The Young Riders

The Journey

By Gabrielle Lawson

Chapter Fourteen

Jenny didn't understand. Ike had brought her to Rock Creek. She thought she had understood why: to bring the dreamcatcher and help Buck to be at peace. But she had also thought it was to help him live. But the doctor said he was dying and, looking at him, she knew it was true. Each breath was shallower than the last, and he was pale beneath the bruises. She felt another tear trickle down her cheek, but she didn't bother to wipe it away. There would be more to follow it soon enough.

All that remained of Buck's white family were gathered in the room, and Jenny felt a little out of place. She really had only known him for a week. And they hadn't gotten along for most of that week. But no one had told her to leave or even looked at her as if she didn't belong. So she stayed. She stayed because Buck had been her hope, and he lay dying in a bed not ten feet away.

Teaspoon was closest to the bed. He held Buck's good hand, just as he had at Lathrop's house. Rachel sat closer to his head and gently brushed the hair from his face. Kid and Lou clung to each other, and Jimmy stood in the corner with one arm wrapped around himself, like he didn't know what to do. The doctor stood beside Jenny. He couldn't do anything more for Buck than he had already done. He was only waiting now to make Buck's death official.

Someone else was in the room, and seeing him, Jenny realized that no one else did. He stood next to the bed, between Rachel and Teaspoon. His hat was in his hands, leaving his bald head bare. He turned and caught her eye, but she couldn't read his expression. Was it sadness that brought his eyebrows down over his eyes? Was it hope that lifted his head and kept his shoulders high? But what hope? Except that he and Buck would be reunited.

Ike turned back to the bed, and Jenny was left to ponder the meaning of everything. Why had Ike brought her to Rock Creek, to Buck? Why had he told her stories and given her hope that she and Buck could have a future together? Why appear to her now if it was all for nothing?

The silence was broken when the door behind her opened. Jake Matheson poked his head in, blushing and pulling at his collar. "I—I'm sorry to interrupt," he said. "But Mr. Tompkins is here."

"Tompkins?!" Jimmy asked, his face tightening in anger. "What's he doing here?"

Jake looked right at Jenny. "He's asking to see you, ma'am."

Jenny closed her eyes. This was not right. Nothing was right. She hadn't planned on seeing her father, not yet. Not until she and Buck had sorted things out. Of course, that wasn't going to happen, and in a small town like this, it was quite impossible to expect that her father wouldn't know she was there.

"I'll take care of it," she whispered as she opened her eyes again and quietly slipped out of the room behind Jake.

Jake moved to the far end of the porch to give her space, and Jenny was left face to face with her father.

"Jenny," he said, tilting his head in greeting. He twisted his hat in his hands.

She wasn't angry with him like Jimmy was, but she did have the same question. "What are you doing here?" she asked, not intending for it to sound as blunt as it did.

"The doctor told me he'd seen you," he replied. "I was so surprised. Your Aunt Sarah didn't write to say you were coming."

"I can write for myself," Jenny replied, and then regretted the harsh answer. This just wasn't the time for this discussion. "I didn't tell her I was coming here. I just left."

"Why didn't you come to the store?" he asked.

Jenny swallowed. "I didn't come for you, Father."

Tompkins looked past her to the door. "For him, then?" And Jenny was surprised to not hear any anger from him. She looked toward the door herself, wondering if someone had stepped out behind her when she wasn't watching. But no one was there. If the doctor had told him about her, he'd probably also mentioned Buck.

She nodded. "For Buck."

Tompkins pulled in a deep breath and rubbed the back of his neck with one hand. She could tell he was struggling to say something but she readied herself to defend Buck against whatever he might say.

"He sent for you?"

"I asked him if I could come."

"What did he say?"

"He was coming to meet me in St. Joe. He didn't make it." She hoped he'd leave it at that. She didn't think he'd believe her about Ike the way Teaspoon had.

Tompkins' held her in his gaze. "I'm sorry," he said, and it was the same thing he said, the same voice he said it with, when her her mother died. "We didn't ever get along real well, he and I, but I wouldn't wish this on anyone."

More tears spilled from her eyes onto her cheeks at the sincerity in his tone. "And if he had lived?" she asked, this time not accusing, but hoping he would give her a good answer, evidence of a changed heart.

"If you were happy," he said. "I supposed I'd have to get used to him. If it means you'll stay and be in my life again, I can get used to anything."

She couldn't hold back the sob anymore and she quickly crossed the few steps between them. He took the cue and held out his arms and wrapped her in them, offering a comfort she hadn't known she'd needed. No one had hugged her since Buck. She hadn't let her father, and Aunt Sarah had never tried. In his arms, she felt her mother, gone from her for so long. He rocked her slowly back and forth as she cried.

But after a few moments, she took a deep breath to stop her sobs. "Papa," she whispered into his shoulder. "I need to be there."

He pulled back and held her out with his arms. "I'll be out here waiting."

She offered him a small smile and turned back to the door.


Buck didn't notice Jenny slipping back inside. He hadn't noticed her stepping out. He lay still upon the bed, eyes closed and unmoving. There was no light, no dark, no heat, no cold. If he felt anything at all, it was as if he were floating on a calm, slow-moving stream: a constant current of pain beyond his awareness.

His chest rose in slight movements, pulling little slips of air into his battered lungs then pushing it back out again. Each breath was smaller than the last, until, finally, it was the last. The stream stilled and Buck floated above it, free at last from the pain of life.

But there was sound. One voice reached through the void. A voice he knew and trusted. Ike's voice. "Open your eyes."

And he did. Ike leaned over him and offered a soft, sympathetic smile. He brought his hands up to his chest and moved them. Buck heard the word even though Ike's lips had not moved. "Breathe."

Because this was what he had chosen, he obeyed. And with that first shaky breath, all the pain came rushing back to him a flood along the stream. Ike's hands moved again. "You're not alone."

"Buck?!" Lou gasped, and Buck became aware of the room and the other people in it. His friends. His family.

A hand squeezed his and Buck looked down to see the look of wonder on Teaspoon's face. Buck folded his own fingers around the older man's and felt them solid and whole.

The pain was incredible and it rolled over him in waves. It frightened him to think of the consequences of his choice. But he looked into the faces of the people around him and realized he'd never before seen so many caring faces at one time sharing their concern for him. He was loved and he loved in return, and that realization was worth the pain. Red Bear was right. There was also joy.

Ike's smile widened. He knew. But there was a mischievous gleam in his eye that confused Buck. He took his hand from Teaspoon's, wanting to ask but not sure yet that he could use his voice. But Ike faded away like a wind on the plains.

In his place was a dream. A beautiful woman with long blond hair and tears in her eyes. She dropped to her knees beside the bed and smiled.

"You came?" he breathed, forgetting that he couldn't talk. He gently brought his hand to her face.

She took his hand and held it to her cheek. "Ike brought me," she said.

Buck smiled. "He brought me, too."

Epilogue

"Emma!"

Emma pushed a lock of hair out of her eyes with a wet hand. "In here, Sam!" Hannah burbled and flailed her little arms in the water, splashing the front of Emma's dress.

Sam came in behind her, and Emma offered him a smile before she turned her attention back to bathing their daughter. "We got a letter from Rock Creek," he said and Emma's smile faded. She had almost forgotten the experience in the church, but she had dreaded getting a letter like the one about Ike.

"Who's it from?" she asked, just managing to keep her voice steady.

"It don't say," Sam answered, "and I don't recognize the writing."

Emma kept her eyes on the baby and her hands moving to wash her. "Read it out, Sam."

She heard him tear the envelope and unfold the paper. And then she heard his voice and the words he spoke made her legs weak.

"'Dear Emma,

'You were right. It was me and it was bad. I can't even write this letter as my left wrist was broken. Jenny Tompkins has been kind enough to write my words. Maybe someday I'll be able to tell you what happened, but even thinking of it fills me with a fear I can't control. I will be a long time healing from this, and probably a long time learning to trust again. But I will heal, and I have a start on the trust. You are part of that.

'I can tell you that I was left with a difficult choice. I could have let go of this life and missed its joys and beauty. I chose instead to endure the pain, to live, to pay for that joy with hardship. I woke up to see more people loving me than ever before in my life, and I have to think it's not too high a price.

'You were one of those people, though you weren't there in the room. You were in the church, praying for me before you even knew I was in danger. Your face, even the memory of it, reminds me that this world isn't wholly made of cruelty and hatred.

'Thank you, Emma. And Sam, too. I will stay here, with Teaspoon, while I can, but someday this world may push me to seek you out as a haven in the storm. Your offer is precious to me.

'With love, Running Buck Cross.'"

Emma lifted Hannah from the water and sat down right on the floor. "Buck? How?" She looked to Sam for an answer, but he had none to offer. "How did he know?"

"There's more," he said, holding the paper out for her to see.

She read it for herself.

'P.S. Hannah is a beautiful baby.'

The End
copyright 2003 Gabrielle Lawson