Sweetwater, Nebraska Territory 1868 

"Uncle Buck, Uncle Buck!"

Buck barely had enough time to wake up and brace himself before a small bundle of energy catapulted itself towards him. He grunted as he caught James squarely in his chest, wincing at the force of the impact. "What are you doing up so early?" he asked, his voice still raspy from sleep.

James settled himself familiarly on Buck's chest, burrowing his face on that warm spot between the chin and the shoulder. The six-year-old's voice was muffled as he replied, "Grandpa is taking us out for a picnic. The whole day!"

"Starting at dawn?" Buck's voice was laced with a mixture of doubt and amusement.

"The earlier the better," a silver-haired man much older than Buck answered from the door, a pretty and bright-eyed tot cuddled in his left arm. Teaspoon Hunter's right hand awkwardly carried a small basket.

No one had thought the former Sweetwater Marshall would ever be able to use that arm again after an outlaw's bullet sliced across the upper part about a year ago. But Teaspoon had surprised everybody, including his family. Buck had always believed the recovery was fueled by sheer force of will. "I wanted to get these kids out of their mother's hair before she goes into early labor."

"What's wrong with Lou?" Buck raised himself slowly, careful not to dislodge the boy in his arms. Gently, he lowered Jamie into the small bed and threw a small, light blanket over him. "She still has four more weeks."

"She's about ready to burst, I'd say," Teaspoon said dryly. "Lou is having one of her moods again so I decided to take the kids out, before they realize what a she-cat their mother is. Lordy Lord, how I've forgotten how irritable Lou becomes when the end of her pregnancy nears is beyond me."

"She ain't so bad," Buck drawled out.

"Not bad? Not bad, you say?" the older man repeated incredulously. "She nearly bit my head off when she was about to give birth to Marylou. And Kid, he got it worse. Lou swore never to let him inside the bedroom again."

Buck grinned like Teaspoon hoped he would. Buck wasn't present when Lou gave birth to her daughter, but he remembered when she was giving birth to Jamie. Curses had poured out of the usually mild-mannered Louise as she went into labor. She had sworn like a blacksmith who struck his thumb rather than the anvil. "Well, she must have forgiven him sometime later or we wouldn't be worrying about another labor now."

Teaspoon chuckled and wiggled his eyebrows suggestively. It wasn't that good a joke but a joke nonetheless. And it was music to Teaspoon's ears. When Buck had returned to the ranch last year after a two-year disappearance, he was a changed man. He had looked troubled, withdrawn, wary.

Dangerous.

The anger in him seemed to consume the man he was. Buck had never been as boisterous or rowdy as the other Pony Express riders Teaspoon took care of but he had always radiated warmth and gentle humor. Teaspoon longed to see his young ward heal, to see him truly happy.

The young Indian got up from the bed and pulled on a pair of brown work pants over his longjohns. As soon as he came near Teaspoon, another pair of arms stretched out to him. Buck took the squirming toddler from Teaspoon. Marylou closed her eyes and puckered her lips, impatiently waiting for the kiss she knew always came.

"So, what did you bring with you?" Buck asked as he peered into the picnic basket. He tried to ignore the little girl's antics, knowing she will become more insistent. Marylou opened her eyes, frowned at her adopted uncle and firmly shook her head. "Kiss first," she demanded, pursing her lips again. Buck smiled before planting a noisy smack on the little girl.

"That pretty little thing is crazy about you. She insisted on passing by here on our way to the creek." Teaspoon smiled lovingly at the toddler whose arms were now curled around Buck's neck.

Buck's lips split into a huge grin. "Really?" he asked, turning around and opening one of the saddlebags hanging on the wall. "Why? Did she know I got this waiting for her?" Buck whipped out a rag doll from his bag, eliciting squeals of delight from Marylou.

Hearing his sister's delighted screams, Jamie got out of bed to find out what was causing the commotion. When he saw the doll, he started tugging at Buck's pants. "What about me?"

"You can find yours under the bed." Buck shook his head as Jamie excitedly dove under the fallen covers to find his present. Seconds later the sounds of tearing paper filled the small log cabin, followed by squeals of delight.

"How do you like it, cowboy?" Buck asked.

Jamie's eyes were bright as he paraded a small light brown hat with a dark band in front of his grandfather, uncle and baby sister. "It's just like the one Papa wears. Thanks, Uncle Buck."

"You'll make a wonderful father," Teaspoon said absently as he watched Jamie climb on the bed and straddle a pillow, pretending he was riding a horse.

"No."

The word was simply said, but Teaspoon heard the longing and pain in it. "Buck ..."

"I'm fine, Teaspoon," Buck said. He looked at Teaspoon straight in the eye. "Really, I am."

It was a familiar response. One Teaspoon had heard so many times over the past several months. Teaspoon wanted to take the young man into his arms and hug him until the pain went away. But Buck wasn't a kid whose hurt could be soothed with a hug or a kiss.

The older man opted to change the topic, "You're spoiling these kids rotten." 

Buck's lips lifted in a half-smile. "That's what uncles are for," he said, then adding pointedly, "And grandfathers, too."

"Yes, and this grandfather is ready for a picnic," Teaspoon shouted the last words, eliciting shouts of excitement from the two children.

"OK, you three. Enjoy your day." Buck herded the kids and Teaspoon out of his cabin. "Jamie, you gonna look after your Grandpa and your sister for me?"

"Sure will. Thanks again," the little boy shouted as he scampered towards the trees behind the ranch, holding on to the new hat on his head so it wouldn't fly in the wind. Teaspoon and Marylou followed at a more sedate peace. Before they disappeared into the woods, the little girl turned to wave and sent Buck a flying kiss. Buck playfully caught the kiss and pressed it to his heart. He stayed outside for a moment longer, cherishing the warmth and contentment he always felt when he was around the children. Teaspoon touched on his greatest desire when he mentioned fatherhood earlier. But Buck knew he could not have children without first finding the right woman. And the right woman doesn't exist, Buck thought. Even she did, she certainly won't take interest in a half-breed like him.

Buck's face darkened as he remembered that he did find a woman who vowed to love him "till death". That woman almost led him to his death, if not for the help of a brave, if not a bit weak-stomached, soldier. Young Adam Pierson almost wiped out an entire company of soldiers in an effort to help Buck escape the hellish fort he was imprisoned in.

Buck went inside his small home. He debated over whether to make coffee for himself or not, but quickly decided to forgo the task. He could always get a hot cup at the main house or from one of the ranch hands. Buck poured some water from the jug into the basin on the dresser and washed his face. He figured he could drop by the stream near the ranch for a quick bath later. He dressed quickly, slipping on a long-sleeved shirt and a dark vest. His only other concession to grooming was to comb his waist-length black-as-midnight-hair and tie with a leather string. He had grown his hair longer to help hide the criss-crossing scars on his back.

After slipping on his favorite pair of moccasins, he started tidying up his place. Buck folded his blanket and fluffed his pillows a bit ... just the way Lou showed him. He took the broom and, with quick strokes, swept the dust off the floor. Within minutes he was finished. He didn't have much to fix, the cabin only had two rooms and furniture was sparse -- one bed, one table, a couple of chairs, a dresser, a trunk half-filled with clothes and other personal stuff. It was a man's place. Spartan and rugged would have aptly described it, if not for the white lace curtains billowing softly from the open windows. The delicate cobweb-fine panels looked out of place in the log cabin but Lou insisted that the curtains made the place look homey. Buck didn't have the heart to say no to his friend despite knowing he'd hear a few snickers from the other fellows on the ranch.

As he stepped out of the door and headed towards the main house, Buck thought of the first one-room shack he and Kid built near the main house when they first returned to Sweetwater. When he returned to the ranch last year, Buck felt the need for change. He wanted a place far enough from the ranch to provide him with some privacy, yet close enough for him to help out Kid and Lou if they needed him. In less than a month, the log cabin was built.

He and the Kid had put a lot of hours into building the cabin. Though busy at the ranch the whole day, they both had found enough energy to work on Buck's place until well after midnight. At that time, Buck didn't think it was strange that even after spending several hours of backbreaking work handling and raising horses, he and the Kid still had the energy to cut, saw, hammer and nail the log cabin together long after the rest of the ranch had gone too sleep. Sure, the ranch hands offered. Paul, the elderly foreman, even showed up one night but found the demon-driven pace Buck and Kid set too taxing for a man well above 50 years.

It was only later when Buck realized how much he and the Kid needed to stay busy at that time of their lives, how much they needed to keep their minds off the recent tumultuous events in their lives. 

Kid had fallen into a deep depression after the death of an outlaw whom he recognized as the father who abandoned him and his family when he was a child. The same outlaw turned out to be the leader of the Black Raiders, a gang that terrorized the territories for years. Kid agonized over his role in his father's death and feared the passing of unwanted "bad blood" to him and his children. It took a lot of love, understanding and patience on Lou's part before Kid returned to a semblance of his old self. 

Buck, too, needed to forget. His own troubles began with a letter from his brother Red Bear. The Kiowa war chief had written that the tribe needed him. The Kiowas, like many of the Indian tribes, were losing their battle over land against the army. Many of the Indians were being forced into reservations. Running Buck, as the son of a white man and a Kiowa maiden, was asked to be one of the mediators in the peace talks between the tribes and the federal government. But instead of negotiations, Buck had found himself in the middle of a war. The talks had collapsed even before he said one word and he had been herded off into a reservation along with thousands of men, women and children. In the midst of the chaos, he thought he found love, but instead discovered betrayal.

Buck shook his head to clear the memories. It had been a while since he took a painful trip down memory lane. He had already spent too many nights patching together the pieces of his eggshell heart, praying that he'll be whole again when morning comes. 

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