Legacy of Honor, a young riders fanfic

Legacy of Honor

By: H Forbes

Adult SPICY Romance
Multiple explicit and very detailed intimate scenes, also explicit descriptive language.

Themes & Tropes
Single Parent, Age Gap, Enemies to Lovers, Holidays, Religion/Spirituality, Marriage before Intimacy, Farm/Ranch Life,

Content Warnings
Child Abuse/Neglect, Substance Abuse, Kidnapping/Abduction, Suicide/Suicidal Ideations

10/2024 - Edited for typos, New formatting

Chapter 1

Dirleton, Scotland - April 1872

The briny sea air enveloped Archerfield Manor, perched on the rugged North Sea cliffs. Aislynne stood in silence by the heavy tapestry near her father's study, straining to eavesdrop on the conversation unfolding within. Her heart raced with anticipation, knowing that marriage would once again be the topic of discussion.

Just weeks shy of her seventeenth birthday, Aislynne couldn't escape the suffocating expectations placed upon her as her father's only child. It was her duty to secure their family's legacy through a strategic marriage, but she refused to be a pawn in their game of power and privilege.

Her father had once dreamed of claiming the English throne through marriage, but those dreams were shattered when King Edward wed four years ago. Now, he sought to solidify their place among the nobility by forging alliances with foreign powers. And as his only living child - her older brother tragically lost years ago - all eyes were on Aislynne to fulfill these ambitions.

But she longed for freedom and independence, to live a life of her own choosing. With desperation fueling her determination, she hatched a plan for escape. While guards patrolled outside, she raided her father's coffers and arranged for passage to America.

A small trunk rested by her bedside, containing essentials and a glimmer of hope for a new beginning across the sea. She had made arrangements with a merchant to smuggle her south to England and onto a ship bound for America. This time, there would be no turning back.

Tears blurred Aislynne's view as she gazed out at the familiar expanse of ocean from her window. Soon, this would all be just a distant memory - her childhood home, friends, and family left behind in pursuit of freedom and happiness.

With a determined breath, Aislynne grabbed her trunk and headed for the door. There was no time for sentimentality - she had to keep moving forward. The promise of a new life in America beckoned, and she was ready to embrace it with open arms.

Chapter 2

Willow Bend, Nebraska - June 1875

Aislynne stepped into the quaint church, the sound of the piano welcoming her as she settled into a pew at the back. She opened her hymnal and joined in the congregation's song. Midway through 'Abide With Me', she noticed a mischievous little girl playing peek-a-boo with her from the pew ahead.

The child's giggles were soft but infectious, and Aislynne couldn't help but smile as she watched the mother try to wrangle her and four rambunctious boys. Suddenly, the little girl broke free and crawled under the pews. Without hesitation, Aislynne reached out and scooped her up, settling her on her lap.

"I'm so sorry Ma'am." The mother of the child whispered over the pew.

"It's no trouble at all," she whispered to the mother who had leaned over to apologize. "It seems you have your hands full."

"Oh, thank you so much," the mother replied gratefully.

As they listened to the sermon, Aislynne entertained the little girl, who seemed fascinated by Aislynne's long red curls adorned with a big lavender ribbon. After the service, the grateful mother invited Aislynne to join her for a luncheon with other church members

"My name is Louise," she introduced herself as they walked towards the tables set up under some trees. "I'm sorry my husband couldn't make it today."

"Well ye certainly have yer hands full," Aislynne chuckled as she helped Louise corral two of her wandering boys.

As they sat down at the table with their food, Louise noticed Aislynne's accent and asked where she was from.

"Scotland," Aislynne replied between dainty bites of her sandwich, much to Louise's amusement.

Louise pressed gently, her voice softening as she inquired, "So, are you planning on setting down roots here, or just passing through?"

Aislynne shifted her weight slightly, feeling the warm sun on her skin. "Most likely passing through," she explained. "Had a teaching position lined up in Cheyenne, but it got snatched up before I arrived."

"That's a shame," Louise leaned in conspiratorially. "Our current teacher isn't the nicest."

A suppressed laugh escaped Aislynne's lips at Louise's implication. "Aye, too bad," she replied with a hint of amusement. "This town seems rather charming."

The conversation flowed effortlessly between them, and as they chatted, Louise couldn't help but be curious about her newfound friend. "Do you have any little ones of your own?" she asked.

"Not yet," Aislynne replied with a light laugh. "I haven't found the essential piece to marriage yet."

"Oh!" Louise giggled. "Well, you certainly have a way with children."

Aislynne felt a blush creep up her neck at the compliment. "Thanks," she murmured.

An idea seemed to spark in Louise's eyes as she leaned in closer and lowered her voice. "Speaking of children, if you happen to be looking for work, I know a family who could use a helping hand – a tutor and a nanny, to be exact."

Louise watched as Aislynne's smile faltered, the corners of her mouth twitching downwards. This wasn't going as smoothly as she had hoped. Sensing her hesitation, she changed tactics.

Her voice was filled with genuine empathy as she spoke about the man who had lost his wife a few years back. The weight of his responsibilities pressed down on him heavily, struggling to raise the children and run a ranch all on his own. She knew she was laying it on thick, but every word she spoke was true, and she was desperate for help. A flicker of sadness crossed her features, reflecting the deep sorrow that lingered in the family's hearts. "It's been an incredibly difficult journey for them," she said, her voice heavy with emotion.

A pang of understanding shot through Aislynne as she thought of her own loss and the raw ache it still brought her. "That must be a terrible burden to bear," she murmured, her voice laced with sympathy.

"It has been," Louise agreed. "You'd be well-compensated, of course, with room and board. There's a housekeeper and a cook, it's a perfectly respectable position."

"I suppose I could at least consider it," she finally conceded, a hint of reluctance still lingering in her voice.

Louise's face broke into a wide grin, her eyes shining with excitement. "Perfect! See? Sometimes, the best things in life come along when you least expect them."

Chapter 3

Willow Bend, Nebraska - June 1875

Aislynne sat perched nervously on the buckboard beside Louise, her long auburn hair twisting between her fingers. The sprawling ranch stretched out before them, endless fields of green and brown stretching as far as she could see. As they reached the bend in the road, a large two-story home came into view, nestled near a sparkling lake. Despite its beauty, a sense of foreboding settled in Aislynne's stomach as memories of her own home by the ocean flooded her mind.

As they approached, a chorus of shrieks tore through the peaceful atmosphere. Two small figures darted across the lawn in a lively game of tag, their high-pitched laughter carried on the gentle breeze.

"There's the older two." Louise gave her shoulder a reassuring squeeze. "Isaac is eight, Hannah is six, and little Abigail just turned three."

A woman emerged from the house, presumably the housekeeper. Her face lit up at the sight of her guests. "Oh, Louise, what a pleasant surprise!" she exclaimed. "And who might this be?"

"Mary, this is Aislynne," Louise introduced, gesturing towards the young woman beside her. "She's the children's tutor."

The woman named Mary rushed forward and grasped Aislynne's hand with surprising strength. "The good Lord has heard my prayers and sent us an angel!" She declared enthusiastically. "Pleasure to meet you."

Aislynne stifled a laugh, muttering, "Thank you, ma'am."

"Please, call me Mary," the woman insisted with a smile. "I hope you have a strong constitution dear. And patience. Patience is what you'll need most."

"Issac, Hannah!" Louise called out, her voice cutting through the playful screams. Two heads peered down from a sprawling oak tree in the front yard. "There you two are! Where is your sister?"

"Abby's upstairs, napping," a gruff voice bellowed from inside the house.

A tall figure emerged, casting a long shadow across the porch. Aislynne's growing apprehension was confirmed by his appearance. His rumpled clothes, coated in layers of dirt and neglect, spoke of a man who hadn't seen a proper wash in days. His hair was unkempt and reached his waist, partially obscuring his face. What little was visible was framed by a scraggly beard.

A deep frown creased his features as he took in the scene – Louise, once again with another hopeful nanny in tow. He let out a heavy sigh, muttering under his breath about the pointlessness of Louise's constant attempts.

"Buck, this is Aislynne Stewart." Louise yanked him off the porch with a firm grip and pushed him towards the young woman standing there, looking petrified. Aislynne tried to force a smile, but it quickly faded as she offered her gloved hand in greeting.

"Sir," she said politely, her voice trembling slightly.

Buck eyed her outstretched hand, then glanced down at his own caked with dirt and grime. With a frown, he awkwardly brushed off his pants before tentatively shaking her hand. "Sorry about that, been working in the barn," he muttered gruffly by way of explanation, shoving his hand in his pocket as he took her in with a skeptical once-over.

He was immediately captivated by her moss-green eyes. The sprinkling of freckles on her cheeks only added to her charm. Her vibrant auburn locks were intricately braided and pinned up, though a few arrant curls escaped and blew across her neck. As he took in the fine fabric of her clothing and the refinement of her manners, Buck couldn't help but wonder where Louise had found this woman. And more importantly, why she was standing on his porch.

The silence hung thick and heavy until Mary stepped in. "Louise, are you staying for supper?" She asked, trying to diffuse the tension.

Louise shook her head apologetically. "No, thank you, Mary. I have to get home, Kid's minding the little ones and you never know what trouble they will get into while I'm gone." She gave Aislynne's arm a reassuring squeeze. "Thank you."

Turning to Mary again, Louise smiled warmly at the older woman. Aislynne couldn't help but notice the kindness radiating from her and she felt suddenly comforted by it. Mary's long gray hair was neatly braided into a bun and she exuded a motherly aura that reminded Aislynne of her own mother.

Mary returned Louise's smile and gestured for Aislynne to follow her inside. As they walked away, Buck watched them go from the porch with a hint of suspicion still lingering in his tone as he spoke up again.

"How old are you?" He drawled, his voice laced with suspicion.

Aislynne bristled at his insinuation and her spine stiffened as if preparing for a confrontation. Her tone was formal and stern as she addressed him, making sure to emphasize his title to establish a professional distance. "Mr. Cross," she began firmly, "I assure ye, I possess the necessary education and experience to care for yer children."

Buck grunted noncommittally in response, raising an eyebrow challengingly.

Ignoring him completely, Mary guided Aislynne into the house. "Let me show you to your room, dear," she said kindly.

Meanwhile, on the porch, Buck noticed the two large trunks that Louise had brought along for Aislynne's stay. With a heavy sigh that spoke volumes of his feelings towards the situation, he walked over and hauled them both inside before depositing them unceremoniously with a thud in the living room.

"The Queen of England herself coming to stay?" He muttered sarcastically to Louise.

"She's not from England." Louise chuckled lightly at his cynicism. "Smart Aleck."

"I should leave these here to save me the trouble of lugging them back down when she leaves," Buck grumbled under his breath already dragging the first trunk towards the stairs.

Louise's tone was sharp, a subtle edge of annoyance laced through her words as she chided Buck. "Try being a little welcoming, would you?" She reprimanded. "You need the help."

Buck was stubborn, his resistance evident in the way he mumbled back at her. "Don't need some stranger in my house," he grumbled, his voice betraying his frustration.

Louise had reached her limit. Grabbing him by the shirt, she pinned him against the wall, her grip firm and unyielding. "Listen to me, Buck," she commanded. "I'm tired of walking on eggshells around you. Get yourself together! You need help!"

At that moment, a flicker of sadness and pity flashed in Louise's eyes as she looked at the man before her - once strong and capable, now reduced to a mere shell of himself. This wasn't Buck. This was grief, this was despair, disguised by the stench of cheap liquor.

Buck, taken aback by her sudden outburst, stammered out a defeated reply. "Okay," he mumbled, his voice thick with resignation.

With a sigh of weariness and disappointment, Louise released him from her grip and took a step back. "And for goodness sake," she added with exasperation, "stop drowning yourself in that rotgut. You reek."

Defeated, Buck slumped against the wall. "I know, I know," he muttered dejectedly, his shoulders sagging even lower.

"And take a bath!" Louise added sharply as the last remnants of patience faded away. With one final glare that conveyed all her frustrations and concerns, she turned on her heel and stormed out of the room, leaving Buck alone with the lingering echo of her words and the weight of his choices hanging heavy in the air.

Chapter 4

Willow Bend, Nebraska - June 1875

Stepping onto the second-floor landing, Mary called out, "Beth?" Aislynne, startled by the sudden appearance of a petite woman with bright blue eyes from a nearby bedroom, jumped slightly. Standing at five feet seven inches tall, she was used to towering over most women. But this woman was exceptionally tiny, barely reaching Aislynne's chest.

"Tis a pleasure to make your acquaintance," Aislynne greeted warmly, extending a hand in greeting.

"You too," Beth replied, shaking Aislynne's hand with surprising strength.

"Don't mind her, she's just a bit shy." Mary chuckled as Beth retreated back into the room. "But a hard worker, bless her heart."

As Aislynne followed Mary on a tour of the house, she couldn't help but notice the meticulous orderliness despite the owner's outward dishevelment. Clearly, the credit belonged to Beth's diligent housekeeping. Aislynne's room was larger than she anticipated, and tastefully decorated in a simple and graceful style. It felt like a woman's touch had graced the house – perhaps his late wife's?

Running her fingers over the delicate lace coverlet on the bed, Aislynne gazed out of the large picture window at the breathtaking view of the lake beyond. A quiet joy lit her features as she watched birds swoop low over the water, her fingers unconsciously playing with the lace curtain.

"It's quite a sight, isn't it?" A voice spoke from behind.

"Absolutely," Aislynne agreed, turning to find Mary standing beside her.

"The children's rooms are just down the hall," Mary pointed out. "Mr. Cross's room is at the very end. Beth and I have our rooms downstairs. There's an outhouse out back, of course, but also an indoor privy on the first floor for your convenience."

"That's a relief," Aislynne admitted with a genuine smile, relieved to hear about the modern convenience of indoor plumbing.

Suddenly, the bedroom door creaked open and Buck entered, struggling to drag in Aislynne's heavy trunks. Aislynne lowered her eyes, feeling self-conscious as he deposited the trunks with a thud and left just as abruptly.

"Don't you worry about him, dear," Mary reassured Aislynne with a kind smile. "He's a bit rough around the edges, but he's a lamb, truely."

Aislynne couldn't help but offer a small, skeptical smile. "A lamb in wolf's clothing, perhaps."

Mary's laughter filled the room, a familiar warmth in her voice. She carefully helped Aislynne unpack her collection of elegant dresses, expertly managing the delicate fabrics.

"Perhaps just a touch of wolf," she conceded with a knowing smile. "But a very weary one at that. You may want to consider some sturdier attire for life on the ranch. All that silk and lace won't last long in these parts."

Aislynne surveyed her wardrobe of fine gowns, her expression thoughtful as she traced her fingers along the delicate silk fabric. "Yer right," she sighed, realizing the practicality of Mary's advice. "I'll have ta find some simpler clothes when I get the chance ta go into town."

The shrill sound of a timer interrupted their conversation, causing Mary to jump up in a flurry of motion. "Oh dear, that's my roast!" She exclaimed, flustered. "Please make yourself comfortable, dear, and come downstairs whenever you're ready. I'll fix you a plate."

Aislynne offered to help prepare dinner for the children, eager to prove herself useful. But Mary let out a sigh tinged with sadness. "Truth be told," she confessed, "they usually come down when they please. We haven't had much luck with nannies in the past."

Concern furrowed Aislynne's brow. "Does Mr. Cross not join them for meals?"

Mary shook her head sadly. "Family dinners haven't been a thing for quite some time."

A curious question slipped from Aislynne's lips before she could stop it. "Were ye with the family before?" Her voice was barely audible, but Mary heard it and smiled warmly.

"Yes, dear," she replied wistfully. "I was good friends with dear Emilie, Mr. Cross's late wife. She was the sweetest woman you'd ever meet. Her family had a ranch in Utah, and when she married Mr. Cross, they moved there to help her father until he passed. Afterward, Mr. Cross took over the ranch. But sadly, they ended up moving back here and selling the family ranch and house after Emilie's passing."

Aislynne's heart ached for the family as she imagined their loss. "That's so heartbreaking," she murmured, instinctively placing a hand over her chest. "So ye moved with Mr. Cross and the children?"

"I never had children." Mary's gaze softened. "They are like my own family now," she said with a gentle smile. "It pains me to see what has become of him." With a heavy sigh, Mary excused herself and left the room.

Left alone once again, Aislynne continued unpacking her belongings. As Mary had pointed out, her delicate silk gowns would not survive long on the ranch. She needed practical clothes – sturdy fabrics that could withstand the rigors of rural life.

Suddenly, two curious pairs of eyes peered into the room. Two dirty and disheveled children stood at the doorway, their expressions a mix of apprehension and curiosity. Aislynne couldn't help but think that they could use a good scrubbing – their clothes were stained and their hair tangled. But despite their unkempt appearance, she couldn't help but smile at them as she approached with an outstretched hand.

"Hello there! I'm Aislynne. And ye must be Isaac?" The boy scowled and refused to take her hand.

"Yeah," he muttered gruffly.

Undeterred, Aislynne knelt down to their level, trying to appear as friendly as possible. "And how old are ye, young man?"

"Eight," he mumbled, still avoiding eye contact.

"And ye must be Hannah?" A shy nod from the little girl confirmed Aislynne's guess.

Isaac spoke up again, his tone blunt and uncompromising. "She doesn't like you," he stated matter-of-factly, his grip tightening on his sister's hand. "And neither do I."

Aislynne couldn't help but chuckle softly at his honesty. "Well, ye don't know me yet, do ye?" She replied gently. "But perhaps after a while, things will be different. Maybe you'll even grow to like me a bit."

"You talk funny." The little boy scowled as he pulled his sister away, muttering under his breath before disappearing down the hallway.

Left alone once again, Aislynne couldn't help but feel a bit disheartened. "Well," she muttered to herself, "that went swimmingly."

Chapter 5

Willow Bend, Nebraska - June 1875

With Mary's assistance, Aislynne managed to wrangle all three children into bed. The older woman offered words of encouragement, her soothing voice filled with reassurance that things would get easier with time. Patience, Mary had stressed, was the key. Exhausted and knowing she couldn't put it off any longer, Aislynne decided it was time to confront the formidable Mr. Cross.

Following the faint sounds of clinking glass, she found him in a small, wood-paneled den tucked away at the back of the house. Hesitantly, she knocked on the door.

Silence.

She knocked again, a touch louder this time. "Mr. Cross?"

A gruff voice rumbled from within. "Come in."

Aislynne pushed open the door and stepped into the dimly lit room, her nose immediately wrinkling at the pungent aroma of stale whiskey. Hunched over a desk, his back to her, sat Buck Cross. He didn't turn as she entered, his gaze fixed on the moonlit landscape outside the window.

"Sorry ta bother ye, Mr. Cross," Aislynne began, her voice tentative as she approached him. She received no response, just the rhythmic clinking of ice against glass. Steeling her nerves, she continued.

She stumbled over her words, her usual poise and confidence shaken in the presence of her new employer. "Um, I just...I need to understand yer expectations."

A long pause followed before Buck spoke, his voice laced with bitterness. "Do I need to explain how to feed and clothe my children?"

Aislynne bristled at his tone. "Of course not!" She retorted, a spark of indignation igniting within her. "What I meant was—"

"Look, lady," he interrupted abruptly, swiveling in his chair to face her with a scowl etched on his face. His bloodshot eyes glinted with a dangerous glint, "if you can't handle the simplest of tasks, perhaps—"

But Aislynne wouldn't be silenced. "I assure ye, Mr. Cross," she cut him off firmly, her voice surprisingly strong, "I'm far more capable of taking care of yer children than ye seem ta be!"

Buck's jaw clenched in anger, and he lurched to his feet, a tremor running through his unsteady frame. "You don't know anything about me!" He roared, his voice thick with a mix of anger and despair.

"Aye," Aislynne stood her ground, her gaze unwavering. "What I see is a miserable drunk," she countered, her voice rising above a whisper as she took a step closer to him, "Children who are filthy, neglected, and frankly miserable! And ye, Mr. Cross, yer a coward hiding behind yer drink!"

Her words struck a nerve deep within him. Buck lunged towards her with rage in his eyes, grabbing her arms with surprising strength and pinning her against the wall.

"How dare you!" He snarled fiercely, his voice hoarse with fury. "Come into my house and—"

"Get yer hands off me!" Aislynne demanded boldly, her voice trembling slightly but her eyes blazing with defiance as she spat. "Sir!"

The anger in her eyes was unexpected and, seemed to snap Buck out of his rage. Shame flickered across his face as he released her immediately.

"Sorry," he mumbled apologetically, his voice thick with regret. "I'm… I'm sorry."

Aislynne's adrenaline surged as soon as his grip loosened. She wasted no time, spinning on her heel and stomping towards her bedroom. With a loud slam, she shut the door behind her, the sound echoing through the house.

Tears stung at the corners of her eyes, a blend of anger, fear, and a strange sense of empathy mixing within her. She fought back the urge to pack her bags and escape this chaotic household. Despite being low on funds, anything seemed better than staying here.

But then, a different thought crept into her mind. It was the fleeting glimpse of vulnerability she had seen in his eyes, a flicker of something buried beneath all the layers of rage and misery. It was the image of a lost soul drowning his sorrows in a bottle, a broken man who had given up on himself and his children.

A deep breath steadied Aislynne as she sank onto the edge of her bed. Her mind raced, considering every possibility. Maybe, just maybe, there was still hope for this family. A sliver of determination bloomed within her for the first time since arriving at the household. No matter how difficult Mr. Cross might be, she was determined to make him see what he was losing.

Chapter 6

Willow Bend, Nebraska - July 1875

The sun had long since dipped below the horizon, replaced by a tapestry of stars that shimmered in the dark sky. Buck rode out from the ranch, his horse's hooves creating a steady rhythm as they made their way through the quiet countryside. Time seemed to fade away, lost in the peacefulness of the night and the gentle sway of his mount.

As he meandered aimlessly, Buck reached for the familiar weight of the bottle at his hip, its contents offering a temporary escape from his troubled mind. The liquid burned down his throat, a harsh reminder of his choices and failures. But even as he continued to drink, he could not shake off the pain of her words.

"What I see is a miserable drunk"

He closed his eyes tightly, trying to will away the world and all its troubles. But a sharp voice cut through his thoughts, accusing and piercing.

"Children who are filthy, neglected, and frankly miserable!"

With a sudden surge of anger and frustration, Buck hurled the bottle against a nearby rock. It shattered with a loud crackle but did little to ease the emptiness gnawing at him. He sank to the ground, burying his face in his hands as tears began to fall.

"And ye, Mr. Cross, yer a coward hiding behind yer drink!"

A deep sense of shame and regret consumed him as her words continued to gnaw at him. They were a cruel truth, mirroring the failures of his life as a father and husband. He had let grief consume him, leading him to this moment where he stood, red-faced with anger and soaked in guilt. Never before had he laid a hand on a woman in anger, and yet here he was. He didn't even know his children anymore. How had things spiraled so far out of control?

Chapter 7

Willow Bend, Nebraska - October 1875

"Isaac!" Aislynne exclaimed, her voice firm but laced with controlled frustration. The sound of her voice cut through the chaos of the living room, where the two children were playing. "That's enough now! I told ye twice now ta stop pinching yer sister. How many times do I have ta say it?"

Isaac glared up at her and yanked on a long strand of her hair. It took every ounce of her self-control not to yelp in pain, but she wasn't about to give him the satisfaction. Straightening her spine and taking a deep, calming breath, she tried to maintain her composure.

"Alright, young man," she said evenly. "I want ye ta sit on that chair in the corner for ten minutes. Think about what you just did. When you're ready to apologize to your sister, we can talk."

"No!" Isaac screeched, his face turning red with rage. "I won't!"

"Isaac," a deep voice boomed from the doorway. It was Buck, his tone surprisingly calm yet firm. He had been watching the scene unfold from afar and decided it was time to intervene. "You will do as Miss Aislynne says. Do you understand?"

The defiance slowly drained from Isaac's face as he looked up at Buck with wide eyes. "Yes sir," he mumbled, shuffling towards the corner chair as instructed.

Aislynne sent Buck a grateful glance. She had been struggling to handle Isaac's behavior on her own ever since coming to work for the Cross family. But in the past few months, Buck had made a conscious effort to check in on Aislynne and the children more often, albeit discreetly.

He knew Isaac could be a handful, and while he hadn't intervened before, this time was different. Isaac had crossed a line, and Buck knew he needed to address it. The pang of guilt that twisted in his gut was a familiar feeling – a constant reminder of his past neglect. He was determined to do better.

Seeing an opportunity to talk, Aislynne addressed the children. "Children," she said gently. "I need to speak with yer father for a moment. Now both of ye stay in yer seats until I get back."

Hannah and Isaac nodded silently, burying themselves in their books. With the children occupied, Aislynne turned to Buck. "Mr. Cross," she began. "Mary very kindly offered ta watch the children tomorrow evening," Aislynne explained. "I was wondering if it would be alright if I took the evening off?"

"Of course," Buck replied readily, his expression softening as he saw how tired and overwhelmed Aislynne looked. "Please, take the evening."

Aislynne smiled gratefully at him. "Thank you, Sir."

Buck hesitated, his curiosity burning a hole in his chest. He was curious as to where Aislynne was headed and what she had planned for her time off. Despite the sudden surge of questions, something held him back – perhaps a flicker of self-consciousness, a fear of overstepping boundaries.

As Aislynne turned away towards the playroom, Buck felt a pang of regret for not voicing his thoughts sooner. Where could she be going? Maybe it was church, or perhaps a social gathering with friends. Regardless, he knew this was a golden opportunity. With her gone tomorrow night, he could finally start reconnecting with his children and rebuild the bond that he had carelessly let slip away.

Chapter 8

Willow Bend, Nebraska - October 1875

Despite the distractions of his youngest daughter Abigail peacefully sleeping on his lap, Buck's curiosity gnawed at him all evening. Aislynne had requested the night off, and he couldn't help stealing glances out the window. Finally, the sight of an approaching carriage sent a jolt of energy through him. He gently deposited Abby on the couch and strode towards the front door, a strange mix of protectiveness and something more simmering beneath the surface.

The man standing stiffly beside the carriage exuded a nervous energy that was palpable. "Mr. Cross?" He inquired, extending a hand. "I'm Brandon Carpenter, this is my Aunt Jane."

Buck welcomed them inside with a smile, quickly ushering them into the warmth of the foyer. He couldn't help but notice Aislynne's absence as he led them to the parlor.

But suddenly, there she was, appearing at the top of the stairs like a vision in a rose-colored dress. Her hair, usually pulled tightly into a bun, was artfully arranged with a few playful curls framing her face. Buck couldn't deny feeling a pang of jealousy as he realized that she looked like she was preparing for a suitor's visit.

"Brandon," Aislynne greeted with a smile that lit up her entire face as she descended the stairs.

"You look lovely," Brandon beamed at her.

"Thank you." Aislynne's cheeks flushed, and she turned to the closet to retrieve her coat.

"Let me," Buck offered. He retrieved her grey wool coat from the closet and held it open for her.

Their eyes met, and for a fleeting moment, Buck felt a connection that left him breathless. But he quickly brushed it aside and handed her coat to her with forced nonchalance. Their fingers brushed as he passed her the muff, causing a jolt of electricity to shoot through him.

"Thank you," she murmured, shoving her hands into the muff.

Buck couldn't help but notice the slight tremble in her voice and the way she avoided his gaze. "Are you alright?" He asked, his voice gruff with concern.

Aislynne offered a shaky smile. "Yes, of course. Thank you."

Later, after tucking his children into bed, Buck couldn't shake off the sense of regret that settled over him. He sat on the parlor bench, staring into the warm glow of the fireplace, feeling the emptiness in his heart grow. Every creak of the floorboards and rustle of wind against the window had him jumping up, hoping for Aislynne's return, only to be met with disappointment each time.

How could he have been so blind? He had let years slip away, his children growing up without him truly being there. The ache in his chest intensified with each passing moment, a stark reminder of the love he had kept buried for far too long. He wouldn't let that happen again.

As he drifted off into an anxious sleep, the embers in the fireplace had died down to a dull glow, casting eerie shadows across the room. The silence of the house was broken only by the sound of his restless tossing and turning. Was it simply a matter of control, a dislike of the unknown disrupting his carefully constructed routine? Or was it something more, something he wasn't ready to acknowledge?

A sudden rattle of wheels on the gravel driveway jolted him upright. With a surge of adrenaline, he crept towards the window. Aislynne stood illuminated by the carriage lamp, her face turned up in conversation with her beau. A laugh, light and carefree, spilled from her lips, a sound that sent a foreign pang through his chest.

The conversation stretched on, punctuated by hushed whispers. From where he stood at the window, he could see her smile and Brandon's nervous fidgeting. Buck knew what was coming and he couldn't bear to witness it, but he couldn't force himself to turn away. The pair stood on the porch for what seemed like an eternity.

With a frustrated groan, he stomped across the room. The floorboards creaked ominously under his weight, the sound echoing through the silent house. With a heavy sigh, he flung open the front door, the sound announcing his unwelcome presence to the oblivious couple on the porch.

"Well, good night Aislynne," Brandon said, tipping his hat and retreating towards the carriage.

"Good night, Brandon," Aislynne replied, entering the house and shrugging out of her coat. She turned and shrieked, clutching her chest. "Mr. Cross! Ye scared the life out of me!"

Buck forced a smirk. "Didn't mean to startle you. You two were just taking so long, I figured—"

"Taking so long?" Aislynne sputtered, her cheeks flushing. "Were ye watching me?"

"Heard the carriage," he mumbled, avoiding her gaze.

Her eyes narrowed. "I may be yer employee, Mr. Cross," she said, her voice laced with icy defiance, "but I'm not yer servant. My personal life is none of your concern."

"Miss. Stewart, I was—" Buck stammered, searching for the right words. "Concerned, that's all."

"I've been taking care of myself for quite some time, Mr. Cross," she retorted, her voice tight with anger. "I don't need a father now!"

Her words hung heavy in the air. A father? The truth stung. He was older, yes, but a father figure? The thought sent a wave of confusion crashing over him. Guilt, anger, and a confusing yearning all warred within him as Aislynne stormed up the stairs, leaving Buck alone with his jumbled emotions.

Chapter 9

Willow Bend, Nebraska - September 1875

As the sun sank lower, Aislynne found herself with an unexpected bit of free time. The kids were tucked in bed, and she decided to snatch a moment for herself before turning in. She stepped out onto the porch, lantern in hand, ready to enjoy the quiet of the falling evening.

It was a rare luxury for Aislynne to be able to explore her surroundings without sticky fingers and endless rounds of "peek-a-boo." But tonight, as she stepped out into the cooling air, there was a sense of quiet solitude that beckoned her.

She wandered through a grove of fruit trees, their branches heavy with ripening apples and pears. Reaching up, she plucked a low-hanging pear and savored its soft sweetness and sandy sugar texture bursting on her tongue. As she followed the fence line, the lingering warmth of the day gave way to a gentle breeze that rustled through the tall grass.

In the distance, silhouetted against the fiery sunset, a figure moved within the horse arena. Her curiosity piqued, Aislynne drew closer, her steps soft on the earth. The man, whom she assumed to be a ranch hand, spoke in hushed tones to a magnificent stallion whose coat gleamed like burnished copper. With practiced grace, he swung himself onto the horse's back in perfect unison with its movements.

Aislynne couldn't tear her gaze away from the mesmerizing dance between man and beast. It wasn't until the figure shifted and turned towards her that she realized it was Mr. Cross. Mortification washed over her like a wave as she fumbled with the lantern, desperately trying to extinguish its flame in a puff of smoke.

But it was too late. His sharp and unwavering eyes had already found her amidst the shadows. He sat there like a wild reflection of the untamed stallion beneath him, his intense gaze fixed on her. Fear coiled in her stomach as she turned and fled towards the house, the image of his dark, piercing eyes burned into her memory forever.

Chapter 10

Willow Bend, Nebraska - September 1875

Buck couldn't tear his eyes away from Aislynne as she walked away, her fiery hair catching the last rays of the setting sun. He had recently kicked his whiskey habit and found solace in working with horses. But with sobriety came a newfound clarity that made him realize the ache in his chest wasn't just from missing alcohol, but from missing true connection.

He tried to convince himself that his sudden attraction to Aislynne was simply due to a lack of female companionship, but the way she made his heart skip a beat felt all too familiar. Pushing thoughts of his past relationship with Emilie aside, he reluctantly handed the reins over to a ranch hand and headed towards the house.

As he entered the house, he noticed that Beth and Mary had already retired for the evening, but a sliver of light flickered from under Aislynne's door. Curiosity piqued, he crept closer to listen, the heavy wooden door almost muffling her voice completely.

"Thank ye," she prayed earnestly, her tone sincere and full of gratitude. "Thank ye for blessing me with patience and knowledge to help these children. Please guide me in yer ways as I assist this family. And please be with Mr. Cross, bless him and guide him back ta his family."

Buck couldn't help but feel a twinge of guilt for listening in, yet he couldn't tear himself away from her words.

"Please comfort my family." Aislynne continued, her voice pleading and filled with concern. "And thank ye for little Abigail, she is such a sweet child. Keep us all safe. Amen."

The room fell into darkness as Aislynne's prayer ended, leaving Buck standing there deep in thought. Memories of forgotten prayers flooded back to him, causing him to retreat to his room with a heavy heart.

Chapter 11

Willow Bend, Nebraska - November 1875

Aislynne curled up on the plush window seat, draped in a soft blanket and surrounded by pillows. The sunlight shone through the frosted windowpane as her breath fogged the glass. In the distance, the sound of laughter echoed through the snowy landscape, along with the occasional thud of snowballs hitting their targets.

The fire crackled merrily in the hearth, its golden glow painting dancing patterns on the walls. Aislynne couldn't help but smile as she watched Buck and the children romp around outside, their voices full of pure joy. Mary sat nearby, her needle deftly stitching together a colorful patchwork quilt while Beth nestled cozily by the fireplace, lost in the pages of a book.

A sense of warmth and contentment enveloped Aislynne as she watched Buck playfully tackle one of his children into a pile of fluffy snow. It was a far cry from the brooding man she had first encountered. His anger seemed to have melted away into a newfound lightness that shone from his eyes whenever he interacted with his children.

Mary's voice broke through her thoughts, accompanied by a knowing smile. "Nice to see the children having fun with their father, isn't it?"

"Indeed it is," Aislynne agreed with a chuckle, glancing over at Buck just as he tossed Hannah onto a particularly deep snowdrift.

The change in the household dynamic was undeniable. The once-distant father now reveled in spending time with his children, and their playful energy seemed to infuse new life into the previously somber atmosphere. For Aislynne, it was a welcome respite from the tension that had lingered in the house before.

"Mr. Cross seems to be much… happier these days," Beth whispered conspiratorially, earning a playful nudge from Aislynne.

"No need to whisper," Aislynne chuckled. "The Bodach, canna hear ye in here."

"The Bodach?" Curiosity sparked in Mary's eyes.

Aislynne leaned in closer, her voice lowered for dramatic effect. "The Bodach," she began, "is a creature from Gaelic legend. Some say he is an old man, others say he is a vengeful spirit. He creeps down chimneys to snatch away naughty children in the night."

"Sounds like the boogeyman," Beth giggled.

Aislynne grinned mischievously. "Well, he certainly fits the description, wouldn't you say?"

Mary's eyes twinkled with amusement. "Indeed. But our Bodach seems to be shedding his more beastly tendencies. He's becoming more like the man I remember."

Intrigued, Aislynne leaned forward. "Tell me about Emilie," she prodded gently. "Mr. Cross never speaks of her."

Mary's smile softened as she rose and disappeared upstairs for a moment. When she returned, she held a small silver picture frame delicately in her hands. "This is Emilie," she announced quietly, placing the frame into Aislynne's outstretched hands.

Aislynne gently ran her fingers over the dusty glass, blowing away the film of grime that obscured the image. Emilie Cross was not what Aislynne had pictured in her mind. She was tiny and fragile-looking, with a gentle face and dark wide-set eyes. Her light hair, possibly blonde or a soft shade of brown, framed her features.

"The children have her smile," Aislynne remarked, a touch of wistfulness in her voice.

"Emilie was a plain girl," Mary continued, "But she possessed a quiet beauty that shone from within."

Aislynne studied the picture, a silent comparison forming in her mind. "No offense ta Mr. Cross," she began hesitantly, "but compared to him, she truly is a great beauty."

Mary chuckled, a soft, nostalgic sound. "Mr. Cross has changed a great deal these past few years, child. He wasn't always the… Bodach you both know."

A flicker of surprise crossed Aislynne's face. "No?"

Mary shook her head. "There was a time," she began, a hint of sadness tinging her voice, "when Mr. Cross's eyes held a spark as bright as the sun. But loss has a way of dimming even the brightest lights."

"Her eyes look very kind." Aislynne's gaze returned to the portrait of Emilie

A gentle smile softened Mary's features. "She was very kind," she said, her voice laced with tenderness. "I was the housekeeper for Emilie's family in Utah before she married Mr. Cross."

Aislynne's curiosity was piqued. "How did they meet?" She inquired, leaning forward in anticipation.

"Emilie's father was driving cattle through Nebraska when they ran into some trouble with local Indians," Mary explained. "Back then, Buck was a Deputy Marshal, in Rock Creek."

"Mr. Cross?" Aislynne's mouth fell open in surprise. "A Deputy Marshal?" She exclaimed, disbelief coloring her voice. "That's hard ta imagine!"

Mary chuckled knowingly. "Here, let me show you something," she said, rising from her chair. She disappeared upstairs for a moment, returning with another photograph tucked in her hand. "This is a picture of their wedding day."

Aislynne's grip on the photograph tightened, the sharp edges pressing into her skin. The man in the image was a stranger to her, a version of Buck Cross she never could have imagined. There was no sadness that clouded his eyes. The permanent scowl line creasing his forehead was gone. Aislynne stared at the picture in disbelief. His hair was neatly pulled back and he had a clean-shaven face, with a hint of a smile gracing his lips in a hesitant yet genuine manner. He looked...alive.

"That's Buck," Mary confirmed, a touch of amusement dancing in her eyes. "Quite handsome wasn't he?"

Aislynne could only nod, her mind struggling to reconcile the two images. The Buck Cross she knew and this man. This Buck radiated warmth and confidence. "I dinnae believe ye!" She shook her head in disbelief.

"Not quite what you were expecting, is it?" Mary replied with a knowing twinkle in her eye.

Aislynne shook her head, still struggling to reconcile the image with the reality. "Are ye possitve this is the same man?" She asked, her voice barely a whisper.

Beth, who had been silently observing the exchange, couldn't contain her amusement. She rushed over, peering at the photograph before bursting into a fit of giggles. "I don't believe it either!" She exclaimed, covering her mouth with her hand.

"How long were they married?" Aislynne finally managed to ask.

"Six years," Mary replied, a tinge of sadness creeping into her voice. "She passed away soon after Abigail was born."

"Did she… did she die in childbirth?"

Mary's expression turned grave. Her body quivered as the haunting memories of that day resurfaced. "No," she murmured. "She…" Her voice trailed off, heavy with unspoken grief.

"What?" Aislynne whispered, her heart clenching.

Mary took a deep breath, steeling herself. "Emilie was a sweet soul," she began, "but she carried a heavy burden. The children, the responsibilities of marriage… it all seemed to weigh her down terribly towards the end."

"That poor woman," Aislynne sighed, her voice choked with emotion.

"Buck found her," Mary continued, her voice barely above a whisper. "She… she had taken her own life."

The weight of the revelation hung heavy in the air. Aislynne shook her head in disbelief. "Oh, that's awful," she murmured, a wave of sympathy washing over her.

"The children don't know," Mary revealed. "He told them she died of a fever."

Aislynne nodded in understanding. Her eyes were drawn to the window where the children were gleefully piling snow on their unsuspecting father.

As she gazed out the window, Aislynne couldn't help but think of her own family. Did her parents miss her? Did her decision to leave break their hearts? The thought of causing them pain, especially her mother, weighed heavily on her. But she also knew that her mother, more than anyone, would have understood why she had to leave.

Aislynne sighed, accepting that what had happened was in the past and couldn't be undone. She reminded herself that she could have ended up in a similar situation - married to a stranger in a foreign land where she didn't speak the language. No, she was content with where she was currently, even if it meant being away from her family.

Chapter 12

Willow Bend, Nebraska - November 1875

Buck tightened the reins, his rough hands expertly maneuvering the buckboard as he prepared for their Sunday outing. It had been a long-standing tradition for Emilie's father to take the family to church every week, and after his passing, Buck took on the responsibility. But since they moved back to Nebraska after Emilie's death, the routine lost its significance. Mary would occasionally attend church, but even then it became less and less frequent. She used her achy knees as an excuse, but deep down Buck suspected she just didn't trust him to care for his children properly. Ever since Aislynne arrived, their Sunday morning rides into town had become a staple.

He smiled warmly and tipped his hat as Mary and Beth emerged from the house, both wearing their best dresses for church. Buck extended his hand to help Mary onto the front bench of the wagon, while Beth climbed into the back with the children.

"Papa? Why can't we go to church too?" Hannah looked up at her father with big, innocent eyes as he paced next to the buckboard.

"Well, sweetheart," he began, trying to choose his words carefully, "that church has different beliefs than ours." Buck glanced over at the house where Aislynne appeared, looking radiant in her deep green-colored dress against the stark winter landscape.

"But I like the stories in that big book," Hannah persisted with a whine.

Buck felt a sense of unease prickling under his skin. The complexities of religion were not easy to explain, especially given the harsh judgments he had endured during his time at mission school.

"We'll talk about it later." His jaw clenched and his eyes narrowed at Aislynne, who made her way down the pathway, bouncing Abigail on her hip.

"Morning, Sir." Aislynne handed Abigail to Buck and greeted him with a polite smile.

"Papaaa," Hannah dragged out the last vowel in protest.

"That's enough, Hannah." Buck warned her before turning back to Aislynne. "Good morning, Miss Stewart." He forced a smile for his daughter as he took Abigail from Aislynne's arms and settled her into the back of the wagon next to Hannah and Isaac.

Buck didn't bother asking Aislynne to accompany him; instead, he barked her name and marched towards the barn in a commanding tone. As he reached the old, weathered doors, his anger had cooled into a lingering bitterness. He forcefully swung open the doors, creating a resounding noise that reverberated through the dimly lit interior.

Aislynne flinched, unsure of why he was so agitated and seemingly directed at her. "Mr. Cross?" She stammered, her composure shaken.

Before she could speak again, Buck exploded. "How dare you!" he roared, his voice thick with fury.

"I don't understand—"

"Don't play innocent with me!" Buck bellowed, his voice laced with a trace of bitterness. "Filling my children's heads with your… your religion!"

Aislynne took a deep breath, forcing herself to remain calm. "Mr. Cross, please," she began, her voice steady despite the tremor in her stomach. "Hannah saw me reading and asked about it. I told her a few stories, that's all."

"And what happens when some fire-and-brimstone preacher fills her head with nonsense about hellfire and damnation because of her Indian blood?" Buck's voice cracked with emotion. The vulnerability in his tone took Aislynne aback. Buck looked away, his jaw clenched. "You're new here, Miss Stewart," he muttered. "But that's your God in these parts."

"Do ye love Abigail more than Isaac or Hannah?" A quiet tenderness settled in Aislynne's heart. She straightened her shoulders, her gaze clear and unwavering. "We're all His children Mr. Cross," She turned to leave, then paused, her voice filled with kindness as she met his gaze. "and He loves us all."

Chapter 13

Willow Bend, Nebraska - November 1875

Aislynne paced restlessly outside Buck's den, the floorboards creaking under her nervous fidgeting. Five minutes had stretched into an eternity as she wrestled with how to approach him, and how to apologize for her outburst earlier. The man was an enigma, a volatile mix of gruffness and vulnerability.

The sound of his voice, rough but surprisingly free of its usual drunken slur, startled her. "Miss Stewart," it boomed from behind the closed door, "I can hear you wearing out the floorboards. You might as well come in here and speak your peace."

Taking a fortifying breath, Aislynne pushed open the door. "Sorry ta bother you so late, Sir," she stammered, her voice betraying the knot of nerves in her stomach.

Buck looked up from his chair, his eyes weary and bloodshot. "It's fine," he muttered, gesturing vaguely towards the seat across from him. "What's bothering you?"

"I wanted ta explain about earlier," she began, her voice gaining a touch of composure. "I shouldn't have gotten so upset. It wasn't my place ta…"

"Sit down," he interrupted, his voice softer than she expected.

Aislynne sat, fiddling with her fingers. "I wasn't trying ta teach your children about religion," she clarified. "Not mine, or anyone else's for that matter. The truth is, I don't have a religion anymore. Well, I was raised…" She trailed off, her cheeks flushing with a sudden shyness. "I apologize, I didn't mean to ramble. What I'm trying ta say is, I'm not their parent. I can't always do everything perfectly, and I'm sorry that I'm failing in that manner."

A heavy silence descended upon the room. Buck stared into the fire, his face an unreadable mask. Finally, he spoke, his voice laced with a weariness that went beyond the late hour. "Miss Stewart," he began, his words measured, "I apologize. I didn't realize the position I was putting you in. It was unfair of me and, I'm sorry."

A flicker of surprise danced in Aislynne's eyes. This quiet, introspective Buck was a stark contrast to the man she had argued with earlier. Emboldened, she ventured a question. "Can I ask ye something, Mr. Cross?"

Buck didn't respond verbally, but a slight nod indicated she could continue.

Taking a deep breath, she met his gaze head-on. "Is this… is this the father yer children deserve?" Her voice was quiet, but it echoed in the stillness of the room.

Aislynne didn't wait for an answer. Setting a small, dusty mirror on the edge of his desk, she turned and walked towards the door. Just before she stepped out, she paused when she heard him clear his throat.

"Are you trying to shame me?" He asked.

"If that's what it takes for ye ta be the man everyone knows ye can be, then perhaps it's worth considering."

With that, she left him alone, the weight of her words hanging heavy in her wake. Buck stared at his reflection in the mirror, a stranger staring back from the dusty glass. He didn't recognize the man he had become. The reflection held no resemblance to the man he was – the strong rancher, the dependable father. It was a hollow shell, a ghost of the man he once was.

Chapter 14

Willow Bend, Nebraska - December 1875

Kid waved Buck down when he saw him ride into town. Louise had been pestering him to ask about his nanny and Kid had been busy at work and just hadn't had a chance to ride out to the ranch yet.

"Not your usual supply run, Buck," Kid boomed, his voice laced with good-natured amusement.

"Just grabbing a few extras," Buck muttered, his reply clipped.

"Heard through the grapevine you were headed to the town Christmas shindig." Kid continued.

Buck scoffed. "More like chaperone duty. Beth and Aislynne are set on going, and someone's gotta keep an eye on them."

"It'll be good for you to get out." Kid chuckled. "Enjoy yourself."

"I am out, enjoying myself," Buck grumbled, though the defiance in his voice rang hollow even to his ears.

"So, how's the new nanny working out?" Kid asked.

Buck hesitated. "She's a pain in the…" he started, then stopped. How to describe the whirlwind that was Aislynne Stewart? "A handful," he finally settled on, frustration lacing his voice.

"The kids like her though, right?" Kid prodded.

"Oh, they love her," Buck admitted, a touch of exasperation coloring his tone. "Even Isaac, which just makes it all the more infuriating."

Kid's brows shot up. "Infuriating? How so?"

Buck opened his mouth to explain, then stopped short. The more he tried to articulate his reasons, the more he realized they sounded petty, even churlish. "She's just… difficult," he muttered.

"Yeah, you're are a piece of cake." Kid slapped his back teasingly. "You forget, I've lived with you!"

Buck pushed through the general store's swinging doors, a frown creasing his brow. The simple errand of picking up supplies felt like an unwelcome chore today. Aislynne had sacrificed one of her dresses to have it tailored for Beth. In turn, Buck found himself here, acquiring a suit and tie – relics of a life he barely recognized anymore. Years had passed since he last donned such formality, the soft fabric a stark contrast to the worn leather and dusty denim that had become his uniform.

The cramped back room offered little space for his discomfort as he wrestled into the unfamiliar suit. Glancing at his reflection in the mirror, a deeper frown etched onto his face. The man staring back was an echo of himself. The worry lines etched on his face seemed more pronounced, a testament to the time that had carved its passage. He looked...lost.

Chapter 15

Willow Bend, Nebraska - December 1875

"Mr. Cross never decorates the house for Christmas," Beth whispered, her voice laced with a conspiratorial thrill.

Aislynne chuckled, a softly as she hung another glittery bauble on the tree. "Well, Mr. Cross isn't the only one living here, is he?" She countered with a wink. "How's that popcorn garland coming along, you three?"

"Abby keeps eating it all!" Isaac whined, his brow furrowed in mock seriousness.

Mary bustled in, a fresh bowl brimming with popcorn in her hands. "That's alright, sweetheart," she soothed, placing the bowl within reach of the children. "There's plenty more where that came from."

Just then, Buck's deep voice boomed from the doorway. "What are you little varmints up to?" He entered carrying several packages, his gaze landing on the tree adorned with a mishmash of ornaments.

"Papa! We're makin' pa-corn strings!" Abby squealed as Buck hoisted her onto his shoulder with ease.

"Pa-corn strings, huh?" He chuckled, snatching a handful of popcorn and popping a few kernels into his mouth. "Sounds delicious."

Isaac piped up, "It's POPcorn, actually."

"We decorated the tree!" Hannah announced, her eyes sparkling with a mixture of pride and apprehension. "Do you like it?"

Buck's smile, though fleeting, surprised Aislynne. "It's wonderful, sweetheart," he said, his voice gruff but gentle. Aislynne couldn't help but steal a glance at him, searching for any hint of disapproval. But there was none, only a quiet acceptance that warmed her heart.

"Beth, I have your dress right here," he announced, handing her a wrapped parcel, her eyes wide with anticipation. Beth, clutching the package like a precious gift, scurried back to her room, a shy smile gracing her lips.

"If you'll excuse me," Aislynne mumbled, feeling a sudden blush creep up her neck. "I'll go help Mary with dinner."

"Mary can handle it," Buck called out, his voice surprisingly light. "Why don't you and the kids finish decorating?"

The playful glint in his eyes caught Aislynne off guard but she focused on the task at hand, expertly stringing popcorn while the children's chatter filled the room. Buck's unexpected good humor hung in the air, a welcome reprieve from his usual brooding. She stole a glance at him, his face softened as he fed popcorn kernels to Abby, a picture of domestic contentment that made her heart skip a beat.

Suddenly, Buck rose, "Isaac, Hannah, would you two mind keeping an eye on Abby while Miss. Aislynne and I have a quick chat out on the porch?"

"Sure, Papa," Hannah chirped, leaning in to plant a kiss on his scruffy cheek.

Buck motioned for Aislynne to follow, handing her a shawl to ward off the crisp night air. He opened the door, ushering her out onto the porch before leaning against the railing. The silence that followed was heavy, yet not entirely uncomfortable.

"Is something wrong Mr. Cross?" Aislynne waited.

"Thank you," he began, gesturing around at the festive decorations. "The Christmas stuff, you didn't have to."

"Every child deserves a Christmas." Aislynne countered, offering a genuine smile.

Buck looked away, a furrow etching itself onto his brow. "I know things haven't been easy for you around here, and believe me, I know I'm not an easy man to live with." He paused, then took a deep breath. "What you said that night…"

Aislynne felt a blush creep up her neck. "I apologize if I overstepped," she interjected, worry creeping into her voice.

"No," Buck cut her off, his gaze finding hers. "You were right. I haven't been the father I should be. I'm… working on it. You… you humbled me."

The weight of his admission settled over Aislynne. Here was this gruff, seemingly unyielding man, laying bare his vulnerabilities. A warmth, a flicker of something more, sparked within her. "Mr. Cross, I…" she began, but he cut her off again.

"I needed it," he confessed, his voice gruff but sincere. He reached out, his hand resting gently on her shoulder. The touch sent a jolt through Aislynne. "Thank you," he murmured, his voice husky.

A tingle raced along Aislynne's nerves at the unexpected touch, her eyes closing reflexively. Despite her usual resolve to keep people at arm's length, a part of her yearned for connection, for something more than the comfortable loneliness she'd known for so long.

Chapter 16

Willow Bend, Nebraska - December 1875

Aislynne smoothed the wrinkles from the silk dress as she helped Beth into the garment. A sad smile crossed her lips as she remembered when her father came home from his travels years ago. Bundles of fine English fabric, spices, and other rare goods had tumbled out. This dress was a gift, quickly unwrapped amid excited shrieks of joy. The rich purple color had faded some, the shine dulled by time and wear. But for a moment, she was back in the sunlit vestibule of her family home.

Life was happy then, before her brother had been killed. Hot tears stung her eyes as her thoughts turned to Aiden, her older brother, that in her eyes, could do no wrong. She hadn't even been allowed to mourn for him before their father's relentless ambition had been thrust upon her. Aislynne gently traced the embroidered stems and flowers at the collar, the sound of the rustling skirts reminded her those days were gone forever, the fancy dresses just shadows of her former life.

"Oh, Beth, you look stunning!" she exclaimed.

Beth spun around in a slow circle, her light brown locks cascading down her back like a waterfall of honeyed gold. The dress, once a cherished item in Aislynne's wardrobe, fit Beth perfectly. "I think they must have cut off half the skirt to make it fit me," Beth giggled.

"Perhaps," Aislynne teased with a wink. "The color suits you well."

Beth turned towards the mirror, her eyes widening in awe. Aislynne had expertly pinned up her hair, leaving loose curls framing her face.

"Thank you so much," Beth whispered, her voice thick with gratitude. "For everything. You've been so kind, I can never repay you."

A warmth spread through Aislynne's chest. "Your friendship is more than enough, Beth," she replied, pulling the girl into a tight hug.

Suddenly, a loud noise echoed through the house from downstairs. "Elizabeth! Miss Stewart!" Buck's booming voice called out.

"Go appease the Bodach," Aislynne playfully rolled her eyes.

Despite Mary's reassurances and Buck's occasional smiles, a knot of fear twisted in Beth's stomach as she descended the stairs. She couldn't shake the image of the imposing figure standing at the bottom, looking taller than usual framed in the doorway.

With her knuckles turning white on the railing, Beth took a deep breath and summoned all her courage. Though Mr. Cross hadn't yelled or shown anger in weeks, she still felt intimidated by him. As she reached the bottom step, her heart pounded in her chest. Mr. Cross stood under the warm glow of the entryway lamp, his appearance a stark contrast to the usual disheveled man she knew. For a moment, Beth could only stare at him in disbelief. This wasn't the gruff and intimidating man she was used to seeing. This was someone...different.

"Beth, you look very pretty," Buck said, his voice surprisingly gentle as he reached out to help her with her coat. His eyebrow raised in concern as he took in her flushed face. "Are you alright?" he asked, concern evident in his tone.

Beth fidgeted with her dress, suddenly feeling self-conscious under his gaze. "I've just never seen you dressed like this before," she finally managed to say. "You look like a gentleman."

A slow grin spread across Buck's face, momentarily transforming his stern features into something almost charming. "Thank you, Beth," he chuckled.

Before Beth could respond, Aislynne appeared at the top of the stairs, causing both Buck and Beth's attention to shift towards her. Buck craned his neck to get a better view of her as she descended gracefully, her long red hair cascading down her back in waves that caught in the light. The pale sage-colored dress hugged her curves perfectly, making her green eyes sparkle with an intensity that took Buck's breath away.

For a moment, he was speechless, unable to take his eyes off of her. Clearing his throat roughly, he managed to stammer out a compliment: "You look... very nice, Miss Stewart."

Aislynne's cheeks flushed pink at his words as she accepted her coat from him with a lingering touch. As they settled onto the buckboard for their ride into town, Aislynne squeezed between Buck and Beth. While Beth's wide-eyed wonder was practically unconcealed, Aislynne tried to appear nonchalant. She stole fleeting glances at Buck, taking in the details of his transformation.

His usual worn leather coat was replaced with a charcoal grey one, crisp and clean. His black trousers were pressed and paired with a white shirt, shockingly free of wrinkles. Even his long hair, typically untamed, was now cut just below his shoulders. He even seemed to have trimmed his beard and lost his signature scowl. And there was an unfamiliar scent lingering around him, a pleasant change from the usual smell of whickey, leather and sweat.

Buck couldn't help but notice Aislynne's covert glances, a faint smile playing on his lips. "Alright, ladies," he said with a hint of amusement, trying to stifle a chuckle at their open admiration. "It's just a haircut."

Chapter 17

Willow Bend, Nebraska - December 1875

As the three of them rode up in the buckboard, the lively music and warm glow of string lights welcomed Aislynne, Beth, and Buck to the dance. Buck helped the ladies down, his rough hands gentle as he steadied them on the ground.

Kid and Louise were waiting for them with welcoming smiles. The women sat at a round table, stealing glances at the bustling dance floor. Soon enough, a bashful young man approached Beth and asked her to dance. She accepted with a radiant smile, their graceful movements blending seamlessly with the lively jig.

Aislynne leaned towards Louise, curious about Beth's dance partner. "Who's that?"

"Mark Elliot," Louise explained with a knowing smile. "He's been smitten with Beth for over a year, but too shy to call on her at the ranch."

"Can't say I blame him." Aislynne chuckled. "Mr. Cross can be a bit intimidating."

Louise's laughter filled the hall. "Oh, trust me. I know all about that!" She confided in a conspiratorial whisper. "That's why I wanted to catch you alone, away from all the church gossip and chattering children."

"Oh? Aislynne raised an eyebrow.

"I wanted to ask how things are going at the ranch," Louise said, glancing over at Buck who was now sharing a laugh with Kid over a plate of cake.

"Well... they're better," Aislynne replied cautiously. "The first few weeks were tough. The children were wild and unruly, except for Abby of course. She's always been such a sweetheart."

"And what about Buck?" Louise prodded. "Kid mentioned that he quit drinking,"

A flicker of surprise crossed Aislynne's face. She hadn't noticed the tale-tale scent of liquor on his breath, nor any signs of drunken behavior in recent months.

"You are a good influence," Louise confirmed.

"No," Aislynne shook her head, deflecting the praise. "I barely speak to the man if I can avoid it."

"Well, whatever it is, it's working," Louise countered with a knowing smile. "It's good to see him back to his old self again."

The candles overhead cast shadows across the table, and Aislynne jumped when Buck appeared from behind her, balancing two plates of decadent chocolate cake. He set them down with a playful thud, his eyes a light in the candle glow.

"Figured you ladies could use a little pick-me-up for all this chatter," he joked, nudging Louise's shoulder before turning to face Aislynne.

Aislynne gratefully thanked Buck under her breath as Kid and Louise excused themselves from the table to dance. Awkward silence settled between Aislynne and Buck as she picked at her cake, trying to ignore the tension. She glanced up and caught Buck's gaze, quickly looking away with a flutter of nerves in her stomach.

After a few minutes, Brandon approached Aislynne and asked her to join him on the dance floor. As they swayed to the music, Buck observed them from his chair, feeling a mix of envy and admiration. He couldn't deny that Aislynne was stunning.

He wanted to ask her to dance himself, but he didn't want to risk rejection. Instead, he leaned back and watched Kid, clumsily lead Lou across the dance floor. They were still so in love after all these years. Why was Emilie taken away from him? The pain and anger he felt towards her for taking her own life weighed heavily on him. He scowled and turned his attention blankly towards the crowd, lost in his thoughts.

Chapter 18

Willow Bend, Nebraska - December 1875

Aislynne spun around the dance floor with her partner, the sound of the music and laughter engulfing them. She was swept up in the exhilaration of the moment. But when she caught sight of Buck walking away with a downcast expression, an unsettling feeling began to creep into her thoughts.

As the music halted, she murmured an excuse as her eyes scanned the crowded hall in search of Buck. Unable to locate him, her eyes were drawn to a shadow passing by a window. There he was, Buck, standing by the fence where the horses were tied up. The sunset cast vibrant colors across the sky as the last rays of sunlight faded away. She could feel the crispness in the air as she made her way through the snow-covered trail towards him.

"Is everything alright?" She asked softly, stepping towards him.

Buck's gaze remained fixed on the distance, his emotions hidden behind a veil of darkness. He barely registered her presence or question.

"Mr. Cross." Frustration grew within Aislynne as she tried to reach out to him. "I'm sorry it's none of my business." She turned to go.

He finally turned to face her, his hand resting on her shoulder. "Miss. Stewart, I never properly thanked you for everything you've done."

"It's my job," she replied politely, masking her concern with a touch of formality.

His lips curved into a faint smile as warmth filled his eyes. "The children adore you."

"And I them," she confessed, leaning against the fence beside him.

"Where are you from originally?" He cleared his throat and looked at her.

"Scotland," she stated simply.

"What brought you here?" He prodded gently.

She paused, debating whether to share the whole truth with him. "Family matters," she finally admitted.

"Did you also teach in Scotland?" He persisted.

She couldn't help but smile at his persistent curiosity. "Why so many questions?"

"Just trying to get to know you better," he replied.

Aislynne couldn't resist turning the tables. "Well then, Mr. Cross, where are ye from?"

"I was born in Kansas, in a Kiowa camp," he revealed with a mischievous grin. "You know, Indians."

She rolled her eyes and laughed softly. "Aye, I am aware of who the Kiowa are."

"Indeed," he confirmed with a wink. "I left when I was twelve, went to a mission school, then worked at a few ranches, before I rode for the Pony Express. That's where I met Kid and Lou."

"They are wonderful people," she smiled, a slight shiver betraying the coolness of the night air.

Buck's gaze softened. "Let's get back inside before you freeze." He extended a hand towards her.

Never had Aislynne regretted the lack of gloves so intensely. The moment his fingers brushed hers, a jolt of electricity surged through her, sending a warm flush spreading down her body. She followed him back to the dance hall, desperately trying to regain her composure.

"Aislynne?" His voice came laced with a question as he gently squeezed her hand.

"Yes?" Her voice was barely a whisper.

"Would you like to dance?"

Uncertain words lodged in her throat, but she managed a hesitant nod. Placing her hand on his shoulder, she attempted to focus on his lead. Yet, his touch on her lower back felt like a brand scorching through her dress. How one dance could wreak such havoc on her senses was beyond comprehension. Relief washed over her when the song ended, the only dance he shared with her that night.

Chapter 19

Willow Bend, Nebraska - December 1875

The ride back to the ranch was filled with tension, as Aislynne couldn't shake the feeling of discomfort every time Buck's leg brushed against hers. The strange flutter in her chest only added layers to her already muddled thoughts.

Once they arrived at the ranch Beth scurried off to her room without a word. The silence hung heavily in the air, and Buck's concerned gaze only made Aislynne more on edge.

When he asked if she was alright, she forced a smile despite the tremor running through her at his touch. "Just tired from all the excitement tonight," she replied unconvincingly.

But as he followed her up the stairs, a tense energy seemed to escalate. When they reached her doorway, he paused and captured her wrist, his touch sending a spark across her skin. His fingers trailed down her jawline and neck, his grip tightening as he leaned in for a kiss.

Panic flooded through Aislynne and she pulled away just before their lips met. "Good night, Mr. Cross," she managed to whisper before darting into her room and slamming the door shut. Leaning against the door in a state of shock, she scolded herself for giving in to such desires for her employer.

But as she tried to calm herself down, there was a sharp knock on the door that sent her heart racing. Had she been talking out loud? Hoping it was just Beth, she pleaded silently as she opened the door to find Buck standing there with a conflicted look on his face.

Before she could even process what was happening, he had her pressed against the wall, his body strong and warm against hers. His hand tangled in her hair as his lips crashed onto hers with a force she couldn't resist. A gasp escaped her parted lips as desire surged through her veins. Her hands roamed over his back, gripping him for dear life as their kisses grew more frantic and desperate.

Finally, he pulled away, leaving them both breathless and wanting more. His fingers traced a path down her flushed face, his intense gaze locking with hers. With one final kiss, he whispered goodnight before retreating to his room.

Aislynne was left dazed and shaking on her feet, her heart racing with a whirlwind of emotions. She knew it was foolish and dangerous, but she couldn't deny the overwhelming feeling that she was falling in love with her employer. She collapsed onto the bed, unable to shake off the intoxicating spell he had cast on her.

Chapter 20

Willow Bend, Nebraska - December 1875

The dining room at the ranch was filled with the sounds of cutlery clinking against plates and soft murmurs of conversation. But one chair, usually occupied by Aislynne, remained empty.

"Why isn't Aislynne joining us for dinner?" Isaac's question hung heavy in the air.

"Maybe she's not feeling well again," Hannah chimed in, her voice full of concern.

Buck's brow furrowed as he took a sip of water. "Again? What do you mean?"

"Well, she wasn't feeling well during breakfast," Isaac explained, "but she seemed fine during lessons and playtime, and she even ate lunch with us."

"And played hide-and-seek," Hannah reminded.

"Interesting," Buck muttered, exchanging a concerned look with Mary as she entered the room with a bowl of vegetables. "Where is Aislynne, Mary?"

"Said she wasn't feeling too well," Mary offered with a shrug.

A knot of worry tightened in Buck's gut. "I'll go check on her." He stood from the table, running a hand through his recently trimmed beard.

With a gentle knock on Aislynne's bedroom door going unanswered, Buck pushed it open slightly and peered inside. The room was shrouded in darkness, but he could make out Aislynne's silhouette sitting on the window seat.

"Aislynne?" he called softly, taking a few steps into the room.

A muffled response floated back to him. "I'm really not very hungry tonight, Sir."

"Is everything okay?" Concern etched deeper lines on Buck's face. "Are you feeling sick?"

"Just not myself," she murmured, inching further away from the light.

"If I crossed a line or made you uncomfortable." Buck's heart sank. Had he misread their moment together last night? The possibility of rejection was like a sharp knife in his chest. He hadn't realized how much he had opened up to Aislynne until now. "I apologize. It won't happen again."

"Ah dinnae ken." Aislynne fell silent, staring out the window at the moonlit lake. Finally, she spoke, her voice shaking with emotion. "I feel very out of sorts."

"About what?" Buck asked, sitting down beside her on the window seat.

"The way I feel about you," she admitted, looking up at him with wide eyes.

Buck's heart raced at her words, a surge of emotion swelling within him. "You're not alone," he confessed, his voice soft and reassuring as he reached for her hand and gave it a gentle squeeze. The warmth of his touch spread through her like wildfire, sending shivers across her shoulders as she met his gaze.

She licked her lips nervously, drawing in an unsteady breath. "I'm afraid," she admitted, her eyes searching his face for understanding.

A surge of protectiveness washed over Buck as he traced her eyebrow with his thumb, down to her cheek. As he paused near her lips, he felt her tilt her head closer. He leaned in, his pulse racing as their lips met, gently.

"Have you ever been in love before?" he whispered against her lips.

"No," she whispered.

He trailed his thumb back up to her lips, feeling them part eagerly against his touch. This time, there was no hesitation as they lost themselves in the moment and each other's embrace. The world around them faded away as they surrendered to the intoxicating feeling of being in each other's arms. Just then the doorknob rattled violently. Isaac's voice broke through the haze, disrupting their moment of intimacy.

Buck reluctantly pulled away from Aislynne, her lips swollen and her eyes dark with desire. "Isaac? What is it?"

"Is Aislynne okay?" The boy's anxious voice echoed through the door.

A hint of amusement flickered over Buck's features."We were just discussing her joining us for dinner."

The door burst open, revealing a wide-eyed Isaac. "Aislynne! Are you feeling better?"

Aislynne smiled warmly at the boy's concern and enthusiasm. "Much better, thank you."

"She's coming downstairs!" Isaac yelled over his shoulder as he dashed back downstairs to spread the news.

Buck let out a chuckle, relief evident in his tone. "I hope we can continue our conversation later."

Aislynne blushed at the hint of unspoken desire in his words, but couldn't hide her own pleasure. "I would like that very much."

"Perhaps I should give Isaac a lesson on knocking." Buck joked, his hand gently squeezing hers as he lead her from the room.

Chapter 21

Willow Bend, Nebraska - December 1875

After dinner, the quiet hum of the house settled as the children drifted off to sleep. Buck and Aislynne found themselves drawn to the warmth of the fireplace. Buck knelt before the hearth, poking at the embers and coaxing the flames back to life with a fresh log. Aislynne perched on the sofa, mesmerized by the flickering dance of light.

"Mr. Cross," she began, her voice tentative.

A smile played across Buck's face. "Aislynne, please call me Buck."

"Alright, Buck," she agreed, meeting his gaze with a shy smile. "Thank ye for being so understanding earlier."

He rose from his spot by the fireplace and settled next to her on the couch. "Hey," he said gently, tucking a loose strand of hair behind her ear. "You can talk to me about anything.

Their eyes met in an unspoken understanding, a flicker of vulnerability dancing between them. "It's just...I don't really know ye that well," Aislynne admitted.

Buck reached out and took her hand, his touch comforting and reassuring. "There's no need to be afraid, Aislynne. Not of me or your feelings. We can take things slow, one small step at a time." He leaned in and brushed his lips against hers in a gentle kiss before pulling her against his chest, enveloping her in a warm embrace. "Were your parents very protective of you?" He asked softly after a moment.

Aislynne let out a heavy sigh, feeling the weight of unspoken stories settling on her shoulders. "Ye could say that."

Buck's fingers stroked her hair soothingly. "Aislynne, if there's anything you ever want to talk about,"

She closed her eyes and took comfort in his embrace. "My father... was arranging a marriage for me," she confessed after a moment, the words almost catching in her throat. Aislynne let out another soft sigh as she continued. "I just couldn't bear the thought of marrying someone I didn't know."

"And your parents wouldn't compromise?" Buck asked gently.

"It's just the way things are done." Aislynne's voice held a hint of resignation as she responded.

She closed her eyes and leaned back against his chest, finding comfort in his embrace. They sat together on the couch, watching the flames dance in the fireplace. It was a few minutes before he spoke again, his words rumbling softly against her back.

"Aislynne?"

"Hmm?"

"Is there... is that man in town still courting you?"

"Brandon?" She asked, her surprise evident in her wide eyes.

He winked at her, a playful glint in his own. "Unless there are others I should be aware of as well."

A blush crept up her cheeks. "Yer bum's oot the windae." She mock-protested, her voice laced with laughter as she struggled playfully against his grasp to sit up.

"Settle down, you wild thing," he chuckled, tightening his hold just enough to keep her still.

For a moment, Buck watched her with a flicker of possessive desire in his eyes. Then, with deliberate slowness, he pulled her closer and claimed her lips in a tender kiss. Aislynne melted into him, unable and unwilling to resist the pull between them.

"So tell me," Buck whispered, his voice husky with emotion. "Is there anyone else competing for your heart?"

Aislynne felt a rush of warmth spread through her as she snuggled into his embrace, resting her forehead against his chest. "There is no one else," she murmured softly.

Despite Brandon's charm and gentlemanly demeanor, Aislynne found their interactions purely platonic. He'd visited her on a few occasions, but her heart, she realized now, had already found its owner. Lost in the mesmerizing dance of the flames, pleasant drowsiness washed over her, and she drifted off to sleep.

Buck, meanwhile, felt a tug-of-war within him. He carefully carried her to her room, his touch lingering as he pulled back the covers. Tucking her in gently, he watched her sleep, a yearning he hadn't felt in years burned in his chest. Every fiber of his being craved to hold her close, to feel the warmth of her body against his. With a soft sigh, he leaned down, brushing a lingering kiss against her forehead. Stepping back, he reluctantly retreated to his room, the image of her peaceful slumber etched in his mind.

Chapter 22

Willow Bend, Nebraska - January 1876

The unforgiving chill blew across on Buck's back, the icy wind stinging his eyes as he wrestled with the splintered remains of the fence post. The afternoon snow seemed never ending, mirroring the weight in his chest. Every pull on the weathered wood sent a jolt of protest through his muscles, a symphony of aches and pops that spoke volumes about the miles his body had traveled.

There was a time when such physical exertion wouldn't have elicited a groan, let alone a grimace. But time, that relentless thief, had taken its toll. He wasn't old, not by most standards, but the years had etched themselves onto his frame.

He paused, straightening with a grunt as a particularly stubborn knot in his lower back spasmed, sending a white-hot spike of pain lancing up his spine. He leaned heavily against the closest post, waiting for the throbbing to subside. The whiskey had always been a loyal companion, numbing the physical aches and the ghosts that sometimes haunted his dreams. Now, however, the only ghosts he chased were literal ones, the remnants of a past best left undisturbed.

The silence stretched, broken only by the cicadas' insistent chorus and the distant laughter of his children. The sound, surprisingly, didn't grate on his nerves as it once might have. In fact, it brought a flicker of warmth to his chest. How different their lives were the past several months. Now that he had found his way out of the bottle and reforged his bond with his children, he saw the world more clearly.

The realization of his feelings for Aislynne slammed into him, undeniable and terrifying. It wasn't just a fondness for her company, not just an appreciation for her hard work. It was a deep, soul-stirring affection, a tenderness he hadn't thought himself capable of feeling again. But with that love came a crushing responsibility, a fear that mirrored the guilt he still carried for Emilie.

Her name, a whisper on his lips, brought a torrent of memories flooding back. Her sunny blonde hair, the sparkle in her blue eyes, the way her laughter used to fill their small home. Theirs had been a love story ripped from a fairytale, or so it had seemed in the beginning. Their wedding day, a blur of joy and hope, the promise of a life built together. The birth of their first child, Isaac, a tiny miracle that had filled their hearts with indescribable love.

But then, something shifted. A shadow settled over Emilie, a melancholy that clung to her. He tried everything, desperate to bring back the spark in her eyes, the carefree laughter that had once been her hallmark. But the darkness clung to her, an invisible weight dragging her down.

Hannah, then Abigail, arrived, a beautiful surprise, but even the joy of a new life couldn't dispel the gloom that had settled over their home. Abigail was just a babe when he found Emilie, lifeless in their bed, a gunshot wound staining the white sheets crimson.

The world had gone silent then, the vibrant colors of life leaching away, leaving only a dull, monochrome existence. He'd mourned, of course, the loss of his wife, the mother of his children. But a deeper, more insidious fear had taken root – a fear that he was somehow to blame. Had he not loved her enough? Had being with him driven her to such despair? The questions gnawed at him, a constant reminder of his failure.

The whiskey had become his solace, a warm oblivion that numbed the physical and emotional pain. He'd retreated from the world, the ranch left to the care of a loyal foreman. Human connection, the very thing he craved, terrified him. He couldn't bear the thought of putting his heart on the line again, only to have it shattered once more.

And then, Aislynne had arrived. A whirlwind of life and laughter. He'd been drawn to her from the very beginning, her strength, had been a beacon in the darkness that had become his life. He'd fought it, of course, tried to maintain a professional distance. But the more time they spent together, the more the dam holding back his emotions began to crack.

The memory of a stolen kiss by the fireplace sent a flush creeping up his neck. He hadn't meant for it to happen, but the yearning in her eyes, so similar to the longing he felt deep within himself, had been impossible to resist. But even that brief moment of connection had sent him running, the fear of his past rearing its ugly head.

What if his darkness, the ghosts of his past, seeped into their relationship? What if, despite her strength, Aislynne couldn't handle the weight of his baggage? He couldn't bear the thought of hurting her, of being the reason for another light dimming in her eyes. The guilt of potentially pushing her away threatened to overpower him.

He straightened again, forcing himself to focus on the splintered remains of the fence post. Build the fence, Buck, he told himself, one weathered board at a time. Build a barrier, not just to keep the cattle contained, but to keep his shattered heart at bay.

But the image of Aislynne's smile, the sound of her laughter, kept intruding on his self-imposed isolation. He saw her playing with the children….. how the joy in their eyes was beginning to return. The joy in his life was beginning to return as well. Everywhere he looked, Aislynne's presence permeated his world, a vibrant thread woven into his life.

Chapter 23

Willow Bend, Nebraska - February 1876

As evening fell, Buck's mount stood still on the town's central path, kicking up a small cloud of dust. Across from him, Louise exited the general store with a canvas tote bag bouncing against her hip. Memories flooded back to Buck of their younger days before war and tragedy had changed them all. He couldn't help but feel a pang of nostalgia for that simpler time.

But now, everything was different. The Pony Express was gone, the war had ended, and their innocence was lost. Kid and Louise had married, only to be separated by the war. Buck had left to fight for the Union, but an injury brought him back home early. And then fate intervened when he met Emillie's father in Rock Creek. Leaving his friends behind was a difficult decision, but marrying Emillie seemed like the right choice. However, her untimely death brought him back to Rock Creek, where he found that nothing was the same anymore.

Louise and Kid had moved to a small town called Willow Bend, located about 100 miles northwest. They opened a general store there, which inspired Buck to settle in the same area. The last he heard, Cody was still serving in the Army, fighting against the Cheyenne and Pawnee tribes. Their last conversation had ended in an argument, something Buck regretted. Jesse's whereabouts were unknown after the war, but a recent newspaper article mentioned his involvement in bank robberies. Hickok was now a Marshall in South Dakota, but keeping in touch wasn't one of his strong suits. In one of his most recent letters, Jimmy mentioned struggling with poor eyesight.

The most devastating news for Buck was that Teaspoon, his mentor and father figure, had passed away before seeing the end of the war. Lost in his thoughts, Buck was interrupted by the cheerful sound of the store's doorbell and Louise's welcoming smile as she spotted him.

"What brings you to town, Buck?" Louise's voice rang out, cutting through the chatter and hoofbeats.

Buck dismounted from his horse, wincing at the twinge in his elbow. "Just checking in," he replied with a forced smile.

Louise raised an eyebrow, her gaze sharp. "And how are things going?"

He hesitated before answering. "Fine," he said quickly, rubbing his elbow unconsciously. "Except for Jeb breaking his arm and me having to pick up the slack."

She chuckled, but it lacked its usual warmth. "You're not as young as you used to be, Buck."

He felt a pang of regret. "No, I'm not," he admitted.

They stood in silence for a moment before she broke it with a pointed look. "What's goin' on with you?"

Buck cleared his throat awkwardly. "Nothin'," he said, trying to sound nonchalant. "Everythings fine."

Louise's expression turned serious. "I know when you're lying, Buck. We've known each other too long."

He sighed, resigning himself to her knowing nature. "Fine," he grumbled. "Things are... complicated with Aislynne."

"How so?" She prodded.

Buck shifted uneasily knowing that Lou wasn't going to drop it until she was satisfied. "I have feelings for her," he admitted reluctantly.

A broad grin spread across Louise's face.

"I don't want to hear it Louise," he mumbled under his breath.

"I'll save the I told you so's for later," she teased. "It's good to see you doing well. You look more like yourself."

Louise was right, the past months with Aislynne had shattered the numb routine of his past, igniting a fiery hope within him that he thought was long gone. But the fear of history repeating itself loomed like a dark storm cloud over his newfound happiness.

"Louise," he rasped, his voice thick with emotion, "What if…"

"What if what, Buck?" she interrupted sharply.

He took a shaky breath. "What if things go wrong? What if…" His words trailed off, unable to voice the terrifying possibility of losing her too.

"Listen to me," Louise said, her hand gripping his arm tightly. "Emilie was troubled long before you ever met her. Don't let her demons drag you down as well."

Her words struck deep, stirring up a flurry of guilt and grief within him. He couldn't shake off the weight of his late wife's death, blaming himself for not being able to save her.

"You're not responsible for what happened to her," Louise continued, her tone firm but compassionate. "You loved her, Buck. You did everything you could."

Tears brimmed in his eyes, threatening to break through the dam he had built around his emotions. Louise's hand remained on his arm, grounding him in the present.

"I know," he choked out, "But Aislynne... I'm her employer and she's too young. She's got her whole life ahead of her."

"You ain't in the grave yet," Louise scoffed. "You deserve this, Buck. You deserve to be happy again."

His gaze met hers, a spark of determination igniting within him. He couldn't let his past dictate his future. Aislynne deserved a chance, and so did he.

"You're right, Lou," he said.

A fleeting grin touched the edge of Louise's lips. "That's the Buck I know," she said, her voice filled with pride.

With renewed strength, he swung himself onto his horse, the weight of his past still heavy on his shoulders but no longer suffocating. He urged his horse forward, the dusty road leading back to the ranch.

Chapter 24

Willow Bend, Nebraska - March 1876

Throughout dinner, Aislynne and Buck engaged in a silent dance. They exchanged stolen glances and brushed against each other as they reached for objects on the table. Every time their eyes met, a barely suppressed smile or gruff chuckle passed between them. It was a secret language that only they understood, filled with desire and affection.

Mary had picked up on their subtle interactions since Christmas. She noticed how they would suddenly become flustered and hastily end conversations whenever she entered the room. Buck, who used to be known for his disheveled and unkempt appearance, now sported a neatly braided hairstyle and clean, mended clothes. These changes in his appearance may have been subtle, but they revealed a shift in his priorities. A clear signal of change was the untouched whiskey bottle sitting on the shelf, representing a choice to give up vice, for something far more important.

As the last bite of dinner was savored, Beth excused herself to prepare for bed. The living room was now aglow with the soft flicker of firelight. Mary sat contentedly in her favorite armchair, needles clicking as she worked on a blanket.

Aislynne sat on the other side of the room, completely engrossed in a book, her mind lost in the pages and her fingers tracing the intricate embroidery on the cover. As the clock struck bedtime for the children, Buck emerged from the upstairs. He joined the two women in the living room.

The older woman couldn't help but smile to herself as she observed the sparks flying between Buck and Aislynne. Buck stood relaxed by the fireplace, seemingly lost in thought as he poked at the logs. But Mary saw through his facade - every few seconds, his head would snap up, his eyes darting towards Aislynne with an unmistakable intensity.

Her brow furrowed in concentration as Aislynne absentmindedly played with a stray curl that had escaped its braid. Completely absorbed in the book in her hands, she seemed oblivious to Buck's subtle glances and fidgeting.

With a tired yawn, Mary announced her departure for bed and made her way down the dimly lit hallway. The gentle creak of floorboards echoed in the silence as she disappeared into her room. As soon as her footsteps faded away, the poker in his hand clattered on the hearth.

Aislynne raised her gaze to meet Buck's, her eyes gleaming in the firelight. "At last," she whispered, the hint of a teasing grin playing across her face.

"Took her long enough, didn't it?" Buck chuckled, his own relief evident.

Aislynne's breath hitched as he gently extracted the book from her grasp, fingertips brushing against hers in the process. A blush crept up her neck as he placed it on the coffee table with a soft thud. He settled beside her, the worn leather of the couch sighing beneath their combined weight.

"Buck," she breathed, a low, teasing giggle escaping her lips.

Buck's finger pressed playfully against her lips, silencing the sound. "Shh," he whispered, his voice a husky rumble. "Don't wake the entire house."

Aislynne's smile widened as she swatted his hand away, her playful defiance laced with a hint of something more. Her head dipped forward, and before Buck could fully react, her lips met his in a quick, surprising kiss.

He responded instantly, his kiss deepening as his hand found its way to her waist. His tender touch elicited tremors through her body and her apprehension melted away, replaced by a burgeoning desire. Their tongues met in a slow, sensual exploration, the taste of her igniting a fire within him.

As they kissed, Buck felt Aislynne's body shift beneath him. He pulled back, catching his breath and looking into her eyes. She was pinned under him, one leg thrown casually over his calf. Her lips were parted, a mixture of innocence and newfound passion in her gaze.

A playful glint danced in Aislynne's eyes as she leaned in for another kiss. She wrapped her arms around his neck, her fingers working effortlessly to untie the wrap holding his dark hair in place. But as she ran her fingers through his hair, she felt a tension ripple through his body and he let out a soft moan that caught her off guard.

"Is everything okay?" Aislynne asked with concern, pulling back slightly.

"Yeah, just getting late," Buck replied, sitting up and taking her hands in his. "We should head to bed."

Aislynne nodded silently, but couldn't shake off the confusion lingering in her mind as they climbed the stairs. As they reached her room, she turned to face Buck before disappearing inside.

"Did I do something wrong?" she finally spoke up, uncertainty lacing her tone.

"No, not at all," Buck reassured her, pulling her into a gentle embrace and planting a soft kiss on her lips. "Dawn comes early."

Watching her retreat with a furrowed brow, Buck couldn't help but feel a pang of regret for cutting their intimate moment short. He made a mental note to explain his actions to her, ensuring she understood that his restraint came from a place of love and respect.

Chapter 25

Willow Bend, Nebraska - March 1876

The afternoon sun burned through the last wisps of the morning fog, revealing the orchard in sharp detail. Aislynne emerged from the ranch house, shielding her eyes against the bright rays as she made her way across the dry yard. Her boots kicked up little puffs of dust with each step.

At the corral fence, she paused and loosened her shawl, letting the warm breeze play across her shoulders. The pungent smells of the ranch wafted by - fresh-cut alfalfa, the musty aroma of horses, the rich tilled soil of the vegetable garden.

The horses whinnied eagerly at her approach, hoping for treats. Sounds typical of the homestead drifted in the air - the milk cow's bawling, the hired hand's axe periodically splitting another log, a rooster's crow momentarily dominating all other noises.

The distinctive clatter of an approaching wagon caught Aislynne's attention. She glanced up to see a familiar silhouette emerging from the direction of town. The vehicle jostled along the uneven track, its wooden wheels kicking up a dusty cloud behind it. As it crested the hill, Kid's wide-brimmed hat and Lou's cheerful bonnet came into view, bobbing with each bump of the road. The prospect of sharing a meal with friends brought a subtle, warm grin to Aislynne's lips.

The wagon's wheels kicked up a swirl of dust as it shuddered to a halt, the team's hooves scattering loose stones. In a flurry of laughter and motion, the children came tumbling off the buckboard and bounded across the yard to join the Cross youngsters at play. Aislynne watched with a warm smile as they immediately became engrossed in some game, shrieks of delight piercing the air.

She turned and embraced Louise in a hug and with a gentle hand on her arm back, Aislynne ushered her into the house. As they settled on the sofa, Louise remarked that Buck had insisted they join the family for the evening meal. He had expressed concern that Aislynne needed outside company and social interaction. Aislynne perched on the edge of the cushion, hands fidgeting with the folds of her dress.

"I'm am happy to see you." Aislynne confessed.

"Seems you and Buck are getting along." Louise prodded gently.

"Aye, we get along fine," Aislynne replied nonchalantly, although her breath caught in her throat at the mention of him.

"Just fine?" Louise pressed further.

Aislynne's cheeks flushed as she recalled their kisses by the fireplace and how his gaze often lingered on her. "More than fine," she admitted with a smile.

"If this is too personal, forgive me," Louise started again, her voice filled with concern. "But you haven't had much experience with men before, have you?"

Heat rushed to Aislynne's cheeks and she took a shaky breath. "Not really," she admitted. "It's a bit overwhelming."

"Buck ain't had it easy," Louise explained. "Be patient with him." She traced the rim of her glass with a playful smile as she watched Aislynne's flushed cheeks and fidgety fingers.

"Did Buck put you up to this?" She asked tentatively as she nervously twirled a lock of hair around her finger.

Louise arched an eyebrow, her smile widening into a knowing smirk. "He mentioned his growing fondness."

Aislynne let out a groan, covering her face with her hands. "I'm so sorry, this is all so awkward."

"Don't be angry with him," Louise reassured her, sensing the frustration bubbling beneath Aislynne's embarrassment. "He's older and your employer, it's not an easy task. Then mixed with you livin' under the same roof."

The sound of Mary's voice calling them to dinner interrupted their conversation. The delicious aroma of roast chicken and freshly baked bread wafted through the house, beckoning everyone to gather in the kitchen.

As they sat around the large oak table, lively conversations filled the air. Louise couldn't help but sip the lemonade with a satisfied smile as she observed Buck and Aislynne's subtle displays of affection - a gentle touch here, a lingering gaze there.

After dinner, the McCloud family said their goodbyes and climbed into their wagon, promising to return soon. With the house now quiet, the remaining adults enjoyed a comfortable silence.

Aislynne ushered the children up the stairs, tucking them in with gentle stories and sleepy kisses. But tonight, sleep wouldn't come easy. The conversation with Louise swirled in her mind, tangled with the lingering warmth of Buck's touch. She couldn't hold back any longer. Steeling her nerves, she bypassed her room and marched downstairs, straight towards Buck's den.

The door swung open without a knock, the sound bouncing off the walls of the quiet room. Buck, engrossed in a leather-bound book, looked up in surprise. The sight of Aislynne, her eyes sparkling with a mix of defiance and something that looked like anger, sent a tremor through him.

"How could ye?" She spat, unable to keep her composure any longer. "Ye asked Louise to come here and interrogate me?"

Buck frowned, confusion creasing his forehead. "No, that's not it at all," he protested. "I invited her over because I thought you could use a friend to talk to."

A flicker of understanding replaced Aislynne's anger as she studied Buck's sincere expression. Her shoulders relaxed slightly as she took a step forward, the familiar creak of the floorboards under her feet. She sighed, feeling exhausted from trying to hold back her emotions all evening.

"Aislie, come here darlin'," Buck murmured, his voice a low rumble. He reached out and guided her onto his lap, her body instantly relaxing against his solid frame.

"It's not just about being my employer, is it?" She asked softly, tracing the worn leather of his desk chair with her fingertips. "Because I can quit."

Buck smiled gently, a soft chuckle escaping his lips before he spoke again. "Aislynne, I'm quite a few years older than you." he admitted, tilting her chin up with a finger. "And I have some things in my past that I don't want to burden you with."

"Then leave them there," she whispered, feeling an intense desire building between them. "I dinnae care about yer past."

Buck leaned in for a tender kiss but abruptly pulled away when he noticed a red mark on her neck. Concern filled his voice as he gently touched the irritated skin. "What's this rash?" He asked, breaking the moment.

Aislynne blinked, startled out of her reverie. "Oh, it's nothing," she said dismissively. "Just some irritation from your beard."

Her mind flashed back to childhood memories of her father's rough beard scratching her skin, the memory pricked her skin. Suddnely a piercing cry cut through the quiet of the house.

"Abigail!" Aislynne exclaimed in worry, already heading towards the door.

But Buck's hand shot out and gripped her wrist firmly. "Let me go," he said firmly yet gently.

Chapter 26

Willow Bend, Nebraska - March 1876

Aislynne handed each child an apple, its skin a vibrant red that seemed to glow in the afternoon sun. As they sat contentedly munching on the blanket spread beneath the shade of the trees, she launched into her impromptu apple lesson.

"Did you know that apples first came from all the way over in Asia and Europe?" She asked, her voice brimming with infectious enthusiasm.

Hannah, with her bright, inquisitive eyes, piped up first. "How did they get here?"

"Excellent question!" Aislynne beamed. "They were brought here on ships that crossed the ocean."

"Have you seen the ocean?" Isaac questioned.

"Aye," She smiled. "When I left Scotland, I sailed on a ship for many weeks."

"I want to sail on the ocean too!" Isaac exclaimed.

"Trust me, it's not that fun for that long." She laughed lightly and railed the conversation back to the subject at hand. "Where do ye think the very first apple tree was planted?"

"On Plymouth Rock?" Isaac ventured, a hopeful smile flitting across his face.

Aislynne chuckled. "Very close, Isaac! It was actually planted in Boston, all the way back in sixteen twenty-five! Can ye imagine, that's over three hundred years ago!"

Suddenly Abby interjected. "Do you know what my favorite pie is, Aislynne?"

Aislynne pretended to ponder for a moment. "Hmm, could it be peach or cherry?"

Abby shook her head playfully. "Nope!"

"Then it must be apple pie," Aislynne guessed with a knowing smile.

Abby clapped her hands in delight. "Yes!"

Isaac joined in with equal excitement. "Me too!"

Aislynne's heart swelled with warmth at their joy. "Well then, maybe we'll have to pick some more apples today and ask Mary to make us a delicious apple pie!"

Abby's small frame was perched on a stool, her feet swinging back and forth as she happily munched on slices of freshly picked apple. Suddenly, the sound of hooves could be heard approaching, and Buck appeared with a quick dismount from his horse.

"Whoa there, Papa!" Abby exclaimed, dropping her half-eaten apple in surprise.

Aislynne turned at the commotion to find Buck looking surprisingly different. Instead of his usual rugged appearance, he was clean-shaven with a new spark in his typically brooding eyes. The change was so striking that for a moment, Aislynne didn't recognize him. She stood speechless, taken aback by his transformed look.

"Well, say something," Buck chuckled, breaking through her thoughts.

Aislynne felt a blush creep up her neck. "I... didn't recognize you at first," she stammered, flustered by his new appearance.

As Buck's infectious laughter echoed around them, she felt a delightful shiver course through her frame. "This is the first time you've been speechless, Aislie," he teased with a twinkle in his eye.

Chapter 27

Willow Bend, Nebraska - April 1876

It had been a week since the fever had confined Aislynne to her room, a week of restless tossing and turning punctuated by feverish dreams. The day before, the fever had finally broken, leaving behind a lingering weakness but a gnawing hunger. Relief washed over her as the morning sun streamed through her window.

Stretching languidly, she splashed cool water on her face, the refreshing tingle chasing away the last vestiges of illness. Fresh air was another welcome change. Throwing open the window, she inhaled deeply, the scent of wildflowers and sun-warmed earth filling her lungs. Her usual meticulous morning routine felt unnecessary today. With a carefree smile, she braided her unruly curls into a single, thick plait and donned a simple blue blouse and grey wool skirt – a far cry from the elegant dresses and jewels of her life in Scotland.

As she descended the stairs, a joyful shriek cut through the air. "Aislynne!" Abby crowed, clapping her hands with unrestrained enthusiasm.

"Sorry I'm late," Aislynne offered by way of apology, a faint blush dusting her cheeks.

Buck pulled out her chair. "Much better, I see," he remarked, concern softening his voice.

"Papa wouldn't let us see you," Hannah pouted, a playful glint in her eyes despite the feigned indignation.

Aislynne chuckled, ruffling the little girl's hair. "Well, that's because yer papa loves ye and doesn't want ye to get sick too."

The conversation flowed easily around the breakfast table, broken only by the children's chatter. Suddenly Hannah brought up a topic that had been simmering on the edge of her young mind. "Papa, can you talk to Aislynne now about me and Isaac going to school?"

Aislynne corrected gently, "Issac and I,"

Buck smiled, his gaze lingering on Aislynne. "Why don't you two take your sister upstairs and play for a while? I'll talk to Aislynne about school."

With a grateful "Thanks, Papa," they scampered off, leaving Aislynne and Buck alone.

"Am I not doing a good job?" Aislynne asked, a hint of worry flickering in her eyes.

"You're the best thing that's happened, in all our lives." Buck reached across the table, squeezing her hand reassuringly. "Hannah and Isaac have been talking to the McCloud kids, and they're eager to be around other children their age."

"I can understand that," Ainsleigh commented as she cut into a freshly baked biscuit and added a drizzle of warm honey. "It's natural for them ta want ta be with other kids their age."

"To be honest, I wasn't sure they were quite ready." Buck fiddled nervously on the medicine pouch under his shirt, a habit he picked up over time.

"Isaac and Hannah are exceptionally bright. They'd do well in school." Ainsleigh replied with a smile.

"That just leaves Abby with you during the day,"

Aislynne took a deep breath, steeling herself for the conversation she knew she had to have. "I need ta speak with ye about that," Her gaze locked with his, the intensity momentarily stealing her breath. "It doesn't feel right for me ta be living here at night, given the... situation between us."

"Aislynne," he began, his voice low and gentle.

She cut him off, her voice barely a whisper. "I was thinkin', perhaps I could continue working with the children during the day, but find a place in town ta stay."

Her words hung heavy in the air. Buck's gaze held a mix of emotions - surprise, a flicker of disappointment. He cleared his throat, breaking the tension.

"A place in town, huh?" He ran a hand through his hair, the long dark strands slipping through his fingers.

She met his gaze, her cheeks burned under his scrutiny, but she held firm. A long silence stretched between them, broken only by the distant chirping of birds.

Finally, Buck conceded. "We'll figure something out. But for now, how about a picnic with the kids? A change of scenery might be good for everyone."

Aislynne smiled and nodded in agreement.

Chapter 28

Willow Bend, Nebraska - April 1876

Buck's lips spread into a slow, mischievous grin as he looked at Aislynne. "You know how to ride, right?"

"Aye!" Aislynne puffed out her chest with pride. "I was raised riding horses."

"Not sidesaddle, though." Buck's eyes sparkled with playful challenge.

"I can ride like a cowboy!" Aislynne declared, throwing her hands on her hips and launching into an exaggerated impression of a bowlegged wrangler, complete with a comical side-to-side shuffle. The ranch hands erupted into laughter.

"Alright, alright, rodeo star," Buck chuckled, offering Aislynne a hand up onto the horse. "Think you can handle a boost?"

"Always," Aislynne replied with a grin, taking his hand and gracefully swinging herself onto the saddle. Buck adjusted the stirrups for her comfort.

He turned to Isaac and Hannah, who were standing nearby with wide-eyed fascination. "Are you two ready to come along?"

"Is Hannah alright to ride alone?" Aislynne raised an eyebrow in surprise.

"They both have been riding since they were toddlers," Buck explained. "But she's still too young to ride on her own. They'll be fine on a lead horse though."

He instructed Aislynne to hold onto Abby for a moment while he got onto his own horse, effortlessly lifting Abby from her arms and settling her comfortably in front of him on the saddle. With a wave to signal for Aislynne to follow, he led the way with Isaac and Hannah leading the gentle mare in front of them.

As they rode through the peaceful countryside, the only sounds were the rhythmic clopping of hooves and the sweet melodies of song birds. The scenery around them was breathtaking, with the sun peeking through the leaves and illuminating the rolling green hills and swaying wildflowers.

They finally reached a large oak tree where Buck dismounted, helping Hannah and Aislynne off the horse before gathering a picnic basket from behind his saddle. Aislynne helped him spread out a soft blanket on the grass, and they began unpacking the lunch together.

"Mary made fried chicken?" Isaac blurted out, peeking into the basket.

Hannah swatted him playfully. "You're going to spoil the surprise!"

Aislynne's smile widened. "Surprise? What surprise?" She asked, settling down on the blanket with Abby happily nestled in her lap.

Buck winked at her, a playful glint in his eyes. "Well, we were going to wait," he drawled, sending a playful warning look at Isaac, "but Mary made a pie for dessert."

"Yummy!" Aislynne exclaimed, hugging Abby tightly. "Ye excited for pie, Abby?"

After a satisfying picnic lunch, where they devoured Mary's homemade apple pie, the children scampered off to explore the nearby meadow. Hannah eagerly showed Abby how to carefully catch lizards without hurting them. Meanwhile, Buck and Aislynne lay next to each other on the blanket and watched the children. Aislynne closed her eyes and savored the peaceful atmosphere while Buck nervously fiddled with the ring box in his pocket.

As they enjoyed each other's company, Aislynne leaned in for a kiss. He knew he couldn't wait any longer. Gathering all of his courage, he stood up and reached out a hand to help Aislynne up.

"Are we leaving already?" Aislynne asked disappointedly as she took his hand and stood up.

"No, not yet," Buck replied with a smile. "I just have something I want to ask you."

Aislynne beamed at him, relieved that they weren't leaving so soon. She planted a soft kiss on his lips before pulling away and wrapping her arms around his neck.

"I never want you to leave," Buck said earnestly, holding her close.

"Buck," Aislynne whispered breathlessly.

With a determined expression, Buck retrieved the velvet pouch from his pocket, revealing the gleaming gold band inside. He knelt down on one knee before her, taking her hands in his own and looking into her eyes with love and hope.

"Aislynne," he began confidently, though his heart raced with nerves. "Will you marry me?"

Aislynne's heart swelled with emotion as she noticed the children had stopped playing and were now watching them intently. She tried to speak, but her words caught in her throat. Instead, she pressed her hand to her chest, a fluttering sensation telling Buck everything he needed to know.

"Aislie?" Buck's voice wavered with uncertainty as the seconds passed without a response.

Chapter 29

Willow Bend, Nebraska - April 1876

The sun streamed through the kitchen window across the counter where Mary and Beth sat. An assembly line of potatoes lay before them, the peelings landing with a satisfying plop in the metal bowl. The air crackled with anticipation, thick like the potato skins sticking to their fingers. Buck had shared his plan to propose to Aislynne, and the two women were on high alert, acting as though the fate of the world rested on their ability to see the action unfolding through the kitchen window.

Suddenly, Beth shrieked, nearly launching a potato across the room. "He's down on one knee!" She exclaimed.

Mary playfully swatted her arm. "Yes, I can see that!" She said, though her eyes never left the window.

The silence stretched on, each tick of the clock echoing in their ears. A knot of worry formed in Mary's stomach. This wasn't how proposals were supposed to go.

"What is she waiting for?"

Just when she thought she couldn't take it anymore, a joyous whoop shattered the tension. Buck swept Aislynne into his arms as her skirts fluttered around her ankles. The children playing in the meadow wasted no time, rushing towards the couple with wild abandon.

A smile spread across Mary's face as relief washed over her. "Well, it all worked out then!" She declared, resuming her frantic peeling with renewed energy. "Buck mentioned celebrating at the McClouds' tonight – bless his heart. I told him we'd be happy to watch the little ones."

Chapter 30

Willow Bend, Nebraska - April 1876

The wooden buckboard jostled and creaked as it rolled down the dusty road, the moon casting a pale light on the couple nestled together on the seat. Aislynne's head rested against Buck's shoulder, her body swaying slightly with each bump in the road. The sweet sting of champagne lingered on her lips, adding to the hazy warmth that filled her chest.

"I'm so glad we could celebrate our engagement with Kid and Louise," Aislynne said, breaking the comfortable silence between them.

Buck smiled, his arm tightening around her. "Me too," he replied, his voice deep and content.

A flicker of mischief crossed Aislynne's eyes. "Did ye and Louise ever...?" She trailed off playfully yet laced with a hint of curiosity.

Buck laughed, shaking his head. "Never," he assured her, a hint of fondness in his tone. "Louise is like a sister to me."

Aislynne's gaze drifted downward, her fingers playing with the ring on her finger – a stunning emerald set in intricate filigree. She couldn't help but admire its beauty.

"I've had that ring for over a month now," Buck confessed. "Just waiting for the perfect moment."

Aislynne's smile widened. "Well, it was perfect," she whispered, leaning in for a kiss.

Buck's lips were warm and familiar, sending a rush of affection through her body. But before things could escalate further, he pulled back with a teasing grin.

"If you keep this up, we might not even make it back to the house," Buck teased, his voice husky with desire.

Aislynne let out a sleepy giggle. "Buck?" She murmured, her voice heavy with exhaustion, "promise me something."

"Anything," Buck replied, his hand gently stroking her hair.

Her tone shifted, becoming more serious. "If anything were to ever happen ta me... promise me ye won't fall back into old habits."

Buck's heart clenched at the thought. He rubbed her arm soothingly. "Shh, nothing is going to happen to you."

"I meant it." Aislynne's persistent expression showed her unease. "Promise me."

He sighed but knew he couldn't deny her this reassurance. "I promise," he whispered, kissing her forehead tenderly.

Chapter 31

Willow Bend, Nebraska - August 1876

Aislynne's fingers traced the delicate lace appliqués on yet another page of the wedding dress catalog. The dressmaker's drone about cathedral veils and satin trains faded into background noise as her mind wandered to thoughts of her upcoming wedding.

Glancing over at Louise, Aislynne couldn't help but notice the same glazed look of disinterest mirrored in her eyes. With a sudden burst of decision, Aislynne stood up and apologized to the dressmaker before hurrying out of the shop.

Outside, Louise caught up to her, concern etched on her face. "Aislynne, what's wrong?" she asked.

"I don't want any of this," Aislynne confessed.

"What do you mean?" Louise looked at her with concern creasing her forehead.

"The big ceremony, the endless choices..." She sighed mid-sentence.

Louise smiled in relief. "I thought for a second you were having doubts about marrying Buck."

Aislynne chuckled. "No, no, I can't wait to marry him."

Louise nodded understandingly before gently asking about Aislynne's family attending the wedding. Aislynne shook her head, a hint of sadness in her eyes. Sensing her reluctance to discuss it further, Louise changed the subject and mentioned needing to run to the store for Kid's assistance with a shipment.

Thinking she might as well pick up some things while she was there, Aislynne wandered through the general store. As she approached the counter, she overheard two women from church – Eleanor Thomas and Patricia Robertson – gossiping as usual. It wasn't until she heard Buck's name that she halted and listened closely.

"I heard he's marrying one of the ladies in his employ," Patricia's voice buzzed with gossip.

"I thought that Elliot boy was courting that girl." Eleanor's eyes widened in surprise.

Patricia waved a dismissive hand. "No, no, that's Elizabeth. He's marrying the new one, the… what's-her-name… the girl from Scotland."

"The redhead, you mean?" Eleanor clarified. "Pretty young thing. Why on earth would she marry that drunken half-breed?"

Patricia tut-tutted. "My guess is the money. You know he's filthy rich, all inherited from his poor first wife. Some folks even say he killed her with his bare hands." Her voice trailed off meaningfully.

A wave of nausea washed over Aislynne. Disgust churned in her stomach, not just for the women's cruel gossip, but for the thought of Isaac, Hannah, and Abby – Buck's children – having to endure such hateful words. A new wave of worry crashed over her. Would Buck want more children of their own? How would she explain to her children that some people would hate them solely based on the color of their skin?

Straightening her spine, Aislynne marched towards the counter, her voice firm as she greeted the women. The sight of her visibly flustered Patricia, whose eyes darted nervously between Aislynne and Eleanor.

"Just ta clarify a few things, ladies," Aislynne began, her voice dropping to a low whisper that carried a surprising amount of authority. "It's not about the money, and some things are best kept private." Her final statement held a pointed edge, a silent warning to the gossipmongers.

With a triumphant smile playing on her lips, Aislynne paid for her purchases and thanked Louise. As she turned towards the door, she took one last look at the stunned women. "See you at church, ladies," she said, her voice laced with a sweetness that belied the steely glint in her eyes. The door swung shut behind her.

Chapter 32

Willow Bend, Nebraska - August 1876

The warm glow of the candle bathed the living room in a soft light, casting shadows on the well-worn pages of the Bible clutched tightly in Aislynne's hands. Her brow was furrowed with worry as she read and reread the same passage, her eyes darting back and forth with restlessness.

Buck watched her from his seat on the couch, a gentle smile playing on his lips. He knew that look all too well – it wasn't one of pious concentration, but rather a sign of deep concern. As he leaned against the armrest, he could see the tension in her shoulders and the slight tremble in her fingers.

"Darlin', is something botherin' you?" He asked softly, breaking the quiet that had settled between them.

Aislynne looked up at him with a start, then offered a weak smile. With a heavy sigh, she placed the Bible down on the coffee table, her cheeks tinged with embarrassment.

"There were some women in town today," she began hesitantly, "and they were saying terrible things."

Buck's smile faded into a frown as a surge of protectiveness washed over him. He had always known this day would come – when their happiness would be met with judgment and narrow-mindedness from others. He just hoped Aislynne was prepared for it, with her gentle heart and kind spirit.

"I'm sorry," he murmured, reaching out to take her hand. The warmth of her touch brought some comfort to his troubled mind.

Aislynne squeezed his hand back, a hint of defiance replacing her earlier worry. "I probably shouldn't have let them get ta me," she admitted. "But they were so cruel and I couldn't help but say a few things back ta them."

Buck chuckled, the deep rumble soothing his anger. "Don't you worry about those two biddies," he reassured her, shaking his head with amusement. "Even their husbands wouldn't give a hoot about their prattling."

Aislynne, however, didn't seem entirely convinced. "I just don't wanna ta cause any trouble for ye." She said, her voice laced with guilt.

Buck leaned closer, brushing a stray curl from her forehead. "I don't know what I did to deserve you," he murmured, his lips hovering near hers for a fleeting moment before landing in a soft kiss. "I love you. You know that, right?"

"Yer not upset at me for snapping at those women?" She asked, a hopeful tone creeping into her voice.

"Not at all." Buck's gaze locked onto hers, and he couldn't help but feel a surge of pride as Aislynne confidently spoke her mind. She scooted closer to him on the couch, and he felt a flutter in his chest at her closeness.

He noticed the tension leaving her body, but the slight hitch in her breathing revealed lingering concern. "What else do you need to tell me?" He asked, unable to mask the curiosity in his tone.

Aislynne took a deep breath before blurting out, "I don't want a wedding."

Buck's eyebrows shot up in surprise. "You don't?"

"I want to marry ye," Aislynne quickly clarified, "but I don't want all the fuss and stress of planning a huge event."

Buck softened at her words, his heart swelling with love. "So what are you saying?"

Aislynne's eyes sparkled with excitement as she looked up at Buck, her hand resting on his arm. "We could go to the church tomorrow," she said confidently.

As he looked at the woman sitting next to him, Buck felt his heart overflow with love and admiration. Her determination was evident in every word she spoke. It had been almost a year since she showed up on his doorstep, and back then, he could hardly stand being around her. She was an unwelcome intrusion that shattered his peace. But as time passed, they grew closer, and their once quiet friendship blossomed into a fiery romance.

After a moment of contemplation, Buck's face lit up with a smile. "Tomorrow afternoon it is," he declared, leaning in to kiss her deeply. The idea of a small, intimate ceremony with their loved ones felt perfect after all.

Chapter 33

Willow Bend, Nebraska - August 1876

The next morning brought a crisp brightness with the clucking of chickens filling the air and the sweet scent of sweet prairie grass. Aislynne, with butterflies fluttering in her stomach, chose an elegant pale blue dress, one of the last she had brought with her from home. Buck, looking dapper in the suit he bought that Christmas, caught her gaze from across the breakfast table. They exchanged a smile, sharing their excitement for the upcoming ceremony.

The ride to the church was lively as everyone chattered excitedly. Louise squeezed herself next to Aislynne and held onto her hand tightly. In the back of the wagon, Kid, Beth, and Mary entertained the children who were dressed in their best Sunday attire, eagerly giggling and bouncing with energy.

The small church sat nestled among oak trees, its interior filled with the familiar scents of polished wood and old hymnals mingled with the subtle aroma of wildflowers clutched in Aislynne's hand. The kind old preacher welcomed them warmly with twinkling eyes, his gaze softening as he saw the fidgety little ones in the front pews.

The ceremony was short, simple, and without any grandeur or fanfare. Buck and Aislynne stood beside each other, their hands clasped tightly, their eyes locked in a loving gaze. The preacher's words were a blur to Aislynne, the sound of her heart pounding so loudly in her ears that it drowned out everything else. As they shared their first kiss as husband and wife, Buck felt her arms encircling him tightly. At that moment, he knew without a doubt that they were meant to be together; any uncertainties he had before vanished completely in her embrace.

Leaving the church as husband and wife, they were greeted by heartfelt congratulations from friends and townsfolk passing by. The most sincere cheers came from their small group of attendants. Isaac, Hannah, and Abby embraced them with beaming faces while showering them with hugs. Louise, tears glistening in her eyes, enveloped Aislynne in a tight hug that almost took her breath away.

Back at the ranch, a modest wedding feast was lovingly prepared by Mary and Beth. The celebration was filled with joyous laughter and warmth. As the sun began to set, painting the sky in vibrant shades of orange and gold, Buck took Aislynne's hand and led her outside. They stood on the porch with their arms wrapped around each other, gazing out at the vast expanse of their ranch. Fireflies began to emerge, twinkling like tiny stars against the darkening sky.

"This is perfect," Aislynne whispered, resting her head against Buck's chest.

"Even more than perfect," Buck murmured, nuzzling his cheek against hers. "Because it's with you, and… our kids. We're a family now."

Chapter 34

Willow Bend, Nebraska - August 1876

Aislynne was standing by the window, her gown unbuttoned halfway down her back to reveal the elegant arch of her spine. The remaining light of the setting sun cast a beautiful pink and purple sky outside the window, mirroring the blush that rose on Aislynne's cheeks as Buck approached.

He moved towards her with intent, his gaze tracing every exposed inch of her skin. She caught her breath, feeling a flutter in her chest. This was not a stolen glance or a nervous touch; this was their first night as husband and wife.

"Are you nervous?" He asked quietly, his voice rumbling against the background of crickets.

Aislynne turned to face him, their eyes locking. "A wee bit," she admitted, her voice trembling. "But mostly..." she paused, trying to find the right words, "mostly happy."

Buck's lips curved into a smile, his eyes full of tenderness. "Me too, sweetheart."

He reached out his work-roughened hands, and with a featherlight caress trailed his fingers along her skin, triggering waves of delight through her. He continued to unbutton her dress slowly, each button revealing more of her vulnerability to him.

The dress fell to the floor in a shimmering pool of blue silk. Aislynne stood before him, illuminated by the pale glow of the moonlight. He traced the curve of her hip with his finger, causing goosebumps to rise on her skin.

"You are so beautiful," he whispered hoarsely.

Aislynne reached out and ran her fingers through the soft fabric of his shirt. "Tha gaol agam ort."

"What is that?" He asked as his breath hitched.

"I love ye." Her fingers tentatively ran down his chest.

Buck leaned in and lightly kissed her lips softly. The kiss was filled with tenderness and promise. Aislynne melted into his touch, her breathing coming quicker as she gripped his shirt pulling him closer. Buck's fingers worked quickly, unbuttoning his shirt in one smooth motion as he led Aislynne to the bed. With a fierce hunger in his eyes, he laid her down gently and cupped her face in his hands.

"I love you too." Buck smiled, a warmth radiating from his eyes.

He traced her inner thigh with his fingers, her breath quickening in anticipation. His touch was intoxicating, awakening a fire within her. Slowly, deliberately, he stroked her, his fingers finding every sensitive spot and igniting a desire that burned hotter and hotter with each passing moment.

He settled between her thighs her heart was racing as his weight pressed down on her. Slowly he entered her, and she gasped in pleasure at the feeling of him filling her completely. Aislynne moaned softly as he moved inside of her, stirring up sensations she never knew existed.

The friction between them was exquisite torture yet felt oh-so-good at the same time. She gripped him tighter, urging him to go deeper still, and he obliged with a groan that vibrated through both of their bodies. His hips pumped against hers in time with their erratic breathing while they found their rhythm.

Their kisses grew more demanding as their passion reached new heights. Tongues danced eagerly while hands roamed freely over each other's bodies, exploring every inch they could reach. Wherever he touched her felt like fire racing through her veins.

She trailed her fingers across his lower back, feeling the tension in his muscles as he thrust into her. She moaned into his mouth, her breath catching in her throat as she surrendered to this overwhelming desire that threatened to consume her.

Buck's gaze never left hers; it held a raw intensity that reflected her own feelings. He thrust harder, their bodies straining against one another in a desperate bid for release. Their moans filled the room. As their climax approached, she felt a wave of pleasure wash over her. She cried out as he continued to move inside of her, bringing her to the brink and then pushing them both over the edge.

They rolled over, still entwined, gasping for air as they looked into each other's eyes. Moments later he pulled her into his arms and comfortingly stroked her back. Falling into the lusty haze of sleep Aislynne felt a sense of bliss and fulfillment. She knew that she had found her home in his arms.

Chapter 35

Willow Bend, Nebraska - August 1876

Hannah's brow furrowed with concern as she gazed at the large crow perched in the makeshift cage. "Do you think he'll get better?" Her voice was barely a whisper.

Aislynne knelt next to the bird, offering it a bite of chicken. Its once shiny black feathers appeared dull, and its eyes looked lifeless. "I'm not sure, sweetheart," she replied gently. "But we'll do everything we can for him. We'll keep him nourished, clean his wound, and pray for the best."

The day before, Buck had discovered the injured crow while tending to the fields. It lay crumpled in the tall grass, its leg twisted at an unnatural angle. He would have mercifully ended the bird's suffering had it not been for Abigail's insistence in nursing it back to health. Buck had acted quickly, binding the bird's beak shut and carefully setting its broken limb while Aislynne held it steady.

"Ye know," Aislynne smiled, "in England they say birds, almost like this one, guard the King's castle."

"That's silly!" Hannah tilted her head in confusion, her brow wrinkling. "How could a bird protect a castle?"

Aislynne chuckled and reached out to tickle Hannah's side. "They don't exactly carry wee guns and keep watch, silly! It's an old legend that's been around for centuries. People believe that if all the ravens left the Tower of London, it would bring bad luck to the entire kingdom."

"What if they all fly away?" Hannah's eyes widened with worry.

Aislynne shrugged. "Maybe they clip their wings or keep them in special enclosures, I'm not sure."

"Have you ever seen it? The Tower of London, I mean?" Hannah's curiosity was sparked.

A nostalgic smile graced Aislynne's lips. "Aye, a very long time ago when I was just a wee lass like you. My father took me ta London. It's a truly magnificent city, filled with grand buildings and cobblestone streets that go on forever."

"Are there real castles where the King and Queen live?" Abby asked with wonder in her eyes.

Aislynne's smile softened as memories flooded back – memories of her childhood spent exploring the grand halls and hidden passages of Dirleton Castle as well as her own home in Archerfield. "There are many castles," she confirmed, feeling a chill despite the warm afternoon sun.

Just then, Buck entered the room, his hat landing softly on a nearby chair.

"How's our feathered friend doing today?" he asked.

"He seems to be doing well, Papa," Abby cheerfully exclaimed, rushing over to the birdcage that they made out of sticks and twine. "Hannah and I even made him a cozy nest! See?"

Buck looked into the cage, his rough demeanor softening at the sight of the makeshift nest made from scraps of fabric and straw. "That's a mighty fine nest you two have made. He'll be living in luxury once he gets better."

"Can we keep him, Papa? Please?" Abby pleaded, her lower lip quivering with the threat of tears.

Buck knelt down before her, his gaze both gentle and firm. "We've talked about this, sweetheart. He's a wild animal, not meant to be kept as a pet. We're just helping him get back on his feet."

Abby's shoulders drooped in disappointment. "I know," she mumbled, scuffing her boot on the floor.

Aislynne placed a reassuring hand on her shoulder. "What of all the animals ye already have here? They're great company too, right?"

Abby thought about this for a moment, a glimmer of hope returning to her eyes. "Okay," she reluctantly agreed with a sigh. "But can we at least name him?"

Aislynne and Buck exchanged a knowing look. "Of course," Buck said with a smile.

With the day's last light ebbing into darkness the children excitedly debated what to name the crow, ultimately deciding on Midnight.

"Well, it's bedtime for both ye." Aislynne said, taking Abby's hand and leading her up the stairs.

"Why do I still have to go to bed before Isaac and Hannah?" Abby whined.

"I'll tell you what. When you turn five, you can stay up a little longer." Aislynne promised.

"Really?" Abby's face lit up with excitement.

"Absolutely." Aislynne picked her up and groaned playfully. "But that also means no more carrying you around because you'll be a big girl."

Abby yawned, her eyes fluttering heavily with sleep. "I'm happy you're my new mama," she murmured.

A warmth spread through Aislynne's chest as she leaned down to kiss Abigail's forehead. "I am as well," she replied softly before leaving her to slumber.

Aislynne snuck quietly down the stairs barely making a sound. In the makeshift cage, she noticed a small shadow stirring about. "Goodnight, wee one." She tossed a small slice of apple into the cage, as if making an offering to the creature they were nursing back to health.

"Come join in our game!" Hannah's voice cut through the silence with childlike enthusiasm. Aislynne had often seen them play this game with Buck, filled with giggles and silly antics. Although she had never joined in before, tonight felt different. Perhaps it was the warmth of Abby's words or the sense of belonging that was slowly growing within her.

She settled onto the rug while Isaac patiently explained the rules. "The object is to make each other laugh without touching. Whoever laughs first becomes the next person to try."

Aislynne's lips curled upwards in a confident smirk. This would be a piece of cake, she thought. Little did she realize, this seemingly harmless game held unexpected surprises.

"It's my turn!" Hannah announced proudly, puffing out her chest for emphasis. With one hand on her hip and an exaggerated serious expression on her face, she pointed dramatically at Isaac and Aislynne. "Children, you must immediately recite your multiplication tables!" Her voice now mimicking a comical Scottish accent.

A surprised gasp escaped from Aislynne's mouth. The accent, although exaggerated and humorous, sparked a sense of recognition within her. "Are you mocking me?" She blurted out, unable to hide her amusement.

Across the room, Buck struggled to contain his laughter as his shoulders shook uncontrollably. Hannah, ever the competitive player, pointed a finger accusingly. "Papa! You laughed!"

"Okay, okay," Buck chuckled, raising his hands in surrender. "You got me, Hannah."

Aislynne felt a blush spread across her cheeks. "I am truly offended," she pouted, though she couldn't help the playful twinkle in her eye. "Do I really sound like that?"

"In the beginning, you did," Hannah giggled, showing off a gap between her front teeth. "But you don't yell as much anymore."

Buck chimed in with a mischievous tone, "Maybe it's because you two have better manners now."

A playful smile formed on Aislynne's face.

"Okay, Papa's turn!" Hannah bounced excitedly.

Buck met Aislynne's gaze and a silent challenge passed between them. He knew he had to pull out all the stops if he wanted to win this round. With a mischievous glint in his eyes, he held her gaze steadily before starting to chant in a silly, nonsensical voice while crossing his eyes slowly.

It was too much for Aislynne to handle. She burst into laughter, the sound genuine and warm, filling the room. Hannah and Isaac joined in with delighted giggles as they tumbled together in a heap on the rug beside her.

Chapter 36

Willow Bend, Nebraska - September 1876

The scent of ripe blackberries filled the air as Buck observed Aislynne wandering through the orchard, humming a sweet tune. He leaned against the porch railing, a grin spreading across his face as she noticed him. With a playful grin, she finished off the last few berries and made her way over to him, reaching out a hand.

"Come with me," she invited.

Buck took her hand and they walked through the rows of trees, fingers intertwined. He guided her around the back of the house and down to a peaceful meadow glowing in the soft light of dusk. They settled onto the grass and gazed up at the sky, where the first stars were beginning to twinkle in the darkening canvas.

"I used to watch the stars back home too," Aislynne mentioned, tilting her head to admire the celestial display.

"Do you miss it?" Buck asked gently.

She let out a nostalgic sigh. "Sometimes," she admitted. "But there's no place I'd rather be than here." She met his gaze with a warm smile on her lips. "Tell me something about your childhood," she nudged closer, resting her head comfortably on his arm.

Buck chuckled softly, his voice inviting and full of depth. "Well," he started, getting comfortable next to her and turning his eyes towards the starry sky, "how about a story my grandpa used to tell me?"

"All right," she murmured eagerly.

"A long time ago, when the world was new, all the animals lived in a great forest. Now there had been a feud between the land animals and the animals of the sky for as long as anyone could remember. The eagles and the bears were both trying to control the balance of power and they disagreed with each other."

Aislynne leaned closer, captivated by his words. Buck paused, stealing a glance at her attentive gaze, before continuing.

"The bears and the eagles managed to keep a peaceful agreement for a long time, and everything seemed fine with the world. But unbeknownst to anyone, every day, a son of the eagles would sneak away to play with a son of the bears at a secret river. They had become friends you see, but one day they got into an argument over which animal was better. It is certainly I, cried the young bear. For I am larger and far stronger than you. I can crush your wings with my paws." Buck's voice softened further as he continued.

"But the eagle disagreed, you are mistaken, for it is the I that is far superior. For we fly above the lowly bears, which are forsaken to walk on all fours. And when the bears try to reach us, we only fly higher, out of their reach! In fury, the bear rose on his hind feet and bared his claws, you will pay for your words, Eagle! But the eagle was not scared. He flew high towards the sun, where the bear could not see him, and he swooped back down, talons ready to sink into the bear's chest. The eagle missed the bear, but the bear lost his footing. He fell and slipped on a rock, and he was dragged under the current."

Buck sighed, a hint of sadness lacing his tone. "Understanding what he had done, the young eagle began to cry out, causing the bears to come towards the river. When the mighty bear arrived, he asked of the young eagle, Where is my son? What has happened to my son? The young eagle told him what had happened, but the bear did not believe him, You killed him! You killed my son! This is unforgivable! You shall receive the same fate as my son!"

Silence descended the weight of the tragedy hanging heavy in the air. Aislynne's brow furrowed in concern.

"So large was the sorrow of the young eagle that he was unable to defend himself, and he too fell to his death. When the father eagle heard of what had happened, he flew to the river to see for himself if the story was true. Upon arriving, he saw the body of his son beneath the mighty bear. He cried out, My son! You have killed my son! No longer shall there be peace among the land creatures and the sky creatures!"

A shiver ran down Aislynne's spine, not just from the cool night air, but from the weight of the story. She snuggled closer to Buck, seeking warmth and comfort.

"The Great Spirit saw what had happened between the animals. He became very angry, and he decided to punish them, so the Great Spirit took away the Sun. He took his blanket and threw it over the Earth. The fighting ceased, and the animals were greatly distressed because, without the light, there was no joy. One day, the eagles came up with the idea that if they could fly high enough, they could lift the blanket off of the sky and allow the sun to shine again. They tried for hours, but not one eagle could reach the blanket."

Aislynne felt a pang of sympathy for the creatures trapped in their animosity.

"The land animals began to laugh at the birds, mocking them, if you are such mighty eagles, why can't you reach the blanket? The land animals came up with their own idea. Certainly, they were strong enough to lift the blanket. They went to the corners of the forest and struggled and strained but no matter how hard they tried they could not lift the blanket."

Buck continued, his voice dropping to a soft murmur, "The sky creatures began to mock the land animals, Even you cannot lift the blanket. This only caused more fighting between the animals. The fighting was so loud between the eagles and the land animals that the voice of another creature was almost drowned out. Wait, wait! Stop the fighting! I have an idea, it cried. The fighting stopped for a moment, and all the birds and animals turned towards the creature that had made the noise, a small hummingbird."

Buck smiled, a warmth radiating from his eyes as he continued. "The mighty bear approached the hummingbird, What can you, a tiny hummingbird, do to help? The eagle also spoke, even though you are a bird, you are too small to make a difference. But the hummingbird did not listen to them. No, I cannot do anything alone, but if we work together, we can all bring the Sun back. If the squirrels will take me to the top of the highest trees and throw me off the top, then I can fly to the blanket."

Buck looked down at Aislynne who looked intently at him as he continued the story.

"The eagle king nodded, do as you wish, small hummingbird, but know that it is dangerous for such a small bird to fly so high. I know. Said the hummingbird, but if we do not get the Sun back, we will all die. So the squirrels led the hummingbird to the top of the tallest trees. They took him and threw him off the top. The smallest hummingbird flew with all his might towards the top. The little hummingbird got closer and closer and closer. His beak broke through the blanket, but at the same time, the hummingbird's tiny heart gave out. He had flown so hard and with so much determination, that he had used up all of the love left in his heart to bring back the Sun.

He paused, letting the weight of the hummingbird's sacrifice settle.

"The animals grieved when they saw what had happened to the hummingbird, but when they saw what he had accomplished with the help of the other animals, they were also determined. Then the eagle yelled out, See what the smallest hummingbird has done! He gave up his life to bring back our Sun! The mighty bear added, Let us honor and respect him by finally retrieving the Sun! But to do this, we all must work together!

Buck squeezed her hand gently. "The animals mourned, but the hummingbird's act ignited a new commitment. Inspired by his sacrifice, the eagles and land creatures united. Together, they poked millions of holes in the blanket."

He turned to face her, his gaze tender. "The Great Spirit, touched by their unity, lifted the veil, restoring the sun. Yet, as a reminder, he left the night sky, a tapestry of stars, a constant echo of the hummingbird's bravery."

A comfortable silence descended upon them. The stars above seemed to twinkle brighter, each one a silent tribute to the tiny bird who saved them all.

Chapter 37

Willow Bend, Nebraska – October 1876

Buck gathered his children onto the porch, where Midnight's cage sat waiting. He knew it would be a difficult day for them - setting the crow free. But it was the right thing to do, and his children understood that. Abby held Aislynne's hand tightly, fighting back tears.

Carefully, Buck opened the cage door. Midnight perched on a wooden dowel inside, almost as if sensing what was about to happen. The atmosphere was tense as everyone watched, holding their breath.

And then, in one swift motion, Midnight hopped off the dowel and took a few jumps along the porch before launching into the air with a powerful flap of his wings. The children couldn't believe their eyes as he circled the house once before disappearing into the vast blue sky. A bittersweet silence fell over them, and the children looked at the empty cage with sadness and pride.

"He's gone," Isaac finally said in a hushed voice.

Aislynne knelt beside him, placing a comforting arm around his shoulder. "He's free now, Isaac," she gently explained.

Hannah spoke up, worriedly asking about how he would find food on his own.

But Buck reassured her with a chuckle and hair ruffle. "Don't worry about Midnight, little one. He's a smart bird. He'll figure it out."

And he did. As months passed by and winter came and went, spring brought Midnight back to their home - no longer scrawny but a healthy adult crow. And he wasn't alone - two smaller crows, presumably his family, joined him.

Midnight landed on the windowsill with a shiny button in his beak, dropping it at Aislynne's feet with a gesture that seemed like an offering. Laughter filled the room as they all gathered around the window, marveling at the reunion. Aislynne reached out a hand, and Midnight didn't shy away from her touch. But he gently nudged her with his beak, a sign of respect and not captivity.

From then on, Midnight and his family became regular visitors. They would circle down from the sky, cawing greetings and sharing their treasures. And in return, the children left corn kernels on the windowsill for them to enjoy.

Chapter 38

Willow Bend, Nebraska - March 1877

Aislynne's heart raced as she arrived at the schoolhouse in her buckboard. She could feel the familiar wave of Louise's greeting as she pulled up and returned it with a warm smile. As Louise ushered her giggling children towards the entrance, Aislynne couldn't help but reflect on how far Isaac and Hannah had come since she first arrived. They were no longer the wild, feral creatures they once were - all they needed was a little guidance. Suddenly, the peaceful morning was shattered by a deep, bellowing voice.

"Aislynne McKenna Stewart!"

Both women turned to see the tall, imposing figure striding towards them with an air of disapproval. Aislynne felt her blood run cold as she recognized him - her father.

"Young lady," he boomed, his voice dripping with anger. "Ya have caused yer mother and I a great deal of worry."

Aislynne's hand flew to her throat instinctively as her heart started to race frantically. "Father, please," she pleaded, tears welling up in her eyes.

"No!" he roared, his voice laced with a chilling finality. He stalked towards the buckboard where Abby sat, his scowl deepening as he laid eyes on the child. Without warning, he reached out and roughly grabbed Aislynne's arm.

The sudden commotion startled Abby, who clung to Aislynne's dress and began to whimper. "Mama?" She cried out in fear.

"It's alright, baby," Aislynne soothed, trying to calm her daughter down.

But before Louise could reach for Abby, Aislynne's father pulled his daughter from the buckboard with a force that left her reeling. Abby's grip on her dress was too weak to hold on, and with a heartbreaking yelp, she was ripped away and sent tumbling to the ground.

Aislynne's heart stopped as she watched her precious daughter fall. A bloodcurdling scream tore from her throat as she lunged for Abigail, frantic to protect her. But her father's grip on her arm dug in so hard that it felt like it might break, his knuckles turning white from the strain.

The situation escalated into chaos within seconds. With a final tug, Aislynne managed to break free from her father's grasp and rushed towards Abby, scooping her up in her arms. The sight of Aislynne's distress caused Abby to cry even harder. Before they could escape, Aislynne's father grabbed her again, this time with an iron grip that sent searing pain through her arm.

"If I have to drag you kicking and screaming, young lady, you will be coming home!" He threatened, his voice filled with malice.

A wave of defiance surged through Aislynne, momentarily drowning out the fear that threatened to consume her. "No!" she screamed at him, resolute in her decision not to give in.

As the two continued their struggle, Abby clung tightly to Aislynne, crying out for safety and protection. It was a horrifying blur of screams and shouts as they fought against each other - a battle between a father who only saw disobedience and a daughter who would do anything to keep her freedom and family.

"Let me go! She's hurt!" Aislynne screamed, her voice raw with panic.

Her father's harsh voice growled, his gaze briefly flickering towards the whimpering child on the dusty ground with a thin trail of blood running from her nose. Louise acted quickly and scooped up little Abby, her own eyes blazing with anger. At the same time, she reached into the pocket of her skirt and expertly produced a small pistol.

"Let go of her." Louise demanded, her voice surprisingly steady despite the trembling in her hand.

The sudden appearance of the gun changed the dynamics of the situation entirely. Four men appeared out of nowhere behind Aislynne's father, their faces serious and their rifles aimed at Louise. A tense silence fell over the group, only interrupted by Abby's soft sobs and Aislynne's choked cries. Trapped in a dangerous standoff, Louise slowly lowered her weapon, her expression filled with helplessness. With a cold and emotionless glint in his eyes, Aislynne's father tightened his grip on her and began dragging her towards a waiting carriage.

"Louise!" Aislynne screamed, desperation evident in her voice as she leaned out of the carriage. "Tell Buck I love him and remind him of his promise!"

"Well, well, well. Looks like we finally have some excitement here in Willow Bend." Drawled a voice from the nearby boardwalk. Mr. Howell, the owner of the local newspaper, had emerged from his shop with a toothpick hanging casually from his mouth. He observed the scene with morbid curiosity.

"Why isn't anyone stopping him?" Louise yelled at the few men who lined the street.

"Not much anyone can do about it." Mr. Howell replied casually. "Some kind of high falutin Lord or something."

Louise bristled. "What?"

"Yeah," Mr. Howell confirmed with a nasty smirk on his lips. "Explains why he thinks he can just come in and snatch his daughter back like she's a prized cow."

A cold fury ignited within Louise, replacing her fear. "And that excuses what he just did?" She challenged, her voice filled with determination.

Mr. Howell shrugged, the toothpick bobbing dismissively in his mouth. "Laws are different for people like him, I reckon. What father wouldn't be furious to find his daughter shacked up with some Indian? Taking care of his kids as if they were her own."

The callousness of his words stung Louise deeply. She glanced down at Abby, who snuggled closer and hid her face in Louise's shoulder.

Chapter 39

Willow Bend, Nebraska - March 1877

Louise rode out to Buck's ranch with Abby cradled safely in her arms. Tears welled up in her eyes, blurring the dusty trail ahead. When they arrived at Buck's ranch, she wasted no time dismounting and rushed towards him with Abby's hand tightly gripped in hers. Her panicked screams shattered the peaceful afternoon silence.

"Buck!"

"Papa!" cried out Abby joyfully as she spotted her father, a comforting presence amidst all the chaos. Buck dropped the fence board he was working on and quickly knelt down in front of his daughter.

"Easy there, little one," he soothed, reaching out to hold her close. "What happened to you, honey?"

"A bad man took Mama!" Sobbed Abby, burying her face in Buck's chest.

Buck's jaw tightened and a dangerous glint appeared in his eyes when he looked up at Louise. "Where is Aislynne?"

"Buck," Louise said, her voice shaking but resolute, "it was her father. He showed up at the schoolhouse and just…" She trailed off, reliving the traumatic event in her mind.

"What did he do?" Demanded Buck, his voice filled with suppressed anger.

"He grabbed her and forced her into a carriage," explained Louise, tears streaming down her cheeks. "Abby fell and…"

"I fell on the ground," interrupted Abby with a sniffle, holding up a bloodied rag. "It hurts."

"I see that, sweetheart," said Buck gently as he scooped Abby into his arms and headed towards the house. "Mary!" he called out.

A concerned Mary appeared at the doorway. "What is it, Buck? What happened?" Her eyes widened when she saw Abigail's injuries. "Oh my goodness, what happened to you!"

"Can you please take care of Abby? I'll explain later," said Buck urgently, his voice gruff with worry.

Mary nodded, her face etched with concern, and ushered Abby inside. Louise followed Buck towards the barn, her heart racing in fear.

"Buck, there's more," she gasped, catching her breath.

"I just know I ain't gonna like this," muttered Buck grimly as he turned to face her.

Louise took a deep breath before continuing. "Aislynne isn't just… well, she's not just a runaway girl." She paused, searching for the right words. "People in town are saying her father is some kind of Scottish Lord or something."

Buck let out an incredulous laugh. "Lou, what are you talking about?"

Louise shook her head adamantly. "That's what they're saying."

Buck's laughter died down quickly and was replaced by a stern expression. "Well, that doesn't change anything. She's my wife!"

"It was really important to Aislynne that I tell you this," continued Louise, recalling the frantic moment. "She wanted me to tell you that she loves you and… she wants you to remember the promise you made to her."

Buck's fists clenched at his sides. "The promise I made? To hell with that promise!" He growled, frustration evident in his voice. "Nothing is going to happen to her. I won't allow it!"

Chapter 40

Willow Bend, Nebraska - March 1877

Buck barged into the Sheriff's office, flinging open the creaky wooden door. Sheriff Hicks, a rotund man with a droopy mustache that obscured his mouth, glanced up from his cluttered desk. His eyes, barely visible beneath his dusty Stetson, slowly opened at the disturbance.

"Cross," he drawled, his voice laced with molasses and disinterest. "What can I do for you?"

Buck strode across the room in just a few steps, causing the floorboards to creak under his heavy boots. He slammed his fist on the desk, jolting the sleeping fly and sending a tremor through the room.

"I need your help to find my wife." He growled, his voice thick with urgency.

Hicks let out a sigh as he reached for a toothpick and began picking at a stray piece of tobacco lodged between his teeth.

"That's too bad," he drawled, showing no signs of sympathy. "But family squabbles ain't my concern, Buck. You know that."

Buck's jaw tightened. "This ain't some petty argument. She was kidnapped!"

The Sheriff finally sat up straight, a glimmer of interest crossing his face. "Kidnapped?" he repeated. "Now that's a different matter."

"Damn right, it's different!" Buck bellowed. "She's my wife, Sheriff!"

Hicks stopped twirling his toothpick and looked at Buck for a moment, squinting his eyes. Then, he shrugged and resumed his rhythmic habit.

"Sorry, Buck," he drawled. "There's nothing I can do."

"What do you mean there's nothing you can do?" Buck shouted, his voice trembling with rage. "Don't you have a job to do?"

"The word is that she had a change of heart about staying here and decided to return home." The Sheriff's expression finally hardened. "Listen, Cross. My duty here is to enforce the law. This is between you and her father now. If you don't have anything else for me, I have a town to see to."

Buck stared at him, a bitter taste rising in his throat. He knew that the Sheriff had made his decision, and it was not in the name of upholding justice. Seeing the man's indifference towards Aislynne's kidnapping only fueled his anger further.

He stormed out of the office, slamming the door behind him in frustration. Louise, waiting anxiously on the dusty street, rushed over to meet him. Her face mirrored his own mix of anger and frustration.

"What did he say?" She asked, her tone tinged with concern.

Buck ran a hand through his hair, his jaw tightly clenched. "Useless. Her father must have bribed him." He spat out the words with bitterness.

Louise's heart sank. Buck's words confirmed her worst fears: Aislynne's father, with all his supposed power and connections, had likely already taken her far from their reach. But Louise refused to give up hope. Looking into Buck's determined eyes, she saw the same determination burning within herself.

"I'm going after her." Buck's jaw tightened even more. "Can you and Kid—"

Louise raised an eyebrow in surprise but didn't hesitate. "We'll handle everything. Just bring her back home."

Chapter 41

Willow Bend, Nebraska - March 1877

Despite the plush velvet drapes and opulent decor, Aislynne couldn't escape the gnawing anxiety that clawed at her insides. Her desperate pleas and tearful outbursts had all been in vain, bouncing off her father's granite resolve. Exhausted and defeated, she collapsed onto the bed, finding no solace on the soft down.

In the intricate mirror, she saw a woman with puffy, teary eyes that she could hardly recognize. As tears trickled down her face, she remembered the events of that day: trying to escape, struggling to break free from her father's guards, and feeling trapped like a caged bird. Her thoughts shifted to Midnight and how she envied its freedom, much like the crow she cared for.

Disoriented by the chaos and prolonged carriage journey, Aislynne found herself confined within the walls of a hotel room upon their eventual halt. Her father's unyielding resolve persisted, unswayed by her protests and acts of defiance. The heavy footfalls of her guards, audible from beyond the door, served as a perpetual reminder of her captive state.

She whispered a quiet prayer into the lonely expanse of the room, pleading for Buck to keep his promise. A flood of emotions washed over her as she thought of her devoted husband – his comforting embrace. Memories played in her mind. And then she thought of the children – Isaac, Hannah, and Abby. Her heart ached at the thought of leaving them behind. Their smiles, their curiosity, their laughter filling their home - these would be treasured memories in a life that was about to be torn apart. Would they understand? Would they miss her as much as she would miss them?

As exhaustion finally consumed her, sleep offered a fragile escape. Tears melted into the fabric of the pillow as she drifted into a world of dreams. A world where Buck was always by her side, their laughter echoing across wide open prairies while their children chased butterflies in the warm glow of sunlight. It was a world where she was truly free, a world she clung to desperately even if it only existed in fleeting moments within her dreams.

Chapter 42

Dirleton, Scotland - June 1877

As Aislynne stood up, the room seemed to spin around her. Her hand instinctively reached out for the cold stone wall, seeking support. Since the grueling journey across the ocean months ago, she had been plagued by a persistent sickness that clung to her. She grabbed the waiting pail and bent over, dry heaves wracking her body.

"Aislynne?" Came a concerned voice.

Fiona Stewart rushed into the room, searching for her daughter. Concern washed over her face when she spotted Aislynne huddled on the floor near the window, her face pale and glistening with sweat.

"Darling, are you sick again?" Fiona crouched beside her, her voice filled with worry.

"Just...nauseous," Aislynne mumbled, wiping her mouth with a trembling hand. "I'll be fine."

But Fiona wasn't convinced. With gentle hands, she helped Aislynne sit upright and hesitantly opened the front of her daughter's robe. A touch, a warmth, a spark of recognition flickered in Fiona's eyes.

"Yer with child!" She exclaimed softly, the realization dawning on her.

Aislynne's breath caught in her throat. The possibility - terrifying yet strangely exhilarating - hadn't even crossed her mind. Now, with her mother's words, it hit her like a tidal wave.

"Please convince Father ta let me go home," Aislynne pleaded, desperation creeping into her voice. "Please, don't let him tear my family apart."

Fiona cupped her daughter's face, offering a soothing touch. "Calm yerself, it's not good for the bairn." Her gentle hands smoothed Aislynne's hair. "I will speak to your father."

A glimmer of hope flickered within Aislynne. She held onto it desperately, a lifeline in the face of uncertainty. She reached out and pulled her mother close, burying her face in Fiona's embrace.

"Mother," she whispered, her voice thick with emotion, "I'm so sorry I left like I did. I didn't mean ta cause ye pain. I just..." Her words trailed off, failing to capture what she truly wanted to say.

Fiona held her daughter tightly, offering silent understanding. "I know, my dear," she sighed. "It's not easy. I remember feeling the same way when I married yer father."

Aislynne pulled back slightly, a flicker of surprise crossing her face. "Ye didn't want to marry Father?"

Fiona's smile was tinged with nostalgia. "There were expectations placed upon me," she explained carefully. "Duties that came along with being the wife of a Laird. But yer father, he has a way about him. He eventually won me over."

"I'll never be happy here," Aislynne asked, her voice barely a whisper. "Doesn't father care?"

Fiona's expression softened. "Of course, he cares for ye, Aislynne. It's just that he has other matters that occupy his thoughts and force his actions." She paused before adding, "Ye were betrothed to Collum Douglas, but after ye… disappeared, he married another."

Aislynne's eyes widened. "Mother I don't care about some betrothal!" She exclaimed, her voice rising in frustration. "I have a husband, a real husband!"

"But you know yer father won't accept that man." Fiona said gently, "A man with no title, no advancement."

"That man," Aislynne interjected, her voice laced with defiance, "is the father of the child I carry."

A heavy silence descended upon the room, broken only by the soft sobs that escaped Aislynne's lips. Fiona understood. This wasn't a whim, a fleeting fancy. Aislynne loved this man, with a fierce devotion. Seeing her daughter like this, heartbroken and desperate, filled Fiona's heart with despair.

Chapter 43

Dirleton, Scotland - June 1877

Kendal Stewart, with his tall stature and commanding presence, stormed back and forth across the cold stone floor of the great hall. His voice reverberated against the high-vaulted ceiling, causing Aislynne's face to pale and Fiona's brow to furrow in worry. The two women stood frozen, their eyes following him like cornered animals.

"Unfilial child!" Kendal finally roared, coming to a halt in front of Aislynne. His features contorted with a mix of fury and disappointment.

Fiona took a deep breath and stepped between her husband and daughter. Her voice was calm, but with a hint of fear beneath the surface. "Kendal, please," she said, placing her hand on his arm. "This isn't helpful."

But Kendal's face was contorted with anger, his eyes blazing like fire. "She was raised better than this!" He roared, pointing accusingly at Aislynne. "She lays with a man like a harlot and now she's with child?"

Aislynne stood tall, her chin held high despite the trembling in her hands. "We are married, Father!" She declared, her voice ringing with defiance.

"Married?" Kendal scoffed, his disbelief evident in his tone. "Ye had not my permission to marry!"

"I don't need yer permission," Aislynne countered, her voice rising to meet his.

Kendal's nostrils flared like a bull about to charge. "Ye will marry whom I tell ye to marry!" he bellowed.

"I will not!" Aislynne shot back, her voice trembling slightly but her spirit unbroken.

The room fell silent as tension hung heavily in the air. Fiona watched helplessly as her husband and daughter clashed, both refusing to back down.

"Ye will have this child," Kendal finally spat out, disgust clear in his tone. He turned away from them and stared into the crackling fireplace. "Once it is born, it will be placed in a good home and raised well."

Aislynne's hand flew to her stomach protectively as she gasped in horror. "No!" She cried out. "Please, ye can't take my child!"

Fiona felt tears pricking at the corners of her eyes as she tried to reason with her husband. "Kendal, ye can't be serious," she said, her voice filled with disbelief. "That's yer own grandchild!"

Kendal sat rigidly in his plush chair, his expression cold and calculating. "Ye will bear this shame in silence," he stated firmly, his words ringing with authority rather than compassion. "I will find ye a husband of suitable nobility to cover up this disgraceful mistake. Ye are forbidden from speaking of it ever again. And one day, ye will thank me for sparing ye from ruin."

Aislynne's heart pounded in her chest as she clutched her swollen belly, unable to believe the harshness in Kendal's tone. "Ye can't just erase my life!" She cried out, tears streaming down her cheeks. "Ye can't take away my husband and my child!"

"Enough, woman!" Kendal bellowed, slamming his hand on the armrest with a resounding thud. "If ye don't behave like the proper lady ye were raised to be, I will have no choice but to..." His voice trailed off menacingly as he leaned forward, his eyes flashing with an unsettling mix of anger and desperation. "Abandon the bairn in the woods to be devoured by wild beasts."

The ominous declaration left Fiona shaken, a chill creeping along her back. She knew Kendal was prone to dramatics, but the intensity in his gaze made her fear that he might actually carry out such a cruel act. The image of her grandchild, helpless and exposed in the wilderness, filled her with a fierce sense of protectiveness.

Overwhelmed by emotion, Aislynne turned and ran from the room. Her sobs echoed through the hallway as she stumbled towards the grand foyer, where she collapsed onto the marble floor in agony. Her body shook with dry heaves as she fought against the crushing weight of her father's declaration.

Chapter 44

Dirleton, Scotland - June 1877

Aislynne's dress rustled in the warm spring breeze, a painful contrast to the bitter chill within the stone walls. She wandered through the drafty halls, struggling with emotions spurred on by the life growing within her. It was easier before when her choices only affected her. Back then, rebellious acts and selfish thoughts felt justified. But now, every decision carried the weight of another life - one innocent caught in the middle of her defiance.

Like a gentle fluttering a thought flickered through Aislynne's mind - perhaps appeasing her father was the answer. Maybe if she showed him some cooperation, he would soften and grant her one wish – for Buck to raise their child. A single tear trickled down her cheek she closed her eyes, his image burned into her mind. Did he miss her as much as she missed him? She clung to his whispered promises, held on to her memories. Was he being a good father? Would he keep his promise?

She found herself drawn to a window, longing for a world she could no longer touch. The rolling hills of Scotland, dotted with sheep and the vast shimmering ocean under a gray sky, were a small familiar comfort. It wasn't surrender yet, but Aislynne heard the deafening sound of defeat looming in the distance.

Chapter 45

Dirleton, Scotland - July 1873

Aislynne cautiously navigated her way along the rugged cliff, peering down at the endless expanse of water below. The dark and stormy sky above mirrored the turmoil within her, with scattered clouds battling against patches of blue. As she walked, the relentless ocean waves crashed against the rocks, slowly eroding them over time - much like how her own life was ebbing away. Suddenly, a ray of sunlight broke through the clouds and warmed her face. It was a pleasant day, with a crisp breeze that was tempered by the gentle warmth of the sun.

Closing her eyes for a moment, she let herself get lost in memories of simpler times. She remembered climbing these same rocks with ease, feeling free as the wind blew through her hair and laughter filled the air. She couldn't help but smile as she recalled her mother's warnings about mythical sea creatures lurking in the depths below, and her father's boisterous laughter and words of encouragement.

But everything changed when her brother Aiden died in a senseless accident while on a trip to England. It was a pivotal moment that shattered their family's world and cast a dark shadow over their lives. Aiden had been groomed for greatness, while Aislynne was spoiled and doted upon. Her once carefree life now felt like a prison. No more adventures or laughter echoing across their estate - only fear and sadness remained. It took years for Aislynne to understand the full impact of Aiden's absence on her life.

As she knelt to the ground, she noticed her dress starting to strain uncomfortably over her growing belly. Soon, she would need larger clothes to hide her condition from prying eyes. This was just one of the many sacrifices she had to make to keep this child secret - even if it meant hiding away. Taking a deep breath, she let the ocean wind whip through her hair and fill her senses with the familiar scents of salt and pine.

A faint voice, a familiar echo that shattered her melancholic thoughts, broke through the peaceful solitude. She spun around, doubt crossing her face as a figure emerged from the mist, urging a horse forward at a dangerous pace. Could it be an illusion? A product of her desires? Had she gone mad?

"Aislynne!" Buck's voice rang out across the distance.

For a moment, fear held her back, unsure if this was real or just another dream. But then his arms enveloped her grounding her in reality. Relief washed over. This was no dream. This was real. Holding onto him with all her strength, Aislynne buried her face in his chest as tears streamed down her cheeks.

"I dinnae believe you're really here," she whispered, overcome with emotion.

"I'd ride through hell and back for you," Buck murmured, his grip tightening. He pressed a kiss to the top of her head, silently promising to always be there for her.

A sudden yell, "Aislynne!" shattered the peaceful afternoon. She flinched, adrenaline coursing through her veins. Sensing her fear, Buck immediately placed himself between her and the source of danger, a reassuring hand resting on his horse's flank.

Through the foggy haze, Aislynne saw her father, his face contorted with anger. "I should kill ye now for daring ta touch my daughter," he growled, his voice laced with threat.

But Buck remained calm, his voice steady despite the tension. "With all due respect, sir, I'm here to take Aislynne home."

"This is her home!" Kendal roared, his rage reaching a boiling point.

Aislynne's mother, Fiona, appeared at Kendal's side, her face flushed from exertion. "Kendal, let her go," she implored, placing a calming hand on his arm. "She's a grown woman now, not a child, and certainly not Aiden. She has a choice, and it's clear what it is."

Kendal's gaze shifted between his wife and daughter, a storm brewing in his eyes. "If you leave with this man, Aislynne," he declared coldly, "ye are no longer my daughter."

"I apologize, Father." Aislynne grasped Buck's hand and climbed onto the horse.

"Ye are dead to me! Do you understand me?" He warned.

With an apologetic shake of her head, Aislynne uttered, "I'm sorry, Father." Grasping the saddle horn firmly, she mounted the horse. Turning her gaze towards her mother, she offered a grateful smile and blew a farewell kiss by pressing her fingertips to her lips. Buck then joined her on the horse's back and urged the animal into a canter. Once the house disappeared from view and they found themselves alone on the road, Aislynne finally relaxed against Buck's reassuring presence.

Aislynne uttered in a hushed tone resembling a prayer, "Please tell me that this is not a dream."

Buck nuzzled her neck affectionately and placed a gentle kiss upon her skin, reassuring her of his physical presence, dispelling any notion of being an apparition.

"And the children?" Aislynne inquired.

"Kid and Lou are taking care of them," Buck responded.

With her head tilted to gaze at him, Aislynne admitted, "I never imagined seeing ye again."

A smile played across Buck's lips as he remarked, "You underestimated me," and sealed the moment with a tender kiss.

Aislynne promised, her voice resolute, "It won't happen again."

Chapter 46

Nebraska - September 1877

As the carriage made its way through the last few miles of their journey, Ainsleigh stretched her aching legs and let out a yawn. She was grateful to finally be out of the stagecoach and in a smoother carriage. Buck had his arm around her protectively, providing some comfort after the bumpy ride.

It had been a long journey, but they were almost home now. When she told Buck she was with child, he wanted to wait until after the baby was born before making the trip back to Nebraska. However, she convinced him that traveling with an infant would be even more challenging. She could feel the baby fluttering inside her, and she reassured herself by placing Buck's hand on her stomach so he could feel it as well. He pulled her closer and kissed her temple.

"What's the first thing you want to do when we get home?" He asked.

"Kiss the kids," she replied with a smile. "And then take a bath."

"You deserve some pampering after this trip, my dear."

"I hope Mary's delicious pies are part of that pampering." She looked up at him and smiled happily.

"I'm sure I won't even need to talk her into it."

"I see the house!" Ainsleigh exclaimed, scooting to the edge of her seat.

It was almost too much to believe that they were finally home. Home. The word felt foreign to Ainsleigh after being away for so long. But this was what home should feel like, she thought with a smile as the carriage pulled up to the porch.

"Papa!" Abby ran off the porch and jumped into her father's arms. "Mama!"

"Come here!" Ainsleigh hugged Abby tightly and showered her with kisses.

"We're so happy you're home!" Hannah said as she hugged Ainsleigh around the waist.

"I'm happy to be home," Ainsleigh replied as she knelt down to hug Hannah and Isaac. "I missed you all so much."

"We missed you too," Isaac said, squeezing her tightly.

"Even you, Isaac?" Ainsleigh tickled him and planted kisses on his cheek, earning a few giggles in return.

"It's good to have you home, dear." Mary hugged her and then looked at her rounded stomach with a smile. "Looks like you brought a little someone else back with you as well," she whispered excitedly.

Epilogue

Willow Bend, Nebraska - October 1878

Buck couldn't sit still, his brow furrowed and his eyes constantly flicking to the clock on the mantle. Every few minutes, Aislynne's muffled cries of pain echoed from the guestroom upstairs. Buck had hurried into town as soon as her contractions began. Now, after two agonizing hours, her screams were becoming more frequent and intense.

"Papa?" Hannah's small voice broke through the tension.

Buck knelt beside her, his heart heavy with worry. "What is it, sweetheart?"

"Is Aislynne going to be okay?" Her big brown eyes were filled with fear.

"She'll be just fine," he reassured her with a forced smile.

"Buck," Lou descended the stairs and approached the chair where Buck sat with Hannah and Abby on his lap, while Isaac slept on the sofa. "Aislynne is asking for you. I'll stay with the kids."

Adrenaline surged through Buck, he could hear Aislynne's strained cries and fierce determination echoing through the house. Then, a sudden piercing wail shattered the tension. Relief washed over him like a wave, bringing tears to his eyes. He rushed upstairs, his heart pounding in his chest. There lay Aislynne, exhausted but radiant, cradling their tiny newborn baby. Her face was flushed and glistening with sweat, but her eyes held a newfound love and fierce pride.

The baby, a perfect bundle of wrinkled skin, let out a soft cry and rooted around for his mother's breast. Buck watched in awe as emotions swirled within him - relief, awe, and a love so deep it threatened to burst from his chest.

"Come meet yer, son." Her smile was weak but filled with pride.

"He's perfect," Buck whispered, leaning down to kiss Aislynne's sweaty forehead.

After attending to Aislynne's well-being the doctor pronounced her in good health. As he took his leave, a sense of quiet joy permeated the household. Buck gently assisted Aislynne in sitting upright, and they were both captivated by the sight of their newborn son eagerly feeding, a mesmerizing spectacle that filled their hearts with wonder.

"He's got quite an appetite," Buck chuckled as he tucked a damp curl behind Aislynne's ear. "How are you feeling?"

"I'm well," she whispered, tears welling in her eyes.

Her heart overflowed with love as her little son wrapped his fingers around her thumb and continued to nurse. A few moments later, his mouth went slack and he slept peacefully against her chest.

"Buck, would you mind if we named him after my brother?" Aislynne looked up at him.

Buck simply nodded as he sat on the edge of the bed and offered his finger for his son to grasp with his tiny hand.

"Aiden Cross." She leaned over and gave his small head a soft kiss.

The door creaked open and the children peeked in, their faces filled with curiosity. Isaac led the way with his wide-eyed siblings Hannah and cautious Abby following behind.

"Can we see the baby?" Hannah asked eagerly.

Aislynne smiled, overflowing with love. "Of course, come on in." She quickly tied her dressing gown.

Buck watched as his children gathered around the bed, their eyes full of wonder. Hannah reached out a tentative finger to touch her brother's cheek, a tiny smile forming on her lips. Isaac, usually full of boundless energy, sat still and mesmerized by his new sibling. Even Abby, who was hesitant at first, leaned in for a closer look.

"Is it a boy or a girl?" Abby chirped.

"He's a boy," Buck replied, noticing Abby's slight disappointment. "His name is Aiden."

"Yes! I have a brother!" Isaac exclaimed, grinning from ear to ear.

"He's so cute," Hannah whispered, gently holding Aiden's hand. "But next time, I want a sister," she said with determination.

"I'll do my best." Aislynne chuckled weakly but was filled with love.

Buck stood up from the rocking chair. "Why don't we give Mama some rest for now?" he suggested with a gentle smile, winking at Aislynne.

Hannah looked up from admiring her new brother. "Papa, since the baby will call Aislynne Mama, can we call her Mama too?" She asked in awe.

Buck's heart swelled with pride. He glanced at Aislynne and could tell by her soft smile that she was on board with the idea. "That's up to Aislynne, sweetheart," he replied with emotion thick in his voice.

"I would love that," Aislynne whispered, tears welling up in her eyes.

Buck watched as his family came together, overwhelmed with a love he never knew he was capable of. Two years ago, their lives had been turned upside down by Aislynne's unexpected arrival. But here they were now, a family bound by love. He wouldn't trade this moment, this feeling of peace, for anything in the world.

As Aislynne's eyelids fluttered closed from exhaustion, Buck reached for his son. The older children had already left the room to play leaving behind a peaceful silence. He leaned over and gently lifted Aiden from her arms, placing a soft kiss on Aislynne's forehead. With his son safely cradled in his arms, Buck stepped outside seeking a moment of solitude.

As the sun sank into the horizon, a cool breeze swept over him, carrying a delicate fragrance of jasmine and prairie grass. He carefully draped a warm blanket around Aiden, making sure his son was snug and content in his arms. Aiden's peaceful face rested softly, the rise and fall of his chest soothed by the gentle sway of his father's steps. Buck gazed up at the star-dusted sky above and offered a silent prayer of thanks.

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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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