They walked for days, always heading south and slightly east. They lost several members of the tribe in the first few days, some dying from their wounds, others killed because they couldn’t keep up or because they tried to escape. Buck knew that the Kiowa would have treated their captives much the same, but it didn’t make it any easier to accept. He regretted that he was unable to help those unable to walk without assistance, but with his arms tied behind his back there was little he could do.

As they traveled other tribes were merged with them, Kiowa, Kansa, Commanche, Lakota and even Cheyenne. There were so many that food was scarce and many began to grow weak from hunger. The cries of the children kept him awake at nights. More began to die from disease. Buck felt powerless.

He had a few problems of his own. The cuts he had inflicted in ceremony were beginning to fester, several of them hot and inflamed, oozing puss. His jaw was still swollen from getting hit with the rifle and his eye had retained a nauseating green color as the black and blue coloring faded. He had suspicions that the bone might even be cracked, as it was very tender to the touch. At least they had been allowed to put on moccasins and leggings before they left their village.

He tried to stay near Red Bear, and Morning Dove was often nearby, doing her best to tend to Buck’s cuts as well as others wounds. But she didn’t have any healing herbs other than those she could snatch from the ground as they walked. And those were few, after hundreds of feet had trampled them.

Buck was used as a reluctant translator, his arms being released only on those occasions when he didn’t know the language and he needed to use sign language. Then his arms were tied behind him once more.

As days turned into a week and then longer, Buck felt himself weakening. He often felt warm, not just from the heat of the summer sun. He knew that the infection from his cuts was spreading, that he had a low-grade fever. He had also been giving half of what food he was given to those sicker than he. Red Bear was doing the same.

He was greatly relieved when they stopped at night, often dropping to the ground where he stopped. Morning Dove, or some of the other women, would help the men that were still tied eat their evening meal, which often consisted of raw flour or corn meal and a half-cup of water. Attempts to escape were now rare, everyone being too weak to even try. Those that tried were usually looking for an easier death.

~*~*~

Teaspoon and the riders searched the village, each sickened at what was before them, and scared that they might find their friend amongst the remains. It was Teaspoon that found Buck’s hat and vest, tossed aside during the attack. The man’s heart dropped. He didn’t know how he would tell the others that their friend was most likely dead. He was saved the task when Kid came running back into the devastated village.

"Teaspoon! He’s alive! You’ve got to see this!"

The others all followed Kid, Teaspoon still holding the battered black hat and vest. Kid led them to the center of the village where the captives had been gathered. In the dirt an arrow was scratched. It wasn’t real obvious and would have been easy to overlook. Kid kept walking, following a path obvious used by many people at once, the grass being trampled still. Another arrow was scratched in the dirt. Something shiny was embedded in the dirt. Teaspoon dug it out with his knife.

It was Buck’s bracelet.

"Mount up boys."

~*~*~

Their journey finally ended after a little over two weeks of walking. The group was ushered into several fenced in containment areas where they would stay until divided up and placed on more permanent reservations. Some would be taken toward the east, others further south. And some would stay near here.

Buck managed to stay with Red Bear, Morning Dove and the Man of Dreams. Their arms were finally untied, the muscles sore and weak from lack of use. Some of the men, Red Bear included, tried to push their way through the gate as it closed behind them, but Buck grabbed his brothers arm as soldiers beat those attempting to leave.

"Don’t!" Buck yelled out in Kiowa, just wanting the beatings to stop. "Don’t go near the gates. Stay back!" Some listened to him, others still tried to push their way out, receiving bumps, bruises and worse for their efforts.

The captives were sent through a line where the received a blanket and a tin cup and plate. A second line dispensed a ladle of cooked beans, a slice of bread and a cup of water.

Buck sagged to the ground and leaned against the fence. The sun was still high in the sky and hot, and Buck was exhausted. He knew the others must be too. Some of the women hadn’t even made it through the first line. Those that could, gave up their blankets to them and returned through the line again, until the authorities caught on.

Red Bear settled down next to Buck, almost too tired to eat. But the brothers did, knowing they needed their strength. Maybe now food would be more abundant, and it was unspoken that once their strength were regained, they would attempt to break out of their prison, taking as many of their tribe as could travel.

On to Chapter Six