Teaspoon eased through the barn door with a stealth that belied his age and condition, letting the door close behind him softly. Daylight sought refuge inside, seeping through cracks and chinks in the building’s construction and bathing the interior in a warm and diffused light. In another time Teaspoon may have been tempted to wax poetic on the nature of light and darkness. Now he simply watched quietly. It was a testament to Buck’s distress that Teaspoon was able to stand there at all, he knew. The young Kiowa who was able to sense every movement and track every motion didn’t even know he was there.
Buck swung his pitchfork furiously, letting out all his frustrations on the bales of hay that sat mute and waiting in the barn. Particles of hayseed clung to this shirt as he kept up the breakneck speed, not much caring or minding where the hay ended up. A second and smaller pile of hay served as a silent reminder of Ike’s recent work, while the abandoned pitchfork beside it attested to his hasty departure. Teaspoon watched incredulously for a few moments before stepping forward, shocked when the sound of his footsteps on the newly cut straw still did not cause the young rider to turn. He carefully laid his hand on Buck’s shoulder.
“Son, I—“
Buck spun around frantically, eyes wild. The pitchfork he wielded so carelessly now came up in a defensive posture, seemingly eager to take out anything – or anyone – that crossed its path. As their eyes met Teaspoon backed up a short step, and for a long moment the pitchfork still hung in the air between them, questing. Then the rider’s eyes dropped and he reversed the angle of the tool, mouth set in a grim line as he turned back to his work without a word.
“Interestin’ new way you got of sayin’ hello, Buck.”
The rider showed no sign of having heard. His shoulders moved methodically as he shoveled another forkful of hay into the waiting stall. Teaspoon cleared his throat and tried again.
“You wanna tell me what’s wrong?”
This time he was rewarded for his efforts with a minute shrug. “Nothin’. Just doing my chores.” The hay continued to fly steadily.
“Uh huh. And Ike?”
Buck shrugged again. “Told him I’d finish ‘em alone.”
“And there’s nothing wrong?”
The rider paused briefly in his pitching to meet Teaspoon’s eyes coldly. “Nope.”
Teaspoon inwardly cursed the Kiowa’s stubbornness as he leaned against the nearest post. “’Cause you know, when I see a young man in here looking like he’s got the devil’s own minions on his back, and a young woman out there sobbin’ like her heart’s about to burst, I get to thinkin’ that maybe there’s a problem.”
“Claire’s crying?” Buck stopped in mid-motion, turning wide eyes to the station master.
“Yup.”
Buck turned to the door, suddenly unsure, his eyes sympathetic and ashamed. She was crying. Just a short time ago, those eyes had sparkled when he’d invited her to walk with him. Just a short time ago those eyes had filled with tears as she heard of his mother’s shame. NOT shame, she’d insisted. Just a short time ago those eyes had locked onto his with an intensity that sent shivers of power through his very being. He’d wanted to take away every ounce of fear she ever knew, fill her with happiness instead. Maybe… maybe he was wrong.
No. His shoulders tensed again and he turned back to his work stiffly, his own eyes once again cold and dark. “Better now than later,” he muttered under his breath, casting another forkful of hay into the stable violently.
Teaspoon had had enough. He crossed the distance between them in two angry strides, grabbing the younger man by the shoulders and forcing him around. “Damnit son, tell me what happened!”
The pitchfork went flying as Buck roughly pulled himself out of Teaspoon’s grip. “I’m not your SON!” he yelled back, every ounce of anger he possessed at that moment manifesting itself in the sound.
The older man regarded him thoughtfully, unable to be riled that easily. “Maybe not,” he said mildly, “but I think of you that way just the same.”
Buck staggered back into the wall, head thrown forward and hair dangling in his eyes. He wished he’d just followed his first instinct and kept riding. Left Claire in the field, mounted Warrior and just never looked back. Maybe rejoin Red Bear. He’d proved his Kiowa spirit was worthy. All the white world had given him was heartache. Now he shared it as well. With Claire. With Ike, whose worried questions when he got to the barn he’d angrily brushed off. And when his best friend wouldn’t leave him alone, he’d punched him in the jaw. He’d never forget the shocked and hurt look on Ike’s face at that moment. Now with Teaspoon. What right did he have to take his place among them? He’d never be white, and somewhere deep inside he feared that meant he’d never be good enough.
“Do you love her, son?”
The quiet question pulled him from his reverie with a start. He flung his head up quickly, the answer pulled from without a thought. “Yes. NO. I…” He threw up his hands and pushed himself from the wall, ignoring Teaspoon’s placid gaze. “It doesn’t matter. We can’t be together.”
“Can’t, or won’t?”
“It’s the same thing,” Buck answered bitterly. He held up his hand to the light, examining the dark skin, then did the same with a lock of long ebony hair. “She likes my hair,” he announced, a scornful smile twisting his features. “I’m ‘different’. I’m ‘exotic’. She’ll tire of it soon enough. Just like…” He let the hair drop, shoulders slumping dejectedly as he lapsed into silence.
Teaspoon moved forward to put a hand comfortingly on the young rider’s shoulder. “Buck, do you really think that girl out there is anything like Kathleen Devlin?” he asked softly.
Buck’s head whipped up again, sorrowful eyes finally meeting Teaspoon’s. It was over a year and he’d never said that name aloud, nor allowed it to be spoken in his presence. The hurt was still too strong, too near. He didn’t even stop to wonder how Teaspoon could have known what he was thinking; the old man always seemed to know. “I didn’t think Kathleen Devlin was anything like Kathleen Devlin,” he managed to choke out.
“Didn’t you, son?” He squeezed Buck’s shoulder. “She was your first love, and love can be purty blind when it’s your first time out. You think on it; you think on how she was. You think on how you were. You never thought there might be a world of hurt comin’ with that girl?”
For the second time that day Buck cast his mind back to a year ago. He impatiently brushed aside the humiliation he still felt, the fury that still burned inside him from the ambush by Rance Morgan and his men. He tried to see Kathleen objectively… a cool blonde beauty with grace and money, who sought him out and made it seem as though the meeting was accidental. Lying about her riding skills… her fascination with his knife and his Kiowa blood, because that made him ‘dangerous’ somehow. Lying about St. Louis. Buck realized with a start that they’d never been together when she hadn’t lied. And how had he felt? Proud. Smug. She had her choice of rich and powerful men and had chosen him. Indian. Half-breed.
Unbidden, Claire’s image came into his mind. Her infectious giggle at the picnic table… her ease with Cody and her gentle way with Ike… her interest in his life with the Kiowa because it was his life, not because it was the Indian life. He would never have told Kathleen about Red Flower.
Buck raised his eyes to Teaspoon’s, the sudden insight gnawing within him. “I was a fool,” he whispered softly.
“No son,” Teaspoon answered, “you was jus’ a little caught up in the way you wanted things to be, instead of the way they really were.”
“But it doesn’t matter,” the rider replied just as softly. “I can’t be with Claire.” Shaking his head, shoulders squared and back stiff, he moved to pick up the pitchfork.
* * * * *
“Claire? What..?”
Out of the corner of her eye, Lou saw Rachel rising hurriedly from her chair. Glancing quickly to her side, she motioned the older woman back to her seat and was gratified when Rachel obeyed the gesture without question. Teaspoon had disappeared at the first sign of a disturbance, she noted absently. Typical man.
Pushing herself up, Lou awkwardly gathered the weeping Claire into her arms and guided her gently to the porch steps. Keeping one arm wrapped around Claire’s shoulders, she used the other to shoo away the boys who’d been drawn from the bunkhouse by the sound of sobbing. Jimmy, Cody, and Ike complied silently, their quizzical looks informing her that they’d want an explanation later. Any explanation, Lou reflected, was going to come from Buck. She’d recognized that lost, lonely and pining look in Claire’s eyes as she walked up. Oh yes, Lou knew that look well – it stared back at her from the washtub mirror most mornings. It crept upon her throughout the day if she let her mind wander to Kid too often. She hid it well enough from the others. Only Jimmy suspected. Only Jimmy knew. Only Jimmy understood. Lou tried not to dwell on the knowledge that Jimmy’s understanding came from seeing that face in his own mirror as well, whenever he thought of her.
Brushing aside those thoughts impatiently, Lou pulled Claire closer and let the younger girl rest her head on her shoulder. She patted her shoulder calmly and waited until eventually Claire’s sobs dwindled to sniffles. Pulling back from Lou self-consciously, Claire drew her knees to her chest and wordlessly took the handkerchief that the rider produced. Shakily, she wiped at her eyes and tried to regain some semblance of calm.
“Oh Lou, I’m so sorry,” she stammered between sniffles. “You must think I’m the biggest fool.”
“No,” Lou shook her head, smiling gently,“ but I don’t think anybody saw that comin’.” She leaned forward, resting her elbows on her knees and head in hands, and tried to radiate a sense of calm. “You wanna talk about it?” At Claire’s dubious frown, she added, “If you don’t that’s fine. I just think… it might be good for you to talk about it. And I’m a good listener.”
Claire met Lou’s eyes helplessly. “I just… I don’t even know… oh god…” She could feel the tears bubbling just below the surface again, and cursed herself for her lack of self-control. Breathing deeply to calm herself, she began again. “I’ve never been like this before. I hate it!”
Lou grimaced and nodded in response. “Yeah, sometimes bein’ in love ain’t all it’s cracked up to be.” She smiled as Claire’s eyes widened. “It’s pretty obvious,” she answered the unspoken question. “And it’s usually the man who goes and messes it up. So,” she finished with a small sigh, “what did Buck do?”
Claire shook her head, again fighting the tears. She was in love. She was in love and Buck didn’t love her back. Did he? Everything was going so well. He was… he was…
“He was going to kiss me,” she whispered brokenly.
Lou’s eyebrows rose. “And?”
“And then he didn’t!” Claire burst out. “I don’t know, he said we couldn’t, and he left, and…”
Lou put her hand comfortingly on Claire’s shoulder, hoping to forestall another torrent of tears. She didn’t quite know if she could handle another outburst. One thing about living with a herd of boys – it could be like waltzing on a hornets nest, but it wasn’t likely any of them was gonna get into a crying snit. “Maybe you should start at the beginning,” she suggested helpfully.
Taking another deep breath, Claire stared at the ground and fought to calm the emotions clashing within her; feelings she’d never known struggling for release. Talking about it would help, she realized. At least Lou might understand. The looks she gave to Kid when she thought no one was looking… yes, Lou might understand.
Haltingly, she began, “We were walking. I apologized for my parents – you know, last night. I’m so sorry about that. Then… Buck told me about… about his mother.” She cautiously raised her eyes to Lou’s, unsure how much the riders knew about Buck’s parentage. Thankfully, Lou nodded to show she understood. “We talked about families. I don’t know!” She shook her head violently, sending long auburn hair flying. “It doesn’t make sense! If it could make sense…” She took a deep breath and continued. “The horse wanted some attention and I was petting him. And then… Buck was so near, I could feel him near me… and I, I mumbled something about wanting to learn to ride… and he was so close to me, I knew he was going to kiss me, Lou… I wanted him to kiss me… and then he just.. he just…”
Claire pulled her knees forward, hugging herself as the helplessness again crashed to the surface. Beside her, Lou’s back straightened suddenly.
“You said you wanted to learn to ride?” she asked sharply.
Claire’s head popped up in response, unable to miss the change in tone. She nodded slowly. “Something like that.” She wiped at her face a final time and sat up straighter herself. “Why?”
The rider jumped up from the steps and paced slowly up and down in front of Claire. “Damnit, he always keeps things inside, doesn’t ever forget and let go,” she muttered to herself.
Claire pushed herself up from the porch as well, tears suddenly forgotten. “Lou,” she said slowly, “just what are you talking about?”
Stopping in her tracks, Lou took a deep breath, wondering exactly how much she should say. The inner debate didn’t take long. Lou knew that if she were in Claire’s shoes, she’d want to know the truth.
“There was this girl,” she began. “Kathleen Devlin. Buck fell for her… fell hard. You’ve never met such a stuck-up, prissy—“ she stopped herself before she could malign Kathleen further, much as she wanted to. Shaking her head, Lou continued, “Anyway, we didn’t understand what he saw in her, but Buck’s always been good at seeing beyond the surface, you know? We figured… maybe there was a real person underneath all the shallowness we saw.” She grimaced. “Turns out we was right. She used him. Lied to him. Used him to get back at her father and her father’s foreman. Almost got him killed. She hurt him bad. It was over a year ago, and he’s never really recovered from it.” Stopping in her recital, she looked up to meet Claire’s eyes. “Until he met you.”
“But I don’t understand—“
“I know,” Lou interrupted, again shaking her head. “One of the things Kathleen lied about… the way she first got Buck alone, got him to fall for her… ‘course she already knew how…”
“What Lou? What was it?”
“She asked him to teach her to ride.”
Claire stood silently for a moment, allowing this information to sink in. “But I—“ she began.
“I’m sure it just brought back all the painful memories again,” Lou interrupted a second time. “It’s not easy for him—“
“It’s not easy for HIM?!” Claire erupted. “For HIM? You’re standing there telling me that he thinks I’m some kind of egotistical manipulative floozy, and I’m supposed to feel sorry for HIM?”
“Now I never said that—“ Lou began.
Furious now, Claire took Lou’s place in pacing up and down in front of the stairs. “”I know we’ve got to get to know each other more, but… we talked, Lou! Really talked. He should know me better than that – and he’s gonna throw everything away because of some scheming woman from his past?”
“Claire, I wouldn’t say—“
“No, this is NOT happening,” Claire announced. “This is not happening to me.” Stopping mid-stride, she spied Warrior tied haphazardly at the post at the side of the barn. Grimly, she continued, “He wants to live in some shell of the past, fine. But he’s at least gonna hear what I think about it!” With a shake of her head, she set off doggedly towards the stables.
Rachel rose quietly from her place on the porch to join Lou on the steps. Together they watched the determined girl stride unhesitantly across the yard.
“Think we should stop her?” Rachel asked after a long moment.
“Nope,” Lou answered immediately. “I think maybe this is somethin’ that Buck needs to hear.”
* * * * *
“Damnit Buck, I’ve never met a more ornery, stubborn, single-minded…” Teaspoon let the reproaches fade away as he took another deep breath.
“You been hurt son, no one’s denyin’ that,” he began again more calmly. “You gonna let that hurt chase away your chance for happiness now?”
Buck ran his hand through his hair shakily. “It ain’t that Teaspoon. There’s a lot more than that and you know it.”
The station master crossed his hands over his chest primly. “No I don’t know it. Why don’t you enlighten me?”
“You know the way this town is!” Buck exploded. “I’m not gonna have her branded some kind of outcast because of me!”
“I see,” Teaspoon answered sedately. “You‘re gonna let the people of Sweetwater decide your fate. I understand.”
“No, you DON’T understand!” Buck paced angrily back and forth. “I’m Kiowa, Teaspoon, and you know what that means to these people. You and I both know that I can’t give Claire what she needs!”
Teaspoon sighed. “Son, you know I been around a mite longer than you, and I had the grace and good fortune to share my life with a passel o’ good women. And it seems to me that all a woman needs from a man is someone who’ll treat her the way she deserves to be treated. Hold her hand when it needs holdin’. Stand by her when things are good and when things are bad, ‘cause they DO get bad. Listen to her when she talks and HEAR what she has to say. Take care of her. Love her like you ain’t got no tomorrows and every day is like the first day you ever met her. Seems to me,” he finished softly, “that you could do them things just fine.”
Buck let the anger fade from his body as he slumped against the post once again. “You make it sound so simple,” he said softly, doubt still infusing his voice.
“It’s only complicated if you want it to be,” Teaspoon answered gently. He studied the dejected form of the boy – the man – in front of him. They’d all grown into fine men, he reflected. Fine men who deserved a dollop of happiness, if they’d only just reach out and grab it when they could. He shook his head. He’d never had any experience with this fatherin’ business on his own and wondered if these boys – and Lou too, he considered, can’t forget about Lou – had any idea that he was flyin’ by the seat of his pants. When he taken the job of running the Sweetwater express station he’d certainly never thought that he’d end up with this extended family that he loved like his own kin.
“Nobody can make you no promises that you’re gonna live happily ever after and ride off into the sunset, Buck” he continued quietly. “But I can promise you that the trip will be interestin’. Love always is. You can make the trip alone, or you can share it with somebody who’ll quicken your heart and set your mind at ease on the bumpy spots. But it’s up to you to buy the ticket and take your seat, ain’t nobody else can do that for ya.”
When he got no response, he repeated his previous question softly. “Do you love her, son?”
The eyes that raised slowly to meet his were confused and full of pain. At that moment, Teaspoon could see the child that Buck once was, lost and alone. His voice cracked as he whispered, “I’ve known her for three days. How do I KNOW, Teaspoon?”
Teaspoon smiled sympathetically. “Nobody can answer that, Buck. It’s jus’ somethin’ you know in your heart, somethin’ that you feel in your soul that’s stronger and faster and purer than anythin’ you’ve ever known before.
“I remember when I first met Brown Sparrow,” he reflected softly. “Prettiest thing I’d ever seen. Long hair flowin’ down her back and the darkest eyes, eyes you could drown in. I fell in love the first time I seen her.” Teaspoon’s eyes grew distant as the memories came flooding back. His first sight of Brown Sparrow – the woman who would in time become his wife. She had been standing over a cooking pot in the middle of the village, steam from the vessel causing tendrils of her hair to curl around her face. She had looked up and slowly drawn a hand across her brow, meeting the eyes of the newcomer briefly before returning to her duties in the camp. Her simple shift hid her womanly curves but none of her womanly charms. So long ago. So very long ago.
He coughed and met Buck’s appraising gaze. “’Course, I didn’t think she’d want nothin’ to do with me. I was a trapper back then, prob’ly hadn’t had a bath in a month! Whiskers down to here and smellin’ like a herd o’ buffalo.” He was gratified to see a sliver of a smile cross the rider’s face as some of the anguish melted from his eyes. Teaspoon continued, “I got myself cleaned up, kep’ watchin’ her but figured I’d jus’ be pining away for her all my days. Turns out,” he said smugly, “she’d seen enough of me under all that dirt and grime to want to get to know me better. And every time MY heart started beatin’ a little faster when I saw her ‘cross the village, HERS was doin’ the very same thing whenever she saw me talkin’ to her kin.”
He crossed his arms again and smiled wistfully in remembrance. “We was married that summer. And it didn’t matter what nobody thought or what nobody did, we knew that we could love each other like one of them mountains of fire. She was all I needed, and I was all she needed, and didn’t much else mattered after that.”
Buck opened his mouth to speak, but Teaspoon silenced him with a raised finger. “And now,” the station master finished, “I believe I’ll go and sit with Rachel a spell. I think you might have a few things to talk about.” At Buck’s perplexed expression, Teaspoon gestured over his shoulder towards the now-open doorway to the barn, where Claire stood bathed in afternoon sunshine.
