It had been a simple bet; one Buck was now beginning to wish he’d lost.  He and Ike had been on their way to St. Joe with a delivery.  Whatever was in the pouch was supposedly “sensitive information” and Teaspoon was too paranoid to send just one rider with it.  So Ike and Buck found themselves riding at crazy speeds looking in the shadows for some perpetual threat.

Buck had simply been trying to allay his own worry by stating that he was certain no one would bother them.  Ike had argued, patting his gun hip to emphasize his readiness for the siege that seemed to wait behind every rock, tree, and cloud from their sign-on to the express to present day.  From there it had turned into a bet.  If there were no attack, Ike would cook dinner.  If it were Buck who was proven incorrect then he would be the one cackling maniacally over the fire pit like some mad culinary wizard!  Lifting his brow, trying to guess what delight awaited him for supper, Buck queried his friend.

“What’s in that stew, Ike?”

“Don’t worry, it’s fresh.  I just caught it myself.”    The mischievous gleam in Ike’s bright blue eyes was too much for Buck.  His stomach was all ready clenching in rebuke of whatever torment Ike had planned to go into that stew.

“Seriously, what’s in the stew?”

Cocking his head to the side, pursing his lips, and shoving his ever-present red bandanna back to scratch his head Ike smirked back at his friend.
“You don’t trust me?”  He rested his hands on his hips like an irritated housewife.

“No!” Buck laughed.  “I know better than that!”

Simply shrugging Ike went back to work on his al fresco masterpiece, throwing chunks of heaven only knew what in the pot.

“I know you just hunted up something, but I’d like to know what it is I’m putting in my belly,” Buck said, exasperated.  Realizing that they bickered like an old married couple, Buck rolled his eyes.  “Well?”

“It’s a mystery!  You have to figure it out.”

“What if I don’t want to figure it out?”

“Then you don’t eat,” Ike added with a lopsided grin.

“Fine.”  Looking again at the boiling brew, Buck grimaced.  Well, at least it smelled good, Buck decided, then went back to his book.
 

Dinner was indeed good.  Buck patted his satisfied belly and stared plaintively at the dirty pot and the two sets of dirty plates and forks.  Eating stew with a fork had been an adventure even without the added hoorah of not knowing what the heck it was they were ingesting.  Buck decided that it couldn’t have been anything too weird since Ike ate of his own concoction.
 
“I cooked,” Ike reminded his friend.

“Fine, fine, I’ll do the dishes.”   Heaving himself up, Buck grabbed the small pile of soiled crockery.

The rest of the evening went without incident.  Ike whittled while Buck used the rest of the light on his book.   Once night fell they sprawled comfortably on their bedrolls and talked until finally words lapsed into sleepy mumbles, fumbling fingers and finally silence.
 

The wind kicked up.  Buck found himself continually spitting hair from his mouth.  He tried holding it back with one of his hands and continuing on his ride, but it was of no use.  Slitting his eyes against the errant hair, he focused on his path.  

He had a mission though he wasn’t quite sure what it was.  Wielding his shield as if he had precognitive power, Buck watched the enemy’s arrows dart off of his protective device.  His mount was handling expertly.  Great muscles bunched and flexed under pure white skin.  Buck soared, atop his animal among the clouds, eyeing the shadowed skies for the place his attacker hid.  The thick slap of massive feathered wings against the sky reverberated, like a heartbeat through the night.  Watching the Pegasus with wonder, Buck smoothed his free hand over the mythic creature’s neck.  A new attack sprouted and faltered as Buck and his companion easily fended off the blows of some huge airborne boulders.  

Slowly gliding back down toward earth, Buck remembered his mission.  There was a woman waiting down there for him.  Tonight he was her protector, defending the innocent from the clutches of over persistent suitors.  Gliding to the soft green grass, Buck dismounted.  The moment he set foot on the ground, the Pegasus again took flight.  

Slowly, Buck made his way to the woman who awaited news.  He followed the sweet scent of her as a moth is called to flame.  Taking her hands in his he promised her that her troubles were over.  Overwhelmed with gratitude, the girl threw her arms around his neck.  She began kissing his face, raining soft wet flicks of her lips over him.  Smoothly he pushed up her skirt, caressing her silken thigh.  Nothing could feel better than this, the hero, the conqueror, basking in the glory of the win and the woman.

    
The creatures of the night went about their mundane nocturnal life as a campfire slowly burned to cinders.  Near the banking flames Buck Cross lie curled on his side.  His hand, having pushed back the constant red covering, was caressing Ike’s smooth noggin.  His horse, catching the smell of dinner on him nuzzled and snorted into his hair and over his face.  

What Greek Warrior Buck didn’t know wouldn’t hurt him.