The Ties That Bind

“No. . .chores. . .my horse Jimmy. . .more pie. . .” Cody mumbled in his sleep. Jake heard the other riders’ heavy, steady breathing as he slowly unwrapped himself from his blanket and silently crept out of the bunkhouse.

A half-moon cast a weak, watery light over the prairie as Jake skillfully retrieved his horse without causing the slightest stir in the corral. He slowly walked the horse out of the station yard then kicked her into a gallop.

It wasn’t long before he reached his intended destination. He peered out into the darkness as a shadow emerged from behind the lean-to.

“Jarvis,” Jake called, “is that you?”

The figure nodded and approached his leader as Jake dismounted. “Its past midnight. We wasn’t sure you was comin’ back,” Jarvis admitted.

Jake’s eyes shone as the excitement welled up in his chest. “Jarvis, I think our ship’s finally come in. Lets go inside-we ain’t got much time.”

The rest of Jake’s gang was gathered together inside the crumbling lean-to. Some sat around a rickety old table, lost in the heat of an all-night poker game. Others kept to themselves, steeped in drink.

Jake gritted his teeth as his excitement gave way to burning irritation. He snatched a bottle from one of the men and smashed it against a wall-startling the group to attention.

“The last thing I need right now is to be leadin’ a pack of drunks!” He glared at them all impatiently as he leaned his fists on the table top. A tired orange light flickered out from an old oil lamp that sat at the center of the table. The light washed over his face, deepening the shadows under his eyes, as it struggled to cast a sickly glow across his cheeks and lips. “You’re all gonna be at Rattlesnake Canyon before sun-up today,” Jake ordered. “And you’re all gonna hide along the main trail and wait for me.” A shallow smile formed at the corners of his mouth. The time for action was finally at hand. Jake could fairly taste sweet victory as the plan fell into place. “The Pony Express is settin’ out to deliver a very important message tomorrow, and we’re gonna see to it that it never reaches its destination.”

He paused for a moment to survey his men. All eyes were trained intently on their leader. The weariness and suspicion that had begun to bubble up in the gang earlier that day had completely evaporated. Jake’s intensity whipped through each of them like a shock wave-igniting a renewed sense of strength among them. If they had to, they were ready to follow Jake to the edge of the earth for that money.

“There’ll be seven of us comin’ through the canyon not long after sunrise,” Jake continued. “When we ride in, wait till I give the signal-then attack. Aim to kill, boys. We don’t need no witnesses.”

A sudden stab of anxiety twisted in his gut. Jake’s eyes fell on McDaniels, who stood near the door. “Did you take care of that Indian today?” he asked in a tone so low that the man could hardly hear him.

McDaniels glanced uneasily over at Matthews and Jackson. “Yeah,” he answered coolly, as his gaze rested once again on his leader. “He won’t be givin’ us no trouble.”

“Good,” Jake answered. He felt a sudden rush of power rise up and pulse through his body. It was time for the final act to begin.

The old Marshal leaned back against the corral. He looked up into the sky and sighed. The darkest hour of night had descended upon the station yard. A sleepy silence wrapped itself snuggly around the entire prairie. The moon could only muster up enough energy to light the top of the barn and paint the rest of the express station in a weak, silvery wash.

Generally, when Teaspoon found himself unable to sleep at night, he found solace by walking through the deep stillness of the express yard. But tonight, the silence caused more apprehension than comfort. He stood still for some time until he heard the sound he was waiting for-horse hooves pacing slowly toward him.

“Where ya been, Jake?” the Marshall asked as he raised his head to find Jake leading his horse on by the reigns.

Jake’s heart jumped back in surprise. “Teaspoon? What are you doin’ out here?”

“I was just about to ask you that very question,” Teaspoon answered-the agitation rising in his throat.

“I couldn’t sleep,” Jake explained as he tried to gain entrance to the corral-but Teaspoon blocked his way.

“So you decided to take yer horse out for a couple hours’ jaunt in the middle of the night?” Teaspoon responded as he met Jake’s gaze.

Jake smiled. “Yeah, you hit it just about right, Teaspoon. I was lyin’ there in the bunkhouse, and I kept thinkin’ about all the trouble you’ve been havin’ with the Indians stealin’ your mail-and how dangerous it is out there. Then I got to thinkin’ about you and me and all the great times we had together back in Deadwood. . .”

“And all that thinkin’ made you feel like sneakin’ out here in the dead of night?” Teaspoon finished.

“I wasn’t sneakin’, Teaspoon,” Jake stated in a hurt tone. “I just didn’t want anyone else to have to share my sleepless night, is all. Ridin’ helps me think through things-it don’t matter what time of day it is.” He glanced out over the horizon. “You got a plan about what territory we’re gonna ride through to get to Saint Joe?”

“Yeah. We’ll probably head out past Grand Junction and go on through the flat lands.”

“Ain’t that the long way around?”

“Maybe, but I don’t want to risk us getting into trouble by takin’ a short cut.”

Jake let the silence settle in between them a moment before he ventured his idea. “I was thinkin’ that we might head through Rattlesnake Canyon for part of the way. It’s a pretty safe spot-and it’ll get us to Saint Joe faster than runnin’ all over the plains will. It might be worth takin’ the short cut, Teaspoon-could maybe save some lives.”

The Marshal considered this. Though he felt a tug at his common sense warning him against short cuts, he couldn’t help but feel a little ashamed of himself for ever entertaining the notion that Jake was up to no good. Jake Michaels was willing to risk his neck to help him and the others get that message through. Any man who was ready to die for his friend-even after fifteen years apart-deserved to be trusted. Teaspoon felt it was the least he could do when he considered the countless times Jake had saved his life back in Deadwood.

“All right,” he said finally. “Sounds like a plan.” He squinted up at the sky. The moon’s weak glow began to die out completely as the horizon lightened to gray. It was almost sunrise. “Well, looks like the two of us ain’t gonna get much sleep tonight. Why don’t you go in and wake up the boys. It’s about time we head out.”

“The night has come. And now, Running Buck, you must once again travel to the land of spirits.” The Man of Dreams raised the small bowl that sat before him and passed it to Buck. “In this bowl, you will find a new path to an old world. Re-discover the silent stream of truth within you. Allow yourself to drink deeply of the knowledge that rests there as you travel beyond this life and into the other. Your brother and I will keep watch here and await your return.”

Buck cupped the bowl carefully in his hands. The firelight flickered upon the clear liquid as he swirled it around and offered it to the six directions. He lifted his eyes toward his brother, who returned the gaze-his face glowing red in the fire’s patient flame. The Man of Dreams began a low chant-calling to the grandfather spirit for guidance.

Buck brought the bowl to his lips. He hesitated-unsure of where his journey would lead him or if he would return. But, as Red Bear joined in the chant, Buck found the courage he needed and he took a drink.

The bitter liquid flowed over his tongue and washed down his throat. For a moment, nothing happened. Buck turned toward the shaman, but the old man was lost in prayer. He then rested his gaze on the fire. He froze as his throat suddenly choked with fear. The once tame flames began to lick the air greedily as they were transformed before his eyes into a blazing swarm of snakes. They whipped through the tipi-rushing past the chanting men-and began to coil themselves around Buck’s body. The fire-snakes twisted and crackled about him, yet they did not scorch his skin. Instead, the flames called out to him-whispering in a language only his soul could understand.

Buck gasped as a great burning pain rose from within him-welling up from his toes-forcing its way to the top of his head. The pain pulsed through his body-screaming for release. Buck’s head flew back as a great white light rushed, like a tormented river, from his mouth. Buck felt himself dissolving into the newly created light-loosing himself helplessly in its vast expanse of nothingness.

Then, from out of nowhere, he heard the screeching cry of an eagle. The great bird descended before his eyes, its mighty wings spread from one edge of Buck’s awareness to the other. The eagle cocked its head and stared mournfully at the young Kiowa. Fear gripped Buck’s heart. He was powerless to fight against the vision as the eagle penetrated his mind and spirit. The bird’s probing black eye suddenly grew larger-desperately reaching out to him-until finally, it enveloped Buck-shrouding him in total darkness.

For a moment, all was silent. A death-like chill pressed itself mercilessly against Buck’s weary soul. He felt he must be slipping into death as the echoing cries of the massacred Kiowa began to infiltrate his ears. He heard the women screaming-the children crying-the white men laughing-as the gunshots ripped through the black world that surrounded him. He sensed his spirit faltering-surrendering itself humbly to the waves of despair that now assailed him.

He was ready to die.

Suddenly, he discerned a shallow light growing in the distance. A flicker of hope stirred within him as the blue shadows lit up in a wash of red and then spread across a vast sky-brightening into a golden yellow. The light reached out to touch his face, then gathered him up in its loving embrace. A soft, patient breeze wafted past his ears. “Find your strength in the rising sun, it whispered.

Buck raised his head and gazed out toward the edge of the new horizon. He felt a presence beside him. It was Red Bear, dressed for war, sitting proudly atop his horse. Buck quickly glanced around and realized that he was standing in the midst of a pack of Kiowa warriors.

Then the canyon appeared before him. He heard the crack of gunfire.

“Take cover! It’s a trap!” Teaspoon’s voice echoed in his ears.

“Lou!” Kid screamed from somewhere out of sight.

Buck looked down into the canyon. As the sun rose up into the sky, he felt his own spirit rise with it-becoming stronger with each breath he took. He saw the Marshal fall to his knees. A man stood before Teaspoon with his back to Buck. The faceless man cocked his gun and took aim at the Marshal’s head.

Buck felt the glow of the sun penetrate his entire being as a growing certainty cleared all confusion from his mind. “Kills With A Gun!” he cried.

The man with the gun spun around-staggering in the light that washed through the canyon.

“It is time,” Buck said in Kiowa, as the canyon began to darken and the sky disappeared.

From far away, he heard The Man of Dreams’ chant calling him back to the living world as total darkness surrounded him once again. Then he heard the sound of footsteps pacing toward him. His heart froze as the unmistakable creek of a gallows echoed across his mind. “God have mercy on your soul. . .” a voice rang out. “Have mercy. . .

Have mercy. . .”

Buck opened his eyes and found himself sitting in The Man of Dreams’ tipi. The fire that once burned brightly at the center of the tipi was now nearly extinguished. Though Buck did not know how long he had been in the vision, he sensed that the night was still upon him.

For a moment, Buck stared, dazed and numb from his journey. Then he felt his brother’s hand rest gently on his shoulder. Buck looked up into Red Bear’s face and smiled.

Red Bear sighed with relief. “You have returned, my brother.”

Buck turned to The Man of Dreams who had ended his chant and sat patiently waiting for the young Kiowa to speak.

“I know now what must be done,” Buck stated without hesitation.

The Man of Dreams nodded. “Then let it be so.”

On to Chapter Twenty-One

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