The Young Riders

The Journey

By Gabrielle Lawson

Chapter Ten

The sky grew dark and Buck hadn't moved. Underneath the swelling and bruises, he seemed peaceful. His breath was still uneven and too shallow for Teaspoon's liking, but Buck appeared to be beyond the pain. Buck was finally asleep, and— though he was not out of danger—Teaspoon was thankful for that at least.

Teaspoon was starting to feel the lack of sleep himself. He'd been awake since before his return to Rock Creek. A long ride to town had led to a long ride out here and an even longer night. And another night. Even in his younger days as a Ranger, Teaspoon had rarely been called upon to stay awake for three days straight.

Jenny had taken over the role of nurse, and Teaspoon was impressed with how naturally it came to her. She had found some food in the kitchen cabinets and cooked it, while boiling water for bandages at the same time. She had at least a sheet worth of torn cloth drying on a bit of string strung from one side of the room to the other. She had removed blood-soaked bandages and replaced them with clean ones, and, Teaspoon noted, she did so without any sign of embarrassment for what she saw of Buck in the process. White women were so much more modest, he mused. He liked that about them at times, but at others, like now, it was impractical. Growing up Indian as she had, Jenny had probably seen plenty of male bodies as a matter of course.

Kid and Jimmy had marveled at Buck's peacefulness as well, when they had come in. Teaspoon sent them out again, to see to the horses and the buckboard in the barn. He was finally starting to hope that Buck would survive. At least long enough to die at home, surrounded by the ones that loved him.

The boys were sent to sleep in the other room. Teaspoon offered the extra bed in the main room to Jenny, but she had offered it to him instead. "You look like you haven't slept in a week," she said, giving him a slight smile. "I will keep watch over him."

Teaspoon looked in her eyes and knew she wouldn't leave the room even if he had to drag her. And she had slept the night before. Chivalry be damned, he thought, yawning. If he didn't get any sleep this night, he was likely to fall right off his horse in the morning. "I know you will," he told her. "And I do need the rest. But I'll be right here and expect you to wake me if anything happens. Anything at all."

Jenny surprised him then, by moving forward and placing a light kiss on his cheek. "My father can't understand how I can call Running Bear my father. But you can, can't you?"

Teaspoon could. "Family doesn't always come from blood," he said, nodding. "I may not be Buck's father, but he's my son. All these boys are." He sat down on the side of the bed and his muscles rejoiced.

Jenny sat down on the floor between the two beds. "My mother used to say," she said, tucking a bit of hair behind her ear, "that this world was full of heartache and hurting. We should be grateful for the love and happiness we find, even if it's only for a short while. She said that when we were captured. That we should be thankful for the time we had with my father. But she said it again through the years as we lived with the Sioux. We were loved there. I remembered it when she died, and held tight to it at Aunt Sarah's. But it wasn't enough. I think sometimes you have to go out and find that love and happiness for yourself and not wait for it to come to you."

"And still be thankful," Teaspoon added. "I think you're right. I think Buck thinks so, too. He was on his way to get you."

Jenny ducked her head. "I'm sorry this is what came of it."

"Don't be," Teaspoon said, putting a hand on her shoulder. "You didn't know this would happen. Buck has made that run a hundred times. None of us thought something like this could happen. Buck has had to face a lot of hate in his life. That's what this was. I wish I could shield him from it, but I can't do that without takin' away his freedom. The important thing is that we found him, we love him, and we're going to do our best to help him through this."

Jenny nodded and wiped at her eyes with the back of her hand. "Is this what it's going to be like for Two Ponies?" she whispered as she gently rubbed Buck's hand.

Teaspoon didn't know what to say to that. He remembered the child, her brother. Two Ponies, like Buck, was a half-blood. Unlike Buck, he was welcomed and loved by his tribe. But the future of the Indians in America didn't look too bright. The whites kept pushing farther and farther into the Plains. The telegraph and railroads were as much a threat to the Indian way of life as they were for the Pony Express. Would Two Ponies end up on a reservation? Would he be put in a mission school to be beaten and teased? Teaspoon couldn't tell her all that. She probably knew it already. So he just squeezed her shoulder and lay down. She touched his hand and then stood to help draw the blanket over him.

"You'll wake me?" Teaspoon asked again.

She nodded. "If anything changes."


Red Bear woke when a hand touched his shoulder. He bolted upright, immediately alert, and reached for the knife he kept at his side at all times. But the hand was only his wife's. "The Man of Dreams," she whispered, trying not to wake the children.

Red Bear looked past her to the opening that served as a doorway to their tepee. Indeed, the Man of Dreams was standing there, his white hair gleaming in the starlight. He raised one hand and beckoned Red Bear to come. Then he left, releasing the flap so that it fell against the hide wall. Red Bear kissed his wife on the cheek and stood up. He quietly gathered a buffalo blanket to guard against the chilly night air.

When he stepped out, he saw the Man of Dreams about a stone's throw away. Again, he beckoned and Red Bear followed. The old man walked slowly, so it was not hard to catch up. "What has happened?" Red Bear asked him.

"Your brother is coming," the old man answered as he led Red Bear to the sweat lodge.


Buck and Ike were walking west, in the direction of the setting sun. But the sun was setting quickly, which was somewhat unsettling for Buck. In less than five minutes the sky had gone from bright blue to the star-speckled black of night. He didn't question it though, not aloud. Ike had said the spirit world didn't play by the same rules.

Every once in awhile, Buck had chanced a look over his shoulder and always the village was there. It was different though. New faces had appeared, children he knew from his childhood. Each time they seemed a little older than before. And sometimes he even saw himself. He glanced back now and the village was there, bathed in daylight. He saw himself, only seven or eight, pushed into the dirt by an older boy whose friends laughed around him. He turned back and the laughter died away.

Only now there was another village in front of them. And this one didn't go away when he turned his head. No one stirred except for the dogs and horses. There were sentries about, dog soldiers who stood watch on the village, but none seemed to notice Buck or Ike as they approached. There was something different about this village than the one Buck saw behind him. He looked again and the old village was there, still in daylight, only now he was a little older and there was a white girl talking with him, Little Bird.

"This way," Ike said, and Buck turned back to the night and the quiet village before him.

The old village always seemed to stay just behind him, maybe fifty yards. Though they had walked for hours, the village had moved with them. This one, though, stayed in place so that he and Ike were walking into it. It did not move away. Smoke billowed slowly up from the tops of the tepees, and the faint glow of fires cast silhouettes of sleeping people on the sides. He recognized one of the tepees. It was as familiar to him as his own skin. Red Bear.

But they did not stop at Red Bear's tepee. "He's not in there," Ike said, again seeming to know what was on Buck's mind. Buck didn't answer though he wondered why his brother wasn't there. If this was again his past with the village, his brother would be there. His brother was always there.

Ike turned around a tepee and stopped in front of a sweat lodge. Smoke rose from its roof, too, though generally no one used the lodge at this time of night. Buck could hear chanting inside. Two voices. One belonged to his brother.


Red Bear set the bowl of bitter liquid beside him and joined the Man of Dreams in his song. He called to the spirits to allow him to see the spirit world where the old man said his brother walked. Red Bear's heart ached at those words. He had known that Buck would not fare well in the white world, though he also knew he had not fared well with the Kiowa. He would have given his brother a happy life if he'd been able. If the whites had not continued to push into Kiowa land, to kill Kiowa children, to lie and cheat and rape. But then if they had not, Buck would not have been born. Such cruel irony it was. To hate that which caused the creation of someone he loved. But if there had been no enmity between the whites and the Kiowa, if their mother's rapist had been only a rogue villain, the Kiowa would have accepted Buck as one of them, even as they had accepted Little Bird in time after finding her out on the plains. The Kiowa were not a cruel people, but cruelty meted out to them had led them off the way of peace, forced them to harden their hearts in order to protect themselves.

Nearly two years had passed since Red Bear had seen Buck. Since he had let him go. He had tried to warn him that his new family would fade in time. He hadn't wanted to crush his brother's heart, but only to keep him from sorrow. He could see that, indeed, the love between him and the hairless rider was very strong. But the brotherhood of the riders was built on circumstance and circumstance changes with time. Red Bear wasn't ignorant of the white world. He knew that there were fewer runs now of the Pony Express. He had seen the wires being strung up all across the plains. Somehow the whites used the wire to carry messages to one another though they were far apart. Faster than the Pony Express. A trader had told him that, astonishment shining in his own eyes as he did. If it was faster than the Pony Express then the Pony Express was finished. What then would become of Buck's new family?

But now the Man of Dreams said Buck walked in the spirit world. So the worst had happened. Running Buck was dead. Red Bear sung with the Old Man as his heart bled for his younger brother. He had closed his eyes and he felt now the solidity of the ground under him give way. He was sitting, but he felt himself stand. He was with the Man of Dreams, but now he was alone. He was inside, but now he stepped out.


Buck stepped back and might have fallen if Ike hadn't grabbed his arm. Red Bear suddenly stood before them, in the sweat lodge. His older brother seemed surprised, too, to see him. He stepped through the lodge and gathered Buck up in a strong embrace as he turned his face to the night sky and thanked the spirits for granting his wish.

Buck didn't know what was happening, but he felt his brother's arms around him, crushing his ribs in his tight embrace. He smelled the familiar scent of tanned deer hide and smoke. Red Bear released him, taking only his shoulders in his two hands and holding him at arm's length. "I have missed you," he said, and Buck could see the tears threatening to fall from his eyes.

Buck grabbed Red Bear's arms in return, amazed at how real they felt. He looked to Ike who only smiled and offered no explanation.

"And I will go on missing you," Red Bear continued, "all the days of my life. You are Kiowa. You are my brother. And now you walk with the spirits."

Buck felt his own throat constrict at the sadness in his brother's voice. Red Bear had always been there, had always been kind, had always accepted Buck, even when the rest of the village had scorned him for it. "I have missed you, too. But I'm not dead. Not yet."

"I do not understand," Red Bear said, looking now to Ike for an explanation.

"He's dying," Ike told him, surprising Red Bear with his voice, and Buck with the language. Ike was speaking Kiowa. "He has to choose."

Red Bear turned to face him more fully. "You are the silent one. How is it you speak?"

Ike gave him a slight smile and shrugged. "I am dead."

"And the spirit world doesn't play by the same rules," Buck added, repeating Ike's earlier words. He turned his brother back around. "I get to choose to live or to die. Something bad happened to me and now I'm dying."

"Unless he chooses to live," Ike said.

"What happened?" Red Bear asked, grabbing Buck's shoulders again in his concern.

Buck shook him off. "Please. I don't want to say. It is too hard and it will only make you angry." He had turned away as he spoke, but he had dropped his gaze to the ground. It wasn't until he looked up that he noticed the change. He was in a tepee now and Red Bear was in front of him. His shoulders shook with silent sobs and Buck knew why.

Red Bear moved aside and Buck watched himself, younger even than he had last seen, kneeling on the ground beside the still form of his mother. The young boy that he was then could not keep his crying silent, and his sobs wrenched the watching Buck's heart.

He remembered, and the pain was no less now that he was older. His legs gave out and he dropped to his knees. "Not this," he begged. "Please, Ike, not this."

"I don't control it," Ike replied, his voice laced with sympathy.

Strong hands gripped his shoulders. "What is it, my brother?"

"Do you not see our mother?" Buck asked, pointing toward her body and the boy he used to be.

"I see nothing, Running Buck," was his answer.

"Then you are better off," Buck said. His mother had been his protector and shield, his friend and one half of the only family he had in the whole world. She withstood the scorn of the entire village for him, forsaking all other family, save her sons. She had thrown her lot in with the child she had loved even though he had been forced upon her through an act of violence and violation. And now she was gone. Again.

"Turn away, Buck," Ike prodded gently.

"Why can't I see her, talk to her?" Buck sobbed. "I see you. You're dead."

"You will see her someday," Ike replied. "Please just turn away now. You brother is here. Talk to him. We can't stay long."

Red Bear must have understood enough of what was happening—if only that his brother saw something painful—because he lifted Buck from the ground and turned him to face himself. "You must choose life, my brother!" he said.

The tepee had faded as he turned, but the pain had not. This pain, the loss of his mother, was the worst he had ever felt in his life. Worse even than the shed. Only Ike's death could compare. "Why?" he asked, allowing himself to just be held by his brother.

"Because life is more than the pain," Red Bear told him, "more than the sorrow. There is joy, too, if you will see it."

"Not for me," Buck replied, feeling the weight of it all pulling him down to his knees again. But Red Bear held him up.

"Yes," he said, "even for you. Do you not remember our mother's love? Do you not remember how she could make you smile no matter what anyone else had said? Do you not remember Little Bird? And what of your brothers in the Pony Express? Did you never laugh with them? Did they not return your feelings?"

He did remember. Everything. But it was all temporary, all just momentary lapses in a life filled with disappointment, hatred, and hurt. "They don't last," he said. "Our mother died. Little Bird was taken back by the whites; the Pony Express is ending. What kind of future do I have if I live?"

"You can come back to us!" Red Bear held him at arms length again, and his eyes smiled at the suggestion. "Choose life and come back to us. You are Kiowa. You do not belong in the white world."

A part of Buck had never wanted to leave, but two other parts had been unable to stay. One remembered the scorn of his tribe. The other loved them but saw the futility of their fight. Buck looked at Red Bear now, and with the loss of his mother and Ike fresh in his heart again, he knew he could not face losing his brother to death. "I am also white," he said, not wanting to dash the hope his brother may have in victory or justice. "I can't."

"Because we can't win?" Red Bear asked. "You do not have to protect me, little brother. I know what we face. But we may survive. And a life's worth is not found in how long one lives, but in how one lives. We will live with honor as long as we may. We will remain true to ourselves. We will remain Kiowa. You have proved yourself. Come back to us."

"And bear the mistrust of every person here who has lost someone to the whites?" Buck asked him in return. "It doesn't change, Red Bear."

"Do you get better with the whites?" Red Bear's voice hardened in anger, but his face did not.

Buck dropped his gaze. He had gotten the same or worse from Tompkins, from the townspeople, from the Army, even from the other riders at least once. "Some of the whites," Buck said, thinking of Teaspoon and Emma and Rachel. "From some of them."

Red Bear sighed. "Then live and find your happiness with them. I wish I could give you the world, Running Buck. Our mother wished it for you. But you do not need the whole world. Make for yourself a place in this world, even if only a small place. Do not choose death, little brother. You are too young yet for that. There are still joys yet to be found in life. The sun rises, the rain falls. Children play. Even in this life there are joys that are worth more than all the sorrows."


Red Bear watched his younger brother's face, hoping for some change. Buck looked up at him, but did not answer. His eyes though showed his struggle with his choice. His hope had not been completely crushed by whatever had happened, but it had never been so strong. Even as a child, Buck was like a deer caught in a fierce storm. He found shelter now and then, but always the storm found him, forced him out into the wind again.

There was still a child in Running Buck's eyes. He wanted to believe his brother's words, but he could still hear the wind howl. Why was so sweet a spirit handed so hard a life? Their mother had asked that in quiet moments when Running Buck was sleeping and only Red Bear could hear. Red Bear had asked it himself many times over the years.

The spirit of the silent one made his presence known again. He placed a hand softly on Running Buck's shoulder and whispered, "We have to go."

Red Bear didn't want his brother to leave. Not without knowing his choice, but it was clearly written in Running Buck's face that he had not yet made his decision. And now, Red Bear could see that the sky was beginning to lighten in the East. Morning was coming.

As the sun began to peek over the horizon, a voice became clear. A voice singing in the lodge just behind him. The Man of Dreams.

Red Bear stepped forward and clutched his brother to his chest again. "Choose life," he whispered. "Live, and we will find each other again somehow, in the world we know."

"I love you," Running Buck whispered back.

And then Red Bear opened his eyes to see the Man of Dreams bathed in steam and seated before him.


TBC