Every inch of the man screamed "Dude" as he stepped
down from the stage. His clothes, while dusty, bore the mark of Eastern
tailoring not often seen in Rock Creek. The look on his face as him
unobtrusively scanned the main street was not one of interest, but more
a weary disgust.
He jumped slightly as his bag fell to the ground beside him but recovered quickly. Lifting the satchel, he turned to stride confidently into the hotel-and ran smack into a man coming out.
"Excuse me," the traveler apologized.
The cowboy gazed at the man in obvious contempt.
"Watch where you're going . . . Dude," he growled.
The man stiffened slightly at the intentional slur. Noting the pistol that rode low on the cowboy's hip, he apologized a second time. "I'm sorry, Sir. I didn't see you."
Snorting, the cowboy turned to his companions. "He didn't see me," he intoned derisively.
"Maybe he needs glasses," one of the other men suggested.
"Or maybe the dude just needs to learn to open his eyes," the third man laughed.
The Easterner bit back a comment, then attempted to make his way into the hotel again, only to find his way barred. Sighing inwardly, he stopped, waiting for what he knew was bound to happen next.
"Mighty fancy duds you're wearing," the cowboy said-right on cue.
"I don't want any trouble," the man replied quietly.
"Well, no," the cowboy laughed. "'sat so?"
"You heard the man," a new voice spoke from behind the Easterner.
As the dude watched, a look akin to fear passed over the cowboy's face. The look was quickly replaced by an almost pleasant smile that didn't quite extend to the man's eyes.
"Sorry, Hickok," the cowboy said. "Didn't know the dude was a friend of yours."
"Wouldn't matter," the newcomer replied in the same quiet tone.
The three cowboys walked away then with no further comment. The traveler waited until his path was clear before turning to his rescuer. A young man, barely older than he, though obviously far more at home with the Western way of life, leaned easily against the railing.
"Thank you," the dude began.
"Nothing to thank me for," Hickok replied.
"Judging from my past experiences, I'll have to disagree with you there."
"There are fools everywhere."
"True, but I seem to attract more than my fair share," the dude answered. Shifting his case, he extended his right hand. "Henry Cross. It's nice to meet you, Mr. Hickok."
Jimmy shook the man's hand. "Nice to meet you, Henry. Call me Jimmy."
"All right," Henry agreed. "If you are free later, I'd like to buy you a drink."
"I'll gladly take you up on that offer," Jimmy accepted.
"Fine, fine!" Henry said, nodding amiably. "About one hour then?"
"Sure. An hour'd be fine."
"It might help if you dressed a little more 'local'," Hickok offered as the pair discussed what had happened earlier.
"Perhaps," Henry replied. "But, given my lack of ability with a firearm, it could just as easily result in an even more dangerous situation."
Hickok shook his head, a bemused smile on his face. The words were English, but danged if Henry didn't make them sound like another language.
"So, where you from, Henry?" he asked.
"Boston," his companion responded. "I'm a clerk with my father's company but I hope to become a lawyer quite soon. I've applied to Harvard."
"What brings you to Rock Creek?" Jimmy asked curiously.
"Actually I'm on a mission," Henry answered. "And perhaps you can help me with it."
"Mission?"
"Yes!" The other man leaned forward as his excitement took hold. "I'm looking for my sister. She disappeared almost twelve years ago."
"That's a mighty long time," Jimmy mused. "You been looking for her for twelve years?"
"No," Henry replied. "I was only seven years old when Elizabeth-that's my sister-left Boston for a position as a teacher in California. She was part of a wagon train that left St. Joseph but never made it to San Francisco. She was taken captive by Indians and no one has heard from her since."
"How do you know she was taken?"
"Five years ago, one of the few survivors of the massacre was freed from her slavery by an army unit who chanced upon the tribe quite by accident," Henry explained. "She returned to Boston and told her story to the newspapers. I was able to speak to her at length and she informed me that Elizabeth had survived as well but had been sold to another tribe."
"There's a lot of Indians between St. Joe and California-" Jimmy began.
"Oh, I'm well aware of that," Henry interrupted. "And quite frankly, in all honesty, I know it will be a miracle if I am able to find any trace of my sister. But I must try. Elizabeth was very special to my parents-and to me. I have to try," he ended firmly.
Jimmy nodded in understanding. He would be doing the same thing if it were one of his sisters.
"So, what do you plan to do now that you're here?"
"I was hoping to find a guide. Someone to take me around to the local tribes-act as an interpreter of sorts."
Henry reached into his pocket and pulled out a sizable wad of cash. "I'm more than willing to pay handsomely for the service."
"Put that away!" Jimmy ordered quietly.
Henry started at the tone in Hickok's voice, but did as he was told.
"Waving that kind of money around can get you dead," Jimmy explained gently.
Henry gulped, then glanced around. No one appeared to be taking undue notice of the pair.
"I'm sorry," he apologized. "I'm just so determined to complete my mission. While I know it's as if I'm looking for the proverbial 'needle in a haystack', I can't help but have some hope of finding my sister alive."
Jimmy considered the young man before him. Naïve and foolish, yes, but there was something about his determination that touched the Westerner.
"You're going to need someone who can talk for you," he mused aloud. "Someone who is respected enough by the tribes to get you into the camps and savvy enough to know how to talk the languages. Unless you-"
"I speak several languages fluently," Henry told him eagerly. "Unfortunately, I doubt any of them will be of any use to me in my quest."
"Probably not," Jimmy agreed. "Wouldn't hurt to have someone who knows the territory." And his way around a gun, he thought.
"Do you know of such a person?" Henry asked, his excitement growing. "Someone I can trust not to lead me astray?"
"I just might at that," Jimmy replied. "But I'll have to talk to him first-to see if he's willing."
"I would be ever so grateful," Henry replied. "Please tell this person that I'm willing to pay a goodly fee-plus expenses of course."
"Aw, come on, Buck," Hickok pleaded. "The guy is looking for his sister. Would you do that if it was your sister?"
"I don't have a sister," Buck replied simply.
"But if you did-"
"You said it's been twelve years," Buck interrupted. "Twelve years and a lot of miles to cover. The odds on finding even a trace are-"
"But you can at least try," Jimmy argued. "Henry has come a long way. And he's willing to pay you for your help. Tell me you can't use the money what with the Express being shut down?"
Buck looked at his friend curiously. It wasn't like Hickok to be so interested in something like this.
"I'd be stealing his money."
"Not if you do your best," Jimmy countered
"Why?" Buck asked.
"'Why' what?"
"Why are you pushing this? What does it matter to you?"
"I don't rightly know," Jimmy confessed. "I guess I just keep thinking, if it was my sister, I'd want someone to help out."
He watched as his friend considered the argument. "Come on, Buck. At least talk to him?"
Buck sighed with resignation. He knew once Hickok got a burr like this under his saddle he wasn't likely to let go easily.
"All right," he agreed. "I'll talk to him-but I'm not making any promises."
"Take it easy, Henry," Jimmy said for what seemed like the fiftieth time.
"He's late," Henry complained.
"He's not that late," Jimmy countered, unwilling to admit to his own concern.
"You don't think he's changed his mind, do you?"
"He said he'd talk to you-and I've never seen him go back on his word yet."
The pair looked up as the man in question entered the room. As Buck approached their table, Henry turned to Jimmy and hissed. "You didn't tell me he was an Indian!"
Hearing the remark, Buck stopped short.
Jimmy stood quickly, motioning his friend forward. "You're not going to find anyone better," he told Henry.
"But-" the Easterner started.
"No 'buts'," Jimmy interrupted. "Buck is the best there is around here. You wanted someone who wouldn't take advantage of you? Well, Buck Cross' your man!"
Jimmy failed to notice the affect his words had on Henry but Buck did.
"What's wrong?" he asked.
Hickok turned to find Henry pale and wearing a stunned look.
Gulping the dude finally managed to find his voice. "Wh-what did you say his name was?" he stuttered.
"Buck?" Jimmy replied curiously.
"No, no, no, his last name!" Henry prompted.'
"It's Cross," Buck supplied. "Why?"
He took a step backwards as the other man pushed past Hickok.
"Is that the name you were born with?" Henry asked heatedly. "How would an Indian be given a white man's name? How old are you?" he demanded.
"Henry-" Jimmy broke in.
"What's your problem, mister?" Buck said quietly.
Only those who knew him well would have detected the menace in his voice. Unfortunately Henry was not one of those few.
"I want some answers!" he all but screamed as he reached out to grab the front of Buck's shirt.
Before Hickok could react, Buck's fist flashed up, catching Henry squarely on the point of his chin. The Easterner staggered back, falling to the floor, his hold broken. The Kiowa stepped forward, dark eyes flashing, to find his path blocked.
"Calm down, Buck," Jimmy soothed. "He can't hurt you."
Buck looked down at his stunned opponent. Silently he turned and walked out of the room.
"What did you think you were doing?" Hickok reprimanded as he reached out his hand to help Henry from the floor.
"You knew, didn't you?" the other man accused.
"Knew what?"
"You knew his name was Cross!"
"Well, sure," Jimmy answered, confused. "What has that got to do with you jumping on him like that?"
It was Henry's turn to be confused. "You mean you didn't realize my name is Cross?" he asked.
The look on Hickok's face gave him his answer. Sighing heavily and rubbing his jaw carefully, he returned to his chair.
"I'm sorry I lost control," he said. "It's just that when I spoke with Sarah-the survivor I spot of to you-she told me of the torturous events that occurred while she was held by the savages. They beat her mercilessly and much worse than that. They-" His voice became even more hushed. "-they forced themselves upon her. She told me she even bore a child by one of the beasts.
Hickok caught the train of thought. "Henry," he said simply. "If Buck were your sister's child, he would be ten-eleven years old at the most."
A look of disgust came over Henry's face as he realized the truth behind Hickok's words.
"Of course he would be," he murmured. "How stupid of me."
"Where you going?" Jimmy asked as the other man rose to his feet.
"I must find Buck," Henry replied. "To apologize."
"I don't think that would be a good idea right now," Jimmy suggested. "You might want to give him time to cool off first."
"If you think that the best course of action," Henry said, returning to his chair.
The pair sat in silence for a few minutes before Henry could contain his curiosity no longer.
"How did he come by the name Cross?"
"Don't know," Jimmy answered. "Guess I always figured they gave it to him at the mission school."
"You never asked?"
"None of my business."
"But weren't you curious?" Henry prompted. "Didn't you ever wonder how a savage would come to have a white man's last name?"
"First off," Jimmy reprimanded, "Buck ain't no 'savage'. And like I said it wasn't any of my business. If Buck wanted us to know, he'd tell us-and he never told us."
Henry went silent for a few minutes. "Do you think he will forgive me?" he asked finally.
"I'll talk to him," Jimmy promised. "But until I do, you stay away from him-you hear?"
"He didn't mean anything by it."
Jimmy lowered himself to the ground beside his friend and began idly pulling at the weeds that had grown up around the small headstone. He knew Buck had heard him although the lack of reaction on the part of the Kiowa would have led others to believe him deaf.
Buck waited a few minutes before breaking the silence between them. "No one ever questioned my right to use the name," he said softly. "Or my reasons."
"Guess we figured if you wanted us to know, you'd tell us," Jimmy replied. "Gotta admit though, I'm surprised Cody never said anything."
There as a brief flash of white in the gathering darkness as Buck smiled at the memory of Cody and his incessant poking and prodding into everyone else's business.
"Henry wasn't questioning your right to use the name," Jimmy said, bring the conversation back to the present.
"Sounded like it to me," Buck countered.
"It just took him by surprise, that's all."
Buck snorted softly. "He's a lucky man," he stated.
He hesitated a moment, then asked. "Why was he taken by surprise?"
"Because his name is Cross, too," Jimmy confessed.
"You didn't know that?" Buck asked, confused.
"He says he told me when he first introduced himself, but I don't remember him doing it," Jimmy answered. "Guess I wasn't paying much attention."
"Kind of a hard thing to miss," Buck offered.
"I know," Jimmy agreed. "But I did."
Buck considered the new information for a few minutes, then asked. "What was his sister's name?"
"I think he said Elizabeth," Jimmy answered. He turned as a wagon rumbled by on the road below them.
"Do you think-" he started as he turned back to where his friend sat-only to find himself alone.
The darkness presented no obstacle to Buck as he moved through the old Express bunkhouse. Rachel had offered him a room in her home after the riders had disbanded, but he had felt more comfortable in the place he had shared with his friends.
Kneeling, he pulled the pack that contained all of his worldly goods from beneath his bunk. At the bottom, carefully wrapped in a protective oilcloth, was Elizabeth's journal. He didn't need a lantern to see the embossing on the cover, his fingers automatically found the raised letters.
Moving to the table in the center of the room, he struck a match, bringing light to the darkened room. A shiver of memories ran through him as he gently placed the journal on the table. Mindful of the aged binding, Buck leafed through the yellowed pages until he found the entry he was looking for.
Buck lowered the journal back to the table. Deep down, he had always known the time would come when he would have to keep the promise he had made to himself that night on the hill above the mission school. His vow to someday find Elizabeth's family and give them her journal had been, and was, sincere. He had just never anticipated that her family would find him first.
Sighing, he carefully rewrapped the journal. Leaving the bundle on the table, he stuffed the rest of his belongings back into the pack and shoved it under the bunk. Squaring his shoulders, he picked up the journal, blew out the lantern and left the bunkhouse.
"Did you find him?" Henry asked eagerly over breakfast the next morning.
"I found him," Jimmy answered.
"And?"
Jimmy shrugged. "I tried to explain, but I don't know if I made any difference."
"Do you think, perhaps, I should speak to him?"
"I don't know, Henry," Jimmy responded. "It's hard to tell with Buck. He can be pretty darned stubborn when he . . . "
His words trailed off as Buck entered the room and carefully deposited a bundle on the table in front of Henry.
The man from Boston looked from the package to Buck. "What is it?" he asked.
"Open it," Buck ordered quietly.
Henry glanced at Jimmy, who shrugged, then nodded. His face became a study of emotions as he revealed the journal.
"Where did you get this?"
"You recognize it." Buck's words were more a statement than a question.
"My sister, Emily, and I gave this to Elizabeth the day she left for California," Henry explained. "We had saved our pennies for months to pay to have the name put on it."
Tears formed in the blue eyes as he gently ran his fingers over the letters, unknowingly mimicking Buck's own actions not so very long before.
"She's dead, isn't she?" he asked in a husky voice.
"Yes," Buck answered simply.
"Will you tell me?"
"Yes."
"We buried her near the stream," Buck finished. "She is remembered by the Kiowa as someone of great bravery."
"That's a real honor, Henry," Jimmy added.
"So much happened to her," Henry murmured. "She wasn't badly treated?"
"Her life wasn't easy," Buck confirmed. "But it could have been much worse."
"It should have been much better!" Henry retorted.
"Henry!" Jimmy said with equal sharpness. "The Kiowa didn't attack the wagon train."
"I know," Henry sighed. "I'm sorry. I guess I should be grateful that Elizabeth didn't end up with the same tribe to whom Sarah was sold."
"You sound a lot like her," Buck said smiling.
"So I've been told," Henry replied, laughing softly.
"I want to see where Elizabeth is buried," Henry stated. "Will you take me?"
Two days had passed since Buck had given him his sister's journal. Henry had read it from cover to cover and had come to Buck repeatedly with questions. Many times he had left the Kiowa shaking his head and smiling as he remembered the "insatiable desire to learn."
"Henry, there's nothing there," Buck protested. "The village was destroyed years ago by the army. Even the Paiute won't go there anymore. They claim it's haunted."
"Elizabeth is there," Henry protested.
"No, she's not," Buck countered. "The spirit you remember as Elizabeth passed on a long time ago."
"At least show me where to find the grave," Henry pleaded. "I'll find someone else to take me-if you're too afraid."
"Henry-"
"I'm going Buck," the Easterner insisted. "I would much rather have you as my companion, but with or without you, I am going."
Buck sighed with resignation. "We'll need some supplies," he conceded.
"I think we should make camp by that stand of trees," Buck mused.
The pair had been making steady progress for four days, slowed only by Henry's lack of experience on the more spirited Western mustang.
"It's early yet," Henry commented. "I can manage."
Buck turned his head, pretending to search the horizon but in reality hiding a smile. The previous evening had been better than the first two, but after barely six hours of riding, Henry had been hard put to even stand without staggering.
"We'll stop," he said, decision made. "We'll be able to find firewood and maybe some pine boughs for bedding." As Henry began a half-hearted protest, he added, "We're getting close to Sioux territory. I'd rather meet up with them in daylight then to have them show up at our camp at night."
"If you think it best," Henry conceded, unable to completely hide the relief in his voice. He vowed then and there to get out to the stables more often upon his return home. "Are we in danger from the Sioux?" he asked as the thought surfaced in his tired brain.
"Anything's possible," Buck replied matter-of-factly. "The Sioux have never exactly been known as the friendly sort."
"Is there any way around their land?"
"Not unless you want to spend a couple more weeks in that saddle."
"I think I shall take my chances with the Sioux."
They got a late start the next morning, ostensibly to allow Buck time to hunt for fresh game. In truth, he had seen how stiffly Henry had been moving and decided a little extra rest wouldn't hurt them any.
In four days they had traveled less than half the distance to their destination. Had Buck been traveling alone, he would have easily covered the distance-and more. He had to give Henry credit though. For a dude who had probably never ridden a Western saddle before, he had hung in there, despite the pain and stiffness, without complaint. For the most part the pair had traveled in companionable silence with only occasional comments or questions.
Less than an hour into their journey, Henry reined up so sharply his horse had nearly stumbled.
"What's wrong?" Buck asked worriedly.
"On that hill!" Henry cried, pointing excitedly in the direction of the knoll. "Indians!"
"Put your hand down, Henry," Buck ordered sharply. "They've been trailing us since we broke camp this morning."
He didn't add that he had seen signs of what appeared to be a hunting party even before they had camped for the night. No sense inciting Henry to even more wild displays.
"You knew!" Henry accused. "Why didn't you tell me?"
"Because I didn't want you reacting the way you are reacting now," Buck replied. "They aren't going to bother us so long as we don't do anything stupid."
"How can you be so sure?" Henry demanded.
"Because, if they were going to do anything," Buck explained, "they would have done it before now."
Henry became progressively more agitated as they traveled on. Their escorts made no effort to hide but neither gained nor lost ground on the two riders.
"Why don't they do something?" the Easterner asked.
"What would you like them to do?" Buck asked calmly.
"I don't know," Henry replied, sighing heavily. "You must admit, however, it is a bit unnerving to have them watching our every move."
"Not really," Buck answered. "Better following us than several other options I can think of."
"Such as?" Henry asked, curiosity tinged with fear.
"You don't really want to know," Buck told him. "Like I said though, if they were going to attack, they'd have done it already. Way I've got it figured, things'll go one of two ways."
In response to Henry's quizzical look, he continued, "Either they'll keep following us until we're off their land-or we can expect a visit from them real soon."
"I'm not very good with a gun," Henry confessed.
Without turning to look, Buck could almost see the other man wringing his hands.
"Wouldn't matter," he commented. "Henry, I want you to do exactly what I tell you to do with no questions, all right?"
"What's wrong?" Henry asked immediately.
"We have company," Buck replied. "Stay on your horse, don't make any sudden moves and, most importantly, keep your mouth shut."
As he spoke, several riders had appeared in front of them. The pair rode forward slowly, then came to a stop as the band of warriors surrounded them. Buck heard Henry shifting nervously in his saddle, but to his credit, the other man did as he was told and remained silent.
The two horsemen to the front of him separated as their leader rode up to face Buck and Henry. To Henry's surprise, he appeared to be a white man of about his own age. He was also wearing a huge grin.
"Buck! It's good to see you again!" the leader said. "When my scouts said they had spotted a white man and an Indian in white man's clothes riding across the valley I had a suspicion it might be you. But I was expecting Ike to be with you."
Buck slid from his horse and met the other man half way. "I was hoping it would be you, Curly," he replied.
"Been a long time," Curly agreed. Glancing up at the now thoroughly confused Henry, he added, "Who's the dude?"
"That's Henry," Buck explained. "We're on our way up to Twin Pines."
"Bad medicine up that way, Buck," Curly reminded him.
"I know."
"But you're still going?"
"We have to," Buck confirmed. "His sister is buried up there."
"His sister?" Curly asked, surprised. "So how did you get involved?"
"I knew her," Buck replied simply.
"This isn't the white woman the Kiowa have named is it?"
"Yes."
Curly waited to see if more would be said, but when Buck remained silent, turned to look at Henry again.
"Is he able to stand at the end of the day?" he asked, his grin finding its way back onto his face.
"Barely," Buck confessed.
"He must need to face that demon real bad," Curly commented.
"He does," Buck agreed. "Got to give him credit though-he's not asked for special treatment yet."
Curly turned to one of his warriors and issued some rapid-fire orders. The rider nodded, then turned and rode off quickly.
"Some of us will stay with you until you're off our land," Curly told Buck.
"Thanks, Curly," Buck replied. "We appreciate that."
"So, how's Kid?"
"He got married," Buck related. "Moved back East."
"To Lou?" Curly asked with a malicious grin. "You know, I never did figure out how you guys didn't see she was a she."
"Most of us knew," Buck told him. "We just kept her secret for her."
"What about Cody and Hickok?"
"Cody's working for the Army. He's gone back East, too. Hickok's still south but sounds like he might be heading back soon himself."
"Sounds like some bad medicine going on back there, too," Curly noted.
"Yeah, and it's going to get a lot worse before it gets better." Buck agreed.
"At least it keeps them busy and out of our lives."
"True," Buck said as he turned back to his horse. He paused before climbing back into the saddle. "Ike went and got himself shot a while back. He's dead."
"I kind of figured as much," Curly said softly. "Sorry to hear that."
"It was a long time ago."
"Why don't you come eat with us?" Curly suggested. "We can show Henry here some real hospitality."
"I think we should keep moving a bit longer," Buck replied. "Don't want to impose on you any longer than we have to. Thanks for the offer though."
"You know best," Curly agreed. "Take it easy, Buck. Nice meeting you, Henry."
With that Curly vaulted back onto his horse and rode off. The other warriors melted away as quietly as they had come.
Henry could barely contain himself, but managed to do so until the pair had been under way for almost an hour. Finally he could stay silent no longer.
"Who was that man?" he asked. "He looked like a white man. Was he in charge of that tribe? How do you know him?
Buck smiled at his companion's eagerness. As they rode on, he told Henry the story of the Sioux with the curly hair.
Henry was so absorbed in the tale, he didn't even notice that they had ridden further than any of the previous days.
Two days later, Buck looked up at the sound of a whoop. The small group of warriors acting as their escort waved at them from the top of a nearby ridge, then disappeared.
Henry watched as the men rode off. "I never thought I would see the day when I would admit that I will miss having them around," he confessed.
"You're learning, Henry," Buck laughed.
"How much further is it?"
"We should be there tomorrow-the next day at the latest."
Silence returned as the rode on. Buck glanced at his companion to find the man lost in thought. The next few days promised to be interesting.
"For a place purported to be haunted, it seems quite peaceful here," Henry commented.
"It's only haunted to those who have demons to face," Buck replied.
"How about you, Buck?"
"How about me, what?"
"Have you faced your demons?" Henry asked bluntly.
A vision of an eagle soaring above a pit of snakes flashed through Buck's mind. "Yes," he said simply.
Wisely, Henry chose not to pursue the matter.
"Then perhaps the time has come for me to face one of mine."
Leaving Henry by the gravesite, Buck walked along the overgrown path to where his childhood home had stood. Long ago deserted, the earth had reclaimed her land, but Buck's mind provided the details.
He stood where once Three Eagle's lodge had stood, breathing in the fresh air. The sun glinted off something half-buried in the ground. Kneeling, he dug a piece of a comb from its earthen home. A bittersweet feeling came over him at the memory of his mother combing her long hair before pulling and twisting the locks into a more manageable braid.
Holding the comb tightly, other memories came flooding in. Most involved his childhood and into the years at the mission school after he had made the decision to walk in the white man's world. The last, most painful memory, though, was of watching his best friend die.
He had lied to Henry when he said he had faced his demons. There was one that still haunted him. One that probably always would. But today, in this place, the demon would have to wait. He knew he had made the right decision in leaving the Kiowa-and in returning when it had become necessary. For that he was grateful.
Henry Cross stood near the spot where Buck had told him his sister was buried. "You had to go on your great adventure, didn't you, Sister?"
"I was right," the adult Henry sobbed softly. "I never saw you again."
He stood there for a long time, memories of his sister flashing through his mind. She had been right as well-he could see that now. She had to leave Boston or she would have turned into the bitter woman their mother had already become. At least she had died while her spirit was still intact.
"It's all right, Henry."
The voice was as real as if Elizabeth was standing beside him. Henry glanced around, almost believing that he would see his sister in the small grove of trees.
"Are you happy?" he whispered.
"I'm happy," the voice responded.
A sense of peace came over him then. Whether he had truly heard what he thought he had heard or if his mind was playing tricks on him, he would never know. But the peace he felt could not be denied. Smiling, he dried his eyes and went to find Buck.
"Do you believe in ghosts, Buck?" Henry asked over the campfire that evening.
"If you mean the kind that haunt people and do spooky things, not really," Buck replied, a vision of Indian Bob flashing through his mind. "But I do believe that some people have very strong spirits and those spirits don't always just leave when a person dies. Why do you ask?"
"I don't really know how to explain," Henry offered. "When I was by the creek, by Elizabeth's grave, I could have sworn . . ."
He hesitated, but when he saw that Buck was seriously interested, decided to continue. "I was thinking back to the time just before Elizabeth left for California, the day before to be exact. I was only seven years old but I must admit I was a very stubborn child. I did not want Elizabeth to leave us and I argued with her about it. I ended up saying I hated her . . . but I didn't mean it."
"I'm sure she understood that," Buck said softly.
"That's what I wanted to believe all of these years. Unfortunately there as always a part of me that didn't quite believe," Henry told him.
"What has this got to do with ghosts?" Buck asked.
"While I was standing near the creek, I swear I heard Elizabeth tell me it was all right and that she was happy. I know it sounds impossible but I would willing swear on a bible that I actually heard her voice," Henry admitted. "You said the Paiute believe this place to be haunted . . . even Curly suggested there was 'bad medicine' here. Do you believe that Elizabeth's ghost is here? That perhaps I really did hear her?"
"Your sister had a very strong spirit, Henry," Buck answered. "I believe that there is a good possibility that her spirit would want you to know that she understood and had never believed you really hated her."
Henry smiled at the confirmation of his own feelings. The pair slept well that night, their demons kept at bay by the spirit of a strong woman.
"I think we should leave now," Henry said the next morning over breakfast. "You were right about Elizabeth not really being here anymore. Her spirit might be here but I believe it to be as much in here," he pointed to his heart, "as it is here in this land."
"You're probably right," Buck agreed. "I think we should rest up a bit, let the horses rest and feed up before we head back.
"If you think it best."
"What are you going to do then?" Buck asked.
"I suppose I shall return to Boston," Henry answered. "At least I will have Elizabeth's journal to give to my parents . . . assuming, of course, I am to be allowed to take it with me?"
"Of course," Buck told him. "A long time I ago I vowed I would somehow manage to get the journal to her family. You're just making it easier for me."
"I don't suppose . . . " Henry started, then paused.
"You don't suppose what?"
"I don't suppose you would consider that coming to Boston with me?" Henry said quickly before he lost his nerve.
"I don't know what good it would do," Buck answered. "You have everything you need in the journal."
"Elizabeth was an excellent writer," Henry protested. "She as able to say a great deal in a very few words. But, Buck, you were there! You could give us an insight unlike any other and far better than mere words could possibly provide."
Seeing that Buck was apparently considering the idea, Henry pressed on. "You were with her during a period of her life that none of us will ever know-nor will we ever totally understand. Pages in a worn journal could not begin to tell us what her life was really like."
"Let me think about it," Buck said aloud. "I'll give you an answer when we get back to Rock Creek."
"I can do that," Henry promised.
The trip back to Rock Creek took less than half of the time of the trip out. While still not able to ride the distance Buck could have easily covered, Henry's endurance as increasing. Curly had apparently given word to watch for their return. Their escort magically appeared as they entered Sioux territory and just as mystically disappeared as they reached the other limit.
True to his word, Henry had not pressed Buck about his decision. Instead, his mission accomplished, the Easterner was able to enjoy the trek through the "Great Wilderness" as he called it. Buck learned that seeing his words through the eyes of a "dude" brought discoveries he might have ordinarily taken for granted.
All in all, the Kiowa had to admit that Henry's observation that the journey had been "quite pleasant" was more than accurate.
"So how'd it really go?" Jimmy asked after Henry had gone to bed.
"Not bad," Buck answered. "Henry's not all that hard to travel with."
"Did he find what he was looking for?"
"Yeah, I think he did." Buck hesitated, then added. "He wants me to go back to Boston with him."
"You going?" Teaspoon asked curiously.
Buck shrugged. "Haven't made up my mind yet."
"For what it's worth, Buck," Rachel offered. "I think you should go-and not just for Henry."
"Rachel's right, Buck," Jimmy agreed. "You've always said you wanted to see a big city. Boston's right up there."
"Exactly," Rachel said. "You'll get to see a world you've never seen before and more important- you won't be alone."
Buck smiled at the woman. "You trying to get rid of me?" he asked, trying unsuccessfully to sound serious.
"Of course not!" Rachel protested immediately. Then recognizing the joke, she swatted at him with the dishtowel she had been holding.
"The stage will be through here on Wednesday," Buck commented, serious once more. "I guess if I'm going, I'd better get my things together."
"You going to be here when I get back?"
Buck stood leaning against the corral fence, staring out at the open prairie. In just the few months he and the others had been in Rock Creek, he'd noticed how much of the land had been fenced in and plowed under. The town itself had grown to accommodate the influx of farmers and their support mechanisms-to the point where it too had begun to drive nature back. He did want to see the world beyond St. Joe, but his heart would always be with the prairies and the mountains he called home.
"Probably not," Jimmy responded from the shadows. "Ain't much left here. I've been thinking about going back East-see what kind of trouble I can get myself into."
"If there's trouble to be found," Buck laughed, "I'm sure you'll be the one to find it."
"Me?" Jimmy protested. "You must have me confused with Cody."
Jimmy stepped forward to stand beside his friend. Together they watched as the moon rose over the hills to the East.
"Something bothering you, Buck?" Teaspoon asked.
"No-why?" Buck asked in return.
"You've been worrying that piece of leather like you were a dog with a fresh bone," the former stationmaster-turned Marshall replied.
Buck looked down at the strap he held in his hand, surprise at finding it there registering on his face.
"I guess I was just thinking," he confessed sheepishly.
"You're worried about this adventure of yours, aren't you?" Teaspoon asked, more than a little certainty in his voice.
"Yeah, I guess I am," Buck agreed. As he spoke, his nimble fingers braided, then unbraided, the leather strap.
Teaspoon reached out, taking the strap from the younger man. "So what's got you worried?"
"Henry seems to be so certain that his family are going to want me in their home," Buck replied softly. "I'm not so sure."
Teaspoon shook his head in wonderment. In his younger days, he'd traveled, married, fought wars, married again, and traveled some more. Even with all of his experience with the sometimes uglier side of "humanity," it had taken the Kiowa half-breed and his mute companion to show him true ugliness on the part of the world to which he belonged. No matter how much good Buck and Ike had done, it had seldom taken more than a slight indiscretion to turn the townspeople against them.
"Well, I guess that's just a chance you're going to have to take," he told Buck.
"I've been taking chances all my life!" Buck replied vehemently.
"So what's so different about this time?" Teaspoon prompted.
"I don't know!"
"I think you do." Teaspoon held up a hand to stall further protest. "Seems to me, that up to now, you've always known if the going got rough you could run. Hear me out now!" he ordered as Buck rose to his feet indignantly.
He waited patiently until the younger man sat down again. "I didn't say you did run away. I just said that, up to now, you knew you could run away."
"Once you get back East," he continued. "it's not going to be that easy. You're going to be in a place you don't know with more people than you've ever seen and a lot of them people are going to be looking at you funny. Some of 'em aren't even going to get to know ya before they hate ya because, to them, you're an uneducated savage."
"So, what do I do?" Buck asked. "I already told Henry I'd go back with him."
"Well, Buck," Teaspoon replied. "Alls I can say is to do like you've always done here."
Buck looked at him, eyebrows raised in question.
"Prove 'em wrong!"
Prove 'em wrong!
Teaspoon's words echoed in Buck's head two days later as he and Henry boarded the train in St. Joe. The trip had started off all right-the other two passengers on the stage had been from Rock Creek. Both men knew Buck and had no problem sharing the ride with him. That changed at the first stop, however.
An older woman, young girl in tow had just reached the step when she had noticed the other occupants. One in particular had long black hair and, of all things, some form of decoration dangling from one ear.
She had stopped with a gasp, then stepped down from the stage, loudly demanding that the "heathen redskin" be removed. Henry and the original passengers had come to Buck's defense immediately.
The station manager had gotten involved at that point. Buck had immediately recognized him as the former Express manager. Upon seeing Buck, he had turned to the woman and very politely informed her that her choices were simple-ride with Buck or wait two days for the next stage.
Buck had suggested that he could ride up with the driver but the stationmaster wouldn't have it. Buck had paid for his ticket and he had just as much right to the seat as the woman and her daughter.
The woman had protested briefly but had finally conceded-only because she "absolutely had to be in St. Joe the next day." She and the girl had climbed aboard the stage, only to realize that one of them would have to sit next to Buck. Fortunately, one of the other passengers had given up his seat instead. The remainder of the trip had been spent listening to the woman muttering about what the world was coming to when "heathens" were treated as equals to "God fearing folks" such as herself.
Henry automatically started for the front of the passenger cars, but Buck stopped him.
"I don't think that's a good idea," he told the Easterner.
"Why ever not?" Henry exclaimed.
"I don't belong up there," Buck reminded him.
"Stuff and nonsense!" Henry huffed. "You are as good a man as any other on the train. I purchased first class tickets for each of us and, by Godfrey, you will use the first class seat!"
Buck smiled ruefully, remembering how just two short weeks earlier, the man in front of him had declared him a "savage."
"Come along now!" Henry ordered as he purposefully strode to the first car. "It's abhorrent enough that there are no private cabins nor any sleeping cars on this train. I most certainly hope they are not so primitive as to not have a dining car!"
"I hope you know what you're doing," Buck murmured as he reluctantly followed his companion.
Buck came awake instantly, his wilderness honed senses triggering an awareness that he was being watched. He sat, unmoving, as he searched for the source of his discomfort through half-closed eyes.
Beside him, Henry slouched in his seat, his mouth open, snoring softly. Other than a woman, who sat in the seat to the front and across the aisle from them, the car appeared empty. Buck decided he must have been far more tired than he had thought, for the woman had not been there when he fell asleep.
He momentarily chided himself for sleeping through her arrival but decided his instincts had not felt threatened enough to wake him at that moment. Besides, she appeared deeply engrossed in a book and was clearly not the source of whatever had awakened him.
Just then, a pair of blonde heads poked up from behind the leather-covered seat in front of him. Two pair of sky blue eyes peeked at him curiously.
The older of the children, a boy, gasped and dropped back as he realized the object of his scrutiny was scrutinizing him as well. The younger child protested as her brother reached up to pull her down beside him.
"Douglas, Amelia!" the woman, who could only be their mother, scolded in a hushed tone. "Behave yourselves or I shall have to separate you."
"But I want to see the Injun!" the little girl whined.
"Amelia!" her mother reprimanded. "A proper young lady does not stare, nor does she use that term."
Glancing back at Buck, the woman noticed he was now awake and watching her. "I must apologize for my children-" she began.
"It's all right," Buck interrupted. "I'd guess I'm a bit of an oddity to them." I'm beginning to sound like Henry! he thought.
"That is still no excuse for rudeness," the woman replied, sending another warning look in the children's direction.
"Not rude," Buck commented. "Just curious."
"How did you learn to speak English?" the boy asked boldly.
"Douglas, do not bother the man," his mother commanded.
"It's all right," Buck told her. Prove 'em wrong! echoed again. "Why don't we move over here so we won't disturb my friend?"
"He's funny," the little girl remarked hiding a giggle. "He snores like Daddy."
"What kind of Indian are you?" Douglas asked. "Why are you on the train? Have you ever lived in a teepee?"
Before the boy's mother could issue another reprimand, Buck laughed and said, "One question at a time all right?"
He extended his hand to the boy. "My name is Buck Cross."
"I'm Douglas Miles," the boy replied formally. "It's a pleasure to meet you, Mr. Cross."
"Nice to meet you too, Douglas," Buck replied.
"This is my sister, Amelia," the boy said. "And that's my mother, Abegail."
"It's nice to meet you, Amelia," Buck said, grinning at the little girl who smiled shyly. He nodded to the woman, "Mrs. Miles."
"So," he said, settling into the comfortable seat across from the children. "What would you like to know?"
"How did you learn to speak such good English?" Douglas asked again.
"When I was a boy, probably just about your age, a white woman came to live in my village," Buck told him, wisely omitting exactly how that had happened. "She was a teacher. She taught me to read and write and helped me to learn to speak better English."
"Where is she now?" Douglas asked.
"She died many years ago."
"Did you scalp her?" Amelia asked, eyes wide.
"Amelia!" her mother said sternly.
The image of Elizabeth's body after her battle with the Paiute flashed, unbidden, through Buck's mind. "No, I didn't Amelia," he replied as lightly as he possibly could. "Not all Indians do that."
"What tribe are you from?" Douglas interjected.
"I am Kiowa," Buck said proudly.
"Kiowa," Douglas repeated thoughtfully. "Did you live in a teepee?"
For the next several hours, the children peppered Buck with questions. He answered them, carefully keeping his responses on their level and avoiding discussion of some of the more horrendous things he had been witness to.
Henry awoke as Buck was telling of his role with the Pony Express. After introductions were made, the Easterner joined the group and was soon involved in the questions and the story telling.
Finally, the questions ran out and Buck could think of no more stories to tell. The group sat in silence for a couple of minutes before a loud grumbling was heard from Amelia's stomach.
"I'm sorry," she apologized shyly, blushing.
"Oh my," Mrs. Miles exclaimed. "Will you look at the time? It's far passed their dinner time."
"I'm too excited to be hungry, Mother," Douglas said. "I never thought I'd ever get to speak to a real, live Indian."
"We still have several hours before we get to Chicago" his mother explained. "Perhaps Mr. Cross-"
"Buck," Buck corrected her gently. Nodding in Henry's direction, he said. "He's Mr. Cross."
"Perhaps Buck will be willing to tell us more after we have eaten," the woman amended.
"Sure," Buck agreed.
"Would you gentlemen care to join us in the dining car?" Mrs. Miles asked.
"We'd be delighted," Henry answered before Buck could say anything to the contrary.
Eating on a moving train was a new experience to Buck, so he followed Henry's lead. He was able to ignore the rocking and occasional sloshing of drinks during the meal, but the looks from the other passengers was another matter entirely. More than one, upon seeing him seated with the four blondes, stared openly. Several glared and spoke quietly with their companions.
"Mother, why is that man staring at Mr. Buck?" Amelia's high-pitched voice could be heard throughout the car.
"Perhaps it's because his mother neglected to teach him that it is rude to stare," Mrs. Miles replied sternly. "Just as it is rude to gossip and make assumptions of others without taking the opportunity to get to know them."
The waiter chose that moment to speak to the group. "Good evening, Mrs. Miles," he proclaimed loudly. "How wonderful it is to see you and the children again! Will the captain be joining us this evening or should I bring your menus."
"Thank you, Gregory," Mrs. Miles responded. "There will just be the five of us, I'm afraid. Please, do bring the menus."
"Yes, Ma'am," the waiter replied as he stepped away smartly.
Conversation among the other diners ceased almost immediately. The obvious glares ceased as well to be replaced with an occasional covert glance. Even Henry was pleased to find that the food provided to them was quite good.
"Better even than your trail stew!" he remarked to Buck, receiving the laugh he had hope for in return.
They arrived in Chicago that evening. Buck and Henry immediately jumped to help Mrs. Miles with her bags.
"Thank you, gentlemen," she said. "Waiting for a porter with the children can be quite trying."
Buck stepped down from the train, then reached up to help Amelia and her mother.
"Thank you, Mr. Buck," the little girl said.
"You're very welcome, Miss Amelia," Buck replied, watching the little girl dimple with pleasure.
"Are you continuing on this evening?" Mrs. Miles asked.
"Yes, Ma'am," Henry answered. "Our next train leaves in about an hour."
"That's too bad," the woman said, genuinely sincere. "I would love to have the opportunity to show you the sights of Chicago."
"Perhaps, some day, we will be passing through again," Henry suggested.
"If you should, you absolutely must come by to see us," Mrs. Miles commanded.
"Yes, Ma'am," the two men replied as one.
"We really have to be moving along," Henry continued. "I'd like to make sure we get a private sleeping berth on the next leg of our journey."
Buck looked around them, concern evident on his face. "Do you have someone meeting you?"
"Yes, my husband should be along any moment."
"Here comes Daddy now!" Amelia squealed.
The two men looked to where she was pointing to find an Army officer striding to where they stood, two junior officers in tow. The children raced to meet him and he walked the rest of the way carrying his daughter and listening to his obviously excited son.
"Daddy," Amelia said. "This is Mr. Buck. He's a real, live Kiwoa Indian."
"That's KIOWA, silly!" Douglas corrected.
The captain hesitated for the briefest of moments before extending his hand to Buck. "It's nice to meet you Buck," he said. "From what my children have told me, you have made this quite a trip for them."
"I didn't do anything but tell a few stories, Sir," Buck responded.
"Nonsense," Mrs. Miles protested. "I don't think I've seen the children ride this quietly in any of our previous trips."
"Henry quickly stepped in to prevent any further embarrassment to Buck. "Captain Miles," he said. "It's nice to meet you, Sir. My name is Henry Cross."
The captain signaled to the junior officers who stepped forward to take the bags from Buck and Henry. "Will you boys be staying in Chicago long?"
"No, Sir," Henry replied. "I was just explaining to Mrs. Miles that our train to Boston will be leaving in less than an hour."
"Boston, eh?" the captain said thoughtfully. "You aren't, by any chance, related to Albert Cross, are you?"
"Yes, Sir," Henry responded. "He's my father."
"I had the pleasure of meeting your father several years ago," the captain told him. "Please give him my regards."
"I'll be happy to," Henry agreed.
"Well, gentlemen, I'd like to thank you again for entertaining my family. Hopefully, we will have the opportunity to meet again some day."
"The pleasure was ours, Captain," Henry offered. "Please take care, Mrs. Miles."
"You as well, Henry," the woman replied. "And Buck? Thank you again."
Buck nodded then grinned as Amelia reached out to give him a hug. He and Henry watched as the family moved off through the crowded terminal. Just before they disappeared from sight, Amelia waved one last time.
Following Henry through the station, Buck was amazed at the sheer size of the building-and the number of people it contained. Waiting as his companion verified their accommodations, he cautiously looked around at his fellow travelers.
It seemed every third person wore the blue uniform of a Union soldier. Most traveled in groups, but here and there singles or pairs moved purposefully along, intent upon reaching their destination as rapidly as possible.
Buck was surprised at the number of colored people in the crowd, some obviously free judging from their bearing. Others appeared either so very recently free or perhaps even on the run from their Southern masters that they had not yet lost their slave's attitude. These trudged along, carefully staying out of the way, trying desperately to remain invisible.
Here and there family groups moved through, mothers and fathers either carrying their small children or clutching tightly to the hands of those too big to carry. Buck could only imagine how it would feel to be young and lost in a place such as this.
"Exhilarating, isn't it?" Henry asked from beside him.
"That would be one word for it," Buck agreed. "You could fit all of Rock Creek in here-and have room left over for most of St. Joe."
"Chicago is becoming quite the crossroads," Henry stated. "Father says that, in just a few years, every railway in the nation will have at least one train coming into Chicago."
"You mean they don't already?" Buck asked incredulously.
Henry laughed, then turned back to the clerk. As Buck returned to his people watching, a large group of Indians in full buckskins and feathered headdress walked by, escorted by a unit of soldiers. One of the more decorated chiefs met Buck's gaze. The look the old man gave the young Kiowa was one of disdain. Buck straightened and returned the man's look undaunted. The elder paused, as if to say something, but continued on, the words unspoken.
"Do you know him?" Henry asked curiously.
"No," Buck replied.
"It most certainly looked as if he knew you."
"He knew me as Kiowa," Buck explained simply. "I am nothing to him."
Henry wisely chose not to pursue the matter further.
"I have our cabin number," he said. "Do you want to go now or would you prefer to look around some? They have some fine shops here in the station."
"Let's go find our car," Buck replied, suddenly feeling very closed in.
"If money is a problem-"
"I have money," Buck interrupted a bit more sharply than he had intended.
"No offense meant, Buck," Henry apologized. "I only meant that I would willingly loan you funds should you need them."
"I know, Henry," Buck told him. Sighing, he smiled at the other man. "I'm sorry. I guess I'm just a little overwhelmed by all of this."
"Understood," Henry stated. "I'm sure you are feeling much the same as I felt when I first arrived in the West. All that open space absolutely terrified me."
Buck looked at his companion in surprise. He found it difficult to believe anyone would be afraid of space. "I suppose it's all a matter of what you are used to," he commented.
"It is that!" Henry agreed.
The trip from Chicago to Philadelphia was relatively uneventful. The cabin the two men shared was surprisingly spacious. Buck was only just beginning to appreciate the fact that this was the life Henry had been born to and had come to expect. While the Kiowa could relax and enjoy the benefits his companion's wealth allowed, he doubted he would ever truly feel those benefits were owed him-if that opportunity presented itself.
He also noticed something that at first mystified, then pleased him. It seemed the farther East the pair traveled, the more the stares directed at him were those of curiosity instead of hostility. In the dining car the next morning, he went for the most part unnoticed with the exception of a small child dressed in an obvious costume, pretending to be a cowboy. He and Henry both waited until they returned to their cabin to burst into laughter at the pint-sized "lawman's" antics.
They spent the rest of the day in companionable silence, watching the rolling farmlands give way to the more industrial cities of the East. While their car was shifted to another train in Philadelphia, Henry took the opportunity to send a telegram to his family to arrange for someone to meet them at the station.
Buck stood outside the telegraph station, carefully avoiding the crush of people. The sound of a bell clanging drew his attention to a horse drawn wagon as it sped by. Painted a bright red, the wagon was unlike any he had ever seen. Men, wearing long jackets, baggy pants and strange, solid looking hats, hung from all sides of the wagon, while a black and white spotted dog rode on the front seat with the driver.
Shaking his head and making a note to ask Henry about the spectacle, Buck turned back toward the telegraph office and ran smack into a young woman, her arms full of parcels, which proceeded to fly everywhere.
"I'm so sorry," he apologized immediately, mentally cursing his lack of attention.
"Please don't worry," the girl replied. "It wasn't your fault really! I was just curious about where the fire wagon was going, I wasn't paying attention to where I was going."
Buck watched as she spoke, both amazed and amused that she was able to say so much without taking a breath. He watched as she attempted to pick up her parcels, only to lose one for every one she was able to retrieve. Finally, he offered to help-an offer gratefully accepted.
He had just retrieved the last package, neatly stacking it atop the others when Henry exited the office, bumping into the girl in his haste. Another round of apologizes followed and once again the offending parcels were retrieved.
"I hope I haven't broken anything," Henry said.
"I'm sure you haven't," the girl responded.
Buck looked at Henry, an unspoken question in his eyes.
"If you're not going far, Miss," Henry suggested, "my friend and I would be delighted to help you to your destination. We have a few minutes before our train departs."
"If it would not be too much of an imposition," the girl said with relief. "I must confess, I overestimated my own ability."
"No imposition at all," Buck told her taking half of her bundles.
"My carriage is just around this corner."
Henry took the remaining packages, then fell in step as the trio walked the short distance to the waiting carriage. A black footman jumped from the driver's seat to take charge of the packages.
An older woman and a younger girl were already in the carriage when they arrived.
"Oh my Bertha," the woman exclaimed. "What have you purchased now?"
"Oh, Mother," the girl replied. "We get to Philadelphia so rarely, and Seneca Falls is so out of fashion, I just couldn't resist."
"Did you remember the wool?" the younger girl asked anxiously. "I'll bet she forgot the wool, Mother-however will we make the stockings without the wool?"
"Hush, Harriet," her sister replied. "I have enough wool for you to make stockings for half the Union Army!"
"Well, I certainly hope you didn't buy out the rest of the stores," her mother reprimanded in mock sternness.
"These gentlemen were kind enough to help me," Bertha said, indicating Buck and Henry.
"She was probably chasing the fire wagon again, Mother," Harriet tattled.
"Hush, Harriet," the older woman said, then turned her gaze to the two men. She appraised them both in one long glance, then said, "Thank you kindly, Mr.?"
"Cross, Ma'am," Henry said, stepping forward. "I'm Henry and this is Buck."
"You both have the same name?" Harriet asked curiously. "You don't look like bro-"
"Harriet!" both her mother and sister said as one.
"Might we offer you a ride to your destination?" the woman asked, quickly redirecting the subject.
"Thank you, Ma'am, but no," Henry replied. "We are just on our way back to the station."
"Well then, please have a safe trip."
"Thank you, Ma'am," Buck replied.
"Thank you, Mr. Cross," the woman replied, dismissing them. "Franklin, please drive on," she ordered the driver.
Turning, Buck joined Henry on the walk back to their train.
"How do you do it?" Henry asked, grinning wickedly.
"Do what?" Buck asked, confused.
"You're in town for only a few minutes and you have the great woman, herself, offering you a ride."
"I was just watching the fire wagon," Buck protested innocently. "Do you know her? Who was she?"
"I only know her from the society pages," Henry replied.
As the pair walked the short distance to the train, Henry explained to Buck the significance of their encounter with Elizabeth Cady Stanton.
Boston's train station, while smaller than either Chicago or Philadelphia was by far more ornate. Buck barely had time to notice the elaborate decorations before the travelers heard Henry's name being called. The pair turned as one to find a blonde tornado sweeping across the station toward them. The young woman wrapped her arms around Henry's neck and held on as if she were drowning.
"Emily!" a stern voice commanded their attention. "That is hardly the proper way to greet your brother."
"I don't care, Father!" the girl replied, unrepentant. "I'm just so happy to see him."
"You might want to give me a chance to breathe then, Sister, dear," Henry laughed.
Emily reluctantly released him from her strangle hold to clasp tightly to his hand instead. "I do believe he has lost weight, Father," she exclaimed.
"Nothing I couldn't stand to lose," Henry commented. He dropped his satchel to the floor to extend his hand to the older man. "Hello, Father."
"Welcome home, Son," the man replied.
"Mother didn't come with you?" Henry asked, disappointment in his voice.
"Oh my no, Henry," Emily said. "Mother took to her bed the day you left. I'm sure she'll be feeling much better now that you are home."
"She was already much improved after we received your telegram," Mr. Cross agreed. "I'm certain she is anxiously awaiting your homecoming."
"Well then," Henry concluded. "We must not keep her waiting."
Throughout the exchange, Buck stood forgotten. He hadn't really noticed. Instead, he had been totally absorbed in Emily-and how much she looked like her sister. Except for much lighter hair, it could have been Elizabeth standing before him.
The family group had turned away and taken several steps in the direction of the exit before Henry remembered his companion.
"Oh my," he exclaimed before turning back to take the still frozen Buck by the arm, dragging him forward.
"Father, Emily, I'd like you to meet Buck," he introduced. "Buck, this is my father, Albert Cross and my sister, Emily."
Buck shook himself mentally. "Nice to meet you, Mr. Cross." Turning to Emily, he smiled and said. "Miss Emily." He hesitated, then continued in a rush. "You look just like her."
Mr. Cross stepped forward to stand between them. "How do you know this?" he demanded.
"Father," Henry interrupted, "Buck belonged to the tribe that held Elizabeth."
"He what?!" the older man roared, ignoring the stares his vehemence invoked.
"Please, Father," Henry pleaded. "Let's discuss this some place more private."
"How dare you bring this heathen here?" Mr. Cross' face turned beet red in his fury.
"Buck is no heathen!" Henry said firmly. "He knew Elizabeth, he was with her when she died."
Henry's father stood stock still upon hearing those words. His mouth opened and closed as if to say something but no words came out.
Taking him by the arm, Henry drew his father to one side. Soon they were engaged in a quiet, yet animated, discussion.
Buck watched the pair, regret that he had ever chosen to accompany Henry to Boston foremost in his mind. He had almost made the decision to turn and run when a gloved hand touched his arm.
"Please give Father a chance, Buck," Emily suggested. "Elizabeth was so very special to him. I'm sure, once the shock of her loss passes, he will want to talk to you. I know I do."
"I was a child," Buck murmured. "I had no say."
"Of course not," Emily agreed.
Their conversation as interrupted by the return of Henry and Mr. Cross.
"My son has explained a few things to me," the elder Cross said gruffly. "Please accept my apologies for my remarks."
Buck nodded his acceptance.
"Henry has also informed me that you are to be our guest for as long as you choose to stay," Mr. Cross continued. "I hope you will believe me when I say you will be welcomed."
Emily's hand tightened slightly on his arm in a reassuring gesture.
Buck turned to look at the girl whose smile was as warm as her touch.
"Please, Buck?" she asked.
"All right," he agreed. Had he been looking at Mr. Cross as he spoke, Buck might have reconsidered. Unfortunately he failed to notice the narrowing of the older man's eyes or the frown that briefly crossed his features. By the time the trio of young adults had turned back to the elder Cross, the look and the frown were carefully hidden.
The carriage ride to the Cross estate on Boston's Beacon Hill was far from quiet. Emily insisted upon giving Buck a tour of the city, avidly pointing to this feature or that as they drove past. Henry and even Mr. Cross added to the commentary from time to time, but for the most part, Emily did all the talking.
Buck really didn't care what was being pointed out or the description being provided. He was quite content to listen to the young woman talk and to feel her hand on his arm from time to time.
He could not believe how much like Elizabeth her younger sister appeared to be. It as more than just her looks-although Emily appeared to be about the age Elizabeth had been when she was brought to his tribe. There was a spirit about the young woman that reminded Buck of her sister in the early days of her captivity. Her voice, her choice of words, all reminded him of his former mentor. In fact, he felt if he closed his eyes, he would not be able to distinguish the difference.
Massive pillars on either side of a huge wrought iron gate delineated the beginning of the private land that belonged to Albert Cross and his family. The "house"-mansion in Buck's mind-towered above the courtyard where the driver brought the horses to a stop. He followed Henry and his father from the carriage, then turned to help Emily, ignoring the presence of the footman who had moved to do the same.
Mr. Cross strode ahead to tell Henry's mother of their return while Emily led Buck through the enormous foyer into the formal drawing room. The first impression the Westerner had of the immense room was its total lack of warmth. It was easily obvious that the room was a showplace where guests were meant to be impressed. He could hardly imagine the family lazing around on a winter evening.
"This is the formal parlor," Emily told him, as if reading his mind. "Mother prefers to meet guests here."
"Why do I feel like a guest?" Henry murmured.
Buck glanced at the man he now called friend, but said nothing. Emily appeared not to have noticed as she rattled on about the various pieces of furniture and their impressive history.
"Welcome home, Son," a voice said from the doorway.
Buck looked across the room to see Mr. Cross standing behind a wheeled chair. There was no doubt that the woman who sat bundled in a heavy blanket was Elizabeth and Emily's mother. The resemblance was unmistakable.
"Mother," Henry said, moving to kneel beside the chair.
For a moment, Buck could almost believe he was paying homage to the great woman. He watched as Mrs. Cross touched her son's face as if verifying that the young man was truly there. A few uncomfortable minutes passed before Mrs. Cross spoke again.
"Introductions are in order." Her words were more a command than a suggestion.
"Mother, may I present Buck," Henry complied. "Buck, this is my mother, Madeline Cross."
"It's a pleasure to meet you, Mrs. Cross," Buck said formally.
"Have you no surname?" Mrs. Cross demanded.
"Ma'am?"
"Have . . . you . . . no . . . last . . . name?" the woman repeated, emphasizing each word as if speaking to a simpleton.
"Mother," Emily interjected. "Buck is an Indian. They do not have last names. Am I right, Buck?"
Before Buck could respond, Madeline snorted. "Then how are you to know one of you from another?" she intoned. "I'm sure there are many of you known as 'Buck'."
"My name is Running Buck," Buck said stiffly. "I'm known as brother of Red Bear and son of Three Eagles. That is the only differentiation that is needed."
"So your mother was a white woman," Mrs. Cross stated. "Was she a captive as my daughter was?"
"My mother was Kiowa," Buck stated firmly.
"Then your father was white?"
"Mother!" Henry reprimanded gently. "That is really none of our business."
"My father was a drunken trapper," Buck said watching the woman for her reaction. "He raped my mother because she was an Indian and meant nothing to anyone-or so he believed."
"Then how do you claim to be the 'son of Three Eagles'?" Madeline questioned.
"Three Eagles loved my mother," Buck replied simply.
"Enough to accept her bastard son as his own?"
"Yes, which is far more civilized than what I've seen of the white people I've met."
Madeline stared at the defiant young man before her. It was quite obvious she was not used to being spoken to in such a manner.
"Dinner will be served in one hour," the woman said in a complete change of subject. "We expect you to be dressed properly. Emily show Running Buck to a guest room and see to his clothing needs." With of movement of her hand, she directed her husband to push her from the room.
No one spoke for several minutes after Mrs. Cross' departure. Finally Mr. Cross cleared his throat.
"Emily why don't you show Buck to his room?" he suggested. "I think he is similar in size to Albert Junior. Perhaps one of his suits will suffice until other arrangements can be made."
"Yes, Father," a much subdued Emily replied.
She led Buck from the parlor and up the winding staircase to the second floor.
"I had Hamilton put your things in the green room. It has the best view of the gardens which I thought you might enjoy," Emily told him as she led him down the long corridor. "Henry's room is next door and mine is just across the hall."
"I'm surprised I'm not out in the slaves' quarters," Buck said, a trace of bitterness in his voice.
"We have no slaves!" Emily responded immediately. "All of our servants are free men and have been for quite some time!"
"You'll have to forgive Emily," a young man said as he stepped from a side hall. "She is quite the little abolitionist. It's in her blood."
Ignoring the now infuriated Emily, the man stepped forward. "I'm AJ," he said extending his hand.
"Buck," Buck replied.
"So, you're Henry's little surprise," AJ commented. "Have you met Mother yet? Should we be apologizing?"
"Albert!" Emily reprimanded. "That's enough!"
"We'll talk later," AJ said with a malicious wink. "My room is at the other end of the hall."
"Pay him no mind, Buck," Emily commanded. Turning to her brother, she continued, "Father says you are to loan Buck one of your suits for dinner this evening. I don't suppose you'll be joining us?"
"How could I possibly dare not to attend brother Henry's welcome home dinner?" AJ replied. "I've already been informed that this is a command appearance."
"Go fetch your suit!" Emily ordered.
"Yes, Ma'am," her brother replied, issuing a mock salute before turning back down the hall.
"You'll have to excuse Albert," Emily said as she opened the door to the largest bedroom Buck had ever seen. "He's still very angry and is taking his anger out on everyone." She moved to the windows as she spoke, pushing back the draperies. "I really should have had Hamilton prepare the room for you," she murmured.
"Why?" Buck asked.
"Pardon?" Emily responded.
"You said your brother was angry," Buck explained. "Why?"
"Oh, he's just upset that Father won't speak out on the issue of emancipation. Albert Junior believes we should be supportive of the Southern states."
"That's a rather unusual notion for someone from here in Boston, isn't it?" Buck asked, remembering his reading about the city and, in fact, the state being deemed anti-slavery.
"That's just Albert Junior," Emily sighed. "Please don't be concerned, Buck. This is a family matter and should not be something with which you should be bothered."
Their conversation was interrupted by her brother's arrival. Over his arm he carried several suits.
"One of these should fit you," he declared. "At least enough to pass inspection."
"Inspection?" Buck inquired.
"Pay him no mind!" Emily commanded for the second time. Taking the clothes from her brother she pushed him toward the door. "Go along!" she ordered. "You need to be dressed as well."
"Why Emily," AJ countered. "How could I dare leave you alone in a room with a strange young man? What kind of brother would I be to leave you in such a compromising position?"
"Go!" Emily demanded, although her face colored red with embarrassment.
AJ left the room then, but his laughter could be heard as he walked down the hall.
"He's right you know," Buck said softly.
"You let me worry about what is proper and what isn't where I am concerned," Emily replied. Moving to a door on one of the side walls, she opened it to reveal a bathroom, complete with a tub. "I'll have Hamilton draw you a bath if you wish."
"I think I can manage," Buck told her.
"All right then," Emily said, smiling. "I'll stop by for you in thirty minutes. If you need anything, just ring for Hamilton," she concluded, indicating a bell pull by the door.
"Thank you, Miss Emily," Buck responded as she left the room.
"Just Emily will do," the girl told him. "No need to be so formal."
True to her word, Emily knocked on Buck's door exactly thirty minutes later. He opened the door, tie in hand, frustrated look on his face.
Confusion was replaced with appreciation as he took in the vision before him.
Emily had changed to a blue dress that enhanced the blue in her eyes until they sparkled. Her hair was pulled up and back from her face, revealing high cheekbones which had been lightly brushed with rouge.
"You look beautiful," he said sincerely.
"Why thank you, kind sir," she replied lightly. "You look quite handsome yourself."
"The suit fits pretty well," Buck told her. "Only problem is I can't figure out this tie."
"Here, let me help you," Emily said, stepping forward to take the tie from his hand. "I always have to help Henry," she explained. "He has never figured out how to tie a decent four-in-hand."
Buck stood rigidly still as the girl expertly tied the tie and straightened his collar. The pair stood for a few seconds after she finished, neither one knowing quite what to do or say. Henry saved them both by appearing at the door.
"Ready to go?" he asked.
"Ready as I'll ever be," Buck replied.
"Then let's go!" Emily agreed brightly, slipping her arms around one of each of the two men. "It's not often that I'm lucky enough to have two such handsome escorts," she chattered as the trio made their way to the dining room.
Dinner was a lavish affair. Buck had never seen so much food in one place, especially for so few people. Two maids and a butler were constantly on the move around the huge table making sure every glass was full and removing plates between courses.
For the most part conversation was light and inconsequential. Buck responded when spoken to but mostly sat listening to the family banter. Mentally, he thanked Rachel for her attempts to educate her "boys" on proper etiquette. At least he knew which fork to use more often than not and, when he didn't, a quick glance in Henry's direction was all he needed.
"Did I mention Buck was a rider for the Pony Express?" Henry asked at one point.
"Oh, how exciting," Emily responded. "You must be an excellent horseman."
"Aren't most Indians?" AJ asked boldly.
"No more so than most," Buck answered. "We just have more opportunities to learn."
"Perhaps we can go riding one day," Emily suggested.
"Yes, Buck," Henry agreed. "I'd like to see if you have as many problems with an English saddle as I had with a Western."
"You did all right," Buck countered.
"Only because you took it easy on me," Henry reminded him.
"I always thought Russell, Majors and Wadell would run that business into the ground," Mr. Cross commented. "They overextended themselves far too extensively without government contract guarantees."
"Albert," Mrs. Cross spoke for the first time. "This is not the time nor the place for talk of business."
Silence reigned for a few minutes until finally AJ asked, "So what are your plans now, Buck?"
"I'm not really sure," Buck replied. "I've been wanting to do some traveling. See some of the country other than a blur as I rode through."
"So what's stopping you?"
"Nothing, I guess. But I think I'll head out West. I've always wanted to see California or maybe head up to the Oregon Territory."
"Running away?" AJ taunted.
"Away from what?"
"The war that's coming, of course."
"Not my fight," Buck replied, innocently unaware of the firestorm he had just triggered.
"Of course it's your fight!" Mr. Cross said firmly. "The condition of our fellow man is always our fight!"
"As is the right of a man to live as he sees fit without the government telling him otherwise," AJ argued.
Before the apparently well-worn debate could escalate any further, Mrs. Cross spoke, "Perhaps we should adjourn to the drawing room where you two shall once again regale us with your theories on slavery."
The talk of war ceased immediately as the family left the table to the servants.
"As this is Henry's first night with us in ever so long," Mrs. Cross said once the group had settled in the parlor. "I think we should dispense with the talk of war and allow him to tell us of his adventures."
"Oh yes, Henry," Emily agreed. "Please do tell us."
"All right," Henry began.
"I really don't know what would have happened had not Jimmy Hickok become involved," Henry finished almost an hour later.
"So when exactly did you meet Buck?" AJ asked.
"That was the most miraculous thing of all," Henry replied. "I simply asked Jimmy for his assistance in finding someone to take me around to the various Indian villages and he produced Buck."
"But how did you come to find out that he knew Elizabeth?" Emily prompted.
"I do believe that fortune smiled upon me," Henry said. "When Buck first entered the room, I'm afraid I allowed my prejudices to get the better of me. Upon chastising Hickok for his neglect in mentioning the Buck was an Indian, I was informed that there would be no one better to serve as my guide than Buck Cross."
A hush fell over the room as the meaning of Henry's words hit home.
"You use the surname Cross?" Mrs. Cross asked, barely able to contain her anger.
"Yes," Buck answered simply. "When I left the Kiowa to go to the mission school, I was told I had to have a last name," he explained. "I knew from Elizabeth's journal that her name was Cross. I chose her name to honor her spirit."
"What would someone like you know of honor?" the woman declared. "How dare you be so bold as to use a name that is not your birthright!"
"Madeline, please," her husband soothed. "Please calm down before you make yourself ill."
"Besides, Mother," Henry added. "Were it not for the use of the name, we might never have realized that our Elizabeth and Buck's teacher were one and the same."
"Perhaps we would have been better off!" Mrs. Cross declared. "At least we would still have the belief that my darling daughter was still alive and would someday return to us!"
"You would still be living a dream, Mother," AJ said. "Isn't it better to know the truth than to live your life in denial?"
"Albert!" his father reprimanded.
"Not denial," Mrs. Cross shouted at the same moment. "Hope!"
"I think it's time for us to retire for the night," Mr. Cross decided. "It has been a long, exhausting day and your mother needs her rest."
He moved to his wife's chair then and pushed her from the room. Even as the pair moved away, the young people could hear Madeline's protests.
"I honestly thought using Elizabeth's name would honor her memory," Buck said quietly.
He and Emily had left Henry and AJ in the middle of an argument about AJ's remarks to their mother and were walking through the gardens. The room had become much smaller after Madeline's outburst. Emily had sensed Buck's discomfort and had suggested they step outside.
"Of course you did, Buck," Emily agreed. "And I'm sure Elizabeth would understand that."
Buck sighed, then reached up to loosen his tie. "I guess it would have been better if I'd just stayed in Rock Creek."
"Please don't think like that!" Emily pleaded. "I know it may seem that way now, but please believe me, your being here is for the best."
She led him to a stone bench and sat down. "Mother has been living in a dream world ever since Elizabeth disappeared. For years after we were informed of the attack on the wagon train, Mother would stand in the window, watching the street, waiting for her precious daughter's return. Father was beside himself to make things better."
"What happened?" Buck asked when she paused.
"After some time, Mother appeared to have accepted what we all knew to be the truth and began to live her life again. She and Father were even planning a holiday abroad."
Emily paused again. She reached out to pull a twig from a nearby shrub.
"Just when we thought life would return to normal, Sarah McLeod returned to Boston. She is the woman from Elizabeth's wagon train who was freed by the Army."
"Henry told me about her," Buck affirmed.
"Mother relapsed soon after Sarah's return," Emily concluded. "She began hounding Henry and Albert Junior to go look for our sister-to rescue her from the heathens who had held her captive. Finally, Henry could stand it no longer and did as she asked."
"And now I'm here to shatter what little delusion she had left," Buck said quietly.
"And to become the focus of her anger and hatred," Emily agreed reluctantly. "But please know that she is the only one to feel that way. The rest of us simply want closure."
Even though the gathering darkness hid her face and eyes, Buck could hear the sincerity in Emily's tone and words.
"Will you tell me of Elizabeth's time with you?" she asked.
"Henry has her journal-"
"But, Buck, you were there! You could give us an insight unlike any other and far better than mere words could possibly provide." Emily interrupted, unconsciously parroting the words Henry had used when he had first asked Buck to accompany him to Boston.
"I'll tell you," Buck answered. "But not tonight."
He held up his hand to forestall her pleas. "Read the journal first," he suggested. "Hear the story from her words first. Then I'll tell you what I remember."
"All right," Emily agreed with even greater reluctance. Rising to her feet, she started for the house. "Are you coming?" she asked when Buck remained seated.
"I think I'll stay out here for a bit," he replied.
"Would you mind if I stayed with you?"
"I wouldn't mind," Buck answered. "But what will your family think?"
"I don't care!" Emily stated firmly. "We've done nothing of which we should be ashamed."
Hidden from the pair, both by the darkness and a mass of shrubbery, Albert Cross, Sr. considered what he had just heard. This Buck fellow would require some watching, he decided. He agreed with Emily that the family wanted and needed closure, but not at the expense of losing another daughter to a barely educated savage.
Madeline Cross remained in her room for the next several days. Henry tried repeatedly to get her to come down, to hear what Buck had to share, but she was so deep in her denial that she refused to believe anything even her favored son had to say. Finally, Henry gave up.
At first, both Henry and Emily spent time with Buck, showing the Westerner their world. Occasionally AJ would join them, but more often than not, the elder Cross would disappear immediately after breakfast and return just before dinner.
True to his word, Henry made arrangements for the three of them to go riding. Early one morning, he led Buck to the stables to choose the horse he would ride. The Cross' had several fine animals, Buck decided. He finally chose a large palomino gelding as his mount and turned to Henry for his tack.
The bridle wasn't all that different from what he was used to, but the English style saddle came as a surprise. Smaller and far lighter than a Western saddle, the English had a much shallower "well" and no saddle horn. The stirrups were also a lighter weight and rode much higher than he was used to.
"This is almost like riding bareback," he told his companions as he ignored the stirrups and leaped easily onto the horse's back.
The trio spent much of the day riding various trails on the estate. It didn't take long for Buck to wish for the longer stirrup he was used to. During a brief stop, he extended the straps as far as they would go. While still not totally comfortable, at least he didn't feel like his knees were up under his chin.
Emily proved to be an even more accomplished rider than her brother. Before long, Henry had dropped back, allowing the other two to show off, taking jumps and racing along the open trail.
"I have the lunch basket!" he explained when they teased him.
"So what do you think of the 'dude' saddle?" Henry asked over lunch.
"Like I said, it's like riding bareback," Buck replied. "Except for the fact that there's no place for the mochilla-and the stirrups-I have to admit it would have made a run a lot easier on the horse."
"As much energy as those mustangs have," Henry mused. "I don't know how they could have made the run must faster."
"It wasn't so much speed as endurance," Buck pointed out. "We'd ride a lot of miles between stations. A good, strong horse made all the difference."
"You've led such an exciting life, Buck," Emily sighed. "I can't begin to imagine what it would be like riding through untamed wilderness, having to be on guard every minute."
"I never knew any different," Buck said. "It's all in what you're used to. I think living in Boston can be pretty exciting, too."
"Wait until you meet some of Emily's friends," Henry teased. "Then you'll know what 'exciting' really is."
He ducked quickly to avoid the chicken bone his sister threw at him.
"I think I should talk to Mrs. Cross," Buck suggested to Mr. Cross a couple of days later.
"I don't know that that would be a good idea, Buck," the older man replied.
"But maybe I can help her see that, while Elizabeth's life wasn't what it should have been, it was better than it could have been," Buck protested.
He knew Mr. Cross had read Elizabeth's journal, but the man had not asked any questions of him. Buck sensed the man was in a bit of a fantasy world of his own and was afraid to break the spell.
"I think we shall just give Mrs. Cross a bit more time," Albert decided. "I'm sure she'll let us know when she is ready to speak with you."
Knowing protest would make no difference, Buck let the matter drop.
More days passed with no real evidence that things were changing in the Cross household. As soon after breakfast as possible, the young people would go out to do something, anything, that would get them away from the tension that was building.
Before long, Henry decided that at least someone had to make an attempt to keep things going at the office. While he still spent as much time as possible with Buck and Emily, it was often just the couple who toured the city.
Emily discovered that Buck enjoyed the libraries and museums as much as she did. Together, they spent their days browsing and talking about what they had seen.
One day, Emily finally broached the subject of Elizabeth's time with the Kiowa. "Her journal tells me so much, but I'm sure there is even more that she wasn't able to share."
"She was always afraid of running out of paper," Buck agreed. "We were able to find a replacement for the pencils but paper would have been much harder to come by."
"You found her the pen and ink to continue her writing," Emily remembered.
"Sometimes, for someone so highly educated, Elizabeth lacked simple common sense," Buck mused. "And no offence, but given what I've seen here, I can understand how she was so completely out of her element. Knowing what I know now has only given me a great deal more respect for her."
"I am so very jealous of you," Emily said. At his questioning look, she explained. "I was six when Elizabeth left us, but I barely remember her. Your memories are far more vivid."
"I think my memories are stronger because of the time surrounding our time together," Buck said. "A lot of rather ugly things happened then that make the moments of peace stand out more vividly."
"Like the Paiute attacks?"
"Yes," Buck replied.
"Elizabeth was so proud of you," Emily said quietly. "I think she felt that even if she never had another student, she had made a significant contribution to society."
"I think you put too much importance on what little I've accomplished," Buck protested.
"I don't!" Emily stated. "You should be proud of what-who-you have become. I know I am."
Several silent moments passed before Emily asked, "She didn't suffer too much when she died-did she?"
"I wish I could say no with certainty," Buck answered. "I ran as fast as I could and the warriors got back to her as quickly as they could . . . but no one will ever really know."
"Except those who murdered her."
"Except those who murdered her," Buck agreed. "And if it's any consolation to you, they are all dead as well." The memory of Three Eagles, himself, returning with four new scalps on his belt flashed through Buck's mind.
The two sat in silence, each lost in memories of the past. Finally Emily stood, a more determined look on her face. "We must make Mother understand this," she stated.
"I offered to speak with her," Buck told her.
"And Father refused you," Emily replied certainly. "Well, we just have to try again."
That evening Albert had a surprise for all of them. Just as Emily started to make her carefully prepared argument in favor of Buck speaking to her mother, Albert announced that Madeline had asked for Elizabeth's journal.
"It's a step in the right direction," he said with a tired smile. "If she asks to speak with you, Buck, I hope you will still be willing."
"Of course, Sir," Buck agreed.
Dinner that evening was far lighter than any had been since that first night.
At Albert's insistence, Buck was treated to two custom tailored suits and a pair of hand-tooled boots.
"I really don't feel right doing this," Buck said as he stood patiently waiting for the tailor to finish taking his measurements.
"Why ever not?" Emily asked. "You can't continue wearing Albert's suit to dinner."
"Why not?" Buck countered. "It fits just fine."
"Because . . ." Emily paused, trying to think of a good reason. "Because Father wants to do this for you,"
Buck shook his head, smiling ruefully. "I suppose that reason alone will have to be good enough for now."
"Good!" Emily said brightly. "You're going to need two-no three-good shirts and at least one tie for each!"
Buck sighed. Life among the wealthy was definitely going to take some getting used to.
"Oh my, don't you look handsome!" Emily breathed.
"I don't know how I let you talk me into all of this," Buck said.
"You just couldn't continue to wear those ratty old clothes," Emily stated firmly.
"There was nothing wrong with them," Buck protested.
"Maybe not in Rock Creek," Emily argued. "But this is Boston!"
Buck fingered the flimsy shirt he now wore. "This wouldn't last me a week on the trail."
"Then it's good that you are no longer on the trail," Emily replied stepping forward to finger his collar. Her fingers lingered briefly on his neck before she stepped back, embarrassment coloring her face.
"Now, if I could just convince you to see a barber-and to get rid of that earring," she said, changing the subject. "You would look like a proper gentleman."
"No," Buck said simply. He was willing to go along with some things, but others were pushing too hard.
"All right then," Emily said, wisely deciding not to press the matter.
Turning to the clerk, she made arrangements for their packages-and Buck's old clothes-to be delivered to the estate. "Please put the charges on my father's account," she added. "I won't take 'no' for an answer, Buck," she said as he began to protest. "Father told me to use my discretion and I am doing so."
"But-"
"Do not argue with me," Emily commanded. "You will discover that I can be just as stubborn as you."
She watched as he appeared to acquiesce to her demands. "And don't you even think of going to Father about this," she added, reading his expression with uncanny accuracy. "He will agree with me."
Buck sighed again, realizing this was a battle he could not win.
"I do hope some flowers will cheer Mother a bit," Emily rattled on as the pair strolled through the market. "When I spoke with her this morning, she seemed better but quite sad."
"I'm sure anything you do will help her feel better," Buck agreed.
The conversation ceased as two young women approached.
"Emily, dear!" one of them called. "I was so hoping to run into you. I was afraid I might have to send someone to your home."
"Things have been quite hectic," Emily explained. "Henry has returned from his trip to the West."
"So we've heard," the other girl said.
While she may have been talking to Emily, this one had eyes only for Buck. He rapidly began to feel like a piece of meat being appraised by an inspector.
"Actually, that's precisely the reason I wished to speak with you," the first girl said. "I'm hosting a small get-together this coming Saturday evening. It would be absolutely dreadful if you and Henry did not attend."
"I cannot speak for Henry of course, but I will most certainly pass on your invitation," Emily responded.
"But you will be there, won't you?" the girl pleaded.
"Arthur has already accepted," the second girl added as if for incentive.
Buck stood throughout the exchange, feeling more and more invisible. He sensed that Emily really wanted to attend this party. Her less than covert glance in his direction confirmed his suspicions that she was hesitating because of him.
Emily's glance didn't go unnoticed by her friends. "Aren't you going to introduce us to your companion?" the first girl asked.
"Where are my manners?" Emily exclaimed. "Juliette Connor, Ruth Dolan, my I present Buck. Buck, these are Juliette and Ruth."
"Nice to meet you," Buck said, nodding to each in turn.
"Buck is from the Nebraska territory," Emily explained. "He met Henry there and was convinced to return home with him."
"It's so very nice to meet you, Buck," Juliette said. "I do hope you would do me the honor of attending my party."
"If you're sure it won't be a problem," Buck answered, seeing how Emily's face brightened at the prospect.
"Of course not!" Juliette confirmed.
"How could it possibly be a problem to have an additional handsome man," Ruth tittered. Slipping her arm around his, she let Buck away from her friends. "I'm certain you have many interesting stories to tell us about the 'Wild West'. The boys in Boston have become so tedious and boring."
"There she goes again," Juliette murmured.
"She's incorrigible," Emily agreed, trying to ignore the pang of jealousy she felt at her friend's easy style.
"So, do tell me about Buck," Juliette asked. "He's Indian, isn't he?"
"Yes, he's from the Kiowa tribe," Emily replied.
"Oh no!" Juliette exclaimed. "They weren't the tribe who attacked Elizabeth's wagon train?"
"No," Emily answered simply. "Buck helped Henry try to find Elizabeth." There was no need to explain any further, she decided. Juliette-a known gossip-had no reason to know everything.
A few steps ahead, Buck tried to listen to Ruth's chatter, while at the same time, hear what was being said behind them. Unfortunately, the latter was made impossible due to the former.
"What an interesting decoration," Ruth was saying, reaching up to finger the bone that dangled from Buck's left ear.
Buck instinctively pulled away from her touch.
"I'm sorry," the girl apologized immediately. "I didn't realize you were so sensitive."
"Buck," Emily said, stepping forward to quickly divert the conversation. "We really must be getting back to the estate. We don't want to be late for dinner."
Taking him by the arm, she turned them both towards where Hamilton waited with their carriage.
"May we drop you somewhere?" she asked the other two girls.
"Thank you, but no, Emily," Juliette replied. "Our carriage is waiting just down the street." Turning to Buck, she continued, "It was a pleasure to meet you, Buck. I do hope to see more of you in the future."
"Thanks," Buck said, then allowed Emily to move them away.
"Don't forget to tell Henry of my party!" Juliette called after them.
"You had better watch out for Ruth, Buck," AJ warned over dinner. "She's quite a little tart."
"Albert Frederick Cross, Junior!" Emily exclaimed. "Ruth is no such thing!"
"She seemed nice enough," Buck agreed.
"Only because you were in public," AJ corrected.
"Albert, that's enough!" his father said. "There is no reason to speak badly of Ruth. She comes from a well-respected family."
"At least they will be until her reputation spoils that," AJ countered.
"I said enough!" Mr. Cross commanded.
"May we go to the party, Father," Emily asked, trying to change the subject.
"I see no reason why not," Mr. Cross mused. "As long as the party is properly chaperoned."
"I'm sure it will be, Father," Henry confirmed.
"All right then," his father agreed, smiling as Emily excitedly began to plan what she would wear. "Perhaps it will do your mother some good to get involved in helping you prepare," he suggested.
"Oh yes, Father," Emily agreed. "What a wonderful idea. Mother does so love to help me make the decisions. I'll ask her immediately of course."
The Connor estate was every bit as large as the Cross'. It seemed as if every lamp in the house had been lit just for Juliette's "little get-together."
Buck stepped down from the carriage, then turned to help Emily. Her father had been right, Madeline had immediately gotten involved in the planning and had even joined them for lunch that day. While she had not spoken directly to Buck, she had not completely ignored him either.
Once again, the Kiowa marveled at the beauty Emily wore the way he wore his old boots. She and her mother had chosen a blue dress, specifically designed to set off her eyes.
As they waited for the door to be opened, Buck unconsciously tugged at his collar.
"You look fine," Emily laughed as she reached up to straighten his tie.
To one side Henry hid a smile, watching his sister help his friend.
"I feel like . . ." Buck began, only to be interrupted by the butler.
Within minutes, Henry was being pulled off to one side by Juliette, leaving Buck and Emily to make their own way through the gathering. The couple received more than one passing glance as they crossed the room. Buck hoped it was because of Emily, but knew more than likely it was because of him.
"Buck! I'm so glad you came!" Ruth's voice reverberated across the hall. The girl appeared out of a small group of people, a young man in tow. "Arthur, look. Emily is here!"
Emily's grip on Buck's arm tightened slightly as the other couple came to stand in front of them.
"Arthur O'loughlin, this is Buck," Ruth said.
The two young men sized each other up for the briefest of seconds before Buck extended his hand. "Nice to meet you, Arthur," he said.
"The feeling is mutual, Buck," the young man responded. "Ruth has been regaling us with the story of the Indian the Cross family has adopted."
"Arthur, you stop that this minute!" Ruth pouted. "I said no such thing!"
Taking Buck by the arm, Ruth led him towards the group of people. "Don't you listen to a thing he says, Buck."
The girl was so absorbed in her chatter that she missed the pleading look Buck shot Emily. Unfortunately, Emily was distracted by Arthur and missed the look as well.
"I thought I might find you out here."
Buck had been so lost in thought that he had only just been aware of Emily's presence before she spoke.
"It was getting a little stuffy in there," he told her.
"I have a feeling there is a plot in the works," Emily said.
"Plot?"
"Yes. Every time I look for you, either Ruth has you cornered or Arthur stops me before I can get across the room."
"Is Arthur your boyfriend?" Buck asked boldly.
"Oh my, no!" Emily laughed. "Father and Mother would have a fit if they ever heard that."
"Why? He seems nice enough," Buck said. "He probably comes from a good family, too."
"Yes, he does," Emily agreed. "But he is a bit of a rake. Father barely tolerates him."
"What about you?"
"Me?" Emily sighed. "While I don't dislike him, Arthur is not someone with whom I see myself settling down and having children."
A feeling akin to satisfaction passed through Buck at that thought.
"How could you let her out of your sight? You were supposed to keep her busy!"
Buck glanced quickly at Emily as Ruth's voice was heard. Emily raised a finger to her lips in response. With a nod, Buck melted back into the shrubbery, pulling Emily in with him.
"I haven't seen the Indian for almost an hour either," Arthur responded. "Our deal was that you would distract him in return, remember?"
"I can't help it if that twit Lydia decided to corner me!" Ruth responded angrily.
"Keep your voice down!" Arthur hissed. "Do you want them to hear us?"
"Oh, what does it matter," Ruth answered hotly. "It was obvious from the way she was clutching at him when they came in that there is something between them."
"I think Miss Emily has found someone her daddy is going to hate even more than he hates me," Arthur laughed bitterly.
"Then it shall be up to you and I to be there to help them over their pain," Ruth said maliciously. "I can't wait to see if what they say about Indians is true."
The conversation faded as the pair started back to the house.
Buck and Emily remained in the bushes until the other pair were out of earshot. It was then that Buck noticed that Emily was shaking violently.
"Are you cold?" he asked, starting to remove his jacket.
"No," she responded. "I'm furious! How dare that . . . that . . ."
"Tart?" Buck supplied.
"That is too kind!" Emily said angrily.
"Well, Arthur isn't much better," Buck suggested.
"Both of them are unspeakably vicious."
"Oh, I don't know," Buck grinned. "Personally, I think they are rather funny."
"Pathetically so, if you ask me!" Stepping out onto the path, Emily continued, "I have half a mind to go in there and tell them both exactly what I think of their little plan."
"Don't," Buck said quietly.
"Why not?" she asked curiously.
"I don't see where your getting angry will serve any useful purpose," Buck explained.
"But we can't let them get away with this!" Emily protested.
"They haven't," he replied. "Unless they were right?"
He watched Emily, carefully trying to gauge her reaction. "Are they right, Emily? Is their something between us that their interference this evening would make a difference?"
Emily didn't respond immediately. Just when Buck had begun to think he had made a very big mistake, she whispered something.
"Pardon?"
"I think there could be," she repeated a bit louder.
"All right then," Buck said, moving closer. "You definitely can't say anything to Ruth then."
"Why not?" she asked again.
"Because our being together will be the best revenge."
Henry came searching for them a bit later. He smiled as he found the pair sitting in the gazebo, Buck's arm around Emily's shoulders.
"It's about time!" he said sternly.
"What do you mean by that?" Emily asked indignantly.
"I was running out of ideas for 'errands' to keep me 'busy'," her brother answered with a laugh.
"You scoundrel, you!" Emily exclaimed
"I was beginning to think there was something wrong with you, Buck," Henry continued.
"Then you don't have a problem with a 'savage' being with your sister?" Buck asked.
"One thing you should know by now, Buck," Henry chided. "I'm a very fast learner. Besides, if it makes Emily happy, then who am I to stand in the way."
Growing serious for a moment, he added, "Fair warning though, my heathen friend, if you hurt her, you'll have deal with me!"
"I just hope Mother and Father feel the same way," Emily murmured.
Sunday morning found Mr. Cross up, bright and early, to attend church services with his children. They attempted to convince Mrs. Cross to join them, but she refused, saying she was not quite up to a long, public service. She would, however, join them for brunch when they returned, she promised.
Buck also remained at the house, declining Emily's invitation. The mission school he had attended had been run by Catholic missionaries, but he had never embraced the religion nor had he been baptized.
Taking advantage of the time alone, Buck walked out to a clearing within the estate's massive gardens. Finding a comfortable spot where he could lean back against a tree, he sat on the ground and closed his eyes.
The early morning sun soaked across his body, warming his soul. He couldn't remember a time when he had spent so many of his hours indoors. It felt good to be in the sun again. Closing his eyes, he could almost imagine being out on the trail again. Sitting up briefly, he removed his shirt before leaning back and falling into a light sleep.
Buck's subconscious registered the sound of footsteps on the soft ground soon enough to kick his conscious mind awake before the intruder was within the danger zone. He was awake and on his feet prepared for whoever or whatever might be coming before he was even aware he was moving.
Mrs. Cross' personal maid, Audrey, stopped just short of screaming at his reaction. Her expression turned from fear to admiration to embarrassment as she gazed at the half naked man before her. She looked away but kept sneaking glances in his direction. Finally he got the message.
"Is there something you need, Audrey?" he asked as he pulled his shirt on and began to button it.
"Mrs.," she squeaked. Clearing her throat she tried again. "Mrs. Cross would like to see you, Sir-at your convenience of course."
"Please tell Mrs. Cross I'll be right along," Buck replied as he reached for the jacket he had left on a nearby stone bench.
"She will meet with you in her sitting room, Sir," Audrey told him, then flitted away.
Buck took a moment to brush off his pants and run his fingers through his hair before starting for the house.
Madeline sat in a regular chair next to a window. As Audrey let him into the small parlor, Buck noticed first that the wheeled chair was nowhere to be seen.
"I have no real need for the chair," the woman said as if reading his mind. "Albert insisted I use it for my own safety."
"Please sit down, Buck," she said.
She waited for him to become settled in the chair opposite her before speaking again. "I would like to apologize to you," she began. "Please hear me out," she commanded as he began to interrupt. "I was horribly rude to you during your first days here. It was inexcusable and I am sorry."
"I understand," Buck replied. "Given what you've been through, I think you have a right to be angry."
"Angry with the Indians who kidnapped my daughter, perhaps even with your stepfather and your tribe for buying her, but not with you personally," Mrs. Cross corrected. "According to this journal, you were but a small child. From what I gather from this journal," She said, indicating the book that lay in her lap, "you were the source of at least some joy during a most joyless time."
"I think I may have been the source of more than a little frustration as well," Buck said, smiling at the memory.
"Oh, most certainly," Mrs. Cross agreed, revealing the first real smile Buck had seen since he had arrived in her home.
"Tell me what you remember of my daughter," the woman commanded.
Buck was not so lost in his storytelling that he wasn't aware of the soft sobbing coming from Elizabeth's mother. He didn't sense that the tears were caused by the words he spoke as much as from the release his words gave the woman.
"She was so very brave," Madeline said as he finished his tale.
"Yes, she was," Buck agreed. "Three Eagles spoke her name as we buried her. That's a very high honor among the Kiowa. Even today she is remembered and known to many tribes for her actions."
"She must have loved you dearly," her mother commented.
"Yes, I suppose she did," he murmured. "I guess I never really thought of it that way."
"Did you at least have some feelings for her?" the woman asked.
Buck considered the question for several minutes before answering. "It's difficult to explain the feelings I had for Elizabeth," he said finally. "You would have to understand that back then I was Kiowa. I had no experience with white people other than the army, who were hated by my people, and Elizabeth, who . . ." he paused again, considering the effect his words would have, then continuing. "Elizabeth was a slave," he said bluntly. "My people considered her little different than the dogs or horses and perhaps even less than some of those."
"I understand what your people felt, Buck," Madeline stated. "What I want to know is what you, Running Buck, felt towards my daughter."
"It wasn't love," Buck said simply. "But I think I had some respect for her-more than I should have had for a woman in her position."
Madeline nodded her understanding. "Thank you for your honesty," she said. "I think, perhaps, that was the very feeling Elizabeth had for me."
"That's not true!" Buck argued. "There were times when Elizabeth told me of her family. You were always the first person she mentioned. And it was not just out of respect. She never once said so much as one bad thing about you."
"You don't need to lie to me, Buck," Madeline said. "I know what you must think of me."
"I don't think you do," Buck countered. "You are a woman in mourning. I can respect that. Maybe you've carried this grief far longer than you should have, but a woman such as Elizabeth would be honored to know that she was loved so much."
"It's more than just grief," Madeline said softly.
"It doesn't take much to see that you are feeling guilty, too," Buck continued. "I'm sure you think there is something you could have-should have-done to stop Elizabeth from going-"
"No!" Madeline cried. "I don't feel guilt for not succeeding in stopping her! I feel guilt for pushing her to go!"
Buck looked at her, surprise clearly written across his face.
"Elizabeth didn't want to go to California," Madeline continued, tears streaming down her face. "She would have been quite happy in Boston, teaching at one of the schools here. I am the one who suggested-even demanded-that she leave the city and make a life for herself away from her father and me. I told her life would be so much better for her in California where she wouldn't have to live up to the Cross name-where she could be Elizabeth not Albert Cross' daughter."
Buck was stunned. He would never have dreamed that Elizabeth had left her home, not because she wanted to, but because the woman before him had pushed her into doing so.
"You must think me totally mad," Madeline said after a minute or two of silence. "Perhaps I am."
"I really don't know what to say," Buck replied. "But I do not think you are mad."
"Are you in love with Emily?"
The question came out of the blue and Buck answered instinctively, without thinking. "Yes."
"Then take her away from here," Madeline ordered. "Take her far away before she becomes like me. Take her away but keep her safe!" With that, she quickly left the sitting room.
An even more stunned Buck stood, staring after her. He considered going after the woman, but decided against it as he heard the noise of the family coming in from the courtyard.
Emily found him in the garden, once again seated under the trees. "Brunch is almost ready," she told him, taking a seat on the bench. "Will you be joining us?"
Buck nodded and started to rise to his feet.
"We have some time yet," Emily told him. "Hamilton will call when we need to go in." She watched as Buck settled back. "Are you all right?"
"I spoke with your mother earlier," Buck said softly.
"You did?" Emily responded. "Did she ask to see you? What did you say?" Mistaking Buck's hesitation, she continued, "Oh, Buck, she wasn't rude to you again was she?"
"No," Buck told her. "She was actually quite civil. She asked me to tell her what I remembered of Elizabeth and I did."
Emily looked at him, her blue eyes taking in all of the subtle signals his body was sending. "What happened?" she asked. "What did Mother say that has upset you so?"
"Nothing," answered. "She just gave me a lot to think about, that's all."
He was saved from saying anything more by Hamilton's appearance on the path. "Brunch is served, Miss Emily, Mr. Buck."
Buck rose easily to his feet and brushed the leaves from his pants. Pulling on his jacket, he offered his arm to Emily. As they walked to the house, Emily eyed Buck curiously. She wanted to ask more but knew she would receive no answers.
Mrs. Cross joined them for brunch as promised. The family was delighted to see that she was in a better mood than she had been in quite some time. She even spoke to Buck to ask him how he was enjoying his stay.
"Boston is unlike anything I've ever seen before," he responded. "I don't know that I'll ever be able to get used to all the people."
"I wasn't aware that you were planning to stay in Boston," Mr. Cross said.
"I haven't really made any plans yet," Buck confirmed. "There's a lot to be said for staying on."
His glance in Emily's direction didn't go unnoticed by her father.
"I'll wager we could find a place for you at the office, Buck," Henry offered. "Father, didn't you say Edward had decided to join the Army?"
Before Mr. Cross had the opportunity to respond, Buck spoke. "I don't see myself in an office all day, Henry. I appreciate the offer, but if I decide to stay I'm sure I can find something. Maybe working at the stables."
"But the position with the firm would pay much more handsomely," Henry protested.
"I don't need much in the way of money," Buck told him. "Long as I've got a place to sleep and food to eat, I'm fine."
"All of this will be a moot point should Buck decide to move on," Mr. Cross said, effectively ending the discussion.
"What do you young people have planned for today?" Mrs. Cross asked.
"We are going riding," Emily answered, quickly taking her cue. "I want to show Buck the old river trail."
"Are all of you going?"
"I have other plans," AJ responded shortly. No one question what those plans were, knowing the answer would degenerate into another argument between the young man and his father.
"I think I shall have to decline as well," Henry said, the twinkle in his eyes aimed at Buck and Emily.
"You should come with us, Mother," Emily exclaimed impulsively.
"Oh my, no," Mrs. Cross protested.
"Emily! Your mother is only just out of her wheeled chair," Mr. Cross reprimanded. "It's far too soon to propose such nonsense."
"I've always heard that riding is one of the best forms of exercise," Buck offered.
"That's right, Mother," Henry agreed. "Dr. Wyatt said you needed to get out more."
Mrs. Cross looked as if she was considering the offer, but after glancing at her husband's scowling face, repeated her refusal. "Perhaps next time," she suggested. "We could start with a shorter trail."
"The river trail can wait, Mother," Emily pleaded. "We wouldn't have to go so far."
"Your mother said no, Emily," her father stated firmly. "Now leave her be."
The family finished their meal in silence.
The argument grew to noticeable volume as Buck waited in the foyer for Emily to finish dressing. The door to Mr. Cross' study was slightly ajar and even if Buck hadn't had the hearing he had, the exchange would have been impossible to miss.
"I do not approve, Madeline," Albert Cross all but bellowed. "That should be reason enough. It's unseemly for a girl of Emily's age and status to be alone with him!"
"Nothing will happen, Albert," his wife replied. "Buck is far too honorable to allow it."
"Honor!" Albert roared. "What does someone like him know of honor? Why, he's barely civilized!"
"Perhaps more so than the so-called 'Gentlemen' of Boston," Madeline said coldly. "Albert," she continued before her husband could speak. "Your feelings for Buck aside, the very least you could do is trust Emily. She is, after all, your daughter."
Albert apparently noticed the open door at that point. Buck barely had time to slip out of sight before the older man stepped into the foyer and looked around. When he returned to the study, he closed the door firmly behind him.
Fortunately, riding required little concentration on Buck's part. Equally fortunate, Emily was in a chatty mood, seemingly oblivious to the fact that her companion's answers were short if at all.
Had the speakers been reversed in the argument he had overheard, Buck would not have been all that surprised. Madeline Cross' change of heart had been almost too sudden-at least in Buck's mind-so it would not have been all that amazing that she would be upset with the fact that her daughter was going out without a chaperone.
Mr. Cross was another matter. Other than that very first reaction-one Buck had assumed as reaction to hearing that his daughter was dead-Albert Cross had given no indication that he was less than accepting of Buck's presence.
The fact that the woman, who had appeared to hate him, had actually been defending him to the man who had opened his home to Buck, had the Kiowa baffled.
A questioning note in Emily's voice brought him quickly back to the here and now. "I'm sorry," he apologized. "I didn't hear what you said."
"Have you heard anything I've said this afternoon?" Emily asked petulantly.
Buck considered his options. "Not really," he confessed finally.
"What's wrong, Buck?" the girl asked, suddenly concerned. "Is it Mother?" she demanded. "Did she say something that has made you angry?"
"I'm not angry," Buck protested.
"Then what is it?"
"It's not important," he told her. "Let's just enjoy the afternoon."
"No!" Emily commanded. "You have no idea how much I hate that I am treated as if I am a child!"
"Emily-"
"No, Buck!" she repeated. "If whatever is bothering you involves me in any way, I have a right to know."
Buck had just a split instant to make a decision. His options were to tell Emily the truth and risk her making a scene in front of her parents or . . .
"I was just thinking about what Henry said at brunch," he lied. "I think I've been imposing on your family's hospitality long enough. It's either time for me to leave and go back to my own home or find a place-and a job-here in Boston.
Blue eyes bore into brown as Emily tried to discern if he was telling the truth. He carefully kept his features as neutral as possible. Finally her eyes reflected her belief and his heart fell knowing he had successfully deceived her.
"I don't think you have to make that decision right this minute," she admonished. "We should enjoy the afternoon. There will be plenty of time for thinking and decided later."
Smiling, he nodded. "So, show me this overlook you were talking about," he said laughing at her surprise. "I was listening to some of what you said."
Buck and Emily returned to the house later that day to find two carriages in the courtyard.
"I'll take care of the horses," Buck volunteered, knowing Emily's curiosity had been piqued.
"You don't mind?" Emily asked, her sense of equine duty warring with her need to know who was visiting.
"Go!" Buck answered. "If it's someone I don't want to know about, hang a lamp in the window and I'll get 'lost'," he added playfully.
"Oh no you don't, Buck Cross!" Emily said in mock anger. "If I have to face them, you have to as well."
Dismounting, she ran up the steps before Buck could respond.
"Nothing I enjoy more than watching a man involved in something physical," a voice purred from behind him as Buck lifted the saddle from Emily's mare.
Even before he turned around, Buck recognized the voice as Ruth Dolan's. He fought the urge to sigh as he turned to face her. "Good evening, Miss Ruth," he intoned carefully.
"Now, Buck," she admonished, "I thought we had agreed to dispense with the formalities." She watched as Buck stored the saddle and turned back to the horse, curry comb in hand.
"Mind you, I'm not complaining," Ruth said breathlessly, "but why aren't you letting the stable boys do that? It's why they're here after all."
"Old habits," Buck replied simply.
"But, of course," the girl said. "How silly of me to forget."
He heard her move to the side of the stall.
"Aren't you going to ask me why I'm here?" she asked.
Buck continued running the comb over the mare's flanks. "Why are you here?" he asked dutifully.
"Daddy's a partner with Emily's father," Ruth responded. "When I heard that they were having a business meeting here this afternoon, why naturally I thought to come along-to see Emily, of course."
"Of course," Buck agreed.
"But you and Emily weren't here," the girl pouted. "You had already left for your ride, you scamps."
"No one told me you were coming, Ruth," Emily said from the front of the stall. She moved to take the brush from Buck. "I came to warn you," she murmured. "Arthur is here as well."
"I'm almost finished," Buck said loud enough that Ruth could hear him. "You can help me with the gelding."
"I would offer to help as well," Ruth explained. "But I'm hardly dressed for that sort of thing."
As Buck and Emily took care of his horse, Ruth primly sat on a bale of hay, chattering on about anything and everything that came into her mind.
Ducking under the gelding's chin, Buck covertly rolled his eyes at Emily who quickly covered her mouth to hide a giggle.
"Shouldn't you be checking on your father, Ruth?" Emily asked once she had regained control. "I do believe the meeting was just about to end."
"Oh my, no," Ruth responded. "Your mother was kind enough to invite Daddy and me to dinner. Especially when she discovered that Mummy is off visiting Grandmama for the day."
"How wonderful," Emily said with forced cheerfulness.
Finished, Emily handed her brush to Buck who stored it on the shelf next to his own.
"I supposed we should go clean up for dinner," Emily suggested. "Especially if we are having company."
"Oh yes," Ruth agreed. "I hope you'll allow me to clean up as well. I should hate to have to spend the evening smelling of horses."
She chattered non-stop as the trio walked up to the house. Fortunately, the fact that Buck had worked up a sweat doing the manual labor prevented her from latching onto his arm-a fact she lamented loudly.
Buck walked into the dining room a bit later to find that Arthur and his father were also in attendance-and that Arthur had taken his usual seat next to Emily. Ruth sat opposite, waiting expectantly for Buck to take the empty seat beside her. Before he could move to do so, Henry stepped past him to take the chair, leaving his normal position next to Emily as the only empty place.
"So you are the young . . . man about whom Ruth has been prattling," Mr. Dolan said to Buck as they waited for the salad dishes to be cleared.
"I guess so," Buck replied with a shrug. He had not missed the slight pause in the man's speech nor the disapproving tone."
"She informs me that you are a half-breed," the man probed.
"My mother was Kiowa," Buck answered unashamed.
"Interesting," Mr. Dolan remarked. "What of your father?"
"Floyd," Madeline interrupted. "I do not believe that is necessary."
"Of course," the man conceded. "My apologies."
Buck nodded in response. The arrival of the main course diverted further conversation.
"I was so afraid that Ruth was going to suggest that she spend the night," Emily said later as she, Henry and Buck sat in the gazebo.
"I do believe you owe me for my sacrifice at dinner tonight, Buck," Henry teased. "It only goes to show you that I would willingly give up even my favorite chair for a friend."
"I do appreciate that Henry," Buck replied, properly contrite.
"Did you see the look on Ruth's face?" Emily giggled maliciously. "She was so looking forward to sitting next to you."
"I do have a question though," Buck said, smiling at the girl's remarks. "Is everyone in Boston so rude? Where I come from people don't ask about heritage unless you offer to tell them."
"Only fathers with willful daughters who seem to be attracted to the likes of you, Buck," Henry responded, smiling to remove any antagonism from the remark.
"I'm afraid Henry is right," Emily agreed. "Except for the 'willful' part, of course."
"And yet they are considered 'civilized' and I am the 'savage'," Buck said softly.
"Somehow, my friend, I think you would react in much the same manner if it was your daughter," Henry countered. "And on that note, I think I shall take my leave of you. Good night."
"Good night, Henry," Buck and Emily said simultaneously.
Once her brother was safely out of sight, Emily moved closer to Buck, slipping her arms around his waist. "I could stay like this forever," she sighed as he wrapped his arm around her shoulders.
"That probably wouldn't be a good idea," Buck answered softly. "I wouldn't like it very much if you ended up with a reputation like Ruth's because of me."
"Do you think so little of me?" Emily exclaimed, pulling away from him. "Do you really think I care what a bunch of sour old biddies might say?"
"Maybe you should," Buck replied.
"Sometimes you confuse me so, Buck!" Emily stated.
"Why?"
"You seem so strong, so secure, one moment," she explained. "Then, almost in a heart beat, you display insecurities I never dreamed existed." Taking his hand in hers, she continued. "Is this what life in two worlds has done to you?"
"I think it's more what caring for someone who lives in only one of those worlds has done," Buck whispered. "I can take the worst that anyone can send my way-if it's directed only at me. I have taken a lot. The problem comes up when other people are made to suffer because of me."
His brown eyes met hers, pleading for her to understand.
Emily slipped her arms around Buck's waist again. Resting her head against his chest, she remained quiet. Finally, she pulled back far enough to look into his eyes once more.
"There is something you are forgetting, Buck," she whispered. "If someone is hurt because of you, it's because they cared enough about you to take the risk of being hurt."
He gazed at the woman who had, in just a few short weeks, come to mean so much to him. "I guess I hadn't thought of things in that way," he admitted.
"You see!" Emily exclaimed brightly. "That's why you need me! To explain these things to you."
"I think I need you for a lot more than that," Buck protested.
"Well, you let me worry about the biddies," Emily laughed. "You just keep doing what you're doing."
Impulsively, she stood on tiptoes to give him a kiss. There was no hesitation or insecurity in the kiss he gave her in return.
Albert Cross stood in the window of his study, his faced flushed with anger. From where he stood the figures in the gazebo were visible as little more than shadows in a moonlit night. It didn't take the light of a lantern or the sun for him to know what was going on though. He watched as the two shadows became one and made the only assumptions possible.
"No!" The single word broke the silence of the room. "I will not allow the heathens to steal another of my daughters!"
Moving to the bell pull, the man nearly ripped the chord from its place as he rang for Hamilton. After issuing orders to the servant, Mr. Cross returned to his place by the window. The sight of the single merged shadow, swaying gently in the moonlight, stoked the fire of his anger to an all time high.
As the couple separated and began to walk back to the house, Albert stepped back, unwilling to risk them knowing he had been watching them.
Returning to his desk, the master of the Cross estate began to make plans for what was to come next.
Buck had seen Emily to her door before turning to his own across the hall. He looked up in surprise as Hamilton spoke from the shadows.
"Mr. Cross has asked that you join him in his study, Sir," the manservant told him.
Surprised, given the hour, Buck asked, "Now?"
"Yes, Sir," the old black man responded. "He asked that I tell you of his request as soon as you returned, Sir."
Buck nodded and straightened his tie once more. "Thank you Hamilton."
The door to the study stood open so Buck didn't bother to knock. "You wanted to see me, Sir," he asked.
Albert sat, almost regally, behind a large mahogany desk. "Yes, Buck," he replied. "Please close the door behind you and take a seat."
Buck did as he was told, his curiosity growing.
Albert waited until he was seated before speaking again. "What are your intentions where my daughter is concerned?" he asked bluntly.
"Sir?" Buck asked, once again amazed at the manner in which the question was asked.
"Don't play games with me, boy!" Mr. Cross said angrily. "I've already lost one daughter to your kind, I do not intend to lose another!"
Buck stiffened at the man's angry tone. "The only way you will lose Emily to 'my kind' is for you to push her away from your kind," he replied as calmly as possible.
Mr. Cross reached into a drawer and pulled out a checkbook. Picking up a pen, he asked. "How much?"
Buck stared at the man, his disbelief complete.
"I won't ask you again, boy!" the man declared. "How much do you want? Five thousand? Ten? Fifty? Name your price to stay away from my daughter and it's yours."
Buck rose easily to his feet. "You don't have enough money," he replied. "I'm not for sale."
"Everyone has a price, boy," Cross argued.
"I'm no 'boy'," Buck countered, his own anger growing beyond the point where it could be hidden. "And Emily is not a child. She's a woman who will make her own decisions."
Turning on his heel, Buck strode to the door pulling it open.
"She can't live without my money . . . boy!" Albert called after him. "And she'll have none of it if she leaves with you!"
"Miss Emily?" Audrey called softly as she tapped on Emily's door.
"What is it Audrey?" Emily asked. "Is something wrong?"
"Your mother would like to speak to you, Miss Emily," the maid replied. "She told me to ask you to come as soon as you can-no matter how late that might be."
"Is Mother all right?" Emily demanded, reaching for her robe.
"Oh yes, Miss Emily," Audrey answered. "She's just fine."
"Then why-" Emily started, then changed her mind. "Thank you Audrey. I'll go right now."
Audrey nodded and left the room.
"Mother, what's wrong?" Emily asked anxiously as Madeline answered her knock.
"Do you love Buck?" her mother asked without preamble.
Emily hesitated only a second before answering. "Yes, Mother, I do," she said. "I know you and Father don't approve, but, Mother, you don't know Buck as I do. I'm sure if you would just give him a-"
"I believe you, Emily," her mother interrupted. "More importantly, I wish the two of you nothing but happiness."
Emily was stunned. She knew her mother had spoken with Buck and Buck had told her that the meeting had been quite civil, but a part of her had not quite believed him. While she hadn't believed him to be telling the truth earlier in the day, she knew that he was only trying to spare her feelings. Could she have been mistaken when she had assumed that Buck's mood had to do with the conversation he had with her mother?
"Oh, Mother!" she exclaimed. "You can not possibly imagine how I feel to have you say those words. But I don't understand-"
"At this moment, daughter, it's not important that you understand the whys and wherefores," Madeline interrupted a second time. "At this moment all that matters is that the man you love-who loves you as well-is preparing to leave this house-and possibly Boston."
Madeline took Emily's hand. "Tonight you will have to make what may possibly be the hardest decision you will ever have to make," she said wistfully. "I pray you have the strength to do what your heart tells you to do, no matter what your head might be saying. Will you promise me to do that?"
Tears formed in Emily's eyes as she watched her mother's face. "I promise, Mother," she whispered.
"Then go!" her mother ordered, giving her a gentle push towards the door. "Don't let him leave without telling you the total and complete truth-no matter how much it may pain him-and you."
Buck opened the door to his room to find himself face to face with Emily, her hand raised to knock. In his hand he held the pack that had been his only possession when he arrived. Behind him, Emily noted, the clothes they had purchased together were lying neatly on the bed, the boots stood gleaming on the floor.
"Were you at least going to say goodbye?" she asked softly.
In response, he held up a folded piece of paper.
"I've thought you many things, Buck," Emily stated angrily. "A coward is not among them."
"I'm no coward," Buck said stiffly.
"What would you call someone who runs out in the middle of the night, leaving nothing more than a note to justify his actions?" she challenged.
"I don't belong here," Buck countered. "It's best that I leave now."
"From whom did you receive this marvelous insight?" Emily asked. "Certainly not my mother, for if that were true, I would not be here."
Buck stared at her, confusion plain on his expressive face.
"Mother is the one who told me you were planning to leave," the girl explained. "She charged me to come here and find out why. I'm not to leave, or let you leave, until you tell me the truth."
"And you always do as your mother charges you?" Buck said, smiling bitterly.
"Only when she tells me as passionately as she did this evening to follow my heart."
Emily stepped passed Buck into his room. "You're leaving the clothes behind?"
"They aren't mine," Buck replied simply.
"They were purchased for you by my father," Emily contradicted. She nodded as understanding flooded in. "They were purchased by my father," she repeated. "Just as he tried to purchase you tonight."
Buck started to protest, but Emily waved him to silence. "Don't lie to me again, Buck," she told him. "I'm not a stupid person."
"I never said you were stupid," Buck argued.
"But you were willing to lie to me," she alleged. "This afternoon, you blamed Henry's words at lunch for your distraction. That was a lie wasn't it?"
"Yes," Buck confessed. "I didn't want to hurt you or force you to make a choice you weren't ready to make."
"What makes you think I'm not ready?" Emily posed. "Is it because you assume I will make the wrong decision for us?"
"What I'm afraid of is that you will make a decision you will regret," Buck responded.
"How am I to make that decision if you won't ask me the question?" Emily retorted. "Or, at the very least, allow me to know the circumstances behind the need to make it."
"All right," Buck conceded. "You want to know the circumstances, I'll tell you everything."
"So, there you have it," Buck finished minutes later. He had pulled no punches in his retelling of everything that had happened that day, from the talk with Emily's mother to overhearing her parents' argument.
He stood there, fists jammed into his pockets, a helpless feeling like none he had ever experienced filling him as he watched Emily cry silent tears. He started towards her, then stopped, worried at how his attempt to comfort would be received.
"I wish I knew what to say," Emily whispered. "I wish I could say you were mistaken . . . but I know that you are speaking the truth."
"Emily-"
"No, Buck," Emily stopped him. "I know my father-better than you ever shall. He will do everything in his power to stop us from being together. I have no doubt of that."
She looked up at him, staring into his eyes, waiting for the reaction to her next words. "Our only option is to leave . . . together."
Buck started. He had hoped this would be her answer. But he had never believed, deep down, that she would be willing to give up the only life she had ever known to be with him.
"Do you know what you are saying?" he asked. "What this will mean for you? And for your mother and brothers?"
Emily stood and stepped closer to Buck. She reached out to put her hands on his shoulders. "Mother told me that I would most likely have to make the decision of my life tonight, Buck," she said earnestly. "How she knew this I can't say, but she knew. I know exactly what it will mean and I know exactly what I am saying. We need to leave Boston-to get as far away from my father as possible."
"He'll come after you," Buck argued. "He won't let you go."
A vision of Kathleen Devlin flashed through Buck's mind. A memory of a time that had started out so full of hope, much as this one had, only to end in a senseless tragedy. And a bitter loss of one of the few women to whom he had ever given his heart unconditionally.
"He will," Madeline Cross said from the doorway. "He will have no choice."
"Mother," Emily cried.
"What do you mean?" Buck asked.
"I will not allow Albert Cross to destroy another dream," the woman replied cryptically. "As I told you earlier, Buck, all I ask of you is that you keep my daughter safe and give her the life she deserves."
"If Emily wants to go with me," Buck vowed, "I'll do my best to keep her happy and safe-and loved."
"Then go!" the woman said. "Take her tonight and go as far as you can go and don't look back."
"Mother," Emily whispered huskily. Moving to her mother's side she wrapped her arms around the other woman and sobbed on her shoulder.
"Enough crying, daughter!" her mother commanded. "Go, pack some things. Take only what you need. When you get to where you are going, I'll find a way to send the rest of your belongings to you."
Emily ran from the room. As soon as she was out of sight, Madeline turned to Buck. Reaching into the pocket of her gown, she pulled out a thick envelope. "I want you to take this," she commanded. Before he could protest, she added. "Give it to Emily after you are away from here. It's important to me that she have it. She deserves this and more."
Buck took the envelope from her. He was fairly certain what it contained, but could not refuse the determined Mrs. Cross.
The older woman looked determinedly at Buck. "If ever you need anything, anything at all, you make sure to contact me. I'll find a way to help. I promise you this."
Emily slipped back into the room minutes later dressed in comfortable traveling clothes and carrying a small bag.
"Where is your husband now?" Buck asked Mrs. Cross.
"He is asleep," she told them. "He drank a considerable amount after his little 'chat' with you Buck. I waited until he fell into a drunken stupor before sending for Emily." Seeing the look on Buck's face, she smiled wickedly. "Henry would have stopped you if Emily had not been able to get to you in time."
"What of Henry?" Emily worried. "And Albert Junior?"
"Henry is waiting on the street with a carriage to take you to the train depot," her mother informed her. "Albert Junior left earlier for another of his interminable meetings and has as yet not returned. I will pass along your goodbyes."
The trio made their way to the foyer. Emily took one last look around the only home she had ever known, tears threatening once again.
"Mother-"
"Enough," Mrs. Cross interrupted. "I expect a letter from you on a regular basis. I'm sure Buck here can arrange for an intermediary to send the mail anonymously. If necessary, you can always mail in care of your Uncle Addington, but I don't think that will be necessary."
"We'll stay in touch, Mrs. Cross," Buck promised.
Madeline gave both of them a long hug, whispering something in Buck's ear as she did so. He stiffened slightly at her words, then smiled and nodded. She watched as they ran across the courtyard and remained in the doorway until they were lost from sight.
"Stay safe," she whispered after them.
Henry waited with them at the depot until the next train left early that morning. "Remember what I told you, Buck," he threatened. "You keep her safe or you'll be dealing with me."
"I'll remember," Buck agreed. "But you won't have to worry about that."
Emily was sitting off to one side, needing some time alone. She hadn't cried since leaving the house. Buck hoped that was because she was secure in her decision-not that she was regretting it.
Henry had arranged for them to have adjoining sleepers. They left the connecting door open, sitting in one room for most of the day.
As soon as they had switched to a westbound track in Philadelphia, Buck reached into his pack and pulled out the envelope Madeline had given him.
"Your mother said you deserved to have this," he said, offering her the bundle.
As he had anticipated, the envelope contained a considerable amount of money-and a single sheet of paper, covered front and back by Madeline's neat script.
"Do you want to be alone?" Buck offered.
"No," Emily replied. "It's addressed to both of us."
Emily looked up in surprise. "I never knew this. I always assumed that Father had inherited the money from his parents."
I know I have been quite cryptic at times over the past few days. Now is the time for you to learn the truth.
"Elizabeth," Emily whispered, awed at the interpretation of what she was reading.
Buck nodded in understanding. The conclusion was undeniable.
Buck and Emily sat in silence, trying to absorb all they had just read. Buck instinctively put his arm around Emily, hugging her close. She leaned against him, feeling his love and returning it with her own. The train traveled on through the bright Pennsylvania countryside oblivious to the emotional situation it carried inside.
"What did Mother say to you?" she asked suddenly. "When she was hugging you? You seemed startled for a moment."
"I was," Buck said, chuckling softly. "She told me to make an honest woman of you."
"Oh my," Emily said, blushing furiously.
"Don't worry," he assured her. "There's no need to rush. We have all the time in the world."
The End...
He jumped slightly as his bag fell to the ground beside him but recovered quickly. Lifting the satchel, he turned to stride confidently into the hotel-and ran smack into a man coming out.
"Excuse me," the traveler apologized.
The cowboy gazed at the man in obvious contempt.
"Watch where you're going . . . Dude," he growled.
The man stiffened slightly at the intentional slur. Noting the pistol that rode low on the cowboy's hip, he apologized a second time. "I'm sorry, Sir. I didn't see you."
Snorting, the cowboy turned to his companions. "He didn't see me," he intoned derisively.
"Maybe he needs glasses," one of the other men suggested.
"Or maybe the dude just needs to learn to open his eyes," the third man laughed.
The Easterner bit back a comment, then attempted to make his way into the hotel again, only to find his way barred. Sighing inwardly, he stopped, waiting for what he knew was bound to happen next.
"Mighty fancy duds you're wearing," the cowboy said-right on cue.
"I don't want any trouble," the man replied quietly.
"Well, no," the cowboy laughed. "'sat so?"
"You heard the man," a new voice spoke from behind the Easterner.
As the dude watched, a look akin to fear passed over the cowboy's face. The look was quickly replaced by an almost pleasant smile that didn't quite extend to the man's eyes.
"Sorry, Hickok," the cowboy said. "Didn't know the dude was a friend of yours."
"Wouldn't matter," the newcomer replied in the same quiet tone.
The three cowboys walked away then with no further comment. The traveler waited until his path was clear before turning to his rescuer. A young man, barely older than he, though obviously far more at home with the Western way of life, leaned easily against the railing.
"Thank you," the dude began.
"Nothing to thank me for," Hickok replied.
"Judging from my past experiences, I'll have to disagree with you there."
"There are fools everywhere."
"True, but I seem to attract more than my fair share," the dude answered. Shifting his case, he extended his right hand. "Henry Cross. It's nice to meet you, Mr. Hickok."
Jimmy shook the man's hand. "Nice to meet you, Henry. Call me Jimmy."
"All right," Henry agreed. "If you are free later, I'd like to buy you a drink."
"I'll gladly take you up on that offer," Jimmy accepted.
"Fine, fine!" Henry said, nodding amiably. "About one hour then?"
"Sure. An hour'd be fine."
"It might help if you dressed a little more 'local'," Hickok offered as the pair discussed what had happened earlier.
"Perhaps," Henry replied. "But, given my lack of ability with a firearm, it could just as easily result in an even more dangerous situation."
Hickok shook his head, a bemused smile on his face. The words were English, but danged if Henry didn't make them sound like another language.
"So, where you from, Henry?" he asked.
"Boston," his companion responded. "I'm a clerk with my father's company but I hope to become a lawyer quite soon. I've applied to Harvard."
"What brings you to Rock Creek?" Jimmy asked curiously.
"Actually I'm on a mission," Henry answered. "And perhaps you can help me with it."
"Mission?"
"Yes!" The other man leaned forward as his excitement took hold. "I'm looking for my sister. She disappeared almost twelve years ago."
"That's a mighty long time," Jimmy mused. "You been looking for her for twelve years?"
"No," Henry replied. "I was only seven years old when Elizabeth-that's my sister-left Boston for a position as a teacher in California. She was part of a wagon train that left St. Joseph but never made it to San Francisco. She was taken captive by Indians and no one has heard from her since."
"How do you know she was taken?"
"Five years ago, one of the few survivors of the massacre was freed from her slavery by an army unit who chanced upon the tribe quite by accident," Henry explained. "She returned to Boston and told her story to the newspapers. I was able to speak to her at length and she informed me that Elizabeth had survived as well but had been sold to another tribe."
"There's a lot of Indians between St. Joe and California-" Jimmy began.
"Oh, I'm well aware of that," Henry interrupted. "And quite frankly, in all honesty, I know it will be a miracle if I am able to find any trace of my sister. But I must try. Elizabeth was very special to my parents-and to me. I have to try," he ended firmly.
Jimmy nodded in understanding. He would be doing the same thing if it were one of his sisters.
"So, what do you plan to do now that you're here?"
"I was hoping to find a guide. Someone to take me around to the local tribes-act as an interpreter of sorts."
Henry reached into his pocket and pulled out a sizable wad of cash. "I'm more than willing to pay handsomely for the service."
"Put that away!" Jimmy ordered quietly.
Henry started at the tone in Hickok's voice, but did as he was told.
"Waving that kind of money around can get you dead," Jimmy explained gently.
Henry gulped, then glanced around. No one appeared to be taking undue notice of the pair.
"I'm sorry," he apologized. "I'm just so determined to complete my mission. While I know it's as if I'm looking for the proverbial 'needle in a haystack', I can't help but have some hope of finding my sister alive."
Jimmy considered the young man before him. Naïve and foolish, yes, but there was something about his determination that touched the Westerner.
"You're going to need someone who can talk for you," he mused aloud. "Someone who is respected enough by the tribes to get you into the camps and savvy enough to know how to talk the languages. Unless you-"
"I speak several languages fluently," Henry told him eagerly. "Unfortunately, I doubt any of them will be of any use to me in my quest."
"Probably not," Jimmy agreed. "Wouldn't hurt to have someone who knows the territory." And his way around a gun, he thought.
"Do you know of such a person?" Henry asked, his excitement growing. "Someone I can trust not to lead me astray?"
"I just might at that," Jimmy replied. "But I'll have to talk to him first-to see if he's willing."
"I would be ever so grateful," Henry replied. "Please tell this person that I'm willing to pay a goodly fee-plus expenses of course."
"Aw, come on, Buck," Hickok pleaded. "The guy is looking for his sister. Would you do that if it was your sister?"
"I don't have a sister," Buck replied simply.
"But if you did-"
"You said it's been twelve years," Buck interrupted. "Twelve years and a lot of miles to cover. The odds on finding even a trace are-"
"But you can at least try," Jimmy argued. "Henry has come a long way. And he's willing to pay you for your help. Tell me you can't use the money what with the Express being shut down?"
Buck looked at his friend curiously. It wasn't like Hickok to be so interested in something like this.
"I'd be stealing his money."
"Not if you do your best," Jimmy countered
"Why?" Buck asked.
"'Why' what?"
"Why are you pushing this? What does it matter to you?"
"I don't rightly know," Jimmy confessed. "I guess I just keep thinking, if it was my sister, I'd want someone to help out."
He watched as his friend considered the argument. "Come on, Buck. At least talk to him?"
Buck sighed with resignation. He knew once Hickok got a burr like this under his saddle he wasn't likely to let go easily.
"All right," he agreed. "I'll talk to him-but I'm not making any promises."
"Take it easy, Henry," Jimmy said for what seemed like the fiftieth time.
"He's late," Henry complained.
"He's not that late," Jimmy countered, unwilling to admit to his own concern.
"You don't think he's changed his mind, do you?"
"He said he'd talk to you-and I've never seen him go back on his word yet."
The pair looked up as the man in question entered the room. As Buck approached their table, Henry turned to Jimmy and hissed. "You didn't tell me he was an Indian!"
Hearing the remark, Buck stopped short.
Jimmy stood quickly, motioning his friend forward. "You're not going to find anyone better," he told Henry.
"But-" the Easterner started.
"No 'buts'," Jimmy interrupted. "Buck is the best there is around here. You wanted someone who wouldn't take advantage of you? Well, Buck Cross' your man!"
Jimmy failed to notice the affect his words had on Henry but Buck did.
"What's wrong?" he asked.
Hickok turned to find Henry pale and wearing a stunned look.
Gulping the dude finally managed to find his voice. "Wh-what did you say his name was?" he stuttered.
"Buck?" Jimmy replied curiously.
"No, no, no, his last name!" Henry prompted.'
"It's Cross," Buck supplied. "Why?"
He took a step backwards as the other man pushed past Hickok.
"Is that the name you were born with?" Henry asked heatedly. "How would an Indian be given a white man's name? How old are you?" he demanded.
"Henry-" Jimmy broke in.
"What's your problem, mister?" Buck said quietly.
Only those who knew him well would have detected the menace in his voice. Unfortunately Henry was not one of those few.
"I want some answers!" he all but screamed as he reached out to grab the front of Buck's shirt.
Before Hickok could react, Buck's fist flashed up, catching Henry squarely on the point of his chin. The Easterner staggered back, falling to the floor, his hold broken. The Kiowa stepped forward, dark eyes flashing, to find his path blocked.
"Calm down, Buck," Jimmy soothed. "He can't hurt you."
Buck looked down at his stunned opponent. Silently he turned and walked out of the room.
"What did you think you were doing?" Hickok reprimanded as he reached out his hand to help Henry from the floor.
"You knew, didn't you?" the other man accused.
"Knew what?"
"You knew his name was Cross!"
"Well, sure," Jimmy answered, confused. "What has that got to do with you jumping on him like that?"
It was Henry's turn to be confused. "You mean you didn't realize my name is Cross?" he asked.
The look on Hickok's face gave him his answer. Sighing heavily and rubbing his jaw carefully, he returned to his chair.
"I'm sorry I lost control," he said. "It's just that when I spoke with Sarah-the survivor I spot of to you-she told me of the torturous events that occurred while she was held by the savages. They beat her mercilessly and much worse than that. They-" His voice became even more hushed. "-they forced themselves upon her. She told me she even bore a child by one of the beasts.
Hickok caught the train of thought. "Henry," he said simply. "If Buck were your sister's child, he would be ten-eleven years old at the most."
A look of disgust came over Henry's face as he realized the truth behind Hickok's words.
"Of course he would be," he murmured. "How stupid of me."
"Where you going?" Jimmy asked as the other man rose to his feet.
"I must find Buck," Henry replied. "To apologize."
"I don't think that would be a good idea right now," Jimmy suggested. "You might want to give him time to cool off first."
"If you think that the best course of action," Henry said, returning to his chair.
The pair sat in silence for a few minutes before Henry could contain his curiosity no longer.
"How did he come by the name Cross?"
"Don't know," Jimmy answered. "Guess I always figured they gave it to him at the mission school."
"You never asked?"
"None of my business."
"But weren't you curious?" Henry prompted. "Didn't you ever wonder how a savage would come to have a white man's last name?"
"First off," Jimmy reprimanded, "Buck ain't no 'savage'. And like I said it wasn't any of my business. If Buck wanted us to know, he'd tell us-and he never told us."
Henry went silent for a few minutes. "Do you think he will forgive me?" he asked finally.
"I'll talk to him," Jimmy promised. "But until I do, you stay away from him-you hear?"
"He didn't mean anything by it."
Jimmy lowered himself to the ground beside his friend and began idly pulling at the weeds that had grown up around the small headstone. He knew Buck had heard him although the lack of reaction on the part of the Kiowa would have led others to believe him deaf.
Buck waited a few minutes before breaking the silence between them. "No one ever questioned my right to use the name," he said softly. "Or my reasons."
"Guess we figured if you wanted us to know, you'd tell us," Jimmy replied. "Gotta admit though, I'm surprised Cody never said anything."
There as a brief flash of white in the gathering darkness as Buck smiled at the memory of Cody and his incessant poking and prodding into everyone else's business.
"Henry wasn't questioning your right to use the name," Jimmy said, bring the conversation back to the present.
"Sounded like it to me," Buck countered.
"It just took him by surprise, that's all."
Buck snorted softly. "He's a lucky man," he stated.
He hesitated a moment, then asked. "Why was he taken by surprise?"
"Because his name is Cross, too," Jimmy confessed.
"You didn't know that?" Buck asked, confused.
"He says he told me when he first introduced himself, but I don't remember him doing it," Jimmy answered. "Guess I wasn't paying much attention."
"Kind of a hard thing to miss," Buck offered.
"I know," Jimmy agreed. "But I did."
Buck considered the new information for a few minutes, then asked. "What was his sister's name?"
"I think he said Elizabeth," Jimmy answered. He turned as a wagon rumbled by on the road below them.
"Do you think-" he started as he turned back to where his friend sat-only to find himself alone.
The darkness presented no obstacle to Buck as he moved through the old Express bunkhouse. Rachel had offered him a room in her home after the riders had disbanded, but he had felt more comfortable in the place he had shared with his friends.
Kneeling, he pulled the pack that contained all of his worldly goods from beneath his bunk. At the bottom, carefully wrapped in a protective oilcloth, was Elizabeth's journal. He didn't need a lantern to see the embossing on the cover, his fingers automatically found the raised letters.
Moving to the table in the center of the room, he struck a match, bringing light to the darkened room. A shiver of memories ran through him as he gently placed the journal on the table. Mindful of the aged binding, Buck leafed through the yellowed pages until he found the entry he was looking for.
Watching Running Buck, I cannot help but think of little Henry. While physically as different as night and day, I hazard a guess they are of the same age. More-so than that, is their common, insatiable desire to learn and their unquenchable curiosity. I remind myself that self-pity has no place in this world in which I find myself, but I cannot help but wish for one more glimpse of little Henry's eager face.
Buck lowered the journal back to the table. Deep down, he had always known the time would come when he would have to keep the promise he had made to himself that night on the hill above the mission school. His vow to someday find Elizabeth's family and give them her journal had been, and was, sincere. He had just never anticipated that her family would find him first.
Sighing, he carefully rewrapped the journal. Leaving the bundle on the table, he stuffed the rest of his belongings back into the pack and shoved it under the bunk. Squaring his shoulders, he picked up the journal, blew out the lantern and left the bunkhouse.
"Did you find him?" Henry asked eagerly over breakfast the next morning.
"I found him," Jimmy answered.
"And?"
Jimmy shrugged. "I tried to explain, but I don't know if I made any difference."
"Do you think, perhaps, I should speak to him?"
"I don't know, Henry," Jimmy responded. "It's hard to tell with Buck. He can be pretty darned stubborn when he . . . "
His words trailed off as Buck entered the room and carefully deposited a bundle on the table in front of Henry.
The man from Boston looked from the package to Buck. "What is it?" he asked.
"Open it," Buck ordered quietly.
Henry glanced at Jimmy, who shrugged, then nodded. His face became a study of emotions as he revealed the journal.
"Where did you get this?"
"You recognize it." Buck's words were more a statement than a question.
"My sister, Emily, and I gave this to Elizabeth the day she left for California," Henry explained. "We had saved our pennies for months to pay to have the name put on it."
Tears formed in the blue eyes as he gently ran his fingers over the letters, unknowingly mimicking Buck's own actions not so very long before.
"She's dead, isn't she?" he asked in a husky voice.
"Yes," Buck answered simply.
"Will you tell me?"
"Yes."
"We buried her near the stream," Buck finished. "She is remembered by the Kiowa as someone of great bravery."
"That's a real honor, Henry," Jimmy added.
"So much happened to her," Henry murmured. "She wasn't badly treated?"
"Her life wasn't easy," Buck confirmed. "But it could have been much worse."
"It should have been much better!" Henry retorted.
"Henry!" Jimmy said with equal sharpness. "The Kiowa didn't attack the wagon train."
"I know," Henry sighed. "I'm sorry. I guess I should be grateful that Elizabeth didn't end up with the same tribe to whom Sarah was sold."
"You sound a lot like her," Buck said smiling.
"So I've been told," Henry replied, laughing softly.
"I want to see where Elizabeth is buried," Henry stated. "Will you take me?"
Two days had passed since Buck had given him his sister's journal. Henry had read it from cover to cover and had come to Buck repeatedly with questions. Many times he had left the Kiowa shaking his head and smiling as he remembered the "insatiable desire to learn."
"Henry, there's nothing there," Buck protested. "The village was destroyed years ago by the army. Even the Paiute won't go there anymore. They claim it's haunted."
"Elizabeth is there," Henry protested.
"No, she's not," Buck countered. "The spirit you remember as Elizabeth passed on a long time ago."
"At least show me where to find the grave," Henry pleaded. "I'll find someone else to take me-if you're too afraid."
"Henry-"
"I'm going Buck," the Easterner insisted. "I would much rather have you as my companion, but with or without you, I am going."
Buck sighed with resignation. "We'll need some supplies," he conceded.
"I think we should make camp by that stand of trees," Buck mused.
The pair had been making steady progress for four days, slowed only by Henry's lack of experience on the more spirited Western mustang.
"It's early yet," Henry commented. "I can manage."
Buck turned his head, pretending to search the horizon but in reality hiding a smile. The previous evening had been better than the first two, but after barely six hours of riding, Henry had been hard put to even stand without staggering.
"We'll stop," he said, decision made. "We'll be able to find firewood and maybe some pine boughs for bedding." As Henry began a half-hearted protest, he added, "We're getting close to Sioux territory. I'd rather meet up with them in daylight then to have them show up at our camp at night."
"If you think it best," Henry conceded, unable to completely hide the relief in his voice. He vowed then and there to get out to the stables more often upon his return home. "Are we in danger from the Sioux?" he asked as the thought surfaced in his tired brain.
"Anything's possible," Buck replied matter-of-factly. "The Sioux have never exactly been known as the friendly sort."
"Is there any way around their land?"
"Not unless you want to spend a couple more weeks in that saddle."
"I think I shall take my chances with the Sioux."
They got a late start the next morning, ostensibly to allow Buck time to hunt for fresh game. In truth, he had seen how stiffly Henry had been moving and decided a little extra rest wouldn't hurt them any.
In four days they had traveled less than half the distance to their destination. Had Buck been traveling alone, he would have easily covered the distance-and more. He had to give Henry credit though. For a dude who had probably never ridden a Western saddle before, he had hung in there, despite the pain and stiffness, without complaint. For the most part the pair had traveled in companionable silence with only occasional comments or questions.
Less than an hour into their journey, Henry reined up so sharply his horse had nearly stumbled.
"What's wrong?" Buck asked worriedly.
"On that hill!" Henry cried, pointing excitedly in the direction of the knoll. "Indians!"
"Put your hand down, Henry," Buck ordered sharply. "They've been trailing us since we broke camp this morning."
He didn't add that he had seen signs of what appeared to be a hunting party even before they had camped for the night. No sense inciting Henry to even more wild displays.
"You knew!" Henry accused. "Why didn't you tell me?"
"Because I didn't want you reacting the way you are reacting now," Buck replied. "They aren't going to bother us so long as we don't do anything stupid."
"How can you be so sure?" Henry demanded.
"Because, if they were going to do anything," Buck explained, "they would have done it before now."
Henry became progressively more agitated as they traveled on. Their escorts made no effort to hide but neither gained nor lost ground on the two riders.
"Why don't they do something?" the Easterner asked.
"What would you like them to do?" Buck asked calmly.
"I don't know," Henry replied, sighing heavily. "You must admit, however, it is a bit unnerving to have them watching our every move."
"Not really," Buck answered. "Better following us than several other options I can think of."
"Such as?" Henry asked, curiosity tinged with fear.
"You don't really want to know," Buck told him. "Like I said though, if they were going to attack, they'd have done it already. Way I've got it figured, things'll go one of two ways."
In response to Henry's quizzical look, he continued, "Either they'll keep following us until we're off their land-or we can expect a visit from them real soon."
"I'm not very good with a gun," Henry confessed.
Without turning to look, Buck could almost see the other man wringing his hands.
"Wouldn't matter," he commented. "Henry, I want you to do exactly what I tell you to do with no questions, all right?"
"What's wrong?" Henry asked immediately.
"We have company," Buck replied. "Stay on your horse, don't make any sudden moves and, most importantly, keep your mouth shut."
As he spoke, several riders had appeared in front of them. The pair rode forward slowly, then came to a stop as the band of warriors surrounded them. Buck heard Henry shifting nervously in his saddle, but to his credit, the other man did as he was told and remained silent.
The two horsemen to the front of him separated as their leader rode up to face Buck and Henry. To Henry's surprise, he appeared to be a white man of about his own age. He was also wearing a huge grin.
"Buck! It's good to see you again!" the leader said. "When my scouts said they had spotted a white man and an Indian in white man's clothes riding across the valley I had a suspicion it might be you. But I was expecting Ike to be with you."
Buck slid from his horse and met the other man half way. "I was hoping it would be you, Curly," he replied.
"Been a long time," Curly agreed. Glancing up at the now thoroughly confused Henry, he added, "Who's the dude?"
"That's Henry," Buck explained. "We're on our way up to Twin Pines."
"Bad medicine up that way, Buck," Curly reminded him.
"I know."
"But you're still going?"
"We have to," Buck confirmed. "His sister is buried up there."
"His sister?" Curly asked, surprised. "So how did you get involved?"
"I knew her," Buck replied simply.
"This isn't the white woman the Kiowa have named is it?"
"Yes."
Curly waited to see if more would be said, but when Buck remained silent, turned to look at Henry again.
"Is he able to stand at the end of the day?" he asked, his grin finding its way back onto his face.
"Barely," Buck confessed.
"He must need to face that demon real bad," Curly commented.
"He does," Buck agreed. "Got to give him credit though-he's not asked for special treatment yet."
Curly turned to one of his warriors and issued some rapid-fire orders. The rider nodded, then turned and rode off quickly.
"Some of us will stay with you until you're off our land," Curly told Buck.
"Thanks, Curly," Buck replied. "We appreciate that."
"So, how's Kid?"
"He got married," Buck related. "Moved back East."
"To Lou?" Curly asked with a malicious grin. "You know, I never did figure out how you guys didn't see she was a she."
"Most of us knew," Buck told him. "We just kept her secret for her."
"What about Cody and Hickok?"
"Cody's working for the Army. He's gone back East, too. Hickok's still south but sounds like he might be heading back soon himself."
"Sounds like some bad medicine going on back there, too," Curly noted.
"Yeah, and it's going to get a lot worse before it gets better." Buck agreed.
"At least it keeps them busy and out of our lives."
"True," Buck said as he turned back to his horse. He paused before climbing back into the saddle. "Ike went and got himself shot a while back. He's dead."
"I kind of figured as much," Curly said softly. "Sorry to hear that."
"It was a long time ago."
"Why don't you come eat with us?" Curly suggested. "We can show Henry here some real hospitality."
"I think we should keep moving a bit longer," Buck replied. "Don't want to impose on you any longer than we have to. Thanks for the offer though."
"You know best," Curly agreed. "Take it easy, Buck. Nice meeting you, Henry."
With that Curly vaulted back onto his horse and rode off. The other warriors melted away as quietly as they had come.
Henry could barely contain himself, but managed to do so until the pair had been under way for almost an hour. Finally he could stay silent no longer.
"Who was that man?" he asked. "He looked like a white man. Was he in charge of that tribe? How do you know him?
Buck smiled at his companion's eagerness. As they rode on, he told Henry the story of the Sioux with the curly hair.
Henry was so absorbed in the tale, he didn't even notice that they had ridden further than any of the previous days.
Two days later, Buck looked up at the sound of a whoop. The small group of warriors acting as their escort waved at them from the top of a nearby ridge, then disappeared.
Henry watched as the men rode off. "I never thought I would see the day when I would admit that I will miss having them around," he confessed.
"You're learning, Henry," Buck laughed.
"How much further is it?"
"We should be there tomorrow-the next day at the latest."
Silence returned as the rode on. Buck glanced at his companion to find the man lost in thought. The next few days promised to be interesting.
"For a place purported to be haunted, it seems quite peaceful here," Henry commented.
"It's only haunted to those who have demons to face," Buck replied.
"How about you, Buck?"
"How about me, what?"
"Have you faced your demons?" Henry asked bluntly.
A vision of an eagle soaring above a pit of snakes flashed through Buck's mind. "Yes," he said simply.
Wisely, Henry chose not to pursue the matter.
"Then perhaps the time has come for me to face one of mine."
Leaving Henry by the gravesite, Buck walked along the overgrown path to where his childhood home had stood. Long ago deserted, the earth had reclaimed her land, but Buck's mind provided the details.
He stood where once Three Eagle's lodge had stood, breathing in the fresh air. The sun glinted off something half-buried in the ground. Kneeling, he dug a piece of a comb from its earthen home. A bittersweet feeling came over him at the memory of his mother combing her long hair before pulling and twisting the locks into a more manageable braid.
Holding the comb tightly, other memories came flooding in. Most involved his childhood and into the years at the mission school after he had made the decision to walk in the white man's world. The last, most painful memory, though, was of watching his best friend die.
He had lied to Henry when he said he had faced his demons. There was one that still haunted him. One that probably always would. But today, in this place, the demon would have to wait. He knew he had made the right decision in leaving the Kiowa-and in returning when it had become necessary. For that he was grateful.
Henry Cross stood near the spot where Buck had told him his sister was buried. "You had to go on your great adventure, didn't you, Sister?"
Seven year-old Henry just couldn't understand how Elizabeth could leave their life in Boston for the savage, wild West of California. "I don't want you to go!" he cried.
"Henry," Elizabeth comforted. "I have to go. Staying here in Boston will turn me into . . ." She stopped before she said too much. Henry was far too young to understand.
"You don't have to go and I won't let you!" Henry ran from the room.
Elizabeth sighed, then followed her brother to her own room-to find him pulling her clothing from the trunk and throwing the items back into the chest of drawers.
"HENRY!" Elizabeth cried. "STOP THIS IMMEDIATELY!"
"I WON'T LET YOU GO!" Henry roared back in typical seven year-old indignation. "If you go I'll never see you again."
"That's not true, Henry," Elizabeth told him. "I won't be in California forever. Perhaps, when you are older, you can come visit me there."
"I won't come visit you!" Henry professed. "I won't! I hate you for going away! I hate you!"
He had run off then, refusing to come out of his room even to say goodbye .
"I was right," the adult Henry sobbed softly. "I never saw you again."
He stood there for a long time, memories of his sister flashing through his mind. She had been right as well-he could see that now. She had to leave Boston or she would have turned into the bitter woman their mother had already become. At least she had died while her spirit was still intact.
"It's all right, Henry."
The voice was as real as if Elizabeth was standing beside him. Henry glanced around, almost believing that he would see his sister in the small grove of trees.
"Are you happy?" he whispered.
"I'm happy," the voice responded.
A sense of peace came over him then. Whether he had truly heard what he thought he had heard or if his mind was playing tricks on him, he would never know. But the peace he felt could not be denied. Smiling, he dried his eyes and went to find Buck.
"Do you believe in ghosts, Buck?" Henry asked over the campfire that evening.
"If you mean the kind that haunt people and do spooky things, not really," Buck replied, a vision of Indian Bob flashing through his mind. "But I do believe that some people have very strong spirits and those spirits don't always just leave when a person dies. Why do you ask?"
"I don't really know how to explain," Henry offered. "When I was by the creek, by Elizabeth's grave, I could have sworn . . ."
He hesitated, but when he saw that Buck was seriously interested, decided to continue. "I was thinking back to the time just before Elizabeth left for California, the day before to be exact. I was only seven years old but I must admit I was a very stubborn child. I did not want Elizabeth to leave us and I argued with her about it. I ended up saying I hated her . . . but I didn't mean it."
"I'm sure she understood that," Buck said softly.
"That's what I wanted to believe all of these years. Unfortunately there as always a part of me that didn't quite believe," Henry told him.
"What has this got to do with ghosts?" Buck asked.
"While I was standing near the creek, I swear I heard Elizabeth tell me it was all right and that she was happy. I know it sounds impossible but I would willing swear on a bible that I actually heard her voice," Henry admitted. "You said the Paiute believe this place to be haunted . . . even Curly suggested there was 'bad medicine' here. Do you believe that Elizabeth's ghost is here? That perhaps I really did hear her?"
"Your sister had a very strong spirit, Henry," Buck answered. "I believe that there is a good possibility that her spirit would want you to know that she understood and had never believed you really hated her."
Henry smiled at the confirmation of his own feelings. The pair slept well that night, their demons kept at bay by the spirit of a strong woman.
"I think we should leave now," Henry said the next morning over breakfast. "You were right about Elizabeth not really being here anymore. Her spirit might be here but I believe it to be as much in here," he pointed to his heart, "as it is here in this land."
"You're probably right," Buck agreed. "I think we should rest up a bit, let the horses rest and feed up before we head back.
"If you think it best."
"What are you going to do then?" Buck asked.
"I suppose I shall return to Boston," Henry answered. "At least I will have Elizabeth's journal to give to my parents . . . assuming, of course, I am to be allowed to take it with me?"
"Of course," Buck told him. "A long time I ago I vowed I would somehow manage to get the journal to her family. You're just making it easier for me."
"I don't suppose . . . " Henry started, then paused.
"You don't suppose what?"
"I don't suppose you would consider that coming to Boston with me?" Henry said quickly before he lost his nerve.
"I don't know what good it would do," Buck answered. "You have everything you need in the journal."
"Elizabeth was an excellent writer," Henry protested. "She as able to say a great deal in a very few words. But, Buck, you were there! You could give us an insight unlike any other and far better than mere words could possibly provide."
Seeing that Buck was apparently considering the idea, Henry pressed on. "You were with her during a period of her life that none of us will ever know-nor will we ever totally understand. Pages in a worn journal could not begin to tell us what her life was really like."
"Books allow the reader to use their imagination to hear those sounds," the woman argued.
"But how can you hear what you have never heard?" the boy countered wisely.
"Let me think about it," Buck said aloud. "I'll give you an answer when we get back to Rock Creek."
"I can do that," Henry promised.
The trip back to Rock Creek took less than half of the time of the trip out. While still not able to ride the distance Buck could have easily covered, Henry's endurance as increasing. Curly had apparently given word to watch for their return. Their escort magically appeared as they entered Sioux territory and just as mystically disappeared as they reached the other limit.
True to his word, Henry had not pressed Buck about his decision. Instead, his mission accomplished, the Easterner was able to enjoy the trek through the "Great Wilderness" as he called it. Buck learned that seeing his words through the eyes of a "dude" brought discoveries he might have ordinarily taken for granted.
All in all, the Kiowa had to admit that Henry's observation that the journey had been "quite pleasant" was more than accurate.
"So how'd it really go?" Jimmy asked after Henry had gone to bed.
"Not bad," Buck answered. "Henry's not all that hard to travel with."
"Did he find what he was looking for?"
"Yeah, I think he did." Buck hesitated, then added. "He wants me to go back to Boston with him."
"You going?" Teaspoon asked curiously.
Buck shrugged. "Haven't made up my mind yet."
"For what it's worth, Buck," Rachel offered. "I think you should go-and not just for Henry."
"Rachel's right, Buck," Jimmy agreed. "You've always said you wanted to see a big city. Boston's right up there."
"Exactly," Rachel said. "You'll get to see a world you've never seen before and more important- you won't be alone."
Buck smiled at the woman. "You trying to get rid of me?" he asked, trying unsuccessfully to sound serious.
"Of course not!" Rachel protested immediately. Then recognizing the joke, she swatted at him with the dishtowel she had been holding.
"The stage will be through here on Wednesday," Buck commented, serious once more. "I guess if I'm going, I'd better get my things together."
"You going to be here when I get back?"
Buck stood leaning against the corral fence, staring out at the open prairie. In just the few months he and the others had been in Rock Creek, he'd noticed how much of the land had been fenced in and plowed under. The town itself had grown to accommodate the influx of farmers and their support mechanisms-to the point where it too had begun to drive nature back. He did want to see the world beyond St. Joe, but his heart would always be with the prairies and the mountains he called home.
"Probably not," Jimmy responded from the shadows. "Ain't much left here. I've been thinking about going back East-see what kind of trouble I can get myself into."
"If there's trouble to be found," Buck laughed, "I'm sure you'll be the one to find it."
"Me?" Jimmy protested. "You must have me confused with Cody."
Jimmy stepped forward to stand beside his friend. Together they watched as the moon rose over the hills to the East.
"Something bothering you, Buck?" Teaspoon asked.
"No-why?" Buck asked in return.
"You've been worrying that piece of leather like you were a dog with a fresh bone," the former stationmaster-turned Marshall replied.
Buck looked down at the strap he held in his hand, surprise at finding it there registering on his face.
"I guess I was just thinking," he confessed sheepishly.
"You're worried about this adventure of yours, aren't you?" Teaspoon asked, more than a little certainty in his voice.
"Yeah, I guess I am," Buck agreed. As he spoke, his nimble fingers braided, then unbraided, the leather strap.
Teaspoon reached out, taking the strap from the younger man. "So what's got you worried?"
"Henry seems to be so certain that his family are going to want me in their home," Buck replied softly. "I'm not so sure."
Teaspoon shook his head in wonderment. In his younger days, he'd traveled, married, fought wars, married again, and traveled some more. Even with all of his experience with the sometimes uglier side of "humanity," it had taken the Kiowa half-breed and his mute companion to show him true ugliness on the part of the world to which he belonged. No matter how much good Buck and Ike had done, it had seldom taken more than a slight indiscretion to turn the townspeople against them.
"Well, I guess that's just a chance you're going to have to take," he told Buck.
"I've been taking chances all my life!" Buck replied vehemently.
"So what's so different about this time?" Teaspoon prompted.
"I don't know!"
"I think you do." Teaspoon held up a hand to stall further protest. "Seems to me, that up to now, you've always known if the going got rough you could run. Hear me out now!" he ordered as Buck rose to his feet indignantly.
He waited patiently until the younger man sat down again. "I didn't say you did run away. I just said that, up to now, you knew you could run away."
"Once you get back East," he continued. "it's not going to be that easy. You're going to be in a place you don't know with more people than you've ever seen and a lot of them people are going to be looking at you funny. Some of 'em aren't even going to get to know ya before they hate ya because, to them, you're an uneducated savage."
"So, what do I do?" Buck asked. "I already told Henry I'd go back with him."
"Well, Buck," Teaspoon replied. "Alls I can say is to do like you've always done here."
Buck looked at him, eyebrows raised in question.
"Prove 'em wrong!"
Prove 'em wrong!
Teaspoon's words echoed in Buck's head two days later as he and Henry boarded the train in St. Joe. The trip had started off all right-the other two passengers on the stage had been from Rock Creek. Both men knew Buck and had no problem sharing the ride with him. That changed at the first stop, however.
An older woman, young girl in tow had just reached the step when she had noticed the other occupants. One in particular had long black hair and, of all things, some form of decoration dangling from one ear.
She had stopped with a gasp, then stepped down from the stage, loudly demanding that the "heathen redskin" be removed. Henry and the original passengers had come to Buck's defense immediately.
The station manager had gotten involved at that point. Buck had immediately recognized him as the former Express manager. Upon seeing Buck, he had turned to the woman and very politely informed her that her choices were simple-ride with Buck or wait two days for the next stage.
Buck had suggested that he could ride up with the driver but the stationmaster wouldn't have it. Buck had paid for his ticket and he had just as much right to the seat as the woman and her daughter.
The woman had protested briefly but had finally conceded-only because she "absolutely had to be in St. Joe the next day." She and the girl had climbed aboard the stage, only to realize that one of them would have to sit next to Buck. Fortunately, one of the other passengers had given up his seat instead. The remainder of the trip had been spent listening to the woman muttering about what the world was coming to when "heathens" were treated as equals to "God fearing folks" such as herself.
Henry automatically started for the front of the passenger cars, but Buck stopped him.
"I don't think that's a good idea," he told the Easterner.
"Why ever not?" Henry exclaimed.
"I don't belong up there," Buck reminded him.
"Stuff and nonsense!" Henry huffed. "You are as good a man as any other on the train. I purchased first class tickets for each of us and, by Godfrey, you will use the first class seat!"
Buck smiled ruefully, remembering how just two short weeks earlier, the man in front of him had declared him a "savage."
"Come along now!" Henry ordered as he purposefully strode to the first car. "It's abhorrent enough that there are no private cabins nor any sleeping cars on this train. I most certainly hope they are not so primitive as to not have a dining car!"
"I hope you know what you're doing," Buck murmured as he reluctantly followed his companion.
Buck came awake instantly, his wilderness honed senses triggering an awareness that he was being watched. He sat, unmoving, as he searched for the source of his discomfort through half-closed eyes.
Beside him, Henry slouched in his seat, his mouth open, snoring softly. Other than a woman, who sat in the seat to the front and across the aisle from them, the car appeared empty. Buck decided he must have been far more tired than he had thought, for the woman had not been there when he fell asleep.
He momentarily chided himself for sleeping through her arrival but decided his instincts had not felt threatened enough to wake him at that moment. Besides, she appeared deeply engrossed in a book and was clearly not the source of whatever had awakened him.
Just then, a pair of blonde heads poked up from behind the leather-covered seat in front of him. Two pair of sky blue eyes peeked at him curiously.
The older of the children, a boy, gasped and dropped back as he realized the object of his scrutiny was scrutinizing him as well. The younger child protested as her brother reached up to pull her down beside him.
"Douglas, Amelia!" the woman, who could only be their mother, scolded in a hushed tone. "Behave yourselves or I shall have to separate you."
"But I want to see the Injun!" the little girl whined.
"Amelia!" her mother reprimanded. "A proper young lady does not stare, nor does she use that term."
Glancing back at Buck, the woman noticed he was now awake and watching her. "I must apologize for my children-" she began.
"It's all right," Buck interrupted. "I'd guess I'm a bit of an oddity to them." I'm beginning to sound like Henry! he thought.
"That is still no excuse for rudeness," the woman replied, sending another warning look in the children's direction.
"Not rude," Buck commented. "Just curious."
"How did you learn to speak English?" the boy asked boldly.
"Douglas, do not bother the man," his mother commanded.
"It's all right," Buck told her. Prove 'em wrong! echoed again. "Why don't we move over here so we won't disturb my friend?"
"He's funny," the little girl remarked hiding a giggle. "He snores like Daddy."
"What kind of Indian are you?" Douglas asked. "Why are you on the train? Have you ever lived in a teepee?"
Before the boy's mother could issue another reprimand, Buck laughed and said, "One question at a time all right?"
He extended his hand to the boy. "My name is Buck Cross."
"I'm Douglas Miles," the boy replied formally. "It's a pleasure to meet you, Mr. Cross."
"Nice to meet you too, Douglas," Buck replied.
"This is my sister, Amelia," the boy said. "And that's my mother, Abegail."
"It's nice to meet you, Amelia," Buck said, grinning at the little girl who smiled shyly. He nodded to the woman, "Mrs. Miles."
"So," he said, settling into the comfortable seat across from the children. "What would you like to know?"
"How did you learn to speak such good English?" Douglas asked again.
"When I was a boy, probably just about your age, a white woman came to live in my village," Buck told him, wisely omitting exactly how that had happened. "She was a teacher. She taught me to read and write and helped me to learn to speak better English."
"Where is she now?" Douglas asked.
"She died many years ago."
"Did you scalp her?" Amelia asked, eyes wide.
"Amelia!" her mother said sternly.
The image of Elizabeth's body after her battle with the Paiute flashed, unbidden, through Buck's mind. "No, I didn't Amelia," he replied as lightly as he possibly could. "Not all Indians do that."
"What tribe are you from?" Douglas interjected.
"I am Kiowa," Buck said proudly.
"Kiowa," Douglas repeated thoughtfully. "Did you live in a teepee?"
For the next several hours, the children peppered Buck with questions. He answered them, carefully keeping his responses on their level and avoiding discussion of some of the more horrendous things he had been witness to.
Henry awoke as Buck was telling of his role with the Pony Express. After introductions were made, the Easterner joined the group and was soon involved in the questions and the story telling.
Finally, the questions ran out and Buck could think of no more stories to tell. The group sat in silence for a couple of minutes before a loud grumbling was heard from Amelia's stomach.
"I'm sorry," she apologized shyly, blushing.
"Oh my," Mrs. Miles exclaimed. "Will you look at the time? It's far passed their dinner time."
"I'm too excited to be hungry, Mother," Douglas said. "I never thought I'd ever get to speak to a real, live Indian."
"We still have several hours before we get to Chicago" his mother explained. "Perhaps Mr. Cross-"
"Buck," Buck corrected her gently. Nodding in Henry's direction, he said. "He's Mr. Cross."
"Perhaps Buck will be willing to tell us more after we have eaten," the woman amended.
"Sure," Buck agreed.
"Would you gentlemen care to join us in the dining car?" Mrs. Miles asked.
"We'd be delighted," Henry answered before Buck could say anything to the contrary.
Eating on a moving train was a new experience to Buck, so he followed Henry's lead. He was able to ignore the rocking and occasional sloshing of drinks during the meal, but the looks from the other passengers was another matter entirely. More than one, upon seeing him seated with the four blondes, stared openly. Several glared and spoke quietly with their companions.
"Mother, why is that man staring at Mr. Buck?" Amelia's high-pitched voice could be heard throughout the car.
"Perhaps it's because his mother neglected to teach him that it is rude to stare," Mrs. Miles replied sternly. "Just as it is rude to gossip and make assumptions of others without taking the opportunity to get to know them."
The waiter chose that moment to speak to the group. "Good evening, Mrs. Miles," he proclaimed loudly. "How wonderful it is to see you and the children again! Will the captain be joining us this evening or should I bring your menus."
"Thank you, Gregory," Mrs. Miles responded. "There will just be the five of us, I'm afraid. Please, do bring the menus."
"Yes, Ma'am," the waiter replied as he stepped away smartly.
Conversation among the other diners ceased almost immediately. The obvious glares ceased as well to be replaced with an occasional covert glance. Even Henry was pleased to find that the food provided to them was quite good.
"Better even than your trail stew!" he remarked to Buck, receiving the laugh he had hope for in return.
They arrived in Chicago that evening. Buck and Henry immediately jumped to help Mrs. Miles with her bags.
"Thank you, gentlemen," she said. "Waiting for a porter with the children can be quite trying."
Buck stepped down from the train, then reached up to help Amelia and her mother.
"Thank you, Mr. Buck," the little girl said.
"You're very welcome, Miss Amelia," Buck replied, watching the little girl dimple with pleasure.
"Are you continuing on this evening?" Mrs. Miles asked.
"Yes, Ma'am," Henry answered. "Our next train leaves in about an hour."
"That's too bad," the woman said, genuinely sincere. "I would love to have the opportunity to show you the sights of Chicago."
"Perhaps, some day, we will be passing through again," Henry suggested.
"If you should, you absolutely must come by to see us," Mrs. Miles commanded.
"Yes, Ma'am," the two men replied as one.
"We really have to be moving along," Henry continued. "I'd like to make sure we get a private sleeping berth on the next leg of our journey."
Buck looked around them, concern evident on his face. "Do you have someone meeting you?"
"Yes, my husband should be along any moment."
"Here comes Daddy now!" Amelia squealed.
The two men looked to where she was pointing to find an Army officer striding to where they stood, two junior officers in tow. The children raced to meet him and he walked the rest of the way carrying his daughter and listening to his obviously excited son.
"Daddy," Amelia said. "This is Mr. Buck. He's a real, live Kiwoa Indian."
"That's KIOWA, silly!" Douglas corrected.
The captain hesitated for the briefest of moments before extending his hand to Buck. "It's nice to meet you Buck," he said. "From what my children have told me, you have made this quite a trip for them."
"I didn't do anything but tell a few stories, Sir," Buck responded.
"Nonsense," Mrs. Miles protested. "I don't think I've seen the children ride this quietly in any of our previous trips."
"Henry quickly stepped in to prevent any further embarrassment to Buck. "Captain Miles," he said. "It's nice to meet you, Sir. My name is Henry Cross."
The captain signaled to the junior officers who stepped forward to take the bags from Buck and Henry. "Will you boys be staying in Chicago long?"
"No, Sir," Henry replied. "I was just explaining to Mrs. Miles that our train to Boston will be leaving in less than an hour."
"Boston, eh?" the captain said thoughtfully. "You aren't, by any chance, related to Albert Cross, are you?"
"Yes, Sir," Henry responded. "He's my father."
"I had the pleasure of meeting your father several years ago," the captain told him. "Please give him my regards."
"I'll be happy to," Henry agreed.
"Well, gentlemen, I'd like to thank you again for entertaining my family. Hopefully, we will have the opportunity to meet again some day."
"The pleasure was ours, Captain," Henry offered. "Please take care, Mrs. Miles."
"You as well, Henry," the woman replied. "And Buck? Thank you again."
Buck nodded then grinned as Amelia reached out to give him a hug. He and Henry watched as the family moved off through the crowded terminal. Just before they disappeared from sight, Amelia waved one last time.
Following Henry through the station, Buck was amazed at the sheer size of the building-and the number of people it contained. Waiting as his companion verified their accommodations, he cautiously looked around at his fellow travelers.
It seemed every third person wore the blue uniform of a Union soldier. Most traveled in groups, but here and there singles or pairs moved purposefully along, intent upon reaching their destination as rapidly as possible.
Buck was surprised at the number of colored people in the crowd, some obviously free judging from their bearing. Others appeared either so very recently free or perhaps even on the run from their Southern masters that they had not yet lost their slave's attitude. These trudged along, carefully staying out of the way, trying desperately to remain invisible.
Here and there family groups moved through, mothers and fathers either carrying their small children or clutching tightly to the hands of those too big to carry. Buck could only imagine how it would feel to be young and lost in a place such as this.
"Exhilarating, isn't it?" Henry asked from beside him.
"That would be one word for it," Buck agreed. "You could fit all of Rock Creek in here-and have room left over for most of St. Joe."
"Chicago is becoming quite the crossroads," Henry stated. "Father says that, in just a few years, every railway in the nation will have at least one train coming into Chicago."
"You mean they don't already?" Buck asked incredulously.
Henry laughed, then turned back to the clerk. As Buck returned to his people watching, a large group of Indians in full buckskins and feathered headdress walked by, escorted by a unit of soldiers. One of the more decorated chiefs met Buck's gaze. The look the old man gave the young Kiowa was one of disdain. Buck straightened and returned the man's look undaunted. The elder paused, as if to say something, but continued on, the words unspoken.
"Do you know him?" Henry asked curiously.
"No," Buck replied.
"It most certainly looked as if he knew you."
"He knew me as Kiowa," Buck explained simply. "I am nothing to him."
Henry wisely chose not to pursue the matter further.
"I have our cabin number," he said. "Do you want to go now or would you prefer to look around some? They have some fine shops here in the station."
"Let's go find our car," Buck replied, suddenly feeling very closed in.
"If money is a problem-"
"I have money," Buck interrupted a bit more sharply than he had intended.
"No offense meant, Buck," Henry apologized. "I only meant that I would willingly loan you funds should you need them."
"I know, Henry," Buck told him. Sighing, he smiled at the other man. "I'm sorry. I guess I'm just a little overwhelmed by all of this."
"Understood," Henry stated. "I'm sure you are feeling much the same as I felt when I first arrived in the West. All that open space absolutely terrified me."
Buck looked at his companion in surprise. He found it difficult to believe anyone would be afraid of space. "I suppose it's all a matter of what you are used to," he commented.
"It is that!" Henry agreed.
The trip from Chicago to Philadelphia was relatively uneventful. The cabin the two men shared was surprisingly spacious. Buck was only just beginning to appreciate the fact that this was the life Henry had been born to and had come to expect. While the Kiowa could relax and enjoy the benefits his companion's wealth allowed, he doubted he would ever truly feel those benefits were owed him-if that opportunity presented itself.
He also noticed something that at first mystified, then pleased him. It seemed the farther East the pair traveled, the more the stares directed at him were those of curiosity instead of hostility. In the dining car the next morning, he went for the most part unnoticed with the exception of a small child dressed in an obvious costume, pretending to be a cowboy. He and Henry both waited until they returned to their cabin to burst into laughter at the pint-sized "lawman's" antics.
They spent the rest of the day in companionable silence, watching the rolling farmlands give way to the more industrial cities of the East. While their car was shifted to another train in Philadelphia, Henry took the opportunity to send a telegram to his family to arrange for someone to meet them at the station.
Buck stood outside the telegraph station, carefully avoiding the crush of people. The sound of a bell clanging drew his attention to a horse drawn wagon as it sped by. Painted a bright red, the wagon was unlike any he had ever seen. Men, wearing long jackets, baggy pants and strange, solid looking hats, hung from all sides of the wagon, while a black and white spotted dog rode on the front seat with the driver.
Shaking his head and making a note to ask Henry about the spectacle, Buck turned back toward the telegraph office and ran smack into a young woman, her arms full of parcels, which proceeded to fly everywhere.
"I'm so sorry," he apologized immediately, mentally cursing his lack of attention.
"Please don't worry," the girl replied. "It wasn't your fault really! I was just curious about where the fire wagon was going, I wasn't paying attention to where I was going."
Buck watched as she spoke, both amazed and amused that she was able to say so much without taking a breath. He watched as she attempted to pick up her parcels, only to lose one for every one she was able to retrieve. Finally, he offered to help-an offer gratefully accepted.
He had just retrieved the last package, neatly stacking it atop the others when Henry exited the office, bumping into the girl in his haste. Another round of apologizes followed and once again the offending parcels were retrieved.
"I hope I haven't broken anything," Henry said.
"I'm sure you haven't," the girl responded.
Buck looked at Henry, an unspoken question in his eyes.
"If you're not going far, Miss," Henry suggested, "my friend and I would be delighted to help you to your destination. We have a few minutes before our train departs."
"If it would not be too much of an imposition," the girl said with relief. "I must confess, I overestimated my own ability."
"No imposition at all," Buck told her taking half of her bundles.
"My carriage is just around this corner."
Henry took the remaining packages, then fell in step as the trio walked the short distance to the waiting carriage. A black footman jumped from the driver's seat to take charge of the packages.
An older woman and a younger girl were already in the carriage when they arrived.
"Oh my Bertha," the woman exclaimed. "What have you purchased now?"
"Oh, Mother," the girl replied. "We get to Philadelphia so rarely, and Seneca Falls is so out of fashion, I just couldn't resist."
"Did you remember the wool?" the younger girl asked anxiously. "I'll bet she forgot the wool, Mother-however will we make the stockings without the wool?"
"Hush, Harriet," her sister replied. "I have enough wool for you to make stockings for half the Union Army!"
"Well, I certainly hope you didn't buy out the rest of the stores," her mother reprimanded in mock sternness.
"These gentlemen were kind enough to help me," Bertha said, indicating Buck and Henry.
"She was probably chasing the fire wagon again, Mother," Harriet tattled.
"Hush, Harriet," the older woman said, then turned her gaze to the two men. She appraised them both in one long glance, then said, "Thank you kindly, Mr.?"
"Cross, Ma'am," Henry said, stepping forward. "I'm Henry and this is Buck."
"You both have the same name?" Harriet asked curiously. "You don't look like bro-"
"Harriet!" both her mother and sister said as one.
"Might we offer you a ride to your destination?" the woman asked, quickly redirecting the subject.
"Thank you, Ma'am, but no," Henry replied. "We are just on our way back to the station."
"Well then, please have a safe trip."
"Thank you, Ma'am," Buck replied.
"Thank you, Mr. Cross," the woman replied, dismissing them. "Franklin, please drive on," she ordered the driver.
Turning, Buck joined Henry on the walk back to their train.
"How do you do it?" Henry asked, grinning wickedly.
"Do what?" Buck asked, confused.
"You're in town for only a few minutes and you have the great woman, herself, offering you a ride."
"I was just watching the fire wagon," Buck protested innocently. "Do you know her? Who was she?"
"I only know her from the society pages," Henry replied.
As the pair walked the short distance to the train, Henry explained to Buck the significance of their encounter with Elizabeth Cady Stanton.
Boston's train station, while smaller than either Chicago or Philadelphia was by far more ornate. Buck barely had time to notice the elaborate decorations before the travelers heard Henry's name being called. The pair turned as one to find a blonde tornado sweeping across the station toward them. The young woman wrapped her arms around Henry's neck and held on as if she were drowning.
"Emily!" a stern voice commanded their attention. "That is hardly the proper way to greet your brother."
"I don't care, Father!" the girl replied, unrepentant. "I'm just so happy to see him."
"You might want to give me a chance to breathe then, Sister, dear," Henry laughed.
Emily reluctantly released him from her strangle hold to clasp tightly to his hand instead. "I do believe he has lost weight, Father," she exclaimed.
"Nothing I couldn't stand to lose," Henry commented. He dropped his satchel to the floor to extend his hand to the older man. "Hello, Father."
"Welcome home, Son," the man replied.
"Mother didn't come with you?" Henry asked, disappointment in his voice.
"Oh my no, Henry," Emily said. "Mother took to her bed the day you left. I'm sure she'll be feeling much better now that you are home."
"She was already much improved after we received your telegram," Mr. Cross agreed. "I'm certain she is anxiously awaiting your homecoming."
"Well then," Henry concluded. "We must not keep her waiting."
Throughout the exchange, Buck stood forgotten. He hadn't really noticed. Instead, he had been totally absorbed in Emily-and how much she looked like her sister. Except for much lighter hair, it could have been Elizabeth standing before him.
The family group had turned away and taken several steps in the direction of the exit before Henry remembered his companion.
"Oh my," he exclaimed before turning back to take the still frozen Buck by the arm, dragging him forward.
"Father, Emily, I'd like you to meet Buck," he introduced. "Buck, this is my father, Albert Cross and my sister, Emily."
Buck shook himself mentally. "Nice to meet you, Mr. Cross." Turning to Emily, he smiled and said. "Miss Emily." He hesitated, then continued in a rush. "You look just like her."
Mr. Cross stepped forward to stand between them. "How do you know this?" he demanded.
"Father," Henry interrupted, "Buck belonged to the tribe that held Elizabeth."
"He what?!" the older man roared, ignoring the stares his vehemence invoked.
"Please, Father," Henry pleaded. "Let's discuss this some place more private."
"How dare you bring this heathen here?" Mr. Cross' face turned beet red in his fury.
"Buck is no heathen!" Henry said firmly. "He knew Elizabeth, he was with her when she died."
Henry's father stood stock still upon hearing those words. His mouth opened and closed as if to say something but no words came out.
Taking him by the arm, Henry drew his father to one side. Soon they were engaged in a quiet, yet animated, discussion.
Buck watched the pair, regret that he had ever chosen to accompany Henry to Boston foremost in his mind. He had almost made the decision to turn and run when a gloved hand touched his arm.
"Please give Father a chance, Buck," Emily suggested. "Elizabeth was so very special to him. I'm sure, once the shock of her loss passes, he will want to talk to you. I know I do."
"I was a child," Buck murmured. "I had no say."
"Of course not," Emily agreed.
Their conversation as interrupted by the return of Henry and Mr. Cross.
"My son has explained a few things to me," the elder Cross said gruffly. "Please accept my apologies for my remarks."
Buck nodded his acceptance.
"Henry has also informed me that you are to be our guest for as long as you choose to stay," Mr. Cross continued. "I hope you will believe me when I say you will be welcomed."
Emily's hand tightened slightly on his arm in a reassuring gesture.
Buck turned to look at the girl whose smile was as warm as her touch.
"Please, Buck?" she asked.
"All right," he agreed. Had he been looking at Mr. Cross as he spoke, Buck might have reconsidered. Unfortunately he failed to notice the narrowing of the older man's eyes or the frown that briefly crossed his features. By the time the trio of young adults had turned back to the elder Cross, the look and the frown were carefully hidden.
The carriage ride to the Cross estate on Boston's Beacon Hill was far from quiet. Emily insisted upon giving Buck a tour of the city, avidly pointing to this feature or that as they drove past. Henry and even Mr. Cross added to the commentary from time to time, but for the most part, Emily did all the talking.
Buck really didn't care what was being pointed out or the description being provided. He was quite content to listen to the young woman talk and to feel her hand on his arm from time to time.
He could not believe how much like Elizabeth her younger sister appeared to be. It as more than just her looks-although Emily appeared to be about the age Elizabeth had been when she was brought to his tribe. There was a spirit about the young woman that reminded Buck of her sister in the early days of her captivity. Her voice, her choice of words, all reminded him of his former mentor. In fact, he felt if he closed his eyes, he would not be able to distinguish the difference.
Massive pillars on either side of a huge wrought iron gate delineated the beginning of the private land that belonged to Albert Cross and his family. The "house"-mansion in Buck's mind-towered above the courtyard where the driver brought the horses to a stop. He followed Henry and his father from the carriage, then turned to help Emily, ignoring the presence of the footman who had moved to do the same.
Mr. Cross strode ahead to tell Henry's mother of their return while Emily led Buck through the enormous foyer into the formal drawing room. The first impression the Westerner had of the immense room was its total lack of warmth. It was easily obvious that the room was a showplace where guests were meant to be impressed. He could hardly imagine the family lazing around on a winter evening.
"This is the formal parlor," Emily told him, as if reading his mind. "Mother prefers to meet guests here."
"Why do I feel like a guest?" Henry murmured.
Buck glanced at the man he now called friend, but said nothing. Emily appeared not to have noticed as she rattled on about the various pieces of furniture and their impressive history.
"Welcome home, Son," a voice said from the doorway.
Buck looked across the room to see Mr. Cross standing behind a wheeled chair. There was no doubt that the woman who sat bundled in a heavy blanket was Elizabeth and Emily's mother. The resemblance was unmistakable.
"Mother," Henry said, moving to kneel beside the chair.
For a moment, Buck could almost believe he was paying homage to the great woman. He watched as Mrs. Cross touched her son's face as if verifying that the young man was truly there. A few uncomfortable minutes passed before Mrs. Cross spoke again.
"Introductions are in order." Her words were more a command than a suggestion.
"Mother, may I present Buck," Henry complied. "Buck, this is my mother, Madeline Cross."
"It's a pleasure to meet you, Mrs. Cross," Buck said formally.
"Have you no surname?" Mrs. Cross demanded.
"Ma'am?"
"Have . . . you . . . no . . . last . . . name?" the woman repeated, emphasizing each word as if speaking to a simpleton.
"Mother," Emily interjected. "Buck is an Indian. They do not have last names. Am I right, Buck?"
Before Buck could respond, Madeline snorted. "Then how are you to know one of you from another?" she intoned. "I'm sure there are many of you known as 'Buck'."
"My name is Running Buck," Buck said stiffly. "I'm known as brother of Red Bear and son of Three Eagles. That is the only differentiation that is needed."
"So your mother was a white woman," Mrs. Cross stated. "Was she a captive as my daughter was?"
"My mother was Kiowa," Buck stated firmly.
"Then your father was white?"
"Mother!" Henry reprimanded gently. "That is really none of our business."
"My father was a drunken trapper," Buck said watching the woman for her reaction. "He raped my mother because she was an Indian and meant nothing to anyone-or so he believed."
"Then how do you claim to be the 'son of Three Eagles'?" Madeline questioned.
"Three Eagles loved my mother," Buck replied simply.
"Enough to accept her bastard son as his own?"
"Yes, which is far more civilized than what I've seen of the white people I've met."
Madeline stared at the defiant young man before her. It was quite obvious she was not used to being spoken to in such a manner.
"Dinner will be served in one hour," the woman said in a complete change of subject. "We expect you to be dressed properly. Emily show Running Buck to a guest room and see to his clothing needs." With of movement of her hand, she directed her husband to push her from the room.
No one spoke for several minutes after Mrs. Cross' departure. Finally Mr. Cross cleared his throat.
"Emily why don't you show Buck to his room?" he suggested. "I think he is similar in size to Albert Junior. Perhaps one of his suits will suffice until other arrangements can be made."
"Yes, Father," a much subdued Emily replied.
She led Buck from the parlor and up the winding staircase to the second floor.
"I had Hamilton put your things in the green room. It has the best view of the gardens which I thought you might enjoy," Emily told him as she led him down the long corridor. "Henry's room is next door and mine is just across the hall."
"I'm surprised I'm not out in the slaves' quarters," Buck said, a trace of bitterness in his voice.
"We have no slaves!" Emily responded immediately. "All of our servants are free men and have been for quite some time!"
"You'll have to forgive Emily," a young man said as he stepped from a side hall. "She is quite the little abolitionist. It's in her blood."
Ignoring the now infuriated Emily, the man stepped forward. "I'm AJ," he said extending his hand.
"Buck," Buck replied.
"So, you're Henry's little surprise," AJ commented. "Have you met Mother yet? Should we be apologizing?"
"Albert!" Emily reprimanded. "That's enough!"
"We'll talk later," AJ said with a malicious wink. "My room is at the other end of the hall."
"Pay him no mind, Buck," Emily commanded. Turning to her brother, she continued, "Father says you are to loan Buck one of your suits for dinner this evening. I don't suppose you'll be joining us?"
"How could I possibly dare not to attend brother Henry's welcome home dinner?" AJ replied. "I've already been informed that this is a command appearance."
"Go fetch your suit!" Emily ordered.
"Yes, Ma'am," her brother replied, issuing a mock salute before turning back down the hall.
"You'll have to excuse Albert," Emily said as she opened the door to the largest bedroom Buck had ever seen. "He's still very angry and is taking his anger out on everyone." She moved to the windows as she spoke, pushing back the draperies. "I really should have had Hamilton prepare the room for you," she murmured.
"Why?" Buck asked.
"Pardon?" Emily responded.
"You said your brother was angry," Buck explained. "Why?"
"Oh, he's just upset that Father won't speak out on the issue of emancipation. Albert Junior believes we should be supportive of the Southern states."
"That's a rather unusual notion for someone from here in Boston, isn't it?" Buck asked, remembering his reading about the city and, in fact, the state being deemed anti-slavery.
"That's just Albert Junior," Emily sighed. "Please don't be concerned, Buck. This is a family matter and should not be something with which you should be bothered."
Their conversation was interrupted by her brother's arrival. Over his arm he carried several suits.
"One of these should fit you," he declared. "At least enough to pass inspection."
"Inspection?" Buck inquired.
"Pay him no mind!" Emily commanded for the second time. Taking the clothes from her brother she pushed him toward the door. "Go along!" she ordered. "You need to be dressed as well."
"Why Emily," AJ countered. "How could I dare leave you alone in a room with a strange young man? What kind of brother would I be to leave you in such a compromising position?"
"Go!" Emily demanded, although her face colored red with embarrassment.
AJ left the room then, but his laughter could be heard as he walked down the hall.
"He's right you know," Buck said softly.
"You let me worry about what is proper and what isn't where I am concerned," Emily replied. Moving to a door on one of the side walls, she opened it to reveal a bathroom, complete with a tub. "I'll have Hamilton draw you a bath if you wish."
"I think I can manage," Buck told her.
"All right then," Emily said, smiling. "I'll stop by for you in thirty minutes. If you need anything, just ring for Hamilton," she concluded, indicating a bell pull by the door.
"Thank you, Miss Emily," Buck responded as she left the room.
"Just Emily will do," the girl told him. "No need to be so formal."
True to her word, Emily knocked on Buck's door exactly thirty minutes later. He opened the door, tie in hand, frustrated look on his face.
Confusion was replaced with appreciation as he took in the vision before him.
Emily had changed to a blue dress that enhanced the blue in her eyes until they sparkled. Her hair was pulled up and back from her face, revealing high cheekbones which had been lightly brushed with rouge.
"You look beautiful," he said sincerely.
"Why thank you, kind sir," she replied lightly. "You look quite handsome yourself."
"The suit fits pretty well," Buck told her. "Only problem is I can't figure out this tie."
"Here, let me help you," Emily said, stepping forward to take the tie from his hand. "I always have to help Henry," she explained. "He has never figured out how to tie a decent four-in-hand."
Buck stood rigidly still as the girl expertly tied the tie and straightened his collar. The pair stood for a few seconds after she finished, neither one knowing quite what to do or say. Henry saved them both by appearing at the door.
"Ready to go?" he asked.
"Ready as I'll ever be," Buck replied.
"Then let's go!" Emily agreed brightly, slipping her arms around one of each of the two men. "It's not often that I'm lucky enough to have two such handsome escorts," she chattered as the trio made their way to the dining room.
Dinner was a lavish affair. Buck had never seen so much food in one place, especially for so few people. Two maids and a butler were constantly on the move around the huge table making sure every glass was full and removing plates between courses.
For the most part conversation was light and inconsequential. Buck responded when spoken to but mostly sat listening to the family banter. Mentally, he thanked Rachel for her attempts to educate her "boys" on proper etiquette. At least he knew which fork to use more often than not and, when he didn't, a quick glance in Henry's direction was all he needed.
"Did I mention Buck was a rider for the Pony Express?" Henry asked at one point.
"Oh, how exciting," Emily responded. "You must be an excellent horseman."
"Aren't most Indians?" AJ asked boldly.
"No more so than most," Buck answered. "We just have more opportunities to learn."
"Perhaps we can go riding one day," Emily suggested.
"Yes, Buck," Henry agreed. "I'd like to see if you have as many problems with an English saddle as I had with a Western."
"You did all right," Buck countered.
"Only because you took it easy on me," Henry reminded him.
"I always thought Russell, Majors and Wadell would run that business into the ground," Mr. Cross commented. "They overextended themselves far too extensively without government contract guarantees."
"Albert," Mrs. Cross spoke for the first time. "This is not the time nor the place for talk of business."
Silence reigned for a few minutes until finally AJ asked, "So what are your plans now, Buck?"
"I'm not really sure," Buck replied. "I've been wanting to do some traveling. See some of the country other than a blur as I rode through."
"So what's stopping you?"
"Nothing, I guess. But I think I'll head out West. I've always wanted to see California or maybe head up to the Oregon Territory."
"Running away?" AJ taunted.
"Away from what?"
"The war that's coming, of course."
"Not my fight," Buck replied, innocently unaware of the firestorm he had just triggered.
"Of course it's your fight!" Mr. Cross said firmly. "The condition of our fellow man is always our fight!"
"As is the right of a man to live as he sees fit without the government telling him otherwise," AJ argued.
Before the apparently well-worn debate could escalate any further, Mrs. Cross spoke, "Perhaps we should adjourn to the drawing room where you two shall once again regale us with your theories on slavery."
The talk of war ceased immediately as the family left the table to the servants.
"As this is Henry's first night with us in ever so long," Mrs. Cross said once the group had settled in the parlor. "I think we should dispense with the talk of war and allow him to tell us of his adventures."
"Oh yes, Henry," Emily agreed. "Please do tell us."
"All right," Henry began.
"I really don't know what would have happened had not Jimmy Hickok become involved," Henry finished almost an hour later.
"So when exactly did you meet Buck?" AJ asked.
"That was the most miraculous thing of all," Henry replied. "I simply asked Jimmy for his assistance in finding someone to take me around to the various Indian villages and he produced Buck."
"But how did you come to find out that he knew Elizabeth?" Emily prompted.
"I do believe that fortune smiled upon me," Henry said. "When Buck first entered the room, I'm afraid I allowed my prejudices to get the better of me. Upon chastising Hickok for his neglect in mentioning the Buck was an Indian, I was informed that there would be no one better to serve as my guide than Buck Cross."
A hush fell over the room as the meaning of Henry's words hit home.
"You use the surname Cross?" Mrs. Cross asked, barely able to contain her anger.
"Yes," Buck answered simply. "When I left the Kiowa to go to the mission school, I was told I had to have a last name," he explained. "I knew from Elizabeth's journal that her name was Cross. I chose her name to honor her spirit."
"What would someone like you know of honor?" the woman declared. "How dare you be so bold as to use a name that is not your birthright!"
"Madeline, please," her husband soothed. "Please calm down before you make yourself ill."
"Besides, Mother," Henry added. "Were it not for the use of the name, we might never have realized that our Elizabeth and Buck's teacher were one and the same."
"Perhaps we would have been better off!" Mrs. Cross declared. "At least we would still have the belief that my darling daughter was still alive and would someday return to us!"
"You would still be living a dream, Mother," AJ said. "Isn't it better to know the truth than to live your life in denial?"
"Albert!" his father reprimanded.
"Not denial," Mrs. Cross shouted at the same moment. "Hope!"
"I think it's time for us to retire for the night," Mr. Cross decided. "It has been a long, exhausting day and your mother needs her rest."
He moved to his wife's chair then and pushed her from the room. Even as the pair moved away, the young people could hear Madeline's protests.
"I honestly thought using Elizabeth's name would honor her memory," Buck said quietly.
He and Emily had left Henry and AJ in the middle of an argument about AJ's remarks to their mother and were walking through the gardens. The room had become much smaller after Madeline's outburst. Emily had sensed Buck's discomfort and had suggested they step outside.
"Of course you did, Buck," Emily agreed. "And I'm sure Elizabeth would understand that."
Buck sighed, then reached up to loosen his tie. "I guess it would have been better if I'd just stayed in Rock Creek."
"Please don't think like that!" Emily pleaded. "I know it may seem that way now, but please believe me, your being here is for the best."
She led him to a stone bench and sat down. "Mother has been living in a dream world ever since Elizabeth disappeared. For years after we were informed of the attack on the wagon train, Mother would stand in the window, watching the street, waiting for her precious daughter's return. Father was beside himself to make things better."
"What happened?" Buck asked when she paused.
"After some time, Mother appeared to have accepted what we all knew to be the truth and began to live her life again. She and Father were even planning a holiday abroad."
Emily paused again. She reached out to pull a twig from a nearby shrub.
"Just when we thought life would return to normal, Sarah McLeod returned to Boston. She is the woman from Elizabeth's wagon train who was freed by the Army."
"Henry told me about her," Buck affirmed.
"Mother relapsed soon after Sarah's return," Emily concluded. "She began hounding Henry and Albert Junior to go look for our sister-to rescue her from the heathens who had held her captive. Finally, Henry could stand it no longer and did as she asked."
"And now I'm here to shatter what little delusion she had left," Buck said quietly.
"And to become the focus of her anger and hatred," Emily agreed reluctantly. "But please know that she is the only one to feel that way. The rest of us simply want closure."
Even though the gathering darkness hid her face and eyes, Buck could hear the sincerity in Emily's tone and words.
"Will you tell me of Elizabeth's time with you?" she asked.
"Henry has her journal-"
"But, Buck, you were there! You could give us an insight unlike any other and far better than mere words could possibly provide." Emily interrupted, unconsciously parroting the words Henry had used when he had first asked Buck to accompany him to Boston.
"I'll tell you," Buck answered. "But not tonight."
He held up his hand to forestall her pleas. "Read the journal first," he suggested. "Hear the story from her words first. Then I'll tell you what I remember."
"All right," Emily agreed with even greater reluctance. Rising to her feet, she started for the house. "Are you coming?" she asked when Buck remained seated.
"I think I'll stay out here for a bit," he replied.
"Would you mind if I stayed with you?"
"I wouldn't mind," Buck answered. "But what will your family think?"
"I don't care!" Emily stated firmly. "We've done nothing of which we should be ashamed."
Hidden from the pair, both by the darkness and a mass of shrubbery, Albert Cross, Sr. considered what he had just heard. This Buck fellow would require some watching, he decided. He agreed with Emily that the family wanted and needed closure, but not at the expense of losing another daughter to a barely educated savage.
Madeline Cross remained in her room for the next several days. Henry tried repeatedly to get her to come down, to hear what Buck had to share, but she was so deep in her denial that she refused to believe anything even her favored son had to say. Finally, Henry gave up.
At first, both Henry and Emily spent time with Buck, showing the Westerner their world. Occasionally AJ would join them, but more often than not, the elder Cross would disappear immediately after breakfast and return just before dinner.
True to his word, Henry made arrangements for the three of them to go riding. Early one morning, he led Buck to the stables to choose the horse he would ride. The Cross' had several fine animals, Buck decided. He finally chose a large palomino gelding as his mount and turned to Henry for his tack.
The bridle wasn't all that different from what he was used to, but the English style saddle came as a surprise. Smaller and far lighter than a Western saddle, the English had a much shallower "well" and no saddle horn. The stirrups were also a lighter weight and rode much higher than he was used to.
"This is almost like riding bareback," he told his companions as he ignored the stirrups and leaped easily onto the horse's back.
The trio spent much of the day riding various trails on the estate. It didn't take long for Buck to wish for the longer stirrup he was used to. During a brief stop, he extended the straps as far as they would go. While still not totally comfortable, at least he didn't feel like his knees were up under his chin.
Emily proved to be an even more accomplished rider than her brother. Before long, Henry had dropped back, allowing the other two to show off, taking jumps and racing along the open trail.
"I have the lunch basket!" he explained when they teased him.
"So what do you think of the 'dude' saddle?" Henry asked over lunch.
"Like I said, it's like riding bareback," Buck replied. "Except for the fact that there's no place for the mochilla-and the stirrups-I have to admit it would have made a run a lot easier on the horse."
"As much energy as those mustangs have," Henry mused. "I don't know how they could have made the run must faster."
"It wasn't so much speed as endurance," Buck pointed out. "We'd ride a lot of miles between stations. A good, strong horse made all the difference."
"You've led such an exciting life, Buck," Emily sighed. "I can't begin to imagine what it would be like riding through untamed wilderness, having to be on guard every minute."
"I never knew any different," Buck said. "It's all in what you're used to. I think living in Boston can be pretty exciting, too."
"Wait until you meet some of Emily's friends," Henry teased. "Then you'll know what 'exciting' really is."
He ducked quickly to avoid the chicken bone his sister threw at him.
"I think I should talk to Mrs. Cross," Buck suggested to Mr. Cross a couple of days later.
"I don't know that that would be a good idea, Buck," the older man replied.
"But maybe I can help her see that, while Elizabeth's life wasn't what it should have been, it was better than it could have been," Buck protested.
He knew Mr. Cross had read Elizabeth's journal, but the man had not asked any questions of him. Buck sensed the man was in a bit of a fantasy world of his own and was afraid to break the spell.
"I think we shall just give Mrs. Cross a bit more time," Albert decided. "I'm sure she'll let us know when she is ready to speak with you."
Knowing protest would make no difference, Buck let the matter drop.
More days passed with no real evidence that things were changing in the Cross household. As soon after breakfast as possible, the young people would go out to do something, anything, that would get them away from the tension that was building.
Before long, Henry decided that at least someone had to make an attempt to keep things going at the office. While he still spent as much time as possible with Buck and Emily, it was often just the couple who toured the city.
Emily discovered that Buck enjoyed the libraries and museums as much as she did. Together, they spent their days browsing and talking about what they had seen.
One day, Emily finally broached the subject of Elizabeth's time with the Kiowa. "Her journal tells me so much, but I'm sure there is even more that she wasn't able to share."
"She was always afraid of running out of paper," Buck agreed. "We were able to find a replacement for the pencils but paper would have been much harder to come by."
"You found her the pen and ink to continue her writing," Emily remembered.
"Sometimes, for someone so highly educated, Elizabeth lacked simple common sense," Buck mused. "And no offence, but given what I've seen here, I can understand how she was so completely out of her element. Knowing what I know now has only given me a great deal more respect for her."
"I am so very jealous of you," Emily said. At his questioning look, she explained. "I was six when Elizabeth left us, but I barely remember her. Your memories are far more vivid."
"I think my memories are stronger because of the time surrounding our time together," Buck said. "A lot of rather ugly things happened then that make the moments of peace stand out more vividly."
"Like the Paiute attacks?"
"Yes," Buck replied.
"Elizabeth was so proud of you," Emily said quietly. "I think she felt that even if she never had another student, she had made a significant contribution to society."
"I think you put too much importance on what little I've accomplished," Buck protested.
"I don't!" Emily stated. "You should be proud of what-who-you have become. I know I am."
Several silent moments passed before Emily asked, "She didn't suffer too much when she died-did she?"
"I wish I could say no with certainty," Buck answered. "I ran as fast as I could and the warriors got back to her as quickly as they could . . . but no one will ever really know."
"Except those who murdered her."
"Except those who murdered her," Buck agreed. "And if it's any consolation to you, they are all dead as well." The memory of Three Eagles, himself, returning with four new scalps on his belt flashed through Buck's mind.
The two sat in silence, each lost in memories of the past. Finally Emily stood, a more determined look on her face. "We must make Mother understand this," she stated.
"I offered to speak with her," Buck told her.
"And Father refused you," Emily replied certainly. "Well, we just have to try again."
That evening Albert had a surprise for all of them. Just as Emily started to make her carefully prepared argument in favor of Buck speaking to her mother, Albert announced that Madeline had asked for Elizabeth's journal.
"It's a step in the right direction," he said with a tired smile. "If she asks to speak with you, Buck, I hope you will still be willing."
"Of course, Sir," Buck agreed.
Dinner that evening was far lighter than any had been since that first night.
At Albert's insistence, Buck was treated to two custom tailored suits and a pair of hand-tooled boots.
"I really don't feel right doing this," Buck said as he stood patiently waiting for the tailor to finish taking his measurements.
"Why ever not?" Emily asked. "You can't continue wearing Albert's suit to dinner."
"Why not?" Buck countered. "It fits just fine."
"Because . . ." Emily paused, trying to think of a good reason. "Because Father wants to do this for you,"
Buck shook his head, smiling ruefully. "I suppose that reason alone will have to be good enough for now."
"Good!" Emily said brightly. "You're going to need two-no three-good shirts and at least one tie for each!"
Buck sighed. Life among the wealthy was definitely going to take some getting used to.
"Oh my, don't you look handsome!" Emily breathed.
"I don't know how I let you talk me into all of this," Buck said.
"You just couldn't continue to wear those ratty old clothes," Emily stated firmly.
"There was nothing wrong with them," Buck protested.
"Maybe not in Rock Creek," Emily argued. "But this is Boston!"
Buck fingered the flimsy shirt he now wore. "This wouldn't last me a week on the trail."
"Then it's good that you are no longer on the trail," Emily replied stepping forward to finger his collar. Her fingers lingered briefly on his neck before she stepped back, embarrassment coloring her face.
"Now, if I could just convince you to see a barber-and to get rid of that earring," she said, changing the subject. "You would look like a proper gentleman."
"No," Buck said simply. He was willing to go along with some things, but others were pushing too hard.
"All right then," Emily said, wisely deciding not to press the matter.
Turning to the clerk, she made arrangements for their packages-and Buck's old clothes-to be delivered to the estate. "Please put the charges on my father's account," she added. "I won't take 'no' for an answer, Buck," she said as he began to protest. "Father told me to use my discretion and I am doing so."
"But-"
"Do not argue with me," Emily commanded. "You will discover that I can be just as stubborn as you."
She watched as he appeared to acquiesce to her demands. "And don't you even think of going to Father about this," she added, reading his expression with uncanny accuracy. "He will agree with me."
Buck sighed again, realizing this was a battle he could not win.
"I do hope some flowers will cheer Mother a bit," Emily rattled on as the pair strolled through the market. "When I spoke with her this morning, she seemed better but quite sad."
"I'm sure anything you do will help her feel better," Buck agreed.
The conversation ceased as two young women approached.
"Emily, dear!" one of them called. "I was so hoping to run into you. I was afraid I might have to send someone to your home."
"Things have been quite hectic," Emily explained. "Henry has returned from his trip to the West."
"So we've heard," the other girl said.
While she may have been talking to Emily, this one had eyes only for Buck. He rapidly began to feel like a piece of meat being appraised by an inspector.
"Actually, that's precisely the reason I wished to speak with you," the first girl said. "I'm hosting a small get-together this coming Saturday evening. It would be absolutely dreadful if you and Henry did not attend."
"I cannot speak for Henry of course, but I will most certainly pass on your invitation," Emily responded.
"But you will be there, won't you?" the girl pleaded.
"Arthur has already accepted," the second girl added as if for incentive.
Buck stood throughout the exchange, feeling more and more invisible. He sensed that Emily really wanted to attend this party. Her less than covert glance in his direction confirmed his suspicions that she was hesitating because of him.
Emily's glance didn't go unnoticed by her friends. "Aren't you going to introduce us to your companion?" the first girl asked.
"Where are my manners?" Emily exclaimed. "Juliette Connor, Ruth Dolan, my I present Buck. Buck, these are Juliette and Ruth."
"Nice to meet you," Buck said, nodding to each in turn.
"Buck is from the Nebraska territory," Emily explained. "He met Henry there and was convinced to return home with him."
"It's so very nice to meet you, Buck," Juliette said. "I do hope you would do me the honor of attending my party."
"If you're sure it won't be a problem," Buck answered, seeing how Emily's face brightened at the prospect.
"Of course not!" Juliette confirmed.
"How could it possibly be a problem to have an additional handsome man," Ruth tittered. Slipping her arm around his, she let Buck away from her friends. "I'm certain you have many interesting stories to tell us about the 'Wild West'. The boys in Boston have become so tedious and boring."
"There she goes again," Juliette murmured.
"She's incorrigible," Emily agreed, trying to ignore the pang of jealousy she felt at her friend's easy style.
"So, do tell me about Buck," Juliette asked. "He's Indian, isn't he?"
"Yes, he's from the Kiowa tribe," Emily replied.
"Oh no!" Juliette exclaimed. "They weren't the tribe who attacked Elizabeth's wagon train?"
"No," Emily answered simply. "Buck helped Henry try to find Elizabeth." There was no need to explain any further, she decided. Juliette-a known gossip-had no reason to know everything.
A few steps ahead, Buck tried to listen to Ruth's chatter, while at the same time, hear what was being said behind them. Unfortunately, the latter was made impossible due to the former.
"What an interesting decoration," Ruth was saying, reaching up to finger the bone that dangled from Buck's left ear.
Buck instinctively pulled away from her touch.
"I'm sorry," the girl apologized immediately. "I didn't realize you were so sensitive."
"Buck," Emily said, stepping forward to quickly divert the conversation. "We really must be getting back to the estate. We don't want to be late for dinner."
Taking him by the arm, she turned them both towards where Hamilton waited with their carriage.
"May we drop you somewhere?" she asked the other two girls.
"Thank you, but no, Emily," Juliette replied. "Our carriage is waiting just down the street." Turning to Buck, she continued, "It was a pleasure to meet you, Buck. I do hope to see more of you in the future."
"Thanks," Buck said, then allowed Emily to move them away.
"Don't forget to tell Henry of my party!" Juliette called after them.
"You had better watch out for Ruth, Buck," AJ warned over dinner. "She's quite a little tart."
"Albert Frederick Cross, Junior!" Emily exclaimed. "Ruth is no such thing!"
"She seemed nice enough," Buck agreed.
"Only because you were in public," AJ corrected.
"Albert, that's enough!" his father said. "There is no reason to speak badly of Ruth. She comes from a well-respected family."
"At least they will be until her reputation spoils that," AJ countered.
"I said enough!" Mr. Cross commanded.
"May we go to the party, Father," Emily asked, trying to change the subject.
"I see no reason why not," Mr. Cross mused. "As long as the party is properly chaperoned."
"I'm sure it will be, Father," Henry confirmed.
"All right then," his father agreed, smiling as Emily excitedly began to plan what she would wear. "Perhaps it will do your mother some good to get involved in helping you prepare," he suggested.
"Oh yes, Father," Emily agreed. "What a wonderful idea. Mother does so love to help me make the decisions. I'll ask her immediately of course."
The Connor estate was every bit as large as the Cross'. It seemed as if every lamp in the house had been lit just for Juliette's "little get-together."
Buck stepped down from the carriage, then turned to help Emily. Her father had been right, Madeline had immediately gotten involved in the planning and had even joined them for lunch that day. While she had not spoken directly to Buck, she had not completely ignored him either.
Once again, the Kiowa marveled at the beauty Emily wore the way he wore his old boots. She and her mother had chosen a blue dress, specifically designed to set off her eyes.
As they waited for the door to be opened, Buck unconsciously tugged at his collar.
"You look fine," Emily laughed as she reached up to straighten his tie.
To one side Henry hid a smile, watching his sister help his friend.
"I feel like . . ." Buck began, only to be interrupted by the butler.
Within minutes, Henry was being pulled off to one side by Juliette, leaving Buck and Emily to make their own way through the gathering. The couple received more than one passing glance as they crossed the room. Buck hoped it was because of Emily, but knew more than likely it was because of him.
"Buck! I'm so glad you came!" Ruth's voice reverberated across the hall. The girl appeared out of a small group of people, a young man in tow. "Arthur, look. Emily is here!"
Emily's grip on Buck's arm tightened slightly as the other couple came to stand in front of them.
"Arthur O'loughlin, this is Buck," Ruth said.
The two young men sized each other up for the briefest of seconds before Buck extended his hand. "Nice to meet you, Arthur," he said.
"The feeling is mutual, Buck," the young man responded. "Ruth has been regaling us with the story of the Indian the Cross family has adopted."
"Arthur, you stop that this minute!" Ruth pouted. "I said no such thing!"
Taking Buck by the arm, Ruth led him towards the group of people. "Don't you listen to a thing he says, Buck."
The girl was so absorbed in her chatter that she missed the pleading look Buck shot Emily. Unfortunately, Emily was distracted by Arthur and missed the look as well.
"I thought I might find you out here."
Buck had been so lost in thought that he had only just been aware of Emily's presence before she spoke.
"It was getting a little stuffy in there," he told her.
"I have a feeling there is a plot in the works," Emily said.
"Plot?"
"Yes. Every time I look for you, either Ruth has you cornered or Arthur stops me before I can get across the room."
"Is Arthur your boyfriend?" Buck asked boldly.
"Oh my, no!" Emily laughed. "Father and Mother would have a fit if they ever heard that."
"Why? He seems nice enough," Buck said. "He probably comes from a good family, too."
"Yes, he does," Emily agreed. "But he is a bit of a rake. Father barely tolerates him."
"What about you?"
"Me?" Emily sighed. "While I don't dislike him, Arthur is not someone with whom I see myself settling down and having children."
A feeling akin to satisfaction passed through Buck at that thought.
"How could you let her out of your sight? You were supposed to keep her busy!"
Buck glanced quickly at Emily as Ruth's voice was heard. Emily raised a finger to her lips in response. With a nod, Buck melted back into the shrubbery, pulling Emily in with him.
"I haven't seen the Indian for almost an hour either," Arthur responded. "Our deal was that you would distract him in return, remember?"
"I can't help it if that twit Lydia decided to corner me!" Ruth responded angrily.
"Keep your voice down!" Arthur hissed. "Do you want them to hear us?"
"Oh, what does it matter," Ruth answered hotly. "It was obvious from the way she was clutching at him when they came in that there is something between them."
"I think Miss Emily has found someone her daddy is going to hate even more than he hates me," Arthur laughed bitterly.
"Then it shall be up to you and I to be there to help them over their pain," Ruth said maliciously. "I can't wait to see if what they say about Indians is true."
The conversation faded as the pair started back to the house.
Buck and Emily remained in the bushes until the other pair were out of earshot. It was then that Buck noticed that Emily was shaking violently.
"Are you cold?" he asked, starting to remove his jacket.
"No," she responded. "I'm furious! How dare that . . . that . . ."
"Tart?" Buck supplied.
"That is too kind!" Emily said angrily.
"Well, Arthur isn't much better," Buck suggested.
"Both of them are unspeakably vicious."
"Oh, I don't know," Buck grinned. "Personally, I think they are rather funny."
"Pathetically so, if you ask me!" Stepping out onto the path, Emily continued, "I have half a mind to go in there and tell them both exactly what I think of their little plan."
"Don't," Buck said quietly.
"Why not?" she asked curiously.
"I don't see where your getting angry will serve any useful purpose," Buck explained.
"But we can't let them get away with this!" Emily protested.
"They haven't," he replied. "Unless they were right?"
He watched Emily, carefully trying to gauge her reaction. "Are they right, Emily? Is their something between us that their interference this evening would make a difference?"
Emily didn't respond immediately. Just when Buck had begun to think he had made a very big mistake, she whispered something.
"Pardon?"
"I think there could be," she repeated a bit louder.
"All right then," Buck said, moving closer. "You definitely can't say anything to Ruth then."
"Why not?" she asked again.
"Because our being together will be the best revenge."
Henry came searching for them a bit later. He smiled as he found the pair sitting in the gazebo, Buck's arm around Emily's shoulders.
"It's about time!" he said sternly.
"What do you mean by that?" Emily asked indignantly.
"I was running out of ideas for 'errands' to keep me 'busy'," her brother answered with a laugh.
"You scoundrel, you!" Emily exclaimed
"I was beginning to think there was something wrong with you, Buck," Henry continued.
"Then you don't have a problem with a 'savage' being with your sister?" Buck asked.
"One thing you should know by now, Buck," Henry chided. "I'm a very fast learner. Besides, if it makes Emily happy, then who am I to stand in the way."
Growing serious for a moment, he added, "Fair warning though, my heathen friend, if you hurt her, you'll have deal with me!"
"I just hope Mother and Father feel the same way," Emily murmured.
Sunday morning found Mr. Cross up, bright and early, to attend church services with his children. They attempted to convince Mrs. Cross to join them, but she refused, saying she was not quite up to a long, public service. She would, however, join them for brunch when they returned, she promised.
Buck also remained at the house, declining Emily's invitation. The mission school he had attended had been run by Catholic missionaries, but he had never embraced the religion nor had he been baptized.
Taking advantage of the time alone, Buck walked out to a clearing within the estate's massive gardens. Finding a comfortable spot where he could lean back against a tree, he sat on the ground and closed his eyes.
The early morning sun soaked across his body, warming his soul. He couldn't remember a time when he had spent so many of his hours indoors. It felt good to be in the sun again. Closing his eyes, he could almost imagine being out on the trail again. Sitting up briefly, he removed his shirt before leaning back and falling into a light sleep.
Buck's subconscious registered the sound of footsteps on the soft ground soon enough to kick his conscious mind awake before the intruder was within the danger zone. He was awake and on his feet prepared for whoever or whatever might be coming before he was even aware he was moving.
Mrs. Cross' personal maid, Audrey, stopped just short of screaming at his reaction. Her expression turned from fear to admiration to embarrassment as she gazed at the half naked man before her. She looked away but kept sneaking glances in his direction. Finally he got the message.
"Is there something you need, Audrey?" he asked as he pulled his shirt on and began to button it.
"Mrs.," she squeaked. Clearing her throat she tried again. "Mrs. Cross would like to see you, Sir-at your convenience of course."
"Please tell Mrs. Cross I'll be right along," Buck replied as he reached for the jacket he had left on a nearby stone bench.
"She will meet with you in her sitting room, Sir," Audrey told him, then flitted away.
Buck took a moment to brush off his pants and run his fingers through his hair before starting for the house.
Madeline sat in a regular chair next to a window. As Audrey let him into the small parlor, Buck noticed first that the wheeled chair was nowhere to be seen.
"I have no real need for the chair," the woman said as if reading his mind. "Albert insisted I use it for my own safety."
"Please sit down, Buck," she said.
She waited for him to become settled in the chair opposite her before speaking again. "I would like to apologize to you," she began. "Please hear me out," she commanded as he began to interrupt. "I was horribly rude to you during your first days here. It was inexcusable and I am sorry."
"I understand," Buck replied. "Given what you've been through, I think you have a right to be angry."
"Angry with the Indians who kidnapped my daughter, perhaps even with your stepfather and your tribe for buying her, but not with you personally," Mrs. Cross corrected. "According to this journal, you were but a small child. From what I gather from this journal," She said, indicating the book that lay in her lap, "you were the source of at least some joy during a most joyless time."
"I think I may have been the source of more than a little frustration as well," Buck said, smiling at the memory.
"Oh, most certainly," Mrs. Cross agreed, revealing the first real smile Buck had seen since he had arrived in her home.
"Tell me what you remember of my daughter," the woman commanded.
Buck was not so lost in his storytelling that he wasn't aware of the soft sobbing coming from Elizabeth's mother. He didn't sense that the tears were caused by the words he spoke as much as from the release his words gave the woman.
"She was so very brave," Madeline said as he finished his tale.
"Yes, she was," Buck agreed. "Three Eagles spoke her name as we buried her. That's a very high honor among the Kiowa. Even today she is remembered and known to many tribes for her actions."
"She must have loved you dearly," her mother commented.
"Yes, I suppose she did," he murmured. "I guess I never really thought of it that way."
"Did you at least have some feelings for her?" the woman asked.
Buck considered the question for several minutes before answering. "It's difficult to explain the feelings I had for Elizabeth," he said finally. "You would have to understand that back then I was Kiowa. I had no experience with white people other than the army, who were hated by my people, and Elizabeth, who . . ." he paused again, considering the effect his words would have, then continuing. "Elizabeth was a slave," he said bluntly. "My people considered her little different than the dogs or horses and perhaps even less than some of those."
"I understand what your people felt, Buck," Madeline stated. "What I want to know is what you, Running Buck, felt towards my daughter."
"It wasn't love," Buck said simply. "But I think I had some respect for her-more than I should have had for a woman in her position."
Madeline nodded her understanding. "Thank you for your honesty," she said. "I think, perhaps, that was the very feeling Elizabeth had for me."
"That's not true!" Buck argued. "There were times when Elizabeth told me of her family. You were always the first person she mentioned. And it was not just out of respect. She never once said so much as one bad thing about you."
"You don't need to lie to me, Buck," Madeline said. "I know what you must think of me."
"I don't think you do," Buck countered. "You are a woman in mourning. I can respect that. Maybe you've carried this grief far longer than you should have, but a woman such as Elizabeth would be honored to know that she was loved so much."
"It's more than just grief," Madeline said softly.
"It doesn't take much to see that you are feeling guilty, too," Buck continued. "I'm sure you think there is something you could have-should have-done to stop Elizabeth from going-"
"No!" Madeline cried. "I don't feel guilt for not succeeding in stopping her! I feel guilt for pushing her to go!"
Buck looked at her, surprise clearly written across his face.
"Elizabeth didn't want to go to California," Madeline continued, tears streaming down her face. "She would have been quite happy in Boston, teaching at one of the schools here. I am the one who suggested-even demanded-that she leave the city and make a life for herself away from her father and me. I told her life would be so much better for her in California where she wouldn't have to live up to the Cross name-where she could be Elizabeth not Albert Cross' daughter."
Buck was stunned. He would never have dreamed that Elizabeth had left her home, not because she wanted to, but because the woman before him had pushed her into doing so.
"You must think me totally mad," Madeline said after a minute or two of silence. "Perhaps I am."
"I really don't know what to say," Buck replied. "But I do not think you are mad."
"Are you in love with Emily?"
The question came out of the blue and Buck answered instinctively, without thinking. "Yes."
"Then take her away from here," Madeline ordered. "Take her far away before she becomes like me. Take her away but keep her safe!" With that, she quickly left the sitting room.
An even more stunned Buck stood, staring after her. He considered going after the woman, but decided against it as he heard the noise of the family coming in from the courtyard.
Emily found him in the garden, once again seated under the trees. "Brunch is almost ready," she told him, taking a seat on the bench. "Will you be joining us?"
Buck nodded and started to rise to his feet.
"We have some time yet," Emily told him. "Hamilton will call when we need to go in." She watched as Buck settled back. "Are you all right?"
"I spoke with your mother earlier," Buck said softly.
"You did?" Emily responded. "Did she ask to see you? What did you say?" Mistaking Buck's hesitation, she continued, "Oh, Buck, she wasn't rude to you again was she?"
"No," Buck told her. "She was actually quite civil. She asked me to tell her what I remembered of Elizabeth and I did."
Emily looked at him, her blue eyes taking in all of the subtle signals his body was sending. "What happened?" she asked. "What did Mother say that has upset you so?"
"Nothing," answered. "She just gave me a lot to think about, that's all."
He was saved from saying anything more by Hamilton's appearance on the path. "Brunch is served, Miss Emily, Mr. Buck."
Buck rose easily to his feet and brushed the leaves from his pants. Pulling on his jacket, he offered his arm to Emily. As they walked to the house, Emily eyed Buck curiously. She wanted to ask more but knew she would receive no answers.
Mrs. Cross joined them for brunch as promised. The family was delighted to see that she was in a better mood than she had been in quite some time. She even spoke to Buck to ask him how he was enjoying his stay.
"Boston is unlike anything I've ever seen before," he responded. "I don't know that I'll ever be able to get used to all the people."
"I wasn't aware that you were planning to stay in Boston," Mr. Cross said.
"I haven't really made any plans yet," Buck confirmed. "There's a lot to be said for staying on."
His glance in Emily's direction didn't go unnoticed by her father.
"I'll wager we could find a place for you at the office, Buck," Henry offered. "Father, didn't you say Edward had decided to join the Army?"
Before Mr. Cross had the opportunity to respond, Buck spoke. "I don't see myself in an office all day, Henry. I appreciate the offer, but if I decide to stay I'm sure I can find something. Maybe working at the stables."
"But the position with the firm would pay much more handsomely," Henry protested.
"I don't need much in the way of money," Buck told him. "Long as I've got a place to sleep and food to eat, I'm fine."
"All of this will be a moot point should Buck decide to move on," Mr. Cross said, effectively ending the discussion.
"What do you young people have planned for today?" Mrs. Cross asked.
"We are going riding," Emily answered, quickly taking her cue. "I want to show Buck the old river trail."
"Are all of you going?"
"I have other plans," AJ responded shortly. No one question what those plans were, knowing the answer would degenerate into another argument between the young man and his father.
"I think I shall have to decline as well," Henry said, the twinkle in his eyes aimed at Buck and Emily.
"You should come with us, Mother," Emily exclaimed impulsively.
"Oh my, no," Mrs. Cross protested.
"Emily! Your mother is only just out of her wheeled chair," Mr. Cross reprimanded. "It's far too soon to propose such nonsense."
"I've always heard that riding is one of the best forms of exercise," Buck offered.
"That's right, Mother," Henry agreed. "Dr. Wyatt said you needed to get out more."
Mrs. Cross looked as if she was considering the offer, but after glancing at her husband's scowling face, repeated her refusal. "Perhaps next time," she suggested. "We could start with a shorter trail."
"The river trail can wait, Mother," Emily pleaded. "We wouldn't have to go so far."
"Your mother said no, Emily," her father stated firmly. "Now leave her be."
The family finished their meal in silence.
The argument grew to noticeable volume as Buck waited in the foyer for Emily to finish dressing. The door to Mr. Cross' study was slightly ajar and even if Buck hadn't had the hearing he had, the exchange would have been impossible to miss.
"I do not approve, Madeline," Albert Cross all but bellowed. "That should be reason enough. It's unseemly for a girl of Emily's age and status to be alone with him!"
"Nothing will happen, Albert," his wife replied. "Buck is far too honorable to allow it."
"Honor!" Albert roared. "What does someone like him know of honor? Why, he's barely civilized!"
"Perhaps more so than the so-called 'Gentlemen' of Boston," Madeline said coldly. "Albert," she continued before her husband could speak. "Your feelings for Buck aside, the very least you could do is trust Emily. She is, after all, your daughter."
Albert apparently noticed the open door at that point. Buck barely had time to slip out of sight before the older man stepped into the foyer and looked around. When he returned to the study, he closed the door firmly behind him.
Fortunately, riding required little concentration on Buck's part. Equally fortunate, Emily was in a chatty mood, seemingly oblivious to the fact that her companion's answers were short if at all.
Had the speakers been reversed in the argument he had overheard, Buck would not have been all that surprised. Madeline Cross' change of heart had been almost too sudden-at least in Buck's mind-so it would not have been all that amazing that she would be upset with the fact that her daughter was going out without a chaperone.
Mr. Cross was another matter. Other than that very first reaction-one Buck had assumed as reaction to hearing that his daughter was dead-Albert Cross had given no indication that he was less than accepting of Buck's presence.
The fact that the woman, who had appeared to hate him, had actually been defending him to the man who had opened his home to Buck, had the Kiowa baffled.
A questioning note in Emily's voice brought him quickly back to the here and now. "I'm sorry," he apologized. "I didn't hear what you said."
"Have you heard anything I've said this afternoon?" Emily asked petulantly.
Buck considered his options. "Not really," he confessed finally.
"What's wrong, Buck?" the girl asked, suddenly concerned. "Is it Mother?" she demanded. "Did she say something that has made you angry?"
"I'm not angry," Buck protested.
"Then what is it?"
"It's not important," he told her. "Let's just enjoy the afternoon."
"No!" Emily commanded. "You have no idea how much I hate that I am treated as if I am a child!"
"Emily-"
"No, Buck!" she repeated. "If whatever is bothering you involves me in any way, I have a right to know."
Buck had just a split instant to make a decision. His options were to tell Emily the truth and risk her making a scene in front of her parents or . . .
"I was just thinking about what Henry said at brunch," he lied. "I think I've been imposing on your family's hospitality long enough. It's either time for me to leave and go back to my own home or find a place-and a job-here in Boston.
Blue eyes bore into brown as Emily tried to discern if he was telling the truth. He carefully kept his features as neutral as possible. Finally her eyes reflected her belief and his heart fell knowing he had successfully deceived her.
"I don't think you have to make that decision right this minute," she admonished. "We should enjoy the afternoon. There will be plenty of time for thinking and decided later."
Smiling, he nodded. "So, show me this overlook you were talking about," he said laughing at her surprise. "I was listening to some of what you said."
Buck and Emily returned to the house later that day to find two carriages in the courtyard.
"I'll take care of the horses," Buck volunteered, knowing Emily's curiosity had been piqued.
"You don't mind?" Emily asked, her sense of equine duty warring with her need to know who was visiting.
"Go!" Buck answered. "If it's someone I don't want to know about, hang a lamp in the window and I'll get 'lost'," he added playfully.
"Oh no you don't, Buck Cross!" Emily said in mock anger. "If I have to face them, you have to as well."
Dismounting, she ran up the steps before Buck could respond.
"Nothing I enjoy more than watching a man involved in something physical," a voice purred from behind him as Buck lifted the saddle from Emily's mare.
Even before he turned around, Buck recognized the voice as Ruth Dolan's. He fought the urge to sigh as he turned to face her. "Good evening, Miss Ruth," he intoned carefully.
"Now, Buck," she admonished, "I thought we had agreed to dispense with the formalities." She watched as Buck stored the saddle and turned back to the horse, curry comb in hand.
"Mind you, I'm not complaining," Ruth said breathlessly, "but why aren't you letting the stable boys do that? It's why they're here after all."
"Old habits," Buck replied simply.
"But, of course," the girl said. "How silly of me to forget."
He heard her move to the side of the stall.
"Aren't you going to ask me why I'm here?" she asked.
Buck continued running the comb over the mare's flanks. "Why are you here?" he asked dutifully.
"Daddy's a partner with Emily's father," Ruth responded. "When I heard that they were having a business meeting here this afternoon, why naturally I thought to come along-to see Emily, of course."
"Of course," Buck agreed.
"But you and Emily weren't here," the girl pouted. "You had already left for your ride, you scamps."
"No one told me you were coming, Ruth," Emily said from the front of the stall. She moved to take the brush from Buck. "I came to warn you," she murmured. "Arthur is here as well."
"I'm almost finished," Buck said loud enough that Ruth could hear him. "You can help me with the gelding."
"I would offer to help as well," Ruth explained. "But I'm hardly dressed for that sort of thing."
As Buck and Emily took care of his horse, Ruth primly sat on a bale of hay, chattering on about anything and everything that came into her mind.
Ducking under the gelding's chin, Buck covertly rolled his eyes at Emily who quickly covered her mouth to hide a giggle.
"Shouldn't you be checking on your father, Ruth?" Emily asked once she had regained control. "I do believe the meeting was just about to end."
"Oh my, no," Ruth responded. "Your mother was kind enough to invite Daddy and me to dinner. Especially when she discovered that Mummy is off visiting Grandmama for the day."
"How wonderful," Emily said with forced cheerfulness.
Finished, Emily handed her brush to Buck who stored it on the shelf next to his own.
"I supposed we should go clean up for dinner," Emily suggested. "Especially if we are having company."
"Oh yes," Ruth agreed. "I hope you'll allow me to clean up as well. I should hate to have to spend the evening smelling of horses."
She chattered non-stop as the trio walked up to the house. Fortunately, the fact that Buck had worked up a sweat doing the manual labor prevented her from latching onto his arm-a fact she lamented loudly.
Buck walked into the dining room a bit later to find that Arthur and his father were also in attendance-and that Arthur had taken his usual seat next to Emily. Ruth sat opposite, waiting expectantly for Buck to take the empty seat beside her. Before he could move to do so, Henry stepped past him to take the chair, leaving his normal position next to Emily as the only empty place.
"So you are the young . . . man about whom Ruth has been prattling," Mr. Dolan said to Buck as they waited for the salad dishes to be cleared.
"I guess so," Buck replied with a shrug. He had not missed the slight pause in the man's speech nor the disapproving tone."
"She informs me that you are a half-breed," the man probed.
"My mother was Kiowa," Buck answered unashamed.
"Interesting," Mr. Dolan remarked. "What of your father?"
"Floyd," Madeline interrupted. "I do not believe that is necessary."
"Of course," the man conceded. "My apologies."
Buck nodded in response. The arrival of the main course diverted further conversation.
"I was so afraid that Ruth was going to suggest that she spend the night," Emily said later as she, Henry and Buck sat in the gazebo.
"I do believe you owe me for my sacrifice at dinner tonight, Buck," Henry teased. "It only goes to show you that I would willingly give up even my favorite chair for a friend."
"I do appreciate that Henry," Buck replied, properly contrite.
"Did you see the look on Ruth's face?" Emily giggled maliciously. "She was so looking forward to sitting next to you."
"I do have a question though," Buck said, smiling at the girl's remarks. "Is everyone in Boston so rude? Where I come from people don't ask about heritage unless you offer to tell them."
"Only fathers with willful daughters who seem to be attracted to the likes of you, Buck," Henry responded, smiling to remove any antagonism from the remark.
"I'm afraid Henry is right," Emily agreed. "Except for the 'willful' part, of course."
"And yet they are considered 'civilized' and I am the 'savage'," Buck said softly.
"Somehow, my friend, I think you would react in much the same manner if it was your daughter," Henry countered. "And on that note, I think I shall take my leave of you. Good night."
"Good night, Henry," Buck and Emily said simultaneously.
Once her brother was safely out of sight, Emily moved closer to Buck, slipping her arms around his waist. "I could stay like this forever," she sighed as he wrapped his arm around her shoulders.
"That probably wouldn't be a good idea," Buck answered softly. "I wouldn't like it very much if you ended up with a reputation like Ruth's because of me."
"Do you think so little of me?" Emily exclaimed, pulling away from him. "Do you really think I care what a bunch of sour old biddies might say?"
"Maybe you should," Buck replied.
"Sometimes you confuse me so, Buck!" Emily stated.
"Why?"
"You seem so strong, so secure, one moment," she explained. "Then, almost in a heart beat, you display insecurities I never dreamed existed." Taking his hand in hers, she continued. "Is this what life in two worlds has done to you?"
"I think it's more what caring for someone who lives in only one of those worlds has done," Buck whispered. "I can take the worst that anyone can send my way-if it's directed only at me. I have taken a lot. The problem comes up when other people are made to suffer because of me."
His brown eyes met hers, pleading for her to understand.
Emily slipped her arms around Buck's waist again. Resting her head against his chest, she remained quiet. Finally, she pulled back far enough to look into his eyes once more.
"There is something you are forgetting, Buck," she whispered. "If someone is hurt because of you, it's because they cared enough about you to take the risk of being hurt."
He gazed at the woman who had, in just a few short weeks, come to mean so much to him. "I guess I hadn't thought of things in that way," he admitted.
"You see!" Emily exclaimed brightly. "That's why you need me! To explain these things to you."
"I think I need you for a lot more than that," Buck protested.
"Well, you let me worry about the biddies," Emily laughed. "You just keep doing what you're doing."
Impulsively, she stood on tiptoes to give him a kiss. There was no hesitation or insecurity in the kiss he gave her in return.
Albert Cross stood in the window of his study, his faced flushed with anger. From where he stood the figures in the gazebo were visible as little more than shadows in a moonlit night. It didn't take the light of a lantern or the sun for him to know what was going on though. He watched as the two shadows became one and made the only assumptions possible.
"No!" The single word broke the silence of the room. "I will not allow the heathens to steal another of my daughters!"
Moving to the bell pull, the man nearly ripped the chord from its place as he rang for Hamilton. After issuing orders to the servant, Mr. Cross returned to his place by the window. The sight of the single merged shadow, swaying gently in the moonlight, stoked the fire of his anger to an all time high.
As the couple separated and began to walk back to the house, Albert stepped back, unwilling to risk them knowing he had been watching them.
Returning to his desk, the master of the Cross estate began to make plans for what was to come next.
Buck had seen Emily to her door before turning to his own across the hall. He looked up in surprise as Hamilton spoke from the shadows.
"Mr. Cross has asked that you join him in his study, Sir," the manservant told him.
Surprised, given the hour, Buck asked, "Now?"
"Yes, Sir," the old black man responded. "He asked that I tell you of his request as soon as you returned, Sir."
Buck nodded and straightened his tie once more. "Thank you Hamilton."
The door to the study stood open so Buck didn't bother to knock. "You wanted to see me, Sir," he asked.
Albert sat, almost regally, behind a large mahogany desk. "Yes, Buck," he replied. "Please close the door behind you and take a seat."
Buck did as he was told, his curiosity growing.
Albert waited until he was seated before speaking again. "What are your intentions where my daughter is concerned?" he asked bluntly.
"Sir?" Buck asked, once again amazed at the manner in which the question was asked.
"Don't play games with me, boy!" Mr. Cross said angrily. "I've already lost one daughter to your kind, I do not intend to lose another!"
Buck stiffened at the man's angry tone. "The only way you will lose Emily to 'my kind' is for you to push her away from your kind," he replied as calmly as possible.
Mr. Cross reached into a drawer and pulled out a checkbook. Picking up a pen, he asked. "How much?"
Buck stared at the man, his disbelief complete.
"I won't ask you again, boy!" the man declared. "How much do you want? Five thousand? Ten? Fifty? Name your price to stay away from my daughter and it's yours."
Buck rose easily to his feet. "You don't have enough money," he replied. "I'm not for sale."
"Everyone has a price, boy," Cross argued.
"I'm no 'boy'," Buck countered, his own anger growing beyond the point where it could be hidden. "And Emily is not a child. She's a woman who will make her own decisions."
Turning on his heel, Buck strode to the door pulling it open.
"She can't live without my money . . . boy!" Albert called after him. "And she'll have none of it if she leaves with you!"
"Miss Emily?" Audrey called softly as she tapped on Emily's door.
"What is it Audrey?" Emily asked. "Is something wrong?"
"Your mother would like to speak to you, Miss Emily," the maid replied. "She told me to ask you to come as soon as you can-no matter how late that might be."
"Is Mother all right?" Emily demanded, reaching for her robe.
"Oh yes, Miss Emily," Audrey answered. "She's just fine."
"Then why-" Emily started, then changed her mind. "Thank you Audrey. I'll go right now."
Audrey nodded and left the room.
"Mother, what's wrong?" Emily asked anxiously as Madeline answered her knock.
"Do you love Buck?" her mother asked without preamble.
Emily hesitated only a second before answering. "Yes, Mother, I do," she said. "I know you and Father don't approve, but, Mother, you don't know Buck as I do. I'm sure if you would just give him a-"
"I believe you, Emily," her mother interrupted. "More importantly, I wish the two of you nothing but happiness."
Emily was stunned. She knew her mother had spoken with Buck and Buck had told her that the meeting had been quite civil, but a part of her had not quite believed him. While she hadn't believed him to be telling the truth earlier in the day, she knew that he was only trying to spare her feelings. Could she have been mistaken when she had assumed that Buck's mood had to do with the conversation he had with her mother?
"Oh, Mother!" she exclaimed. "You can not possibly imagine how I feel to have you say those words. But I don't understand-"
"At this moment, daughter, it's not important that you understand the whys and wherefores," Madeline interrupted a second time. "At this moment all that matters is that the man you love-who loves you as well-is preparing to leave this house-and possibly Boston."
Madeline took Emily's hand. "Tonight you will have to make what may possibly be the hardest decision you will ever have to make," she said wistfully. "I pray you have the strength to do what your heart tells you to do, no matter what your head might be saying. Will you promise me to do that?"
Tears formed in Emily's eyes as she watched her mother's face. "I promise, Mother," she whispered.
"Then go!" her mother ordered, giving her a gentle push towards the door. "Don't let him leave without telling you the total and complete truth-no matter how much it may pain him-and you."
Buck opened the door to his room to find himself face to face with Emily, her hand raised to knock. In his hand he held the pack that had been his only possession when he arrived. Behind him, Emily noted, the clothes they had purchased together were lying neatly on the bed, the boots stood gleaming on the floor.
"Were you at least going to say goodbye?" she asked softly.
In response, he held up a folded piece of paper.
"I've thought you many things, Buck," Emily stated angrily. "A coward is not among them."
"I'm no coward," Buck said stiffly.
"What would you call someone who runs out in the middle of the night, leaving nothing more than a note to justify his actions?" she challenged.
"I don't belong here," Buck countered. "It's best that I leave now."
"From whom did you receive this marvelous insight?" Emily asked. "Certainly not my mother, for if that were true, I would not be here."
Buck stared at her, confusion plain on his expressive face.
"Mother is the one who told me you were planning to leave," the girl explained. "She charged me to come here and find out why. I'm not to leave, or let you leave, until you tell me the truth."
"And you always do as your mother charges you?" Buck said, smiling bitterly.
"Only when she tells me as passionately as she did this evening to follow my heart."
Emily stepped passed Buck into his room. "You're leaving the clothes behind?"
"They aren't mine," Buck replied simply.
"They were purchased for you by my father," Emily contradicted. She nodded as understanding flooded in. "They were purchased by my father," she repeated. "Just as he tried to purchase you tonight."
Buck started to protest, but Emily waved him to silence. "Don't lie to me again, Buck," she told him. "I'm not a stupid person."
"I never said you were stupid," Buck argued.
"But you were willing to lie to me," she alleged. "This afternoon, you blamed Henry's words at lunch for your distraction. That was a lie wasn't it?"
"Yes," Buck confessed. "I didn't want to hurt you or force you to make a choice you weren't ready to make."
"What makes you think I'm not ready?" Emily posed. "Is it because you assume I will make the wrong decision for us?"
"What I'm afraid of is that you will make a decision you will regret," Buck responded.
"How am I to make that decision if you won't ask me the question?" Emily retorted. "Or, at the very least, allow me to know the circumstances behind the need to make it."
"All right," Buck conceded. "You want to know the circumstances, I'll tell you everything."
"So, there you have it," Buck finished minutes later. He had pulled no punches in his retelling of everything that had happened that day, from the talk with Emily's mother to overhearing her parents' argument.
He stood there, fists jammed into his pockets, a helpless feeling like none he had ever experienced filling him as he watched Emily cry silent tears. He started towards her, then stopped, worried at how his attempt to comfort would be received.
"I wish I knew what to say," Emily whispered. "I wish I could say you were mistaken . . . but I know that you are speaking the truth."
"Emily-"
"No, Buck," Emily stopped him. "I know my father-better than you ever shall. He will do everything in his power to stop us from being together. I have no doubt of that."
She looked up at him, staring into his eyes, waiting for the reaction to her next words. "Our only option is to leave . . . together."
Buck started. He had hoped this would be her answer. But he had never believed, deep down, that she would be willing to give up the only life she had ever known to be with him.
"Do you know what you are saying?" he asked. "What this will mean for you? And for your mother and brothers?"
Emily stood and stepped closer to Buck. She reached out to put her hands on his shoulders. "Mother told me that I would most likely have to make the decision of my life tonight, Buck," she said earnestly. "How she knew this I can't say, but she knew. I know exactly what it will mean and I know exactly what I am saying. We need to leave Boston-to get as far away from my father as possible."
"He'll come after you," Buck argued. "He won't let you go."
A vision of Kathleen Devlin flashed through Buck's mind. A memory of a time that had started out so full of hope, much as this one had, only to end in a senseless tragedy. And a bitter loss of one of the few women to whom he had ever given his heart unconditionally.
"He will," Madeline Cross said from the doorway. "He will have no choice."
"Mother," Emily cried.
"What do you mean?" Buck asked.
"I will not allow Albert Cross to destroy another dream," the woman replied cryptically. "As I told you earlier, Buck, all I ask of you is that you keep my daughter safe and give her the life she deserves."
"If Emily wants to go with me," Buck vowed, "I'll do my best to keep her happy and safe-and loved."
"Then go!" the woman said. "Take her tonight and go as far as you can go and don't look back."
"Mother," Emily whispered huskily. Moving to her mother's side she wrapped her arms around the other woman and sobbed on her shoulder.
"Enough crying, daughter!" her mother commanded. "Go, pack some things. Take only what you need. When you get to where you are going, I'll find a way to send the rest of your belongings to you."
Emily ran from the room. As soon as she was out of sight, Madeline turned to Buck. Reaching into the pocket of her gown, she pulled out a thick envelope. "I want you to take this," she commanded. Before he could protest, she added. "Give it to Emily after you are away from here. It's important to me that she have it. She deserves this and more."
Buck took the envelope from her. He was fairly certain what it contained, but could not refuse the determined Mrs. Cross.
The older woman looked determinedly at Buck. "If ever you need anything, anything at all, you make sure to contact me. I'll find a way to help. I promise you this."
Emily slipped back into the room minutes later dressed in comfortable traveling clothes and carrying a small bag.
"Where is your husband now?" Buck asked Mrs. Cross.
"He is asleep," she told them. "He drank a considerable amount after his little 'chat' with you Buck. I waited until he fell into a drunken stupor before sending for Emily." Seeing the look on Buck's face, she smiled wickedly. "Henry would have stopped you if Emily had not been able to get to you in time."
"What of Henry?" Emily worried. "And Albert Junior?"
"Henry is waiting on the street with a carriage to take you to the train depot," her mother informed her. "Albert Junior left earlier for another of his interminable meetings and has as yet not returned. I will pass along your goodbyes."
The trio made their way to the foyer. Emily took one last look around the only home she had ever known, tears threatening once again.
"Mother-"
"Enough," Mrs. Cross interrupted. "I expect a letter from you on a regular basis. I'm sure Buck here can arrange for an intermediary to send the mail anonymously. If necessary, you can always mail in care of your Uncle Addington, but I don't think that will be necessary."
"We'll stay in touch, Mrs. Cross," Buck promised.
Madeline gave both of them a long hug, whispering something in Buck's ear as she did so. He stiffened slightly at her words, then smiled and nodded. She watched as they ran across the courtyard and remained in the doorway until they were lost from sight.
"Stay safe," she whispered after them.
Henry waited with them at the depot until the next train left early that morning. "Remember what I told you, Buck," he threatened. "You keep her safe or you'll be dealing with me."
"I'll remember," Buck agreed. "But you won't have to worry about that."
Emily was sitting off to one side, needing some time alone. She hadn't cried since leaving the house. Buck hoped that was because she was secure in her decision-not that she was regretting it.
Henry had arranged for them to have adjoining sleepers. They left the connecting door open, sitting in one room for most of the day.
As soon as they had switched to a westbound track in Philadelphia, Buck reached into his pack and pulled out the envelope Madeline had given him.
"Your mother said you deserved to have this," he said, offering her the bundle.
As he had anticipated, the envelope contained a considerable amount of money-and a single sheet of paper, covered front and back by Madeline's neat script.
"Do you want to be alone?" Buck offered.
"No," Emily replied. "It's addressed to both of us."
My darlings,
I'm sure by this time you are beginning to doubt that I will be able to prevent my husband from coming after you. Please be assured, you have nothing to fear. Albert has always been the master of his house in the eyes of the public. In reality, the house, the business and all of the money that go with it are a product of my inheritance from my parents. I promised you I would not allow him to follow you and you can rest comfortably in the knowledge that he will not go against MY wishes in this matter.
Emily looked up in surprise. "I never knew this. I always assumed that Father had inherited the money from his parents."
I know I have been quite cryptic at times over the past few days. Now is the time for you to learn the truth.
Thirty-one years ago, I was very much in love with a wonderful young man. His name is not important to this story, suffice it to say he was not from one of the proud families of Boston. My parents were aghast at the idea of my marrying beneath my station and forbade me to see him ever again.
Being young, impulsive and, in my own way, more than a little rebellious, I refused to obey. The young man and I tried to run away only to have my father send his men after us and force us to return. He sent the young man away and I never saw him again.
My father was unaware of something that turned out to be very important. I had allowed myself to become pregnant, hoping that by doing so, my father would have to accept the man I loved. I grossly underestimated my father and his own determination.
Instead of accepting the man I loved, my parents arranged my marriage to Albert. Promises were made to Albert that, if he accepted my child and raised her as his own, he would be made an inheritor of their estate. He agreed to this and, broken-hearted that my love had been sent away, I allowed them to dictate my actions.
"Elizabeth," Emily whispered, awed at the interpretation of what she was reading.
Buck nodded in understanding. The conclusion was undeniable.
The marriage started out as one of convenience, not of love. Gradually, I grew to love your father in my own way and I do believe he loves me in his own way. My parents and his demanded an heir, someone to carry on the Cross name. I do believe Albert Junior has always believed that he was simply a namesake in his father's eyes. I can assure you, nothing could be further from the truth. Your father loves you almost as much as I.
Please know, dear Emily, I love your brothers and you as much as I could ever love anyone. You were the joy of my days and the product of my heart! I would not change one iota of my life if it meant that the three of you had never been born.
My biggest fear has always been that my daughters would be forced into the same situation as I. That is why I demanded that Elizabeth leave when she did. When she disappeared, I experienced great guilt-one of which I have already told you, Buck. I thank you from the bottom of my heart for lifting that guilt from me.
I want the two of you to live the life I was never able to live. One with the love only two such as you can enjoy and one with no regrets.
Perhaps one day we shall meet again. Until that day I will carry you both in my heart and in my prayers.
All my love,
Mother
Buck and Emily sat in silence, trying to absorb all they had just read. Buck instinctively put his arm around Emily, hugging her close. She leaned against him, feeling his love and returning it with her own. The train traveled on through the bright Pennsylvania countryside oblivious to the emotional situation it carried inside.
"What did Mother say to you?" she asked suddenly. "When she was hugging you? You seemed startled for a moment."
"I was," Buck said, chuckling softly. "She told me to make an honest woman of you."
"Oh my," Emily said, blushing furiously.
"Don't worry," he assured her. "There's no need to rush. We have all the time in the world."
The End...