By Mary
Copyright 2000
The old chair creaked in protest as the Marshal eased back with a self-indulgent sigh. Two tired feet, encased in a pair of worn out boots that were cracked and crusted with dirt, found the way to their accustomed spot on the center of the faithful old desk.
Teaspoon closed his eyes and stretched out luxuriously. Though he’d be the last to admit it to any living soul, he appreciated these quiet moments more and more. True, there was a time when he literally itched for action. The need burned through him like a horrible rash that he’d do just about anything to scratch—even if it meant fighting against the law. The sheer heart-pounding exhilaration of walking the fine line between life and death—tempting fate day after day—was meat and drink to him.
But a time finally arrived when just one too many of his friends had dug himself an early grave and what was once the sweet taste of adventure began to turn putrid in his mouth. How many innocent deaths had been caused by his selfish appetite for danger? He tried to recall even a few of the countless faces—but, to his shame, they were all a blur. For years, he hadn’t cared who lived or died. And now, when he wished to remember—to make some sort of atonement for his sins—they refused even to haunt his dreams.
He often wondered, as he listened to the jailhouse clock methodically tick away the seconds, just why it was that he’d been allowed by the Almighty to live as long as he had. Each new day of his life seemed more of a miracle than the last. As the years rolled by, he began to think that maybe—just maybe—God was offering him a chance to make restitution. He smiled to himself as he thought of the boys at the Pony Express. He’d certainly taken God up on his offer with them. He knew that his speeches and platitudes tended to rub the wrong way with that hot-blooded bunch. But he also knew that, deep down, they appreciated him—and the life he’d lived. His only hope was that they wouldn’t become infected with that terrible lust for danger. It was a plague in the West. And the only cures were a cool head and a belief in responsibility—or a bullet in the back.
"Teaspoon? I swear, you gotta be part bear, hibernatin’ the way you do." Jake’s friendly voice aroused the Marshal from his musings.
Teaspoon opened his eyes and slowly raised himself to a sitting position. "You finally decide to show up? I been waitin’ half the day fer you."
"Well, there’s a lot to do when you’re getting ready to head out for the great unknown." He took a seat next to his friend. "Hey. You still hide a bottle of rot gut in the top drawer?"
The Marshal flashed a wicked grin. "You got one hell of a memory. An’ it ain’t rot gut—its my private reserve—brought out only for the most special of special occasions." Teaspoon searched through his keys for the right one and proceeded to unlock the drawer. He sighed. "I guess you bein’ here’s good enough reason to celebrate."
Jake laughed. "Teaspoon, with you, havin’ to use the outhouse is a reason to celebrate."
"I suppose so," Teaspoon admitted as he poured out the fine Southern whiskey. Then he raised his glass. "Here’s to old times and to new. Lets hope we live to see a few!" He gulped down the booze, then eyed his friend thoughtfully. "Why is it that in fifteen years, I ain’t seen or heard hide nor hair of you? Then all of a sudden, you come outta nowhere ready to buddy up to this old man?"
Jake glanced down at his drink. "Told you, Teaspoon. I been busy."
"Yeah?" Teaspoon ventured. "Busy with what?"
"I’ve been the law in about ten different towns over the years. That kept my hands full. Now, I’m ready to move on to new adventures." His eyes glittered with excitement. "Out West, I got the chance to live free and start a fresh life. Livin’ off the land’s what I’ve always loved best and I’m ready to get back to it."
"Jake," Teaspoon began as he poured himself another drink, "I ain’t got nothin’ against yer movin’ out West. But did you ever think that it might be kinda dangerous to go out there alone—kinda foolhardy, even?"
"Since when did you ever worry about my well being?" Jake asked in a serious tone that surprised Teaspoon.
"Now how the hell can you say that, son?" Teaspoon replied defensively. "How many times did I save your butt in a fight—even the ones you started? How many laughs did we have sittin’ here in the jail drinkin’ like we is now? Back in Deadwood, you was like family to me—you are family. Don’t you remember that?"
Jake remembered. And, for a split second, he allowed himself to feel a twinge of sentiment—and even gratitude. But he closed the door on his heart as quickly as it had been opened. There was no time to get sentimental. He had more important matters to tend to. He looked up at the Marshal, who’s eyes were filled with genuine concern. "Yeah," he laughed, "you’re right, Teaspoon. You always were—and you still are. I suppose its easy to forget family when you’re apart for so long. More times ‘n not, you just spend your day makin’ sure you live to see the next one." He took a swig. "Looks to me like you found yourself some new family with the Pony Express."
Teaspoon nodded. "Yep. Those boys are one of the best things that ever happened to this old dog. We’re a rag-tag bunch, but I always thought that family was more than just blood relatives. Family is who ya laugh with and cry with—and who you’d be willin’ to die for."
"Knowing you, you’d be willin’ to do just about anything for one of them, wouldn’t you?"
Teaspoon rested his gaze on Michaels. "I’d do the same for you."
Jake glanced down at the floor and gritted his teeth. "Teaspoon, I. . ." he began, but was cut off by the sound of visitors.
"He’s in here." Kid’s voice could be heard from the street. Teaspoon’s attention shifted to the doorway as Kid and Cody, followed closely by an army man, entered the jail. "That’s him." Kid pointed toward Teaspoon.
"Are you Marshal Hunter?" the soldier asked with military precision.
"Yeah," Teaspoon replied cautiously. "What is it you need?"
"I have orders from Captain Jacobs to deliver this message to you personally."
"Oh? Lets see it." Teaspoon took the folded paper and broke the seal. He perused the message and then looked up at the soldier. "You can tell Captain Jacobs that we’ll take care of it tomorrow—first thing. Its too late to send anyone that far today." He glanced down at a second sheet that had been enclosed with the message, then promptly folded it up and tucked it away in his waistband.
The soldier stood still for a moment, expecting something more. But Teaspoon only stared at him with a slightly exasperated look that told him he was wasting his time. The soldier saluted, then turned and made his exit.
"What was that all about?" Jake asked, trying not to seem too eager, though he felt his heart pound in his ears with the anticipation of what he knew the Marshal was about to say.
"Seems the army outside of Dry Sandy needs the Pony Express to deliver a special message out to Saint Joe about some shipment they got comin’ in soon. I’ll have to send one of the boys out to deliver it tomorrow."
The jailhouse clock tolled the hour. One o’clock. Teaspoon suddenly remembered Buck. He squinted at Kid and Cody in turn. "You boys seen Buck today?"
They both shook their heads. "Naw, Teaspoon," Cody replied. "He ain’t come back yet."
"Well, its getting just a little too late for him to still be gone. You boys better go after him. An’ whether you find him or not, be back before sundown. We don’t need any more missin’ riders." The two started for the door. You boys ride safe, the Marshal added silently.
Chapter 10
"All right, lets see if this works." Buck had gathered together several thick sticks. Using part of a length of rope he’d brought with him, he had tied them together into two bundles. Now, he positioned one bundle on either side of Grace’s leg and proceeded to secure them in place with the rest of the rope. It might not have been the most attractive brace ever made, but it was the best he could do given his limited resources.
As he fumbled with the splint, Buck couldn’t help but glance up at Grace’s locket. From a distance, it had attracted his interest. A closer look proved that it was an even finer piece of jewelry than he’d first thought. The oval disk glowed warm with an inviting golden hue. At its center sat a brilliant diamond. Several etched lines radiated from it much, Buck thought, like the rays of a sun. As the jeweled image caught the light, it seemed to almost pulsate with a life of its own; the etched rays emitting their own silent power beyond the locket, itself—poised to arrest the attention of even the most casual observer.
Grace noticed Buck’s interest. "Do you like it?" she asked, even though it was evident from Buck’s awe-struck expression that he did.
Buck lowered his gaze. "I was just thinking that it might be dangerous to wear something precious like that out here. Its not always safe." He tightened the brace. "How’s that feel?"
"I think its helping," Grace admitted, then paused for a moment before she added, "I suppose it isn’t wise to wear jewelry so conspicuously out here. But I couldn’t imagine going anywhere without my boys."
"Your what?"
Grace glowed with pride as she opened up the locket and motioned for Buck to sit beside her. Inside, he saw two small photos. She pointed to the one on the left. "That’s my son, William. And the one on the right is my other boy, Issac."
Buck took a good look at the pictures. They were handsome men. Both were dressed in smart suits—their dark eyes trained intensely on the camera. Buck noticed that William looked quite a bit older than Issac. For some reason, William reminded Buck of his own
brother, Red Bear, though the two looked nothing alike.
"Do they live near here?" Buck asked.
"No," Grace replied—a little sadly. Buck noticed how the small lines around her mouth and eyes dug deep as she spoke. "They’ve each gone their own way. I haven’t seen either of them in years. William headed off to California and I think Issac was somewhere in Texas last I heard. Once in a while, I get a message through the post. . .but not often." She closed the locket. "They don’t have much time for writing, I imagine."
"That don’t seem right," Buck said.
"Right or wrong, it’s the truth—and its something I’ve learned to live with. Even so, I’ll always love them." She brightened a little. "Its not as if I’m all alone in this world. When my husband died a few years ago, my sister and her family took me in, and I enjoy their company." She eyed Buck inquisitively. "Do you have any family, Buck?"
Buck thought a moment—his eyes searching somewhere beyond the horizon. He felt for Ike’s bandanna as a wave of loneliness washed over his soul. Images streaked through his imagination like shooting stars. He saw Ike’s comforting smile and wide eyes, Teaspoon’s wise, understanding countenance, Red Bear’s strong physique and proud face, his mother’s deep, loving gaze. . .
"No, not really," he responded without emotion. He stood suddenly. "We’d better get you back to town. Its not safe for us to be out here alone. There’s been Indian trouble lately."
"You’re an Indian, aren’t you?" Grace asked cautiously.
"I’m half Kiowa," he answered quietly.
"That’s nothing to be ashamed of," Grace stated, to Buck’s surprise.
"I’m not ashamed of my heritage," he shot out defensively. Suddenly, a wave of suspicion rolled through his body like a thunder cloud. "Why are you so willing to accept me?"
Grace’s heart filled with concern. For a moment, she studied the young man. She sensed his conflict. She knew that he was torn between love and hate not only for her but for
countless other people—for life, itself.
"It must be hard for you," she said finally, "living in between worlds, as you do."
Her understanding frightened Buck. Who was this woman?
She saw the fear and suspicion gather strength in his eyes. "Buck, I want to give you some words of wisdom that the years have given me." She lifted her head—allowing the warm afternoon sun to penetrate her being. "I’ve always felt that nature speaks to us individually—calling our names—telling us what we need to know about life. I’ve gained a bit of wisdom from my morning walks that might help you." She paused a moment before she continued. "Have you ever noticed how the sun rises everyday—on good days as well as bad? It has the ability to climb beyond all of our pain and adversity. Its light is what keeps us alive. It gives us strength and hope to face each new day." Buck hesitated slightly before nodding in agreement. Grace went on. "The sun sheds a light of truth on all things. Who can hide from it? I suppose people can try to run and hide, but the truth is always exposed eventually. Buck, if you allow the light to guide you and accept its truth, you’ll begin to understand it and know just who can stand proudly in the light and who can’t." She smiled. A faithful glimmer shone in her eyes. "I could tell that you were a good man from the moment I met you."
A deep silence fell on the two as Buck tasted her words. He sensed, rather than knew, the truths she had spoken. Yet, he still wasn’t quite sure what to make of it all. He closed his eyes as a soft breeze descended into the canyon, enveloping him with its sweet perfume. This was no ordinary woman sitting before him.
The clamor of galloping horses broke through the stillness. Buck’s eyes flew open. "Stay here," he whispered. "And be as quiet as you can." He reached for his gun. "I’ll check it out."
Silently, Buck crept through the canyon—making sure to stay close to the wall. The sound of horse hooves beat ever closer as Buck crouched behind a large rock. He didn’t know how many men he was about to face, but at least he’d have the element of surprise on his side.
"That looks like his horse," a familiar voice echoed through the canyon. It was Cody’s loud, undeniable drawl.
A sigh of relief shook through his frame as Buck emerged from behind the rock to find Kid and Cody appear before him.
"Buck?" Kid inquired with relieved grin.
"What are you doing here?" Buck asked.
"Shouldn’t we be askin’ you that question?" Cody teased.
"Teaspoon sent us out to hunt for you," Kid explained. "We were headed out to South Pass, but decided to take a short cut through the canyon. Good thing we did, too. What are you doin’ out here anyway?"
Buck suddenly remembered Grace. "I met a woman. She hurt her ankle and I was about to take her back to Rock Creek." He turned to find her, but was met with empty space. He ran to the rock where she’d been sitting. He found the make-shift splint leaning up against it. But Grace was nowhere to be found. He shot a look at Kid and Cody, who had followed right behind him. "Didn’t you see her? She was right here!"
Kid faced Buck with genuine concern. "All we saw was your horse—and then you." He placed his hand on Buck’s shoulder. "You look like you had a pretty rough night. You sleep at all?"
Buck shook free of Kid’s hold. "I’m fine," he answered coldly. A sudden rush of anxiety choked him. Where did she go? he thought desperately. She couldn’t have just disappeared. . ."
Cody sighed impatiently. "We best be headin’ back to Rock Creek. Teaspoon wanted us in town before dark and its already getting late."
Buck stared at the splint resting silently before him. Confusion tossed through his head. He began to wonder if it was all some sort of dream. Had this Grace Soliel even existed?
"Come on, Buck. Lets go," Kid said softly.
Buck ground his heels stubbornly in the dirt as Kid and Cody mounted up. He needed to find Grace. Once more, his eyes shot through the canyon only to find nothing. The woman had simply vanished.
"Buck," Kid called again, "there’s no one here. You probably just need something to eat. Its easy to believe anything on an empty stomach."
Buck’s heart dropped as he realized what a fool he must seem to his friends. He knew now that it was futile to do anything but follow them back to Rock Creek. Reluctantly, he lifted himself onto his horse and silently, the three headed back to town.
On to Chapter Eleven
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