"You did WHAT?"

Lou and Jimmy looked up in amazement at the vehemence of Buck's question. The Kiowa ignored them as he focused his attention on the fourth occupant of the bunk house - his best friend, Ike McSwain. Their amazement grew as they translated the movements Ike made with his hands.

I asked Teaspoon to help me see if I could grow my hair back, the mute rider signed firmly.

"Are you NUTS?" Jimmy exclaimed. "Teaspoon's 'remedies' will more than likely grow you a new HEAD!"

"That's what I've been telling him," Buck agreed, eyeing his friend as if the second head had already sprouted on the slender young man's shoulders.

I think he might have some good ideas! Ike countered. Some of his ideas work.

"More don't than do," Lou chimed in. "Ike, do you really want to take that risk?"

You don't know what it's like, Ike argued. He continued quickly, waving off Buck's protest. You don't! You're not treated like a freak wherever you go!

The bald rider's eyes looked at his friends pleadingly. Sometimes people don't even notice you, Buck. he signed. They always notice ME and I can't even talk to them to let them know I'm not stupid or . . .

"But . . . " Buck interrupted only to be interrupted himself.

"Let him try," Lou said. "What can it hurt?"

"You really want an answer to that?" Buck muttered under his breath as the door to the bunkhouse banged opened and Teaspoon Hunter walked in, his arms full of bottles and bags.

"I'm gonna start ya off with an old family recipe that my pa used till the day he died," Teaspoon told the anxiously watching quartet. "He had so much hair my ma said it kept on a growin' so's they had to get a barber in to trim him up in his coffin."

Reaching into the first bag, the older man pulled out a large red onion which he proceeded to cut in half.

"Sit," he ordered pointing to a chair that he'd pulled away from the table.

Ike sat, nervously looking over his shoulder to see what Teaspoon was going to do. From the look on his face the others could see that he was beginning to doubt his earlier convictions.

Teaspoon picked up half an onion in each hand and began rubbing Ike's head vigorously. "Ya gotta rub it hard," he commented as the rider tried to duck away from the pressure. "It's the only way the juice'll get into the scalp and stimulate the fol-a-cals."

After several minutes, Ike's head began to turn bright red. "That's what we're lookin' for!" Teaspoon crowed in delight. "'The redder the better', my ma always used to say."

The stench from the onions was bringing tears to the eyes of the onlookers and participants alike.

Teaspoon rubbed until the onions fell apart then turned to pick up a large jar full of brownish goo.

"What's that?" Buck asked cautiously.

"Why, this here is some of the best honey ever to come out of a hive," the station master replied. "Once ya finish with the onion, ya gotta cover the scalp with honey to keep the juices in."

On that note, the older man smiled and scooped out a large handful and began to slather it over the young rider's head.

"Well at least we won't have to smell the onions from now til Sunday," Lou offered.

"Yeah, we just have to worry about bears breaking in to lick Ike's head," Jimmy laughed.

The look Ike gave both of them made the pair decide that leaving the room was probably in their best interest. Suddenly chores seemed to be preferable to the smell and the glares.

"How long does he have to do this?" Buck asked, fearing the worst - and getting it.

"At least a week to ten days," Teaspoon replied.

"A week?" Buck exclaimed.

"Sometimes it takes a little longer," the other man replied. "But I guarantee you, Ike'll be a changed man when the treatment's done its job!"

A week later the only thing that had changed was that the bunkhouse was uninhabitable due to the smell and Emma was complaining at the cost of replacing the onions.

"I just can't understand it," Teaspoon lamented, stepping closer to scrutinize Ike's still very bald pallet. "My pa swore by that recipe!"

Ike shrugged despondently. I guess I'll just have to . . .

"Don't you worry none, Ike," Teaspoon interrupted. "I got more recipes to try. My granny on my ma's side left me her book of potions," he confided. "She could make hair grow on a rock!"

The next morning the station master entered the bunkhouse with a large jug of greenish liquid in his hands. He sat the jug on the table with a heavy thud and reached for one of the glasses Emma had left on the shelf.

"I want you to drink a full cup of this four times a day," Teaspoon ordered as he poured a generous helping into the glass and handed the concoction to Ike.

Ike held the glass up to the light. The liquid looked even greener in the glass.

What's in it? he signed cautiously.

"Lettuce and spinach juice!" Teaspoon announced. "Don't worry, I filtered out all the little floaty things."

He waited expectantly as Ike sniffed the juice - and promptly wrinkled his nose in disgust.

"It can't hurt you any, Ike," Buck admitted. The Kiowa's look said plainly You started it, you have to finish it.

Ike sighed then closed his eyes and drank the entire glass in successive gulps. The other riders waited to see how fast he would be running to the outhouse but after a couple of minutes, the mute rider simply smiled.

It doesn't taste as bad as it looks. he signed.

"That ain't possible." Jimmy muttered.

"You sure you been drinking one cup four times a day?" Teaspoon asked as another week passed with no change in Ike's hairline.

Ike nodded emphatically.

"He drinks so much of that stuff, I'm surprised he hasn't turned green!" Lou exclaimed.

It really isn't that bad, Ike signed. It kind of grows on you after a while.

"That's the only thing that's growing on you," Buck noted, earning a glare from his friend and his station master.

"Don't you worry, Ike," Teaspoon repeated his words of a week earlier. "I've got a few more things to try. Just gotta find the right ingredients."

As the older man strode away, the riders could hear him muttering about "stubborn fol-o-cals" and "foolproof remedies."

In the days that followed Ike's head did show some signs of color - unfortunately not the kind he wanted. Between the mustard oil and henna leaf massage and the apple cider vinegar and sage tea poultice his still hairless scalp had turned from tanned to red to brown.

Other "remedies" followed until even Teaspoon had exhausted his repertoire. Ike patiently sat through even the most unusual of the concoctions - though where Teaspoon was able to find lime seeds for the lime seed and black pepper poultice and almond oil for the caster and almond oil massages had baffled the young man.

After another week of dousing his head with lemon juice each morning, he'd had enough.

It isn't working, Teaspoon, he signed dejectedly. I guess I'll just have to live with what I've got - or not got.

"I can see why you'd be wantin' to give up, Ike," Teaspoon admitted. "It is kinda disappointin' that even Granny's best remedies ain't workin'."

The older man's brow furrowed as he appeared to be concentrating on a vague memory. "I kinda remember one other treatment she used to use," he said finally. "I was just a young'n though but I remember her makin' my pa get her the ingredients when everything else she tried failed."

Smiling encouragingly, he started back to his room. "I'm goin' to take a nap and try to remember what we need. I'll let you know when I got 'em figured out."

An exclamation of satisfaction from Teaspoon's room roused the riders later that afternoon.

"I remember!" the station master cried happily as he met them in the yard. "I was layin' there thinkin' and a ponderin' and I remembered what it was that my granny used."

Ike looked at him speculatively. The others bore expressions ranging from mild amusement to outright fear.

"I remember my granny telling me a story about Julius Caesar and that lady Cleopatra," Teaspoon continued. "You see that Caesar, he was a bald as a billiard ball and old Cleopatra, she just knew she could fix him right up."

Looking at the young people ranged before him, he held up one hand and began ticking off the ingredients on his fingers.

"We're going to need horse's teeth, bear grease, burnt mice and some deer marr . . ."

Ike woke with a start. Running a hand across his hairless scalp, he rolled out of bed and checked himself in the mirror that hung on the wall over Cody's bunk.

"Ike?" Buck called softly from his own bunk. "You all right?"

I'm fine, his friend signed. Just fine, just the way I am.

He ignored Buck's curious look and went back to bed.

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