Chapter Two
Buck and Rebel walked alongside the wagon at a steady pace, neither the horseman nor the man aboard the cart in any particular hurry. The conversation the two men had shared over the last four hours was merely an extension of the one started the previous night. Subtracting six hours of much needed shut-eye the dialogue was close to ten hours long. Rather uncommon behavior for the normally taciturn old cowboy but the entirety of the previous twelve hours was equally so.
" I jist don't get it, Mr Kim" Buck drawled. "You got a wagon full of gunpowder and fuses and explodin' quail eggs but you don't carry no gun? Makes no sense to me. No sense a-tall."
" Ah, Buckannon, have I not come to your country from China without a gun? Have I not traveled from San Francisco to this point without a gun?"
" Well, there weren't no 'Paches on that boat. Weren't no banditos neither."
Kim laughed. "That is quite true Buckannon. But men are men. The cultures are different, the customs are different, but as men we are more alike than not."
"It'll only take one run-in with some of these men for you to change yer tune , I'm afraid. And why New Awlins, anyway? Why would you wanna go there?"
Kim sat pensively for a few minutes. "The man on the boat, the man who taught me to read and write English spoke of it often. He said it was a place of many colors of men, of many religions and customs. A place of art and music and joy. That is where I wish to be."
" Well, I been there before. After the war. And yeah, its a pretty colorful place alright. But there's some bad hombres there, too. Lotsa folks get killed in New Awlins. Jist don't see why you'd want to go there."
' There are men of different races here, are there not, Buckannon? Are there not different cultures and customs? Are there not men here who would kill you? Yet you choose to stay. Why is that?"
"Cuz we got the Chaparral" Buck answered . "Us bein' here is a good thing. I think we can make this a better place than when we found it. I truly do."
Kim smiled wryly and said nothing, choosing instead to let his words marinate in Buck's skull for a while.
"OK. I see what you mean. And yeah, a fella who can make his own fireworks oughta do pretty well in New Awlins. But if its all the same to you, as long as I'm here I'm still gunna pack this pistol."
The two men laughed quietly and rode a bit in silence. It was Kim's nature to answer questions with questions Buck had noted, and it didn't bother him. Whenever John did that same thing Buck always felt his intelligence was being questioned. With Mano it was his judgement. With Blue it was his... his..sanity(?). Something. Victoria seemed to be the only one at the Chaparral who didn't routinely question him. She seemed to accept Buck as he was from the get-go. The thought made him smile but also reminded him of the need to get back to the ranch. He didn't really want to go back right away. He was enjoying the company of this strange little man and their brief time together was an unexpected and highly unlikely convergence. It was so far from the ordinary that Buck didn't want to let go too soon.
The day before, when Buck thought the man had simply vanished into thin air, turned out to be most rewarding he'd had in quite some time. The little Chinese man had fetched his wagon and led it into the small rocky alcove where Buck and the dead Indian were. The rig was pulled by a pretty mule ( two words Buck had never before used in sequence) and was unreined. The Chinaman merely used little cackles and low whistles to guide the animal . Once the cart was stopped the man effortlessly jumped from his seat and landed in front of Buck. For the first time Huang Yong Kim met Buck Cannon.
Kim invited Buck to stay the night in the alcove with him. He had food and water in his wagon and it was getting a bit late to head out for the Chaparral. Buck accepted the invitation. He also honored Kim's request that he go see the horse that the dead Indian had been riding.
When Buck found the animal outside the rocks he understood the request. The animal was gaunt. From it's haunch down, the insides of the animal's rear legs were caked with dried feces. There was puddle of the fresh stuff on the ground and the stench made Buck want to puke. When he approached the animal, it showed no sign that it knew Buck was there. He removed the blanket from the horse and placed the muzzle of his pistol behind the animal's ear. By the time Buck returned to the camp Kim had already begun scooping out a grave in the sand.
It went against Buck's very nature to think of lifting anything heavier than a noose when it came to horse thieves, but there was something different about this one. He considered that Mr. Kim was hell bent on burying the man and the idea of spending a night keeping company with a rotting corpse held little appeal. Buck began to fetch medium sized rocks while Kim diligently scooped out a shallow trough with his hands. Once Kim was satisfied with his efforts he placed the horse blanket in the grave and, with Buck's assistance, lifted the lifeless form into the depression. After folding the blanket over the man's face and torso Kim began placing the gathered stones onto the corpse. Had it been his choice, Buck would've been fine just pitching them randomly until the body was covered. Kim though, took the time to place the rocks with great care. He was quiet, contemplative and respectful in his every move.
Buck used the time to go over and pull the saddle off Rebel. He filled his hat with water from Kim's wagon and the animal all but inhaled it. Buck needed to refill his hat several more times. He gave his horse a quick brush down and looked over at the mule as he did so. The black mane of the chestnut colored animal was tightly braided, not a hair out of place. The hide of the animal was almost shiny, the result of frequent and caring brushdowns. Buck felt a pang of guilt when he looked at his mount. Ol' Reb was pretty rough by comparison.
Buck offered to head up into the rocks and grab some standing dead mesquite for the night's fire while Kim finished the grave. When Buck came back down through the rocks with an armful of wood he gazed at Kim's efforts. The grave was perfectly symmetrical, the edges of each rock aligning tightly with the adjoining one. It rose up from the ground at a consistent angle for a foot or so and rested flat and true above the dead man's body. There was a design of sorts in the way the flat rocks were placed. From his vantage point it looked like a bird of some sort. Horse thief or not, Buck was glad to see the effort and respect Kim had shown the Indian. Buck would have no problem if his final resting spot looked like this one.
As night began to take control of the sky Buck got a hot, small fire going and Mr Kim began to boil water. Some was used to make tea, the rest was used to make rice. The two men talked while Kim prepared their dinner. After grabbing a deep frying pan he referred to as a "walk", Kim cut up chunks of meat and onions and peppers. He splashed some oil in the odd skillet and when it began to smoke he added the ingredients. The meat sizzled on impact and Kim started flipping the mix in the air to keep it from burning. Grabbing two bowls from the wagon he filled their bottoms with the hot rice then dumped the contents of the skillet on top. The bowl he handed the cowboy held twice as much as his own but neither man commented. Buck politely waited for a spoon but when he noticed Kim using chopsticks he realized that one wouldn't be coming. It was no problem. He pulled his knife out and began scooping the food with it as he had done many times before. . He instantly recognized the meat. Rattlesnake. Truth be told, Buck preferred it to rabbit. Kinda liked the chewy quality the serpent's meat produced.
The two men talked late into the night. There are things which can be spoken between strangers which are never broached with friends and family. Often these things can be deeply personal. For Buck it was usually when he had way too much to drink or perhaps when being fooled by the false intimacy of a one night stand. With Kim it was the nature of what they talked about. It wasn't the bunkhouse bravado of wine, women and conquest. It wasn't the shop talk around the dinner table about ranching, family fueds and money. Rather it centered on the world they shared, as how very different yet similar all peoples were. They talked of the industry of the bee, the selflessness of a flock of geese, the strength of a solitary bear. For as much as Buck had seen in his life he still found amazement in so many different things. In Kim he had found a kindred spirit, a person who could not be more different on the surface, yet was similar inside.
They agreed that the young man who laid a few paces away was only interested in Buck's horse, not his life. The dead animal outside the rocks was clear evidence of that. It bothered Buck that the young man had to die for want of a horse. If they'd have only asked him for one he would've helped. Horse thieving was a black and white issue to a man like Buck, but in talking with Kim he began to see shades of grey. In his gut, Buck knew that asking for help was probably not the way of this man. To attempt to take a horse from an armed man without firing a single shot in doing so held a certain gravitas with him. There was a perverse respect and Buck appreciated Kim's efforts with the grave even more than before. The Indian was certainly no coward. He just picked the wrong place and time with the wrong men.
There was a quality to the Chinaman, as well, Buck realized, as he laid his head down to sleep. Throughout the entire evening Kim seemed able to steer every conversation to a conclusion Buck had never before considered. Buck thought of the mule, of how it also followed Kim's lead. He fell asleep before he had time to frown.
The first glow of morning light was visible when Buck awoke. In the semi-darkness he could see Kim bent over a small flame boiling up a pot of tea. He'd prefer coffee but surely wasn't about to refuse the generosity of Kim's efforts. The small man greeted Buck as he rose and stretched and by the time Buck had pulled on his boots the tea was ready.
He invited the Chinaman to the Chaparral, to rest up for a few days as a way of thanking him for the outcome of the previous day. When Kim politely refused Buck offered to ride along for a few hours just to make sure that things went well. He considerd the real possibility that they could encounter the two men who had gotten away. He also wanted to talk with Kim a bit longer. Kim welcomed the offer.
While Buck was saddling up Rebel he watched as Kim harnessed his mule. The animal did exactly what Kim wanted and the entire affair took only a few minutes. That wasn't like any mule Buck had ever known. He really didn/t care for them much. Too stubborn. Too much like himself, he realized. Too much like his brother for that matter. He'd never known a mule to be trained , like a horse or a dog. All he ever knew was a firm grip on the reins and a lot of cussin' and fightin' to get the blockheaded things to cooperate. When he asked the little man how he got his mule to be so agreeable Kim merely smiled.
"You must let the animal believe it is his choice to make."
Buck knew better than to ask, "How?" He simply steered Rebel out of the small sanctuary and the two travelers were on their way a full hour before sunlight.
Buck passed several possible trails back to ranch while talking with Kim but he knew the next trail north would be his final chance. Mr. Kim would be on his own at that point.
When they reached the junction Buck again offered to put his friend up for a few days. Once more, Kim politely refused.
" You 'member how I told you to veer left after you cross that pass?" Buck asked.
"Oh yes Buckannon. But you need not worry. My steed will know the correct path to follow."
The word "steed" caught Buck's funny bone and he laughed out loud. "Steed!?" Mr Kim. no offense but that there's a mule." Buck was still laughing when he noticed the "steed" turn his head and look at him. Buck looked away but when he looked back the animal was still staring at him. Buck knew stinkeye when he saw it. Rebel had given it to him once or twice himself.
"OK" Buck blurted out at the animal. "I 'pologize. You'se a steed."
The animal turned its head back to the trail.
"Well, Mr. Kim. I guess this is where we part ways. I won't be forgettin' you for a while, that's for sure." Buck held out his hand.
Kim rose from his seat and rather than take Buck's hand, slowly and respectfully bowed. Buck thought to reply in kind and began to tip his hat before reconsidering. As best he could atop the horse, Buck bowed.
" Good luck to you, Mr. Kim"
"Good luck to you, Buckannon."
For fifteen minutes Buck rode along without a care in the world. The desert is a magical place in the early hours of the day before the sun beats everthing into submission. Buck knew to enjoy this time.
Some movement on a ridge about a half of a mile from Buck caused the cowboy to slow down. He steered Rebel into a thick patch of chaparral and dismounted, reducing his profile. Over the ridge rode a single Apache . Soon another followed him, then another. Within two minutes Buck could see a dozen of them. They seemed to be in no hurry but when Buck recognized the third man in the group his heart began to beat faster. Soldado.
Buck didn't like Soldado. Not one bit. While the Cannons had a tenuous understanding with most of the Apaches Soldado was a notable exception. He was flighty and impulsive. Unpredictable. Even Cochise didn't trust Soldado all that much. Wherever he went trouble followed.
Sizing up the situation Buck realized that should the Indians continue on their current path they would encounter Mr. Kim in short order. As soon as they were out of sight he mounted up and galloped back the direction he had just come.
Buck knew no matter how fast he moved there was no way he could get to Kim before the Apaches. Even if he was to get there first it probably wouldn't matter. Soldado would want the contents of Kim's wagon and would gladly kill to get it.
Once Buck reached the backside of the promontory behind which Kim's wagon had last been, he turned the horse and rode quickly to the top. Grabbing the carbine, he bent over and scrambled to the edge. What he saw four hundred yards below was the worst possible scenario, the one he feared was inevitable. Kim was surrounded by the Apaches, Soldado standing directly in front of the wagon. Buck felt sick to his stomach. He could do nothing to save his new friend. Even if he could hit one of the Indians with the little carbine the result would be Kim's immediate death and a race for his life back to the Chaparral, a race he'd probably lose. All Buck could do was watch.