PKept17

Chapter 17

Buck was alive! He was breathing!

Camille had been so sure she’d lost him. His motionless body bore what looked to be a fatal wound and the abundance of blood that flowed to the ground led her to believe that the spirit of the man she loved was no longer housed within. But she’d been wrong to believe that Tom or anyone or anything could sever the bond between Buck and herself. She knew now that the Sprits hadn’t abandoned to them to the merciless hands of fate, but once again had interceded to protect them.

As genuine as the supernatural assurance of Buck’s survival was, she knew his life was hanging by a thread. He was still bleeding and no matter what she believed, if it wasn’t stopped, he would surely die. A sharp pain gripped her chest as she lifted his shirt to reveal the inflamed hole in his side.

She’d managed to slow the bleeding by pressing against his wound with wads of fabric torn from her petticoat. Once, she’d tried to go for assistance but as soon as the pressure on his wound was lessened the bleeding would increase again. She cursed herself for the helpless state she’d found herself in. If she were to go for aid he would surely bleed to death and if she stayed he might die before help arrived. She was angry at the cruelty of the circumstances and screamed a cry of frustration that pierced the quiet stillness of the meadow.

As quickly as Camille’s anger had flared it was gone, leaving her with a devastating emptiness. She was lost in a silent sadness when suddenly she heard Buck begin to moan.

"Buck, can you hear me?" she asked as she propped his head up with the saddlebag.

Camille felt hope surge through her heart as he began to open his eyes.

"Camille?" he asked. She’d always thought he had such beautifully expressive dark eyes but not even the most exquisite onyx stones could compare to the splendor of his eyes as they opened.

"Right here," she said as she stroked his forehead, "I’m right here."

The events of the day slowly came back to Buck, and he reached out to pull himself up but was immediately met with a stabbing pain in his side. His head fell back against the saddlebag in defeat. As he watched the sky spin before his eyes, he knew he’d been hurt worse than he thought.

"Sit back!" Camille demanded, "You can’t do that, you’ll start bleeding again." She lifted the blood soaked rags to see that he had indeed begun bleeding again. "Oh, Buck, you must be still!"

He looked at her with concern written over his face, "Where’s Tom?"

Camille swallowed hard as she felt her throat begin to heave at the mention of Tom. Her consuming concern for Buck’s survival had granted her a reprieve from the guilt she felt over Tom’s death.
"Tom’s dead," she whispered.

"Dead?" he asked. She could find no words to respond to him but only nodded her head.
Buck relaxed a bit.

"Where’s Teaspoon?" He’d assumed that Teaspoon had arrived to help them and he’d been the one to kill Tom.

"He’s not here, Buck," she answered. But Camille was confused, Why was he asking for Teaspoon?

"What?" He questioned, "Then who killed Tom?"

Camille couldn’t make the words come out of her mouth, it was too painful to think she’d cause a man’s death, let alone speak the words. She bit her lips in an attempt to suppress the mournful cry that would divulge her offense.

"Camille, how did…" he stopped. Despite his clouded vision, the answer he demanded was visible in the anguished lines of her face. His stomach twisted in a knot as he recognized that he’d not only failed to physically protect her from Tom but also protect her from the mental torment of inflicting death on another person, even in self defense. "I’m sorry…"

"No, this is my fault," she interrupted him, "You were right about Tom. If only I had listened to you then none of this would’ve happened and you wouldn’t be lying here…like this. I was so wrong!"

All her repressed fear and anguish flooded to the surface as she covered her face in shame and sobbed. There was a solace she found in allowing her emotions to have their way, yet she chastised herself for her lack of control.

Although Buck was weak, he took her hand in his and brought it to his lips. Her sobs slowed to a whimper as he pressed the back of her hand to his moist, warm and very alive lips. As she felt his breath once again on her skin it sent a tingling sensation that began in her fingers, made a path up her arm and radiated throughout her body. The touch of his warm skin against hers was a balm to her soul that carried with it a reminder of the enduring union of their spirits. His gaze bore right through to the depths of her thoughts and offered the promise of healing, both physically and emotionally. Though no words were spoken, he assured her It’s all over now!
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Teaspoon had been quite a distance away when he heard the gunshot and immediately kicked his mare into a frenzied pace as dread consumed him. He prayed the shot had only been a warning, that he’d arrive in time to defuse the confrontation and prevent any bloodshed. But he was only a few feet away when he knew he was too late. Teaspoon wasn’t prepared for the grizzly scene that he saw when he finally found Buck and Camille.

He reined his horse to a sudden stop and ran to Camille’s side. Her dirty face was streaked with tears and in her eyes was a desperation that he found unsettling. He took her into his arms to comfort her, "It alright, Darlin’. Just tell me what happened"

"Tom shot him," she choked out, "He’s lost so much blood."

"Merciful God!" he spouted under his breath as he looked at Buck. Teaspoon was shaken by Buck’s appearance, if Camille hadn’t already told him differently, he would have thought Buck was dead already. His clothes were blood soaked and his once deep bronze skin had gained a grayish hue that confirmed that time was of the essence. Teaspoon winced at the sight of the boy he loved as his own hovering so close to death. It was the thought of losing Buck that propelled him into action.

"Thanks for coming," Buck murmured weakly.

"Your gonna be all right, Son." Even thought Teaspoon found it hard to believe his own words, he hoped that Buck would. He put his arms under Buck to lift him into the buckboard, but paused and turned to Camille.

"Are you hurt?" he asked with concern. She shook her head. "Good, go get in the back of the buckboard."

Teaspoon had only glanced at the other man lying on the ground. The knife that protruded from his chest was evidence that there was nothing to be done for him.

The agony of being moved was too much for Buck to bear and he passed in to unconsciousness before Teaspoon had placed him in the buckboard. The older man knew this was a blessing because the trip home would be no less painful.

"Now you hold down on them rags as tight as you can," he instructed Camille, "No matter how much this wagon jumps around, you gotta keep the pressure on that gunshot wound. You understand?"

She swiftly shook her head. "That’s my girl," he said with a wink. For a split second their eyes met in a realization that they were in a battle against an unseen force that sought to claim Buck as it’s prize.

"He’s going to be alright…. Isn’t he?" she asked as Teaspoon tied his and Buck’s horses to the wagon.

"Yes, he is!" he responded. As he snapped the reins of the wagon he spouted, "God Almighty himself will have to fight me for him!"

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It had been almost two months since Camille and Teaspoon arrived at the door of Doc Wheeler’s office with Buck’s limp body in the back of the buckboard. To Camille, that day now seemed so long ago as she looked up at the sun shining from high in the cloudless blue sky. Buck had recovered quickly from his injury but it had taken him a little longer to regain his strength due to the amount of blood he’d lost. During his weeks of recovery she’d brought him to this place many times to enjoy the warm summer afternoons.

"I love it here," she said as she drank in the beauty of the countryside. The brilliance of the sky was a striking contrast to the vibrant green prairie grass that covered the hills while sprinkled like pepper throughout the landscape were a kalidacolor of wildflowers. The spice of color seemed to form a patchwork quilt of flowers that followed the rise of the meadow and reached up to meet the horizon.

"I’m glad we decided to have the ceremony here, instead of in town," she said. There was no response. She turned to look at Buck lying prostrate on the blanket with his eyes shut. She narrowed her eyes in suspicion, "Buuuuck, are you listening to me or are you sleeping?"

"Yes, I’m listenin’," he answered with his eyes still shut, then added with a smile, "And yes, I’m sleeping."

She let out a giggle and leaned on her side beside him, "You cant’ be doing both."

"Watch me," he said, then cracked open one eye to spy her reaction.

"I’d say your doing more sleeping than listening," she answered.

He looked at her with wonder, "Ain’t that what you and Rachel been wanting me to do for the last couple of weeks?"

Camille had to smile at the truth of his statement, "I guess your right," she admitted. For the weeks of his recovery she and Rachel had been his constant shadows, assuring that he not overexert himself and get plenty of rest. But she knew all the hovering had been worth it as she savored the dark healthy glow that had returned to his skin. He had almost regained all the weight he’d lost in the first weeks of his recovery and was looking more and more like the virile young man he was.

She acknowledged her thoughts to him, "You look so good, Buck

He lifted his brow, "Well, I’m feelin’ good too." He had a devilish look on his face as he rolled to lay aside her. "But you’re lookin’ cold to me, why don’t you come over here and let me warm you up." His strong arms pulled her close to his chest and wrapped her in his familiar embrace.

"It’s the middle of August," she reminded him, but her response was met only with the rise of his eyebrows. His face was just inches from hers and she was drawn in to his desirous stare. "Well, now that you mention it, I’m a little chilly," she said as she wriggled her body closer to his.
As she lay there beside Buck, the scent of lye soap, of leather and of clean male sweat filled her senses to stir the pure honesty of her desire. She gently placed her hand aside his face, and as she drew her fingers down along his jaw the prickles of his unshaven face tickled her skin. When Buck pressed the palm of her hand to his lips, she grew breathless with his intimate expression of love.

"I love you," he whispered as leaned toward her to gently kiss the corner of her mouth. Buck thought that there was no greater feeling than the touch of her slender fingers as they blazed a trail through his hair. He pulled back and watched as she moistened her lips and the urge to help her overcame him. He knew he’d never seen them as full, as soft or as inviting as they were now.

He was riveted on the movement of her mouth as she spoke, " I love you too!"

Unable to suppress his desire any longer, he slowly closed the space between their lips. Just before their lips met the tip of his nose brushed her cheek, the initial touch of their skin sent imaginary butterflies aflutter in her stomach. Camille was breathless as they awaited the anticipated relief to their passionate torture. He gently kissed her once, then twice as he tasted the sweetness of her lips. She could feel the firmness of his hand on her back as he pulled her closer. Buck was rocked by an explosion of desire that grew within him as he fully kissed her lips. It was with a wanton hunger she submitted to his lips. The caress of his hand moved across her back and around her side. A hot flash of unbridled pleasure shot through her as the tip of his thumb brushed against her breast. She longed for this moment never to end, but she willing parted from his lips, as she couldn’t help but welcomed the trail of kisses he placed down her neck.

She slowly opened her eyes to see him grin at her attempt to regain her composure. Overcome by his closeness and his vitality, she became aware of how near she had come to loosing him. "I thought I’d lost you this time," she said seriously.

He placed his hand aside her neck as his thumb stroked her chin, "It won’t happen. You should know that by now."

"We’ve come so close, so many times," she shook her head at those dark memories.

He reflected for a moment, "Do you remember when we stopped at the creek on the way back from Thunder Mesa?"

"Yes," she answered.

"Do you remember what you said to me about our lives taking different paths, about us serving different purposes and with different people?" he asked.

She looked down, "I remember,"

"I asked you if you really believed it and you said you did." He lifted her chin to force her to look into his eyes, "But I never believed it. From the first time I saw you again on the front porch of the bunkhouse, I knew we were suppose to be together."

"Why didn’t you tell me?" she appealed to him.

"Bill," he answered honestly. "You were gonna marry Bill."

Camille began to speak but he stopped her, "I accepted that you must marry Bill, but I knew we were bound in spirit and that bond would never be broken." He paused for a moment and then looked at her intently, "You felt it too. I saw it in your eyes."

His confession and his insight into her heart astonished her. She’d only admitted her true feeling to Eulala, yet he’d known all along.

"Don’t you see," he explained, "When we were children, we repeated the pledges of the elders, and they were heard by the ears of men. But the promises of our hearts were heard and sealed by the Gods of our Kiowa ancestors. They cannot be broken."

She considered his words as she laid her head on his chest. She knew he was right and until now she’d protected her heart by abandoning her childhood dreams. But as the restrains of her doubt fell away a genuine peace filled Camille for the first time, in a very long time.