Hidden Secrets

Teresa was coming back from what was left of the barn with a pail of milk, fresh from the half-frozen cow. Desperate to do anything to help (and relieve their boredom), Jeremiah and Teresa insisted on doing the milking that afternoon; Teresa milked the cow, and Jeremiah the goat. At least, Jeremiah tried to milk the goat, he was not having much success. Teresa was still giggling about it as she headed up to the house.

She had made it to the porch when she heard the thundering of hooves. Turning, she saw a familiar-looking chestnut ride up very fast. She stowed the pail of milk under the porch swing and went down the steps to investigate. The chestnut pulled up sharply and roughly at the porch and Buck tumbled from his back.

"Buck!" Teresa scrambled to Buck's side.

"Hey, Teresa," Buck said softly. "Sorry to drop in on you like this."

"What happened Buck? Can you get up?"

Aided by Teresa, Buck tried to stand, only to collapse again. "Let me rest for a moment," he muttered, laying his head in her lap, unable to hold it up any longer. "I'll be all right in a minute."

Teresa shifted her hand from under Buck's shoulder, finding it sticky with blood. "Buck, what happened?" she repeated. There was no answer. Buck's eyes were closed, he seemed to be unconscious. "Kid!" Teresa shrieked. "Louise, come quick!"

Jeremiah, Lou and the Lid came running to find Teresa taking her shawl off and placing it over Buck. "I think he's been shot," the eleven-year-old said frantically. "He's so cold."

Immediately Kid and Lou knelt down beside their fallen friend. "Buck, can you hear me?" Lou asked rather loudly, shaking him a bit.

Buck opened his eyes, just barely. "Hey, Lou, know a place where I can get some peace and quiet?"

"We'd better get him in the house," Kid said, looking at the wound.

"Er, Kid..." Jeremiah jerked his head toward the group of riders approaching. "I think there's trouble comin'."

Kid stood and McCaffrey, McCloskey, and the others rode up. "Is there anything I can do for you, McCaffrey?"

"I see you caught that there thievin' Indian for us."

"I see. And what was he supposed to have done?"

"I told you. He's a thief and possibly a murderer. He came into my saloon with a whole bunch of money. Obviously he stole it, someone like him wouldn't have all that money."

"Someone like him?" Lou spoke up from Buck's side. "By that, I take it you mean an Indian. I think there's a somethin' wrong with your reasonin' there. I've known this man for a long time. He ain't no thief, and he ain't no murderer."

"We'll just let the law decide that. We're takin' him in."

Kid exchanged a glance with his wife. They had been living in Lone Tree Valley long enough to know what type of man McCaffrey was. They knew that if they let McCaffrey take Buck, their friend would not make it into town alive.

"Here's the problem, where's your proof? You want to take Buck in for theft and murder, but you don't have any proof, just a sum of money the he's s'posed to have. You have no body, or you wouldn't have said 'possibly a murderer'. I can't let you take him in without proof, the Marshal will just let him go again, and he's in no condition to ride. Why don't you folks just leave my property?"

"Not without that half-breed," McCaffrey was firm.

"But you have no proof...."

"You want proof that the half-breed's a thief? See that horse there? It's mine. He stole it from me."

"You're crazy!" Jeremiah blurted out.

"That's Buck's horse," Teresa spoke up. "I'd know it anywhere."

"Oh yeah? Well it's McCloskey's word against two children's. Who do you think the good Marshal will believe?"

"I can prove it," Jeremiah said.

"Jeremiah..." Kid murmured warningly.

"It's okay, Kid. See that chestnut there. He's real skittish around strangers. I know this because we were livin' at the Rock Creek station at the end of the Pony Express. Buck rode for the Express, like Kid. So I would know Buck's horse."

"You have no idea what you're talkin' about, boy," McCloskey said derisively.

"I can prove it," Jeremiah repeated. "If that horse is Buck's, like we say, then he'll recognise me. I've ridden him a few times. So I'll attempt to ride him bare back. If he lets me, Mr. McCloskey can try the same, and we'll see if he can."

Without waiting for confirmation, Jeremiah went over to the horse and unsaddled him with out any trouble. Lou held he breath when her brother leapt onto the horse, but Jeremiah rode him easily, even jumping over a few logs.

"Do you think you can do that, Mr. McCloskey?" Jeremiah asked, leaping down. McCloskey smirked at Jeremiah and took the reins. Over-confident, he leaped onto the chestnut, only to fall to the ground when the gelding shied. He tried again and again, only to arrive at the same result. Finally, the chestnut was so spooked that he pulled the reins out of McCloskey's hands and trotted a few yards away from everybody.

"Funny, I don't think McCloskey's horse likes him very much," Lou said.

Jeremiah slowly approached the chestnut, talking quietly and soothingly. it took a little while before he had calmed the horse down enough to lead him back to the others, and even then he was still skittish.

"Help me up," Buck said faintly.

Lou looked down in surprise, unaware that he had come too. Nodding to her sister, they helped Buck to his feet where he slowly made his way to the chestnut. Upon sensing his master's approach, the gelding promptly settled down and nickered softly.

"I guess that proves it then," Jeremiah said with satisfaction.

McCaffrey and McCloskey looked as though they wanted to argue the point more, but Jeremiah was right. "I'm still takin' him in for theft," McCaffrey said, not wanting to give up his notions.

"As I said, you have no proof. And I think that little demonstration proves that the chestnut belongs to Buck. If you still believe that he's a thief, you can take it up with the Marshal, but you'll do so without takin' Buck in. If the Marshal thinks there is somethin' in your claims, he can come out here to talk to him. Buck's in no shape to go into town anyway. Now I'll thank you gentlemen to leave my property."

Jack Meridian and Jacobson, both drew their guns in protest, but Kid was quicker. "All our guns against your one?" Meridian snorted derisively.

"Think again," Lou said coldly. Everyone turned to see Lou calmly holding Buck's gun, cocked, on the men that chased him there. "You'd better think carefully about what you want to do, because I can use this, and you don't want to get caught in a crossfire."

"Think you'd better keep an eye on your wife there, Kid," McCaffrey said. "Let's go men." Reluctantly Meridian and the others followed McCaffrey's lead. "You haven't heard the end of this," the saloon owner called over his shoulder.

"How is he?" Kid asked, walking into one of the spare rooms.

"Sleepin'," Lou replied. "He took quite a lot of shot. He was out before I finished bandaging the wound. Dr. Seyton should take a look at it, he's a bit feverish, but I think it would be safer to wait until mornin' before sendin' for him. Give McCaffey time to cool down. Buck should be all right until then."

Kid smiled at his wife. "He'll be better than all right. You know what the doc. said about your healin' skills."

"Have you givin' any thought to his offer?"

Kid looked down. "Lou, you know how I feel about that."

"Yeah, but I also know that the way we are goin' we won't be able to pay the next instalment on the loan. Me takin' that job might just get us through. Besides it might give me somethin' to do; with Rosa here, there's not much for me to do."

Kid could not deny that. Rosa Veloz was the wife of one of the men who opted to stay on after they bought the ranch and lost the barn in the storm. Rosa had been Mrs. Sutherland's housekeeper, and was content to keep on in that position, despite Lou trying to do some things for herself. The truth was, Kid was glad she was there. Lou had been given into fits of wistfulness during the past few months, often just drifting off between chores and occasionally not getting much done. Rosa was there to pick up the slack, such as it was.

"What do you think?" Lou asked again, cutting into Kid's thoughts. "I could take the children into school, and Teresa could stay with me until I came home. It would save her havin' to ride in the snow, which she doesn't like to do. Jeremiah could ride along side and think he was protectin' us. It'd make him feel like he was doin' somethin' anyway."

"The school ain't always open."

"You know what I mean."

"And how long have you been thinkin' up this argument?"

"Just now. Look, Kid, it makes sense, and whether you like it or not, we can't live on just your pride. If we don't get the money to pay Collins at the bank soon, we're gonna lose this place. And that's the last thing any of us wants."

Kid looked away sharply, and Lou knew that her words cut deep. She cupped his cheek with her hand. "I'm sorry, Kid, but part of you knows that I'm right, even if another part of you won't let you admit it."

Kid moved her hand and kissed it, but did not say a word. He looked back at her for a moment, but, unable to form the words to tell her what he was feeling, he looked away again, glancing at the diary on the bedside table. "Are you gonna read that?"

Lou blinked at the change of subject. "Er, I don't know."

"What do you mean?"

Lou shrugged. "Well, I want to read it, get to know Ma again, kinda. But..."

"But what?"

"I don't know. If I read it, there's bound to be stuff about... you know. I spent so long tryin' to forget him, to hide the truth about him from the children like Ma wanted. What if this brings it all up again. If they get a hold of it and read it, like I know they want to, how do I explain to them that I lied about our father, even after that whole thing with Boggs? How do I face them?"

"Lou..."

"Kid, they saw you kill him," she said bluntly. "While you and I know that you had no choice, I'm not sure they understand that. All they're gonna know is that I lied to them, and that they saw you shoot their father."

Kid leaned in and kissed his wife briefly to shut her up. "Lou, don't worry about that yet. If you think you can handle it, read it. You can always tell Jeremiah and Teresa they have to wait until they're old enough to understand certain things before they can read it. But I think that you need to read this to put your feelin's at rest concernin' your father."

Lou frowned. "And how is that supposed to help?"

"If you read the diary, you might be able to understand why your mother did what she did; why she married him, why she eventually left. That may help you. I know that if my mother had a diary that she left, I would want to read it, to understand why she married my father..." Kid trailed of, not wanting to talk about his own father who was just as cruel as Lou's father Boggs had been.

Lou understood. "Thanks, Kid, you're right. No matter how scared I am, I need to know the truth. I'll start readin' it, now."

"Now? It's kinda late."

"Somebody should stay with Buck in case he wakes up, and I don't know when Rosa can come in. Besides, I'm not tired."

"Lou..."

"I'm fine, Kid! just not tired. That's not unusual. Why don't you go on to bed, though. You look worn out." She kissed him tenderly. "About the other thing, workin' with..."

"I'll think about it," Kid replied. "Just don't stay up all night. You need to sleep."

Lou settled back in the chair after the Kid left and, with trepidation opened it to the first page.

April 1840

I start this diary on the night of my wedding, while waiting for my new husband to come in. He has gone to get some champagne. This may be an unusual thing to do, but it was something Mama suggested. In years to come, when whatever children I may have are full grown and have children or grandchildren of their own, they may look upon this diary as a guide to marriage and raising children. Or have a good laugh reading it, like I had reading my Grandmother's diary. Times change, and no doubt, things we take for granted now will seem odd or even amusing to some future generation.

I'm getting ahead of myself here. The only future I should be concerned about is my own. Mine and my new husband, Eamon's. Right now, that future's as bright as can be.

Lou smiled grimly to herself as she read. Her mother had such high hopes initially. She had no idea what was in store for her. Lou could not believe that the man described in the diary was the same man she remembered as her father. The same man who had two names for himself to provide a cover when things became too dicey with the law.

Could it have been the same man? Lou wondered. Could Eamon McCloud, also known as 'Boggs' have really been the kind man that Ma fell in love with? Or was she foolin' herself even then? The only way to find out would be to read on.

The first few entries were much the same. Her mother was so much in love that she seemed to have blinders on. There was no mention of any shady or illegal activities that Lou knew her father had been involved in. Did they come later? She skimmed through the entries until one dated eight months later, Christmas 1840.

December 25, 1840

Well, it is Christmas. A time of peace and happiness, of loving and giving. Only, you would not guess that around here. I just cannot believe that Eamon could be so cruel. Something terrible must have happened. Maybe it had something to do with that man who was here earlier, the one looking for someone named "Boggs". Of course I had no idea whom he was talking about, but when I mentioned it to Eamon, he hit the roof, to use a phrase I picked up from the stable hand.

I have absolutely no idea why Eamon would get so angry over someone who came here looking for a complete stranger. That man had nothing to do with us. So there was no reason for him to become so angry, or for him to take it out on me. It was a total shock when Eamon hit me. He just belted me good and proper, under some pretext that I had not ironed his white shirt properly. I know I had. I do not see why he needs it anyway. It is not like he is going to Church or anything. There is no church out here, just a Catholic mission, which Eamon will not go near. He is not Catholic, and will not say another word on the topic.

The thing was, it was after I mentioned this afternoon's visitor that he asked me to iron the shirt, and he seemed angry then. After he worked me over he left, and has not been home since, even through it is nearly midnight and snowing rather heavily.

Was it too much for me to expect my husband to be home our first Christmas together?

December 26, 1840

Eamon was not back when I woke up this morning, but that was not surprising considering the depth of the snow outside. I was stiff and sore from the beating, but still set about to do the chores. They would not get themselves done, and I knew that Eamon would be twice as angry if he came home and found them undone. If he came home.

He did come home: at lunchtime. He had a present for me, a pair of gold earbobs, small and dainty. Eamon said that they were a Christmas present that he had to send away for, and that was why he had to leave yesterday: to pick them up.

I am still not sure whether I fully believe him or not. He just seemed too evasive. The earbobs are worth more than I know we can afford, but Eamon told me not to worry about that. He just wanted to get me something beautiful to wear to dances. We live alone out here, not a soul for miles and miles. There is not likely to be and dances in the near future. It was a beautiful thought though, and Eamon was very contrite about his behaviour yesterday. It was almost enough to make me forget it. Almost.

Onto Chapter 2