A loud rumble in his belly reminded Buck that D’Artagnan and his cohorts had taken all of his afternoon.  He looked about for something to mark his place, but found nothing.  He decided to pull the paperwork he had stored in his coat out to use as an unconventional bookmark.  Tossing the book to the pillow next to his, he rolled off of the lumpy hotel bed. Putting his boots back on, he considered his next move.  Greta was frightened for her life, but were her fears justified?  If she was telling the whole truth, and not just being a little daffy, then they were.  Mulling it over, he decided to see if she’d closed down the library yet.  He’d also keep an eye out for someplace to eat. 

As he stepped off of the last step into the cubby that served as a lobby, he noticed Tom.  The elderly man stood beaming at him with a cherubic grin.
“Hey sonny, I thought you had decided to hibernate up there.”

“I was reading a good book.”

“So you did find the library.”

“Yes sir, thank you.”

“I take it you met Miss Greta?”

With a chuckle Buck nodded at the kindly old man.

“She’s a character that girl, a real character!”

“She’s,” Buck was at a loss.  “Something.”  His stomach picked that moment to let out a loud rumble.

“Are you hungry?” Tom asked, as if he didn’t know the answer.

“As a matter of fact, I was looking to find a restaurant.”

“Well, we got one here in the hotel, but it’s only open a few hours a day.”

“So it’s closed, now?”  Again Buck’s stomach growled angrily.

“Afraid so.”

Grunting, Buck slumped his shoulders.  “What about the general store?  Is it still open?”

“Sorry,” Tom shook his head, apologetically.  “It isn’t open on Fridays.”

“Tomorrow?” Buck asked hopefully.

“No, weekends either.”

Trying his best to tamp down his impatience, Buck asked, “What about the restaurant?  Is it open on Saturdays?”

“As a matter of fact it is.  It opens up about noon for the lunch rush, but it closes at one.”

“One?”  Buck raised an eyebrow.  The place was open two hours a day?

As if reading Buck’s mind, Tom added, “It opens again at four and closes at six.  In fact you just missed it today.  Addy, the cook left not five minutes ‘fore you came down here.”

Well that was just perfect.  “Thanks Tom.  I’ll have to keep those hours in mind.”

“Oh and Sonny, there’s breakfast on weekdays at five am to seven am.  Addy’ll get you off to a good start, she will.  A young man like you needs his strength!”

What Buck needed at the moment wasn’t strength, it was a thick steak and some kind of personal assurance that he wasn’t crazier than an outhouse rat.  One conversation with Greta Pedersen, and not only was he thoroughly unable to get her out of his head, but he was concerned about whether or not insanity was a communicable disease!

With a wave to the old man, Buck headed out the door.  No wonder Greta didn’t like the town.  You couldn’t even get food five minutes past six in the evening.  His stomach howled again, reminding him that he wouldn’t be getting any food until at least eleven o’clock the next day.  Absently he wondered what Greta had done for dinner.  Stopping in his tracks, Buck admonished himself for not managing to push her successfully out of his head.  She was a plain looking, skinny, strange little woman.  Nodding at his affirmation, he stepped toward the door.  She was a strange, pale, little, woman who had skin that made his entire body scream for wanting to touch it.  Damn.  He really needed to clear that woman from his head. 

As soon as he stepped outside, he noticed that the night chill had already marked its territory though the sun was still out.  Shrugging more deeply into his coat, he kept a speedy gate to the library.  Maybe the chill would clear his head for him.

The yelling was audible from across the street.  Buck dashed toward the small building, running past the broken door.

“Where is it?” a masculine voice growled.

“Let me go!  Let me go!  I don’t know what you’re talking about!”  Greta’s voice was shrill with fear.

“I know you know where it is!  It surely ain’t where I left it!”

Quietly Buck edged toward the voices.  As he crept closer, he could see that Greta was being held by her arms against a wall.  Her feet dangled several inches off of the ground.  She was stark white, and looked too terrified to move.  Her eyes were wide with terror. The sight sent unexplainable torrents of white-hot rage through him.  Fists clenched at his sides, he racked his brain trying to design a way to help her that wouldn’t get her hurt, and wouldn’t let her attacker go free.   Unfortunately he was only one man.

“Let me go!” she cried again, kicking out with her legs as much as she could.  The big man just laughed, she was pinned too firmly against the wall to do any damage.  Using her arms as a handle of sorts, he pulled her toward him only to slam her up against the wall.

The outlaw’s actions sent Buck into action without a plan.  His mind clamped down on one definitive action only.  Break that man.  He’s hurting Greta.  With this mantra playing a jarring repetition in his head, Buck raced toward the scuffle.

“Where is it?” he bellowed.

“Right here,” Buck answered as he drove his fist into the other man’s nose.
The crack of cartilage was audible, but it wasn’t enough.  Buck wanted this man to hurt.  He wanted to see fear in the criminal’s eyes like Buck had seen in Greta’s.  The burly attacker didn’t go down with the first hit.  He was merely caught off guard.  He stumbled back, but was rushing forward again almost instantly.  He lunged.  His fist aimed squarely at Buck’s jaw, only to have Buck catch it in his palm with a solid smack.  Buck used the leverage of the outlaw’s momentum against him merely by rolling the attacking arm around toward his own midsection, pushing him off balance.  The man’s other arm came up.  Buck blocked it, and holding tight to both arms, Buck reared back.  With a resounding thud, he cracked his head against that of the attacker, throwing all of his upper body weight into it.  As he watched the outlaw slide silently to the ground, Buck decided that that particular move might need to be removed from his crime-fighting arsenal.  His head felt as if it had been used as stomping ground for a rampant herd of cattle.  Shaking it to clear it, he decided to take stock.  He had one unconscious outlaw.  He had one hell of a headache, and one terrified librarian.  He looked Greta over.  She looked shaken, but otherwise all right.  Silently, he went to her.  Again she was trying to blend into the drab brown wall like a chameleon would a tree limb.  If it hadn’t been for the pallor of her skin she might have managed with that equally drab outfit.  First he checked out her face, looking to see if she’d been hit.  A low growl formed in his throat when he noticed that her bottom lip was split.  Unable to stop himself, he ran the pad of his thumb gently over her chin.  He added light pressure, tipping her head back a bit to check out her throat.  The slim column was uninjured, but it still held a subtle allure for Buck.  She’d lifted her hands as if to ward him away.  Taking one of them, he tried to ignore the ache his heart gave when he realized she was shaking.  He unbuttoned the cuff at her wrist, and as tenderly as he could, rolled the sleeve up to the livid marks wrapping their way around the upper portion of her arm.  He cursed a creative streak, and took a look at the other arm.  It was in the same shape.

“I’m sorry,” he told her.  “Does it hurt?”

Wordless, she shook her head.  Her lips were pressed into a thin, quavering line, as if she didn’t trust herself to speak without breaking down into tears.  Greta Pedersen did not strike him as a woman who would tolerate tears.  Her face looked shadowed, and somehow sorrowful.  She refused to look away from her attacker.  As he watched her, Buck noticed that the hair she’d had in a severe and uncomplimentary bun earlier that day was falling about her face in wild cascades.  She wasn’t looking half so plain at the moment.  In fact, even with her swelling lip, Buck thought she looked entirely too appetizing.  His mouth began to water.  

A surprised shriek rang out of her when the man on the floor moaned loudly.  Buck spun, looking down at him.  He still wasn’t entirely conscious.  He turned back to Greta.

“Greta, honey listen to me.  I need to go to the back.”  He pointed toward the room hidden behind the circulation desk.  “Is there a place for you to lie down back there?”

“No, no I’ll stay here.”

“Greta,” he ran his hands over her shoulders.  It was meant to be a consoling gesture, but the delicate build of her shoulders, and the lingering smell of flowers made him want to crush her to him in a passionate and extremely inappropriate embrace.  Biting his lip he reminded himself that this was not the time or place.  “You need to lie down, and I need to question this man.”

Sucking in her lips, she stuck out her chin in a show of courageous obstinacy.  “I’m not going anywhere.”

“Greta, this won’t be pretty.”

Eyes wide, she stared at Buck incredulously.  “He’s not pretty!  I’m not pretty.  This situation is not pretty.  I’m not leaving!”  She planted her hands on her hips, and stared him down.

“Gret-“

“I’m not moving!”

“Be reasona-“

“I’m not leaving.”

“You’re not leaving, are you?” he admitted defeat.  He’d been tackled by the indomitable, insurmountable will of a pint-sized librarian.  The strange thing was…he liked it.  

“Just stand over there, then.”  He nodded toward a nearby shelf.

She stepped back to where he directed, and waited.  The shrewdness evident in her eyes told him not only that she would be okay, but that she might have some good questions of her own for this little interrogation.  

Straddling the man on the floor, Buck sat on his chest.  With an apologetic look at Greta, he slapped the man with an open hand.  The man started, jerked, and began to struggle.  Buck pressed his knees into the man’s arms, reassuring himself that he couldn’t go anywhere.  

“What’s your name?” Buck’s voice was a low growl.

“None o’ yer biness.”  The man’s words were garbled, pouring like a tacky liquid from behind his shattered nose.

With an acidic smile Buck leaned forward, and pushed his finger against the man’s nose.  The man yelped, and flopped about under Buck’s body weight.  
“Your name!” Buck grated.

“Percy!  It’s Percy!  Just stop that!”

“What are you looking for, Percy?”  The ice in Buck’s voice chilled even Greta, who was certain she was in no danger from him.

“I don’t know what you’re talking about.”

“I think you’re lying.”  Again, Buck pressed his finger against the red and swollen nose.  Percy cried out, but refused to answer the question.

“You don’t seem to understand Percy.  You’re going to answer my questions.  You might as well make it easy on yourself.”

“Go to hell,” the man coughed.

“Been there,” Buck stated with a venomous grin.  Taking a fist full of the Percy’s injured nose, Buck pulled his head off the floor with it.  With an agonized yelp, his head fell back to the floor.  Percy was unconscious.

“Well…that went well.”  Greta stood with her arms crossed over her chest, staring at Buck as if he’d broken her favorite Christmas present.

Silently, Buck stared down at the outlaw.  Sighing, Buck raised his hand to slap him out of his stupor again.  Abruptly the quiet was broken when the crash of the library door falling completely off of its hinges resounded throughout the place.  Standing in the doorway was Marshal Heney.

“Just what in the blue blazes in goin’ on here?”

Ignoring the question, Buck heaved himself off of Percy.

“This man broke in here, and assaulted Miss Pedersen.”

“That’s the man that broke in here the first time, Marshal.  I demand you arrest him,” Greta said, pointing to the pile of filth on the floor.

“Well, well, now.  We got ourselves a couple o’ crime fighters here, now don’t we?”  Heney hitched up his gun belt, and left his hand dangling over his gun.  It wasn’t enough to alarm Greta for she didn’t know what he was doing.  Buck, on the other hand, did.  It was an overt warning wrought with testosterone, and arrogance.  

“Are you going to arrest him?” Buck asked, though he knew the answer.

“Well, boy…to me it looks like to assaulted the gentleman on the floor.  How do I know you wasn’t in here trying to have your way with Miss Patterson here.”

“Pedersen,” Greta corrected.

 Ignoring her, he went on.  “How do I know Percy here wasn’t trying to keep you from her?  He could have been doing his civic duty for all I know.”

 “He attacked me.”  Greta’s voice was no longer the soft lilting voice he’d come to know today.  It was hard, and edgy.  “He’s the one who broke in here, and destroyed my books!  He attacked me tonight, and it was Mr. Cross here who was doing his civic duty!  I demand you arrest this man!”  She pointed to the filthy man sprawled on the floor.

 “Now missy, you don’t get to demand nothin’.  I don’t have to do a damn thing I don’ wanna.  You don’t vote,” he finished with a snicker.  He turned his sneer on Buck.

 “As for you, boy.  I suggest you get on outta this here town.  You ain’t welcome.  We don’ cater to no injun’s here.”  With that, he sauntered out of the library as if he’d done nothing more than catch a couple of teenagers smooching in a dark corner.

 Panicked, Greta stared up at Buck.  “He’s going to come after me!  He wants something, but I don’t know what it is.  I do know he’ll come back though!  What am I supposed to do?  I’ve written the territorial Marshal more than once.  I’ve tried to get the fine upstanding citizens of this hole to come forward, and toss that lazy Heney out on his butt.  Nothing worked.  Nothing.”  

Moving to comfort her, he planted a hand on her back.  With more than a little pressure he tried guiding her out of the library.

“Don’t worry,” he said.  “I’ve got some ideas.”

 She planted her feet firmly where she stood.

“What exactly does that mean?”

“Greta, if you’ll just trust me…”

“Trust you?  I don’t know you!”

“Greta,” he paused, grappling for something to say that wouldn’t set off her tongue.  “I’m taking you home….now.  And for the next few days, you won’t go anywhere without me by your side.”

“You’re not the boss of me,” she said plaintively.

“Greta.”  His voice was firm.  “I’ll carry you out of here if I have to.”

The threat sent a funny shiver down her spine.  All in all, it didn’t really sound like such a bad thing.

“What about him?” she persisted.  

Lifting his eyebrow at the heap on the floor that was Percy.  Buck shrugged.  He took the unconscious man by the feet, and dragged him out onto the street.

“Do you have some wood?  Some nails?”

“No.  What would I use wood and nails for in a library?”

Ignoring her question, Buck tugged her out of the building.  “Do you at least have nails?  You know, for hanging pictures.  Anything?”

Biting her lip, she winced.  She then stuck out her lower lip as if she were trying to look at it.  She looked ridiculous, and entirely too cute.  Buck stifled a grin.

“Hold on a minute.  I might.”  With that she went back into the library.  Buck heard rummaging sounds, and watched as she returned to him with a satisfied grin on her face.  She handed a few small nails to him.  They weren’t exactly what he was looking for, but they would have to do.  Picking up the door from the ground, Buck placed it in the vacant doorway.  He then nailed it onto its frame.

“Buck, I know you’re trying to help, but how am I supposed to come into work tomorrow?”

“You’re not.”
 

Chapter 5

She was still ranting about his bossiness when they arrived at her home.  It was a small well kept cottage that looked just about right for one person.  It suited her, Buck decided.  He hadn’t managed a word since they left the library.  Her tantrum was wearing on his nerves.  He was aware that she wasn’t used to taking orders, but he was just trying to protect her.  By the time they were at her door, he couldn’t stand it anymore.  He had to shut her up.  He was just as shocked at his method of plugging up her mouth as she was.

Wordlessly, he grabbed a hold of her face, and pressed his lips against hers.  He was careful with the pressure because he knew her lip must hurt something fierce, but he couldn’t stop himself.  Stepping closer, he splayed his fingers out over her face as he kissed her.  Her skin was so soft he feared the roughness of his hands might mar it, but he couldn’t stop. She was quiet, staring up at him, bewildered.

“Close your eyes,” he mumbled against her mouth.

“Just what do you think you’re doing?”  Her words were comically muffled against his face.

“I’m kissing you.” 

“Oh,” was all she could manage.

Greta was quit possibly the most sensible person on the planet.  She didn’t bring strangers home.  She didn’t kiss…anybody, but the way he was touching her set off a divine ache inside of her.  The longing for something… more, the longing she’d read about all these years was building up in her chest, as well as other interesting places.  When he shoved the fingers of one hand into her disheveled hair, and wrapped the other arm securely around her, pressing her into his body, she didn’t argue.  She couldn’t.  Something much like animal instinct had taken hold.  She leaned into him, oblivious of the groan that was wrung from his throat.  The quiet pain from her lip was no longer tangible to her.  Finally closing her eyes, she abandoned the dowdy, prim, responsible woman that she had been all of her life.  With a joyous sigh, she wrapped her arms around his neck, and felt…physically cherished for the first time in her life.  She was literally being cradled in his arms, and the feelings that the act inspired moved something deep inside of her.  She jarring sensation of a tongue pushing its way into her mouth made her yelp.

Buck pulled back.  “Did I hurt you?”

“You just tried to put your tongue in my mouth,” she accused.

“Yes,” he nodded, as if to say ‘so?’

“Well, is that what you’re supposed to do?”

With a low chuckle, he nodded at her.  “One of the finer points of kissing in my opinion,” he told her.

“Oh.”  She looked confused, and a little off balance.  “So that was kissing?”  She stood there, not knowing what to do.  She started staring at her feet, and shuffling around. 

Buck gaped at her.  The realization that she had never been kissed left him thunderstruck.  Surely some other man had noticed the fun and fire in her personality.  She was far from ugly even if she wasn’t a traditional beauty.  She had so much to offer with her quick mind and her sharp tongue.  He looked into her eyes, and was bowled over at the wonderment evident in her gaze.

“Was this your first kiss?” he asked though he already knew the answer.

She nodded, her face coloring.  “Do you think you could do that again?”

Laughing explosively, Buck pulled her into his chest for a hug.  He gave her a light kiss on the head.  “Definitely, but first you think we could go inside?”

“Oh,” she said dumbly.  “Oh!”  The surprised finally settled in.  It was as if she had only just realized she was kissing a perfect stranger out on the porch of her house.  

“Of course.”  She ushered him in, and shut the door behind him.  

“Just a minute, let me go light the lamp,” she whispered though she wasn’t sure why.

Buck waited where he was.  He was enjoying the feminine scent of the place when a frantic “yowl” sounded far too close to him.  The sound was immediately followed by a pin prick sensation running up his left leg.  The sensation ran up his chest.   A small light bloomed to life, and Buck found himself staring face to face with a huge gray cat with luminescent yellow eyes.

“Oscar!” Greta yelled at the cat.  “That’s not the way to treat company!”

Buck looked Greta dead in the eye.  “Your fiancee, huh?  Maybe he’s mad because I was kissing you?”

Greta burst out laughing in such a frenzy she nearly dropped the lamp.  “Yes,” she tried to straighten her face to no avail.  “He’s the jealous type.”  Still laughing she pulled the feline off of Buck’s chest.

Rubbing at his clawed chest, Buck took the lamp from her.  He wanted her hands free and clear so that she could touch him.  He loved for her to touch him.  There was something electrical in her touch, a warmth that seemed to make everything more alive.  He placed the lamp on a nearby table, and looked over his surroundings.  He was in her living room.  It was small, but comfortable.  The furnishings were sparse yet comfortingly feminine.  The walls were the only thing with clutter.  They were all bookshelves, and every single one was filled past capacity.  He went to examine her collection when a chorus of growls sounded from his stomach.  She stopped fussing with the cat, and stared at him.

“Hungry?”  She cocked her head to the side staring pointedly at his stomach.

“Yes, as a matter of fact I am.”

“I think I have some turkey.  Would you like me to make you a sandwich?”

“I’d appreciate that.”

As she headed out of the room, Buck marveled at how quickly their relationship was changing.  It had started that morning with fear, then it had moved to antagonism, then there were arguments, madness, irritation, and sheer stubbornness.  Now it had run through the gamut of, well, madness to kissing. This evolution left Buck feeling…light.  Their new closeness wasn’t strained with the, “Oh my goodness he just kissed me” kind of tension.  Quite honestly Buck didn’t think Greta had a secretive or manipulative bone in her body.  So if she was feeling that kind of tension, she would have blurted it out immediately following the kiss.  She was certainly a breed apart.  It was…exhilarating, the way she made him feel. 

Comprehension struck!  That was what she did to him!  She made him feel again, really feel.  No wonder he’d reacted to her so quickly.  He remembered Ike’s response to Emily when they first met.  There had been no hesitation on his part.  He’d seen a woman he liked, and had gone after her with no holds barred.  Now Buck finally understood.  He’d never really forgiven Ike for dying for a woman he’d just met, but now Buck understood.  It all really could happen that fast.  This new found knowledge, this final forgiveness; this release was all due to one crazy, blunt, tiny woman.  It made him feel giddy, and there were butterflies dancing a jig in his stomach.  He stood in the middle of her living room staring stupidly at the ceiling, giddy and falling in love.   

Reality butted into his dream world, and he realized it would be in her best interests to search her home for intruders.  Things were just too weird with that Marshal to forget just why he was in Lester Falls to begin with.  He couldn’t neglect his job now, especially since he was starting to care a great deal for the woman who was at the center of the strange goings on.
Buck looked through every room in the house other than the kitchen.  No one was to be found.  He’d checked closets and even under the bed.  He’d been a little distraught at how the strong scent of her in her bedroom affected him.  He’d taken the time to be extra thorough in his search while waiting for his body to calm down.  Greta Pedersen was not nor, nor would she ever be, plain or undesirable to him again.  Just the smell of her sent his blood to boiling, in a good way.  In fact, it boiled, it raced, and it danced as far as he knew, but it felt damn good.  He wandered into the kitchen, aiming to look around without alarming her.  Any place that was big enough to hide a person had to be looked through.  So he tried to seem casual as he looked into the pantry.

“Why are you snooping?”

“I’m not snooping.”

“Then define what it is you’re doing.”

“I’m just seeing where you live.”

“You’re looking to see if there is someone here, aren’t you.”

He stared at her without answering.

“You think I’m in danger?”

“Yes,” he answered honestly.  “I didn’t want to scare you, but you really need to keep your eyes open.

 She was busily building a sandwich, as she spoke.  She kept her back to him, but a subtle tension was in her shoulders.

“I seem to recall a few moments ago when you told me to shut them.”  She had a quiet smile on her face that he couldn’t quite read, especially by profile.  Though he didn’t know her well, he could feel that it wasn’t a good sign.  Was she mad that he kissed her?  No, she’d say so if that were the problem.  Was she frightened by the fact that they didn’t really know one another?  He looked at her, really looked at her.  The plain waif he’d first set eyes on that morning seemed like a mirage that had faded, leaving the face of a lovely, provocative woman behind.  How could he have found her plain?  She’d taken out the hair pens that had been sticking out all over her head after the attack, and her hair was flowing unimpeded long and straight down to her waist.

Unbidden, a raging desire swept through him.  He wanted to run his hands through her hair.  He wanted to touch her face, pull her close to him, smell her, and taste her.  On silent feet, he stalked up behind her.  His heartbeat raced even faster when the smell of her hair met him.  Cupping the back of her head with his hands, he pulled it back into his chest.  Dropping his hands from her hair, he let them trail down her throat, her shoulders, and finally to her waist.  He pressed his palms against her hips.  She was very still under his hands.  Oddly so.  He leaned into her with his mouth at her ear.  “Is there something wrong?”

“I’m not sure,” she answered honestly.  She turned to look at him, and the sadness in her eyes made his chest hurt.  “Why are you doing this?”

“What do you mean?”

“Is this …am I a game to you?” she asked quietly, fearing the answer.  She had to know.  She didn’t want to be a joke or some conquest in a long list of such women.  She couldn’t get past the fact that she didn’t know Buck very well.  She wanted to know him.  She wanted to be able to spend time with him talking about family, books, and what was important in his life.  She wanted…she wanted him.  But there was a niggling fear that he was using her for entertainment value.  No man had ever shown her attention before.  She hadn’t been kissed until tonight.  Did Buck by some miracle really want her?  Or was he playing with her?  Men as handsome as he was didn’t come knocking on her door.  No men came to call at all.

Buck dropped his hands from her hips.  “A game?” he asked quietly.

“Men that look like you don’t kiss plain women.  Plain women don’t get rescued.  We have no knights in shining armor.  That’s for the beautiful princesses.  I’m not one of those, and I need to understand why you’re doing this.  Why did you come to my rescue?  Why are you protecting me?  Why, most of all, are you touching me like you want to?  Like you want me.”

“Because I do,” Buck stated simply.  “There’s just something about you that…calls to me.  I like your temper.  I like that you make me crazy.  I like that you rile me, and make me want to yell.  There’s freedom in that.  I guess that’s what you make me feel, free.”

“So you didn’t kiss me because you felt sorry for me?”

“I kissed you because I wanted to.”

“So,” she looked at the giant sandwich sitting on her table.  “Do you still want to?  Kiss me, I mean.”

With a lazy grin, Buck leaned forward.  With one quick motion, Greta grabbed up the sandwich, and put it into Buck’s open mouth.  He let out a vaguely outraged snort, but took the sandwich from her.  As soon as he swallowed his first bit, he gave her a sullen look. 

Winking at her he said, “See if I try to kiss you again.”

Buck cursed his stiff neck.  He wasn’t surprised to have one.  After all he had slept on a little bitty couch made for a ninety-pound woman.  Rubbing at his neck he stood up.  It was before dawn, and Greta hadn’t made a peep all night.  She probably slept like a baby while he spent the entire night fighting the urge to crawl into bed with her.  If he’d done that though Oscar probably would have been awarded the more tender parts of his body to use as a claw sharpener.  Figuring he’d make himself useful, Buck went into the kitchen.  On the last trip he had taken to Emma’s house she’d taught him how to make French toast.  It couldn’t hurt to make some to impress Greta.  Digging through her very orderly kitchen, Buck found all of the ingredients he needed.  Donning her pink ruffled apron, he went to work.

Greta stared at Buck as he pulled nails out of the door to her library.  Watching the clean lines of Buck‘s body as she pushed her hair off of her shoulder, she contemplated the morning.  She always wore her hair in a bun.  It was easy, and it was out of the way in a bun, but Buck had talked her into wearing down saying that he thought it looked pretty that way.  A grin quirked her face.  If free hair was what Buck wanted, he’d get it!  Whatever the man wanted she would do, just to keep him and his sinful kisses in her life. She was still in a daze.  She’d spent the most wonderful morning with Buck.  She’d awakened to the delicious aroma of breakfast cooking.  After a hardy laugh at the sight of Buck wearing her apron, she had enjoyed an even hardier breakfast.  Of course walking down the street with a tall handsome man by her side, holding her hand no less, was another wonderful experience.  She smirked at the jealous looks other town’s women sent her way.  No sooner had Buck pulled away the last nail from the door then Marshal Heney attended by several rough looking men approached Buck.  

“You’re under arrest, injun,” Heney barked.  Heney nodded toward his scraggly looking accomplices.  “Take him into custody gentlemen.”

Giving no opposition, Buck looked straight into Heney’s eyes.  “What are the charges?”  His voice was an icy whisper.  He eyes, hard as flint, never wavered from Heney.  The Marshal broke the contact of Buck’s stare.  The guilty always did.

“Murder,” Heney told the empty space in front of him.

“And who exactly is it that I murdered?”

“Percy Waylan.”

“What?” Greta shrieked.  “That’s impossible!”

“No,” Heney sent her an enraged glance.  “Don’t back talk me, woman!”

“There’s no way Buck killed that man.  I was with him when we left that man outside.  The rest of the night I was with-”

“Greta!”  Buck bit out her name.  “Enough.”  His gaze was intent on her face.  She knew he was asking something of her, but what that was she didn’t know.

“But Buck, I-”

“Greta, you remember those letters?”  He was being roughly wrestled to the ground.  With this hands already tied behind his back, Buck couldn’t stay upright or defend himself.  She wanted to leap onto the backs of the men who were responsible but she was only one woman and there were several of them.

“Oh, no!  Please stop that!” she beseeched the men who were attacking a bound and innocent man.  “Stop that!” she choked out, tears clogging her throat.

“Greta!”  Buck took her attention again.  “The letters!  I was your answer!” he called desperately.  “Send a wire, Greta!”  As soon as the words left his mouth, Buck sagged for a boot had been firmly planted in his stomach.

A wretched cry tore from her throat, but she understood now.  Buck was working for Sam Cain.  With terror shaking her legs she didn’t think it was possible to do her errand, but with unadulterated wrath soaring through her veins came power.  She tore across the street to the telegraph office.  No sooner than she had the telegram on its way, Greta was on her way to the jail.  As she passed the library on her way there, two of the town’s more annoying ladies flagged her down. 

“Why isn’t the library open yet?  It’s eight-thirty, Miss Pedersen, and this here library is supposed to open promptly at eight.”

Greta knew she had to look terrible.  First she’d spent the night without sleep because she was too busy wondering just how to calm her crazily electrified body.  Then she’d seen a man she cared very much about beaten in the street for something she knew he hadn’t done.  She’d been crying non-stop for what seemed to have been hours even if it had only been an hour.  So she had to have been disheveled, pale, and her face was likely red and puffy from the tears.  What Greta couldn’t figure out was why these women bothered her with the library hours when she looked like she did.  Was there no common courtesy in this town?  Was there no empathy or caring?

“I feel I need to remind you that as citizens of Lester Falls, we pay your salary.”  The other woman remained silent, but her head was nodding continuously as if she was keeping rhythm with the first lady’s words.  

“We expect to be able to go in the library at reasonable times.”  She frowned deeply at Greta.  “I also feel I should remind you that we put up with your odd behaviors because you’re so knowledgeable with the books, but we don’t intend to deal with tardiness.”

Greta had no reserves.  The previous twenty-four hours had just been too much.  She had been forced through a wide range of emotions and experiences like mountains through a sieve.  It had been exhilarating, but hard, even frightening at times.  There was nothing left in her to even bother with trying to play the game.  Greta faced the women with her chin held high, and her shoulders stiff.  With a strange and manic grin, she used her index finger to tip the broken door over in front of their feet.

“Library’s open, ladies.  Enjoy your reading.”  Without another word, she stalked away.
 

Chapter 6

Laughter met Greta at the door of the jailhouse.  Heney and his cohorts stood around Buck’s cell snorting, and patting one another on the back as if they had done something wonderful and riotously funny at the same time.  Buck was a good man.  He didn’t deserve to be beaten or imprisoned, and the fact that he had, made her body vibrate with barely contained fury.  Growing bored with their party, the men shuffled away. There was a primal wail building up in her throat at the viciousness of their behavior, and the moment she caught sight of Buck lying battered on a dirty floor, she let it loose on the unsuspecting men.  Like a serrated blade, it was a sharp and ragged sound that ripped through her chest and out of her mouth.  There was blood.  There was blood everywhere.  Buck was covered in it, and he was sprawled unmoving on the floor of his cell.  As she got closer she could see the one of his cheekbones looked pulpy, and it was hugely distorted with swelling.

“Buck?” she barely managed to choke out his name.  Behind her Heney stirred.

“You shouldn’t be here!” Heney called to her.

Ignoring him, she dropped to her knees beside the bloodied cell.  Reaching through the bars, her trembling fingers stretched out to touch his hair.  She squeaked softly when his hand flew up to catch hers.  His coat had been taken, and she could see that when they cut his ropes they’d cut his wrists as well.  There were shallows cuts lethargically oozing blood down his arm.

“Oh dear God!  Oh please!”  Greta embraced the bars in front of her, trying to clasp his hand in between hers.

“Greta,” his voice was husky, but surprisingly strong.  “I’m okay.”

“No you’re not!”

“You should see the other guys,” he mumbled with a painful looking half smile.  Surprised by his statement, she looked around.  Indeed, the other men were just as bloodied as he was.  It was likely even, that it was their blood that was so prevalent upon the walls and floor.  She looked to Buck.  The knees of his trousers were torn, and his boots had busted up toes.  He had used both for weapons!  He must have put up one amazing fight, and even with his hands tied behind his back, he fought against the abuse.

“Good for you,” she whispered into his cell.

“What is it, injun, you done bedded this dog?” Heney laughed at his own question.

“Yeah,” one of the others called.  “Puppy love!”

“Doggy style!” chuckled another.  With the last catcall, Buck was on his feet, shaking the bars with his bloodied hands.

“Keep your mouth shut!” he raged.  “You leave her out of this!”

“Well let’s hope for your sake injun, that she was a whole lot prettier in the dark because she’ll be the last woman you get naked for a long, long time!” 
 
The men laughed uproariously but for Buck who seethed.  “Greta,” his voice was a low growl.  “Get out of here, and don’t come back.  Do you hear me?  I’ll find you when I get this mess cleared up.”

Greta sighed sadly.  “Buck?  Have I ever done what you asked?”

Panic flashed over Buck’s face.  “The telegram?”

 “Besides that.  I did that, but anything else.  Have I done anything else you told me to?”

He leaned into the bars, his voice low so that only she could hear him.  “You closed your eyes.”

Blushing, she nodded.  “I’ve got to do something to help, Buck.  I can’t just let you rot in here when I know you didn’t do anything wrong.”

“You’ve done what you can to help.”

“I can do more.  I can tell them that you were with me all night.”

“No! Then you’d be in just as much trouble as I am.  Do not tell them, Greta.”

She narrowed her eyes at him.  He was grinding his teeth.  “Well, I can if I want to!” she said stubbornly.

He glanced briefly at Heney and company.  “Come closer.”

She pressed her face between the bars.

“Turn your head.”

She turned her ear into the space in between bars.  His lips were grazing her ear as he spoke.  It was an act of iron will to actually listen to what he was saying.  Heat, bold and heavy raced over her skin, under it, making her feel like she was afloat in molten lava.

“I’m sorry Buck.  I’m really not listening to you,” she half moaned the words and half whispered them.

Buck wiped his hand on one place on his pants that was clear of blood.  He reached that hand up to run his fingers along the concave area behind her ear.  She gulped in a shallow breath.  He cupped the back of her head, and ran his thumb along the cord of muscle that ran along the side of her neck.
“Greta, as soon as I clean up my mess, do I have permission to come calling?”

“Your mess?” she nearly shrieked, the spell broken.

“Yes, my mess.”

“You haven’t done any mess making!  It’s all, it’s all…” she made eyes toward Heney.  “Him.”

“No, I never would have let it get so far if I hadn’t been distracted.  I would have noticed something was wrong.  I would have done a lot of things differently.  It would have been better if you’d been old and ugly.”

“Well I’ve got one out of two,” she grumbled, still not understanding how he was distracted.

“No, I think you’re beautiful, and you’re young, and…smooth,” he swallowed obviously.

“Really?”  Her eyes shone brightly with tears composed of so many different emotions.

“Please leave Greta.  I can handle things from here.”

“Please let me help.”

“You’ll help me tonight.”  He managed a lopsided grin, and his eyebrow shot up suggestively.  “I’ll dream about the way you skin feels, the way you taste.”

“Buck,” she said, exasperated, and blushing a bright pink all the same.  “How can I really help?”

Heaving a dramatic sigh, Buck took a step back.  She couldn’t figure it out, but he looked like something her smelled offended him.

“You smell so good, Greta.  You being here is just distracting me some more.”

“Well give me a chore that will help, and I’ll go away!”

“Fine.  Find D’Artagnan.  He has papers I need.”

Her eyes widened almost comically.  “O-oooh,” she said.  “I’ll do it.  Do you want me to bring you anything else?”

“No…but I would like something nice to think about.”

“What do you mean?”

“I don’t do well with tight spaces.  I need something good to think about, to take my mind off.”  He shrugged as if it were a little thing, but Greta knew without a doubt that Buck had just shared something private and personal and very important with her.

“What do you mean nice?”

A glint shone like fire light in Buck’s enchanting brown eyes.  “What do you sleep in?”

She squeaked.  “What!”

He looked at the floor.  “I’m sorry, I shouldn’t have asked that.  It was inappropriate.”

“You’re certainly right it was inappropriate!” she groused.  Rolling her eyes to the ceiling, she contemplated what to tell him.  The truth wasn’t very exciting, so she lied.

“Nothing,” she said, as she strolled out of the jailhouse.

“Tom?” Greta called into the tiny lobby.  “Are you here?

Tom’s shinny pate popped up from behind the counter.  “Why Miss Pedersen!  What a surprise to see you here.  I don’t have any overdue book do I?”  Greta almost laughed.  The old man looked seriously nervous.

“No Tom, you don’t.  I just need a favor.”

“Well what is it that you need, dear?”

“I need to get into Buck Cross’ room.”

“I’m sorry I can’t do that.”

“There are extenuating circumstances.  He’s been arrested, and he needs some things from in there.”

“Arrested?”  The old man looked shocked.  “But he seemed like such a nice man.”

“He is, Tom,” she paused, trying to decide just what to say.  “Heney.  It’s all Heney.”

Greta had never seen anything in Tom’s personality but a happy, friendly man.  But a scowl hung on his face now.  He looked truly angry, and she had never seen him that way.  He turned to a shelf that lined the back wall.  Picking up a key, he dropped it over the counter at her feet.  “Oh, no,” he intoned dully.  “I’ve lost the key to room twelve.”  

“Thank you,” she said, and on impulse, she popped over the counter and planted a quick kiss on his cheek.

Tossing her blanket to the floor, Great cursed whatever twist of fate that had brought a wonderful and sensual man into her life, and taken him out all in the same twenty-four hour period.  Shoving her hand beneath her pillow, she fingered the papers she dug out of Buck’s book.  She’d read every single paper, and still she didn’t really know what to do with the papers.  They were obviously legal, but if she brought them to Buck in jail, then wouldn’t Heney just tear them up, and kill Buck all the more quickly?  What was he up to anyway?  He’d been prowling around town, her library in particular for weeks?  Scrolling though the events that had transpired of late, trying to figure out the catalyst to it all, she flopped onto her back.  Swatting some hair out of her face, she stared at the ceiling.  The burglary of her library had started it all, but what did that mean?  What was there about a small town library that could be of interest to Heney?  Groaning as she dragged her tired and protesting body out of bed, she threw on some clothes.  The only way she was going to figure this mess out was if she figured out what was so important about the library, and the he only way to do that was to take a look around.

She mounted her trusty mare, Lillian who was used to the trip into town.  She promised the horse that she’d never have to actually run again in her life if she’d just get Greta to the library quickly.

Greta’s lithe body swayed as she walked to him.  Her hair was free, and swinging about her hips like a delicious wind.  She wore her nudity as if it were her favorite dress.  Buck’s eyes devoured every inch of her glorious flesh.  He was…wet.  He was wet?  Buck’s eyes rolled open.  His face was covered with water.

“Buck,” Sam hissed.  “I was beginning to think you were dead!”

“Sam!”

“I’m sorry it took so long to get here, but this town is sort of out of the way.”

“Doesn’t matter, just get me out of here.”

Buck eyed the unconscious guard trussed up like a holiday turkey on the floor.  “Are you okay?  Is all that blood yours?”

“No,” Buck answered curtly.

As soon as the door swung open, Buck lost his sense of purpose.  What was he supposed to do now?  He had no idea where to start.  This mystery had him mystified.

“Why are you in jail for murder?”

“That’s a good question, Sam.  One I’d really like answered myself.”

“Well, what happened?”

“There’s no time for the whole story.  So you get the short version.  A man attacked Greta.”

“The librarian?”

“Yes, her name is Greta,” there was an odd tone to his own voice that he didn’t like.  “Anyway, I knocked him out cold, and left him out in the cold to freeze.  The next morning I was arrested for his murder.”

“Well, what proof is there that you killed him?”  Sam spoke as he dragged the guard into the vacated cell.

“I don’t even have proof that he’s dead.”

“Can you tell me what he looked like?”

“Dirty.  He was about five foot nine, maybe.  I’d say a good two hundred pounds.  Shaggy hair, full beard and mustache.  He was too dirty to really tell what color though.  I know his name was Percy Waylan.”

“Percy Waylan.  Percy Waylan,” Sam rolled the name over his tongue.  “Where have I heard that name before?”

Buck shrugged.  “A poster maybe?”

“Yes!  He’s a gold thief.”

“But what’s he doing here?  And why does Heney want me blamed for his death?”

“Maybe he killed him.”  Sam said.

“I’d bet my life on it, but why?”

“Gold?  Maybe they was partners.  Maybe Heney was keeping him out of jail for a stake in the pay off?”

“That’s likely,” Buck nodded.  “I just don’t understand how Greta fits into this.”

“Wasn’t there a robbery or something?  A book theft?”

“It was ransacked.  There has to be something there.”

“Well let’s get going.”

Buck rooted around behind Heney’s desk for his coat.  With a victory whoop, Buck grabbed it, shrugged into it, and headed out the door with Sam.

Greta crept closer to the open entrance to the library.  She had forgotten her little tantrum that morning.  The door was still on the ground instead of leaning into its frame.  She heard voices clearly.  They weren’t even trying to keep the noise down.  In the distance, she heard the frantic patter of horse hooves.  She crept to the side of the building instead of standing there in the front like a sitting duck that went a step ahead and painted a bullseye on its chest.  She held her breath as the horse was brought to a halt in front of her library.  The man ran inside calling for Heney.

“What!”  Heney’s yell was accompanied by the sound of tearing paper.  Greta cringed.  Not again!  

“She wasn’t there.”

“What?”

“She wasn’t there.  I checked the whole place good.  Her bed looked slept in, but she wasn’t there.”

“Find her!” Heney thundered.

“Why don’t we just get her when she comes back to the jail?  A girl that ugly ain’t goin’ to have many lovers.  She’ll come to visit him.”

“But we don’t know what Percy did with the gold!  We only know it’s here!”  Heney blasted the man.

“Well it ain’t my fault you decided to kill him before you got it out of him!”

Silence grew from that statement.

The man continued.  “We can look through here ‘fore anyone knows what’s gone on.”

Heney growled something unintelligible, and the sounds of dying books grew louder.

An idea suddenly occurred to Greta.  If Heney and his brethren were here, then she could get Buck out of jail!  She’d never busted anybody out of jail before!  As silently as she could, she eased away from the building.  She was about to tear off in the direction of the jail when she was grabbed from behind.  She kicked, and struggled, but to no avail.

“Woohoo!”  A voice rang in her ear.  “I got her, Heney!  Look who I caught snoopin’ around!  You find all sort of neat stuff when you go out to handle up on business!”  Her captor pulled her into the library.  The devastation of her precious library was more offensive to her than the getting caught was.  She squirmed, and cursed at her captor.  She was still in that process when a hand like iron skidded across her face.

Heney stared her down.  “Where’s the gold?”

“What gold?” she wailed.  “Look what you’ve done to my books!”

His hand snapped across her face again.

“The gold!”  He enunciated it very slowly.  “Now!  Tell me where it is now!”

“I don’t know!  I don’t now what you’re talking about.”

“Of course you do.  You know every inch of this library intimately.  You just want it for yourself.”

“I don’t have any gold!  I swear I don’t!”

Heney’s fist landed in her stomach with the force of sledgehammer.  Involuntarily her body curled over on itself.  She wretched, and choked, and fought for air.

“Enough!”  a familiar voice rang out.  “Put her down.”

Heney gaped at Buck.  “How did you get out?”  he demanded, as if he didn’t have a gun pointed at him.  “Who’s he?”  Heney nodded toward Sam.

“They,” Buck answered, as the group of men Sam had brought as back-up filed into the room.  “Put her down,” Buck repeated.

Greta found herself dropped unceremoniously to the ground, her head smacking the floor with tremendous force.  She crawled a little closer to Buck, but couldn’t move any farther.  She still was gasping for breath.  Curling up in a ball, she decided to just go to sleep.  When she woke up things would be better.

“Greta, “ Buck called.  “Greta, honey?  Get up!”  Buck stared at her uncertainly, his gun still on Heney.  

Sam’s voice ended his dilemma.  “We’ll take care of this, Buck.”

Nodding, Buck holstered his revolver, and was moving to Greta in one smooth movement.  He was on the floor with her, cradling her instantly.  He was oblivious to the melee all about them.  There was fighting, and shooting, but Buck was only aware of the tiny woman hanging limp in his arms.  There was blood running out of her nose.  Both of her lips were split, and both eyes were quickly blackening.  The only thing that kept Buck from tearing Heney apart with his bare hands was the fact that she needed him.  He was engulfed in powerful emotions, hate for Heney, anger at what he did to Greta.  And absolute terror, it was coursing through him even more thickly than blood.  Great wasn’t waking up.  He cupped her battered face in his hands, calling her name.  He couldn’t understand why her face was wet so he kept wiping the moisture away cursing it for the irrational certainty that it was hurting her.  He never even realized that it was his own tears causing him so much difficulty.  He leaned over her, kissing her face, beseeching her to wake up, but she never moved.  The only change in her face was the bruising blooming richly over her skin.  He heard a menacing laugh close to his back, and jerked his gun up.  Two shots rang out simultaneously.  Heney’s shot landed in a wall far behind Buck’s head.  Buck’s bullet landed squarely between Heney’s eyes.

The headache made her want to squeeze her eyes shut, and never open them again, but there was an insistent voice.  It wouldn’t stop.  Greta knew it was supposed to be familiar, but the pain just kept making her forget.  She wasn’t even really sure she was human.  She felt like she was some kind of animal stuffed into new skin that didn’t fit quite right.

“Greta?”  The voice was nice, gentle. “Honey please, just open your eyes for me.”

“It’s no use, son.  It’s been days,” an unfamiliar voice spoke quietly.

The second voice made her angry.  No use?  It was no use, huh?  Well she’d just show them...after a good nap.  Then there was the first voice again.  Her mind kept trying to clamp down on that voice.  It was…she loved that voice.  Its soothing tone was pulling at her, bringing her ashore.  She was being taken closer to the pain, but it was okay because the voice was there.  She opened her bleary eyes.  The fuzzy, but welcome vision of Buck Cross awaited her.  She remembered.  She remembered him.  She remembered everything.  

“Buck?”

“I told you doc!  I told you she would make it!”

“Buck,” she slurred.  “Please stop yelling.”  She smiled up at Buck, running her hand along his healing cheek.  “Night, night,” she mumbled through lips that seemed to be asleep already.
 

Epilogue

“Greta!  You are supposed to be resting.  A concussion is nothing to play around with.”  Buck fussed over her, touching his cheek to hers to see if her fever had returned.  She’d had one for days.  They had taken her, at Buck’s insistence, to a doctor several towns away.  He’d been persistent in his belief that if she had been unconscious for days that she wouldn’t wake up at all.  She’d proven him wrong.  Buck was glad to have her home, but worried about her all the same.  The doctor told them that the fever was caused by the trauma to her face.  It was a good enough explanation, but he wanted to make sure it didn’t happen again.  As the new marshal of Lester Falls, he aimed to be the one to protect her.  The only problem was that he was having trouble protecting her from herself.

“I can’t rest!  Your friend Sam doesn’t seem to care that there is a difference in fiction and non-fiction.  They can not be shelved together!”

“Greta, we’re mostly just trying to weed out the undamaged books from the destroyed ones.”

“I know, but I feel useless.”

“Why don’t you read?  You are a librarian.”

“No, that isn’t being useful.  It’s being lazy.  Sam,” she called.  “Please don’t just throw those away.  I have a box in the back.  I want to keep them for extra pages, to replace ones that get ripped out or damaged.”

“I hope you have an awful big box,” he grinned at her.  “Have I told you that you remind me of my wife?”

“Several times, and thank you…I think.”  She winked at him.

“Greta!  What part of the word rest do you not understand?”  Buck stood over her with his hand on his hip.   

“Buck,” she treated him to one of those sexy smiles.  The one she only used for him.  It made him weak in every part of his body.  Its effect was most forcibly felt in his heart.  

“I’ll just go through that first box, and make sure I really want to keep all of them.  If they are unpopular books, or just too badly damaged then I’ll throw them out.  That’s not too strenuous, is it?”

Huffing Buck ran his fingers over the hair resting on her shoulder.  “I suppose not, but don’t do any lifting.  And if you get tired, for heaven’s sake, rest!”

Her smile widened.  She stretched her face up to his.  “Yes mommy,” she kissed him lightly on the lips, and spun away before he could kiss her properly.

Greta sneezed yet again.  How was it that she could dust the books twice a week and have them all stay perpetually dusty?  She was seated comfortably on the floor with her back up against a wall.  She opened another book from her box.  The pages were fine, but the casing had been ripped from the body, and it didn’t fit right now for some reason. She had been thumbing through it when a particularly violent sneeze shook it out of her hands.  Clearing her eyes, she picked the book up out of her lap.  In its wake were a pile of small hammer flattened bits of gold.

“Buck!  Buck!”

Looking as if he would come out of his skin if she so much as said, “ouch,” he slid in the room with Sam on his heels.

“I think I found where Percy stashed the gold.”

Three hours later, they had recovered at least ten thousand dollars in gold.  It had all been stuffed into the spines of the books.  Some of the books had torn during this process, but others were perfectly fine but for gold neatly tucked into the spine.  It was a rather ingenious hiding place, actually, and Buck couldn’t believe a man like Percy would have thought of it.  He leaned his head against the wall.  He was still trying to absorb so many changes in his life that finding the gold really didn’t mean much to him, even if there was a two thousand dollar finder’s fee.  He looked down at Greta.  She was sound asleep, her head resting in his lap.  He ran his knuckles down her cheek.  Her skin was softer than anything he’d ever felt.  She was the biggest change in his new life.  The move to Lester Falls had been a little hard.  He would miss Teaspoon, but he would be okay with the new deputy.  Buck just couldn’t get over Greta.  This tiny person was such a monumentally important thing in his life. He lived for her smiles, for their arguments.  The life he once made the motions of living was over.  He was truly alive now.  Every breath in his lungs was sweeter and more enjoyable because Greta loved him, and he loved her back.  Greta was no plain little librarian.  She was a force in her own right.  She was his life force.  He looked down into her restful face, and wondered how long he should wait before he proposed marriage.  He found her so beautiful now.  She had blossomed just for him, in front of him.  He chuckled to himself.  It just went to prove; you can never judge a book by its cover.