By Mike
Copyright 1999
Rain. It hardly seemed like the right word. The clouds had become more like a river pouring down on the once thirsty ground. Hut after hut were washing away as the creek continued to rise higher with each passing hour. The once dusty paths through the Kiowa village were now thick heavy sticky mud that made walking nearly impossible as it clung to soggy moccasins. Already three villagers were known to have drowned and seven others were missing.
A dejected Buck sat propped against a rock with his blanket hanging heavily on his shoulders. He was mourning the loss of his fine Indian pony, Blue Flower. She was a gentle creature but as brave as any animal he had ever seen. She had carried him often on hunting forays into the sacred hunting grounds. She refused to be shied by a rattlesnake or spooked by gunfire even as a colt. She was his best friend and now she was surely drowned. In fact all of the horses were missing down stream. The creek rose so quickly no one was able to free the poor animals before the rushing water swept them away.
"Now I no longer even have a horse," mused Buck. Buck had been orphaned many years ago and was sitting propped against the cold wet stone feeling very sorry for himself. The truth of the matter was that with the exception of the heavy soaked blanket on his shoulders, the buckskin clothes he wore and the hunting knife in his waistband; Buck indeed had nothing left in the world at all. His hut was one of the first to be destroyed by the flooded creek. And the rain kept coming.
As the early morning sun warmed the puddles, steam rose from the water's surface and blanketed the earth. Buck painfully stretched his arms and legs, slowly stood balancing himself against the rock where he had slept, and scanned the village. Only a small mud caked boy and an even muddier dog were up yet. The boy was busy damming a small stream that gurgled past his family's hut and the dog was trying to catch a field mouse. For some strange reason the sight of the dog chasing that mouse made Buck laugh. There was certainly nothing funny about it but Buck laughed a deep and hearty laugh.
"There is certainly more for the dogs here now than for me," mumbled Buck to himself. And with that Buck decided to leave the village and seek his future with the white men. After wringing the water out of the blanket Buck folded it as carefully as he could and slogged through the mud toward the rising sun.
Buck knew the rider was coming long before he could actually hear or see him. Before the form became visible Buck had already determined that the rider was not an Indian. He came to this conclusion because no Indian would ride a horse as hard and fast as the approaching rider was driving the dappled creature under him. As the rider became more distinct Buck began to wonder if the fellow would have some food with him that he would be willing to share. Buck had not eaten anything for almost two days now and the thought that this stranger might be carrying some thing to eat made him realize just how hungry he was. And as the young man reined up in front of him Buck blurted out, "Do you have any food?"
The rider adroitly dismounted pulled open a satchel behind the saddle and handed Buck a strip of jerky. With barely a nod Buck grabbed the meat at tore into it. The Pony Express rider, for that is what the young man was, smiled and handed the poor starving Indian another hunk of jerky. Buck suddenly realized that he was being extremely rude and stopped eating and held out his hand to his new friend.
"My name is Buck. I am sorry but I have not eaten for two days. Thank you for sharing your food with me. My village was flooded out during the storms. My hut was washed away and my horse drowned and I am heading east to find work."
The rider just nodded in assent and offered the hungry Indian youth a piece of bread from the satchel. Buck becoming somewhat self-conscious refused the offer and asked the rider why he had been riding so fast and hard.
The rider pointed to the emblem of the Pony Express embossed on the pouches draped over the back of the horse. Buck looked quite confused and said so.
The rider pulled a yellowed and tattered poster from the satchel and handed it to Buck. Buck read:
PONY EXPRESS RIDER'S OATH
I, Ike McSwain, do hereby swear, before the great and living God, that during my engagement, and while I am an employee of Russell, Majors and Waddell, I will, under no circumstances, use profane language, that I will drink no intoxicating liquors, that I will not quarrel or fight with any other employee of the firm, and that in every respect I will conduct myself honestly, be faithful to my duties, and so direct all my acts as to win the confidence of my employers. So help me God.
Ike carefully folded the poster and placed it back into the satchel and bounded back onto his horse. Reaching down, Ike motioned for Buck to get up onto the horse behind him. Buck grasped the strong hand and hoisted up onto the spirited animal and the two rode off into the direction of Sweetwater and many adventures.
