Original photos used with the written permission of the owner.

DEMONS

by Kim Roberts

© 2000

CHAPTER 6

Because he was not yet able to work around the station, Buck found himself with a great deal of idle time. The laudanum provided relief from boredom and he found himself looking forward to each new experience the drug offered. Not only was Buck calmer and more relaxed than he had ever felt, but he questioned things he had previously taken for granted. Many lazy afternoons were spent behind the barn, contemplating the mysteries of life. He wondered why the sky was blue and the grass was green and imagined what it would look like if they were reversed. Why did the sun hurt your eyes and the moon didn't? Why is a white man called "white" when his skin can blush pink in embarrassment or burn red in the sun?

His daydream about the Kiowa had frightened him terribly, but the spirits had not punished him. The laudanum had been victorious over the cries of the Kiowa. Perhaps the laudanum was more powerful than the spirits. He even began to question his Kiowa religion. Were the spirits really there or were they just a story handed down from one generation to another to scare children and force them to obey the Kiowa's multitude of rules? Was the white man's God really there or was He just a story, too? Perhaps the Kiowa spirits were the white man's God, only seen through white eyes.

Buck's dream had made him question how he really felt about the Kiowa. Maybe he really did hate them - he had every right to. Buck even had questions about Red Bear. His brother was a powerful, respected chief. He could have stopped his younger brother's torment if he had wanted to. But instead, he claimed the abuse and ridicule didn't exist. A half-white brother had certainly complicated Red Bear's life. Perhaps he secretly enjoyed watching Buck's misery. Perhaps Buck had been mistaken all this time. Perhaps nothing in his life was as he thought.

"Can we talk for a minute, Teaspoon?" Kid asked from the doorway of the Marshal's office.

"Thought you'd left for Belleville already," Teaspoon answered, lowering his feet from his desk top and moving his chair to a more upright position. The Marshal had sent Barnett on an errand and was enjoying the deputy's absence. "What's on your mind, son?" he added, motioning for Kid to sit in the chair beside his desk.

Kid sat down but didn't quite know how to begin. Instead, he stared at the floor and turned his hat over and over in his hands.

"You wanted to say somethin', Kid," Teaspoon reminded the boy, cocking an inquisitive eyebrow. "Or are you gonna sit there and count the floor boards?"

"I've got about an hour before my run and I wanted …I want to talk about Buck before I leave," Kid began. "I'm worried about him, Teaspoon. I think there's somethin' wrong."

"Course there's somethin' wrong. He's grievin' for his best friend."

Kid shook his head, "No. I mean… I know that. But I think there's somethin' else."

"What makes you say that?" Teaspoon questioned, surprised by Kid's statement. "Rachel says he's eatin' some and I know he's sleepin' more. Seems to me he's doin' much better."

"Well, no offense, Teaspoon, but you're not around him all day. I can't explain it exactly but …he's different," Kid insisted.

"Different? How?"

"Like… in the morning I can tell his ribs still hurt real bad," Kid said, trying to put his scattered suspicions into logical thoughts. "Sometimes he can barely get out of bed, but then a few minutes later he's walkin' around like nothin's wrong."

"Go on."

"And, he can't keep his mind on anything. Sometimes it seems like he's…I don't know …like he's not really all there." Kid hesitated before continuing. Buck's behavior was harder to explain than he anticipated. "He's so moody. One minute he seems fine and the next he's bitin' somebody's head off."

Teaspoon chuckled for a moment, "Now, Kid, to say Buck's moody ain't exactly no newspaper headline."

Kid sighed heavily, frustration evident on his face.

"Now, Kid," Teaspoon began, moving his chair closer to the boy. "I'm pleased you're lookin' out for Buck. Lord knows, he's had a rough time lately. But I think you're jumpin' the gun."

Kid looked at the older man quizzically.

"You say he still hurts some. Well, he was badly injured in that fall. It's gonna take some time to heal," Teaspoon rationalized. "Only normal to be worse in the mornin'. Probably just stiff after sleepin' hard is all."

"Alright, I suppose that's possible," Kid conceded. "But what about how he acts the rest of the day? I'm tellin' you, Teaspoon, somethin' is wrong."

"Kid," Teaspoon began, "Buck's been through an awful lot between losing Ike and then gettin' hurt. Son, it's only natural that he's gonna act different for a while. Sure, we'd like him to be his old self again all at once, but I think that's askin' a bit much of him."

Kid still looked unconvinced.

"But," Teaspoon continued, "Appears to me that he's not dwellin' on Ike's death near as much. Maybe he's found a way to take his mind off it. A little more time and I think he's gonna be just fine."

Kid was frustrated. This conversation hadn't gone the way he had hoped. Rather than believing his suspicions about Buck's behavior, Teaspoon had excuses for it.

"Now, shouldn't you be gettin' ready for that run to Belleville?" Teaspoon asked, anxious to get back to his nap.

"I suppose," Kid said as he rose to his feet and headed toward the door. It was obvious Teaspoon didn't want to discuss the matter further. He wanted to believe Teaspoon's explanations for Buck's strange behavior, but he just couldn't.

Buck reigned Ike's horse to a stop at the familiar location. Over the past week the pain in his chest had diminished as the broken bones began to mend and although the pain was not entirely gone, it was bearable. It still bothered him a great deal in the mornings but a quick dose of laudanum put an end to his discomfort. He had even urged the horse into an easy lope without it causing him too much pain and they leisurely traversed the prairie, the motion of the rider and the animal melding into one. Buck had always felt a bond with these strong, beautiful animals. The Kiowa's very existence depended upon them. Kiowa children learned to ride almost as early as they learned to walk. He enjoyed the afternoon's ride, partly because he missed the kinship with the animal but mostly because he had been ordered not to.

Buck found himself wanting to defy Teaspoon and his authority. Since the first time they met, Buck had wanted to please the man, wanted him to fill the void inside him that growing up without a father had created. But, now that desire was gone. Buck saw him only as a power hungry white man, wielding his title of "Station Manager" over the riders and demanding the town abide by his rules because of the small tin star pinned to his chest.

To Buck's relief, Kid left the day before on a run to Belleville, taking his questions and prying eyes with him. Kid was trying to force himself into Buck's life, past the carefully guarded wall of secrecy, but Buck refused to allow him in. The more Kid questioned, the higher the wall became.

Rachel had left the station to help the Thomas family, again, and wouldn't be back until late. Buck snickered to himself at the thought. Yes, Rachel was always trying to make things better, always trying to help. Problem was she never thought about what she was doing. Never thought that moving Ike's trunk to the barn might upset him, never thought it would cause him so much pain.

Jimmy had just left on a run and Noah wouldn't be back until that evening, leaving only Cody and Lou at the station. Cody was too consumed by himself and his pursuit of Lizzy Jackson to notice if Buck was there or not and, even though Lou didn't seem anxious to discuss the "Emily incident", Buck tried his best to maintain his distance from her. Lou seemed to understand that he wasn't ready to reconcile and gave him the space he wanted.

It had been easy to slip away from the station and Buck relished every minute of his defiance. Smiling in anticipation, he reached into the hollow of the tree and removed the precious bottle of laudanum from its hiding place. The old tree, ravaged by time and weather, stood not far from the spot where Ike's funeral pyre had been built. Buck remembered that some of its damaged limbs had been used to build the fire that had consumed his friend's body. A small hollow left in the trunk by one of the fallen limbs created a perfect hiding place.

Removing the cork, Buck brought the open bottle to his nose, breathing in the scent, allowing it to permeate his senses. It smelled so good.

He closed his eyes and drank, but did not swallow immediately. Instead he held the liquid in his mouth and savored its taste, delighting in the feel of the warm fluid as it slid against his teeth and spread across his tongue. His body cried out, protesting the selfishness of its mouth and he finally swallowed, the warm liquid flowing down his throat like a satin ribbon. Its soft touch teased and excited him. Buck felt himself grow weak and fell back against the tree trunk collapsing to the ground, every nerve in his body exploding in euphoria as a moan of pleasure released from deep within him.

It was an unusually warm day and the shade the old tree provided was a welcome respite from the heat of the afternoon sun. Buck stretched out in the cool grass underneath the tree, gazing at the sky above through the canopy of green leaves fluttering in the breeze. He felt his bones and muscles, every fiber of his body begin to soften and slowly turn to liquid, as warm and fluid as the contents of the bottle he held against his chest. If not for his skin holding the liquid inside him, Buck felt certain that he would simply flow away across the prairie.

The rustling of the breeze through the leaves of the tree created a soft, hypnotic melody. The song reminded Buck of the music other Kiowa children learned to play on their wooden flutes. Although, Buck had crafted his own flute, Red Bear was too busy with his duties as War Chief to teach him to play. Buck tried to learn on his own but the sounds his flute produced were anything but pleasant. Sadly, he resigned himself to enviously listening to the other children's music.

Buck watched as a leaf broke free from the boughs overhead and slowly floated toward him. Reaching out to catch the falling leaf and capture its song, Buck felt it enter his body through his hand. The leaf was carried down his arm and through his body, as if floating on a stream, its gentle music filling his entire being with a feeling of complete contentment.

Buck wished he could stay there forever - that this feeling would never end. But he couldn't let anyone discover his secret. Although miles away, he was certain he could hear the jingle of Teaspoon's spurs on the sidewalk as he left his office and headed toward the station. The creak of the buggy's wheel in the distance told him that Rachel was on her way home, too. They would come looking for him if he stayed - searching for him like a child who had strayed too far from home.

The heat of the day refused to loosen its grip, even as darkness fell on Rock Creek. The fire fueling the cook stove as Rachel prepared supper had only made matters worse, leaving the bunkhouse warm and stuffy.

Buck decided to go to bed early. Although he hated to admit it, the ride earlier in the day had aggravated his sore ribs and his chest was throbbing again. The thick layer of bandages Doc Barnes insisted he wear helped support the broken bones, but were hot and uncomfortable. He looked forward to the rest a soft bunk and the bottle of laudanum would bring.

Hoping to circulate the air in the bunkhouse, Buck propped open the windows at the far end of the room near the bunks and then opened the window in the spare bedroom. He was rewarded for his efforts as a gentle breeze was drawn across the room.

Turning to leave, his eyes fell upon the stack of books resting on the table beside the bed. Buck felt a pang of guilt realizing that Ike's drawing was still where Lou had placed it two weeks before. How could he have forgotten something so important? Buck sat on the edge of the bed, slowly removing the books that weighed down the piece of paper. The books had served their purpose, the paper had been pressed flat and showed little evidence of its earlier damage.

Ike's image stared at Buck as if to say, "Did you forget me?"

The pang of guilt grew stronger as Buck realized he hadn't thought of Ike very often in the past week. He had been angry with the others at the station for putting aside their grief so quickly, but he had done much the same since his accident - since discovering laudanum. Rather than remembering his friend, he had been consumed with his own selfish thoughts and desires. With the help of laudanum, he had even allowed himself to feel good. But his best friend was dead, he wasn't supposed to feel good. At first he used the drug to soothe his heartache, but lately he looked forward to the physical pleasures it brought instead. Even his visit to Ike's funeral pyre earlier in the day had been for pure enjoyment, not to feel closer to Ike.

"I'm sorry," he murmured to the drawing. He had strayed. The laudanum had clouded his thoughts and drawn him away from what was important. If the laudanum was the problem, then he would stop taking it.

Buck looked at the drawing again and felt a little better. He needed to put it back in the trunk with Ike's other belongings where it would be safely tucked away. Trying to ignore the pain in his chest and the nervous feeling that came upon him this time of night, he slowly rose to his feet and headed to the barn. Sleep could wait a little while longer.

"Billy, do you really think I'm pretty?" Lizzy asked, as she tickled Cody's nose with a piece of straw from the floor of the hayloft.

Cody had been successful in his pursuit of the young Miss Jackson and offered to walk her home from Bible study that evening. He waited for Lizzy outside church and, offering his arm to her in gentlemanly fashion, escorted her through the streets of town pointing out fascinating bits of knowledge and amusement. It soon became evident to Cody, by the young lady's flirtatious manners and suggestive smile, that she wanted to study a lot more than the Bible.

The cracks between the dried boards of the roof allowed scattered rays of moonlight to filter into the loft, softly illuminating the porcelain skinned beauty before him. Cody could not believe his luck. Not only was she beautiful, but willing! He thought to himself that he must have done something very good to deserve this, but he couldn't remember what.

"Why, Lizzy, you're the most beautiful girl in Rock Creek. The most beautiful girl I've ever laid eyes on," Cody answered with a devilishly shy smile. "You're so sweet and kind, the sort of girl a man dreams about."

"Oh, Billy," Lizzy cooed, edging closer to the blonde rider. "You make me feel so special."

"You are special, Lizzy," Cody continued in his string of compliments. "Just thinkin' 'bout this evenin', 'bout how your eyes out-shine the stars will fill the lonely hours of my ride tomorrow."

"I'll be ridin' through dangerous Indian territory on a special run, tomorrow," Cody said, pulling his shoulders back and puffing out his chest to accentuate the seriousness of his statement. "Teaspoon chose me over all the other riders to carryout this important mission."

True, Cody did have a run the next day, through Sioux territory, but the Sioux had recently signed a treaty and posed no threat to the Express riders. He had been chosen to take the additional run for no reason other than he was the only one available to go.

"Billy, you must be careful!" Lizzy gasped. "Those terrible savages might try to scalp you!" Leaning closer to him, Lizzy tenderly picked up a strand of Cody's long yellow hair and twirled it between her fingers. "And I do so love your hair."

Cody nearly jumped out of his boots at Lizzy's touch. He had hoped that perhaps they would hold hands, perhaps as the evening wore on he would be allowed to put his arm gently around her shoulders. But this was too good to be true!

"Lizzy… I might not come back tomorrow… it bein' a dangerous mission and all. But I'd die a happy man just rememberin' you." Cody lowered his head, feigning serious thought before continuing, "Do you think…I mean…would you be so kind…I mean…might I have a kiss for good luck, Lizzy? Just a little one."

"Why, of course you can have a kiss, Billy." Lizzy smiled provocatively, pulling Cody toward her by the strand of his hair. "And if you say 'please'," she whispered, "you can have more than that."

Buck awkwardly climbed the ladder to the hayloft, one hand holding a lantern and Ike's drawing, the other holding onto the rungs of the ladder. He stopped about half way up, startled by the sounds of Cody's laughter and feminine giggles. For a moment he was tempted to barge in on Cody and his conquest of the week, but thought better of it. He wanted some privacy with Ike's possessions and he wasn't going to get it now. Cody and the young lady evidently wanted their privacy, too.

He slowly descended the ladder, gritting his teeth against the pain the movement caused. Once on the ground, he sat the lantern on a post near the ladder to the loft and wrapped his arms around his aching chest waiting for the pain to lessen. A soft whinny from the horse stalls in the rear of the barn caught his attention and he smiled briefly, remembering the young filly he and Kid had admired earlier. Still cradling his injured chest he made his way to the back of the barn, leaving the lantern on the post.

The animal was indeed something special. Not only was her skeletal structure ideal, but her markings were beautiful - a dark red coat with four white stockings and a perfectly symmetrical blaze down the length of her nose. Buck coaxed the young horse toward him and gently ran his hand over her head and neck, enjoying the feel of her velvety muzzle against his skin. The filly flicked her ears nervously, unsure how to react to the human touch. Obediently heeding her mother's call, the young horse skittered away.

Tired and hurting, Buck decided to heed the call of his bunk and left the barn, promising that he would put Ike's portrait back in the trunk tomorrow, forgetting to put out the flame in the lantern.

Buck put Ike's drawing back on the table in the spare room. It had been safe there for two weeks and surely would be for one more night. He tried to sleep, but lay awake for several hours, fighting the craving for the laudanum. He tried to tell himself that he didn't want it, but his body insisted otherwise. His chest still hurt and there was a strange ringing sound in his ears. He tried to lie upon his hands to prevent them from shaking, but it didn't help. Even though a pleasant breeze was blowing through the room, he was sweating. He tossed and turned trying to escape the craving but the movements only intensified the ache in his chest. Buck glanced around the room to ensure the others were asleep before he reached under his bunk for the bottle. Lou and Noah rested soundly in their bunks, but Cody wasn't there. Buck presumed he had found the loft a more pleasant place to spend the night. His determination faltering, Buck brought the bottle to his lips, promising himself it was the last time. Tomorrow would be better. Tomorrow he would quit.