Buck felt a sharp pain in his right shoulder as the appaloosa mare rolled on top of him, pinning him momentarily against the hard ground. He had not been paying attention to their path and the tired animal had lost her footing jumping from a small incline into a dry creekbed causing her to stumble and roll on her side over her rider. The horse struggled to her feet holding her right front leg above the ground.

Buck slowly moved to a sitting position in the dirt and dust of the creekbed gingerly touching his shoulder. He slowly rotated the shoulder joint and attempted to move his arm. Much to his relief, everything appeared to be in working order, painful, but working.

Buck scanned the area. He recognized the creekbed and was surprised that he was so far off the established Pony Express trail. Turning his attention to the appaloosa, he drew a heavy sigh upon noticing the elevated leg. "Please, don’t be hurt," he pleaded of the mare as he slowly rose to his feet, throwing a handful of dirt against an unknown target in frustration. Buck breathed a sigh of relief as a closer examination of the spotted horse’s leg showed there was no break. She would probably heal nicely with an application of Teaspoon’s famous liniment and rest.

Buck felt badly that his lack of attention had lead to the animal’s injury and knew that carrying his weight could add additional injury to the leg. He retrieved the mail pouch that had been thrown from the mare’s back and patted the horse’s neck affectionately, as if to apologize, before he picked up the loose reins and began the five mile walk back to the station.

Buck knew he had been lucky. This was the second accident he had been involved in since Ike’s death nearly a month before. The earlier incident had not been serious either, but he had promised Teaspoon that he would be more careful. Teaspoon’s brief lecture reminded him that Pony Express horses were valuable and needed to be handled with care to avoid a costly injury. Teaspoon had, also, tried to impress upon the young indian that he was more concerned about injury to the rider, but that point seemed to be lost on Buck.

The death of the gentle, silent rider had been taken hard by everyone at the station, but after a brief time the others seemed ready to put their grief aside. Buck simply could not. He had a difficult time concentrating on anything since Ike’s death. No matter how hard he tried, his thoughts always returned to that terrible day when Ike was taken away.

Buck and Ike had been so close it seemed that they were almost an extension of each other. Now that Ike was gone, Buck felt as if he was no longer whole, that pieces of his spirit, mind and body were missing. Teaspoon, Rachel and the other riders had urged him to move on but they did not understand. How could he move on when pieces of him were missing? He could no more move on with his life than a man could run on one leg.

It bothered him that the others were able to get over Ike’s death so quickly. Certainly, none of them had the same type relationship that he had with Ike, but still they had lived together and trusted their lives to each other for a year. Didn’t Ike deserve more than a week or two of long faces?

To make matters worse, Teaspoon’s words of warning that someday what he had done to Neville would catch up with him kept Buck looking over his shoulder. The riders had been witness to how fast news, bad and good, traveled throughout the territory after the story about Jimmy had been published bringing more and more would-be gunslingers to Rock Creek intent on calling out the newly famous fast draw. Although, Neville didn’t seem the type of man who had a good many friends, the thought that someone might come looking to avenge his ‘murder’ weighed on Buck’s mind. ‘Murder’ was the term used for intentionally killing an unarmed man.

Buck had been in such a state of shock and grief at the time he really hadn’t consciously ‘planned’ to kill Neville. He didn’t remember coming back to town that morning. But suddenly he had found himself waiting in the street for Neville and when the man appeared he reacted in a way that seemed to fit the circumstances, never giving a thought to the repercussions of his actions. He owed it to Ike to exact justice on Neville and he did not feel the slightest bit guilty for what he had done. Ike would have done the same for him. But the part of him that knew right from wrong insisted that killing an unarmed man was wrong. He should feel something. Buck felt guilty for not feeling guilty.

----------

"Cody! If you ain’t gonna watch what you’re doin’ then give me the hammer!" cried Kid quickly moving his hand to avoid Cody’s misdirected aim. Cody seemed to be more interested in Miss Lizzy Jackson’s coquettish smile as she looked his way from across the street.

Rachel had instructed the two riders to replace a rotting board on the bunkhouse porchsteps. The task seemed simple enough until Cody took possession of the hammer and the lovely Lizzy took possession of Cody.

"Ain’t she somethin?" Cody thought aloud as Lizzy daintily stepped off the boardwalk and into the street, raising her skirt to reveal a little more ankle than a proper young lady should, before casting him a final glance and turning away.

"Cody."

"Did you say somethin’, Kid?" responded the blonde rider, his attention clearly fixed on Lizzy’s swaying hips beneath her blue cotton skirt.

"Cody! Can we finish this please before you drool all over yourself?" asked Kid impatiently.

"Sure, Kid, you can finish it yourself. If you don’t need my help, I’ll be goin’ now," replied Cody handing Kid the hammer, anxious to follow the young lady.

Kid stood and shook his head in exasperation. Cody had a way of getting out of almost any chore around the station. Kid decided it would be safer to finish the job by himself and stepped aside to let the infatuated rider pass but grabbed Cody’s arm to stop him as a solitary figure leading a limping horse toward the station caught his eye.

"Cody, better get Teaspoon while you’re following Lizzy. Looks like Buck had trouble again."

----------

"Well, don’t appear to be too serious," announced Teaspoon after a thorough examination of the mare’s leg. " Kid, bring me a bottle of that liniment over there," he instructed, pointing in the direction of a shelf on the wall of the barn which held a variety of Teaspoon’s remedies.

"Be good as new in no time," the station manager predicted after applying a liberal amount of the rather foul smelling cure to the animal’s leg. "Now, what about you, Buck? You alright?" Teaspoon asked, addressing the rather haggard looking rider.

"I’m alright," the boy answered quietly from his position outside the mare’s stall.

Teaspoon looked at Buck with skepticism. "Appear to be favorin’ that shoulder. You sure?"

Buck didn’t really want to talk about his carelessness but couldn’t avoid the question. "She rolled on it when we went down. It’s just sore," he said slumping down on a hay bale.

"Kid, you head on in to supper. Tell Rachel we’ll be along in a few minutes," instructed Teaspoon wanting to discuss the accident with Buck privately.

Kid looked at Teaspoon and then at Buck, his eyes downcast, looking more like a whipped pup than an Express rider. Kid did not understand the depth of Buck’s grief, he had lost Jed, his own flesh and blood brother, and not grieved so long or hard. Still, he knew his friend was hurting and hoped Teaspoon would not be too hard on him.

After Kid left the barn, Teaspoon moved from the mare’s stall to a position directly in front of the hay bale where Buck sat. "What happened, son?"

Buck drew a deep breath before answering, certain that his employer would not be pleased with his response. Without looking up he answered, "I wasn’t paying attention, I guess. I’m sorry about the horse."

"Buck, it ain’t the horse I’m concerned about. I can replace a horse if need be. It’s you I’m worried about. Next time you might not be so lucky as to come out of it with only a sore shoulder." Teaspoon’s words of concern seemed to have no impact on the boy.

"Look at me, Buck."

The depressed young man slowly raised his head, his eyes meeting Teaspoon’s gaze. Dark circles under his eyes had become a permanent feature on Buck’s face, evidence of many sleepless nights. He had lost a good ten pounds since Ike had died and it showed in his face. His entire countenance had changed since the loss of his friend. His eyes were always downcast and his shoulders slumped forward as if the weight of the world was carried upon them. Teaspoon couldn’t help but feel sorry for the boy and was at his wits end trying to help Buck feel better.

"You sleepin’ any, son?" he asked.

Buck turned his head away, uncomfortable with the personal questions. He simply shrugged his shoulders and replied quietly, "A little."

"You think some time off would help? Take a few days, go to St. Joe maybe. Hear they got a new hotel there that’s real nice," suggested Teaspoon.

Buck appreciated Teaspoon’s attempt but knew that going to St. Joseph, or anyplace else for that matter, would not change the way he felt. If anything it would probably make matters worse. Buck never told the others how many times available rooms had suddenly become unavailable when he tried to register at a hotel. Rather than face the humiliation of being turned away, he would instead simply make his bed on the cold, hard ground. The thought of lonely nights with nothing but the moon and stars for company wasn’t terribly appealing.

"I’ll think about it, Teaspoon," Buck answered, his voice empty, his eyes downcast, again.

Teaspoon looked at the boy with concern. Drawing a sigh, he placed his hands on Buck’s shoulders. "It’s gonna get better, son. I promise you it is."

----------

Rachel cleared away the supper dishes, noticing that Buck had not eaten, again, but only moved the food around on his plate. She shook her head, wishing for an answer as she scraped the uneaten food off the plate.

Once the table was cleared, Kid, Cody and Jimmy settled in for a game of five card draw. "C’mon, Buck, I haven’t won any of your money for a while," said Cody dealing the first hand.

Buck simply shook his head "No" and went to lie down on his bunk.

"Suit yourself. Might do you good to have a little fun, though," replied Cody.

Buck was tired, his shoulder hurt and he really wanted to try to get some rest, although he knew, even before his eyes closed, that the dream would come again.

It was the same dream every night. Buck sat beside Ike’s bed, each of them realizing the end was near. Buck reached for his Ike’s hand, but an unseen force pulled him away, kept him from touching his friend. Slowly Ike’s body began to fade away, growing transparent and finally disappearing, leaving only a blood stain on the white sheet. Buck tried to call to Ike, but he had no voice. Buck would then find himself standing in the street, watching Neville fall to the ground. Buck could see a dark mist moving toward him. He felt the intense need to move away from the mist, but he could not move. The mist moved around him slowly, as if in a dance, snaking around his ankles, teasing him. Suddenly he felt the fingers of the mist grab his leg and begin to pull him down into its darkness. Buck tried to scream, but he had no voice.

The dream always ended there and Buck would awaken, trembling. It seemed so real he could almost smell the gunpowder in the air, could feel the cold chill of the mist enveloping him. Quietly, in the stillness of the bunkhouse, he would test his voice to make sure it had not left him.

The conversation around the poker table grew louder as Cody insisted on bragging about the "come hither" looks he had received from Lizzy Jackson earlier in the day while Kid and Jimmy tried to get him to shut up. One good-natured insult lead to another and another until the room was filled with laughter. Buck could not understand how they could act this way, as if nothing was wrong. It seemed to him that they had forgotten Ike altogether.

Unable to listen to their carefree banter any longer, Buck rose from his bunk, walked across the bunkhouse and out the door without a word.

"When is he gonna get over this?" asked Jimmy, growing exasperated with Buck’s melancholy mood. "He’s been moping around here for a month!"

"Go easy on him, Jimmy," said Kid . "He knew Ike a lot longer than we did. They go back a long way."

"I understand that, but still. There comes a time to put it behind you and go on," insisted Jimmy.

"Ain’t so easy sometimes, Jimmy," stated Teaspoon. "Grief turns loose when it’s good and ready. He’ll come around. Needs a little more time is all."

"Well, I hope it’s soon. He’s gonna make himself sick over this," said Rachel, wiping her wet hands on a towel. Glancing through the window at the lonely figure on the porchsteps she added thoughtfully, "I thought I was gonna drown in my sorrow after Henry died. But it got better. I’m gonna talk to him."

Buck knew it was Rachel by the sound of her footsteps. Rachel gathered her skirt around her and took a seat beside him on the porchsteps.

Rachel closed her eyes and took a deep breath of the night air before beginning, "Beautiful night. Spring has always been my favorite season. You can almost see the grass turning greener, the leaves unfurling on the trees. Everything comes back to life."

"Everything comes back to life." Rachel was unaware how painful her last comment was to Buck. "But Ike’s never coming back," he thought.

They sat in silence for a time until Rachel began again.

"Buck, I know how difficult it is to lose someone you love. I thought my life was over after I lost my husband, but it does get better. Sometimes it helps to talk about it."

"I can’t, Rachel."

"Why not? I’m sure it would help," Rachel insisted.

Buck sighed heavily, knowing she would not understand. "It is the Kiowa’s belief that if you talk of the dead it will disturb their rest."

"I see. Do you really think Ike is resting easy watching you torment yourself?"

Buck looked at Rachel in surprise. She intended the comment to show her concern for Buck, but he took it as criticism and it hurt. Was Rachel insinuating that he was willfully keeping Ike from eternal rest?

"I think it would help if you tried to think about the good times, remember the ……"

Rachel continued talking but Buck stopped listening. He didn’t want to be told what he should do, or what to think about. He just wanted to be left alone.

"…….and I’ll make an apple pie. I know it’s your favorite."

"What?" Buck asked trying to make sense of her last statement.

"You need to eat something or you’re gonna wither away. I said I’ll make an apple pie tomorrow since it’s your favorite," Rachel repeated as she rose to her feet to go back inside the bunkhouse.

He knew Rachel was trying to help, but it just wasn’t working. "Thanks, Rachel."

Buck slowly leaned forward, resting his elbows on his knees, supporting his head in his hands. Why couldn’t they understand? His best friend in the world was gone. It should not have happened. Buck was angry with the others for not understanding and angry at Ike for dying and leaving him alone. His death had ripped Buck’s heart in two and no amount of poker games, time off or apple pies was going to make it whole again.

----------

Kid and Jimmy stood in front of the bunkhouse squinting against the afternoon sun, frowns upon their faces.

"Rider comin’," Jimmy announced, disappointment evident in his voice, as Noah’s figure came into view against the horizon.

Cody emerged from the barn leading his horse and joined the two riders waiting for Noah.

"You know boys, I could be persuaded to let one of you take this run," he said, flashing an ornery grin before adding, "if the price was right."

Kid and Jimmy looked at the cocky, blonde rider with contempt.

Cocking an eyebrow Cody continued, "Just how much would you pay to get out of Rachel’s spring cleaning?"

"Get goin’, Cody," Kid said as Noah approached. "We’ll make sure we save some cleanin’ for you!" he shouted as Cody mounted, took the handoff from Noah, and spurred his horse into a gallop. The sound of his laughter floated back to the remaining riders on the spring breeze.

Noah dismounted and brushed the trail dust from his clothes.

"So how was your ride?" Jimmy asked although the tone of voice didn’t express much interest in Noah’s answer.

"Same as always, long and dirty," Noah replied.

"Couldn’t you have taken a little longer?" asked Kid.

"I’m right on time." Confused by the question and the long faces of his friends, Noah asked, "You wanted me to be late?"

Kid and Jimmy nodded.

"Why?"

"’Cause Rachel wants to start spring cleaning soon as you get back," Jimmy explained, causing Noah’s expression to turn as bleak as his own.

----------

"Rachel, gimme one good reason why we need to do this," demanded Jimmy, his arms folded across his chest in defiance.

"Because I said so," answered Rachel, "and if you want supper tonight, you best get a move on!"

"But Rachel, we’ve moved the bunks three times already. What was wrong with where they were?" pleaded Noah.

"It’s just so crowded I thought you all might appreciate a little more room."

Rachel was right, the bunkhouse was crowded. Seven bunks, an assortment of boxes and trunks, and a variety of miscellaneous belongings didn’t leave much space.

She surveyed the room, a plan forming in her mind. Thinking aloud she said, "We can scoot these bunks over a bit and these two a little further this direction if we turn them this way and move Ike’s trunk. Yes. It’ll work. C’mon boys, let’s do it!"

Rachel smiled her approval at the new arrangement as the three weary riders collapsed on the repositioned bunks after sweeping, mopping and dusting the cobwebs from the corners of the room.

"Are we done now, Boss?" Jimmy asked.

"Nope, not yet. Still need to move Ike’s trunk."

Noah, Jimmy and Kid look at each other and breathed a collective heavy sigh before rolling off their beds and gathering around the large trunk.

"Where to Rachel?" Kid questioned.

"Well, it was important to Ike," Rachel said, memories of the gentle rider floating through her mind, "I think it would be safe in the hayloft. It wouldn’t be damaged up there."

The three boys looked at each other.

"Yes, Boss, anything you say, Boss," said Jimmy.

"Good and please be careful with it. You finish up and I’ll go start supper. I promised Buck that pie," Rachel remembered as she left the room.

"Pie?" Noah questioned. "Why does Buck get pie?"

Kid and Jimmy shrugged and turned their attention to the trunk.

Ike had been given the big camelback trunk by an elderly couple he had befriended in Sweetwater. He had found the couple’s dog while on his way home from a run, battered and bloody fighting with a wild dog. Ike recognized the animal; the dog accompanied his masters to town on many occasions and would sit patiently waiting for them on the wagon seat while they ran their errands. Ike broke up the fight and carefully lifted the injured dog onto his horse, returning him to his family. Over the next few weeks he visited the dog almost daily to help nurse him back to health. A friendship easily developed between Ike and the elderly couple and when their health began to fail and they decided to return to St. Louis to be near their daughter, they gave Ike the trunk. It was big and heavy, too heavy for the frail old gentleman to move. The trunk was a possession Ike took great pride in and he insisted they haul it to Rock Creek when the riders moved to the new station.

"How are we gonna get this big old thing in the hayloft?" Noah asked raising up one side of the trunk estimating its weight.

"Well, I’m damn sure not carryin’ it all the way," Jimmy stated emphatically. "I wasn’t real happy ‘bout movin’ it in here the first time."

Kid thought for a moment before voicing his plan. "We can carry it out to the porch and back the wagon up to the steps. Then lift in on the wagon," eyeing Jimmy he added, "it ain’t that heavy. Then we can move the wagon under the opening in the loft and use the pulley to raise it up there."

"Oughta work," agreed Noah.

"I’ll hitch up the wagon," Jimmy grumbled.

Kid’s plan worked smoothly and soon the trunk was ready to be raised into the loft. Leather straps were fastened around it and attached to a large hook used to haul feed, tack and other equipment to the top storage area of the barn. A rope was attached to the hook and drawn across the pulley in the opening hanging down the other side to the ground. Kid and Jimmy stayed on the ground while Noah climbed into the loft, ready to pull the trunk into the barn once Jimmy and Kid raised it to the proper height.

"So where is everybody?" Noah asked, raising his voice loud enough for his two friends below to hear.

"Well, Lou ain’t back from Seneca yet, Cody just left, and Buck banged up his shoulder yesterday so Teaspoon’s lettin’ him take it easy today. That leaves us," answered Kid as he and Jimmy began pulling on the rope.

"So is Buck hurt bad?" Noah asked watching the trunk move into the air.

"Didn’t look like it to me," Jimmy answered. "Wouldn’t take much exertion to push around a dust rag anyway."

"Then where is he?" Noah questioned, grabbing the rope to help guide the trunk toward the opening with one hand, holding onto the barn wall to prevent himself from tumbling out the opening with the other.

"Don’t know," answered Jimmy, straining on the rope. "Ain’t my day to watch him."

----------

Buck spent the morning grooming the horses. With warmer weather coming on, they were losing their winter coats and in need of a good brushing. Although the Appaloosa was putting a little weight on her injured leg, and there was very little swelling, he still felt guilty about her injury and brushed her twice. Ike's horse received special attention, too, just because he was Ike’s horse.

The animal hadn’t been ridden much since Ike’s passing and needed exercise. He had a lonely look in his eyes that perhaps only Buck could recognize, it matched his own. He lead the animal from its stall and mounted bareback, using a bale of hay to help him as his shoulder was still too sore to simply swing onto the horse’s back.

The horse seemed grateful to be released from the confines of his stall, and after overcoming some initial stiffness, ran as if he was chasing the wind across the prairie.

As Rachel had commented the evening before, spring had definitely arrived. The landscape had changed from barren to lush almost overnight. Wildflowers burst from the ground, their bright blossoms opening wide as if suddenly awakened from a long sleep. The birds heralded the advent of warmer days with their medley of song. New life appeared everywhere.

Ike loved springtime. He found pleasure in the smallest details of the season. A blue robin’s egg held as much fascination as the earthworms that appeared after a thunderstorm. He loved the flowers most of all. Ike once told an unbelieving Buck that flowers were the earth’s way of smiling.

Buck hated spring. He found comfort instead in the long, cold winter months. He even enjoyed a good blizzard. Winter was a difficult time for the Plains Indians. All thoughts and energies were directed toward survival. No one had time to abuse the village half-breed in the winter, it was the only time Buck found any peace. To him, spring simply meant the insults and humiliation would return. Ike tried to show his friend the beauty of the season, but Buck’s feelings were too deeply ingrained to be changed.

Though the scenery brought Buck no comfort, the ride itself did. He enjoyed riding with no bridle or saddle. Riding bareback allowed him to feel the movement and power of the horse beneath him. A saddle didn’t allow that kind of closeness with the animal. Without a bridle and bit to guide the horse’s direction other means of communication had to be developed, means which required much greater skill. Riding like this reminded Buck of the happier days of his early childhood when Red Bear would toss him on his horse’s back and together they would race through the prairie grass.

He missed Red Bear deeply, especially now that his other ‘brother’ was gone. Moving from Sweetwater to Rock Creek was difficult for him. Although he had not seen Red Bear since Ike was taken captive, it was comforting to know he was close by. Now he was many miles away. The distance had not seemed so great before Ike died.

It was hard for Buck to understand why, even though he was surrounded by Teaspoon, Rachel and the other riders, he felt so terribly alone.

----------

"I think it looks right nice, Rachel," commented Teaspoon, nodding his head in approval of the cleaned and rearranged bunkhouse. "Clean, too. See if you boys can keep it that way."

"We ain’t doin’ this again any time soon," Jimmy grumbled. "Supposed to be Express riders not housekeepers."

"Well, you don’t need to live in a pigsty and since the mess was your own, why shouldn’t you clean it up?" Teaspoon asked.

All heads turned toward the sound of the bunkhouse door opening.

"Nice timin’, Buck," Noah said with a hint of sarcasm. ‘You come home now that we’re done."

"Why did you change it?" Buck asked, eyeing the rearranged room with suspicion.

"The place needed a good cleaning," Rachel answered, brushing away a loose strand of hair from her face, "and with the bunks turned around like this you all have a little more room."

Buck’s eyes continued to wander. "Where is it?"

"Where’s what?" Rachel asked.

"The trunk."

"Oh, I had the boys move it out to the hayloft. It took up a lot of space."

Buck’s jaw dropped at Rachel’s answer. "You put it in the barn?" He’s barely gone and you throw out his things! It took up too much space? I can’t believe you would do this!" Buck searched the faces of his friends, couldn’t they see this was wrong?

Rachel, Teaspoon and the boys weren’t sure how to respond. Buck was overreacting just a bit in their opinion. They hadn’t thrown Ike’s trunk away, just put it in storage. How could that be wrong?

Finding no support, Buck turned quickly and headed out the door toward the barn, slamming the door on the way.

Rachel, stunned by Buck’s remarks, started after him, but Teaspoon grabbed her arm to stop her. "Let him go, Rachel."

"Teaspoon, I need to apologize to him," she said, almost in tears. "I never thought he would see it that way. I just wanted to make it more comfortable for everyone. I never meant to hurt him."

"I know that," Teaspoon reassured her. "Give him some time to calm down and he’ll realize it, too."

----------

Buck knelt on the floor of the hayloft in front of the trunk and ran his hands over the smooth wood contours of the camelback before slowly raising the lid. The trunk was large enough to hold a man inside. For a fleeting moment Buck considered simply locking himself away with Ike’s belongings, but quickly scolded himself for such a silly thought.

After Ike died, Rachel packed his everyday items in the trunk. Buck sifted through the articles of clothing, sketch pads and pencils until he found the items he sought tucked safely away in a corner of the trunk.

Ike didn’t have many personal possessions, but what few he did own were dear to him. One by one, Buck removed the precious items and laid them across the floor- Ike’s family bible, the book "The Littlest Cowboy" and a sketch of himself he had given his best friend. These same items Buck had used in his prayer circle the day Ike died.

He picked up the Bible letting it fall open in his hands. "Psalms, Proverbs, Ecclesiastes," he read as he thumbed through the pages recognizing the words from years at the Catholic orphanage. Buck had been required to read these words, but they held no meaning for him. He continued turning the pages until he found the one he wanted, the McSwain family registry printed on the page in the form of a tree.

Buck read the names, birth dates and dates of death of Ike’s grandparents, parents and sister. After a few moments he allowed himself to look at Ike’s name, birthdate and, in his own handwriting, the date Ike died. He slowly ran his finger over the name. Kiowa custom prohibited him from speaking the name of the dead, but he knew no rule against thinking it.

----------

Rachel finished setting the table, Kid, Noah and Jimmy already seated, tucking napkins into their collars.

"Kid, would you call Buck, please. Maybe if you ask him he will come in. I don’t think he’ll listen to me," Rachel asked, regretting the earlier incident.

"Sure, Rachel," Kid replied, placing his napkin back on the table.

"Thank you, Kid. And you boys really should move the wagon back into the barn."

"Since we gotta pick up that load of grain in the morning, we thought we’d just leave it out," Kid explained.

"Well, I suppose it’s alright," Rachel said, looking out the window. "But the wind has changed and by the color of those clouds to the west, I think a storm’s comin’."

"Suppose you’re right," Kid conceded. "We’ll put it in the barn after supper."

Kid walked across the yard to the barn and called to Buck. He knew his tormented friend was with Ike’s trunk in the hayloft. "Supper’s ready, Buck. Come down, alright?"

Buck placed Ike’s self portrait on the floor and waked to the opening in the loft. "Not hungry, Kid."

Kid sighed heavily, wishing he could think of a way to reach Buck and pull him out of the state of depression he seemed to be mired in. He shook his head sadly and walked toward the bunkhouse. He shrugged his shoulders at Rachel, waiting expectantly on the porch, to indicate that Buck wasn’t coming.

Kid noticed a change in the air. Rachel was right, a storm was brewing. The wind had picked up and was now blowing from a different direction.

The pages of Ike’s Bible began to flip as if moved by the unseen hand of the wind as it blew through the rear opening of the loft escaping out the front.

Alerted by the sound of the Bible pages whipping in the wind, Buck turned to see Ike’s drawing skitter across the floor and become airborne as it reached the opening in the loft. Buck panicked at the thought of losing the portrait and quickly reached out to grab the precious item as it flew past with his left hand, holding onto the barn wall with his right. A sharp pain in his injured shoulder caused him to flinch and lose his grip on the barn.

From the porch, Rachel watched in horror as Buck lost his balance and fell from the loft, his body landing across the sideboard of the wagon below before tumbling onto the ground.

Kid stopped short as the sickening thud reached his ears. He spun around as Buck cried out in agony, then found his feet and ran to his friend, reaching him just as the clouds opened and the rain came. Kid knelt over Buck trying to shield him from the cloudburst. Buck lay beneath him curled in a tight ball, his face twisted in pain, struggling to regain the air that had been knocked from him by the impact of the fall. One hand clutched his broken ribs, Ike’s self-portrait firmly clenched in the other.

----------

The gray haired physician, Doc Barnes, closed his bag and walked into the kitchen area from the small bedroom off the bunkhouse, which served as a sick room of sorts, to address the worried faces gathered there.

"Is he alright, Doc?" Rachel asked, unable to forget the terrible sight of Buck falling from the loft.

"Well, I don’t reckon he’d believe it right now, but he’s mighty lucky. Broke three, maybe four ribs, hard to tell. But, he could have hit his head on that wagon. A skull fracture doesn’t heal as easy as broken ribs. Could have easily broke his back, too, if he’d landed differently."

"So, he’ll be alright?" Noah questioned impatiently.

The doctor nodded, "Providing there’s no internal damage. I don’t detect any, aside from some bad bruising, but won’t know for sure for a couple of days." Turning to Rachel and Teaspoon he continued, "You need to keep him down for a little while, just ‘til I’m sure nothing else is wrong."

Teaspoon nodded. "I’ll see you out, Doc. You boys best get back to your supper. Reckon it’s pretty cold by now, though."

The station manager followed Doc Barnes onto the porch where they stood watching the rain. "Looks like you’re gonna get wet, Doc. Put this on our bill, will you?"

"I’ll say one thing for your bunch, Marshall, they keep me in business. Never would have expected an accident like this from that boy, though."

"Well, Buck ain’t exactly been himself lately."

"Still takin’ the mute boy’s death hard?" Doc Barnes asked, opening his umbrella.

"Mighty hard."

"I left a bottle of laudanum with him. Don’t be bashful about using it. The boy’s in a lot of pain, he’s not gonna sleep tonight without it."

Shaking his head Teaspoon replied, "He won’t take it Doc, tried once before."

"Then force it down his throat. Looks like he could use a good night sleep. Honestly, looks like he could use more than one."

Doc Barnes turned back to Teaspoon as he stepped into the rain, "Let me know if anything changes, otherwise I’ll be back tomorrow afternoon."

Rachel and the boys were seated around the table but no one seemed very interested in supper, although Rachel offered to warm it up.

"Did Doc say anything else?" Rachel asked anxiously as Teaspoon entered the bunkhouse.

"Can we see him, Teaspoon?" Kid asked. The look on Noah and Jimmy’s faces echoed the question. They may have been upset with Buck earlier, but it didn’t seem that important now.

"No Rachel, not much else and sorry boys, not tonight. Doc said he’s hurtin’ awful bad. Let him get some rest first. Doc left some medicine for him, it should help."

Teaspoon walked into the spare room and sighed heavily at the sight of his young Indian rider propped up in the bed by a mound of pillows. His ribs were wrapped tightly in heavy bandages, a huge purple bruise, partially hidden by the bandage, ran across his chest and extended into his shoulder area. The boy was awfully pale, Teaspoon suspected it was caused by the shock of the accident since he had no blood loss.

At the sound of Teaspoon’s footsteps, Buck opened his eyes. Their glazed expression, his tightly set jaw, and his tight grip around a wad of the bed sheet assured Teaspoon that the doctor had not underestimated the amount of pain the boy was in.

Teaspoon took a seat on the chair near the bed, reaching forward to push a stray strand of hair from Buck’s face.

"I’m sorry," Buck mumbled, an almost embarrassed tone in his voice.

Buck felt terrible. He had never experienced this much agony before. The slightest movement brought an explosion of pain throughout his upper body. Simply drawing a breath was torture.

"Ain’t nothin’ to be sorry ‘bout, son. Accidents happen, though you are having more than your fair share lately."

Teaspoon paused for a moment before continuing, "You’re gonna be laid up for a while is all."

"The others are already upset with me," Buck muttered through gritted teeth. "Don’t think I’m doin’ my share."

"Well, I doubt that, Buck, but even if you’re right, I ain’t real worried ‘bout it now. I’ll get one of the local boys to fill in if need be."

Teaspoon picked up the bottle of laudanum from the bedside table and removed the cork.

"I know you’ve got somethin’ against it, Buck, but I want you to take some of this," Teaspoon said, pouring the dark colored liquid into a glass on the table. "I know you’re hurtin’ and there ain’t no need to be."

Buck didn’t like the white man’s medicine and had strongly opposed taking any in the past. He preferred to practice traditional Kiowa medicine using herbs and healing chants when necessary, but that wasn’t possible right now. The pain was bad and the more he struggled against it the worse it became. He wasn’t sure how much longer he could handle it. Surely just this one time wouldn’t hurt.

After a moment, Buck nodded in agreement.

Teaspoon was pleased and a bit surprised that he didn’t have to force it on the boy.

"It’ll be better soon," he assured Buck, raising the glass to his lips, but Buck turned his head away in disgust.

‘Smells terrible."

"I know, and as I recall, it ain’t gonna win no taste test neither. But it will do the trick."

Buck reluctantly drank the bitter liquid, swallowing it as fast as he could, trying to rid himself of the taste.

Teaspoon stayed with the boy until he saw his grip on the bed sheet loosen and his muscles begin to relax.

"Sleep well, son. I’ll check on you later," he said quietly before turning down the lamp to a faint glow and leaving the room.

Buck lay quietly as the drug began to take effect, listening to the raindrops against the window, watching the shadows created by the flicker of the lamp’s wick.

A pleasant feeling of warmth began to spread over his body, dancing across his bones, caressing his aching muscles.

Slowly Buck drifted into a calm, relaxed state unlike any he had ever felt as the opium mixture flowed through his body. He held his hands in front of him in the dim light, certain that he could see the strange liquid pulsing through his veins, seeking out the emptiness inside him, filling that emptiness with a dark, misty promise of comfort.

----------

Rachel pushed back the curtains and raised the window, propping it open with a piece of wood, trying to make as little noise as possible. The late morning sunshine pleasantly lit the dark room while the thin cotton curtains fluttered in the breeze. The rain of the night before had created a quagmire of the streets of Rock Creek but left a fresh, clean scent in the air.

"That’s better," Rachel said to herself as she tip-toed across the room carefully avoiding the floorboards known to squeak. Rachel stopped at the side of the bed and gently tucked the thin blanket around Buck’s bruised and bandaged body before slipping out of the room. Closing the door behind her, Rachel wondered why she was trying to be so quiet. Buck wanted her to think he was asleep, but she knew better. He would have been much more relaxed had he really been resting. He was only pretending to be asleep so he wouldn’t have to talk to her. Obviously, he was still upset with her about Ike’s trunk.

Rachel was upset with herself, too. If she hadn’t insisted on rearranging the bunkhouse and moving Ike’s trunk, Buck would not have been in the hayloft and the bizarre accident would never have happened. Rachel felt it was her fault and wanted to make amends, but Buck wasn’t ready to give her the chance.

Once he was certain Rachel had left the room, Buck opened his eyes. He felt a brief pang of guilt for trying to deceive Rachel but he didn’t want to talk about what happened. He just didn’t feel like it. The pain in his chest wasn’t as bad as the night before but it still hurt a great deal. As long as he remained still and took shallow, controlled breaths it was bearable.

He remembered waking once in the night trying to suppress a scream as pain shot through his chest. He had evidently tried to change position and the intense pain had torn through the veil of sleep. Or maybe he did scream. He really couldn’t remember. Teaspoon had been there immediately with a heavy dose of the sleep inducing medicine and it worked quickly, but the laudanum brought a heavy, unnatural sleep. He had awakened in the morning with an odd feeling, as if he was fighting through cobwebs in his mind.

Buck had grown accustomed to waking in the night, choking back the urge to scream. The images in his dreams caused as much agony as the broken bones. But, the laudanum had soothed his throbbing body and held the dream at bay. He didn’t like the foggy, confused feeling but a little peace, evidently, came with a price.

----------

Kid raised his hands shielding his face from the flying mud as Jimmy’s palamino leapt through the sticky muck covering the station yard.

"Ride safe, Jimmy!" Kid said before breaking into a wide grin as he gazed lovingly upon the most beautiful girl in the world.

"Hey, good lookin’," he called to Lou as she reined Lightning to a halt and slid from his back.

"You need glasses, Kid. I’m a mess," Lou exclaimed, jumping over a puddle that lay between her and the man she loved. Both she and Lightning were covered with mud and grime from the sloppy trail.

"Don’t care," Kid answered, glancing quickly around the yard to make sure no one was watching before he wrapped his arms around her. "Glad you’re home. I was worried ‘bout you last night in the storm."

"Got lucky. I made it to Willow Springs and got a room at the hotel before it hit," she answered, returning the embrace. "This is Buck’s run, why is Jimmy taking it?"

Lou listened intently as Kid explained the events of the day before, an incredulous look covering her face as he described their friend’s accident.

"He did what?" Lou exclaimed. Buck was cautious by nature, Lou was amazed that such a thing could have happened.

"Rachel saw him fall. She’s pretty shook up about it. Blamin’ herself for movin’ Ike’s things up there."

"Well, it ain’t her fault," Lou said. "Will you rub down Lightning for me while I get cleaned up?"

"Sure, long as you meet me in his stall later," Kid answered with a mischievous grin as he led the mud covered animal to the barn.

Lou smiled softly, wondering how it was possible to love someone so much. Ike’s death had some how strengthened her relationship with Kid. They both still missed Ike terribly, but the overpowering grief of his death had passed. Many hours had been spent late at night holding each other, crying, remembering the young man they were proud to call their friend. They talked of their belief in heaven and were both certain it was an even better place for Ike being there. The tears still came, occasionally. Losing Ike hurt and would for some time, but they had come to accept his death. Lou prayed Buck could soon do the same.

----------

Lou clutched her clean shirt to her bare chest at the sound of the bunkhouse door opening.

"It’s just me, Lou," Rachel said placing a fresh load of laundry on the table. "Sorry I barged in. I didn’t know you were back."

Lou finished dressing and turned to watch Rachel absentmindedly folding a large sheet. It was evident to her that Rachel’s mind was not on the laundry.

"Let me help," Lou offered, grabbing the loose end of the sheet.

"Kid told me what happened, Rachel. It ain’t your fault. Buck’s just real sensitive about things right now."

"I should have realized it was too early to move Ike’s things," Rachel admitted.

"I think I can understand how he felt," Lou said thoughtfully, "It might be too early." After thinking for a moment she added, "But who’s to say when it’s the right time? Buck will be fine, you’ll see."

"Still, I’d feel better if he’d let me apologize," Rachel said, accepting the folded sheet from Lou.

"I’ll talk to him." Lou offered. "Is he asleep?"

"No, he’s been playin’ possum all morning so he doesn’t have to talk to me," Rachel explained as Lou headed toward Buck’s room. "Maybe you can cheer him up. See if you can get him to take some more laudanum. I imagine he needs another dose by now."

Buck recognized the sound of Lou’s footsteps and opened his eyes as she approached. He was relieved it was Lou. If anyone came close to understanding how he felt, it was she. He had seen the tears as her eyes fell upon the empty place at the supper table. He was certain Lou still grieved.

"So, how are you feelin’?" Lou asked as she sat on the edge of the bed, creating just enough motion to cause Buck to wince in pain.

"I’m alright, just tired," he answered after the pain subsided.

Lou picked up Ike’s drawing from the bedside table and smiled softly at Ike’s interpretation of himself. She had not seen this one before. Doc Barnes had pried the wet piece of paper from Buck’s grip the night before and laid it on the table to dry.

"I’m glad you saved it," she began, "but you could have been hurt real bad. You gotta be more careful, alright?"

"Is it ruined?"

"No," Lou assured Buck as she handed him the drawing. "Just a little crumpled is all."

Lou wanted to ask Buck about the trunk incident but it wasn’t the right time. He looked awfully tired and she could tell by his labored breathing that he was in pain.

"Rachel said you need to take some more laudanum," Lou said changing the subject.

"I don’t want it, Lou. It makes me feel strange."

"Strange in what way?" Lou asked picking up the bottle to examine it more closely.

"It’s hard to explain. Sleepy mostly and so relaxed that I don’t feel anything," Buck answered, searching for the right description.

Lou looked at her tired friend and smiled. "Now let me make sure I understand. You need to rest and it makes you sleepy. You hurt and it takes the pain away. Why is that bad?" Brushing his hair away from his face she added, "C’mon Buck. It’s just medicine."

Buck thought for a moment but couldn’t explain his apprehension about the drug. Lou was right, his excuse didn’t make much sense.

"Tell you what," Lou began. "You take some of this and stop givin’ Rachel the silent treatment and after supper tonight I’ll find some heavy books to press the wrinkles out of Ike’s picture. Deal?"

Lou poured what she thought was enough laudanum into a glass, and then added just a bit more for good measure before offering it to Buck.

"Drink it," she commanded with the authority of a general.

Buck forced himself to swallow the caustic liquid.

"Does it taste as bad as it smells?" Lou asked taking a whiff of the open bottle.

"Worse, try some for yourself," Buck mumbled, resting his head back against the pillows to wait for the drowsy, floating feeling to take over.

Lou leaned forward and placed a gentle kiss on his forehead. Hoping a little good natured teasing would lighten his mood she answered, "Don’t need to. I’m not the one who fell out of the barn."

Buck knew Lou was trying to cheer him up but it just didn’t work. He held the pencil image of his best friend against his heart and wondered if he would ever feel anything but sadness again. It was a feeling he knew all too well.

Growing up in the Kiowa village as a half-breed had been difficult, to say the least. Red Bear loved him but he could never understand his brother’s misery. Happy times for Buck had been few and far between. He left the Kiowa hoping for a better life, but experienced the same amount of hatred from his father’s people. The feelings of hopelessness, the beatings and laughter at his expense continued. The only difference was the faces of his tormentors were white instead of red.

Ike had been a happy child and knew the love and acceptance of a family, but the murder of his parents and sister had thrown him into a sad, silent and unreachable world.

Once the two oddities of the Catholic orphanage found each other, things began to change. Although as opposite as night and day to the eye, Buck and Ike grew to realize they really weren’t so different. As their friendship grew, they began to fill each other’s needs. Ike needed to speak so Buck gave him a language. Buck needed to experience fun and Ike uncovered a mischievous side Buck never knew he had. The sisters of the orphanage were the victims of more than one of the pair’s well executed pranks. Both boys needed to express the heartache of their painful pasts and found comfort in each other’s understanding embrace. Together they laughed and cried.

Now that Ike was gone, Buck couldn’t recall how to do either one.

----------

"Any supper left Rachel?" Teaspoon asked hopefully. "Where is everybody, anyway? It’s quiet as a tomb in here."

"There’s plenty left," Rachel answered. "Not many to feed tonight. Noah took that short run to Blue Mound this afternoon and Kid and Lou are… are busy."

Teaspoon shook his head and sat down at the table. He still had a hard time believing he hired a girl as an Express rider and now that girl was in love with another Express rider.

"You’re late tonight," she remarked as she placed Teaspoon’s supper on the table.

The Marshall threw his hat and coat on the bench and breathed an exaggerated sigh. "Barnett must be good for somethin’ but I swear, I don’t know what it is. Think I’d be better off without him. He couldn’t even handle a simple bar room brawl tonight. Did Buck get along alright today?" he asked hopefully, shoveling in a mouthful of food.

"Oh, he slept most of the afternoon. Doc said he was doing fine but needed to stay in bed another day. He ate a little supper and then dozed off again."

"Good," Teaspoon replied between bites. "He needs some rest. A body don’t work right without it. Probably why he keeps having one accident after another. If he’s in bed, he can’t hurt himself."

----------

Buck reached out for Ike but unseen hands pulled him away. He tried to fight against them but the force was too strong, his struggle only increasing their hold on him. Buck quickly turned around to see who was preventing him from reaching his friend, but found no one there. Ike’s ghostly pale face turned toward him, his eyes expressing deep disappointment in his friend. Blood began to flow from the wound in Ike’s chest soaking the bandages wrapped around him. When the cloth could hold no more, the blood ran onto the bed and dripped to the floor forming a deep red pool at Buck’s feet. Ike slowly shook his head in disapproval as his body began to fade away.

Buck tried to call out to Ike, but he couldn’t speak. "I’m sorry!" he cried silently. "I tried Ike! Please forgive me!" he pleaded, frantically searching for his voice.

Buck bolted upright in bed, his heart racing, as Ike’s body faded away just out of his reach. The dream was so real it took him a little while to remember he was in the spare room of the bunkhouse not the doctor’s office. Ike had been gone for a month, not just a moment.

His broken ribs reacted violently to the sudden movement and sent waves of pain throughout his chest to remind him of their presence. He tried to take a deep breath to calm his pounding heart, but the tight bandage supporting the broken bones prevented it.

Buck’s jaw tightened as he slowly lowered himself back into the bed. His entire body hurt. Lying in the same position all day had caused a terrible backache and the tender, bruised areas covering his upper body seemed to be competing for attention. He didn’t realize it was possible to hurt in so many different places. The doctor told him a good night sleep would help, but Ike’s piercing stare seemed intent on not allowing it.

Buck thought he understood the dream, at least the first part of it. It was reminding him he had failed Ike. He failed him that day by not reaching him in time to stop his dangerous actions, as a best friend should, and he continued to fail Ike each night by not reaching him at all.

Buck had begged the spirits to release him from the grip of this dream but his pleas were ignored. Each night before he closed his eyes to sleep he silently recited chants remembered from his childhood. He held his medicine bundle tightly and tried to think of happy times with Ike. He remembered placing a bullfrog in the Reverand Mother’s desk and watching it leap into her lap as she opened the drawer or the long quiet walks he and Ike took to escape the other children of the orphanage. Oh, what he would give for a happy dream. But it never came. Perhaps he was being punished for his failure.

Now he just wanted to sleep, to sleep hard with no dreams, not even good ones. He could not understand how something so simple had become so difficult. But he knew if he closed his eyes again, Ike’s haunting image would be there. As so many nights before, Buck decided not sleeping at all was preferable.

Wide awake in the dark room, Buck wished for a little company. He felt a twinge of jealousy as the soft sounds of snoring drifting through the bunkhouse confirmed that its occupants were asleep. So were Teaspoon, Rachel and everyone else in town. He wondered if they knew how lucky they were, how much he envied them. Depressed and lonely, he settled back against the pillows to wait for the morning.

Buck had spent other lonely nights watching the horses in the corral or sitting on the porchsteps waiting for the moon and stars to move across the sky. It didn’t make the long hours move by much quicker, but it was something to do. The night sky was cloudy and he couldn’t see much of it through the window, anyway. He certainly couldn’t get up. Even thinking about moving hurt. It was going to be a long night.

Once his eyes adjusted to the darkness of the room, Buck glanced around for anything that could help pass the time. A large stack of books sat on the table beside him, the edges of a piece of paper showing beneath them. "Lou remembered," he thought to himself. It was probably just as well that he couldn’t look at Ike’s drawing. He was afraid the eyes would show as much disappointment in him as they had in his dream.

Buck reached for the glass of water on the table next to the books, clenching his teeth in the pain the movement caused. He brought the glass to his lips but recognized the smell. It was laudanum, not water. Lou or Rachel had evidently poured it for him while he slept. Disappointed, he started to return the glass to the table but stopped as he remembered Teaspoon’s words from the night before. "It will do the trick."

Teaspoon had been right. It took the pain away and he had rested without the dream interrupting his sleep for the first time in weeks. When Lou had given it to him earlier in the day, the effects had been rather pleasant - soft, and soothing, like floating on a cloud.

It concerned him that he couldn’t control the way the laudanum made him feel and self control was important to Buck. He remembered, though, the Kiowa Man of Dreams often used herbal drinks to bring visions and he accepted that practice without question. Maybe this wasn’t so different.

"A little bit won’t hurt," he thought to himself. He would rest and tomorrow would be better.

Buck drank about half the amount in the glass, surprised that the taste and smell didn’t bother him as much as before. "Must be gettin’ used to it," he presumed.

He leaned into the pillows behind him, anxious for the drowsy feeling to come, but the feeling the laudanum caused was different than before. Rather than bringing sleep, the medicine brought a heightened sense of alertness. He felt strangely calm but excited at the same time.

In the quiet of the night, he heard sounds. Incredible sounds. He heard a mouse run across the floor at the other end of the bunkhouse and knew which direction it went. He could hear Kid and Lou softly breathing in the next room and was able to distinguish the differences between them. He heard himself breathe and was fascinated by the rise and fall of his own chest. Tracing the outline of the bruise on his shoulder he noticed what a beautiful color it was. The scar on his chest from the gash Red Bear inflicted on him was intriguing, too. It felt so different from the skin around it. How strange he had not observed these things before.

Buck’s attention was diverted by a tiny light in the room. He watched the firefly in amazement as it played hide and seek with him, appearing and disappearing. "How wonderful it would be to glow!" he mused and held his hands before him wondering if he could, too. To vanish and then appear somewhere else would be such fun.

Buck pondered these marvels for a time until his eyes closed and his limbs grew too heavy to move. A warm, safe feeling settled over him, almost as if he was cradled by invisible arms. "Lou was right," he conceded as he drifted into a deep sleep. "It’s only medicine. How could it be bad?"

----------

"Thanks, Lou," Emily said, accepting the cup of coffee.

Lou poured herself a cup and took a seat directly across from Emily at the table. Although Emily wasn’t a beauty, her attractive, honest and open spirit more than made up for her lack of fancy clothes or the latest hairstyle. Unlike some of the other boys, Ike had been more attracted to the sincerity of a woman’s smile than the amount of rouge on her lips. Emily had been perfect for Ike and Lou had liked her immediately.

"Where have you been, Emily?" Lou asked, her concern for the young woman across the table evident in her voice. "We’ve been worried about you."

"I know I should have written," Emily began, "but I just wasn’t thinkin’ clearly for a while."

Emily hesitated for a moment before continuing, "I guess losing my father and Ike so suddenly was too much to take and I just started wanderin’. I ended up in a hotel in Marietta, locked myself in the room and cried until I couldn’t cry anymore."

Lou reached across the table and placed her hand on Emily’s, giving it a reassuring squeeze. Emily managed a brief smile as she looked into the compassionate eyes of the young woman seated opposite her. Emily had not made many friends in her life. Her father’s drifting nature had made it impossible. They were never in one place long enough to establish a friendship. Emily had only known Lou for a very short time but felt that, given the chance, they could be good friends. Even if Ike had not told her Lou’s secret, it would have been impossible for Emily not to see through her disguise. It surprised Emily that Lou had been able to continue her charade for so long. Lou was obviously a woman- a young woman in love. It was impossible for Emily to miss. It wasn’t that long ago she had been a woman in love, too.

"Are you alright now, Emily?"

"I’m better," Emily answered confidently. Her confidence began to waver as she continued, "I still miss them both so much. But … I can’t change anything."

Emily hesitated briefly, "I just wanted you all to know that I really did love Ike and I feel terrible about what happened. I know it was only a short time and you may not think that I could love him so quickly but…"

"You don’t need to explain, Emily," Lou assured her.

"I thought I would have Ike forever," Emily said with a wistful look in her eyes. "We would get married, have a bunch of kids, live happily ever after. But, I guess it just wasn’t meant to be."

"What are you going to do now?"

Emily drew a deep breach, "I’ve found a buyer for my father’s place. I thought about running it on my own, but it’s just too much, so I’m going to Illinois. My mother’s family is there."

"The boys and I would be happy to help out if you wanted to stay in Rock Creek," Lou offered.

"I know you would. But I don’t want to be a burden." Emily smiled softly at her new friend, "I’m gonna try to get on with my life. My stage leaves in an hour. I just wanted to say good bye before I left."

----------

Buck was relieved to finally be allowed out of bed. He had felt so odd the day before. The laudanum had caused him to awaken with the same foggy feeling, but it didn’t last too long. To his relief, he found that he was able to move around a bit without the stabbing pains in his chest. They had been reduced to a dull ache assuring Doc Barnes that no other injuries were present. But by mid-afternoon, he felt terrible. Kid had tried to offer some company but Buck was in such an irritable mood that carrying on a conversation was impossible. Kid had finally given up and excused himself to get ready for his run, attributing his friend’s moodiness to being confined to bed for too long. Out of boredom, Buck grabbed one of the books on the table next to him and tried to read, but the words wouldn’t hold still. They seemed to jump around the page. He couldn’t concentrate on them, anyway, with the constant ringing in his ears. It was the strangest feeling Buck ever had, almost like everything in side of him was moving too fast. He felt nervous and jittery but couldn’t understand why. The need to escape the strange feelings was finally too much and he reached for the bottle of laudanum as the quickest way to induce a numbing sleep.

Moving was still painful so Buck didn’t venture further than the barn, but it was good to breathe some fresh air. He spent some time watching the new foal that arrived during the night as she struggled to gain her footing and take her first wobbly steps under her mother’s protective gaze. Buck found himself smiling, in spite of himself, at her awkward attempts.

Though only mid-morning, he was beginning to tire and headed back to the bunkhouse to rest. His heart jumped into his throat as he opened the door and saw Emily and Lou at the table.

"What is she doing here?" he demanded, addressing Lou rather than Emily.

"Hello, Buck," Emily said, a bit uneasily. "Lou told me you were hurt. Are you feelin’ better?"

"She has no right to be here," Buck stated indignantly, ignoring Emily’s question.

"Buck that was rude," Lou answered curtly. "Emily has every right to visit any time she wants. She’s a friend."

Buck’s expression turned from displeasure to outright anger as he noticed Ike’s sketch pad on the table. "What are you doing with this?" he demanded, reaching between the two young women for the pad of paper.

"I found it in the trunk when I put Ike’s things away the day after you fell. I thought it would be nice to frame some of his drawings so we could all enjoy them. Emily might want some of them, too," Lou answered, her tone showing her displeasure with Buck’s self-righteousness.

"They aren’t yours to give away, Lou. She gets Ike killed and now you want to give her his things?" Buck replied briskly as he walked across the bunkhouse and placed the sketch pad under his bunk.

Lou was ready to give Buck a piece of her mind about his attitude, but Emily grabbed her arm before she could get to her feet. "It’s alright, Lou." Turning toward Buck, Emily continued, "I know you are angry, Buck. But I loved him, too. I understand how you feel."

Buck advanced toward Emily like a predator stalking its prey, his dark eyes smoldering. "You knew him for a week," he began, his voice low and strangely calm. "We were best friends since we were thirteen years old and now he’s dead because of you. Don’t you ever dare think you know how I feel."

Emily bowed her head, nervously shielding her eyes from Buck’s hate filled glare. She blamed herself and regretted the actions that had lead to Ike’s death. Still, to hear Buck accuse her was almost too much to bear. Lou was stupefied by Buck’s cruel words and simply stared at him in disbelief.

Buck was surprised at his behavior, too, and stood for a moment, clutching his injured chest, not quite knowing what to do. The tension in the air was almost visible as he finally turned away from them and left the bunkhouse.

After a moment, Emily looked up at Lou, tears of guilt and grief threatening to spill from her brown eyes. "I really did love Ike, Lou."

"I know you did, Emily. I know."

----------

Buck leaned back against the bunkhouse, his arms wrapped around his throbbing chest as he tried to calm himself. How could Lou have done this? He thought she understood how he felt. She knew how painful losing Ike had been for him. Now she was sharing a cup of coffee and making small talk with the person responsible for his death! To make matters worse, Lou was giving Emily Ike’s things! Emily didn’t deserve his possessions. Buck felt he had more of a right to them than she did.

He needed to get away from them, away from the sound of their voices and Lou’s betrayal. Buck’s eyes searched the station for a quiet place of escape and headed for the barn, but stopped abruptly as Rachel emerged from the house and also walked in that direction. Still holding a grudge about Ike’s trunk, he instead turned away from the station and headed into town. He had no particular destination in mind; he just needed to get away.

He walked along the sidewalk, not really paying attention to where he was or where he was going. The noises of Rock Creek buzzed all around him, but he didn’t hear them. Buck bumped into Nellie Wadkins as she left Thompkins store, upsetting her shopping basket, the contents spilling onto the sidewalk and out into the street. The elderly woman and Thompkins both took offense to his carelessness.

"Watch where you are going, young man!" Mrs. Wadkins said critically.

"I’m sorry," Buck offered quietly as he knelt down to retrieve the spilled merchandise, grimacing at the pain the movement caused.

"Get on out of here, Cross, before I charge you for the damaged goods!" shouted Thompkins. "And if you can’t stay out of the way of decent white folk then just stay away!"

Buck slowly rose to his feet, glaring at the storekeeper. There were so many things he wanted to say to that man, but not now. He held his tongue. He couldn’t deal with Thompkins, Lou and Emily all at once. Buck turned away without another word and continued down the sidewalk, his chest aching, anger and humiliation boiling inside of him.

Lou and Emily’s voices followed him.

"No you don’t know how I feel," Buck said aloud, causing a perplexed look from the couple he brushed against on the sidewalk.

"Good to see you up and about, Buck," Doc Barnes said as Buck stopped to rest against a porch post in front of the open door of the physician’s office. "Come in here a minute."

Hearing his name, Buck turned to locate the source of the voice. Doc Barnes sat at his roll top desk in the waiting area of his office, taking a break from the stack of papers in front of him when the young Indian caught his attention.

"What is it, Doc?" Buck asked, a little annoyed that his retreat had been interrupted.

"Marshall Hunter stopped by earlier and asked me to check your bandages. He thought they might be a little too tight now that you are up and movin’ around," Doc explained noticing the boy was having a little difficulty catching his breath.

"It’s not a good time right now, Doc."

"Nonsense, it’ll just take a minute," Doc insisted getting out of his chair. "Humor an old man, Buck. It will save me havin’ to go to the station later."

"Doc…"

"C’mon, you’re already here," he insisted, motioning for Buck to follow him.

Buck really wasn’t in the mood for this, but he genuinely liked Doctor Barnes. He was one of the few people in Rock Creek who didn’t care about Buck’s heritage. Perhaps it took a doctor to understand there was more to a person than skin color. Buck sighed and reluctantly followed the physician into his examining room.

"Take your shirt off and have a seat right there," the doctor ordered, pointing to his examination table. "Need some help?"

"I’ll manage," Buck replied as he slowly complied with the doctor’s request.

Buck looked around the room as Doc Barnes removed his bandages. It was a bright, clean room full of shelves and cabinets that held a variety of glass bottles and containers. An unidentifiable smell was present in the room. Buck assumed it was a mixture of odors from the contents of the bottles. He thought for a moment how different this office was from the teepee of the Kiowa medicine man and wondered briefly which man’s medicine was stronger.

"I must say, Buck, I think this is the biggest bruise I’ve ever seen," the doctor remarked as he examined the black and blue mark across Buck’s chest and shoulder. "Still causing a lot of pain?"

Buck nodded his head.

"Well, you got off pretty lucky. Miracle you didn’t break more than a few ribs," Doc Barnes commented as he retrieved a supply of fresh bandages from one of the cabinets on the wall. "Now, I’ve told Marshall Hunter, but I’m gonna tell you, too. I don’t want you on a horse for at least another three weeks. Then we’ll see. Gotta give these bones a chance to heal some before you go jarring ‘em over an Express trail. These bandages need to say on….."

Buck tried to pay attention to the Doctor’s instructions but his mind began to wander. No matter how hard he tried to shut them out, Lou and Emily’s words would not leave him alone. He was tired and beginning to feel that strange nervousness again. For a moment he considered asking the doctor about it, but decided against it. He was just tired.

"By the way," Doc Barnes continued, "I saw that young woman your friend was smitten with in town today. Emily was her name wasn’t it?"

Buck asked sharply, "What?"

"I said, I saw Ike’s young lady today," Doc Barnes repeated. "They made a nice couple. Too bad things turned out the way they did," he added thoughtfully. Remembering Teaspoon’s comment a few days earlier, he asked, "Are you holding up alright?"

Buck was surprised by the question and quickly answered, "I’m fine."

Doc Barnes looked at the young Indian skeptically. He knew that wounds to the soul required as much attention as any to the flesh. Problem was, they were much more difficult to see.

Buck clenched his teeth as the doctor began to wrap the bandages around his throbbing chest. He glanced around the room trying to focus on something to take his mind off the pain and the words repeating in his mind.

Buck’s eyes rested on a familiar glass bottle in the cabinet on the opposite wall. He looked away, but he was drawn back to the bottle of laudanum remembering the pleasant, comforting feeling the medicine had brought. He still felt a bit apprehensive about taking it, but, he had to admit, it worked wonders. Buck knew he would feel better with just a little sip of the medicine, but his bottle was back in the bunkhouse and so were Lou and Emily.

Doc Barnes finished his work and helped Buck slip into his shirt. To Buck’s surprise he had trouble getting the buttons through the buttonholes. His fingers didn’t seem to cooperate and his hands were shaking slightly. His eyes were drawn back to the cabinet on the wall.

"Are you gettin’ some rest, Buck, or is the pain keeping you awake?" Doc asked from across the room as he placed the extra bandages back in the cabinet.

Buck hesitated for a moment before answering. "Here’s your chance," he heard from somewhere inside him.

"The medicine helps me sleep. But…I knocked the bottle over last night and it spilled. Could I have another one?"

"Well, I don’t see why not, but only for a couple more nights. I don’t want you takin’ too much of it." Doc said as he opened the top drawer of the small desk next to the window. Buck watched as he removed a small key and unlocked the glass door of the wall cabinet.

"Here you are. Remember, just a little bit for another night or two. No more than this much," he said , marking an imaginary line around the bottle before handing the laudanum to Buck. "I’ll put it on the station’s bill."

"Uh, Doc, I’ll just pay you for it…since it was my fault," Buck answered uneasily, holding the bottle tightly so he wouldn’t drop it.

"Suit yourself," Doc answered as he locked the cabinet and placed the key back in the drawer. "I’ll talk to the Marshall later to let him know how much more you can take."

"Um, Doc, I’m headed to Teaspoon’s office now. I’ll tell him," Buck said quickly, hoping his lie didn’t sound like one.

Buck paid the doctor the required amount and hastily left the office. He rounded the corner of the building and leaned back against the brick wall. Buck never lied, and wasn’t very happy with his behavior, but it had gotten him what he wanted. Glancing around to make sure no one was watching, he removed the cork from the bottle and took a quick drink. Buck began to feel the warm waves of security wash over him once more. Within a few minutes, the unwanted voices began to float away. He unbuttoned the cuff of his shirt and slid the bottle into the sleeve, cupping his hand around the bottom of the bottle to hold it securely. For some reason he felt like he needed to hide it. Perhaps it was because of the dishonest way it was obtained.

----------

Buck glanced around the station for Lou but didn’t see her. He assumed she was still in the bunkhouse with her new "friend". He wanted to rest for a while but not if they were there. He noticed Rachel hanging out a load of laundry and headed for the barn in search of a quiet place but instead found Cody brushing his horse.

"Hey, Buck!" Cody called, a wide grin covering his face. "I hear I missed the excitement in the barn the other night. Was you tryin’ to fly or somethin’?"

Buck found no humor in Cody’s remark and his expression told the cocky rider so. Cody assumed Buck was in a "mood" and thought it best not to provoke him further.

"So, are you alright? What happened?" he asked in a more serious tone.

"I’m fine, Cody," Buck replied brusquely. "I don’t want to talk about it."

All he really wanted was to be alone someplace quiet and with Cody in the barn it certainly wasn’t going to be quiet. The bunkhouse was out of the question, too, as long as Lou and Emily were there. He decided the only option was to leave.

"Alright, just kinda strange is all," Cody said in disappointment. He really liked a good story, and whatever happened to cause Buck to fall out of the hayloft was probably a good story. Cody decided he would simply wait and get the details from one of the other boys. He finished grooming his horse and walked across the barn to put the curry comb back in its place.

Buck took the opportunity to remove the bottle of laudanum from his shirt sleeve and tucked it into the waist band of his trousers. Ignoring Doc Barnes’ orders, he lead Ike’s horse from his stall and, using a stack of hay bales for a makeshift ladder, carefully mounted the animal.

"Hey, Buck. You supposed to be ridin?" questioned Cody.

Buck turned the horse slightly so the bottle was hidden from Cody’s view. "I’m just gonna get away for a little while. Don’t tell Teaspoon or Rachel, alright?"

Having been confined to bed before himself, Cody could understand Buck’s need to get away from the station and nodded his head in agreement. "Ain’t bothering me none. Do what you want."

Once away from the station, Buck began to understand why Doc Barnes had not wanted him to ride for a while. Although the horse was only walking, the movement was enough to cause the throbbing in his chest to return. Without thinking twice, Buck reached for the bottle of laudanum to put an end to his discomfort.

Soon the pain was gone and Buck was enjoying the familiar relaxed feeling. He closed his eyes and let his head drop back to feel the warmth of the mid-day sun on his face. Rocking back and forth in rhythm with the horse’s steady gait, he let the reins drop and allowed the horse to wander at will.

After a while Buck felt himself slipping to one side and opened his eyes to steady himself. Scanning the countryside for a moment he recognized where he was and urged the horse forward. It was just a little further.

He really hadn’t planned on coming here. Or, maybe he had. He didn’t know. Buck slid off Ike’s horse and let his eye roam the area. He had come here a few times since Ike died, but the place looked different now. The burned spot on the ground where Ike’s funeral pyre had been erected was now covered in lush green grass. Others might not have recognized the place, but Buck would never forget it.

Buck left Ike’s horse untethered, somehow knowing the faithful animal wound not stray, and sank into the green carpet. He ran his fingers through the blades of grass, and remembered the night he and the others had come here to release Ike’s spirit. He could still feel the heat from the flames and smell the smoke of the fire.

These sensations returned every time he came here, but they didn’t bother him this time. Instead of agonizing over this place, he felt strangely calm. Without realizing what he was doing, Buck reached for the bottle of laudanum again. He soon felt his body become very heavy. He laid down in the grass, staring up at the sky.

Clouds began to turn into the shapes of animals parading across the sky, changing from one animal to another as soon as he recognized it, almost as if they were trying to outwit him. Ike had been able to see these things and tried repeatedly to point out the shapes to his friend, but Buck could never find them. Ike told him he had no imagination.

"Guess I’ve got an imagination, now," he said rather smugly to the bear floating overhead. He hoped Ike would be pleased that he finally could see them.

Buck felt a tingling sensation on his hand and noticed a small ladybug crawling across his finger. He turned over and rested his face against the ground watching the insect move its multitude of legs across his hand. Buck counted the number of spots on her back over and over again as if the number held some secret importance.

Buck was amazed by how differently he felt after taking the laudanum. Never in his life had he felt so calm and relaxed. Lou had betrayed him, no one understood him, neither the Kiowa nor the white world wanted him, he had killed an unarmed man and Ike was dead. But all that just didn’t seem to matter as much. Buck closed his eyes and let the peaceful feeling envelop him. He didn’t know exactly what was in that bottle, but it was magic.

----------

"C’mon, Buck, wake up," Kid urged, gently shaking his sleeping friend’s arm in an attempt to rouse him.

Knowing Buck needed the extra rest, Teaspoon had allowed the boy the luxury of sleeping late, but this was the third morning Buck had slept through the clatter and commotion of breakfast and Kid was a little concerned. He was relieved that Buck seemed to be sleeping better, but something didn’t seem right. Buck had always been a light sleeper, the slightest sound or movement would wake him. Now he slept hard. Too hard. He was still in the same position as two hours before; his head lay half on and half off the pillow, his left arm dangled off the side of the bunk. The rise and fall of his chest was so slight for a moment Kid wasn’t sure Buck was still breathing. He leaned over Buck’s face, breathing a sigh of relief as he felt Buck’s shallow exhale. Kid had never seen anyone sleep like this before. It just didn’t seem natural.

"Wake up, Buck, it’s gettin’ late," Kid tried again, shaking a little harder.

Buck heard Kid’s voice in the distance and began to tear through the cobwebs that guarded his slumber. Guided by Kid’s persistent call, he began to stir uneasily his eyes fluttering open only to close tightly as a wave of pain surged through his chest. He clutched his injured ribs with one hand and tried to wipe the foggy remnants of sleep from his eyes with the other.

"Stop it, Kid," he mumbled, trying to focus on Kid’s face hovering above him. The fog was slow to lift and it took a moment before he could see Kid clearly.

"You alright?" Kid asked, taking a seat on the bunk behind him.

"I was asleep," Buck answered, a bit irratated. "You woke me up to see if I was alright?"

Kid suddenly became aware of how silly his question had been. "Well… I thought…somethin’ might be wrong," he stammered. "You never sleep this late."

"Maybe I do now," Buck grumbled, trying to shake off the jittery feeling the fog left behind. "What time is it?"

"Almost nine o’clock."

"Alright, I’ll get up," Buck muttered. "Just give me a minute."

"You sure you’re alright?" Kid asked again.

"I’m fine, Kid. Just give me a minute," Buck repeated, annoyed with Kid’s inquisition.

"Rachel left some breakfast for you on the stove."

Satisfied that Buck was awake, Kid stood and headed for the door. "That new filly is somethin’ special. Why don’t you come out to the barn and have a look at her?"

Buck nodded impatiently, anxious for Kid to leave. He grabbed the side of his bunk and tried to pull himself up, but stopped as a sudden rush of pain took his breath away. Buck moaned between clenched teeth and slowly lowered himself back into his bunk. Alerted by the sound, Kid turned back to his friend.

"Buck…"

"Go on, Kid. I just tried to get up too fast."

Kid wasn’t completely convinced, but Buck didn’t appear to want his help. Reluctantly, he turned and left the bunkhouse to tend to his chores. Already one rider short and now with Buck laid up, too, there was a lot of work to do.

Buck breathed a sigh of relief as the door closed behind Kid. "Thought he’d never leave," he said to himself as he slowly rolled over and reached under his bunk for the bottle of laudanum.

----------

Buck had placed the bottle between the mattress and the wooden slats of the bunk his first night back in the bunkhouse. He lay awake that night, his entire body aching, waiting for the others to fall asleep. Needing to satisfy the craving growing inside him, he quietly slipped into the room off the bunkhouse to retrieve the laudanum. His stomach twisted in knots as he looked toward the table and realized it was gone. Rachel had evidently moved it when she made up the bed. He cursed himself for leaving the bottle Doc Barnes gave him in a hollowed out tree trunk when he visited the site of Ike’s funeral pyre earlier, but he had been afraid someone might see him with it when he returned to the station. It would be a long ride to get it in the dark. He needed to find the other bottle. He needed it now.

The room was dimly lit by the sliver of a crescent moon hanging in the darkness outside the small window, making Buck’s search difficult. Hoping for the obvious, he opened the drawer of the table, but found it empty. He rummaged through the contents of the small dresser opposite the bed finding nothing but bed linens. Buck leaned back against the wall panic building in him. He breathed hard and fast, further aggravating the throbbing in his chest.

Buck dropped to his hands and knees to peer under the bed, knowing the bottle wouldn’t be there, but looking anyway.

"Think," he demanded himself. "Where would she put it ?" A sudden realization swept over him as he scrambled to his feet. The abrupt movement released a new wave of pain through his chest, causing him to stumble into the bed. Buck regained his footing, cursing his clumsiness, and hurried into the bunkhouse directed by an unseen guide to the kitchen cupboard.

Breathing a sign of relief he opened the door to the storage compartment. His palms began to sweat as his eyes fell on the elusive bottle hiding behind the containers of coffee and molasses. Reaching into the dark opening with shaking hands, Buck knocked the bottle of molasses from the shelf. He held his breath as the bottle tumbled out and landed on the wooden surface of the cupboard below. The bottle of molasses didn’t break but rolled across the surface coming to a rest against a crock of Rachel’s cooking utensils.

Fearing the noise had awakened the others, Buck threw a quick glance to the opposite side of the room. Cody stirred slightly and mumbled some gibberish in his sleep before turning toward the wall. The others seemed to be locked in slumber, oblivious to his prowling.

Buck reached into the cupboard again and carefully withdrew the bottle of laudanum. The mere touch of the glass against his skin began to calm him as he raised the bottle to his lips and drank the soothing liquid. The sudden rush of relief was overwhelming as Buck felt his knees go weak and he sank back against the cupboard, marveling at the laudanum’s power - its ability to turn pain to pleasure so quickly.

Feeling the need to keep the bottle close, Buck placed it under his bunk. He slept peacefully, but hard and awoke in the morning feeling stiff, his chest aching. He quickly discovered that another dose of the medicine not only eased the pain considerably but, also, helped clear away the cobwebs the deep sleep left behind.

The ache and nervousness began to return by mid afternoon, but after a little rest and another dose of laudanum he was feeling no pain. In fact, he felt good. He felt better than he had in a long time.

Buck realized he was taking a good deal more of the medicine than Doc Barnes had instructed, but surely if the doctor knew how badly he felt, he would allow more. Wouldn’t he? Not willing to take the chance, Buck felt it was best to hide his continued use of the laudanum. Teaspoon or the doctor might try to take it from him if they knew and he couldn’t let that happen.

He waited impatiently at night for the bunkhouse to grow quiet before reaching under the mattress for the bottle. Another deep drink from the bottle of magic brought slumber and marvelous dreams.

Sometimes the dreams consisted of only colors - bright, vivid colors flashing like bolts of lightning before his eyes. Each color had its own sound. As the colors appeared faster and faster, their sounds blended together creating the most beautiful music Buck had ever heard.

Other dreams were clear and distinct involving familiar people and places. Once Buck found himself walking down the streets and sidewalks of Rock Creek, towering over the town’s residents. He was almost twice their size and they hurried to get out of his way as he passed by. They were afraid of him. Buck felt powerful, and he liked it.

Only a week before he had dreaded the darkness and feared his dreams, but the visions of Ike that had haunted him for so long no longer came. Now he looked forward to the possibilities the night brought. Funny how things change.

----------

Kid stood in the doorway of the barn watching Buck emerge from the bunkhouse, walk easily down the porch steps and across the yard toward the barn. Only fifteen minutes earlier he had been unable to pull himself out of bed.

"So, lez take a look at that filly," Buck said, slurring his words slightly, as he walked past a baffled Kid.

"Wait a minute," Kid called as he followed Buck into the barn, his pace quickening with worry as Buck stopped and began to sway slightly as if he was dizzy.

"Buck, are you…what is wrong with your eyes!" Kid exclaimed as Buck turned toward him and Kid noticed the tightly constricted pupils and glazed expression in his friend’s eyes.

"What?"

"Your eyes look so funny, are you sure you feel alright?"

"I told you, I’m fine," Buck answered, clearly annoyed with Kid’s constant questions. But he then broke into a wide grin and added, "That’s what’s wrong with you, Kid. You azk too many questions and you worry too much."

Kid followed Buck to the horse’s stall and for a moment they discussed the young animal’s fine conformation. However, in mid sentence, Buck seemed to lose interest in the animal and simply turned away and left the barn.

Kid picked up the hay fork and began cleaning out the stalls. Maybe he did worry too much sometimes, but Buck was acting strangely. Kid couldn’t shake the feeling that something was definitely wrong.

----------

"Where is he?" Lou demanded of Kid as she led Lightning into the barn early that afternoon. Lou was still upset with Buck over his behavior toward Emily and had rehearsed what she wanted to say to him on her run back to Rock Creek.

"Nice to see you, too," Kid answered, as he put the hay rake down and walked toward the feisty young woman. Lou had been gone for almost four days and he hoped for a more affectionate reunion.

"Where’s Buck? I need to talk to him," she asked again.

"I think he’s out behind the barn. Why?"

"’Cause I’m gonna give him a piece of my mind! That’s why." Lou turned away from Kid and stomped toward the rear of the barn. Kid caught up to her in a few long strides.

"Hold on, Lou. What’s wrong?" Kid asked, surprised at Lou’s hostility.

"The way he treated Emily, that’s what’s wrong!"

"Emily?" Kid asked with a puzzled expression. "Emily was here?"

Lou looked at Kid, a bit perplexed, but then remembered he was on a run when Emily arrived at the station. Unless Buck told him, he didn’t know what happened.

"Emily was on her way back East and stopped at the station to say goodbye. Buck treated her real bad, Kid." Lou began, her memories of the incident fueling her anger. "He accused her of causin’ Ike’s death and that’s just not fair. It was an accident. Emily loved Ike, too. I’ve been waitin’ for days to tell him how wrong he was. Don’t you agree with me?"

Lou stood back, her arms folded determinedly across her chest, waiting for Kid to agree with her. When Kid didn’t answer immediately, Lou cast an inquisitive look his way, "Well?"

Hesitant to incur Lou’s wrath, Kid began slowly, "I don’t know, Lou. Hate to admit it, but, I kinda feel the same way as Buck." Holding up his hands in defense of Lou’s steely glare, he continued. "Now, I probably wouldn’t say anything to her like he did but…."

"What!" Lou exclaimed. "Men, I swear, you’re all alike! Cold hearted, insensitive, thinkin’ only of yourselves…"

"What’s wrong with us men?" Noah asked as he entered the barn. He had overheard just enough of the lovebirds’ argument to be amused.

Hoping for an ally, Kid explained his position about Emily to Noah.

"Sorry, Lou, but I gotta agree with Kid," Noah said, as he leaned back against the bales of hay. "I know nobody forced Ike between her and Neville, but, you gotta admit, Lou, Emily did a foolish thing." Noah thought for a moment before he continued, "Can’t say as I blame Buck for thinkin’ the way he does. If it had been my best friend, I’d probably said the same….maybe worse."

"Noah’s right, Lou. Buck just acted without thinkin’". Kid hesitated for a moment before continuing, "Kinda like what he did to Neville. You lose someone you love, I guess you do crazy things."

Lou’s look of consternation began to soften and completely faded away as Kid quietly added, "I can’t imagine how I’d act if somethin’ like that ever happened to you."

"Well, I can tell when I’m not wanted," Noah quipped and turned to leave the two young lovers.

Lou had assumed that everyone was as sympathetic toward Emily as she was. Apparently, she was wrong. "Probably a good thing she left," Lou thought to herself. She was still upset with Buck, but decided to leave it alone. Emily was her friend and Buck had hurt her. But, Buck was her friend, too. He wouldn’t have acted that way without a reason.

----------

Buck sat back against the wall of the barn, not quite asleep but not fully awake, enjoying the shade it offered from the afternoon sun as a cry overhead caught his attention.

The hawk swooped low into the prairie grass descending upon its prey. Buck watched as the bird reappeared with a small field mouse firmly clenched in its talons. The mouse had done nothing to deserve such punishment but merely had the misfortune of catching the predator’s eye. He pitied the mouse, but also envied the strength of the bird.

Buck had always been intrigued by birds. The Kiowa had so many rules about them. Some birds were considered good omens, others bad. Feathers of certain birds carried great importance. To eat a bird was considered bad medicine. Rachel had questioned Buck’s refusal to eat fowl and he realized that he had no answer. The duck or pheasant she occasionally cooked smelled good, and everyone seemed to enjoy it. But he couldn’t eat it. It was a rule.

The Kiowa had rules about everything. Rules about when you could speak, how you should pray, how to behave in the class you were born into. Rules prohibited speaking a dead person’s name. Too many rules.

Buck wondered what it would be like to be a bird. How wonderful it would be to soar through the sky to a place far from the rules and constraints of the earth. He wished he could be so free.

"Buck, you alright?"

Buck had not seen Kid approach or noticed that he was kneeling beside him until Kid shook him and shouted his name. Kid’s shout woke Buck from his daydream and he bolted forward, the intensity of the dream taking his breath away. He began to choke as if a piece of food was caught in his throat and his stomach turned violently trying to rid itself of its imaginary contents.

Could he really have envisioned such a terrible thing? The Kiowa were his people, yet he saw himself killing them and ripping away their flesh. The spirits would be angry and would punish him for such thoughts. He was ashamed of himself and frightened by his own thoughts.

Buck drew his knees toward his chest, wrapped his arms around them and buried his head against his arms, hiding himself from the spirit’s rebuke. He nervously rocked back and forth waiting for the punishment he knew he deserved.

Kid looked at his visibly shaken friend with concern. Not knowing quite how to offer comfort, Kid slowly began to rub Buck’s back and shoulders but Buck bristled at his touch.

"Buck," Kid began quietly, "Do you want to talk about somethin’? I mean…I know I’m not Ike, but….’

"No!" Buck looked up sharply, his voice shaking, "No Kid, you’re not! Just leave me alone!"

"Buck, somethin’s wrong. Tell me," Kid pleaded, unwilling to give up.

"Damn it, Kid! I’m fine, just leave me alone!"

In all the time Kid had known Buck, he had never heard him swear. An uneasy silence fell between them, only to be interrupted by Teaspoon’s booming voice as he rounded the corner of the barn.

"Where are you two? Takin’ a siesta back here while some damn fool kids open the corral gate and scare off our new stock!"

"What are you talking about, Teaspoon?" Kid asked, rising to his feet.

"Some bunch of young hooligans been playin’ pranks all over town! Set Johnson’s tool shed on fire last night. Now they scare off half our new stock!"

"You sure?" Kid asked.

"Hell, yes, I’m sure! There were ten new horses out there and now there’s only five! I’d say that’s half!" Teaspoon bellowed.

"No, I mean about the pranks," Kid explained, trying to calm down the older man. "You know who’s responsible?"

"Oh… Well, I got a pretty good idea ‘bout a couple of ‘em, but I can’t prove nothin’ yet," Teaspoon answered, pleased that Kid was not questioning his arithmetic skills. "Right now we gotta get them horses back. They cost the Express a pretty penny. Probably all over the country by now." Glancing around for the other riders he added, " Where is everybody?"

"Lou’s in the bunkhouse and I think Noah and Jimmy went to pick up some supplies for Rachel," Kid answered. "Rachel went out to the Thomas place. Seems Mrs. Thomas hurt her back carryin’ around all them kids and Rachel went out to help. Won’t be back ‘til supper time."

Buck struggled to his feet, ignoring Kid’s outstretched hand . The horses were probably headed back to the Sioux who had sold them to the Express. He knew he could track them easily and was anxious to get started. Tracking would take his mind off the terrible thoughts flying around his head and perhaps he could appease the angry spirits by using the skills taught him by his people.

"Go round everybody up, Kid, and let’s get goin’, Teaspoon ordered.

Buck followed Teaspoon into the barn and picked up his horse’s saddle blanket.

"Just what do you think you’re doin’, Buck?" Teaspoon asked. "You ain’t goin’. You ain’t supposed to even think ‘bout getting’ on a horse for another couple of weeks, remember?"

"But, Teaspoon, I need..."

"No ‘buts’, Buck," Teaspoon interrupted. He knew the boy took pride in his abilities and that they would find the missing stock faster with Buck tracking but he wasn’t ready to ride and Teaspoon wouldn’t take the chance of injuring him further. "I know trackin’ is your job, but Kid can locate them horses just fine this time. You’re lookin’ a bit worn out, anyway. I want you to get some rest."

"But…"

"Buck, I said no! You’re gonna do as I say." Teaspoon thought for a second, remembering Buck’s recent string of accidents, "But with Rachel gone, I better leave somebody with you. Don’t want you here by yourself."

"I’m not a child," Buck thought to himself. "I don’t need someone to hold my hand and tuck me in. Fine, go find the horses by yourself. If you can."

"Don’t need to, Teaspoon. I’ll be good, " he said with a hint of sarcasm as he dropped the blanket back in its place.

Teaspoon hesitated for a moment before he nodded in agreement. "Alright, then. The more help I got with me, the faster we’ll get them horses rounded up."

Buck watched from the doorway of the bunkhouse as the riders assembled. He knew Lou had returned, but was not interested in making things better between them. She had betrayed him and he wouldn’t forget it. Teaspoon joined the group, barking out his orders. It seemed to Buck that he took great pleasure in telling people what to do. Then there was Kid with his prying eyes and never ending questions. He thought he knew these people, but they had changed. At least Jimmy and Noah seemed the same.

Kid lingered for a moment after the others headed north away from the station. He wanted to say something to express his concern for his friend but every word he spoke seemed to set Buck off.

Buck felt Kid’s eyes on him - prying eyes trying to peer into his soul. Trying to burn a hole through him so his secrets would fall out and spill upon the ground. But he wouldn’t let him. Buck had allowed Ike into the place that held his secrets and his death had created a terrible wound there. He wouldn’t expose it again. Buck quickly turned away and closed the door. He leaned against it, closing it tightly to shield him from Kid’s eyes.

"C’mon, Kid! Daylight’s burnin’!," Teaspoon yelled impatiently as Kid reluctantly turned away and kicked Katy into a gallop to catch up with the others.

----------

Buck sat on his bed in the quiet bunkhouse, his hands gripping the medicine bundle that hung around his neck, dreading the punishment he would receive from the angered Kiowa spirits. He was very tired but when he closed his eyes, rather than darkness, he saw the lifeless bodies of the Kiowa. Their pitiful cries echoed in his ears and filled his soul with darkness.

From behind him, Buck heard the familiar voice of his brother.

"What have you done Running Buck?" Red Bear demanded of him, his voice filled with horror and hatred. "What have you done?"

"I didn’t mean to hurt them!" Buck cried out as he spun around to face his brother. He heard Red Bear’s voice again, but from the other side of the bunkhouse. Buck turned toward the voice, but still could not find his brother. Red Bear’s voice joined the cries of the dying Kiowa echoing through the bunkhouse from all directions.

Buck held his hands over his ears to stop the voices from entering but the sound pecked at his hands forcing him to move them away. He laid down on his bunk in defeat and reached for the bottle of laudanum.

Buck drank desperately from the bottle, begging for its help. He closed his eyes and watched as the medicine battled the voices, driving them from his mind, removing the visions of bloody Kiowa from his eyes. It was strong medicine. Soon Buck felt the warmth of the powerful liquid flowing through him, helping him see the truth, making him strong, too.

He didn’t need the Kiowa. They had hurt him, beat him, laughed at him. They never cared about him. Why did he try to protect them from the white man?

He didn’t need the white man either. He didn’t need someone to tell him what to do, didn’t need someone to tell his secrets to. Not again, never again. He didn’t need them. He didn’t need anybody.

----------

Because he was not yet able to work around the station, Buck found himself with a great deal of idle time. The laudanum provided relief from boredom and he found himself looking forward to each new experience the drug offered. Not only was Buck calmer and more relaxed than he had ever felt, but he questioned things he had previously taken for granted. Many lazy afternoons were spent behind the barn, contemplating the mysteries of life. He wondered why the sky was blue and the grass was green and imagined what it would look like if they were reversed. Why did the sun hurt your eyes and the moon didn’t? Why is a white man called "white" when his skin can blush pink in embarrassment or burn red in the sun?

His daydream about the Kiowa had frightened him terribly, but the spirits had not punished him. The laudanum had been victorious over the cries of the Kiowa. Perhaps the laudanum was more powerful than the spirits. He even began to question his Kiowa religion. Were the spirits really there or were they just a story handed down from one generation to another to scare children and force them to obey the Kiowa’s multitude of rules? Was the white man’s God really there or was He just a story, too? Perhaps the Kiowa spirits were the white man’s God, only seen through white eyes.

Buck’s dream had made him question how he really felt about the Kiowa. Maybe he really did hate them - he had every right to. Buck even had questions about Red Bear. His brother was a powerful, respected chief. He could have stopped his younger brother’s torment if he had wanted to. But instead, he claimed the abuse and ridicule didn’t exist. A half-white brother had certainly complicated Red Bear’s life. Perhaps he secretly enjoyed watching Buck’s misery. Perhaps Buck had been mistaken all this time. Perhaps nothing in his life was as he thought.

----------

"Can we talk for a minute, Teaspoon?" Kid asked from the doorway of the Marshal’s office.

"Thought you’d left for Belleville already," Teaspoon answered, lowering his feet from his desk top and moving his chair to a more upright position. The Marshal had sent Barnett on an errand and was enjoying the deputy’s absence. "What’s on your mind, son?" he added, motioning for Kid to sit in the chair beside his desk.

Kid sat down but didn’t quite know how to begin. Instead, he stared at the floor and turned his hat over and over in his hands.

"You wanted to say somethin’, Kid," Teaspoon reminded the boy, cocking an inquisitive eyebrow. "Or are you gonna sit there and count the floor boards?"

"I’ve got about an hour before my run and I wanted …I want to talk about Buck before I leave," Kid began. "I’m worried about him, Teaspoon. I think there’s somethin’ wrong."

"Course there’s somethin’ wrong. He’s grievin’ for his best friend."

Kid shook his head, "No. I mean… I know that. But I think there’s somethin’ else."

"What makes you say that?" Teaspoon questioned, surprised by Kid’s statement. "Rachel says he’s eatin’ some and I know he’s sleepin’ more. Seems to me he’s doin’ much better."

"Well, no offense, Teaspoon, but you’re not around him all day. I can’t explain it exactly but …he’s different," Kid insisted.

"Different? How?"

"Like… in the morning I can tell his ribs still hurt real bad," Kid said, trying to put his scattered suspicions into logical thoughts. "Sometimes he can barely get out of bed, but then a few minutes later he’s walkin’ around like nothin’s wrong."

"Go on."

"And, he can’t keep his mind on anything. Sometimes it seems like he’s…I don’t know …like he’s not really all there." Kid hesitated before continuing. Buck’s behavior was harder to explain than he anticipated. "He’s so moody. One minute he seems fine and the next he’s bitin’ somebody’s head off."

Teaspoon chuckled for a moment, "Now, Kid, to say Buck’s moody ain’t exactly no newspaper headline."

Kid sighed heavily, frustration evident on his face.

"Now, Kid," Teaspoon began, moving his chair closer to the boy. "I’m pleased you’re lookin’ out for Buck. Lord knows, he’s had a rough time lately. But I think you’re jumpin’ the gun."

Kid looked at the older man quizzically.

"You say he still hurts some. Well, he was badly injured in that fall. It’s gonna take some time to heal," Teaspoon rationalized. "Only normal to be worse in the mornin’. Probably just stiff after sleepin’ hard is all."

"Alright, I suppose that’s possible," Kid conceded. "But what about how he acts the rest of the day? I’m tellin’ you, Teaspoon, somethin’ is wrong."

"Kid," Teaspoon began, "Buck’s been through an awful lot between losing Ike and then gettin’ hurt. Son, it’s only natural that he’s gonna act different for a while. Sure, we’d like him to be his old self again all at once, but I think that’s askin’ a bit much of him."

Kid still looked unconvinced.

"But," Teaspoon continued, "Appears to me that he’s not dwellin’ on Ike’s death near as much. Maybe he’s found a way to take his mind off it. A little more time and I think he’s gonna be just fine."

Kid was frustrated. This conversation hadn’t gone the way he had hoped. Rather than believing his suspicions about Buck’s behavior, Teaspoon had excuses for it.

"Now, shouldn’t you be gettin’ ready for that run to Belleville?" Teaspoon asked, anxious to get back to his nap.

"I suppose," Kid said as he rose to his feet and headed toward the door. It was obvious Teaspoon didn’t want to discuss the matter further. He wanted to believe Teaspoon’s explanations for Buck’s strange behavior, but he just couldn’t.

----------

Buck reigned Ike’s horse to a stop at the familiar location. Over the past week the pain in his chest had diminished as the broken bones began to mend and although the pain was not entirely gone, it was bearable. It still bothered him a great deal in the mornings but a quick dose of laudanum put an end to his discomfort. He had even urged the horse into an easy lope without it causing him too much pain and they leisurely traversed the prairie, the motion of the rider and the animal melding into one. Buck had always felt a bond with these strong, beautiful animals. The Kiowa’s very existence depended upon them. Kiowa children learned to ride almost as early as they learned to walk. He enjoyed the afternoon’s ride, partly because he missed the kinship with the animal but mostly because he had been ordered not to.

Buck found himself wanting to defy Teaspoon and his authority. Since the first time they met, Buck had wanted to please the man, wanted him to fill the void inside him that growing up without a father had created. But, now that desire was gone. Buck saw him only as a power hungry white man, wielding his title of "Station Manager" over the riders and demanding the town abide by his rules because of the small tin star pinned to his chest.

To Buck’s relief, Kid left the day before on a run to Belleville, taking his questions and prying eyes with him. Kid was trying to force himself into Buck’s life, past the carefully guarded wall of secrecy, but Buck refused to allow him in. The more Kid questioned, the higher the wall became.

Rachel had left the station to help the Thomas family, again, and wouldn’t be back until late. Buck snickered to himself at the thought. Yes, Rachel was always trying to make things better, always trying to help. Problem was she never thought about what she was doing. Never thought that moving Ike’s trunk to the barn might upset him, never thought it would cause him so much pain.

Jimmy had just left on a run and Noah wouldn’t be back until that evening, leaving only Cody and Lou at the station. Cody was too consumed by himself and his pursuit of Lizzy Jackson to notice if Buck was there or not and, even though Lou didn’t seem anxious to discuss the "Emily incident", Buck tried his best to maintain his distance from her. Lou seemed to understand that he wasn’t ready to reconcile and gave him the space he wanted.

It had been easy to slip away from the station and Buck relished every minute of his defiance. Smiling in anticipation, he reached into the hollow of the tree and removed the precious bottle of laudanum from its hiding place. The old tree, ravaged by time and weather, stood not far from the spot where Ike’s funeral pyre had been built. Buck remembered that some of its damaged limbs had been used to build the fire that had consumed his friend’s body. A small hollow left in the trunk by one of the fallen limbs created a perfect hiding place.

Removing the cork, Buck brought the open bottle to his nose, breathing in the scent, allowing it to permeate his senses. It smelled so good.

He closed his eyes and drank, but did not swallow immediately. Instead he held the liquid in his mouth and savored its taste, delighting in the feel of the warm fluid as it slid against his teeth and spread across his tongue. His body cried out, protesting the selfishness of its mouth and he finally swallowed, the warm liquid flowing down his throat like a satin ribbon. Its soft touch teased and excited him. Buck felt himself grow weak and fell back against the tree trunk collapsing to the ground, every nerve in his body exploding in euphoria as a moan of pleasure released from deep within him.

It was an unusually warm day and the shade the old tree provided was a welcome respite from the heat of the afternoon sun. Buck stretched out in the cool grass underneath the tree, gazing at the sky above through the canopy of green leaves fluttering in the breeze. He felt his bones and muscles, every fiber of his body begin to soften and slowly turn to liquid, as warm and fluid as the contents of the bottle he held against his chest. If not for his skin holding the liquid inside him, Buck felt certain that he would simply flow away across the prairie.

The rustling of the breeze through the leaves of the tree created a soft, hypnotic melody. The song reminded Buck of the music other Kiowa children learned to play on their wooden flutes. Although, Buck had crafted his own flute, Red Bear was too busy with his duties as War Chief to teach him to play. Buck tried to learn on his own but the sounds his flute produced were anything but pleasant. Sadly, he resigned himself to enviously listening to the other children’s music.

Buck watched as a leaf broke free from the boughs overhead and slowly floated toward him. Reaching out to catch the falling leaf and capture its song, Buck felt it enter his body through his hand. The leaf was carried down his arm and through his body, as if floating on a stream, its gentle music filling his entire being with a feeling of complete contentment.

Buck wished he could stay there forever – that this feeling would never end. But he couldn’t let anyone discover his secret. Although miles away, he was certain he could hear the jingle of Teaspoon’s spurs on the sidewalk as he left his office and headed toward the station. The creak of the buggy’s wheel in the distance told him that Rachel was on her way home, too. They would come looking for him if he stayed - searching for him like a child who had strayed too far from home.

----------

The heat of the day refused to loosen its grip, even as darkness fell on Rock Creek. The fire fueling the cook stove as Rachel prepared supper had only made matters worse, leaving the bunkhouse warm and stuffy.

Buck decided to go to bed early. Although he hated to admit it, the ride earlier in the day had aggravated his sore ribs and his chest was throbbing again. The thick layer of bandages Doc Barnes insisted he wear helped support the broken bones, but were hot and uncomfortable. He looked forward to the rest a soft bunk and the bottle of laudanum would bring.

Hoping to circulate the air in the bunkhouse, Buck propped open the windows at the far end of the room near the bunks and then opened the window in the spare bedroom. He was rewarded for his efforts as a gentle breeze was drawn across the room.

Turning to leave, his eyes fell upon the stack of books resting on the table beside the bed. Buck felt a pang of guilt realizing that Ike’s drawing was still where Lou had placed it two weeks before. How could he have forgotten something so important? Buck sat on the edge of the bed, slowly removing the books that weighed down the piece of paper. The books had served their purpose, the paper had been pressed flat and showed little evidence of its earlier damage.

Ike’s image stared at Buck as if to say, "Did you forget me?"

The pang of guilt grew stronger as Buck realized he hadn’t thought of Ike very often in the past week. He had been angry with the others at the station for putting aside their grief so quickly, but he had done much the same since his accident – since discovering laudanum. Rather than remembering his friend, he had been consumed with his own selfish thoughts and desires. With the help of laudanum, he had even allowed himself to feel good. But his best friend was dead, he wasn’t supposed to feel good. At first he used the drug to soothe his heartache, but lately he looked forward to the physical pleasures it brought instead. Even his visit to Ike’s funeral pyre earlier in the day had been for pure enjoyment, not to feel closer to Ike.

"I’m sorry," he murmured to the drawing. He had strayed. The laudanum had clouded his thoughts and drawn him away from what was important. If the laudanum was the problem, then he would stop taking it.

Buck looked at the drawing again and felt a little better. He needed to put it back in the trunk with Ike’s other belongings where it would be safely tucked away. Trying to ignore the pain in his chest and the nervous feeling that came upon him this time of night, he slowly rose to his feet and headed to the barn. Sleep could wait a little while longer.

----------

"Billy, do you really think I’m pretty?" Lizzy asked, as she tickled Cody’s nose with a piece of straw from the floor of the hayloft.

Cody had been successful in his pursuit of the young Miss Jackson and offered to walk her home from Bible study that evening. He waited for Lizzy outside church and, offering his arm to her in gentlemanly fashion, escorted her through the streets of town pointing out fascinating bits of knowledge and amusement. It soon became evident to Cody, by the young lady’s flirtatious manners and suggestive smile, that she wanted to study a lot more than the Bible.

The cracks between the dried boards of the roof allowed scattered rays of moonlight to filter into the loft, softly illuminating the porcelain skinned beauty before him. Cody could not believe his luck. Not only was she beautiful, but willing! He thought to himself that he must have done something very good to deserve this, but he couldn’t remember what.

"Why, Lizzy, you’re the most beautiful girl in Rock Creek. The most beautiful girl I’ve ever laid eyes on," Cody answered with a devilishly shy smile. "You’re so sweet and kind, the sort of girl a man dreams about."

"Oh, Billy," Lizzy cooed, edging closer to the blonde rider. "You make me feel so special."

"You are special, Lizzy," Cody continued in his string of compliments. "Just thinkin’ ‘bout this evenin’, ‘bout how your eyes out-shine the stars will fill the lonely hours of my ride tomorrow."

"I’ll be ridin’ through dangerous Indian territory on a special run, tomorrow," Cody said, pulling his shoulders back and puffing out his chest to accentuate the seriousness of his statement. "Teaspoon chose me over all the other riders to carryout this important mission."

True, Cody did have a run the next day, through Sioux territory, but the Sioux had recently signed a treaty and posed no threat to the Express riders. He had been chosen to take the additional run for no reason other than he was the only one available to go.

"Billy, you must be careful!" Lizzy gasped. "Those terrible savages might try to scalp you!" Leaning closer to him, Lizzy tenderly picked up a strand of Cody’s long yellow hair and twirled it between her fingers. "And I do so love your hair."

Cody nearly jumped out of his boots at Lizzy’s touch. He had hoped that perhaps they would hold hands, perhaps as the evening wore on he would be allowed to put his arm gently around her shoulders. But this was too good to be true!

"Lizzy… I might not come back tomorrow… it bein’ a dangerous mission and all. But I’d die a happy man just rememberin’ you." Cody lowered his head, feigning serious thought before continuing, "Do you think…I mean…would you be so kind…I mean…might I have a kiss for good luck, Lizzy? Just a little one."

"Why, of course you can have a kiss, Billy." Lizzy smiled provocatively, pulling Cody toward her by the strand of his hair. "And if you say ‘please’," she whispered, "you can have more than that."

----------

Buck awkwardly climbed the ladder to the hayloft, one hand holding a lantern and Ike’s drawing, the other holding onto the rungs of the ladder. He stopped about half way up, startled by the sounds of Cody’s laughter and feminine giggles. For a moment he was tempted to barge in on Cody and his conquest of the week, but thought better of it. He wanted some privacy with Ike’s possessions and he wasn’t going to get it now. Cody and the young lady evidently wanted their privacy, too.

He slowly descended the ladder, gritting his teeth against the pain the movement caused. Once on the ground, he sat the lantern on a post near the ladder to the loft and wrapped his arms around his aching chest waiting for the pain to lessen. A soft whinny from the horse stalls in the rear of the barn caught his attention and he smiled briefly, remembering the young filly he and Kid had admired earlier. Still cradling his injured chest he made his way to the back of the barn, leaving the lantern on the post.

The animal was indeed something special. Not only was her skeletal structure ideal, but her markings were beautiful – a dark red coat with four white stockings and a perfectly symmetrical blaze down the length of her nose. Buck coaxed the young horse toward him and gently ran his hand over her head and neck, enjoying the feel of her velvety muzzle against his skin. The filly flicked her ears nervously, unsure how to react to the human touch. Obediently heeding her mother’s call, the young horse skittered away.

Tired and hurting, Buck decided to heed the call of his bunk and left the barn, promising that he would put Ike’s portrait back in the trunk tomorrow, forgetting to put out the flame in the lantern.

----------

Buck put Ike’s drawing back on the table in the spare room. It had been safe there for two weeks and surely would be for one more night. He tried to sleep, but lay awake for several hours, fighting the craving for the laudanum. He tried to tell himself that he didn’t want it, but his body insisted otherwise. His chest still hurt and there was a strange ringing sound in his ears. He tried to lie upon his hands to prevent them from shaking, but it didn’t help. Even though a pleasant breeze was blowing through the room, he was sweating. He tossed and turned trying to escape the craving but the movements only intensified the ache in his chest. Buck glanced around the room to ensure the others were asleep before he reached under his bunk for the bottle. Lou and Noah rested soundly in their bunks, but Cody wasn’t there. Buck presumed he had found the loft a more pleasant place to spend the night. His determination faltering, Buck brought the bottle to his lips, promising himself it was the last time. Tomorrow would be better. Tomorrow he would quit.

----------

Cody awoke in the darkness of the hayloft to the sounds of a cat fight in the barn below. For a moment he didn’t know where he was, but the sensation of Lizzy’s soft breath on his bare chest triggered pleasant memories of the evening. Sleep threatened to overtake him once more as he draped his arm around Lizzy’s waist and settled back down into their bed of straw. A smug smile crossed his face as he envisioned looks of envy from the other riders. He would have a story to tell the boys in the morning!

The sound of neighing and nervous movements of the horses in their stalls below called Cody back from sleep once again. He bolted upright, recognizing the unmistakable smell of smoke wafting its way through the barn. Jumping to his feet, he quickly pulled on his trousers and hurried to the opening of the loft. His fears were confirmed as bright orange flames illuminated the darkness below. Gaining strength from the consumption of the loose straw on the barn floor, the fire danced confidently up the dry timber posts supporting the frame of the barn. The old wood crackled and popped in protest as the greedy flames advanced.

"Lizzy! Wake up!" Cody shouted to the sleeping girl.

Locked in peaceful dreams, Lizzy didn’t respond to his call. Cody stumbled through the darkness of the loft toward her as the heat of the flames below began to rise through the cracks in the floorboards.

"Wake up, now!" Cody insisted, roughly shaking the girl.

Lizzy began to stir as a smile of remembrance crossed her lips. "Oh, Billy," she mumbled softly, reaching out to find Cody in the darkness.

"Not now, Lizzy! We gotta get out of here!" Cody grabbed Lizzy’s arm and began to pull her to her feet.

Startled by Cody’s brusque tugging on her arm and the urgency in his voice, Lizzy snapped awake. "What’s wrong?" she demanded.

"The barn’s on fire!"

"What?" Lizzy asked in disbelief.

"The barn’s on fire!" Cody shouted again. "Get your clothes on quick! We gotta get out of here!"

Lizzy quickly jumped to her feet and threw her dress over her head, managing to fasten a few of the buttons before Cody grabbed her hand. Splinters of old wood reached up to grab their bare feet as they hurriedly crossed the loft. An eerie orange glow from below outlined the boards of the floor.

Cody looked into the opening, his heart pounding faster, as he noticed the bottom half of the ladder engulfed in flames. "The ladder’s on fire, Lizzy! We’re gonna half to jump part of the way!"

"What?" Lizzy cried, panic filling her voice.

"It’ll be alright. I promise." Cody answered, trying to convince himself as well as the frightened girl at his side.

"I’ll go down first, then you jump to me." he instructed.

"I can’t! It’s too far!"

"Lizzy, we have to! There’s no other way down!" Seeing the fear in Lizzy’s eyes, Cody pulled the trembling girl to him and spoke in the softest voice he could muster, "We’re gonna be fine, Lizzy. Trust me. You stay right here while I go down."

Lizzy nervously nodded her head in agreement as Cody began his descent. The flames spread rapidly through the dry lumber of the barn, reaching out toward Cody as he quickly made his way down the ladder. His heart pounded harder within his chest as he surveyed the scene below. The loose straw on the floor had no defense against the voracious appetite of the fire. The flames had traveled up the support posts and now licked against the bottom of the loft.

Feeling the heat from the flames below on his bare feet, Cody realized he could advance no further down the ladder. Pushing himself off the wooden step, he jumped the remaining ten feet to safety, narrowly avoiding the encroaching flames. His ankle twisted underneath him as he landed unceremoniously on the dirt floor.

Ignoring the pain in his ankle, Cody quickly jumped to his feet and called to Lizzy. "Hold your skirt up and stop when I tell you!"

Lizzy hesitated for a moment as she looked into the opening. Her head began to swim at the thought of descending into the flames below, but as the haze of smoke in the loft grew thicker, threatening to steal away the remaining oxygen, she gathered her wits and began to climb down the ladder. Gathering her skirt in one hand she slowly descended until Cody instructed her to stop.

"Jump to me!" Cody shouted.

Lizzy looked down into the flames beneath her and panicked. "I can’t!"

"Yes, you can! Push away from the ladder!"

Paralyzed with fear, Lizzy stood motionless on the wooden step. Cody watched helplessly from below until the heat from the approaching fire burned her feet and Lizzy jumped toward his outstretched arms, her skirt brushing against the flames. The force of Lizzy’s body against him caused Cody’s injured ankle to buckle and they rolled onto the soft dirt floor, gasping for breath.

Relieved to be on the ground, Lizzy didn’t realize the skirt of her dress was on fire until Cody began throwing dirt on the flames spreading through the cotton fabric. Panicking, she tried desperately to pat out the fire with her hands, until Cody pulled them away from the burning fabric and rolled Lizzy’s trembling body back and forth in the dirt until the flames were extinguished.

----------

Attempting to prevent another night of mischief from the pranksters, Teaspoon completed his second walk through the streets of Rock Creek. He enjoyed the quiet the late night offered. It gave him time to think without Barnett or one of the riders demanding his attention. His thoughts tonight centered on Kid’s earlier comments about Buck’s behavior. Although he had dismissed Kid’s concerns about Buck, he had noticed the boy acting strangely at supper that night. Buck appeared to be locked up in his own world, completely oblivious of the others around him. He seemed extremely nervous and had snapped at Lou for merely asking him to pass the sugar. Buck hadn’t acted like that before, even in his deepest moments of grief. Teaspoon realized that Kid was right, his duties as Marshal did force him to spend less time at the station. Perhaps there was something else bothering Buck. Teaspoon decided to talk to the boy in the morning.

Assured that the business district was locked up tight and the residents of the small town were safely tucked in for the night, the weary Marshal headed back to his office hoping for a few hours of sleep before Rock Creek sprang to life again at daybreak. Reaching the door of his office, his attention was diverted by a faint orange glow softly spreading across the night sky at the edge of town.

"Damn, them," Teaspoon muttered under his breath as he started back down Main Street. His pace quickened as he realized the orange glow hung over the Express station.

Teaspoon ran into the yard of the station as Cody and Lizzy stumbled through the open door of the barn and collapsed on the ground, gulping in the fresh air as the fire crept further through the building behind them. Teaspoon looked at the two in amazement, wondering why they were in the barn at this time of night. Realization settled upon him as he noticed their state of undress.

"What did you do?" Teaspoon demanded, considering for a moment that the fire might have been an accident and not a prank.

"Nothin’, Teaspoon," Cody answered defensively. "We… we were asleep in the loft. I woke up and the place was on fire!"

Realizing Cody was not to blame, Teaspoon pulled the boy to his feet. "Get the others out here while I start moving the horses!"

Hampered by his sprained ankle, Cody limped toward the bunkhouse. Lizzy ran ahead of him, stopping on the porch to frantically ring the dinner bell in an attempt to summon help from the neighbors. Awakened by the sound of the bell, Noah and Lou were already partially dressed when Cody burst into the bunkhouse.

"What’s goin’ on?" Noah asked as he hurriedly pulled on his boot. The expression on Lou’s face repeated the question.

Cody leaned against the bunk, trying to catch his breath. "The barn’s on fire. Teaspoon’s movin’ the horses out now."

Fearing for her precious Lightning, Lou ran past Cody into the night, followed by Noah, trying to pull on his second boot as he ran through the bunkhouse.

Cody rummaged through the dark room trying to find something to cover his bare feet before going back to help the others. Satisfied with a pair of Jimmy’s old boots, he sat down and pulled them on, wincing at the pain in his ankle. As Cody’s eyes adjusted to the dim light in the bunkhouse, he noticed Buck, still sound asleep in his bunk. Wondering how on earth anyone could sleep through the commotion, Cody shook Buck’s shoulder, attempting to wake him.

"Wake up, Buck!"

The laudanum induced sleep was heavy. Buck stirred slightly, hearing Cody’s plea in the distance, but the thick fog separating dream from reality prohibiting him from answering.

Growing irritated, Cody shook him harder. "Fine time to be sleepin’, Buck! C’mon!"

Buck’s lack of response confused Cody, but he didn’t have time to think about it. Instead, he rushed out of the bunkhouse, as quickly as his injured ankle allowed, and into the station yard. A line of townspeople, alerted of the emergency, passed buckets from the water troughs to the burning building in a meek attempt to combat the fire. The dry boards of the building surrendered quickly to their enemy as the flames climbed higher.

Teaspoon had already retrieved several of the horses stabled in the back of the barn and secured their lead ropes to the hitching posts in front of the bunkhouse. Cody limped toward the blazing structure as Lou emerged leading Lightning and Ike’s horse to safety. Noah quickly followed, managing to handle his own horse, the mare and her new filly.

Cody tried to grab Teaspoon’s arm as the older man ran past him. "How many left, Teaspoon?" Cody asked, raising his voice enough to be heard over the roar of the fire, the shouts of the townspeople and the sound of clanging buckets passed down the fire brigade.

"I reckon there’s five or six more plus all the gear inside if we can get it out!" Teaspoon shouted back. "Is this all the help we got?" he questioned as Lou and Noah ran back into the barn again.

"I can’t wake Buck up!" Cody shouted above the din created by the growing crowd of onlookers.

Teaspoon stopped and ran back to Cody. "Is somethin’ wrong with him?" he asked, concern for his injured rider evident in his voice.

"Dunno, I just couldn’t wake him up. Want me to try again?"

Teaspoon debated for a moment, remembering Kid’s concerns. Buck had appeared to be in some pain during supper, but it had been over two weeks since his accident. If something else were wrong, surely it would have been noticed before now. Convincing himself the boy was merely overtired, he answered, "No. Leave him be. Let’s get them animals out of there."

----------

Brightly colored wild horses, their coats shades of blue, green, red and yellow streaked across the open prairie. The magical creatures ran through the tall grass, leaving a trail of color behind them, transforming the prairie into a rainbow colored crazy quilt.

It was a beautiful site and Buck didn’t want to leave his dream. But, the chaotic sounds drifting through the open windows of the bunkhouse pulled him away and he slowly awoke to an empty room and the noise in the yard. Groggy from the laudanum, Buck managed to pull on his trousers and stumbled onto the porch, nearly falling over Rachel as she knelt beside Lizzy, trying to comfort the shaken girl.

Realizing the futility of their efforts, Teaspoon ordered the townspeople to abandon their bucket brigade. The site of a small group of people throwing pails of water into the inferno was almost comical. There weren’t enough buckets, troughs of water or volunteers in Rock Creek to battle a blaze of this size. The weary, smoke streaked faces of the riders and townspeople watched from a distance as the fire claimed the structure, its flames rising victoriously into the night sky.

In a drugged stupor, Buck stumbled toward Teaspoon and the riders assembled in the yard catching bits of their conversation.

"Think them kids are responsible for this Teaspoon?" Lou asked.

"I reckon so. Probably tossed a lantern into that pile of straw near the loft," Teaspoon answered. "Evidently they got somethin’ against the Express, but I can’t imagine what we done to deserve this punishment."

The words spun around in Buck’s head at a dizzying speed as memories of the evening came rushing back. He remembered climbing the ladder to the loft, but heard voices and went back down. He vaguely remembered setting a lantern on a post near the ladder to the loft. Buck closed his eyes tightly, trying to envision his actions. He had been disappointed that he couldn’t put Ike’s drawing back in the trunk and went to bed. No… he went to the horse stalls first, then went to bed. Something was missing. He didn’t remember putting out the lantern. But surely he had. He wouldn’t forget something so important. Still, he couldn’t remember.

Buck had never experienced an actual "vision quest", but after an eagle appeared to him during his trials in the Kiowa village, providing him guidance and strength to endure the ritual, he considered the eagle his "spirit guide". In Buck’s drugged mind, he saw the regal bird in the opening of the loft and reached for the medicine pouch around his neck, thanking the eagle for its protection. But the spirit’s intent became clear as the eagle’s wings burst into flame as it took flight. Buck’s eyes opened wide in horror as he crouched low to avoid the flaming deity as it flew toward him leaving a trail of fire in the sky. Suddenly, the flames devouring the floor of the hayloft disappeared, the floor and the contents of the loft dropping into the fury below. Now it was clear to him. The appearance of the spirit wasn’t to protect, but to punish. This was his punishment for killing the Kiowa in his dream, for doubting the strength of the spirits. The spirit had used his carelessness to destroy what was dear to him.

"No," Buck mumbled, his eyes fixed on the area below the loft, now blazing with increased ferocity.

Hearing his voice, the riders turned around. "Nice of you to finally join us, Buck," Cody said sarcastically as he took a seat on the ground to relieve the pressure in his swollen ankle.

Teaspoon breathed a sigh of relief at the sight of the boy, but the look of shock on Buck’s face startled him.

"What is it, son?"

Buck felt as if his chest was about to explode from the pounding of his heart and for a moment his legs felt too heavy to move. But he couldn’t fail again. Forcing himself forward, Buck pushed past Teaspoon and Noah and staggered toward the barn.

Noah was surprised by Buck’s odd reaction and tried to grab his dazed friend’s arm, but Buck fought against him.

"NO!"

Teaspoon and the riders watched in confusion as Buck broke free from Noah’s grip and ran toward the blazing building.

"What’s he doin’?" Lou asked in amazement.

Rachel watched the scene from her position on the porchsteps, as perplexed as the others by Buck’s behavior, until a sudden realization swept over her. "Oh, my God," she whispered.

Rachel’s cry broke through the night as she ran across the yard, "He’s after Ike’s trunk! Stop him!"

The drug clouding his judgement, Buck ran without hesitation into the barn. Once inside, the intense heat of the fire and its thick black smoke wrapped around him like a shroud as he stumbled further into the building. Focused on his responsibility, Buck didn’t feel the flames against his skin as he tossed pieces of burning lumber out of his way in his search of Ike’s trunk. The heavy smoke clung to his eyes, blinding him. Closing them tightly, Buck tried to rub the effects away, but it felt as if shards of glass were cutting his eyelids. Robbed of air, his lungs crying out in agony, Buck gasped for breath only to draw in more smoke. Dazed and disoriented, the ground suddenly rushed up to meet him as Noah knocked him to the barn floor.

Buck tried desperately to free himself from Noah’s hold, but Noah was just as determined and half dragged, half carried him out of the collapsing building. Teaspoon and Noah wrestled Buck to the ground, holding him firmly as he continued to fight against them.

"You ain’t goin’ back in there," Teaspoon said emphatically. "It’s gone," he added and slightly loosened his hold around Buck’s chest as he coughed and gasped for clean air.

The weight of the roof growing too great for the crumbling walls, the barn groaned and drew its final breath.

Buck’s attempt to save Ike’s trunk would have been unsuccessful, even if he had found it. When the floor of the loft collapsed, the trunk landed on a corner of its base on the barn floor below. The impact against the hard ground caused the frame to contort and the hinges broke, allowing the lid to fly open. Flaming pieces of the loft floor landed in the open trunk, immediately igniting the articles of Ike’s clothing Rachel had packed away. In a matter of seconds, Ike’s belongings had been reduced to ash.

Realizing he was too late, Buck slowly stopped fighting against the two men protecting him from his foolish actions and his body fell limp in defeat. Not yet sure he had come to his senses, they didn’t release Buck but continued to hold him down as he silently laid blame. He had angered the spirits and the fire was his punishment. Ike’s most treasured possessions had been entrusted to him and he had destroyed them. Buck slowly raised his head facing the spirit’s retribution. His guilt became to great to bear and he began to shake uncontrollably under its weight. Hot tears stung his eyes and mingled with the dirt and smoke on his face creating rivers of sadness. He had failed his best friend, again.

----------

Only the evening before, Buck had decided to stop taking laudanum, but as the light of a new day revealed the devastation he had caused, he wanted the drug so badly it hurt. He wanted it, not only to relieve the physical suffering his dependence had created, but to numb his mind to overwhelming feelings of guilt. Guilt that he had caused the fire, that Cody and Lizzy could have been killed, and that because of him, Ike’s most treasured possessions had been destroyed.

Portions of the front and west sides of the barn remained upright with a piece of the roof hanging precariously between what was left of the walls. Several of the large posts that had supported the roof still stood, acting as sentinels over the smoldering heap of charred lumber and rubble. Somewhere in the waste lay the remains of Ike’s possessions.

Teaspoon had been quick to assume the fire had been started by the group of young trouble-makers, but Buck knew differently. A part of him wanted to confess his guilt, but as he rehearsed what he would say, Buck realized he couldn’t tell Teaspoon the truth. He was convinced the fire was punishment from the Kiowa spirits. To tell Teaspoon that he had left a lantern burning in the barn was bad enough, but to have to explain that the spirits had used his carelessness to punish him for turning into birds that killed and ate his own people was just too much. It all made perfect sense to Buck, but he was terrified Teaspoon would think he had lost his mind and would lock him away somewhere. There was a good chance the pranksters would never be identified, and even if they were, because of their string of mischief, it would be easy to blame the barn fire on them. Buck decided to keep the truth to himself. Just one more thing to hide.

The call of the bottle hidden under his bed, just a few steps away, was strong, but he couldn’t answer it - not with a bunkhouse full of people. Teaspoon, after standing watch over the fire for the rest of the night while it burned itself out, had gone to his room for a few hours sleep, but Rachel and the other riders remained in the bunkhouse.

"Ow!" Cody whined as Rachel wrapped the last of the bandage around his swollen ankle.

"I don’t think you’re gonna be makin’ that run today, Cody. That ankle’s swelled up big as a watermelon." Rachel looked through tired eyes at the others scattered around the table, "Lou, Noah, looks like it’s gonna be one of you."

"I’ll go," Lou quickly volunteered. "Anything to get away from Cody’s cryin’."

A mischievous grin crossing her face, Lou continued, "But… it might be fun to stay and watch Cody try to explain to Lizzy’s father just what they were doin’ in the loft last night."

"Lou’s right, Cody," Noah added with a chuckle. "You best heal quick. You gonna need to run when he comes lookin’ for you."

"Gonna need to run from Jimmy, too, when he sees his boot," Rachel added with a grin, holding up the boot that had to be cut away from Cody’s swollen ankle.

Buck sat at the far end of the table, unamused. He had suffered mild burns on his hands in the fire and, although he hadn’t felt any pain at the time, they were beginning to hurt. He tried to hold his fork steady as he picked at his breakfast but his hands were shaking. The jittery feeling inside him was so bad he was certain he would jump out of his skin before the bunkhouse emptied and he could finally get to the bottle under his bunk.

"Well, the way I figure it," Cody retorted, "I’m a hero, saving Lizzy’s life and all. Besides, because of my lightning quick reaction, we had time to get the important things out of the barn."

Cody’s words flew across the table and hit Buck like a slap in the face.

An uneasy silence settled upon the room. Lou and Noah both felt badly that Ike’s trunk had been forgotten, but saving the animals and equipment had been foremost in their thoughts. The blonde rider, oblivious to his blunder, scanned the somber faces around the table staring back at him. It was a joke, why weren’t they laughing?

Too distraught to speak, Buck hung his head to avoid the force of Cody’s insult. But to his horror, the stack of hotcakes on the plate before him had been replaced by Ike’s family Bible. He frantically pushed himself away from the table, knocking the chair over backwards, as the Bible burst into flames.

Dumbfounded by his reaction, Rachel and the others stared at him, not sure what to do. Buck hadn’t uttered a single word since Noah pulled him out of the barn and he had been so upset, they were half-afraid to approach him for fear of saying or doing the wrong thing. Rachel thought he might feel better if he got cleaned up and put on some fresh clothes, but even that simple suggestion seemed to irritate him.

Buck’s heart pounded so hard he was certain it would burst from his chest. Why were they looking at him like that? Couldn’t they see it? He looked from the startled faces around him back to the plate, but saw only an uneaten stack of hotcakes.

Buck began to feel dizzy as thoughts swirled rapidly through his head. Ike’s Bible was there - he saw it. At least he thought he did. Maybe he was going crazy.

Rachel slowly approached the shaken young man. "Buck, Cody didn’t mean nothin’…"

Before Rachel could apologize for Cody, Buck felt the overpowering need to escape and bolted past her to the door and down the porchsteps. He reached for the lead rope securing Ike’s horse to the hitching post, but stopped himself and mounted his own horse instead. He would never ride Ike’s horse again – he would probably hurt it, too. Buck’s red mare quickly reacted to the panic in her rider as they sped out of the station yard, narrowly avoiding a collision with Kid and Katy returning from their run.

----------

Cody’s words and the site of Ike’s Bible in flames chased Buck out of the bunkhouse and across the prairie. He kicked his mare harder to out run them, finally feeling the intensity of the chase decrease when the familiar site came into view. The exertion and his anxiety caused him to breathe hard and fast, but the tight bandage around his chest prevented him from drawing a deep, calming breath. Quickly glancing over his shoulder to ensure his pursuers had been left behind, he slid off the horse and stumbled toward the hiding place.

The laudanum didn’t bring the rapid explosion of pleasure Buck had become accustomed to. But it didn’t matter - he was seeking safety, not pleasure. Impatiently waiting for the shaky feeling to be driven away, Buck leaned back against the tree and began to clumsily unwrap the bothersome bandages around his chest. The cord of his medicine bundle tangled with the long strip of cloth, so he removed the pouch from around his neck, laying it aside until he finished with the bandage. Able to breathe deeper, he felt a little better, but he was still trembling. Where was the safe feeling?

Buck picked up the medicine pouch, intending to put it back around his neck, but something stopped him. He rubbed his fingers against the pouch, turning it over again and again in his shaking hands. Even without opening the pouch, he could identify each item wrapped safely inside by its outline against the cloth bag. Items that bound him to the spirits - a medicine bundle intended to protect and guide him. But he didn’t feel very guided or protected by his faith. Buck’s grip around the bag grew tighter as he allowed his anger to surface. The spirits had punished him severely for such a small sin. He hadn’t really killed the Kiowa - it was just a dream. Everyone had strange dreams sometimes. How could they be so cruel? He had tried all his life to follow the practices of his religion, but now, when he needed them the most, the spirits had turned against him.

He had begged the spirits to protect Ike, but his best friend still died. When the nightmares came, he pleaded with them to take the dreams away, but the images still came night after night. He had only dreamed about killing the Kiowa - he would never really hurt them. On the contrary, he had always tried to protect them. His runaway imagination did not deserve such strong punishment.

Buck’s grip tightened around the bag until his knuckles turned white as he remembered the vision of the magical eagle soaring through the sky toward him, leaving a trail of fire in its wake. The spirit had deceived him into believing it would protect Ike’s possessions, only to destroy them before his eyes.

The numb, safe feeling still wouldn’t come. Impatiently, Buck pulled the bottle of laudanum from the hollow in the tree trunk and began to remove the cork when the reason dawned on him. He held two forms of medicine in his hands - the white man’s and the Kiowa’s. They were fighting against each other. He couldn’t have them both.

The medicine bundle was his tie to the Kiowa religion, a tie to his people. People who abused and laughed at him - spirits who ignored his pleas and tricked him.

The bottle brought wonderful feelings of comfort and pleasure. It prevented the nightmare and replaced it with beautiful visions. The laudanum offered peace.

The lure of the bottle and its promises was strong, but how could he discard something he had believed in his entire life? He vaguely remembered sitting in Doc Barnes’ office, wondering which medicine was stronger, never dreaming he would have to choose between them.

In his opium clouded mind, Buck saw his enemies approaching and knew he had to make a decision – he needed protection. Lou and Emily skipped hand in hand, like school girls, across the thick green grass marking Ike’s funeral pyre. Buck heard something behind him and quickly turned to see Kid peeking out from behind the tree trunk, watching his every move. Spinning toward another sound, Buck felt his chest tighten until he could no longer breathe as Rachel and Teaspoon approached him, shaking their heads sadly, a huge lock and key in Teaspoon’s hands.

Buck cowered back against the trunk of the tree to hide himself, but the pounding of his heart betrayed his location. Making his choice, Buck tossed the medicine bundle aside and brought the bottle to his lips, allowing the drug to shield him from the pain in his life.

----------

At the sound of an approaching horse, Buck returned the bottle to its hiding place and leaned back against the tree. He didn’t need to watch for the rider to identify him, he recognized the horse’s gait. Buck would have preferred to ride off and not be subjected to another round of questions, but his body just felt too heavy to move.

Kid dismounted, leaving Katy to graze near Buck’s horse. He was relieved to see Buck sitting in the grass under a gnarled old tree, but was surprised by how calm he appeared. From the description of what happened in the bunkhouse, Kid had expected his friend to still be very upset, but Buck seemed perfectly relaxed. Still dirty, shirtless and barefoot, he leaned back against the trunk of the tree, his eyes closed. His smoke streaked face hinted of the night’s events, but his demeanor certainly didn’t.

"Thought I’d find you here," Kid began as he approached the silent figure. "I was thinkin’ we might talk for a bit."

Buck opened his eyes, but offered no resistance. Taking it as a positive sign, Kid sank into the damp grass near his friend. He sat for a moment, twirling a blade of grass around in his hands, trying to decide where to begin. "Rachel said you burned your hands. You alright?"

Buck closed his eyes again, without offering an answer. His hands didn’t hurt anymore.

Kid was slightly encouraged. The last time they spoke Buck nearly bit his head off. He wasn’t answering, but he wasn’t yelling, either. "I heard ‘bout what happened. I know you’re upset over losin’ Ike’s things, but they’re just things, Buck."

Kid glanced at Buck, trying to gauge his reaction, but there was none. "It ain’t gonna change what you and Ike had, you know that," he continued. "Teaspoon’s gonna catch whoever’s responsible sooner or later. They’ll get what’s comin’ to ‘em."

Kid saw Buck’s jaw clench at his comment. He was hopeful his words of encouragement had gotten through to Buck, but when his friend’s eyes opened, he was met with an icy stare.

"Are you finished?" Buck asked, his voice as cold as his eyes.

"Damn it, Buck! I’m just trying to help!"

"Don’t recall askin’ for your help, Kid. Why don’t you just mind your own business?"

"Because I’m worried about you." Kid shook his head in frustration. Why was he being so difficult? "You been actin’ strange ever since you got hurt. This ain’t like you."

Kid sighed uneasily and pulled up another blade of grass. He had spent most of his ride back to Rock Creek trying to sort out Buck’s strange behavior and had arrived at a conclusion. "Did you start drinkin’, Buck?"

"What?" Buck asked in amazement.

Meeting Buck’s icy glare, Kid repeated, "Did you start drinkin?"

Insulted by Kid’s question, Buck looked away in disgust. "I don’t believe you could ask me that. You know how I feel about liquor."

"I know how you used to feel. But I’m not so sure anymore."

Disgust turned to anger as Buck grabbed the collar of Kid’s shirt and pulled him toward him. "Do I smell like a bottle of whiskey, Kid? Do I? No, I don’t." Kid struggled against the choke-hold while Buck continued to fume. "You think you’re so smart, think you know me so well. You don’t know me at all."

Kid finally broke free from Buck’s grip, his frustration mounting. "Well, somethin’s goin’ on! You stumble around in a daze! One minute you’re hurtin’, the next you’re not! Look at yourself, you’re a mess!" Realizing getting angry wasn’t going to help, Kid drew a deep breath to calm down before he continued. "Why won’t you tell me what’s wrong?"

"Maybe I’m just tired of people tellin’ me how I’m supposed to feel and what I’m supposed to do," Buck spat back, his voice low and full of venom. "I don’t want your help, and I don’t want you here."

Buck had always been the peace-keeper of the group. This new antagonistic attitude baffled Kid. Kid started to say something but realized he was wasting his breath. Frustrated and confused he jumped to his feet and stormed away, more determined than ever to find the answer.

----------

Teaspoon’s growing concerns prompted him to try to talk with Buck several times, but on each occasion he was met with firm resistance from the young Indian. It seemed the harder he pressed, the wider Buck’s stubborn streak became - he had even snapped back at his employer a few times. Normally, Teaspoon would not have put up with such disrespect, but losing Ike’s belongings in such a terrible way seemed to bring on a new wave of grief and it was obvious Buck was having a hard time dealing with the added loss. The sight of the burned out structure in the yard served as a constant reminder, but clearing away the rubble was a large task and would take some time.

In addition to his ill temper, the Express family was startled by changes in Buck’s appearance. His dark eyes, once full of warmth, were now flat and empty. Always well groomed, Buck no longer seemed to care if his hair was combed or if his shirt was clean, let alone tucked into his trousers. The absence of his medicine pouch was noticed by everyone. The only time anyone remembered seeing him without it was when they went swimming. He even wore it when he slept. But when questioned about the pouch, he flatly refused to comment.

At one time or another Teaspoon had helped each of his young charges wrestle with obstacles in their lives and, although his hair grew grayer with each incident, they had always been able to sort things out. But this was different. Teaspoon didn’t have a clue how to handle Buck and it weighed on the older man. Fearing he would only push the boy further away, he stopped questioning him. He couldn’t force Buck to talk if he didn’t want to. Teaspoon thought perhaps the boy would benefit by going back to work, but Doc Barnes wanted him to wait at least another week. Buck’s injury had provided him with a great deal of idle time – long hours spent dwelling on things that could not be changed. Riding for the Express again would occupy his time and give him something else to think about. Surely once he started being productive again his attitude would improve, if they could only tolerate him until then.

----------

The sounds of gentle snoring filled the bunkhouse as Buck removed the bottle from its hiding place and drank the last of its contents. At first, he had needed only a small amount of laudanum to obtain the desired effects, but in the days since the fire, he found it took more to satisfy his cravings. But even when he took more, the results were not the same. Rather than making him feel good, the drug only kept him from feeling bad. Buck wondered what had changed. He awoke every morning with a gnawing need that returned through the day with regularity. The laudanum no longer offered comfort but rather demanded obedience.

He knew the bottle under hidden under his bunk was almost empty, but he had been unable to retrieve the one hidden in the tree trunk. Between clearing the rubble from the fire and worrying about his sullen rider, Teaspoon decided to spend more time at the station. Barnett took the "peace keeping" duties during the day when Teaspoon felt very little could go wrong, and, between naps, he maintained order at night. It seemed to Buck, every time he turned around, Teaspoon or Kid was there, making it impossible to sneak away.

The minutes seemed like hours as Buck listened to the ticking of the clock on the shelf. The sound was distant, but as the night wore on, it seemed to be coming from inside his head, each tick exploding like a gunshot while he tossed and turned. His body ached as every fiber of his being screamed out for more of the drug. Afraid the screams might find their way to his mouth, he buried his face in the feather pillow to prevent them from escaping.

When he could finally take no more, Buck grabbed his clothes and crept as quietly as he could out of the bunkhouse, stopping for a moment on the porch to dress. His trousers and boots went on fairly easily, but his hands were shaking so badly, buttoning his shirt was impossible. Growing frustrated, Buck abandoned the attempt, leaving the shirt undone.

Although heavy clouds hung low in the sky, hiding the light from the moon and stars, Buck was certain he could find his way to the hiding place. But his frustration grew greater when he realized that the riders’ regular mounts were stabled at the livery until a new corral could be completed. The only horses at the station were the new ones recently purchased from the Sioux. Green-broke at best, none of them were suitable for a ride through the dark prairie at night.

He wrapped his arms tightly around his middle, trying to keep himself from falling apart, as he headed out into the street. "Just a little longer" he reassured himself. Buck tried to open the heavy wooden door of the livery, but to his dismay, it wouldn’t budge - the owner of the livery had placed a lock on the door. Evidently with a group of trouble-makers on the prowl, the business owners of Rock Creek were taking extra precautions.

Buck felt his frustrations welling up inside him to the point they overflowed as he kicked repeatedly at the door. Realizing he was only making noise and had no chance of opening the door he stopped and leaned against the wall of the livery, trying to calm himself down. Even though he was standing still, it felt as if everything inside of him was moving too fast. His heart raced as the screams demanding more of the drug pounded like a hammer against his skull.

After a few deep breaths, Buck moved away from the livery and tried to look down the street. Perhaps a horse had been left at one of the hitching rails, even a sway-backed nag would be a blessing at this point. Too dark to see, he dismissed the thought. It was unlikely a horse would have been left out all night, anyway.

Buck turned his attention back to the stable. There had to be a way in. Stumbling along the side of the building, using the wall for support, Buck searched the exterior of the livery for another opening. The building had only one door, but to Buck’s relief, there was a window on the back side of the structure. The window, unfortunately, had been boarded over in an attempt to prevent someone from breaking in. Buck tried to pry up the bottom board but it was nailed securely and he only succeeded in scraping his fingertips against the piece of wood. Several more attempts yielded no results and only increased his anger over the situation.

Buck turned away, scanning the area for something - anything he could use as a tool to pry the boards away from the window. A vague memory drifting through his mind made Buck stop his search, but the memory wouldn’t hold still so he could grasp it. Forcing himself to think, Buck remembered where he had seen bottles of laudanum - beautiful bottles of laudanum lined up neatly in a row. Abandoning all thoughts of riding to the hiding place, Buck staggered along the wall of the livery, back to Main Street and headed in the direction of Doctor Barnes’ office.

Standing in the quiet darkness outside the door to the physician’s office, Buck contemplated what he was about to do. He knew this was wrong, but rubbing his hands up and down his arms to prevent his skin from crawling, Buck felt he had no choice. The livery wouldn’t open for at least three or four more hours and he couldn’t imagine what condition he would be in by then.

Buck quickly glanced around in search of something to break through one of the small panes of glass that made up the window in the door. Finding nothing usable, he turned away from the door, drew a deep breath and smashed his elbow into one of the small panes of glass near the doorknob, sending pieces of shattered glass into the office. The impact with the window sent shock waves of pain through his elbow and into his shoulder as blood trickled down his arm from cuts inflicted by the breaking glass, but he wasted no time thinking about it. Buck quickly reached through the broken window, cutting his hand on the jagged edges of remaining glass, as he searched blindly for the lock on the door.

Teaspoon stopped at the outer edge of town, yawning as he placed his half eaten sandwich in his coat pocket. It had been a quiet and uneventful night in Rock Creek. Surely at this late hour, it was safe to assume it would continue that way.

"Gettin’ too old for such hours," Teaspoon mumbled as he turned back towards town and headed through the side streets to his office and the promise of a little sleep on the cot in the empty jail cell.

Finally locating the lock, Buck opened the door from the inside. The sound of glass breaking against the floor under his feet echoed into the night as he stepped into the office and closed the door. Leaning against the door, he waited a moment for his eyes to adjust to the darkness and his heart to stop pounding. Buck liked Doc Barnes and felt badly that he had damaged his office and was about to steal from him, but the persistent gnawing inside him felt worse.

Picturing the layout of the office in his mind, Buck stumbled in the direction of the examining room, but in his haste he didn’t notice Doc’s heavy desk chair blocking his path and tripped over the obstacle. Startled and unable to catch himself, Buck fell to the floor, biting his lip to hold back a cry of pain as he landed on his throbbing elbow. Struggling to his knees, he felt through the darkness for something to help him regain his bearings in the dark room. To Buck’s surprise, his hand brushed against the smooth wood door separating the two rooms. Expecting the door to be closed, he grabbed for the support of the doorknob and tried to pull himself to his feet. However, the door wasn’t completely closed and opened quickly under the pressure of his hand, sending Buck sprawling to the floor once again. Crawling to the examining table, Buck used the solid piece for leverage, and finally regained his footing.

To his relief, the heavy cloud cover had lifted somewhat, allowing a thin stream of moonlight to enter the room through the small window, making his search easier. Buck closed his eyes trying to remember the last time he had been in the room. He remembered Doc Barnes giving him a bottle of laudanum from a cabinet with a glass door on the wall near the window. Using the table for support he crossed the room and found the cabinet with no difficulty. His goal only a few inches away, Buck ran his hand over the cabinet in search of the latch, but the door resisted as he tried to open it.

Cursing his luck, Buck clenched his hand into a fist, intent on breaking the glass door, but fearing the force might also break the glass bottles inside, he stopped.

"Think", he demanded himself. Buck closed his eyes tightly trying to remember. In his mind, he saw the doctor opening the cabinet door - but he didn’t go directly to the cabinet. He needed a …

Buck turned quickly to the desk by the window and ripped open the small drawer, rummaging through the contents until his hand fell upon the desired item inside. His hands shaking and his palms wet with sweat, he withdrew the small key and using both hands to hold it steady, inserted the key into the lock on the cabinet. Buck breathed a deep sigh of relief as the door opened and the bottles of laudanum were finally within his reach.

As if almost too good to be true, he reached slowly into the cabinet and touched the first bottle to make sure it was real. Feeling the cool glass against his fingertips he wrapped his hand around the bottle, withdrew it and quickly removed the cork. Buck brought the bottle to his lips and swallowed the liquid so quickly his throat protested and he began to choke. Coughing and sputtering, he lost his balance and fell against the wall beside the cabinet.

After a few minutes, Buck felt his trembling body and racing heart begin to calm as the hunger inside him was fed. Finally trusting his legs to support him, he pushed away from the wall and started to leave the room but was drawn back to the cabinet. He quickly reached for a second bottle, tucked it into the waistband of his trousers and hastily left the office.

Once outside, the cool night air against his sweaty skin sent a shiver through Buck’s body. Intending to return to the bunkhouse by the side streets, he turned at the corner of the building and entered the alleyway between the doctor’s office and the building next door. Exhausted by the ordeal, Buck stopped halfway through the alley and leaned against the brick wall. The cool bricks felt good against his hot skin and he closed his eyes for just a moment to rest but the sound of a dog barking made him jump.

A stray dog, searching for food, took offense to an intruder’s presence in his alley and began to bark and growl at Buck.

"Gus, is that you?" Teaspoon’s voice bellowed from the end of the alley as he held up his lantern to illuminate the passageway. The light from the lantern didn’t carry very far into the alley and Teaspoon could only make out the outline of the large animal against the darkness.

Buck panicked at the voice and pressed himself against the brick wall. Inhaling sharply to make himself thinner, he wished with all his might that the cloud cover would return.

"C’mon, boy," Teaspoon called to the dog and walked a few steps into the alley. The stray dog had become a familiar site to the Marshal, often accompanying him on his late night rounds. Teaspoon named the animal "Gus" for no reason other than it seemed like a good name for the mangy mut.

Hearing the friendly voice the dog stopped barking but was still reluctant to move away from the trespasser. With a little more coaxing from Teaspoon he turned away and ran toward the promise of a good scratch from a kind hand.

"What you after, Gus? You got a rat or possum cornered in there?" Teaspoon asked, as he knelt down beside the dog and stroked his head.

The dog caught the scent of Teaspoon’s left-over sandwich and, anxious for a meal, tried to poke his muzzle into the Marshal’s coat pocket.

"Now I do believe that is mine," Teaspoon said in mock disapproval. "But," he said, pulling the sandwich from his pocket, "I reckon you need it more that I do." Teaspoon tore off a piece of the sandwich and tossed it at the dog. The hungry animal snatched it in mid-air and sat waiting expectantly for another piece.

"You’re a good ol’ boy, Gus. Ain’t much to look at…but a good ol’ boy," Teaspoon said as he threw another piece of food to the dog. Cocking an eyebrow at the beggar, Teaspoon added, "S’pose that’s why we get along so well."

Buck forced himself tighter against the wall as he listened to the one-sided conversation at the end of the alley. Fearing Teaspoon would investigate what the dog had been barking at, he began to inch slowly against the wall in the direction opposite Teaspoon’s voice.

"C’mon, Gus," Teaspoon called to the dog as he rose to his feet. "You can keep a tired old man company."

The dog found the sandwich more appealing than tormenting the frightened young Indian in the alley and readily followed Teaspoon down the side street.

Buck finally exhaled as Teaspoon and the dog disappeared behind the next building. Creeping along the brick wall back to the porch in front of the doctor’s office, he hid in the shadows and waited impatiently for the light in Teaspoon’s lantern to cross Main Street and disappear into the Marshal’s office in the next block.

Once he felt somewhat safe, the feelings of panic he had suppressed overwhelmed him and Buck felt his legs begin to falter as he grabbed the porch rail for support. Becoming very tired, he wanted nothing more than to sink down onto the sidewalk and rest, but it was too risky to stay there. Summoning all the energy he had left, Buck quietly slipped through the shadows back to the bunkhouse.

----------

"Well, it’s about time he got here!" Cody exclaimed at the sound of Teaspoon’s boots on the porch steps.

"I can’t hold ‘em off much longer, Teaspoon," Rachel said, shooing the flies away from the platter of roast beef on the supper table. The smell of freshly baked bread wafted its way through the bunkhouse as Teaspoon closed the door behind him and assumed his place at the head of the table.

"Hold off who? The flies or this fine assembly of Express riders?" Teaspoon asked, stuffing his napkin into his collar.

"Both, I’m afraid," Rachel answered with a grin, waving her hand at the persistent pests.

"My, my, Rachel," Teaspoon said, gazing in awe at the bounty on the table before him. "This looks like a fine meal. Today a holiday I don’t know ‘bout or somethin’?"

Rachel smiled and shook her head, "No, it’s not a holiday. It’s not often that everyone is home at the same time, so I thought I’d make supper a little special tonight. The table’s a bit crowded, but we’ll manage." Taking her place beside Teaspoon, Rachel added, "There’s cake for dessert, if anyone’s interested."

"Well, let’s dig in then, ‘fore the buzzin’ varmints carry it away!" Teaspoon exclaimed.

"Where you been all day, Teaspoon?" Jimmy asked. "Thought Barnett was upholdin’ the law durin’ the day."

"In your absence today, Teaspoon," Cody chimed in, "I took it upon myself to supervise and I must say, Jimmy don’t work near as hard when you ain’t here."

"Like hell!" Jimmy retorted, reaching past his adversary for the bowl of potatoes. "Somebody’s gotta make up for your lazy butt."

"Now, Jimmy," Cody replied in mock seriousness and motioned to his injured ankle propped up on a chair. "You know I’m under a doctor’s care. The healin’ process can’t be hurried."

Jimmy was about to state his view on Cody’s ‘healing process’ when Teaspoon interrupted. "Sorry to disappoint y’all, but there was a matter of the law to attend to today."

"What happened, Teaspoon?" Lou asked, fighting for her space between Kid and Noah at the crowded table.

"Well, it seems Doc Barnes’ office was broke into last night. Musta been awful late. Town was quiet when I made my last rounds at three o’clock."

Buck sat quietly at the far end of the table trying not to let his nervousness show. He knew Teaspoon would investigate the break-in and it would, most likely, be the topic of conversation around the supper table. He had hurriedly helped himself to the replenished supply of laudanum under his bunk to calm his fraying nerves before Rachel called them to the table, but it wasn’t helping. Not wanting to bring attention to himself, he tried to show an appropriate amount of interest in Teaspoon’s story.

"Did Doctor Barnes keep valuables in his office?" Rachel questioned. "Of all the businesses in town to rob, a doctor’s office is a strange choice."

"According to Doc, only thing missin’ is two bottles of laudanum," Teaspoon answered between bites.

"Why would somebody steal medicine?" Noah asked. Curious looks from the others echoed the same question. "If somebody needed Doc, why didn’t they wake him up? He’s probably been woke up in the night lots of times before."

"What’s so special about laudanum, Teaspoon?" Kid asked. "Why take that and not somethin’ else?"

"Well, since laudanum is used to relieve pain I reckon somebody mighta got shot up runnin’ from the law and didn’t want to make themselves known by gettin’ Doc, but I ain’t received no word of it."

"Don’t make no sense then," Jimmy stated.

"I’m bettin’ on somebody local, anyway," Teaspoon added. "The front window was busted in, but whoever it was used the key to get into the medicine cabinet. Somebody passin’ through wouldn’t have known where the key was. Can’t imagine many local folk knew where it was, either." After another bite, Teaspoon continued, "Got himself cut up from busting out the window, though. There was some blood on the floor of the office."

Buck’s back stiffened as he looked down at his hand. The cuts inflicted by the jagged edge of the glass as he reached through the broken window had, thankfully, not been deep enough to require much attention - it would have been a difficult injury to explain. He had tended to the cuts as best he could, but they were still visible. Buck glanced up to make sure no one was watching as he placed his fork in his right hand and dropped his left hand into his lap.

"Doc’s got some suspicions ‘bout why laudanum was taken," Teaspoon stated. "Seems that along with relievin’ pain, it’s got some qualities that other medicines don’t. Evidently some folks crave it like a drunkard needs a bottle of whiskey."

"But it’s medicine," Rachel said, perplexed at Teaspoon’s explanation.

Teaspoon nodded his head and continued, "It’s medicine, but a powerful one from what Doc says. Most folks use it for pain relief but, according to Doc, it can produce a feelin’ sim’lar to being drunk. And, if you drink too much of it, a body develops what Doc called a ‘need’ for the medicine. Doc admits he don’t know all that much about this, but apparently those poor souls who have this ‘need’ will do most anything necessary to fill it. That’s why he don’t give his patients very much. Anyway, he thinks that’s why it was stolen."

Kid’s fork stopped in mid-air at the reference to liquor. Only a few days before he had attributed Buck’s odd behavior to drinking. He quickly glanced toward the end of the table for a reaction from Buck, but his head was bowed so low his long hair hid his face.

"Now that I think about it," Teaspoon said, scratching his chin, "I remember when I was in the Army, couple of fellas kept askin’ for somethin’ to relieve their pain long after their wounds had healed. I didn’t give it much thought at the time, too busy fighting off Santa Anna’s boys, I guess. But, I reckon somethin’ like what Doc described coulda happened to them."

With each question and comment, Buck felt the carefully guarded wall of secrecy built around him begin to crumble. The others were showing too much interest in this subject. He would have liked to change the topic of conversation, but he spoke so rarely at the table anymore, it would be too obvious. Buck could hear the rapid pounding of his heart. He glanced up quickly to see if the others could hear it too, but they seemed too engrossed in Teaspoon’s story to notice. He tried to concentrate on eating his supper, but an uneasiness in his stomach made each bite he swallowed bounce around inside him and he had to force the food to stay down. Attempting to take his mind off the queasy feeling, Buck fixed his attention on his plate and began to push the food around in intricate patterns.

"Hey, Buck," Cody said, addressing the quiet young Indian opposite him. "Doc gave you some laudanum when you got hurt. Did it make you feel like that?"

Focusing on the artwork his supper had become, Buck didn’t hear the question until Cody repeated himself. "Oh, Bu-uck," Cody called in a sing-song voice, waving his hands wildly in front of Buck to get his attention.

Jolted out of his daze by Cody’s theatrics, Buck felt a grip of panic seize him by the throat, threatening to choke him, as he looked up at the faces around the table staring intently at him. Why were they looking at him? Did they know?

"What?" he asked cautiously.

"You took laudanum when you got hurt, right?" Cody asked again.

"A couple of times," Buck lied as the grip on his throat tightened.

"How did it make you feel?" Jimmy questioned.

"Why?" Buck asked defensively.

"Just curious, is all."

Buck hesitated for a moment, trying to determine if he was stepping into a trap. "Makes you sleepy. That’s all . . . just sleepy."

"You think it was those kids again, Teaspoon?" Lou asked directing the conversation to the opposite end of the table.

"Well, I did at first, but I questioned the ones I suspected and they all got rock solid alibis for last night. For the night of the fire, too."

Buck heard Teaspoon’s comment, but as if from a distance, as the laudanum finally began to take effect. He was somewhat concerned that the pranksters could not be blamed for the fire, but the swirled design he had made in his mashed potatoes and gravy was suddenly more interesting.

Kid turned his eyes toward Buck again, hoping his growing suspicions were wrong. The sight of the heartbroken Indian at the end of the bench, picking at his meal, had become commonplace, but something was different with the picture. It took Kid a moment to realize what that difference was. Buck, being left-handed, usually sat at the end of the bench to prevent knocking elbows with a right-handed rider, but he was holding his fork with his right hand. Kid could think of only one reason why Buck would use his right hand over his favored one – it had been cut on the glass in the door of Doctor Barnes’ office.

Kid’s heart sank as the final pieces of the puzzle fell into place. Doc had prescribed laudanum to relieve the pain from Buck’s broken ribs, but he had never stopped taking it. Buck had taken enough of the medicine to become one of the ‘poor souls’ who needed it. Kid tried to imagine a ‘need’ so powerful it could cause someone to steal, but it was beyond him. He tried to put Buck’s face on that someone, but pushed the thought away – it was too disturbing. That wasn’t the Buck he knew.

"Speakin’ of that fire, Mr. Cody," Teaspoon said, "don’t suppose you saw or heard anything unusual in the barn that night."

"Nothin’ but some cats scrappin’," Cody replied.

"You know what I think?" Jimmy chuckled. " I think Cody and Lizzy had the loft so heated up it just burst into flames!"

Laughter and good-natured teasing over Cody’s lack of discretion continued until Teaspoon felt the boy had been properly embarrassed. "Alright, that’s enough," he ordered, trying to contain his own amusement over Cody’s discomfort. "I spent all day thinkin’ ‘bout fires and robberies and foolishness. Don’t wanna think ‘bout ‘em no more."

Teaspoon leaned back in his chair and surveyed his ‘family’, pausing on Buck’s sullen figure. He felt badly for the boy, but had to admit, he was getting tired of Buck’s melancholy mood. If he wanted to sulk, then he could sulk but it wouldn’t prevent the rest of them from having a good time.

"We got enough things to take care of ‘round here," Teaspoon began. "The lumber for the new barn oughta be here by week’s end. Cody, regardless of what you say, I believe you’ll be healed in a few days, and Buck will be ridin’ again here real soon. Gonna get this place back to runnin’ like the top-notch station it is. Now, Mrs. Dunne, you mentioned cake?"

The sound of laughter interrupted Kid’s thoughts and he wondered how Teaspoon could be so blind to the obvious answer. Buck was in serious trouble, but Teaspoon just sat there teasing Cody and eating cake. Why couldn’t he see it?

Deep disappointment filled Kid’s heart as he cast a quick glance at the quiet figure at the end of the table. Buck had changed in a matter of three weeks from the honest, compassionate person he thought of as family, to a common thief. Kid was certain of it now and the knowledge hurt deeply. He began to understand Teaspoon’s "blindness". It wasn’t that Teaspoon couldn’t see Buck’s problem - he didn’t want to.

-----------

"I’ve been wonderin’ where you were," Rachel said disapprovingly as the bunkhouse door closed behind Kid. "Where’d you get off to this mornin’?"

"Needed to go for a ride. Had some thinkin’ to do," Kid answered. "You plannin’ on doin’ some readin’?" he asked, motioning to the stack of books on the table.

Rachel chuckled at the thought that she might have time to read one book, let alone the stack before her. "Not any time soon. These were still in the spare room. I think Lou used ‘em to press the wrinkles out of Ike’s picture when it got wet that night. Worked nicely, too," Rachel said as she held up Ike’s drawing.

Kid couldn’t help but smile at the cartoon-like drawing. He missed that lop-sided grin. They all did.

"I’m gonna put the books away. I’m sure Buck would like the picture back, too. At least something was saved from the fire," Rachel said, laying the picture on the table. "So what did you need to think about? You and Lou havin’ troubles?"

"No. Me and Lou are fine," Kid answered, somewhat embarrassed. He wondered for a moment how much Rachel knew about his relationship with Lou. Was she aware that he and Lou had spent some time in the loft, too? "I’ve just had somethin’ on my mind."

"Get it sorted out?"

"I think so. Where is everybody?"

"Noah left this mornin’ and I sent everyone else out to the Thomas place. They had a stallion go a little crazy and tore up the corral. Ned’s still in St. Jo and Madeline can’t mend a corral and keep track of that passel of kids." Rachel smiled and shook her head, "I do love children, but six of ‘em is a handful."

"Is Cody here?"

"He went along to ‘supervise’ the others," Rachel said, amused at the notion of Billy Cody in charge.

"Did Buck go, too?" Kid asked.

"No, he ain’t supposed to lift anything yet."

"Do you know where he is?"

Rachel thought for a moment, "He was in here but left when I came in to clean up."

"Was he acting strange?"

"No stranger than any other mornin’ lately," Rachel answered, perplexed over Kid’s questions. "Why all the questions, Kid?"

Kid hesitated for a moment before answering. He knew his suspicions about Buck were right, but he needed to prove them. "Where’s the bottle of laudanum Doc left for Buck when he got hurt?"

Rachel’s brow creased in confusion. "I put it in the cupboard. Why?"

"Can you show me where it is?"

Rachel didn’t know quite what to make of Kid’s request and started to question him, but the somber look in his face stopped her and instead she crossed the room and opened the cupboard door.

"It’s right here behind the coffee and . . ."

Rachel began moving the containers of coffee and molasses around in the small storage compartment but the bottle was gone. "Well, it was right here."

"You sure it was this cupboard?" Kid questioned.

"Yes, I’m sure," Rachel answered, sorting through the containers one more time.

"Could Cody have needed it for his ankle?"

"Well, I s’pose, but he never asked me for it. I really don’t think his ankle hurt that bad," Rachel replied.

Kid sighed heavily and sank down on the bench beside the table. He leaned his elbows on the table and ran his fingers through his wavy hair contemplating what to do. The bottle wasn’t there because Buck had taken it. And when he finished that bottle, he had stolen not just one, but two more bottles of laudanum from Doctor Barnes. But he couldn’t prove it. Kid considered confronting Buck with his knowledge, but he knew Buck would only deny it and the accusation would make him madder than he already was. Kid needed to find the laudanum.

Worried about his troubled friend, Kid had kept a watchful eye on Buck and knew he had not left the station since the day after the fire. The bottles had to be at the station, but where? Kid’s first thought was that the original bottle had been hidden in Ike’s trunk in the hayloft. Knowing how possessive Buck was about the trunk, no one would have disturbed it. He quickly dismissed that idea though – with a bunch of broken ribs, it would have been too painful for Buck to climb the ladder to the loft. Kid thought back on Buck’s behavior and remembered how surprised he had been watching Buck barely able to move when he woke up, only to seem fine a short while later.

Deep in thought, Kid jumped at Rachel’s hand on his shoulder. "Kid, what’s goin’ on?"

"Rachel, watch the door," Kid said, as he rose from the bench and started toward the bunks.

"What are you doin?" Rachel cried as Kid opened the wooden box beside Buck’s bed and began rummaging through the articles of clothing inside. Buck’s moccasins would make a perfect hiding place, but Kid quickly cast the soft leather boots aside realizing they didn’t weigh enough to be hiding a bottle of laudanum inside.

"Kid, stop this right now! You can’t just go through Buck’s things!"

"Rachel, believe me. I can explain. Please just watch the door," Kid pleaded as he closed the box. Dropping to his hands and knees beside the bunk, he peered under the bed but found only Ike’s sketch pad. Kid remembered Lou mentioning that Buck had placed it there after his argument with Emily. Reaching further under the bed, his hand rubbed against a piece of cloth hanging down from the wooden slats holding the mattress. Kid tugged at the fabric, but the weight of the mattress held it firmly in place.

Rachel stood at the foot of the bunk, astonished at Kid’s intrusive actions. "Buck’s gonna throw a fit if he finds out you’ve been in his things and I won’t blame him one bit!"

"I’ve got a reason, Rachel," Kid assured the fuming housekeeper as he lifted the edge of the mattress.

"Then, I’d like to know what . . ." Rachel stopped in mid-sentence as Kid pulled a nearly full bottle of laudanum and a familiar blue shirt from under the mattress. A closer look revealed another full bottle of laudanum and an empty bottle wrapped in the shirt.

Stains from a dark substance marked the right sleeve of the shirt and Kid noticed the fabric was ripped in the elbow area. A closer inspection revealed a similar colored stain smeared across the bottom of the shirt front.

"He musta used it to wipe the blood off his hand," Kid said, fingering the stained shirt. "What have you done to yourself, Buck?" Kid whispered as he sat down on the floor and leaned back against the neighboring bunk, the heavy reality of Buck’s problem falling like a rock into the pit of his stomach.

"It was Buck? Why?" Rachel asked in disbelief as she sank down on the bunk beside Kid.

"I knew somethin’ was wrong, but you know how he’s been since Ike died. He won’t say nothin’."

"What are we gonna do?" Rachel asked, still trying to sort out the implications of Kid’s discovery.

Kid thought he would feel better when the truth was known, but he didn’t. Why couldn’t one of the others have found it? he asked himself. Because you were so damned determined, that’s why. He didn’t want to get his friend into further trouble but Buck needed help and Kid knew he certainly didn’t know how to offer it. Teaspoon knew about a lot of things but he didn’t know about this. From the sounds of it, Doc Barnes didn’t have much experience with this kind of problem either.

Deciding he had no choice, Kid rose to his feet and collected the bottles. "Stay here ‘til I get back, alright? Buck won’t come lookin’ for these if someone’s in here."

Rachel nodded her agreement as Kid placed the bottles and bloody shirt in a cloth bag, tied the top closed and headed out of the bunkhouse toward the Marshal’s office.

-----------

Closing the door quietly behind him, Teaspoon stepped out of Doc Barnes’ office and shook his head sadly at the temporary repairs made on the broken window in the door. The window had not yet been properly repaired and Doc had nailed a piece of wood to the door to cover the broken pane of glass.

Teaspoon walked across the sidewalk and leaned heavily on the porch post, watching the residents of Rock Creek as they carried out the simple acts of their ordinary lives – routine business transactions, meaningless social chatter, mundane tasks of everyday life. Although his life had been colorful, Teaspoon never felt it was very complicated, even with the baggage of six marriages. His life was simple and he liked it that way. Teaspoon’s outlook on life was based on a few elementary principles: Never give less than your best, choose your friends wisely and your enemies with even greater care, and never do anything that would cause you to be unable to face the mirror in the morning. These rules had served him well his many years, and he hoped to instill the same guidelines in the rag-tag bunch of kids he gathered together a year earlier. They were good kids – he could see it from the beginning. Sure, they’d been in their share of scrapes, but they were young. It was to be expected and he tried to take their occasional lapses in judgment or impetuous actions in stride. Life didn’t have to be hard. But in no more time that it took Kid to dump three glass bottles and a bloody shirt on his desk, life became very difficult.

Perhaps it was his desire to keep life uncomplicated that had allowed him to dismiss Buck’s behavior as grief and not something more serious. As Kid emptied the contents of the bag in front of him, he had asked, "Do you believe me now?" Even while Teaspoon touched the dried blood on the shirt he had hoped for a plausible explanation, but the evidence was clear.

Teaspoon watched a group of boys pass him on the street and felt a twinge of embarrassment that he had questioned them and others all over town about the robbery, only to find the guilty party was under his own roof.

As if developing a dependence on a bottle of laudanum wasn’t bad enough, now a crime had been committed to obtain it. What was next? The thought that one of his riders, the sensible one at that, was capable of such destructive behavior, both to himself and the property of others, distressed Teaspoon deeply. Buck was smarter than that.

But perhaps being smart didn’t have anything to do with it. Doctor Barnes had explained the effects laudanum was capable of producing and it made sense that Buck could have fallen prey to the drug. Buck had discovered that not only did laudanum ease the pain in his chest but also relieved the ache in his heart.

Teaspoon wondered if the boy had any idea what he was doing to himself every time he took a drink, or was the relief so welcome that he didn’t allow himself to notice his growing dependence? Why couldn’t he have just said something? Was it his damned pride that kept him from admitting he needed help? Did he know what he had become and was too ashamed to reveal it? Or was it because the only person in the world he trusted enough to talk to was dead?

Teaspoon had gone to Doctor Barnes for several reasons. As Marshal, he had a duty to the citizens of Rock Creek and was obligated to report his findings about the robbery. But as station manager, surrogate father and friend, he needed to know how to help Buck. Admittedly, not well versed on the matter, Doc Barnes had initially suggested sending Buck to a hospital in St. Louis or Chicago where there were physicians with a greater knowledge of such things. One of his medical journals described new treatments involving a "galvanic bath"*, a "motion cure"** or the simple act of withholding the drug from the affected patient. Teaspoon flatly refused to consider sending the boy away - Buck was his responsibility. He knew nothing of the complex cures described in Doc’s journal, but if depriving Buck of laudanum was all that was necessary to eliminate the "need" his body had developed, then that’s what they would do. The journal indicated that the amount of time and difficulty in overcoming the dependence would hinge upon how much laudanum had been ingested. It concerned Teaspoon that Doctor Barnes remembered Buck asking for another bottle shortly after his accident almost three weeks earlier. Buck’s excuse that he had spilled the first bottle seemed reasonable to the Doctor at the time, but they now realized it had been a lie. There was another bottle somewhere. What had he done with it? How much had he drank?

Teaspoon returned the full bottle of laudanum to Doc but kept the one Buck had been using. He looked at the seemingly innocent bottle of medicine in his hands with disgust and slipped it into his coat pocket. How could a life be so drastically altered by a simple bottle of medicine? Teaspoon felt a strange combination of disappointment, anger and fear as he stepped into the street and headed in the direction of the station.

----------

Buck stared at the rubble for the better part of an hour before he summoned the courage to approach it. He hadn’t intended to even look at the pile of charred lumber until the reflection of the sun’s rays on a piece of metal caught his eye. He had made a point to stay as far away as possible from the site, fearing the burned out structure would come alive and pull him into the darkness where he belonged. But the piece of metal shining in the morning sun beckoned him and he felt compelled to answer its call.

Most of the large pieces of the barn that had not perished in the fire had been pulled down and hauled away, leaving only large piles of unidentifiable debris and burned lumber. But as Buck stepped through the ruins and located the piece of metal, he knew exactly what it was. The triangular shaped hinge was still attached to the splintered piece of wood that had once been a part of the back of Ike’s trunk. The nails holding the hinge in place had been jarred loose by the impact with the ground and the metal hinge now clung to the wood by only one of the three nails that had originally held it in place.

Buck reached out cautiously toward the hinge as if it was capable of hurting him. He felt as if he was being watched and turned quickly to see who it was, but he saw no one - the yard was empty. Buck glanced around again, warily, before returning his attention to the hinge. He wasn’t sure why he felt he had to touch it. Perhaps the hinge had called to him because it wanted him to feel the emptiness and destruction he had caused and he felt he deserved the punishment. He reached down to retrieve the metal piece. Its touch burned into him as memories of his failure flashed through his mind and he felt the eyes on him, again. Buck turned around quickly, nearly losing his balance in the pile of rubble looking for the eyes. He knew them. The eyes that had once projected such love and gentleness now hurled disappointment and anger at him.

"I’m sorry," Buck mumbled, trying to turn away from Ike’s steely gaze. His efforts to avoid the dead man’s stare proved futile as every time Buck turned away, the eyes followed. He continued to turn around rapidly, trying to escape the uncomfortable feeling, until he grew dizzy and stumbled into the pile of debris.

"I’M SORRY!" Buck cried as the damaged wood gave way under his weight and, as he feared, the blackened remains of the barn began to pull him in.

His apology had no affect on the intensity of the gaze, and Buck struggled to his feet, quickly escaping the clutches of the barn and the haunting stare. Reaching the safety of the bunkhouse, Buck sank down on the porch steps and tried to calm himself. What was he thinking? Eyes are attached to a person’s head - they don’t just float around in mid-air, waiting to attack. But Buck did feel as if he was under attack, not only by the imaginary eyes of his dead best friend, but by the questions at the supper table, by Kid’s persistent presence, and by the demands of his own body. The bottle of laudanum might be the cause of those demands but it was also the cure.

----------

Succumbing to his weakness, Buck lifted the mattress of his bunk and reached underneath for the familiar glass container - but it wasn’t there. His puzzlement turned to panic as his hand roamed further under the mattress across the wooden slats supporting the bed. Buck’s heart began to pound and the palms of his hands became wet with sweat as thoughts swirled rapidly through his mind. Perhaps the bottles had merely fallen to the floor. They would still be hidden under the bunk. There was no need to worry.

Quickly dropping to the floor, Buck peered under the bunk, but his frantic search revealed nothing. Buck fought back a sudden rush of nausea as he realized his secret had been discovered. Someone knew. Fear, anger and resentment converged in a violent storm of emotion as Buck jumped to his feet, viciously tore the sheet and blankets from his bed and threw them across the room. He had trusted the mattress to guard his secret but it had turned on him and allowed someone to enter his hiding place. Buck pulled his knife from its sheath and savagely plunged it into the traitor, ripping the cloth covering to shreds before tossing the mattress aside.

Buck stood in the midst of the battleground, his chest heaving from exertion and the rush of emotion, as Ike’s stare of disappointment returned. "STOP IT!" he cried out into the empty room, dropping his knife to the floor as he searched for the eyes. "THIS IS YOUR FAULT! YOU DIED AND LEFT ME ALONE! I NEED YOU!"

A surge of suppressed animosity exploded from Buck as he ripped the bedclothes from Ike’s bunk and tossed them on the floor. The pillow received no better treatment as he angrily hurled it against the wall. "YOU DIDN’T HAVE TO DIE!" he cried as he picked up the mattress from the bunk and heaved it across the room. "WHY WAS SHE MORE IMPORTANT THAN ME?"

Buck grabbed one of the wooden slats from the bed and broke it across his knee, tossing the pieces into the pile of bedding on the floor. Emotionally and physically spent, he leaned back against the post supporting the top bunk and drew a quivering breath. Buck knew he had to leave. He didn’t know where to go, but he couldn’t stay at the station any longer. He would get the other bottle hidden in the tree and just ride away – he didn’t care where. Buck reached for his knife and replaced it in the sheath on his boot. After a few deep breaths, he felt a little calmer and stepped away from the battle zone.

A familiar piece of paper lying on the table stopped Buck as he headed for the door and his new life without the Express. Buck’s resentment returned in full force as he picked up the drawing of Ike and stared back at the disapproving eyes of his best friend. "It’s your fault," Buck said in a voice he didn’t recognize as his own. In a final fit of anger, Buck wadded up the piece of paper into a tight ball and threw it into the mess on the floor of the bunkhouse.

Buck rushed out the door onto the porch but stopped, dead in his tracks, at the site of Teaspoon standing at the bottom of the steps.

"We need to have a talk, son," Teaspoon said, moving toward the bottom step.

Buck stood perfectly still, assessing his chances for escape as Teaspoon continued. "You lookin’ for this?" he asked as he pulled the bottle of laudanum from his coat pocket.

"That’s not yours," Buck answered in a low, threatening voice.

"Well, seein’ as you stole it from Doc Barnes, it ain’t yours neither," Teaspoon replied as he slowly moved up another step. "Buck, I talked to Doc and I understand what’s happened to you . . . whether you do or not. You’ve developed a need for this and . . . "

"I don’t need it!" Buck interrupted, lying to himself and Teaspoon. "It makes me feel better, that’s all. You wanted me to feel better, didn’t you?" Buck spat back at Teaspoon.

Teaspoon’s heavy heart fell a little further as he watched the boy in front of him. How could he have changed so drastically? "I want you to feel better, Buck, but not with this . . . not like this. This ain’t no way to live . . . needin’ a bottle of medicine to get through the day."

"I told you I don’t need it! I can stop anytime I want to!"

"Then you won’t mind if I do this," Teaspoon said as he removed the cork and poured the contents of the bottle on the porch steps.

Buck gasped and his eyes opened wide in horror as he watched the precious liquid splatter against the wooden boards of the steps. "Thought so," Teaspoon said sadly and dropped the empty bottle to the ground.

Teaspoon hesitated for a moment before he continued in a soft, reassuring voice, "Now, Doc says all you gotta do to get over this, is just stop takin’ it, so we’re gonna go away for a little while. I figure we’ll head out to that old cabin by the lake where Tom Johnson used to live. It’s quiet, real peaceful. Private, too. We’re just gonna stay there ‘til this is over."

Buck felt panic building up inside him, threatening to overflow, as Teaspoon spoke. He had felt the effects that resulted from being deprived of laudanum before. . . and it wasn’t something he wanted to go through again. Memories of the pain he endured the night he broke into the doctor’s office to satisfy the greedy demands of his own body came rushing back with such force he stepped backward away from the man who wanted to inflict that pain on him again.

"And if I don’t want to?" Buck asked jutting his chin forward as he tried to mask his anxiety with defiance.

"Buck, I ain’t givin’ you the choice," Teaspoon answered trying to keep his own emotions under control. "Now, I’d really prefer if you did this willingly, but, like it or not, you’re comin’ with me, and this is gonna stop."

"Why? Just because you say so?" Buck spat at the man in front of him. "You think that tin star pinned on your chest makes you so important, such a big white man. Throwin’ your power around . . . do this . . . do that. Well, I’ve had enough of it! You’re just like all the rest. . . just like the white government trying to force my people off their land . . . no different than the white bastard who forced himself on my mother. You can’t force me to do anything."

Teaspoon shook his head sadly at the angry young man. This wasn’t Buck. This was a frightened animal backed against a wall. "You broke the law, Buck, and this tin star gives me the authority to haul you to jail. Now, Doc Barnes, bein’ the kind soul he is, don’t want that and he ain’t gonna press charges, ‘less you don’t cooperate. You fight me and you’ll spend the next 30 days in a cell."

"You wouldn’t dare."

"Watch me."

Buck could no longer contain his nervousness. He crossed his arms over his chest defensively and began to shift his weight uncomfortably from one foot to another. "So that’s what this is really about. You can’t stand the fact that I never paid for killin’ Neville. You wanted me punished, and this is how you’re gonna do it."

Teaspoon hung his head in despair. What happened to this boy? "Buck, I ain’t tryin’ to punish you, son." Teaspoon took a step toward Buck but his advance only caused him to retreat further. "I couldn’t love you more if you were my own. You’re hurtin’ yourself, and it’s gonna stop."

Buck’s head snapped toward Rachel’s pleading voice as she appeared outside the railing at the end of the porch. "Please listen to him, Buck."

Startled by a voice behind him, Buck whipped around to face Kid in the doorway. "C’mon, Buck. It’s time to stop." Kid had been waiting in the spare room and had been subjected to the sounds of Buck’s violent outburst in the bunkhouse. The intensity of his friend’s rage had shocked him – his face had yet to regain its color.

Buck began to feel very trapped - his enemies were closing in on him from all directions. Suddenly the need to escape overwhelmed him and he tried in desperation to run past Teaspoon but the older man anticipated his movements and blocked the path. Teaspoon reached out for the frightened boy, but Buck recoiled from his touch.

"Don’t fight me, Buck," Teaspoon pleaded as he took another step.

Buck’s chest heaved with panic as he tried to find a way out of the trap. He hung his head and hunched his shoulders forward, hoping the posture of defeat would make his assailants drop their guard.

"That’s my boy," Teaspoon said, finally believing Buck had given in.

But his hopes were dashed as Buck capitalized on Teaspoon’s relief, and bolted past him. Kid was after him in a heartbeat and before Buck could jump down the steps, Kid grabbed his arm and spun him around. Kid’s fist connected with Buck’s jaw with such force it lifted the young Indian off his feet and sent him crashing to the floor of the porch like a rag doll.

Teaspoon sighed heavily at the site of Buck’s limp, unconscious body at his feet. "I was really hopin’ that weren’t gonna be necessary, Kid."

"I’m sorry, Teaspoon, but he wasn’t gonna listen."

"I know . . . I know," Teaspoon said shaking his head sadly. "This didn’t go as well as I hoped . . . not even close." The older man bent over Buck and examined his already swollen face. "Let’s just hope you didn’t break his jaw. You don’t have to come, Kid. He’s gonna be madder’n a wet hornet when he wakes up, and he’s liable to hate me ‘fore this is over. Don’t want him hatin’ you, too."

Kid glanced from his throbbing hand to the bruise forming on Buck’s jaw. "I think it’s a little late to be worried about that now."

Buck awoke to a pounding headache as the wagon wheel bounced across a rut in the trail. He was confused for a moment, but it didn’t take long for the pain in his jaw to remind him what had happened – and why.

He tried to raise his head, but a sudden rush of dizziness forced him to lie back down on the layer of quilts on the bed of the wagon.

"How thoughtful of them," Buck thought sarcastically, as his head touched the soft layers of fabric. "At least I’ll be comfortable while they haul me away against my will."

As the dizziness subsided, Buck opened his eyes and found he was able to assess his situation without moving around too much. The wagon bounced uneasily over rough terrain telling him they were traveling through the open prairie and not on an established road. Forcing himself to put the pain in his head and jaw aside, Buck remembered Teaspoon telling him they were going to a lake somewhere. . .somewhere quiet and peaceful . . . and that they would stay there until he didn’t need laudanum any longer.

"Better think again, old man," he thought bitterly.

Turning his attention to the wagon itself, Buck noticed a stack of hastily loaded provisions beside him. If he hadn’t known better, it would appear as if they were headed for a Sunday afternoon outing in the country.

Buck twisted his head around just enough to see Teaspoon’s gray hair confirming that his adversary was at the reins. He listened closely for the sound of other horses, but could only make out the rhythmic steps of one other animal. Without even looking, he knew the horse was Katy--and mounted on Katy would be the ever present, do-gooder, Kid.

Wondering what time it was, Buck slowly turned onto his back and searched the sky for the sun, shielding his eyes against the bright afternoon rays. He estimated it was mid-afternoon, two or three o’clock, which meant they had probably been traveling for several hours. He couldn’t be certain, but he assumed they had left shortly after Kid attacked him. But where were they going? Teaspoon mentioned a man’s name, but the pain in his head prevented Buck from thinking hard enough to remember it.

Buck began to feel the familiar reminder of his body’s need for laudanum. It nudged him, shook him a little, trying to make him notice it was there. It was only an ‘uneasy’ feeling, but he knew from experience the discomfort the next hours would bring and each creak of the wagon wheel took him further away from the antidote to the coming misery. The need to know where he was overcame the pain in his head and Buck slowly pushed himself into a sitting position.

A muffled groan from the back of the wagon alerted Teaspoon that his passenger was awake and he turned around to see the young Indian struggling to sit up, tenderly holding his bruised and swollen jaw. Teaspoon felt badly that it had come to that. He had hoped that once Buck knew he had been found out, he would come along willingly, but that certainly hadn’t been the case.

"You doin’ alright, Buck?" he asked, genuinely concerned.

Buck’s back stiffened at the voice, but he made no reply.

"Did you hear me, son?" Teaspoon asked, but again there was no answer. Teaspoon turned toward Kid, who was riding behind the wagon, but Kid shrugged his shoulders. Buck’s head was bowed and he couldn’t determine his condition, either.

"Well, we need to stop for a while anyway," Teaspoon stated as he applied the brake. He stepped over the wooden seat into the bed of the wagon, grabbing his canteen on the way. The Marshal stretched for a moment to relieve the stiffness that had settled in his joints and then knelt down beside the silent young man.

Buck slowly raised his head, his unforgiving stare locked with the concerned eyes of the man in front of him - neither of them blinking or turning away. For a moment it appeared to be a contest of endurance until Teaspoon opened the canteen and offered it to Buck. Although he was thirsty, Buck wasn’t interested in anything the older man had to offer and broke the gaze turning his attention to some unknown object on the horizon instead. Teaspoon took off his bandana and soaked it with cold water from the canteen. "This oughta help the swellin’ some," he said, trying to apply the compress to the boy’s face, but Buck quickly turned his head away.

"You stood there and watched him smash my face in but now you’re worried," he said to himself as bitter memories of the confrontation on the porch crept back into his pounding head.

Teaspoon sighed heavily as Buck turned away and motioned for Kid to dismount and join them.

Kid left Katy to graze in the prairie grass and walked around the wagon toward Teaspoon. Buck couldn’t hear their conversation but was certain he was the main topic. With Teaspoon’s attention diverted away from him, Buck used the opportunity to scan the area, breathing a sigh of relief when he recognized the surroundings. But what good did it do him? Even if he could get past his captors he didn’t have a horse to escape on . . . or did he?

Buck’s gaze fell on the painted mare grazing a short distance behind the wagon, then he cast a hurried glance at Kid and Teaspoon to ensure they were still occupied in conversation. "Serves him right to lose his precious horse," Buck thought, gingerly touching his swollen jaw. He quickly vaulted over the side of the wagon, running toward Katy as soon as his feet touched the ground.

The sudden movement alerted Teaspoon and Kid to Buck’s intent and Kid darted after him from the opposite side of the wagon. Under normal circumstances, it would have been a close race, but Buck’s ribs had not yet completely healed and the pain in his chest slowed him, allowing Kid to overtake him easily. Katy shied away nervously as the two riders tumbled into the grass a few feet from her. The impact with the earth against his bruised chest caused Buck to momentarily lose his focus and Kid used the opportunity to pin his breathless opponent to the ground.

"Don’t make me hurt you, again!" Kid cried as Buck struggled for his freedom.

Teaspoon shook his head sadly as he reached for a length of rope in the wagon and headed toward his riders.

"You’re makin’ this harder than need be, but you ain’t givin’ me much choice," he said, pulling Buck’s arms behind his back. "Hold him down, Kid."

Teaspoon felt the weight of his already heavy heart increase as he securely tied the rope around Buck’s wrists. "Don’t fight me, son," he pleaded as Buck continued to struggle against the restraints. Finally realizing his efforts were futile, Buck quieted and grimaced in pain as his shoulders began to protest against the unnatural posture. Teaspoon sighed heavily, witnessing the boy’s discomfort. He loosened the bindings a bit, allowing Buck’s shoulders to return to a more tolerable position. His act of kindness went unnoticed however, as Kid relaxed his hold and Buck turned to face his tormentor, a look of absolute contempt in his eyes.

Teaspoon and Kid pulled the furious young Indian to his feet but Buck wouldn’t move his legs and they were forced to drag him the short distance back to the wagon. Teaspoon pulled Buck back onto the pile of quilts on the wagon bed and removed the rider’s boots in hopes that the young man would think twice about trying to run off barefoot, but realized it probably wouldn’t stop him and used another length of rope to bind Buck’s ankles.

"Teaspoon, is that necessary?" Kid asked quietly as Buck’s chest heaved in righteous indignation.

"Well, short of knockin’ him out again, you got any better ideas?" Teaspoon asked brusquely.

Kid frowned and shook his head. No, he had no better ideas. If Buck insisted on acting like a wild man, then Teaspoon was right – they had no alternatives.

"Let’s get movin’," Teaspoon said as he wearily climbed onto the driver’s seat. If anyone had told the Marshal a few days earlier that he would haul off, hog-tie and humiliate his crime committing, opium dependent Kiowa rider, he would have laughed in their face. But that was exactly what he had been forced to do and it was breaking his heart. Teaspoon knew his actions, no matter how harsh they might seem, were for Buck’s own safety and welfare - but the look of hatred in the boy’s eyes told him Buck was far from understanding his honorable motives.

Kid mounted Katy and took his place in the rear as the wagon lurched forward. He couldn’t help but wonder if perhaps Doctor Barnes had been right in suggesting they send Buck somewhere better equipped to handle his problem. Kid understood that Teaspoon felt responsible for his rider and that those feelings were probably fueled by guilt for not seeing the situation for what it was earlier. But they didn’t know what this drug had done to Buck. Kid looked at the stranger sitting in the wagon staring back at him with such intense anger. It was as if the Buck he knew and loved as a brother had disappeared into that bottle of laudanum and emerged as someone else. Kid didn’t like this new Buck, in fact, he was a little frightened by him. Sadly, he wasn’t at all sure they would get the old Buck back.

"Some friend you turned out to be," Buck thought as he fixed his stare on the rider behind him. "Bet you’re enjoyin’ this, aren’t you?"

Nervously, Kid turned away from Buck’s angry eyes only to be pulled back moments later, as if by some magnetic force, to the Kiowa’s unwavering glare.

"How does it feel to be watched, Kid?" Buck said silently.

Kid shifted uneasily in his saddle, occupying himself with the landscape, a bird overhead, the patterns of Katy’s coat - but the burning sensation of Buck’s fiery eyes was still there.

Buck found Kid’s obvious discomfort so amusing he was disappointed when Kid could finally take no more and kicked Katy’s flanks, urging her to the front of the procession away from the stranger in the wagon. Buck enjoyed causing Kid’s distress. In spite of the pain in his face, he smiled.

----------

Teaspoon was right - it was a quiet, peaceful place. Buck recognized it. He and the other riders had been there once to help Teaspoon’s friend, Tom Johnson, break a mustang with a wide mean streak. The owner had lived alone for years in the small, secluded cabin but his new mail-order bride showed an extreme distaste for primitive life and demanded to live somewhere more civilized. To please his new wife, Tom Johnson gave up his bachelor’s quarters for a proper house, complete with picket fence, in St. Joseph. Rather than sell the cabin, he kept it for an occasional get-a-way to escape the city life he was certain he would loathe.

The cabin was built beside a small lake, nearly at the water’s edge. On a quiet night, one could sit on the small porch and hear the water gently lapping at the shore. The log building was small and simple, nothing more than a single man would need. It would be a nice place to spend a few quiet days, but Buck sat in the back of the wagon, his hands and feet still bound, looking at the small cabin as a convicted man gazes upon the gallows.

The feeling of pleasure he experienced by causing Kid’s distress was short lived as the demands of his dependence continued to make themselves known through the remainder of the trip. The binding on his wrists may have restricted the movement of his arms, but didn’t stop his hands from shaking and trying to control his hands only intensified the cramps in his arms and shoulders that the awkward position created. The skin on his upper body began to itch and he desperately needed to scratch it, but had to resort to rubbing his arms and back against the wooden side of the wagon for a little relief.

Once the supplies were unloaded, Teaspoon cut the ropes around Buck’s legs and allowed him out of the wagon. "Kid, you go on and tend to the horses, me and Buck are gonna get settled inside," Teaspoon instructed.

Buck stood completely still, his dark complexion turning pale. He didn’t want to go in that building. He thought about running, but knew they would catch him. He wouldn’t stand much of a chance with his hands tied and without his gun, knife or a horse. Maybe he could just stay outside. He could breathe outside – the cabin had been closed up for so long, there probably wasn’t any air in there. He would surely suffocate.

"Let’s go, son," Teaspoon said quietly, reaching for Buck’s arm to escort him inside.

Buck pulled away from his grasp and drew an apprehensive breath. Teaspoon was intent on inflicting this misery upon him; his options were few. A myriad of thoughts swirled through his mind as he tried to find a way out of his situation, but nothing made sense and he realized he had lost the first battle. Surely he would be alright without laudanum – wouldn’t he? He knew it would hurt for a while, but he had been shot once and endured terrible beatings in his life and lived. Laudanum was just medicine – how bad could it be?

Teaspoon felt badly that he had used force to control Buck earlier and was worried that such measures would be required again, but much to his relief, Buck walked on his own to the front door and after a moment’s hesitation, drew a deep breath and entered the cabin.

Buck slowly exhaled, fully expecting the breath he had just drawn to be his last and just as expected, he was unable to draw another. He tried desperately to breathe, but his chest hurt and felt very tight, preventing his lungs from expanding. Fear of the unknown that lay waiting in the room bore down heavily upon him and he felt certain he would be smothered under its weight. Teaspoon’s touch on his arm jolted him and he gasped hard enough to pull in the air that was hiding in the corners of the room. Once he could breathe again, Buck realized he was being foolish – letting his imagination run away with him. It was just a room . . . nothing more.

The interior of the log home was just as its owner left it; the simple belongings were not considered acceptable to his new bride. The cabin was sparsely furnished with several chairs and a bed covered with a worn patchwork quilt in the main area of the room around a large stone fireplace. The head and antlers of an eight-point buck was mounted as a trophy on the chimney. A stove, possum-belly cupboard and small table off to the side of the main area acted as the kitchen.

Teaspoon sliced through the rope binding Buck’s wrists and attempted to rub the soreness out of the boy’s arms, but Buck pulled away from his touch and tried to ease the aching himself. Between trying to rub the cramps away and relieve the intense itching, Teaspoon was afraid Buck would scratch his skin raw, but his repeated offers of assistance were refused. Instead, Buck turned his back to the older man and placed himself by the window in the corner of the kitchen area- he felt safer in the corner, near the hidden stores of air.

"The horses are taken care of, Teaspoon. Now what?" Kid quietly asked as he entered the cabin.

"Well, I reckon it’s about supper time," Teaspoon answered, trying to hide his frustrations. "Why don’t you check what Rachel packed for us and see if you can whip us up some grub?"

Kid was surprised by Teaspoon’s light-hearted answer. "But, what about…" he said, nodding his head toward Buck. "What’s gonna happen to him, Teaspoon?"

"I don’t know for sure, Kid." The look on the older man’s face revealed his hidden concerns as he glanced at the lonely, fidgeting figure by the window. "Doc didn’t know much neither, other than not takin’ no more of that poison will make him feel kinda sick. He said just don’t let him have none of it and let nature take its course. I guess we just wait and see."

----------

Despite Teaspoon and Kid’s urging, Buck refused to leave his post at the window, steadfastly guarding his view to the world outside - and his silence. He hadn’t uttered a word since the argument with Teaspoon that morning and didn’t intend to. His anger was well beyond words.

The uneasiness he had felt throughout the day had steadily increased and found its way to his stomach. Buck stared out the window watching day give way to night, his arms wrapped tightly around his middle, now and then wiping the sweat from his hands on his shirt. Although darkness had fallen, he didn’t want to leave the window – the knowledge that there was still a world outside the cabin made him feel a little better. Growing weary, he leaned his throbbing forehead against the cool glass and tried to focus his concentration on anything but the intense need growing inside him. He tried to envision the new life he would have when he was released from this prison – imagined himself mounting the nearest horse and riding away from those who had held him captive, without a word or a look back. The thought pleased him, comforted him a little.

Buck tried not to give in, but the craving was overwhelming. His hands moved restlessly. He rubbed his fingers against his palms, longing for the feel of the smooth glass bottle against his skin. He touched the cool, welcome windowpane, and began to move his hands across it, almost convincing himself the smooth flat surface against his fingertips was the contoured bottle he longed for. His weakened body ached for the smell, the taste, the sweet numbness that the warm liquid in the bottle provided. For a brief moment, Buck imagined the drink in his mouth but when he swallowed it was nothing more than his own spit. Buck scolded himself. If he was going to get through this, he had to be stronger. Staring outside at the freedom he was denied, imagining something he couldn’t have was useless. Determined not to show such weakness again, he left the window and made his way to the bed.

He was tired and hoped for a little rest, but found none. His increasing restlessness preventing him from lying down for very long and instead he spent most of the night sitting cross-legged on the bed, arms folded protectively across his sore chest, rocking back and forth nervously to a beat pounding in his head. Despite the cool night air, he was bathed in sweat, his body alternating between chills and fever. It infuriated him that he could no longer hide his discomfort.

Soon the rocking did little to alleviate his restlessness and Buck began pacing the floor. Over and over again he crossed the kitchen – seven steps, turn, seven steps, turn, seven steps, turn.

At Teaspoon’s insistence, Kid settled down on his bedroll near the fireplace for a few hours sleep and Teaspoon sat at the kitchen table playing a game of checkers by himself, watching his troubled rider wear down the floor boards. Teaspoon Hunter considered himself to be a patient man, probably more patient than most, but the stubborn young Kiowa seemed intent on testing him. It frustrated him greatly that Buck would not speak to him. Teaspoon didn’t find the boy’s game very amusing and Buck’s incessant pacing was making him nervous as well. He knew the boy was hurting, but Buck refused to let him help and that maddened him, too. The site of his normally calm and collected rider nervously pacing the floor like a caged animal, obviously in pain was hard to take. But lack of sleep and his frustration over the entire situation had left him irritable and his tolerance for Buck’s silence wearing thin.

"Buck, will you please sit down!" Teaspoon barked, more exasperation showing in his voice than intended. Buck continued pacing as if he hadn’t heard. "What is so all fired special ‘bout seven? Why not six or eight or twenty-two?"

Buck heard Teaspoon’s complaints through the pounding in his head, but paid them no mind. It fact, it pleased him some. The old man deserved to feel a little stress. After what he had done to him, Buck felt he deserved it. He had entertained notions of trying to get away during the night, but Teaspoon and Kid read his intent and blocked every available exit with pieces of furniture to hamper his efforts in the event he did try to escape. He had hoped his guards would grow tired and perhaps doze off at the same time providing him an opportunity, but it didn’t happen, and he finally came to the distressing realization that he was stuck there.

"Son, it would do us both good if you would just sit down for a while. You’re wearin’ yourself as thin as the floorboards and you’re ‘bout to drive me to drink! C’mon over here and play some checkers with me. I’m pretty good, but I bet you can beat me. Here, you be black and I’ll be red."

Buck glared at Teaspoon in disgust through weary eyes. The last thing he wanted to do was play a stupid, white man’s game. It had been a very long time since he last took laudanum and it was all he could do to keep from screaming. Everything inside his body was moving too fast. Although he was exhausted, the only thing that seemed to help at all was to keep the outside moving at an equal pace to the inside. He continued pacing, seven steps in one direction, seven steps in the other.

Undaunted, Teaspoon set up the game board and made his first move. "It’s your turn son. C’mon, make your move."

Buck merely glared at the man and clutched his stomach tighter.

"Alright, I’ll make your move for you then."

Teaspoon continued to move the game pieces around on the board making his moves as well as Buck’s. Buck tried to block out the noise but each sound of the wooden checkers dropping on the board shook the room and echoed off the walls like a clap of thunder and added to the storm already raging in his head.

"Now, son, that was not a smart move," Teaspoon said as he intentionally moved Buck’s checker into a vulnerable position. "Just look what I can do now," he added and began to jump his red checker over three of the opposite color game pieces.

Unable to dodge the painful sounds any longer, Buck broke away from his well established pattern on the floor and flew at the table where Teaspoon sat. He grabbed the checkerboard and hurled it across the room. The board slammed against the wall behind Teaspoon while the individual game pieces clattered to the floor around him.

Teaspoon sat back in his chair, drew a deep breath and let it out very slowly while he contemplated his response as the boy glared at him from across the table with wild, animal like eyes. Well, if nothing else, at least Buck had acknowledged him. That was a start.

"Son . . . I believe it was my turn," he said flippantly, hoping to taunt Buck into breaking his silence.

But Teaspoon’s provocation had the opposite affect. Rather than voice his anger, Buck allowed his actions to speak for him as he picked up an empty chair at the table and smashed it against the floor with all the force he could muster. The release of his hostility only fed his frenzy and Buck turned toward the kitchen in search of his next victim. Teaspoon jumped from his chair, knocking it over backwards in his haste, and started after Buck but not before the angry young man grabbed the coffeepot on the stove and sent it airborne across the room. Kid awoke and slowly rose to his feet, trying to rub the remnants of sleep from his eyes, wondering what all the noise was about. The grogginess cleared quickly as the coffeepot flew by his head and smashed against the wall, the hot liquid spewing like a geyser from the pot.

"That is enough!" Teaspoon shouted as Buck scanned the kitchen area for another unwitting target.

"You already done tore up the bunkhouse, you ain’t gonna do it here, too!" he shouted again and grabbed for Buck’s arm as he picked up a crock from the top of the cupboard.

"Put it down, Buck!" Teaspoon ordered as he spun the angry stranger around to face him. "Enough!"

Buck looked Teaspoon squarely in the face with eyes that could kill and defiantly threw the crock against the floor breaking it into jagged shards of pottery.

Kid wondered for a moment what had happened during his short nap that had caused the two to face off like prize-fighters. He hurried toward the combatants, but froze as Teaspoon finally lost his temper and backhanded Buck across the face. The force of the blow sent the stunned boy stumbling backward.

The shock in Buck’s eyes matched Teaspoon’s own as the older man watched an angry red blotch mark the imprint of his hand on Buck’s face.

"Buck . . .I’m . . .I’m sorry . . .," Teaspoon stammered, breaking the uneasy silence in the room. He had never raised a hand to any of his riders before, no matter how upset he had been with them. His hand had flown so rapidly, it was as if it had a mind of its own and he had been unable to stop it.

Fearing Buck would retaliate, Kid quickly stepped between the two, but his preventative measures were unnecessary. Buck stood there dumbly, overwhelmed with pain and disbelief. His already sore and swollen face was on fire and the sharp, stinging pain traveled to his eyes, making them water. Feeling tired and insulted, he lowered his eyes to avoid making contact with either Kid or Teaspoon, slowly dragged his aching, exhausted body to the bed and curled up in a tight ball, clutching the feather pillow close.

Teaspoon hung his head and prayed to God that he could turn back time. How could he have done such a thing? This boy was suffering and needed his help but he had only succeeded in adding insult to injury. He started toward the small figure on the bed but Kid’s restraining hand stopped him.

"Why don’t you get some rest, Teaspoon? You ain’t gonna do him no good like this," Kid said quietly. "I’ll clean this mess up."

After a moment, Teaspoon slowly nodded in agreement. "I reckon you’re right." He suddenly felt old and tired.

It angered Buck that he couldn’t rid himself of the feel of Teaspoon’s hand across his face. He hated the man, he was certain of it. Why should it matter to him? Buck had been struck a good many times in his life, but something about Teaspoon’s blow was different. He couldn’t understand it and the confusion bothered him all the more. If Teaspoon hit him in the face, why did he feel it in his heart?

-------------------

Buck closed his eyes, his body finally allowing a fitful rest to come.

Buck woke from his nightmare delirious with pain and fear. The creature had been inside him. It ripped him open and tore at his insides. Buck’s stomach began to churn at the thought and felt something very foreign inside him - something very wrong. It was still there. Buck bolted upright in bed and ripped his shirt open. He looked down at himself, expecting to see the large wound the creature’s claws had made, but saw nothing more than smooth skin. The wound had healed with the creature still inside.

He cried out in agony as the monster grabbed at his back and twisted it in unnatural ways. Bolts of pain shot through his lower back and exploded into his legs as the imagined enemy tried to pull his spine apart.

Buck felt hands on him, trying to hold his legs down, but he kicked them away fearing the leg irons. He felt the claws moving inside him, shredding his body to pieces as the creature searched for the way out. Buck knew it would kill him soon. He pulled frantically at the skin on his chest and abdomen but the wound wouldn’t reopen – it had healed so well there wasn’t even a scar.

The guards tried to hold him down, but Buck pushed his way past them and crawled to the edge of the bed. He tried to stand but his shaking legs wouldn’t hold him and he fell with a thud to the wood floor. The guards rushed to him and he felt their hands again but he kicked and hit at them until they backed away. He could feel the hideous claws reaching into his legs, squeezing the muscles until they tensed in rigid cramps. It had to be the creature – nothing natural could hurt that badly.

Buck began to tear at the skin on his abdomen, scratching fiercely with his fingernails until bright red streaks appeared. But it wasn’t working – he needed something sharper.

His eyes flitted rapidly across the room and finally fell on the broken pieces of crockery Kid had left on the kitchen cupboard. Buck grabbed at the side of the bed and struggled to his feet while a baffled Kid and Teaspoon watched his strange actions. Although angry and upset, he seemed to have his senses about him when he fell asleep, but terror now filled his wide eyes. Kid looked at Teaspoon for an answer, but the helpless expression pasted on the older man’s face told him he didn’t have one either.

Buck gained his footing and clumsily made his way to the kitchen cupboard. Since he had reacted violently to their attempts to restrain him, Kid and Teaspoon thought it best to let him do what he wanted - until he snatched up a piece of the jagged crockery and his intent became clear.

Kid rushed across the room and grabbed at Buck’s arm, knocking them both to the floor. He tried desperately to wrestle the weapon away from Buck, but the confused young man was intent on freeing himself of the creature inside him. Teaspoon held Buck around the waist while the delirious boy thrashed wildly against them. For a moment, Kid thought that Teaspoon would have to slap Buck again to bring him to his senses. But the older man had no intention of striking the boy again and instead wrapped his arms tighter and pulled Buck toward him, cradling him like a frightened child, rocking him gently back and forth while he struggled to free himself of the hold.

Buck feared for his life and continued to battle the enemies both around and inside him, but something was different. Something felt warm and comforting – safe.

Kid made a move toward the weapon and breathed a sigh of relief as Buck allowed him to open his hand and remove the sharp piece.

Buck drew a quivering breath as the pain tore through his back again, still trying to sort out dream from reality. He looked up at the faces hovering over him, expecting to see the laughing faces of his guards, but they weren’t laughing – they were just as terrified as he was.

He lay in Teaspoon’s arms, drawing air in ragged breaths and allowed the man’s touch to calm him.

"You won’t leave me there, will you?" Buck asked, his voice shaking, barely above a whisper.

Teaspoon didn’t have a clue where "there" was, but it was obviously a place where Buck didn’t want to be. He pulled the boy tighter to him and to his joy, Buck neither flinched or pulled away.

"No, son. We ain’t gonna leave you there."

----------

Teaspoon Hunter was not an openly religious man, certainly not the church going type. He would have been hard pressed to remember the last time he sat through a Sunday morning service. But in his own way, he believed in a higher power and the guidance and healing that was given to those who asked. And he did ask, many times, as Buck waged war with the enemy he had created inside himself.

Although Buck had been schooled in a Catholic mission, he knew the boy wasn’t a Christian. His Kiowa religion was, or at least at one time had been, important to him. But Teaspoon didn’t think the good Lord would hold it against the boy. Buck certainly needed more help than he and Kid could offer. Whether it came from the Kiowa spirits who dwelled in the earth and air around him or from God in Heaven really didn’t matter. Teaspoon figured they were really all the same anyway – it just depended on what you had been taught to believe. Sitting in the quiet, dimly light cabin, watching the boy sleep, Teaspoon closed his eyes and offered a silent thank you for answered prayers.

He and Kid would have gladly joined in Buck’s battle, had they been able, but it was his fight. The most they could do was keep him safe and offer encouragement through the long torturous hours.

During the early hours, Teaspoon sat with Buck, his arms wrapped protectively around the boy leaning back against his chest, spinning tall tales of his days as a Texas Ranger. He could feel Buck’s body tense and his breathing grow labored as cramps twisted his stomach like a wet dishcloth. Teaspoon was able to occupy the boy’s thoughts with grandiose stories that put Cody’s colorful yarns to shame and Buck even posed an occasional question or two. Teaspoon knew Buck didn’t really believe a word of the daring exploits he described, but having something else to think about seemed to help for a while.

The enemy he battled was fierce and unwilling to give up without a fight. Teaspoon was amazed by the power of this strange and frightening opponent. On more than one occasion, he questioned whether his actions had been the right ones. Certainly there were others more qualified than he and Kid to see Buck through this ordeal. But as he watched Kid sitting with his sick friend, gently rubbing Buck’s back as his nausea won out, Teaspoon realized that the touch of a friend was more important than any amount of medical knowledge.

Kid sat with the troubled rider for hours, tirelessly rubbing away the cramps in Buck’s legs and back. Buck tried valiantly to maintain his pride and not give in to the pain, but as the war raged on it became nearly impossible. Pain flew at him from more directions than he could count and his determination to win the battle faltered. Forced to put his dignity aside by the demands of his own body, Buck pleaded with Teaspoon, begging for the drug. He promised it would be the last time and he would never do it again - he just needed a little bit. It nearly tore the older man’s heart in two but he looked into Buck’s dark eyes, full of desperation and pain, and answered, "No".

After hours of muscle spasms, cramps and convulsions, Buck lay in Teaspoon’s arms, exhausted, scared and hurting, insisting he couldn’t go on. But Teaspoon refused to allow the boy to give up and simply held him tighter, reassuring him of how strong he was until the demon inside him finally grew weak from starvation and surrendered.

As Teaspoon watched Buck stir in his sleep he couldn’t help but notice how young he looked. Kid, curled up in his bedroll by the fireplace, did too. Teaspoon realized that in spite of their heroics, all his riders were very young. They were just kids struggling to find their way in the world. Each of them was special to him in their own way. They were the children he never had – his family. Losing Ike nearly broke his heart and knowing how close he had come to losing another child - not to death, but something equally unforgiving - made him shudder. This wayward one hadn’t completely found his way home yet, but he was out of danger. In the quiet of the night, Teaspoon bowed his head and offered up another prayer of thanks, just to make sure the good Lord knew how very grateful he was.

----------

Buck had grown accustomed to sleeping with the aid of laudanum. Out of sheer exhaustion he had fallen asleep but awoke in the middle of the night unable to remember how to rest on his own. His muscles ached, reminding him of the long hours of abuse they had endured, and he still felt shaky. Whether it was from exhaustion, nervousness or something else, he didn’t know. He just wanted it to stop.

Kid had stretched out on the floor and slept with such a look of contentment on his face that Buck was certain his dreams were pleasant ones. Teaspoon hadn’t intended on falling asleep but he was resting soundly also, although his slumped position in the chair next to the bed didn’t look nearly as comfortable as Kid’s. Buck would have appreciated a little company but he didn’t have the heart to wake them. The past several days had been hard on them, too. Instead, he lay awake in bed, the gentle sounds of slumber in the cabin reminding him of the countless sleepless nights he spent in the bunkhouse before discovering the magical powers of laudanum. He had traveled a long and twisted road only to end up back where he started.

Finally giving up on sleep, Buck sat up and moved toward the edge of the bed. He had been too tired to undress completely before falling asleep and still wore his buckskin trousers but couldn’t remember where he had left his shirt. Glancing around the darkened room he finally found it at the foot of the bed. He slowly slipped into the shirt but made no attempt to button it. His head swam as he rose and he felt very heavy, but he had been shut up in the cabin for too long. He needed to make sure there really was a world outside. After a few minutes he felt a bit better and slipped out of the quiet cabin to wait for the morning.

The heavy morning dew clung to his bare feet as he made his way through the grass and found a seat along the rocky bank of the lake. It had been quite some time since he had seen a sunrise. Young Kiowa were taught to wake early so the sun wouldn’t see them sleeping and think them lazy or bad children. As a child, Buck had taken great care to impress the fiery ball in the morning sky. Life in the village was difficult enough without offending something as important as the sun. Buck wondered as streaks of pink and gold dislodged the darkness from the sky, after all he had done, what the sun thought of him now. He certainly didn’t think very much of himself.

"You’re up mighty early." Teaspoon commented, approaching the hunch-backed figure tossing pebbles into the water. "Mind if I join you?"

Buck sighed heavily at Teaspoon’s voice. He knew this was coming and he really didn’t want to talk. He wanted to curl up somewhere and hide. Teaspoon wanted answers and Buck wasn’t sure he had any, but he would try - he owed the man that much. He owed him a lot more than that. "I don’t mind," he answered quietly, his eyes focused on the ripples created in the water as the pebble broke the surface.

"Well, that was a nice sunrise. Gonna be a purdy day," Teaspoon remarked as he lowered his stiff body to the ground beside Buck and turned to look at the boy in the early morning light.

Teaspoon cupped his hand under Buck’s chin and turned the boy’s face toward him. He was tired, that much was obvious. His eyes were shadowed in dark circles and contained more than just a hint of sadness, but they were Buck’s eyes and not those of the stranger who had taken his place. The bruise on his face from Kid’s fist and Teaspoon’s knuckles was fading from purple to a sickly shade of yellow. Others might have made excuses but Teaspoon couldn’t condone what he had done in a moment of uncontrolled anger. He brushed his thumb across the mark on Buck’s face, half expecting the boy to reject him, but to his surprise Buck leaned into his touch, resting for just a moment.

"I’m sorry I hit you, son. I had no right."

"I deserved it." Buck replied sadly as he turned back to the water and tossed another pebble. "I deserve worse."

"You remember much about all this?"

Buck drew a deep breath and thought for a moment. He remembered nearly forgetting his best friend and pushing his family away. He remembered exchanging his faith for a bottle of lies and insulting the man who was the closest thing to a father he ever had. Yes, he remembered – much more than he wanted to.

"Enough to feel pretty ashamed of myself." His words came with difficulty, but needed to be said. "I did some bad things, Teaspoon. Said some terrible things." Buck hesitated for a moment as the weight of his actions settled upon him. "I’m so sorry."

"It weren’t you, son. It was that poison you were swallowin’. I’m sorry I didn’t see it sooner. Kid tried to tell me somethin’ was wrong. Guess I just didn’t want to believe you would hurt yerself like that."

"I didn’t know what was happenin’, Teaspoon." Buck closed his eyes for a moment, gathering the strength to talk about what he had taken such care in concealing. "I had terrible dreams. It hurt to be asleep . . . hurt to be awake. I just didn’t want to hurt anymore. It was so easy. Just a little drink and I felt so good. It was nice to feel good for a change." Buck gazed across the water remembering the powers of the magical medicine with a wistful, longing look in his eyes that concerned Teaspoon. "I saw the most amazing things, things I never knew existed. It was so beautiful."

Buck hesitated as his face twisted into a frown. "But after a while. . . something changed and it wasn’t beautiful any longer. It didn’t make me feel good. I just had to drink it so I wouldn’t feel bad. And the more I drank . . . the more I needed . . . and I couldn’t stop." Buck propped his elbows on his knees and ran his fingers through his hair. "Teaspoon, I’m so confused. So much happened but . . . I don’t know what was real and what I made up."

Teaspoon wrapped his arm around Buck’s waist and gave him a reassuring squeeze. "Buck, I’d be willing to venture a guess it was just your imagination running wild. Seems whatever’s in that medicine is awful powerful."

Buck thought for a moment and realized he felt a little bit better. There had been times he was certain he was going crazy, but he wasn’t. The drug had been playing with him—making him see things. Teaspoon was right. He had been poisoning himself with something very dangerous. But at least he wasn’t outright losing his mind.

"I messed up pretty bad, didn’t I?"

"You made a mistake, son. But . . . if we had paid more attention to how bad you was hurtin’ rather than expectin’ you to grieve on our time table, maybe you wouldn’t have gone lookin’ for help elsewhere," Teaspoon admitted.

"So . . . when do we have to go back?" Buck asked, dreading the answer.

Teaspoon reclined back on his elbows and stretched his stiff legs. He knew Buck was afraid of returning home, but wasn’t going to allow him to hide either. "Depends on what you feel like doin’. We can head back today or wait ‘til tomorrow if you’d rather. You decide."

Buck felt an uncomfortable tightness around his chest as Teaspoon offered his options. The cabin was quiet and secluded, far away from the prying questions of the other riders and the townspeople’s curious looks. He felt almost safe at the cabin and wasn’t at all sure what to expect when he returned home.

"Do the others know?"

"We left b‘fore they got back from the Thomas place so I ain’t said nothin’ to ‘em," Teaspoon answered. "But . . . I’m sure they know somethin’s wrong. I reckon they’re mighty worried ‘bout you, too. Just how much Rachel told ‘em, I can’t say."

"I’ll tell them," Buck said uneasily, cringing at the thought of revealing to his friends what he had done. But, he had behaved badly and they deserved to know why.

"Ain’t nobody gonna think any less of you, son," Teaspoon stated, noticing the apprehension in Buck’s voice.

Teaspoon sounded confident. Buck wished he could be so sure. "Tomorrow," he said quietly.

The older man nodded in agreement. "Tomorrow will be just fine."

After a few minutes of companionable silence, Teaspoon reached into his shirt pocket and withdrew a neatly folded piece of paper. "Rachel asked me to give you this. She found it when she was packin’ up some things for us the other day after you . . . rearranged . . . the bunkhouse." Buck’s pale face turned a shade lighter as Teaspoon unfolded the paper and smoothed out the creases. "She was hopin’ you would want it back when you felt better."

Teaspoon thought twice about forcing Buck to confront his grief again, but his inability to deal with the loss of the boy in the picture set him on the dangerous path that could have destroyed him. Until he was able to come to terms with Ike’s death, Teaspoon couldn’t feel certain it wouldn’t happen again.

"It’s a nice picture, son," Teaspoon said softly, offering the portrait to Buck but he lowered his head, refusing take the piece of paper from the older man.

"Buck, we need to talk about this."

"Kiowa law says I can’t talk about him or even say his name but you and Rachel insist I must," Buck replied, his discomfort with the situation clear in his voice. "Everyone else just wants me to get over it."

"You’ve told me what everyone else wants," Teaspoon stated and knelt down in front of Buck so the boy couldn’t avoid him. "What do you want?"

Buck swallowed hard and raised his head to meet Teaspoon’s gaze. Taking laudanum had numbed his memories and he had nearly forgotten his best friend for a while. He didn’t want to forget Ike, but it hurt too much to remember.

"I want him back," Buck said quietly. Fully aware of the futility of his statement, he threw his hand full of pebbles into the water, watching the individual ripples they created join together and spread across the surface. "I want Ike back." Buck knew he broke the rule by saying Ike’s name, but he wanted to. He missed the sound. It flowed off his tongue and floated on the air, wrapping itself comfortably around him. But the acknowledgement of his friend also brought back the heartache he had tried to run from.

"I failed him, Teaspoon. He’s disappointed with me."

"Son, why would Ike be disappointed with you?" Teaspoon asked, clearly surprised with Buck’s statement.

"We made a promise when we left the mission to always protect each other and I didn’t do my part. I knew he shouldn’t have gotten involved with Emily, but I didn’t stop him. I should have known what he was gonna do or should have run faster or should have. . . "

"Whoa there, Buck," Teaspoon said, interrupting Buck’s list of failings. "Ike died because it was his time."

Buck started to object to Teaspoon’s fatalistic philosophy, but the older man continued before he could speak. "We all got only a certain number of days on this here earth. I know it don’t make no sense that some scoundrels get such a big number and a sweet soul like Ike got so few. I s’pose that’s not for us to understand. Ike died honorably, protectin’ someone he loved. When my time’s up, I hope I’ll go the same way."

"Teaspoon, he knew her for a week." Buck protested, not trying to hide his animosity for Ike’s new found love. "He died for her. Emily took him away from me."

Teaspoon began to understand. It wasn’t just that Buck held Emily responsible for Ike’s death but he felt she had taken his rightful place in Ike’s life.

"Son, there was enough room in Ike’s heart for the both of you. Buck, just because Ike loved Emily don’t mean he loved you less." Buck frowned and looked away, but Teaspoon turned the disbelieving boy’s face back toward him, making him listen. "That’s the remarkable thing about love. It don’t get divided, it multiplies."

"If you feel Ike’s disappointed with you, Buck, don’t you think it might be ‘cause of what you done to yourself, " Teaspoon asked, placing another cog in Buck’s twisted way of thinking. "I reckon Ike’s been awful worried ‘bout you."

Buck didn’t know what to think. His thoughts hadn’t been his own for such a long time. He drew a deep breath and slowly reached for Ike’s abused likeness, fearful of what he might see. But there was no anger or disappointment in Ike’s expression. Instead, he saw the same compassionate face of his dear friend – the only person who had seen something worthwhile in him as an angry, foreign outcast years earlier.

Buck sat quietly tracing Ike’s penciled features with his fingertip, reacquainting himself with the boy in the picture. His mind wandered back to a stifling hot classroom in a dilapidated orphanage. Buck saw himself dressed in uncomfortable, ill fitting clothes - his hair cut embarrassingly short - trying to maintain his dignity while a iron handed Catholic sister forced him to speak a language he didn’t understand. Peals of laughter from the white children rang in his ears as sharp and cutting as if he was still there amongst them. But the boy in the picture didn’t laugh at him.

"I had a hard time learnin’ English, Teaspoon. It’s a difficult language. I would say the wrong word or pronounce it wrong. Everyone made fun of me. But it didn’t matter to Ike. Somehow he just knew what I meant. After a while, it didn’t matter if I couldn’t say them right and Ike couldn’t say them at all. We understood each other without sayin’ anything. I’ll never have that again."

Buck shifted uneasily as the finality of his words settled upon him. His throat felt tight and unwanted tears began to form. "I don’t know what I would have done without him. I’d been told how bad and worthless I was for so long I believed it. But Ike was the most gentle, caring person I’d ever known and if he loved me, I couldn’t be that bad."

"He was a part of me, Teaspoon and now there’s a big hole there. What am I gonna do without him?"

"You’re gonna learn to accept what you can’t change, Buck, and stop blamin’ yourself for what you had no control over." Teaspoon pulled the heartbroken young Kiowa toward him, speaking softly as he stroked Buck’s mass of dark hair. "You gotta go on livin’ and one day, I promise you, you’re gonna understand how lucky you are."

"Lucky?" Buck asked in astonishment as he straightened and met Teaspoon’s eyes. He could imagine feeling a good many things, but lucky wasn’t one of them.

"Most folks never know a bond like you and Ike had," Teaspoon explained to the startled rider. "I never have. It’s a truly rare thing, son. Some day you’ll cherish those memories of Ike instead of lettin’ them tear you apart. No matter what you want, Buck, Ike ain’t coming back. I know it’s hard. But it’s gonna hurt ‘til it don’t need to no more."

Buck still looked unconvinced. Grieving for Ike hurt so much, he wasn’t sure he would ever feel anything else. "Your chest still hurt?" asked Teaspoon.

"Some, not too bad," Buck answered, perplexed over Teaspoon’s sudden change of topic.

"Those broke ribs hurt awful bad at first though didn’t they?"

Buck tried to remember his fall from the loft. It seemed like such a long time ago - so much had happened since then. He nodded. Yes, the pain had been nearly unbearable.

"But the bones have started healin’ and now it don’t hurt so bad. Grief is a wound, too, Buck. Ain’t no different. It will heal in time. But you can’t hurry it up, or hide from it in a bottle of laudanum. Understand?"

Though it was hard to accept, Buck knew Teaspoon was right. He had tried to hide from what was too painful to face and the results of his cowardice were more terrifying that what he had run from in his first place. Buck nodded again – he understood. He wouldn’t run anymore.

He settled back against the rocky ledge, feeling more like himself than he had in a long time. It felt good to have everything out in the open. Buck folded Ike’s picture carefully, intending to place it in his medicine bundle, but stopped himself. It wasn’t there. He had thrown it away, like everything else important in his life. He had been so certain his guiding spirit had betrayed him, but to believe the fire had been his punishment for make believe crimes against the Kiowa seemed pretty far-fetched now.

"Teaspoon, the fire was my fault," Buck admitted, wiping his slate of guilt clean.

The older man started to get up to stretch his legs, but stopped and sank back down to the ground, surprised by Buck’s confession. "Just how did you accomplish that, Buck? Cody couldn’t even wake you up that night."

"I left a lantern in the barn . . . I guess it got knocked over somehow. I’m sorry. I didn’t mean for it to happen."

"I see," Teaspoon began with a hint of disapproval in his voice. If he’d told them once he’d told those kids a thousand times to be careful. But his tone softened as he considered the amount of blame Buck had imposed upon himself for the loss of Ike’s possessions and endangering Cody and the girl. "Well, I reckon it was an accident, and you didn’t mean no harm. But breaking into Doc Barnes’ office, my boy, is another matter."

Buck sighed heavily as his list of responsibilities grew longer. One more person he needed to apologize to.

"You know anything ‘bout buildin’ barns, son?" Teaspoon asked, cocking an inquisitive eyebrow.

"Not much," Buck answered, a brief smile passing his weary face.

"Well, you are ‘bout to get the opportunity to learn," Teaspoon stated as he lifted his stiff body off the ground. "And, when you’re done puttin’ in a day’s work for me, you’ll be doin’ a little over-time for the good doctor just to show your gratitude for his kind nature."

Surprisingly, the thought of a hard day’s work felt good to Buck. He actually began to look forward to being useful and productive again. He’d been idle much too long. Maybe his friends would understand. Maybe he could start riding again soon, too. He missed the freedom that riding a swift horse across open territory created. Perhaps he could get through this after all.

"Teaspoon, I want to go home today."

Buck’s simple words spoke volumes, filling the Marshal’s face with a smile and his heart with relief. "You sure? "

"Yes." Buck pushed himself off his rocky perch, noticing he didn’t look very presentable. His clothes were dirty and his hair hadn’t been combed in longer than he could remember. "I need to get cleaned up first. I don’t want to go home lookin’ like this."

"It’s good to have you back," Teaspoon said as he helped Buck to his feet and wrapped his arms around the young man in a fatherly embrace. "You gotta promise me, if you ever feel the need for that poison again you’re gonna tell me . . . tell somebody."

A wave of relief washed over the older man as Teaspoon felt Buck’s nod of agreement against his shoulder. "I am proud of you, son."

Buck pulled back and gave Teaspoon an incredulous look. "For bein’ weak enough to do something so stupid?"

Teaspoon pulled the boy tightly to him again and smiled. "No, Buck. For bein’ strong enough to admit that you did."

----------

Buck intended only to wash up while Kid and Teaspoon packed the wagon, but as he splashed the cool lake water on his face, he felt the urge to cleanse himself completely. He stripped off his clothes and waded into the lake, enjoying the feel of the sand between his toes. The water had not yet been warmed by the sun and was cold – under normal circumstances it would have been uncomfortable, but to Buck, it felt good. It felt real and honest against his skin. He hadn’t felt anything real in a long time. Every sensation, every thought had been artificially created.

No longer able to touch the bottom, Buck began to swim with cautious strokes. He was tired, sore and still felt himself shaking a bit. But the need to reach for a bottle of laudanum to relieve his distress was gone. The aches and pains didn’t bother him quite so much, either. They weren’t just sore muscles, but battle scars of a hard fought victory - a victory he was proud of. His confidence increased, each stroke becoming stronger than the last as the crystal clean water washed away his deceit and deception. He felt lighter than he had in some time – free of the guilt he had carried.

Thinking of Ike still hurt. He wasn’t sure he could accept Teaspoon’s rationalization that it had simply been Ike’s time to die. His death seemed like a senseless loss of life. He still felt some bitterness toward Emily, too. It was an honest emotion and he wouldn’t deny it. But maybe, in time, he could accept Ike’s passing as fate and forgive her. He hoped so. Ike wouldn’t want him to be angry with her. Ike had loved Emily, but Ike had loved him, too.

Even though he had gone through the physical motions of setting Ike free, Buck realized he hung onto Ike’s soul tight, afraid to let him go, afraid of what he would be without him. The hands he fought against in his recurring nightmare of Ike’s death bed weren’t those of some supernatural force prohibiting him from touching Ike and saying good-bye. The hands were his own, holding him back from something too frightening to accept. Laudanum had prevented Ike’s bloody form and disappointed eyes from haunting his sleep, but he no longer feared the visions and doubted they would return. Maybe now they could both rest.

He and Ike had shared an extraordinary bond – he was lucky. Anything less than an extraordinary amount of grief at his death wouldn’t do Ike justice and that understanding seemed to make the depth of Buck’s mourning a little easier to accept.

Buck turned onto his back, floating effortlessly across the glassy surface and let the life renewing rays of the morning sun warm his bare body. He wasn’t embarrassed by his nakedness – it felt appropriate. He had nothing left to hide – no more secrets, no more lies. His head was clear and it felt good. He had said Ike’s name, and that felt good, too. Buck felt the heaviness in his soul lighten a bit and the healing began as the grief in his heart moved over making room for a little touch of peace.

----------

Teaspoon pulled back on the horses, bringing them to a halt and applied the wagon’s brake as they reached the specified location.

"I’ll just be a few minutes," Buck said as he stepped down from the wagon seat.

"You take as long as you need, son," Teaspoon replied. "We’ll be right here."

"Do you want one of us to go with you?" Kid asked as he reined Katy to a stop beside the wagon.

Buck smiled at his friend and shook his head. No, he needed to do this alone but he appreciated the offer. Kid had thrown him into a lake of fire, but Buck new it was only to save him from a worse fate. Rather than watch him pick his way through the hot coals alone, Kid had jumped into the flames with him, making sure he found his way to the other side. The southerner on the painted mare would never replace Ike, but he was a good friend and a good friend was no small thing.

Teaspoon noticed that Buck seemed a little taller as he walked away from the wagon to the place where the riders had bid Ike farewell. And although his steps were still a bit wobbly, there was a purpose in his stride.

It hadn’t really been that long since Buck had been there, but it looked different. The grass had grown taller and it took him a while to locate the object he sought. But after a diligent search he found his way back to it and retrieved his medicine bundle from beneath the grass where it lay patiently waiting for his return. Buck opened the precious bundle and carefully placed the folded piece of paper inside. Then he placed the cord around his neck returning his faith, his heritage and his best friend close to his heart, back where they belonged.

The tree had hidden its young friend’s secret, as Buck had asked, in its own wound – unable to object. Relieving the tree of its unwanted responsibility, Buck reached into the hollow in its gnarled trunk and withdrew the bottle. He held it almost fearfully, watching his former love swirl hypnotically, attempting to lure him back with promises and gifts. The call was strong and a part of him still wanted the pleasures it brought – the contentment that washed over his body and calmed him like a warm bath, the visions and music that had excited his dulled senses. But they weren’t really the generous gifts of a friend or lover. They carried a hidden cost.

Worry for his weakened rider filled the lines of Teaspoon’s face as the temptation in Buck’s hands caught a ray of sun and announced the whereabouts of the last bottle. But his concern turned to admiration as Buck summoned his will and hurled his enemy against a nearby rock, shattering the glass container. The liquid lies sparkled momentarily but quickly lost their luster when exposed to the truth.

It had been a long search, but Buck felt he had found himself again. He wasn’t quite the same – but perhaps would be a better person because of his journey. He dropped to his knees in the lush grass marking the resting place of Ike’s remains and ran his fingers through the thick, living carpet. In a voice stronger than he expected, he was finally able to finish what for so long, he had been unable to do.

"I love you, Ike. I always will. But I’m gonna let you go now. Tryin’ so hard to hang on to you, I nearly lost myself. You don’t need to worry about me any more, Ike . . . I’m gonna be fine."