The next morning Buck was up early. After checking on Amy, and finding her still asleep, he headed to the barn to start caring for the stock. He had just finished filling the feed bins for the horses when a sound caught his attention. It was soft, weak, and sounded almost like crying.

Following the sound, he moved a couple of crates - and was greeted by the sight of a mother cat and her litter. Six tiny, contented kittens were happily suckling their breakfast. But a seventh, even tinier, kitten was left by the side, struggling to find food. None of its siblings seemed inclined to give it space and as Buck watched, the mother cat nudged it away, in effect rejecting the kitten, which cried again.

Moving carefully, he reached in and picked the tiny kitten up, cupping it easily in one hand. The sad creature was shivering and scared, but as he closed his hand gently around the quivering body, the kitten suddenly started to purr. It was such a touching sound from the little creature and he couldn't help but smile. He cradled the kitten close to his chest and headed toward the house.

Maybe caring for the rejected kitten would help Amy stay busy.

It was mid-morning when Buck headed back toward the way station. Amy seemed much better after a good night's sleep, and being alone in the daylight didn't seem to bother her. He left her with the kitten, which she had taken to immediately, warming the tiny body and finding a way to feed it drops of milk to give the kitten the nourishment it needed.

His plan was to get his chores done at the station, then be back at Amy's before darkness set in again. Hopefully he'd also have a chance to talk to Teaspoon and Rachel during the day. He knew he could use some help and advice.

The third evening was warm, and after dinner they sat in the porch swing, mostly in silence, watching the stars twinkle in the brilliantly clear night sky. The silence was comfortable, friendly, and Buck found himself wondering if this was what it was like to be married to someone you really loved.

Of course, as much as he cared for Amy, it was far too soon to even be thinking anything like that. Still, he hoped he could find this same kind of peaceful feeling with a wife someday - maybe even Amy.

He studied her as she sat next to him, his arm wrapped around her shoulders, her hands busy stroking the tiny kitten she was trying to nurse to health. She looked much healthier and stronger than three days earlier when he'd come to check on her after his run. He had stayed with her the last two nights, easing her fears and allowing her to sleep and gain back some strength. And he planned to stay again tonight. But . . .

He was scheduled for a mail run tomorrow, and he needed to tell her. He'd been avoiding the subject all evening, but it was time to quit stalling and see how she'd react. "Amy, tell me how you're really doing."

She turned slightly to look at him, her eyes large and luminous in the moonlight. "I'm really much better, Buck. Mostly thanks to you."

"I wish there was more I could do."

"You've already done so much! More than I ever could have asked."

He curled his arm more tightly around her, feeling her turn slightly and curl in closer to him. "Amy, I have a run tomorrow, and I won't be back until the next day." He felt her stiffen slightly under his arm and he hurried to add, "I'd like you to come to the station with me in the morning, stay with Rachel, at least 'til I get back."

Amy started to shake her head. "Buck . . ."

"I know you're afraid you won't come back," he said quickly, cutting her protest off. "But I'll bring you back here. This is your home."

She pulled away slightly, looking into his eyes, seeing the concern there. "How about this? I will think about it, but we'll wait and see how I feel in the morning. I really think I'll be all right this time."

He studied her face, especially her eyes, and was glad to find no fear reflected there. "All right," he agreed. "In the morning."

She curled back in close to him, resting her head on his shoulder. He leaned back against the swing, holding her tight. The kitten clambered onto his chest, rolling into a little ball and purring contentedly.  At least for the moment, all was right with the world.

"Rider coming!"

Buck emerged from the bunkhouse at the familiar cry, but there was obvious reluctance in his step. He mounted his horse, then unconsciously pulled the reins tight, causing the animal to prance nervously.

Teaspoon reached up and grabbed Buck's hand, loosening his hold on the reins. "I'll check on her, son. She'll be all right."

Buck looked down and nodded. "Thanks, Teaspoon."

"You just ride safe," the older man answered, swatting the rump of Buck's horse as the approaching rider got closer. He watched for a moment as Buck and Lou managed a clean handoff of the mochila and Buck raced off into the distance. "Ride safe," he repeated.

"That boy has it bad," Rachel commented, coming up by Teaspoon's shoulder.

"Yup, that he does."

"And Amy?"

"Don't rightly know. She certainly don't mind havin' him around, but with all she's been through, hard to tell how she really feels."

Rachel stared into the distance at the tiny speck disappearing over the horizon. "I don't want to see Buck hurt again," she said softly.

Teaspoon thought for a moment, then started to smile. He threw his head back, hooked his fingers in his suspenders and said, very formally, "Mrs. Dunne, I suggest we retire to more private surroundings and discuss what might be done to make sure no one gets hurt here."

Rachel smiled too - Teaspoon obviously had some plan in mind. "Mr. Hunter, it just so happens that Cody somehow managed to not find, and eat, two pieces of pie at lunch. With a fresh pot of coffee, I think that pie would be a wonderful way to accompany any planning."

Teaspoon tipped his hat and offered her his arm. "Madam, I do like the way you think." They both laughed as they headed toward the house.

Amy heard the approaching hoof beats, and for a moment the fear made it hard to breathe.  But she forced herself to take a deep breath, reached for the rifle, and moved slowly toward the open barn door. She stayed hidden in the shadows just inside the door, watching as two riders came closer.

Finally, as they neared the yard, she recognized the town Marshal, and it looked like a woman with him. Feeling a little safer she stepped out of the shadows and walked out into the sun.

Teaspoon had started toward the house, but now he turned to the barn as he saw Amy approaching. Tipping his hat, he greeted her, "Morning, Amy."

"Marshal."

"Amy, may I present Rachel Dunne - school teacher, Pony Express way station housekeeper, and, if I may say, all-around extraordinary woman."

Rachel stepped forward, laughing, "I'm afraid Teaspoon exaggerates now and then."

Teaspoon ignored her comment and continued. "Rachel, this is Amy Dandridge - soon to be the major dairy rancher in these here parts."

Rachel held out her hand. "I'm very pleased to meet you."

"I've heard a lot about you, Mrs. Dunne," Amy replied, shaking hands. Then her right hand strayed to her face to hide her scar, the unconscious reaction she had developed around strangers.

"Oh, please - just Rachel!"

"Rachel." Amy looked at the two visitors, seeing the unasked questions in their faces. "I imagine Buck told you to expect to find a total wreck out here."

"Actually," Rachel replied, "Buck said you're much stronger than you know. But he did want us to check on you."

"How are you doing, Amy?" Teaspoon asked.

She paused a moment before answering. "I'm really doing better. Not great, but better."

"You get any sleep last night?" Teaspoon wasn't quite convinced.

"A little. I can't say I slept well," she admitted. "But at least when I was awake it wasn't in sheer terror like a few days ago."

"Well, that sounds real good," Rachel said, and she meant it. From what Buck had described after his last run, she'd expected Amy to be doing much worse.

"Sure does," Teaspoon agreed. He pulled something from his jacket pocket. "I brought you a copy of the new poster Riley did. If it looks all right, I'll have him print them up and my riders will start taking them out."

Amy took the paper and looked at it. "This looks just fine."

"Well, I'll talk to Riley when I get back to town then. Oh, and this," he said, reaching into another pocket, "this came on the stage right before we left town." He handed her an envelope.

Amy looked at the return address. "This is from the man who's delivering the first part of the herd," she said. She opened the envelope and read for a moment. "He was leaving to drive the first twenty head here the day he wrote this," she said. "That was two days ago, and he expected it to take a week."

"Well, that's exciting!" Rachel said. "It'll be real good to have a steady source of fresh dairy. I surely do miss milk and butter when I can't get it."

"Papa was always real good at figuring out what was needed where," Amy replied.

Teaspoon decided the two women seemed to be getting on well, and that was his clue to leave. "I guess I better get back to town fast then," he said. "You'll be needing this help real soon."

"I think I'll just stay and talk with Amy a while," Rachel said. "If that's all right with you," she added to Amy. "I brought a pie, and I thought maybe we could just have some girl talk and get to know each other."

Amy hesitated a moment, absently fingering the scar on her cheek. She wasn't really ready to let another stranger into her life. Still, Rachel seemed very pleasant, and Buck spoke very highly of her. Maybe this was one of those things that would be good for her to do, even if she didn't really want to. "That sounds fine, Rachel."

Teaspoon mounted his horse. "Well, you ladies have a good time," he said. "But . . . not too good a time," he added, looking at Rachel. "Don't you go telling Amy no stories that'll have her questioning the good name of the law in Rock Creek."

"Would I do anything like that?" Rachel asked in her sweetest, most innocent voice.

Teaspoon glared at her, then turned to Amy. "Amy, I'm innocent. You just remember that no matter what she tells you," he said with a wink. He was rewarded with a small smile from Amy.

"I'll try to remember that, Marshal."

Teaspoon tipped his hat. "Good day to you ladies," he said, then he urged his horse forward.

The two women watched him ride off, then Rachel said, "I hope you don't mind me stopping by like this."

"I'm just not much used to company these days," Amy answered, hand back over her scar. "Well, except Buck, I guess."

Rachel noticed the gesture and it made her sad. She could already see glimpses of the woman Buck described as having so much to offer. "He's a fine young man," she said. "And he thinks the world of you."

"He's very special," Amy agreed. She took the reins on Rachel's horse and started toward the barn. "He's been so good to me. And I feel so safe when he's here."

Rachel had to smile at those words. Part of the reason she was here, she knew, was to try and find out if Buck was likely to get hurt. He'd been through enough pain. Then again, so had Amy. Maybe Fate had brought them together for a reason.

They talked for hours, falling into an easy rhythm, and finding a surprising number of interests in common. They talked about books and schools, places they had been to, and places they'd like to visit. And through it all, they talked about him.

It was late afternoon, and they had just finished their second piece of pie, washed down by yet another cup of coffee. And Rachel felt comfortable enough to ask the question. "You're falling in love with him, aren't you?"

Amy opened her mouth to answer, then stopped. She considered the question for a moment, then finally said, "I don't know. Sometimes I think so. The way I feel when I hear his voice, or just touch his hand. Even just being in the same room." She paused, looking away. "But things are happening so fast. And sometimes I'm afraid he's just here because he feels sorry for me."

Rachel reached out to take her hand. "Amy, I have seen Buck when he's feeling sorry for someone, and believe me, that is not the way he's acting now." She smiled, squeezing Amy's hand. "I know things have happened very fast, and Buck knows that too. He won't rush you."

Amy looked back, her eyes filling with tears, her hand running along the ridge of the scar. "Do you really think he could love me?" she asked softly.

"Honey, love means seeing everything through the heart," Rachel answered. "And believe, me, that boy's heart is taken!"

Buck slowed his horse as he reached the outskirts of Rock Creek. It was his second run in a week, and he was glad to be getting home. It was early evening and most of the shops had closed up for the day so there weren't many people out on the street. But the activity that was there caught his eye.

Across the main street, several men were stringing a banner advertising the upcoming harvest dance. He stopped, a lump in his throat as he remembered the last town dance. Ike and Emily had been so happy that night - but that had all changed within a few days . . .

He shook his head to clear those thoughts away. Although Ike's death would always stay with him, he'd made peace with how it had happened. And maybe this dance would be just the excuse to finally get Amy into town.

He urged his horse forward, wondering if it was too late to ride out to see her tonight.

Amy walked out of the barn, wiping the sweat from her forehead. It was only mid-morning but she'd already done a lot of work.

A movement caught her eye, and she looked up to see a rider approaching. It only took a moment before she recognized the horse - and the rider. She headed toward the front of the house to meet them.

Buck pulled his horse to a stop right in front of her, sliding to the ground. He smiled just to see her. "Good morning."

"Good morning to you. I'm glad you're back."

"You look tired," he observed, looking at her more carefully. "Are you all right?"

"I'm fine," she assured him. "You missed the excitement yesterday when the first group of twenty cows arrived. That's a lot of extra work."

"The delivery went all right then?" After all, it would have meant dealing with strangers, and he felt bad that he hadn't been there for her.

"It was fine. The drovers actually stopped in town for directions, and Marshal Hunter brought them out here himself."

That made him feel a little better, since she at least knew Teaspoon. "When are you getting some help?"

"I've hired three men. Two of them are due tomorrow. And two of the drovers agreed to stay on for a couple of days to get things settled. They headed into town a little while ago with a load of milk - if you'd come on the road, you would have seen them."

"Well, I don't have a run for a few days. I can help too." Not that he actually knew anything about dairy cows . . .

"Right now, you're just in time to help me take a break," she answered, smiling. "I have some lemonade cooling in the root cellar. And after that, just two more cows to milk."

"I'll unsaddle my horse while you get the lemonade." He watched for a moment as she headed toward the house, then he turned toward the barn.

Buck settled his horse in an empty stall, made sure feed and water were available. He looked up toward the house, but he didn't see Amy coming back yet, so he walked over to the area of the barn that Amy had said was to be the milking area. There were two cows with full udders there, waiting for their turn. And the whole area smelled like fresh milk.

He still didn't see Amy, so he turned back to the cows. He'd never actually milked a cow before. The Kiowa, with their nomadic lifestyle, didn't keep herd animals. And for all the odd jobs he'd done before hooking up with the Pony Express, none had involved milking cows. Still, he'd been in the same barn with cows being milked (by someone else). It had never seemed to be a very big deal. If he even got one of the cows milked that would save Amy some work.

How hard could it be?

He picked up a milk bucket and a stool and approached the nearest cow. She stared at him out of the corner of one eye, letting out a soft moo. Both cows shuffled nervously.

Putting the stool down, he set the bucket under the cow, reached confidently underneath, and pulled.

Nothing happened.

The cow shifted nervously again, mooing. Buck shifted too, figuring he must have just been at the wrong angle. He pulled again, and again, finally getting rewarded with a small stream of milk. Nothing to this! He leaned in closer . . .

The cow had apparently had enough of the amateur milking. She pulled away hard, turning her head one way and swinging her hindquarters directly into Buck. He went flying over backward, soaked by a stream of milk he had just gotten going. The cow kicked the milk bucket next, and it landed squarely between his legs.

As he doubled over in pain, he heard something he hadn't heard before.

Amy stood in the open doorway, laughing so hard her eyes were filling with tears. From his vantage point on the ground, he could see her holding her side, nearly spilling the lemonade out of the pitcher with as hard as she was laughing.

Trying not to be too obvious about the pain in his groin, Buck got to his feet. He carefully avoided the cow, which seemed to be staring warily at him too. He walked toward Amy and despite everything, he found it hard not to smile. It was good to see her laughing - even if it was at his expense.

"Nice of you to laugh when I'm being humiliated and beaten up by a cow."

"Oh, Buck, that was just too . . . priceless," she managed to say, gasping for breath.

"I'm so glad I could amuse you," he said, trying to sound hurt, but failing to keep the smile off his face or out of his voice. He stepped in and wrapped one arm around her, pulling her close to his milk-soaked shirt. "But to hear you laugh like that, it was worth it."

She scrunched her nose against the wet fabric. "What, exactly, did you do to my cow?"     

"Nothing! That cow just hates me." He looked back over his shoulder, only to find the beast in question staring intently at him.

She pushed back slightly, smiling. "I'm guessing you're not much of a cow-milking expert."

He shrugged. "As a child, we were always moving, following the best game for hunting. If we had milk it's because we traded for it - and it was already out of the cow."

She took his hand, pulling him away from the barn. "Well, come have some lemonade with me. Then I'll show you how to do it right."

At the moment, he wasn't so sure he wanted anything to do with those dangerous creatures, but he wasn't going to spoil her mood. And since she was in such a good mood, maybe, just maybe, his plan to get her to town might have a chance.

They settled under a tree by the creek. While Amy poured lemonade, Buck stripped off his shirt, rinsing the milk off in the cool water. He knew what sour milk smelled like, and he didn't intend to stink like that the rest of the day. Fortunately, it didn't seem to have soaked much into his undershirt. He hung the shirt on a branch to dry and sat down next to Amy, accepting a cup of the lemonade from her.

"Everything seems to be going really well," he observed.

"Yes, it is," she agreed. "Things are moving very fast, but I really think everything's going to work out."

"And these men you hired, they're experienced?"

"You mean, can they milk a cow without getting knocked over and drenched?" she teased. "Yes, they're experienced. One of them, Ben Harker, helped my father design the barn with a dairy herd in mind. He's been working for the man we're buying the herd from."

"And if they're arriving tomorrow, then you'd be able to get free Saturday night, right?"

"I suppose," she answered cautiously. "Why?"

All right, Buck, here goes. "Now that you're an important business woman in these parts, I think you should meet some of your neighbors. And it just so happens there's the Harvest Dance in town this Saturday."

She turned away, her hand going to the scar on her cheek. "Buck, I can't . . ."

He reached out to her, pulling her hand away and turning her face to him. "Do you know what I see when I look at you?"

She wasn't sure she wanted to know, and yet she had to know. "What?"   

He ran his own fingers lightly along the scar, feeling her shiver beneath his touch. "I see a badge of honor," he said. She started to shake her head, opened her mouth to protest, but he stopped her. "Amy, you were brutally attacked, but you survived. Because you're strong! There's no shame in that."

"That's not what most people see." Her voice was shaking, but she forced herself to maintain eye contact with him.

"What do they see, Amy?"

"They see someone to pity. Once, right after it happened, when the doctor took me outside for some fresh air, a group of children saw me. They screamed in fright and ran off." She paused, drawing in a deep breath. "They see damaged goods."

"Then they're fools," he answered. "Anyone who won't see past the surface is." He couldn't quite keep his own bitterness from showing in his voice and eyes.

Amy didn't miss the brief catch in his voice, the flash of pain in his eyes. "What do they see when they look at you, Buck?"

This wasn't supposed to be about him, and for just a moment he thought about not answering. But somehow he knew that what happened here in the next few minutes would say a lot about Amy's future, and whether she would go back out into the world. In his mind he could see and hear all the negative reactions he'd encountered over the years. "A heathen, a savage," he answered. "Someone who they think would rather scalp them than sit down over a cup of coffee and share a story or a joke. Someone who can't be trusted. Someone who'll always be less than what they are."

Amy held her hand out, touching his lips, stopping the painful words. She ran her fingers over his face, brushing back a stray lock of hair. "You're right," she whispered. "They are fools." She pulled her hand away and got up, walking down to stand next to the creek. She stared at the water in silence for a moment, then ran her finger along the scar again. Finally, she asked, "Buck, what if I'm hiding behind the scar because the truth is, I'm afraid of pretty much everyone and everything?"

He got up and stood behind her, hands resting lightly on her shoulders. "Are you afraid of me?"

"No."

"You're probably not even afraid of that ornery cow, are you?"

She smiled despite her self-doubt and shook her head.

He wrapped his arms around her, resting his head on her shoulder. "I'll help you be strong, Amy."

She leaned back against him, reveling in the safety she felt in his arms. On the one hand, she knew he was right - it was time to get back out into the world. On the other hand, she'd spent so many months getting away from everything and everyone, and it would be very difficult to change that pattern. "You're asking a lot," she whispered.

"I know," he answered.

"If I do go on Saturday, will you dance with me?"

"Of course! And I could come and pick you up."

She turned around to face him, and for a moment he was sure she was going to say no. But then a small smile touched her lips. "I'll think about it, Buck. That's all I can promise right now, but I will think real hard about it."

"See, that's not so hard, now is it?"

Buck looked down at Amy, saw her smiling as she pointed to the full milk bucket. "Easy for you to say," he muttered. Though he had to admit, she had made it look easy. And she hadn't been knocked off the stool once.

Amy just smiled, stood up, and offered the stool to Buck. "Your turn."

He took the stool, but made no other move for a moment. Amy had chosen to demonstrate on the second cow, which meant that his nemesis was still waiting. As he stood there now, looking at the cow, he could swear the animal was smiling in anticipation of taking another crack at him.

He felt Amy's hands at his back, pushing him forward. He knew he was being foolish. Cows didn't really plot revenge - did they?

"Maybe I shouldn't do this right now. I might not be able to dance on Saturday."

Amy rolled her eyes. "You don't think twice about riding off into a gun battle with Marshal Hunter, but you're afraid of milking a cow?"

"Gun battles are a lot easier to understand," he protested. "And I'm not afraid . . . exactly."

She pushed again, and he found himself moving forward, stopping right next to the cow. He finally put the stool on the ground and sat down - how could he expect Amy to leave the sanctuary of her home, if he was afraid to even milk a cow? He took the bucket Amy handed him, placed it under the cow, then turned to look back at Amy.

Amy smiled reassuringly. "Just remember what I showed you," she said, stepping back. There was no sense being too close, just in case the cow really did have it in for Buck.

With a sigh, he turned back to the cow, reached underneath, and tried to remember how Amy had done things. He was having modest luck, and the cow didn't seem to be too upset with him yet. And then he felt Amy move in next to him, her hand going to cover one of his, helping him master the smooth pull she used. He relaxed a little, working with her, and quit worrying about the cow.

The cow could beat him senseless if it meant sharing more close time like this with Amy.

Buck rode into the yard at Amy's and dismounted, tethering his horse out front. He pulled the bedroll from the back of the saddle and opened it up. He didn't actually need it for the bedding, of course. But it had been a good way to sneak his suit out of the bunkhouse without a lot of questions. Amy was still "thinking" about the dance, and as far as the other riders knew, he was just having dinner with her.

He was still determined to convince her to go to town.

He was on the top step going into the house when he heard his name. He turned and saw Amy running up from the barn, so he went back down the steps to wait for her.

"You're early," she said, swatting at his arm. "I guess the food should be almost ready - but I'm not ready!" She held her arms out, showing the sweat and dirt from a hard day's work.

"Sorry," he said, "I just couldn't wait." He reached out with a finger to lift her chin so her eyes were meeting his. "Amy?"

She knew perfectly well what he was asking, and the answer he wanted. "You're sure you wouldn't rather just stay here, have a quiet night, just the two of us?"

"Any other night, that would sound wonderful."

"But not tonight?"

"No, not tonight."

She sighed, making her decision. "If we go, and it gets to be too much for me, do you promise we can leave right away?"

"I promise," he answered quickly, feeling for the first time that she was really going to say yes. "And if anyone gives you trouble . . . I'll get Hickok to shoot them."

She had to laugh at that, and he joined her. Then she nodded. "All right, we'll go."