daughter.
"Alright," the woman finally conceded, her voice hoarse. "But please, be careful."
Buck dipped his head in a silent nod. He knew the pain that awaited the girl, the inevitable scream that would tear through the now silent street. He took a deep breath, steeling himself for the task at hand.
"Alright, sweetheart," he said to the girl, his voice low and reassuring. "We're going to lift you onto the blanket now. Remember, it'll hurt, but it'll be over quickly."
With his worker, Jeb, at his side, Buck carefully maneuvered the girl. The scream came, sharp and raw, echoing through the dusty street. Buck gritted his teeth, a silent apology forming on his lips. He knew there was no way to avoid the pain, but the sight of the girl's contorted face still sent a pang of guilt through him.
Once she was settled on the blanket, her whimpers replacing the scream, they lifted her together and carried her towards the doctor's office, a somber procession watched by the curious eyes of the townsfolk.
He reached the weathered wooden sign above the doctor's office in record time and burst through the swinging doors. The smell of disinfectant and something vaguely medicinal assaulted him. A wiry man with a bushy mustache and spectacles perched on his nose looked up from behind a cluttered desk.
"Doc Evans?" Buck's voice was a low growl. "We need you now!"
Doc Evans, his initial surprise giving way to a practiced efficiency, gestured towards a curtained doorway. "Put her on the table in there. I'll be right with you."
The flickering gaslight cast long shadows on the walls of the doctor's exam room as they carried the young girl inside. Buck laid the girl down gently on the worn examination table, her whimpers turning into choked sobs. He glanced at the woman, who seemed rooted to the spot, her face pale and drawn.
"It's alright, ma'am," Buck said, his voice softer than moments before. "Doc Evans is the best around. He'll take care of her."
Her mother and sister, faces etched with worry, were ushered into the waiting room. Buck took his place beside the girl on the worn leather examination table, his large hand engulfing hers. Tears welled up in her eyes, staining her cheeks, but Buck's gentle touch and quiet murmurs seemed to offer a sliver of comfort.
The doctor entered with a grim expression. He unhurriedly examined the girl's injured leg, his brow furrowing as he probed the tender area. Buck felt a knot of dread tighten in his stomach. He'd seen his fair share of broken bones in his time, and the grimace on the doctor's face wasn't a good sign.
Instead of the usual laudanum many folks used for pain, the doctor reached for a small vial filled with a clear liquid. "Here," he rasped, handing Buck a chipped porcelain cup and a measure. "Get her to swallow some of this. It'll take the edge off a bit."
Buck's brow furrowed. He knew the concoction – a potent tincture with a reputation for being more mind-numbing than pain-numbing. Still, with no better options available, he carefully dosed the girl, her small hand trembling against his. It wasn't much, but it was all they had.
The doctor, with a resigned sigh, instructed Buck to hold the girl steady. The air grew thick with anticipation as the doctor set about his grim task. A choked gasp escaped the girl's lips soon followed by a heart-wrenching cry. Buck gritted his teeth, his own body tensing with the effort of holding her still. But even the potent tincture couldn't hold back all the pain.
Thankfully, within a few agonizing moments, her screams subsided, replaced by shallow, ragged breathing. Relief washed over Buck as exhaustion settled in his bones. The ordeal was over, at least for now. The girl might be pale and weak, but at least the bone was set.
"How will that leg be?" Buck asked, his voice strained as he watched Doctor Evans bind the girl's leg with wooden slats and strips of rough cloth.
"Honestly?" Doctor Evans straightened, his weathered face etched with concern. "It's a nasty break. We've set it, but there's no guarantee how well it'll mend."
Buck swallowed hard, the doctor's words settling heavily in his gut. He knew the hardships a poorly healed fracture could bring. Taking a deep breath, he walked back to the waiting room where Desiree sat, her knuckles white as she gripped the armrest.
"The doctor reset the bone," Buck began, his voice as reassuring as he could manage. "He's stabilizing it now."
Relief flickered in Desiree's eyes, mirrored by her daughter Bethany, who offered a weak smile. "That's good, right?" Bethany whispered, her voice barely audible.
"It's the best we can do for now," Buck said, his gaze dropping to his hat which he nervously fingered. "She's going to need rest and a place to recover for a while."
"We just arrived in town," Desiree confessed, a flicker of worry returning to her face.
"Well then," Buck said, a sudden determination forming in his mind. "The least I can do is help you find somewhere to stay while your daughter mends."
A flicker of surprise, followed by a hesitant smile, touched Desiree's lips. "That's very kind of you, sir."
"Sorry, ma'am," Buck stumbled, extending his hand. "I'm Buck Cross."
Desiree shook his hand warmly. "Desiree Mills," she said. "This is my daughter, Bethany."
Bethany offered Buck a shy nod. "Nice to meet you, sir."
"There's a nice home down by the church that is for lease." Buck put his hat on and nodded. "If you'll excuse me, I'll make arrangements for you there."
Desiree watched the tall stranger disappear down the dusty street, a wave of gratitude washing over her. This unexpected kindness from a stranger offered a glimmer of hope amidst the hardship. She glanced at Bethany, perhaps, Desiree thought, this misfortune might just lead them to an unexpected bit of good fortune.
Chapter 3
Shadow Valley, Texas - April 1872
It was a warm and bright spring day, the kind that made the tumbleweeds dance across the prairie. Buck stopped his horse and hopped down, his boots crunching on the dry earth. He scanned the horizon, his gaze finally settling on the distant silhouette of a small farmhouse nestled amongst a grove of cottonwood trees.
It had been a month since Samantha's accident, a month of him making the long trek into town to check on her, a month of worry gnawing at him despite his efforts to remain stoic. He'd hired a couple of men from the neighboring farm to help manage the extra workload on his ranch, but the emptiness Buck felt couldn't be filled by another pair of working hands.
"Mr. Cross," Desiree greeted, a curious smile playing on her lips as she watched him wrestle a massive covered chair from his wagon and heave it onto the porch. "Welcome. Please, come in."
Samantha sat in a rocking chair by the window, a book in her lap, but her gaze was fixed on the open fields beyond. Her normally bright eyes held a dullness that tugged at Buck's heart.
"Just thought I would see if my favorite girl wanted to take a ride through town?" He asked gently, his gaze flickering between her and the heavy cast adorning her leg.
Samantha's brow furrowed in confusion. "What?"
Buck grinned, a mischievous glint in his eyes. "I got you something from St. Louis." He explained. "It just arrived and it's just until you can put weight on that leg."
"What is it?" Her curiosity piqued, a flicker of excitement replacing the dullness in her eyes.
Buck turned and pushed a large, ornately carved wooden wheelchair into the room. The deep blue velvet cushions gleamed in the sunlight streaming through the window.
"Whoa!" Samantha's breath hitched.
"Once the doctor says you can put weight on your leg you won't need this," Buck explained, "but until then you can get out of the house and enjoy some fresh air."
Samantha's smile widened, her eyes shining with gratitude. "Thank you so much!" She exclaimed, running her hand over the plush fabric.
Desiree stepped forward, placing a hand on her daughter's shoulder. "Mr. Cross you have been so kind to us, we truly appreciate it."
"Would you like to take it for a spin?" Buck asked, his voice warm. He held his arms out, his intentions clear.
Samantha hesitated for a moment, then a playful glint entered her eyes. "Alright, but only if you promise not to drop me."
Buck chuckled. "Never." He scooped her up effortlessly.
Desiree turned to Bethany, who had been silently observing the exchange from a corner of the room, a book clutched tightly in her hands. "Bethany, why don't you go and help Mr. Cross with Samantha?"
Bethany looked up from her book and obediently walked towards the door. Her mother had been pestering her to show some interest in Mr. Cross when he came over but Bethany felt like she was taking advantage of his generosity. Her mother was unrelenting in her pursuit. Bethany considered herself lucky this time, even though he had Indian blood, at least Buck was kind and not at all hard on the eyes.
"I hear Mr. Harper has ice cream at the store." Buck wheeled Samantha out and carefully down the street towards the general store. "Do either of you have objections?"
"Mmm, not me!" Samantha giggled.
"What about you Bethany?" Buck smiled at her.
"I think ice cream sounds wonderful." She laughed genuinely.
It had been a long time since she laughed. She liked Buck, it was easy to like him. He was so kind. The way he doted on her sister was like the brother they both lost. She smiled Samantha chattered on and Buck listened intently. She knew Samantha missed their brother Patrick, but she didn't remember him the way Bethany did. Bethany and her twin brother Patrick had been inseparable since birth. Only the war came between them.
As they walked side-by-side, Buck's hand occasionally brushing against hers, Bethany felt a blush creep up her neck. He was tall and strong, with a kind face etched with lines that spoke of hard work and laughter. His eyes, a soft golden brown, held a warmth that made her feel safe and seen. It felt wrong to be enjoying herself, to be letting someone new into their lives when their world was still so raw with grief.
"Did you want strawberry or vanilla?" Buck's voice broke through her thoughts as they entered the cool haven of the general store.
Bethany blinked, surprised at how quickly they'd arrived. "Sorry, I was daydreaming." She hadn't even realized they had walked into the store. "Strawberry please."
"What were you daydreaming about?" Buck asked, his voice laced with a gentle curiosity as he pushed Samantha towards a large oak tree at the west end of town. He was already setting up a picnic-style blanket.
"You."
She watched as he flushed slightly and cleared his throat before making eye contact with her. He seemed surprised, yet intrigued. Bethany held his gaze, a small, smile playing on her lips.
Chapter 4
Shadow Valley, Texas - June 1872
Teaspoon tapped his boot impatiently against the dusty floorboards of his office. He didn't like the way Buck hovered over the Mills family. Sure, the accident was bad, but Buck wasn't responsible. A runaway horse, a misplaced foot – these things happened. Yet, Buck acted like he'd personally shattered the girl's leg. The way he was practically pacing a hole in the floorboards now, a crease etched between his brows, only fueled Teaspoon's irritation.
"The doc won't keep her in there forever, Buck," Teaspoon drawled, leaning back further in his chair. "Besides, ain't like you can do much cooped up in here anyway."
Buck stopped mid-stride, his jaw clenching slightly. "You don't understand, Teaspoon," he said, his voice tight. He hesitated, frustration flickering in his eyes. "Look, I just want to make sure they're alright."
"Have you heard from Louise and the Kid lately?" Teaspoon changed the subject.
"They had the twins, so this will be the sixth." Buck laughed.
"I heard from Cody and Louisa." Teaspoon swung his feet off the desk. "They had a daughter in December."
"It's hard to believe Cody is a father." Buck shook his head.
"None of you are boys anymore." Teaspoon smiled.
"Yeah I'm starting to feel it." Buck stretched and groaned teasingly.
"I don't want to hear that at your age." Teaspoon laughed. "Are you even thirty yet?"
"A few more years." Buck smiled.
"When you get to be my age. You'll really know what it feels like to get old."
Buck raised an eyebrow. "How old are you, Teaspoon? Seems like you forget every year after fifty."
Teaspoon's grin widened. "Old enough to know better than to answer that question." He abruptly changed the subject. "Heard anything from Jimmy?"
"Just what I read in the papers," Buck replied, a shadow crossing his features.
Teaspoon squinted at the dusty sunlight filtering through the saloon window. He couldn't remember the last time it hadn't been dusty. The war had sucked the moisture out of everything, leaving behind a world parched and parched again. Unlike Buck, Teaspoon had been too old for the fight. While the younger men marched off with dreams of glory and nightmares waiting in the trenches, Teaspoon had packed his bags for Texas.
Home, a land as untamed as his restless spirit.
It was in Shadow Valley, a dusty frontier town clinging to existence on the edge of nowhere, that Teaspoon had come into his own. Within months, the worn badge of Marshal pinned to his worn leather vest became a symbol of a hard-won peace. He'd seen war's aftermath before, the way it ripped through communities like a twister, leaving behind a trail of broken men and shattered dreams. He wasn't about to let it happen here.
That's when Buck arrived, a year after the war ended. Buck moved onto a quiet patch of land just outside of town. He started with horses, breeding strong, sure-footed creatures that could handle the harsh terrain. Then came the cattle, a growing herd that grazed across the endless plains. Buck was a good man, quiet and steady, but he had an emptiness in him. Teaspoon had seen it in his youth, but it only seemed to grow since the war.
"So, Buck," he drawled, "how serious are you with that Mills girl?"
Buck shifted uncomfortably. "Bethany?" He asked, surprised by the sudden turn in the conversation.
"Unless you're courting someone else I don't know about." Teaspoon said with a sly grin.
A blush crept up Buck's neck. "She's a sweet girl. Kind, smart, pretty…" He trailed off, searching for the right words. "We get along well."
"Get along well, huh? You ever thought about marryin' her?"
Buck leaned against the door frame and watched as people walked through the street. Was there something wrong with him? Why didn't he feel more than a friendship for Bethany? It certainly wasn't because she wasn't beautiful, she was an angel. Her long blonde ringlets hung to her shoulders. She had the deepest blue eyes, like a cool pond in the summer. She was kind and they were good friends. Great marriages were founded on friendships though weren't they? Perhaps the romance would follow.
"I don't know," Buck admitted, his voice honest. "Can't say the thought hasn't crossed my mind."
Teaspoon chuckled, the sound rumbling like distant thunder. "Well, you ain't getting any younger, son. You have a lot to offer a woman. Don't go settling just because some pretty face bats her eyelashes at you."
Buck felt a familiar prickle of guilt. Was that what he was doing? Settling for comfort and companionship?
Chapter 5
Coyote Canyon, Texas – July 1872
The midday Texas sun beat down on Buck's face as he urged his horse, over the rocky terrain. Sweat beaded on his brow, mirroring the glistening heat shimmering off the distant plains. Every few miles, Buck scanned the horizon, desperate for the sight of the familiar creek that signaled a much-needed rest stop for both him and his loyal horse. He usually wasn't alone on these Abilene trips, seeking sturdy stud horses to improve his stock back home. But with a mare about to foal, he'd opted for a solo excursion.
Suddenly, the peaceful quiet shattered. Gunshots, sharp and jarring, echoed through the forested area. His horse snorted, ears pricked, her usual calm replaced by nervous energy. Buck, his heart leaping into his throat, turned the mare sharply, urging her into a gallop toward the source of the discord.
Within minutes, a small farmhouse emerged from the trees. Smoke wisped from a chimney, a welcoming sight against the backdrop of gunfire. Buck reined his horse in, dismounting out of sight behind a thick cover of trees. His years as a pony express rider, and scout had honed his instincts. He needed a plan before charging in. A choked sob, like a whimpering puppy, pierced the tense silence. It drew Buck's gaze to a hollowed-out log, where a young girl, no older than eight, sat huddled, her face streaked with tears.
"Hey there…" Buck called softly, approaching cautiously with his hands raised in a gesture of peace. "Are you alright?"
The girl, her eyes wide and bloodshot, flinched but met his gaze with a flicker of desperate hope. "Are you here to help us?" She whispered her voice barely a tremor.
"I sure am." Buck offered a reassuring smile. "What's your name?"
"Libby." She mumbled, pointing a trembling finger towards the house. "My brother and sister are there."
A knot of anger tightened in Buck's gut. Leaving his horse tethered with a pat on her neck, he ruffled Libby's hair. "You take care of my horse for me, okay? I'll be back." Then, with his trusty shotgun clutched in his hands, he crept towards the farmhouse, using the tall cornstalks as cover.
Reaching the barn, he found two figures sprawled motionless on the dusty floor – a grim testament to the violence that had unfolded moments earlier. Cautiously, he peeked around the corner, his pulse quickening. Three figures were firing from behind the porch railing. They had the remaining occupants of the house pinned down behind a makeshift barricade of hay bales.
As one of the bandits emerged from cover to get a clearer shot, Buck raised his shotgun and brought him down with a resounding boom. Two sets of startled eyes looked up from behind the hay bales. With a wave of his hand, he urged them towards the safety of the barn.
As the remaining bandits focused their fire on him, a young woman, her face pale but resolute, stumbled out from behind the hay bales, her arm wrapped around a man who leaned heavily on her for support. A gunshot grazed Buck's shoulder, momentarily searing his skin. Ignoring the pain, he used the barn wall as cover, firing back with deadly accuracy, eliminating another bandit.
"Thanks, mister!" Gasped the injured man as he slumped against a stack of hay bales.
Buck knelt beside him and quickly assessed the wound. "Just a flesh wound." He muttered more to himself than anyone else. He handed his shotgun to the woman and began reloading his pistol.
"How many more of them are there?" He inquired, the air thick with the acrid smell of gunpowder.
"There were three or four I think." The man panted, his voice tight with pain as his sister tied a makeshift bandage around his leg.
"Do you know these men?" Buck asked.
"No." The man winced in pain. "I was in town yesterday though. The Marshal mentioned that the Juarez gang was in the area and headed towards Mexico. He was warning everyone to be on the lookout and be careful.
"Stay down," Buck instructed a plan forming in his mind. "I'm going to flush them out from behind the house."
"Honor," The man rasped, his voice weak. "Go with Libby. We can handle this."
She looked up at him with a mixture of fear and anger in her large brown eyes then turned and walked out of the barn towards the forest, shotgun in hand. She was furious at her brother. He treated her like a child. If she hadn't gone back to help him, he would most likely have been dead! Halfway to the forest edge she changed her mind, clenched her fists, she turned around. This was her home too and she wasn't going to run and hide like a child.
She was just about back to the barn when she saw one of the men creeping up behind the stranger who was helping them. She grabbed her skirt and ran as quickly as she could and called out to warn him but it was too late. Honor winced as she heard the sickening crack of his skull against the butt of the shotgun when it smashed against his forehead.
Wide-eyed she watched as the man turned towards her. Momentarily she froze. She had the shotgun in her hand, behind her skirt but she couldn't move. Then staggered when she saw the stranger plunge a knife deep into the calf of the man that stood between them. Outraged the man turned around, ignoring Honor. He pulled out his pistol and aimed at the benevolent stranger.
Without a second thought, Honor raised the shotgun and fired. The recoil nearly knocked her off her feet, but the blast sent the bandit flying backward, a spray of crimson staining the air.
She rushed to the stranger and knelt at his side. He had a bullet in his leg and a large cut across his forehead. Blood was splattered across his face. With shaky hands she tentatively touched his neck to feel his pulse, thankfully his heart was still beating. Suddenly his eyes fluttered open and his hand grabbed her wrist.
"There's still one more." He groaned.
A figure emerged from behind the farmhouse, a lone bandit, his face contorted in a mask of rage. He raised his pistol, aiming at Honor.
Buck, adrenaline surging through him, ignored the throbbing pain in his head and shoulder. With a last burst of energy, he lunged forward, grabbing the shotgun Honor had dropped. He aimed and fired. The shot echoed through the clearing, and the bandit crumpled to the ground.
Silence descended, thick and heavy. Honor stared at the fallen figure, her chest heaving. Buck, his vision blurring, lowered the shotgun, his body screaming in protest. He stumbled towards Honor, collapsing beside her on the dusty ground.
Chapter 6
Coyote Canyon, Texas - July 1872
Libby watched wide-eyed as her older sister knelt beside the unconscious man sprawled on the rough wooden table. Blood stained his white shirt.
"Who is he, Honor?" Libby's voice barely rose above a whisper, laced with a mixture of curiosity and trepidation.
Honor, her brow furrowed in worry, shook her head. "I don't know, Libby."
Libby's barrage of questions began, each one punctuated by Honor's strained replies.
"Is he going to die?"
"I don't know."
"Why did Justice put him here?" Libby continued. "Don't you think he'd be more comfortable in a bed?"
"I don't think he cares too much at this point."
"Is he an Indian?"
"I think so."
"Why isn't he dressed like an Indian?"
"I don't know."
"Maybe he used to be an Indian."
"You don't stop being an Indian Libby."
"Well then how come he ain't dressed like one?"
"Libby, can you please stop for a minute?" Honor finally pleaded, her voice tight. "The doctor will be here soon, and we need to be quiet so he can help him."
Libby, sensing the urgency in Honor's voice, clamped her lips shut, her lower lip jutting out in a pout. The room lapsed into an anxious silence broken only by the man's shallow breaths. Then, a flicker of movement. His eyelids fluttered open. He let out a soft groan, the sound raw with pain.
Honor leaned closer, her touch gentle as she stroked his forehead. "Shhh," she soothed. "It's alright. You're safe now. The doctor will be here soon."
Chapter 7
Coyote Canyon, Texas - July 1872
The aroma of cinnamon and warm bread danced in the air, dragging Buck from a sleep riddled with fragmented memories. He attempted to stretch, a grimace twisting his face as a jolt of pain shot through his left leg. He felt like he had been thrown from a horse, and then run over by a train. As he came to he looked around the small room that he didn't recognize.
"Good morning." A gentle voice greeted him.
Buck looked up at the somewhat familiar young woman then suddenly remembered what happened.
"How are you feeling?" She inquired, concern etched on her brow.
"Not sure how to put it into words," he admitted, managing a lopsided grin despite the throbbing pain. "Like I wrestled a grizzly and lost."
"Looks like your head bled some last night." She leaned closer, examining the stitches on his scalp.
"How long was I sleeping?"
"Two days," she informed him. "You must be hungry."
His stomach rumbled, the sound echoing loudly in the quiet room. "Starving," he confessed, a sheepish grin tugging at his lips.
"Well, then breakfast is definitely in order. After that, I'll take a look at your leg and get you cleaned up a bit."
Buck wasn't sure what awaited him on the breakfast plate, but at that moment, he was convinced it could be anything and taste like heaven. His internal clock screamed that it had been far longer than two days since his last meal. His anticipation peaked when she returned, bearing a plate piled high with golden fried eggs, crispy bacon, fluffy potatoes, and a slice of warm bread. He swore he could hear angels singing.
Honor set the plate on the small wooden table beside the bed, the clatter echoing faintly in the quiet cabin. She hurried back to the kitchen, only to return moments later with two steaming mugs, she placed one on the table next to the injured man.
"Where are you from?" She asked, her voice a touch gruff, breaking the tense silence.
The man, propped against the rough pillows, reached out with a hand bandaged in a makeshift sling. His eyes met hers before he took the offered mug.
"Buck Cross." He said with a sheepish grin.
"Honor Corbin," she replied.
"Nice to meet you, Honor," Buck said, his voice warm and friendly. "I live just east of here in Shadow Valley."
The conversation flowed easily, the initial awkwardness fading. Honor learned Buck was a simple man, a ranch hand accustomed to hard work and long days under the open sky. He spoke of his life with an easy charm, his eyes crinkling at the corners when he smiled.
"You handled that gun well back there," Honor said, her gaze lingering on him. The memory of the bandits and Buck's calm resolve still sent shivers down her spine.
Buck set down his mug, a flicker of surprise crossing his face. "You did alright yourself, from what I saw."
A blush crept up Honor's cheeks. "Let's just say I'm glad you showed up when you did." Her eyes held a flicker of gratitude mixed with a hint of admiration.
"Couldn't just let a pretty lady handle all the excitement by herself, could I?" Buck teased, savoring the warmth of the coffee.
Honor's lips curved into a genuine smile, a welcome sight in the tense atmosphere. "Thank you," she said sincerely. "For stepping in. Most folks would have kept riding."
He shrugged, a wry smile playing on his lips. "Well, you're welcome." His gaze dipped to the plate of food, then back to her with a playful glint. "If I'd known breakfast was this good, I might have come visitin' a lot sooner."
Honor couldn't help but laugh, a warm, genuine sound that surprised even her. "Thanks," she said, the tension easing from her shoulders.
"Where are your parents?"
Her smile faltered for a brief moment before she replied, "They passed away a long time ago."
"I'm sorry," Buck offered, a pang of sympathy shooting through him.
"Thanks," she said, her voice regaining its strength. "Would you like some more coffee or perhaps some more breakfast?"
"I wouldn't say no to more coffee, but I think I've reached my breakfast limit for now. Thank you, it was delicious."
Honor collected the dishes, a thoughtful look on her face as she headed towards the door. "I'll be right back to check on your wounds." She announced before disappearing.
"Where are my clothes?" Buck croaked, as he realized his state of undress.
"Here," she said softly, placing a pile of neatly folded clothes on a chair. "I cleaned and mended them. Even fixed that bullet hole."
"That's very kind of you."
Honor explained about the doctor's visit and the whiskey available, but Buck politely declined.
"Are you sure? For the pain?"
"It's ok." Buck nodded.
"Let's see how your leg is doing today."
As she moved to check his leg, Buck's hand instinctively reached for the blanket.
"I've changed your dressings a few times," Honor said, her voice firm but gentle. "I know what I'm doing."
Buck conceded, a silent acknowledgment of her care. He watched, mesmerized, as she carefully tended to his wound. Her long brown hair brushed against his thigh, sending a shiver down his spine. He welcomed the sharp sting of pain as a distraction from the unexpected yearning it triggered.
"Sorry, I know that hurts," Honor murmured, her voice laced with concern.
"It's alright," Buck gritted out, more focused on the touch of her cool hand than the throbbing in his leg.
After cleaning the wound, Honor busied herself in the next room, her quiet hum a soothing melody. She returned with a basin of water.
"May I unbraid your hair?" She asked, her voice tentative.
"Of course," Buck said, watching as she untied the leather thong securing the braid.
"I wasn't sure if it had some significance," she explained. "I didn't want to do it without asking first."
"Thank you," Buck said, touched by her sensitivity.
Honor smiled as she unraveled the long braid. "Yours is longer than mine."
"A little," he chuckled.
"Are you Comanche?" She asked.
"Kiowa." The instant he said it Buck could see she was visibly relieved. "Did you have a run-in with some Comanche?"
"It was a long time ago." She tried to hide the tear that rolled down her cheek by rubbing her face with the sleeve of her dress.
"Well, how does my head look doc?" He asked knowing full well she did not want to talk about past memories.
"You might have a little scar on your forehead here." She smiled and touched the edge of the wound delicately then continued to unbraid his hair. "I think you'll survive though."
"That's good to hear."
Honor dipped the cloth in the warm water and let it soak into Buck's scalp where the blood had dried and matted his hair. She did this several times until his hair was saturated with water. Gently she picked the dried blood out of the strands of hair then wet his hair again, carefully not getting his stitches wet. Buck leaned back and closed his eyes. Partially because he was tired, but mostly because it felt so good. Honor ran the warm cloth across his forehead and gently removed the layers of dirt from his face. As her fingers ran down his cheekbones and across his lips she couldn't help but notice how handsome he was.
She rinsed the cloth in fresh water and continued down his neck to his chest. She had seen her brother and his friends several times with their shirts off but she had never been in such close contact with a man before. She was certain that none of the young men she had been courted by from town were quite this well-built either. As her hands lingered across his muscular chest she took a shaky breath and felt his hand on her wrist. Her eyes snapped to his instantly.
"I got it from here." Buck finally broke the silence.
Honor, flustered, mumbled an excuse and retreated into the kitchen.
Chapter 8
Coyote Canyon, Texas - July 1872
It had been a week since he'd been shot. Every day, Justice had taken Libby to school and then gone to work in town. Honor had taken care of the farm, and the house chores, and tended to Buck.
Buck woke to the familiar scent of breakfast. Justice and Libby, dressed in their Sunday best, were chattering excitedly. Honor, in her usual plain blue calico dress, placed a plate in front of him.
"Morning, Buck!" Libby chirped.
"Good morning, little one," Buck replied, his gaze drifting to Honor.
"You can sit next to me." Libby scooted over making room for him at the table.
"Coffee?" Honor asked.
"Thank you." Buck glanced out the window where Justice sat reading beside the buckboard. "Heading to town?"
"Church," Honor said, setting a plate down for Buck and handing him coffee. "Finish your breakfast, Libby," she added.
"Are you an Indian?" Libby blurted, her eyes wide with curiosity.
Honor tried to shush her sister, but Buck found the question amusing. "I am half Indian."
Libby pondered this for a moment. "Why don't you dress like one?"
"Well, I don't live with them anymore," Buck explained patiently.
Libby, on a roll, continued her interrogation. "Did you ever scalp anyone?"
Buck chuckled. "No."
"Do you have any kids?"
"Nope." Buck laughed and wondered how long the questions would go on for.
Just as Libby launched into another question, Honor stepped in.
"Liberty Ann," she said firmly, "Hurry up Justice is waiting."
Libby rolled her eyes. "You're cranky today. Hope she's not as cranky with you," she teased Buck on her way out.
"She is...a handful," Honor admitted with a laugh.
Buck watched Honor stack a plate with pancakes, then ventured, "I couldn't help but notice, your names are all quite...virtuous."
A soft giggle escaped Honor as she set the plate down. "Our parents were very devout," she explained.
"Then why skip church today?"
"We couldn't very well leave you alone, could we?" She replied with a playful smile. "I drew the short straw."
"You didn't have to stay on my account." Buck protested mildly.
"I know," Honor said, her eyes twinkling. "I was just teasing."
"Oh." Buck smiled.
A comfortable silence settled between them, a newfound ease in their interaction. Buck couldn't help but smile – it's been a while since he'd enjoyed such simple, friendly banter. Perhaps this unexpected stay wouldn't be so bad after all.
"Let's see if you can walk to the orchard." She turned and led the way, her boots crunching on fallen peaches. Buck followed closely, a tentative limp replaced by a steady stride.
Honor stopped beside a large peach tree, its branches laden with fruit. She reached up, selecting a perfectly ripe peach. Its golden skin yielded slightly in her hand, promising sweetness. Taking a bite, she savored the burst of juicy flavor.
"You're walking well," she said, her voice laced with a hint of surprise. A flicker of something unidentifiable sparked in her eyes as she met Buck's gaze.
He grinned, reaching for the peach. Their fingers brushed as he took a bite, sending a jolt through him. Juice dribbled down their forearms, a sticky reminder of the sun-drenched afternoon.
"I can get used to all this pampering," he teased, his eyes twinkling. But the teasing masked a deeper emotion, a burgeoning tenderness that surprised him.
Honor averted her gaze, a blush creeping up her neck. "You're healing quickly. Probably be heading home soon." As the words left her lips, a pang of unexpected sadness tightened her chest. Things would return to normal, she reminded herself. Her life was a quiet routine of chores and solitude. Yet, the thought left a hollow ache in its wake.
She took a shaky breath, surprised to feel a warm hand settle on her shoulder. Buck's touch sent a tremor through her.
"Are you alright?" He asked, his voice gentle, his brow furrowed with concern.
"I'm fine," she mumbled, turning to face him fully.
Their gazes locked, and for a moment, time seemed to stand still. She hadn't realized how close he stood before. The space between them crackled with unspoken desire. His nearness stole her breath.
Buck's eyes, deep pools of darkness, and golden flecks, held hers captive. He saw the flush high on her lightly freckled cheeks, the way the sunlight painted her golden brown hair with a warm sheen. Her soft lips, slightly parted, held an unspoken invitation. He felt an overwhelming pull towards her, a yearning he couldn't ignore.
"What are you doing to me?" He whispered, his voice husky with emotion.
His hand moved slowly, a feather-light caress against her cheek. His touch sent shivers down her spine. He cupped her face in his hand, his thumb gently stroking the soft skin. Slowly, he drew her closer, the space between them collapsing entirely. His other hand found its way to her waist, pulling her flush against him.
Their lips met in a kiss that was both tentative and urgent. Honor felt a rush of heat flood her body, a sense of surrender she hadn't known she craved.
She felt him shift his weight, wincing slightly. Pulling back, she searched his face with concern. "It's okay," he rasped, his voice strained but resolute.
He leaned in again, his kiss softer this time, filled with a tenderness that sent a warmth blossoming in her chest.
"Come with me," she whispered.
Taking his hand, she led him deeper into the orchard, past rows of ripening fruit trees. They arrived at a secluded clearing, a haven of wildflowers swaying gently in the breeze. Honor sank onto the soft grass, pulling Buck down beside her.
He knew he should pull away, should put a stop to this before things spiraled out of control. But the heat in her eyes mirrored his desire. He couldn't resist. He settled beside her, his hand resting tentatively on her knee. Their lips met again, the kiss a slow, smoldering exploration.
Honor reached up, her fingers seeking the braid at the nape of his neck. Untying the leather cord, she let her fingers sink into his hair, the soft strands cascading down his back. He released her, a shudder running through him as he lay back on the grass.
Taking his cue, Honor nestled against his side, her head resting on his chest. The steady rhythm of his heartbeat echoed a newfound rhythm within her own heart. She thought of the girls at church, their whispered secrets about love and marriage. It had always seemed like a distant fairy tale to Honor, something she couldn't quite grasp. Perhaps, she thought with a flicker of disbelief, perhaps she'd been wrong.
Chapter 9
Coyote Canyon, Texas - July 1872
Honor squared her shoulders, repeating a silent mantra: "Be brave. Be strong." Her fingers trembled as she brushed her hair, a nervous habit. Buck was leaving in a few minutes, and the finality of it threatened to crack her carefully constructed mask.
Justice wouldn't suspect a thing. He knew nothing of the unspoken connection that had bloomed between her and their guest. Buck hadn't made any promises, and Honor, despite a flicker of hope, wouldn't stoop to begging. He either felt it too, or he didn't. That was the harsh truth.
"Honor!" Libby's shrill yell shattered the tense silence.
With a startled gasp, Honor rushed out, smoothing her dress as she went. She plastered a smile on her face, but it felt hollow. Just outside, the scene unfolded like a practiced play. Justice, oblivious, offered Buck a hearty farewell. Buck returned the gesture, a warm smile for Libby and a final, lingering hug for Honor.
"Goodbye," she choked out, the simple word heavy with unspoken emotions. Tears pricked her eyes, threatening to spill over.
Buck closed his eyes as their embrace deepened. He desperately wanted to imprint this moment onto his memory—the warmth of her body, the sweet scent of her hair tickling his nose. He inhaled deeply, savoring the feeling of her closeness.
The urge to hold on forever was a battle he had to wage internally. But logic, as cold and harsh as the approaching winter, held him back. This wasn't his world. He had no right to disrupt the peaceful life she had.
Thankful that their connection had remained innocent, just stolen kisses shared under the summer sun, he broke away. No declarations of love, no promises whispered in the dark. It was a bittersweet comfort.
"Take care," he said, his voice gruff with suppressed emotion. Then, before he could second-guess himself, he mounted his horse and rode away. The distance grew, mirroring the distance that now stretched between their hearts.
Chapter 10
Shadow Valley, Texas - August 1872
Teaspoon sat at the table and passed the rolls to Buck. He smiled pleasantly at Desiree. She was a beautiful woman it was too bad she was more interested in her daughter's love life than her own he thought to himself.
"That is the best chicken I've ever had." Teaspoon declared as he patted his belly.
"You must have had a lot of chicken," Samantha said innocently.
Buck choked back a laugh, earning a withering look from Desiree directed at her daughter.
The mood shifted as Desiree retrieved a bottle of wine. "To celebrate your safe return from Abilene," she announced.
"Thank you for the thought," Buck replied, his smile polite, "but I don't drink."
A flicker of surprise crossed Desiree's face. "Not at all?"
"No, please, go ahead. I wouldn't want to spoil the celebration."
"Such a gentleman." Desiree cooed, pouring the wine. Her gaze lingered on him. "I hope you don't mind my curiosity, but..."
Buck braced himself for another inquiry.
"You carry yourself with such refinement," Desiree continued, her voice taking on a probing tone. "It makes me wonder about your hair. It's quite...long."
"It's a part of me," Buck said simply.
"Of course, dear." Desiree conceded, though a hint of disapproval lingered in her eyes. "But don't you think a shorter style, something more...gentlemanly, would suit you better?"
"Why don't we let them have wine and dessert and you and I can go for a walk in the garden while it's still light?" Bethany smiled and rested her hand on Buck's arm. "We can watch the sunset."
"That sounds nice." He took her hand a little too tightly. "Excuse us please."
Buck led Bethany out to the secluded garden behind the house. As they walked along the fence line, the vast plains stretched before them, painted in the fiery hues of sunset. He glanced down, feeling the light touch of her hand slide into his. Bethany, with her perfectly coiffed blonde hair and flawless complexion, was the picture of elegance, a porcelain doll come to life.
He met her blue eyes, a spark of curiosity igniting within him. He traced his finger along her delicate brow, captivated by her beauty for a fleeting moment.
The space between them dwindled. He leaned in, his breath warm against her cheek. Their lips met in a hesitant touch, a mere whisper of a kiss. Bethany's skin, smooth and flawless like porcelain, felt like a stark contrast to the memory of Honor's sun-kissed cheeks, dusted with freckles.
A surge of heat roared through him, fueled by a desperate need to banish Honor's ghost. His grip on Bethany tightened, the kiss deepening into something fierce, a frantic attempt to rewrite his desires. But the echo of Honor's laughter in his mind shattered the illusion. Shame slammed into him like a physical blow.
With a jolt, he tore his lips away, the echo of Bethany's surprised gasp hanging in the air. Guilt twisted in his gut, a heavy knot that tightened with each ragged breath.
"I apologize," Buck stammered, his voice rough with suppressed emotion. "That wasn't... I wasn't myself." Shame burned in his chest. He had sought solace in Bethany's touch, a desperate attempt to erase the lingering image of Honor. But the kiss had only served as a cruel reminder of his unresolved feelings, leaving him more lost than ever.
Bethany pushed open the back door, her cheeks flushed and her heart pounding. The scene that greeted her was one of confusion – her mother's brow furrowed, a half-empty glass of wine abandoned on the table, and Samantha peering down from the landing with wide, curious eyes.
Before Bethany could even process the oddity of it all, Desiree spoke, her voice laced with concern. "Bethany, what's going on? Buck practically bolted out of here, and Mr. Hunter followed close behind."
"He...he kissed me," she finally managed, the words tumbling out in a rush.
A flicker of surprise crossed Desiree's face, quickly replaced by a dismissive snort. "He kissed you? That's all? Honestly, Bethany, if that's enough to send a grown man running, no wonder he's never married."
Bethany flinched. The sting of rejection was immediate and sharp. It wasn't just a kiss, it was the way he'd pulled away so abruptly, his eyes filled with a flicker of something she couldn't decipher. It was the feeling of being left hanging, confused and unsure.
Chapter 11
Coyote Canyon, Texas - September 1872
It had been two soul-crushing months since Buck had ridden away from the Corbin's small farm. Every sunrise felt like a betrayal, every chore a dull reminder of her. He'd convinced himself he could bury the memory of her laughter in the dusty plains of his ranch, but her image lingered like a stubborn weed, pushing through the cracks of his resolve.
He rode with a restless urgency, the miles blurring together as his longing intensified. Doubt gnawed at him. Had he romanticized their brief time together? Was his memory painting her with colors far brighter than reality? Maybe seeing her again, seeing her in the clear light of day, would shatter the illusion.
But as he neared the familiar clearing, a new worry bloomed – what if that light revealed his feelings to be even stronger? Reaching the edge of the forest, he found the cornfields swaying in a warm breeze, heavy with the promise of a bountiful harvest. The garden, however, lay bare, devoid of the vibrant life he remembered. A pang of disappointment washed over him.
"Honor?" His voice echoed through the quiet morning. "Justice? Libby?" There was no reply. He dismounted and peered through the window. The house seemed empty, a ghost of its former warmth. Dejection threatened to consume him, but then a sound drifted through the air – a sweet melody carried on the wind.
His heart lurched. It was her voice, clear and carefree, weaving a song through the trees. Hope surged back, stronger than ever. He followed the sound, his boots crunching on fallen leaves. The melody led him to the familiar creek, and there she was, bathed in the sunlight filtering through the leaves.
Honor knelt beside the gurgling water, her fingers nimbly plucking ripe raspberries. Her hair, a soft chestnut brown, flowed down her back in a cascade of loose curls. She sang with an abandon that spoke of a heart at ease, completely oblivious to the world around her.
Buck couldn't hold back a smile. He stood there, a silent observer, for a moment too long. The sight of her, so vibrant and alive, stole the breath from his lungs. He knew then, with certainty, that his doubts had been foolish.
"Is there a charge for this private concert?" He teased, his voice soft but enough to shatter the tranquility of the moment.
Honor jumped, startled. A spray of red juice splattered her cheek as she turned, a raspberry still clutched in her hand. For a heartbeat, their eyes locked, his gaze lingering on the stain that mirrored the color of her lips.
She sputtered, quickly swallowing the berry and wiping her face with the back of her hand. "Buck?" Her voice held a tremor of disbelief.
"I had to see you." He admitted the simple words carrying the weight of his two-month struggle.
Before she could respond, he leaned closer, his heart hammering in his chest. He brushed his lips against her berry-stained cheek, a silent apology and a blatant declaration. The taste of sweetness lingered on his tongue.
Honor stayed frozen for a moment, her eyes wide with surprise. Then, a slow smile spread across her face. "I didn't think I'd ever see you again." She whispered, her voice thick with emotion.
"You're not an easy woman to forget." He murmured, his hand finding hers.
Chapter 12
Coyote Canyon, Texas - September 1872
Libby's joyous shriek shattered the afternoon quiet as she spotted Buck and her sister walking up the dusty path. "Buck! It's Buck!" She cried, a blur of motion as she launched herself off the porch.
"Well hello there, little one." He rumbled, swinging her around before planting a kiss on her cheek.
"Are you staying for dinner?" Libby's eyes sparkled with hope.
Even before Honor could voice the invitation, a blush crept onto her cheeks. "Of course he is." She said, her voice betraying a tremor of something deeper than hospitality.
Buck's gaze met hers, a silent conversation passing between them. "I'd be honored to stay." He replied, his voice a low rumble that sent a shiver down her spine.
The afternoon unfolded in a flurry of activity. Buck insisted on lending a hand in the kitchen. Honor, her heart thrumming a happy rhythm, moved with ease. The air crackled with unspoken emotions, a delicious tension that made even the most mundane tasks seem charged.
Honor, unable to resist teasing him, kept the mysterious chocolate concoction a secret, her laughter bubbling over as Buck tried in vain to steal a taste. Justice, returning home to an unexpected guest, couldn't help but notice the way his sister's eyes lit up at Buck's presence. The protective glint in his eyes, however, remained.
Later, as the stars emerged and painted the sky with their brilliance, Justice sought out Buck under the guise of needing help in the barn.
"Seems like you found your way back," Justice remarked a hint of gruffness in his voice.
"I'm guessing there's nothing out here you need my help with." Buck sighed heavily.
He knew exactly where this conversation was headed. He knew that overprotective look on Justice's face all too well. He had felt that way about Lou at one time.
Justice studied him for a long moment, then nodded curtly. He paused, his gaze distant. "When you were here before, I thought... maybe there was something between you and Honor. But then the weeks turned into months, and I started to lose hope."
A pang of guilt stabbed at Buck's heart. He hadn't anticipated the depth of his feelings, the way Honor had so effortlessly woven herself into the fabric of his life. "Things just..." he started, echoing Justice's earlier words.
"Let me finish," Justice interrupted gently. His voice softened, a weight of responsibility evident. "Honor's a strong woman. She won't admit to having feelings for a man, not even to me. I'm her brother, but sometimes I feel more like her father." He looked down at his boots, the weight of the past settling on his shoulders.
"I knew there was something between you two after you left," he continued, his voice low. "It was the night you rode away. She cried herself to sleep. Night after night."
Buck's heart clenched. He hadn't known. The thought of Honor, tender and unwavering, succumbing to sadness, that he caused tore at him.
"I didn't know," he rasped, the words heavy with regret.
"She's eighteen now," Justice said, a hint of fierceness back in his voice. "She can make her own choices. But I'm telling you straight, Buck, if you're not serious—"
Justice's words were cut short by Buck's hand gripping his shoulder. "Justice," he said, his voice filled with conviction, "I am serious. There are things I need to take care of back at the ranch, but I love your sister."
Relief washed over Justice's face, a flicker of a smile gracing his lips. "That's good to hear," he said, clapping Buck on the back.
"Can I ask you something?"
"Of course." Justice leaned against the barn door.
"Honor and I were talking and she mentioned something about the Comanche. I understood it to be something bad, but I didn't want to press her."
"Our parents were killed by some Comanche." Justice looked towards the house to make sure that his sisters were both out of earshot. "Honor doesn't remember it too well she was only eleven."
"Libby?"
"Two." Justice sighed. "I was almost eighteen. There was a lot of trouble with the Comanche then. They came in the middle of the night. Our barn was on fire. I remember getting the girls out of the house. I was holding Libby when our father went into the barn to save the animals. The fire was getting worse, our mother went in to get him out but a beam fell. The entire barn went up."
"I'm so sorry." Buck put his hand on Justice's shoulder. "No child should witness that."
"Honor used to have nightmares for years after, but she eventually grew out of it."
"No wonder she didn't want to talk about it." Buck turned at the soft creaking of the barn door. "What is it little one?"
"Why do you always call me that?" Libby asked.
"Because you are little and adorable." He swung her on his back.
"Honor says dessert is ready."
"Well, off to dessert we go." Buck galloped like a horse for her.
"Can you speak Indian?" Libby asked as they got to the house.
"Well, each tribe has their own language.
"What kind of tribe are your Indians from?"
"Kiowa."
"Can you speak Kiowa language?"
"Yes."
"What's my name?"
"Well, your name would be Libby." He tried to explain. "Libby isn't a word we have. So we would call you something else. Like, Syân já̱."
"What does that mean?" Libby sat down at the table.
"It means Little Star."
"I like it!" Libby stated.
"I know what else you like." Honor handed her a slice of chocolate cream pie.
"My favorite!"
"Right after this, I want you to wash your teeth, wash your face, and go to bed."
"Ok." Libby happily sat at the table eating her slice of pie.
"And chew some mint so you don't have stinky breath in the morning." Justice laughed.
Chapter 13
Coyote Canyon, Texas - September 1872
Honor, nestled against Buck's chest, fought the urge to succumb to the exhaustion threatening to pull her under. She was going to have a horrible day doing chores if she didn't get some sleep but spending time in the hay loft with Buck was worth one miserable day of chores. The warmth radiating from him, the steady rhythm of his breath, was intoxicating.
Finally, Honor broke the silence, her voice barely a whisper. "Why did you wait so long to come back?"
Buck sighed, the sound heavy with unspoken burdens. "Things are a mess at the ranch, Honor. A drought the likes of which I've never seen, threatening everything I've built."
"But that's not all, is it?" She prompted gently.
He shook his head, meeting her gaze with a mix of longing and apprehension. "There were problems, yes. But the truth is, every day that passed, the thought of you was a constant ache in my chest."
His words sent a shiver down her spine. The fear, the uncertainty – it had been mirrored in her own heart during his absence.
"I realized I couldn't stay away any longer," he continued, his voice low and husky. "Not from the ranch, not from the challenges I needed to face. But most of all, not from you."
A lump formed in Honor's throat. In those simple words, Buck had laid bare his soul. Taking a deep breath, she mustered the courage to ask the question that hung heavy in the air.
"Do you love me, Buck?"
He turned her face towards him, his thumb brushing away a stray tear that traced a path down her cheek. "Very much."
Relief washed over her, mingling with a warmth that chased away the lingering chill of doubt. She leaned into his touch, her heart overflowing with a love that mirrored his own.
A smile grew on his face as he leaned in for a soft kiss, a silent promise whispered against her lips. "Next time," he murmured, "I won't wait so long to visit, I promise."
They lay in comfortable silence for a while, Buck's fingers absently tracing patterns on her arm. Honor, reached out and ran her fingers through his hair, the silky strands cool against her skin.
"That feels amazing," Buck sighed, closing his eyes.
A mischievous glint entered Honor's eyes. "I've never much cared for long hair on men." She teased, twisting a strand around her finger.
Buck opened one eye, a playful smirk tugging at his lips. "Really? Then how do you stand me?"
"I can't imagine you any other way," she admitted, her voice softer now. "It's beautiful."
His smirk widened. "So you wouldn't want me to cut it?"
"Why would you consider that?" She frowned, the playful teasing forgotten. "It's perfect the way it is."
"Just a question," he chuckled, sensing the shift in her mood. "Someone recently just said I would look more like a gentleman if I cut my hair."
"This person that told you this, are they important to you?" She asked hesitantly.
"Not particularly. She's the mother of a young girl that one of my horses injured."
"Oh no, that's horrible."
"Her leg was crushed." Buck frowned. "She's doing better but her mother is quite a force to be reckoned with."
"So she thinks you would be more of a gentleman if you cut your hair?"
"I believe she said it looks too Indian."
"But," Honor looked at him and tried not to laugh. "You are an Indian."
"I know that, and you know that." He whispered. "I think she's trying to drive it out of me."
"They don't matter," Honor smiled, taking his face in her hands. "What matters is us. And I wouldn't want you any other way."
Buck leaned closer, captivated by the fierce love shining in her eyes. "You are so beautiful when you laugh," he murmured, his voice thick with emotion. "Your nose wrinkles up just a bit, and it's the most adorable thing I've ever seen."
Honor leaned in, her heart hammering a frantic rhythm against her ribs. As their lips met, a spark ignited, a current that sent shivers down her spine. Buck's touch was electric, his arms wrapping her in a blanket of warmth.
He explored her mouth gently, his movements deliberate and tender. Honor, initially hesitant, melted into his embrace. A wave of desire washed over her, a yearning she didn't fully understand but instinctively craved.
Her fingers fumbled with the buttons on his shirt, mirroring the frantic dance of her emotions, she muttered an apology when a button ripped off and rolled through the cracks between the wooden floorboards. Buck chuckled softly, pulling back slightly.
"Don't worry about it," he murmured, his voice husky with desire.
He guided them both down onto the hay, his touch sending shivers down her spine. Kisses rained down on her face, trailing along her jaw and down her neck, each touch igniting a fire within her.
Buck, sensing her surrender, slowly unbuttoned the top of her blouse, his lips lingering on the newly exposed skin. Honor responded with soft sighs, her body yearning for more. But amidst the rising tide of passion, a sliver of reason broke through Buck's haze. He knew this couldn't go further, not here, not now. With a shaky breath, he pulled back.
She understood instantly, her desire fighting with reason. Nestled against his chest, Honor's racing heart gradually calmed. Shame washed over her, a blush creeping up her neck. How brazen she had been!
As they lay there, bathed in the soft glow of the moonlight filtering through the hayloft rafters, a comfortable silence settled between them. Buck stroked her hair gently.
Honor peeked up at him, a flicker of vulnerability in her eyes. "Buck?" she asked softly.
"Mmm?" He responded, his voice thick with sleep.
"What would my Kiowa name be?"
Buck chuckled, a low rumble that vibrated against her chest. He pondered for a moment, then spoke. "Féna sanée má."
"What does that mean?"
"Sweet berry woman." His voice held a hint of amusement.
Honor smiled, a wave of warmth washing over her. "Féna sanée má," she repeated, savoring the melody of the words on her tongue. "I like it."
A comfortable silence settled between them once more. "Someday, I'll call you Qyá̱u," Buck whispered, his voice barely audible.
"Qyá̱u?" Honor echoed, intrigued. "What does that mean?"
He chuckled softly, a hint of mystery in his voice. "I'll tell you sometime." He promised, planting a gentle kiss on her forehead.
Chapter 14
Shadow Valley, Texas - October 1872
Bethany sank onto the bed, a heavy weight settling on her chest. "I don't know what to tell you, mother. I just feel like I'm losing him."
Desiree, a picture of controlled fury, paced the room. "Is there someone else? Have you noticed any new interests in town?"
"No, I don't think so," Bethany replied.
"Then why do you feel this way?" Desiree pressed, her voice laced with accusation. "His behavior has changed?"
Bethany choked back a sob, tears blurring her vision. "Mother, I don't love him. It feels wrong to pretend."
Desiree's face hardened. "Love is a luxury we can't afford right now, Bethany. We're running out of money. By winter, there'll be nothing left. This marriage is our lifeline."
Bethany flinched, a raw vulnerability replacing defiance in her eyes. "But I can't force him to love me."
Desiree scoffed. "Nonsense, Bethany. There isn't a woman in this town half as beautiful as you are."
"But beauty isn't everything," Bethany said, her voice rising in frustration. "Oliver loved me, in his own twisted way. And Buck… there's just no love in his eyes."
"Don't be ridiculous," Desiree snapped, grabbing Bethany's arms tightly. "You need to step up your efforts. Show him more affection, remind him of what he owes you."
Bethany recoiled from her mother's touch. "Mother! That's not a foundation for a marriage."
Desiree's eyes narrowed. "It's the foundation for our family's security, Bethany. Don't you want to see Samantha healthy and happy again?"
Bethany flinched at the mention of her sister. "Of course I do!"
"Then do what needs to be done," Desiree hissed. "Samantha's recovery depends on a secure future for both of you. You need to make Buck understand that."
A seed of doubt was planted in Bethany's mind. Glancing out the window at Samantha, a flicker of desperation crossed her face. Her mother's words echoed in her head – Samantha's well-being hinged on this marriage.
Later that day, Desiree hurried to the general store, a dark plan formulating in her mind. She emerged with a small bottle clutched in her hand, a cruel smile playing on her lips. Samantha's "recovery" was about to take an unexpected turn.
Chapter 15
Shadow Valley, Texas – November 1872
Buck settled beside Samantha on the bed, worry etching lines on his face as he offered her a glass of water. Bethany, her eyes red-rimmed from worry, claimed her sister had taken a drastic turn for the worse. Her pale complexion and listlessness were a stark contrast to the determined young woman he remembered.
The guilt of his absence sat heavy in his gut. He'd spent the past week in Coyote Canyon, with Honor and now the guilt of not being here for Samantha tore at his heart.
"How long has she been like this?" Buck asked softly, his voice laced with concern.
"A couple of days," Bethany replied, her voice trembling as she wiped away a stray tear. "Mama took her to the doctor. He thinks it's an infection from the break."
A knot of worry tightened in Buck's stomach. "What treatment has he prescribed?"
Bethany shook her head, her grip tightening on Samantha's hand. "Some medicine, but it doesn't seem to be working. She's either listless like this, or wracked with pain." The desperation in her voice was palpable.
"Let's get some fresh air," Buck suggested gently, feeling the room closing in on him. He leaned down and placed a comforting kiss on Samantha's pale cheek. "Get some rest, sweetheart."
Outside the bedroom door, Bethany crumpled into Buck's arms, her shoulders wracked with silent sobs. "I don't know what I'd do if I lost her, Buck!" She choked out, the fear in her voice a stark contrast to her usual facade.
Buck held her close, his own heart heavy with empathy. "Shhh," he murmured soothingly, stroking her back in a gesture of comfort. "It's going to be alright."
Suddenly, Desiree appeared at the top of the stairs, her expression etched with worry. "Samantha? How is she?"
"She's listless, doesn't seem quite herself," Buck explained. "Is this typical when she's in pain?"
Desiree sniffed dramatically. "Only when the pain is at its worst. We thought her leg was healing so well, then this." Her voice broke, and she dabbed at nonexistent tears with a lace handkerchief.
Buck, determined to help, offered a solution. "Maybe a specialist could be of assistance. Perhaps someone back east with more experience in these types of injuries? I could send out some telegrams this week and see what options are available."
Desiree's eyes widened with feigned gratitude. "You are truly too kind, Mr. Cross!" She gushed, drawing him into a suffocating embrace. Buck, caught off guard by her sudden display of affection, felt a flicker of unease. He couldn't quite place his finger on it, but something about the whole situation felt...off.
Chapter 16
Coyote Canyon, Texas - December 1872
The fire crackled merrily as Honor wrestled with the dense passage in front of her. Each word swam before her eyes, her concentration shattered by thoughts of Buck. With a frustrated sigh, she slammed the Bible shut. Just then, the front door creaked open, and Justice entered, a dusting of snow clinging to his coat. He shrugged it off and sank gratefully into a chair beside the fire.
"We got more snow than I thought we would." Honor looked out the window, a smile warming her features.
"Cold enough to bite your nose off." He chuckled, reaching for the steaming cup of coffee she'd set out for him. "Thanks for thinking of me."
"Of course." Honor hesitated, then blurted out, "He probably won't be able to make it because of the snow."
Justice raised an eyebrow. "Who?"
Honor flushed, her gaze dropping to her lap. "Buck, I mean. Maybe it's not safe to travel in this weather."
A low chuckle rumbled from Justice's chest. "You know, sis, you're not exactly fooling anyone with that act."
Honor shot him a playful glare. "I'm not trying to! It's just… well, you know, the storm and all."
"Maybe," Justice conceded, a knowing glint in his eyes. "Or maybe his boss wouldn't give him the time off right now."
A flicker of disappointment crossed Honor's face, quickly replaced by a resigned nod. "Yeah, that could be it."
Justice studied her for a moment, then reached out and squeezed her shoulder gently. "You know, you can always talk to me, Honor. About anything."
"I know." She said softly. "Sometimes, with you being older… well, it feels like…"
"Like you can't confide in me?" Justice finished her sentence gently. "But I'm your brother, and I'm here for you, no matter what."
Honor leaned into his embrace, a wave of gratitude washing over her. "Thanks." She whispered. "And you're the best brother anyone could ask for."
They sat in comfortable silence for a moment, the only sound of the crackling fire and the soft sigh of the wind outside.
"Actually," Honor said, breaking the silence, "I think you need to find a wife."
Justice burst out laughing, the sound echoing through the room. "Where'd that come from?"
"I was just thinking," Honor continued, a mischievous glint in her eyes. "You're worried about me being alone, and there's such an age difference. You might as well find a nice widow to take care of you before you kick the bucket!"
Justice shook his head, wiping tears of laughter from his eyes. "Oh, you're a laugh, sis. You sure know how to cheer a fella up."
Honor grinned. "So, what are you working on?" She asked, gesturing towards the workbench.
"It's your beau's watch," Justice explained, picking it up.
"He's not my beau," Honor protested, though a blush crept up her cheeks.
Justice winked. "Then what were you two doing up in the hayloft all that time?"
Heat crept up Honor's neck, developing into a flush that stained her cheeks crimson. Her jaw slackened, a surprised gasp escaping her lips.
"Relax, I'm just teasing," Justice chuckled. "Here, take a look at this."
He handed the watch to Honor, and she ran her fingers over the intricate goldwork. "It's beautiful. Is it broken?"
"I found it in the barn." Justice shot her a teasing glance before returning his attention to the pocket watch. "Figured I'd see if I could fix it up for him."
"It looks expensive."
Justice shrugged. "Probably not that expensive. He's a ranch hand after all."
"Maybe he's a secret outlaw!" Honor teased, a playful glint in her eyes. "Stole this fancy watch from some rich socialite."
Justice chuckled. "An outlaw who fixes fences and talks about the weather with your brother? Sounds like a very specific kind of outlaw."
The teasing banter continued for a while, a comfortable familiarity settling between them. Finally, a touch of seriousness crept into Honor's voice.
"Justice," she began hesitantly, "do you think it's… foolish of me to pursue a relationship with him?"
"What do you mean?"
"You know, him being Kiowa and all." She looked at her brother for his advice.
Justice met her gaze, his eyes filled with unwavering support. "Honor," he said firmly, "People might whisper or say things but if you love him, they can all go to hell."
Honor laughed and put her hand on her brother's arm.
He reached over and ruffled Honor's hair affectionately. "Besides," he added, "there's more to a person than their blood. Buck seems like a good man, kind and hardworking. Isn't that what truly matters?"
Honor pondered his words, a weight lifting from her chest. Relief washed over her, a warmth that spread through her like the crackling fire in the hearth. "You're right," she admitted, a smile breaking across her face. "He is a good man."
"This is why you are the greatest brother." She laughed. "You always have the best way of putting things into perspective."
"Get to bed." He smiled. "We have church in the morning."
"Night Justice."
"Goodnight Honor."
Chapter 17
Shadow Valley, Texas - February 1873
Samantha's infectious enthusiasm filled the air as Buck drove them to his ranch. Her eyes sparkled as she interacted with the animals, a welcome change from the weeks of listlessness. Buck, despite the joy of seeing Samantha's improvement, felt a growing unease.
Back at the house, Desiree's request for a fire to warm the remaining chill of winter provided a much-needed opportunity to talk with Bethany. As the flames crackled in the hearth, Bethany's hesitant inquiry shattered the fragile peace.
"I need to ask you something, Buck." She stood up from the small chair and walked over to the fireplace.
"What is it?" He stood up and looked at her. Noting the serious look on her face he could tell it was something important that had been on her mind.
"Buck," she began, her voice laced with trepidation, "we've known each other for a while now. Our courtship has been… extended. I need to know, are you truly serious about this, or am I simply… a distraction?"
Buck's heart sank. He'd known this conversation was inevitable, his charade unsustainable. "Bethany, I'm truly sorry," he said, his voice sincere.
"I'm going to bed." She kissed him softly. "Please think about what you want out of this relationship Buck."
With that, she leaned up and kissed him softly, the touch fleeting yet poignant. Then, with a determined glint in her eyes, she turned and walked upstairs, leaving Buck alone with the crackling fire and the weight of his unspoken truth.
Buck closed his eyes and tried to decide the best way to end this once and for all. She was right. He had just drawn it out because he didn't want to hurt her. He knew he had to, he couldn't keep this going. He thought he was mistaken in his feelings about Honor, but in seeing her again he knew he couldn't continue in this facade with Bethany. He had stayed through the winter because Samantha was so ill, though it killed him inside not to see Honor.
The weight of his letter to Honor, a desperate plea for a future together, pressed heavily on his mind. He yearned to see her again, but for now, he had to deal with the mess he'd created closer to home.
Chapter 18
Shadow Valley, Texas - March 1873
"Doc!" Buck called out, his voice laced with urgency, as he flagged down the doctor who was just closing his clinic door.
The doctor turned, a furrow etching his brow in recognition. "Buck, how are you?"
"Doin' well Doc. Thanks." Buck removed his hat, his smile strained. "I just wanted to settle up for Samantha Mills' treatment."
The doctor's brow furrowed further. "The Mills' girl? But Buck, you paid that bill in full weeks ago. How's the young lady's leg doing?"
A cold dread coiled in Buck's gut. "You mean you haven't seen her recently?"
"Not at all." the doctor replied, shaking his head. "Not since her initial treatment after the break. Is everything alright?"
Buck swallowed hard, the doctor's words shattering the carefully constructed narrative Desiree had woven. "She's… she's been very sick." He finally managed, his voice tight. "Her mother thought it might be an infection from the break."
A flicker of suspicion crossed the doctor's eyes. "Well, from a medical standpoint, that's highly unlikely. The break's completely healed – she'd be building muscle and strength now, not fighting an infection."
Anger and confusion burned in Buck's cheeks. He omitted the lie about Desiree taking Samantha to see a doctor, a truth he'd have to confront later. "I see," he mumbled, his mind racing. "Well, thank you, Doc. I'll… I'll have her come in if it doesn't clear up soon."
The doctor gave him a skeptical look. "If she's ill, Buck, beyond a simple cold or stomach upset, she needs to be seen right away. Especially if it's something serious."
"Of course," Buck mumbled, forcing a smile. "Thank you, Doc. I appreciate it."
Buck left the doctor's office, his steps heavy. He stood on the boardwalk for a moment, the weight of the revelation settling on his shoulders. Desiree had lied. Not just about a doctor's visit, but about the very nature of Samantha's illness. What was she hiding? And why?
With a growing sense of unease, Buck mounted his horse and headed back towards the Mills' house. He needed answers, and he needed them fast.
Chapter 19
Texas - March 1873
Honor stood on the porch, the morning chill seeping through her shawl. Patches of snow, once pristine white, were now surrendering to the relentless sun, their edges turning to muddy slush. A stark reflection of how her hopes had melted away with each empty horizon. Buck's silhouette, once a familiar sight, remained stubbornly absent.
With a sigh that carried the weight of disappointment, she clutched the well-worn letter in her hand. The paper felt soft and smooth beneath her trembling fingers, each crease a testament to the countless times it had been unfolded and reread. Its contents, once a source of warmth, now offered a bittersweet comfort.
A spark of determination flickered in her eyes, replacing the dejection. She wasn't one to sit around and wait. Slipping the letter into her skirt pocket, she stole quietly inside. The house was silent, her brother and sister still lost in the embrace of sleep.
Seizing the opportunity, she grabbed a scrap of paper from the bread she'd wrapped yesterday. Taking a deep breath, she began to write a note to Justice, its contents a secret plan waiting to unfold.
Justice-
Silence can't bury the truth any longer. Every unanswered question digs like a thorn in my side. I deserve an explanation. I need answers, even if they shatter the dreams I hold dear. Fear might grip my heart, but I have to face it.
I'm taking his watch to him. I'm also taking the pistol and Daddy's shotgun. I'll be back in two days. Don't worry I can take care of myself.
Love – Honor
She quickly braided her hair in two braids and put her brother's hat on her head. She took Buck's watch out of the cabinet and placed it in her pocket as well. Tucking the pistol in the holster at her waist she grabbed the shotgun on the way out of the house. She knew her brother would be boiling mad when he found out she had gone to Shadow Valley by herself. She just hoped that by the time she got home, he cooled off.
Knowing the general direction and riding there were two different things. Honor had been taught to read a compass as well as maps, and landmarks. She felt fairly confident that she wouldn't have any trouble.
By noon she checked the map as she crossed the river. She slid off the horse and drank some of the crystal-clear water. The beauty of the land took her breath away. She loved Coyote Canyon and thought their farm was particularly situated in a most beautiful place. On one side they were on the edge of a sparse oak forest with a small creek that ran through it and endless prairie on the other end. But this beautiful red clay-like dirt and the blue sky was so striking.
As she rode through the rocky terrain still spotted with snow she watched as small rodents were beginning to scurry around in the sun. It wasn't until she saw the town ahead with a small wooden sign that read Shadow Valley, did she question her decision to ride out there. Her mind spiked with all the reasons why he hadn't come to visit.
Thoughts ranged from him being married, to being dead and everything in between. She shook her head and calmed herself down. The nervous frenzy she was working herself into was not helping matters any. She nudged her horse along the busy road and looked up and down the shop windows.
Shadow Valley was a much larger town than Coyote Canyon. Finding a hitching post, she tied her horse and walked along the boardwalk, peering in the windows and looking at everything. It was all she could do to keep her mouth from falling open when she saw the dress shop across the street.
A real dress shop!
They didn't have a dress shop in their town. She would order fabric from their general store and thankfully a woman in town taught her how to sew. She walked across the street and up to the window as she admired the dresses that hung there. Right in the center of the display was a lavender dress with ruffles and lace with tiny pearl buttons up the back. Though she knew how to sew she didn't know how to sew anything as grand as this dress. It was the most beautiful thing she had ever seen.
"How do you do ma'am?"
"Very well thank you." Honor stammered, a touch of pink creeping up her cheeks. The older man's unexpected comment had thrown her off balance.
"If I might say," he continued, his gaze bounced between the dress and the young woman in front of him. Teaspoon's eyes, surprisingly sharp for a man of his age, crinkled at the corners as he surveyed the garment. "That dress would look lovely on you."
"Oh, thank you, sir," Honor replied, the gratitude laced with a hint of reservation.
"I'm Teaspoon Hunter," he said, extending a weathered hand.
"Marshal Hunter, I see." Honor shook his hand, her eyes drawn to the star pinned proudly on his chest. "My name is Honor Corbin."
Teaspoon straightened slightly, the easygoing demeanor shifting ever so slightly. "Well, Honor Corbin." He drawled. "Are you new to our town, or are you visiting family?"
"Just visiting," Honor replied, her voice carefully neutral.
"That's a shame." Teaspoon said, a hint of disappointment in his voice.
"Why is that?" Honor couldn't help but ask.
Teaspoon gave her a sly wink. "This town could use more pretty girls like you. You let me know if you need anything while you're visiting my town, you hear?"
Honor, hesitant to trust this overly friendly marshal, decided to get straight to the point. "Marshal Hunter?" She said, pulling out the letter. "Do you know where the Flying Arrow Ranch is?"
Teaspoon's eyes flickered to the letter briefly before returning to her face. "Oh, just about everyone knows where that ranch is." He held out his arm with a flourish. "I see that letter's from Buck Cross."
"Yes," Honor said, taking his arm cautiously. Relief washed over her – she was one step closer to finding Buck. "Do you know Buck?"
"Well, I know everyone in town." Teaspoon replied vaguely, his gaze lingering on her once more. Buck tended to keep things close to the vest, but the old marshal couldn't help but wonder who this young woman was and what brought her to Shadow Valley.
Teaspoon looked at the state of the letter. He could tell it had been read several times. Concern creased his forehead when she pulled out Buck's pocket watch. What on earth was Buck up to he wondered. Teaspoon watched as a brilliant smile lit up the young woman's face. He turned and saw the object of her gaze, Buck walked out of the general store a couple of yards away. Only a few moments later Bethany walked through the door after him and took his arm.
A flicker of hope ignited in her eyes as she saw Buck emerge from the store. But it died just as quickly. His arm was linked with that of a petite blonde woman, her smile radiating a confidence that stole the air from Honor's lungs.
As the blonde woman leaned in, caressing Buck's cheek and stealing a kiss, a tidal wave of emotions crashed over Honor – betrayal, anger, and a crushing sense of loss. The dream she had clung to, the future she had envisioned, shattered into a million pieces.
Honor's legs turned to lead, rooted to the spot as if the very ground conspired against her escape. Then, a surge of hot fury propelled her forward. She wouldn't give them the satisfaction of seeing her crumble.
"Honor?" Buck dropped Bethany's hand from his arm and in a few long steps made his way to where she stood.
He looked at her tear-filled eyes, the tears that ran down her face. She didn't make a sound as the tears trickled down her freckled cheeks. She just stared at him with her large brown eyes. He reached out to touch her and as if his touch burned her she snapped out of her trance.
"Here's your watch," she said, her voice a flat monotone, a stark contrast to the storm raging inside her.
Honor fumbled with the watch, her fingers trembling. As she shoved it into his hand, the letter she'd cherished, a tangible reminder of their bond, slipped from her grasp, unnoticed, caught in the chain.
"Honor, wait," Buck grabbed her arm.
She tore through the dusty street, the pounding of hooves echoing the frantic rhythm of her heart. Tears streamed down her face, a mixture of heartbreak and a defiant refusal to look back. She craved the comfort of oblivion, to outrun not just Buck, but the searing pain that threatened to consume her whole.
Chapter 20
Shadow Valley, Texas - March 1873
"Honor!" Buck yelled as she rode out of town. "I need your horse Teaspoon!"
"Son you can't ride after that girl."
"She ain't safe out there." Buck turned to him. "There is no way her brother knows she rode out here alone."
"I'll make sure she gets home safe." Teaspoon hoisted himself onto his horse. "You settle whatever it is you need to settle here."
Buck watched Teaspoon disappear in a cloud of dust, a silent plea hanging heavy in the air. He knew his old friend wouldn't hesitate to bring Honor back safely, but the uncertainty gnawed at him. He should have been the one chasing after her, mending the rift he'd caused.
Steeling himself, Buck turned towards Bethany. The guilt that had been a dull ache for weeks now flared into a searing pain. He owed her the truth. As he walked towards her, his gaze snagged on the crumpled letter clutched in her hand. Not yet understanding what had taken place he stepped up next to her on the boardwalk.
"Can you take me home please?" Bethany didn't look him in the eye as she took his arm and walked down the walkway with him in silence.
Bethany walked into the parlor and sat in the chair by the window. She watched as Buck stood across the room at the fireplace and waited for her to say something. She touched the frail paper again and unfolded it gently. Her eyes weld up with tears again as she read his tender words of love.
My dearest,
Please forgive the delay in my visit. I had hoped to see you before Christmas, but something unexpected has come up. Remember the young girl I mentioned? Sadly, she's fallen very ill, and I couldn't bear the thought of not being there for her during this difficult time.
I know this means waiting until spring to see you again, and I'll admit, I'm already counting down the days. While you won't feel the disappointment as keenly, believe me, the thought of being apart for so long is a real ache. However, your understanding in this situation means the world to me.
Spring will come, and when it does, I can't wait to see you again. I look forward to kissing your sweet berry-stained lips again.
Until then, take care of yourself, and know that I think of you often.
With love, Buck
"That woman dropped this." Bethany's voice hitched, the words tumbling out like a confession.
Tears blurred the ink on the page, each word a fresh betrayal. Declarations of love, not for him, but for another woman, felt like a branding iron on her already wounded heart. This wasn't about lingering affection, it was about a desperate act of love for her sister. The burden of securing her future was slipping through her fingers.
"I'm so sorry, Bethany," Buck said, taking a hesitant step towards her.
"The way you describe your love for her in this letter," she choked out, clutching the paper to her chest. "I hope someday I find someone that loves me half as much as this."
"I don't understand," he stammered, his voice tight with confusion.
"Please don't hate me, because I truly do love you," Bethany whispered, her voice thick with emotion. "Just not in the way you think." She buried her head in her hands, her shoulders shaking with silent sobs. "I have to tell you the truth."
The door to the parlor burst open, and Desiree rushed in, her face flushed with agitation. "Bethany Mills!" She bellowed.
"The way you treat us isn't love, mother!" Bethany shot back, her voice laced with defiance. "You aren't just ruining my life and Samantha's anymore. You're ruining other people's lives as well!"
"Bethany!" Desiree's voice cracked, the imperious facade momentarily faltering. "She's not feeling well," she added hastily, reaching for her daughter's arm.
"Let me go!" Bethany jerked away, her eyes blazing with a newfound anger.
"Let her talk, Desiree," Buck said, his voice surprisingly calm despite the storm brewing within him.
"I'm so sorry," Bethany said, looking up at him with pleading eyes. "My mother has been trying to convince you to marry me since we got here."
Buck's gaze flickered between Bethany, her tear-streaked face etched with a mixture of shame and defiance, and Desiree, whose carefully constructed composure was rapidly crumbling.
"Why?" Buck finally managed to ask, his voice a low rumble. The truth was settling in his stomach, a bitter pill to swallow.
Bethany's voice hitched. "My father and brother," she said quietly, refusing to meet her mother's gaze, "they died in the war."
Buck understood and sighed as he closed his eyes. How easily he had been manipulated. And for what? Money?
"She used your affection and concern for Samantha—"
"Shut up Bethany!" Her mother spat.
The air crackled with suspicion. Buck's grip tightened on Desiree's shoulders, his voice a low growl. "Have you done something to Samantha?"
Desiree's face drained of color, the carefully constructed facade crumbling like sand. A tremor ran through her manicured hands, betraying the simmering panic beneath the surface.
"Of course not!" But the lack of conviction in her voice spoke volumes.
"Doc Evans said you never took her to see him," Buck pressed, his jaw clenched. "She's not sick from an infection."
"Well, I didn't see any reason to take her to the doctor," Desiree stammered, her voice cracking under the pressure. "I just assumed—"
"Mother!" Bethany pushed her mother against the wall, her eyes blazing with a newfound fury. "What have you done to Samantha?"
The room hung heavy with unspoken accusations. Buck's mind raced, piecing together the fragments of truth revealed. The staged illness, the convenient arrival, and now, the veiled threat to Samantha's health. It all pointed to a desperate scheme orchestrated by Desiree.
"Bethany," Buck said gently, pulling her away from her mother. He knew they needed answers, but a calmer approach was necessary. "Get your sister, get your things. I'll make some room for the both of you at the ranch until other arrangements can be made."
Bethany hesitated, her gaze flickering between Buck and her mother. The anger in her eyes slowly morphed into a deep sadness. With a nod, she turned and fled from the room.
Desiree watched her daughter leave, her shoulders slumped, defeat etched on her face. Buck released his grip, his gaze unwavering.
"We need to talk, Desiree," he said, his voice low and firm. The deceit, the manipulation - it wouldn't go unanswered. The truth, however murky, would come to light.
Chapter 21
Texas - March 1873
"I ain't meanin' you any harm, Miss Corbin." Teaspoon wheezed, his voice raspy from years spent shouting under the harsh desert sun. He shuffled towards the grove of oaks, their gnarled branches clawing at the sky like skeletal fingers. He'd spotted her dismount from her horse a few minutes earlier and watched her disappear behind the largest oak.
Honor emerged from behind the tree, her movements fluid as she holstered the pistol in her hand. "Marshal Hunter?" She asked, her voice laced with cool suspicion.
"Just makin' sure you get home safe ma'am." Teaspoon tipped his dusty hat, revealing a fringe of sweat-streaked gray hair.
"You always make sure all the visitors to your town get home safe?" Her warm brown eyes narrowed in skepticism.
Teaspoon chuckled, a dry rasp that escaped his lips. "Just the real pretty ones, ma'am." He winked, a spark of amusement dancing in his eyes.
"You can tell Buck I'm more than capable of taking care of myself." Honor retorted, a hint of a smile playing on her lips despite herself.
"Now, Miss Corbin," Teaspoon drawled, "indulge an old man, and let me make sure you get home safe and sound."
Honor sighed in defeat, she knew she couldn't outrun the stubborn old marshal, and secretly, she didn't entirely dislike the company. They rode along in comfortable silence for a while, the only sound the rhythmic clopping of hooves against the dusty trail. The sun beat down mercilessly, turning the air into a shimmering haze. Teaspoon broke the silence first.
"Real pretty out today, ain't it?"
"Mhmm," Honor mumbled, noncommittal.
Teaspoon cleared his throat. "You from these parts?"
"Been here all my life." She replied, finally meeting his gaze with a flicker of a smile.
"Big family?"
Honor hesitated. "Just my brother and sister." She looked over at him, a genuine smile gracing her lips this time. "You?"
"Just me, though you could say Buck's become like a son to me over the years." Teaspoon said, a hint of fondness in his voice.
"Who was that woman he was with?" Honor blurted out. "Was she, his wife?"
Teaspoon swiped a bandana across his forehead, wiping away the beads of sweat that had gathered there. "No Buck ain't married. That was Bethany Mills. Her sister got hurt by one of Buck's horses last year, poor girl. Stepped right in front of the spooked critter. Buck's been lookin' after the family ever since."
"He mentioned there was a young girl hurt in town," she whispered, the memory bringing a prickle of tears to her eyes. He hadn't mentioned the sister he was sweet on.
They continued their journey in a more somber mood, exchanging only a few words until they reached the outskirts of the town. Honor thanked Teaspoon for the escort, her voice barely a whisper. With a final, lingering glance at the older man, she spurred her mare forward, racing towards the familiar silhouette of her farmhouse in the distance.
Chapter 22
Coyote Canyon, Texas - March 1873
The afternoon sun beat down on the carrot patch, turning the vibrant orange roots an even deeper hue. Libby giggled as she pulled a massive carrot from the soft earth, its green top still bushy. "Look at this one, Honor!" She squealed, holding it up with both hands.
"Wow Libbs, that is your whole dinner right there!" Honor teased.
"We can all eat that one!" Libby laughed.
Honor offered a weak smile, wiping a bead of sweat from her brow. A prickle of unease ran down her spine as Justice straightened from his raking and squinted towards the horizon. "Company," he muttered.
Honor followed his gaze, and her breath hitched in her throat. There, silhouetted against the setting sun, was Buck. A wave of conflicting emotions washed over her - anger, hurt, and a flicker of something more complicated. All those times she'd longed for him, and now, that she didn't want to see him he was there.
"I don't want to see him." She took off running towards the forest.
"What do you want me to tell him?" Justice asked.
"Tell him I ran off with a soldier from Fort Griffon." She turned around and threw her hands up. "Tell him I joined a convent. Tell him I threw myself off a cliff. I don't care."
Libby, wide-eyed and confused, tugged on Justice's sleeve. "What's wrong with her?" She whispered.
Justice forced a laugh, but it sounded hollow. "That, Libby," he said, "is what being in love can do to you."
Libby shook her head vigorously. "I never want to be in love!" She declared. "She's crazy!"
Buck rode in on a dusty brown horse, his face obscured by the wide brim of his hat. He dismounted with a practiced ease, a hint of weariness in his movements.
"What are you doing here?" Justice asked, his voice laced with a subtle edge. He placed a hand possessively on the handle of his rake.
"I need to see Honor," Buck said, his voice gruff.
"She told me about that woman."
"Justice, I've made some mistakes but there have been a lot of misunderstandings. I just want to set things straight."
"She doesn't want to see you."
Buck's jaw clenched for a moment before he sighed. "I know," he muttered, his voice heavy with regret
"I don't know where she is," Justice said, waving a vague hand towards the woods bordering the farm. "But maybe you can find her,"
"Thank you." Buck sprinted towards the trees.
"I wonder if he's as crazy as she is?" Libby asked.
"Probably." Justice chuckled, ruffling her hair. "Let's go make lunch and give them some privacy in case their craziness is contagious."
Chapter 23
Coyote Canyon, Texas - March 1873
Buck wandered through the trees, his heart pounding. For a few minutes, the dense foliage concealed her, but then he caught a glimpse of her. Her long brown hair hung loose around her shoulders, catching the occasional glint of sunlight. She sat on the large, flat rock, her knees were drawn tight against her chest, arms wrapped around them as if for protection. Her shoulders slumped, head resting on her knees, obscuring her face from view.
"Honor." Buck said softly as he walked closer.
"Go away." She looked up at him sadly.
"Please, let me explain." He knelt beside her. She didn't move, but her eyes stared vacantly at her feet. "That woman you saw—"
"You mean the one that kissed you?" Honor looked up at him, the anger and hurt were clear in her eyes.
"I know—" Buck cleared his throat. "I'm sorry, I was courting her. But it was more or less out of obligation, or… hell I don't know."
"You just courted a woman you didn't love?" Honor looked at him in disbelief then looked back down at the ground.
"Her sister was the one that was injured. She's a kind woman, there are other things behind it, I don't want to get into it now." Buck took his hat off and took one of her hands in his. "Honor, I promise you I never lied about the way I feel about you."
"Do you love her?"
"No." Buck shook his head. "I never loved her, I care for her and her sister like they are my own sisters, but that's all."
"Does she love you?"
"No."
"She's very beautiful." Honor continued to stare at her feet. "I wouldn't blame you—"
"Honor!" Buck took her face in his hands and looked into her eyes. "Are you listening to anything I'm saying? I'm in love with you."
"You are?" She drew a quick breath.
"I am." He leaned forward and kissed her softly. "If you still love me, I want you to be my wife."
She smiled and wrapped her arms around him. Almost afraid that she was dreaming she held him tightly. Buck stood up holding her in his arms as he waited tentatively for some kind of answer to his declaration.
"Honor?" He finally broke the silence and pulled away. Tilting her head back he kissed her softly. "Will you marry me?"
"Of course I will."
Chapter 24
Shadow Valley, Texas - June 1873
Samantha and Bethany had found their place on the ranch, tucked away in one of the cozy cottages reserved for families. The main bunkhouse housed most of the workers, but Buck, the ranch foreman, provided cottages for his supervisors with families. The arrangement suited everyone.
Samantha, regaining her strength, could now walk with ease. Bethany, discovering a passion for cooking, insisted on contributing by handling dinners for the ranch staff every night. The ranch hands savored not only the company of the ladies but also Bethany's newfound culinary skills.
Desiree, on the other hand, had vanished from their lives, leaving only a single spiteful letter behind. Buck, fearing its negativity would only hurt her daughters, intercepted it and burned it. When he announced his upcoming engagement, Samantha and Bethany, eager to help and excited for him, insisted on meeting his fiancée. Buck, filled with hope, had explained the entire situation to Honor in detail, praying for her acceptance.
A month before the wedding, Honor arrived at the ranch, moving into the cottage with Samantha and Bethany. To Buck's relief, any concerns about the women getting along vanished within a few days. They seemed to be bonding and enjoying each other's company. However, a flicker of surprise still lingered in Honor's eyes ever since Buck's revelation about being the ranch owner, not just an employee.
Unfortunately, stolen moments with Honor were scarce since her arrival. Most of her time was spent with Samantha and Bethany, wedding planning in full swing, or with Buck tending to ranch duties. He couldn't wait until their wedding so he could spend some time with her alone.
Meanwhile, Buck had offered Justice a job at the ranch, contingent on selling their farm. He genuinely believed this move would bring Honor joy, reuniting her with her beloved brother and sister. He and Justice conspired to keep it a secret, planning to surprise Honor at the wedding.
Taking a deep breath, Buck straightened his crisp white shirt and donned his black jacket. A glance in the mirror confirmed he was ready. He smiled as Teaspoon's voice cut through the quiet, "You ready, son?"
"As I'll ever be," Buck replied with confidence.
Chapter 25
Shadow Valley, Texas - June 1873
Buck sat mesmerized, his hand wrapped around his new bride's. Honor, radiant in her simple ivory gown with cascading brown curls, beamed at their gathered family and friends. The ranch's garden, their chosen ceremony venue, buzzed with joyous chatter. Buck couldn't tear his gaze from her.
A gentle clinking of a glass drew their attention. Teaspoon, his weathered face creased in a warm smile, stood up. "Before our beautiful bride and groom grace us with their first dance," he announced, clearing his throat, "I'd like to say a few words."
Buck chuckled teasingly, "Do you have to?"
Teaspoon winked. "I'll be brief. I've known Buck since he was a strapping young lad, and watched him grow into the fine man he is today. Buck, I'm proud of you, son. You've found yourself a remarkable woman, and I know you two will build a wonderful life together."
Cheers erupted, a wave of well-wishes washing over the couple.
Justice, his voice booming with pride, took his turn. "For those who don't know, Buck here is pretty much a hero to our family. He jumped into a gunfight to save us. Who wouldn't want a man like that marrying their sister? Buck, welcome to the family. I'm honored to call you brother." Glasses clinked in another toast.
Taking Honor's hand, Buck rose. "Thank you all. With your permission, I'm dying to steal my bride away for a dance."
Applause filled the air as Buck led Honor onto the makeshift wooden dance floor. Despite his aversion to being the center of attention, this was an exception he gladly made.
"The whole town?" Honor whispered playfully, a hint of nervousness in her voice.
"Well, wouldn't have been right to leave anyone out, now would it?" Buck winked.
"Thank you for the surprise," Honor whispered, her eyes sparkling with gratitude. "Having Justice and Libby here means the world to me."
A satisfied warmth spread through Buck. "Anything to see you smile." He leaned down, nuzzling her neck with a soft kiss. "Perhaps when we find a stolen moment," his gaze flickered with desire, "we can slip away."
Her smile mirrored his longing. "Agreed."
The music shifted, and they swayed to a few more songs before returning to their table. Throughout the evening, Honor couldn't help but notice her brother stealing glances at Bethany. With a subtle nudge under the table, she drew both their attentions. Bethany met her gaze, then quickly looked away, a blush tinging her cheeks pink. To Honor's delight, Justice soon approached Bethany and led her to the dance floor.
Buck seized the opportunity, taking Honor's hand and whisking her towards the house. He bolted the door shut behind them, leaning against it with a sigh of relief. Finally alone. Honor leaned into him, a playful smile on her lips as she kicked off her shoes.
"Qyá̱u," Buck murmured, pulling her close for a deep kiss.
"You promised you'd tell me what that means someday," she teased, taking his hand and leading him through the house.
The bedroom became their haven. Buck's hands grazed her hips as he stood behind her. He trailed kisses down her neck, his fingers working swiftly on the intricate buttons lining the back of her dress.
"It means something akin to 'soulmate'." He whispered against her ear.
Honor shivered, her eyes fluttering closed. "Mmm," she sighed contentedly.
A muffled curse escaped Buck's lips. "How many buttons are there on this thing?"
Laughter bubbled up in Honor. She reached for him, her voice thick with emotion. "I love you, Buck."
Their lips met in a passionate kiss, a promise of forever.
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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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