The Young Riders

The Journey

By Gabrielle Lawson

Chapter Twelve

The way back to Rock Creek was slow. Though Lathrop's buckboard had driven ruts into the earth during his many trips to town, the way was not smooth and Teaspoon didn't want to jar Buck anymore than necessary. Jenny watched him carefully, stilling him when a bump moved him too much. The sun was bright overhead and, despite the coming of winter, was still quite warm. Fearing that his face would burn, Jenny had moved to sit above his head. She pulled the top blanket over his face and onto her raised knees making a canopy of shade. She had to push her skirt down in the center to see under it, and it nearly made her laugh to think what Aunt Sarah might have said of her posture.

The Kid had ridden ahead and Jimmy rode to the side of the buckboard. Jenny watched him now and then, but he never looked her way. His fingers were knotted tightly in the reins of his horse and his jaw was locked. She had thought the long ride home to Rock Creek might have relaxed him. There was nothing to do but watch the world slowly pass under wheel and hoof, and it would take a good many hours still to reach the town. But Jimmy, she could tell, was still seething with anger. Jenny thought it might help if they talked, but right now she didn't know what she might say.

Jimmy must have realized she was watching him. He was the first to speak. "Where have you been since Sweetwater?" he asked, and though it was blunt, she heard no accusation in it.

"Back east," she answered. "My Aunt Sarah's."

"Was it a big city?" He didn't look back at her. He hardly moved except to speak.

Jenny nodded, looking out at the trees and tall, browning grass. "Bigger than anything I'd seen in my life. Too big. I felt very small there. And alone."

"That why you left?"

"Jimmy," Teaspoon warned.

But Jenny wasn't angry with him for asking and she answered anyway, "That was part of it. It was worse than just being big. It was also white."

That got him to turn.

Jenny took a breath and waved one hand over the blanket covering Buck. "This is the kind of white that I saw. It wasn't acted on but I could feel it, hear it, see it in the face and voice of nearly everyone I met."

She sighed and checked under the blanket again, but Buck hadn't moved beyond the rolling of the buckboard. Rachel and Lou had accepted her coming. Teaspoon had understood it. But Jimmy would be another test, a harder one. Someday, she would have to explain this to her father after all. "I'm not white anymore," she said. "And I can't be with the Indians. The best place I can hope for is someplace in the middle, someplace Buck has been since he left the Kiowa. In between can be a hard place to live, especially when you're alone. So I thought maybe Buck and I wouldn't have to be alone. We could be in the middle together if that's what he wanted."

And Jimmy surprised her by not saying anything. He turned back to the way in front of them. But when she looked again, his knuckles were no longer white and his jaw had softened.

"Did I ever tell you boys," Teaspoon suddenly asked from the front seat, "about my second wife?"

"Wasn't she the Indian one?" Jimmy asked with a slight grin.

"One?" Teaspoon said. "Two of 'em was Indians, Jimmy." And then he went on to tell a beautiful story about how they had met and married, and the ground seemed to pass quicker beneath the wheels of the buckboard.


It was a long walk over empty plains. Buck and Ike talked a bit, remembering the adventures of their youth. Buck had chanced a look back only twice, each time seeing a moment in time that had not been adventurous, a reminder of the cruelty he and Ike had both faced in the world. But when he'd turn back, Ike would still be there, and he realized that that had made all the difference. The world had been cruel, but they suffered together. When Ike was laughed at and Buck was thrown out of businesses, they each felt the sting a little less because each found acceptance in the other.

"I didn't know why you were smoking the wood for so long," Ike said.

"You wouldn't make a very good Indian," Buck told him, smiling at the memory. "Making a bow takes patience."

"Apparently," Ike said. "And I had a scar to prove it. The darn thing snapped in half."

Buck chuckled at that, remembering all the cursing Ike did with his one free hand that day. "You're lucky you didn't lose an eye. I didn't teach you those words, you know. Where'd you get them?"

"I made them up," Ike smirked. "How'd you understand 'em?"

Buck laughed harder. "You were very descriptive."

Ike laughed, too, but lighter. "I never would touch your bow after that."

"I wouldn't let you!" Buck replied, clapping Ike on the shoulder. "I had to start over and smoke another piece of wood."

"You were a tough teacher," Ike countered, but he was still smiling. "You could have waited until it finished smoking before you let me try it."

"Sometimes a student needs to learn the hard way." Buck began to see shapes in the distance, and the conversation dropped. They walked in silence for another half hour before Buck could tell the shapes were houses and buildings. He didn't recognize them and began to wonder why Ike was leading him there.

"We can't stay long," Ike told him. "Just walk through it. Emma's there, with Sam. You'll know where to find her. I'll meet you on the other side."

Buck didn't flinch this time when Ike suddenly wasn't there beside him. He thought instead of Emma and Sam and picked up his pace to the town. He slowed down when he hit the sidewalks, but no one seemed to notice his presence. His heart sank a bit. Would Emma? Mother Augustine and the other nuns hadn't seen him. Only Red Bear had, and it was becoming apparent that the sweat lodge had been the reason for that. Buck was in the spirit world, and Red Bear had used the lodge to meet him there. Emma wouldn't have a sweat lodge.

Ike had told him he'd know where to find her, but he hadn't really paid attention to that. He stopped and looked at the unfamiliar buildings and businesses and realized he didn't at all know where she was. There were taller buildings there, like he'd seen only a few times in his life. He saw a hotel, a saloon, the livery, the Marshall's office. Sam might be at the Marshall's office but that didn't mean that Emma would be there, and though Sam had always treated him fairly, it was Emma he wanted to see. Ike had said there wasn't a lot of time here. How was he supposed to find her? He didn't even know what day it was for her. Or for him.

"I'll just be a minute, Sam."

Buck spun around, wary of what he might see. But nothing changed, and he realized that nothing had as he stood there searching the town with his eyes. He made a full circle and nothing changed at all.

And then Sam walked out of a building right in front of him. Instinctively, Buck stepped back out of the way. Then he realized where he was. A church.

Churches had never been Buck's favorite buildings. They reminded him a bit too much of Sorrow's, and he always expected someone to try and call him a heathen any time he entered, even for town meetings. But Emma had gone to church often, and she had never called him that, even if she had forced all the riders to attend services every Sunday in Sweetwater.

He had managed the services easy enough, after all, he'd been forced to attend mass at Sorrow's, and the Protestant services in Sweetwater were easier to take than that. He only had to stand up and sit down at the right times. He didn't have to cross himself or repeat the Hail Mary every time he was in trouble.

One door in the front of the building stood halfway open, so Buck stepped quietly inside. Emma was sitting in one of the pews, looking up at the pulpit and the cross there. Buck's boots clomped loudly on the wooden floor, but she did not seem to notice. He sat down in front of her and turned to see her face.

"I'm not sure why I needed to stay," she said. For a moment it almost felt like she was talking to him, except that he knew she couldn't even see him. "I just feel something terrible has happened," she went on. "I felt this way when Ike . . . . We got a letter after it happened. I don't want another letter like that. Lord, if one of those boys is in trouble, I pray that you will protect him."

Buck's eyes widened. She wasn't seeing him or talking to him. She was praying. That, in itself, wasn't unusual. But she was praying about him. Somehow she knew, and though Buck wasn't sure how many days it had been, he knew it was too soon for her to have received a letter from Teaspoon or Lou. Unless Buck had died already. He didn't think that was the case though. Ike would have told him.

Emma continued her prayer. "Lou is married now and settled down with Kid. She'd be safe enough, I reckon. Kid's a good one, but he sometimes blinds himself to the dangers of the world. But Jimmy and Cody? They can find trouble in, well, in a church, if given the time."

Buck smiled at the ease with which she prayed. The nuns at Sorrow's had been so formal sometimes. The man on the cross seemed a distant thing of worship. They loved Jesus; he knew that. How else could they devote their lives to that forgotten little school so out of the way? But they had never joked with their lord. With Emma, it was as if Jesus were a friend who sat with her, listening to what she said. She spoke to him the same way she'd speak to Teaspoon.

"And Buck. . . ." She choked then and her eyes filled with tears. She ducked her head to her folded hands, and Buck felt a stab of pain. Had he disappointed her by not truly becoming a Christian? Did she think of him as more trouble than Cody?

"I worry everyday now that the Pony Express is ending and Ike is gone. What will become of him?" She stopped then and was silent. Her shoulders shook and Buck felt a lump in his own throat. He was relieved, and amazed to know she cared enough to worry over him. He tried to touch her hands, but his fingers met only the back of the pew.

She lifted her head, but she didn't look toward the pulpit. She looked right at him. Buck knew that was impossible but her eyes met his, and she cried, "Oh Buck, is it you?"

He nearly fell out of the pew. "Emma?" he asked, not understanding.

"What happened? It's not right the way some people only see the color of your skin," she said, "else they look right through you. Something has happened, hasn't it?"

Buck nodded, still wondering if she was actually seeing him. He didn't move his hand from where it met hers on the back of the pew.

"I wish I'd told you," she confessed. "I've talked about it with Sam, but I never told you. I wasn't sure if you'd think I was motherin' you too much. I wanted to tell you you always had a home with us. You and Ike, when I first thought of it. I couldn't imagine you two separate." She choked back a small sob.

Then someone else started crying, startling them both. Emma pulled back her hands and leaned over in the seat. "Oh, Hannah," she said and lifted a baby into her arms. "Shh, baby, don't cry. Everything's fine. Mama's right here."

She bounced the baby up and down against her shoulder and the baby quieted. Emma looked back to the pulpit and the cross there. "Sam's waiting," she said as she stood. Buck stood with her, still watching her, unsure what had just happened. "Keep him safe, Lord," Emma prayed, "or help him if he's not. And let him know that he's loved. Amen."

And with that she turned and left Buck standing in the church.


Lou had planned on leaving first thing in the morning, but with Jimmy and Kid gone, and Buck injured, the station was short-handed. Michael Lessner, another rider, had arrived the afternoon before but was set to head out on a run before noon. He offered to help Lou and Rachel with the chores. Michael was now getting his horse ready, and the two women were spreading hay. Rachel had not said much the entire time, at least nothing that wasn't about the work. There was no mention of Buck or Lathrop. Lou understood it, to a point. The work, the busy-ness, made it easier to set the worry aside. But for Lou, it didn't go far. It stayed with her, just behind her eyes, and she was anxious to finish the chores so she could be on her way.

They all looked up when they heard the familiar sound of fast hoof beats. As the sound grew closer, Lou expected to hear a second set thundering out and away from the yard as Michael left for his run. But there was no second set and the hoof beats slowed until they stopped. Lou and Rachel both set their pitchforks aside and stepped out of the barn.

Lou squinted against the bright sunlight, but she knew who it was by the shape of his silhouette. She ran forward and took Katy's reigns. She looked up at Kid as she stroked the horse's nose.

"He's coming home," Kid said, knowing what she was waiting for. He lifted his leg over the horse and slid to the ground. "Teaspoon sent me back to get a place ready for him, and to get the doctor."

"He's better then?" Rachel asked behind them. "He's going to be alright?"

Kid didn't nod or shake his head. He just took a deep breath and held it a moment before he replied. "He's quiet. He's asleep. Jenny Tompkins put him to sleep with some Indian thing and some prayers. I don't understand it, but he's peaceful now. Enough that we can bring him home."

Lou didn't know what to think. Some Indian thing? But Buck was asleep and finally peaceful, and for that, she was glad. Still, the worry remained. Were they bringing him home to die?

"How soon?" Rachel asked as she brushed her hands off on her apron. "We'll set up a bed in the house. Kid, get the doctor." She put her hand on Lou's shoulder. "Louise, we have a lot to do."

Just then, another rider raced toward them. This time, it was an Express run. Lou remembered Michael and found him standing only a few feet away. "I'll be sayin' a prayer for him," he said before he turned and mounted his horse. The other rider, Jake Matheson, tossed the mochila to Michael and jumped down from his saddle as Michael raced off.

"Prayin' for who?" Jake asked.

Rachel tucked her hand into Lou's elbow and started them both for the house. She called to Jake, "Get yourself cleaned up and you can help."


TBC