He placed the necklace on the desk, turned and left. The pain was almost unbearable. She'd lied about everything. How could he have been so stupid? How could he have believed that anyone as rich and beautiful as her could care for the likes of him? He mounted his horse and rode out of town - away from the townspeople who would rejoice in his pain; away from the shame of having been reminded publicly that he wasn't worthy of anyone's love or respect. He rode fast and hard. He rode to forget. It didn't help. 

As he rode, he realized this was really an old wound. It was deep and painful. It had started forming the first time the other boys in the village didn't want him to be included in their games. . . 

"Go away," said Little Fox.

"You aren't wanted here," added Stands Tall.

"You're too stupid," agreed Laughing Crow.

The boy turned and headed back to the village; away from the others his age. He didn't understand why they did not like him. He always tried to do what was right as his mother and brother had taught him. They were wrong, he wasn't stupid. He knew how to play their silly games. In fact, he knew he could beat them at most of the games.

"Where are you going?" his older brother questioned. "Aren't the others playing?"

"They told me I was too stupid," he replied. "They don’t like me."

"They're just teasing. I'll show you. Come." They headed back to the group. This time he was allowed to play, but he knew it was only because his brother would one day be a leader. One day his brother would be war chief.

He shook his head to clear away the painful vision, but no matter how he tried to force the unwelcome memories from his mind, they grew stronger. They seemed almost to surround him, slowly closing in on his spirit - trying to break him as the boys in the village had done so long ago. . .

"Red Bear's not coming to save you, Breed," sneered Little Fox.

"He's in an important meeting with the council," added Stands Tall.

"That's right," agreed Laughing Crow. "He's got much more important things to worry about than worthless trash like you."

They pushed him until he fell in the hole they'd dug earlier. Then they pelted him with sticks and rocks. Finally, they left. The sun bore down on him with merciless fierceness. There was no way to get away from the glare, the heat, the harshness. There was no way to escape the humiliation he knew was coming. 
At nightfall, a rope landed on his shoulder. A voice called his name. He tried to answer, but found he couldn't. He heard someone climbing down to him, and then gentle hands were soon washing his face with a cool, damp cloth. Then he was being pulled from his prison - rescued by the very boys who put him there. Humiliation grew hot on his cheeks as they received praise for their ability to follow the trail he'd left when he tried to run away - to escape his new job of helping the women  while they were allowed to start training for the hunt and becoming a man.

Again he tried to clear his head of the visions of how this wound formed. He realized that it was mostly the fact that his older, much admired, half-brother didn't notice the anguish it caused that kept it from healing. . .

"You exaggerate," Red Bear said.

"I do not," his brother answered. "You just don't see. They aren't the same when you're here. They fear and respect you."

"They're boys," Red Bear said, "They tease."

"Right," said his brother. "They didn't mean to ruin my harvest. They didn't mean to almost drown me while trying to rescue me from the flooded river I just happen to wander into on my own.  It was an accident that my arrows were knocked into a fire they never were placed by.  I got lost and fell in a hole again all on my own while I was running away because I never learned to accept my place. I get lost coming home from the fields because I’m so stupid I can’t follow the women.” He sat down in disgust, picked up a handful of dirt and flung it in frustration.

"You refuse to see; they don't like me; they don't trust me. They tell me to leave that I don't belong here," he finished letting his voice fade, tired of always having this same argument with his half-brother. It was so unfair that Red Bear had it so easy while he had to fight for his very existence.

"You do belong here," countered Red Bear. "You belong here because Mother and I say so."

"Fine. Then say so to everyone. Get them to let me learn to be a warrior, or at least a hunter. Let me learn how to be a man so they can't always treat me like a woman because of my responsibilities to the village. Help me fit in - be a normal boy."

"You are," Red Bear said. "You're just small. That's why the council keeps you here with the women. Your time will come. You'll see. "
 
He finally managed to recall a more pleasant time in his life; a time when he'd actually dared to believe he could be happy, be normal . . .

"They said yes," he told her.

"We can be married?" Little Bird asked.

He nodded. Finally, something had gone right in his life. If the council was willing to let him marry, they would have to at least allow him to go on hunts. He would need to be able to provide for a family on his own.

He had been right. The day after it was announced that they could be married he was told to report with the younger boys to learn how to hunt. He was overjoyed. It didn’t matter that he was older than the boys he now must work with. He was being included, being allowed to contribute to the village’s welfare, getting to try and fit in - be normal - like the others.

He excelled at the skills needed. He even earned the grudging respect of the boys who had tormented him throughout his life.

He was actually beginning to feel happy, accepted - normal. It was possible for his life not to be miserable. He should have known better. For whatever reason, the gods seemed to want him to feel separate and alone.

The hunt had gone well. He'd done almost as good as Little Fox and his friends. His joy quickly turned to sadness as they entered the smoking remains of the village. He found his mother, dying by the smoldering remains of their home. They’d taken Little Bird with them because she was white. She'd tried to tell them she didn't want to go, but they took her anyway.

The feeling of helplessness overpowered him as he watched his mother lose her battle to hang onto life. He wanted to go after those responsible for this outrage - to make them pay for their wrong doing. He wanted to punish them. The council wouldn’t allow it.

The next day as he helped clean the ruins he noticed the stares were returning. That’s when he realized he'd never really been accepted here. He realized that this disaster too was somehow his fault. The new pain from his old wound was unbearable. There was no longer anyone to share his pain, to keep him from being completely alone. His brother refused to see the problem; the only two people who had tried to help him feel accepted were gone. He was isolated and alone even in the crowded confines of the village. So he left - ran - to get away from the pain the wound was causing. 

This was the second time when he thought it could heal when he left the village behind and was finally rid of his tormentors. Finally, he was on his own, taking care of himself, not answering to anyone - a man. The best part of it all was that he was without the others there to make him yearn for companionship. 

Then the winter set in and he had to seek shelter. The cold made it dangerous to be out in the open, and he’d been unable to build a proper shelter. The snow that kept falling made hunting impossible. He needed to find a cave, an abandoned homestead, someplace to get out of the cold and damp, or he’d die. It wasn’t that the idea of death bothered him, but he wanted to die with honor. He made his way towards the nearest town, maybe he could find shelter for the duration of this storm; and then he’d be back on his own way. He ended up at the mission; here the wound was reopened and deepened as he was criticized for being Indian. His mind again took him back in time . . .

e stood, facing the back wall of the classroom, holding his hands out in front of him, never flinching as the stick struck him, never allowing her to see that it hurt. He looked straight ahead, refusing to let her win, refusing to bend. He noticed that the other boy, the quiet one, was again watching, peering in the open door with a look of concern. He took strength from his presence.

"How many times do I have to do this?" she asked. "Why can't you remember? Now, once again, what is your name?"

He moved his eyes until they met hers. He hoped she could see the hatred there. She stepped back and he allowed himself a slight grin before he looked again at the crucifix on the back wall. He spoke softly, in perfect English, "My name is Running Buck."

She struck him again with the stick. His hand began to bleed. She prepared for another blow when the other one -- the older one -- showed up, "I think this lesson has gone on long enough," she said as she chased the other boy away from the door.

"He still refuses to answer when I call on him," the first one insisted.

The older lady shook her head, "I know, Sister Margaret, but beating him doesn't seem to be working. You've been trying this for the past two weeks. Are you sure he even understands you? Maybe he's like young Ike and doesn't realize what you are saying."

Sister Margaret replaced her stick in the corner of the room. "He understands just fine. He's just playing games with us. He just spoke to me in beautiful English. He told me his name was Running Buck," she spat out the words like they tasted bad.

The older lady took his hand and led him to the wash basin. As she cleaned his wound she waved Sister Margaret to the other side of the room. After the younger nun had retreated, she asked, "Is that true?"

He turned his gaze from her hands to her face. He studied her carefully. He decided he could trust her. "Yes, Ma'am," he answered.

She smiled. "Praise the Lord, you do speak. And such manners."

She turned to Sister Margaret, "What have you been calling him?"

Sister Margaret replied, "Aaron, like Mother Superior told me."

"I think we need a new name for him."

"Sister Anne! You can't be serious. You can't just change his name."

"Why not?" Sister Anne asked with a wink. "We did when he first came. Let's all choose one together and then we'll go talk to Mother Superior and Father Thomas and explain."

Sister Margaret made a noise of disgust and walked off, "You can get yourself in all the trouble you want for disobeying the Mother Superior; leave me out of it."

Sister Anne turned back to her young charge. "Fine then, the two of us will pick out a name."

"Why?" Running Buck asked taking his hand from hers.

"Why what?" she asked handing him a towel to dry his hand with.

"Why can't I keep my old name? It's a good name," he said.

"That it is. It's a strong name suitable for a strong warrior, but you left that life and came to live with us and begin a new life. You need a new name that suits your new life," Sister Anne replied as she again took hold of his injured hand.

"I don't want a new name," he insisted.

"How about we keep part of your old name?" Sister Anne asked.

The boy just stared at her. She smiled at him and led him out of the classroom towards the infirmary. He noticed the other boy watching them again. He realized then that this silent, hairless boy wasn’t as stupid as everyone thought.

Once they reached the infirmary, Sister Anne put some ointment on his hand and wrapped it with a bandage. "All done," she said, "Now about your name. . ."

"I like my name," he repeated.

"I know you do, but you can't keep it and not keep getting beaten. I've watched you. Learning is important to you. It's going to be difficult to keep up with your lessons if you can't write because your hands are always injured."

The boy thought this over. After a few minutes he said, "How can we keep part of it?"

"We can keep Buck. We just need something to put with it."

"Why?"

"People should have two names. A first name and a family name," she explained.

"Oh," he said. "I don't have a family."

"Most of the children here don't, but they still have family names," she replied.

"Tell me more about yourself. Maybe that will help," she continued.

"Not much to tell," he said as he sat next to her. "I don't know my father, my mother was killed by people like him, the people of the village didn't like me so I left, I don't fit any better here - to Indians I'm white; to whites I'm Indian."

"That's it!" said Sister Anne.

"What is?" he asked.

"You're a cross of the two. It's perfect. That's your family name - Cross." She stood. "Let's go."

"Where?" he asked as he joined her.

"To get your new name approved," she answered. "I need to introduce the Mother Superior and Father Thomas to our newest student, Buck Cross." . . . 

He had thought for a few days there that this new life might be alright. He could live with this new name and it did cut down on the beatings because he now answered when called on. The problem now was that the sisters were often not pleased with his answers, especially in religion. That was part of the reason he'd been at the school over a year before he was allowed to go to town. Sister Anne had to talk the other nuns into including him. He stood outside her door waiting for his lesson. He glanced out the window and saw the silent boy watching yet again. He smiled at him. His eyes returned to studying the floor at his feet when his feeble attempt at friendship was rewarded by the boy’s running away.
He did not know what to do; he did not mean to listen, but he could not help but hear so he stood and waited...  

"I can understand why Buck doesn't wish to give up his notion of wrong deserves punishment. All we ever do is punish him. I mean, even Ike is allowed to go to town, and he doesn't even go to classes much less spend an extra two hours a day on religion lessons with me," Sister Anne said with a sigh. "Maybe if we show'd him mercy or forgiveness instead of just preaching it at him he'd learn to accept the idea."

The Mother Superior smiled at Sister Anne, "You really think it would make a difference? From what I’ve seen a trip to town wouldn't mean anything to the boy. He doesn't interact with the other children any more or any better than young Mr. McSwain. Why would this chance to socialize with them mean anything?"

"It wouldn't. What would have meaning is that we allowed him to go even thought he broke a rule. We'd be practicing more what we teach," she paused and held up her hand. "I realize he is not showing remorse at not accepting our beliefs, but keeping him here hasn't made a difference; maybe letting him go will."

The Mother Superior nodded her agreement. "If Father Thomas has no objections, he can go."

"Thank you. I'll go get him and we'll go ask," Sister Anne said with a smile. She opened the door to the outer office and almost tripped over Buck. "You heard?"

He nodded and looked back at the floor.

"You want to go?"

He glanced up. She didn't appear angry that he had listened. He nodded again, slowly.

"Then let's go ask Father Thomas." 

It took a fair bit of talking by Sister Anne, but finely Father Thomas agreed to "let the boy go this one time if he promised to take his lessons more seriously." 
Sister Anne had found this statement to be quite humorous. She wasn’t sure how anyone could take their lessons more seriously than Buck did. It wasn’t that he didn’t take studying seriously; it was that he just didn’t agree with the lesson they were trying to teach. He just couldn’t bring himself to buy into the idea of forgive and forget.

The next morning, Buck joined the others on their monthly trip to town. He didn't join in with the joking and singing; he just soaked in the scenery as they traveled. When they reached town, the strange, hairless boy went to the stockyards while the other children headed towards the shops. Buck sat and watched all the activity, but made no move to join either. Sister Anne came back from the general store, "Aren't you going to buy anything?"

Buck smiled at her and shook his head, "No money," he said.

"You get paid for working at the mission; where's your money?" She asked as she joined him in the wagon.

"Older boys take it; say I don't need it since I never come. Letting them have it keeps them from hurting me," he shrugged. 

Sister Anne shook her head. "Why didn't you tell me before now?"

"They were right. I didn't need it.” He looked at her thoughtfully before adding, "They take the other boy's too, the one who doesn't talk. That is why they always have much and can buy gifts for Father Thomas and the Mother Superior." 

"Come along," Sister Anne said as she climbed off the wagon.

"Why?"

"You're going to buy something. Don't worry about the money. I'll take care of it. Come along."

Buck followed her to the store. He had learned not to disobey her when she used that tone. Besides, it could be fun to see small, petite Sister Anne make the older, bigger boys do something they didn't want. It pleased him to know they would be in trouble because of mistreating him and the other boy. He knew he’d pay for it later, but right now it was worth it. He smiled to himself as he trailed along behind her.  

They entered the store. "You look around. I'll be right back." While he shopped, Sister Anne went to the older boys and collected funds for Buck and Ike. She gave Buck his money and left to find Ike.

Buck looked at the coins she placed in his hands. He picked out some penny candy, went and paid for it, and then returned the money to the older boys. "She take too much," he said as he left the store enjoying the sweetness of the candy.

As he stepped off the boards into the street, he noticed that things had gone terribly wrong. The men must have come out of the saloon at the same time he exited the store. They surrounded him before he knew what was happening. He looked from face to face and then back towards the store. He could smell the whiskey coming from them. He knew there would be no help from the store unless Sister Anne was back. She was the only one at the mission who was the least bit interested in what happened to him. She wasn't in sight. He dropped his candy to the ground and prepared to defend himself. . .

hat was the first time Ike had saved him. He'd joined in to help fight the men despite knowing it was pointless. He’d come with Sister Anne from the stables. As they came around the corner, he had jumped in the midst of the fighting without any hesitation. This move allowed Buck to regain his footing. They stood back to back and took on all comers.

As they healed from the beating they received at the hands of the older men, they became friends. Ike seemed to understand his pain and frustration of not fitting - not belonging anywhere. Maybe it was because he suffered from a similar wound. Ike too had lost his family to murders. He too was on his own with no one to care what happened to him. His inability to speak and his baldness made him an easy target for the older boys much as the fact that Buck was small for his age, of mixed race, and had a desperate need to be accepted made him easy prey. They were both anything but normal.

They spent their days in the infirmary healing, resting, and getting to know each other. Buck taught Ike how to use Indian sign language. Once this skill was mastered, it was amazing to everyone how much Ike had to say. It allowed Ike to rejoin the world; it gave Buck someone to spend time with and kept him connected to that same world. It allowed them both to feel that there was a chance that someday they could belong to the world that had cast them aside having no use for them. By the time they were well enough to leave their sick room, they were inseparable. 

Yes, this was an old wound. The trouble was it didn't leave a mark so no one else could understand how much it hurt. No one else, except Ike and he'd ruined that when he started this relationship with her.

He wished she'd let them kill him back at the pass at least then the pain would be gone. The humiliation would be over - he wouldn't have to face the others who had all known this would never work. He wouldn't have to listen to them telling him how they'd try to warn him; to save him from himself. He wouldn't have to face those who thought he'd gotten what he deserved for daring to be attracted to a white girl -- a rich, respectable, white girl at that. And so, he rode to get away, to ease the pain, but most of all, if he rode far enough, he wouldn't have to face Ike.

Another wound to tend. He knew he'd hurt Ike when he started seeing Kathleen. It wasn't because she was a girl. They both knew that eventually the other would find someone to start a family with. No, he'd hurt Ike by not taking his concerns seriously. As he continued to ride with no specific place in mind, he let his thoughts drift back to a few days ago . . .

He snuck into the barn hoping nobody saw him. It was bad enough that he'd allowed himself to be taken off guard by those men, but for anyone else to be witness to this humiliation would be unbearable. He began to clean off the feathers. Carefully at first, and then with a fury that showed the anger her felt. He'd been cleaning for a few minutes before he realized that someone was helping. He turned to face Ike.

"Just go away," he snapped.

*No. You need help,* Ike replied continuing to help remove feathers from Buck's body.

"I don't need help. I need privacy," Buck replied angrily pushing Ike away.

*This is because of her, isn't it?* Ike asked.

Buck just glared at him. Ike took a deep breath to steady his nerves. He knew he should have spoken earlier, but had hoped that he'd been wrong. Buck had been so happy since SHE had come into his life. He'd been happy and blind. Why couldn't he see what all the others saw, that she didn't really care for Buck? They couldn't figure out what she was u to, but they knew it was not good. Ike let out his breath and continued, * I don't trust her. She doesn't really care for you. She's just playing some sort of sick game . . .*

Buck turned his back on Ike. "You're just jealous," he said. "I've found someone to accept me for what I am, and you haven't. You just don't want me to be happy. You don't want me to have my chance at a normal life!"

Ike grabbed Buck and forced him to face him. *That's not true! She doesn't love you. Ask anyone. They all agree with me. She doesn't love you. I can tell by the way she looks at you when you're not looking at her; when she doesn't know anyone is watching her.*

 Buck slapped Ike's hands away from his face. "I thought you were different," he aid. "I thought you believed I was worthy of receiving love from someone - someone normal. I guess I was wrong. You are just like everyone else. I'm not good enough for a white girl. I don't deserve a chance at marriage, family -- normality. I’m supposed to stay an outsider - a freak, like you!" He again turned his back on Ike; partly to be sure he didn't see the pain in Ike's eyes. The pain he knew he had just caused. Part of him desperately wanted to apologize, to correct the wrong he had just committed, but a bigger part - his already wounded pride - wouldn't let him. He waited and was finally rewarded with the sound of the door closing behind Ike as he left the barn.

He shook his head to chase away the memory of the fight. They hadn't really spoken since. In many ways this second wound was worse because it was self-inflicted.

At nightfall, he stopped. He allowed his horse to cool down before he unsaddled her and let her graze. He built a small fire and sat staring at it, but not seeing it. He sat remembering with regret the shameful way he'd treated Ike. He was so ashamed of the way he had reacted to Ike’s concern for him. He should have known that Ike only had his best interest at heart. Ike always had his best interest at heart. He remember the many times Ike had forced the bigger boys to confess that it had been one of them, not Buck who had put the frog in the teacher’s desk, hidden the ruler, or banged the kneeler during mass. Ike never complained when Buck did something wrong, in fact Ike always stood beside him and took the same punishment despite the fact that he hadn’t always been involved. Ike deserved to be treated so much better than he had been. It would serve him right when Ike left him for someone more caring, someone more giving, someone who would appreciate what they had when they had Ike’s love.

He hung his head and let the tears flow. There was no one to see them; no one to care so he allowed the pain and frustration that was his life to escape as tears. Even now, after spending two years at the mission he had trouble understanding why anyone would worship a god who punished the innocent and forgave those who did wrong. He still deeply believed that wrong doing deserved punishment, and he had so much to be punished for. He’d thrown away his one true chance at happiness because of a silly dream of being the same as everyone else. He’d thrown away the best thing that ever happened to him. He had realized that day by the river when Ike first approached him and he responded that he wasn’t meant to be with anyone other than Ike; he’d recently been reminded of this fact when Ike nursed him back to health after he’d hurt his eyes.  He knew that with Ike was where he belonged, but he had tried yet again to satisfy an old, foolish dream of being the same as everybody else - of being normal. So he had thrown the one true chance at happiness away for some uncaring, selfish, white girl that he’d thought would somehow make him a better person, who would somehow make him feel normal. He wasn’t normal. When would he learn to accept that fact?  He deserved to hurt, to be alone forever. Loneliness was a fitting punishment for his behavior.

He wasn't sure how long he'd been sitting there before he felt two strong arms encircle him. He tried to break away, but they were too strong. They held him tightly, and then someone kissed the back of his neck.

The arms loosened enough for him to turn. The fire was still giving off enough light for him to make out Ike's face. He again tried to pull away; he didn't deserve this. He deserved to be punished, not loved. He'd turned his back on the one person who truly understood and cared for him just the way he was. He deserved the pain the wounds gave him. He tried to break away, but Ike pulled him closer. He tried to speak, but Ike touched his lips. They sat there; Buck encircled by Ike's strong arms, and watched the last flames of the fire die down until all that was left were some glowing, orange embers.

As the last flame faded away, Ike loosened his hold on Buck. He moved to where he was facing Buck. *I’m sorry,* he signed. *I allowed my feelings for you to get in the way, to color my judgment. You were right; I was jealous. I felt I was losing you, and that frightened me. I don’t want to go back to being alone, but I do want you to be happy. Please, forgive me.*

Buck hung his head, “No, you were right. She didn’t love me. She was just using me to make her father want her back with him for good. I was a fool. I should be the one apologizing to you. I had . . .” Buck again felt the tears flowing down his face.

Ike put his hand on Buck’s chin and raised it until Buck was looking at him. *I guess we were both wrong.* He smiled as he let his hand fall from Buck’s face and he took hold of Buck's hands and gently kissed them. Ike stood and tugged until Buck joined him. Then, Ike let go of Buck's hands and gently wiped the tears from Buck's cheeks. When he was finished, he tenderly pulled Buck's face close to his own and kissed him with all the pent up passion he'd been holding in these past few days. After a few seconds, Buck relaxed and kissed back. The two of them knelt down still kissing each other.

Coming to his senses, Buck again tried to pull away, and speak, but Ike stopped him by planting a new kiss on his lips. As they kissed, Ike began to undress Buck. He guided Buck back to the ground; tenderly kissing him. He started with Buck's face and worked his way down. After he finished showing Buck how much he loved him, Ike again wrapped his arms around Buck to offer him strength. Whenever Buck tried to speak, Ike would stop him. Finally, Buck quit trying and allowed Ike to just sit and hold him. They drifted off to sleep together. 

The early morning sun caused Buck to wake. He found that his dream of the night before wasn't a dream. Ike had found him and once again had managed to begin the process of healing him. Buck knew that thanks to Ike he would once again be able to share his heart with another, thanks to Ike he would be able to risk the pain of rejection one more time, thanks to Ike he would be able to love again. Thanks to Ike, the wound that he thought for sure would kill him was somehow not as painful this morning. Buck smiled the smile of contentment as he lay entwined with his lover - his soul mate - his life.