“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 irritated.  “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 dark 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.

“I would be a bluejay,” Buck thought to himself, staring into sky above him.  In his mind’s eye he saw himself as the small bird with beautiful blue feathers – deep blue, just like Ike’s eyes. 

Although he was a small bird, he was very strong.  His wings would never tire and force him to return to the earth and its multitude of rules.  He could glide effortlessly, endlessly into the expanse of freedom.

Buck imagined himself flying over town, peering down on the residents of Rock Creek.  He couldn’t help but laugh as they hurried about their pathetic lives consumed in the attainment of the things the white man held most dear - money and power.  There in the middle of main street stood the worst of them all – Thompkins. 

Buck flew at the man, fluttering around his face and occasionally allowing his claws to graze the top of Thompkins’ head.  Thompkins batted at the blue jay with his hands, shouting at the bird to leave him alone, but Buck would not be shooed away.

Fearing the strange behavior of the bird, Thompkins ran toward his store.  He glanced over his shoulder to see if the bird was following him and stumbled into a display of merchandise near the door causing it to spill out into the street.

“What’s wrong, Thompkins?” Buck taunted, remembering the storekeeper’s angry words to him a few days earlier.  “Why don’t you watch where you’re goin’?”

After enjoying a good laugh at the expense of the detestable creature before him, Buck flew higher into the sky, floating on the breeze across the open countryside.  The sound of thundering hoofs approaching caught his attention and he flew lower along the Express trail.  Even from above and through the thick cloud of dust that followed the streaking animal Buck recognized the rider immediately by the yellow hair flowing behind him.

“You think you’re so fast, Cody!” Buck called to the rider below him.  “I’ll show you who’s fast!”  Pumping his wings fiercely, Buck gained speed and raced against Cody, leaving the cocky rider far behind him.

Buck was surprised by how fast he could fly!  At this speed, he could fly back to the Kiowa and visit Red Bear in only a few minutes!  He pumped his wings harder and harder as the miles beneath him disappeared.

Buck circled the Kiowa village several times before he saw Red Bear.  He flew beside his brother until the war chief noticed his presence and stopped, in curiosity, to watch the small bird.  Sensing something familiar in the bird, Red Bear held out his hand.

“Come to me, little one,” Red Bear said, trying to coax the bird to him.

But Buck didn’t want to land, not even on his brother’s hand.  If he landed, he would be forced to follow the rules, and he wanted to fly.

Red Bear’s eyes were filled with disappointment when the blue jay refused to come to him.  Instead Buck flew away from his brother, angry with himself for disappointing Red Bear once again.

He wanted to be a good brother, to fight beside Red Bear in battle and protect him. Buck knew the elders of the village disapproved of their war chief’s loyalty to his white brother and had questioned his leadership in the past.  Red Bear was better off without him.

Buck wanted desperately to show Red Bear that he loved him so he turned from the blue jay into a golden eagle, a good omen, and reappeared to Red Bear, soaring overhead until his brother saw him and smiled.

Flying over the village, Buck watched the Kiowa below him, his anger toward them building.  It was because of them he had left years ago.  Their rules and his inability to live with them caused him to disappoint his brother time after time.

Buck felt himself take on the form of an owl and flew into the village.  The Kiowa recognized him as a bad omen and ran into their teepees to hide from the owl.  But Buck followed them, beating his wings against the walls of their teepees to make a  frightening sound.  He wanted to scare them, to torment them and make them feel the way he had for so many years.

Trying to escape him, the Kiowa ran back and forth across the village. But Buck flew after them, flapping his wings furiously and pecking at their hair with his beak.

“Please don’t hurt us!” the Kiowa cried to him.

Satisfied that they had felt fear, Buck took pity upon the Kiowa and tried to change back into a blue jay, but he couldn’t.  The Kiowa continued to cry and scream in fear of him.  To his horror, they began to fall to the ground, dying in fright.  Buck began to panic.  He didn’t want to kill them, just scare them!

He desperately tried to change back to the blue jay or any other small, insignificant bird, but he couldn’t.  Instead, he found himself in the form of a vulture.  He tried to stop himself, but the instincts of the scavenger were too strong.  He landed in the village and began to walk among the bodies of the Kiowa.

Buck began to peck at the dead bodies.  Tasting blood, he tore at the flesh of the Kiowa, ripping them apart.  The vulture satisfied his innermost needs feasting on their bodies.  He enjoyed the taste.

“Buck, you alright?”

“Buck!”

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 gettin’ 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 dread. 

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. 

“please don’t hurt us, please don’t hurt us…”
“what have you done, Running Buck, what have you done…”

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.
 

Chapter 6

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 clouding 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.