Lou stopped outside the Marshal’s office, stealing a glance down the street.  Music and laughter could be faintly heard from the meeting hall, despite its distance from the small jail.  Squinting her eyes, she could faintly see the building where it sat sandwiched between the imposing Bank of Rock Creek and Mr. Lee’s Apothecary.  The ladies auxiliary had gone all out. Gaily decorated lanterns littered the street in front of the structure, and the band certainly sounded more professional than Edgar Kranten and his Sweetwater music troupe.  No doubt the other riders were already do-si-do-ing to their heart’s content, she mused, trying not to think of how appealing Kid had looked in his new suit and string tie. 

She sighed, ensuring that her hair was tucked securely under her hat and that her eyeglasses were firmly in place, before stepping into the Marshal’s office.  Buck’s hopeful gaze almost gave her pause, but she had to play this part to perfection if she wanted any chance of carrying it out to the finish.  She nodded briefly to the Kiowa rider and tried to ignore the puzzled look in his eyes.  She was having less trouble disregarding Buck than she was ignoring the knot of nervousness that had formed in her stomach. 

Deputy Hanson had his boots stacked up on the cluttered desk and his chair tilted back, the better to display his ample stomach.  Though still a young man, his thinning hair and rounded proportions gave the appearance of someone much older.  Too much of mama’s apple pie, Lou reflected, and not enough time spent chasin’ the bad guys.

“Deputy Hanson,” she greeted, pitching her voice into the masculine timbre she tried to use when dealing with anyone who thought she was a man.  The charade was getting harder and harder to maintain.  It had been nice when Teaspoon had discovered that she was a girl; the freedom to actually show her feminine side was liberating.  It had felt wonderful to let her hair grow just a little bit – she could even wear a small ponytail if she so desired!  But at the same time, she found it more difficult than ever to take on the persona of “Lou” when “Louise” was aching to come out of hiding.  It was as if her feminine side, finally emancipated, refused to disappear beneath spectacles and deep voice. 

“Lou, ain’t it?” Hanson acknowledged the newcomer warmly.  “You one of them Express riders, ain’t ya?”

“Yup.  Just thought I’d stop by and have a little chat with Buck, if that’s all right.”

The deputy chuckled as Lou drew a chair closer to the Kiowa’s cell.  “Ain’t like we have regular visitin’ hours like them big city jails.  They call ‘em pen-ee-ten-churries there, ya know,” he added, pronouncing the word carefully.  “I had the particular experience of visitin’ the pen-ee-ten-churry  when I was in Chicago last summer.  Not that I was arrested or nothin’!  No sirree, not me!  But I did meet me the purtiest little gal, and she was a lawyer!  Coulda knocked me over with a feather.  I’ll say—”

“Didn’t think you’d be interested in a city girl,” Lou interrupted as soon as the big man took a breath.

Hanson’s eyes narrowed suspiciously.  “Why’d you say that?”

Lou tried her best to look innocent.  “Oh, it’s pretty obvious that somebody’s smitten with you.”  As Hanson’s eyes lit up, Lou ducked her head to hide the smirk that she knew was lurking below the surface.  It had taken her less than twenty minutes of casual conversation that afternoon to discover Deputy Hanson’s “secret”.  The chubby deputy’s infatuation with town seamstress Lottie Davies was an open secret.  Apparently everyone in town knew about it except Lottie, though it was clear that Hanson believed he’d kept his cards close to his chest. 

“What… what do you mean, Lou?”

Straddling the chair and leaning forward conspiratorially, Lou said, “Well, I was just down at that benefit dance, and I couldn’t help but hear Lottie mention your name.”

Hanson’s voice could best be described as a yelp.  “She was talkin’ about ME?”

“Clear as day,” Lou confirmed.

Pulling his bulk from the chair, Hanson paced around the tiny room.  Finally, he dropped to one knee in front of the startled rider.  “What should I do?  Lou, you look like you been ‘round a might or two.  You musta had some experience with the ladies, bein’ an Express rider an’ all.”  The deputy found himself blushing.  He’d heard some hair-raising stories about the men who rode for the Express.  Like the sailor who had a woman in every port, it was said that the riders had a female in every frontier town.   As a God-fearing man, Hanson just couldn’t fathom it.  He went to church regularly.  The only time he set foot in the saloon was to break up a brawl or make an arrest, and he certainly wouldn’t truck with the saloon girls.  Carousing just wasn’t in his nature. But from what he’d heard, it seemed to be a prerequisite for getting work with the Pony Express.

“What should I do with Miss Lottie?  She’s just the sweetest thing I’ve ever laid eyes on!”

Lou managed to steal a quick glance at Buck.  The Kiowa rider was watching this exchange with an expression of incredulity.  He cocked an eyebrow at his friend, causing Lou to frown, but thankfully he kept his mouth shut.  Turning her attention back to the deputy, Lou drawled, “Well, there’s still plenty of time left tonight.  If you want, you could go down to the meeting hall and spend some time at the dance.”

Hanson’s eyes sparkled with glee, his hands automatically rising to smooth his threadbare hair.  Then his dancing eyes lit on Buck sitting morosely in his cell, and his face fell.  “I can’t,” he moaned, indicating the Kiowa with a nudge of his chin. 

Lou let her eyes widen with what she hoped was a look of surprise.   Her mind turned to Cody, onstage with the Herrick acting troupe before the not-so-unfortunate demise of its director. She spared a moment for a mental curse that Cody wasn’t here to act out this particular human drama.  She knew she’d have been able to talk him into it, if only because it would be an “acting challenge”.   Cody could never back down from a challenge.

“Oh, don’t you worry about Buck,” she reassured the hefty deputy.  “I just came by to talk with him anyway.”  When Hanson still looked dubious, she added, “Teaspoon used to deputize us riders all the time back in Sweetwater.  If you want, I’ll go fetch ‘im from the dance, though he did look awful cozy.  But then we can make sure –” Lou started walking determinedly toward the door, only to be stopped by the large and nervously sweaty palm of Hanson.

“We… we don’t be needin’ to do that, Lou!” Hanson declared anxiously.  Directing her to the chair, he continued vigorously, “Now you just sit here and talk to your friend.  But… what should I say to Miss Lottie?”

“The important thing is to play it cool.  Don’t let her know that you know she’s been talkin’ about ya.  Spend some time just dawdlin’ around the dance floor.  Bide your time.  When you think you’re ready, ask her to dance.  And you can take as much time as you like; me and Buck got plenty to talk about.”

The deputy’s entire being lit up like a summer day.  He pumped Lou’s hand enthusiastically.  “You are a good man, Lou, a good man!”  Hanson had grabbed his hat and exited the building before she had a chance to reply. 

Turning back to the cells and a curious Buck, Lou felt a twinge of guilt over her deception.  Lottie Davies was a founding member of the Ladies Auxiliary, so she was bound to be in attendance at the dance.  Probably holding court at the punch table or standing guard over stacks of cream cakes.  But she had no idea if the seamstress had any interest in returning Hanson’s obvious affection.  She squared her shoulders, hoping that Hanson wasn’t hurt by her charade, when a thought came to her.  Maybe Lottie WAS interested in the portly deputy.  Maybe, just maybe, she’d be instrumental in getting two lovebirds together.  She’d cross her fingers. 

Buck could contain himself no longer. “What did you need to talk to me about, Lou?”

Lou ignored the chair set up by his cell and strode unwaveringly to the large desk.  She set about searching the drawers methodically.  “Don’t need to talk about nothin’,” she told the startled rider before holding up a set of keys triumphantly.  “I need to get you outta here.”

Buck proved that he could do a passable imitation of Ike when it was warranted.  His mouth opened, but no words came forth.  His hands fluttered at his sides like baby birds making their first tentative attempt to leave the nest.  His eyes widened as the cell door unlocked with a resounding clang, seeming to his ears to echo like thunderclaps in the small building.   He pressed his palms to his temple as a wave of dizziness and nausea swept over him like a hurricane wind.  It was the third such attack he’d suffered that day, each one lasting longer than the next.  He gritted his teeth against the searing pain that whipped through his body. 

Lou tossed the keys on the desk, realizing only belatedly how lucky she was that there had been no other townsfolk arrested during the day.  It was a rare day in ANY town in the territory that some man wasn’t dragged in for brawlin’ or just for shootin’ his mouth off at the wrong person.  She figured it was another sign that she was doing the right thing.  Quickly she snatched up Buck’s hat and coat from the peg on the wall.  His gun and knife had been in one of the drawers by the desk, and she had already determined that they would stay there.  She was halfway to the door when she realized that Buck wasn’t with her.  Frustrated, she turned back to where the rider stood motionless in his cell. 

“What’s the matter with you, Buck?” she hissed.  “C’mon!”

The Kiowa tried to talk around a mouth suddenly filled with sandpaper.  “I… I can’t, Lou.”

“What do you mean, you CAN’T?” 

Running a quivering hand through his long dark hair, Buck tried to still the beating of his heart through force of will alone.  I’m Buck Cross, he repeated to himself.  I’m Buck Cross; I’m a pony express rider, and I have nothing to fear.  His eyes had closed, lids trembling, though he did not know it.  He finally took a deep breath, some semblance of peace restored, and faced Lou. 

“I can’t,” he said more clearly, the headache diminished to a dull roar at the back of his head.  “I don’t know what’s wrong with me Lou, but it’s bad.  I can… feel it, inside me, eatin’ me up.  And when it… when the fever gets me… I can’t control myself.”

“Buck—”

“I shot Hickok!  And I don’t even remember doin’ it.  I can’t risk it.  I can’t—”

“Go back?” Lou finished softly.

Buck’s head whipped up at the words.  Crossing the room, Lou stepped inside the cell and took his hands, conscious that they had to make their escape before Hanson or Teaspoon returned to  check in on the prisoner.  “Yesterday, all you wanted to do was go back.  Don’t you remember?”

An inarticulate groan was her only response.  Dropping his gaze, his hair obscured his face.  His hands tightened convulsively around her thin wrists.

“This all started at the little cove that we stopped at two nights ago.  I think – I know – that’s where we can end it.  We’ll go there.  We’ll go back.  Maybe it was the mushrooms, maybe it was somethin’ else, but I know we’ll find our answer there, Buck.  ‘Cause I feel something eatin’ me up inside too, and I’ve gotta go back.”

The Kiowa raised his face to hers.  When he spoke, his voice was barely a whisper.  “What if I hurt someone? What if I hurt you?”

“You won’t,” Lou reassured him firmly.  She squeezed his hands gently before releasing him.  “We’ve got to go NOW.”

Buck straightened slowly, dazed eyes taking in his surroundings before coming to rest on the petite woman at his side.  He understood the risk she’d taken to get rid of Hanson and free him.  If she was wrong, she’d be occupying the cell next to him on charges of aiding and abetting an escapee.  If she was wrong, he could lose control again.  He could hurt someone… kill someone.  And then he wouldn’t be her cell-mate; he’d be dangling at the end of a sturdy rope. 

He didn’t think she was wrong. 

Wordlessly, he held out his hand for his jacket and hat.

Lou padded to the door, ensuring that the coast was clear before Buck joined her on the plank walkway outside the Marshal’s office.  A quick check of the side of the structure proved that it was unoccupied by townspeople as well.  The female rider led the way to the rear, whispering, “I tethered Lightning and Destiny ‘round here about an hour a—” She stopped suddenly, staring at the scene at the back of the building with dismay. 

“Goin’ somewhere?” Kid asked.
 

Chapter Six

Lou hesitated only a moment before striding stiff-legged to Kid’s side.  She regarded the southern rider furiously.  “Just what the hell do you think you’re doing here, Kid?”

Kid slid from Katy’s back effortlessly, looping her reins over the same flowering shrub that Lou had used to secure Destiny and Lightning.  The smoky-brown sorrel that Lou favoured reared her head in distress as he passed in front of her, but Destiny merely considered him with watchful eyes.  Interesting, Kid thought, how much the mounts matched their owners. 

“Don’t you think it’s me that should be asking that question?” he confronted Lou, taking in Buck with a glance.  “What are you thinkin’?”

“I know what I’m doing,” Lou answered angrily. 

“Do you?  You haven’t been thinkin’ straight for the past two days!”

Lou tried to brush past the rider, snatching at the reins that held her two horses in place.  “Seems to me I’m the only one that’s been thinkin’ at all,” she gritted as Kid intercepted her action, holding her hands at bay.  “Seems to me I’m the only one—”

“When you were doin’ all that thinkin’, did you think about the consequences of this?” Kid interrupted coldly.  “Look at Buck. Look at him!” 

Lou reluctantly left off her quest for the reins to glance over her shoulder at Buck.  The Kiowa rider was slumped against the back wall of the building, his hair once again covering his face.  His hands clenched and unclenched at his sides like the claws of a great carrion bird.  His breath came in ragged gasps as though he’d run through hell and back simply to reach the rear of the jailhouse.  Maybe he had, Lou mused.  Maybe he had. 

Facing Kid resolutely, she took a step back and strained to look into his eyes.  The moonlight glittered on the milk-white luster of his new shirt, sending sparks flying from the silver-tipped ends of his string tie.  The darkness of the night deepened his blue eyes to a dazzling azure.  With a shock that sparked along her nerve endings, her love for him soared through her heart.  A love that they had tried to deny, though now she wondered why they bothered.  Everything suddenly seemed so clear. 

Kid seemed to sense the turn her thoughts had taken, for his harsh gaze softened under her intense scrutiny. 

He never saw her draw her gun.

When she spoke, her voice was like cold steel.  “We’re goin’ back, Kid.  And you ain’t gonna stop us.”

Buck pushed away from the wall, groaning with the effort.   “Lou… don’t do this.”

She couldn’t take the time to look around at him.  Her attention was focused entirely on Kid, and her aim was unwavering.  She was shocked, then, when the rider she loved merely smirked. 

“Hell Lou, I knew I couldn’t stop ya.  You get your mind set on somethin’, you’re more ornery than one of Teaspoon’s mules.” 

Lou’s concentration faltered.  “Then…” 

“I’m goin’ with you,” Kid explained patiently.  “I just… I wanna make sure nothing happens to you.  To either of you.” He ducked his head, and she knew that he was blushing.  Knew that, when push came to shove, he had chosen to stand by her.  No matter what the result, he had chosen her. 

“Then what are we waitin’ for?” she said brusquely.  “Let’s ride.”

They arrived at the clearing some time after midnight, pushing their horses to close the distance between Rock Creek and the cove in as little time as possible.   Kid hastily began setting up a camp.  The ominous howls of wolves had seemed to follow them along the trail, the wild animal cries lending a sinister counterpoint to the steady clomping gait of their mounts.   As Kid started the campfire that would keep the animals at bay, Lou unpacked bedrolls and trail rations.  She kept a wary eye on Buck.  The Kiowa had said nothing since their arrival at the camp.  Instead, he stood on wavering feet, hands grasping his medicine pouch and eyes never leaving the copse of trees at the water’s edge. 

She approached him cautiously.  “Buck?”

The rider jumped as though shot.  His gaze was wide and unseeing, fear-tinged sweat rolling from his body in waves of darkness.  Without warning he released his hold on the medicine bag and clutched his head, falling bonelessly to the ground with an inarticulate cry of anguish.  Distantly, he could sense people around him.  He fought against the turmoil invading his mind like an onslaught of wasps, squinting through the red haze that all but obscured his vision.  A cool hand brushed gently at his forehead, and though he couldn’t see, he knew who it was.  The Girl.  The Girl had returned, and she was caring for him.  A voice grated, the sound like bones against glass, and he knew that The Girl wasn’t alone.  One of the others was with her.  Would this man keep him from his quest?  He had returned to the right place… the place that haunted his dreams, if the confusing images that filled his mind could be called dreams.  But would they force him to go back to the other place… the place where the evil ones resided?  He shivered uncontrollably, throwing out his hands to scrabble along the hard-packed dirt of the clearing.   He knew it was no use.  He couldn’t escape.  He couldn’t move.  He was at their mercy.

Kid drew Lou to one side, wiping a shaking hand over his face.  They had tucked their blankets around the Kiowa, and had done what they could to make him comfortable.  Kid realized their efforts were woefully inadequate.  “Was it this bad the last time?”

Seeing her worry for Buck mirrored in Kid’s eyes, Lou answered, “It was different.  He doesn’t have a fever now.  He doesn’t have any symptoms of any known illness that I can see.  He’s…” She let the thought trail away.  What could she say?  That their friend was sick was all too obvious.  A ripple of self-doubt threaded its way through her body.  WHY had she taken him from the jail??  Noah would be back with word from the Fort doctors within a few days.  Why oh why had she thought that this cove was the answer to Buck’s delirium?

Pulling her tenderly into his arms, Kid whispered assurances against her hair. “You did what you thought was right.  Maybe it IS the mushrooms.  This could be some kind of… of food poisoning that we’ve never seen before.”

Lou grimaced, though he couldn’t see it.  “Other people ate the mushrooms.”

“Maybe they only affect the Kiowa,” Kid suggested hopefully.  Releasing her from his embrace he turned away slightly, giving her the privacy to wipe her eyes without his gaze upon her.  “We’ll gather some once it gets light, just in case,” he continued, watching Buck as he moaned in a tortured sleep. 

“Yeah,” Lou answered gruffly, and he knew it was safe to face her again. 

“Lou—”

“I’ll take first watch,” the female rider continued brusquely.  “You get some sleep.” 

Kid hesitated.  There was so much more he wanted to say.  Emotions that he’d felt long buried swept his consciousness, saturating his body with a new sense of purpose.  He wanted to take Lou into his arms and kiss away her fears.  He wanted to promise that he’d always stand by her, no matter what this world threw at them.  He wanted to assure her that he’d never leave her side again. 

He didn’t say a word, but he sensed she heard him away.  Laying out his bedroll close to the fire, Kid closed his eyes and tried to relax.  He doubted he’d get any sleep that night. 

Lou sat near Buck, watching him closely.  The rider was taking slow shallow breaths, labouring against some unknown enemy.  Now and then his hands fluttered restlessly under the blankets, seeking… what?  A weapon?  Something to use to fight the disease that had taken over his mind?  Lou shuddered violently, suddenly cold though the night was clear and fine.   Drawing the blankets closer around her friend, she walked silently to the edge of the cove. 
 

Chapter Seven

Lou wasn’t sure how long she sat at the water’s edge, knees pulled to her chest and arms wrapped around her legs.  Buck still lay silently a short distance from the fire, his breathing shallow and his body still.  There had been no change in the time that she’d stood watch over his sleeping form.  Nearby, Kid dozed fitfully, occasionally tossing an arm free of his bedroll as dreams she didn’t want to imagine stirred his consciousness.  Wearily, Lou turned her attention from her constant vigilance and let her eyes drift to the watercourse.  A light breeze sent the water in the middle of the stream rippling in gentle waves, but where she sat the brook was tranquil as a cathedral before Sunday service.  The horseshoe shape of the cove kept even the gentle wind at bay, and the entwined arms of the trees provided a sense of sheltering sanctuary. 

Shivering despite the feeling of safety, Lou rested her head on her arms and resisted the urge to shut her eyes.  When she was a little girl, her mother had read her a fairy tale.  It was a fanciful story of a beautiful princess who was faced with overwhelming ugliness and hatred.  And all that fictional princess had to do was close her eyes and say the magic words, and all the evil in her make-believe world was eradicated by the mere force of her will.  Lou remembered herself as a willful little girl, throwing the book against the wall when her mother was finished reading the story.  It had been when her father was turning away from them, just before her mother packed up herself, Jeremiah, and baby Teresa and snuck away with them in the night.  If there had ever been a time when she needed those magic words, it was then.  But the book hadn’t revealed what the words were… and the child Louise had felt betrayed.

That sensation of betrayal returned in full force despite the intervening years.  There was no point in closing her eyes because when she opened them, nothing would be different.  Buck would still be sick, perhaps dying.  She would still be facing charges of jailbreak when she returned him to Rock Creek, and now Kid would be facing those charges with her. 

And besides, she still didn’t know the magic words. 

Lou rubbed her arms briskly, trying to fight off a chill that emanated from within.  “I’m sorry,” she whispered into the night air.  “I thought I was doin’ the right thing.  I’m sorry Buck… Kid.  I’m sorry.”

“You love them very much.”

The words seemed to come from nowhere, and everywhere.  Lou pulled herself to a sitting position, instantly alert and aware.  She was sorting through the auditory clues before she was even aware of it.  The voice was female.  Slightly older than herself, Lou surmised.  And the words… something was wrong with the way she spoke.  An inflection which hinted that, perhaps, English was not the woman’s first language. 

Her gun was in her hand though she had no recollection of drawing it.  Eyes wide, she visually examined the area surrounding the cove before edging up along the tree and checking the other side of its massive trunk.

She was alone. 

“Don’t be afraid.”

Her back to the tree, Lou worriedly scanned the area again.  “Who’s there?” she called loudly, pleased that her voice sounded firm and steady.  Her knees felt like they were knocking together like a calypso band, and her heart was pounding out the tune to Camptown Races in a peculiar staccato rhythm.  But as long as the intruder didn’t sense it, her entire insides could do a tap dance to Oh Susannah for all she cared!

There was nothing there.  Lou would swear on her mother’s grave that there was nothing there. 

Except that there was.

A sharp breeze blew up from the distant shore, whistling through the leaves like a grieving mourner.   The copse of trees and bushes surrounding the cove suddenly seemed alive, shifting and rustling with noises best left uninvestigated.  A fine mist had rapidly covered the land; so deep in places that she couldn’t see the sleeping figures of her companions, and in others as wispy as the fine lace of Rachel’s best tablecloth.  And though Lou knew she never took her eyes from that ever-changing vapor, she couldn’t say how or when the form within it took shape. 

She was beautiful.  Long jet-black hair hung to her waist, framing a bronze face that was strong-boned yet delicate.  Chocolate-brown eyes that sparkled with intelligence and concern regarded her passively.  The mist that surrounded her – was part of her? Lou wondered dazedly – ebbed and flowed, but the fine beadwork on her tanned buckskin shift was still readily noticeable.  Even with her limited knowledge of Indian handiwork, Lou knew that this was the woman’s finest attire.

Lou raised her gun hesitantly, all pretense of composure gone.  “Who… what…?”

“There is no need for that weapon, Louise,” the figure said patiently, her voice like the soft tinkling of a dozen chimes.  “It would not harm me, at any rate.”

“How… how do you know my name?”

The figure waved away the question.  “I know many things, Louise.  I know that your love for your friend has returned you to this place, in search of healing.  I have remained here hoping that you would come back and seek to restore his health.”

Lou’s body stiffened, anger momentarily supplanting fear.  She didn’t know exactly what she was dealing with, but she’d heard enough of Buck’s stories about Kiowa spirit-walks to take an educated guess.  It didn’t matter.  Nothing mattered more than the rage suddenly racing through her body like a wildfire.  Nothing mattered more than Buck getting well.  If this… this creature… was responsible…  She took a step toward the beautiful woman draped in mist.  “YOU did this to him?”

The serene expression didn’t alter.  “No, Louise.  This was not of my doing.  But I believe that I can make him well again.”

Lou shook her head, unexpectedly disorientated.  Was this really happening? Perhaps whatever had affected Buck had now affected her as well.  Would she soon be talking about “going back” and shooting at her friends?  Wiping a shaking hand over her forehead, Lou closed her eyes and counted to ten.  It’s not real, she repeated mentally.  It’s not real.  Because it CAN’T be real. 

She opened her eyes. 

The woman was still there, still waiting as if she had an eternity for Lou to come to her senses.  The dark eyes regarded her with compassion.   Lou was forced to admit that whoever this person was, she appeared to be as real as Kid or Buck or Lou herself.  But what was she?  Was she really standing in the middle of a clearing talking to a… 

“Ghost?” Lou whispered, unaware until the word passed her lips that she intended to speak aloud.

Lips curved into a smile, the woman’s features took on new radiance.  She inclined her head.  “I am called Desert Spring.  And I am truly sorry for what has happened to your friend.”

“What HAS happened to my friend?” Lou asked warily. 

“We – my companion and I – we have been here a long time, though time itself is immaterial in this place.   I do not know why he is trapped here, lost in this world and unable to ascend to the spirit plain.  I only know that I am unable to make my own journey without him.” 

“What has happened to my friend?” Lou repeated through gritted teeth.

For the first time, Desert Spring’s countenance lost some of its placid repose.  “My companion, known in life as Matthew Tyler, has taken his body.”

Lou shook her head.  “That ain’t possible.”

“It is, Louise, just as I am possible.  His essence, the part of him that made him Matthew Tyler, has invaded the body and mind of your friend Running Buck.  But your friend has a powerful spirit, and his energy is great.  A lesser man would already be overcome.  Even now, Buck fights for domination of his body and his soul.”  Desert Spring’s eyes grew cloudy behind the veil of white fog.  “But he will not succeed.”

Lou had the gun raised and pointed before she had time to think.  “Then you better fix it.”

A ghost of a smile played across Desert Spring’s lips.  She reached out to touch Lou’s arm and though contact was made, Lou felt only the silky brush of satin as the rolling mist covered her limb.

“Matthew’s life-force cannot be contained in such a vessel,” she explained to the younger woman.  “The strain on the body of Running Buck is too great.  He will die… unless I have your help.”

Regarding the figure silently for a moment, Lou’s mind whirled.  Part of her still believed she was in some kind of hallucinogenic haze, lost in fevered delirium.  She was probably back at the way station, raving uncontrollably about ghosts and demons.  But another part of her – the larger part, the part that thought with her heart, not with her head – believed that all of this was real.  While Kid slept unknowingly not more than forty feet away, she was chatting with a ghost.  A spirit.  A spectre. 

Besides, she rationalized, if this was all a vision borne of the same sickness that had Buck in its iron grip, what harm would it do to play along?

Resolutely, she holstered her weapon.  “What do you want me to do?”

“I knew you were strong,” Desert Spring answered with a smile.  “It is impossible for me to speak to Matthew —”

“You’re speakin’ to me just fine!” Lou protested loudly.

“We have spent more years than I can tally locked in these surroundings together,” Desert Spring continued as though Lou had never spoken.  “But we have always been apart, just as we were apart in life.  I knew he inhabited this place, and so I stayed hoping to ease his loneliness. But he never realized that I was nearby.  He has dwelled in solitude, believing himself forsaken by all who loved him.  Even me.”  She looked carefully at the young express rider who watched her with wary eyes.  “With your help, I can speak to him.  I can convince him to free your friend.”

Lou backed away, eyes wide as Desert Spring’s meaning became clear.  “Nooo,” she whispered through lips suddenly parched as a barren wasteland.  She wanted to help Buck, but giving herself up to possession by a spirit was NOT part of the bargain.  “You said… you said the human body can’t stand the strain of it.”

“I understand your fear.  But the… transference… would be much different in our case.  Your consent would mean that the trauma would be significantly less, and you would not struggle against me as Running Buck struggles with Matthew.  But you must understand, Louise, that there are still risks.  I would see with your eyes, speak with your lips, feel with your hands.  I may be able to limit the transference, so that some of the essence of Louise McCloud still holds court.  I may find this effort too taxing.  That much is uncertain.  I do know that only I will be able to convince Matthew to release your friend.  And that I cannot do that without your help.”

Turning her back to the mist-wrapped wraith, Lou crossed her arms at her chest and watched the sleeping forms of her fellow riders.  Buck appeared not to have moved, and her heart leapt into her mouth until she was able to ascertain the soft rise and fall of his chest.  Kid moaned in his sleep, twisting as though harassed by a phantom of his own.  She considered, then rejected waking the Kid. Somehow she knew with certainty that the inclusion of the male rider would cause Desert Spring to rescind her offer.  This appeal was for her and her alone.  When it came right down to it, Lou knew she didn’t really have a choice at all.  Buck would die if she failed to act. 

She returned her attention to Desert Spring purposefully.  “Let’s do it.” 

Desert Spring didn’t appear to move, at least not that Lou could see. There was no bright flash of light or elaborate flourish of hands like that of a sideshow magician.  Only a pressure that seemed to build from within as though her muscles and bones were being stretched into positions long forgotten… and then weightlessness, and peace.

Desert Spring extended Lou’s arms wide, spreading the fingers of her hand in amazement.  The voice that emanated from her lips sounded like Lou’s in every respect.  “I’d forgotten… what it was like,” she said wonderingly, awe filling her voice, “to have corporeal form.” 

Spinning in a slow circle, she took in the world surrounding her.  The night sky spread out overhead like the deepest sea, each star sparkling with the radiance of a thousand fireflies.  Colours and sensations exploded over her senses, every movement of the trees and the water sparking along her nerve endings until they blended together as one continuous and sinuous moment.  Overwhelmed, she fell to her knees.

…all right?…

The voice-that-was-not-a-voice echoed in her mind like the drums of a tribal war-chief.  Staggering, Desert Spring got to her feet.  Lou’s spectacles had fallen off when she stumbled, but Desert Spring found with delight that this body did not require them.  Her hands went instinctively to smooth her buckskin shift, only to realize that she now wore the dark trousers, shirt, and vest of Louise McCloud… just as she wore the BODY of Louise McCloud. 

“I am well,” she reassured the essence of Lou that still resided, suppressed and hidden within her consciousness.  “I will not harm you, Louise”. 

Walking carefully and still relishing the sights and smells of the world, Desert Spring/Lou made her way to the campfire.  She glanced at the writhing form of the Kid, intending to continue on to Running Buck… and was surprised when her body stopped.  Her lips curved into another smile.  Louise’s spirit was as strong as that of Running Buck. 

“Kid?” the voice within asked. She nodded, knowing Lou’s anxiety as though it were her own.  Her hand passed over Kid’s body silently, and the young man’s struggles ceased.  An expression of contented pleasure overtook Kid’s features, and she felt Lou’s eyebrow rise incredulously. 

“He will spend the night dreaming of happiness,” Desert Spring guaranteed.  “As I promise that you will not be harmed, I extend that pledge to the man you love.”

Sensing Lou’s approval, she continued to the other side of the campfire. 
 

Chapter Eight

Hesitantly, Desert Spring knelt at the side of the sleeping Running Buck.  Though anxious with worry over the young man, she still was able to marvel at the compact body of Louise McCloud.  She remembered her own limbs in life as long and ungainly, yet as Lou she was able to easily tuck her legs under her as she folded her body into a sitting position.  Gently, she brushed a tendril of hair away from Buck’s forehead.  The Kiowa’s eyes fluttered open. 

“Lou?” he mumbled hoarsely, before his eyes widened in surprise.  His inert form sprang forward unexpectedly, muscles thrumming with renewed vigor as he grasped her arms powerfully.  In a voice filled with both fear and hope, he murmured, “Spring?”

Eyes filling with tears, she raised a hand to his cheek tenderly.  “Yes Matthew.  Yes.  It is Desert Spring.”

Buck’s own eyes filled with matching tears as he nuzzled into her hand.  “How? I never thought I’d see you again, Spring… I’ve… I’ve searched for you…” 

Pulling him into her arms, Desert Spring ran her fingers through his hair and murmured soothing words as Buck’s body was wracked with sobs.  The body was… different… but the man… the man was Matthew Tyler.  She could even see him, like a visual echo superimposed on the dark hair and face of Running Buck.  Matthew’s golden blonde hair shone like an emperor’s crown.  His green eyes still reflected the brilliance of the glade at the hollow where the buffalo hunting was best. 

Somewhere, she knew, the soul of Buck Cross cried out for freedom.  But holding Matthew in her embrace once again, she was suddenly overcome with the memories of dreams shared with this man.  Dreams that had never come to fruition.  Placid by nature, Desert Spring inwardly railed against the injustice that had separated them.  She couldn’t help but feel that the spirits had mocked their pain.   She had lived morally and righteously.  She had honoured her parents, her brothers, and her tribe.  Yet despite her devotion to the spirits of her people, she had lost everything.  Including love. 

Desert Spring put aside the sorrow as best she could.  Tenderly, she stroked Buck’s face and wiped away his tears before straightening.  She wondered how anyone could have failed to see the duality of the man.  But of course, one person HAD seen it.  Louise was a person of great strength and strong convictions.  It would be difficult to hide much from such a woman. 

“I have taken on this form,” she began, “so that I may speak to you, my love.  Louise McCloud – the woman whose body I share – has agreed to let my life-force inhabit her form.  I can do this only for a short time, for the risks to Louise are great.  I have done this, my dear Matthew, to convince you to let this man go.”

“Noooo.”  Eyes wide with shock, Buck/Matthew leaned forward to take her hands.  “No, Spring. Don’t you understand?  This is our chance!  We can be together!  I’ll never…” 

“You MUST, Matthew!  You took this body by force, and it cannot withstand the shock that you are putting it through.  Please, Matthew!”

Pulling away, his face contorted in agony.  “NO!  Don’t you see… we must be together!  I’ll never fail you again, Desert Spring.  Never!”

Desert Spring took a deep breath, feeling the anger of Louise building inside her like volcanic magma.  She was opening her mouth to renew her attempt to convince Matthew of the futility of his quest when his words struck her like a physical blow.  Turning his head to force him to look into her eyes, she said softly, “Fail me?”

Matthew crumbled under her intense scrutiny.  Burying his head in his hands, he said haltingly, “I had our provisions all packed.  Everything was ready.  I was saddling Chamomile in the barn when there was a ruckus outside.  It was my father… my brother Thomas… and… and Marshal Pearce.  A bunch of other men from Rock Creek.  They said… they said they’d found out I was an ‘Indian lover’.  Said they should just string me up, but they couldn’t hang a man for stupidity.” Buck’s mouth twisted cruelly as Matthew continued the story.  He raised his head to look imploring into the face of the woman he loved.  “I fought them.  I swear to you, Spring, I fought them.  But…”

“But there was too many of them,” Desert Spring said softly.  Her eyes grew distant as she too recalled events long past.  “I waited for you here, by the trees.  By our cove.    I was… so happy.  We were going to be together.  At long last, we were going to be together.  My father and brothers waited there,” she gestured towards the clearing, “to ensure that we made a safe start to our journey.  They wished us much joy and a long life filled with many children.”

Brow furrowed in remembered pain, she continued, “The white men burst from the trees before we knew what was happening.  We had been lax, assured of our safety.  We were wrong.  Chants to the Moon took the first bullet before he could even notch an arrow.  He died before the war-cry could leave his lips.  My father,” her voice caught, “my father Swift Arrow sent three of them to the spirit-plain before he was overcome.” 

Hands clutching hers desperately, Matthew said sorrowfully, “By the time I got free of the ropes… I rode as fast as I could, Spring.  I swear to you!  But they’d… they’d already…”

“Yes.  They’d already… taken… what they wanted from me.” 

Buck’s throat worked convulsively as Matthew spoke.  “I buried you underneath the trees.”

“I know.”

“And then I went to town and killed Pearce.  I would have killed all of them, my father, my brother.  I would have done anything to bring you back to me.”

She raised a hand to stroke his cheek.  “I was gone, dear Matthew.  And you...”

“They killed me,” he said slowly before raising his head to look into her eyes.  “But now we have another chance.  I won’t go back to that place, Spring.  I won’t!  It’s been my punishment for failing you; I know that now.  But the… the evil there… I can’t go back!!  We can be together now!”

“My love,” Desert Spring sighed, “you did not fail me.  You could never fail me.  The responsibility for what happened at this place lies with Pearce and those who rode with him.”  Her eyes darkened.  “They will have their day of reckoning in the next world.”

“I couldn’t save you!”  Dark hair fluttered as he shook his head.  “I couldn’t save you and you have every right never to forgive me!”

Drawing Matthew into her arms again, she whispered into his hair.  “You must let go of your shame, my love.  It is this which draws the ‘evil’ you fear.  It is this which keeps you locked in this place.   I loved you then, and still.  I have never stopped loving you, though there has been no breath with which to declare this love.  I have never stopped loving you, though I have not had arms to envelop you.  I have never stopped loving you, though my heart no longer beats in time with yours.  But it can again, my love.  It can again, if you wish it.”

Matthew raised his tear-stained face to hers.  “I’m sorry, dear Spring.  So sorry.”

“Shhhh.  I know.  And I have never lied to you, Matthew.  I know that what I say is truth.  Release your shame, and let us continue our journey together.  We have waited so long already.”

“I didn’t want to hurt anybody.”

Desert Spring felt the shock of recognition at the words from the life-force of Louise McCloud.  The renewed realization that she was merely sharing this body reverberated through her awareness.  How long had she knelt by the flickering light of the campfire?  Searching within, she could perceive no trauma or shock being absorbed by this body.  But was she able to determine such a thing?  And it didn’t matter… for the Kiowa was still fighting his possession.  Time was of the essence. 

Drawing herself straight, she spoke firmly.  “Then release the body of Running Buck, Matthew.  Join me on the spirit-plain.  Be one with me now, as we never could in life.”

Shuddering, Matthew looked around the clearing, seeming to remember for the first time where – and who – he was.  When he returned his attention to Desert Spring, his eyes were clear and focused for the first time that night.  “Yes.  Yes, I know what I must do.  But… is it unfair of me to wish that I could hold you in love just once?”  He shook his head as the shock covered her face, and smiled sadly.  “I know that it can’t be, dear Spring.  That doesn’t mean I can’t wish it.”

“You cannot even—” Desert Spring began agitatedly and then stopped, her entire being hushed to stillness.  What…?

“Yes,” the voice of Lou spoke within her.  When she raised her head to look at the man she loved, it was Lou’s eyes that studied the figure before her.  A blush made its way up her cheeks as she shivered slightly, awed and overwhelmed by this extraordinary development.   The dark eyes that regarded her with curiousity and fascination were most definitely Buck’s. 

“Yes,” Buck murmured huskily. 

A bronze hand reached forward to draw her into the circle of his arms.  Hesitantly, her fingers caressed the firm muscles of his chest, feeling the skin tense at her touch.  His hand tangled in her hair as, cradled in his protective embrace, he lowered her carefully to the bedroll.  His lips touched hers gently, probing tenderly, before beginning a procession of velvety kisses down her neck.  She sighed as warmth and security enveloped her. 

The sun was coming up when Lou awoke with a start.  She was in her own bedroll.  Her blanket was tucked securely around her; her gun placed on the ground where she could grab it instantly if the need arose.  Disoriented, her eyes searched the campsite.  As though sensing her perusal, her friends roused themselves sleepily. 

“I ain’t never slept that good,” Kid mumbled, sitting up and scratching his head before remembrance of the previous night’s events hit him.  His eyes widened as he admonished, “Lou, why didn’t you wake me?”

Lou shrugged, bewildered and having no idea how to answer that question.  What had happened last night?  Oh, she knew what had happened.  A tinge of red brushed her cheeks as she remembered exactly what had happened.  But… what had happened?  Figuring that ignoring Kid was the best option, she turned her attention to Buck, sitting somewhat dazedly on his own bedroll.

“You feelin’ all right, Buck?” she asked apprehensively. 

“I’m better,” the rider replied with astonishment edging his voice.  “I’m not sure how I know, but I’m okay… now.”

“Then I guess we should pack up and go home,” Lou said airily, relief filling her.  She bent to their tin cups, intending to pack them into her saddlebags.  Kid stood on the other side of the fire, regarding her silently, his hair corkscrewed in a dozen different directions from sleep.  He looked like nothing more than an errant and tardy schoolboy.  Smirking, she scolded good-naturedly, “C’mon Kid, give me a hand here!”

Watching her with a puzzled look, Kid didn’t move.  Shuffling aside, he made room for Buck at the dying remains of the fire.  The Kiowa’s expression was one of perplexed confusion.  As the silence dragged on, Lou finally threw down a pot and rounded on the two men.  “What is it with you two?” she asked in exasperation though dreading the answer. 

To her surprise, Kid blushed as he ducked his head.  “Nothin’,” he answered awkwardly.  “Just had some dreams, that’s all.”

“Dreams?” Lou asked sharply.  Desert Spring had promised “dreams of happiness” for Kid, and had extended that promise for Buck at night’s end.  The knowledge of what had occurred last night would not do either rider any good.   Lou tried to keep her voice from shaking.  “What kind of dreams?”

Though it was hard to tell with his head tucked nearly into his armpit, she would swear that Kid’s flush deepened.  “Just dreams.  Can’t remember exactly.”  When he raised his head to look at her, his boyish grin took her breath away.  “Nice dreams, though.”

“Yeah well—”

“I dreamt too,” Buck interrupted, a frown creasing his brow.  “I also can’t remember what I dreamt.”  He shook his head, frustrated.  Dreams were important.  Dreams were one of the many ways that the spirits spoke to a Kiowa.  He could learn much about his life journey through the proper interpretation of his dreams.  How was he supposed to know which path to take in life if the dream itself was lost to him?

Lou grinned, the knowledge that neither Buck nor Kid could remember the night’s events a balm to her soul.  “Nice dreams?” she questioned breezily.

The Kiowa’s eyes cleared.  He remembered that much, at least.  He remembered the sound of crickets and the cool breeze of the night air.    He remembered being encircled in comforting arms as peacefulness and tranquility surrounded him.  He remembered the soft touch of lips on his chest.   But whose lips?  Whose touch?  Was it important?

“Yeah,” he answered softly.  “Nice dreams.”

“Then that’s all that matters, isn’t it?” Lou said as she crossed to the now expired campfire.  “We came back, and you got better, and that’s all that matters.”  She leaned forward to plant a chaste kiss on Buck’s cheek.  Over his shoulder, she saw that the mist had begun to roll in from the distant shore, covering the area near the water in a fine and delicate haze.  And it was hard to tell, but she thought she could see two figures standing hand-in-hand at the still cove with its entwined trees.  The woman was tall and beautiful, with long dark hair.  The man was blonde, with robust features and luminous green eyes.  Then the mist shifted, and the figures were gone, if they had ever been there at all. 

Linking arms with two of the most important men in her life, Lou smiled contentedly.  “Let’s go home, boys,” she said happily.   “Let’s go home.”