As the minutes passed it became more and more difficult to breathe, and the chill of the rain seemed
 to have taken up a painful and permanent residence in his bones. Agony was alive in him, choking the
 air from his lungs with its vice-like grip, searing his innards like a red-hot brand. He was shaking so
 badly he wasn’t even sure he could remain seated in the saddle. He had decided that several of his
 ribs were broken. His difficulty breathing was a testament to that. He’d managed to do some serious
 damage to his head too. There seemed to be a family of crazed musicians playing out a thunderous
 cadence in his head. He felt like they were trying to hammer their way out through the back of his
 skull. 

 Hesitantly, he raised his hand up to his head. He tentatively probed the area that hurt so badly. The
 contact sent him reeling. It made his teeth feel like opposing factions of sandpaper making war on
 one another. Buck let out an anguished cry. He was almost amused at the fact that the rancher, who
 had only a short time ago sent him away with the aid of a shotgun, would find his cold dead body in
 his very own back yard. Another ragged breath tore its way through him. He’d never forget the hate
 on that man’s face when he said, "Die in the cold, Injun. You ain’t getting near my daughter." 

 His mind flashed back to the terrified face of the young woman. He thought her to be around
 eighteen. She stood, her face colorless, behind the man with a stricken expression on her face. Buck
 didn’t know if it was her father’s behavior, or that a heathen had come knocking on her door to ask
 for help, that had upset her so much. He guessed it was the latter. She was probably glad he was
 dying since it would mean one less savage to worry about making off with her in the night. If he’d had
 the air in him, he would have laughed. He wondered if he was what they called delirious. He did
 laugh at that. It was a choked, wet, hacking noise, but it was all he was capable of. His thoughts
 slipped back to the girl with her wide frightened eyes, and her shining locks of springy hair. Those
 curls, he remembered, were the color of sunshine, and her eyes were the color of cornflowers. She
 was a touch of summer in this drab, lightless winter he found himself trapped in. He closed his eyes,
 wondering what it would be like to bury his hands in those wild, silken tresses. 

 Buck began to sway in the saddle. He used the last of his strength to catch himself. He thought of
 how heart broken Ike would be when he found out he’d died. 

 "I’m sorry, my friend." He mumbled. 

 Buck embraced the gust of wind that took him off of his horse. He was already gone when he hit the
 ground. His last thought was of sweet blue eyes the color of cornflowers. 

 Pain. Pain was the first thing Buck was aware of. He searched his muddled brain for a reason for it.
 The cobwebs in his head seemed impenetrable, but he thought he could remember something about
 his mount slipping on the ice. Had he taken a fall? Was his horse okay? He tried hard to remember,
 but the harder he fought the fog in his brain, the more viciously his head throbbed. Buck couldn’t
 bring himself to open his eyes. Experimentally, he moved his fingers and toes. The flesh seemed to
 have shrunk far too small to fit his hands, and it felt like fire had enveloped his extremities. He heard a
 groan, and wondered where it was coming from. Then the telltale rawness in his throat told him who
 was making the pitiful noise. 

 He fell silent, trying to make out something of his surroundings. He was warm! That’s what struck
 him first. He was wrapped in something soft, incredibly comfortable, and warm. Something else
 struck him. The comfortable warmth of his surroundings was… well…surrounding him. His clothes
 were gone! With that realization, his eyes popped open.

 He was ensconced in the soothing glow of morning that seeped pleasantly through the windows of
 what appeared to be a tiny, rustic cabin. He tried to squirm into a position to better take in his
 environment, when a restraining hand landed firmly on his shoulder.

 "Mister, you really shouldn’t move around so much. I’m pretty sure you have some broken ribs. I
 wrapped’em up as best I could, but I’m no doctor."

 Buck’s eyes moved up the arm. "You." He stated simply.

 "Me?" She looked confused, then something seemed to dawn on her. " Oh! I’m sorry. I haven’t
 introduced myself." She smiled sheepishly. "I’m Hannah. Hannah Martin."

 "You were…you…you saved me?" 

 "Jesus saves, mister, I just drug you here." A single eyebrow shot up at the baldness of her statement.
 He found it oddly endearing. She wrinkled her button nose at him, and arched a thin gold eyebrow in
 return, as if she were waiting for him to argue with her statement.

 "Thank you. I thought I was a goner for sure. I owe you my life." She shook her head, sending
 disheveled curls cascading over her face. She shoved her hand through it stopping a shiny golden
 tendril midway as it glided over her smooth forehead. "Now, I don’t need all that. I just did what any
 decent person would have." She blanched at her words. "Well, should have. Besides, I have some
 news you probably aren’t going to take too kindly to." She fidgeted with the cuff of her sleeve. "After
 I got you set up in here, I went back to find your horse." She paused, wishing that she didn't have to
 tell him the terrible news. "But he was…well, he wasn’t there. He ran off, you see. I think he thought
 you were dead. I thought you were. Anyway, I’ll figure something out about how to find your horse.
 You just rest, now. Try not to worry. I’ll be in here when I can." 

 Buck looked at her quizzically. What did that last statement mean? Where was he? How did that
 little wisp of a thing drag him anywhere without help? He briefly spared a thought for the horse. It
 wasn’t his. It was one of the Express’ rides. He wondered if the horse would manage to make it
 back to the waystation without being stolen. He wasn’t really all that concerned about it. That was a
 damned ornery horse! It had protested the entire time Buck was on his back. What did he care if it
 was hurt after slipping on the ice, after all, it had thrown him, and rolled over him. His entire body
 was still protesting being crushed into the ice. He knew why it bothered him, though. He just couldn’t
 stand thinking of another creature out there alone, in the cold, injured, and with no one to care for
 him. He noticed Hannah’s pensive gaze. He wanted to reassure her that he was just glad to be alive,
 but "Clothes?" was all Buck could force out of his dry, tight, throat.

 "Oh!" Her eyes widened like he’d seen them that horrible night. She blushed deeply. "Well…I
 uh…they were…you see…they were wet." She finally got out. "Well, that’s not quite right. They
 were frozen!" Earnest cornflower eyes sought his. "I wasn’t sure you were gonna make it." She
 stared at her feet. Buck noticed tiny little lines around her mouth that were a sure sign of worry, and
 he wanted to dance a jig. Someone, not just someone, a beautiful girl was worried about him. After
 so many years of having Ike, then his pony express brothers for his family, he still was surprised
 when he came to the realization that someone gave a damn about him. He realized that he hadn’t
 been listening to Hannah. He eyed the way her pale curls danced as she spoke. 

 "I-I didn’t look…you know…at…uh…you." She said, changing the subject. "I covered you with the
 blanket, you see." She mumbled, finding her fingernails of great interest. 

 "I’m sorry." She sought his eyes again. "I’m so sorry for the way my papa treated you." 

 Buck was brought up short by the abrupt change in topic. Besides that, he had no idea how to
 respond. He tried to nod, but it made the room spin wildly if he so much as blinked too fast.

 "Is there anyone close by that I should get in touch with for you?"

 Buck closed his eyes, concentrating on getting words passed his chapped throat.

 "In Sweetwater." The words seemed to him to have been torn from the flesh in his throat.

 "Oh, that far away?" She gently took his arm by the wrist to examine the effects of the frostbite on his
 hand as she spoke. All he could do was blink at the sensation of soft hands running the length of his
 injured ones. 

 "Well, I hate to be useless, but I have no idea how to get word that far." A delicate scowl hung on
 her face. She seemed to be mulling the situation over, trying to figure out a solid solution. 

 "Your family must be worried sick." Her eyebrows twisted into a concerned frown. "Don’t worry
 though, mister. I’ll figure something out." Buck watched the intricate lines of her face change. "I just
 realized, I don’t know your name. Am I supposed to call you mister until you get healed up and go?"
 She playfully jabbed him in the shoulder with her finger. He was glad of the fact that his shoulders
 seemed to be one of few parts that did not gift him with constant agony. He lifted his arm, and with
 great effort offered her his hand. 

 "Buck Cross ma’am." He rasped.

 Her smile was breathtaking. It was all sweet pink lips and blushing dimpled cheeks. 

 "I’m very pleased to meet you Mr. Cross, but I’m not shaking your hand. Both those hands are
 probably hurting you something fierce. I’m sorry I don’t have anything to give you for the pain, but I
 can give you some hot tea to help your throat."

 "I sound that rough?" Buck tried to smile around the words, but he was pretty certain it looked like a
 grimace.

 "Afraid so." She squeezed his shoulder lightly. "If you feel like resting while I’m working on that tea,
 then you go ahead. I won’t worry that it’s my company that put you to sleep."

 With that, she went to the far corner of the one room dwelling to an awaiting pot that hung above a
 small kitchen fire. Hannah had been right about the frostbite. Buck fingers complained vehemently
 with his every movement, no matter how gingerly he used them. His toes were in the same condition.
 He blew out a deep breath, testing the tightness of the bandages that bound his ribs. She’d done a
 good job. He could breathe, but he couldn’t do much more than that. 

 Mechanically, Hannah went about preparing the tea. She stared blankly out of the window hoping
 that the man couldn’t see her shaking. She had never been so frightened in her life. It wasn’t that she
 thought the man could harm her. He was in no condition for that, besides, he seemed nice enough.
 He didn’t even get too upset about his horse. Well he did get a couple of shades paler, she mused.
 What she was frightened of was that she would be found out. Her papa had expressly forbidden her
 to help the man. He’d been so ardent that it frightened her. He was like a man that had been taken
 by a fever, raging on about savages and the like, and what they would do if they got their hands on
 her. 

 She’d never felt so helpless in her life as when she watched someone so desperately in need of
 assistance being shooed away with the help of a gun, and of words likely as damaging as the injuries
 that had brought him to the doorstep. As soon as the door had been shut, Hannah had tearfully
 reminded her papa about the sermon they’d had in church just a few days before about the Good
 Samaritan. He’d taken her by the arms, and shaken her, all the while telling her that what he’d done
 was only for her own protection. 

 He’d made her promise him that she wouldn’t bring a stranger, a savage, into their home. Her lips
 quirked in a slight grin. She’d kept that promise. She hadn’t brought him into their home. She
 brought him into her brother Bobby’s. She figured Bobby would have understood. Unbidden, her
 eyes swept the room that still so reminded her of her brother, and his wife Brenna. She missed them
 both so desperately. She would never forget the terror stricken look on her brother’s face when that
 bandit had aimed his gun at her, and then at Brenna, waving it back and forth like some twisted little
 game.

 Hannah didn’t notice the heat of the kettle traveling through the rag she held, and searing the tender
 flesh of her hand. All she could feel, all she could see was her brother drawing on the scoundrel, and
 the scoundrel doing the same. She could hear both guns sounding off almost simultaneously. She
 could see the killer drop with a stunned expression on his face, and a small red hole in his forehead. 

 She began to shake, as the most horrific of the events played out before her eyes. Brenna running in
 front of Bobby, covering him with her own body. A bright crimson blossom of color blooming over
 her back as she and Bobby dropped to the ground. Hannah felt as if she were trapped back in that
 black day when she had rolled Brenna’s body away from her brother’s to find that the bullet had
 traveled through her beloved sister-in-law, and into her brother. They were both taken from her
 instantly in one hideous incident, by the design of one despicable soul. 

 She was released from her waking nightmare with the utterance of one vaguely choked word,
 "Hannah?"

 She spun around, splashing water out of the spout of the kettle onto her shoes. Luckily, it didn’t soak
 through the leather of her shoes to burn her. She blew out a deep breath that she hadn’t even realized
 she was holding. 

 "You okay?" His voice sounded painfully dry and brittle.

 "Oh, yes. Of course. Don’t trouble yourself over me." She stared lamely at the teakettle she held.
 "Tea’s almost done." She announced.

 Buck watched her with concern as she filled a very fancy looking cup with steaming liquid. She had
 been shaking like a leaf. All of the color was gone from her face. Was she afraid of him? Did she
 think he could possibly hurt her in the shape he was in? Disgusted, Buck wondered what kind of man
 would hurt someone who was just trying to help them.

 "Sugar? Just nod." She said, indicating his throat with her free hand. Buck moved his head as little as
 possible, trying to give an affirmative answer.

 "Lots?" She smirked, looking at him through a fan of lush golden eyelashes. Buck smiled in answer. 

 "A sugar lover, I see. A man after my own heart!" He tried to chuckle, but it changed into a muffled
 cough.

 "Milk?" Buck made a face at her and stuck out his tongue as if it had something awful on it. 

 "I’ll take that as a no." She giggled lightly. She put everything on a wooden tray, and sat down next
 to him with it. Buck noted how odd the fine china looked on the old wooden tray. As if on cue,
 Hannah nodded at the dishes, and smiled. These dishes were a wedding gift to my sister-in-law. She
 had her heart set on’em, but she knew that they couldn’t afford to buy something so frivolous as
 fancy china." Her face gleamed with the radiance of her smile. She looked like one of the angels that
 were painted on the wall of the mission school he’d once lived in. 

 "I made at least twenty dresses the summer before they married to get’em for her. My fingers were
 so sore, but it was so worth it when I saw the look on her face when she opened my gift." As feelings
 of loss invaded, she dimmed. Buck felt the change in her, but was at a loss as to what to do. 

 He took a sip of the sweet hot brew. It was a tad too sweet for his taste, but he wasn’t about to tell
 her that. After all, it was doing the trick. His throat began to feel better the moment he took his first
 sip.

 "Where are we?"

 "Oh, this is my brother’s house."

 "Where is he? Did he help you get me in here?" He waited as she stared at her hands.

 "I guess I should have said this was my brother’s house. He was killed about two years ago. After he
 died, my Papa told me to clean out the place, but I just didn’t have the heart to. I guess that’s okay
 because he’s never come back here. I guess it’s just too hard for him." 

 "I’m sorry." He had no idea what to say, but she didn’t seem to care about ending the painful silence.
 Buck searched for something to say. 

 "What did you mean earlier, when you said that you’d be here when you could?"

 "Oh, well…my Papa doesn’t know you’re here. He thinks I’m off in a pasture doing my sewing."

 "You sew in a pasture?" She blushed at the disbelief on his handsome face. 

 "Yes, you see, it’s quiet out there. It seems like my work just flies by when I grab my sewing box, a
 stool, and just sit outside with the cattle. The cows don’t seem to mind me, and I don’t mind them.
 Cows are very good listeners, you know. Besides, it’s much better than being cooped up in a dark
 house."

 "So you could get in a lot of trouble if anyone finds me here?" Buck asked gravely. She just nodded;
 her big blue eyes riveted on his. Buck’s heart ached for her. She looked so solemn and small. If he’d
 been in any shape to do so, he would have given her a hug, or tried to anyway. White women didn’t
 always take too kindly to being touched by the likes of him. Her face brightened a bit, completely
 oblivious to what was going on in his head. 

 "If I feel I just have to share my little secret, I’ll tell my friends the cows!" 

 He was worried that he might cause her trouble, but there was no way he could leave. He couldn’t
 stand up even if he tried. He searched her face for even a hint if ire at her situation, and found only a
 friendly grin displayed solely for his eyes. Her grin held a mischievous glint that took hold of him
 somehow. He was pretty much certain that this little slip of a thing was iron willed, and very capable
 of doing whatever she wanted. He smiled because today, she wanted to help him.

 Ike stared down at his untouched plate. He was not seeing the congealed broth of a particularly zesty
 stew, but visions of misery and injury that could have befallen his closest friend. Buck had never been
 this late before. He wasn’t like Cody or Jimmy, who were often late because of problems born of the
 big mouth disease. Buck was quiet, introspective, and always on time. Ike stared past Teaspoon to
 the window. It was a futile gesture, he knew, but he had thrice been denied the chance to go look for
 Buck. He strained to hear the sound of hoofbeats, but only silence was there to greet him. He sullenly
 poked at a chunk of potato with his fork.

 "Ike." The call was ignored. Ike was too immersed in his worries to hear the soft voice of the station
 mistress.

 "Let me take care of this Emma." Teaspoon rumbled, dropping his fork onto his plate.

 "Son!" He bellowed. Ike’s head shot up so fast the he fell sideways off of the bench, sending his full
 plate flying in the basic vicinity of Teaspoon’s face. The resulting clatter, blotted out the sound of
 hooves clattering along outside. 

 Teaspoon sat, clearing a liberal coating of stew off of his face, as Ike apologized profusely. The
 apology, unfortunately, seemed less than sincere being that it was delivered between bouts of silent
 laughter.

 "I am less than amused, son." His words were stern, but Teaspoon was just glad to see Ike smiling. It
 was always nerve racking to wait for a late rider’s return, especially when that rider was damn near
 always on time, if not early. He didn’t even want to think about losing one of his boys. And they
 were his children in every way but blood. Teaspoon was pulled from his musings when Kid shot up
 form the table, ran to the window, and then shot out of the door. These actions were proceeded by
 Lou shouting, "rider comin’" with the gusto that only the young posses.

 No sooner were the words hollered out, than the room was deserted of its morose and solemn faced
 occupants. Everyone was gathered along the porch staring at the riderless horse in disbelief. There
 was no question now, something had happened to Buck on the way back from St. Joe.

"I’m so sorry Buck, but I really need to go. I’ve already stayed too long. I need to get to making
 supper, or my papa will be furious. I’ll do my best to sneak back out tonight to bring you some
 dinner. You just rest."

 Buck felt as if he were looking at her through a fog. He was so groggy that he couldn’t absorb what
 she was saying, but he was dismayed to see her walking out the door. Rather than succumb to the
 panic of having her leave or the pain in his body, he chose the comforting embrace of sleep to fall
 prey to.

 "Girl, where have you been?"

 "Oh Papa, I’m sorry. I just got carried away with my sewing. I was working on some flounces for
 the hem of the dress I’m making for Miss Barker." She began rambling simply because she knew her
 father had a chronic case of selective hearing. He turned off his ears almost immediately as soon as
 she spoke, unless it was about finding a husband or making more money to help him with the
 expense of raising a daughter. Jack Martin did not like shelling out money for dresses and other such
 paltry feminine wants, but he did like to show Hannah off to aid in the pursuit of perspective spouses.
 She pursed her lips at her last thought. True though it was, she knew her father did love her. He just
 had an odd way of showing it.

 "Get on to dinner, then." He swatted at her bottom, his features drawn into a severe frown. She
 obeyed instantly, and dove into the task of preparing dinner.

 Dinner was eaten in relative silence unless, like tonight, her father had something to say.

 "I’ve got to go into town tomorrow. You best do your sewing here. I don’t want you out of this
 house. Stay in, and keep the doors locked. That Injun might still be about, and I don’t want him
 getting his filthy hands on you. I mean it, girl. I don’t even want you to leave to go to the outhouse.
 You got a chamber pot, you’ll use that." His law laid, he went about finishing his dinner. 

 Hannah knew not to argue with him. It was like banging your head against a brick wall; exhilarating at
 first, but after a while, you just got a headache. She did not agree with him, but let his assumption that
 she did stand. That way she wouldn’t be making herself a liar when she went to go stay with her
 charge.

 Teaspoon watched as the dust settled. He always worried after his boys, but with one missing and
 two more heading out after him, he was worried sick. He prayed that in a few days time he would
 see three young men riding back home. Teaspoon backed slowly away from the porch railing, and
 slumped into a nearby rocker. As he absently tugged at his suspenders, he mumbled a solemn
 farewell.

 "Ride safe, boys."

 Hannah huffed as she took in the state of her skirts. Climbing out of windows was most definitely bad
 for her wardrobe. She rolled her eyes as she spied yet another tear in her skirt. She had no idea how
 she’d managed to shred her clothing so silently, but thank heavens, she had. She held Buck’s dinner,
 a thick roast beef sandwich, wrapped in a dishtowel underneath her arm. She would have to sew
 double time tomorrow to fix Buck’s clothing as well as her own. For the moment, she couldn’t even
 spare a thought for the fate of poor Miss Barker’s dress. She’d deal with Miss Barker when Buck
 no longer needed her.

 She traipsed lightly, though the trip was a little over a mile long, toward her brother’s cabin, all the
 while praying that her Papa would never catch wind of her disobedience. She could handle herself
 with him, but she worried for Buck’s safety. She pushed the disturbing thoughts out of her mind as
 she reached the door to the cozy little cabin.

 As quietly as she could, she opened the door, and tiptoed in. She peeked around the door, and
 couldn’t help but smile. Buck was sound asleep. She softly made her way further into the room.
 Sitting her package down at his bedside, Hannah gently felt Buck’s brow for fever. Frowning, she bit
 her lip. He did seem a little warm. Moving in closer, she pressed her cheek to his. That’s how her
 mother had always checked for fever. He still felt impossibly warm, but she didn’t really know what
 to relate it too. She never had physical contact with anyone, so she didn’t know how warm people
 were generally.

 She absently ran her thumb back and forth over his cheek. She started when his hand covered hers,
 and as he pressed his face into her palm. She eyed him warily. She hadn’t intended to wake him. She
 knew he needed sleep in order to give his body the chance to heal itself. His eyes weren’t open. His
 breathing was steady and deep. She supposed he was just dreaming.

 She couldn’t help but be moved by the look on his face. The stress of wakefulness had lost its claim
 on his face. His skin was smooth, his face peaceful. A slight tilt to his mouth hinted at a dreamy smile.
 He looked like a child lost in the comforting embrace of a loving mother. She’d never been so close
 to a man before. Since Bobby’s death her father had been terribly overprotective, and she had not
 been allowed to go to dances or participate in any activity in which she would get the chance to be
 that close to a man. Now she relished their proximity. 

 Using the fact that he was asleep to goad herself on, she touched the tip of her nose to the bridge of
 his. Lightly, running it to meet the tip of his, she reveled in the baby soft textures as they met.
 Shocked at herself, she realized that her lips were mere centimeters away from his. Her head shot
 up, but her hand was still firmly pressed to his cheek. She almost laughed at the irony. Her father had
 refused to help Buck, certain that he would attack her and force her to endure his savage appetites,
 but here she was molesting him in his sleep. She shrugged. Buck was impossibly handsome. Was it
 entirely her fault that she just couldn’t fight her urges, she wondered airily. Besides, she’d had the
 chance to really get up close and personal when she’d taken off his frigid clothing, and she’d been a
 good girl, covering him with a blanket. She bit her lip wondering if maybe she should have peeked.
 Certainly not, she chastised herself. She looked back down at Buck’s face, only to find him staring
 quizzically at her.

 "Oh! You’re awake." Hannah knew she had to look like a cherry tomato. She always turned a bright
 red when she was embarrassed. 

 "I was just, uhm…I was…" She left the thought unfinished. After all, what was she supposed to say?
 Hi there, I was just taking advantage of you in your injured, sleeping, and totally helpless state!

 "I was just checking for fever," she managed not to stutter.

 "I feel better."

 "Yeah, you feel good to me." Her eyes went wide, her face deepened to an even richer shade of red.
 "Please tell me I didn’t say that out loud!" She was wondering exactly how swiftly she would have to
 dig in order to bury herself. He just smiled sleepily at her.

 "I never knew it would be so much fun to be at the mercy of a stranger." He was fighting laughter, but
 no matter how fervently his ribs protested, the mortified expression on her face was too much for him
 to remain straight faced. Her beautiful cornflower eyes were the size of saucers, and she was blushing
 more deeply by the second.

 "I-I’m so sorry, Buck. I don’t know what came over me. I-I-…oh, my." Her babbling was
 unintelligible until accusation forced its way into her eyes.

 "How long have you been awake?" Her voice rose several octaves. A thin black brow rose in
 contemplation, as his smile grew wider.

 "Just a few minutes." He looked up at her innocently. 

 Deciding that changing the subject was her best line of escape, she picked up the dishtowel that held
 his dinner with her free hand. 

 "I hope you like roast beef."

 "Yip," he said, without his grin fading.

 "How are your hands?" She eyed the one he still had placed over hers. It didn’t look half as irritated
 as it had earlier that day.

 "Better. I can move my fingers now." He lifted his free hand, and wiggled his fingers ever so slightly.

 "You think you can handle a sandwich?" She asked, unwrapping the overstuffed refreshment.

 "I think so." He tried to squirm into a seated position, but a fire caught along his chest and ribs.
 Without a word, pulled her imprisoned hand from his face, she gently helped him upright, placed his
 meal in his lap, and went to the pump to fetch him some water.

 Buck experimentally took the sandwich with both hands. His fingers ached, but it wasn’t bad enough
 to dissuade him from eating. He took a huge bite, and groaned appreciatively. 

 "This is so good," he managed between bites. "Thank you."

 "You’re welcome." Buck finished his dinner in silence. Hannah wondered if he was even bothering to
 breathe between bites. He finished every morsel, and looked mournfully at the empty dishtowel. She
 grinned as she fingered the surprise she had for him in her pocket. 

 "Still hungry?" She queried sweetly.

 "A little." He admitted ruefully. She gave him an impish grin.

 "Only a little? Well, I guess you won’t be able to manage these tonight." She giggled, brandishing
 another towel filled with sugar cookies. Buck returned her playful smile.

 "I guess I could, since you went to all that trouble."

 "That’s very thoughtful of you." She snorted, settling the cookies in his lap.

 "I love sweets." He mumbled as he stared her straight in the eye. For some reason, she had the
 exhilarating, yet unsettling feeling that he wasn’t talking about the cookies.

 "This is gettin’ us nowhere!" Ike agreed with a nod, at Kid’s assessment of the situation. Ike’s mood
 was even darker than his friend’s was. He was beginning to wonder if he should have stayed home.
 He was proving useless in the search. All the wandering around, asking folks if they had seen a man
 with Buck’s description was left to Kid. Ike surveyed their surroundings, and noted the saloon. A
 crowd could always be counted on in a big city saloon. Nudging Kid, Ike pointed out the busy
 establishment. Without a word, the twosome headed toward the swinging doors.

 Buck couldn’t believe how much better he was feeling. Hannah seemed to be a salve for everything
 that ailed him. Her smile was the strongest painkiller he’d ever come in contact with. She’d shown up
 bright and early with eggs, bacon, and biscuits in tow, explaining that her father had left very early
 because he was going to be in town all day. Buck was enjoying his time with Hannah so much that he
 was irritated every time sleep overtook him. He would fight it until his eyes started crossing, then
 deciding that he must look ridiculous, he’d give in.

 Buck opened his eyes, from yet another nap, for what seemed like the twentieth time that day. He
 noticed the light fading, and cursed his injuries for making him sleepy. Hannah was seated by his side,
 as she had been all day, with his shirt in her lap. She was mending it with nimble fingers, and a gentle
 smile resting on her lips.

 "Hi," he muttered sleepily.

 "Oh, good you’re awake. I didn’t want to leave before telling you bye."

 "You’re leaving already?"

 "I have to. My Papa forbade me to leave the house today, and if I’m not there when he gets home
 I’ll be in a mess of trouble."

 "Oh." Buck pouted.

 "Don’t worry though. I’ll do my best to bring you supper tonight. Do you need anything before I go?"

 "No, thanks."

 "Well, then I’ll see you later. Oh, I almost forgot. Your clothes are all mended." She motioned to the
 neatly folded pile at the foot of the bed, before she folded his shirt, adding it to the pile. "Your boots
 are under the bed with your gun belt, and your hat is hanging next to the door. I’d prefer you not try
 to get dressed with out me being here."

 Realizing how easily her statement could be misconstrued, she quickly added. 

 "If you’re alone, and you fall or something, then there will be no one to help you." On a whim, she
 abruptly brushed a soft kiss on his forehead, then stammered her good byes.

 Buck was left stupefied, staring blankly at the door she exited from. There was no pain great enough
 to erase the silly grin splayed across his face.

 Hannah ran the whole way home. She knew she had stayed far too long with Buck, but she had the
 worst time tearing herself away from him. He had the kindest eyes she had ever seen. She wanted to
 get lost in them, and forget the way home. She burst through the door of her home, and called for her
 father. Happily, she found the house void of him. She went about preparing the evening meal, using
 the unsupervised time to divide, cook, and hide a nice big portion for Buck. Her father returned as if
 on cue, the moment she finished setting the table.

 "Hi Papa, How was your supply run?"

 "Fine. Dinner ready?"

 "Yes sir."

 "I’ll go wash my hands."

 Yes, sir."

 "Damn it!" Kid cursed. "He’s got to be here somewhere." 

 Ike sat forlornly on the hotel bed with his elbows propped on his knees, and his face in his hands.
 They asked every man in the saloon about Buck without finding so much as a clue. Spirits low, they
 had continued asking passers by. The asked any and everyone they came in contact with. No one
 had seen a young Indian man wearing a blue vest, and a black hat. 

 It was late, and the emptiness of the streets had forced them back to the hotel. They were sharing a
 room with two beds, and Kid flung himself across his. 

 "What are we missing here? There’s got to be something."

 Ike shook his head. He was exhausted of any good ideas by the time they left the saloon. It would
 have seemed like Buck had never existed if they had not talked to the barn manager that
 remembered Buck’s arrival at the hotel. He’d remembered him because he couldn’t figure out how a
 half-breed managed to get his hands on such fine horseflesh. Fuming at the toothless, tobacco
 swilling, greasy haired bigot’s assumption that Buck had stolen the horse, Ike had almost knocked
 him into next week. Fortunately for the soap deprived hotel worker, a little girl came in to pet her
 new horse. Ike could never stomach violence in front of children, so he just stood there, fists
 clenched, silently seething. 

 "We best get to bed. The earlier we get to lookin’ tomorrow, the better. Maybe we can catch
 people before they go to work, or get drunk. That might help."

 Ike didn’t agree. He wanted to go out by himself to find his friend, but he knew that most folks
 would flat out ignore a man incapable of speech. Resigned, he nodded sullenly, but made no move to
 go to bed.

 "I bet that Injun was wanted."

 "Pardon?" Hannah was certain her ears were mistaken.

 "There was men lookin’ for him today. Described him right down to the ratty hat. I bet he’s wanted
 for somethin’. Now, ain’t you glad I chased him away." Hannah’s mouth went dry. She knew Buck
 wasn’t wanted. She could feel it in her bones. She knew from one of their many chats that he was a
 rider with the Pony Express. Maybe his friends had come to look for him. She needed more
 information.

 "Were they law men that were looking?"

 "Well, I don’t know for sure. I didn’t see no badges, but they could have been. Could’a been bounty
 hunters too." 

 "Didn’t see any badges." She corrected under her breath.

 "Now you watch that mouth of yours missy! You don’t see that schoolin’ o’ yours puttin’ food on
 this table do you?"

 "Sorry, Papa." She bit her lip. A heavy silence descended. She decided that she was woman enough
 to break it.

 "Was there a posse of them?" She asked wondering if the entire Sweetwater waystation had come to
 look for their missing comrade.

 "Naw, just two. I almost laughed myself right silly; one of’em couldn’t even talk. He didn’t have no
 hair neither." That was it! Hannah almost shouted for joy. The mute man had to be Ike, Buck’s
 oldest friend. He’d spoken of him often. In fact, before Buck came to, he’d mumbled Ike’s name
 repeatedly. Blood was rushing through her so frantically that she could hear it pulsing in her ears. She
 had to get to Buck’s friends. They had to know that he was okay, but how was she supposed to
 manage to sneak out to town? A mile long trip on foot to Bobby’s cabin was one thing, but hopping
 onto a horse to go alone, in the middle of the night, miles and miles away, was an entirely different
 story. She had no reason to fear for her safety on her father’s property. Unease prickled at the nape
 of her neck. She was most definitely not safe going to town unescorted. Still, she didn’t want to let
 Buck down all for her own weaknesses. She also needed to figure out how to get out and take one
 of the horses without coming to her father’s notice. She absently chewed, trying to think of
 something, when the perfect idea struck her.

 "Papa, I’m not feeling well. My monthly is upon me, and I’m just not myself." It took all of her will
 power not to burst out laughing at the look of horror on her Papa’s face.

 "I won’t have that kind of talk at the table, girl!"

 "I was just trying to tell you that I’m going to head off to bed as soon as I clean up here. Is that
 okay?"

 "Yeah, yeah." Her father bobbed his head, not meeting her eyes. She decided that she was positively
 brilliant. That would keep her father out of her hair for a week! He wanted nothing to do with what
 he called "womanly stuff." She bit back her grin, and finished her dinner.

 Still dressed from the day, Ike stood staring out of the window. Kid could sense the disquiet in him,
 but was at a loss to do anything about it. He figured he needed to keep Ike’s mind, as well as his
 own occupied. If they were concentrating on something then they couldn’t be worrying about Buck.

 "Hey, Ike. Wanna play some cards? I brought a deck." He shrugged noncommittally, but sauntered
 over to Kid’s bed. They threw themselves into their card game, but were never relieved of the
 apprehension that crowded their minds. 

 Absolute terror was the only thing Hannah could come up with to describe what she was feeling. She
 hadn’t even been this frightened when she had been held at gunpoint, the awful day her brother and
 sister-in-law were murdered. At least then, she hadn’t started out alone. She kept pushing the horse
 faster, hoping to outrun any trouble she may encounter. She prayed a compulsive mantra, "Dear
 Lord, please get me there safely. Dear Lord, please get me there safely." She repeated it over and
 over again.

 All of her muscles were weak from staying tensed for so long. She was shaking uncontrollably, as
 she entered the city limits of St. Joe. Now, she just had to hope that Ike and whomever he had with
 him were in the hotel. Still trembling, she made her way to the front desk.

 "Excuse me, Sir." She smiled sweetly at the man behind the counter, hoping he wouldn’t take her for
 a prostitute looking for likely work. "Is there a man here by the name of Ike McSwain?" The man
 eyed her speculatively. 

 "How would I know?"

 "Everyone has to sign in don’t they?" Her voice began to waver.

 "What of it?" That was enough! She’d had all she could take. Not only did she have to worry about
 Buck and his injuries. She had to deal with her father’s crazy biases, as well as being out all alone at
 night. Then there just had to be a rude desk clerk sitting like a rotten cherry on top!

 "You listen to me mister." Her voice was steadily rising, and she made no move to stop it. "I have
 been through quite enough today. If you feel you don’t need to help me," she was at a full-blown
 scream now. "I will parade around this lobby yelling with all my might about you deserting me with
 your illegitimate child!" 

 "Miss," he hissed. "I have never even seen you before this!"

 "You think I give a damn?" He looked as if he had something particularly sour in his mouth. His face
 was puckered, and his lips had disappeared somewhere into his face.

 "Room one-eleven." He whispered curtly.

 "Why thank you very much, Sir." She curtsied; supplying him with a sugar coated smile.

 Knocking sounded on the door. Ike and Kid were moving so fast toward the sound that they
 collided mid-way. They scrambled off of the ground, lunged together for the door, and were
 confronted by the nervous face of Hannah Martin. They just stood there, staring at her.

 "H-hello, I’m Hannah Martin," she stuttered nervously, singling out Ike. "Are you Ike?" Ike began
 nodding his head frantically, and signing wildly at her. 

 "Oh no, I don’t understand, Buck’s only taught me the sign for water!" All three people stood
 perfectly still, silence enveloped the room, then the odd moment passed with Kid yelling, "Buck’s
 okay?"

 "Yes, yes, that’s what I came here to tell you." Simultaneously, Ike and Kid demanded, "Take us to
 him."

 "Well, what are you waiting for?" She spun on her heal, relief flooding through her. Everything was
 going to be just fine.

 Jack Martin was suspicious. He stood outside of his daughter’s door straining to hear even the
 smallest noise. Dead silence greeted him. What was that girl doing? Blowing out a deep breath he
 tapped, with his knuckles on the door.

 "Hannah, are you okay in there?" Nothing. He tried again. 

 "Hannah, are you awake?" Again, nothing. Seeing no other alternative, he opened the door. Worry
 washed over him. His daughter was not in her bed, and he knew she wasn’t in the rest of the house
 either. He noticed a small bundle peeking out from beneath her bed. He pulled at what looked to him
 like a wad of dishrags. On closer inspection, he realized that they were dishrags, but they were
 wrapped around something. He pulled at the edges, and found a plate filled with chicken, carrots,
 and rolls. The very same dinner he’d had only hours ago. He stood bewildered, gaping blankly at the
 plate. When comprehension dawned, fury rose like a tidal wave over him. 

 "She’s been feedin’ that Injun’!" He roared. 

 Buck’s breath was coming in gasps. He’d never had so much trouble putting on a pair of pants
 before. He knew he should wait for Hannah to help him, but the thought was just too humiliating to
 bear. He did not want an attractive woman helping him put his britches on. He wanted an attractive
 woman to help him take them off, he thought absently. Sucking in a deep breath, he heaved himself
 off of the bed, which was no easy feat due to the tightness of the bandages that surrounded his ribs.
 He let out a shriek of victory as soon as he pulled his pants over his hips. Exhaustion tugged at him so
 tenaciously that he fell back onto the bed, pants still undone, and slept immediately. 

 The longer Jack thought about it, the more he figured things out. He knew that Hannah couldn’t have
 stashed the stranger in the barn simply because she was well aware of the fact that he was in and out
 of there constantly. The only other logical place would be Bobby’s house. As soon as he found her,
 he was going to shake some sense into her. As soon as he found that Injun, he was going to fill his
 hide with buckshot. He rushed headlong to the barn. He was going to get to that cabin as fast as
 possible. Maybe there was still time to save his daughter from a horrible fate.

 Having explained to her traveling companions, the need for silence, the threesome sneaked as quietly
 as possible past the house. No one bothered to dismount, they were all too eager to see Buck. So,
 still on horseback, they rode quietly past the house, and sped off into the distance.

 Buck came awake with the explosive sound of the door being thrown open, and slamming into the
 wall. He was confronted by none other than Mr. Martin, and Mr. Martin’s rifle. It wasn’t until the
 man started screeching unintelligibly that Buck realized he was sprawled across the bed with his
 pants gaping open. Wincing at the effort it took to move, he tried to raise his weapon free hands to
 ward off further hysteria from Hannah’s father.

 "You’ll die for this! You’ll die!" Jack’s words broke off into incoherent whimpering noises. "Where’s
 my girl? Where’s my baby?" 

 With those words, Buck became alarmed not for his own safety, but for Hannah’s.

 "You mean she’s not at home?" Buck’s words didn’t seem to reach Mr. Martin.

 "What did you do with her?" He thundered. "She’s just a girl! She-she’s my baby. What did you
 do?"

 "Nothing."

 "Then why are you half naked?" 

 To his dismay, Buck saw tears cascading freely down Mr. Martin’s face. He had no idea how to
 handle the situation. He grasped frantically for something to say. Nothing came to mind. After all,
 what did a half-naked man have to say to a worried father? Besides, well, "Don’t shoot!"

 "Is that shouting?" Kid whispered as they neared the cabin.

 "Oh no!" Hannah breathed, spurring her horse on at a faster pace.

 "Papa! Papa!" Hannah began calling at the top of her voice as soon as she was within earshot of the
 cabin.

 Buck watched Mr. Martin’s face change as soon as he heard Hannah calling him. Without lowering
 the weapon or taking his eyes off of Buck, Jack called, "Hannah? Girl is that you?"

 Hannah burst into the room, with Ike and Kid at her heels. 

 "Papa, put the gun down."

 "No! No, did he touch you? What did he do to you?"

 "Nothing, Papa. He can’t even stand up, besides, Buck is a very nice man."

 "Buck? Buck? So he has a name, does he?"

 "Papa, calm down, you sound crazy!"

 "It was the likes of him that killed your brother girl! What the hell were you thinkin’?"

 "What are you talking about?" Hannah’s voice was shrill. "It was a highwayman that killed Bobby."

 "A half-breed highwayman! You were there, girl didn’t you look at him?"

 "All I saw was a gun and then blood." Her voice was breaking, and she was shaking clear down to
 her toes. "There was just so much blood! How do you know this Papa?"

 "I went to the caretaker. Told him I wanted to see the monster that killed my boy. He was another
 half-breed, another dirty Injun, like him." Jack indicated Buck.

 "No, Papa, not like him. The devil that killed Bobby was…was…bad! He was just plain bad."
 Hannah didn’t know what else to call the miscreant her father wanted to compare Buck to.

 "No, they’re all alike." Her father stated stubbornly.

 "Papa, I have never done anything to disrespect you, or defy you until the night you turned Buck
 away. But I have to tell you, Papa because you need to know. You’re wrong." Hannah saw her
 father waver. It was almost imperceptible, but it was there. She slowly began to move in front of her
 father’s rifle. She meant to place herself between Buck and the firearm. She kept her voice calm and
 even. 

 "Buck is living proof of that. Papa, he’s sitting right on top of a gun and a particularly wicked looking
 knife. They are both within his reach, but he didn’t even move to draw either weapon. Do you know
 why? Because he doesn’t want to hurt anyone. It wasn’t the Indian blood flowing through the veins
 of Bobby’s killer that made him attack us. It was the highwayman in him. They aren’t connected, you
 see. Papa, do you understand?"

 "Get away from him, girl! Move away!" Jack shrilled. 

 Kid and Ike were left to watch the scene unfold in utter impotence. Both fought the urge to draw on
 Martin, but were following Buck’s lead.

 Adrenaline pumping through his body made Buck completely unaware of his injuries. He stood up
 with only a little trouble, grabbed Hannah’s elbow, and pushed her out of the way of the gun. Martin
 was a loose cannon, and in his hysteria, he might hurt Hannah unwittingly.

 "Hannah, stay out of the way of that rifle." Buck ordered smoothly. "Mr. Martin. I haven’t done
 anything to hurt your daughter. I would never purposefully hurt anyone who has been so kind to me,
 but I’m causing her pain right now. If you’ll just put the gun down, I’ll go with my friends here." Mr.
 Martin still didn’t seem to hear. Nor did he seem to notice the presence of the two men crowding the
 doorway.

 "She’s all I have left. I can’t let you hurt her. I can’t." Jack’s eyes had gone wide, and his face slack.
 His look could only be described as, wrong. He leveled his weapon at Buck’s chest. 

 With graceful speed, Ike slammed his arm into the barrel of the firearm, sending it in a wild arc
 toward the ceiling. Hannah seemed to appear at his other side, only to wrench it from his hands. He
 reached for her, and she tossed the gun to Kid.

 "Enough!" She shouted. "There has been enough bloodshed. I don’t care to see one more person I
 care about die. Do you hear me in there Papa?" She pointed at his head. "Can you hear anything?"

 It was not a good idea to stress Hannah Martin. She did not respond in a manner that was conducive
 to the coddling of the fragile egos of men. It seemed that some one else’s voice boomed from her
 mouth.

 "You," she pointed to Kid. "Go empty that thing." She gestured toward the gun she’d thrown him.
 "You," she pointed at her father. "Just sit down, and think for a minute about what you almost did."
 Bewildered, her father looked, eyes glassy, not at her but in her direction. 

 "What did I almost do?"

 "You almost destroyed a family. Just like what happened to us."

 "I’m sorry." Came the quiet and solemnly spoken words. Hannah continued on her rampage. 

 "You," she pointed at Ike. "Go find the doctor. Buck needs him, and I think he needs to make Papa
 take a nap." Ike nodded, not about to argue with an irate woman. He’d seem Emma on a tear.
 Jimmy wasn’t half so violent as she was, even with both of his guns in hand.

 "You," her all powerful finger finally landed on Buck. "You get right back into that bed!"

 "Yes Ma’am." He dropped heavily onto the bed, his adrenaline rush deserting him. Hannah was
 instantly at his side, pulling blankets over him. Slowly she leaned into him.

 "I’m sorry about this, Buck."

 "I’m not. That’s twice you’ve come to my rescue. You’re my night in shining curls." She could still
 see the lingering hurt in his eyes. His jest ignored, she put her mouth to his ear. 

 "There are many parts of you, Buck." She whispered, aware that her father was not only in fragile
 emotional condition, but only feet away. "I’m quite taken with the part of you that liked my cookies,
 but taken as a whole…you’re a wonderful package." 

 Buck was warmed from the inside out, the instant her words sunk in.

 "So, it would be okay if I came to visit?"

 "I would be terribly upset if you didn’t."

 "What about your father?" Concern creased Buck’s forehead.

 "He’s got some things to deal with, but I’ll be here for him." Buck took her hand.

 "Are you sure it wouldn’t hurt him to see me?"

 "I’m sure it would hurt me not to."

 "Well, I wouldn’t want to hurt you…" Buck placed a firm kiss on the palm of her hand. He could feel
 something in the air. Something was starting, something…sweet.