by Kim Roberts
© 2000
The beat of the drum is the heartbeat of the Earth . . . calling to her children . . . calling her children home.
Buck couldn't help but notice how quiet the station had become as he stepped into the yard from the bunkhouse porch - and it saddened him. The place that had been so full of life and laughter, a place full of love, a home to a mismatched family as tight as any blood relations was now still, the laughter gone, the family split.
The turbulence that threatened to divide a nation had blown westward and settled over Rock Creek, sweeping the Express family into its storm. Evidence of the coming conflict soon followed in tangible form as Army troops rolled into Rock Creek and every other town in the territory that could offer a fresh supply of young men. Rock Creek was Teaspoon's jurisdiction, but the Marshal could exercise no control over the Army and watched helplessly as recruiters lured young innocents away from their mother's arms with promises of the glories of battle.
Cody quickly fell prey to the romantic portrayal of a righteous war. Despite Teaspoon's words of warning and more accurate depiction of the realities of battle - realities witnessed first hand - the normally light-hearted rider turned surprisingly serious and rode away committed to his duties as a Union Army scout.
Jimmy's departure soon followed - his decision to leave prompted not by an Army recruiter, but by the persuasive words of Rosemary Burke and the Abolitionist Cause. Rosemary's involvement in Noah's death deepened the division between the riders and Jimmy rode out with their differences unresolved. Buck knew his friend had feelings for the older woman but feared Rosemary did not hold Jimmy in the same regard and would merely use him to further the Cause - her true passion. Buck had known such a woman. Rosemary's motive might be less self-serving than Kathleen's, but being used for a noble cause was still being used.
The coming war confused Buck. Violence was commonplace among the tribes of the plains, but the reasons for it were always clear. The Kiowa fought to preserve their land, to avenge a wrong or to obtain what they needed to survive. Decisions were made, battles fought and it was over. It seemed to Buck that no one could clearly decide what the white man's war was about. Whether they argued over boundaries, state's rights or human bondage was unclear. Too many people talked and rather than making decisions the talking became louder as each voice strained to be heard. Once the yelling started, the actual issues seemed to disappear, individual agendas taking their place.
Kid had not yet made his decision concerning the now inevitable war. Buck knew his loyalties lay with the South and Kid waged his own personal battle over whether or not to return to his native Virginia to take his place in the Confederate ranks. If Kid truly felt a call in his heart to go home, then Buck felt he should go. It would be difficult to watch another friend choose a side and leave, but in the end, each of them had to make their own decision.
Small dust clouds hung in the evening air marking each footstep as Buck shuffled aimlessly through the dry yard to the corral, now and then kicking a stray rock out of his path. He climbed the weathered planks two at a time and assumed his usual perch atop the railing to watch the depleted herd of horses, decisions of his own on his mind. The end of the Express was near - the dwindling number of runs and the advance of the telegraph lines confirmed that. Although life among the white man was still difficult, Buck had grown comfortable within the safe confines of the Express family. Once the Express was disbanded and his family torn apart by the country's changing times, what was he to do?
It wasn't that he had no options, on the contrary, several had presented themselves within the past week. The carefully folded letter placed securely in his shirt pocket only added to his dilemma.
"Quiet, ain't it?" Lou remarked as she approached the lone figure. The appearance of the spirited young woman brightened Buck's mood some. He didn't answer, merely nodded in agreement and glanced down as she stepped onto the bottom fence board to increase her height and crossed her arms over the top rail. Given the opportunity, Lou had blossomed into a lovely young woman, her trousers and work shirt now replaced with crisp white cotton and calico. Buck smiled at Kid's bride wondering how anyone could have ever mistaken her for a boy.
Lou's future held an uncertainty that perhaps was the most knotted of all. Committed to her husband, if not his allegiance, she vowed to follow Kid to Virginia if he chose to return. Kid's indecision had drawn lines of worry on Lou's pretty face but Buck noticed a calmness about her that he hadn't seen for a while. Perhaps Kid had made his choice.
Lou had successfully held her curiosity at bay for most of the day but Rachel's comment finally got the better of her and she had to ask. "Rachel said you got a letter today. Good news?"
Buck found Lou's curiosity amusing. There weren't many people in the world who would send him a letter and he knew she was aware of that.
"Maybe," Buck stated simply, countering Lou's inquisitiveness with feigned indifference.
Lou waited expectantly for more, but the young Kiowa hadn't laughed for a while and teasing Lou was a welcome diversion. Finally succumbing to Lou's look of disappointment Buck continued. "It's from Sam."
"Did Emma write, too?" Lou asked hopefully, her brown eyes lighting up at the mention of their old friend's name.
Buck shook his head apologetically. "No, just Sam. I thought I'd read it to everyone after supper."
"Well, I hope it's good news," Lou replied. "Teaspoon got a letter today, too. From the look on his face when he opened it, it ain't good news. Supper's 'bout ready, you comin' in?"
"In a minute," Buck answered as Lou hopped off the railing and headed back to the bunkhouse and her new domestic duties.
Buck turned his attention back to the horizon as the sun lost its grip on the shortened autumn day and slipped out of sight, a formation of wild geese silhouetted against the evening sky. The beautiful winged creatures possessed the awesome knowledge of nature and fascinated him. Something instinctive, something unquestioned instructed them to fly when the air changed - their destination predetermined. If only his own direction could be chosen so easily.
