Challenged to Write at least 11 Stories: 1 for each character in this list: Teaspon, Rachel, Sam, Emma, Tompkins, Ike, Buck, Lou, Jimmy, Cody There were 33 songs to choose from, all of the songs are in the Statler Brothers famous four part harmony. Email Cathy Character Title Summary Emma Funny, Familiar, Forgotten Feelings Lou and Emma talk on the day of Emma's wedding Sam All I Have to Offer You Is Me Sam's Proposal Cody The Dreamer Cody Meets the Queen Tompkins Everytime I Trust A Gal Tompkins is a sucker for a pretty face Ike You Just Haven't Done it Yet A bully learns that mute doesn't mean stupid Kid There's a Man in There A young Kid learns that all is not fair in life. Rachel This Ole House It's not easy to say goodbye to a place you've come to love. Jimmy A Couple More Years The trip to Fort Reunion through Jimmy's eyes. Lou Have a Little Faith An alternate ending to the express - Lou finds real love. Buck Thank You World Buck finds a connection to Ike and his past on a stopover in Sweetwater Teaspoon Making Memories Teaspoon has a story to tell, and an eager young reporter is just the right audience. Funny, Familiar, Forgotten Feelings Emma Shannon—soon to be Cain—looked into the mirror for the third time in as many minutes. That stray strand of hair refused to stay put and she was almost ready to pull out the scissors to cut the offending lock from her head. “You look fine, Emma,” Louise told her. The girl—and for once she was actually dressed as a girl—looked absolutely beautiful in Emma’s eyes. At least her hair was staying put. “I can’t believe how nervous I am,” Emma replied. “This is my second time round for heaven’s sake, it’s not like I’m a blushing bride.” “Somehow, I think nerves come with the territory,” the girl responded. “No matter how many times you go through it.” “Well, this is my last time for sure!” Emma vowed. “At least I hope so,” she continued under her breath. “It will be,” Louise said firmly. She sighed as she moved to retie the bow at the back of Emma’s dress. “I wish I could say the same.” “You will soon enough Miss Loulabelle,” Emma told her. “Your day will come and then you’ll be the one to have all these butterflies in your stomach.” “Aren’t you sure?” Lou asked curiously. “Oh, my yes,” Emma exclaimed. “I’m as sure as I will ever be that marrying Sam is the right thing to do.” “Then why are you nervous?” Emma smiled at the younger woman. “It’s hard to explain,” she replied. “I guess no matter how sure your heart is, your mind just doesn’t get the message sometimes.” “I guess that’s the way it is with Kid and me,” Lou lamented. “I know in my heart I love him and want to spend my life with him but, well, sometimes he just makes me so doggone mad!” Emma laughed. “I can guarantee you that you are not the first woman who has said that about her man—and you won’t be the last either.” “How do you get past that?” Lou asked. “How do you not get angry with them when they do something so stupid—or think about doing something so stupid?” “That’s a good question,” Emma admitted. “I wish I knew the answer.” “Is there an answer?” “I think the best thing you can do is just take each time as it comes and ask yourself, ‘Is what he’s doing so bad that I am willing to throw everything away out of anger?’,” Emma mused. “I think most of the time you’ll find out that it’s not.” “But what if what he’s doing is throwing everything away?” Lou asked. “What if what he’s thinking about doing could end up ruining both your lives?” Emma realized then, that the younger woman was talking about something far more important than just Kid doing something “stupid.” “What’s Kid thinking of doing now?” she asked. “He’s talking about going back East,” Lou said dejectedly. “He keeps hearing rumors about a war and he thinks he needs to be there to ‘defend’ his home.” “The war might never happen,” Emma said, though she too had heard the rumors and knew as well as anyone things might just escalate to war. “This is not the time to be talking about Kid and his stupid actions,” Lou declared. “This is your day and you should be thinking about you and Sam not me and my silly problems.” Emma started to protest but Lou waved her off. “If and when the time comes when I have to make a decision, I’ll worry about it then.” “And you’ll worry all the time in between until the decision is made,” Emma told her. “It’s something I’ve learned about men and trying to love them. You worry until you know for sure and then you worry some more.” “But you are sure about Sam, right?” Lou asked trying to change the subject. “I’m as sure as my heart—and my mind—will let me be,” Emma replied. “Was it like this when you married Evan?” The question came cautiously. “You don’t have to answer if you don’t want to,” she added as Emma stiffened slightly at the mention of her ex-husband’s name. “At the time, I thought it was the right thing,” Emma replied absently. “I believed I loved him and that he loved me. It didn’t turn out that way though.” “I’m sorry, Emma,” Lou told her. “I didn’t mean to bring up old hurts.” “You didn’t,” Emma assured her. “I hadn’t really given it a lot of thought. A lot of years have passed since that time.” “Not that many years,” Lou protested. “You’re not that old!” “Sometimes I feel positively ancient,” the other woman admitted with a laugh. “I’d almost forgotten how it felt,” she continued soberly. “But now that you mention it, it’s funny how familiar these feelings seem.” “Sam is nothing like Evan,” Lou declared. “I think you’d be surprised at just how much like Evan Sam is,” Emma countered. “Not that I think Sam’s going to run out on me.” “He wouldn’t dare!” Lou stated firmly. “He knows if he tried he’d have all of us on him so fast he’d not make it past the front gate.” Emma laughed at the image the words brought to mind. She could just see Sam running for his life with the six Express riders screaming behind him. “He could run, but there would be nowhere for him to hide,” Lou vowed. “Buck would find him no matter where he tried to go.” A knock at the door interrupted the laughter that followed. Lou pulled the door open to find Buck standing outside. “Is everything all right?” the man asked as the women broke into another fit of laughter. Sobering quickly, Emma nodded. “Just sharing some secrets,” she told him. “You wouldn’t understand.” “All right,” Buck replied uncertainly. “Uh, Teaspoon says everyone’s ready so we might as well get started.” Looking in the mirror one last time, Emma tried once again to brush the errant strand of hair into place, then stepped into the hallway with Lou at her side. As she reached the end of the aisle where Cody, Kid and Ike waited to escort her to the altar, all the feelings, funny, familiar and forgotten were replaced with a warm glow. Seeing Sam at the head of the aisle impatiently tugging at his collar, she knew beyond all doubt that she was doing the right thing. All I Have to Offer You Is Me A/N: for this one the whole song just fit. ~~~~~~ Emma’s mouth gaped open in response to Sam’s question. “Y…you want me to what?” she stuttered. “I said, I want you to marry me,” Sam repeated patiently. “I’m leaving in two weeks for the territorial marshal’s position and I want you to come with me—as my wife.” The longer the woman hesitated, the more concerned Sam grew. He knew the proposal had been a shock for her—just as the new job had been a bit of a shock for him. When he’d first been approached by the governor’s aid, he supposed he’d stood there much the way Emma was standing now—mouth open, eyes wide in surprise. But he’d recovered quickly—far more quickly than Emma. He’d told the aid that he needed some time to think about it, even though he pretty much knew he would take the job. The promotion was something he had only dreamed about and only very rarely at that. His record as marshal of the Sweetwater territory was a good one—thanks in no small part to the boys who lived at Emma Shannon’s ranch. His life before Sweetwater, however, had always kept him from doing more than occasionally thinking “What if?” To find out that the governor was willing to overlook his past and offer him what was considered a prime position had given him quite a shock. The aid had given him the time he needed and ultimately he had accepted the position. Everyone had been as excited and happy for him as he was when he had told them. It hadn’t hit him until later just exactly what he would be leaving behind this time. Since his wife’s death he’d been pretty well able to just pick up and move on whenever and wherever the wind blew him. But this time there was an attraction that made him pause. Emma had become more than just a friend in the past year. Now he found himself realizing she was a tie he didn’t want to break. He’d hoped from the look on her face when he’d made his announcement that she felt the same way. Before the smile had appeared on her face there had been another look. Fleeting enough that he probably wouldn’t have noticed if he hadn’t been watching carefully but there none-the-less. He found himself hoping against hope that he had read the look correctly. It had taken him some time to get up the courage to ask her and even longer for him to finagle a way to get her alone. Seemingly everyone in Sweetwater had decided that they needed to stop by and offer him their well wishes. He’d finally been able to make the arrangements and get her to accompany him on a picnic. They’d had a nice leisurely meal by the old stream. Between the warmth of the sun and the good food the cook at the local restaurant had prepared, Sam had been totally relaxed for the first time in days. He’d spent hours the night before planning and practicing a clever way of asking the question but when the time finally seemed right he could do no more than simply pull the ring from his pocket and blurt “Will you marry me?” like a shy teenager asking a girl to the dance. Brought back to the present, Sam realized Emma had said something and was staring at him in bewilderment. His heart fell as he began to think he had totally misinterpreted her feelings for him. “I understand if you don’t . . .” he began. “Sam, I said yes!” Emma interrupted. “Yes?” he exclaimed. “You said yes?” “I said yes,” she confirmed. The smile on her face was reflected in his own. Throwing the hat he had clenched tightly in his hands into the air Sam let out a whoop of pure joy. Taking her in his arms, he spun her around and shouted, “She said YES!” He sobered quickly then. “You might want to think about this a bit longer,” he warned her. “The territorial marshal’s job pays more than I’m making here in Sweetwater but it won’t be that much more.” “I don’t care, Sam,” Emma replied. “There won’t be any fancy house,” he continued. “I can’t even be sure there’ll be a house at all. I can’t guarantee you much of anything—except more hard work and probably a lot of long hours of being alone and worrying.” “I don’t care, Sam,” Emma repeated. “I love you and I want to spend the rest of my life with you.” “But there won’t be any . . .” he offered. “Sam Cain,” Emma said sternly. “You asked me to marry you and I said yes. Are you now trying to talk me out of it?” “No, of course not!” Sam told her sincerely. “Good,” she stated. “But two weeks isn’t a lot of time. If we are going to have a wedding, I need to get back to town and start planning. There’s so much to do.” “We could just ride over to Laramie and find a Justice of the Peace,” he suggested. “And not give our friends the chance to be a part of the wedding?” she asked incredulously. “I’m sure they’d under . . .” he started, then stopped at the look in her eye. “No I guess they wouldn’t.” “No, they would not,” she agreed. “We’d better get back to town so I can get started with the planning.” As they rode back to Sweetwater, Emma voiced aloud all the things she had to do. There was the dress—not white since it was her second wedding—and finding the people to stand up for them—she had to find a way for Lou to be her maid of honor—not to mention the best man and who would give her away. He pulled the buggy to a stop at the top of the hill overlooking the town. At her questioning look, he said softly. “You know, all I have to offer you is me.” “That’s more than enough,” she replied. “More than enough.” Smiling from ear to ear, the pair drove on toward their new life. ~~~~~~ All I Have To Offer You Is Me Written by Dallas Frazier and Arthur Leo Owens Sung by the Statler Brothers on their album Bed of Roses Before you take another step there's something you should know About the years ahead and how they'll be You'll be living in a world Where roses hardly ever grow 'Cause all I have to offer you is me. There'll be no mansions waiting on the hills With crystal chandeliers Then there'll be no fancy clothes for you to wear Everything I have is standing Here in front of you to see All I have to offer you is me. Sweetheart, I'll give you all my love in every way I can But make sure it's what you want while you're still free The only gold I have for you is in this wedding band And all I have to offer you is me. There'll be no mansions waiting on the hills With crystal chandeliers Then there'll be no fancy clothes for you to wear Everything I have is standing Here in front of you to see All I have to offer you is me... Dreamer A/N: This story is based on Cody’s own diary of events. ~~~~~~ Cody stood on the deck of the freighter that was bringing him to what he knew would be the best point in his life. He, William F. Cody, was going to be performing in England—not just in England but by special invitation for the Queen. Standing there now, waiting for the ship to dock, he found himself looking back at his life and all that had led him to where he was now. His life with the Pony Express had led to another life with the Army as a scout. He’d been good at what he did and had had many harrowing experiences but even that didn’t compare to the excitement that was to come next. After the Army, he’d gone back East for a while and had quickly realized that most folks there had no idea what the “Wild” West was really like. So he’d decided to show them. He’d gathered together many of the men he’d worked with over the years and The Wild West Show had been formed. And now he was taking his show to England where he would lead a whole new group of people into the West he knew and loved. The sight of a tugboat flying the flag of the United States of America from her mast interrupted his train of thought. As the tug drew along side he heard the sound of the Star Spangled Banner coming from a band arranged across the deck. “Give ‘em a little Yankee Doodle, fellas,” he called to his own band. The crews and passengers of both boats broke out in a cheer as his group complied. ~~~~~~ Stepping from the boat after it docked, Cody was greeted with cries of “Welcome to Old England” and “three cheers for Bill!” He knew then that he’d made the right decision to risk seasickness and boredom by coming to this country. The people obviously knew a good thing when they saw it. His escorts led him to a special train that was to take them to London. In less than an hour they had left the seaport behind and arrived at Victoria Station. Having been to New York and many other major cities in the U.S., Cody wasn’t all that overwhelmed by the sight of the city of London. He was, however, very impressed with the size and grandeur of the station itself. “There is enough noise here to scare all the dogs in every Indian village in the Platte country,” he told his guide. The man looked at him with a bemused expression on his face. “Just another day, actually,” he replied. ~~~~~~ It was only a short trip to the section of the West End known as West Kensington where the exhibition would be held. He was led to the headquarters building where the hosts had set up table after table of food and drink. During the celebration that followed, Cody was toasted so many times, he was almost afraid he was going to be drunk by the time it was over. His host, however, allowed the celebration to continue for a short while before suggesting they all check out the grounds. The preparations far exceeded Cody’s expectations. The arena was more than a third of a mile around and was flanked by a huge grandstand. “There are seats and boxes enough for twenty thousand persons,” his guide stated proudly. “And we have sheltered stands being built that will hold an equal amount.” Cody looked around, trying to keep the awe from his face. The Englishmen had even brought in dirt to build a large hill for the Indian “encampment.” The hill was already covered with newly planted trees. Stables large enough to house all of the horses, mules and mustangs had been built as well as corrals for the wild animals. “Very nice,” he agreed. “Very nice.” But then, in his opinion, it was the least they could do. Later that evening, he went back to the ship. He was determined that he would be with the rest of his group when the freighter moved up the Thames the next morning. ~~~~~~ The next morning, flags flying, the troop made their way to the port of London. The ship’s officers pointed out the various historical sights of interest as they sailed past. Cody left the handling of the animals to the men hired for that purpose with the exception of his own horse. “Without Old Charlie here,” he explained. “There is no show.” His company was so well trained that the animals and equipment were unloaded in short order. The entire outfit was quickly loaded onto three railway trains and minutes later were unloading again at the exhibition grounds. He had his band play "The Star-Spangled Banner" for the crowds of people who had gathered around to watch. In response to their cheers, he next had the band play “God Save the Queen.” The crowds erupted again with even louder cheers. ~~~~~~ Over the next few weeks, as he prepared for his grand exhibition, Cody was met with people on the streets of London who recognized him and wanted to speak with him for “half a mo’” or requested his autograph. He hadn’t realized just how popular he was to the English people, but wasn’t all that surprised. He was after all William F. Cody, owner of the greatest Wild West show on the planet. Hundreds of lords, knights and ladies of high degree, plus distinguished American residents of London, visited the camp and stables almost daily. Each of them wanted to meet with Cody to the point where he was forced to ask his hosts to give him the time he needed to prepare for his show. The press was another matter entirely. Most of the daily newspapers and magazines in England wanted an “exclusive” story from him. It got to the point where he was unable to go outside of his tent without some photographer wanting a picture for the front page or some reporter was begging for just a few minutes of his time. And he was enjoying every minute of it. ~~~~~~ “The Reform Club would like to make you an honorary member,” his host informed him one morning. “I’m not sure I can handle another club,” Cody replied. “I’ve lost track of the number of these breakfasts, luncheons, dinners, suppers, garden parties, athletic layouts, midnight doings, soirees, matinees, dedications. I have to have time for to get my show in order.” “This is more than just ‘another club,’ Sir,” the other man informed him. The man was so insistent that finally Cody had no other choice. He allowed the man to lead him once again through London to yet another of the many buildings where the movers and shakers of British society gathered. Once there he was, as usual, introduced to the most elite of the elite of whichever was the group of the day. He lost track of the names long before he reached the end of the receiving line. Finally, his host presented him to a rather short, rather rotund man. “Mr. William F. Cody,” his escort intoned, “I wish to present you to His Royal Highness, Edward, Prince of Wales.” “Your majesty,” Cody replied, bowing deeply and trying to keep the awe from his voice. “It is our pleasure to meet you, Mr. Cody,” the Prince said with a smile. “My wife and I are anxiously looking forward to attending your show.” “I only hope it will be happening, your majesty,” Cody answered—realizing immediately from the look on his guide’s face that he had made a mistake. Prince Edward, however, ignored the bluntness to ask, “Why would it not?” “In all honesty, your majesty, going to all these fancy socials is keeping me from taking care of the things that need to be done for the show,” Cody told him. “Some things a man has to take care of himself, if you know what I mean.” “But of course,” the Prince agreed. Turning to the guide, he continued, “Please see that demands for Mr. Cody’s time are kept to an absolute minimum until he informs you otherwise.” “Yes, your majesty,” the other man replied firmly. ~~~~~~ Cody was able to accomplish a great deal once he was left to his own devices. As the date of the premier approached, the work became less demanding and he was once again able to share himself with the English public. The list of meetings would have exhausted a normal man but Cody was in his element. He spent lunches, teas and evening meals with everyone from Oscar Wilde and his wife, to Henry Labouchere, the producer of “A Midsummer Night’s Dream.” At the end of the play, Cody sighed. “Shakespeare! What I wouldn’t give to be able to portray a character in one of his plays.” “Then you must, Sir,” Labochere pronounced. “As soon as you have the time, you are welcome in my company.” Cody smiled broadly. “I’ll have to see what I can do to make the time.” ~~~~~~ One morning, his guide came to him with a special request. “As you know, since the death of Prince Albert, her husband, the queen has been quite reclusive. She is seldom seen in public and most especially with the Prince and Princess. Her majesty has expressed concern about the entire family attending your show en masse as it were.” Cody looked at the man, shock followed by anger in his eyes. “You don’t think one of my people would do anything to the queen of all people—do you?” he demanded. “Oh, my goodness, no, Mr. Cody,” the other man replied vehemently. “I’m simply asking if it would be possible for you to put on a special performance for just the Royals and a few of their most intimate friends.” “I see,” Cody replied, stroking his chin thoughtfully. “I think we can do that.” ~~~~~~ That following weekend, after four days of pushing and prodding his people to work harder than they had ever worked, the William F. Cody Wild West Show was set to perform before the Royal Family of England—and a few hundred of their nearest and dearest friends. Cody paced back and forth as the wagons, horses and people were arranged and ready to go. “Everything, and I mean everything needs to be absolutely perfect!” he ordered time and again. “We’re ready, Mr. Cody,” the band leader told him. “All right, everyone!” Cody yelled in response. “It’s show time!” Mounting Charlie he prepared to ride into the arena. With a nudge from his rider the horse started forward. Cody rose to a standing position, his long rifle at the ready— ~~~~~~ “Cody, wake up!,” Lou commanded. “You’re next up and Buck is due in any time now.” “Aw, Lou,” Cody moaned, “Why’d you have to go and wake me up? I was just about to show the queen how good a shooter I was.” Lou looked at her friend, then shook her head. “Cody,” she informed him, “You are such a dreamer.” Everytime I Trust a Gal Bill Tompkins let out a disgusted sigh as he tallied up the marks he’d been making. It was bad enough that the inventory wasn’t matching what was marked in the book, there was money missing too. “Should have known better than to hire that gal,” he muttered aloud. “Should’ve known she’d be nothing but trouble – just like every other woman I’ve had to deal with.” “That gal” was Esmeralda. She’d come into town apparently after using her last dollar for the stage. She’d suckered him in with her sad tales of being down on her luck and needing a job “So badly.” At first he’d doubted her desire to stay in Sweetwater all that long. He’d held off hiring her because his instincts said she was a drifter who would run out as soon as she got enough together to pay for another leg of the journey west. He’d changed his mind, however, when she’d shown up at the church the following Sunday morning. She’d even joined what passed for a choir – and carried a passable tune, if he did say so himself. That afternoon had been the semi-annual picnic and Esmeralda had volunteered her services helping the other women set up the tables and the food. She had no place to do any cooking of her own but she’d not hesitated when someone asked for help with the barbeque. Reluctantly Tompkins had begun to believe that maybe she was in Sweetwater to stay. By the end of the afternoon, Emma Shannon and several of the other women had been gently pressuring him to give the woman the job. Esmeralda had been a godsend. He received compliment after compliment on her cheerfulness – as opposed to his own surliness he reckoned – and her helpfulness when it came to making choices. Things had gotten to the point where he had noticed people looking through the window to see if the woman was working before they came in. Sometimes they made it far too obvious that they bypassed the shop when he was there alone. She’d proven herself to be a savvy businessperson though. He had to give her credit for getting people to buy more than they normally would with her sweet-talking and her smile. Sometimes he’d found himself in awe of how she would take someone who’d come in for just a bag of coffee and talk to them about the other things they would need to go with that coffee. Most times these same people left the story thinking they had come in wanting everything they ended up buying. As his trust in Esmeralda had grown, he’d finally been able to get some things done that he’d been planning on doing for a long time. Her being there to mind the store had given him the time he needed to go on buying trips in Laramie and Cheyenne. He’d even taken the stage to St. Joe and spent a week there picking out new items that he felt would bring business to the store – and money to his pockets. Almost three months had passed before he began to notice things coming up missing. At first just small things, a can of beans here, a bag of jerky there. Tompkins had just written it off as petty theft – especially when the disappearances had seemed to occur right after a good day of business. Then the till started coming up short. He was willing to accept that even when it was just him in charge, the day’s ledger would occasionally not match what was in the till. Even he made mistakes on occasion, giving more or less change than he should have. A few pennies on a rare day was an acceptable loss but when the few pennies every month or so had grown to a dollar or more on a regular basis, he’d had no option but to take action. Again he’d just concluded that the store had been a victim of petty theft. The till always seemed to be off on days when those boys at the Pony Express station had been in. Knowing the kind of troublemakers staying out at the Shannon ranch, Tompkins wouldn’t have been at all surprised if one of them – probably that half-breed or the bald mute – had reverted to his old thieving ways. So he’d resolved to keep an eye on the boys. He’d spoken to Esmeralda and told her to watch them in particular and, if she saw anything out of the ordinary, to report it to him immediately. He secretly hoped he would catch one of them red-handed. Then that lawman that was so sweet on Emma Shannon would have to take him seriously. Those boys were nothing but trouble and he knew it. Another month had passed, during which time he and Esmeralda had made a point of staying close to the boys whenever they entered the store. Their vigilance had paid off – everything balanced at the end of the month. Sure that he was on the right track, he’d made a point of telling Esmeralda to keep up the good work as he had done himself. Winter passed without an incident. The store did some of its best business and he was more than willing to accept that he had made a mistake in not hiring Esmeralda sooner. The woman was good for business – and good for him personally too. He’d not had the companionship of a good woman – or any real companionship – in a very long time. It felt good to have someone to talk to during the long hours of cleaning and restocking the shelves at night. There came a point when he found he actually had feelings for his “assistant” as he called her now. He sometimes thought she might even have feelings for him in return. It took him a while to come to the decision that he could pursue the woman as more than just someone who worked for him. Sally had been gone for a couple of years, no doubt butchered by those heathen Indians who’d attacked their train and taken both his wife and daughter, leaving him to die. He’d tried to find them – done everything he knew to do to find them in fact – but had found no trace. It was time to accept the fact that he should move on. It was either that or be alone for the rest of his life. Loneliness was probably the only thing that frightened him. Oh, there were lots of people around but, in the end, he ended up going to his room at night alone. It wasn’t getting any easier and the companionship that Esmeralda was showing him was a pleasant change. Christmas hadn’t been much of a celebration for him in the years he’d been in Sweetwater. Most of the time the only difference between Christmas and the day before was that he didn’t even bother opening the store. No one would have come in anyway. This past year had been different though. Esmeralda had suggested that he sponsor a party after services at the church. For the first time in as long as he could remember, Tompkins had thrown caution to the wind, said expense be damned and had actually enjoyed the day. He’d even bought the woman a special gift that, fortunately, had arrived on the stage less than a day before. He would never forget the looks on the faces of the townspeople as he’d escorted Esmeralda to the party. The hat had made her look even more beautiful and the looks of envy from the other women had made him smile in secret delight. Later that evening, the couple had kissed for the first time. Even now, even after all that had happened since, Tompkins found himself smiling at the thought of that kiss. January and February found them growing closer. At one point Tompkins had even considered proposing marriage but decided to wait a while until he could get to St. Joe and get a proper ring. Spring would be there soon enough and travel would be easier. Esmeralda wasn’t going anywhere. In March the money had started disappearing again. Neither Tompkins nor Esmeralda could explain the discrepancy. They had both been very careful to keep an eye out for anyone being near the register and neither could recollect seeing anyone close enough to take anything without it being obvious to one or the other of them. Finally April and its rain came and went and with May the roads became passable again. He left Esmeralda in charge of the store and had taken the first stage to Laramie. The trip back to Sweetwater was filled with a growing excitement unlike any he’d known since he was courting Sally. His first thought when he’d seen the “Closed” sign on the door was that Esmeralda was sick. He’d made his way to the boarding house to check on her only to find her room empty. Talking to Mrs. Perkins, he’d learned that she’d paid to the end of the month but hadn’t been seen that day. Walking back to the store, his mind had been full of confused thoughts. Esmeralda wouldn’t have just run off – would she? Searching the store had done no good. There was no note, nothing to tell him why the woman he loved had disappeared. Anger had pushed away the confusion then – anger that grew as he opened the cash register to find it empty. The safe was still closed – he thanked his lucky stars he’d taken most of the money to the bank before he left. Tompkins debated going to the law. He knew that Sam Cain and the boys from the Pony Express could most likely find the woman even with a head start. Then again, admitting that he’d trusted her and she had conned him would be humiliating. Lacking any other options, he’d started the inventory. Counting items, lugging crates of merchandise to replace that which had been removed, gave him a release for his anger. Counting, carrying, stacking – all of these things kept his mind off the fact that he had a ring in his pocket and no one to give it to. Night had fallen before he finished but he didn’t rest until he had completely counted and restocked every shelf – talking to himself the entire time. “This always happens,” he sighed as he put the last can in place. “Every time I trust a gal.” “Not this time, William,” Esmeralda’s voice came from the doorway. “Not this time.” (to be continued . . . maybe) You Just Haven't Done it Yet Ike McSwain gulped back the fear that threatened to overwhelm him. He stood at the edge of the cliff looking down at the swimming hole far below. Why did I let myself get talked into this? he thought. “Talked into” wasn’t quite the right term, he decided. Bullied, challenged, dared – those were more appropriate to the situation. He was where he was thanks to Aaron Clyburn – that he knew without a doubt. . Aaron Clyburn was the newest resident of the orphanage where Ike had been living since his parents had been murdered three years earlier. From the get-go Aaron had decided he didn’t like Ike for some as yet to be determined reason. Ike really didn’t mind. He didn’t care much for the other boy either. . If only Aaron had left him alone, Ike would have gone about his days without any bother. Unfortunately that wasn’t the way Aaron decided to play the game. . The harassment started almost immediately. The other boy had been at the orphanage for only two days when Ike had come in to find his bed short-sheeted. He’d done nothing at the time, simply changed the sheets and went to bed. . Later when his best friend, Buck Cross, had asked him why he hadn’t gotten mad, he replied that doing nothing would probably make Aaron – and he knew the new boy had to have been behind the action – even angrier than if he reacted. He knew that most likely Aaron wanted him to be angry and he wasn’t going to give him the satisfaction. Buck had accepted the explanation but, as the pranks got more and more ugly, he’d told Ike that something had to be done. He would help, Buck had offered. No one would be able to stand up to the two of them. Ike had been grateful to his friend. In the short time the half-breed Kiowa had been with them, he’d given Ike back his voice through the use of sign language. Many of the nuns had learned to use sign as well and, in doing so, had given Ike the chance to show them that, while he was mute, he was far from dumb. After finding his only good shirt torn to shreds on Sunday morning, Ike had even considered taking Buck up on his offer. Between the two of them, Aaron wouldn’t have stood a chance – no matter how carefully he guarded his own possessions. Instead he’d decided to take the advice of the bible verse the sisters had been teaching him and turned the other cheek – hoping that Aaron would either get tired of the game or gain some respect for the fact that his victim refused to descend to his own level. Ike’s plan might have worked if the other boy had read the same verse. Instead he became bolder with every new prank. Aaron no longer bothered to hide the fact that he was the one damaging Ike’s belongings. Instead he’d taken his vandalism public, making it clear that he thought Ike was a coward for not standing up to him. Finding manure in his boots one morning was almost the breaking point for the mute boy. Hearing the other boys snickering and seeing the fire in Buck’s eyes, it had taken everything in Ike not to start swinging at Aaron. Sister Mary Francis Ann had prevented the action by entering the dorm at that moment. When the young nun had smelt the manure and had seen Ike’s now very dirty socks, she’d declared that any more such activity would be met with the harshest punishment she could invent. She’d taken Ike to the storeroom and replaced his footwear with some that had been donated to the orphanage. Then she’d led the boy to the office of Mother David Mary the Principal and Mother Superior of the school. The two women tried everything they could think of to get Ike to tell them what was going on. Ike, however, had remained as mute as he had when he’d first arrived at the orphanage, refusing even to sign in response to their questions. The sisters had told him they knew Aaron was behind the vandalism but until he confirmed their knowledge there was nothing they could do. Ike finally replied that he didn’t want them to do anything. He would take care of it himself, he told them. They had finally sent him on to class, but not before warning him that, regardless of what was being done, any vandalism on his part would result in punishment for him as well. He’d not heard them sighing after he left, nor had he heard their words of praise for his restraint. After the manure incident it seemed Aaron had been assigned to most of the dirty chores while Ike had been given tasks he enjoyed doing. Aaron, of course, had determined that the reason for this was that Ike had told the nuns what he had been doing. The harassment had stopped for a while. Ike wanted to believe it was because Aaron had finally gotten tired but Buck wasn’t so sure. “He could be planning something,” Ike’s friend had told him. “He’s just waiting for you to let your guard down.” I don’t have to worry about that, Ike signed in reply. I’ve got you to watch my back. Things had remained calm until earlier that day. The sisters had decided that the older boys had been working hard and deserved an afternoon off. They’d allowed those who wanted to to go to the swimming hole for some well-earned relaxation. Ike and Buck had considered not going but changed their minds when the nuns had brought out the picnic baskets loaded with food. Joining the others, the pair had all but run to the swimming hole and stripped off their outer clothes. They had, however taken the precaution of hiding their clothes well away from the other boys. “No sense taking chances and having to run back to the school half-naked,” Buck reasoned. After a couple of hours of swimming, diving and all around horseplay in the water, the group had gone back to shore for lunch. It was during the meal that Aaron had asked in feigned innocence, “Anybody ever dive off that cliff into the water?” The other boys all shook their heads. “The water’s deep enough, ain’t it?” Aaron mused. “I’ll bet it would be real fun.” “Stupid, is what it is,” Buck declared. “You don’t know if it’s deep enough for a jump from that high. There could be rocks under the water that you can’t see until you hit them.” “You know, Buck,” Aaron responded, “you been hanging around the dummy too long. You’re turning into as big a coward as he is.” “Ike’s no dummy,” Buck said firmly. “And he sure as heck isn’t a coward.” “Sure, whatever you say,” the other boy snorted. “I don’t see you being anxious to jump off the cliff,” Buck countered. “Why don’t you show us how it’s done?” The other boys glanced at Aaron and nudged each other, whispering under their breaths. Aaron knew he’d been caught in his own trap at that point. He had little choice but to back down or literally take the plunge. “We’ll, maybe I’ll just do that,” he declared. He glared at Ike and Buck before continuing, “I’ll do it if both of you do it too.” “You’re on,” Buck responded immediately. “We’ll even go first.” Ike turned to face his friend. I don’t think I can do it he signed. Buck answered him in sign as well. I’ve done it a couple of times. There’s nothing to worry about. Walking to the cliff, he began climbing upwards with an ease that showed his words to be true. Ike waited until his friend had gotten about half way up, then followed using the same hand and foot holds. Once the pair had reached the top, they stood at the edge looking down at their classmates. Aaron, Ike noted, had not yet started to climb. “What’s wrong, Aaron?” Buck called down. “You turning coward?” “I’m just waiting till you jump,” the other boy called back. “That way you can’t get me up there and push me off.” Buck shrugged, then turned to Ike. “You want me to go first?” he asked in a low voice. Ike shook his head. Are you sure it’s all right? he asked. “I’m sure the water is deep enough,” Buck told him. “We’ve gotten a lot of rain and it’s higher than it was the last time I was here.” Looking back over the cliff at the boys waiting expectantly below, he added. “There aren’t any rocks in the water either, I was just saying that to scare Aaron. Just keep your legs together and go in feet first with your arms crossed over your chest.” Ike stepped back to the edge, inhaling in preparation for his jump. “Just remember what Sister Mary Francis Ann always says,” Buck offered. “It’s not that you can’t do it, you just haven’t done it yet.” With those words in his ears, Ike stepped out into space. As he plummeted downward, he heard Buck’s whoop. He did as his friend had instructed and hit the water at an almost perpendicular angle. The water closed over his head but his feet hadn’t yet touched the bottom when his downward momentum stopped. Using his arms to propel himself upward again, Ike’s head broke the surface just seconds after he went under. On the shore the other boys began to cheer. Ike swam easily to the side of the pool, then turned to watch as Buck stepped off the cliff. When his friend had joined him again, the pair climbed out of the watering hole to the congratulations of their fellow orphans – all except for Aaron. As one the group turned to face Aaron expectantly. Ike looked closely at the other boy. Aaron’s eyes no longer held the challenge that he’d seen earlier. Instead there was what appeared to Ike to be a look of fear. “What’s the matter, Aaron?” one of the other boys taunted. “You a chicken?” Several of the others started making clucking sounds. The taunting grew louder as the others began pressuring Aaron to honor his part of the bargain. Ike bit his lower lip and then got Buck’s attention. Look at his face, he signed. He’s really scared. If he doesn’t know what he’s doing, he could get hurt, Buck agreed. Ike stepped forward then to stand between Aaron and the other boys. With Buck translating he signed, Why don’t all the rest of you go do it, if you think it’s so easy? The others went silent at the question. Even having seen Ike and Buck make the leap, none of them were overly anxious to see how it felt. One by one they went back to the bushes where they’d hung their clothes and began to get dressed. “You didn’t have to do that,” Aaron said in a hushed voice one he was alone with the other two boys. Ike shrugged in response. Don’t have to do a lot of things, but I do, he responded. “You didn’t have to be mean to Ike either,” Buck commented. “You’re just lucky you picked on him and not me.” “I’m sorry,” Aaron apologized meekly. “I guess I was just mad because my folks died and taking my mad out on someone else made me feel better.” I know what it’s like, Ike replied through Buck. It’s not easy at first, but it gets better. Especially if you have friends to help you through the bad times. “Can you teach me to sign like you two do?” the other boy asked suddenly. “I don’t know if I can, but I’d like to try.” “Sure,” Buck answered for both of them. “And it’s not that you can’t do it . . . “ “You just haven’t done it yet,” two voices and a pair of hands finished in unison. There's a Man in There A/N: The terms used in this story are not meant to be derogatory. They are terms that were used to describe slaves in the 1800s and in no way reflect my feelings towards human beings of any race, color or creed. The sight of the huge wagon rolling down the street in front of him caused the young boy to stop dead in his tracks. His brother, who'd been following him from the general store carrying a large sack of flour over his shoulder, proceeded to run into him. The older boy lost his balance and fell forward. In an effort to avoid falling on his brother, he tossed the sack away from him. Flour flew everywhere as the sack connected with the ground and promptly split wide open. "Dang it, Kid!" Jed yelled. "Look what you made me do!" The Kid looked at the mess and began to shake. "Pa's gonna kill me," he moaned. Jed sighed. His brother was right. Their father wasn't going to be happy that the flour he'd paid for was now spread over half the sidewalk and into the street beyond. They couldn't go home without the flour. Ma needed it for baking. As he watched Kid try to salvage at least some of the white powder, an idea came to him. "How much money do you have?" he asked. "I got the two-bits Grandpa gave me for my birthday," Kid replied. "And I got about ten cents that I've been saving to buy . . ." His voice trailed off as he realized what his brother was planning. "I've got forty-three cents," Jed told him. "Let's go see what we can get for that." Minutes later a second bag of flour was stowed securely in the back of the buckboard. Mr. James, the owner of the general store, had been kind enough to allow them to take the merchandise even though they were a bit short on money - especially after the trio had made the agreement that the boys would help him clean the store and restock the shelves when his next supply shipment came in the following weekend. "We sure got lucky," Kid sighed. "Yeah, we did," Jed agreed. "Now all I gotta do is figure out how to get Ma to let me bring you to town next week." The five year-old looked at the ground, scuffing his bare toe in the dirt. "I'm sorry," he said softly. "It's all right, Kid," Jed told him. "What the heck were you lookin' at anyway?" "There was this big wagon," Kid told him, excitement growing in his voice. "It was made out of wood and it had bars in the windows." "That? You got all excited over a slaver's wagon?" Jed exclaimed. In the condescending tone of someone much older and much wiser, he continued, "Nothin' special about it." "What's a . . ." Kid started but was interrupted by a couple of Jed's friends. Further conversation between the brothers ended at that point as the older boys walked off together. Kid started to follow them then decided against it. Jed, by himself, was all right, but once the other boys came around, it was like he didn't know who his little brother was. Hearing the sounds of horses in the alleyway next to the jail, the boy's curiosity got the better of him. Checking to make sure Jed wasn't paying attention, he slowly wandered in the direction of the noise. The wagon he'd seen earlier was in the alley. One of the Morgans harnessed to the wagon shook his head as the boy drew closer. Kid jumped back to hide behind a barrel but no one else seemed to notice. A few seconds passed before Kid became brave enough to move closer. Making his way to the back of the wagon, Kid noticed the large padlock on the door. Reaching up, the boy gave the padlock a quick jerk but it was securely locked. Climbing up the two steps that led to the door, Kid tried to see in the window only to find that he lacked a few inches of having enough height to see in. Looking around, he searched for something to give him those extra inches. The barrel he had hidden behind seemed a likely option but it was far too heavy for him to move. Then he noticed some empty crates stacked by the door to the general store. One by one he carried them over to the side of the wagon, keeping a careful eye out in case anyone came out of the store or the jail. He was able to build a reasonably secure tower of crates and, using the side of the wagon for support, climbed to the top. He was still a bit shy of the window but by grabbing the bars and pulling himself up on his tiptoes he was able to see into the wagon - only to fall back in shock as he found someone looking back at him. His tower collapsed as he jerked away from the wagon and he fell to the ground in a heap. "Kid!" Jed cried. His brother was at his side instantly, pushing the fallen crates away to make sure the boy was unhurt. "What are you doing?" he demanded. "Jed, there's . . . there's a man in there!" Kid stuttered. "That ain't no 'man', boy," one of Jed's friends countered with a laugh. "That's just some runaway niggra that done got hisself caught." "But he's alive!" Kid protested. "He was looking at me!" The older boys, except for Jed, laughed at him. "Course he's alive," the first boy said in a condescending tone. "Why would they waste space on a dead niggra?" Kid looked at his brother, his eyes begging for understanding and an explanation. "Leave him alone," Jed ordered the other boys. "He's too young to understand." Turning to Kid, he continued. "Come on, let's go home." "But, Jed . . ." Kid argued. "Let's go home, Kid, now!" his brother commanded. Taking the younger boy by the arm, Jed all but dragged him to the buckboard and pushed him into the seat. Swinging up beside Kid, he took the reigns and urged the horses forward. Kid sat sullenly staring off into the distance. "I just don't understand," he said, breaking the silence. "The man you saw was a slave, Kid. He ran away and his master sent someone to find him," Jed explained. "He got caught and they're taking him back to his home." "Why did he run away?" Kid asked. He was old enough to know about slaves, even though his own family didn't own any. The slaves owned by some of the other families seemed to be pretty happy - at least happy by the definition of a five year-old share-cropper's son. "Not everyone is treated like old Silas and Mamie," Jed told him, referring to the two slaves that belonged to the family that owned the farm where their father rented land. "Sometimes the owners can get really mean, so their slaves run away." Kid started to speak again, but Jed interrupted him. "It ain't any of our business, Kid," he said angrily. "We can't do nothing about it. The slave tried to run and he got caught. There's nothing we can do." "Someday, I'll be able to do something," Kid countered with typical five year-old bravado. "Someday, when I'm big, I'll be able to help men like that man in the wagon. You just wait and see!" Jed bit back a smile, remembering how he'd felt the same way when he was that age. He knew it wouldn't be that simple as Kid grew up and learned the realities of life. This Ole House Rachel Dunn placed the last of the pots and pans into the barrel where they would be waiting when the boys got back with the buckboard. She ran her fingers across the newly cleaned stovetop and considered once again how lucky she'd been to find the Pony Express station in Sweetwater when she had. She'd been on the run then, running from the unjust charge of murdering the man who had killed the man she had loved more than life itself. No one in Sweetwater had known about that at the time, of course. The boys and Teaspoon had been more than happy to just find someone who could cook a halfway decent meal - it had been a while since Emma had been there for them. She'd been so lucky then. Not only had they paid her to do the cooking, they'd given her a home. The old house had belonged to Emma but when the other woman had married the newly-promoted territorial marshal, they'd moved away, leaving the house to the Pony Express riders and, ultimately, to her. Things had taken a turn for the worse when the wanted poster bearing her name and likeness had been delivered to Sam Cain's temporary replacement - a replacement by the name of Teaspoon Hunter. Amazingly, Teaspoon had given her the benefit of the doubt. He'd feigned ignorance when the bounty hunters had come looking for her and had risked everything to come to the house to warn her and help her get away. The attempt had failed though. She'd not gotten far enough, fast enough and the posse had brought her back. To her amazement even then Teaspoon, the boys and Lou had stood up for her. They'd even gone back and gotten a confession from the brothers of the man she supposedly had murdered. She'd been released and had gone back to her stove with a much lighter heart. The trouble of the past behind her, she'd made a home in Sweetwater, growing more and more fond of the riders and their crusty old stationmaster. "These ready to go, Rachel?" She jumped at the sound of Buck's voice. Lost in thought, she hadn't heard the young man come into the kitchen. "Sorry," he apologized. "Didn't mean to scare you." "It's okay, Buck," she told him. "I was just doing a little wool gathering." "I think we're all doing a little of that right now," Buck agreed. "It's not easy leaving a place you could actually call home." "Even if you've only been here a short while," Rachel finished. "I know I didn't think I could be so attached to this old house." "According to Jimmy, the place in Rock Creek isn't quite as big," the rider told her. "But we'll make do." "Why do I have a feeling Cody is already complaining?" the woman said with a laugh. "Because you'd be right," Buck answered, joining her in the laugh. "Good thing all it'll take to make him happy is a plate of your food in front of him." "You're going to need help with that barrel, Buck," Rachel warned him, bringing them both back to the task that had brought him into the house. "It's full of pots and pans and it's heavy." She waited until he called Ike in to help and the pair of them had moved the barrel out to the wagon before making one last tour of the house. Seeing the door to one of the bedrooms open, she peeked inside and found Teaspoon doing a little of his own wool gathering. He turned at the sound of her knock. "Am I interrupting?" she asked. "No, course not," he answered. "I was just thinkin' about the first time I saw this house. Emma was standin' on the porch with a towel in one hand and a shotgun in the other." He smiled at the thought. "That old scattergun was almost as big as she was." "Why was she so concerned?" Rachel asked. "The bank was giving her a hard time about her mortgage," Teaspoon explained. "I think she thought I was some hired gun come to throw her out of her house." "Instead you saved it for her," the woman said softly. "If it weren't for you and the Pony Express, she'd have probably lost the house and the farm." "I still think we got the better end of the deal," he replied. "Emma had to have been the best cook I'd ever met . . . 'til you come along that is," he amended quickly. "This old house has sure seen some good times," Rachel reflected quietly. "It's a shame we have to close it up." "It's seen its share of excitement - both good and bad," Teaspoon agreed. "The new owners will be here next week though and I'm sure it'll be seeing some more." Hearing some loud words in the yard, the stationmaster turned to leave the room. "Better go find out what them boys are up to," he said over his shoulder. "Before they end up dumpin' the whole load outta the wagon." Rachel closed the window and drew the blinds. She went through each room, straightening things here and there and tucking one last memory of the rooms into her mind. "Whoever gets this old house," she mused, "is going to get a real home." Stepping out onto the porch and locking the door behind her, she smiled and nodded with satisfaction. "I hope they enjoy living here as much as I have." Moving away then, she joined the others in the yard, climbed aboard the wagon and set off on their new adventure. A Couple More Years Watching as Emma Shannon ran across the yard of the fort and threw herself into Sam Cain's arms, Jimmy Hickok realized that he would never be more than just one of her "boys." Just days earlier, the young man had never even considered the possibility that he might be more than that. The fact that he'd drawn the short straw when Teaspoon had asked for a "volunteer" to ride to Fort Reunion with the woman had seemed, at the time, an assignment worse than death. "It'll be worse than Sunday school," he remembered complaining. At first that had been exactly how it had felt to him. As the pair had ridden along, him damning the slowness that the buckboard was creating, she'd tried to draw him out a bit. Oh, he'd answered her questions about his family but in the most direct way possible, not choosing to elaborate in any way. It wasn't until they'd come to the river, when she'd fallen in and he'd jumped in to "save" her that he'd realized she actually could be a beautiful woman and could mean something to him. Of course the fact that she'd saved his life might have had something to do with it. He'd had to admit he couldn't swim and she'd had to bring him back to the raft. When she'd asked him why he'd done such a fool thing, he'd even admitted that his "damn pride" was going to get him killed one day. Looking at her, hair slicked back, her soaked clothes sticking to a shapely body - much more shapely than he'd imagined - the feelings had begun to take hold in his mind. That evening, by the fire, him in his long johns and her in nothing but her undergarments, he'd almost let the feelings take over - almost. Fort Reunion had proven to be more of a problem for them than either had anticipated. From the very start, seeing a man hanging in the sun - punished for doing nothing more than sleeping through reveille - he'd begun to think they had made a very bad mistake. The fact that Ellen Seward and her baby, the entire reason for Emma's journey, had already been evacuated from the fort hadn't helped the matter. Emma had wanted to leave then, but Captain Ryan had given them no choice but to stay - until they were relieved by fresh troops. Jimmy had noticed the glances the men of the post were throwing at Emma. He should have been more careful but it was, after all, a fort and it appeared Captain Ryan was in very definite control of his men. Doctor Frank had called them riffraff and cutthroats but he'd been lulled into a false sense of security by Lieutenant Cassidy's firm declarations that Captain Ryan had turned them into men - men who had apparently not seen a woman in some time. The man who had attacked Emma that night had found out just how wrong it was to try to dance with the sleeping woman. Emma had managed to stop him from killing the other man and, to Jimmy's surprise had even pleaded with the Lieutenant not to punish the drunken soldier. She'd seemed so strong at that moment but her strength was a façade he'd learned as, once the Lieutenant had left with his charge, she almost fell. He'd held her then and promised her he'd take care of her. That was the moment, Jimmy realized now, when he'd discovered the true depth of his feelings. The next morning, she'd thanked him for his help the night before and - looking back - he realized he had taken her words as much more than she had intended. He'd tried to convince her that they needed to leave. She'd believed that Captain Ryan had a plan, however, and wouldn't go. So he'd volunteered to help the army as a scout - figuring if he could prove that there were no Indians in the area, they would be allowed to leave. Emma had tried to stop him but he'd told her it was something he had to do - before Ryan's insanity killed them both. Jimmy had found an Indian - surprising the warrior at his camp. It was Jimmy's turn to be surprised when the Indian had tried to get him to kill him and then had called the Captain a "shadow man" - a term that Buck had told him meant someone afraid of his own shadow - a coward. The troopers had literally dragged the Indian back to the fort and the Captain had ordered unbelievably brutal methods in order to gain information from the captive. Jimmy had waited till nightfall, then gone to talk to the Indian himself. The story the warrior had told him had provided the rider with more than enough information to know that Captain Ryan was a liar and a coward. He'd tried to convince the Lieutenant to help him and had marveled at how Emma had stood up to the man. She'd presented a convincing argument that a real man wouldn't do what he considered wrong regardless of whether it was his duty or not. She'd also tried to stop Jimmy from doing what he had to do next. The post doctor had given him his key to the stockade and he was determined to help the warrior escape. When he'd shown his determination, she'd given him a kiss - "for luck" she'd said. The warmth he'd felt at that moment was something he'd never forget. Later, when the Captain insisted that the men give up their blankets, he'd been proud to stand next to Emma as she threw her own on the pile. The closeness they shared intensified as the cold of the night made them seek each other for warmth. She told him about her husband and child then. The sadness in her voice was almost more than he could stand. He'd told her that he wasn't like her husband, that he would never leave her and then he'd kissed her the way a man would kiss a woman he loved. Much to his embarrassment, she'd pulled away from him. Her next words had broken his heart. She couldn't be anything more to him than a "big sister," or at most a "caring friend", she'd told him. She wasn't the right woman for him but, one of these days, the right woman would come along. That was when he decided he had to run - to get to the Indian and the surviving soldier - to get to the truth. But the Captain had shot him in the side foiling his attempt. Emma had been there with him every second after that. While the doctor extracted the bullet, she'd held his hand. The look on her face had almost given him hope that she felt more than she did. Jimmy had tried one last time to make Emma see how much he cared about her. She'd told him that it "just wasn't meant to be." He'd asked her why it was that he was old enough to die but not old enough for her. If only he'd had a couple more years on him, he reckoned at the time, it would have made a difference. But now, seeing her rush to embrace Sam Cain, he knew a couple more years wouldn't have made a difference. He could only hope that when it was meant to be for him, he'd find someone with half the spirit and determination of Emma Shannon - and that she'd love him half as much as Emma did Sam. Have A Little Faith The day had finally come - a day Louise McCloud had been waiting for all of her life. Today was the day she would be marrying the man she loved more than life itself. She was ready - more than ready. The dress Rachel had helped her make fit her like a glove. Jeremiah and Theresa had hand picked the flowers for her bouquet earlier that morning and they were beautiful. The church was full of friends and family - both hers and those of her husband-to-be. All in all, the day was shaping up to be absolutely perfect. Taking a few moments to reflect on everything that had happened to her in the past two years, Lou couldn't help but be amazed at how the bad had led to the good. Oh, there'd been a lot of bad before the good had finally prevailed but good had finally prevailed and for that she would be forever thankful. The death of her mother had put the three siblings in the orphanage in St. Joe. While the sisters had been strict, they had cared for the children and had done the best they possibly could. But there were few families that had even considered taking more than one of the children and none had been willing to keep all three of them together. Lou had finally had no option but to strike out on her own. Her goal was to make a life for herself and her brother and sister and keep them together and safe as she had promised her mother. She'd made horrible - and potentially fatal - mistakes at first. Wickes was probably the worst of those. Yet, even when things were at their worst, luck or her mother had smiled down on her and sent her someone to help. On her own again - and this time on the run - she'd made the decision to hide her identity and travel as a boy. Much to her chagrin, it hadn't been that hard. She hadn't had all that much of a figure and what "assets" she had were easy to disguise. Traveling westward, picking up odd jobs here and there, she'd finally been at the right place at the right time. She wasn't really sure what made her stop in Sweetwater but finding the poster for the Pony Express had seemed like fate. The idea of living in close quarters with the boys had scared her at first but she'd managed. She'd survived the strutting, macho male attitudes and the sometimes embarrassing lack of privacy with her secret intact - until Kid. A smile crossed the bride-to-be's face as she remembered her "unveiling." Kid had kept her secret though, and she had fallen in love with him. It had felt so good to have someone she could talk to and not have to worry about slipping up. That good feeling had grown when she'd learned that Emma knew the truth as well. Before long the only one who didn't know was Teaspoon and even Lou had to admit until he'd "discovered" her "differences" at the swimming hole, she hadn't been totally sure he wasn't just feigning ignorance. A chuckle escaped her as she recalled the look on the older man's face. She'd been so terribly worried that he would fire her when he learned the truth. To her surprise he'd accepted her as the others had and she'd been allowed to continue living and riding with the team. For the most part the others had followed Teaspoon's lead. They'd treated her no differently, had shown her no special favor and life had continued pretty much the same as before - except for Kid. As much as she loved him, Kid had driven her crazy. His constant need to "protect" her had driven a wedge between their love. She simply could not make him understand that she was fully capable of taking care of herself without him being there to keep her safe. Their relationship had been rocky from the moment her secret had been revealed. Suddenly he didn't have to hide his concern and he didn't. Their arguments had become more frequent and more intense. Finally the wedge had been driven too deep and, like the log being split, they had fallen away from each other. Not that they didn't try again to rebuild what they had - they had. It just seemed that every time they got to a certain point and then something would happen that would drive them apart again. Louise was the first to admit that it hadn't all been Kid. Her own determination and stubbornness had contributed to the situation, she reckoned. She was just as stubborn as Kid and her refusal to become the good little homebody he seemed so desperately to want had been the major bone of contention. His desire to return to his home state of Virginia and become involved in something she couldn't condone had been the final straw. While the Express had been in operation, they'd had at least a little common ground. She'd managed to keep him there when shots were fired at Fort Sumter and even when Virginia had seceded from the union but, as the war had escalated, he had begun to speak more often of going home. No amount of talking, pleading or arguing had convinced him that his home was there with her not some barely remembered land of his birth. As the Express had drawn to its ultimate closure, he'd made his choice and it hadn't included her. A tear trickled down her face as the memory of his leaving flooded into her mind. He'd said he was sorry but this was something he had to do. In her anger she'd told him that he could just go ahead and go get himself killed, she didn't care - and she wouldn't wait for him. He'd ridden off without a backwards glance. For a while after Kid's leaving, she'd been in a serious depression. Cody and Jimmy had gone off too and with Ike and Noah dead and Jesse off with his brother, she'd felt abandoned. If it hadn't been for Rachel, Teaspoon and Buck, she would have been alone again. The trio hadn't left her alone though. Buck in particular had always seemed to be there when she felt the world closing in. A true friend, he'd let her cry on his shoulder and even scream out her anger at him without judging her or trying to make her change. Slowly things had begun to change. Teaspoon and Polly had remarried and Rachel had taken a job at the local restaurant. Buck had used the money he'd saved to buy a small farm and was settling comfortably into the routine. Of them all Louise had been the one left wandering about, not sure where to go. She'd finally taken a job and even bought a small house on the edge of town. While she'd kept in touch with the others, there had been a lot of times when she had been lonely beyond belief. Coming home each night to the empty house had been almost more than she could bear. "Have a little faith, Lou," Buck told her. "Things are bound to turn around and for the better." Cupping her chin in his hand, her friend continued. "You're too good a woman to be alone for long - and too stubborn to let things like this get the better of you." "I don't know, Buck," she'd argued. "Sometimes it just seems like there's nothing left." "You mark my words, Lou," Buck countered. "There's a whole lot more men out there looking for a good woman like you. It's gonna happen, most likely when you least expect it." As time passed, she almost began to think that maybe "it" was going to happen between her and Buck. He cared for her, that much was obvious - she cared about him too. She soon realized, though, that their feelings were feelings of friendship and nothing more. It was a good friendship, but not something to build a life around. He deserved better than that and so did she. So, as time passed, she continued to work at having the faith Buck said she should have. It wasn't an easy process but gradually she'd become more comfortable in her life as it was and somehow the need to feel "complete" was met within herself. The day had finally come when she was able to bring Jeremiah and Theresa to Rock Creek. She had a home, a job and a good life waiting for all of them. Their life together would be a good one, she was more sure of that now than ever. She'd contacted the nuns at the orphanage and had taken the next stage to St. Joe to bring the children to their new home. The ride back to Rock Creek had been an experience she would never forget - thanks to Ben. Ben O'Connell had been the only other passenger on the stage. Throughout the trip, he'd been a perfect gentleman. His efforts to keep the children entertained had been a blessing - especially when the stage had suffered multiple breakdowns along the way. When her siblings had finally slept, Louise and Ben had struck up a conversation. She'd found herself telling him things she'd not told anyone - since Kid. She hadn't been the only one talking though - Ben had done his fair share. By the end of the extended journey she felt she knew more about him than she had known about any other man. Reaching Rock Creek, Ben had a layover of two days before the next stage that would take him to his final destination in Denver. For those two days, he and Louise had spent every free moment together. When the stage finally rolled through, there was no one waiting to get on. He could find work in Rock Creek just as easily as Denver Ben had declared - and he'd been good to his word. The next twelve months had been a whirlwind as Ben had courted Louise in a manner she'd never experienced. Her friends had seen the good in him and had accepted him as one of their own. He'd asked her to marry him on the one year anniversary of the day they met - and she had said yes with none of the hesitation she had experienced with Kid. Now, here she stood at the end of the aisle with Jeremiah proudly holding her arm. Teaspoon waited at the other end, dressed in his finest justice of the peace suit. Ben stood beside him with Buck at his side as best man. Opposite them, Theresa and Rachel waited, flowers in their hands and smiles as big as all outdoors on their faces. The music began to play and Louise and Jeremiah began the walk that would take her to her new life. A life that wouldn't have happened if she hadn't had a little faith. Thank You World The familiar cry “Rider comin’!” greeted Buck Cross as he rode into the Sweetwater Station for the first time in over six months. The Kiowa experienced a sense of weird déjà vu as the station manager stepped out onto the porch. He half-expected to see Teaspoon, but knew that wasn’t possible, Teaspoon was in Rock Creek along with the others. The others except for Ike. The thought forced its way to the front of his mind, un-welcomed as usual. Ike had been killed almost a month ago, but the pain was still fresh. Teaspoon had been keeping him busy on longer runs like this one but, if the older man’s plan was to keep his mind off the murder, and his subsequent actions, he was wrong. If anything the long, solitary rides gave Buck even more time to think. “Can I help you, son?” Buck started as he realized the station manager had been waiting for him to speak. “I’m Buck Cross from Rock Creek,” he explained, sliding to the ground and reaching into his saddlebag. “I’ve got a special delivery for Seamus MacDonald.” “I’m MacDonald,” the man replied, stepping forward to take the packet from Buck’s hand. As Buck waited for the man to open and read his mail, he looked around. A young, almost too young, boy stood off to one side holding the reins of a young mare. The look on the boy’s face went from hopeful expectancy to suppressed disappointment as he realized he wouldn’t be riding out, then to curiosity. MacDonald nodded as he refolded the letter and put it back in the envelope. “Kinda what I was expectin’,” he said quietly. Turning back to Buck, he continued. “You be needin’ a place to stay tonight?” Buck considered the offer, but decided the ghosts of the past would be too strong in the bunkhouse. A spur of the moment decision made him reply. “Actually, I’ve got family in the area. I think I’ll just go spend a day or so with them if you’ll loan me a horse. Mine’s been run hard and needs a rest.” “All we got is this mare here and a few new-broke mustangs in the corral,” MacDonald answered regretfully. “We got a rider comin’ in this afternoon so we’re gonna need this one. You can take your pick o’ the others.” Turning to the boy, he added. “Albie, take care of Buck’s horse and see to it he has what he needs.” “I can manage,” Buck told him as the boy stepped forward to take hold of the reins. The Kiowa led his horse to the barn, once again experiencing the déjà vu as he almost expected one of the others to be coming out as he went in. Albie watched curiously as the rider expertly took care of his horse, automatically reaching in just the right place for the brush and rags he knew would be there. “You used ta live here, din’t ya?” the boy asked suddenly. “You were one o’ the bunch they sent down ta Rock Creek after the station got burned down.” “Yeah,” Buck replied simply. “Must be kinda strange bein’ back here like this,” Albie suggested. “Betcha things have changed since you was here.” “Not all that much.” “I’ll go getcha the best mustang of the lot in the corral if you want?” the boy offered. “All right,” Buck agreed. He couldn’t help but smile at the boy’s enthusiasm. He just hoped he was a good judge of horseflesh. A few minutes later, the rider finished putting his saddle on a bay mare that was indeed the best horse in the lot, but that wasn’t saying a lot. Just as he was swinging up into the saddle, MacDonald came out onto the porch again with two packages in his hands. “The missus figured you might be in need of some food,” the older man explained as he handed the first of the packages up to Buck. “Thanks, I appreciate it,” Buck answered. “We found this under one of the floorboards in the bunkhouse ‘bout a month after we moved in,” MacDonald continued. “I don’t know who Ike is, but I figured he was one of you and you could take it back to Rock Creek and give it to him.” Buck’s hand froze in the act of reaching for the second package. A familiar red bandana was wrapped around another item. “Somethin’ wrong?” the station master asked as Buck hesitated. “No,” Buck replied quickly, deciding telling the two strangers of Ike’s death would serve no useful purpose. Taking the package, he stuffed it into his saddlebag beside the food. “I’ll be back in a couple of days,” he told the pair. “If you need to use my horse, go ahead.” “Shouldn’t need to,” MacDonald replied. “We don’t get mail more than once or twice a month now.” Buck rode off then, looking back only to wave at Albie who sat on the steps waiting for the next rider to arrive. ~~~~~ Buck wasn’t really sure where he was heading — he wasn’t even sure he knew where Red Bear and the rest would be at this point — he just knew that he didn’t want to stay in Sweetwater. So he just rode, shifting occasionally to avoid getting saddle sore from the awkward gait of the mare. As he rode, he munched on one of the sandwiches Mrs. MacDonald had been kind enough to give him and considered the package he had received from the station master. He couldn’t think of anything Ike would have that was so secret he would have kept it hidden. Maybe from the others, but not from Buck. They had no secrets — at least none that Buck knew of. Finally his curiosity got the better of him. Turning, he reached back to undo the strap on saddlebag and pulled the package out. He heard the sound of the rattler’s warning at almost the same instant that the mare saw the snake. Squealing in fear, the mustang reared up so suddenly that, in his awkward position, Buck was thrown off balance. Not for the first time in his life, Buck thanked his lucky stars that he had been born into the Kiowa tribe. He had learned early in life that, when a horse threw you, the best thing to do was to just relax and go with the fall. As the ground rushed up to meet him, he forced himself to go limp, curling into a ball and mentally saying a prayer that he wouldn’t end up with more than a bruise or two. He hit the ground with enough force to drive the wind from his lungs and before he could recover completely his terrified mount ran off in the opposite direction from which they’d come. ~~~~~ The sun was beginning to set and Buck still hadn’t found the horse. He’d been lucky that he was able to even try he reckoned. The snake that had caused the horse to bolt had thankfully moved away without striking. Of course, he’d been in no position or condition to do it any harm. He’d lain where he fell for several long minutes before he finally got enough air in his lungs to even sit up. As the sky darkened, Buck started looking for a place to camp for the night. He figured he’d head back to Sweetwater in the morning and use his own horse to look for his other mount. He was sure Albie would be more than willing to help him look. In short order, he’d found a rock ledge that he’d set up as a bed, covering the shale with branches from a nearby tree. He’d spent the rest of the daylight hours searching for firewood and, after getting a small blaze going, sat down to assess his situation. Food wasn’t a problem. He’d eaten the sandwiches Mrs. MacDonald had sent with him earlier and he had gone a lot longer than overnight without food before. In the morning he’d see what he could do about finding something. Water wasn’t a problem either. The ledge where he sat had a small spring of water at its base. He wouldn’t even need a canteen until he started walking and he’d worry about that when the time came. All in all he was in pretty good shape. Nothing broken in the fall, nothing really even bruised – except his pride. He was warm, he was dry and he wasn’t particularly hungry. He hadn’t been riding all that fast so he figured he was only a couple of miles out anyway. If he got an early start, he could be back at the station by mid-day. Trying to get comfortable, he felt Ike’s package where he’d tucked it into his shirt. He pulled the bandana-wrapped mystery free and carefully untied the knot to reveal an old notebook. Flipping through the pages he could see the pages were covered with Ike’s handwriting. Moving closer to the fire to shed more light on the book, Buck noted that at the top of each page was a date. Buck closed the book silently, without reading any of the words written within. Pain flooded over him as he remembered the young man who had been his best friend. Then his curiosity began to get the better of him. He’d never have believed that Ike would have a journal that he would have kept so totally secret that he felt the need to hide it under the floor of the bunk house. Buck found himself wondering why the journal had been left behind. The move to Rock Creek had been a quick one but not so quick that something this important to Ike would have been forgotten. Running his fingers over the cover of the notebook, Buck noticed some impressions he hadn’t seen on first examination. Holding the little book up to the firelight, he was able to make out letters that had been scratched into the leather. Thank You World. He read. Thank you world? Opening the book again Buck began to read. The first page was dated just a month after the two of them had met at the mission school. Buck and I finally got to go back with the other boys today. He’s started teaching me sign language. Someday maybe I’ll be able to talk to him and to other people again. The words that followed brought tears to Buck’s eyes. Thank you world for bringing Buck Cross into my life. Over the next couple of hours Buck read the entire journal. In each entry Ike related something that had happened in his life – something he was thankful for. The Kiowa sighed as he realized how many of the events involved something he and his friend had done and how many times he was part of the reason Ike thanked the world at the end of the day. Reaching the last of Ike’s entries, Buck sighed again. Searching through his pack he found a stub of a pencil. Carefully noting the date at the top of the first blank page, he wrote: Today I found this journal. Thank you world for letting me have had Ike McSwain in my life. Making Memories Teaspoon Hunter sat on the edge of the bed looking out the window. He'd started to do something but durned if he could remember what it was now. Seemed like that kind of thing was happening more and more often of late. But then, given he was going on ninety years old, he reckoned he had a right to forget things now and then. A knock sounded on the door of his room and a nurse barged in before he even had a chance to respond. Just once, he thought, Just once, I wish they'd wait until I invited 'em in. The nurse pushed the wheelchair to the side of the bed. "Now, Mr. Hunter," she reprimanded, "You know you're not supposed to be trying to get out of bed by yourself." "I wasn't," he responded. "I was just waitin' here 'til you came in with that durned chair." "Well then, let's just get you into this 'durned' chair," the woman replied. "That nice young reporter is waiting for you down in the solarium." Reporter? Teaspoon thought. THAT'S what I was gonna do. Gonna go down and talk to that reporter fella. When the young man had first approached him about recording his memories of his life, Teaspoon had been skeptical. He'd asked the young man why anyone would want to read about an old geezer like him. The boy - and he weren't much more than a boy to the old man - had told him that a lot of people were interested in history and, with him being one of the last to know the "real" story, there was sure to be a lot of interest in what he had to say. They'd gone back and forth for quite a while before Teaspoon had finally agreed to talk. "As long as you get it right, boy," he'd said. "I only tell true stories and I want them told back to people just the way I say them." Paul - that was the boy's name, Paul Mathews - had given his word and for some reason Teaspoon had believed him. After their first meeting, Paul had taken some time to write the stories down and had given Teaspoon a copy to read. Of course, his eyes not being what they used to be, he'd had to have one of the nurses read them to him but, far as he could tell, the boy had gotten it right. The reporter had been interested in more than just his part at the Alamo and as a member of the Texas Rangers. He'd been interested in everything the older man had to say, from his early childhood on up. Everything Teaspoon said went into the boy's notebooks. Teaspoon had to admit he kinda liked talking to the young man. It was good to be able to tell his stories again and have someone actually pay attention to what he had to say. The nurses had long since heard his stories and had grown tired of listening. He'd almost stopped talking altogether after he heard one of them complaining to another about how he was probably making it all up. Making it all up? He only wished half of what he remembered was just made up. Sure, he might occasionally embellish the truth a little but only just a little and never enough to change what really happened. Polly'd told him once that he oughta write a book about his life. He'd thought about it then, but after Polly'd passed on, he'd kinda lost interest. Before the young feller'd approached him, he'd all but given up on ever passing on the history he remembered. He and Polly hadn't been blessed with children - they'd both pretty much decided they were too old to raise young'ns when they remarried - so the memories would have died with him if not for Paul. So they'd made arrangements to talk just a little each day. The danged doctors insisted that he take it easy and not "overdo." To the nurses, that meant no more than one hour each afternoon. He'd tried to tell them that he needed more time with Paul. He didn't know how much time he had left and he wanted to make the most of what he had. ~~~~ Paul stood as the nurse pushed Teaspoon into the solarium. He had paper and pencils laid out in a neat stack on a table in the corner. "Hi, Teaspoon," he called. "You're looking good today." "If I was any better, it'd be illegal," Teaspoon replied as he shook the younger man's hand. The pair settled into the chairs with the table between them. Teaspoon waved the nurse away as she tried to put a blanket across his legs. "I ain't cold, woman," he protested. "If I get cold, I'll call ya." Dismissing her with a nod, he turned to the reporter. "Now, Paul, where were we?" "You'd just moved to Sweetwater and were starting up a Pony Express home station," Paul prompted. "Oh, yeah," Teaspoon mused. "Them was some mighty fine days . . . mighty fine. The boys I had working for me were some of the best around. And one of them weren't even a boy." "They had girls working for the Pony Express?" Paul asked in surprise. "Nah, they weren't supposed to," Teaspoon said with a laugh. "But there was this one youngster - went by the name of Lou - we'd been together for a couple of months before I found out he was a she." "Did you tell anyone?" "No, sir, I did not. Hell, son, Lou was one of my best riders. She could do anything any of the boys could do and most times she did it better. If I'd told anybody, we'd'a lost one mighty good rider and there weren't no reason for anyone to know." "What about the other boys?" Paul asked. "Well, let's see," Teaspoon mused. "There was Ike McSwain - he couldn't talk, but he had a way with animals like I ain't never seen before. He could break just about any horse that we ever brought in and do it in a way that they still had some spirit left in 'em afterwards." Paul was scribbling as fast as he could in his notebook. Over the weeks that they'd been talking, the pair had fallen into an easy pattern. The reporter let the old man talk and the old man talked in a way that the reporter could record what he said. "Then there was Buck Cross. Buck was a half-breed Kiowa Indian trying to make his way in a white man's world. He had a lot going against him but he did what he had to do. And he done a good job too." "One of the boys went by the name of Kid. He and Lou ended up getting married right when the Express ended. He told me his real name on their wedding day," Teaspoon laughed at the memory. "I was officiating the service, don't ya know. And I have to admit I can see why he went by the name 'Kid'." "Sounds like you had quite a group working for you," Paul commented. "That ain't the half of it, son," Teaspoon assured him. "We had some real celebrities at Sweetwater. We had Buffalo Bill Cody and Wild Bill Hickok riding with my group." "What were they like?" "Cody was . . . well everyone thought Cody was a clown - but he weren't!" Teaspoon stated. "He enjoyed life and he was always looking for an easier way to do things - or to get out of doing 'em but, when the chips were down, he was a good man to have at your back." "What about Hickok?" Paul asked. "Was he as much of a hothead as the stories say he was?" "He could be," Teaspoon replied with a nod. "He could be. But then he had a destiny that would have made most of us hotheaded. He made a lot of mistakes - but then we all did, I reckon." His voice trailed off as he remembered the young gunman. "I kinda feel some guilt that I couldn't have guided him different but sometimes, no matter what you do, it ain't good enough." "I understand you had a black man riding for you," Paul said diverting the old man from what appeared to be painful memories. "And Jesse James, too?" "Yeah, we did," Teaspoon agreed, getting back to the topic at hand. "Noah was free black. He come to us while we were still in Sweetwater. He'd been going 'round, barely avoiding the hangman's noose, buying up slaves and helping them get up north where they'd be free. He hired on to help us with some new ponies when Ike got hisself hurt and ended up staying with us until he got hisself killed." "And Jesse James?" "That's another one I wish we could have guided along a better path," the old man mused. "He showed up after we all moved down to Rock Creek. That young'n was as stubborn as they come but he was doing all right until his brother Frank showed up about the time the Express ended. He took off and, well, you know the rest of the story I guess." "What happened to the others?" Paul asked. "You said Noah got himself killed, are the others still alive?" "Ike got shot trying to keep a woman from killing the man who killed her father," Teaspoon told him. "Kid and Lou got married and moved back East when Kid decided he needed to fight in the war. You probably know about Jimmy and Cody." "What about Buck?" "He went back up to Sweetwater and started working trying to make peace between the army and the Indians," the old man answered. "He had a half-brother who was a pretty important chief to the Kiowa. From what I heard tell, Buck did a pretty good job - at least until that fool Custer got involved." Paul glanced at his watch and looked up to see the nurse starting down the hall. "Looks like our time is about up for the day, Teaspoon," he said sadly. Teaspoon sighed. "Talking don't take no energy," he stated. "Too bad the doctors don't understand that." "I'll be back tomorrow," Paul assured him. "I know I've said it before, but I hope you know how much I appreciate your talking to me this way." "Pleasure's all mine, son," Teaspoon replied. "Hard to say where all these memories would've gone if you hadn't come along." Email Cathy HOME