Disclaimer: The characters of “The Young Riders” were created for television by Ed Spielman. The series aired on ABC TELEVISION from 1989 – 1992 Thanks, Sameena, for all your help and support.
As he exited the shambles that had once been her home, he knew it was useless. She was gone – taken by strangers against her will. He knew this was his fault because he had ignored her warnings. It was that thought which was running around his head when he informed his brother that she was missing – her family dead. Maybe that was why he didn’t resist when it was decided that he should be punished for bringing on this disaster. He had nothing left – his mother, his future wife, and his hopes of ever being allowed to be a warrior had all been taken. There wasn’t anything else that could go missing in his life. So he allowed himself to be stripped of the few possessions that granted him any honor – his horse, his bow, the arrows he’d made himself, his knife. They were all taken from him and given to people who were more deserving; people who wouldn’t have let pride get in their way when they were warned of impending danger; people who now – thanks to him and his useless emotions – had empty places in their lives because loved ones were missing.
As the evening of retribution continued past dusk, he stood staring at his feet, his eyes burning a hole in the ground. His fists were clenched so tightly that he could feel his nails digging into his palms. He knew when he opened his hands there would be fresh blood. His breath came in short, fast bursts of air – in, out, in, out. He could hear, as well as feel, the air as it entered and exited his nostrils. All around him the others danced and sang. They punched him and called him names – no good; dirty; worthless; stupid; useless; arrogant; breed. He wasn’t allowed to fight back. The elders had told him he must learn to control his temper – his emotions – before it would be decided what to do with him. His pride and arrogance had brought on this disaster; the way he handled himself during this ritual would decide whether or not he could continue his training as a warrior.
As he stood, he tried to picture any of them – especially the elders – taking this much abuse. He remembered the times he’d sat in the back of council meetings and watched as these same men had argued angrily about meaningless drivel. He made a decision. He’d show them, he’d show them all, he’d bury his feelings or emotions so deep that nothing could bring them out.
Buck stood looking at the body in the street. He remembered it all so clearly – that day so many years ago when he’d turned off his feelings in order to maintain control. As Teaspoon tried to discuss with him the meaning of his most recent actions, Buck realized why the elders had wanted him to always be in control of his emotions. He’d allowed himself to form an attachment to another person; he allowed the deep bonds of friendship to reawaken his feelings. And in response to that bond being taken away from him, he’d lost control of them – given in for one brief second – and killed a man in cold blood. Granted the man was a no-good, murdering, card cheat, but still . . . Buck worked at getting himself back in control. He needed to keep himself calm or he may do something else that would hurt someone. God how he missed Ike!
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