Original photos used with the written permission of the owner.

DEMONS

by Kim Roberts

© 2000

CHAPTER 10

Buck awoke to a pounding headache as the wagon wheel bounced across a rut in the trail. He was confused for a moment, but it didn't take long for the pain in his jaw to remind him what had happened - and why.

He tried to raise his head, but a sudden rush of dizziness forced him to lie back down on the layer of quilts on the bed of the wagon.

"How thoughtful of them," Buck thought sarcastically, as his head touched the soft layers of fabric. "At least I'll be comfortable while they haul me away against my will."

As the dizziness subsided, Buck opened his eyes and found he was able to assess his situation without moving around too much. The wagon bounced uneasily over rough terrain telling him they were traveling through the open prairie and not on an established road. Forcing himself to put the pain in his head and jaw aside, Buck remembered Teaspoon telling him they were going to a lake somewhere. . .somewhere quiet and peaceful . . . and that they would stay there until he didn't need laudanum any longer.

"Better think again, old man," he thought bitterly.

Turning his attention to the wagon itself, Buck noticed a stack of hastily loaded provisions beside him. If he hadn't known better, it would appear as if they were headed for a Sunday afternoon outing in the country.

"Yeah, it's gonna be some picnic."

Buck twisted his head around just enough to see Teaspoon's gray hair confirming that his adversary was at the reins. He listened closely for the sound of other horses, but could only make out the rhythmic steps of one other animal. Without even looking, he knew the horse was Katy--and mounted on Katy would be the ever present, do-gooder, Kid.

"Surprised they didn't all come along to watch."

Wondering what time it was, Buck slowly turned onto his back and searched the sky for the sun, shielding his eyes against the bright afternoon rays. He estimated it was mid-afternoon, two or three o'clock, which meant they had probably been traveling for several hours. He couldn't be certain, but he assumed they had left shortly after Kid attacked him. But where were they going? Teaspoon mentioned a man's name, but the pain in his head prevented Buck from thinking hard enough to remember it.

Buck began to feel the familiar reminder of his body's need for laudanum. It nudged him, shook him a little, trying to make him notice it was there. It was only an 'uneasy' feeling, but he knew from experience the discomfort the next hours would bring and each creak of the wagon wheel took him further away from the antidote to the coming misery. The need to know where he was overcame the pain in his head and Buck slowly pushed himself into a sitting position.

A muffled groan from the back of the wagon alerted Teaspoon that his passenger was awake and he turned around to see the young Indian struggling to sit up, tenderly holding his bruised and swollen jaw. Teaspoon felt badly that it had come to that. He had hoped that once Buck knew he had been found out, he would come along willingly, but that certainly hadn't been the case.

"You doin' alright, Buck?" he asked, genuinely concerned.

Buck's back stiffened at the voice, but he made no reply.

"Did you hear me, son?" Teaspoon asked, but again there was no answer. Teaspoon turned toward Kid, who was riding behind the wagon, but Kid shrugged his shoulders. Buck's head was bowed and he couldn't determine his condition, either.

"Well, we need to stop for a while anyway," Teaspoon stated as he applied the brake. He stepped over the wooden seat into the bed of the wagon, grabbing his canteen on the way. The Marshal stretched for a moment to relieve the stiffness that had settled in his joints and then knelt down beside the silent young man.

Buck slowly raised his head, his unforgiving stare locked with the concerned eyes of the man in front of him - neither of them blinking or turning away. For a moment it appeared to be a contest of endurance until Teaspoon opened the canteen and offered it to Buck. Although he was thirsty, Buck wasn't interested in anything the older man had to offer and broke the gaze turning his attention to some unknown object on the horizon instead. Teaspoon took off his bandana and soaked it with cold water from the canteen. "This oughta help the swellin' some," he said, trying to apply the compress to the boy's face, but Buck quickly turned his head away.

"You stood there and watched him smash my face in but now you're worried," he said to himself as bitter memories of the confrontation on the porch crept back into his pounding head.

Teaspoon sighed heavily as Buck turned away and motioned for Kid to dismount and join them.

Kid left Katy to graze in the prairie grass and walked around the wagon toward Teaspoon. Buck couldn't hear their conversation but was certain he was the main topic. With Teaspoon's attention diverted away from him, Buck used the opportunity to scan the area, breathing a sigh of relief when he recognized the surroundings. But what good did it do him? Even if he could get past his captors he didn't have a horse to escape on . . . or did he?

Buck's gaze fell on the painted mare grazing a short distance behind the wagon, then he cast a hurried glance at Kid and Teaspoon to ensure they were still occupied in conversation. "Serves him right to lose his precious horse," Buck thought, gingerly touching his swollen jaw. He quickly vaulted over the side of the wagon, running toward Katy as soon as his feet touched the ground.

The sudden movement alerted Teaspoon and Kid to Buck's intent and Kid darted after him from the opposite side of the wagon. Under normal circumstances, it would have been a close race, but Buck's ribs had not yet completely healed and the pain in his chest slowed him, allowing Kid to overtake him easily. Katy shied away nervously as the two riders tumbled into the grass a few feet from her. The impact with the earth against his bruised chest caused Buck to momentarily lose his focus and Kid used the opportunity to pin his breathless opponent to the ground.

"Don't make me hurt you, again!" Kid cried as Buck struggled for his freedom.

Teaspoon shook his head sadly as he reached for a length of rope in the wagon and headed toward his riders.

"You're makin' this harder than need be, but you ain't givin' me much choice," he said, pulling Buck's arms behind his back. "Hold him down, Kid."

Teaspoon felt the weight of his already heavy heart increase as he securely tied the rope around Buck's wrists. "Don't fight me, son," he pleaded as Buck continued to struggle against the restraints. Finally realizing his efforts were futile, Buck quieted and grimaced in pain as his shoulders began to protest against the unnatural posture. Teaspoon sighed heavily, witnessing the boy's discomfort. He loosened the bindings a bit, allowing Buck's shoulders to return to a more tolerable position. His act of kindness went unnoticed however, as Kid relaxed his hold and Buck turned to face his tormentor, a look of absolute contempt in his eyes.

Teaspoon and Kid pulled the furious young Indian to his feet but Buck wouldn't move his legs and they were forced to drag him the short distance back to the wagon. Teaspoon pulled Buck back onto the pile of quilts on the wagon bed and removed the rider's boots in hopes that the young man would think twice about trying to run off barefoot, but realized it probably wouldn't stop him and used another length of rope to bind Buck's ankles.

"Teaspoon, is that necessary?" Kid asked quietly as Buck's chest heaved in righteous indignation.

"Well, short of knockin' him out again, you got any better ideas?" Teaspoon asked brusquely.

Kid frowned and shook his head. No, he had no better ideas. If Buck insisted on acting like a wild man, then Teaspoon was right - they had no alternatives.

"Let's get movin'," Teaspoon said as he wearily climbed onto the driver's seat. If anyone had told the Marshal a few days earlier that he would haul off, hog-tie and humiliate his crime committing, opium dependent Kiowa rider, he would have laughed in their face. But that was exactly what he had been forced to do and it was breaking his heart. Teaspoon knew his actions, no matter how harsh they might seem, were for Buck's own safety and welfare - but the look of hatred in the boy's eyes told him Buck was far from understanding his honorable motives.

Kid mounted Katy and took his place in the rear as the wagon lurched forward. He couldn't help but wonder if perhaps Doctor Barnes had been right in suggesting they send Buck somewhere better equipped to handle his problem. Kid understood that Teaspoon felt responsible for his rider and that those feelings were probably fueled by guilt for not seeing the situation for what it was earlier. But they didn't know what this drug had done to Buck. Kid looked at the stranger sitting in the wagon staring back at him with such intense anger. It was as if the Buck he knew and loved as a brother had disappeared into that bottle of laudanum and emerged as someone else. Kid didn't like this new Buck, in fact, he was a little frightened by him. Sadly, he wasn't at all sure they would get the old Buck back.

"Some friend you turned out to be," Buck thought as he fixed his stare on the rider behind him. "Bet you're enjoyin' this, aren't you?"

Nervously, Kid turned away from Buck's angry eyes only to be pulled back moments later, as if by some magnetic force, to the Kiowa's unwavering glare.

"How does it feel to be watched, Kid?" Buck said silently.

Kid shifted uneasily in his saddle, occupying himself with the landscape, a bird overhead, the patterns of Katy's coat - but the burning sensation of Buck's fiery eyes was still there.

Buck found Kid's obvious discomfort so amusing he was disappointed when Kid could finally take no more and kicked Katy's flanks, urging her to the front of the procession away from the stranger in the wagon. Buck enjoyed causing Kid's distress. In spite of the pain in his face, he smiled.

Teaspoon was right - it was a quiet, peaceful place. Buck recognized it. He and the other riders had been there once to help Teaspoon's friend, Tom Johnson, break a mustang with a wide mean streak. The owner had lived alone for years in the small, secluded cabin but his new mail-order bride showed an extreme distaste for primitive life and demanded to live somewhere more civilized. To please his new wife, Tom Johnson gave up his bachelor's quarters for a proper house, complete with picket fence, in St. Joseph. Rather than sell the cabin, he kept it for an occasional get-a-way to escape the city life he was certain he would loathe.

The cabin was built beside a small lake, nearly at the water's edge. On a quiet night, one could sit on the small porch and hear the water gently lapping at the shore. The log building was small and simple, nothing more than a single man would need. It would be a nice place to spend a few quiet days, but Buck sat in the back of the wagon, his hands and feet still bound, looking at the small cabin as a convicted man gazes upon the gallows.

The feeling of pleasure he experienced by causing Kid's distress was short lived as the demands of his dependence continued to make themselves known through the remainder of the trip. The binding on his wrists may have restricted the movement of his arms, but didn't stop his hands from shaking and trying to control his hands only intensified the cramps in his arms and shoulders that the awkward position created. The skin on his upper body began to itch and he desperately needed to scratch it, but had to resort to rubbing his arms and back against the wooden side of the wagon for a little relief.

Once the supplies were unloaded, Teaspoon cut the ropes around Buck's legs and allowed him out of the wagon. "Kid, you go on and tend to the horses, me and Buck are gonna get settled inside," Teaspoon instructed.

Buck stood completely still, his dark complexion turning pale. He didn't want to go in that building. He thought about running, but knew they would catch him. He wouldn't stand much of a chance with his hands tied and without his gun, knife or a horse. Maybe he could just stay outside. He could breathe outside - the cabin had been closed up for so long, there probably wasn't any air in there. He would surely suffocate.

"Let's go, son," Teaspoon said quietly, reaching for Buck's arm to escort him inside.

Buck pulled away from his grasp and drew an apprehensive breath. Teaspoon was intent on inflicting this misery upon him; his options were few. A myriad of thoughts swirled through his mind as he tried to find a way out of his situation, but nothing made sense and he realized he had lost the first battle. Surely he would be alright without laudanum - wouldn't he? He knew it would hurt for a while, but he had been shot once and endured terrible beatings in his life and lived. Laudanum was just medicine - how bad could it be?

"Alright, old man, you get your way. But when this is over, you'll never see me again."

Teaspoon felt badly that he had used force to control Buck earlier and was worried that such measures would be required again, but much to his relief, Buck walked on his own to the front door and after a moment's hesitation, drew a deep breath and entered the cabin.

Buck slowly exhaled, fully expecting the breath he had just drawn to be his last and just as expected, he was unable to draw another. He tried desperately to breathe, but his chest hurt and felt very tight, preventing his lungs from expanding. Fear of the unknown that lay waiting in the room bore down heavily upon him and he felt certain he would be smothered under its weight. Teaspoon's touch on his arm jolted him and he gasped hard enough to pull in the air that was hiding in the corners of the room. Once he could breathe again, Buck realized he was being foolish - letting his imagination run away with him. It was just a room . . . nothing more.

The interior of the log home was just as its owner left it; the simple belongings were not considered acceptable to his new bride. The cabin was sparsely furnished with several chairs and a bed covered with a worn patchwork quilt in the main area of the room around a large stone fireplace. The head and antlers of an eight-point buck was mounted as a trophy on the chimney. A stove, possum-belly cupboard and small table off to the side of the main area acted as the kitchen.

Teaspoon sliced through the rope binding Buck's wrists and attempted to rub the soreness out of the boy's arms, but Buck pulled away from his touch and tried to ease the aching himself. Between trying to rub the cramps away and relieve the intense itching, Teaspoon was afraid Buck would scratch his skin raw, but his repeated offers of assistance were refused. Instead, Buck turned his back to the older man and placed himself by the window in the corner of the kitchen area- he felt safer in the corner, near the hidden stores of air.

"The horses are taken care of, Teaspoon. Now what?" Kid quietly asked as he entered the cabin.

"Well, I reckon it's about supper time," Teaspoon answered, trying to hide his frustrations. "Why don't you check what Rachel packed for us and see if you can whip us up some grub?"

Kid was surprised by Teaspoon's light-hearted answer. "But, what about…" he said, nodding his head toward Buck. "What's gonna happen to him, Teaspoon?"

"I don't know for sure, Kid." The look on the older man's face revealed his hidden concerns as he glanced at the lonely, fidgeting figure by the window. "Doc didn't know much neither, other than not takin' no more of that poison will make him feel kinda sick. He said just don't let him have none of it and let nature take its course. I guess we just wait and see."