Picture By Jane
Author's note: This story begins right after Survivors and continues past the end of the series. It is mostly a relationship story, so don't expect a lot of action (although I of course included the obligatory shootout). Also, I tried to be historically accurate, but I didn't have time to do any decent research so please excuse any gaping flaws. And for anyone wondering about the title, it's from the duet from the animated movie Anastasia. By a strange coincidence the lyrics fit the story perfectly, but you have to read it to find out!
Several miles outside of Rock Creek, July 1861
The old house was dark save for a single room, where a young woman sat keeping a painful vigil. For what seemed like the hundredth time that night she wiped her father's ashen face and raised a glass of water to his lips. With an effort he swallowed, then opened his mouth to speak.
"Shhh, Da, don't try to talk now," she soothed him gently. "Just rest. Let me get you some more broth, so you can get your strength back." She moved to stand up but he caught her hand, wincing as the movement jarred his wound.
"No, my girl," he said, watching her face cloud with sympathy. "I'm afraid that won't help."
"Don't talk like that," she protested, stubbornly refusing to meet his gaze. "You're going to be just fine, you'll see." Her fingers fiddled with the bandages wrapped around his middle.
"No, Kate," he said softly. The tone of his voice made her look up at his face. He smiled sadly at her. "I'm dying."
Kate saw the resignation in his eyes, and her own eyes filled with tears. "I know," she admitted in a whisper.
He squeezed her hand and continued, though it was growing harder for him to speak. "I'm sorry for leaving you like this. I know things have been hard on you, living the way we do, and I wish I could've had the chance to make a better life for you. I'm sorry I wasn't a better father to you."
"Oh, Da!" cried Kate, her tears overflowing. "You're the best father I could ever wish for! No one could have worked harder than you to build a life for us. You gave up so much just so we could have a chance to live our dream." She looked at him solemnly and wiped away her tears. "And I promise I will do whatever it takes to keep that dream alive. I'm going to keep this ranch, no matter what happens, I swear it."
Even in the dim lantern light she could see the look of peace that had settled over his face. "I know you will," he said softly. "You're a smart girl, Kate. A good girl." He smiled, and she had to lean close to hear his fading voice. "I love you."
He reached out weakly and drew her down to place a gentle kiss on her forehead. As she straightened she saw his eyes close slowly, and the hand she held grew still.
"I love you, too," Kate managed to whisper through the lump in her throat.
The single lantern flickered and guttered out, leaving her alone in darkness.
"Well, boys, I've got some bad news." Teaspoon Hunter strode into the bunkhouse, where the riders were already sitting down to lunch. They were all there except for Cody, who was on a run, which meant that the rest of them stood a decent chance of actually getting a meal.
"What is it, Teaspoon?" asked Kid, looking up in concern.
Teaspoon took off his hat and eased into his place at the head of the table. "Cottonwood station was robbed yesterday."
Rachel paused in the middle of serving the potatoes. "Was anybody hurt?" She couldn't help feeling a motherly concern for all the young express riders.
Teaspoon shook his head. "No, but they got all the horses."
"Any idea who did it?" asked Jimmy.
Teaspoon nodded. "The stationmaster thinks it was the same bunch that hit Seneca last week. He figures they're following the river and headin' west, hittin' all the ranches on the way. They also shot a farmer over south of Ash Point."
"Isn't anybody trying to catch them?" demanded Lou.
The old marshal shrugged. "There's a posse from Seneca that's been trackin' 'em, but so far they ain't had much luck. And I just got word from the company that they may be sending some special agents out to help."
Noah looked thoughtful. "If they're robbin' all the express stations that means we're next in line."
"Not if I can help it," said Jimmy firmly. "I for one ain't gonna sit here and wait for some bunch of two-bit thieves to steal my horse. I say we go after 'em ourselves."
"Hold on now, Hickok," cautioned Teaspoon. "I ain't letting you boys ride off half-cocked to get yourselves killed huntin' horse thieves. Besides that, you ain't gonna have time. We've been ordered to pick up the runs from Cottonwood until they can get some new stock."
There was a chorus of groans and muttered protests from around the table. Teaspoon ignored them and continued. "And speaking of new stock, I've been instructed to see about buying some from around here."
"There ain't a whole lot to choose from around here," said Lou doubtfully.
Teaspoon smiled. "There will be. A Mr. Tom O' Sullivan just bought the old Wilson place. He's lookin' to start a ranch, and I hear he's got a pretty good herd."
"I heard about someone buyin' the place, but I didn't think it was true," said Kid. "It's pretty run down."
"Well, seems like Mr. O' Sullivan couldn't afford a better one," replied Teaspoon. "Anyway, I was hopin' one of you boys would ride out there this afternoon and take a look at his horses." He looked around the table expectantly. "Any volunteers?"
As usual nobody jumped to take the job, but Lou glanced hopefully at Buck. He had been silent throughout the meal, as he had been of late in the days since Ike's death. Though he was trying not to dwell on his grief, he felt the loss most keenly at mealtimes. The empty spot at the table next to Buck never failed to make him feel a stab of loneliness for his best friend.
But Buck noticed Lou's worried look, and realized that he had been brooding. He knew the other riders were concerned about him, and for their sakes he wanted to make an effort to appear more cheerful.
"I'll go," he said, and managed a smile. "Might as well send somebody who knows what he's doing."
Somebody snorted good-naturedly, but they all looked relieved that Buck had regained a spark of his old humor. Just then Jesse burst into the bunkhouse and plopped himself down on a bench, grabbing for a plate and talking excitedly.
"Sorry I'm late Rachel but I was just talkin' to Thompkins an' he said- ow!" Jesse yelped as Rachel slapped his hand away from the food. "What'd you do that for?"
The housekeeper looked at him sternly. "You ain't touchin' a thing at this table until you've washed up properly."
"Aw, Rachel, I'm starving!" Jesse whined, reaching for the food again.
But Rachel swiped it away again. "No, sir! Now go wash up."
The others chuckled as Jesse stood up in defeat and stomped outside. He was back in record time, restored to his usual high spirits and obviously eager to share his news.
Teaspoon regarded him with some amusement. "Well, son, it looks like you got something you wanna tell us."
The boy nodded, stuffing a roll into his mouth. "Yup. I was talkin' to Thompkins and he told me we've got a new neighbor. He's gonna be starting a ranch or something a few miles west of here."
Jimmy smiled mischievously. "This new neighbor-he wouldn't happen to be named O' Sullivan, would he?"
Jesse looked crushed. "How'd you know?"
"I heard about him earlier today," explained Teaspoon. "We may be buyin' some horses from him later."
Jesse sighed. "How come I'm always the last one to find out about everything around here?" he complained.
When Buck arrived at the old Wilson homestead he sensed immediately that something was wrong. It was still early in the afternoon, yet there was no one out working on the ranch. The corrals were empty, but the low whinnies of horses could be heard coming from inside the locked barn. Puzzled, Buck dismounted and led his horse to the porch railing. As he got closer to the house he noticed several patches of blood-soaked ground, and the tracks of many horses. Broken glass lay scattered on the porch from one of the shuttered windows. Quickly Buck ran up the steps and knocked on the door, hoping that Mr. O' Sullivan would be all right.
The sound of footsteps on the porch startled Kate from her troubled thoughts. Glancing around for a weapon, her eyes fell on the frying pan on the kitchen table. She grabbed it and crept silently through the next room to the front door. She tensed at the sharp rapping and peered through the shutters. A tall, fierce-looking half-breed stood on the porch, armed with a revolver and a huge Indian knife. Kate swallowed hard and kept still, hoping the stranger would go away and wishing they hadn't forgotten to fix the broken latch on the front door.
No answer. Buck's brow furrowed in worry. Something was definitely not right.
"Mr. O' Sullivan?" he called. "Is anyone here?"
Still no answer. Buck drew his gun, took a deep breath, and tried the doorknob. It turned easily under his hand and the door swung inward. Peering into the dim interior, Buck stepped cautiously into the house.
Kate held her breath. As the stranger entered the room she stepped out from behind the door and brought her heavy iron skillet down hard on the back of his head. The force of the blow caused him to drop his gun and sent him crashing to the floor.
Despite the pain and shock Buck instinctively rolled as he hit the floor, reaching for his knife. He came up in a crouch, ready to defend himself, only to come face to face with the barrel of his revolver. But his anger turned to surprise when he saw the person holding the gun.
The young woman stared back at him coolly, large hazel eyes glinting in anger. She waved the gun slightly, indicating the knife.
"Drop it." Her clear voice would have been pleasant if not for the menacing tone.
Buck lowered the knife to the floor and slowly stood up, raising his hands in what he hoped was a peaceful gesture.
"I'm not gonna hurt you," he began, trying to appease her.
"Unfortunately for you, I can't make the same promise." She pointed to the kitchen table. "Sit down. And keep your hands where I can see them."
Her eyes followed him while he pulled out a chair and sat down, placing his hands flat on the table. Once he was seated she quickly bent and retrieved the wicked-looking knife, holding the blade pointed carefully away from her body.
Buck watched the girl pick up his knife, feeling like a fool. He could just imagine what the other riders would say if they could see him. All he had wanted was to look at Mr. O' Sullivan's horses, and now here he was being held at gunpoint by a strange girl, and O' Sullivan himself was nowhere in sight.
"Who are you?" he asked the girl. "Where's Mr. O' Sullivan?"
"I'll ask the questions here, not you," she snapped. "Who are you, and why the hell were you breaking into our house?" Her voice held the faintest hint of an Irish brogue.
Buck sighed. "My name's Buck Cross. I ride for the Pony Express. I was supposed to come see about buyin' some ponies from Mr. O' Sullivan. I wasn't trying to break into the house," he added defensively.
"Then why'd you sneak in here with a gun?" demanded the girl, glaring at him suspiciously.
"I wasn't sneakin'!" Buck retorted in frustration. "I knocked, but nobody answered so I figured somethin' was wrong and I went to check it out."
"Why should I believe you?" She was starting to sound a little less sure of herself.
"Miss, I didn't come here lookin' for trouble, I just wanted to see some horses. I'm telling you the truth, I swear." Buck looked her straight in the eye, and now he could see that she must have really been through something. Her cheeks were pale and hollow and the dark smudges beneath her eyes betrayed her lack of sleep. Her disheveled clothes were bloodstained and strands of auburn hair had come loose from their bindings to fall around her face. Looking closer, Buck saw that the hand holding his gun trembled slightly.
He took a deep breath and continued awkwardly. "Look, I know you must be in some kind of trouble, but maybe I can help. Why don't you tell me who you are and what's goin' on."
Kate studied the young man at the table warily for a moment. She was a little disconcerted by the realization that he wasn't much older than she. Sitting there calmly at her kitchen table, he wasn't quite as threatening as he had appeared earlier, crouching in the dim foyer with a knife. Now his dark eyes seemed to smile gently at her, and she could hear the sincerity in his low voice.
Kate lowered the gun slightly. "How do I know I can trust you?" she asked, still reluctant to let her guard down completely.
Buck half-shrugged and almost smiled. "You don't," he replied evenly. "That's a chance you'll have to take."
Oh, that's real encouraging, thought Kate wryly. But still, something about him made her want to trust him. At least he was being honest. And despite her outward calm she was too scared and exhausted to press the issue any further. She hesitated a minute longer before finally uncocking the gun with a sigh.
"Alright," she said wearily, sinking into the chair opposite Buck and placing the weapons on the table. "I don't know why I believe you but I do."
Buck had visibly relaxed and smiled at her. "You won't regret it. Now please tell me who you are, and what happened to Mr. O' Sullivan."
She looked at him sadly across the table. "My name is Katherine. Tom O' Sullivan is-was-my father." For a moment her throat closed with emotion and she missed Buck's look of surprise. "We only just moved here a couple weeks ago, after Da finally saved enough money to start a ranch of his own. That's been his dream ever since I can remember." Her eyes filled with tears, causing Buck to lean forward with concern as she continued. "We were doing fine until about a week ago, when Da caught a couple of men snooping around our property. He ran them off, but yesterday afternoon they came back. There were five of them this time."
Kate recited her story as if from memory, fighting to keep her calm. "Da had been expecting trouble, so we were locking the horses in the barn when we heard riders coming. Da made me go in the house, but he stayed outside to talk to them. I went in and got his rifle and watched through the kitchen window. The men rode up to Da and started arguing with him. They called him a dirty foreigner and told him to go back home to Ireland. They accused him of stealing the horses he worked like a slave to buy, said they were gonna take them back to their rightful owners."
She paused and threw him a bitter glance. "Funny isn't it? Horse thieves talkin' about rightful ownership."
Buck smiled weakly, struck with pity and uncertain how to respond. Kate continued her story in a detached voice, absently fingering the edge of her bloodstained shirt. Buck knew she must still be in shock and sat dreading what he knew she would say next.
"I could hear the whole argument through the window. Da told the men to get off our ranch and never come back. Then one of them went for his gun, but Da dropped him first. Everyone started shooting and Da got hit." Now Kate was shaking, her hands twisting in her lap. She stared at Buck with unseeing eyes, reliving the shoot-out in her mind. "I ran out on the porch with the rifle. Da was trying to make it back to the house. I shot at the men and hit one, maybe two, I don't know. Da made it to the porch and shot another before they finally rode out. But then Da just collapsed…"
Kate's eyes closed briefly and when she spoke again her voice was just above a whisper. "There was so much blood…. I got Da into the parlor and tried to stop the bleeding, but I couldn't." She looked down at her hands, and Buck knew she was blaming herself. "Da wouldn't let me go for the doctor. I begged him to let me go, but he said it was too late. He could be so stubborn sometimes."
She tried to laugh but it came out as more of a sob. For the first time Buck noticed the still form on the couch in the dim parlor behind her. He reached out uncertainly and placed a sympathetic hand on her shoulder. She took a ragged breath and continued.
"Da made me promise to stay with him. I tried to make him as comfortable as possible, but he just kept getting weaker and weaker…. He told me he was sorry he never got the chance to make a real good life for us." Impatiently she wiped away the tear that finally escaped and rolled down her cheek. "I swore to him that I would never give up his dream, no matter what. I promised him I'd keep this ranch if I have to fight off a thousand horse thieves."
Kate's face softened as she remembered her father's dying words. "Da said he knew I would. He told me he loved me, and he kissed me, and then he died," she finished matter-of-factly, swallowing the tears clogging her throat.
Buck squeezed her hand gently. "I'm sorry," he said softly. She nodded in acknowledgement. He watched her face settle back into a mask of composure, knowing from his own experience that it was only a matter of time before her numbness would give way to anger and grief.
"I've been waiting here since then for those men to come back, at least the ones who can still ride. They probably figure it'll be easy pickin' now." She smiled grimly. "But I mean to make it a little harder for 'em." She looked at Buck, jaw set in determination. "I promised Da I'd protect the ranch and I intend to keep my word. But I never meant to drag anyone else into this." Kate stood up, pushing Buck's weapons across the table to him, already regretting having told him so much. "You're free to go. I'm sorry you had to get involved."
Buck stood as well, sheathing his knife and re-holstering his gun. "Well I'm not," he told her. "You can't fight all those men alone. I'm going to help you."
Kate shook her head. "This isn't your fight."
Buck smiled slightly, thinking of how often he and the other riders had said or heard the exact same thing. It had never stopped any of them before. "It is now," he replied firmly.
"No, it's not. If you stay, you're risking your life for no reason. I can't let you do that," she said, arms crossed defiantly.
Buck raised an eyebrow. "You don't really have a choice." He cut her off as she started to protest again. "Look, if you really need a reason for me to stay I'll give you one. I think those horse thieves might be the same ones that have been robbing express stations all around the territory. Me and the other riders would've ended up tracking them down anyway. But that doesn't matter, because I'd still help you."
"Why are you so willing to die for a complete stranger?" demanded Kate. "Either you have an exaggerated sense of duty, or you're completely crazy."
Buck shrugged. "Maybe a little of both. But we're wasting time. Do you have anything to write with?"
She blinked, a little taken aback. "What for?"
"To send for the marshal. He's a good man, he can help."
For once Kate didn't argue, but crossed to the bureau and pulled out paper and a pen.
"Thanks," said Buck, sitting at the table and writing rapidly in a bold, even hand. Kate peered over his shoulder, wondering where he had learned to write, and saw that the letter was addressed to someone named Teaspoon. It briefly explained about the horse thieves attacking the ranch, and asked the marshal to send help as soon as possible. When Buck was finished Kate followed him outside and watched him attach the note to his saddlebags before sending his horse galloping towards town.
"Do you think the marshal will get here in time?" she asked doubtfully.
"I hope so," he replied. "But we'd better be prepared just in case."
"I know." Kate nodded, heading back inside the house. "I'll get the rifle. There's some extra ammunition in the cabinet if you need any."
Buck followed her inside, a little unnerved by her calm as she retrieved and reloaded her rifle. He reloaded his own weapon as well, and stuffed some extra shells in his pocket. Meanwhile Kate went back into the parlor and picked up her father's discarded gun belt. She had to clench her fists to stop her hands from shaking as she buckled it around her waist. For a moment she stood looking down at her father's peaceful face, remembering the promise she had made. She would not let him down.
"I'm ready," said Kate quietly.
Buck turned to see that she had strapped a gun belt over her faded work pants. The rifle rested easily on her shoulder. Something about the look in her eyes suddenly reminded him of Lou.
He smiled faintly. "I guess you know how to use those." It wasn't really a question.
Kate raised an eyebrow. "I learned to shoot when I was twelve. Sometimes it was the only way to put dinner on the table."
"Then let's go."
They headed for the barn, knowing the gang would probably go straight for the horses. On the way Buck paused to examine the tracks crisscrossing the yard.
"How many men did you say there were?"
"Five," answered Kate, "but Da killed at least one of them."
Buck nodded and pointed at the ground. "That one there. You can see where he got dragged behind his horse. And at least two others are wounded. They weren't moving as fast as the others."
"They might have more men at their camp," Kate pointed out. "Even if a couple don't come back, we'll still be outnumbered." She glanced at Buck. "You sure you want to do this?"
"You can't get rid of me that easily," he said. "We'll just have to even the odds."
They decided to hide in the barn where they had the best cover and could still protect the horses. After much argument Kate positioned herself close by the doors, hoping to be able to pick off the thieves when they entered the barn. Buck didn't like the idea of her being so relatively unprotected, and tried to make her hide in the hayloft. But Kate insisted that she could take care of herself, and proved that she could be just as stubborn as he could. Finally Buck gave up and climbed into the hayloft, which gave him an excellent vantage point so he could watch for both the gang and Teaspoon, as well as keep an eye on Kate. Then they both settled in to wait, knowing that surprise was their best defense. The thieves would not be expecting much of a fight from a young girl, and they would not be expecting Buck at all. That, as Teaspoon would say, was their ace in the hole.
To Chapter 3
Copyright 1998-This work is not to be reproduced without the permission of the author
The Way Station
Campfire Tales
