Coming Home

Ike looks up from the book he’s reading when he hears Cody's shout. Off in the distance he sees Katy approaching and knows it's The Kid returning from his run.

Lou emerges from the bunkhouse, her bedroll under her arm. As she walks across the porch toward where Noah is holding Lightening for her, Ike reaches out and stops her.

"I will, Ike. You keep all the boys out of trouble round here, okay," Lou returns.

The other riders watch lazily as Lou mounts Lightening and Kid smoothly passes the mochilla off to her. She races off in the opposite direction while Kid tiredly pulls Katy to a stop and dismounts.

"Dusty," Kid answers, slapping his clothes and causing billows of dust to rise in the air.

"You better not bring that dust into the bunkhouse er Rachel will kill ya," Cody warns as he leans against the porch post.

"Yeah, she just finished cleaning it and woe be it unto the one who first gets it dirty. She ain't even let us back in yet," Noah adds.

Ike looks around at his friends and smiles at their affectionate bantering. It has been a long time since he’s felt as welcome and wanted as he does with his express family. Most people would think it impossible that such a group of motley orphans could become a family, but that’s exactly what has happened. Ike knows that the bond they have is just as strong if not stronger than any bond of blood.

While Ike’s been lost in his thoughts, Kid has finally managed to get enough dirt off that he can climb the steps without causing a dust storm. "Hey, Ike," he says coming up to where Ike is sitting with his book. "There was a letter for you at the last station. I brought it with me."

Ike's eyebrows knit together in an expression of puzzlement. *For me?* he questions as he takes the letter from Kid.

Ike glances at the envelope. Sure enough, there is his name on the front in neat writing, and up in the left hand corner the letters L. F. B.

Ike just shrugs his shoulders in response. Buck moves to glance over Ike’s shoulder, just as confused as his friend.

Ike looks into his best friend's eyes and, though no words are spoken, he knows they are both thinking the same thing. The only people Ike knows are all sitting right here on the porch except for Teaspoon who is in town, Rachel in the house, and Lou who just left on her run.

Carefully, Ike tears open the envelope and removes a sheet of paper covered in the same neat writing. Ike unfolds the letter and begins to read.

As he reads, the other riders watch Ike closely. Because he’s lived so much of his life without the ability to speak, Ike has developed wonderful facial expressions. Usually the riders only have to look at Ike to know exactly what he’s trying to tell them. Now they watch his face for any clue as to what the letter is about, but what they see alarms them.

Ike's usual smile is quickly replaced by a tight frown and his face turns deadly pale. His hands are shaking as he clutches the paper and in his eyes are tears that threaten to spill out.

"What is it, Ike?" Buck asks, his voice full of concern for his best friend. The other riders move closer, wanting to know what has upset their friend so badly.

The look Ike gives them when he is done reading the letter is like none that they have ever received from him. It's the look of a person who has just had their whole world ripped out from under them; the look of a man drowning at sea.

"Ike what's wrong?" Jimmy asks again. Ike's reaction is beginning to scare them.

Suddenly, without answering, Ike shoves the letter back into the envelope and half runs, half stumbles off the porch. He rushes to one of the horses that are saddled and tied to the coral, waiting for the next rider who needs to change mounts, and grabs the reigns. Desperately, he swings himself up into the saddle and kicks the horse into a gallop away from the station.

"Ike! Wait! Where are you going? What’s wrong?" Buck yells at his back as he rides off. Getting no response, Buck tries to follow him, but Kid places a restraining hand on his shoulder.

"Maybe you should leave him alone fer awhile. Whatever was in that letter upset him pretty bad."

"That's just it! Ike doesn't know any one to get a letter from, unless one of the nuns at the mission suddenly decided to keep in touch, but I doubt it. They were just glad to get rid of us."

"Leave him alone. He'll tell you when he's ready," Noah says coming up beside Kid and Buck.

Buck glances at the faces of the riders with him and isn't fooled a bit by their words.

"You're all just as worried about Ike as me, don't tell me you’re not," Buck says.

“You’re right, but there’s nothing we can do right now,” Jimmy admits. “Just give him some space.”

With a sigh, Buck relents. Silently, they all stand looking out over the plains in the direction their friend rode off, worrying.

Chapter 1

Blindly, Ike rides across the land, no real destination in mind. The tears that were threatening to fall on the porch are now running freely down his cheeks. He knows the others are worried about him, he heard Buck yelling after him to stop, but he just had to get away for a while. He has to figure out how to deal with this. It's like someone grabbed hold of the rug he was standing on and jerked it away and now they've left him tumbling in the air.

Ike feels the horse under him slow and realizes that he has been pushing the animal too hard. Not wanting to hurt her, he reigns the mare to a stop and dismounts. He’s on a small hill that looks out over the horizon and other than one stubby tree atop it, standing as if it were a sentinel, there is very little to break up the rolling grasslands. Feeling very much like that lonely tree, Ike sits down with his back against the trunk and, pulling his knees up to his chest, stares out over the plains. The sun is starting to set in spectacular splashes of red and gold but Ike’s too upset to notice.

He looks down at the paper he still clutches in his hand. Slowly, he removes the letter from the envelope and begins to read it again.

Ike stares at the letter in his hands, rereading the words again and again, until it’s too dark to see them. Then he just sits and gazes up at the stars, not sure how he feels about anything anymore. Part of him is, like the letter said, angry that he has gone so long without knowing any of this. He’s angry at this unknown grandfather of his, for turning his parents away, and even angry at this new grandmother for not stopping it. If they hadn't turned them away, Ike would still have his family! And yet, at the same time he thinks it, he knows he cannot blame them. What happened, happened; just like all the other bad things that have happened in Ike's short life.

Ike leans his head back against the tree and closes his eyes. Suddenly, he is transported back to another starry night just like this one, before his world was ripped apart.

"Mama," he had asked, sitting on the grass in the dark next to her. "Why do you like to look at the stars so much?"

His mother had looked deep into his eyes before answering, and Ike had seen a sadness he had never noticed before.

"Because I used to look at the stars with my papa, back when I was about your age. When I look at them now, it reminds me of him."

And so Ike had always assumed that when he watched his family die on that awful day, he had lost everyone. Now he doesn't know what to think.

A cold breeze causes Ike to open his eyes. He shivers slightly and realizes he left without even his coat. His body is stiff from sitting in this cramped position for so many hours. He knows it must be getting late and that the others are going to be worried about him, especially considering the way he was when he rode out. He smiles a little to himself and thinks that it’s amazing that Buck hasn't already come looking for him. Slowly, he gets to his feet and walks over to his horse, which thankfully has been grazing quietly all this time. Ike carefully places his letter inside his vest and mounts the horse, turning her back toward the station.

Ike is chilled from the cold night air by the time he reaches the way station. Save for a single lantern burning in the bunkhouse window, all is dark and still with the hush of night as he rides into the yard. Somehow that lantern helps to calm Ike's troubled heart, knowing it's lit for him. Rachel always leaves a light burning whenever one of her "boys" is out in the night, to help them find their way home. Tonight it's like a lighthouse to Ike, guiding him through his own personal storm.

He enters the barn and quickly takes care of his horse, gently rubbing her and making sure she’s comfortable.
"I was just about ta go get Buck an' let him ride out after ya like he's wanted to all evenin'."

Ike jumps at the unexpected voice, noticing for the first time, Teaspoon, sitting in the shadows, watching him.
"Sorry, didn't mean ta scare ya, son."

Moving closer so Teaspoon can see his hands in the dimness of the barn, Ike signs, *It's alright. I just didn't see you there.*

Teaspoon studies his mute rider in the faint light of the lantern, noting the tired face and red eyes.
"You alright, Ike?"

Teaspoon starts to ask Ike what upset him enough to make him ride out without a word, but stops. From the looks of him, Ike is too emotionally drained to talk about anything right now, and he is starting to shiver from the cold.
"Well, goodnight then," Teaspoon says, standing up. He gives Ike a fatherly squeeze on the shoulder as he walks by.

*Goodnight,* Ike signs at Teaspoon's back, relieved that he didn't ask what is wrong. Ike walks to the bunkhouse and enters as quietly as he can. Everyone appears to be asleep and he doesn't want to wake them. Although he knows they mean well, he can't handle all their questions right now. Ike soundlessly undresses and is ready to climb up into his bunk when he feels someone's stare. Lowering his head, he meets Buck's concerned eyes gazing at him from the bottom bunk.

Ike sighs. He knows Buck won't be satisfied until he has an answer, but Ike’s just not ready to talk yet.
*I'll tell you tomorrow. I want to sleep now.*

Buck looks at Ike for a long time, trying to gage his friend's emotional state from his face. Finally, Buck nods
"Alright. Get some sleep, okay."

Ike nods and climbs into his bed. He doesn't really expect to get much sleep, but the strain of the last few hours catches up to him. His tired body wins over his churning mind and before ten minutes have passed, Ike is fast asleep.

When Ike wakes the next morning, he’s alone in the bunkhouse. Grateful, Ike lays thinking. Although a night's rest has helped to restore his exhausted body, inside his emotions are still spinning like a top. Everything feels different. He is still Ike, still the same person he was when he woke up yesterday morning, but somehow it seems like the world around him has changed. He feels like he is a scared, seven year-old little boy again, helplessly caught up in forces beyond his control.

Sighing audibly, he climbs out of bed, reminding himself that he, of all people, should know how much your life can change in one day.

He dresses quickly, wondering where everyone is and why he was allowed to sleep for so long. It's unlike the others, especially Cody, to let anyone sleep in, particularly when there's chores to do. Again, Ike tucks yesterday's letter into his vest, thinking about what it says. 'I have a grandmother and she wants me to visit!' he marvels to himself. He still isn't sure what he is going to do, but there's one person he's hoping can help him with that. Finally, with hands swift from many years of practice, Ike covers his smooth scalp with his bandana. Last night may have been a bit chilly, but today is going to be a scorcher. The last thing Ike wants to deal with is a sunburnt head.
Opening the door, Ike steps out into the glaring heat of day. The sun is almost directly over head. 'I slept the day away!' he thinks in amazement.

"'Bout time you decided to git up, Ike!" Cody's voice calls to him from over by Rachel's house, drawing Ike's attention. Cody, Jimmy, Buck, and Kid are engaged in digging up the ground all around the front porch of the house. "Rachel said we had to let ya sleep, but seein' as how yer awake now, you can take my place. All this hard work ain't good for me."

"Hard work! Cody, you ain't done no work yet! You ain't done nothin' but drive us crazy with yer big mouth!" Jimmy growls, jamming his shovel into the ground to emphasis his words.

"Whadda you mean I ain't done no work? What do you call this pile a dirt right here, huh?" Cody defends himself.
"Pitiful," Buck mumbles under his breath, a sly smile on his face.

Ike shakes his head in mock despair. They really are hopeless, the whole lot of them. He walks the short distance between the bunkhouse and where they are digging up the lawn, still engrossed in their bickering when he comes up behind them. Ike thumps his chest to get their attention.

"Rachel decided that some flowerbeds would make the station look pretty," Jimmy says, his voice giving away his opinion of pony express stations that look pretty.

"Yeah, and we git to dig 'em," Kid sighs.
"That's right, boys. And I remind you that the rate at which you dig 'em is directly related to the rate at which I fix lunch." The riders look up to see Rachel standing on the porch, her hands resting firmly on her hips. "From the look a things, it's gonna be a long time 'till you eat."
"Aw, give me that shovel!" Cody grabs the tool from Buck and starts digging with renewed fervor.
"Mornin', Ike," Rachel greets him. "You want some breakfast?"
"Hey! How come you'll fix him food an' not us? He ain't even done nothin'," comes Cody's predictable complaint.
"Cause he ain't been asked to, an' you have, Cody," Rachel admonishes sternly. Turning back to Ike, she waits for his answer, "Ike?"
Ike shakes his head 'no.' His stomach is asking for food, but there’s someone he needs to talk to first.
*Where's Teaspoon?* he asks Rachel.
"I think he's in town at his office. You sure ya don't want some breakfast? You didn't eat dinner last night, either," Rachel asks, concerned.
*Later.*
Ike leaves the others to their digging and heads for the barn. Somehow during the night, he settled on the idea that Teaspoon will know how to help him, can tell him what to do. Now he hurries to saddle his horse and ride into town.
"Ike, why do you need to talk to Teaspoon?"
Buck’s voice stops Ike and he turns to face his friend who has followed him into the barn.

*I just do,* he says. Ike trusts Buck more than anyone in the world and hates keeping him in the dark, but he’s still too confused about how he feels to talk to him. Buck will only ask Ike what he’s going to do, and Ike doesn't yet have an answer for that.

"Ike! What was in that letter? Are ya in trouble?" Buck grabs Ike's arm to keep him from leaving. "Why won't you tell me!" He cries, frustrated with Ike's stubbornness. Buck knows Ike is hurting. He can see it when he looks into his friend's eyes, and yet Ike refuses to tell him why.

Ike slowly turns again and looks at Buck. He sees the worry written plainly across his face, the pleading in his eyes.
*Buck, I'm not in trouble. I'll be alright. I just need to talk to Teaspoon first. I promise I will tell you everything when I get back. Okay?*

Buck knows there’s no use in pushing Ike for more, but he still shakes his head slightly.

Teaspoon is in his usual position - chair tipped back, feet propped up, hat pulled down - when Ike enters the Marshal's office.

"Mornin' Ike," Teaspoon greets him. Ike smiles faintly, wondering how Teaspoon could tell it was him with his hat over his eyes like that.

Teaspoon rights his hat and sits up straight, studying Ike carefully. He looks better than he did last night, not quite as ready to fall to pieces, but Teaspoon still notices the haunted look in his eyes.

"Sit down," Teaspoon says, indicating a chair. "What's eatin' ya, son? The boys said ya got a letter yesterday that upset you somethin' fierce. You in some kind a trouble?"

Slowly, Ike removes the letter from his vest and hands it across the desk to Teaspoon, indicating for him to read it.
"Ya sure?"

Teaspoon takes the now slightly smudged paper and starts to read. When he is done, he glaces over at Ike. No wonder the boy looks like he's seen a ghost; he practically has. His whole world has been turned upside down by one sheet of paper.

Ike just shrugs his shoulders, not meeting Teaspoon's eyes. For a while they both sit in silence, until Teaspoon breaks it.

Ike looks up at Teaspoon, his face twisted in an anguished expression, tears once again threatening to fall. Finally, his hands start moving and it's like a dam has burst. Rapidly, all the emotions he’s been holding back flood out, almost too fast for Teaspoon to follow.

*I ain't sure what to do! It's like the world is spinning around me and I can't catch hold! I have all these emotions fighting inside of me, but I don't know which ones to feel! Part of me wants to jump with joy and part wants to run and hide. Teaspoon, how come I can be so angry, and sad, and sort of excited, all at the same time?*

Teaspoon watches the silent young man before him bare his soul, his expressive face and hands telling more of the tortured heart inside than words ever could. He appears so lost, so vulnerable. Silently, Teaspoon curses the world, curses the fact that life has dealt this gentle, kind spirit such a cruel hand. This boy deserves so much more than fate has seen fit to give him!

Ike is waiting for an answer as Teaspoon studies him. Eventually, Teaspoon speaks.

"Because yer normal, Ike. This here letter has just tore yer world an' yer heart apart. Yer angry that you never knew about this grandmother. Angry that you've spent most a yer life with people that didn't want ya, now knowin' that there was someone out there who did. You’re sad 'cause of all the people that you've lost, yer childhood that was stole from you. Ike, it's okay to feel like this. It's normal."

Teaspoon pauses before answering. Ike has already had too many things taken away from him. He doesn't want to see him get hurt again, but he also knows, even if Ike hasn't admitted it yet, that Ike will never really be content again until he follows this new path through to the finish.

"You've got some time off comin' and the others can cover for ya while yer gone."

"Ike, I ain't gonna tell ya how you should feel about all of this. Lord knows I'd be just as confused if it was me, but I am gonna ask ya to give yer grandmother a chance. I don't think you will be able to live content if you pass up this chance." Teaspoon catches Ike's eyes as he finishes speaking. Looking in them, he sees something more than just worry about his job and the long journey.

Ike looks down at his boots. He’s almost afraid to share his fear with Teaspoon. At last he turns to the Marshal, his hands shaking a little as he signs, *What if she don't want a grandson like me?*

"Not want one like you? Whadda you mean?" Teaspoon is puzzled by this turn in the conversation until he watches Ike slowly point to his mouth and then his head. Understanding hits Teaspoon like a bolt of lightening. He has grown so used to Ike's differences that he sometimes forgets Ike isn't speaking out loud when he signs, forgets that the red bandana covers a head devoid of hair. But the outside world never forgets, and Ike knows it.

Teaspoon wishes he could say some words that will take away this fear from Ike, but he can't. Instead he says the only thing left. "You will just hafta go show her that you are the best grandson anyone could want."

Ike finally manages a real smile, which he gives Teaspoon in return for his last comment. He stands up to leave, but Teaspoon stops him.

"Ike, before ya go, I wanna say somethin' else. Now I know what yer gonna think when I say this but, but I'm gonna say it anyways. I don't want ya goin' alone."

Ike looks sharply at Teaspoon, raising his hands to protest, but Teaspoon cuts him off.

"'Fore you git all riled up, hear me out. I know you can take care of yerself just fine, but there are a lot of people out there with nothin' better to do then cause problems for the rest of us. You should know that, Ike. It's a mighty long way from here to Philadelphia and if you was to git in trouble and need help there's no way we could git to ya in time. I want you to take one of the others with ya, just incase. 'Sides, it might be nice to have someone who can help you talk to yer grandmother when you meet her. I don't imagine she knows much Indian Sign."

Ike gives Teaspoon a glare which states clearly he doesn't like it, but he knows Teaspoon is right. Then he shrugs his shoulders and sighs knowing the old marshal has made up his mind, so it doesn't really matter what he thinks.

"Fine. And, Ike, try to be a little excited. You just got a grandmother! That's a pretty good thing."

Ike's customary grin splits his face, coming almost unbidden. *I know, Teaspoon. Thanks.*

Teaspoon smiles back at Ike as he leaves the office, marveling at the young man's resilience and quiet strength.

Chapter 3

There’s no one in sight when Ike rides back into the station yard. Either they finished their digin' or Rachel finished them, Ike thinks with a small smirk as he looks at the abandoned piles of dirt around the house steps.

Ike dismounts and leads his horse into the barn. Inside, Buck is sitting on the same crate Teaspoon had occupied the night before. Ike looks at him and slowly shakes his head, his lips forming a slight smile.

*Don't you people have anything better to do than sit around in the barn and wait for me?*

"It was either sit out here an' wait for you or sit in there an' listen to Jimmy 'n Cody go at it again. Which would you choose?" Buck says as he comes over to help Ike with his horse. He’s relieved that Ike seems to have recovered his ability to joke. He no longer looks so lost and confused. Tired and unsettled yes, but not completely undone. Whatever Teaspoon said to him must have helped.

Silently, the two friends unsaddle and tend to the horse, then stand side by side against the stall. Finally, Buck asks the question Ike has been waiting for.

"Ike, what was in that letter, an' don't try an' put me off again. Somethin's wrong, I can tell." As he says this Buck turns and faces Ike squarely, giving him a hard gaze.

Ike sighs. He looks for a long time at Buck. He knows he can tell Buck anything and he will listen, but this news is so unexpected that Ike doesn't know how to begin.

Buck watches the emotions play across Ike's face and his worry returns. He has never seen Ike like this before. He’s just about to repeat the question when Ike's hands hesitantly start to move.

*The letter was from..........* Ike pauses and glances away, unsure about signing the next word.

*It was from my............grandmother,* Ike finally finishes, and then he looks at Buck for his reaction.

Buck is stunned. Of all the news he imagined the letter contained, this thought has never crossed his mind! As far as he’s ever known, all of Ike's family are dead! How could he have a grandmother?

Silence once again descends as Buck tries to digest this new information. Now he understands why Ike has been so upset. He’s probably the only one who can understand. He’s the only one who was there to see the hurt in Ike's eyes when he was constantly rejected and ridiculed at the orphanage. The only one who always knew the deep longing to be loved that Ike never told anyone about. The one who saw the silent tears fall at night when Ike thought everyone was asleep, tears of grief for a family torn away. Now, here is a letter that comes out of the blue, announcing to Ike that all those lonely years and painful hours could have been avoided and presenting a long, lost grandmother for acceptance! No wonder Ike is bewildered.

Ike crouches down and with his finger traces the word “PHILADELPHIA” in the dirt of the barn floor.

Buck reads the name that Ike writes and for the second time in five minutes is completely shocked. Philadelphia! That's all the way across the county!

They are quiet again, each lost in their own thoughts. Several minutes pass before Ike touches Buck's shoulder to
regain his attention.

*Teaspoon doesn't want me to go alone. I want you to come with me. Will you?* Ike looks expectantly at Buck,
waiting for an answer, but Buck doesn't reply. Ike was sure that Buck would answer 'yes' immediately, he’s never
told Ike no before, but instead Buck's eyes darken and his countenance clouds over.

Now it's Ike's turn to be stunned. He never thought that Buck would refuse. If anything he thought that Buck would jump at the chance to be with him and make sure he is okay. This is totally against Buck's normal, sometimes over-protective, attitude. Ike's face arranges itself in a picture of confusion, still staring at him.

Buck glances back at Ike and sees the question written on Ike's face as clearly as if Ike has spoken it. Not able to stand his penetrating and hurt gaze, he turns away to again stare out the open barn door.

"Ike, I can't go with ya," he says without turning. "Look at me. I'm a dirty half-breed! I'm not civilized enough for a big city like that. Ike, you know that this trip is gonna be bad enough for you as it is. You don't need an Indian along causin' you more trouble. I ain't gonna do that to you. Ask Kid...... or Jimmy, but I can't go." Buck's voice has turned to hard steel as he is talking, betraying all the years of hurt he’s trying to hide.

Ike listens to Buck's reasons and starts shaking his head in protest. This is silly. Buck knows that Ike doesn't care about his mixed heritage. It has never mattered before, why should it now? Buck isn't looking at Ike, though, so his objections are going unnoticed. Ike slaps his chest, trying to get Buck's attention, and then grabs hold of Buck's arm when he gets no response.

*Look at me!* he signs in frustration, but Buck still stubbornly refuses to turn around.

Ike is angry now. He walks around Buck, planting himself directly in front of him, forcing Buck to see him.

*Don't ignore me when I'm talking to you! Just 'cause you don't have to listen to me doesn't give you the right to pretend I'm not speaking!*

"I'm sorry, Ike, but there's nothin' else to say about it. I ain't goin' with ya."

Now completely frustrated with Buck's unreasonable behavior, Ike glares at Buck in anger before throwing his hands up in disgust.

*And what if I don't want to ask Kid or Jimmy to come? I want you to come!* Ike gestures, his movements gaining momentum as he signs. Buck opens his mouth to speak, but Ike holds up a hand, cutting him off.

*Buck, for the last eight years we’ve done everything together. We’ve always been there to help each other out and face our problems together. This is the biggest and most confusing thing that has happened to me since my family was killed. The others are good friends, but they don't understand like you do. I don't want one of them with me. I want you with me, you, Buck. I don't care what anybody else thinks about you. We faced them all together before, we can do it again.*

Ike ceases his rapid signing but he continues to stare firmly at Buck. His whole body stance emanates determination, the same determination that has carried him through life and helped him go on from day to day.

Buck has grudgingly watched Ike's swift hands, and now he glances into his unyielding eyes. Eventually, he sighs and relaxes his tense position.

"Alright, Ike. You win. I'll go with ya, but don't say I didn't warn ya. You’re only askin' for a bunch more trouble with me along," Buck concedes.

Ike breaths a sigh of relief as he sees Buck relax. Then his trademark grin returns, and he looks at Buck with a twinkle in his eye.

"Okay, okay!" Buck says with a laugh, punching Ike lightly on the shoulder. "I said you win! Now let's go get some lunch 'fore Cody eats it all."

The warm glow of the lantern softly illuminates the dark bunkhouse. Ike sits at the table in the center of the glow, gazing at the paper in front of him. He is calmer now than he has been for the last two days. Two days. Has it really only been two days? His life seems to have changed so much in that short time. He’s still recovering from it all, but now that he has decided what to do, he feels much more at ease.

He smiles as he remembers the reactions of the other riders when Teaspoon and Buck explained everything to them during dinner. It's a rare day when you can manage to render Cody speechless. It didn't last for long, though, and soon Ike found himself the center of attention with questions flying at him from a thousand different directions. He tried to answer all of them but conversation has never been his strong point and many of the answers he didn't know himself. Rachel quickly realized he was getting flustered and came to his rescue, calling the rest of the boys off, but not before Ike's letter was passed carefully around and examined by all.

Now they are all asleep and Ike finally has time to sit down and write his reply. He can hardly believe that in two days Buck and he are going to start for Philadelphia! Who would have ever thought…?

Ike slowly reads through his letter one more time to make sure it says what he wants it to.

Dear Mrs. Brarring,
Thank you for your letter, although I will admit it has been a big shock. Thank you for the invitation to come to Philadelphia, too. Please tell Mrs. Lowe that I will be leaving at once to come and I will be bringing a friend with me. Thank you again.
Sincerely,
Ike McSwain

Ike knows it’s extremely short, but he can't think of anything else to say. It contains all the important information, anyhow. Ike looks at it one more time and then decides that it will have to do. He carefully folds it and leans it up on the table, ready to be mailed in the morning. He then blows out the light and climbs into bed, thinking about the new adventure he is about to embark on.

Chapter 4

With a loud roar the immense steam engine bares down on the crowded station, smoke streaming from it like an angry, black, fire-breathing dragon. People scurry out of the way, mothers pull children close, and a great feeling of expectancy fills the air.

Off to the side, two young men stand close together, drawing many curious and sometimes uneasy glances. One, a tall handsome youth with tan skin and long dark hair is obviously of Indian decent. He talks softly to his companion, a young man with expressive eyes and a warm smile, wearing a red kerchief on his head. The gestures the boy uses to answer bring more wary stares their direction.

"You sure ya wanna do this, Ike?" Buck asks his friend as they wait on the platform for the approaching locomotive. "We could always tell Teaspoon we missed the train."

*No I'm not sure, but we're going anyway,* Ike answers swiftly. He is well aware of the distrustful looks and critical attention he’s garnering whenever he "speaks" and he’s trying to keep his signs small enough that only Buck can really see them. *Besides, you know Teaspoon would just drag us back here again if we told him that.*

Buck sighs. He’s already feeling the scornful eyes boring into his back and he knows it’s only going to get worse. He also knows that the trip is going to be anything but kind for Ike as well and he wishes he could spare his friend that.

Brakes squealing in protest, the huge train finally screeches to a halt in front of the station platform. It's doors open, spilling forth it's occupants into the daylight, while more crowds gather round, impatiently waiting to board.

"Guess we better get in line then," Buck says to Ike. Ike nods in answer and reaches down to pick up Rachel's old satchel that contains their things. She insisted that they use it, even though between the two of them they still only managed to fill it halfway. Together, the two friends join the mass of people milling around and waiting to board the cars.

As they get closer and closer to the steps, the butterflies in Ike's stomach start turning somersaults, and he grips the handle of the satchel tighter. It's not the train itself that has him worried, although it is a little intimidating, but rather where it is taking him. Ike wonders anxiously what waits for him at the end of this journey.

All too soon, Buck and Ike arrive at the door to the train car and the man taking tickets. He gives Buck a very scornful look, as though he would rather turn him away, but after a moments hesitation he takes their tickets and lets them pass. Relieved, the two climb the steps and enter the train.

Inside, the car is already fairly crowded, so Buck and Ike move on to the next looking for an empty booth. Finally, Ike notices one in the corner that’s not yet occupied. He reaches out and taps Buck's shoulder with his free hand, indicating with his head toward the booth. Quickly, Buck moves forward and enters it, sitting hastily on one of the red velvet seats. Ike follows and, after placing the satchel on the rack above, sinks down into the seat across from him.

*At least these seats are more comfortable than the ones on the stage,* Ike says to Buck, trying to draw a smile from him. They have already had a long journey. Two days ride to Kansas City, then another day in a stage coach to St. Louis, where they had to wait another day to be able to board this train. Ike knows that Buck is tired and extremely self-conscious and he’s trying to make him feel better.

Buck looks at Ike and manages a hint of a smile as he says, "Yeah, they ain't that bad." Then he returns to staring out the window.

Ike can tell that Buck is about to shut up tight as a clam and leave him without a soul to talk to. He thumps his chest to get his attention again. *Hey, you're no the only one getting nasty stares. You could at least be civil to me! We're stuck on this train for two more days and it's gonna be an awful long ride if you won't talk to me,*

"Sorry, Ike," Buck replies, having the good grace to look a little chagrined. "I just ain't used to havin' so many people around. Guess it has me a little edgy."

They sit for awhile in companionable silence, watching as the rest of the passengers board the train. People of all shapes and descriptions file past them down the isle, many of them gazing with distrust at Ike and Buck before moving on.

Ike watches as a little boy of about nine comes running down the walkway. He stops right in front of Buck and Ike's booth and gives them a wide smile. Instinctively, Ike grins back and pats the seat next to him, inviting the boy to sit. He’s about to plop down next to Ike when a stern-looking woman comes and pulls him away.

"Not here, Jacob!" she scolds in a loud whisper and leads the boy away, throwing distasteful glances back over her shoulder at the two friends. Ike feels the color rise in his cheeks and turns away, more conscious than ever of his "differences." He knows Buck is equally embarrassed.

Finally, after what seems like an eternity, the train begins to move. No one has sat in the booth with Ike and Buck and in a way, Ike is grateful. Now he can sign to Buck without another person's scrutiny. The seats all around them have been filled, however, and for lack of something better to do, Ike carefully studies their occupants.

In the seats behind theirs, a group of men dressed in fancy suits sit, talking amongst themselves. Ike watches them for a minute but they aren't very interesting so he soon moves on.

The booth directly across from Ike has been filled by a young family: mother, father, and two children. The oldest, a boy of about eight, has sandy hair and light-blue, twinkly eyes, but it is the girl who captures Ike's attention. About six years-old, her head is covered in flaming red curls and her cheeks literally smothered in freckles. She lovingly carries a rag doll that looks as though it has seen better days. The girl and her brother laugh gleefully as their slim, auburn-haired mother and jolly-looking father point out all the wonders going past outside.

Ike's heart has a sharp pang of longing for his own parents and sister as he watches this family. He feels almost drawn to them and he continues to stare at them, so long in fact that the mother becomes aware of his intense gaze and turns to him. Ike blushes at having been caught staring and braces himself for the scornful reproach he is sure will now follow. Instead, the young mother, noticing the pain and sorrow in his eyes, gives him a kind smile before returning her attention to her children.

Ike's face is like an open book and after so many years together Buck can read him like a primer. Glancing at the young family, Buck is pretty sure what Ike was thinking about, but he decides not to press the subject right now. No need to keep dragging up Ike's tragic memories. There will be enough of that when they arrive at their destination.

"This train moves mighty fast, don't it?" Buck says to Ike, changing the subject.

Now that his attention has been pulled away from the family, Ike suddenly notices the stuffiness and sweltering heat of the train and he feels like he’s in an oven. He reaches up and removes his bandana, trying to get cooler. He can feel beads of sweat forming on his forehead and starts using the bandana as a fan.

"It ain't that hot, Ike," Buck laughs, teasing his friend. Ike just gives him half a smile and continues fanning.

Buck turns back to the window to watch the scenery go past, sure that Ike is doing the same. Half an hour passes with no conversation before Buck realizes out of the corner of his eye that Ike has stopped fanning.

"See, I told you it ain't…," Buck's voice trails off as he sees his friend. Ike is slumped back in the seat with his eyes closed and his face is rapidly turning a rather nasty shade of green. "Ike, what's wrong?" Buck cries in alarm.

Ike doesn't know what's wrong. He was just staring out the window when the first spikes of a massive headache started shooting through his brain. Next, his stomach decided to betray him and he was hit by a vicious wave of nausea. Now he is just sitting desperately still, afraid to move even enough to answer Buck. If he so much as lifts his arms to sign he’s sure he will lose the battle he’s fighting to keep what he ate for lunch earlier down in his stomach where it belongs. He does manage to open his eyes and tries to use them to convey all this to Buck.

"Although that shade of green you’re sportin' now does look nice with the black smudges of soot on your head," Buck can't resist teasing.

Ike glares at Buck and then rolls his eyes, before closing them against the pounding headache.

Buck doesn't miss the flash of pain that momentarily crosses Ike's face and he puts his joking aside. "You better lay down for a little while an' maybe it'll go away," he suggests hopefully. He isn't quite sure what’s making Ike sick but he knows Ike well enough to know that he isn't faking it.

Moving very slowly, Ike maneuvers himself into a more horizontal position. Just that much motion is enough to stir up another ferocious wave of nausea and he clamps his mouth tightly shut and lies back, pale and sweaty.

All the rest of the day, Ike tries to rest on the seat, feeling miserable. Even his worst Express run was better than this! Occasionally, Buck will say something to him or ask a question, but Ike doesn't even try to answer. Instead, he watches the young family across from them, trying to distract himself.

For quite awhile the children remain fascinated with the motion of the train and the sights flashing past the windows. They pepper their parents with excited questions, one after the other. Despite the way he’s feeling, Ike can't help smiling at their inquisitiveness, remembering when he was like that, full of questions and innocent, childish curiosity. But that was a long time ago, Ike thinks with a sigh.

As the afternoon slowly wears on and approaches evening, Ike's mind wanders away from the family and back to the reason he’s making this trip. He closes his eyes as his thoughts drift. Even after a week to digest the news, his emotions are still reeling. So much of his life has been spent trying to forget that now he doesn't really know how to start remembering. But this letter has forced him to open the door to his past, and in so doing has allowed all his carefully hidden memories to come spilling back into his mind. With them come the doubts and fears that so many years of others' cruelty have built up in him. Since the headache and nausea are making it impossible for Ike to sleep, he has nothing to turn his mind away from the myriad of questions that are running through it, all of them brought on by the letter that’s still inside his vest. He can't stop wondering about his Grandmother, what she will be like. Will she accept him for who he is? Or will she look at him as some sort of freak like the rest of the world so often does. His heart is longing for the first to happen, to finally have someone who loves him, but past experience has taught him that it probably won't. He has been through too much and Ike is reluctant to open his heart, just to have it crushed again.

Ike doesn't know how long he has been lying there trying to ignore how sick he feels when he suddenly hears a sound that makes his eyes fly open. The hushed, mournful sounds of a harmonica are penetrating through the noise of the train. Ike glances almost frantically around with his eyes, needing to locate the music's source. His gaze lands once again on the small family across from Buck and him. The children have grown restless from the sticky heat and stale air, so their father has brought out his mouth organ to calm them. Now they lay curled in their mother's arms, listening contentedly to the music. Softly, the young mother joins her husband in the song, gently singing the words of love to her children.

Tears are streaming freely down Ike's pale cheeks as he listens to the sound he hasn't heard in twelve years. Once again he is pulled back to a time and place long, long ago.

Ike ignored his mother and continued chasing his little sister around the table that filled the center of the small adobe home. Essie was giggling hysterically, her cheeks rosy and her curls bouncing.

"Clark," his mother said over their heads, turning to Ike's father for help, '"What am I going to do with these two hooligans?" Ike could tell she was trying to be angry, but it wasn't working.

Suddenly, Ike felt the strong arm of his papa grasp him and swing him in the air. The his papa reached down and grabbed up Essie into the other arm, just as she rounded the corner.

"I think it's time fer some music," his papa said in his merry voice with just a trace of Irish brogue. Sitting down, he arranged one child on each knee and brought out his worn harmonica. Ike and Essie immediately settled back into their father's warm arms to listen, but they didn't remain still long. For half and hour, they both shouted out requests, singing along to the rousing hymns, or jumping up and dancing to the merry jigs. His mother sat in the rocking chair his papa had carved, mending one of Essie's frocks by the soft candle-light and humming along.

Then the music coming from Ike's papa's harmonica changed. The lilting sound of a song they knew so well filled the cozy home. This was the song Ike had heard since he was a baby. It had penetrated the pain-filled haze and comforted him during the awful, long days and nights that the Scarlet Fever had burned through his body. It was the one that always told him he was safe and loved. He snuggled back into his papa again and listened to him play. After a moment his papa stopped as was his ritual, and looked over at Ike’s mama.

"MaryAnne?" he questioned, just like always, and so she put down her mending and joined his papa in the song, pretending to be surprised he asked.

As he lay next to Essie in their bed that night, Ike had felt so safe and loved, he was sure nothing could ever go wrong, but it had. The very next day some wicked men rode into his life and stole not only his parents and sister, but his home, his voice, and his sense of self-worth.

Buck's anxious voice penetrates Ike's memories. He opens his eyes to see a very concerned Buck standing over him. Ike reaches up with an unsteady hand and quickly wipes away the tears he can feel on his face, but he doesn't answer his friend's question.

"I called you a couple a times but you didn't answer. I could tell you weren't asleep. What's wrong, Ike?"

Looking at his best friend, Ike wishes he could tell him, but he knows he could never find the signs to express what hearing that song again after all these years did, the emotions it stirred. Finally, he just shrugs.

Buck sits back down, but his heart is extremely heavy. He gazes at the weary, pale face of the one who has become his brother and he sighs. Despite Ike's hasty efforts, the tears have left clear channels through the dirt and soot smudged on his face. With everything that Ike has been through in life, Buck is worried that he doesn't have the emotional strength to survive this journey. He doesn't know what he will do if it causes Ike to withdraw even farther inside himself.

Ike lies there, trying to calm his surging emotions. He feels the letter in his vest, a burning reminder of why he’s on this train. Maybe coming out here wasn't such a good idea! he thinks, but even as the words form in his mind, another little voice inside him whispers, You have to do this. You need to know.

Tired of his own thoughts, Ike rolls over on his side to try and get some sleep, ignoring the wave of nausea it causes. Sleep takes a long time coming, however, and it is the early hours of the morning before Ike finally drifts off into an uneasy rest, the haunting melody from the mouth organ still playing in his mind.

* The song I used in this chapter is titled "All Through the Night." It is an old Welsh tune and was popular in the 1800's.

Chapter 5

Ike wakes the next morning feeling stiff, uneasy, and exhausted. The few hours of sleep he finally managed to get have done nothing to restore his energy. Most of the night he was plagued by memories and nightmares. He remembers dreaming that he was in a huge crowd of people, but his family was lost. He tried and tried to find them but he couldn't remember what they looked like, and he had no voice to call to them!

Shuddering slightly, Ike opens his eyes and rolls over. The pitiful amount of rest seems to have done some good, because the headache and nausea are gone. He just feels very weary and weak. Slowly, he sits up, trying to work out the kinks that sleeping on the too-short bench has given him.

"Well, you ain't quite so green this morning, so that's somethin' good," Buck says in an attempt to draw Ike into a conversation.

"You probably just needed to get used to the motion of this train," Buck tells him, glad to see that Ike made the effort to sign him an answer.

"Probably about nine." Buck desperately wants to ask Ike what made him so upset the night before, but he knows this isn’t the time. Right now, he needs to get Ike looking more like himself and less like a shadow. "Are you hungry, Ike? We can go find breakfast…"

Food doesn't sound remotely tempting at the moment, but Ike knows Buck’s just worried about him and trying to help. Besides, anything is better than just sitting there thinking.

*I'm not that hungry, but we can go look anyway,* Ike signs as he stands up. Together, the two friends exit the train car, Buck keeping a very watchful eye on Ike.

Ike and Buck spend the rest of the day talking quietly to each other and gazing out the windows. In the afternoon, the scenery outside begins to change drastically. No longer are they speeding past barren plains or small towns, but now they can see great forests spreading around them and mountains in the distance. The cities flashing by are ten times larger than any town either of them have ever seen. By evening, Ike is feeling more normal; the images stirred by the song retreating for awhile. He’s caught up in the excitement and wonder of all the new things to see, and for a time he pushes the reason for the trip to the back of his mind. Though he still looks tired, he enthusiastically points things out to Buck.

Buck’s also amazed at what they are seeing out the windows, but more importantly, he is extremely grateful to see some of Ike's old spark back. He knows it might not last for long, considering where they are headed, but he’s just glad to see Ike smiling again. He decides to enjoy the moment with Ike now; he can worry about what will happen in Philadelphia later.

When Ike and Buck finally step off the train late the next afternoon they are dirty, hungry, and both physically and emotionally exhausted. Ike keeps insisting he’s fine, but Buck knows this journey has nearly drained him emotionally dry. He may be hiding it for now behind his curiosity, but Buck is sure it will soon resurface and that worries him. Buck’s so wrapped up in his own thoughts that he isn't really paying attention to where he is until he feels the familiar swat on his arm.

Ike doesn't say anything, his hands being occupied with the satchel and his letter. Instead, he lets his eyes speak for him, looking first at Buck and then turning them slowly around to gaze at the station, utter amazement written clearly across his face.

For the first time, Buck really looks at his surroundings. He is struck speechless by the sight, and he has to fight the temptation to let his mouth hang open.

The train station at Philadelphia is unlike anything these two friends have ever seen. Besides the train they just exited, there are three other locomotives full of passengers. The station itself is as big as the whole town of Sweetwater, and that's just the beginning. As far as they can see on either side, they are met by row upon row of buildings, some stretching up at least ten stories into the sky. And the people; there are people everywhere! Short, tall, fat, thin, young, and old. The roar of the crowd and sounds of the city are almost deafening, and only half of the words they catch are even in English.

As they stand there in awe, the masses are pushing and jostling from all sides, and they quickly start to feel like they are being smothered. Ike clutches the satchel and his letter desperately, afraid they might get ripped from his hands.

"Come on, Ike. Let's go over there." Buck points to an alley leading off from the station that’s nearly empty. Then, grabbing Ike by the sleeve, he tries to clear a path for the two through the teaming crowd.

It takes the friends forever to maneuver their way through the hoards, but for once people are too busy with their own lives to bother with any rude remarks. Finally, they lean back against the wall, savoring the peace and quiet of the alley.

Ike nods, panting slightly. If he was feeling overwhelmed on the train, he is now verging on panic. He was not prepared for the vastness of this city, or the hundreds of people. The massive crowd reminds him of his nightmare and the feeling of despair starts to return. Looking at this huge metropolis, he starts to wonder how Buck and he are ever going to find the right place! They are in a city of thousands, and yet, because of their differences, they are totally alone. Ike closes his eyes and takes a deep breath to try and quell the dread rising in him, determined not to let Buck see it.

He glances over at Buck and nods, then inclines his head in Buck's direction, returning the question with his eyes.

"Yeah, I'm okay, too," Buck says. He shakes himself slightly to get rid of the claustrophobic feeling of the train station, and turns back to Ike. Buck notices that he is still clutching both the carpetbag and his letter tightly, making it impossible for him to sign.

Ike turns the items over without protest. He needs to be able to communicate with Buck right now, using more than just his eyes.

"So, you wanna go find some dinner or do you wanna start lookin' for the house right away?"

Now that they are actually in Philadelphia, Ike’s almost terrified of actually meeting this woman who has sent for him. It's all he can do to fight the temptation to turn and run back to the train, but at the same time he knows if he stalls any longer he will never get the courage to start.

*I think we should start looking now,* he tells Buck, trying to keep his hands from shaking. *It'll be dark soon and we don't have anywhere to stay. We can eat later.* Ike seriously doubts that he could keep food down anyway.

"Okay. Were do we start then?" Buck asks, wishing for the hundredth time he could just take Ike home and forget about this crazy trip.

The two friends spread the directions out between them, but even after studying them for twenty minutes, they still aren't sure where to go.

"It should be illegal for a city to be this big," Buck mutters under his breath after another failed attempt to make sense of the written instructions.

"I mean we're not gonna understand these directions any more after another hour of staring at them than we do right now. The only way we're ever gonna get there is to just jump in head first and start lookin'," Buck explains.

*You're right,* Ike signs, then lets his eyes roam the unending army of buildings. *But where do we start?*

*A lot of thought went into that decision, didn't it?* Ike teases him, causing Buck to smile.

Ike's light-hearted manner vanishes as quickly as his brief smile and he shakes his head 'no.'

Three hours latter, Buck and Ike are tired, discouraged, and no closer to finding the right street than when they started. Ike appears ready to collapse at any moment, his face gaunt and drawn, his expressive hands still. Buck's shoulders droop and he too is silent. Their wanderings have brought them to a large, open-air market place, swarming with people, all talking loudly and haggling over prices. From all sides they are assaulted by smells and colors and noises that just about send their senses into overload.

Under normal circumstances, Ike would find this bizarre marketplace fascinating, but right now he’s too tired to care. His stomach is in his throat, his nerves are a wreak, and all he really wants to do is find a dark corner and hide. Looking around the street in a daze, Ike sees a wooden bench against the side of a building. Without even bothering to get Buck's attention, he wearily walks over and wilts on it. It's a credit to Buck's tracking abilities that he’s immediately aware of Ike's absence and detours to join him on the bench.

Buck leans back against the building and closes his eyes, just as tired as his friend. "I don't know! We’ve been lookin' for three hours and we ain't even found the right street!" Buck doesn't open his eyes again until he feels Ike's insistent nudge, asking for attention.

Buck is surprised to hear himself say the words out-loud and watches in dismay as Ike's face crumbles into a look of deep hurt.

Buck's words hit Ike like a slap in the face and he quickly raises his already trembling hands. *That's not what I meant, Buck!* If he wasn't so tired, he’d be mad. As it is, this just adds to his exhaustion.

"I'm sorry, Ike. I know you didn't." Buck mentally kicks himself for his foolish words and tries to save the situation. "At least no hotels that would take a very grumpy half-breed, anyway."

Ike gives him a ghost of a smile, letting Buck know he’s forgiven. *I think we need to find something to eat. We should have enough money for that,* he signs, returning to their predicament.

Ike's smile turns into a real one and he pokes his friend in the ribs. *Don't think you'll find many bushes around here!*

"Aw, shut up," Buck grumbles as he squirms a little on the bench, causing Ike to start his silent laughter. Normally, Buck would have smacked him, but now he is just happy to see Ike teasing him.

*Okay, how about I go get us some food while you go answer nature's call?* Ike gestures as he stands up slowly, wishing silently that they had never begun this journey.

"Alright," Buck agrees and stands as well. "Are you sure you don't wanna wait for me, though?" He can't hide the concern for his best friend that sneaks into his voice. 'This grandmother of his had better be worth what this trip is doin' to Ike,' Buck thinks to himself.

Weary as he is, Ike manages to muster enough indignation to give Buck a tired glare. *Yes, Buck. I'll be alright.* He reaches out to take the bag and letter from Buck with a gesture for him to go.

Ike just waves him away, trying not to let his shoulders sag from exhaustion until Buck’s out of sight. Once he’s lost in the crowd, however, all the overwhelming emotions Ike’s been trying to hide come rushing back. He sinks again to the bench, leaning his head against the wall and letting his eyes shut. He just needs to take a few seconds and clear his head is all. Give himself a chance to regain his composure without Buck watching him like a mother hen. He won't sit long...

Ike's eyes snap open as someone shakes him roughly by the shirt. He looks wildly around before he remembers where he is. His eyes focus on the dingy, un-kept old man who reeks of tobacco and gin attached to his shirt.

"This here's my bench, boy. Ya can find yer own place ta spend the night, cuz I ain't sharin'!"

Night! The word echoes like an alarm through Ike's mind and he jumps to his feet, frantic. How long has he been asleep? Surely it can't have been more than a few minutes! His eyes scan the market, looking for clues. To his dismay, the only people left are the merchants packing their remaining wares to return home. In utter panic he locates the sun to gage the time, only to find it's almost setting. He must have been asleep for over an hour!

But where's Buck? He should have been back a long time ago. Ike knows there’s no way on earth Buck would just leave him and go wander without telling him, especially considering he almost didn't leave Ike alone in the first place. Overpowering worry washes over Ike and sucks his breath away; something is terribly wrong. Immediately, Ike's frenzied mind conjurers up images of a dozen different things that could have happened to Buck, each more awful than the last. He has to go find him, but as he gazes desperately around the almost deserted street, he doesn’t have a clue where to start. This city is so big; and Ike doesn't even have the power to call for his friend, let alone ask for help.

Finally, Ike shakes off the numbness that has enveloped his limbs, and he breaks into a run in the direction Buck went earlier. Soon, the open market thins into a cobblestone street and Ike forces himself to slow so he can focus all his attention on looking for Buck. This street leads into another and that to yet another. It’s rapidly getting dark and there is a chill in the air. People are still in the streets, but now they are of the variety that makes Ike wish his gun was strapped at his hip and not packed in the bag Buck took. He glances warily at all the strangers as he combs through the streets looking for his friend.

Turning a corner, Ike catches a glimpse of ebony hair up ahead and his stomach leaps with hope. Wishing with all his heart he could scream out Buck's name, he dashes off, dodging people in his hast to catch the owner of the hair. Suddenly, a man steps out of a building right into Ike's path and before he can stop, Ike barrels into him and they crash to the ground. Somehow, Ike ends up on the bottom, pinned to the ground by the larger man's weight. He frantically tries to shove him off, desperate to catch up and see if the unknown person is Buck.

"Hey!" the stranger grunts as he picks himself back up, "What do you think you’re doing?"

As soon as the man's weight is gone, Ike rolls over and leaps back to his feet. He never considers stopping to try to apologize or explain, but before he can sprint off again he is grabbed roughly around the arm by the man he knocked down.

"I am not accustomed to getting run over without an explanation. Now you owe me an apology, boy!"

Annoyed, Ike struggles to break free of the man's hold. He doesn't have time for this, and he knows the man would never understand his apology anyway. Doubling his effort, Ike almost gets away, but the stranger's bad temper increases, and he grabs onto Ike's other arm as well.

"Hey, I am talking to you! Now I suggest you apologize while you still can!" There is a dangerous glint in the man’s eyes now.

The man drops his hold on Ike, who looks up to see that they are flanked by two policemen, dressed in their crisp blue uniforms.

"I was just going about my own business, when this boy appears and barrels me over. Now he's got the cheek to refuse to apologize!"

As the policeman on the right scans Ike, taking in his dirty, soot-stained appearance, his eyes narrow. "Do what he says, boy. Apologize."

Ike's heart is thumping more madly every second he is delayed, wondering how he will ever find Buck, but there are two many against him to continue ignoring them.

"What was that?" the other policeman asks harshly. "Show some respect for your elders and give the man an apology. Come on, open your mouth!"

At the policeman’s words, something inside of Ike snaps and he can no longer contain his frustration and anger. This day has just been too long and too overwhelming, and all of that emotion spills out.

*I can't talk, and you jerks made me lose my friend again! I'm trying to say I'm sorry! It’s not my fault you’re too stupid to understand it. Now just let me go!* Ike's signs are rapid and jerky, lacking all of his usually grace, and the more frantic he gets, the wilder they become. He is beyond the point of trying to make the men understand his gestures.

"I think maybe he's crazy, Fred," the policeman on the right says in amazement to his partner. "Probably on the run from somewhere."

"We better bring him in, Paul," Fred says, and before Ike knows what’s happening, the man he ran into is holding him in a vice-like grip and one of the policemen is locking metal cuffs around his hands.

The sound of the handcuffs clicking shut rouses a part of him so deep he didn't even know it was there. In an adrenaline burst of pure instinct, Ike wrenches free and plows through the surrounding men. He is across the street and turning into another before they even have time to react.

Ike runs blindly through the streets, ducking into alleys, dodging people, and listening for the shouts of his pursuers. He finally loses them in the sea of buildings and people, but still Ike keeps running. He can't seem to stop! The cold stone walls of this city are closing in on him and he has to get away, far away!

Ten minutes later, Ike's weary body simply refuses to give anymore, and he collapses in a dark alley against a brick wall, barely managing to keep his feet under him. He leans there panting and shaking, at his breaking point, unable to hold it back any longer. Every awful memory he has, every name he's ever been called, every cruel laugh or physical blow, and every crushed hope comes rushing forward in his mind. All this, coupled with his total fatigue and the emotional strain caused by his journey, culminates inside of him and great silent sobs racks his body. Raising his bound hands, he slams them against the wall, his face twisted in anguish. Again and again, he pounds the building, unconscious of the rough brick grinding and scrapping into his flesh, or of the blood flowing from the wounds.

Finally, he’s too tired to even raise his arms, and he sinks into a heap in a door-well, tears streaming as his body convulses in mute sobs. Physically unable to hold off sleep any longer, he’s pulled away to a place of nightmares. Ghastly images swirl in a mist around him; images of people pointing and laughing, and an old woman he wasn’t to love turning away in disgust, all wrapped in the fiendishly beautiful melody of a harmonica.

Chapter 6

Author's note: The grammatical errors in the use of the word “thee” are intentional. I am simply trying to accurately depict the way a Quaker from this time period would speak. My knowledge of this religion is somewhat limited, however, so I apologize for anything that is incorrect.

A small pool of watery light lies on the cobblestones of the deserted street. Distant sounds are magnified and echo off the hard stone buildings and streets, adding to the eerie, empty feeling. A thin mist of fog creeps down the road, leaving a cold chill in its wake.

Across from the weak glow, Buck leans dejectedly against an empty building, almost invisible in the shadows. The loneliness of the street is nothing compared to the ache he's feeling in his heart. It's almost mid-night now and he's too tired and discouraged to even feel panic anymore. He's been searching for Ike for hours and he's beginning to lose hope. For all he knows, Ike could be lying hurt or even dead anywhere in this monstrous city.

A heavy sigh escapes from Buck's lips as he reflects on the events of earlier. He'd been trying to make his way back across the crowded market place to Ike when he'd been intercepted by a young boy. Breathless, the boy spit out that he'd been sent to find the Indian friend of a man who'd been injured and was being taken to the hospital. Without even thinking and in a panic, Buck had rushed off with the lad, and he's been kicking himself mentally ever since! He arrived at the hospital only to find that he was the wrong "Indian friend,” and the man that was hurt wasn't Ike. Knowing Ike's already weak mental state and that he would be nearly desperate, Buck hurried back to the market, but Ike was gone! Now, after hours of frantic searching, Buck is hopelessly lost and no closer to finding his best friend. Everyone he's asked for help has seen nothing other than the color of his skin; why should they be bothered to help a "savage?”

'But at least you have the power to ask,' he reminds himself silently, thinking of what Ike must be facing, especially considering that Ike doesn't even have the directions to the house.

The sound of a dog barking somewhere in the distance rings sharply in the street and draws Buck from his thoughts. Weary to the bone, he sinks to his haunches beside the satchel and runs a hand through his obsidian locks, totally at a loss for what to do. He wishes with every fiber of his soul that they'd never started this trip, that Ike had never received that letter. If they were back home, Buck could use his tracking abilities and find Ike in no time, but here, in this world of brick and steel, his skills are useless. He has never in his life felt so completely helpless.

Buck is ready to succumb to the situation when he hears the staccato tap of footsteps approaching and his instincts to always be on guard kick in. Warily, he opens his eyes and prepares for more trouble.

Watching carefully, Buck sees an older gentleman walking down the street, dressed well but simply in a plain gray suit and leaning slightly on a wooden cane. Buck remains absolutely still, only his eyes moving to follow the man's progress, but the intensity of his gaze attracts the gentleman's attention, anyway. He turns and noticing the forlorn figure of the young Indian hunched in the shadows, he crosses the street and comes to Buck.

Buck rises as he approaches, every instinct he has putting him on edge, ready to fight or flee should the need arise.

"Does thee need help, young friend?" the man addresses Buck in a gentle tone, and Buck stares at him in shock! He was expecting harshness, cruelty, or at least snide remarks; anything but kindness.

"It’s late for thee to be out in the city. Thee looks lost and alone; can I help thee?"

"Why would you wanna help an Indian?" Buck asks distrustfully, his voice reflecting all the pent-up hurt he feels.

Buck's tired brain isn't equipped to deal with this type of logic or the unexpected sympathy. Not only is this man's attitude strange, but the way he's speaking is confusing. Buck's puzzlement shows on his face and the man laughs gently.

"We of the faith of the Friends don’t base our associations on the color of a person's skin or his heritage," he explains as he extends his hand in greeting. "My name’s Elijah Smith and I will assist thee if thee needs it."

Buck hesitates to accept. His mind is screaming that this is a trick; this man can't really mean that he wants to help a half-breed. But he's also out of options. He needs to find Ike and there’s no way he can do it on his own; this might be the only chance he has. Finally, Buck nods his head as he returns the handshake.

"Buck Cross," he introduces himself guardedly, "And I really could use your help to find my friend. I've been looking for him all night but I ain't got a clue where I am, let alone how to find him," Buck finishes heavily.

"Well now, Mr. Cross does thee have his address? I'm sure we can find him if thee tell me it," Elijah asks softly. He can sense the young man's uneasiness and is trying to dispel it.

"No, you don't understand," Buck shakes his head impatiently. "He doesn’t live here. We came here together on the train to meet someone, but we got separated and I'm sure he's as lost as I am. He also can't talk, so even if he tries to ask for help, no one will understand him!" As he speaks, Buck’s heart again starts to race with worry for his best friend.

Elijah hears the hint of panic in the boy's voice and sees the concern in his eyes and he’s deeply touched. "He must mean a lot to thee, this friend," he says quietly.

"Then we'd best make haste in finding him," Elijah responds, clasping Buck firmly on the shoulder. "Now where did thee last see him?"

It’s the cold that wakes him; a damp, numbing cold brought by the creeping fog. It penetrates his dirty clothes to his very bones and the hard stones he’s lying on provide no counter-warmth. Slowly, Ike opens his eyes to the darkness and forces himself to sit upright, grimacing as his stiff muscles protest. His clothes are clammy and cling to his weary form, and every part of his body aches, especially his heart. His hands and arms sting fiercely, and for the first time he's aware of the damage he caused them earlier.

'Not that it really matters,' he thinks bitterly as he glances at the iron rings still bound around his wrists, chained so close that his hands are practically immobile and signing is next to impossible.

Hopelessness washes over him again, more chilling than the bitting air. What little options he had before have been effectively wiped out, one more consequence of being a freak. He can't even look for Buck anymore since that would require wandering about this strange city in chains.

Sighing in utter despair, Ike sinks back down on the pavement and closes his eyes, drawing his knees up to his chest in a vain attempt to find some warmth. Freezing to death in this filthy alley is a better choice in his mind than spending the rest of his days shut up in an asylum for the insane.

Buck shakes his head 'no' and starts down another inky black street. In a few short hours the city will begin to wake, a new day will start, and Buck still hasn't found his best friend!

"Buck," Elijah says more firmly and places a hand on the boy's arm to stop him. "What good will it be to Ike if thee makes thyself ill? Come to my house and rest for a while, then we’ll continue searching."

"I can't. You don't understand," Buck mutters as he runs his hand through his hair in frustration. Earlier, Elijah had asked Buck if Ike was injured, and Buck told him no, but it wasn't true. Buck knows Ike’s wounded, he has been since the day he watched his family die. It’s just that until this letter came, Ike's talent for hiding his pain had obscured just how deep the hurt still was from everyone around him, including Buck. In the last two weeks, Buck has watched his normally strong, cheerful friend crumble before his very eyes. How can he explain to this man who’s helping him that he's not as worried about losing Ike to the city as he’s scared of losing Ike to himself? In a city - a place - if you keep looking long enough, eventually you'll find what you seek. But when a person gets lost inside himself, how do you get him back? Ike locked himself inward once before and lost his power of speech, what's to stop him from doing it again? And what would he lose this time? Buck doesn't want to find out!

Elijah Smith stands watching the face of the young Indian before him, skillfully reading the emotions playing across his proud but tired features. This is a friendship unlike most he's ever seen, the bond of a brother for a brother like that of David and Jonathan of old. Who is he to get in it's way?

Together, they carefully search the next two streets, Buck checking every nook and cranny and softly calling Ike's name. Leaving the last street, Buck sees an alley to his left and quickly glances down it. It appears deserted and Buck’s turning away when a slight patch of red grabs his eye. His breath catches in his throat and he takes off running down the narrow way. As he gets closer, it's as if all the fears that have been taunting him during this night have come true: there is Ike lying in a stiff heap on the ground, not moving!

"Ike! Ike!" Buck cries as he drops the satchel he's been lugging all night and falls to his knees next to his friend.

Ike hears Buck calling him, but he doesn't move. His body is too sluggish from the cold to respond quickly and he's convinced this is just another trick of his mind. Not until he feels Buck's hand on his shoulder does he dare believe this is real, it truly is Buck. With a great effort, he rolls over and tries to sit up.

"Ike, are you okay?" Buck asks, overjoyed to see his friend moving. For a moment he'd looked dead, and Buck's heart had almost stopped until Ike stirred at his touch. Buck sees Ike struggling to sit up and quickly helps him, gently pushing him to lean back against the wall for support. Once again he repeats his question.

Out of habit, Ike raises his hands to respond before remembering the iron cuffs binding his wrists. Quickly, he drops them again, but not quick enough. A shocked expression crosses Buck's face and he reaches out and grabs Ike's hands before he can hide them. Ike winces as Buck's strong hands close over the raw, tender flesh of his own, and Buck doesn't miss the flash of pain.

"Who did this?" he demands angrily as he starts to examine the cuts and scrapes, seeing for the first time the blood soaked into Ike's sleeves and shirt.

For a moment, Ike just stares at him in frustration, not knowing how he can respond. Finally, an idea comes and he carefully pulls his hands away from Buck. Leaning to the side, he uses one finger to slowly write in the dirt of the alley floor:

Buck reads the cryptic message and his eyes flash with rage. He knows only too well what it's like to be misjudged.

Ike looks away, not meeting Buck's eyes, and Buck feels a sinking in his gut. "Oh, Ike," he sighs softly.

"Does thee have a coat or blanket in thy bag? Thy friend is getting dangerously cold."

The voice breaks the silence, making both Buck and Ike jump. Buck has forgotten about Elijah and in his preoccupation with Ike's hands he's failed to notice Ike's violent shivering. Cursing himself, Buck hastily pulls Ike's worn coat out of the carpetbag and tries to drape it around his shoulders, but Ike draws back in fear, his eyes full of distrust as he stares at Elijah.

"Don't worry, Ike," Buck assures him, "He won't hurt you or make you go back to the police. He's been helping me look for you."

Still wary, Ike allows Buck to wrap his coat around him, and Buck helps him to his feet. His legs almost collapse beneath him because he’s so stiff and numb from the cold night, and he leans heavily on Buck.

Elijah eyes the pair of friends, both so exhausted, and knows it's time to take charge. Ike needs to get warm, they both need to eat and sleep, and they aren't going to get any of that here in this dark alley. It will be dawn soon as well and they need to get Ike out of the streets.

"Now, thee are both going to come to my house and have some food and rest," he says firmly, not expecting any protests, but Ike quickly shakes his head.

"Thee is near frozen!" Elijah protests to the young man, but still Ike adamantly shakes his head. There’s only one place he's going right now and that's the place he started out to find in the beginning. Buck sighs one of the deep sighs that have lately become so frequent and explains for his friend.

"We were actually looking for a certain place before we got lost. I think Ike wants to go find it now."

"What place is that," Elijah asks in defeat. Buck reaches into his pocket and hands him the crumpled directions. He studies the note for a minute before glancing up at the boys.

Elijah would like to ask a million more questions, but Ike is growing weaker and weaker with each passing moment and Buck isn't entirely stable himself. Reaching down, he picks up the satchel for Buck, surprised at how light it is, and gestures for the boys to walk with him.

Fifteen minutes later, Buck and Ike are finally standing on the front porch of a stately, stone house. This home is just one of several impressive dwellings lining the wide, well-lit street; a far cry from the dingy alleys they have just left.

"This is the Brarring home," Elijah tells them. "Is thee sure thee wants to go here now?”

Leaning almost entirely on Buck with his eyes closed, Ike raises his head enough to give a weak nod.

Elijah glances at the two boys and again he's deeply touched. There they stand, one barely able to support the other, both weary beyond description. They are both society's outcasts; one because of his heritage, one because of a disability. Both scorned where ever they go, and yet neither one is willing to leave the other.

"'And the soul of Jonathan was knit with the soul of David, and Jonathan loved him as his own soul.'"

The words are uttered softly, escaping Elijah before he realizes it. Ike makes no sign of having heard, but Buck looks up, raising an eyebrow quizzically.

"Forgive a sentimental old man for spouting scripture," Elijah says. "Farewell, and may God bless thee both." Having said this, he reluctantly walks away, leaving the two friends on the steps.

When his footsteps have faded, Buck turns to Ike. He has never seen him more pale and worn. He's shivering almost uncontrollably and there are still the wounds on his hands to tend to, not to mention the fact that they are chained in metal cuffs.

Ike just gives him a pleading look, and it's all Buck needs. That look says more than a thousand words could. Silently, Buck reaches up and pulls the chain attached to the doorbell, listening to it chime through the still house.

Chapter 7

Ike's stomach is in his throat as he stands there waiting to hear someone stirring in the house. He's really not even sure why he's coming anymore. It's like he's been swallowed up in a huge, waking nightmare and he's just going on because some annoying little voice in his head says he needs to. He's certain he's about to be rejected again, for the thousandth time in his life, and he's shutting himself up inside to brace for it. As best he can, he grasps the edges of his worn coat and pulls it closed to hide his manacled hands against his chest. As he does, he wishes he'd had Buck get his hat out of the bag. The first thing anyone's going to notice is his bandana clad head, and it's only going to get worse from there.

"Everyone must still be asleep," Buck says when there's no response from inside. He gets no acknowledgment from Ike either, and he sighs. His friend is withdrawing inside his shell of silence again, just as Buck feared. With a heavy heart Buck reaches up and pulls the doorbell once more.

Millie MacPherson pads clumsily down the long front hall, unruly brown hair escaping in all directions from her braids and only one eye open. With her shawl on wrong side out and the candle from her room held in an unsteady hand, the thirteen-year-old girl is only half awake, if that. The sound of the doorbell chiming again, rouses her a bit more and she quickens the pace of her bare feet.

"I'm comin', I'm comin'," she mumbles grumpily. "Crikey, who in their right mind comes callin' at five in the mornin'?"

As she unbolts the solid oak door and swings it open, she remembers her responsibility in the household and stands up straighter, opening the other eye as she speaks.

"We're here to see Mrs. Lowe, if we can," a man's voice says from in front of her, drawing Millie's attention. She looks up only to find a...a......pirate in a red kerchief and his savage barbarian standing on her very own front porch! Her eyes grow large as saucers and her jaw drops to the ground. Before the two young men know what's happening, she lets out an ear-piercing scream loud enough to wake the dead. Dropping the candle on the porch where it goes out with a hiss and leaving the door wide open, she turns and flees back down the hall.

Buck and Ike share a glance of total astonishment before Buck mutters under his breath, "Well, that was a new one."

Shocked out of his silence, Ike nods in agreement. He's been accused of being a lot of things before, but never a pirate! All the preparation in the world wouldn't have readied him for a reception like this. Having no recourse for communication but his eyes, he shoots Buck his best 'well, what do we do now?' look.

"That won't be necessary," a woman's voice states firmly, grabbing both boys' attention. Their eyes widen as they find themselves staring down the business end of a shotgun. Buck holds out a hand to try and defuse the rapidly deteriorating situation. Ike, however, goes into mental hiding again, his defenses snapping back into place.

Before Buck can stammer out a response, the man holding the gun pulls back the hammer, cocking it and taking better aim at the two boys. In response, the elderly woman behind him lays a hand on his arm.

"Thomas," she admonishes in a stately voice. Even in her wrapper and night cap she has the bearing of a lady of importance. The old man protecting her glares at the two friends, but releases the hammer.

"Now," the woman continues, "I think you had better explain what an Indian is doing on my front steps at five in the morning, scaring my poor girl to death."

Trying not to let the hurt from the stinging remark show, Buck answers tiredly. "Ma'am, we've been lookin' for your house since yesterday afternoon. My name's Buck Cross and this is Ike McSwain. I believe you asked him to come, Mrs. Lowe?"

"I'm not Mrs. Lowe. Margaret Lowe is my best friend, and she happens to be upstairs trying to sleep. My name is Lorraine Brarring. How do I know you are telling the truth, when you arrive on my porch like thieves in the night?"

Ike watches Buck fumble to introduce them, but he doesn't even try and help. It feels as though he's completely removed from what's happening, like he's observing through a window. He knows Buck hates doing this, always carrying the weight for both of them; he really should at least nod to give his support, but he doesn't. Something inside of him has died on this trip: his faith in humanity or maybe his faith in himself, he doesn't really know and right now he's too exhausted to care. Violent shivers are still running through him, his hands are stinging fiercely, and for some reason the world insists on spinning around him. He's vaguely aware that the woman at the door is questioning Buck's honesty and Buck’s showing her the wrinkled letter as proof, but it's almost like the images are coming at him through the dense fog. Unable to stop himself, he sways on his feet and staggers against Buck as his vision clouds for a moment.

When Ike sags against him suddenly, Buck stops talking abruptly and reaches out to grab his friend, alarm spreading through him as Ike struggles to stay conscious.

"Ike? Are you okay?" Buck whispers in alarm, trying to get his friend to meet his eyes. From the doorway, Lorraine's stance softens slightly as she observes the boys, and her natural compassion surfaces.

"What's wrong with him?" she inquires of the young Indian in a gentler voice, even though she still has Thomas to keep his gun up. She's heard one too many stories of women tricked by wandering thieves who played on their compassion.

Buck looks from his drooping friend to the woman in the door and feels a spark of anger. Here they are, cold, hungry, and Ike practically dead on his feet, and yet because of their dirty appearance and the color of his skin they're kept standing at the door.

"Look, Ma'am, we've been walking for hours in the cold and he's nearly frozen. He ain't had anything to eat since breakfast yesterday, and he was sick before that. I know you don't believe me, but we're hardly in a position to do you any harm," Buck adds, motioning toward the distrustful butler and his gun. "Can't we at least discuss this inside where Ike can sit down?"

Lorraine Brarring studies the two young men before her intently. Maybe it's that, despite the fact she can see Buck's every bit as hungry and tired as his friend, he's thinking only of Ike; or maybe it's something about the way he meets her eyes; whatever it is, she knows in that moment that she trusts him.

"Thomas," she turns to the man still at her side, "would you please go wake Ellen and tell her we will be needing a simple meal as soon as possible?"

Thomas doesn't budge. He's been in Mrs. Brarring's service for over thirty years now, and he's not about to let her invite in trash from the streets. Not while he, Thomas Nelson, is there to stop her. "Ma'am, I don't think this is a good idea, inviting an Indian and a beggar in just because they have a letter. What if they.."

His words are cut off as she interrupts. "Thank you for your concern, Thomas, but I'm sure I'll be fine. Now please do as I requested."

Mumbling under his breath, Thomas lowers the gun and backs out of the doorway, glowering at Ike and Buck as he leaves. As soon as he's out of sight, she gestures for the boys to step inside. Buck gives her a grateful look and helps an unsteady Ike into the house.

The warmth of the hallway is a stark contrast to the night's chill and washes over Ike like a blanket, slightly clearing the numbing cold from his brain. He shakes his head and tries to stand up on his own, but his body refuses to respond. He's been pushed beyond the limits and this time it's matter over mind that wins. Defeated he leans back against Buck, mutely cursing his helplessness.

"Just leave your bag here in the hall. Thomas will take it to a room for you. If you'll follow me to the kitchen we'll see about warming you up and getting you something to eat."

"Thank you, Ma'am," Buck says wearily. Barely able to stay on his own feet, he somehow manages to support his shaking friend and get them both through the winding hallways, finally emerging in a lamp-lit kitchen where an elderly cook is bustling about a massive iron cook-stove. Buck spots a straight-backed, wooden chair standing at the square table and steers Ike over to it. The exhausted rider sinks down and closes his eyes. He can barely keep his mind focused on what's happening around him, and all he really wants is to be allowed to drift into blissful oblivion.

Seeing Ike slumped in the chair, Lorraine gives in to her grandmotherly side and ducks out of the room, returning seconds later with several thick woolen blankets.

"Now young man," she comes to Ike's side, "let's get you out of this old coat and into one of these warm blankets. I'm sure you'll feel better then."

Suddenly, Ike's mind snaps back to attention. She wants him to take off his coat! If she does that, she'll see his hands! He's too tired to realize that it's going to happen anyway, if he ever wants to get out of the cuffs. The only thought running through his brain is that he has to keep her from finding the chains no matter what. He panics. Violently shaking his head no, he tries to maneuver out of her reach, almost falling out of the chair in the process. A look of absolute terror is plastered on his face, and he pulls the edges of his coat tighter to his chest, his eyes wide and wild. Shocked, Lorraine backs away, unprepared for the outburst.

Buck knows what Ike's thinking, how worried and ashamed he must feel, but at the same time he's also amazed at the sudden change in his mood. It's rare for Ike to react this wildly over anything. Used to watching from the outside and never able to directly interact, life has made him an observer and a thinker. Buck's aware of just how low this trip has left Ike's reserves of strength to have him blindly panicking like this.

Ike just continues to grip his coat and stare at her as he backs further away in the chair. If he had the strength he would stand up and run out, but his legs won't move. In frustration, Lorraine turns to Buck.

"Would you like to explain what's going on here, since he refuses to say anything?"

Buck sighs. No matter how many times he does this for Ike, it never gets easier. He feels that in some odd, unexplainable way, he's betraying his friend when he tells the world Ike can't speak. Until they know, people just look at Ike in puzzlement because of his silence; but after they know, it usually turns to hostility and torment. Buck is always left feeling that somehow he helped cause it with his words. Still, it has to happen.

"Ma'am, you see, we ain't exactly told..." Buck starts but trails off as Ike shoots him a glare of betrayal and disbelief.

"Ike, she's gonna find out sooner or later," he tries to reason firmly. "Besides, your hands need to be cleaned and you gotta eat."

As the confrontation unfolds, all motion in the kitchen has ceased. Ellen stands with a frying pan forgotten in her fist, Millie peers bug-eye from between the rails of the staircase, and Lorraine's arms are folded across her chest; everyone’s gaze is on Buck and Ike.

Ike looks at Buck, his eyes pleading for him to stay silent, longing to not have to go through this again.

"What am I going to find out? If one of you two doesn't start explaining, I'll reconsider my offer of hospitality!"

Lorraine's words fall on the two boys like a judge's sentence. Finally, Ike pulls his eyes away from Buck and the light in them dies. Buck's heart aches for his best friend as he begins to explain. Warily, he watches Lorraine as he speaks, and knowing how important this is to Ike, he sometimes stumbles over the words. Never a big talker and just a worn out as Ike, it's a struggle to tell her of Ike's muteness, how they got lost, and how Ike ended up in trouble. The whole time Buck speaks, Ike's head hangs down and his eyes remain closed, the perfect picture of despair.

Lorraine never expected a revelation like this and she looks with compassion on the forlorn young man before her, but her questions still aren't answered.

"I'm not exactly sure what trouble he got into, Ma'am. Ike hasn’t really been able to tell me much since it happened. We got separated from each other... I guess Ike was tryin' to find me and something happened and...well…the police came. They couldn't understand his signs so they decided he was crazy and tried to take him and lock him up. I guess he ran away from them....." He trails off, unable to finish – unable to stand the sight of Ike's tormented face.

"Mr. Cross, I'm waiting,” Lorraine urges when he remains quiet for too long. “If it makes you feel any better, I believe you are who you say you are, but you have yet to explain to me why he's acting like it will kill him to take off his coat. And if you can understand this sign language you claim he uses, why can't you better explain what happened? Didn't he tell you?" She wants to help the two weary young men, but she can't until she knows what the problem is.

Finally, Ike raises his head. There are tears glistening in his eyes like shards of broken glass, a reflection of the millions of pieces his heart has shattered into. Buck doesn't have to finish explaining because Ike slowly releases the edges of his coat and extends his hands. The light in the room glints off the handcuffs and fully exposes the scrapes and bruises for the first time. He looks away from them, his face burning in shame; not because of the cuffs themselves, but because of what they have come to represent in his mind – that he will always be "different." Despite what Buck, Teaspoon, and the others tell him, he will always be a freak, someone to fear, despise, and shut away.

"That's why he hasn't been able to tell me anything," Buck breaks the awful silence to state sadly. "He can barely even move his hands."

Seeing the naked emotions playing across Ike's face, Lorraine just stands there, not prepared to deal with the raw anguish. She is totally at a loss for what to do. Her proper up-bringing is screaming at her that now is the time to call the police and let them finish what they started, but her heart already trusts these bedraggled strangers. The pain on the boy's face is evidence enough that he's not some hardened criminal fleeing justice.

Lorraine's hesitation alarms Buck, and his mind starts jumping to conclusions. Rising from his chair, he moves protectively over to Ike.

"Look, I’m not lettin' you turn him back over to the police. I know he ain't done nothin' wrong."

His words spur Lorraine into motion and she once again takes charge. Unable to cope with the depths of silent pain emanating from Ike, she focuses her attention on Buck and the problems she can fix. Walking over to him, she takes his shoulders and steers him back to his chair.

"Now, Mr. Cross, I never said I was going to take him back to the police. I said I believed you, this doesn't change that. The only place I'm sending either of you is to bed, after we get you some hot food of course." This said, she turns to her staff who still frozen in the kitchen staring at Ike and Buck. "Ellen, is that soup ready yet?"

"Almost, Ma'am," she replies, taking the unspoken hint and withdrawing back to her stove.

"Millie, quit sitting there gaping like a codfish. Haven't I taught you any manners?"

"But Mrs. Brarring! I told ya he was a pirate! I bet he's got his gold stashed in that bag, and they're here ta hide from..."

"Millie! That will be quite enough. Now get yourself dressed and go help Thomas prepare the rooms for our guests. I'll have no more of such talk, understand?"

As another violent shiver wracks Ike's miserable form, Lorraine is reminded of her original plan. Without even asking, she firmly removes the coat from around his shoulders and replaces it with one of her blankets. Then she passes the other one to Buck.

Buck takes the blanket without protest. He's too worried about Ike to waste time arguing over little things. He wishes Ike would reach out even slightly, at least try and communicate; anything but just sit there in the lost and miserable state he's in now. Buck's not even sure his friend realizes what's going on around him.

"Ike?" he leans closer, speaking softly. "Ike, she ain't gonna send you back, you know. You’re safe now." He waits for a moment but when Ike still doesn't meet his eyes, he sighs in frustration. "Ike, I know you’re tired and hungry and can't sign, but you could at least look at me. You gotta stop acting like this! Come on, everything will look better after we get some sleep."

Ike hears Buck's words and has the sudden insane desire to laugh in his face. His tired brain has been accosted with too many new images over the last few days, and too many painful old ones have broken free of the carefully constructed locks in his mind to haunt him. And where has it gotten him? Starving and shivering in chains in some unfamiliar kitchen where his best friend has the nerve to tell him things will seem better after they sleep! It doesn't matter that Buck's right, Ike's lost his ability to look past the bad and see the good. He's finally been hurt one too many times. With eyes still clouded with exhaustion, he looks up at Buck and finds he wants to yell at his friend, let out all his frustration. But he can't "yell" at anyone. The metal cuffs around his wrists have his hands trapped and with them, his voice. Why should he even try? Buck's eyes plead with his to reach out, but he simply looks away, sinking further inside himself where it's safer.

For a moment, Buck feels hope when Ike glances at him. He even thinks he sees a flicker of emotion, annoyance, even anger pass through his friend's eyes, but then it’s gone, smothered, and Ike looks away. Alarm spreading inside like he's never felt before, Buck doesn't know what to do. It's as though everything that he feared could happen is, right before his eyes. He's losing Ike to that far away place inside himself, and if he doesn't do something soon, will he ever get him back?

Lorraine moves a chair around so she's facing Ike and Buck and sits down, laying several items on the table alongside a pan full of hot water. She's vaguely aware of the silent battle going on before her, but chooses to ignore it and instead attempts to start a conversation.

"Well now, Mr. McSwain, or may I call you Ike?" She waits for an answer but receives none. Finally, tired of the awkward stillness stretching on, she makes her own decision and continues. "Well, Ike, while we wait for the soup to finish, let's have a look at these hands of yours." Aware now that she's not going to get any response, she simply reaches out and pulls his hands toward her, deciding that all communication will have to be done through Buck.

"I'm going to clean and bandage his hands," she informs Buck as she starts to unbutton Ike's sleeves and roll them up. "I'm sorry I don't have the equipment to remove the manacles right now, but I'll send Thomas out and by the time you wake we'll be ready to try."

Though he hates the idea of his friend being left in chains for that long, Buck nods okay. There's nothing else he can do. If he had a way to get the cuffs off he would have done it hours ago.

Continuing her work, Lorraine wets a rag in the warm water and raises Ike's bound hands to clean the dried blood and dirt from the cuts. Finally getting a good look at them, she stops for a moment and slowly shakes her head at the sight.

The outside edges of Ike’s palms are covered in harsh scrapes and colored with dried blood that runs from his little fingers down to his wrists, stopping abruptly where the cuffs circle. Around the metal bindings a red rash has appeared on the skin, the result of an evening and night's worth of them rubbing against his wrists. The knuckles of each hand are raw, bruised, and starting to swell. Lorraine sighs as she studies the bruises and cuts. Although none of them are serious, they're covered in dirt and grime, and several appear to be slightly infected. And serious or not, they look very painful.

Buck is also seeing the injuries for the first time, and he knows they're the result of a frustration and grief too big to hold inside anymore, but there's no way on earth he's going to tell Lorraine that. "I don't know," he finally says, which is half true. He doesn't know how Ike's hands ended up looking like ground beef, and he's not sure he wants to.

Lorraine glances at the lowered face of the boy before her and wonders exactly what secrets the handcuffs are forcing him to keep locked away, and if he'd even tell them if he were free to do so. Then chiding herself for thinking too much when there's a job at hand, she picks up the damp cloth and starts to clean the injuries.

The sting of the rag touching his tender flesh jerks Ike out of his exhausted, self-imposed stupor. He grimaces instinctively. Encouraged to see him reacting even a little, Lorraine addresses him directly again.

"I'm sorry, Ike, but this won't take long, and then I'll wrap them up nicely and they'll heal in no time. I'm afraid it will be a bit awkward until we can get the handcuffs off, but at least they'll be clean," she tells him as she works swiftly. For the first time since they've arrived at the house, he gives in and wearily nods his thanks. "Don't worry, we'll get these handcuffs off as soon as we can, and then you'll be ready to meet Margaret," Lorraine adds seeing his dejected face as she finishes tucking in the last bandage. His hands are now wrapped from knuckles to wrists in clean cloths, leaving only the tips of his fingers exposed. It's not an ideal arrangement, but all things considered it doesn't really make that much difference.

At the mention of his grandmother's name, Ike's mind travels back to the whole reason he undertook the journey that landed him here in this kitchen in his present circumstances: the letter. He's supposed to be meeting his grandmother…his mother's mother…his family. But where is she? Why hasn't he seen her yet? Why hasn't she come down demanding to know who they are and turning him away for being a freak? For just a moment he allows the shell he's erected around himself to slip, giving into the need to know. With hands made clumsy by metal cuffs and white bandages, he reaches out and touches Buck's arm.

Embarrassed and self-conscious with others in the room, Ike tries desperately to form a few words. *Grandmother, where?* he attempts to sign with one hand, but his other hand must follow right along, masking every movement. Feeling more like he's on display than communicating, Ike drops his hands quickly, thinking he must look like an ungraceful clown.

A surge of hope rushing through him as Ike's hands start moving, Buck watches him intently. The signs are almost unintelligible, like listening to someone talk with their mouth full, but Buck and Ike aren't as close as brothers for nothing. Even without words, Buck can understand his friend. They have a link between their souls and, though neither of them can explain how it works, they know it's there. Buck doesn't need the uncoordinated signs to know what Ike's asking. He turns to Lorraine.

"Ike wants to know where his grandmother is, why she's not here," Buck explains.

"Oh, she's here," Lorraine hastens to reassure the young man. "She's just resting upstairs. Her health hasn't been very good lately and she doesn't often come out of her room anymore." Seeing the worried expression that crosses Ike's face, Lorraine quickly continues. "Don't worry, she's been waiting excitedly for you."

Ike can't help a slight, silent scoff at the last part. She's been waiting anxiously for a long, lost grandson, but she doesn't know she's getting one that's a dummy and a freak. In his heart, Ike desperately wants to be loved by someone he can claim as his own, but he's also just as certain after the events of this journey that it will never happen. He's sure she will take one look at him and slam the door in his face, just liked everyone else.

The sudden voice drags Ike out of his thoughts and back to the real world around him.

"Thank you, Ellen," Lorraine says as the cook places two steaming bowls on the table, sending out a tempting aroma of chicken. "Now we'll get some food in you and start warming you up on the inside as well," she addresses the two boys and pushes the bowls forward, one in front of each.

"Thanks, Ma'am," Buck tells her, realizing how hungry he is as the smell tugs at his stomach. Ike's attempt to sign has left him overjoyed. Maybe his friend is coming back, back from that place deep inside himself. He brings a spoonful of the wonderful liquid to his lips and smiles as it slides down his parched throat. Perhaps it's because it's the only thing he's eaten in two days, but it tastes like heaven. He turns to Ike with a smile that quickly freezes on

Introduction

Chapter 1

Chapter 4

Chapter 5

Chapter 6

Chapter 7