"Well, son, you're looking a whole lot better," Teaspoon said the next afternoon when he came to visit.
"Thanks, Teaspoon," Buck replied. It had been a little over twelve hours since he had awakened from his dream of drowning. He'd slept most of the time in between, but each time he awoke he did feel a little bit stronger.
"You did have us a mite worried there for a while, Buck."
One corner of Buck's mouth turned upward in a slight smile. "I did promise Amy I'd try not to do it again."
"And I intend to hold you to that," Amy said. She walked into the room carrying a mug of coffee for Teaspoon and more water for Buck.
Teaspoon took a sip of the steaming brew and sighed in contentment. "Amy, you're looking mighty fine today yourself."
"Jimmy kicked me out last night after Buck woke up," she said. "And as much as I hate to admit it, he was right. I did need to get some real sleep."
"The human body is a miraculous thing," Teaspoon said, patting Buck's arm. "But it does need some caring for now and then." He leaned in closer and added in a loud whisper, "Doc was about ready to slip some laudanum in her coffee."
"I'm getting the feeling you were all conspiring in this," Amy said, trying, but failing, to sound angry. Now that Buck was doing better, she really didn't care what they plotted.
"Teaspoon, what about the third man who survived?" Buck asked, changing the subject.
"Abe Holling," Teaspoon replied. "You hit him a couple of times, Buck, but it appears he did the most damage when he fell - hit his head and knocked himself out."
"Jimmy said the judge was coming next week."
"Yup, that's true. Two days after New Year's." Teaspoon sipped his coffee again, then continued, "Seems like him and his pa, Brewster, run a town a ways north of here. Named for the family - Hollington."
"I think I've ridden through it a few times," Buck said. The name did sound familiar.
"Well,
apparently they think they're pretty big news in Hollington," Teaspoon
said. His tone clearly indicated that he didn't share the same opinion. "The
old man, Brewster, come into town yesterday hollering about how his boy couldn't
of done anything wrong and how terrible it was that Rock Creek was doin' this
to the poor boy. Says he's got some big-name lawyer comin'
in from
"That could be trouble at the trial," Buck said.
"No, it won't," Amy said firmly. Both men turned to look at her and she continued, "That man was one of the men who killed my mother. I'll never forget those faces, and it doesn't matter who the lawyer is."
Buck was watching Amy's face, seeing the tension as she spoke. "Teaspoon, I don't know if I can make it into town that quick to testify. Can you see if they can postpone the trial?" He didn't want Amy going through it alone.
But it was Amy who answered. "There's no need to postpone," she said. "Buck, I know you're worried about me, but there's no need. I've waited for them to get the justice they deserve for over a year now. Besides, since you're going to live, you can only testify about attempted murder. I want him to hang for my mother's murder."
Phillipe D'Auville stepped off the afternoon stage into the streets of Rock Creek and immediately covered his nose and mouth with the silk handkerchief he kept in his breast pocket. To his refined, sophisticated (some might say snobbish) nose, the town stank of everything he was afraid to get on his expensive boots.
He stepped away from the stage, pulling his bags to one side, and looked around. He was not impressed. This was just another little hick town, a few buildings where illiterate farmers and their ilk gathered.
D'Auville smiled - though the sight was anything but friendly. He had received a sizeable retainer from Brewster Holling to represent his son in some court proceeding to be held here. After seeing the pitiful "town" of Rock Creek, he was wishing he had delayed his journey by another day or two. There certainly wouldn't be an attorney to challenge his own skills in these parts - that was obvious.
D'Auville picked up his bags and strode across to the hotel. He planned to get a room, clean up from the god-awful dusty trip, and then pay a visit to the Marshal; he'd already spotted the local jail where the Holling boy was sure to be held.
As he turned up his nose again at the hotel entrance, D'Auville turned once more to gaze out at Rock Creek.
No, this would be no challenge at all.
The
next few days were full of small steps toward recovery for Buck. Doc
On New Year's Day, he managed to keep down the first few bites of solid food. As his lungs cleared and he was able to lie back in the bed instead of being so propped up, he was able to get back to an almost normal sleep pattern. He filled the days reading, or talking with Amy or one of the visitors who came to see how he was doing.
On January 2, he tried getting out of bed, hoping that he could make the trip to town to be at the trial with Amy the next day. The quick trip down to the floor, flat on his face, convinced him that wouldn't be possible. He didn't even need the doctor's threats to tie him in the bed - one look at the re-opened wound in his side and he admitted his weakness. He didn't want a relapse or to risk new infection. That wouldn't help Amy at all.
And so, on January 3, he could only wish her well as she kissed him good-bye and headed into town to face more ghosts from her past.
Polly's saloon was chosen as the site for the trial. Early that morning the tables were moved out of the way, the chairs were arranged in neat rows, and a table was set up for Judge Cummins. The seats filled up early, with most of the population of Rock Creek either in the saloon or milling outside. Whether they liked Buck, or even knew Amy, didn't matter - a murder trial was pretty big news in Rock Creek.
Phillipe D'Auville pushed his way through the crowd just prior to the appointed starting time of 10:00. He always liked to make his entrance at the last moment without being late. In his fancy suit, and with his polished air, it always made an impression. He figured it would be even more impressive in this worthless little town. Why, there wasn't even a place to get a good brandy in this filthy place!
He smiled as he parted the crowd, ignoring their stares and questions. He'd brought in a fancy suit for his client, and had someone in to cut Abe's hair - his client looked many times more respectable than any of the locals. And he knew that Brewster Holling and several of his minions would be sitting in the front, glaring at the jury. Privately, D'Auville had to admit he was a little intimidated by the elder Holling himself, so he figured the effect on these uneducated farmers would be much magnified.
D'Auville walked into the saloon just as the judge was entering from the back. Perfect timing. He straightened his tie, slicked back his hair, and took his place next to his client. This was going to be so easy, he almost felt guilty about the amount of money Brewster Holling was paying him. Almost.
He knew he couldn't lose.
He was wrong.
The early witnesses set the stage. Teaspoon and Jimmy testified about what they had found at the Dandridge ranch after the attack. Doctor Tyler testified about the injuries inflicted on Amy, her mother, and Buck. Ben and Pete were called too to describe the aftermath of the latest attack and the horses they had found hidden out beyond the house. But all of that was just preliminary, and D'Auville carefully made sure to clarify that none of the men had actually witnessed the attack. He used small words and spoke slowly to make sure the jury got the point.
Amy took the stand after the noon recess. With an icy calm she recounted the details of both attacks, sending shivers through the spectators - and D'Auville. Holling had led him to believe that she was just another of the illiterate farmers so plentiful in the area, but that's not the way she came across to him, and he started to fear the way the jury would see her. He could already see the scowls widening on the faces of the jurors. Still, he was confident he could shake her testimony on cross-examination.
He was wrong again.
In the end, the jury took less than an hour to convict Abe Holling on all charges.
Teaspoon walked up the stairs at the Dandridge house and stopped just outside the guestroom where Buck was recovering. He could hear voices inside, and then Buck was reading something - it sounded like Shakespeare.
He moved into the open doorway and cleared his throat, watching as Buck put the book down and looked up from the bed. Amy looked up from her position on the chair next to the bed where she was holding and petting the kitten. "They convicted him, Amy," he said. "Murder, attempted murder, everything."
Amy just nodded. She'd left the courtroom immediately after finishing her testimony. She reached for Buck's hand and held it tight, but didn't say anything.
"That's really good news, Teaspoon," Buck said.
"Yup, that's what I figured too. You shoulda seen Amy today, Buck. Nothin' that fancy lawyer did could shake her."
"I knew she'd be fine," Buck replied, squeezing Amy's hand in return.
"Judge set the hanging for day after tomorrow," Teaspoon said. "Amy, I can come get you if you want."
Amy looked up and spoke for the first time. "No. Thank you, but that won't be necessary." She paused, looking down at Buck and meeting his eyes. "As far as I'm concerned it's all over now. One more ghost from the past buried."
Buck's strength continued to return little by little each day. Finally, two weeks and three days after he'd been shot, Doctor Tyler approved getting out of bed for brief periods. At first his legs could barely take his weight, even with someone supporting him on each side. But within a couple of days he could manage to at least get in and out of bed on his own. He found that a distinct relief since it meant no longer needing assistance to use the chamber pot.
On his fourth day up he decided to try making it to the outhouse. He was halfway down the stairs when his strength gave out. He stumbled down a couple more steps, then collapsed on one of the steps, leaning hard against the railing. That's where Amy found him a few minutes later when she came in from the barn.
"Just what do you think you're doing?" she demanded.
He looked up, feeling more than a little foolish. "I just wanted to get to the outhouse," he said. "I thought I could make it."
Amy shook her head in frustration. "You almost died, you're just starting to get your strength back - and now you want to fall down the stairs and crack your fool head open!"
Buck winced at the anger in her voice. And he knew she was right - it had been foolish. "I'm sorry, Amy," he said. "I just hate being a burden on you."
Her anger waned and the look in her eyes softened. She went up the stairs, put her shoulder under his left arm, and helped him to his feet. Turning his head so that their eyes met, she said, "Buck, you gave me so much strength when I needed it most. Let me give some back now."
He pulled his arm in, hugging her tightly to him. He really was being a fool, risking this over his pride. Holding tightly to her, for more than just physical support, they started down the stairs.
Later, they settled in the parlour. The effort of coming down the stairs and the round-trip to the outhouse had just about exhausted him. Still, it felt good to be out of the bed for a change. He'd seen enough of the guestroom.
Amy got a fire going, then brought in a pot of steaming fresh coffee. Settled in next to Buck, she leaned her head against his shoulder, careful to avoid his still-tender wounds. It felt so good to be sitting next to him again.
Buck savored the feeling too, knowing that life was gradually returning to what it had been before Christmas. And that had been very good, so he hoped nothing had changed. He just wasn't sure it was time yet to broach the subject with Amy. Instead, he pulled her closer, ignoring the twinge as the wound in his side complained. "I'm sorry I worried you."
She buried her face against his chest, taking in his familiar scent. "Just promise me you won't try to come down here on your own again for a while." Her voice wavered as she added, "I don't want to lose you."
He kissed the top of her head. "You won't lose me, Amy."
She reached into her pocket and pulled the battered watch out; she'd kept it with her ever since the doctor had pointed out its life-saving purpose. "I already came so close. Except for this."
He took the watch from her, turning it over to look at the battered back. He'd seen it before, just after he awoke, but this was the first time he'd really studied it. "I think this is the best present I've ever gotten."
She smiled, but was silent for a moment, thinking. Then she asked, "Buck, when's your birthday?"
"You don't have to get me another watch, Amy."
"No, really, I'd just like to know."
He shrugged, her head still resting against him. "I don't really know. The Kiowa don't use calendars. But the tribe had just moved to the summer hunting grounds when my mother was attacked, so I guess it would be sometime in February."
Amy didn't say anything, but she was thinking. There was one more ghost she had to take care of before she could clearly see her future with Buck.
Four weeks and a day after being shot, Buck moved out of the main house and back into his cabin. He was still a little weak, and definitely not back to full speed, but it was an important step in regaining his independence. Besides, as he healed, he worried that it looked improper for Amy for him to continue staying alone with her.
He was just adding some more wood to the fire when he heard a soft knock and turned to see her standing in the doorway. "Good morning."
"Good morning." She looked around, then said, "Buck, this place will never be as warm as the house. Are you sure you don't want to stay up there a while longer?"
"People will start to talk - me getting better, still staying alone with you in the house." He tried to make it sound light, but he really was concerned.
"Let them talk." The house just felt lonely again without him there.
He walked slowly toward her and took her hand. "Maybe we should talk, Amy," he said. "Are you ready to talk about us, and the future?"
She looked away without answering, and for a moment the old fears returned to him. "Amy, is it my Kiowa blood?"
She turned toward him, a puzzled look in her eyes. "Buck, do you think I hadn't noticed you were part Kiowa until now?"
"Well, no. You knew."
"So, I knew you were Kiowa but just led you on, only to dump you now?"
He realized he'd let his fears lead him into a dangerous area. "No, I didn't mean that, Amy. And I don't mean to push you."
She lifted his hand, kissing his fingers. "It's not you, Buck. I love you, and everything that makes you uniquely you." She paused, still holding his hand up by her cheek. "Buck, what if it turns out I can't have children? I mean, I was torn up pretty bad in the attack."
Was that what was holding her back? "Amy, I love you," he answered earnestly. "If we have children, that's wonderful. But if it's just the two of us spending the rest of our lives together, that's fine too."
She smiled up at him, reaching out to run her fingers through his long hair. "I think a part of me knew I loved you from the first day we met," she said softly. "Buck, there's one more ghost I need to deal with before I can think about marriage."
"Can I help?" he asked.
Her smile widened. "Not yet," she answered. "But maybe sometime soon."
He smiled back and wrapped his arms around her. He could wait a while longer.
It was the last day of January when Buck heard a rider stop outside his cabin. He put his book down and opened the door to find Jimmy outside. Hickok had been a regular visitor over the last few weeks, but this time Buck knew was different. The familiar palomino was packed for traveling with a bedroll and full saddlebags.
"You're leaving now then," Buck observed.
"Yeah," Jimmy acknowledged, looking down at the ground. It was harder to say good-bye than he would have imagined even a year ago. "I was gonna leave after Christmas, but with you being down and all . . . well, I had to know you were all right first."
"I'm glad you were here, Jimmy," Buck answered, feeling the pain of the farewell himself. "You're joining up with the army then?"
Jimmy nodded. "Gonna do some scouting for them, yeah." He looked up. "I know people aren't happy about it, Buck. But it's something I gotta do."
"I understand, Jimmy," Buck answered. And he did understand - even if he didn't like it. "Just don't like the idea of you or Cody coming up over a gun barrel across from Kid someday."
"I've
thought about that too," Jimmy responded. "Slavery has to end, Buck.
The only way that's gonna happen is if the
Buck
thought back to Noah's death, and even to the Freedom Train that Stagecoach
Sally had given her life for. He remembered the
Jimmy had his doubts that this would be anything but a long, bloody conflict. But who could know for sure? "Yeah, we'll hope," he agreed.
Buck held his hand out. "You ride safe, Jimmy."
Jimmy took the proffered hand, then pulled his brother into an embrace. "You too, Buck," he answered. "Take care of Amy - and Teaspoon and Rachel." It hadn't been easy to say farewell to them either.
Buck just nodded, not trusting his voice to speak. Jimmy couldn't say anything else either, so he mounted his horse and rode off, toward war and the unknown.
Buck stood on the porch for a long time after the lone rider disappeared over the horizon. He couldn't help wondering if he'd ever see Hickok - or Cody, Kid, or Lou - again, or if the coming conflict would claim them all.
By the second week in February, Buck was doing most of the things he had been able to do before being shot. His strength improved daily, and he was soon carrying his share of the physical workload involved in being the foreman. In another week he planned to start helping Teaspoon in town again too.
With his improved health, Amy wanted to celebrate, so she elected February 12th as Buck's birthday. When the day arrived, she came up with an excuse to get him into town, where he was surprised with a special dinner attended by Teaspoon, Rachel, Polly, and Aaron Tyler. Several other people from the ranch and from town stopped by to wish him well. Having never had a birthday celebration before, he was still feeling a little overwhelmed as they drove back to the ranch later that night.
"Are you sure you don't want me to drive?" Amy had insisted on taking the reins.
"I think I can manage. It's your birthday, so you get to relax, be a man of leisure for the day."
"Just for the day?" he teased.
"Yup. Tomorrow it's back to toiling." She paused, frowning. "Of course, you are so much older now. I suppose you'll be needing time off for naps and such."
"I'll show you old!" He reached for the reins, only to be thwarted when Amy laughed and quickly turned away, holding the reins out to the side, beyond his reach. Instead of the reins, he wound up with his arms around her - which was probably a better deal anyway, he decided. She cuddled in close, and that made the night just about perfect.
When they reached the ranch, Amy headed the buckboard toward the barn. "Why don't you pull up by the house?" he asked. "I can take care of the horse - even as old as I am." Besides, it was getting harder and harder to walk away from the house when he said goodnight. Having the horse waiting to be taken care of would give him something to take his mind off of leaving her.
She shook her head. "That's not the way the Dandridge birthday special plan works."
He laughed. "What am I going to do with you?"
"I'm sure we can think of something," she answered softly, turning to kiss his cheek.
They reached the barn and Buck jumped off, running to open the door before Amy could object. She pulled the wagon up close and together they unhitched and tended the horse, making sure the animal had food and water.
As they left the barn, Buck grabbed his presents from the buckboard, then escorted Amy toward the house. Inside, he took her coat and hung it up, then put the packages down and pulled her close to him. "Thank you again - for the party, and the present." Amy had replaced the silk shirt that had been ruined at Christmas.
"Just remember, you promised to take better care of this one."
"I certainly intend to try." He leaned in, found her lips with his, and they kissed, long and deep. When they parted for air, he wrapped his arms tightly around her - surprised to find her trembling. "Amy, are you cold? I'll get a fire started."
She pushed him gently back against the wall, pinning him there. "I'm not cold," she whispered, her lips next to his ear. She trailed light, fluttery kisses across his jaw, down his neck, then slipped her hands inside the shoulders of his jacket, pushing it off.
Buck leaned his head back, stifling a moan of pleasure. His body was responding to Amy's closeness, and common sense told him he should get out. "Amy, I should go." If he'd thought it was hard to leave her before, that was nothing compared to what he was feeling now.
Instead of loosening her grip, her arms wrapped more tightly around him. "Stay," she whispered, her voice breaking, barely audible.
He pushed far enough back to look into her eyes - and was surprised to find tears there. "Amy?"
"I need to be with you, Buck. I need to know . . . that I can."
He could feel the sobs she was trying to hold in. "Amy, no, not like this. When we're married . . ."
"I can't marry you if I can't be with you." She choked on a sob, turning away. "They hurt me, Buck. More than the scars you can see."
He pulled her in close, feeling his own tears flow. "I will never hurt you, Amy." He almost wished the men responsible weren't already dead - he'd kill them right now with his bare hands.
"I know." She looked up, trying to smile. "This is that last ghost I told you I needed to face. With you."
He had no idea what to say. He'd dreamed of being with her, wanted that so badly - but not like this. He just held her, feeling his heart racing.
Amy reached up to wipe away her tears. Then, in a stronger voice, she said, "Earlier this afternoon I knew this was right. It still is."
"Amy, I don't think . . ."
"Buck, do you want to be with me?"
"More than anything." The words came out before he could even think about it. But he'd dreamed of this moment - only she hadn't been crying in his dream.
"I need to bury this ghost, Buck. And I can't do it alone."
Buck wasn't sure which of them was trembling more as he took her hand and led the way up the stairs. At the top he turned toward the guestroom. Just in case Amy did wind up regretting this night, he didn't want the memories to be in her own room.
He stopped just inside, studying Amy's face in the moonlight. She smiled at him, her eyes free of the tears from a few minutes ago. He reached up to unfasten the pins holding her hair back. "If you want to stop . . ."
"I don't." She took his hand, kissed his fingers, then moved it to the top button on her blouse. His fingers felt numb as he started to work the buttons, but eventually he made progress. He kept his eyes on Amy, who stood before him, still trembling, but not crying any more. Working slowly, he undressed them both, then lifted her onto the bed and lay down on his side next to her. "Amy?"
Tears threatened her eyes again, but she managed a smile. "You don't know how much I wish this was my first time."
He leaned over and kissed her forehead, brushing back some loose strands of hair. "As far as I'm concerned it is," he answered. "It's the first time you're giving yourself freely, and that's very special."
She reached a hand out to him, running her fingers through his hair. "You're very special."
"If you need to stop . . ."
"You'll know."
He leaned in and found her lips with his, kissing her with a level of passion he hadn't felt before. He rolled on top, looking down into her eyes, looking for any sign of fear. But what he saw was trust, and it even felt like her trembling had subsided.
"Whatever happens, Buck, I love you so much."
"I love you too, Amy," he whispered.
And then he joined with her, and they became one.
Later, they lay together in silence, arms and legs still entwined. Buck finally pushed up on one elbow, hoping that he wasn't imagining the small smile he thought he saw on her face. "Amy, are you all right?"
The moonlight caught the full smile she gave him as she answered, "Oh, I'm more than all right."
"The ghost is gone?"
"Gone and buried." She turned on her side and reached for him, then broke into a grin.
"What?" He suddenly felt a little self-conscious - exactly what was she laughing at?
"Just something Teaspoon said," she answered, running her fingers over his hip. "They kicked me out of the room when they were cutting your pants off to treat the leg wound. Teaspoon said it was so that I'd have a surprise for my wedding night."
He looked down to where she was trailing her finger and smiled himself. "I guess you've already seen the surprise." But she was talking about a wedding night - was the time right to ask?
"I don't want any surprises on my wedding night," Amy said. "I just want to know I'm with the man I want to spend the rest of my life with."
It was the right time. He rolled on top, straddling her waist and leaning forward, resting his hands on her arms. "Does that mean you'll marry me?"
She pursed her lips in thought, her eyes twinkling. "Well, you do have me at something of a disadvantage, sir. It hardly seems fair . . ."
With a sigh he rolled onto his back, snaking an arm around her waist and pulling her with him until she was on top. "Now will you mar . . ."
"Yes."
Yes? Did she just say . . . "Yes?"
"Yes!" She leaned over, kissing his silenced lips lightly. "Yes," she repeated, kissing him again. "Yes . . ."
He pulled her to him, his lips closing tightly on hers, stopping any further words.
No other words were necessary anyway.
The wedding was set for April, and the time flew by in a bustle of activity. Ben agreed to take over as foreman, and he and Buck worked out a split of the duties between them. Buck moved into the bunkhouse - not to make room for Ben, but to give Pete and his new bride the cabin. Amy provided the money for Betty's passage west - an advance against the wages Betty would be paid as the new housekeeper.
If any of the other hands took note of the occasional night when Buck slipped back to the bunkhouse just before dawn, or even the one or two nights he didn't come in at all, no one said a word out loud. Everyone was happy, and there was no reason to upset things.
The month of March disappeared like a stray leaf in the strong spring winds.
Buck leaned against the table in the church's back room, trying to breathe deeply like Teaspoon had suggested. But it wasn't working - he still felt like he was going to faint.
Teaspoon rolled his eyes and continued fanning the groom-to-be with a newspaper. He felt bad for the younger man - still, he couldn't help but smile. He'd gone through these pre-wedding jitters himself, all six times. "That's it, son, just keep breathing."
Buck looked up, his eyes glassy. "Teaspoon, I love her so much. I want this wedding. Why am I so scared?"
"Buck, ain't no real good answer to that. I suppose it's somethin' to do with bein' men, and figurin' we know everything. Then you hitch up with a woman, and all of a sudden things that seemed so clear, well, they just ain't anymore."
Buck gave the older man a puzzled look then lowered his head again, feeling dizzy. "That doesn't make any sense at all, Teaspoon."
"That's why they call it marriage, son." He clapped Buck on the back, almost sending the younger man falling to the floor.
Buck just shook his head. He was more confused now. "I think I'm going to be sick," he said.
Teaspoon fanned a little faster, craning his neck toward the door in the hope that Rachel or Polly would soon indicate that Amy was ready and they could get started. Placing a reassuring hand on Buck's shoulder he said, "Just wait, son. When you see Amy start down that isle, you'll know it's gonna be all right." It had worked that way for him - every time.
Buck swallowed hard and just concentrated on staying on his feet. He wanted to remember this day for making Amy his wife - and not for passing out.
Just then there was a knock on the door and Polly stuck her head in. "We're ready," she said. Then, seeing Buck's pale, clammy skin, and his white-knuckled grip on the table, she walked over to him and put her arm around his shoulders. "Buck," she said softly. "Your bride is waiting."
Those words seemed to get through and Buck forced himself upright, closing his eyes for just a moment until the room quit spinning. He stood still as Polly adjusted his tie, then he tried to smile.
Polly did smile. "You're gonna be fine, Buck," she said, kissing his cheek. "You just remember how much you love Amy, and she loves you, and you'll make it." She looked over at Teaspoon and grinned. "If old sugar-lips there could do it, you sure can."
Teaspoon squirmed at the sound of his old nickname - though truth be told, Polly had been calling him that more and more recently, and he was kind of getting to like it again. But, now was not the time or place to think about himself. He took one of Buck's arms, motioned to Polly to take the other, and together they moved the groom toward the door. "Don't wanna keep your bride waiting, Buck," he said.
Buck knew he was moving, but he wasn't actually sure he was walking on his own feet. He kept his eyes straight ahead, trying to concentrate. He remembered Kid saying something about this just before he married Lou, but Kid had made it through - and he would too.
At the altar, Polly turned away and went to her seat in the front row, while Teaspoon stood in the front, waiting to perform the ceremony. They had barely gotten there when the music started, Pete escorted Rachel to the front, the audience rose, the door opened again . . .
She walked in on Ben's arm, the most beautiful sight Buck knew he'd ever seen. All his nervousness seemed silly, and it disappeared. He took her hand from Ben, turned to face Teaspoon, and he knew again right then and there that he was the luckiest man in the world.
The ceremony breezed by. He managed to say "I do" at the right time, he didn't drop the ring, he didn't step on her dress - all things he'd had nightmares about. And when the time came, he held his breath as Teaspoon asked if anyone objected. He knew he should be past that insecurity, but years of rejection were hard to overcome. But no one did object, and he breathed a sigh of relief, lost in the smiling eyes of his bride. So lost, Teaspoon had to prompt him twice to kiss the bride.
Buck stood to one side, sipping a glass of punch, watching as Teaspoon whirled Amy around the dance floor. It had been hard to let her out of his arms - then again, he had the rest of his life to hold her, so it was only fair that he shared. A little.
He was so intent on watching Amy that he didn't see Polly approaching him until she touched his arm, and he jumped. "Hi."
"Well, you made it through, Buck," she said, smiling at how quickly his eyes returned to follow his bride.
"I guess so," Buck answered. Large parts of the day were still pretty blurry.
Polly smiled, remembering how pale he'd been just prior to the ceremony. "Well, weddings always make me feel good," she said. Then, her smile widening, she added, "Kind of makes me want to do it again myself."
That got Buck's attention and he looked down at her, smiling himself. "Anyone I know?" he asked.
"Hmmmmm . . . maybe," Polly answered, laughing.
"Does Teaspoon know?"
"Not yet. But he will," she answered. "Then you'll probably have to help hold him up."
He laughed with her. "It would be my pleasure, Polly." He set his cup down and took her hand. "Would you like to dance?"
"I thought you'd never ask, handsome," Polly answered, grinning. She took his hand and together they moved out onto the dance floor.
The reception was winding down, and most of the guests were either already on their way home or were heading for the door. The musicians were playing their last number, a long, slow waltz. Buck held Amy in his arms as they swayed to the music in the center of the dance floor.
"This was a perfect day, Buck."
"Yes, it was." At least the parts he could remember. "There will be lots of perfect days, Amy."
"I wish your friends could have been here to share this one."
He was silent for a moment, thinking of Jimmy, Cody, Kid, and Lou, all torn away by the war. And of Ike and Noah, torn away by the same kind of violence that had almost cost both him and Amy their lives. "It would have been nice to have them here," he agreed. "But I didn't want to wait another day without you."
"I know. I didn't want to wait any longer either."
"I know you wish your parents could have been here." Then again, they might have hated him, and there wouldn't have been a wedding . . .
As if reading his thoughts, Amy answered, "They would have loved you, Buck. And been very happy for us. In fact, I believe they do know, and they are happy that I'm not alone."
"You won't be alone again," he promised, holding her tighter.
She leaned her head against his shoulder, then asked, "Buck, can you handle one more thing today?"
He looked down at her and smiled. "Today, I can handle anything."
"That's good - because you're going to be a father."
Maybe anything but that, he thought, as the world screeched to a halt. His feet refused to move, and he stopped dead in mid-step. "What?"
"A father. We're having a baby, Buck." She had to grin at the look of shock on his face.
"A father," he repeated, trying to absorb the news.
"Well, I'm going to be a mother. Doctor Tyler confirmed it three days ago." She was struggling not to laugh now. "And I'm reasonably assured that it takes two to make a baby."
Buck finally realized that the remaining guests had stopped what they were doing and were watching the bridal couple, seemingly poised in mid-dance. He stepped back, moving with the music again. "Three days. Why didn't you tell me?" His system had had enough shocks for this day.
"Maybe I thought it would scare you off." Amy studied his face, not sure how he was taking the news.
It was finally starting to sink in. A father. Him. The lonely little boy who'd never really found a home until the Pony Express, the outcast who'd never known his own father - he had a child on the way.
He slid one hand down between them, resting it against Amy's belly, imagining that he could already feel the life growing there. "When?"
"Doc figures I'm almost two months along."
Two months? That meant it was one of the very first times they'd been together. "Amy, if anyone gives you trouble . . ."
"Buck, don't worry," she said, smiling. "We won't exactly be the first newlyweds to have a 'premature' baby." Then, leaning closer, she whispered, "Mother didn't quite make it seven months after their wedding before I was born. Prematurely, of course."
It finally sank in that the life he had always thought beyond his reach was right in his hands. He had just married a woman who not only accepted him for what he was, she loved him back every bit as much as he loved her. Together they had survived some of the roughest periods anyone could go through, and they'd come out stronger, together. And now, despite her previous injuries, she was carrying a child.
His child.
The music was just ending as he wrapped his arms around her waist and lifted her off her feet, spinning around and around. It didn't matter that there was no music, it didn't matter that everyone in the room was staring at them. He reached for her lips with his, and she met him halfway, and they kissed. And when they finally broke apart, they stood there, in the center of the room, just holding each other.
The musicians packed up, the ladies of the church began to clear away the food, and some of the men began to put away chairs and tables. Still, they stood there, holding each other, holding on to their perfect day.
Teaspoon watched from one side, enjoying the bride and groom's happiness along with them. He didn't even see Polly approaching him until she slipped her hand into his.
"I'd say they look pretty happy, wouldn't you, sugar-lips?"
"Well, if that ain't happy, I don't reckon I've ever seen it."
Polly put her other hand on his shoulder and leaned her head against it. "I remember our wedding day," she said. "I was sure the world could come to an end and I wouldn't even notice, that's how much in love I was."
"I remember," he said, a far-away look in his eyes. "I remember looking at you, like Buck's looking at Amy now. Like the rest of the world didn't even exist."
"I guess it just wasn't meant to be for us. At least, not back then."
Teaspoon hesitated before responding. He could feel that he was treading on dangerous ground here - and yet he felt curiously at ease. "I was a fool back then, Polly. I never should have left you." He looked back out to the center of the dance floor and added, "Buck tries anything foolish like that, I'll have to break his legs."
Polly laughed. "I don't think you have to worry - they're not even going to let go of each other for days." Then, more seriously, "You had a wild streak in you, Teaspoon - much more than Buck. It just wasn't the right time for you to settle down."
"Tried it a few more times after that. Never did get it right."
"Then I guess you've got two choices. You can give up and be alone for the rest of your life, or you can try again with someone who'd love with all her heart to give you another chance. If you'll give her one too, that is."
Yup, definitely dangerous ground. He turned his head to look into her eyes. "What can you possibly still see in an old coot like me? I been shot up, beat up, and beaten down by life. And you, you're still as beautiful as the day I first seen you."
"It's not the packaging that counts. Teaspoon, you still got a fire inside you that warms my heart, and that's what really matters," Polly told him. "The outside, that just comes along for the ride."
He looked out to where Buck and Amy were standing, talking quietly to each other, still wrapped in each other's arms, and still oblivious to anyone else around them. "Guess they already figured out about the packaging and what really matters," he commented. Buck's Kiowa exterior that frightened so many people off before they even met him didn't seem to register to Amy at all. And Teaspoon would have laid pretty good odds that Buck hadn't noticed Amy's scars for a good long time.
"Guess they did," Polly agreed.
"I really warm your heart?"
"Yup, and there's a place in there that needs lots of warming."
"So you think maybe we should . . ." The words 'get married' wouldn't quite come out of his mouth. Instead, he gestured toward the day's happy marital couple.
"Yeah, I think maybe we should."
Teaspoon's knees suddenly felt weak, and he was afraid he might have fallen - except Polly was there to catch him. And he realized with sudden clarity that he really liked having Polly there, much more than he had admitted to himself since she came to Rock Creek.
So maybe after Buck and Amy had had a chance to settle into married life a little, he'd leave Buck in charge and take a little time off. And if Polly still wanted to share that fire inside of him, well maybe he was ready to try again.
Maybe . . .