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while i was away i ended up rewriting this Colt and Delilah story! :) so here y'all Honeysuckle fans go

words; 3,591

warning; there is ONE use of the R slur because someone is an asshole and this is back in the day we be them tossing slurs like confetti (Colt didn't say it dw. nor Delilah)

Getting married into a rich family wasn't what Colt expected, but he was the happiest man alive to finally call Delilah his wife. Her father had never approved of the “failed” sheriff, and the lack of money and land on Colt’s part didn't help his case. After years of working his ass off and proving his worth- he was finally able to get Mr Stirling’s blessing to marry his daughter. And that's exactly what Colt did.

Now being wed into wealth and not actually having any experience with it, Colt was way out of his comfort zone. He had learned some pleasantries richer folk expected, but he was still a poor ol’ broke boy at heart.

There was a soft knock to the opened wooden door of Colt’s room the family so graciously provided. He turned around to see his newlywed wife, her long brown curly locks tied neatly behind her back with a green ribbon to match her dress. “Darling, is everything okay?” She asked with a slightly concerned tone.

On the contrary, Colt wasn't okay. This would be the first time he met Mr Stirling's side of the family, and he didn't feel prepared at all. “My feathers are a bit ruffled from all of this.” He admitted.

Delilah smiled at her husband's honesty and made way over to him. She cupped his cheek, the pair of them standing in front of the tall mirror Colt was trying to dress himself in. “Don't stress, honey. You'll do just fine.” Her husband closed his eyes and leaned more into Delilah’s hand, her sweet words calming him.

“I really don't want to make a fool outta myself,” He mumbled, comfortable enough to speak his worries and insecurities. “But I fear that's all I'll do. You know I'm not the best with this fancy stuff.”

"You've already won the toughest battle– my father's approval. The rest is just a formality.” Delilah continued her helpful reassurance, even pressing a quick kiss to Colt’s nose. “You got this.”

Colt hummed when he was kissed, a smile sneaking up on his face. Opening his eyes, he took a second or two to appreciate the sight in front of him. His beloved wife- the most important person in his entire life now. He was doing all of this for her, and even though the worry and the anxiety was hard, she was worth it. She always would be. “Thank ya, sugar.”

Delilah had her own smile now, a soft giggle leaving her lips when Colt used that nickname, his southern accent smooth like liquid gold. She couldn't help it- she had to kiss him.

Leaning in, she brought her face closer to Colt’s, and he immediately returned the action. Lips pressed together softly, the two wedded lovers enjoying the feeling for a moment before pulling away again.

“I'll never get tired of kissin’ ya.” Colt sighed, a lovesick twinkle in his eyes.

Delilah flushed at that. “You're full of charm today, aren't you?”

“Only for you.”

“Stop that…” She was blushing more, and her cheeks were starting to hurt from trying not to smile too much.

Colt would've loved to keep kissing his wife and making her giggle, but he knew better. If she said stop, he stopped. “Sorry, love.” He apologized, not entirely all that sorry.

“Come on, it's almost time for you to meet the family.” Delilah delicately got them back on track, her hands moving to the front of Colt’s suit, fixing a wrinkle there.

The man grumbled. “Alright, fine. I'd much rather spend my day with you, though.”

“Another time, my love.”

Colt straightened his suit more with the help of his lover, a bit uncomfortable in the unfamiliar fabric that clung him like a second skin. They made their way to the grand parlor, adorned with rich tapestries and polished furniture that seemed to gleam under the warm glow of oil lamps. Mr Stirling's extended family gathered, their eyes turning towards Colt as he entered with Delilah on his arm, the couple descending down the rich mahogany stairs.

"Well, if it ain't the Sheriff who stole our Delilah.” Drawled one of Mr Stirling's cousins, a grizzled man with a thick beard. Colt was glad his lovely wife reminded him to shave.

"Stole might be a harsh word, sir. I reckon Delilah willingly walked into my grasp.” He gave a greeting as he walked with Delilah to the small crowd of a vastly aged family, his tone being somewhat playful as it seemed the family ran off that energy. He had some small past experiences with rich folk like these- and they loved to seemingly pick on one another. They thrived off the friendly (?) bickering. He never understood it, but he was going to fake it till he made it.

A hearty chuckle echoed through the room as Colt and Delilah joined the gathering. The air was thick with the scent of cigar smoke and the rustic charm of the family.

An older man, someone Colt assumed is Delilah's grandpa, raised an eyebrow at him. "Hudson, ain't it?" The man carried authority like the thick scent of his lit cigar wedged between his fingers. Colt had his experiences with folk like this man as well. They were old fashioned- something he could appreciate and have an easier time mingling with, but easy to let down. He had to be on his best behavior around this man.

"Yes, sir. Colt Hudson. Pleasure to officially meet ya." Colt extended his hand, a gesture met with a firm shake.

"Delilah speaks highly of you, Colt." The man admitted. "But words only go so far. Actions, however, speak volumes.”

Colt heard that warning loud and clear. “I understand, sir.”

The grandfather seemed to be the rooster of this hen house, as the family all seemingly saw this as good enough greetings, and started to dissipate throughout the large building. Delilah remained next to her husband, offering him a smile, an unspoken “good job”.

“Make yourself comfortable, son.” The older man said to Colt, the “son” title giving the ex-sheriff some comfort. He must be doing something right. “We have a buffet in the dining room, and plenty of space outside for ya. Be careful of the cousins, they might try and race ya.”

“I'll keep an eye out.” Colt responded, watching the grandpa pop the cigar back in his mouth and limp his way to where he assumed the previously started “buffet” was.

“Bad knee from the war.” Delilah explained, already knowing Colt was curious about why the man walked funny. He turned back to her, looking slightly alarmed.

“I don't limp like that, do I?”

She snickered. “Heavens, no. You used to, but you stopped.”

Colt sighed with relief. “Well, that's good. That bullet was no joke.”

Delilah hummed in agreement, patting her husband's arm softly. “Yes, but you're still here. Let's focus on that.”

“Agreed.” He nodded, falling silent for a little before he leaned in closer to Delilah’s ear, whispering. “What's a, uh… Buffet?”

Delilah stifled a laugh at Colt's question, her eyes sparkling with amusement. “It's a spread of food, darling. You can take as much as you want. Think of it as a feast where you serve yourself.”

Colt's brows furrowed in confusion. “So, it’s like a potluck, but fancier?”

“Exactly!” She smiled, glad to see him relax a bit. “You’ll be fine. Just follow my lead.”

“Right. Follow your lead.” Colt took a deep breath, straightening his shoulders as he glanced around the parlor. Some family lingered, and he really wished he could shrink in size and avoid them for now. It was lively, but intimidating. He was distracted when Delilah took his hand, leading him toward the dining room. As they entered, Colt was hit by the delightful aromas wafting through the air. A long table was laden with an array of dishes: roasted meats, colorful salads, and desserts that sparkled like jewels.

“Wow,” Colt murmured, his eyes wide. “I’ve never seen this much food in one place.”

Delilah chuckled. “Welcome to the Stirling family gatherings. You won’t go hungry here.”

As they approached the buffet, Colt watched as Delilah expertly navigated the spread, piling her plate with a little bit of everything. He tried to mimic her movements, but his hands felt clumsy as he scooped up food.

“Don’t be shy,” Delilah encouraged, noticing his hesitation. “Get what you like. There’s plenty.”

“Alright, alright.” Colt grinned, letting his appetite guide him. He grabbed some roasted chicken and a scoop of the vibrant green salad. As he added a slice of pie to his plate, he couldn't help but ask. “How exactly do you all have so much food? Who's cooking it all?”

Delilah smiled at her husband's innocent curiosity as she carefully balanced her plate. “We have a staff, darling. There’s a team of cooks in the kitchen who prepare everything for these events.”

He blinked, clearly astonished. “A staff? For cookin’?” He glanced around, trying to comprehend it all. “Back home, we had Ma and a pot over the fire. That’s all we needed.”

“I bet it was wonderful.” His wife replied, smiling at her husband. Delilah was used to this rich life, but she always longed for a more simple life. A life where she lives in a cabin in the woods, maybe some livestock, and a caring husband. She was almost there.

Colt smiled at Delilah’s words, touched by her willingness to embrace the simpler parts of his past. As they moved away from the buffet, they found seats at a long dining table surrounded by family members already engaged in lively conversations. Colt recognized a few faces from earlier, and a small part of him braced for the inevitable questions about his former life as a sheriff and how it led him here, married into one of the wealthiest families in the region. Rich folk always seemed up in poor people's business- Colt reckoned it made them feel better about themselves.

That feeling didn't go away when a sharply dressed, younger man with black slicked-back hair sat at the table, a glint in his eye and a smirk that instantly put Colt on guard. "Well, if it isn’t the new Mr. Stirling." His tone was dripping with condescension as he looked the man over. "Enjoying our little spread? Or is this a bit overwhelming for a former lawman?”

“Tobias, be nice.” Delilah scolded the man, glaring at the man.

Tobias, unbothered by Delilah's reprimand, leaned back in his chair, still smirking at Colt. “I’m just making conversation, my sweet cousin. No harm meant.”

Colt, though annoyed, kept his cool. He had dealt with men like Tobias before—arrogant, smug, and always looking for a way to get under your skin. His days as a sheriff had trained him to remain calm even when provoked. “It's fine, Delilah. No harm in it.”

“Stirling men have a reputation to uphold, you know. And not just anyone can fit into this family.” The snarky cousin continued, his comments bothering Delilah more than Colt as she spoke up again.

“Colt fits perfectly. He’s proven his worth, and my father gave him his blessing. That’s all that matters.”

Tobias chuckled, raising his hands in mock surrender. “Alright, alright. Just testing the waters.” His eyes flicked back to Colt. “You know, we’ve all heard the stories about your time as sheriff. Must’ve been quite the adventure, being out there in the wilds, facing down outlaws.”

Colt nodded, not willing to give Tobias the satisfaction of rattling him. “It was a job. Had its ups and downs like any other.”

“Sure,” Tobias drawled, clearly unimpressed by the lack of a fight. “But don’t you miss it? I imagine this life of leisure might get a bit… dull for someone used to roughin’ it.”

“I ain’t one to get bored easily, Tobias. I’m here because I love your cousin, not for the comforts. If it gets too quiet, I’m sure I’ll find ways to keep myself busy.”

Delilah grew uneasy when she could tell the obvious stare down the men were having, but she perked up when a woman approached the table. She was dressed in a deep maroon gown, with her slightly grayed hair tied up with an intricate headpiece- jewels and the such. Delilah immediately brightened at the sight of her. “Aunt Margaret!”

“Hello, sweetheart.” Margaret smiled, her age lines more defined. She came up to kiss Delilah on the forehead before looking at Colt. “Colt Hudson, right?” she asked, extending a hand.

Colt stood, taking her hand with a firm shake. “Yes, ma’am. It’s a pleasure to meet you.”

Her grip was strong, but her gaze was much softer, welcoming. “Good to have you in the family, Colt. Don’t mind Tobias. He likes to test everyone who walks through these doors, but he’s harmless. Mostly.”

Tobias rolled his eyes, but said nothing.

Colt felt reassured by that. “Thank ya, ma’am.”

“I like you already.” The older woman replied, quite pleased by the good manners. “Now, why don’t you and Delilah come sit with me? I’d love to hear more about your life before all this.” She guested around to the head of the table where more of the older folks were sitting. Colt wasn't sure if he was allowed to sit there, but…

Delilah linked her arm with Colt’s, smiling gratefully at her aunt. “We’d love to, Aunt Margaret.” Standing up with her husband they grabbed their plates, she gave Tobias a smirk before sticking out her tongue.

Margaret was much better company than the rest of the family. She was pretty ahead of her time, and she was open to everything. Of course she wanted to know how it was being a sheriff, but she had respected it when Colt got a bit clammed up when it came to more personal questions.

“I think I'll head outside.” Colt excused himself after a good hearty 30 minutes of mingling and dinner, turning to his wife. “Do I clean my plate, or…?”

Delilah chuckled softly at Colt's uncertainty. “No need, love. The staff will handle it. You go ahead and get some fresh air.”

Colt smiled, grateful for the go ahead. “Thank ya, sugar. I’ll be back soon.”

With a nod from her, Colt made his way through the grand parlor and toward the back doors leading outside. As he stepped into the expansive garden, the evening air was cool, making the older man let out a soft “brr” to himself. The suit didn't do much to protect him from the weather, did it?

Colt made his way through the grand gardens, his boots crunching softly on the gravel path as he approached the stables. He didn't mind the marvelous gardens and the perfectly trimmed bushes, but he needed something he was comfortable with, something he knew better.

Making way through the short grass- using a shortcut that was off route of the gravel, Colt made his way down the slightly elevated ground the manor sat on, hurriedly scurrying to the stables. They were still just as rich and fancy as the rest of the place, but the horses still made it feel like home.

When Colt arrived, he jumped a bit when a younger man dressed like the rest of the rich family poked up from behind a stable with a horse. He noticed the startled Colt, and mumbled a soft apology.

Dismissing it, Colt noticed the man had picked an apple off the floor of the stable that- presumably- his horse was in. The brown Appaloosa seemed eager to continue eating its apple.

“That's a mighty fine horse ya got there.” Colt spoke up, trying to spark some conversation. It landed flat as the man seemingly ignored Colt in favor of feeding his horse.

So, Colt made his way down the stables and found his own horse, who was laying on the hay covered floor.

“Hey there, Darling.” The older man spoke lovingly to the large animal, who promptly rolled a bit in the hay. “Yeah, I bet it's real comfortable in there. Nice fancy pen, hm?” He knew his horse couldn't verbally respond back, but the soft huff from her nose was enough to make Colt smile.

“Morgan, right?”

Colt turned when he heard the man suddenly speak up.

“Me, or her?” He asked, pointing at himself and then Darling.

“Her.” The man said back.

“Yeah, she's a Morgan. Her name is Darling, though.” Colt confirmed the man’s suspension. He sure knew his horses huh?

“She's beautiful. Her coat reminds me of vanilla ice cream.”

Colt wasn't exactly sure what the hell “ice cream” was, but he supposed it was best to take it kindly. “Thank ya, Mr…?”

There was a short pause. “Boris.”

“Boris,” Colt repeated back. “Well, it's nice meetin’ ya, Boris.”

Boris gave a nod in response, never looking away from his own horse. It was odd, real odd. Never making eye contact was poor manners, Colt thought. Boris had to be at least 20- surely this rich family had taught him better?

Then again, the man had to be nervous. It was obvious in the way he kept shifting his weight, and he took a while to respond to questions.

“Darling’s a bit lazy today,” Colt tried to ease the quiet between them, petting the mare’s nose affectionately when she finally stood up and came closer. “She doesn’t much care for all this fancy business either.”

“I like Darling.” Boris replied, sneaking in a glance at the horse, his gaze almost hidden underneath his orangish curls.

“Well, I like your horse too.” Colt said back, keeping his voice soft and calm as if he was talking to a nervous animal. “What's their name?”

Boris paused again, his eyes focused on watching the large animal he was feeding happily eat the apple in his hand. “Gertrude.” He finally mumbled.

Colt could tell Boris was getting a bit stiff with the conversation, so he dropped it, letting the soft sounds of the horses shuffling in their stalls filling the space between them.

Unfortunately, the peace wasn't for long.

“There you are, Boris! What’re you doing out here with the sheriff?” Tobias strolled in, sounding rather displeased. He glanced at Colt before narrowing his eyes at his younger brother. “Should’ve figured you’d be hiding out here with the horses.”

Boris stiffened, his whole body locking up as Tobias approached. He didn’t say anything, just kept his gaze on his horse, his fingers twisting nervously in the animal’s mane.

“Hey now, I’m just talkin’ with your brother. No need to get upset.” Colt interjected, trying to get some heat off the celery uncomfortable Boris.

Tobias scoffed, ignoring Colt’s comment as he leaned against the stable door. “Boris, you’re gonna miss dinner if you stay out here all night, you know. Not that you’d mind. It’s not like anyone expects you to contribute much anyways.”

Colt’s jaw tightened. He always hated folk like Tobias- somehow who talked down on others to feel better. “Leave him be, Tobias. He ain't hurtin’ anyone. I'm sure he knows how to feed himself.”

“How do you know?” The ever frustrating cousin shot back. “Boris ain't exactly the smartest, ya know. Damn idiot turned retard as soon as he came out! Doesn't even know his ass from a hole in the ground.”

Colt was left a bit stunned at that remark. Why on Earth would anyone talk so poorly of one's brother? Colt just didn't understand it. If he had a brother, he'd love that man more than anything, even if he was different. "A man like you talkin' down on your own brother? That's a damn shame.”

“You don’t know a damn thing about me or my family, Hudson. Just ‘cause you married in doesn’t mean you get to act all high and mighty!”

“At least I worked for it, and I'm not acting entitled to it.”

Tobias was red in the face from anger, which gave Colt some satisfaction. He wouldn't admit it, but it was nice seeing this stuck up brat getting tossed around a bit.

“Shut the hell up!” The weaselly cousin barked out. “I'll show you! Just you wait!” He then turned around, and stomped his way back up the hill to the manor. Colt huffed, still a bit frustrated from that whole debacle.

“Ridiculous.” The older man murmured to himself before looking at Boris, who still was obviously shaken. “Doing okay, kid?”

Boris gave a very unsure and shaky nod. “T-Thank you, sir.”

“You should eat some food though,” Colt suggested. “Can't have ya missin’ dinner.”

“I know.” Boris relaxed more. “I just… It's too loud. No one understands.”

“Well, I can head inside n get cha’ somethin’ and bring it out for you.”

Boris perked up at that. “Really?”

“Sure thing. Just tell me what ya want.”

Colt was thankful when Boris started to list off what he wanted, even getting down to the nitty gritty. He liked his turnkey not touching anything, so it was best to have the sides in their own dishes. Colt didn't understand why it bothered Boris so much, but he'd be damned if this poor kid got upset over his dinner.

So, Colt was back inside within a jiffy, and struggling to juggle several different dishes. Throughout it all, he had a smile on his face. He knew deep down in his heart he was helping someone, so he didn't care how much mashed potatoes he'd clumsily spill on his boots.

#colt.

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