Hidden Secrets

Buck Cross shivered in the cold morning air. He had no idea what to do. He had all this money which, as he just found out, he couldn't spend in a town without somebody suspecting and/or accusing him of theft and murder. This money was more trouble than it was worth.

He remembered something in a letter Rachel sent that actually made it to him. Lou and Kid, who had settled on their own ranch shortly before Christmas, were having some difficulties. A big storm had destroyed their barn and almost killed the stock that they were going to start the horse ranch with. Just starting out, they didn't have the money to pay back their bank loan, let alone repair the barn. Maybe he could put his money to good use after all.

Jeremiah McCloud looked at his sister in annoyance. "Why can't I go outside and do somethin'?" he whined. "It's not like it's snowin' at the moment. Mother Naomi used to always let us play in the snow when our chores were done."

There was no response from his older sister Louise, it had been a long time since she had ever responded to his or their younger sister Teresa's whining. It could not be said that she ignored or neglected her siblings though, they were well cared for. But she always seemed to be emotionally detached, going through the motions of living like some sort of newfangled machine that was devoid of any emotion.

Kid said that she was getting better, though why his brother-in-law would say that was beyond Jeremiah, he hadn't noticed any obvious change, save that she had been slightly more talkative since they moved from the old Pony Express way station in Rock Creek to this ranch just outside of Lone Tree Valley. Christmas seemed to perk her up a bit, but now, in early January, she seemed to have slipped back in her melancholy state. Jeremiah wasn't sure exactly what that meant, but that's what Kid had said.

"You still have a bit of a cold, Jeremiah," Lou said finally. "Do you want to become ill with pneumonia?"

Jeremiah was about to protest again, but Kid stilled him with a look. He sighed inaudibly. He knew just how his brother- in-law felt. It was no fun being cooped up inside with nothing to do, but there were limited chores that the boy could do. Ever since the storm that destroyed the barn on New Years Eve, there was a limited amount of chores to be done, feeding the animals, mending fences and the like. The barn would have to be repaired so it could house the horses until spring when a new one could be built, but they did not have the lumber to do it, and could not afford to buy it. The men that had stayed on the ranch when Kid brought it from the widow, Pat Sutherland, took care of mending the fences; they weren't being paid much at that point, but they wanted to give Kid and his family a chance.

That left the feeding of the animals, which Kid liked to do himself, for the simple fact that without suitable shelter, the animals were slowly freezing to death, and some had to be put down already to save them from excruciating pain. Kid didn't want to put the thirteen-year-old boy through that. Which meant that Jeremiah was left inside in the company of his sisters, Lou and Teresa. Which was proving to be not much fun.

"Why don't we go up to the attic and look around?" Jeremiah asked suddenly. "Mrs. Sutherland said that she left some stuff up there that we could have, and we haven't even looked at it yet."

"Jeremiah, how do you know what Mrs. Sutherland said about the stuff in the attic? Were you listenin' in?" Jeremiah did his best to look sheepish at Kid's stern look. "Now what have we told you about eavesdroppin'?"

"Kid, I didn't have to be eavesdropopin' to hear what was said right in front of me. Why can't we take a look in the attic? It's not like there's much else to do around here anyway."

"It's almost as cold up there as it is outside," Lou pointed out.

"But there's a fireplace up there. You could start a fire and it won't be too cold."

"Now why would there be a fireplace in the attic?" Teresa wondered.

"I don't know, but there are a couple of beds up there as well. Maybe some of Mrs Sutherland's children slept up there once."

Both Lou and Kid shot Jeremiah looks indicating what they thought of that theory. He was sure that they were about to shoot down his idea. "Please?" he begged, his younger sister echoing the sentiment.

Lou and Kid exchanged a look. It was not often that Jeremiah begged them of anything, he still harboured some ill feelings towards Lou for leaving them in the orphanage so long. Not a whole lot, for, as time passed, he had begun to see that Lou really did care for him, but some. "Why not, Lou?" Kid wheedled. "It might be kinda fun. We may find some stuff we can use."

"All right. But not for long, though. I need to get dinner started soon."

The fire place and bed turned out to be the stranger things found in the attic, and, naturally, the things that drew the McCloud/Andrews' curiosity.

"Maybe some of Mrs. Sutherland's children did sleep up here. Look." Jeremiah pointed to the area where the beds were set up. Along with the beds, there was a bureau with a mirror on it, a little chest of drawers, a broken wardrobe, lamp, and a bedpan that Teresa was looking at in disgust. The fireplace, in which Kid had started a fire, was nothing more than a hole in the chimney.

"It does look as though somebody lived up here for a while," Kid mused.

"But I don't think that it was any of Mrs. Sutherland's children," Lou spoke up. She had opened the wardrobe and had found some clothes and things lying on the floor, as if they had been dropped there by someone who was in a hurry.

"Lou, are you all right?" Kid asked. Lou had a strange faraway look on her face even as she was frowning at the teddy bear she held in her hands.

Lou shook her head. "I'm fine."

"What makes you think that whoever stayed up here wasn't Mrs. Sutherland's child?" Jeremiah asked impatiently, not liking his theory being shattered like that.

"Look at these," Lou said, holding out her hands and showing the others the teddy bear and clothes that she held. "They belong to a small child. A baby, really. I don't think that Mrs. Sutherland or anybody would let children that small live up in an attic. I know I wouldn't." Lou trailed off, staring down at what she held in fascination.

"What is it, Lou?" Kid asked, going over to stand beside her.

"I don't know," Lou replied softly. "I just get the strangest feeling when I look around this place. Like I've been here before, but I can't remember."

Kid put his arm around her shoulder and held her for a moment. "Why don't we keep lookin' around? Maybe we can find something else."

"Louise, look!" Lou and Kid turned to see what Teresa found. "I don't think this belonged to a child."

"No," Lou murmured taking the woman's blouse from Teresa and looking at it closely. It was bloodstained, and had two tiny holes in the sleeves.

"Was she shot?" Jeremiah asked.

"Who?" Lou was confused.

"The woman who wore this."

"Silly, how is Louise s'posed to know that?" Teresa giggled.

"No, she wasn't shot," Lou said softly. "These holes were made by arrows. Indian arrows."

"How do you know that?"

"I think this may answer that question," Kid said, holding up a small book. Lou stared at it with haunted eyes. "Lou, you may want to take a look at this."

"What is it?" Jeremiah asked.

Ignoring him, Lou took the diary from the Kid and opened it. Inside were the words:

"It was Ma's diary." Lou said, hugging the book to her chest, tears filling her eyes.

"Huh? If it was Ma's diary, why did Mrs. Sutherland have it in her attic?"

"We stayed here for a while, just after Teresa was born."

"I don't remember that," Jeremiah said.

"You were only two years old. Ma was ill, and as Mrs. Sutherland was an old friend of hers, we stayed here in the attic for a while. There was no room anywhere else."

"Is that why Mrs. Sutherland thought she knew you?" Kid asked.

Lou nodded. "I couldn't remember her, it's only now, here in this room, that it's all comin' back to me. We stayed here until Ma died and we had to be sent to the orphanage."

"Why were you sent to the orphanage in St. Joe? Why not one closer? Missouri's pretty far away."

"I was only eight, Kid, I can't remember much. Maybe there weren't any orphanages closer back then. I just don't know!"

"Shh, it's all right Lou," Kid embraced her again, gently rocking her back and forth. "Why don't we go back downstairs and leave all this for a while. We can sort through it later."

"Wait," Jeremiah spoke up. "How did you know that the holes were made by Indian arrows?"

"Jeremiah..."

"It's all right, Kid," Lou broke in. "While we were travellin' east, we were attacked by some Indians. Then, for some reason, they decided to help us. And that's all I can remember now, so can we talk about it some other time?"

It only took Buck two days to ride to Lone Tree Valley without incident, but there his luck ran out. As he was recognised as one of the Pony Express riders out of Rock Creek, no one batted an eye when he waked into the saloon to have a drink. No one, that is, except the new saloon owner, McCaffrey.

McCaffrey was an enigma to the towns folk of Lone Tree. Nobody knew what his first name was, he kept that as guarded as the Kid does. Upon arriving in the town he gained the reputation of being perfectly charming, yet extremely hard and cruel. Because of this reputation, no one had the courage to beat any of McCaffrey's bar girls, and if a drunken drifter or miner were to try it, they were soon dealt with by one or one of McCaffrey's henchman. Occasionally Lone Tree Valley's Marshal, Gavin Pierce, tried to charge these men with assault, but they always seemed to operate within the law.

One thing that McCaffrey was remembered for was a distinct hatred for Indians. Nobody had figured out why, but any time somebody would bring up the topic, he would invariably say that Indians were the scourge of the nation and the Army should wipe them all out. There was no such thing as a treaty with the Indians to him, if there was any type of trouble, he would always blame Indians; and if a 'civilised' Indian were to ever come into his saloon for a drink, he would turf them out with his shotgun.

Of course, Buck had no way of knowing any of this when he walked into the saloon and ordered a sarsaparilla. He chatted amiably with the bartender for a moment, and was contented to drink in silence when he suddenly felt the end of a shotgun press into the small of his back.

"What are you doin' in here, boy?" somebody asked.

"Havin' a drink," Buck replied calmly, the dark glitter in his was the only thing betraying his emotions.

"I s'pose you can't read the sign. It says 'No Indians or other undesirables allowed'."

"Since when? I used to always come in here for a drink after my runs."

"Well, the Pony Express ain't around no more, boy, and neither is the previous owner. I run a classier place then he did, and I don't allow any Niggers or Indians to come in and ruin it for the rest of my good patrons."

"Funny, it doesn't seem any classier in here." Buck muttered under his breath.

Enraged, Dukore spun Buck around and shoved the shotgun under his chin, while his boss, McCaffrey looked on. "Listen, you..." Dukore trailed off as he got a good look at Buck. "Why, you ain't an Indian at all. You're a damned half-breed." This distinction was lost on Buck, mostly people did not distinguish between the two.

"You know what, half-breed?" Dukore went on. "You're lower than the low. You're not pure anythin'. You're just a mongrel bastard who's mother was a whore who..."

Buck's hand flashed out and grabbed Dukore's collar. "Take that back...!"

The sounds of guns being cocked filled the silence left when the piano player stopped playing at the first sign of trouble. "Just make you're move, breed, and it'll be the last one you'll ever make."

Buck looked into Dukore's cold green eyes, and the cold eyes of those around him with their guns drawn. He had dealt with prejudice his whole life, and this sort ever since he left the Kiowa at the age of thirteen. He knew from experience that if he stayed and fought he would be badly outnumbered and nobody would dare help him. Besides, it was up to the new owner what type of customers he wanted in his place. It wasn't Buck's place to dictate that.

Buck held up his hand. "All right, all right, I'm leavin'." He gulped down the last of his drink and headed for the door.

McCaffrey turned his dark eyes to his henchman, Dukore. "Make sure that he really leaves, and keep a look out for anything suspicious."

Outside, Buck took the reins of his chestnut and looked around. It was late in the day, and the light was fading fast. He had to make tracks if he wanted to get out to Kid's place by dark. Sighing he mounted up and walked the chestnut out of town. He did not notice Dukore watching him from the shadows, and was unaware of events being plotted against him.

McCaffrey turned to the bartender. "That half-breed wasn't givin' you any trouble, was he? Why'd you let him get a drink anyhow? You know my policy."

"Yes, I know your policy," Delaney replied. "I just don't normally see Buck as a half-breed. And no, he wasn't givin' me any trouble. He was polite and quiet like always. He even gave me a tip."

"How could you not see that he was a half-breed?"

"I never said that. I just never notice it, is all. I knew that boy when he rode for the Pony Express, he was part of Teaspoon Hunter's outfit outta Rock Creek. He's a good lad, never gave me any trouble."

"I don't care if you think he's a good lad. He's an Indian, a half-breed, and that means trouble, sooner or later. He's not to come in here again, you understand? If I ever catch him in here again, he'll be dead, and you'll be outta a job, or worse. And don't tell the Marshal that I threatened that boy. I doubt he would do anythin' and I will find out about it. You just think on that."

Something else Delaney said suddenly occurred to McCaffrey. "You said that he gave you a tip?" Delaney nodded. "Just how big a tip was it?" McCaffrey asked.

"Not much. He just had a little too much money for the drink he bought, and told me to keep the change."

"That don't make sense. A fella like him shouldn't give money away like that. He probably won't be gettin' any more for a while."

"Oh, I don't think he'll have problems about money for a while. It looked like he had a fair amount on him."

"Now where would he get all that money?"

Delaney shrugged. "Lots of ways. He may have earned it, or turned bounty hunter."

"More likely he robbed and killed an innocent traveller. I think I'd better go find him and ask him some questions."

"Do you think that it's your place to get involved? If he's done anything wrong, let the law handle it."

"The law may not find out about it until it's too late and he's gone. Can't let our good Marshal Pierce think that I don't do my civic duty, can we?" McCaffrey left to round up some of his henchmen/bodyguards, men who he had around to do his dirty work for him, plus some patrons of the saloon who happened to hear what happened and agreed with him, McCloskey, Jacobson, and Jack Meridian. He soon had a mob of ten men. Delaney knew what was going on. Civic duty wasn't what was driving McCaffrey, it was his determination to get the lad because he was Indian. Delaney knew it, by but he was not going to do anything about it. He knew that McCaffrey would make good on his threat.

Buck had made it about one-and-a-half miles northwest of Lone Tree when McCaffrey and his mob caught up with him. "Is there somethin' I can help you with?" Buck asked McCaffrey as the men surrounded his horse.

"You can tell us where you got all that there money, half- breed."

Buck sighed. "It was a bounty."

"A bounty," McCaffrey sneered. "What for?"

"Caught a man in Seneca, wanted for a bank robbery in Leavenworth."

"Now why don't I believe you?"

Buck shrugged. "You can believe what you want, but all I want is to visit my friends. Excuse me."

"You ain't goin' anywhere," McCaffrey clicked his fingers and Dukore drew his shotgun. "I'm takin' you in for theft and possible murder."

"You haven't got any proof." Buck said quietly, dangerously. "If you take me into the Marshal, he can telegraph Leavenworth and confirm my story."

Meridian drew his rifle and shoved it under Buck's chin. "Well, maybe we won't take you into the Marshal where you can be freed. We know how to deal with scum like you."

"You know, Meridian has a point." McCaffrey said thoughtfully. "We could deal with you, and then just tell the Marshal that it was self defence. Nobody would know any different."

"Except you."

"I can live with that." McCaffrey slowly drew his pistol; Jacobson's was already drawn. Buck's eyes darted back and forth, looking for an opportunity. He saw a gap between two men, where a horse nervously stepped sideways. Without waiting an instant, Buck turned his horse and spurred. He was through the men before any of them had time to react. He then wheeled the chestnut gelding around and set off for Kid's ranch at breakneck speed.

"After him, you fools!" McCaffrey yelled. "Don't let him get away!"

Four guns went of simultaneously: McCaffrey's pistol; Jacobson's pistol; Dukore's shotgun; and Meridian's rifle. Buck felt the scattering charge of shot hit his right shoulder, but he refused to let it slow him down. "Come on, boy," he whispered to the chestnut. "Let's ride like we used to." He sped down the trail, McCaffrey and the others in hot pursuit.

Onto Chapter 2