EXPLODING IN SILENCE
EXPLODING IN SILENCE 
Authors Note
I hope some of you out there enjoy this. I realise it's a bit on the long side,
but aside from always liking the relationship between Ike and Buck, I've also
always been intrigued by all the rider's past and how they came to Sweetwater.
I am also using this as a way to help myself, a form of therapy in a way. I
think one thing that always drew me to the character of Ike was the similarities
between the two of us and our pasts. While everyone at one point or another
has to face their pasts, I figured this would be a good way to face my own and
give others a bit of a treat. I'd love to hear from some of you as to what you
thought. Enjoy...
My favourite part of the day would be when I don't have a run,
and my chores are all finished. Those are the afternoons I loved the most, because
I would go find a quiet spot and enjoy the day for what it was, nothing special.
My favourite way to spend these afternoons would be to go sit under a large
tree by the creek a short ride away from the station, write in my journal, and
enjoy the quiet of the nature around me as the clouds floated by. Emma once
found me doing this when she decided to also enjoy the mild weather. She joined
me for the afternoon and we began to really get to know each other, or at least
I was getting to know her. It was at the beginning of my employment with the
Pony Express, and while I already trusted and loved Emma like a mother, most
of my past was still unknown to her... well to everyone I guess. On that particular
afternoon, she was discreetly trying to pry some information from me, but with
little success. I think when you haven't been able to tell anyone anything for
so long, it's hard to start again. Besides, at that time I wasn't ready to tell
her, I didn't want to ruin a beautiful afternoon. But one thing she said to
me struck a chord. A slight breeze swept by, and she smiled, remembering a moment
from her past. She said how she loved when little things like a breeze or a
cloud can spark those memories, and you rediscover a part of your life you thought
you had forgotten. Somehow, I found that very comforting to hear. While a good
portion of my past I would rather do without, it was nice to think that in remembering
those times, it meant that I was still here, had survived those times, and was
not to feel ashamed for what had happened.
On one of those afternoons, I found myself under my tree by the creek, finishing
a passage in my journal about a story that Teaspoon had told us at dinner the
night before. I was trying to capture the familial feeling in the room while
he was telling us his tale for probably the sixth time. It was funny, no matter
how many times Teaspoon told the same story, we still enjoyed them, waiting
for the ending like we had never heard it before. I think this happens because
at those moments, we feel like a family, like we belong somewhere. Up until
a few months ago, none of us had that, none of us belonged anywhere. I shut
my journal and put it down next to me when I heard a small splash in the water.
Looking out at the creek, a sense of nostalgia swept over me as I saw a fish
jumping and diving in the water. Rather than try to repress it and move on like
I normally did, I picked up my journal and pencil again, and this time I let
my mind wander with that feeling, and I remembered another day by a creek, very
similar to this one...
It started out as what seemed to be a normal day. The spring breeze was warm
and the sun was shining from a deep blue sky. Perfect day to run outside and
enjoy my carefree childhood. For what seemed to be the longest time, my ma hardly
let me out of the house for long periods of time, let alone go gallivanting
across the countryside. Despite the fact that I had scarlet fever almost five
years ago, she was always nervous about my health. In the winter, I was practically
under house arrest. But my father had slowly been easing some sense into her,
and this year she was starting to let up. I had gone through the whole winter
without as much as a cough or sniffle and she was finally seeing me as her growing
son, not that sickly two year old that haunted our family's dreams. It's strange,
as normal as the day seemed to be, the events that happened, trivial or significant
as they were, I can remember to this day. I spent the morning down by the creek,
wading in the cool water, attempting to catch fish with my hands. My friend,
Matthew Wittmer, was with me.
"Hey Matthew, stay still!" I said quietly but with a tone of urgency.
"There's a big one right by your leg."
We both froze in the water, keeping our eyes on the fish, waiting for the right
moment to plunge into the water and catch our lunch. Matthew glanced up at me,
"Hey, use your bandana as a net to keep him from swimming past you."
I nodded, took it off, and started to open it up to put in the water when I
stopped for a moment.
"I don't know, my ma just made this one for me last week. She'll kill me
if it comes home already dirty and stinking of fish."
"Ike McSwain, I swear you see your ma as the devil himself! It won't stink
of fish, it's a creek of fresh water! If anything, it'll look cleaner than before!"
He rolled his eyes, trying to not lose the fish. I shrugged my shoulders seeing
his logic and slowly put the bandana in the water, creating a barrier next to
me that the fish would hopefully get caught in. The fish was still closer to
Matthew and had slowly swam to be right in front of him. The moment had come.
Together we both yelled, "Now!" and Matthew thrust his hands into
the water as I moved my bandana towards him, the four hands closing in on the
doomed fish.
"I got it! I got it!" Matthew was waving the fish in the air, fighting
with it as it tried to slip out and back into the safety of the creek. "Quick!
Throw it over him before he slips out of my hands!"
"I got ya covered!" I said as I quickly brought the bandana up from
underneath the fish, making it into a sack of sorts to hold the fish in. The
battle was over, and we looked to be the winners. "Should we start a fire
and cook it now?"
Matthew smiled, "Yeah! Over there!" He pointed to the bank of the
creek. We went over there and collected some small pieces of wood, the whole
time Matthew holding onto my bandana, the fish now not moving.
It was a good meal, and the two of us were contentedly full, not thinking about
the lack of appetite we would have later when our parents would expect us to
clean plates of food. It was nice to be outside, being boys, laughing and enjoying
the breeze.
Of course we both certainly heard enough about that when we got to our respected
houses. My ma was outraged that I had soiled my new bandana and was not impressed
by the distinct fish odour exuding from it. "And I suppose that smell can
only mean that you will not be too hungry for lunch then, eh?" I looked
up at her with guilty eyes. "That's what I thought. Ike McSwain, I want
you to go to your room right now and get a clean bandana out, then you are to
go out and wash this one yourself! After that, you will apologise to me and
your pa for ruining it, since you still need to learn that money doesn't grow
on trees and we can't go replacing them on every whim!"
"Yes ma'am." I headed towards my room and my ma went towards the kitchen,
talking under her breath, "I swear that child will be the death of me!
It's bad enough he had me stark worried as a baby with that fever, and as a
result him having no hair...." She found a new argument to take to me and
I heard through the whole house "You know Ike McSwain, I should refuse
to make any new bandanas for you and see how you treat them then! You cry and
worry about what the other children say, but it would no longer be in my hands.
No! It would be up to you to keep from being made fun of!" I rolled my
eyes in the mirror as I tied a clean bandana on. This was my favourite one too.
It was red with white dots and I always liked to think that if I still had hair,
it might have been some shade of red. I could still hear her going on about
it in the kitchen, although it was more to herself again. She always used that
threat. I hated the fact that I looked different than the other kids at school,
and was relieved when my ma and pa thought of the bandanas. Children can be
quite cruel to each other, and not having a single hair on my head was an easy
target for laughter and remarks. While I still felt different from the others,
the bandanas were a security cover for me, and after the children got used to
seeing me with them on, the comments almost stopped completely. I made friends
with boys like Matthew Wittmer and they saw me as the same as them, another
one of the boys.
After I finished washing the fish odour out of this morning's head-wear, I put
it on the clothes line to dry and was immediately told by my ma that I had to
stay around the house for the rest of the day. She also informed me that she
would have a talk with my pa when he returned from the fields, and that more
than likely he would "have some words for me." I sulked off away from
the house towards the shed, thinking to myself that I wish I could do what I
wanted. I wished they would leave me alone forever so I could so what I pleased
whenever I pleased. I went behind the shed and started drawing pictures in the
dirt. My little sister, Sarah, found me a little later. She drew pictures for
a while too, then returned to the house to help ma fold sheets from the line.
I got bored of drawing and went out to the field that sat between our house,
the shed, and the woods. I laid down on my back and watched the clouds roll
by for what seemed like hours. I got up, went to shed, and found the kite me
and my pa had made several days earlier. My pa returned home from the field,
and I could barely make out my ma's story to my pa, telling her what I had done
earlier in the day as he started chopping wood for the night. I was running
through the long grass of the field, when my name echoed out across the field.
"Ike! Ike McSwain get in here!" I then tried to discreetly get myself
in or behind the shed so I could avoid another lecture for a little bit longer.
Why can't they just leave me alone?! I thought to myself. I paused momentarily,
and looked up to the house only to see my ma rising from a chair and looking
out towards the field, stopping to stand next to my pa with a book in her hands.
Oh no, they found the Bible! My pa was taking his hat off and wiping his brow,
looking like he was ready to set into a lecture too. I decided to make a run
for it. Maybe my ma saw me, but I could her voice echoing over the field, "Ike
McSwain!" I jumped into the shed, slamming the door behind me. I held my
breathe for that moment, hoping she didn't see me and that she might finally
leave me alone. Typically, even if I did close myself in the shed, she'd leave
me alone for a bit. It was my shelter, the place I ran after a hard day at school,
after a long lecture, or when I just wanted to be alone. There were times when
I would feel poorly, scared that I may get sick again, but rather than let my
ma see me and get all scared, I would instead go to the shed and draw until
I felt better or the tears from the taunting of children went away. On one wall
of my shed was a spot covered in little tick marks. When I had started my schooling
two years ago, I hated it. I had no friends, the children laughed at my bald
head, and my ma was always there after school to see how I was feeling. I had
started the tick marks so I would know how much longer I had to endure the tortures
of education. Funny, I thought, I haven't added tick marks for a while now.
Peeking out the window, I saw my ma started to head back to the table. My father
had resumed chopping wood and my sister was skipping rope. Good, another successful
avoidance. Then, I heard a group of horses, as they quickly passed by the window
of the shed, heading towards the house. I couldn't hear what was being said,
but I saw my ma pull my sister behind her protectingly. My pa, clutching his
axe in both hands, raised it across his chest in a defensive manner. Then I
saw it. From that moment till the end, it seemed like everything was in slow
motion. The gun coming out of its holster, one of the men yelling "No"
trying to stop the first man as he shot my pa. He shot my pa, not once but twice.
The second time he shot, my pa dropped the axe and fell backwards and over the
railing that went down the hill from the house to the shed. He hit the ground
and didn't move. I couldn't completely make out the faces of the men on the
horses, but I could hear their laughter. Then I saw my ma and Sarah start running
down the hill, my ma still clutching the Bible I had drawn in. I moved to the
door and peeked through the gap, seeing the man on horse, still laughing, chasing
my ma and sister. I froze, knowing what was coming next, but unable to turn
my eyes away. There were several shots, then one more shot, and my sister, my
Sarah, collapsed. My ma didn't even have time to cry out as a final shot rang
through the air, there was a cloud of red in the air where my ma's back had
been, her body on the ground next to Sarah's. His laughter continued to ring
out as he told his men to search the house and another to search the shed. I
was frozen up to that point, almost disbelieving what I had just seen, yet something
in me made me move. Something made me run to the back of the shed, crotch down
behind some feed bags and barrels and hide. I was so scared. I knew if I made
myself small enough and was silent that I wouldn't be seen. He stepped in and
looked around, all the while I trembled in my hiding place, tears streaming
down my face. "There's nothin' in here!" he said as he left the shed.
He, and the "Laughing Man" with the gun rode back up to the house.
I heard things crashing and breaking. Too scared to get up from my hiding place,
I could only guess that they were destroying our house, maybe searching for
something that was the cause for their coming here to begin with. Then I heard
a group of horses ride off. After what seemed like eternity, silence was all
I heard, but I was still too scared to move. I felt numb, only slightly aware
of the cramping stiffness settling into my legs. All I knew was that if I made
a sound or moved, I would also be dead. Dead. That was the first time I thought
of my family as that... as dead. Suddenly I wanted to run out and see how they
were, run off the doctor and have him come fix them the way he fixed me when
I was sick. But they weren't sick, and I couldn't move or they would come back
and shoot me. Instead, I stayed crouched down, tears falling freely as I silently
wept.
I didn't even notice when night settled in. I hadn't even noticed dozing off,
but I assume that's what I did because I lifted my head and saw stars in the
sky through the window. I don't know how, I guess it was the same power that
moved me from the door to my hiding place, but I felt the pain in my legs after
the long period of crouching as I stood up and crept to the window. It was a
full moon and the field was washed in an eerie white light. I could see a heap
on the ground by the house that I assumed was my pa. I couldn't see much detail
in the moonlight, but I could see our front door was open and some of our belongings
strewn across the porch. I moved to the door of the shed and saw my ma and Sarah.
The tears fell again as I slowly approached them. My sister's face looked as
white and fake as one of her porcelain dolls. My ma was on her stomach and somehow
I knelt down and rolled her over. Her now-empty eyes stared up at me. I fell
back at this and sat there, trying to catch my breath. I don't know how long
I sat there like that, looking at my ma's staring eyes but slowly I saw something.
Her hands were empty. Looking around her, I couldn't find my Bible anywhere.
I began frantically looking around the field for it, not really sure why I suddenly
felt it so important to have. As I searched up the small hill next to our house,
I didn't realise where I was till I found myself staring at a boot. It was his
boot. It was my pa's boot. Suddenly, the events of the evening and the traumatic
consequences of them sunk in and I panicked. I raced back to the shed and returned
to my hiding place. Curled up in the corner, I brought my knees up under my
chin, and I sat there watching the door, waiting.
I know I didn't sleep, but I don't remember much else about the night. I just
sat there, curled up, watching the door. I don't even remember the sun starting
to come up, I just know that it started to get lighter in the shed. Nothing
else had happened that night that I was aware of, I didn't hear anything or
look up to see anything. Around dawn, I thought I heard some horses and a wagon
arrive, but the sounds were all so distant, so muddled. I just focused on the
crack under the door like I had been doing for the past four or five hours.
I heard the men talking, as they approached my family outside. "Will you
look at this? It looks more like an execution than anything else." There
was some grunting noises, like men trying to lift something awkward and heavy,
and the sound of a wagon coming closer to the shed. "Hey, Marshal! Clark
is over here!" The sound of a couple feet running towards the house faded
as they left the area, the marshal and someone else staying with the wagon.
"So how did find out about this again, Ben?"
"Well, around dinner time, my family and I thought we heard distant gun
shots. We didn't think too much about it, till night fell. See Clark was going
to come over to help me fix a plough. When he didn't show, and after hearing
the shots, I rode over here. I saw this, but knew nothing could be done till
first light, which is when I then came to town to get you." Then the marshal
yelled up at the house, "Do you see their boy anywhere in there?"
A more distant voice answered, "No, but those tracks go up here, then back
down there, and all of them head off that way!" I heard men and horses
moving and it sounded like they were meeting up together somewhere between the
shed and the house. Still, I didn't move. "We need to find that boy, assuming
they didn't take him, although I don't see why they would. He's either around
here somewhere... or his body is." I know I vaguely flinched at the last
part of that sentence, the thought that I could be dead, if I wasn't already.
What if I was and didn't know it? Maybe that was how I moved those times without
trying and why I was able to stay so still. I was so caught up thinking about
this, I didn't notice when the shed door opened, even though I was staring at
the crack under it still as it got bigger. They must have split up to search
for me. I was staring in the direct path of the man that knelt in front of me,
but I don't remember seeing him. "Ike? Ike? Boy, are you all right? Hey
Marshal! He's in here!" There was a slight pause, and then there were several
men in front of me, one of whom had a badge on, still it was like I saw them
without seeing them. The marshal knelt down right in front of me, "Son,
are you hurt? Son? Ike?" He reached out to put a hand on my arm and something
in me snapped. It was like the trance I had been in all night was now over.
I immediately shrunk back further into the corner of the shed, my breathing
short and panicked. I stared at the marshal with absolute terror on my face
and began crying as I panicked. It was like all the reactions I should have
done earlier were all coming out of me now. Again, everything started happening
in slow motion and in a haze. I remember they slowly coaxed me out of the shed,
debated over what to do with me, tried to get me to respond to them, answer
questions about yesterday's events, but I just sat there and stared into the
nothingness in front of me. Finally, our neighbour, Ben Walker, said he would
take me home for a bit, until they either found more out about the murders,
some of my kin, or an orphanage that could take me. By that time, they had moved
all the bodies onto the wagon, and put all of our belongings back in the house
and shut the door. Ben led me to his horse and lifted me onto the saddle, then
climbed on himself.
We went to his house, where his wife immediately fussed over me, trying to get
me to eat something and crying about the tragedy of it. When she saw that I
was not responding to anything, she led me to a bed in their loft, where she
left me sitting. After an unknown period of time, she came up to the loft with
a suitcase in hand. She had apparently gone to my house and got some of my belongings,
clothes and such. Later that day, she and Ben put me in their wagon and took
me to town to the undertakers. They thought it might snap me out of my trance.
It sort of worked. When I saw the bodies of what used to be my family laid out
on hard tables, I started crying again. Ben's wife, Mary, knelt down next to
me to hold me, but I stood stiff and didn't feel her touch. She seemed understanding
though, and didn't back away. Instead, she rested a hand on my shoulder and
said, "You know Ike, they are going to be buried tomorrow. If there's anything
you want to remember them, this is your time to retrieve it. This is also your
chance to tell them goodbye." I think I nodded, but I'm not sure. I went
up to them, but then immediately ran out of the office. I'm not sure how or
when, but later that night I was back in the loft of the Walkers. Mary came
up to me again with a jewellery box. I recognised it immediately. It was a hand-carved
wooden box Sarah and I had given Ma for Christmas the year before. She opened
it up for me and showed me the possessions she had collected, thinking they
would best represent the memories of my family. She showed me my pa's watch,
my ma's locket, some letters written between the two of them when they were
courting, and a pale yellow ribbon that Sarah always wore in her hair. The watch,
locket, and ribbon she must have gotten from the undertaker.
The next few weeks were a blur, from the funeral to the time when I left the
Walkers. I was slowly coming out of a constant trance, watching the world around
me and even answering yes or no questions with nods and shakes of my head. I
could see that my behaviour was wearing thin on the Walkers. I heard them talking
about keeping me one night. I could hear Mrs. Walker say she was frightened,
what if the men knew about me and were planning a return? Mr. Walker didn't
deny this possibility but said another mouth to feed, and one that was not going
to be able to earn his keep was too much. But it was Mrs. Walker's fears that
I heard the clearest. The men would return. They would come after me. I saw
them, and they knew I saw them. They have my Bible, they know they didn't kill
everyone. These fears seized my mind more than anything. Several days later,
I wasn't too surprised when they said they found a home for me, although a part
of me was sad by it. I felt so alone. My family had been taken away from me
and now no one wanted me. The Walkers said a quick, rather cold-hearted goodbye
and left me in the care of an orphanage on the other side of Springfield from
where our farms had been.
