Chapter 3
They made good time to the Deer Creek station. Their horses ran with an easy stride, which ate up the miles, as the riders expertly maneuvred them over the rough terrain. They did not talk much as the pace, which they had set, did not allow for conversation and both were being vigilant, looking out for any trouble. Both were grateful when they reached their destination without incident.
Jimmy pulled his horse to a stop at the hitching post and gratefully slid from the saddle. Just as Buck was about to do the same a couple of riders came out of the way station. They eyed Buck contemptuously. Jimmy caught the looks, as he finished tying off his horse. He shot a glance over his shoulder to gauge Buck's reaction, only to find him still sitting in his saddle, outwardly passive but Jimmy could see the frustration and anger in his Kiowa friend's eyes.
"You got a problem?" he asked languidly, addressing the two men. He was dog-tired after the run and was looking forward to resting up. He didn't take kindly to the way they had been greeted.
"Not with you we ain't, but this here injun ain't welcome," the taller of the two men, replied, folding his arms defensively across his chest.
"He's an Express rider, like me and this here is an Express station so this is where we'll be stayin'."
Jimmy made to step forward but found his way blocked by the second man. "Like we said, ain't no problem you comin' in here but he can go somewheres else." He indicated towards Buck with a jerk of his thumb.
Jimmy sighed deeply and looked the man straight in the eye. "We're not goin' nowhere. I'm tired and hungry and this is a way station, where Express riders like you and me and him, come to rest up," he said with measured deliberation. "Now, if you don't mind …" Jimmy made a move forward and felt a hand against his chest.
"Jimmy," Buck warned in a low voice, "I'll go find somewhere else to stay."
"Now that's a real good idea, boy," the tall man sneered.
"No it ain't!" Jimmy snarled.
"And just what do you aim to do about it?" the other leered directly into Jimmy's face. It was at this point that Jimmy's patience wore a little too thin.
"This!" he replied and punched him squarely on the jaw.
The man staggered backward but managed to remain on his feet. Regaining his balance he made a rush forward, knocking Jimmy down the steps, onto his back. The man leapt on top of him, pinned him to the ground and landed a few well-aimed punches in his side.
As soon as the first blow had been landed Buck started to get off his horse, to go and help Jimmy. The click of a gun's hammer made him hesitate.
"Think you'd be wise to stay just where you are, injun," the other man instructed, his gun aimed at Buck's chest. An infuriated Buck complied.
Jimmy and his assailant rolled about on the ground, grappling with each other, managing to land the occasional hit, while Buck and the other man looked on, the latter with a gleeful face of anticipation. The fight was suddenly interrupted when a small, weasel-like man appeared around the side of the building and boomed, in a voice that seemed much bigger than his structure, "What in tarnation's goin' on here?"
With strong, confident strides, Tad Newley, the Deer Creek station master, walked over to the wrestling pair on the ground and, grabbing the back of Jimmy's jacket, pulled him off his opponent.
"What the hell ya doin' Hickok?" he asked irritably. "You causin' trouble again, Eugene?" he directed at the other man.
"He started it," Jimmy responded, childishly, waving his arm at Eugene, who stood with a stunned expression, realizing exactly with whom he'd been tangling.
"And put that gun away, Larry," Newley instructed.
Larry obligingly lowered his gun and placed it back in his holster. "Sorry, Hickok, iffen I'd known who you was I never …" He trailed off, looking both sheepish and uncomfortable.
"Now, someone mind fillin' me in to what's goin' on?" Newley requested, hands placed firmly on hips and brow deeply furrowed.
"I told them that injun wasn't welcome at the station," Eugene told him defiantly, swiping the back of his hand across his mouth, smearing the blood, which had appeared in the corner of his mouth and glaring at Jimmy.
"And what gives you the right to do that?" Newley retorted.
"I ain't sleepin' in the same room as one of those murderin' bas…." Jimmy's hand reached out with lightning fast reaction as he made a grab for Eugene, stopping him from finishing his sentence.
Newley smacked down Jimmy's arm. "Enough!" he yelled. "Firstly, I make the decision who sleeps at this here station and secondly, Buck isn't one of them Indians. He's an Express rider, so's got the right to spend the night here. Iffen you don't like it, find yourself somewhere else to sleep and while you're about it, cool yourself down. Iffen you can't do that you'd better start looking for another job."
Eugene and Larry looked momentarily chastised before gathering themselves and muttering something along the lines of 'no Indian was going to push them out of their beds', adding something unintelligible about Buck's heritage. Newley glowered at them until they slunk off, back to the bunkhouse.
"Thought you knew better than to be drawn in by a couple roughnecks like them two," Newley said to Jimmy.
"Yeah, well, I probably should but they were bad-mouthing Buck and I'm too goddamn tired to stand around discussing it," Jimmy replied grumpily.
"You know the Company's rules about fightin'?" the stationmaster queried.
Jimmy grunted a non-committal response. The older man shook his head and glanced over at Buck, who was still sitting on his horse.
"You got anythin' to say?"
Buck shook his head and averted his eyes, suddenly finding a small stone on the ground fascinating.
"You just passin' through?" Newley asked.
"Yeah. Got a package to deliver over at Cottonwood. Teaspoon sent both of us because of the trouble there's been lately," Jimmy explained. "We'll be off first thing in the morning when our horses have rested up."
"Don't want some fresh mounts then?"
"Nah. We're not on a timescale with this one so we'll be able to take it steady. Appreciate the offer though. Just need something to eat and a good night's sleep and we'll be on our way at first light."
Newley sniffed and nodded. "Just keep away from them two. They're not bad lads. Just that the rider who got jumped the other week, by a band of Indians, was one of their friends, so they're a little jumpy right now."
Jimmy flicked a nervous look at Buck and lowered his voice. "Did they kill him?"
"He was pretty badly cut up. Died a couple of days after they brought him in."
"What tribe was it?" Buck asked.
"Arapaho, we think."
"I'm Kiowa," Buck stated, quietly but proudly.
"Makes no difference, son. Indian's Indian to them."
Buck accepted his words without comment, knowing them to be true. The prejudice he faced was based on people's encounters with a variety of tribes and they paid no heed to the differences and beliefs of the individual groups. With a heavy sigh and equally heavy heart he dismounted and led his horse towards the corral.
Jimmy gave Newley a thankful nod and followed.
He brought his horse alongside Buck's and started to unbuckle the cinch. Buck, who had already removed his saddle and put it on a fence rail, looked over the back of Jimmy's horse at him.
"Thanks," he said softly. Jimmy raised his eyes to meet those of his friend.
"What for?"
Buck shifted uneasily. "Standing up for me like you did back there."
"Guy was getting on my nerves," Jimmy replied nonchalantly. Buck smiled.
Jimmy dragged the saddle from his horse's back and swung it onto the rail. He held onto it a moment, his brow creased in thought before he turned to face Buck.
"Why don't you stand up for yourself, Buck?" he asked, perplexed by his friend's impassive behaviour, but without accusation.
"Because there's no point. Most folk have made up their minds about me so my fighting back isn't going to change anything," he said resignedly. "In fact it would probably only make things worse," he added.
"But how can you just sit there and let them say those things about you and do nothing about it?"
"I've learned to live with it, I guess and accept that's just the way things are for me." Buck untied his horse and led it through the corral gate. Jimmy did the same. They slipped the bridles from the horses' heads and watched as the animals shook the dust and sweat from their coats.
"Can't be easy," Jimmy commented.
"It has its moments," Buck remarked, with raised eyebrows.
Jimmy laughed and patted Buck's shoulder. "Let's go see if there are gonna be any more moments."
With the sun dipping below the horizon, the two riders made their way to the bunkhouse. Tonight was going to be a long one, and the sooner they could leave, the better. But right now, all either of them wanted was a hot meal and a soft bunk.
They spent an uneventful night at the Deer Creek Express station, although both slept fitfully, ever wary of any trouble, which might arise. Eugene and Larry, for their part, kept their distance and ignored them with only a couple of snide remarks, about the company Jimmy chose to keep, passing their lips. Jimmy almost took the bait but Buck put a placating hand on his arm and looked at him with such pleading, Jimmy backed off.
By the time the sun began to come up both were ready to leave, if not exactly rested. After grabbing a few leftover biscuits to eat on the trail, they made short work of saddling the horses and were soon on their way.
The sky was clear and the going good so they made it to Cottonwood, with ease by the late afternoon. Having delivered the parcel, they made their way to the Express station, where their reception was much more amiable and they passed a pleasant evening playing cards with a couple of other riders.
The next morning, after a good breakfast, they collected a few supplies and set off for home, back to the Sweetwater station. They had come to a mutual agreement not to stop at any stations on the way back but to camp out for the night. They weren't expected back until the following afternoon so did not press their horses but once again set a steady pace.
Along the trail, Buck pointed out things of interest, certain plants and their properties, tracks of animals and general signs of change in the landscape. Jimmy listened intently, astounded by his friend's knowledge of the terrain. In the time he'd known the young Kiowa his admiration for him had grown. It had started when Jimmy heard of the trials Buck had endured, to get Ike released from the Kiowa. He'd seen the way people treated him and Buck's self control and evenness of temper never ceased to amaze him. Sometimes his Kiowa beliefs spooked him out a little but if he had to be on a run with someone, Buck would always be a welcome companion.
He'd be happy to ride with any of the other riders but Buck offered the least amount of complications – well, usually. Whenever he rode with Kid, there was always that underlying tension between them. Jimmy wasn't sure what it was that brought out his competitive streak but whatever it was, Kid did it. Perhaps it just because of Lou, another person he was happy to ride with, but there would always be the temptation to contend with and battle against. Cody just drove him plain crazy, with his continuous, albeit, often entertaining, jabbering. Ike was just too darn quiet. Come to think of it Noah and Buck, the two most visible outcasts were the easiest to get along with.
Jimmy smiled to himself at the irony of the fact and caught Buck looking at him questioningly.
"What's so funny?" he asked.
Jimmy kept smiling and looked away, then looked back at him. "Just feeling happy at the moment, I guess. This has been a pretty easy run and it won't be long before we'll be back enjoying one of Rachel's dinners. Wanna step up the pace a little?"
Buck smiled broadly at him. "Race you to the top of the ridge," he said playfully and kicked his horse into a gallop. Jimmy flicked the reins across the neck of his own mount and set off after him. As Jimmy drew alongside he gave Buck a good-natured shove, causing Buck's sorrel to veer off to the side. Jimmy expected him to catch him up quickly enough but when he glanced over his shoulder, there was no sign of him. Catching a flash of movement behind a bluff, Jimmy realized his friend had taken a different route. He spurred his palomino on, giving the animal its head and raced towards the ridge.
As he rounded the last bend he was suddenly propelled from his saddle, as someone leapt from the bank on his left. He fell heavily on the ground and felt the other person grappling with him, trying to clasp his throat. At first he had thought it was Buck, taking the fun a little too far but as he rolled on the ground, he found he was fighting for his life. Out of the corner of his eye he saw the flash of a blade and soon figured out his opponent was an Indian, dressed in buckskin, a strip of paint across his face and a single feather in his long, dark hair. As he regained his composure Jimmy was able to take more control. The other man wasn't particularly strong and Jimmy discerned he actually was a boy, perhaps a little younger than himself.
They tussled for a minute or so longer until Jimmy managed to turn the boy on his back and pin his arms to his side. "Give it up would ya?" he gasped, as the boy continued to struggle.
Just then Buck rounded the corner, instantly pulling his horse to an abrupt stop when he saw the two figures on the ground. He swung himself from the saddle and ran forward to assist Jimmy. He looked down at the young brave struggling beneath his fellow rider and faltered.
"I could do with some help, Buck. Got me a wild one!" Jimmy grunted, through gritted teeth but the help he requested wasn't forthcoming.
"Buck!" he yelled as the Indian managed to struggled free from his hold. Still Buck stood motionless, just staring, wide-eyed.
Jimmy cast a look at Buck, suddenly worried that his apparent reluctance to help was because he was hurt but could see no instantly visible signs of injury. The next thing he knew was that there was a searing pain in his side. He gasped and his hand went instinctively to where he hurt and felt something hard, yet warm and sticky. Glancing down he saw a knife protruding out of his side. Everything went fuzzy and he was only mildly aware of the Indian boy scrabbling away from him. Jimmy remained kneeling, holding his hand to his stomach.
"Hickok?" Buck's voice filtered through to him and he was able to focus for a moment and raised his head to look at a pair of dark eyes, etched with concern. Jimmy opened his mouth but no words came out, as an over-whelming wave of nausea swept over him. The world swam before his eyes, his head began to spin and then the darkness descended.