The Young Riders: Buck Cross Prompt 025 -- Strangers
Title: One More River
Fandom: The Young Riders
Characters: Buck Cross, Teaspoon, Polly, Kid, Lou, Jeremiah, Theresa
Prompt: 025 -- Strangers
Word Count: 888
Rating: PG-13
Summary: The Pony Express has ended, and the Civil War has torn the Express family apart. A few of them decide to strike out across the country to Oregon and a fresh start.
Author's Note: This is section 34 of a continuing story dealing with the journey from Rock Creek, Nebraska, to the West Coast via the Oregon Trail.
It was two strangers who started out again on the way west.
At least, that’s the way it seemed to Buck.
For all the time he and Julie had spent together over the last few weeks, for all that they had gone through, they traveled now as if neither of them knew the other.
In a way, he understood. As much as the deaths bothered him - especially Dottie’s - the people were not his family, except by the biggest stretch of the concept of ‘marriage.’ That was a burden that Julie had to carry, and he only wished he knew how to help.
This had become so much more than what he had bargained for. It had all seemed so simple that day back in camp when he had volunteered. Even getting married hadn’t seemed like such a very big obstacle - he’d get the Hanlons someplace safe, and then be on his way, alone.
Now, everything had changed. He hadn’t signed on for any of this, but he couldn’t just leave either. Not with Julie like this.
They walked apart most days, neither knowing what to say to the other. Even in camp, they spent most of the time in silence.
Julie had withdrawn into herself, barely speaking unless he asked a direct question, at which point he would get the shortest answer possible. She wasn’t being rude, he knew, just dealing with a sadness so deep that she couldn’t climb out.
The first day out after burying Dottie, they’d managed to put a few miles behind them before stopping for the night. He took care of setting up the camp that night, letting Julie sit off to the side, lost in her own thoughts and memories.
The problem was, she didn’t seem to be climbing out of that hole at all, or even trying.
The second day, she had wandered off into the tall grass a couple of hours after they started out. Assuming she just needed the usual privacy to answer the call of nature, he wasn’t worried.
Half an hour later, he realized she hadn’t caught up.
He stopped the wagon and ran back along the trail. Finding the place where she had walked off was easy, as was following her track.
What was hard was seeing her when he found her.
She was curled up in the grass, knees drawn to her chest. Her whole body shook in silent sobs.
He’d taken her in his arms, let her cry until she seemed cried out.
Now he made sure that she always walked in front of him. And when she needed to relieve herself, he stopped the wagon and waited.
She didn’t stop to cry again - but her mood didn’t lighten either.
If he asked for help, to gather firewood or to find supplies, she complied silently. She ate just enough to keep going, it seemed - and he frequently had to remind her to drink enough water.
They passed Courthouse Rock and Chimney Rock - two of the main natural guideposts along this portion of the trail. But Julie showed no interest.
Even Buck’s tale about how the Indians didn’t see a chimney in the rock, but rather a certain portion of a bull elk’s anatomy, didn’t manage to draw so much as a flicker of interest - or a blush.
The only thing that really seemed to stay the same was the fact that every night, without fail, Julie pulled out a journal and wrote in it. He’d noticed that even the days when she was very sick, she’d still found the strength to write something.
He spent some time wondering what she wrote about. Did she write about him? And how sad would the recent entries be?
Several times he saw her crying as she wrote, and he wondered idly if the tears made her ink smear.
He couldn’t quite bring himself to ask about the journal. It was private, and he had no claim to any part of her life.
The monolithic rock outcropping that was Scotts Bluff began to fill the horizon, another landmark on the journey. This was well-mapped territory, and several towns had sprung up along the way.
As they passed each town, Buck considered his promise to get Julie somewhere safe. One of these towns might well provide that haven.
But he had taken on a responsibility, and she was in no frame of mind to discuss being left in a strange town. And as long as they were traveling together, her honor was served by keeping their marriage intact, so he didn’t even bring up the promised divorce.
They continued on, taking the pass that led through the rock of Scotts Bluff. The bottom of the wagon scraped in places where the wagon ruts had grown so deep after countless thousands of wagons had passed through.
And then they were on the other side, following the North Platte toward Fort Laramie.
Maybe when they reached the Fort, with all of the military and civilian bustle things would change. Maybe then Julie could be drawn out, back into the land of the living.
Because right now, Buck admitted to himself, it was more like traveling with the living dead - and that thought made his skin crawl, as if the spirits of his ancestors had drawn a cold finger down his spine.
Fandom: The Young Riders
Characters: Buck Cross, Teaspoon, Polly, Kid, Lou, Jeremiah, Theresa
Prompt: 025 -- Strangers
Word Count: 888
Rating: PG-13
Summary: The Pony Express has ended, and the Civil War has torn the Express family apart. A few of them decide to strike out across the country to Oregon and a fresh start.
Author's Note: This is section 34 of a continuing story dealing with the journey from Rock Creek, Nebraska, to the West Coast via the Oregon Trail.
It was two strangers who started out again on the way west.
At least, that’s the way it seemed to Buck.
For all the time he and Julie had spent together over the last few weeks, for all that they had gone through, they traveled now as if neither of them knew the other.
In a way, he understood. As much as the deaths bothered him - especially Dottie’s - the people were not his family, except by the biggest stretch of the concept of ‘marriage.’ That was a burden that Julie had to carry, and he only wished he knew how to help.
This had become so much more than what he had bargained for. It had all seemed so simple that day back in camp when he had volunteered. Even getting married hadn’t seemed like such a very big obstacle - he’d get the Hanlons someplace safe, and then be on his way, alone.
Now, everything had changed. He hadn’t signed on for any of this, but he couldn’t just leave either. Not with Julie like this.
They walked apart most days, neither knowing what to say to the other. Even in camp, they spent most of the time in silence.
Julie had withdrawn into herself, barely speaking unless he asked a direct question, at which point he would get the shortest answer possible. She wasn’t being rude, he knew, just dealing with a sadness so deep that she couldn’t climb out.
The first day out after burying Dottie, they’d managed to put a few miles behind them before stopping for the night. He took care of setting up the camp that night, letting Julie sit off to the side, lost in her own thoughts and memories.
The problem was, she didn’t seem to be climbing out of that hole at all, or even trying.
The second day, she had wandered off into the tall grass a couple of hours after they started out. Assuming she just needed the usual privacy to answer the call of nature, he wasn’t worried.
Half an hour later, he realized she hadn’t caught up.
He stopped the wagon and ran back along the trail. Finding the place where she had walked off was easy, as was following her track.
What was hard was seeing her when he found her.
She was curled up in the grass, knees drawn to her chest. Her whole body shook in silent sobs.
He’d taken her in his arms, let her cry until she seemed cried out.
Now he made sure that she always walked in front of him. And when she needed to relieve herself, he stopped the wagon and waited.
She didn’t stop to cry again - but her mood didn’t lighten either.
If he asked for help, to gather firewood or to find supplies, she complied silently. She ate just enough to keep going, it seemed - and he frequently had to remind her to drink enough water.
They passed Courthouse Rock and Chimney Rock - two of the main natural guideposts along this portion of the trail. But Julie showed no interest.
Even Buck’s tale about how the Indians didn’t see a chimney in the rock, but rather a certain portion of a bull elk’s anatomy, didn’t manage to draw so much as a flicker of interest - or a blush.
The only thing that really seemed to stay the same was the fact that every night, without fail, Julie pulled out a journal and wrote in it. He’d noticed that even the days when she was very sick, she’d still found the strength to write something.
He spent some time wondering what she wrote about. Did she write about him? And how sad would the recent entries be?
Several times he saw her crying as she wrote, and he wondered idly if the tears made her ink smear.
He couldn’t quite bring himself to ask about the journal. It was private, and he had no claim to any part of her life.
The monolithic rock outcropping that was Scotts Bluff began to fill the horizon, another landmark on the journey. This was well-mapped territory, and several towns had sprung up along the way.
As they passed each town, Buck considered his promise to get Julie somewhere safe. One of these towns might well provide that haven.
But he had taken on a responsibility, and she was in no frame of mind to discuss being left in a strange town. And as long as they were traveling together, her honor was served by keeping their marriage intact, so he didn’t even bring up the promised divorce.
They continued on, taking the pass that led through the rock of Scotts Bluff. The bottom of the wagon scraped in places where the wagon ruts had grown so deep after countless thousands of wagons had passed through.
And then they were on the other side, following the North Platte toward Fort Laramie.
Maybe when they reached the Fort, with all of the military and civilian bustle things would change. Maybe then Julie could be drawn out, back into the land of the living.
Because right now, Buck admitted to himself, it was more like traveling with the living dead - and that thought made his skin crawl, as if the spirits of his ancestors had drawn a cold finger down his spine.