A/N: The response to the Real Estate Challenge. This story is about the family who moves into house #5 on the Rock Creek map. The story of Sister Bridgid/ Eileen and Buck is told in "Bitter Medicine" also posted at the Ranch.

The Sweetwater Church Council was called to order, and Mr. Tompkins, as was his usual custom, took the lead in the discussions. "So looks like we're finally going to be getting a new preacher," he announced, holding up a letter from the mission's central council. "Says here he and his family will be arriving in two weeks."

There was a general hubbub among the little old ladies and bustling businessmen who made up the bulk of the church council. Tompkins raised his hand imperiously. "It seems that the local church chapter is responsible for providing a parsonage and half the salary for the new preacher. So, that means if we expect to keep this preacher, we'll need to come up with someplace for him and his family to live. We have a budget for all this from the collections and subscriptions we've taken up. But it ain't a lot," he remarked. He glanced at the letter. "This young fella has a wife and three young'uns, with another one on the way. Apparently his mind ain't so occupied with the hereafter that he can't figure some things out in the here 'n' now." Though the old ladies in the council blushed at such a statement about a minister, the businessmen on the council chuckled mischievously along with Tompkins.

"Point bein', we need to find someplace to put a parsonage, and pretty quick. And in the meantime, where are these folks goin' to stay?"

"There's that little building across the alley from the church, been vacant for a while now. Who owns that?" asked the banker.

"The one right next to the dry goods store? That belongs to me," piped up old Miss Cuthbert. "The dear folks can stay there as long as they need to. I wouldn't dream of taking rent from the minister, dear me!" she chortled inanely.

"Well then," Tompkins said, pleased. "That's a mighty generous offer, Miss Cuthbert. We can put the folks in there for the time bein'. It'll be a tight fit for a man and wife, and three young'uns, but it'll do until we can get something else put up for 'em."

"New minister's due in on the stage with his family today," remarked Rachel idly at breakfast, glancing up from a letter.

"Fascinatin', Rachel," muttered Jimmy. "I'll be sure to steer clear of the stage stop then."

"Now Jimmy, I know you don't hold much with religion, but you really shouldn't judge a man just b'cause he wears a minister's collar," Teaspoon interjected, also looking up from a letter. "Especially since this minister's a friend of yours truly."

"And mine," Rachel cut in. "So I plan on meeting him and his wife and family at the stage and inviting them here for dinner their first night in town."

"You'll likely have to fight off all the church ladies, Rachel, they'll all be maneuverin' for the first dinner invitation to get in good with the minister and his wife," Teaspoon cautioned. "Though if old friends get any pull, I expect Jake and his little lady and the sprout's'll stop by here first."

"Sounds like it'll be pretty crowded," Jimmy said. "I'm sure y'all won't miss one more for dinner. I'll eat in town."

"Suit yourself, Jimmy, but I think you'd like Reverend Matthews if you gave him half a chance. Y'all are more alike than you'd expect," Teaspoon said mildly.

"How is it that both of y'all know Reverend Matthews, Rachel?" Lou said curiously, looking back and forth at Rachel and Teaspoon.

Rachel glanced over at Teaspoon, and answered evasively. "Well, I go back a lot farther with Jacob than Teaspoon here. But then I didn't have the distinction of shooting him, like Teaspoon did."

"You shot a minister?" crowed Cody. "Sermon get too long or something?"

"He weren't a minister then," Teaspoon said wearily. "And I'll have you know, he and I got to be good friends after that. Seems he saw the error of his ways thanks to that slug I planted in his gullet." Smiling at them, he added, "So in a way I guess I might'a earned a couple extra points with the man upstairs, since I turned him from a life of gunslingin' and gamblin', around to preachin'."

"So he was a gunslinger? I guess not a great one if he got plugged, though," Jimmy smirked.

"That's a long story in itself," Teaspoon mused. "I got lucky . . . and the little lady he's married to had a hand in my comin' out on top in that gunfight, and in turnin' Jacob to the Word afterwards."

"Well, we'll have to hear some of that story tonight, but for now, all of y'all got chores that need doin'," Rachel admonished. As the riders rushed out the door, Teaspoon folded up the letter from his old friend Jake, and gazed into his coffee, remembering.

Coming around the corner of the saloon, he'd seen a tall, broad-shouldered young man dressed in an elaborate gambler's getup, a gun smoking in his hand. The gambler had just come out on top in a gunfight, and a slender red-headed woman in a plain gray dress with an apron over it was kneeling beside the body that lay in the street as a result, a river of blood pouring from his chest.

"Dang it, Matthews. I warned ya, I won't have no more of your kinda trouble in this town," Teaspoon shouted.

Matthews had turned, a slow grin on his handsome young face. "Sorry, Ranger. This fella was disrespectful to a lady, and that's one thing I don't hold with. It was a fair gunfight, y'all can ask anybody." Matthews replaced the gun in his holster, glancing uncertainly at the young woman, who was glaring furiously at him.

"That ain't the point, Matthews. I'm running a peaceable town here, and trouble seems to follow you wherever you go. I told you to get outta town just yesterday, and now here y'are with another dead body for me to clean up. I'm running you in."

Matthews' eyes flashed. "I don't think so, Ranger," he sneered back. "I'm not about to go willingly, at any rate," he added, pushing back his coat tails and facing him down.

"Mr. Jacob," the girl at his feet pleaded. "Just go with him, please, don't keep this going, I'm begging you," she said, her eyes filled with tears. She stood up and pulled at Matthews' arm. Teaspoon thought she looked familiar, but couldn't place her. She was small and slight, not even reaching the gambler's shoulder; and she had an ordinary, pale little face, but she had a thick, wavy mane of beautiful red-gold hair that he surely would have remembered had he seen it before.

Matthews had looked at her, amazed. "You know as well as me, this fella deserved what he got, Miss Eileen. I challenged him fair and square, and after he how treated you -"

The girl answered sharply, her Irish brogue thickening, "I never wanted anyone hurt because of me, you hear?"

Matthews burst out, indignantly, "After what this shopkeeper did to you, you take his side?"

"I'm not on any side, Mr. Jacob, but God's. And God says vengeance is his alone," she said, her face sorrowful.

Matthews shook off the girl's pleading hands. "I still don't intend to go to jail on account of this raping son of a -"

Teaspoon hesitated at the younger man's words. That changed matters a bit if it was true, but still, he hardened his eyes. The girl was right; it wasn't for Matthews to dole out his own brand of justice, no matter what Mr. Rollins had done.

Teaspoon and Matthews glared at each other a split second longer, before Jacob moved his hand toward his gun; and in response, Teaspoon pulled his own weapon and fired. In a flash of light and smoke, it was over, but as he fired, he realized that Matthews had taken his eyes away from him and turned them on the girl - and dropped his hand from his gun. Too late, Teaspoon realized, Matthews had changed his mind; in that instant the young man lay bleeding from his stomach in the girl's arms.

~ * ~ * ~ * ~

"So how's about you tell me what happened, Miss Eileen, is it?" Teaspoon asked the girl back at the Ranger station.

She'd looked up at him, her honest heart in her big, light blue eyes. "It's Miss Eileen now. It was Sister Bridgid up until a few months ago," she said softly.

"You were a nun?"

She nodded, twisting her handkerchief in her hands. "I was in the last month of my novitiate period." At his blank look, she explained, "I was sort of a nun-in-training, you could say. Like a deputy nun," she offered. He nodded in understanding.

"The orphanage where I was teaching came down with malaria. I was the only one who didn't come down with it, why I couldn't tell." She looked over toward where Jake was being worked on by the doctor.

"I needed medicine for the young ones, for my Sisters. Mr. Rollins had it, but he would take only one payment. I gave him what he wanted, Ranger. It wasn't rape, exactly, but it felt like it." Her head was bowed, but her voice wasn't wavering. "When my superiors found out, I was asked to leave the convent."

She looked over at Jake Matthews' cell again. "I gave up the veil and traveled here. Got a job a week or so ago at the hotel, and I met Mr. Jacob. He didn't take too much notice of me, but he was kind when I came to clean his rooms and the like. Called me his little friend, and always left me a nice tip. Mr. Rollins was staying at the hotel in the room next to Mr. Jacob. I was in his room cleaning when he came in, and tried to pick up where he left off. Mr. Jacob heard me scream and busted in, pulled him off me."

Teaspoon had already observed that Eileen's dress was torn, and pinned together, and her face was bruised on one side. That explained why. "So that's why he called Rollins out?"

She nodded. "I begged him not to, I wanted to let the law handle it, but Mr. Jacob was furious, there wasn't any reasoning with him. But it's true, Rollins did accept the challenge and it was a fair gunfight."

"That's what the other witnesses told me at the scene afterwards, too. Wish I'd figured that out before it came to this."

The doctor came out and wiped his hands. "Well, I don't know how, but he's alive. But it'll be touch and go for the next few weeks. I don't want him moved, Ranger. Can you keep him here? I can arrange for a nurse for him -"

"I'll nurse him," Eileen interrupted. "I owe him that much, even if I don't agree with how Mr. Jacob went about things."

"I'll write out my instructions, then," the doctor said, shrugging.

Over the next several weeks, Teaspoon had the rare experience of watching a man be reborn. Eileen sat faithfully by Jake's side for hours on end, tending the wounds in the gambler's body, but more, tending the man's lost and undeveloped soul. She read to him by the hour from the Bible as he lay weakly watching her face; then as he grew stronger, patiently answered his endless questions about her faith. Teaspoon listened from the corner, fascinated, as Jacob's soul was saved before his eyes.

But finally, Jacob's wounds were healed, and it was time for him to move on. Jacob moved slowly around his cell, picking up the few belongings Eileen had brought over from the hotel and placing them in a bag.

"Miss Eileen usually comes by around noon, don't she," Teaspoon noted, from where he sat at his desk, feet propped up comfortably. "It's gettin' close to that now. I reckon since she knows you're leavin' here today, she might not be by a'tall."

"Reckon so," Jacob agreed quietly. He came out of the unlocked cell and sat down in the chair opposite Teaspoon's silently for a moment.

Teaspoon felt a twinge of disappointment that his two young friends would be moving on. He'd enjoyed having the two young people around these past weeks. His Ranger's station had been a lonely excuse for a home, since his beloved wife, Susannah, had been cut down by a stray bullet from a gunfighter's revolver six months before. It had been because of that terrible loss that he had so little patience for Jacob's presence in his town in the first place, he realized. He knew he'd miss hearing the conversation between a reformed gunfighter and a fallen nun, now friends. This lonely station would be that much lonelier now. He glanced up as Jacob spoke again.

"Wanted to thank you, Teaspoon," he said.

"Well, it warn't nothing. Doc said you should convalesce here, so it seemed -"

"Not just for that. For - for shooting me."

Teaspoon gaped at the young man. "Pardon?"

"You saved me, Teaspoon. You and Eileen. I'm grateful to both of y'all. I was headed down a bad path, till you dropped me in it with that shot of yours," Jacob explained in his slow Southern drawl.

Teaspoon smiled. "Miss Eileen's a special lady. I expect she's been a better influence on ya than I have, but thanks. I hope you'll take some of what she learned you and keep it up once't yer on the outside."

"I intend to," Jacob mused. He looked down at the Bible Eileen had given him, flipping the pages idly. "I want to make her proud of me."

Teaspoon smiled again. "You intend to keep seein' her, Jake?"

Jacob shook his head, sadly.

Teaspoon clicked his tongue. "Well, I'm a little surprised. Thought somethin' more than nursing was goin' on between the two of y'all. Guess my instincts ain't what they used to be."

"Your instincts are fine, Teaspoon. I'm in love with her."

Teaspoon nodded. "So? What's the problem, then?"

Jacob shrugged. "Someone like her could never love somebody like me. With my past. I don't deserve her even if she could."

"Maybe you should give her a chance to decide that," Teaspoon said, kindly. "I think she might feel different." He'd seen the look in Eileen's eyes as she cared for Jacob, and as he had started to respond to her gentle spiritual guidance, and if he didn't miss his guess, she thought of the former gambler as more than just a lost soul to save.

A soft voice came from the doorway. "Yes, Jacob. Maybe you should let her decide."

The two had looked up from their deep conversation to see Eileen, smiling through the tears in her eyes.

"Eileen - Eileen, I …" Jacob stammered, before standing up shakily, still weak from his wound. Teaspoon had watched as the two rushed together and stood locked in an embrace in front of his desk, the tiny woman lost in the tall ex-gambler's arms. They were confessing their love for each other in a wild rush of words, promising themselves to each other forever in the next breath, and obviously forgetting his very existence. He cleared his throat delicately.

"Sorry, Teaspoon," Jacob chuckled, not taking his eyes from Eileen's. "Maybe there's one more thing you can do for us, if it ain't too much trouble." He turned and grinned. "Stand up for us at our wedding?"

Teaspoon looked over the letter, the latest of dozens he had received from Jacob in the seven years since that day. Jacob had gone to a Protestant seminary up North, become a minister and missionary, and had several children with Eileen since then. Now he was slated to take over the Rock Creek pulpit, which had been vacant since before the Express had moved there. Teaspoon placed the letter in his pocket and headed out, looking forward to seeing the two friends he'd brought together in a most unconventional way, when they came in on the stage later today.

Eileen Matthews looked out the window of the stagecoach with mixed emotions. The landscape out West reminded her just a bit of McGillycuddy's Reeks, the sandstone mountain range near her home town of Killarney in the southwest of Ireland. She stifled a little sigh at the thought of County Kerry. When she'd left for America with her religious order, it had been with no expectation of ever returning. She recalled the gathering with her whole extended family when she'd left for America; her "American wake," as they called it, was of course supposed to be a goodbye for all time; like all the hundreds of thousands of other Irish immigrants who had left Home in the last few decades, she had never expected to set eyes on it or her family again.

Still, now that she'd left the convent, and compounded her sin in her parents' eyes by marrying a Protestant - a minister, no less - she knew she was more than just gone forever from Ireland. She was as one who is dead to her parents. Though she wrote faithfully to her family back home, for years now all the letters had been returned pointedly and without a word in return.

Jacob glanced at his wife's expressive face, and pressed her arm gently. She looked up at him and smiled, a little sadly. As if it weren't bad enough that she was disowned by her poor family in Kerry; her husband had been disowned by his own rich plantation-owning family, years before she had even met him. He wasn't 'received' back home, something about wild oats he'd sown as a boy. His reformation and ministry did nothing to redeem him in their eyes, since it had gone hand in hand with their marriage. Marrying a poor Irish immigrant had destroyed any chance of Jacob's getting back in his father's good graces. Jacob claimed that he didn't care, and that he had no interest in going back to a life of ease at the expense of the slaves who worked his family's plantation, but Eileen felt badly that she had severed whatever link Jacob might have had with his family. It made her all the more determined to be the best wife and mother she could.

The two of us and our babies are all the family either of us will ever have, now. That and whatever congregation we get assigned to by the mission. Looking sideways at her husband's handsome, kind-eyed face as he held Mary on his lap, she smiled in spite of her temporary gloom. It's more than enough, she thought affectionately, snuggling against his arm.

Jacob surreptitiously kissed his wife on the top of her head as she leaned against him and gazed out the window. He was looking forward to this new challenge, heading up his own congregation after being an assistant pastor for the last few years in Boston. And he had been surprised to find out that he already knew two of his new congregants, Teaspoon Hunter and Rachel Dunne. He was unreservedly pleased that his and Eileen's old friend Teaspoon would be in Rock Creek, but he was a little more dubious about his second acquaintance in the town.

A Protestant, Jacob had no belief in saints as his Catholic wife did. But the love-smitten husband believed his wife came closer than anyone he knew to deserving the name of Saint. He sincerely believed Eileen understood and accepted that he had a past, one that included a lot of sin and a lot of women before he'd seen the light and started following the Word. At the same time, he knew even a saint had her limits, and he never wanted to hurt her, or test her love for him. As a result, he worried about how Eileen would feel coming face to face with his first wife, Rachel, rather than dealing with her existence in the abstract. Truth to tell, he was worried about how he might feel as well. He hadn't seen her since they were fifteen year old newlyweds, and he prayed earnestly that none of that old flame that had burned so fiercely in their hearts when they were little more than children, would burst forth when they laid eyes on each other again as adults.

"I think we're there," exclaimed Jakey, their six-year-old eldest son. He hurriedly poked his sister, three-year-old Mary, who was dozing in her father's arms. The pair eagerly leaned over to look out the small coach window. "

Careful, you two," called Eileen anxiously to her two red-haired children, while checking on sleeping one-year old Patrick in a basket at her feet.

"It's Rock Creek! We're home!" shouted Jakey, reading the sign as they rolled past it. "

So we are," Eileen, laughed nervously, turning her face up to her husband for a reassuring kiss.

As the stagecoach rolled to a stop, Jacob jumped out and lifted his children down to the walkway, before helping his pregnant wife down.

"Jacob!" a sultry feminine voice called. Eileen and Jacob turned to see Rachel and Teaspoon hurrying toward them. "

Jake Matthews, you old dog," Teaspoon laughed, shaking Jacob's hand vigorously. "It's damn - er - very good to see ya both again," he amended, tipping his hat to Eileen. "Mrs. Matthews," he smiled, his face softening at the sight of the sweet-faced young woman.

"It's good to see you again too, Teaspoon," she answered, her eyes nervously traveling to Rachel. "And . . . and you must be Rachel," she said, her heart sinking a little.

She looked at the ostentatiously beautiful woman who smiled at her and her husband broadly. Rachel was built like a goddess, and her clothes left little to the imagination. Eileen clutched at her swollen belly self-consciously, and was painfully aware that this blooming beauty left her pale and insignificant by comparison.

Though Eileen's distress flashed in her eyes for only a second, Jacob saw it, and placed a hand protectively on the small of her back.

"Yes, Mrs. Matthews. It's a pleasure to meet you," Rachel said gently. She turned her sapphire eyes to Jacob and her heart took a flip, at the sight of her very first love and first husband, fifteen years later. "And it's a pleasure to see you again, Jacob."

She moved forward and kissed Jacob's cheek, saying lightly, "I hope y'all will come back to the station with me and Teaspoon and let me welcome y'all to Rock Creek."

"Dinner looks mighty fine, Rachel," Teaspoon commented, as the Matthews family crowded around the table with Lou, Kid, Noah and Cody. Buck and Ike were on runs and true to his word, Jimmy had found other arrangements for his dinner.

"Thanks, Teaspoon," Rachel said, smiling and leaning low over the table between Jacob and Eileen to set down a platter, resting her hand on Jacob's shoulder a moment. Eileen turned a little paler, as Rachel's assets were on full display if only briefly and seemingly unintentionally. But it was hard to believe the woman had no idea of the view she was giving the men at the table - including Eileen's husband.

Rachel sat down next to Jacob, sparkling and smiling brilliantly. "Jacob, I can't believe it's really true you've been assigned to the church here in Rock Creek. And I can't believe how long it's been, until I look at these beautiful children of yours."

"Thank you, Mrs. Dunne," cut in Eileen, leaning around her husband to meet the other woman's gaze head-on. She might not be able to compete with Rachel as far as looks, but she had no intention of being run roughshod over, she thought firmly.

Rachel flicked a glance over at Eileen, and turned back to Jacob. "I made your favorite, if I recall correctly, Jacob. Creole style stew, remember?" she said softly.

Lou looked sharply at Rachel, and Noah, Kid and Cody glanced around uneasily as well, at Rachel's odd manner with the married preacher.

"Well, that sounds lovely, Mrs. Dunne," Eileen said. "Is there anything I can do to help?"

"Thank you, no, Mrs. Matthews," Rachel said a little coldly, passing the rolls.

Confused, Teaspoon cleared his throat. "How y'all settlin' in at the parsonage?"

"Everything's been just fine so far, Teaspoon," Jacob said, nervously, sandwiched between Rachel and Eileen. Teaspoon smothered a smile; he knew the history between Rachel and Jacob; and he didn't envy the young man. He'd been married six times himself and shuddered at the thought of any of them coming face to face in such a way.

For her part, Rachel glanced sideways at Jacob, her mind wandering unwillingly back nearly fifteen years.

The raft was drifting peacefully down the Ol' Miss, and the late afternoon sky overhead was a cloudless blue. Rachel's hand trailed in the water off one side. Turning over, she looked intently at Jake. His hat was pulled down low over his eyes, and he was snoring away, his fishing line tied to the raft.

He started awake, and pushing his hat back, rubbed his eyes, looking at her. "Y'all best get your hat back on, Rachel. You're gonna be redder'n a crawdaddy," he murmured lazily, reaching for her hat and placing it on her head. She lay passively curled up on one arm, gazing into his eyes as he tied the wide ribbon under her chin.

She tipped her head up and squinted into the distance. "River's quiet this afternoon," she remarked idly.

Jake nodded, still looking transfixed at her face.

"What is it?" she said softly, raising a hand to trace along his jaw with her finger.

"Just wishin' we could stay fifteen forever, floatin' down this river together, Rachel."

"Who's sayin' we can't?" she said, smiling.

"When winter gets here, you will," he teased.

"Maybe. I'll worry about winter when winter gets here."

Jake laughed. "Okay, little grasshopper."

She smiled drowsily at him, and he leaned over and kissed her neck, then her lips, then drew her close by her slim waist.

As the raft rocked and swayed under them, they lost track of their surroundings until their little home crashed to a halt. Sitting up, they looked around dizzily, realizing with a worried start that they had crashed into a fancy pontoon.

A man appeared at the edge of the pontoon, shouting, "What's the meanin' of this?"

The man wore an expensive black silk coat, a stickpin with a large gem on the end of it on the lapel. He had on a white ruffled shirt and a purple brocade vest.

A card sharp, Rachel thought, worried. Most gamblin' men were dangerous to cross, and she nervously drew closer to Jake.

The man paused, looking at the ragged pair with interest. As his eyes lingered on her, Jake had stood up and called out, "Sorry, sir. Don't look like there's any damage, though."

The gambler looked over the edge. "Sure 'nuff, not," he said. "Name's J.J. Bryant," he called casually. "Where y'all headed?"

"No place partic'lar, sir."

The man paused. "How's about you tie on that raft and come on up for a spell," he called down.

Rachel looked questioningly at Jake, who seemed impressed by the man's flash and style.

"What do you say, Rachel?" Jake whispered from the side of his mouth.

She shrugged. "Couldn't hurt, I suppose," she whispered back.

Rachel resentfully glanced over at the pale younger woman who had taken her place as Jacob's wife. I gave Jacob up so he'd go back to New Orleans and rejoin high society, have an easy life. Seems I might as well have stayed with him, she thought unreasonably. Look at him now, poor, a minister, with all these children. Her heart constricted a little, before she shook off the thought. It's been over between us for fifteen years. I married somebody else in the meantime too, she reminded herself. Her own feelings confused her; she hadn't expected to feel attraction for Jacob anymore or jealousy toward his new wife. She shook her head again to clear the unbidden, old emotions that were welling up at seeing him in person again, and jumped up to bring dessert.

Buck glanced at the rented wagon outside the bunkhouse. He could hear unfamiliar voices through the open window; sounded like a family with young children had come to dinner. He headed to the pump wearily, yanking a towel down off the clothesline as he went. He figured he was late for getting dinner as it was, but Rachel was strict about them cleaning up before dinner, no matter how tired and starving they might happen to be, even when only the other riders were at table.

He was rubbing his face behind the towel when he heard a voice that startled him back into another place and time.

"All right, Macushla, let's get you cleaned up, shall we? Ye've got more puddin' on the outside of this clean shirt than inside ye, I'd wager."

The term of endearment, the Irish brogue, the soft but strong voice, all brought back memories of the only person besides Ike who had befriended him at the orphanage. Buck stared at the young woman leading a little boy toward the pump.

"Sister Bridgid?" he blurted.

She stopped and looked up at him quizzically a moment, before her face lit up. "Faith, it - it is," she burst out, tears forming as she rushed forward to embrace him. "Running Buck," she whispered in his arms.

She leaned back and took his face in her hands. "Well, of all the nerve! You've gone and grown up on me, Buck. I have to look up to you now," she said, shaking her head. "How've you been, Macushla? And Ike, have ye heard anything of him lately?"

Buck smiled, clasping her little hands and gazing down into her eyes. It had been a long time . . . she was eighteen and he was eleven the last he'd seen her, riding away from the orphanage with her back as straight and proud as always, despite her total, annihilating disgrace in the small world that they lived in back then. Now that he was eighteen and she twenty-five, the gulf between their ages seemed less, somehow, but he'd always see her has his beloved teacher.

"I've been well, Sister. Ike and I are still best friends, and both working here for the Express for a while now."

"It's Mrs. Matthews now, not Sister, but you can call me Eileen. We're old friends after all," she said gently. She beckoned her pudding-covered son over. "This is my eldest, Jakey Matthews. Jakey, I would like you to meet Running Buck," she introduced. Buck smiled, noting that she left off the "Cross", knowing that his true name was only Running Buck.

"Nice to meet you, Jakey," he said, shaking the fearless looking little redhead's hand.

"You too, Mr. Buck," he piped.

"And one on the way?" Buck ventured.

She nodded. "I've two more in the bunkhouse as well."

"So you're happy, then," Buck said, gladly. "I . . . I always worried about what happened to you after -"

She looked down, her face shadowed a little. Her love for her lost students had never dimmed, but the memories of that time were ugly and painful. "I wrote you, but I imagine the Sisters thought it best if you didn't stay in contact with me," she said. "They all came back unopened."

"I figured that was it," he said, bitterly.

She looked up at his tone. "Don't blame them, Buck. They . . . they did what they thought was best for your soul, for mine too I suppose. Sometimes they could seem harsh, I know, but their intentions were good."

He shook his head slightly, but dropped it. It was harder for him to forgive; the Sisters' strict and incomprehensible rules, their harsh punishments, were one thing. He could respect their almost warrior-like code in some ways, he supposed, but at the same time, it had been a hard life at the orphanage since he steadfastly refused to bend his beliefs to theirs. And taking away Sister Bridgid's gentle comradeship had been the hardest blow they had dealt him.

She was scrubbing Jakey under the pump, and glanced at the towel in his hands. "May I borrow that if you're done, Buck?" He handed it to her and she wiped her boy's face and hands with it. Many white women would have rather left their child dripping than use a towel after him, Buck knew; but Eileen's act didn't surprise him. He knew from years ago that Eileen was different from most other people.

"So are you in town long?"

Eileen smiled. "Yes, and as soon as we're settled, I'll insist on you and Ike coming out to see me for dinner, Buck. I hope my children could get to know you," she said. "You and Ike were always very special to me."

He smiled, pleased. "Tell you what, Jakey, maybe we could even teach you some riding. Would you like that?" he asked the boy. "If your mother says it's okay," he said hastily, hoping he hadn't spoken out of turn.

"It'd be more than okay," she said, enthusiastically. "I can't tell you how happy I am to see you again, Buck. You look like you're doing wonderfully. But I've kept you standing out here long enough, you must be starving. Mrs. Dunne made a lovely dinner and there was plenty left, let's head back in, shall we?"

He agreed, holding out an arm to escort her in. He glanced at her a moment, seeing she'd changed somewhat in the last seven years. Not just her fuller, pregnant figure, but something in her face. Oh, he knew by the white man's standards she might be considered ordinary looking; but motherhood and happiness had only deepened the inner beauty and serenity he'd always seen reflected in her light blue eyes. He'd always loved her kind eyes and gentle smile, and he smiled back now, pleased beyond words that his 'second mother' was in his life again.

After dinner, it was time to make sure the horses were bedded down for the night; as they worked, the riders talked about the new minister and his family.

"So that's a real coincidence, you knowing Mrs. Matthews from all those years back, ain't it, Buck?" Cody asked. "So she was a nun?"

"I think she was just a novice," Buck said evasively. He had no intentions of giving away the reason Eileen had left the convent to Cody or anyone else. He'd never even told Ike the whole story, out of loyalty to Eileen.

"Ah, so she changed her mind about . . . everythin', looks like."

Buck shrugged, continuing to blanket his horse.

"Anybody besides me think Rachel was actin' a mite odd tonight with Brother Jacob?" Noah asked.

Buck looked up at Noah's suggestive tone. "What do you mean?"

"Well, looks to me like they must've had quite a past. She was flirting with him pretty open-like," Cody said, laughing.

Lou interrupted. "Now let's not overstate it, y'all. Rachel . . . well, Rachel don't always realize the way she comes off. I doubt she was really flirting with a married minister." Lou wrapped the tail bandage around Lightning's black tail and thought about her friend's behavior at dinner. Rachel really don't seem to know what folks think of her and the way she dresses, Lou thought worriedly. Lou figured Rachel knew she had an effect on men, and probably enjoyed it. But hopefully Rachel didn't intend to flaunt herself in front of Brother Jacob, especially with his very nice young wife right next to him. Maybe it's time to have a little heart to heart with Rachel, before she starts any gossip without intendin' to. Folks have nothin' better to do than gossip like a lot of cacklin' hens, even young men like Noah and Cody, she thought, amused.

Buck looked worried. "You say Rachel was making a play for Eileen's husband?"

Lou was getting irritable now. "Buck, this is Rachel we're talkin' about. You know how she is, but it don't mean she's lookin' to bust up anybody's marriage. Especially when there's children involved." Lou shut the door to Lightning's stall firmly. "Now if you bunch of old biddies are done with your little gossip party, I'll be headin' to bed," she snapped, stalking to the door.

Kid grinned as he slapped Katy on the back a final time and shut her stall door. "Sounds like somebody's protestin' a little hard, don't you think?" he said as the door slammed behind his extremely annoyed girlfriend.

"You don't think Rachel is going to do anything that would hurt Eileen, do you?" Buck asked again. He cared for both women and would hate to see any more trouble develop for Eileen.

The other three looked guilty. "No, I don't think Rachel would ever do nothin' like that," Noah said. "Lou's right."

Cody nodded. "Let's finish up out here and forget the whole thing. Musta been all our imaginations workin' overtime. Rachel tends to have that effect on us," he joked.

~ * ~ * ~

Teaspoon came in to the bunkhouse after the visitors left and the boys were out in the barn seeing to the evening chores. He stood in the doorway a moment watching Rachel clear the dishes, then remarked, "Mind tellin' me what that was all about, Rachel?"

"What all what was about?"

He came closer and leaned against the table next to Rachel, pulling on her sleeve. "This is me, Rachel. You drew the line at sittin' in his lap, but otherwise you couldn'ta been much more obvious."

"I don't know what you're talkin' about, Teaspoon."

He caught her eye. "You never mentioned still havin' feelings for Jake 'fore he showed up here today, Rachel. Did you know how you was feelin' before you seen him again?"

Giving up, Rachel sat down dully. "No. I didn't know until I saw him again." Twisting the dishcloth in her hands, she looked up, despairingly. "Was I that obvious?"

Teaspoon grimaced a little.

"Lord. What his wife must think of me . . ."

"I'm more concerned 'bout what you think'a yerself. You think you'll be able to put these . . . feelin's . . . in the past?" he asked, worried.

"I'll have to, won't I? He's married. She may be a little on the mousy side . . ." Rachel subsided at Teaspoon's disapproving look. "But she makes him happy. Anyone can see that."

Teaspoon nodded, but still watched his friend uneasily as she turned away to finish cleaning up from dinner.

~ * ~

Ike and Buck tapped on the door of the temporary parsonage, across from the church. Little Mary Matthews pushed the curtain aside next to the door and her eyes grew wide. Pulling open the door, she smiled up at them.

"Hello, Running Buck. You must be Ike," the small moppet said brightly. "Mama's feeding the baby, but she said to come in an' wait in the parlor."

She ushered them in importantly to a rather cramped room on the ground floor. Though the room was small, and sparsely furnished, Eileen had contrived to make it welcoming with glass jars of assorted wildflowers scattered all along the windowsills and around the room. Hand-knitted white lace curtains lined the windows, but let in the late afternoon light.

"My daddy is out with Jakey, fishin', but he'll be back in time for dinner. It's my job to set the table," Mary babbled.

The boys glanced at each other. "Anything we can do to help, Mary?" Buck asked, amused.

"No, you make yourselves at home," she said airily.

"How do you like your new home?" Buck asked, sitting in one of the two chairs on either side of the westward facing window. Ike found his way to the other.

"It's a little crowded," allowed the child. "This is daddy's office, the parlor, and where we eat dinner all in one. That's his sermon he's workin' on for next Sunday," she volunteered, gesturing with a handful of silverware toward a small writing desk in the corner with a Bible and some sheets of paper set on it neatly. Placing the knives and forks by the plates, she looked worriedly at them. "I didn't see you two at services this week," she said. "Were you sick?"

Buck cleared his throat. "Well, Mary, uh - - well, we - - uh . . ."

Eileen came in just as Buck was trying to answer. "Mary, that'll do, darling."

"But Mama, you always say we have to go to church. Why don't they have to?"

Eileen sighed. "Not everyone worships the same way, Mary. Buck and Ike are welcome to your father's services, but it's their choice if they want to come or not. And when you're grown up, it'll be your choice as well."

Mary nodded uncertainly.

Eileen turned to Ike and Buck. *It's good to see you again, Ike.* She smiled, adding, *I got out the old Indian sign book I had in the orphanage and went over it so I would be ready to talk again.*

Ike smiled eagerly and unleashed a stream of sign. Eileen waved her hands, laughing. "Slow down, Ike! I've brushed up but that fast I'm not!"

The three friends sat and reminisced about the orphanage days for nearly half an hour before Eileen looked worriedly at the clock. "It'll be getting dark soon," she said. "Jacob's late getting back from fishing."

Jacob glanced over at Jakey, smiling. His little boy had begged to go fishing after school, and they'd had a wonderful afternoon together, but the little boy was now stretched out on the bank asleep. It was getting late, and he knew he'd best get home pretty soon, but something made him linger, walking along the trees at the edge idly as the sun set over the horizon.

He jerked suddenly at the sound of a splash, and quickly turned back to his son. But little Jakey was sound asleep, so who -

Jacob stood as if frozen; Rachel was now standing up in the moonlit water, shaking her head and sending a spray of droplets into the air. She had a cake of soap in her hands, and was about to bathe herself, but when he hastily tried to make his way around the pond toward Jakey and leave unobserved, she turned suddenly and saw him.

She stood staring back, her arms crossed over her chest, and the memories came back in a flood for him. They'd run off and eloped when they were barely fifteen, making their getaway on an old river raft. In the half-light, with her hair plastered to her head in wet ringlets, the water dripping down in rivulets over her naked body, she looked just like she had the dozens of moonlit nights they'd skinny-dipped that magical summer. He swallowed hard and turned away without a word, but she called to him.

"Jacob, don't go." Circling his way toward his sleeping son, he could hear her splashing toward him, and he turned slightly to fend her off.

"Rachel, please," he begged quietly, looking away from her. "I have to go."

"I'm getting covered, just wait a minute. I need to talk to you."

She was somehow by his side, wrapped in a towel, her face pleading.

"Rachel, I can't talk to you now. I need to get my son, and take him home."

"Why can't you talk to me, Jacob?" she murmured softly, a slender hand on his arm. "There shouldn't be any reason we can't talk, is there?"

He felt anger rising now, and turned furiously to her. "Is this some kind of sick game to you? Is it?" he hurled in her face. "What is it you want from me?"

Rachel stepped back, biting her lip. "I don't know," she admitted. Her face was cast down. "I didn't know there was anything I wanted from you, till I saw you again. Brought back a lot of things I never got past back then, I guess," she stammered, not sure what exactly she was feeling or saying.

"Things you never got past? That's funny. It was you who ran off, after all. Seemed like you got past what we had just fine."

At her stricken face, he bit back his sudden anger. "Rachel, I'm . . . I'm sorry. I don't mean to sound so harsh. I know you were just a young girl, and . . . and if you didn't love me anymore, then I reckon you-"

"Didn't love you anymore?" she burst out. "I loved you enough to let you go, for your own sake!"

They stood staring at each other dumbstruck for a moment.

"We never talked about it. Not in all these years," he said slowly. "I figured it was in the past, best left there. Wanted to forgive you, thought we could just be friends and get past what happened better without digging it all up again."

She nodded silently, plucking at his sleeve.

"Tell me what happened, Rachel."

"Your daddy came to see me on the riverboat after the big faro tournament. You were passed out drunk after we . . . celebrated our victory. He told me the truth, that he was a rich plantation owner, not a poor farmer like you told me when we met."

Jacob shut his eyes a moment, knowing what was coming. Colonel Matthews had spent a lifetime demanding obedience and getting it - from his unit back in the Mexican war; from his hundreds of slaves; from most of the county. Even from his wife and children. He had a way of overpowering most people with the force of his personality, with his way of tolerating no dissent from his narrow views.

"Your daddy said that you were just sowing your wild oats with me, and that you'd be better off coming home, going to Europe to school like all the other young N'Orleans gentlemen. Marrying someone in your own class, someday. He said if I cared about you, I'd do what was best for you. Jacob, I looked at you, drunk in that room, and I knew I was no good for you."

"So you let him drive you away," Jacob said sadly.

Rachel nodded. "He said you'd end up in jail, or dead, shot at some card table, and I knew the way you were headed, he was right. I was a bad influence."

Jacob smiled a little. "I got worse after you left," he said. "A lot worse. Once you left me, I headed West, not back home, and . . . well, I got pretty disreputable there for a while until I was saved. And to tell the truth, becoming a minister wasn't much of an improvement as far as the Colonel was concerned. Not what he had in mind for his only son. I was supposed to go home and work the slaves, keep the plantation running, not run around Boston or Wyoming Territory preaching." He shook his head bitterly. "The Colonel's plan didn't work this time, I guess."

"Guess not," Rachel said wearily.

He knew he had no right to ask, with a beloved wife and family at home, but the question had eaten at him for fifteen years, and it came from him as if of its own accord. "So you - - you did love me once?"

Her sapphire eyes shone up at him, through shimmering tears. "More than anything, Jake. Never more than when I walked away. My heart got broke too, you know."

They instinctively took a step toward each other, just one step, before they both stopped themselves. "That's all past now," he managed. "But you're . . . you're all right now, you moved on, found someone else."

"Lost him, too," she said brokenly. "Guess I don't deserve love. That God of yours keeps taking it away from me soon as I get it."

"Rachel," he admonished. "You'll find it again, if it's God's plan for -"

A cloud passed over her face, and she cut him off. "Never mind. I know what we had is long over, Jacob. I just hope we can both remember it fondly now that we both know the truth 'bout why it ended." She looked up hopefully at him as he nodded, and she went to his outstretched arms. They clung together just for a moment, remembering and letting go of a long-ago young love that wasn't meant to be; when a figure emerged suddenly from the underbrush.

Jimmy paused a moment, his keen eyes taking in the scene quickly. Tipping his hat formally, he muttered, "Sorry, Rachel, Reverend. Didn't realize the pond was so crowded." Turning to Rachel, he added, as a statement, not a question, "Rachel, looks like you're finished here. How about I walk you home, it's after dark."

Rachel caught up her clothes and rushed up the bank. Reaching Jimmy, she whispered desperately, "Jimmy, it wasn't what it looked like. Please believe me."

"It's none of my business, Rachel," he said gruffly. "You're going on home with me, that's all, understand?" He took Rachel by the arm and nodded to the minister, who had picked up his sleeping son and stood silently watching them leave.

"But I'm tellin' you, nothing happened. We were talking about old times, that's all. We used to be . . . we used to be married, a long time ago."

Now that they were out of range of the minister's sight, Jimmy turned his back as Rachel pulled on her clothes; waiting, he asked over his shoulder, "You all right?"

She was taken aback. "Of course, why wouldn't I be? It was over between me and him fifteen years ago."

Jimmy nodded abruptly. "Right."

"Jimmy, what do I have to do to convince you nothing happened, that it's over between him and me?"

Jimmy shook his head, still turned away waiting for her to finish dressing. "Is it me you want to convince, or yourself, Rachel?"

Rachel's eyes dropped and her hands stilled a minute, before she fastened her last button and walked past Jimmy toward the house without another word.

~ * ~

Shaken, Jacob walked up the steps to his new home. He saw that there were two strange horses outside at the hitching post, and remembered with a sinking heart that Eileen had mentioned inviting company to dinner.

"What's the matter, Daddy?" Jakey asked, his little face creased with worry.

Jacob shook his head and pasted a smile on, one that satisfied the little boy. "Nothing, Jakey. Just have some grown up problems on my mind, but nothing for you to worry about, okay?"

Jakey nodded happily. "I had fun today, Daddy."

Jacob hugged his son. "I'm glad, son. Let's get in, we're late for dinner and your mother is probably worried."

The boy ran ahead shouting for his mother, and Jacob paused in the doorway. He glanced in the pier glass Eileen had installed by the door, summoning up his poker-face from the old days. But somehow it was harder than he remembered to keep his face from giving him away. Maybe because he was so out of practice, giving up the cards and the gun so long ago. Maybe because he'd never kept anything from Eileen before. Maybe because he had never hurt her before, and the truth he'd learned tonight would only cause her pain.

The truth was that he'd felt something when he'd seen Rachel tonight, when he'd held her. He wasn't sure what it was . . . other than aching loss and regret for what might have been, if his father had not interfered and come between him and Rachel. He loved Eileen as much as ever and nothing ever would happen with Rachel. He would never allow it to. But just the same, his heart felt like it was torn open, old wounds gaping and old feelings bleeding from them. He leaned against the wall, trying to pray, trying to compose himself, willing himself to arrange his face in something like a normal expression before facing his wife and her friends.

He was startled out of his thoughts by a tap on the door. Opening it, he saw the young man from the pond, staring grimly at him on the steps.

"You got something to say to me?" Jacob asked abruptly.

"Stay away from Rachel Dunne."

Jacob's face twitched a little. Two flaws he'd found hardest to fight in himself were his temper and his pride. Time was he would have never withstood a challenge from another man like the one in this young man's eyes, and his nerves were already on edge as it was.

Misunderstanding Jacob's silence, Jimmy added, "I don't often interfere in other folks' business, Reverend. But Rachel's lonely and she's a good-hearted woman who's been through enough. I'm lettin' you know she's got a family that won't take kindly to it if you intend on playin' some kinda games with her feelings. So like I said, stay away from Rachel Dunne."

Jacob narrowed his eyes. "How about you stay out of business that ain't yours and you got no way of understanding?"

Recognizing the angry, volatile glint in Jacob's eyes, Jimmy's hand went instinctively toward his gun a moment.

"Ain't nothin' to understand, Reverend," he pointed out evenly. "You're married, with a family. Ain't nothing but hurt in store for Rachel with you."

Defeated, Jacob nodded. "I know that already . . ?" he paused questioningly.

"Name's Jimmy Hickok. One of the riders she works with."

"I don't owe you an explanation, Hickok; but Rachel and I already both know everything you're saying. We were just putting some old feelings to rest when you walked in on us, that's all. Fella your age may not know how it is, but feelings can be complicated sometimes."

Jimmy stared back. "I know more about it than you might think," he said, an image of the face of the girl both he and his friend loved rising up in his mind. "That's how come I know, there's some feelings best not acted on. I'm glad you understand that, Reverend."

"I do," Jacob said. "And there's nothing for you to worry about. If you'll excuse me, I'd best be getting back to my family."

"I'd say so, Reverend." Jimmy turned, stalking off as Jacob stood silently watching him leave.

The next morning, Rachel looked up from her needlework at the sound of a tap at her door. Opening it, she stood numbly a minute, then spoke. "Come in, Mrs. Matthews."

"Thank you, Mrs. Dunne."

Rachel gestured toward a seat in the parlor. Eileen sat down, a little heavily.

"May I get you anything to drink, Mrs. Matthews? You look - "

"Never mind how I look," Eileen said sharply, but a film of sweat was breaking out over her upper lip. "I didn't come here for high tea, I came here for a woman-to-woman talk."

Rachel nodded. "Let's have it, then. You came here to say something, then go ahead."

"Jacob told me what happened at the pond."

"He did?" Rachel said, surprised.

"Of course. We don't keep secrets from one another."

"Does he know you came here?" Rachel threw back in Eileen's face.

There was a brief silence. "No, he doesn't," Eileen admitted, finally. "And . . . and I suppose I'm a fool for doing it. He said that - - that since you two never talked about why things didn't work out between you, there were things that needed saying to put it to rest." She looked up at Rachel. "It isn't that I don't believe him. I just needed to see you, to see for myself if you felt the same, that I needn't worry about . . ." She started up in her chair, and her face went taut.

"Mrs. Matthews?" Rachel said anxiously.

"It started on the walk over here," Eileen whispered, after a moment. "I need to get home."

But again, when she tried to stand, she cried out in real pain.

"Mrs. Matthews, don't try to get up again." Rachel ran to the door and called to Buck, who was chopping wood on the side of the house. "Buck, come here, please!" she shouted.

Buck came up on the porch and Rachel jerked her head toward the parlor. "I need help getting Mrs. Matthews upstairs. I think she's in labor."

Buck nodded and rushed behind Rachel to Eileen's side. The preacher's wife was bent over with pain, clutching the arm of the settee. "Sister?" Buck whispered, forgetting she was now known by another name. "Hold on to me," he said, slipping an arm around her back and placing her arm over his shoulders.

her house," she gasped, irrationally.

Buck looked down at the floor. "Your water just broke, Sister, I think it's this house or the street -"

"I wouldn't be the first Irishwoman to birth a child in the road," she groaned. "I want to go home!"

Looking at Rachel over Eileen's head, Buck said quietly, "We'd better get her home. If I know her, she'll hold that baby in till doomsday if she takes a mind to."

"Thank you, Buck," Eileen panted.

"We'll take you to the doctor," Buck said gently. "I expect you've got some time to go, anyway."

"I don't want her to come," Eileen insisted, her face twisting in pain again. "I don't want her near Jacob."

"Sister, I need her to come with me. Ike will go for the doctor and your husband."

The pain was so intense now that Eileen couldn't protest.

Walking between Rachel and Buck, Eileen slowly made it back to her house, but her knees buckled beneath her as they came inside.

Carrying her between them toward the settee, Buck and Rachel laid her down. "Where's the doctor?" Rachel fretted. "I think she's close - I'd best take a look."

Eileen shook her head furiously. "No you won't."

"Then it has to be Buck," Rachel said, standing up and backing away, irritated.

Buck desperately clutched at Rachel's skirt as she passed, but she looked back at him. "She's beside herself, Buck, and you're gonna have to take a look, that's all."

He looked apologetically at Eileen.

"Jesus, Mary and Joseph," Eileen screamed. "Help me, don't just stand there like an omadhaun!"

"I don't know what to do, Sister," he screamed back. "I've helped birth calves and foals before, but -"

"How different can it be? For Christ's sake do something, Buck, please!"

She went white suddenly and sat up, clutching the settee's sides determinedly. She bore down and pushed with all her might.

"Eileen, maybe you should stop that and wait, you can't have the baby without the doctor bein' here," Buck said frantically.

Eileen let out her breath in a gasp and rested, rolling her head to the side and stroking Buck's hair gently. "And didn't your mother birth you that way, my darlin'? And look how well you turned out."

He smiled at her, grateful that with the passing of the pain she was returning somewhat to her gentle self. But then another contraction swept over her and she yanked unthinkingly on his hair with a scream.

Buck detached her hands and held them, staring into her eyes. She focused on her friend and nodded, bearing down again; he held her while she rested through another six pushes, until the baby slipped from her and Rachel held him up, just as Jacob came bursting into the house, carrying his three older children haphazardly. Ike and the doctor were close behind.

Jacob set down his children gently, and rushed to sweep Eileen into his arms.

Rachel watched the exhausted woman who had married her own first love and given him this child and three others. Rachel smiled kindly and laid the baby in her arms. "He's a fine boy," she whispered, brushing back the damp hair around Eileen's eyes. Jacob nodded vaguely, his eyes fastened on his wife.

Eileen's eyes met Rachel's, searching, and Rachel nodded to her. "You don't have anything to worry about, Mrs. Matthews," she assured her as the doctor approached.

"Everybody but mother and father and baby, out of the way, please," he ordered.

"I don't know how to thank you both for taking care of her," Jacob said, his voice a little unsteady. "If she had been by herself, if anything had happened," he broke off, holding his half-sleeping wife to him tightly, thanking God for keeping her and their little boy safe.

"I know, Jacob," Rachel said softly, her eyes meeting his. He nodded, and reached out to press her hand. They clasped hands a moment, both understanding that whatever they had together had changed to a special friendship, but nothing more. But Buck gave them an odd look. He stayed silent until they left the parsonage building.

"Teaspoon will be so pleased to hear the new baby's name. Hunter Matthews, it's a fine name, don't you think?" Rachel asked, reflecting how appropriate it was to name the new little boy after a man like Teaspoon, who had been so instrumental in bringing his parents together. But Buck brushed that matter aside for the present.

"Rachel, what was all that Eileen was talking about on the way here, about keeping you away from Brother Jacob?" Buck asked.

Rachel shook her head. "Just a woman in labor, Buck. They don't always make a lot of sense, don't worry over it."

Images of the past swept over her again, when she heard the baby cry through an upstairs window. That might have been her child, if she had been stronger and stood up to the Colonel. But then . . . then she never would have known and loved Henry. Much as she had loved Jacob, that love was of a girl for a boy, and neither of those children they used to be really existed anymore.

Rachel smiled to herself. The past was the past, perfect and shimmering in her memory, where it belonged and where she could treasure it now for what it was, letting go of her regrets. She walked off toward her home and family, her future.

THE END.

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