The Gift 8/11

Summary:  It's been four long years of war and separation.   But now the hostilities are over.  But Kid's family is still flung to the far corners of the earth and he's feeling guilty he didn't go with them.  Will the spirit of the Christmas season help him forget?

Chapter 8

On the road to Sweetwater, Wyoming Territory

It had been a long day, Kid thought, sighing as he sank down next to the fire, a cup of coffee cradled in his hands.  He still didn’t understand Lou’s haste to leave town.  He’d have rather stuck around and asked a few questions of this Harbinger fellow.  Why was he looking for Martha and Tucker?  Was there something the two kids hadn’t told him?  Possible.  But he couldn’t imagine them being hunted desperadoes.  Was their step-father someone important back East?  Maybe.  That might explain things.

Well, as soon as he got everyone home and settled in, and the holidays were over, he’d head back, find the Pinkerton and ask a few questions of his own.

“Tired?” Lou asked, settling down beside him.

“A little,” he smiled at her, removing one hand from his coffee cup to wrap that arm around her shoulders and pull her in close.  “But…. in a good way.”

“Think we’ll be able to make home tomorrow?” she asked.

“If we get an early start?  Maybe,” he nodded.  “We’d have to push pretty hard and we probably wouldn’t make it back until after dark, but we could do it.”

“I really think we should,” she said softly.  “We’ve been gone too long already.  And these kids need to be settled, get a chance to recover.”

Kid grunted in agreement.  They sat silently, cuddled into each other, contemplating the fire before them, just enjoying this moment of peace before heading to bed.

“Kid,” Lou said, breaking the silence.  “How are we goin’ ta afford this?  Four more mouths to feed?  We’re barely makin’ ends meet as it is.”

Kid shrugged, before answering heavily.  “I dunno.  But we’re gonna have to figure it out.  We can’t just leave them out to starve in the cold.  Martha’s old enough to get a job, once she’s better.  Even Tucker could pick up work after school.  They’ve already sworn they won’t take charity from us, plan to work for their keep.”

Lou nodded, her head moving up and down against his chest in a familiar motion he found comforting.  He moved the hand of the arm wrapped around her up to caress her soft hair, tangling his fingers in the long strands.

“And Christmas?” she asked.

“Give ‘em my pwesents,” a little voice said.

Lou jerked out of Kid’s arms, turning to see EmmyLu standing just outside the ring of light cast by the fire.  Kid held out his arms to the little girl, who happily ran to him, crawling into his lap and sticking her thumb into her mouth to suck at it vigorously.

“But, EmmyLu,” Lou said, smiling at her, “Those were meant for you.  They were bought or made with you in mind.”

“You always say… we should give to those in need,” EmmyLu said simply.  “I got my howsie and my bwudder and my dolly.  I don’t need nothin’.  They do.”

Kid smiled down at his little girl.  Sometimes she made him so proud. 

“Out of the mouths of babes,” he whispered.

“But--” Lou started to argue again.  It wasn’t that she didn’t want to help Martha, Tucker and the little ones.  She just couldn’t bring herself to give away her own babies’ Christmases to do it.

“No,” he shook his head.  “She’s right.  We have what we need.  We’ve been blessed.  It’s time to share with those who have so much less than us.  It’s what the season is all about.”

At that, Lou relented.  Smiling, she said, “You’re right.  It is.” 

Leaning her head against his shoulder she reached up to caress his cheek, even as he began to hum a wordless tune to their baby girl.

**********

Fort Laramie, Wyoming Territory

“You sure we got enough?” Teaspoon asked, a twinkle in his eye as he looked from the bulging saddlebags on his horse, to those behind his boys’ saddles and even further to the packhorse Sam had lent them, to carry the gifts he and Emma were sending along.

“It’s been four years, Teaspoon,” Jimmy said.

“We’ve got a lot of making up to do,” Cody added, swinging into his saddle.  “And I’ve got a niece and a nephew to coddle.”

“Hey, if they’re our niece and nephew,” Buck spoke up from where his horse stood at the back of the little group, “Does that make them Teaspoon’s grandkids?”

Three pairs of eyes turned to eye him, one shocked, one considering, one narrowed in mock anger.  Suddenly, Jimmy burst out into laughter.

“Hey, Grandpa, can ya keep up?” he burbled before kneeing his palomino into a trot out of town.  A trot that quickly turned into a gallop as Teaspoon took off in hot pursuit.

Buck looked over at Cody, raising his eyebrow in question.  At Cody’s nod, they, too, took up the chase, Cody letting fly with his characteristic whooping and Buck adding in a ululating war cry, boyish grins plastered across both their faces.

Emma’s and Sam’s voice carried after them, “Ride safe!”

**********

Buck paused at the top of the ridge to pull out his canteen and take a deep swig of the water.  Their earlier play had petered out and now they were simply trying to cover as much ground as quickly as possible.  Buck had ridden ahead, scouting for a place to camp for the night, as they were well off any trails any of them might recognize.  Having found a good spot, now he waited for the others to catch up, enjoying the last moments of the water, winter sun before it set.  Already he could feel the bitter, prairie winds gathering in preparation for a long, cold night.

As the others neared he could hear Teaspoon chattering on about this and that.

“You oughta put a little bear grease on that leg, Jimmy,” Teaspoon was saying, pointing down at the other man’s mount.  “It’ll keep it from gettin’ infected.  After all, bear grease is--”

“The secret of health,” the three ‘boys’ chorused.

“Yeah,” Cody sniffed.  “I think I’ve heard that somewhere’s before.  Grandpa.”

Teaspoon reached out and whacked the younger man upside the back of the head. 

“I ain’t too old to whip some respect back into you, ya young whipper snapper,” the older man growled, trying to hide his laughter.

Buck shook his head.  Four years of a bloody war and the loss of a leg hadn’t changed him by one iota.  He didn’t understand it at all.  He’d heard enough about the War Between the States to know it was just as bad as what he’d been seeing out on the plains, between the Army and the Indians.  But it was like water off a duck’s back to his old mentor.  How did he do it?  How--

“How does he do it?”

Buck turned to look at Jimmy, startled to hear his own thoughts voiced out loud.

“What do you mean?”

Jimmy shook his head.  “It’s as if nothin’ ever happened.  Like, we just went off on a run, met up at Sam and Emma’s place and now we’re all headed back to the station.  What’s his secret?”

“I figured if anyone knew, it’d be you,” Buck said simply.  “He was always closest to you.  Saw you as a son.”

“I saw you all as my sons,” Teaspoon called back.  “Still do.  Why do you think I call you ‘my boys’?  And, if yer gonna talk ‘bout me, either speak up so’s I kin hear ya properly or wait ‘til I’m completely outta hearin’ distance so’s I don’t know.”

Buck raised an eyebrow questioningly at Jimmy, who just shook his own head in confused wonder.

But Teaspoon wasn’t going to leave them wondering long.  Pulling back on his horse’s reins, he waited for the other two to catch up to him before speaking again.

“I’m too old ta be shoutin’ acrost the prairie,” he muttered, looking at them over the bridge of his nose.  “Now, listen and listen close.  I ain’t gonna say I ain’t changed these last few years.  We all have.  Folks change.  That’s what they do. Ain’t no one stays the same their whole, entire lives.  But, I ain’t gonna let the divil get me down.  I have my nightmares, but I refuse ta let ‘em rule me.  You can’t always choose what happens to ya,” he said, clearing his throat, “but you can choose what ya do with it. I choose not ta let it steal my happiness.  Yer young enough, you’ve still got that choice ta make.  Make the one that ya won’t regret.”

Nodding emphatically, he turned and looked over at Cody.  “I think that there stand of trees down there might be a good spot.  Looks like there’s a nearby stream, and they’ll make fer good shelter.”

Cody shaded his eyes with one hand to peer down where Teaspoon was pointing.  “I do believe yer right.”

“’Course I am,” Teaspoon hmphed.  “I’m always right.”

**********

Lou pulled up on the reins as the wagon crested the rise overlooking their farm.  After the Express had closed, she and Kid had bought Emma’s old place.  They’d looked at other spots, even considered starting from scratch.  But Kid had nixed that idea due to little EmmyLu’s eminent arrival.  When Emma’d heard about their search, she’d offered to give them the old homestead.  They couldn’t accept that, so now they made regular payments on the place to her.

Lou sighed.  There was just something about that sight, the big old farmhouse sitting next to the original barn, both overshadowed by the windmill, that said ‘home’ to her.

“Is this it?” Tucker asked, riding up alongside the wagon.

“Is this yer place?” Martha added, from where she sat, fully enveloped in quilts, at Lou’s side.

Lou nodded quietly.  “Yep,” she said softly.  “This is home.”  Turning to the others, she added, “Now, let’s see about getting’ y’all down there.”

She slapped the reins against the horses’ backs and the wagon lurched back into motion.  Moments later, they were driving into the yard.  The, oddly, empty yard.  Looking around, Lou’s forehead wrinkled.

“Where’s Teresa?” Jeremiah asked, putting her own question to voice.

“Dunno,” she said, climbing down out of the wagon.  “Why don’t you and Tucker help Martha into the house,” she added.  “Kid and I’ll take care of the horses.”

Jeremiah nodded and was quickly climbing up to the seat Lou’d just vacated, gathering Martha carefully into his arms.

Kid walked over to Lou’s side, Katy’s and Lightning’s reins held in one hand.  “I’ll take these two inside, then be back out to help you unhitch.”

Lou nodded, watching him walk toward the second barn they’d built a year ago behind the house.  They housed their own stock there, keeping the animals they were prepping for sale in the big barn out front.  She grinned as she watched him saunter across the yard.  She’d always enjoyed watching him move.  And that had almost given her game away more than once back then.  Luckily, today she didn’t have to hide anything and, she’d unhitched the team so often she could do it in her sleep, which meant she could let her eyes rove to her heart’s content.  Tonight they’d be back in their own bed, in their own bedroom with a door with a lock on it.  She couldn’t wait, she thought, feeling her cheekbones heating up a bit.  Reaching up with one hand, she tried to wipe the lascivious grin off her face.

Blam!

The sound of a gun going off, followed by the clucking of disturbed chickens, a woman’s scream and Kid’s outraged baritone succeeded where her own efforts had failed.  Without thought, Lou dropped the traces she’d been undoing and broke into a dead run toward the barn.  Throwing open the doors, she skidded to a halt, her eyes nearly popping out of her head at the sight that greeted her.

Kid stood there, his six gun trained on Barnett, of all people.  The hapless former deputy was thoroughly disheveled, his shirt completely unbuttoned and pulled out of his loosened trousers, his suspenders hanging down around his hips.  He had both arms out, wrapped protectively around the woman sheltering behind him.  The nearly naked woman.  The nearly naked woman who was really more of a girl.  The nearly naked woman girl who was Lou’s little sister.

Lou wasn’t even aware of pulling her own revolver, aiming and cocking it.

“Git yer hands off my sister, mister,” she growled, advancing with a slow, menacing step.  “I ain’t gonna ask again.”

“Lou, no!” Teresa shouted, scuttling out from behind Barnett.  Suddenly, their positions were reversed and it was Teresa protecting the older man.

“I’d suggest you start talkin’,” Kid said sternly.  “And fast, young lady.”

Teresa looked back and forth between her beloved sister and the only man who’d ever been a father to her, then gulped audibly.

Chapter 9

The Gift 7/11

Summary:  It's been four long years of war and separation.   But now the hostilities are over.  But Kid's family is still flung to the far corners of the earth and he's feeling guilty he didn't go with them.  Will the spirit of the Christmas season help him forget?

Chapter 7

Wyoming Territory

“How’s she doin’?” Kid asked anxiously.  “Do you think we can move her today?”

Lou nodded as she jumped down off the tailgate at the back of the wagon.  “The fever’s gone,” she said smiling as she headed for the fire and the oatmeal Kid had been cooking for breakfast.  “And she’s askin’ fer food.  I think she, and the baby, are goin’ ta be just fine, soon’s we get them out of the elements and fattened up a bit.”

Kid reached out and wrapped an arm around her waist, pulling her in for a quick morning smooch.  “You did good last night,” he whispered into her ear, nuzzling her neck for a moment.

Lou pulled back and looked up at him curiously.  He wasn’t acting like himself this morning.  Well, actually, no.  He was acting like himself, as opposed to the automaton he’d been the last several weeks.  She smiled happily. 

“You’re in an exceptionally good mood this morning,” she finally said, reaching up on tiptoe to kiss him a bit more thoroughly.

“Mmmmm,” he murmured against her lips.  “What was that for.”

She pulled away from him and moved toward the fire. 

“It’s just nice to see you smiling and energetic again,” she said over her shoulder.

Kid stopped and watched her wonderingly as she began to fill a bowl with the porridge for Martha, then poured a cup of coffee for herself.  He thought back over the last twenty-four hours and realized that in all that time he hadn’t had a single thought about his missing brothers.  He’d been too busy trying to help Tucker, Martha and the children.

**********

Fort Laramie, Wyoming Territory

“Teaspoon!” Cody gushed, pushing forward to greet the former stationmaster, Texas Ranger and Marshal.  The last any of them had seen him, he’d been riding south for Texas to join the Confederacy.  There’d been a lot of bitterness over his choice, especially on Cody’s part at that time, after Noah’s death.  But the war was over and he had had several years to realize he didn’t always know everything.

“Boys,” Teaspoon nodded at them.  It was only as he set the little boy on his knee down and reached down to pick something up off the floor that any of them realized something was wrong.  Pulling out a pair of crutches, Teaspoon struggled to his feet, or rather to his foot.  One pant leg ended at the knee, leaving the old man balancing on just one foot.

“Teaspoon?” Jimmy gasped out in a strangled voice.  “What happened?”

The older man looked down at himself for a moment before facing his boys again.  “What, this?” he pointed at his missing limb.  “Well, turns out that was my great contribution to the war.  I tol’ ya onct, son, ever’body’s luck runs out sooner or later.  Mine finally did just days before the war was over.  Got half the leg blown off in a little skirmish.  Woulda died if it hadn’t been for the Union doctors what patched me up.”

He grinned insouciantly at the trio of young men hovering just out of reach, obviously wanting to rush him but afraid to now.  “Woulda been here sooner, but apparently it takes longer ta heal when yer old like me.  Now,” he hmphed grumpily, “why aren’t ya greetin’ yer old man properly?”

He held out his arms widely and his three boys took his cue, rushing in to hug him fiercely in greeting, pounding his back and all three talking at once.  Even Buck wrapped his arms around Teaspoon and squeezed for all he was worth, ignoring the pain in his protesting ribs.  This was so much more important than a momentary discomfort.

**********

Box Elder, Wyoming Territory

“Are we there yet?” EmmyLu whined from behind her mother’s shoulder.  All four of the young children were riding in the wagon with Martha while Lou drove.  And, while Albert was getting along well enough with Noah and EmmyLu, there’d been some friction between the two girls.  Lou figured it was a case of two girls with strong temperaments, both used to being the ‘eldest’ and in charge trying to figure out how to work around each other.  “I wanna see Uncle ‘Miah,” EmmyLu continued eagerly.

“I know honey,” Lou smiled over her shoulder at her daughter.  “We’ll be there soon.  See that hill over there?”  She freed one hand from the reins to point toward the next rise in the rolling plains.  EmmyLu nodded eagerly.  “Well, Box Elder is just beyond that rise.  I figure we’ll be there in about half an hour.  Just a little more patience, alright baby girl?”

“I ain’t no baby!” EmmyLu protested.  Lou laughed.

True to Lou’s predictions, the wagon rolled into town within the hour, accompanied by Kid and Tucker on horseback.  Pulling up by the livery, Lou said, “Why don’t you two go check in with the Marshal, see if he knows about any open jobs or places where these folks can get a room for the winter.  I’ll take care of the horses and send a note out to Jeremiah.”

Kid nodded, dismounted, and, leaving Katy tied to the wagon next to Lightning, turned to head back into the middle of town, Tucker trotting along at his heels.  But they were back in short order.  Lou had barely had time to send a messenger out to the farm where Jeremiah was working as a hired hand, trying to save up enough money for his own place.

“Bad news?” she asked at the downcast looks on both their faces.

Kid nodded.  “Marshal says things’ve been real tight this year.  They had a bad harvest this year and no one’s got any extra for anything.  Businesses ain’t hirin’, they’re lettin’ folks go.  I’d be surprised if Jeremiah even still has a job.”

Lou sighed heavily.  “So, what do we do?”

“We can’t do nothin’ or go anywhere ‘til Jeremiah gets here, so what say we head over to the general store?  We need ta get some supplies ta get us the rest of the way to Sweetwater.  Martha and Tucker ain’t got ‘nough ta make it and we don’t have enough ta supply all of us.”

Lou raised worried eyes to Kid’s face.  He shook his head.  Now wasn’t the time.  They’d deal, just like they always had, one way or another.

**********

Lou and Kid walked into the general store, having left Tucker behind to watch over his sister and the little ones who were happily playing in the hayloft of the livery barn.

“We should get a little coffee,” Lou said.  “Beans, some oats.”

“Maybe they’ll have a side of bacon,” Kid suggested brightly.

Lou looked at him down her nose.  A difficult task given how much taller than her he was.  “We only need enough ta tide us over for a few days, ‘til we get back ta the ranch.”

“Doesn’t mean we gotta starve,” Kid smiled, hugging her tight to his side.  “We’ll be alright.  Stop worryin’ so much.  It’ll all work out.”

She snorted, mostly in disbelief at his happy attitude.

“Is that my little sis in there?” a familiar voice called from the store’s entryway.

Lou turned with a gasped, “Jeremiah!”

The siblings rushed into each other’s arms, both chattering a mile a minute, trying to catch the other up on everything in their lives.

“And I ain’t your little sister,” Lou finally said, with a glare and smack at his chest.

He stared down at her, even taller now than Kid, and laughed.  “Don’t know ‘bout that.  You look awful small from all the way up here.”

They all laughed at what had become a running joke in the last few years, ever since the day Jeremiah had realized he was actually taller than his older sister.

“Speaking of which, where is my younger sister?”

“Said she couldn’t miss so much school this close to the end of term,” Kid said.  “There was no one ta fill in fer her. Insisted on stayin’ in Sweetwater.”

Jeremiah looked at Kid oddly.  “I thought she’d arranged a substitute ages ago.”

Kid just shrugged, as if to say, ‘Who could read a woman’s mind?’  Lou however, by now, could read his and smacked the back of his head on her way back into the store.

“Ow!” Kid protested.  “What’d I do?” he wailed after her, bewildered.

“If you have to ask, I oughta come back there and do it again.  Might knock some sense back inta ya!”

Kid shook his head as he watched his wife move about the store, gathering the supplies they needed.

“So, what took you two so long?” Jeremiah asked.  “I expected ya yesterday.  Speaking of which, where’re my niece and nephew?”

Across the store, Lou was concentrating on finding what they’d need to keep their growing group adequately fed until they got to Sweetwater without breaking the bank.  She was so busy calculating and recalculating totals, she almost tripped over a slender young man in a brown citified suit and matching bowler hat.

“Excuse me, ma’am,” he smiled.  “I didn’t mean to get in your way.”

“No problem,” she muttered, mentally starting her calculations over again.

“Might I trouble you for a bit of information?” he continued, breaking through her thoughts once more.

“Mebbe,” she muttered, finally really looking up at the smiling gentleman.  There was something about his eyes she found reassuring.  “What ya need?”

“See, I’m trying to find someone.  I think she may have come this way, perhaps with a man posing as her husband.  Her name’s Martha Rockefeller, young girl, long, dark hair, just a little curly, pretty blue eyes?  She stands about so tall?”  He indicated her height with a hand in front of his own chest, just below the top of Lou’s head.

She stiffened at the mention of Martha’s name. 

“What ya want with her?” she asked suspiciously.  Maybe his eyes were lying to her.  Wouldn’t be the first time.

“Her family’s hired me to find her,” he smiled.  “Name’s Tom Harbinger.  I’m a Pinkerton Detective.”  He held a calling card out to her.  She gingerly reached out and took it.  “There’s a reward for information leading to her discovery.”

Bowing again, he headed toward the door of the store.  Lou watched him leave, before dropping all the supplies she’d gathered on the table next to her and scurrying over to Kid and Jeremiah.

“We’ve gotta get outta here,” she muttered under her breath, dragging each of the larger men out of the store by their arms.

**********

Fort Laramie, Wyoming Territory

“Well, sit, sit…  you boys look hungry enough ta eat a horse!” Teaspoon laughed, encouraging the trio to pull up seats at the table, even as Sam and Emma’s eldest, five year old Sam, Jr, or Sammy as they called him, brought out more plates and utensils and began setting extra places.

“Emma, I don’t know what it is, but it smells delicious,” Cody grinned, rubbing his hands together in anticipation.

“Nothing fancy, boys,” she smiled as she walked over from the stove with a pot in her apron-wrapped hands.  “But filling.”

“I promise ya, Emma,” Jimmy smiled up at her as she began to dish the venison stew onto his plate.  “It’ll be better than anything I’ve had to eat in years.”

“Just make sure to save some for me,” Buck added eagerly.

“Now, boys,” she placated happily.  “There’s plenty to go around.  Did I ever let one of you leave my table still hungry?”

“No ma’am,” they chorused.

Teaspoon laughed.  “Nice ta see some things ain’t changed!”  He turned to Buck and pointed the spoon he’d been using to feed baby Sarah Elizabeth applesauce at the bruised young man.  “Now, you wanna tell me what all them marks on yer face are about?”

Buck stopped in his silent shoveling of stew into his mouth and looked up at Teaspoon for a moment.  Shrugging he finally said simply, “Same tale, different day.  They took exception to an injun wantin’ ta get somethin’ ta eat.”

Teaspoon shook his head sorrowfully. 

“All this fightin’ ta end one form of bigotry, but another lives on,” he said mournfully.  His visage brightened.  “At least you still had your family around ta stick up fer ya.”

“We rescued him,” Cody bragged.

“You damned well oughta,” Teaspoon glared playfully at Cody for a moment, before letting his approval show in the twinkling of his eyes.  “So, what are y’all doin’ here?”

“We’re on our way ta visit Lou and the Kid,” Cody answered around a mouthful of food, even as he reached out to grab a biscuit off the platter Emma had just placed in the middle of the table.

“Don’t talk with your mouthful, young man,” she admonished strictly.

He gulped down the food and apologized.  “Sorry, ma’am.”

“That’s good ta hear,” Teaspoon said.  “He needs ta see yer all alright.”

“Is he as bad as it sounds in Lou’s letters?” Buck asked, Cody having shared his letters with the other two on the ride from Denver.

“Worse,” Sam sighed.  “And nothin’ we did got through to him.  It was almost as if he weren’t even here.”

“You three eat up tonight, get a good night’s rest, and take off first thing in the morning,” Emma encouraged.  “I bet you can still make it out to the old homestead before Christmas morning!”

“So, what have they been up to?” Buck asked curiously.  “They got any children yet?”

“Two,” Teaspoon boasted.  “And they already call me Grandpa, even if they haven’t met me yet!”

Soon, the table was full of chatter as everyone got caught up on the goings on of the last several years.

**********

“Louise, what on earth is goin’ on?” Jeremiah protested as she dragged him and her husband down the boardwalk toward the livery.

“Hush,” she hissed, continuing her march.  Within moments they were walking into the dimly lit barn, Lou carefully closing the barn doors behind them, peering out to see if they’d been followed in the process.

“Now would you like to explain?” Kid asked, mildly exasperated.

“We need to talk to Martha and Tucker,” she said, heading toward the wagon at the back of the barn.

Inside the wagon, they found Martha awake for the first time since the day before.  Tucker had helped her sit up and then piled every pillow the family owned behind her to brace her in place.

Martha saw Lou’s worried face as she climbed into the wagon and asked immediately, “What’s wrong?”

“Why would a Pinkerton detective be lookin’ fer ya?” Lou answered with her own blunt question.

“What?!” Tucker and Martha gasped in unison.

“He was in the store, askin’ after ya, Martha specifically.  Said there was a reward, that yer family had hired him ta find you.”

Martha began to wildly shake her head back and forth.  “It must’ve been his family,” she said almost desperately.  “We ain’t got no family left.  We gotta get outta here.  They find out he’s dead and they’ll arrest us fer sure!”

“Now, calm down,” Kid said reassuringly.  “They’d have ta come through me ta do that and I ain’t gonna let that happen.  As far as I’m concerned, what you two did was self-defense.  I saw how you almost died of the wounds he caused.”

“Well, I’d say we need to get back on the road right quick then,” Jeremiah finally spoke up.

“Who!?” Martha asked, gaping like a fish.  “Who are you?”  Fear made her voice quaver.

“Martha, that galoot is my little brother, Jeremiah McCloud,” Lou introduced.  Turning to him, she added, “And I’d like to know what you mean by ‘we’?  Don’t you have a job here?”

Jeremiah shrugged a touch defensively.  “They had a drought this summer, then lost what was left of the crop to a hail storm,” he explained.  “Barely got enough ta get themselves through the winter.  I been workin’ fer food, waitin’ fer ya to come through town so’s I could hitch a ride home with ya.”

Lou sighed deeply, feeling the responsibility of yet another mouth to feed pressing in on her.

“Well, ya better grab yer things and get back here quick, then,” she said.  “Cause we’re pullin’ outta here in half an hour.  Come hell or high water.”

Chapter 8

The Courtship of James Hunter McCloud, chapter 2

Chapter 2

Sighing deeply, Jamie turned back to his work.  With Pa off romancing Ma, he’d just have twice as much work to do.  Might as well get to it.

“Hm hm!”

The sound of someone clearing her throat had him swirling around toward the barn door, hay flying off the pitchfork in his hands in an arc around him as he did so.  And there she was, as if he’d conjured her up out of his imagination, prettier than he remembered and farther out of his reach than ever.  The last thought had his shoulders slumping in defeat.

Deliberately turning his back on her and everything she represented and he’d lost, he tossed the hay into the next stall.

“Whatsa matter?” he asked brusquely, refusing to look her way again.  It was the only way he could concentrate enough to talk to her.  Otherwise, he just got lost in her pretty, doe brown eyes that always got him to thinking about his favorite caramel candies and wondering if her mouth would taste as sweet.  Not that he’d ever have the chance to find out, he thought as his mouth twisted bitterly.  “Can’t hitch up the buckboard on yer own no more, now that yer a proper lady and all.”

He put an almost insulting drawl on the words ‘proper lady’ just so she’d get the point.  What’d she have to go and change for, anyway?  Wasn’t what they’d had here good enough for her?

Julia watched the smooth muscles of his shoulders and upper back flexing and relaxing as he tossed another pitchfork full of hay into a stall.  She swallowed desperately, trying to wet her suddenly parched throat, even as an odd flush enveloped the rest of her body.  Fanning herself, she stepped closer to him and put on her best smile.

“I wanted to talk to my best friend,” she said softly, in the dulcet, lady like tones her home economics instructors had drilled into her before she’d managed to wangle a transfer out of those dull, useless classes to a more…. invigorating course of study.

“I can guarantee ya ain’t gonna find her in here,” Jamie nearly growled.  “No lady hangs out in a barn where she might get her skirts dirty.”  He looked pointedly at her feet.

Looking down she realized the pointed toes of her best pair of black dress shoes were less than an inch away from a giant pile of …. horse droppings.  Even she even breathed too deeply she’d be dragging the skirts of her dress in the muck.

“Oh,” she murmured, taking a quick step backward.  “Thank--”

She stopped in mid-phrase at the ominously sucking sound of her foot sinking into another pile behind her.  Her shoulders slumped.  Jamie snickered.

Stepping sideways toward a bale of hay, she sat down and grabbed a handful of straw to begin cleaning off the back of her skirt and her shoe.

“This ain’t funny,” she huffed, losing her refined tones in her exasperation.  “Do you know how much these cost my Pa?”

Jamie just shook his head.  “Then ya shoulda known better’n ta wear ‘em inta the barn.  Or at least to’ve looked where ya was goin’.”

Her cleaning done, at least as good as it was going to get here and now, Julia tossed the now dirtied handful of straw into the wheelbarrow used to muck out the stables.  She couldn’t exactly tell him she hadn’t seen the horse manure because she’d been too distracted watching his back and trying to find her suddenly non-existent ability to breath.

Pasting a bright smile on her face, she turned to look straight at him.  “Well, I… I wanted ta look…. presentable.”

“Whatever for?” he asked derisively, turning away to go back to work.  “The horses don’t care how ya look.”

“Well, I was hopin’…” she started, then stopped.  Starting again, she said, “See, there’s this…..  I was thinkin’ maybe we could…. I missed spendin’ time with ya…”

“Oh, would you just spit it out already,” Jamie huffed, as he grabbed another bale of hay and ripped off the cords holding it together with a knife he’d pulled from his boot.  Slipping the knife back into his boot sheath, he began splitting the hay bale into large flakes.

Trying again, she said, “There’s a box social this Saturday.  It’s part of the town Founders’ Day celebrations.  I… well…. I thought…”

As her words petered out, he stiffened in sudden realization.  She wanted to go with him.  Like they’d used to do back in high school.  Straightening to his full 6 foot 2 inch height, he turned to look at her.  Keeping his face stiff, so as not to show the pain ripping through his chest, he said the hardest words he’d ever spoken.  But the most necessary ones.

“Lady, if yer lookin’ fer an escort, yer barkin’ up the wrong tree.  I ain’t what you want.”

Without another word, he stalked out of the barn, letting the door slam shut behind him.  She watched him go, her mouth hanging open.

“But… but…. you’re exactly what I want,” she whispered in the gloomy depths of the barn.  A mare in the stall nearest Julia stuck her head over the door and whuffled at her, whether in commiseration or demand of food, it was impossible to tell.

**********

Buck nodded to Jamie as he passed the training corral.  He had turned into a good young man, one who’d make any father proud, Buck thought.  He worked hard and took his responsibilities seriously.  Oh, he liked to play as much as the next young man, but he didn’t let it get in the way of doing what needed doing.  For example, today Buck would’ve fully expected him to run off with Julia first chance those two had and head for their favorite hidey hole.  But no, he was here, taking up his Pa’s slack, Buck thought with a wry grin, and working hard training one of the newest mustangs they’d brought in last month.

Stepping into the barn, Buck grabbed a bridle from its hook near the door and headed toward the first stall that didn’t have a mark indicating the horse had been exercised today.  One thing about owning a horse ranch, you had to spend a lot of time in the saddle just making sure all the stock got enough exercise and stayed properly docile, even after being trained.

Buck snorted.  He’d never have predicted it then, but he probably spent more time in the saddle now than when he and the others had worked for the Express.

He reached for the handle to the stall, ready to open the door, when a small, snuffling sound from the loft overhead reached his ears.  Pausing, he listened for a moment.  So far as he knew, all of the little ones were at school.  So why did it sound like someone was up in the hayloft weeping?  Changing course, he headed for the ladder and clambered up it, almost, as easily as he’d done in his youth.  Peeking through the trapdoor into the hayloft, he saw Julia curled up in a pile of hay, crying bitterly, trying to muffle her sobs with her sleeve.  A sleeve he could tell, even in this dim light, was soaked through with her tears.

Climbing the rest of the way up into the loft, he moved to her side and pulled his daughter into his arms.

“What’s wrong?” he asked solemnly, rocking her gently back and forth like he’d used to do when she was a baby.

“He…. he…. he doesn’t want me,” Julia wailed, burying her face in her father’s chest.

“Who?”

“Jaaaaaammmmmmiiiieeeeeee.”

Buck nodded in comprehension.  He’d known she’d carried a tendre for Lou and Kid’s eldest for a long time.  But he’d always thought Jamie felt much the same for her.  He wondered what had happened.

“Tell me about it,” he encouraged.

Haltingly at first, then with growing speed, she told him all about her earlier encounter with Jamie.

“He hates me,” she muttered, winding down.  “Obviously he thinks I’m still not good enough for him.  Even after going off and getting a college education, learning how to be a proper lady and everything,” she huffed, throwing her hands up in the air, “It still wasn’t enough.  I’ll never be good enough for him.”

Buck started at this pronouncement.  He’d thought she’d attended college because it was what she wanted.  Not to please some man.  Shaking his head, he advised, “Then forget about him.”

“But I looooooovvvveeee him,” she wailed, breaking into tears once more.

Buck sighed, pulling out a handkerchief from his pocket and handing it to her.  He watched with fascination as she carefully inspected it for cleanliness then proceeded to noisily and messily blow her nose and dry it on the square piece of cloth.

“Honey,” Buck said, pulling her tight into his embrace, “you can’t make somebody feel somethin’.  At the same time, ya can’t make them unfeel somethin’ either.  Not by changin’ who you are.  Be yourself.  If Jamie won’t take ya to the box social, go on yer own and have a fine old time.  I guarantee there’ll be plenty of young men linin’ up ta buy yer box of vittles once they clap eyes on you after all these years.”

Feeling her start to shake her head in denial, he smiled a bit.  “’Sides, I have a feeling Jamie doesn’t feel quite the way you think he does.  Give him some time.  You’ve done a powerful lot of changin’ these last few years.  He may just need a bit ta get used ta who ya are now.  If he’s the one the Great Spirit meant for you, well, then things’ll work out.”

“Do you really think so?” she asked, pulling back to gaze up at him hopefully through the sheen of tears still shining brightly over her eyes.

“I really think so,” Buck smiled, reaching out to tweak her nose, just like he used to when she was a little girl.

“Pa,” she groaned, easily eluding his playful move.

Buck just grinned at her.  Standing up, he reached down and helped her to her feet as well.  Brushing the hay off her dress, he added, “Why don’t ya go back to the house, change out of these fancy duds and help yer mother in the kitchen.  I’d guess you’ve got some plannin’ ta do fer a social this weekend.”

**********

“What the hell is wrong with my girl you think she’s not good enough for you?”

The words barely registered on Jamie’s brain when a fist collided with his nose, sending him flying backward into the horse trough.  Sputtering as he surfaced, he raised his eyes to meet the enraged gaze of his Uncle Buck.

Jamie reached up to wipe the water out of his eyes so he could see more clearly.  Yep, his Uncle Buck was still pissed as all get out.  And he had no idea why.

“What the hell’d ya hit me fer?” he demanded, starting to lever himself out of the trough with one hand, the other hovering protectively over his nose, already swelling up and leaking blood.

Buck pushed him back down into the water with one booted foot against his belly.

“Fer making my baby girl cry, that’s what!”

Jamie shook his head, hoping it would shake some piece of information loose so this conversation would start making sense.  Nope.  Didn’t work.

“I ain’t got no idea what yer talkin’ ‘bout,” Jamie said, sinking back into the water.  Accepting he wasn’t going to be going anywhere until Buck had had his say.

Buck leaned down until he was almost nose to nose with Jamie and hissed, “I just found my little girl up in the loft cryin ‘ her eyes out ‘cause o’ you.  I can’t believe you really think yer too good fer her.  But even if ya did, ya didn’t haveta say it.  You coulda let her down easy.  I thought I knew you better than that son.”

“Who the hell are you talkin’ ‘bout?” Jamie bellowed.  “Let who down easy?”

“Julia, you dolt.  How many wimmen you been insultin’ today you can’t remember her?”

Jamie lost all his bluster at that.  “Didn’t mean ta make her cry,” he muttered, letting his head fall back so it rested against the edge of the trough.  His entire body shrieking out defeat.  “But I sure as hell never said I was too good fer her.”

“Well, that’s sure what she heard.”

“If anythin’, it’s the other way around,” Jamie continued, ignoring Buck’s words, if he’d even heard them.  “She’s too good fer me.  We’d’a made a right fine pair, if she’d stuck around.  But she had to go and get herself a higher education.  Learn ta be a proper lady.  I’m a horse rancher.  What’s a proper lady ever gonna want with the likes of me?  I barely managed ta graduate high school.  How’m I supposed to go up to a woman with a college degree and ask her ta step out with me?  Naw.  She done chose ta leave me behind.  Now she’s just gonna have ta live with her decisions.”

Not waiting to see what Buck had to say about that, Jamie pushed himself upright and shoved past the older man.  He trudged toward the house with his shoulders slumped in defeat, water sloshing out of his boots with every step.

Buck just watched him go, slapping his hat against one lean thigh repeatedly.

“Well,” he finally muttered, shaking his head in disbelief.  “I’ll be damned.  And I thought Lou and Kid got things all mixed up on their way ta the alter.”

Chapter 3

The Gift 6/11

Summary:  It's been four long years of war and separation.   But now the hostilities are over.  But Kid's family is still flung to the far corners of the earth and he's feeling guilty he didn't go with them.  Will the spirit of the Christmas season help him forget?

Chapter 6

Wyoming Territory

“Hollander ain’t our real name,” Tucker started.  “It was his name.”

“His?” Kid questioned.

“After our Pa died, we had trouble keepin’ up the payments on our farm.  The bank was ‘bout ta take everythin’, when in he walked, James Hollander.  Said if Ma married him, he’d pay off all our debts and take care of all of us.”

“Why do I think that didn’t happen?” Lou said quietly.

Tucker just kept staring into the distance in front of him as he spoke.

“He brought Ellen with him when he moved in.  Dropped her in Ma’s lap and didn’t do a lick of work after that.  Just sat there, expectin’ ta be waited on all the time.  Had me and my big brother doin’ all the work on the farm.”

“Brother?” Kid asked curiously.

“He run off after Albert was born and Ma died,” Tucker said, raising his knees to his chin and wrapping his arms protectively around his legs.  The campfire outside cast flickering yellow and gold shadows across his tortured face.  “So he decided it was Martha’s turn.”

“What do you mean by ‘Martha’s turn’?” Lou asked, almost menacingly.

“Said since Ma was dead she had to take her place.  Made her quit school to stay home and take care of him and the babies.”

“That’s not all, is it?” Lou asked quietly, looking at the rounded mound of Martha’s belly under the covers.

Tucker shook his head violently.  “No,” he whispered.  “She tried to stop him.  He wasn’t even married to her.  I tried to stop him.  But he was too big, too strong.  Said it was her duty, just like the cookin’ and cleanin’.”

Tears coursed down the boy’s cheeks unnoticed.

“How’d you end up out here?” Kid asked, changing the subject in an attempt to relieve the tension in the wagon.

Tucker looked up at met Kid’s eyes, searching for something.  Something he apparently found in their depths, because he took a bracing breath and returned to his story.

“He was real mad when he found out Martha’d… ‘got herself in trouble’ as he put it,” Tucker said bitterly.  “But then he said somethin’ ‘bout how it was all fer the best anyway and settled down again.  Until some stranger come ta town, askin’ after Ma and her children.”

Kid and Lou shared a concerned glance as Tucker kept talking.

“I was with him when the man come inta the tavern and started askin’ ever’body these questions.  Man, you never seen someone hop around so scaredy like,” Tucker chuckled wryly at the remembrance.  “He skedaddled outta there like his tail was on fire, straight back ta the house, where he tol’ Martha ta start packin’ up.  We was movin’ west.  We left the next mornin’, without even sayin’ goodbye ta none of our friends and neighbors.”

Tucker lapsed into a silence it quickly became obvious he wasn’t going to break.  Lou spoke up.  “Where’d you start?”

“Tennessee.  The hill country.  We wasn’t rich, but we had a place of our own, was gettin’ by,” Tucker grunted.  “Took us weeks just ta make it ta Independence.  By then, it was so late in the season we didn’t have but one choice in trains.  The wagon master charged us ever’ cent we had ta join up.  Didn’t have no money fer extra supplies or spare parts.  When our axle broke, the wagon master said he couldn’t afford ta wait fer us ta find a way ta fix it and left us behind,” Tucker sighed.  “That made him real mad.  And he blamed Martha fer it.  Said us bein’ stuck out here was all her fault.  He beat her pretty bad.  You saw.”

Lou nodded somberly.  They all had seen.  Only once before had she ever seen someone whipped that badly.  And that had only been well after the fact, when all she’d seen were the scars left over from the beating.  She couldn’t imagine what Martha must have gone through.

“He insisted she get up the next day and do her chores like normal, stop bein’ so lazy,” Tucker continued.  “We was purt’ near out of food, so we went huntin’ fer somethin’ ta eat.  I did most of the huntin’ so’s Martha could rest, ya know?  Didn’t find nothin’ but mushrooms an’ wild onions.”

Suddenly, the boy seemed to draw in on himself, as the words seemed to spill out of his mouth, faster and faster.

“Martha’s a good cook.  She turned it into a real good smellin’ stew.  Made all our stomach’s growl in anticipation.  But he insisted on bein’ served first.  And he ate it all.  Wasn’t like we’d found much.  Ain’t much around this time of year.”

Tucker’s breath caught for a moment, but he steamed right on through with his story, determined to get it finished.  “Well, he started actin’ real strange almost immediately.  Seein’ things, getting’ confused.  Callin’ Martha by our Ma’s name.  Stuff like that.  Then he started puking his innards out.  We thought he was gonna die.  And I ain’t ashamed ta say we prayed he would.  But… he started gettin’ better.  That’s…. that’s when we decided ta do it.”

“Do what, Tucker?” Kid asked quietly.

“Martha an’ me,” he answered so quietly Kid and Lou had to scoot closer to catch his words, “we put a pillow over his face while he was sleepin’ and kept it there ‘til he weren’t breathin’ no more.”

**********

Fort Laramie, Wyoming Territory

“Well, this place sure ain’t changed much,” Buck sighed as he swerved his horse to the side to avoid a troop of Regular Army cavalry headed out the front gates, refusing to wince at the protest his broken ribs set up over the unexpected, sharp movement.  No way would he show weakness in front of these Blue Coats.

“What are you talkin’ ‘bout?” Jimmy asked.  “I ain’t never seen it so busy.”

“You ain’t been around the last few years.”

“No,” Jimmy snapped.  “I’ve been off fightin’ fer my country, fer the freedom of folks like Noah, Sally and Ulysses.”

“Wearin’ the same colors as these yahoos who’ve been trying to subjugate my people the last few years.  This last year your precious Army murdered two innocent Oglalla leaders by hangin’ them, just ‘cause they were Indians and had somethin’ the Army wanted,” Buck hissed, before spurring his horse into a quick trot and disappearing down the main street into the fort.

Jimmy looked at Cody, slightly befuddled.  “What’s subjugate?”

Cody just shook his head and trotted off after Buck.

Jimmy threw his hands up in the air.  “What’d I say?” he grumbled, before following his brothers into the fort.

**********

The trio rode down the middle of the street side by side, earning glares from wagons and individual horseriders trying to move around them.  But they didn’t notice.  They were too busy looking at the signs hanging in front of the various businesses up and down the street.

Suddenly, Cody shouted.  “There!”  He pointed at a sign three doors down that read Territorial Marshal.  “That’s it!  Come on, boys,” he encouraged, pushing his horse to a faster pace, cutting in front of an oncoming buckboard loaded down with bags of feed to pull up in front of the office.

Soon, all three were swinging down out of their saddles and trooping into the Marshal’s office.  A dusty looking man leaned back in his chair, tipped back on just two legs, braced against the wall.  He had his hat pulled down over his face.  A shiny tin star declaring Deputy Territorial Marshal shone on his chest.

The three young men shared a look.

“I thought that was just a Teaspoon thing,” Jimmy whispered.

“Dunno, looks like it comes with the badge,” Buck shot back.  Nudging Cody, he added, “Billy, maybe you should look into the law for a career after all.”

Cody glared at his two companions before striding confidently up to the bar separating the front of the office from the desks and cells at the back of the room where the deputy snoozed away.  Aggressively, he cleared his throat.

The deputy startled and dropped the chair to all four legs, pushing the hat back onto his head.  Yawning, he looked up and asked, “Yes?  How kin I hep you gents?”

“We’re lookin’ fer yer boss,” Cody said, tucking his hands into the belt of his jacket.  “Sam Cain?  He and his wife are ol’ friends of ours.”

“If that don’t beat all.  Marshal’s got ol’ friends comin’ out of the woodwork today,” the deputy muttered to himself, standing up and grabbing a ring of keys.  “Well, come on.  I’ll show ya the way.”  Stepping through the knee high bar, he held out his hand in greeting.  “I’m Phil Campbell, chief deputy.”

Cody shook his extended hand heartily and smiled back at the other man, a year or two younger than Cody and his brothers.  “I’m William F. Cody.  These are my… brothers…. Running Buck Cross and Jimmy.”

Campbell looked at Hickok more closely at the introduction.  “Jimmy?  You look awful familiar ta me.  There a reason why ya won’t give me yer last name?”

“Hickok,” Jimmy said, rubbing a hand across his freshly shaven chin, thinking to himself he should’ve left the trail beard on a bit longer.

Campbell took a surprised step back.  “Hickok?  As in Wild Bill Hickok?”

“Listen, there ain’t no warrants out fer his arrest, so just leave him be,” Buck interrupted the incipient interrogation with an exasperated sigh.  “Now, are you going to show us where the Marshal is or stand there starin’ at us all night?”

“Mighty strange family you got there, Mr. Cody,” the deputy said as he slipped past Hickok to the front door.

“You don’t know the half of it,” Cody said, smiling.  “And Sam’s as much kin as any of the rest of ‘em.”

Campbell turned and looked at the others as they followed him out of the office.  Locking the door behind him, he shook his head as the trio mounted up almost in unison.  It was obviously a well practiced motion as they were completely unaware of how in sync their actions were.  “Stranger and stranger,” he muttered to himself.

**********

“Here it is,” the deputy announced, as they rode up to a tall, two story house with an expansive front porch surrounded by rose bushes, thorny branches bared to the December winds, roots covered by several inches of fresh snow.  “I’d suggest knockin’ real polite-like, or Mrs. Cain’ll tear inta ya fer bad manners as if you were one of her boys.”

“We are her boys,” Buck said proudly, as he tied his mount up to the fence surrounding the house and yard.  Opening his gate, he turned to his brothers.  “Well, stop dawdlin’.  Supper’s on.  Can’t ya smell it?”

“I sure can,” Jimmy said, rubbing his hands together enthusiastically, quickly following Buck down the path trampled through the snow to the door.

“Hey, wait for me,” Cody called after them.  “I’m hungry, too!”

“You’re always hungry,” Buck answered over his shoulder, even as he took off his hat, brushed his hair nervously back, tucking several locks behind each ear, then reached out and knocked on the door, at first tentatively, then with growing confidence.

**********

Wyoming Territory

Lou and Kid shared a look as Tucker fell silent.  He just sat there, tears coursing down his cheeks, as he rocked back and forth, hugging his knees to his chest, one hand kept firmly on Martha’s feet, as if to assure himself she was still there and alright.

Finally, Kid sighed and asked, “What’s yer real name, son?”

The sound of the older man’s voice broke through the boy’s reverie.  Looking up, he met Kid’s eyes, then looked away.  “Rockefeller,” he muttered.  “My Pa’s people come from somewhere even further back East than Tennessee.  Martha knows more’n I do.”

Lou stood up and crossed the short distance to Tucker’s side.  Placing one hand on his shoulder, she said softly, “It’s nice to meet you Tucker Rockefeller.”

Tucker looked up at her, then nervously over at Kid.  “What’re ya goin’ ta do ta us?” he practically begged.  “Are ya goin’ ta turn us in?  Please, I’m the one suggested it.  She’d’a never done nothin’ if I hadn’t encouraged her.  But it was the only way.  He beat her like that again, she’d be lucky ta survive.  Fer damned sure she’d lose that baby.  And I don’t know why but she loves that kid like nothin’ I ain’t never seen.”

“It’s a woman thing,” Lou said, smiling softly, resting one hand on her own lower belly which was rounder than it had been a few years earlier after carrying two children for a full nine months.  “And as for what we’re goin’ ta do, I believe we already told ya.”

“Wha?”

“We’re goin’ ta take ya into Box Elder,” Kid said.  “That’s the nearest town.  And help ya get settled in for the winter, find jobs, a place ta stay.  Yer sister can get healthy again.  The baby can be born in peace, not on the road.  And you can save up a grubstake.  Next spring, you can move on to Oregon, if that’s what you still want, or head back to Tennessee, or anything else.”

“You… you mean you ain’t goin’ ta turn us in fer murder?” Tucker gasped, astonished.  His shoulders slumped with relief.

Kid sighed as he, too, stood and moved toward the entrance of the wagon to check on his own offspring.  “It ain’t so much that I ain’t goin’ ta turn ya in as I ain’t goin’ ta arrest ya.”

Tucker’s eyes flew from Kid’s retreating back to Lou, who had once again settled on the floor of the wagon next to Martha.

“What’s he talkin’ ‘bout?”

Lou looked up from wiping Martha’s brow with a wet cloth.  “Kid’s the City Marshal of Sweetwater,” she smiled softly, remembering back to those early years.

“I… I thought you was ranchers.”

“Oh, that’s what we want to be,” she smiled at the boy.  “But it takes time to get a successful horse ranch off the ground.  In the meantime, we’ve got two young’un’s to take care of.  Marshalling helps pay the bills.”  Softening her tone a bit, she asked quietly, “How old are you, anyway?”

“Thirteen,” Tucker swallowed, speaking barely audibly. 

Lou’s shoulders stiffened as she looked at the pregnant, feverish girl on the pallet in front of her.  Barely able to push the words out past the lump in her throat, she asked, “And Martha?”

“Fifteen next month.”

**********

Fort Laramie, Wyoming Territory

“Who are you?”

Buck looked down at the gamine face of a young boy, perhaps five years old, staring up at him through the open door.

“Are you an injun?”

Buck stiffened a touch at the word.  Then he relaxed as the boy followed it up with another question.

“’Cause my Pa says injuns is our friends, if we let ‘em be.  Is that why yer face’s all bruised?  Cause yer an injun?”

Buck smiled and carefully squatted down to look the child square in the face.  “I’m an Indian alright, son,” he said.  “Kiowa, to be exact.  And yer Pa’s right.  See, I think he’s my friend already.”

The child frowned at Buck, tilting his head questioningly, his lips pursed to form another phrase, a phrase that never left his throat.

“Who’s at the door, Sammy?” came the familiar gravelly tones.

“An injun what says he’s yer friend, Pa,” the child shouted back over his shoulder.

The response was followed by the clatter of booted feet across the wooden boards of the floor, one pair heavy with masculine weight, the other lighter, but sharper, with feminine concern.  Buck slowly rose to his full height at the sound, leaning carefully against the side of the door to relieve the pressure on his aching ribs.  Seconds later, Emma and Sam came skidding around the corner.

“Buck!” Emma cried, catching sight of the tall young man standing stiffly in her doorway.  Without any warning, she pushed past Sam and even her son to wrap her arms around the Kiowa.  Feeling him wince at the pressure, she pulled back.  “Oh, Buck,” she whispered hoarsely, reaching up to cup his cheek, checking out each of the bruises discoloring his face with intent eyes.  “I’ve worried so about you.”

“What about me?” Jimmy asked with a smile.  “Did ya worry ‘bout me, too?  We know y’all didn’t worry none ‘bout Cody.  He’s too busy chasin’ the girls and a good meal ta get in any danger.”

Emma’s head swiveled to peer around Buck.  Seeing the other two, she stepped carefully around Buck, keeping one hand on his arm at all times, to wrap first Jimmy, then Billy, into ferocious hugs.  “I worried about all of you.”

“Emma,” Sam said, walking up behind her with the young boy now riding on his hip.  “Why don’t you invite them in out of the cold?  I imagine they’ve had a long, hard ride and are hopin’ fer some of your good grub.  Ain’t that right, boys?”

Three heads, blonde, brown and black, nodded in unison, noses practically twitching to the tune of the smells wafting from the kitchen at the back of the house.

“Right this way,” Sam said, pointing the direction.  Setting the boy on his feet he added, “Sammy, why don’t you run ahead and set three more places at the table?”

“Yes, sir, Pa,” Sammy smiled, rushing off toward the kitchen.  Yelling to whoever was in the room, “We’ve got more guests and one of ‘em’s an injun.  But it’s alright.  He’s Pa’s friend already.  And Ma was worried ‘bout him.”

“You’ve got guests?” Cody asked.

“Why don’t we come back tomorrow,” Buck suggested, already edging his way back toward the door.  “We didn’t mean to interrupt a party or anything.”

Emma grabbed his arm, slipping her hand around his elbow and gently patting his forearm with her other hand. 

“Nonsense.  It’s just an old friend who dropped in on us unexpectedly earlier today,” she smiled, practically dragging Buck with her as she hurried down the hall.  Jimmy and Cody followed so closely on their heels, they were practically tripping over each other.  “He’ll be happy to see you’ve shown up, too.” 

Stopping in the kitchen door, she looked at the greyed, grizzled old man sitting at the table, a toddler on his knee, feeding a spoonful of something to a baby girl seated in a high chair next to him.  Turning at the sound of her voice, his eyes widened. 

“Aren’t you, Mr. Spoon?” she finished with a satisfied smile at the stunned looks of the other men in the room.  Sam’s gravelly laugh the only break in the surprised silence.

Chapter 7