My name is Eulala Brenan and I am writing in regards to your friend Camille. She has been in my employ for the past 10 months since the untimely death of her fiancée. It is my opinion you being the closest for form kin she has that you should know her whereabouts.
Eulala Brenan
Wandering Oaks hotel, Cedar Falls
And now, once again, he gave little thought to his steps. Just as he had that day not so long ago, he let his feet guide him. But unlike that day, he would not be stopped. He wouldn’t suppress the need to run. To run as fast as he could to her side. With his saddlebag in hand he slammed the door behind him and gained the attention of Lou and Kid as his long strides brought him quickly to the barn.
“Buck! What’s wrong?” Lou shouted as she and Kid followed him in the barn.
“I’m gonna be gone a few day,” he answered as he placed the saddle on his horses back.
Kid had no clue what had set Buck into a frenzy, but without hesitation he began to help him secure the saddle, “What’s wrong? Where ya going?”
“Cedar Falls,” he replied then added, “Camille is there.”
“Camille?” Lou questioned. It’d been months since Camille had left and by all appearances, Lou believed that Buck was finally over her. But now she wasn’t so sure. “Buck I think this is a bad idea,” she offered.
Buck took the letter from his pocket and thrust it into Lou’s hand. “Read it,” he demanded as he swung the hastily packed saddlebag on his horse. “I’m goin’ this time, Lou. No one’s gonna stop me”
Lou looked up in disbelief; “Bill’s dead?”
“What?” Kid exclaimed, “What happened?”
“I don’t know, but she’s alone there and I’ve got to go to her.” Buck answered as he pulled himself into the saddle. He looked down at Kid, “You understand?”
Kid could see the resolve in Buck’s eyes. “You know I do,” he answered, “Lou and I can handle things here, you take all the time you need.”
“Thanks!” he said as he reined his horse around and gave it a good kick.
Lou ran after him and hollered, “Ride Safe, Buck!”
And he was gone.
Buck was grateful for the full moon that had enabled him to ride through the night; the road between Rock Creek and Cedar Falls was well traveled but not the most direct route. By cutting over through the hills he would be there by morning. He only stopped a few times to stretch his legs and water his weary horse and then continued on his journey, compelled solely by the need to get to Camille as quickly as possible. He felt an unshakable sense of responsibility for Camille. He always had and always would. He’d never seen it as a burden but welcomed it. Even during her visit to Rock Creek, he felt it. But she had promised to marry another, and as unnatural as it was for him, he’d suppressed his desire to care for Camille. Now that man was dead; probably six feet under in the town cemetery. And Camille was alone in a strange town. So Buck rode hard and fast, all night. He rode headlong to reclaimed possession of his self-imposed vow to care for her.
It was mid-morning when he reached the outskirts of Cedar Falls. It was a small Nebraska town, but growing quickly. It was known for being a respectable town, so he was sure she was well treated, though he would he would feel much better when he knew it for a fact. As he rounded the corner on the main street of town there was the usual hustle of people on a weekday morning. He passed the Cattleman’s Bank, the Nebraska Gazette and then at the corner he was the Wandering Oaks Hotel. It was a fine three-story building with a wide porch, lined with rocking chairs, along the front that wrapped around the side.
He stepped through the front door and removed his hat as he approached the front desk. Behind the desk was a black woman, he guessed to be in her mid 40s, who was placing letters in the mailboxes on the wall.
“Ahhuumm,” he announced his presence.
She turned and smiled to address him, “May I help you, young man?”
“Yes, ma’am. I’m looking for Mrs. Brenan.”
“I’m Mrs. Brenan,” she smiled.
Buck hesitated. From her letter, he’d figured she was the owner of the hotel. It wasn’t that unusual for a woman to own a hotel. But it was very unusual to find a black woman who owned a hotel, not to mention one that white folks would patronize. Part of him hated his initial reaction to this woman and another part of him relished her accomplishment.
“Young man, may I help you?” she asked again.
Buck shook off his thoughts. “I’m Buck Cross,” he said as he fumbled for the letter in his pocket, then remembered he’d left it with Lou. “You wrote me.”
“Mr. Cross,” she said with surprise. “I only wrote you a short time ago. I didn’t expect you so soon!”
“I left as soon as I got your letter and rode all night,” he answered.
She looked at the dusty and disheveled rider and saw more than just a man in need of a bath and clean set of clothes. But a young man who rushed selflessly to the side of a friend in need. “So I see,” she said with a smile.
Buck felt a bit self-conscious and brushed the trail dirt from his jacket, but one look back at Mrs. Brenan and he knew she was not being critical, but just observant.
Anxious to see Camille, he asked, “Ma’am, if you don’t mind. Where could I find Camille?”
“Of course. You must be eager to see her.” She walked around the desk and added, “now you must understand I don’t make a habit of making other people’s business my own. But I have grown quite fond of your Camille.” Buck felt a surge of propriety fill him as she referred to Camille as his. Not so much that Camille belonged to him, or that he belonged to her, but that they belonged to each other.
“Despite her strong resilient spirit,” she continued, “she is at a loss and well…. just so sad. She’s spoken of you many time during our walks and with such delight. She seems a different girl when she’s sharing her memories of you. Honestly, Mr. Cross, I feel she needs you. I hope you don’t think me too presumptuous.”
“No ma’am! I’ve got to thank you. I had no idea she was here or that Bill was dead.” Buck never liked Bill Barlow. He’d tried for Camille’s sake to befriend the man. But it was quickly obvious to Buck that Bill had no interest in anything or anyone from Camille’s past. No matter his feeling for Camille’s fiancée, his death must have devastated her and for that he was sorry.
Buck words of death had taken Eulala to memories of her own. Her memories were of a beloved husband who died too young. “Yes, it’s very sad. Life here can be unkind, but those of us that remain must find a way to continue on. I’m hoping you can help Camille to do that.”
“Come Mr. Cross,” she motioned to the stairs, “ Camille is on the third floor changing beds.”
He looked at her with anticipation waiting for her approval to proceed farther into her hotel.
“I think it would be grand for you to go up and surprise her,” she smiled, “but then why don’t you both come down soon after. I’m sure you must be hungry after your long ride. I’ll have a plate ready for you.”
“Thank you, Ma’am,” he answered and then took the steps two at a time.
Once he reached the top of the stairs, he saw no one in the hall. There were three doors on each side of the hallway and only one door was open. He quietly walked to the open door. She was there. Her back was to him; her slender figure in a black mourning dress under a white apron and her long chestnut hair flowing down her back. She’d just bent over to tuck a blanket under the mattress of the brass bed along the opposite wall when he called her name.
Camille had been lost in her thoughts. Cleaning rooms and making beds naturally led to a bountiful amount of time to reflect. But the voice behind her quickly jarred her from her introspection. She swung around, blanket in hand, to find Buck there in the doorway. She clutched the blanket to her breast as she fought to find the next breath she needed to speak his name.
“Buck!” She cried as she ran to his open arms. As she placed her head on his chest and he enfolded her in the arms, she felt a sense of relief wash over her. She allowed the comfort and security of his embrace to absorb to the deeps of her saddened heart. Surprised by her reaction to Buck’s presence, her eyes filled with tear and she began to quietly sob. She’d convinced herself she was dealing well with Bill’s death. She was a strong, resourceful woman and had decided to live here among the citizens of Cedar Falls. It would be fine. She could make it on her own.
But suddenly she wasn’t alone. She stood in the doorway of an old hotel and clung to Buck as if she were clinging to her very last breath. She never expected it to happen again, but just as she had so many times as a child, she found herself with Buck.
‘How did you know I was here?” she asked.
“Mrs. Brenan wrote me,” he answered.
Camille looked up at him in shock, “I’m sorry, she shouldn’t have done that.”
“No!” he said flatly, “you should have.”
“I thought about it a couple of times,” she confessed as she stepped out of his embrace. “Buck, I couldn’t. You had your life with the Pony Express. I’d made mine with Bill. I couldn’t burden you with my problems. I wouldn’t complicate your life with my problem.”
“This is not just a problem, Camille. Bill is dead and you’re alone here,” he said a little to forcefully.
It was obvious his bluntness shook her. She turned from him to stand before the window. As he watched the sheer curtains gently blow against her legs, Buck wanted to kick himself for his thoughtless. But this was not just a simple problem; she was a single woman alone in a strange town with no kin. Despite that fact, he wished he put it more delicately.
“I’m sorry,” he whispered as he placed his hands on her shoulders. “Camille, what happened?”
Buck’s comforting touch soothed her weary spirit, and allowed her to revisit the day she’d deliberately confined to the recesses of her memory. “We were only a few hours from town. Bill stumbled upon a nest of rattlers. Oh God, it was awful Buck,” she cried and spun around to face him, “I tried, I really did. I remembered everything your mother taught me about treating snakebites. But there were too many, he was gone before I could get him to town.”
“No one should have to die like that,” she proclaimed. Her outburst displayed not only pain, but also anger and disappointment. “All he ever wanted was to give us a new life. Why was it…” she trailed off.
Buck’s heart caught in his throat when she looked up at him with tear filled eyes that yearned for answers. He grabbed her and held her firmly to his chest. He laid his cheek against the top of her head, “I’m sorry.”
At that moment Buck would have given his own life to remove her painful memories of that day.
“What’s wrong with me, Buck?” She cried into his chest, “Why do I lose everything I love. Every time I think I might have a chance at happiness, it’s taken from me. I never knew my own family. Then to be ripped from the only family I ever knew.” Buck felt a stabbing at his own heart at the mention of the day so long ago that changed their lives forever. “And now Bill,” she added. “It hurts too much. I can’t stand the loneliness and not to belong anywhere or to anyone.”
Buck placed his finger under her chin and raised her face to meet his gaze. “I know.”
That simple statement. Just those two words brought Camille more comfort than she’d felt in months. Because she knew how true they were. No other person in her life knew more about the pain of not having an identity or a sense of belonging. “I know you do,” she said, “And I know you can understand why I just don’t want to be alone again.”
“You’re not, Little Bird,” he shook his head. “You’ll always have me. Our spirits were bound as children, I’m your family and you’re mine. I promise you will never be alone again.”
“Little Bird,” she repeated her Kiowa name. “Those days seem so long ago. But I told you before that you owe me nothing, Buck. You aren’t responsible for….”
“I know that,” he cut her off in mid sentence, “That’s not why I’m here. Let me do this.”
She looked into the eyes of this man she’d know all her life and saw the depth of his devotion to her. She had been wrong. She wasn’t alone and she did belong. Could she possibly find the strength to believe just one more time that what he said was true? They had each other. They belonged to each other. She felt breathless, yet full of life at the same time. He freely offered to her, the same thing that had eluded him all his life.
She said nothing. They were beyond words. She simply laid her cheek once again upon his chest. She breathed deeply, her lungs filled with the masculine scent of sweat and dirt from the trail. She relished the aroma that would normally repulse, because it signified life and living. As she listened to his heartbeat, and as her head moved in unison with the rise and fall of his chest; she vowed to give him, all that he’d promised her.
