By Cheryl McCreary
Copyright 1999
Buck entered the army fort in the dead of night. He moved with skill and agility, his Indian blood coursing through his veins. He approached a solider on guard duty. He crept up behind him. Covered the soldier's mouth quickly with his right hand. Bent his head back, and sliced open the soldier's throat with the knife in his left hand. The blood flowed thick and warm from the open wound. The soldier fell silently to the ground, dead. Buck had killed him in cold blood. But his heart and soul were too cold to care. Buck left the dead soldier and moved silently farther into the fort. He had another soldier's life to take before he took his own.
The soldiers had caught an Indian sneaking around inside the fort. They had also found a dead soldier, his throat had been slit, most likely by the captured Indian. The excitement had awakened Cody. Cody was serving as the head scout for the cavalry stationed at the fort. He went outside to find two soldiers beating the captured Indian brave. They were sure that they were more braves outside and wanted the Indian to tell them where.
Cody saw one of the soldiers hit the captive hard in the stomach while the other soldier held him. The Indian looked up at the soldier, spit in his face and yelled angry Indian words at him. Cody saw all of this from a distance in the night. He couldn't make out faces. But the angry works of the captured Indian raised his attention. It sounded familiar, although he didn't know from where.
The soldier yelled curses back at the Indian and hit him again. Cody began to walk closer to the scene for a better look. He noticed that the captive had a gun belt on his waist. It looked familiar. And then it hit Cody who the Indian was. It was Buck.
"Stop!" Cody yelled at the two soldiers. They turned from the captive to look at him. Cody saw that they had no intentions of stopping. "That's on order privates." Cody said with authority.
The soldiers stopped what they were doing. Backed out from the beaten Indian. "Sure thing, Scout," one of them commented, disgusted at Cody for ending their fun.
Buck lay crumpled on the ground glad the beating had ended, not sure why it had. He still had a soldier to kill to avenge Morning Dawn. But he no longer had the energy in him to do it. All he wanted was death. It still hadn't come.
Cody looked at the body of his dear friend. He hoped that it hadn't been Buck that had killed that guard. But at this moment he really didn't care. The last time he had seen Buck was six years ago at his wedding. Cody could see that the years certainly hadn't been easy on his old friend. Cody bent down beside Buck and softly asked, "Buck?"
Buck heard his white name. Recognizing the voice. Looked up into the face that had spoke it. His eyes met the blue eyes of his old friend Cody, his pale face, long golden hair. A wave of nausea washed over him. It was like seeing a ghost of the world he had left so long ago, a world that in his mind had been long dead. No!, Buck's thoughts yelled in his mind. He didn't want to return to this world. He wanted to be dead. Why wouldn't death take him?
Cody saw Buck look up at him with cold brown eyes. Knew Buck recognized him. Cody saw the pain and hurt in those eyes. He wondered what hardships the world had given his friend to make his eyes look so sad.
And then Cody saw the whole man before him. If he didn't already know it he would never have guessed the man before him carried any white blood. Buck's face was bloody from the beating and covered with white and red war paint. His long hair was wild and tangled. Cody noticed the war shirt Buck wore. Saw the bloody handprints symbolizing the men Buck had single handedly killed in battle. Saw the scalps, and recognized the light hair of white men. Cody wondered if he really knew this man before him. And realized that him and Buck were on separate sides of this war. He wondered if the fighting had completely killed the Buck that Cody had known so many years ago in the Pony Express.
Buck saw Cody look him over. To a white man he must be a sight. He saw the hatred and fear cross Cody's face. And he cared little what his old friend thought of him.
Cody knelt down by Buck and asked softly so the two on-looking soldiers that had beaten Buck earlier could not hear. "Buck, are there others?"
Buck looked up at Cody with cold eyes that bore a whole straight through to Cody's soul. "I came alone, no one followed," Buck answered softly in English that was rough from disuse.
"And the dead soldier?" Cody whispered even softer. Knowing his friend would answer him. Not wanting anyone else to hear the answer.
"He died by my hands," Buck whispered back.
Cody's heart sank. He knew that Buck had killed the guard in cold blood. He wondered what his reason was. He wondered how his friend could have become a cold-blooded murderer. Cody knew he should turn Buck in. But they would hang him. And Cody wished from the bottom of his heart that the man before him still carried the goodness his old friend Buck had possessed. If that was the case he was going to do all he could to make sure Buck lived.
"Don't worry, Buck. I'll take care of it," Cody said to reassure his friend that no harm would befall him.
Buck looked at Cody. But I don't want to live!, Buck yelled in his head, although he said no words aloud. I want to die. And with that thought the effects of the beating, exhaustion and grief over took him and Buck passed out.
On to Chapter Four
