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.”

“Loft”
“Lantern”
“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 guilt.   He had failed his best friend, again. 
 

Chapter 8

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 rethought her offer, “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.”

Got the important things out… 

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.