His mouth set in a grim line, he searched his memory.  Had he even been properly introduced to his intended?  He wasn’t really sure at this point.  When he’d boarded the train to Carterville that morning, he hadn’t had matrimony in mind.  His only mission for the day was to finish the last leg of the long journey to Sam and Emma’s new homestead in enough time to be present for the birth of their baby.  The train shifted again, throwing him against his fiancé…what’s her name.  The gun dug sharply into his back, nudging his shoulder blade into an unnatural position.  

 “Get off of her,” The Gun Wielder grated.  “Now!  Ain’t you done enough already?”

Buck wanted to inform the man that first of all he’d done nothing!  Second, it was a near impossible feat to stay upright with his hands tied behind his back as the train ran in its teeth rattling jerky motion.  In fact the words were bubbling up in his chest ready to explode from his mouth when he caught the frightened countenance of his little afternoon surprise.  She was really scared for him.  It was written all over her smooth pale features.  Her concern confused him when the entire mess was all her fault.  His gaze settled on her bright gold eyes.  They were such a fascinating color; he’d noticed that the moment he set eyes on her.  Now they were huge, giving her the look of a frightened doe.  She was biting at the corner of her lip, her forehead furrowed.  There were wisps of copper hair twisting languidly around her face, falling to her eyelashes to only to latch on and bounce when she blinked. 

She really did look like a doe, all soft and innocent.  Grunting at the fallibility of his weak male heart, he set his jaw, focusing instead on remaining upright against the rowdy sway of the train.  

Other passengers looked on with a bizarre mix of anticipation and horror.  
So far as Buck knew, this was the strangest train robbery in history.  All of the passengers were still in possession of their valuables, and no one had even been bothered other than the conductor who agreed with the gun aimed at his face that stopping fifty miles short of their destination sounded just dandy.  He tugged again at the ropes binding his wrists.  A widening of those gold eyes and a furtive shaking of her head reminded Buck that though this gun-toting-shot-gun-wedding-planning-freak was her pa, he still wasn’t one to be trifled with.

“Papa, papa, please loosen these ropes.  He isn’t going to run, and it’s upsetting me.”

“That could be bad in your delicate condition,” snorted one of The Gun Wielder’s cronies.  

“You stop that, Calvin Dobbs!  I’ve had just about enough of you,” the girl shouted.  She sidled up to Buck, disguising her purpose by moving into him as if they were a long intimate pair.  She was quite a bit shorter than he, and she molded into his chest as if she had been built to do so, and perhaps she had.  They were going to be married in a hillbilly ceremony sans any official minister or holy man, in the middle of nowhere, no less.  And at this point in his day, Buck had lost all concept of normalcy or reality.  He kept alternating between wanting to laugh uproariously, and throttle the lovely woman leaning into him to have a chat.  If she expected him to comprehend anything she said, she shouldn’t stand half so close.  

“I’m so sorry about this.”  She gave him a beseeching look.  What did she expect him to do?  Consent to being a hostage husband?

“I really didn’t mean for all for this to happen,” biting her lip again, she continued.  “I just wanted to get free.  I thought I was leaving them all behind.”  A single tear finally slipped slowly down her cheek.  “I swear I didn’t mean for all of this to happen.  We won’t be really married, so you can just leave as soon as we’re away from here.  He can’t do anything then, right?”

Her softly whispered words could have been a recipe for mutton stew for all Buck was concerned.  All his body would let him understand was that she smelled so sweet, looked so pretty, and her lips were moving against his earlobe as she spoke.  Maybe it was a good thing, his hands being tied.  His body was having reactions entirely beyond his control at her presence.  He squeezed his eyes shut, trying to concentrate on pushing the spark of yearning running over his skin out of existence.  This was her fault, he reminded himself. 

Again, Buck tried to focus.  He dug through the jumbled event of the day, but his mind was so cluttered, heavens she smelled good!  It had all started so innocently.  He’d boarded the train in hopes of getting to Emma’s for the birth of the new Cain clan member.  

Emma and Sam were family.  He wouldn’t miss such a grand event for the world, except of course for his gun-in-the-back-hands-tied-wedding.  He was most certainly not happy about missing the grand event, after all he knew first hand what a great mother Emma was. His thoughts ran back to…what’s her name, and their little impromptu marriage.  How was he going to get out of this mess?  Did he want to get out of this mess?  Of course he did, he grunted to himself, he didn’t even know this woman, and what he did know was that she’d lied to get him in this position.  Still, his home was awfully lonely.  The biggest thing that had happened to him in years was someone else’s baby coming.  He was going insane, that had to be it.  Why else would he even contemplate such madness?  Buck’s eyes popped open.  The girl was looking at him as if they had come to some mutually beneficial compromise.  Whatever that was, he’d missed it.  His traitor eyes trailed down her throat as she smiled up at him.  Uh-oh!  Those same enemy eyes landed, and stayed, on the soft swell of bosom that was heaved up by her corset, and pushed down by her dress.  Still, she looked so soft, so sweet…  

Paris!  Her name was Paris Porter!  That was it!  She had introduced herself 
before she took her seat next to him on the train before the ride got…well, strange.  They had chatted easily for quite a while.  She had mentioned that not only was it her first time traveling, it was her first time to be alone which made the traveling part all the more scary.  He had been enjoying her company immensely, but that was before he found out he was not only her unacquainted paramour, but also the father of her imaginary baby.  If he’d lost his pants around a woman that looked like she did, he would certainly have remembered it!   

A shrill screeching announced the train’s jarring stop.  With the deceleration of the train, Buck again fell into Paris.  She held her footing, keeping them both upright. Embracing him to keep him from falling, she sought out his hands, gave them a reassuring squeeze, and held on tight.  A soon as the train was at a full stop, that Calvin character from earlier took Paris roughly by the elbow, and headed for the exit of the train.  That’s when everything went black.

He was having the strangest dream.  It was as if he were watching his afternoon as a third party.  He stood aside, oddly detached, as he boarded the train, as he found his seat, as the young woman sat next to him.  He saw the blush her attention brought to his face, as well as the blush mirrored on her radiant cheeks. He saw himself rubbing his sweaty palms along his thighs.  He watched without curiosity as screaming erupted throughout the rail cars as men on horseback leapt onto the train, boarding with ease.  Like a long time theatre patron, he sat back, and watched the spectacle take place.

“Oh, no!  No!  No, no, no, no!  This isn’t happening!” Paris cried.

“Don’t worry, ma’am.  Everything will be fine.  There are only five of them, and a train full of people.  No one will let them hurt you,” Buck promised.  “I won’t let them hurt you,” he amended.

“That’s the problem, Buck.  I know they won’t hurt me.”

Buck turned his confused gaze on her.  “What do you mean?”

“Well, this is all my fault. I-”  She started to tell why a train robbery was her fault, when men burst into the car from both directions.  

“There you are, girl!  I been lookin’ all over the place for you!”  A grizzled looking man of about thirty yelled.

“I’m not going anywhere with you, Calvin!”

“Yes, you are!  We gettin’ married girl, you know that.  I dunno what you was thinkin’, tryin’ to get away like this, but I ‘spect you to obey me whilst we’re married.”

“I repeat, you mongrel, I’m not marrying you!” 

“See now, I tol’ your daddy it was a mistake to send you off to that fancy boardin’ school.  You done got hoity toity on us.  We your family girl, and don’t you go forgettin’ it.  Now get up, I got me a honeymoon I’m a lookin’ forward to.”

“Excuse me,” Buck interrupted.  “The lady said that she wasn’t going to marry you.  Seeing as how you’re holding all these nice people up, you could just leave her be, and go on your way.”

“Who’s he?”  The outrage in the man’s voice was obvious, even to dream Buck.  Watcher Buck braced himself for what was coming next.

Paris’s eyes grew huge; a desperate gleam lit her them.  “He’s my fiancee, Calvin.  I’m marrying him.”  She put emphasis on the word him, making it sound like a deity’s name.  Fear briefly reigned her features, waiting for this bull’s reaction.  He seemed to be about to argue with her again, but she amended her statement a bit.  “I’m marrying him, and I’m having his baby!”

Buck was petty sure this was a revelation to Calvin since it was a shock to him.  Sure, he’d been thinking about her…like that, but the last he knew conceiving a child took a lot more than a man’s fantasies!  He sat there, mute, as she wrapped her arms around his arm, and smiled the contented smile of a woman who had just won an argument.   

Her smug look didn’t have any chance to linger.  A fiftyish man ran up behind the other one.   “What’s this I hear!”  His voice sounded raw, like it was made up of rotten leaves, gurgling wet and clingy.  

Ice cold eyes lashed at Buck’s face.  Buck stood up if only because his every nerve sensed danger.  “You compromised my daughter?  I’m going to kill you for that boy!”

“Papa! No!  We’re going to get married.  Don’t you dare hurt him, or I’ll…I-I’ll run off and you’ll never see your grandbaby!”  That little outburst seemed to change the man’s mind.  With speed belying his age, the man took Buck’s weapon smoothly from its holster.  His knife was still fastened to his boot, but he didn’t want to hurt Paris’s father, no matter how crazy he was.

The man’s jaw set.  “Fine then.  You’ll just both come with me, and we’ll have ourselves a weddin’ since you a’ready had yourself a honeymoon!”  Mr. Porter’s men took firm hold of Buck then, lashed his hands together, and stuck a gun in his back.

The next thing he knew, he and his fictitious lover were both being herded toward the conductor’s car.

A terrible pain was lancing its way into Buck’s eyes.  The odd dream was gone, but left in its wake was a shattering pain in the back of his skull.  The pain in his eyes increased.  He squeezed his eyes shut, trying to block out the razor sharp light.  Blocking out the most obvious thing to his senses, he tried to take in his surroundings.  He was surrounded by burly, unshaven, unbathed men who were milling around a makeshift camp.  His head was cradled in the soft folds of fabric that comprised Paris’s skirt.  

“Why did you have to hit him, Calvin!  You could have killed him!”

“Don’t make me no nevermind,” Calvin drawled lazily.

“What would you have done if you’d killed him?”

“I’d o’ married you like I’s supposed to.  Least ways I wouldn’t o’ had to be the one to break you in.  I’d just get to hop on in that saddle.”  He gave her a lascivious grin. 

Buck definitely did not like the way Calvin was talking to Paris.  Even if she wasn’t really his woman, she deserved more respect than that crude jackass was giving her.  He tried to work up the saliva in his mouth to say something, but his tongue was glued to the top of his mouth, and his thoughts were still fuzzy.  His senses seemed to be shutting down again.  Things, concepts, air, was growing heavy.  Succumbing to the weight, Buck dug his face into the fragrant folds of Paris’s skirt, and let sleep overtake him.  The last thing he was aware of was Paris’s gentle fingers caressing his face, brushing back his hair, and whispering something she didn’t think he could hear.

“I’m so sorry I got you into this.  You seem like such a nice man, I didn’t even take time to think about what would happen to you.  I just knew I couldn’t marry Calvin, and that I didn’t want to be part of a family that robs people for a living.  It’s not right, Buck.  What I did to you wasn’t right.  I’ll do anything I have to, to earn your forgiveness.”  It was the anything part of her statement that he clung to, and brought with him into sleep.

He knew it was another dream, but he didn’t really care.  It was much better than the first.  Sometimes it was nice to believe lies.  He was sitting in a rocking chair, gently cradling the head of an infant in his right hand, and running his left thumb over the five tiny toes of one of the baby’s feet.  The child was making soft gurgling noises, and it’s little body shook with hiccups.  The little tremors struck Buck as funny because every time the little one would shake from the force of the hiccup, it would open it’s golden eyes, surprised, and look around as if it were trying to see who did that.  Buck wanted to unwrap the baby from its blankets so desperately.  He wanted to know if it was a boy or a girl, but some odd voice rang in his head that if he were a good father, he would know.  Of course that made no sense considering that this was a dream, and he knew it was a dream.  He heard his own quiet laughter as the babe got more irritated at the invisible shaking hand that pestered it so.  His eyes moved from the tiny little figure in his arms to the bed, beside his chair.  Upon the bed was Paris, draped in blankets, her hair a wild coppery mass frothing around her face, her serene, happy, beautiful face.  If only lies could be the truth on occasion.  Abruptly, Buck was uprooted from his dream when a bucket of water brought him back to his senses.

“Wake up boy, it’s your weddin’ day.”  A disembodied voice rang out.

Less than an hour later, he stood arm in arm with Paris for their wedding ceremony that was performed by a man sporting a coon skin cap, and a stuffed bird on his shoulder.  He looked over at Paris to see that she had paled considerably.  Her hands were trembling.  He placed one of his hands over her two small ones, and was startled at how cold she was.  Pulling her frigid hands from his arm, he tugged off his coat and wrapped it around her shoulders.  This action made her cry.  The backwoods minister didn’t seem to care, he just shrugged, took a swig of corn liquor, and continued with the ceremony. 

When the wedding was completed, and the “I do’s” said, Buck and Paris were given two fresh horses, and sent on their way.  Buck was swirling in a maelstrom of thoughts, all confounding him to a point that he didn’t say a word to his new wife, who looked more spooked than a turkey at thanksgiving.  That was weird.  No, that transcended weird, hugely.  So what?  Now that they were sort-of-not-really-even-married, they could go?  They got fresh horses, for what?  A wedding gift?

“Buck?”  A tremulous voice rattled his already disturbed thoughts.

 “I need to tell you something.”

“Let me guess, Coon Skin was a real minister,” he said with a smirk.  He thought he was joking, but the look on her face stopped him cold.  “He was, wasn’t he?” 

She nodded solemnly, tears coursing down her cheeks.  

“I’m so sorry Buck.  I didn’t realize...I…there’s something else.”

Buck had the good sense to keep his mouth shut this time.  He just looked at her, waiting for the next blow.

“There’s a certificate too.  That’s what papa was doing while you were sleeping.”

“So we’re legally married, and we just took vows...real ones.”

She nodded, keeping her eyes steadfastly on the back of her mount’s neck.

“How do you feel about this, Paris?”

“To tell you the truth, I don’t really know.  I mean you seem nice and all, but I don’t really know you.”

“Yeah,” he paused.  “Do you like horses?”

“Yes,” she answered uncertainly.

“I breed them.  That’s what I do.  I have lots.”  He sounded like an idiot, and he knew it.  He might as well say something like, “Hey little girl, do you want some candy?”

“Oh,” she said simply.

“I don’t know what to do about this either,” he confided.

“Are you very angry?”

“A little.  I don’t like being played with, but I understand why you did what you did.”

She remained silent.

“The thing that really disturbs me is that we took vows, real ones.  I’m not sure how easy it would be for me to walk away from that.  I’m a man of my word.”

“I know, I am too.  A woman of my word, I mean.”

“I’m headed to my friend’s homestead.  Why don’t we just get to know one another while we’re there, then figure this mess out later.”

She looked relieved.  “I’d like that.”

Buck nodded, and led the way to Emma’s.  The trip took days longer that he had expected, but he got them there.  Exhausted and hungry, they dismounted and made their way to Emma’s door.  Emma, still rounded with pregnancy, greeted them.  She threw her arms around Buck as much as her belly would allow.

“What took so long? I was worried sick!”

“I’m sorry about that, Emma.  I didn’t mean to worry you, but my trip hit a few snags.”

With her arms still around him, Emma began to rub his back in that motherly, my-son’s-home, kind of way that made Buck’s eyes mist.

“Who’s your friend?” she asked eyeing Paris.

“Well, Emma, it’s a long story.”  He looked from Emma’s dubious expression to Paris’s of extreme discomfort.

“Well, Buck started, you see…there was this wedding…”
 

Epilogue

The birth of Emma and Sam’s little boy was a much celebrated occasion.  Paris and Buck spent a full month there.  Buck helped Sam out at the office so he could spend time with his new son, and Paris helped Emma with the baby as much as she could.  Mostly she just listened to Emma’s tales about Buck’s days in the Pony Express.  There was always work to be done, always something that needed tending, but somewhere in between the dirty diapers, the territorial marshal business, and the animals that needed food or brushing, a family was solidified.  Paris Porter-Cross found her place in this world…right by Buck’s side.  Over the next several years, Buck and Paris would often find themselves having the same old conversation about how wonderful accidents could be.