They rode slowly into Rock Creek, all of them exhausted from the chase. Jimmy and Kid led the way, followed by five men with their hands securely bound. Teaspoon and Buck brought up the rear, making sure all of the prisoners stayed in line. Buck was leading two more horses, blanket-covered bodies draped over the saddles.
They stopped in front of the jail, and the younger deputies helped the prisoners down while Teaspoon supervised. Then Jimmy and Kid herded the prisoners into the jail while Buck led the extra horses around to the side of the building.
Teaspoon was still standing outside the jail when Buck came back around to the front. “That was a good job of tracking, Buck.” The trail had taken them across numerous rivers and creeks, and into some very rocky ground, but the Kiowa rider had kept them true on the bank robbers’ trail.
“Thanks, Teaspoon.” No matter how much confidence he had in his own tracking skills, Buck still worried about letting his friends down. Most importantly, he worried about letting Teaspoon down. The older man had become like a father to him – the father he had never had while growing up.
Teaspoon went to his horse and pulled two sets of saddlebags off. “Why don’t you take this money back over to the bank,” he said, handing the bags to Buck. “I’ll send word on to Troy on the next run east that we caught them robbers, have them send someone to pick it up. Them folks’ll be real glad to know their money’s safe.”
“I’m sure they will,” Buck agreed as he took the bags. He waited until the incoming stage passed, then started across the street. As he got to the other side of the street, he glanced idly at the stage. The driver was helping a woman in the black and white habit of a nun down from the stage. Rock Creek didn’t have a Catholic church, so he wondered briefly what had brought her to town. Still, it really wasn’t any of his business, and he had a job to complete at the bank, so he kept going. But just then the woman turned her head in his direction.
Buck stopped dead in his tracks. It couldn’t be . . . and yet it was. “Sister Mary Agnes?”
She turned toward the voice, surprised to hear her name called. As far as she knew, the Church hadn’t sent word ahead about their search for a site for a new mission school and orphanage. The man was about twenty feet away, and she raised her hand to shade her eyes against the sun coming from right behind him. There was something naggingly familiar about him, but she couldn’t quite put a name to the face. “I’m sorry, do I know you?”
Buck closed the distance between them, pulling off his hat. “Buck Cross, Sister.”
“Oh!” Mary Agnes dropped her hand from her eyes to her mouth in surprise. She studied the face of the young man, seeing now the boy she remembered . . .
~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~
“Where is he?”
Ike shrank back in the face of Sister Mary Agatha’s anger. But he resolutely shook his head, refusing to answer the question.
Mary Agatha shook her head and reached for the ruler. “Hold out your hand, boy.”
Ike glared at her, but held out his hand nonetheless. It was well-ingrained in the children at the mission that arguing with the Sisters was not allowed, even if he was being punished unjustly. After all, he really didn’t know where Buck was – though he could probably make a pretty good guess, if he was so inclined. But Sister Mary Agatha was one of the main reasons Buck was missing, and Ike had no intention of giving up his friend to her. So he held out his hand and waited for the ruler to strike.
“Sister Mary Agatha, what’s going on?”
Both Mary Agatha and Ike looked up at the sound of the soft, but firm, voice from the classroom doorway. Both quickly recognized Mother Mary Jerome, the nun in charge of the mission.
Mary Jerome took another step into the room. Despite physically standing at barely over five feet tall, she was a commanding presence. Her back straight, her bearing almost regal, she had a way of making people feel that she was looking directly into their souls. “Your voice is carrying all the way down the hall to my office, Sister,” she admonished.
Mary Agatha dipped her head. “My apologies, Mother,” she said quickly. Then she looked up again, glaring at Ike. “It’s that Indian boy, Mother. He’s missing. And I’m sure this one knows where he is.” She gestured angrily at Ike.
Mary Jerome sighed and stepped all the way into the room, revealing Sister Mary Agnes behind her. The younger nun slid just inside the door and backed up against the wall, watching intently as the Reverend Mother walked toward the two people already in the room.
“Do you think yelling will really help to find him, Sister?” Mary Jerome asked.
Mary Agatha took a deep breath. The Reverend Mother always managed to stay so calm – a quality she herself was still striving for. “The mute knows where he is,” she insisted. She picked up the slate and chalk on the desk. “I gave him this, but he refuses to write down where the Indian is. He knows very well that all the children were required to be in their dormitories directly after dinner tonight.”
Mary Jerome scowled. “This boy has a name, Sister, as does the boy who’s missing,” she counseled. Then she turned her attention to Ike. “Well, young Ike McSwain. Do you know where Buck Cross is?”
Even as a thirteen-year-old boy, Ike was taller than the Reverend Mother. Still, she had a way about her of making him feel so small. He knew he couldn’t lie to her face, and if it had been just Mother Mary Jerome, he might have told her what she wanted. But he would not give up his and Buck’s secret hiding spot to Sister Mary Agatha. He finally gave a half-shake of his head and shrugged noncommittally. That wasn’t really a lie, he told himself.
Mary Jerome studied the boy in front of her for a moment before speaking. He was obviously afraid – and obviously trying to protect the only real friend he seemed to have at the mission. The question was, protect the Cross boy from what? Still looking at Ike, she asked, “Do you have any idea why Buck Cross might not want to be found, Sister?”
Mary Agatha was caught by surprise by the question. “I certainly have no way of knowing how that savage’s mind works,” she said. “For all I know, he’s gone off to scalp the fine, God-fearing folk in town.”
Now that made Ike angry. His hands flew in an impassioned defense of the friend who had given him a language again.
Mary Agatha gasped and swatted at Ike’s hands with the ruler. “I’ll have none of that heathen practice here!” she commanded.
Sister Mary Agnes finally stepped away from the wall. “It’s not heathen,” she said quietly. “How can it be wrong to give a voice to those who otherwise have none?”
“I agree,” Mary Jerome said quickly, cutting off the protest she could see coming from the older Sister. In fact, she had been amazed at the change in both boys after their battle with some of the town’s bullies. Two loners had been drawn together, and both teacher and student had glowed in their accomplishment as Ike learned to ‘speak’ again. She turned back to look Ike in the eye. “I only wish I had had time to learn a bit more.”
Ike breathed a sigh of relief. He knew some of the Sisters didn’t approve of the sign language Buck was teaching him. But if the Reverend Mother didn’t object, he wouldn’t have to give it up. Still, it was a problem that she didn’t understand what he was trying to say, and writing it out on a slate would be a very long process . . .
“I don’t understand all of what Ike was signing,” Mary Agnes said. “But I caught part of it. Buck was upset because everyone was laughing at him in Sister Mary Agatha’s class.” She raised her eyes, looking right at the other Sister. “Everyone,” she repeated.
Mary Agatha caught the accusation in the younger woman’s voice. “The boy shouldn’t be in my class,” she insisted. “The other children all know he’s stupid.”
Ike jumped at that remark and raised his hands to sign a defense of his friend. But he was beaten to the task by Sister Mary Agnes. “Buck is not stupid,” she said, her voice raising in anger. “I won’t hear you say that!” She pulled in a deep breath, surprised by the strength of her own protest. She was still new to the Order, she had only been at the school for a few months – and had been warned repeatedly that Sister Mary Agatha’s bad side was not someplace she wanted to be. But Buck wasn’t there to defend himself, and no one else understood Ike’s ‘voice.’ She turned to Mary Jerome. “Reverend Mother, Buck Cross speaks his native Kiowa, plus several other Indian languages and sign language. His knowledge of English is . . .”
“His English is atrocious,” Mary Agatha cut in. “No one can understand him. That’s why the other children laugh at him.”
“His knowledge of English is quite good, actually, given how little support he has had in learning it,” Mary Agnes insisted. She ignored the other nun’s glare at being contradicted and addressed Mary Jerome again. “Buck knows the words, Reverend Mother. But the sounds are all foreign to him. When he mispronounces something all he gets is laughter and taunting. No one helps him to learn the correct way.”
Ike nodded in vigorous agreement. He could tell Buck when the other boy pronounced something incorrectly, but without a voice he couldn’t really give Buck the best kind of help there.
Mother Mary Jerome nodded, studying the younger nun. “You seem to know Buck Cross quite well, given your short time with us, Sister.”
Mary Agnes blushed, unsure of how her next revelation would be taken. “Reverend Mother, you have yet to assign me any actual classes to teach. I have been tasked to watch over the students in the library. That’s where I first saw Buck teaching the sign language to Ike.” She paused, drawing in a deep breath. “And that’s where Buck has been giving me lessons too.”
Mary Agatha gasped, crossing herself. “You have subjected yourself to that heathen practice? Reverend Mother, I must insist . . .”
Mary Jerome waived her hand, ending the protest. Studying the younger nun intently, she asked, “And this time with Buck Cross is what you base your belief in his intelligence on?”
“Yes, Mother,” Mary Agnes answered softly. She feared her days at the mission were probably now numbered, given her unauthorized activity. But she had gone too far now not to give Buck Cross the best defense she could. “I don’t have much time to devote just to Buck, there are too many other students to help. But he’s a very patient teacher. And Reverend Mother, if you could just see his eyes light up when I help him to learn the English words correctly! He wants to learn, Mother, he really does.”
“Learn!” Mary Agatha almost spat the word. “He shows no sign of even being capable of learning,” she insisted.
“Have you given him the best chance, Sister?” Mary Jerome asked softly. “An atmosphere of ridicule is hardly ideal for learning.”
“He holds the other children back,” Mary Agatha declared. She could sense she was losing this battle, and she didn’t understand. Why couldn’t the Reverend Mother see that the Indian shouldn’t be there?
“The boy came to us asking to learn,” Mary Jerome said. She vividly recalled the day the half-starved child had shown up at their gate. Pointing at a book he had found somewhere, and using the few words of English he knew, the boy had made it clear he wanted to learn. “Is that not why we are here?”
“We haven’t the means to properly teach and care for the Christian children,” Mary Agatha responded. “Our resources should not be spent on heathens.”
Mary Jerome just smiled sadly. “We took his knife and bow, the clothing he wore, the sacred pouch hanging from his neck . . .”
“It was heathen!” Mary Agatha insisted.
“But sacred to him,” Mary Jerome corrected quickly. “We told him to abandon his beliefs and go to Mass. We cut his hair and asked him to mold himself to a new world.” She paused, shaking her head. “It seems to me that for all he gave up, we owe him every chance to learn.”
“We do, Mother,” Mary Agnes agreed quickly.
Mary Jerome smiled and turned to the younger nun. “It seems we were discussing expanding your duties when a raised voice interrupted us,” she said. “Sister Mary Agnes, if your library duties were reduced, would you be willing to take on tutoring Buck Cross until he is caught up and able to rejoin his class?”
Mary Agnes found herself speechless for a moment. She had been afraid she’d be in trouble for speaking out. “Oh yes, Reverend Mother!”
“Splendid,” Mary Jerome replied. “Of course, before we can try this plan, we need to find Buck Cross.” She turned to Ike. “Can you help us there, Ike McSwain?”
Ike had stood by, in awe at what he was hearing. But he recovered quickly, nodding his head. This sounded like what Buck would want.
Now he just had to hope that Buck had really gone to their secret hiding spot – and not disappeared altogether.
**********
Buck heard the footsteps approaching, and he put the book down a safe distance from his small fire. He and Ike had discovered this cave on one of their exploring outings. Ike was the only one who knew about it, and he figured it was his friend coming now – probably bringing food since Buck had slipped out before supper.
He looked up, smiling as he saw Ike step into the cave. But then his smile turned to an expression of surprise and he jumped to his feet as he saw Mother Mary Jerome and Sister Mary Agnes appear as well.
Buck glanced at Ike, the question in his eyes. Why would Ike bring the nuns to this spot, their own secret spot?
Ike stepped forward, his hands moving in a plea to Buck. He could see the look of betrayal in his friend’s eyes, and it made him sad. He needed to make Buck understand.
Buck studied Ike’s hands. The nuns had come to help? He wasn’t sure he could believe that. Still, he wanted to believe his friend . . .
Mary Jerome stepped forward. Of the four of them, she was the only one who could stand up straight in the middle of the cave. “You gave us quite a scare when you disappeared, Mr. Cross.” She tried to sound stern, but she couldn’t quite disguise her relief at finding him. She looked around the cave, noting the single blanket, the small fire, and the book.
Buck saw her eyes fall on the book and he backed up. He picked the book up and held it protectively. Was this the real reason they had come after him? “I did not stole,” he said quietly. “I would bring back.”
Mary Agnes stepped forward. “We know you didn’t steal the book,” she said softly.
“Do you truly wish to learn what we can teach you?” Mary Jerome asked.
Buck studied her eyes, looking for a trick. But he didn’t find anything but a sincere question. “Yes.”
“That’s what I believed,” Mary Jerome replied. “So I have some good news for you. Sister Mary Agnes has agreed to help you. Instead of attending Sister Mary Agatha’s class, you will meet with Sister Mary Agnes. She will help you to catch up with the other children your age. Is that acceptable?”
Buck just stared in wonder. It was all he had ever asked for, to be given a real chance to learn in the white man’s world. He saw no deceit in the eyes of the woman speaking to him. He looked to Ike, seeing his friend smiling and nodding his head. And the younger nun had always been kind and fair to him. He finally nodded. “Yes.”
Mary Agnes smiled and stepped forward, holding out her hand. “Let’s get back to the mission,” she said. “Then I’ll teach you, and you’ll teach me.”
Buck hesitated for only a moment, then he reached out his hand toward hers . . .
~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~
“Sister?”
Mary Agnes shook her head, clearing away the memories. She wondered how long he had been speaking to her. “Yes?”
“Sister, are you all right?” Buck’s voice carried real concern. She had seemed to be almost lost.
“I’m fine,” she answered. “I was just remembering that day at the mission, when you were missing.”
“You came to find me,” Buck replied. He remembered that day so clearly himself. “And then you taught me so much.”
“You taught me as well,” Mary Agnes replied. “Oh, I’ve so often wondered what happened to you!” She paused, then reached out to brush her fingers against the Deputy Marshal badge on his vest. “But it looks like you’ve found yourself just fine.”
Buck looked down at the badge, then over his shoulder to where Teaspoon, Jimmy, and Kid stood, watching him. He thought about Lou, Cody, Noah, and Rachel back at the station, And about Polly, Janos, and a few others in town who had become friends. Even with Ike gone, he did have a lot here. And then he turned back to Mary Agnes, smiling. “I think maybe I have,” he replied. “Maybe I have.”
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