Part 7 to be continued
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Part 7 Buck scorned himself for letting Craven see that he was worried. This was not good. He had let the man get the better of him. Now he had to find himself and let go of the fear. Not to show fear in front of an enemy was something he had been taught a long time ago, and now he need to recall those memories. So he tried to ignore the pain in his hands, arm and leg and closed his eyes. Hidden in his memory he found the words to an old chant and he slowly began to recite the words in his mind. Shutting out the word around him, he begun to feel at ease. Craven watched Buck from a distance and he didn't like what he saw. The Indian was no longer trying to find him and he had just closed his eyes, as if he was goin' to accept whatever destiny had in charge for him. That was not how it was s'pose to be, Craven thought grimly. He hadn't offered time and whiskey on these men for nothing. "McComb! he yelled. "Get that Injun tied to that branch over here. No need for him to sit, while we're working!" McComb and another man that Craven thought was named Bender nodded and walked over to where Buck was sitting calmly, unaware of what was going on. When he heard the men approach he looked up at them. "Cut'im loose, Bender," McComb sneered. "It's time we had some fun, Indian." Unable to do anything Buck was cut loose from the tree and brusquely forced to his feet. He felt dizzy for a few seconds and he realised that his hands felt numb due to the tight ropes around his wrists. When he stumbled Bender gave him a hard push in the back, causing him to fall headlong into the ground. Some men laughed as McComb jerked him to his feet. "Can't walk, Indian?" he grinned and breathed whiskey into Buck's face. Another man walked up to them and soon Buck was more or less hanging in his arms from a large branch. The rope was just so long that he could stand on his feet, but it still put a lot of strain on his arms and he bit his lip as the rope cut into his already sore wrists. His shirt and west had been removed and he could feel the night chill against his bare chest. Craven walked up to him. "This is to teach you to show respect, half-breed," he said coldly. "Now, it's all up to you. Why don't you tell us what a low-life bastard of an Indian whore you are, and we just might let you go." Filled with anger, Buck tried to kick Craven without losing his balance, but the man must have anticipated that and quickly stepped out of his reach. Buck received a hard punch in his back from someone standing behind him and the pain made him gasp. "You know," Craven said to the men around him as he watched the Indian trying to find his balance again, fighting the pain in his back and wrists, "when I served in the army, there was few of'em Indian whores around." Craven looked at the men and while another canister of whiskey was brought he continued his coarse story, using a language unknown to most farmers. Buck fell the anger inside him rise and he would have done anything to have his hands free so he could fight. "So, half-breed, was your ma one of 'em whores giving it to the army?" The question brought forward a laugh among the men, and Buck gritted his teeth. If only he had his hands free… The rough hand of Craven grab his chin. "The man asked you a question, half-breed." Buck looked at Craven, unable to hide what he felt anymore. His dark eyes were filled with hatred and contempt and Craven's sardonic smile pushed him over the edge. With a snarl he managed to keep his balance long enough to gather enough strength to land a leg hard on Craven's shin. Surprised the man gasped and stumbled to the ground. Silence fell as the group watched Craven slowly rose. The smile was now gone and replaced with a sinister expression. "Emery, get me my whip," he said slowly. "This game is over." As a grinning Emery slipped away to the stable, Craven looked at his prisoner. There was no longer any sign of fear in the dark eyes, but Craven didn't care. The half-breed had dared to hit him, and now he had to pay. "Craven, you're not gonna whip 'im, are you? How do we explain that to Hunter?" "We won't have to explain anything." Craven's self-confidence shone through in his voice. "Ye' all agreed that this horse-stealing half-breed needed a lesson. Well, this is the lesson." At that moment Emery came running holding a large leather-clad whip decorated with knots at the end. Craven took over it and walked up to Buck. "Whip me and I'll kill you." Buck looked straight into Craven's eyes. When Craven saw the calm determination, he hesitated, but only for a second. "You're not in a position to threat, Injun," he replied. "Besides, then you'll have to kill all of us." Craven sneered and handed the whip down to Emery, who, on his part handed it over to someone out of Buck's sight. Craven was still standing before Buck. "Understand this, half-breed," he said silently, "I don't mind killing you. In fact it wouldn't bother me at all. But with all respect for the law, we're gonna hand you over to Hunter. But I want to remember that next time, I might not be so considerate." Buck never saw Craven's hand move, but in the next second he felt the whip bite into his skin just below his shoulders. Unprepared, the pain made him wince and he lost his balance. Craven jerked him to his feet. "Do you know that I've never seen a man stand for more than 60 lashes with that whip. So let's see if you can stand 50 - and in case you die, we already got the grave ready. But in case you'll live," Craven took out a bandanna and tied it around Buck's head, covering his eyes, "we do want you to tell the truth, that you didn't see who held the whip." Buck heard Craven move away from him and he tried to brace himself for the next lash. "He can't tell who done it now, boys, so feel free!" Craven's call was followed by laughter and the whip hit Buck's back for a second time, this time drawing blood. Buck gritted his teeth, trying not to scream in pain, but as the whip continued to strike he no longer could contain the pain and he screamed in agony. This didn't stop the whipping and soon he could feel blood running down his back. After a while he no longer felt the lashes as the pain no longer had a specific origin. All of his back seemed to be on open wound and he could see red spots before his eyes. He didn't care about the pain in his arms and wrists, he just wanted it to be over. Finally a black fog settled before his eyes and he sank down into unconsciousness. The next thing he remembered was the refreshing feeling of cold water in his face. The feeling was immediately replaced by one of pain and he moaned and slowly opened his eyes. He seemed to be laying on the ground and he couldn't move his hands. Somebody jerked him to his feet and a hand grabbed his hair and forced him to look up. "We're not ready yet," the harsh voice of Craven echoed in his mind, "and if you pass out again, I don't care about the consequences - then we'll bury you, no matter you're dead or alive." Buck swayed as the ropes against his wrist once again forced him to stand. As he tried to look around, his eyes suddenly saw a pair of eyes staring at him behind some bushes. At first he thought somebody had come to help him, but then he saw the fascination in the eyes. It's the boy, he thought before somebody placed the blindfold around his eyes again. With despair he realised that this nightmare wasn't over. It felt as if he had been feeling this pain for an eternity. He could no longer tell how long he'd been away from the bunkhouse, but he hoped it was close to day-break. If he still was alive then, they would hand him over to Teaspoon, or at least he hoped they would. Not that he cared any more. He just wanted the pain to end. James watched in horrid fascination the Indian twist and twirl and finally sank down under the lashes of the whip. He'd never seen anything like it before. He threw a look over at his father. He'd never seen him like that before either - he was ordering the townspeople around as if he owned them. A sense of pride showed itself in the boy - that was his Pa all right. Nobody messed with his Pa. That he only three days ago had decided that his Pa was nothing more than a useless farmer he had forgotten. Now his father was almost a hero, like Hickok. Teaspoon urged his horse forward. In his heart he feared that they would be to late. He had seen what a mob could do if they were in a bad mood. And talk of Indian attacks on a homestead could very well be the matter that set them off. He hoped that Buck hadn't been so stupid as to go and look for tracks over by Craven's, but then Buck could be very stubborn. All of 'em could, he pondered miserably, which was probably why they were among the best riders the Express had. Damn, Buck, why couldn't you just have let it be? He thought as they approached Craven's land. Despite the worry about Buck's condition, he knew that this would only emphasise Craven's demand of bringing in the army. And Buck might loose some of the credibility he managed to build up among the people in the town. "Somebody's coming, Teaspoon!" Kid called up to him and pointed ahead. True enough, in front of them several men on horses could be seen. Teaspoon halted his horse. "Let's wait here, boys," he said. "I think Craven is among'em." The riders sat in silence as the crowd came closer. "Nice of you to meet us, marshal," Craven smirked. Teaspoon looked at the man. There was something changed in the man's appearance but he couldn't put his finger on it. He'd never thought the man looked like a farmer, but now it was more obvious that this man never had been or would be a farmer. "Mr. Craven," he said nodding. "We got a prisoner for you. He tried to steal our horses last night." Craven continued, still smiling. Jimmy fought an urge to wipe the smile of the man's face with a simple movement with his gun, but he thought it was better to leave this up to Teaspoon. "A horse thief, he?" "Yeah. Right, men?" Craven turned to the others and got a mumbled consent. It was one thing blaming Teaspoon for being a bad marshal when he weren't around, but another to lie to him in his face. "You're sure 'bout that Bender?" Teaspoon asked one of the men he knew. Bender looked around before answering. "Yes, marshal, we all saw it." Teaspoon looked at Craven, who illustratively raised an eyebrow. "Not wanting to stay above the law, we decided to hand him over, of course." "So where is he?" "Over there." Craven pointed over to a wagon that had been hidden by the other horses until now. "Kid, go and have a look, will you?" Teaspoon asked, his eyes not leaving Craven. Kid obliged and without a word he dismounted and walked over to the wagon. He took one look over the edge and then he turned to face Teaspoon. Teaspoon took one look at the boy's face only to confirm what he already suspected. It was Buck. "So what happened to him?" he asked, knowing that if Buck would have been all right, he would not be laying in a wagon. "Guess, we might have been a bit rough, marshal, but then it's not every day you catch a horse thief," Craven sneered, "red-handed, so to say. We'll lend you the wagon if you like." Kid had jumped on to the wagon and taken a closer look at his friend. Now he was on his way back to Teaspoon, pale in the face and with his jaws set. He walked up to Teaspoon and stood so the men wouldn't hear what he had to say. Jimmy moved his horse closer to hear what Kid wanted. "He's been whipped, Teaspoon, " Kid mumbled between his teeth. "How bad?" "Can't say. He's unconscious." Teaspoon dismounted and handed the reins over to Jimmy, who was watching the men with one hand close to his gun. If anything happened, he sure as hell wanted to be prepared. Following Kid, Teaspoon walked over to the wagon. Somebody had thrown an old blanket over the rough timbers in the wagon, and on it Buck had been dumped, more or less. He wasn't wearing any shirt or jacket, but his west was laying next to him. Teaspoon carefully turned him over on one side. When he saw the boy's back, he took deep breath and slowly let him down again. "Who did this, Craven?" he asked in a cold voice. "Don't know, marshal." "You don't know, he?" "That's right - why don't you ask the half-breed?" "Don't worry, I will. Kid, take the reins and head back to the station." Teaspoon ordered and climbed down. "The station? Now, hear here, marshal, that Indian is a thief and we think he should be brought back to town---" "You'll get the wagon back, when we're done." Teaspoon interrupted him. "In the meantime you should be happy I'm not bringing you in right now for abuse." Craven shrugged and turned his horse as he ordered the men to get back. "You're gonna let'im get away with it?" Jimmy looked at Teaspoon. "Don't worry, Jimmy. He'll get what's comin' for him, it just ain't now. Let's get Buck back, OK?" When they arrived at the station, Lou was already there with Doc Barnstone. Rachel was with them as they watched the wagon roll in. "It's about time you showed up, Teaspoon," Doc called amiably. "I was beginning to think you dragged me out here on a foul's errand." "I wish I had, Doc," Teaspoon replied shortly and dismounted. "You better give us a hand." "What happened?" Rachel asked as she walked over to the wagon where Kid and Jimmy was trying to lift Buck. "Buck got into trouble over at Craven's." Kid explained as Rachel and Lou came to their aid. Rachel placed a hand under Buck's back to support him, but withdraw it almost immediately. It was covered in blood and she looked in horror at Teaspoon. "What happened?" she asked again. "He's been whipped," Teaspoon explained, and
turned to Doc. "I think it's quite bad too. He must have lost a lot of blood since
he's unconscious." "Mrs. Dunne, we'll you get some hot water, a few bandage and something to wipe away all that blood with? This was Doc's area and the riders reluctantly stepped back. "Why don't you wait outside?" Rachel suggested and by the tone in her voice, they all realised that it was better to oblige. It was a miserable bunch that was sitting on the porch of the bunkhouse when Noah rode in an hour later. Teaspoon was supposed to be back in town, but had chosen to stay until they had a word from Doc about Buck. "Good you're back," Teaspoon called. "Did you find anything?" Noah dismounted and wiped a hand over his tired face. It had been long days in Denver, searching for evidence of any foul play and he had ridden hard to get back. "Not much. The broker seemed genuine enough. Claimed he had a contract with the government for the right to sell those lands. He showed me the contract, and though I'm not a lawyer, it looked OK. He hadn't sold any more, and when I told him about our problems, he went pale and promised not to sell any until it calms down. Think he's afraid of being sued or held responsible." "There's no help there then," Teaspoon muttered. "Thanks Noah, at least it was good to hear that there will be no more homesteads for the time being." "But I did find out something 'bout Mr. Craven." |
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