Buck lay still in bed with his eyes closed. Something had woken him from sleep, but he was not sure what it was. He listened hard and heard nothing out of the ordinary for this summer night. Slowly he opened his eyes. Moonlight filtered into the room through the white cotton curtains lifting gently in the breeze coming through the windows. To his left his wife slept on peacefully, the moonlight adding a pearly glow to her pale skin. Beyond her, in a cradle by the bed, their daughter also continued to sleep. It would be at least an hour before she would awaken expecting to be fed.

Then he heard it, the squalling of two of the barn cats fighting over their territory, or perhaps some recently caught prey. Buck sighed and relaxed his guard. They really had too many cats on duty in the barn, but his wife's soft heart kept him and his ranch hands from doing much about the situation. Maybe he could convince Teaspoon and Polly to take one or two, or maybe Rachel. Probably not.

He rolled over and slid an arm around his wife's waist, pulling her close as he settled down to fall back to sleep. She cuddled in closer to him and he wondered if she was cold in the breeze from the windows. They often disagreed on whether or not more sheets or blankets were necessary. He usually ended the debates by leering at her playfully and promising that he would keep her warm. At which point, she would often hit him with a pillow. He smiled as he remembered the satisfactory outcome of yesterday's blanket debate, then he leaned down carefully and snagged the sheet and pulled it up over them both.

Assured of their comfort, Buck sighed as he realized he wasn't at all sleepy. As he lay quietly, he let his mind wander aimlessly. His thoughts drifted to how fortunate he was in his life now, and how unexpected that was. There was a time, not that long ago, when he thought he would be alone as the telegraph put an end to the Pony Express and war tore his family apart.

But he had made a family of his own and his extended, Express family was weathering the outside events attempting to tear them apart. They weren't all together in the same place physically anymore, but in their hearts that distance did not exist.

Kid and Lou were right here on the ranch, settled in their own home not too distant from this one. Buck had been sure Kid was going to return to Virginia to fight, taking Lou along with him. Then the opportunity to own this ranch came up and Buck convinced Kid and Lou that the four of them should go in together to make it a success. Initially, Buck would sometimes come across Kid staring into the distance as if his thoughts were some where far away, but as the war dragged on and the ranch became busier this happened less and less. Then one day about a year ago while Buck and Kid were out on their own tracking an escaped stallion, Kid looked Buck in the eye and thanked him for giving Kid and Lou another option instead of returning to Virginia when the Express ended. Buck replied that he was just happy that they had taken the chance with him.

Teaspoon had once discussed returning to his home state of Texas when war broke out, but it would seem that Polly had convinced him otherwise. Nothing was said out right, but the look Buck had seen on Polly's face the one time he had heard it mentioned in her presence made him believe that much had been said in private.

So Teaspoon, Polly and Rachel continued to live in Rock Creek with Teaspoon still working as Marshal, with occasional assistance from Buck and Kid, Polly running her saloon and Rachel teaching school. Although, Buck thought, he had seen Rachel a few times now with that new manager from the hotel. He wondered in anything was happening there. His wife or Lou might know the answer to that question. He would have to remember to ask at breakfast tomorrow.

Cody and Jimmy had been more worrisome, what with Cody joining the Union Army before the Express had even ended and Jimmy first going around with that Rosemary but eventually joining up himself. Many nights Buck had worried about what terrible things might happen to Cody or Jimmy during the horrors of battle. Often on those nights his wife would curl up against his back and wrap her arm around him and hold him close. She never asked him to speak the terrors he imagined but understood his need for comfort.

Lou had recently received a letter from Cody describing, or perhaps exaggerating would be a better word, his adventures, but Buck could read between the lines. Cody was tired of war and all its accompanying tragedies. More importantly though, Cody was safe and as it seemed that the war was finally ending, hard to believe as that was, Buck was becoming confident that Cody would make it through safely.

Jimmy was less likely to write. They only received the rare, and very short, letter from him, but Cody had mentioned in his last missive that he had run into Jimmy on a scouting mission and he looked good. The two had spent an evening together in camp before parting ways and had the chance to share news. Jimmy had sent, through Cody, congratulations on the birth of Buck's daughter. Jimmy had also said to tell Buck's wife that if she was tired of Buck he, Jimmy, would be willing to take her away from it all. Upon hearing that, Buck's wife had laughed and said that she already had her hands full with Buck. Then she had added teasingly that she already had Buck trained just right. Why would she want to start from scratch with someone else? Kid had laughed at the expression on Buck's face at that comment, until Lou had responded that she felt exactly the same way about Kid. Buck smiled to himself remembering the crestfallen look on Kid's face after Lou said that.

Buck could feel sleep approaching as he pictured in his mind's eye the faces of friends already gone. Noah had been a good friend and brother, unfairly taken young, but Ike…. Buck had received an occasional letter from Emily after she left Rock Creek, but those had stopped now. He thought that Emily needed to let him go in order to let Ike go and move on with her life.

It was when he thought of Ike and Emily that Buck realized most how lucky he was. He had a life with the woman he loved and their love had created his beautiful daughter. Ike would never have those things and Buck hoped that someday Emily might find them for herself.

There was a time when he thought that he, himself, would never get over the pain of losing Ike. Ike had been more than a brother to Buck, and it had seemed at the time that his grief would consume him. But slowly he had moved forward until he was able to think of Ike without it hurting. In fact, there were times when Buck was sure he felt Ike's presence near, most often in the paddock with the horses but sometimes in the quiet of an evening as he sat on the porch swing with his wife and baby.

It was that comforting image that Buck took with him as he drifted off to sleep.

After five long years peace, had finally come eight months ago and her nightly vigil had begun. She had watched the tree next o the house bloom since then with the new leaves of spring and then provide shade on the house during the heat of summer. The leaves had then changed with autumn to rich hues of red and orange and now the limbs were bare with the onset of winter. And still the road remained empty.

She prayed each night that her family would return save from the war and to the house that had brought them together as a family such a short time ago. They all were strangers that first day, but now, even with their difference of opinion on the war, they were a close family.

They had heard of the horrors the war had brought even here on the plains. The letters home had been numerous and often at first but none had come for the last two years from either side. The first ones had been full of adventure and self-confidence that their way was right. Later the tones had changed to ones of fear for their fellow soldiers and fear that a bullet would find another family member. Many had even included wishes to be home and safe.

She never thought to worry over Cody. He was the charmer but when his letters home showed a lack of the carefree spirit he always seemed to possess, she had become worried. Many times he said he understood why they couldn't tell him where Kid was but that he worried he would meet his friend in battle. She'd not thought he cared as much as he did about them but on his one and only leave home he proved to her how much he did care. They were in town and a man had asked him how he could let himself be seen with a filthy rebel's whore. Cody had flown into a rage attacking the man until Teaspoon and Buck pull him off the man. She had realized then how much he cared. He told her before he left that if she heard from Jesse to tell him he didn't blame the boy for what happened to Noah. Then he returned to the war.

Looking toward the road she saw a shadow pass and sat up straighter. She thought maybe someone was coming down the road but it was only the shadow of a passing cloud. She sat back and pulled her legs up under the blanket she'd begun carrying out to the swing with her and leaned her head against the rope of the swing. It had become her companion in the twilight and night. More than once Buck, Rachel, or Teaspoon had found her asleep there in the morning, the gentle swaying having lulled her to sleep.

Jimmy seemed to cross her mind constantly too. He'd gone off with Rosemary shortly after Cody had left with the army but said in one of his first letters that they had gone their separate ways due to their difference. She suspected that she and Kid were two of them. Rosemary seemed to be jealous of the close friendship she and Jimmy had shared. In his letters he never said that was what caused them to part but it nagged at the back of her brain that their friendship had caused her closest friend his lady. Just before the letters stopped, Jimmy had finally told her that she held a special place in his heart and that he worried over meeting Kid in battle also. He said he had seen Cody and that Cody had voiced the same worry. Jimmy didn't sound like the cocky boy she had met that first day. No with each letter he sounded more and more like Teaspoon. A slight smile touched her lips as she wondered that if Jimmy made it home, if he would be given a group of orphans to raise as Teaspoon had, how he would do but the smile didn't quite reach her eyes.

A rabbit hopped across the road in the final rays of sun drawing her attention there again. She wondered if it was the same one that had hopped that way last night and swore she'd go hunting in the morning if it was, rabbit stew sounded good for dinner. Darn thing kept getting her hopes up. Buck had laughed the last time he was there and she'd told him that. He said the rabbit was just getting her attention telling her to keep her vigil.

Buck was the only one she didn't worry over any more. Jenny had returned and with her father's blessing began seeing Buck. Of course Buck being Teaspoon's deputy and respected by most in town didn't hurt. In the early autumn Buck had proposed to Jenny and they were going to be married in the spring when the house Buck was building was completed. Teaspoon and Polly had married on the Fourth of July, with Teaspoon saying that a celebration with fireworks seemed fitting for them. Rachel was being courted by the new doctor in town and it looked like she would be having her own wedding shortly after Buck and Jenny.

She looked out at the road again hoping that she would see someone coming. But it was empty still. She shivered as the wind blew colder and stood to go in. It was growing late and she needed to care for the stock in the morning before heading to her shop. Who would have guess she'd become such a respected seamstress. With only a few exceptions, she was well-liked by the women in town. A few had problems with her husband fighting for the south, and didn't understand the tie to Virginia her husband had felt.

He had left her about six months after their friends. He had promised not to ride on without her but begged her to understand that he had to see what was left of his home. She replied she understood but really hadn't. She'd not thought about her home with her mother since they had formed a family. But Kid had always been proud to be from Virginia, and felt an obligation to return to defend his home. His letters had been filled with regret for leaving her. He often said he would understand if she found someone else before he returned and she'd reply that she'd never love anyone else. He too worried that he would face Jimmy or Cody on the battlefield and told her to tell them he wouldn't ever blame them if he was killed. He said a few times that he had thought about spying for the North since he didn't believe in slavery but said he'd not figured out how to do that just yet. Then his letters had stopped. Her last letter from him had been six months before the letters from Cody and Jimmy had stopped.

As she walked to the door one last look behind her told her it would be another lonely night. She opened it and entered her orderly home. She longed to have children underfoot as some of her friends did but knew it wouldn't happen until Kid returned. Picking up the lamp from the mantle she placed it on the table in front of the window and lit the wick. She did this every night just in case one them returned late. That way they would have a light to lead them home.

"Lord, protect my brothers, and my husband. Bring them home safe to us. In Jesus name, Amen," she prayed before she turned and found her lonely bed.

Four days ago it had been a relief to get out of the bunkhouse and away from his boisterous fellow riders. Jimmy had sensed Teaspoon's internal deliberation and the imminent suggestion of a second gun on this run and he'd forestalled it, assuring Teaspoon he could manage and walking purposefully from the room, the package tucked securely under his arm. The last thing he needed was company. Cody's seemingly endless repertoire of mindless chatter. Kid's earnest determination to pour oil on troubled waters. Or worse, Lou's untroubled acceptance, which she gave despite the fact that she now knew a little too much, had seen him a little too clearly. What he needed now was a bit of peace and quiet.

At first it had worked. He never thought as he rode, not after the first few minutes. It took up all of your body and mind to ride like that, with that intensity and purpose. It worked the same way as when you chopped a forest of wood just to stop those thoughts and memories you couldn't shake from running through your head. You'd send that axe through the middle of the block of wood, feel the impact and the burn of your protesting muscles and you'd pick up another log before you'd had the chance to stop and think. Riding hard was just like that. You worked your body until there was no room left for thoughts, until it was all you could do to keep up with yourself and the furious pace you'd set.

The first night hadn't been too bad. He'd made camp out in the open, in the pale light just before dark swooped in. There'd been a thick covering of clouds drifting morosely across the sky and it had sealed him off from that daunting display of stars which always kept his mind turning long after he wanted to be asleep. Tucked in and protected that way he had fallen asleep quickly and, if he dreamed, he didn't recall it in the morning.

He'd made his first mistake at dawn. Lying quietly a little too long that morning, letting his body wake up slowly and enjoying his solitude, his thoughts had begun to catch up with him. He'd packed up quickly when he realized, passing on breakfast in favor of the focus and purpose of the trail. He'd ridden hard, but it was too late by then. His demons were lurking close behind him and he couldn't run forever.

He could, however, hide, and he'd done his best to that end the next night. Silver Rock was a lively town only a couple of hours ride from Carlville, where Jimmy had been due to make his delivery the next day. He'd pushed his horse hard to make the town by nightfall and then dragged his aching body straight to the nearest saloon.

He'd known as he walked through the doors that it wasn't going to work. But misery loves company, and he'd figured that if his demons were going to catch up with him tonight, a bottle of whiskey sounded like just the company he needed. Within minutes of setting foot in the busy saloon he'd had a glass to his lips, a girl perched on his lap and his eyes locked on a card game in the corner. He wasn't about to sit back and wait while his ghosts had their way with him. If they wanted his attention, they were going to have to fight for it.

If he closed his eyes now and thought back, he could recall with perfect clarity the break of day as he lay back on the pillows in his cheap room at the saloon and watched the curtains sway by the open window. The girl had had her back to him, the curve of her body from her shoulder to her hip rising and falling as she slept, her bare skin pallid and perfect against the crumpled sheets, a picture of lost innocence. He could summon up a picture of the whole room: it had been burnt into his memory during the wakeful hours he'd spent watching the changing light drawing shadows across the room. He could remember the sounds from the street and the adjoining rooms. And he could remember the bitter apathy which had filled every inch of his body while he lay there, picking at wounds new and old and enjoying the torment.

He hadn't been able to shake the cloak of wretchedness during that day's ride. Not that he'd tried. Instead, he'd pulled it tight around him, nursing his sense of self-pity at every opportunity. He made his delivery and turned for home. That night he'd set up camp near a river, moving slowly and deliberately. He'd picked at some partly-heated beans, sipped at his coffee as he stared grim-faced at the fire. When he'd dropped down onto his bedroll and leaned back against his saddle, his eyes had sought out the tiny stars and he'd let out a ragged sigh.

He'd let it all run through his head uncontrolled. Every bad decision, every cherished regret. The silence and the dark expanse of endless space above seemed to pulse around him, pushing down on him and reminding him with a grim humor that this had been what he wanted, a little bit of time alone.

Lou had told him that it was what he thought that mattered, not other people. He'd let out a snort and stretched his neck, pushing his head back against his saddle. If these last few days were anything to go by, what he thought was enough to drive him half crazy with guilt, so he wasn't going to hold out much hope.

That line of thought had taken him down another path, however, and two images emblazed themselves on the inside of his now tightly closed eyelids. One was Elias' expression right before he hanged. The other was Lou's upturned face, cupped tightly between his hands. He'd growled and sat up, resting his elbows on his raised knees and pressing the heels of his palms hard against his eyes.

He hadn't slept that night. He'd thought about the road he saw himself taking, about a future he didn't want to face. He'd thought about how it could be justified: a man like Ike having been killed while he, James Butler Hickok, still walked around, hurting more people on a regular basis than Ike McSwain would have done in a dozen lifetimes. He'd thought about his friends. He'd watched the stars disappear against the blush of dawn.

As soon as there'd been light enough to manage it, he had grabbed a clean shirt from his saddlebag and stumbled his way towards the river. He'd stripped quickly and walked without hesitation into the fast-running water, his body rapidly numbing at the sudden drop in temperature and his heart rate slowing. He'd scooped water up in his hands and let it run down over his head and face, gasping for breath as the icy water coursed down his chest. He'd stayed in there longer than he should have, willing himself clean, but as he'd stood on the riverbank, buttoning his shirt over his damp, shivering body, he'd known it hadn't done any good.

Now he was riding into Rock Creek, exhausted from two nights spent with precious little sleep and four days of hard riding. It was late in the day and he could hear a riot of noise coming from the bunkhouse as he approached. No one noticed his arrival and he took his time looking after his mount, giving a soft mutter of apology for the punishing last few days and a promise of a treat in the morning.

When he opened the door to the bunkhouse the wave of youthful high spirits which greeted him was nearly overwhelming. He stopped in the doorway. They were gathered around the table in relaxed poses, empty plates strewn around, smiles reaching from ear to ear on each face. He wanted to smile too, to climb into a space on one of the benches and join right in with the others. But the weight of the last few days wouldn't lift from his shoulders and he found himself closing off even as they looked over at him.

"Jimmy!" Teaspoon planted both his hands firmly on the table, leaned back in his chair and smiled broadly. "You ain't due back till tomorrow, son."

Jimmy forced himself into movement and walked wearily into the room, dropping his saddlebags by his bunk. "Well, I'm here anyway," he snapped. "What ya want me to do? Go back out and come in tomorrow?"

Teaspoon opened his mouth to reply but Rachel stopped him with a hand on his shoulder as she walked around the table. "We just finished eating, Jimmy, but I could get something together for you if you like? Hungry?"

"Nope," Jimmy muttered, pulling grimly on his boots. "Already ate."

A low whistle escaped someone at the table and Jimmy looked up in time to see Cody shaking his head in wonder.

"You sure are a little ray of sunshine, Hickok," he observed. "I take it you've been out there spreadin' joy and happiness all the way from here to Carlville and back again, am I right?"

Jimmy looked up for long enough to see Lou, Kid and Noah grinning mischievously at Cody's words and Rachel biting her lip to stop herself laughing, before turning away. Teaspoon was watching him with a wry smile on his face. Only Buck seemed able to mind his own damn business. He shook his head tiredly before standing to pull his shirt out from his pants and throwing himself back on his bunk.

He wasn't in the mood for it, but Cody either didn't notice or didn't care.

"I'll tell ya, Jimmy," Cody continued, reveling in the attention. "We sure have missed you 'round here. Your jolly disposition and your cute little smile."

There was a full round of laughter from the table this time. Jimmy closed his eyes and let out a long, steadying breath. When the laughter died down he could almost sense it as Cody opened his mouth for another witty comment, and he felt the annoyance bubbling up inside him. But he didn't have to say anything; Kid got there first.

"Knock it off, Cody," Kid advised quietly. "Besides, you're only putting it off now."

"Yeah, Cody," Noah joined in. "I reckon it's time you settle that bet."

Jimmy found himself suddenly forgotten as the other riders picked up where they'd left off, teasing Cody mercilessly about some extravagant claim he must have made before he had walked in. Rachel finished clearing the plates and headed home for the night. Teaspoon warned them all that he didn't have any use for riders with broken bones, a remark that seemed directed particularly at Cody, and left for the night. Jimmy kept his eyes closed and listened to the frivolity build.

It was only when, amid hoots of laughter and the scuffing of boots against wood, Lou, Noah, Kid and Cody had risen to their feet and gathered by wall near Jimmy's bunk, that he couldn't resist any longer and turned on his side to see what they were up to. And when he did, it was all he could do to stop an unfamiliar burst of laughter escaping his throat.

Noah, Cody and Lou were lined up along the wall, their hands on the floor, their heads just about touching the ground and their rear ends pointing up in the air. Kid stood watching them, a ridiculous smile on his face and one hand raised above his head.

"Alright. On the count of three," he announced, as Lou and Cody jostled for room, bumping their bodies against each other. "One…Two…Three!"

As Kid dropped his arm with a flourish, the three idiots against the wall sprang to action and, with grunts of exertion, flung their feet in the air so that they were standing on their hands with the wall to steady them. Cody immediately lost his balance and his feet dangled first one way and then the other. When his feet came into contact with Lou's legs the girl shrieked, steadied herself with astonishing ease and then landed a sharp kick on Cody's right shin. The blonde howled with pain, and his legs swung wildly to the left, colliding with Noah's and causing his fellow rider to collapse in a heap.

Kid doubled up in laughter as Noah rose to his feet, dusting himself off and shouting furious threats at Cody, who had miraculously managed to right himself and now 'stood' steadily next to Lou. An irresistible smile on his face, Jimmy shook his head and chewed on his bottom lip. After four days of dwelling on the realities of his life, it baffled him that all it took to bring a smile to his face was watching this lot clowning around.

He looked away for a moment and caught the eye of Buck who was lying on his bunk, propped up on one elbow to watch the antics. Buck was smiling too, though his eyes looked a little distant and distracted, as they had so often since Ike had passed. His fellow rider's smile broadened a little as Jimmy looked across at him and he realized it was a knowing grin Buck was giving him. If anyone knew the solace that could be found in their mismatched little 'family', it was Buck.

"The peace and quiet do you any good?" Buck asked, his words only just reaching Jimmy's ears over the shrieks of laughter from the others.

Jimmy gave a sigh of quiet laughter at his own expense and shook his head resignedly. "Not exactly," he admitted.

Buck nodded shrewdly. "Hard to get much peace when your head's doing that much talking."

A loud groan emanated from the contestants at the wall and Jimmy and Buck both turned to look as Cody's legs waved wildly.

"Billy Cody, I swear, if you try pushing me over one more time it'll be more than a kick in the leg you'll be getting!"

"I didn't mean to, Lou, honest. You didn't have to kick me again!"

"Just watch yourself, Cody," Lou warned. With all her blood rushing to her head, Lou's face looked even angrier than she sounded. "Kid, I thought you were supposed to be judging this here contest. Shouldn't you be making sure it's all fair and square?"

"I would be, Lou, if you gave me a chance to say something before you kick him!" Kid retaliated.

Jimmy chuckled and lay himself back on his bed. He closed his eyes and, for the first time in four days, he found his mind was clear. No doubts or regrets or fears, just the sound of laughter ringing in his ears, the very sound he'd been so eager to escape from when he first left on his ride. He listened sleepily to the excited babble.

"Good God, Kid! I must be nearly there by now." Cody's voice sounded strangled.

"You're the one who reckoned you could stand on your hands for that long, Cody," Kid reminded him sternly. "I'll tell you when you get there."

"What's the matter, Cody? Feeling the pressure?" Lou's voice didn't sound much better than her opponent's.

"Just tell me how much longer I got, Kid," Cody gasped.

There was a brief silence as Kid consulted the pocket-watch. "One hour, fifty five minutes."

Noah, Buck and Jimmy erupted in laughter as Cody's groans filled the air. Seconds later he'd landed in a crumpled heap on the floor and Lou was shouting in triumph. She bent at her trunk and lowered her feet nimbly to the floor.

"Yet again, William F Cody," she announced, her face flushed with pressure and success, "you've been beaten by a girl."

Chuckling to himself, Jimmy pushed his head back comfortably on the pillow, and turned his face to the wall. He smiled broadly as he listened to Cody's extraordinary string of excuses and that smile remained on his face as he slipped into a deep and untroubled sleep.

The first thing he noticed when he woke was the silence. After days of nothing but noise, the silence was a blissful reprieve. There were no sounds of gunshots, no men shouting orders, or screaming in pain, there were no sounds of cannon blasts or the occasional clang of steel against steel as men got close enough to skirmish with their bayonets or swords. There was nothing but blessed silence, beautiful peace.

He knew he was in the infirmary tent. The clean sheets, despite how threadbare they were, were definitively softer than his bedroll. Although not by much. It was, however, clean and he was above the ground and for a few moments, he would bask in the one little luxury he had in the middle of this awful existence called war. He was growing very tired of the death and destruction and fighting.

He knew he had to have been injured to wind up here and after a few moments he began to slowly take inventory of his body. He wiggled his feet and toes, grateful that he had not become one of the many whose limbs were amputated to deal with bleeding from mangled wounds and prevent infection from setting in. He moved his arms and hands, again grateful for two and that they did not hurt overly much. His left shoulder was stiff and harder to move and he turned his head and saw a stark bandage against his skin, faint pricks of blood staining the cloth. The shrapnel from the blast must have gotten him there.

Using his good arm, he slowly inspected his chest, finding nothing more than the scars he already bore. Lifting his hand out from under the thin sheet, he brought it up to his head and winced when he encountered the bandage surrounding his scalp. He must have been one of the lucky ones to get laudanum, or his pain receptors just hadn't kicked in yet, but his head didn't throb when he moved it.

With his inspection over, he rested his head back against the pillow and stared at the canvas overhead. It must be early yet, and the camp was still asleep. The battle must have been halted, or one side gained victory. Or, he realized, he was far enough removed from the leading edge that he could not hear the sound of rifles and canon. Whatever the reason, he was grateful for the early morning solitude and the silence that would soon be shattered as the world continued on and people resumed their activities.

Slowly the light outside the canvas brightened and filtered through to him. He waited for the sounds of the camp to reach him, but basked as the silence continued to grant him reprieve from the cacophony he had endured during the last skirmish.

His morning was shattered when someone touched his arm and he looked over, startled to find the doctor standing by his bed. He had not heard, nor even sensed, anyone's approach and he frowned at the sudden nature of the intrusion. His frown deepened when he caught movement from the side and turned his head to see the man in the bed next to him thrashing while another doctor tried to attend to him. The man's mouth was opened with what had to be a pain-filled scream, but oddly, Kid heard nothing. When he looked back at the doctor in confusion, it quickly morphed to cold, gripping fear when he saw the older man's mouth moving in speech, but still there was no sound to accompany it.

It was only when Kid shook his head and spoke - although he could not even hear what, if anything, he was saying - that the doctor stopped. A tablet of paper was fetched and Kid realized that the cannon ball that exploded near him during the battle had done more than knock him unconscious. The shock had affected his hearing, something the doctors had feared when they'd examined him and noticed the blood on his head near his ears; their confirmation that he'd been affected could only come when he awoke and either heard them or did not. They were optimistic, though, and told him that with time he should be fine and out of the hospital.

Two weeks later, Kid had officially been discharged from the Army. His hearing had never returned, and the doctors were no longer optimistic regarding his recovery. It was no longer a temporary condition due to the shock of the nearby blast; he had lost his hearing permanently. A soldier who could not hear was of no use to them. And so he was sent home.

Kid wondered exactly what kind of home he would return to. He had written to Lou, hesitant to share with her he'd been injured, but having learned long ago that his wife did not want him to conceal the reality and truth of his situation. When he began to fear he would not be able to hear again, he finally put pencil to paper and wrote his wife. He shared his fears, his hopes, and asked for her prayers and support. He would now find out if such things existed for him.

He'd sent a telegram stating the date he was coming home, and as the train neared their town, he wondered if she would be waiting there for him. He didn't really believe that she would leave him; she had told him many times, in many ways, in many letters that she took their vows very seriously. She had promised him through good and bad, in sickness and health, until death did they part. No matter what injuries he may receive in the war, she would be home waiting for him, ready to love him and share their days together.

He was not scarred or crippled, he could not hear. However, it had never mattered to her, or anyone else, that Ike couldn't speak. He'd been their friend, their brother and they'd loved him all the same. Surely Lou would feel the same towards her husband.

It was the scared part of him, the part traumatized and shattered by the war, that could not dispel the doubts. That could not worry that she would look at him differently, that she would one day grow to resent his inability to hear, that she would grow tired of the comments that were sure to follow him. That already did follow him and caused the rest of the people in the train to sit three seats away from him. It was that part that feared his wife would not be at the train station waiting for him, and would be gone from their home.

The train slowed as it reached the depot and Kid found himself searching the crowd visible through the window. He wanted to know if Lou was there before he exited the train. Just as despair was about to win, he saw a flash of color. Bright, beautiful blue - the same shade of the dress she'd bought when she went to visit her brother and sister - flashed on the platform and Lou made her way through the crowd, looking anxious at the passengers as they stepped outside. He stood, gathered his bag and walked towards the exit.

He blinked in the bright sunlight, looking for his wife, feeling frantic after losing sight of her. Then he caught movement and she was there, her eyes full of love and tears and the most beautiful smile he had ever seen gracing her face. She shifted, drawing her hands from behind her back and revealed a simple slate board that children used in school. She turned it around and on it he found the most wonderful words he had ever seen.

Whatever came his way, and he was sure it would be many things, he knew that he would have Lou by his side. And with her, he was certain he could face whatever came his way. For they would be together.

The End

Jimmy rubbed at his eyes and swung his legs over the edge of the bed. Coming to visit his sister had seemed like a good idea at the time, but he forgot… or rather… had no idea how many times a baby gets up in a given night. With one precious step after another he made his way to the hall and then to the main room.

"Hard night?"

He gave a start when he stubbed his toe against a chair leg. "You could say that."

The baby cooed and a crease popped up between Jimmy's brows. Celinda's laughter only deepened the furrow. "Nathan still hasn't gotten used to the 'up and down' of it and sometimes I think he volunteers to ride with Isiah just to get a good night's sleep."

Barely able to lift himself a few inches out of his chair Jimmy poured a cup of coffee and then sank back into his chair. "I ain't had that little sleep since Cody got that head cold and kept us awake for two whole days with his snorin'."

Celinda nodded toward the stove. "I've got a few biscuits warmin' in the oven if you're hungry."

Hissing at the heat of the coffee on his tongue he shook his head. "Jus' need some coffee 'n I'll be 'right."

The baby gave a fuss and Celinda smiled down into his wrinkled face. "I guess that's your problem, isn't it?"

Jimmy looked over at the small infant in his sister's arms. "He wet?"

"NO…" she gave her brother a wide grin and reached for the button at the base of her throat, "somethin' else entirely."

His brain slow to function in the cold and early hour, Jimmy could only manage to put the pieces together about the time the neckline of her chemise came into view.

"Oh!" His eyes closed and a moment later he was staring wide and unblinking into the black depths of his coffee. "Lynnie…"

She giggled at her brother's discomfort. "My my… is that 'Wild Bill' Hickok blushin' at a little bit of skin? Seems to me I heard that you're quite the ladies man and-"

Jimmy set the cup down on the table and shook his head. "You know I ain't like that."

A little hand clutched at her thumb and Celinda smiled down at her son. "I know… I know… but it's still a shock to see you 'all grown up.'"

He returned a smile with one of his own. "I still remember you in pigtails and sneakin' out back of the school house to kiss Bobby Knowles."

She feigned shock. "I never!" Her indignant expression faded into a pretty shade of pink. "Silly man… you know that I never let Bobby Knowles kiss me."

Jimmy shrugged and took a long sip of his coffee to hide his amusement.

"No matter how much he begged me."

Her brother was left wiping his chin with his cuff after he spit out some of his coffee. "Warn a man, will ya?"

Celinda's smile was warm even as she closed her eyes and leaned back in the chair, her feet gently pushing at the floor in a gentle rhythm.

The baby's whimpering and gurgling continued on with each tap tap tap against the floor and it was just a minute or two before Jimmy realized how close he was to falling asleep at the table. The cool morning air was fresh and clean blowing in through the window and the rolling creak of the rocking chair soothed him a bit… but it was the music that called to him. The melody that pulled at his memories had him blinking back tears. "Ma… Ma used to sing that to us."

The rocking stopped and he met Celinda's look with his eyes and read a lifetime in it. "Yeah… it was her favorite." She continued humming the melody beneath her breath.

"She was a good mother…"

Celinda nodded and brushed a kiss against her son's sleep curled fingers. "Yes… she was."

"You're just like her, you know… a good mother, I mean."

Nodding, Celinda gave him a grateful smile. "I try my best. I have quite a legacy to uphold."

Jimmy swallowed hard on the coffee that had turned to ice on his tongue. "So do I, I guess."

"Jimmy…" Celinda's words were frozen on her tongue as well. Her gaze was full of love for him, but there were shadows in her eyes as well. His worries had cut deep within her childhood memories and now they were bubbling up within her. "You ain't like Papa. You ain't…" she saw the hurt in his eyes when he turned back to her, shadows haunting his eyes even in the morning light, "you just ain't." He set the coffee cup down on the table and pushed it away with his fingertips. "You can't be sure, Lynnie… one day, I get enough whiskey in my stomach and I just might surprise you."

Her lips pursed at the cold wondering tone of his voice and she clutched her son a little closer to her breast. "Don't Jimmy… don't say things like that. You're not-"

"I'm my father's son… no arguin' that. Not much you can say about it."

Unused to the tension in his mother's embrace the baby wiggled and fussed at the air around him, needing to have some space and some comfort. Realizing her mistake, Celinda cuddled him up against her body, lending him her warmth. "I can tell you what I know inside my heart, Jimmy. I know you've got a heart beatin' inside you filled with enough love that would make Mama proud and I know there's enough of a man inside you that you'd never hurt anyone like Papa hurt Mama… like Papa hurt us. "

Jimmy shook his head, his eyes disbelieving. "I dunno, Lynnie… you can't be sure."

He got up from the chair, needing to walk a little and clear his head. She grabbed his hand before he could walk away. The strength in her fingers turned him back to see the tears in her eyes. "I am, but the problem is… you're the one that has to believe it."

There were a million words in his mind. A million thoughts that could have said his peace and put the worries to rest, but he didn't give them voice. Couldn't. Not until he was ready to believe in himself.

In peace the sons bury their fathers….
Croesus

Peace is not an absence of war; it is a virtue, a state of mind, a disposition for benevolence, confidence, justice.
-Baruch Spinoza (1632-1677)

Jimmy looked down at the flowers in the vase and wondered if it would be unseemly for him to shout up at the ceiling for them to 'hurry it on up'. He knew it wasn't going to work. He also knew-

"They'll come down in their own good time, son."

Jimmy's head snapped up and a sudden smile lightened his expression. One question… then another flickered through his mind but he dismissed them in kind. "I guess I won't ask how you know."

Teaspoon sat back in his chair and gave a him a big ol' grin. "I have been through this a time or two, you know. I have a little…"

"Little?"

Irritation slid over his expression for a fleeting moment. "A LITTLE experience with these things."

Fingers drumming on the table, Jimmy rolled his head around in one direction and then the other trying to ease the tense muscles in his neck. "So then tell me…" Jimmy pushed back from the table and started his thirtieth pass on the floorboards by Teaspoon's reckoning. "How did you do it? How did you wait and not tear your collar off?"

Getting to his feet Teaspoon walked up behind the younger man and peered into the looking glass hanging from the wall. The boy that sauntered into the Sweetwater Express Station with a big ego and an even bigger chip on his shoulder was now about ready to crawl out of his skin all because a woman was a few minutes late.

Jimmy caught the light in the man's eyes and his own eyes narrowed in response. "What is it, Teaspoon? You laughin' at me?"

He clapped a hand on the younger man's shoulder and gave him a reassuring squeeze. "Son… that's the last thing I'd do at a time like this."

"I dunno, maybe you feel safe… me not carryin' a gun 'n all."

Teaspoon bobbed his head in answer. "Maybe… or maybe," his voice deepened a bit, emotions slipping through the cracks, "I'm just realizin' that all the time I've been pokin' and proddin' at ya to grow up I never really realized how grown up you'd gotten." Blinking back the sudden tears, Teaspoon stepped away to find the lace curtains in the window mighty interesting.

Jimmy looked at his reflection in the mirror and wondered what it was that Teaspoon saw. He hadn't changed all that much, had he?

"Find somethin' interestin' in that lookin' glass, Hickok?"

Jerking his elbow back he grinned at the satisfying 'oof' that whooshed out of Sam's lungs as the elbow hit home in his middle. "Nothin' much… exceptin' how green you just got."

Teaspoon joined in the laughter then, eyes full of mirth. "I was just tellin' Jimmy how much he'd grown up since he lined up 'gainst the fence back at Emma's."

"I missed it, I guess… I missed a lot of things out at Emma's in the beginning."

Jimmy's expression was nearly a smirk. "You were fine once you came to your senses, Sam."

The older man with a little silver at his temples and few more wrinkles than Jimmy remembered from the last time they'd all met up, but it hadn't done a thing to lessen the intelligence in Sam Cain's eyes. "I was just lucky she let me in the door when I came knockin'… could've slammed it in my face."

"Seems to me, I did just that… at least a few times when you got me all riled up over somethin'."

Sam turned to envelop his wife in his embrace, murmuring a few words into her ear. No one could hear the words but her smile was enough to have both men turn away and give them a moment of privacy.

"Jimmy," her voice made him smile. Her hand turning him around toward the room and the small gathering of friends, "or should I call you 'James' now?"

Emma lifted her hands, smoothing back the hair from his face, letting her fingers trail through the ends of his hair. "You're different… everyone can see it." Before he could argue she continued on, "there's something different inside of you… something quiet… something strong."

Where Teaspoon had hidden his tears, Emma swiped at them with the backs of her fingers.

"Why Emma Cain… are you cryin' tears of sorrow or joy?" Jimmy's chiding tone got him a cuff on the arm and he had the good sense to wince in pain and hold up a hand in surrender.

Emma waggled a finger at him. "You may be all grown up, Jimmy Hickok but I can still turn you over my knee."

Sam put a restraining hand on her shoulder and pulled her back against him. "Now, Emma… don't-"

"-go makin' a man promises when-"

The knock at the front door put an end to the silly laughter and the carrying on. Teaspoon Hunter, retired marshal and best man strode to the door and swung it open. "Well Howdy there, Horace. We've been a waitin' for you."

The elderly man stepped in through the door and tipped his hat to Emma. "Mrs. Cain. Marshal Cain. Teaspoon. Jimmy-"

The niceties came to an abrupt end when the door above stairs opened up and Polly called down. "Is everyone there?"

"Chompin' at the bit down here, Polly-girl." Teaspoon sidled up to the bottom of the stairs and peered up into the landing. "You two better get yourselves down here and get this ceremony started the justice of the peace is here."

"Well," huffed Polly, "it's about time."

Emma leaned her cheek on Sam's shoulder and smiled at Jimmy. "It sure is."

September 1867

The sun was still low on the eastern horizon, just beginning its climb to light and warm the day, when the two riders stopped on the hilltop. They'd left the hotel in Torrington before dawn, leaving a sleepy desk clerk behind, confused at the early departure. And now they'd been on Wetherly Ranch lands for the last mile or so. Below them, finally, lay the ranch house and assorted buildings - two barns, several small structures that might have been for storage, and a bunkhouse for the men who worked there.

There was already a good deal of activity around the yard; obviously work started early on the ranch. The two riders started down the hill, heading for a group of three men working closest. They stopped, asked a question, and one of the ranch hands pointed further down toward the yard. Following directions, the riders moved on.

They rode into the yard, heading for the larger barn. Several men were working there, inside and out, but the riders headed directly for the man who seemed to be giving directions. A large man, with shaggy blond hair curling at his collar and a drooping mustache to match, he turned to watch the visitors approach.

"Help you gents with somethin'?"

The younger of the two riders spoke. "We're looking for the foreman."

"You found 'im. Bart Brown."

"Mr. Brown, I'm Sam Cain, and this here's Teaspoon Hunter."

Brown nodded, more intrigued by the badges the men wore than by the names. "There a problem?"

"We're looking for a man who works here," Sam said. "Buck Cross."

Brown studied the badges again, the morning sun glinting off the metal. He grinned, though it was more malevolence than humor. "What's the 'breed done?"

"Now why would you figure he's done anything?" Teaspoon asked. His voice was quiet, but the tone carried a warning that anyone who knew him would recognize.

Brown wasn't one of those people, and his grin widened. "Two lawmen come ridin' in lookin' for a half-breed, stands to reason he done somethin'."

"He done anything here?" Sam asked. His voice was quiet too, but there was an edge to it.

"Well, no."

"He a good worker?" Teaspoon asked.

Brown had to nod. "He ain't bad with the horses."

"Well, it just so happens he's an old friend of ours," Sam said.

"A real good friend," Teaspoon added.

Brown looked disappointed. "You ain't gonna arrest him?"

Sam shook his head. "We're gonna ask him for his help."

"Now if you could just tell us where he might be working," Teaspoon suggested.

The foreman shrugged, obviously a little disappointed. He pointed toward the smaller barn. "Should be down there. We got some new mustangs in he's been workin'."

Sam tipped his hat. "Much obliged."

The lawmen turned away, leaving the foreman staring after them as they rode across the yard.

The corral outside the smaller barn had three horses in it, two mostly black mares and one stately roan stallion. The mustangs pranced regally within the confines of the fence, although the stallion looked to be testing the fence, looking for a way out. A man came out of the barn and dropped a length of coiled rope over the fencepost, then disappeared back inside. Just then a second man appeared, carrying a saddle.

His face was turned away from the approaching riders, but the familiar slim build and long dark hair told them they had found their quarry.

"Buck!"

Buck had just dropped the saddle on the top fence rail, and now he turned at the sound of his name. The riders were coming in from the east, and the rising sun was directly behind them. He raised one hand to shield his eyes…

"Teaspoon? Sam!"

They met halfway. Teaspoon was the first off his horse in an agile move that belied his years. He grabbed Buck's outstretched hand, then pulled the younger man closer, embracing him. By the time Buck was allowed up for air, Sam was there, and the greeting was repeated.

Buck finally took a step back, smiling. "This is hard to believe. What are you doing here?"

"Lookin' for you, o' course," Teaspoon said. He stepped to one side, squinting, as he studied Buck. "Damn, son, you're lookin' good. Must be all the hard work."

"There's lots of that," Buck agreed.

"Mr. Brown doesn't seem too fond of you," Sam said. He glanced over his shoulder, noting the foreman still watching them.

Buck shrugged. "He's not really that bad. And Mr. Wetherly is real fair." He paused, studying the two lawmen. "You're not here just to see how I'm doing."

Sam nodded. "There someplace we can talk?"

"The bunkhouse should be empty." Buck pointed toward the long, low building off to one side and then reached for the horses' reins. He led the animals toward the water trough by the corral and looped the reins over the fence, then led the way toward the bunkhouse.

They walked in silence, covering the ground quickly. Buck stepped up onto the porch and opened the door, holding it for the other two men to enter. He walked over to a table, brushed aside the remains of the previous night's card game, and sat down.

Sam tossed his hat on the back of an empty chair and sat down, and Teaspoon followed close behind.

Leaning back in the chair, Sam ran a hand through his hair. "Well, you're right, Buck. This ain't just a social call."

"Kept meanin' to come out this way, once you wrote an' said where you were," Teaspoon said. "Jus' never seemed to get the right time." He paused and sighed. "Guess maybe I kept hopin' you'd find your way back to Rock Creek."

"I thought about it a lot," Buck admitted. "There were just so many bad memories there. Losing Ike and Noah. Cody, Jimmy, and Kid going off to fight in the war. Lou following Kid back to Virginia."

Teaspoon nodded slowly. "I know. Felt like the family just broke all to hell."

"You know Emma 'n me would've welcomed you anytime," Sam said.

Buck nodded. "I know, Sam, and I appreciate it. I guess I just needed to prove to myself I could make it on my own." He paused and offered a crooked half smile. "I missed everyone though."

"Well, might be we can do somethin' 'bout that," Teaspoon said.

"But I guess we'd better tell you why we're here first," Sam added.

Buck leaned forward, resting his arms on the table. "All right."

"Don't know if you've heard anything about this," Sam started. "Few months back, Congress established something called the Indian Peace Commission."

Buck's response was a short, humorless laugh. "I saw that in a newspaper. But I don't believe they really want peace - at least not a fair peace."

"Guess I can understand why you'd think that," Teaspoon said. "But they got some good people on this commission."

Buck's response was silence.

"Well, at least they got some good people dealing with security," Sam offered.

Buck raised an eyebrow. "You."

Sam nodded. "They've got a big treaty gathering coming next month in Kansas. Nathanial Taylor, the Indian Commissioner, asked me to see to it. And I asked Teaspoon to help."

Buck shook his head once. "If you're asking me to help the army keep the Indians in line…"

"No, that ain't it," Teaspoon said quickly. "Wouldn't ask you to do somethin' like that."

"The thing is, Buck," Sam said slowly. "Well, we met some of the translators." He frowned as he said that last word. "Let's just say I ain't sure they're really qualified.

Despite his reluctance, Buck couldn't help but be intrigued. "Which tribes?" he asked softly.

"Well, you got the Southern Arapaho, Comanche, Plains Apache, Southern Cheyenne… and the Kiowa," Teaspoon said.

"Most of the Kiowa are down by Texas," Sam said. "I heard your brother's band had aligned with the northern Cheyenne."

Buck nodded. "Generations back, the main group of Kiowa moved south. But one band stayed north."

"Red Bear's," Teaspoon said. "And yours."

Buck just nodded again. He leaned back in his chair and stared off to one side. "The government doesn't really want peace," he said softly. "Or at least they're not going to give the Indians fair value for what they're asked to give up."

"I can't say you're wrong, Buck," Sam said. "We all know there ain't been a lot of fair treaties."

"Or a lot of treaties not broken by the white man," Buck countered.

"Keepin' on just fightin' don't seem to be the answer neither," Teaspoon suggested.

Buck's response was preceded by a heavy sigh. "No, it's not," he admitted.

"Ain't sayin' I like it," Teaspoon continued. "But don't seem there's no way to turn things back. An' there's a whole lot more soldiers, with more weapons, than Indians."

"I'm not defending the government's record either," Sam said. "But I figure it'd at least be better that the tribes get an honest translation so they know what they're signin'."

Buck didn't say anything. Instead, he got to his feet and walked to the window, staring outside, as if gathering his thoughts.

"You'd be part of my group," Sam said. "You'd get paid."

"It wouldn't be about the money," Buck said softly.

"Didn't figure it would," Teaspoon said. He stood up and went to stand by, putting a hand on the younger man's shoulder. "Fact is, there's gonna be a treaty, or there's gonna be war. Just seems like it'd be good for everyone to be clear on what's happenin', at least give peace a chance."

Buck slowly turned around. "I need to think about it."

"We're checked in at the hotel in town," Sam said. "We can stay for a couple of days. Then we gotta head for Fort Larned."

"Maybe you could join us for dinner tonight," Teaspoon suggested. "Even if you ain't decided, we still got some catchin' up to do."

Buck nodded. "That would be good."

"We'll let you get to work then," Sam said as he got to his feet and retrieved his hat. "Real good to see you, Buck," he added, holding out his hand.

"You too, Sam." Buck shook hands with Sam, and then with Teaspoon. He quickly found himself enveloped in another strong hug from the older man.

"I missed you, son," Teaspoon said.

"I missed you too, Teaspoon," Buck replied, with just a slight catch in his voice. He hadn't realized just how much he had missed his Pony Express family - until now.

Buck walked his visitors back to their horses, waved them on their way, and watched until they disappeared beyond his vision. Then he turned to his tasks, throwing himself physically into the work.

But his mind was never far from the challenge Sam and Teaspoon had brought.

In the end, he couldn't get past the argument Teaspoon had made. There would be a treaty, or there would be war. If the treaty terms were ignored as so many others had been, there might even be both. But it was all too easy, given his experience, to imagine war on the Plains wiping out entire Indian cultures, and that thought made him afraid.

He wasn't really sure that he could do much to affect the outcome of the gathering, one way or another. But if Sam and Teaspoon thought he could offer something, it was worth trying. At least then, if war did come, he'd know he had done what he could.

Bart Brown cursed a blue streak when Buck told him he was leaving. Whether the foreman liked him or not, the man did know that Buck worked hard, and his labor would be hard to replace. But once his decision was made, Buck's resolve didn't waver.

Harold Wetherly seemed generally saddened that he was leaving. But he paid Buck his wages due, added a few extra dollars for good measure, and wished him well.

It didn't take long to pack up his few belongings. Ike's bible was never far from him, the drawing his brother had done of the group folded carefully within the book's pages. The eagle feather he'd been given in the Kiowa village, and the beaded headband from Jenny Tompkins. Those were the possessions that had traveled with him. A change of clothes, a rain poncho, and his bedroll and he was ready.

The Wetherly Ranch had always been just a temporary stop on his journey, and he rode away without looking back.

There was too much to think about looking forward.

Teaspoon and Sam were sitting in Sam's room, sharing a bottle of whiskey, when the knock on the door came. Sam answered, and opened the door to reveal Buck standing in the hallway, saddlebags slung over his shoulder.

"You were right," he said, as he stepped into the room. "We have to give peace a chance, and if you think I can help, I'll go."

"Sure can't hurt," Teaspoon said. He filled a third glass and handed it to Buck. "Here's hopin' there can be peace," he said softly, raising his glass.

Sam lifted his glass and echoed the word. "Peace."

Buck hesitated just a moment before joining the toast. He wished he could believe the treaty would lead to peace - he really wished it. Because it was a dream he'd long held for himself as well.

"Peace."