.-- .- -. - . -.. (Wanted)

“.--  .- -. - . -..” The staccato tapping brought Eugene Belgrade, the telegraph operator, out of his daydream. Leaving the shade and comfort of the rocking chair, he made his way inside to his pad of paper and pencil and began to write.

“WANTED: Buck Leiter. For Stage Robbery and Murder. REWARD: $2000.00. Last seen heading northwest towards the Llano Estacado.”

He responded in acknowledgement and after a brief exchange of the who's, when's, and why's, Eugene ran the note down to the Ector County sheriff's office in Odessa and handed it to Sheriff Red Barnes.

“Howdy Eugene, what's got you scurrying about on a day as hot as today?”

“Sheriff, this just came across the line for ya.” Eugene said panting handing the note over to the sheriff.

“Where’s this from?”

“It’s from them blue coats down in Fort Stockton. Apparently ol' Bucks done Robbed the Butterfield and kilt one of the passengers."

“Damn that boy. Who'd he kill?”

“That yankee carpetbagger judge. The one that took his folks land away after the war.”

“Hell, that ain't no great loss. I'm sure a lot of people would be happy that bastard's dead.”

“That ain't all sheriff.” Eugene added.

“Well spit it out then. We aint got all day Eugene.”

“Seems he was also in the railroads pocket and was leaving the fort after makin a deal for sellin em horses and cattle. Seems the railroad sendin troop up here and their gonna send down the pinkertons.”

“I guess that's that then.”

“What that Sheriff?”

“We'll be in occupied territory pretty soon. They kill him on sight. He can never come home again.”

***

Buck Leiter squatted besides his buckskin stallion as he refilled his canteens and to let his horse drink as he stared out over the staked plains. Bucks’ family was one of the first to settle on the Llano, on land bought or leased from the Cherokee nation. It only cost 10 horses at the time but for continued peace, a few head of cattle tended to go missing from time to time. Buck grew up with Quanah Parker and ran, hunted and played all over the country, so he knew it like the back of his hand. Staring out at the sea of grass he wondered where his friend was now? Last he heard Quanah, now chief of the Cherokee, was in a running fight with the U.S. army. He didn't know what a bunch of yankee farmers thought they could do against a group of season warriors such as his friend, nor why they couldn’t just live in peace like he and his family had. His canteens now filled, he stripped his saddle off his horses back, to make it lighter, grabbed his rifle and mounted. He pointed his horse northwest toward the Indian trails he knew and toward the closet watering hole. It was the dry season and he knew water was going to be hard to come by. He checked his back trail and set out, contemplating what he done.

***

During the war, Buck served with the 5^th Texas mounted rifles at the age of 15. Due to his raising, he was already an excellent horseman and could track a snake across a rock, thanks to his Indian friends. After the war, Buck came home to find his father and mother dead, and his land taken by new county judge appointed by the reconstructionist governor Edmund J. Davis. So, like many solider, coming home from war, who found that there was nothing for them, Buck hit the outlaw trail. His goal was to continue hindering the northern oppressors by stealing what didn’t belong to them and giving it back to the rightful owners. That particular morning, the Butterfield overland stage co. was transporting the army’s payroll. Once he got the stage stopped, he made the passengers disembark.

“I'm not here to hurt ya'll or the steal from ya'll, I'm just here for the yankee payroll. Driver toss down them guns, ya'll too as ya get out of the coach, real easy like.”

They all did as he said, except the judge.

“You’re just a piece of rebel trash, like everyone else in this state. I guess we’ll have to hang the lot of you before you understand.” The judge said as he got out of the coach.

“I only here because you and your kind. You came down here to take advantage of the situation and to steal what ain't you’re. You’re the worst kind of evil. If the government wasn’t backin ya, you wouldn’t dare come down here. You stole my land from me and are too much of a coward to fight me for it.”

“I'll see you hang for this!” The judge reached inside his coat and grabbed the Derringer he kept in his inner pocket.

Buck saw him reach and let him draw, point and fire. He missed. The Derringer is great if you’re sitting across a card table, but not so good at any amount of distance. Before he could fire his second shot Buck drew and fired putting a ball size hole through the center of his chest.

“It was a fair fight, I seen it. He drew first, you were just defending yourself mister.” The driver said, hands in the air.

“Don’t think that'll matter much. How about throwing down the money bags and I'll leave ya'll be? Apologies ladies.”

The driver opened the strong box and threw down the bags. Buck picked them up and put them across his saddle horn as he mounted up and rode away.

***

Still several hundred yards away from the first watering hole, he reined up and pulled out his spy glass to have a look around. He thought in the distance that he saw a wagon, but how could that be? No one would take a wagon out across the Llano, not there at least. The Llano Estacado is loosely translated from the Spanish meaning the staked plains. There are no trees, bushes or landmarks of any kind. So, the only way to get across, if you aren’t born here, was to follow a staked path across. Putting the glass up to his eye, he was validated when he saw indeed it was a broken-down wagon. He knew he should skirt it, leave it be, that only trouble would come of it if he went to see what was going on. He went anyway.

He rode around in an ever-shrinking circle searching for sign. What he saw worried him. A group of horses, unshod, rode in toward the wagon then left with four additional shod horses. The closer he got, the more of the story he saw. Judging by the arrows in the sideboard and around the ground, a party of Kiowa descended upon the wagon. They killed two men that must have been driving and took off with the horses. Still, there were tracks there that still didn’t make sense. Barefoot and small, not small enough to be a child but too small to be a man. Buck checked the dead bodies and found none that matched. He started scouting the area and finally found what he sot. The footprints were leading away from the Kiowa's but also away from water. Quickly he gathered his mount from where he was left to graze on what he could and rode off in the direction the prints had trodden. To his astonishment, he found a woman curled up in a ball on the ground, unconscious. Mistaken her for dead, he rode right in startling her, as she screamed in fright, Buck’s stallion took to jumping, sun fishing and running. Buck got his horse under control only to find the woman move two feet to her left before passing out again.

He ground hitch his horse and grabbed his canteens, then propped the woman’s head on his lap. He slowly wetted her face and lips, burnt from the scorching summer sun, and managed to get a little down her. She was on fire, he knew she would not survive if he left her and was amazed she had survived out here by herself at all. He sat trying to figure out his options, of which he had none. He knew he had to get off the Llano and he knew of only one place to go.

***

It was just getting dark as Buck approached the edge of the Llano and pulled his horse to a stop. The woman was still out cold and in his arms. It was still another day until he reached town and several times along the trip he thought the woman had died. Other times it was all he could do to keep them on top of the horse as the fever and nightmares took their toll. That isn’t why he stopped though. He stopped because he smelt smoke but it was too dark to see smoke and to light to see fire glow. He once again ground hitch his horse and set the woman on the ground and covered her with his blankets. In the darkness, a small glow appeared in the distance. Slowly, Buck made his way, belly to the ground toward the camp fire.

“Don’t move Buck.” Buck didn’t. “Stand up real slow, hand in the air.” Buck did. “Walk into the light.”

Buck walked into the light and saw Sheriff Red Barnes sitting on his bed roll drinking a cup of coffee.

“How'd you know it was me Sheriff?”

“You’re the only man I know who can move around out here in the dark Buck.”

“How sheriff?”

“Crickets quit chirpin. So, I knew something was moving but I didn’t hear a thing nor see a blade of grass move.”

“What are you doing out here Sheriff?”

“Hoping you weren’t fool enough to come home.”

“I can never go home Sheriff.”

“If you know that, then what are you doing here Buck?”

“I was on my was across the Llano and came upon a broken-down wagon.”

“Indians?” the sheriff asked

“Yep. Kiowa. There was a woman, she’s got the fever from the sun. I had nowhere to take her.”

“She alive? Where is she?”

“With my horse, out there.”

“Let’s go get her.”

They got up and Buck took Red to where his horse was, and where the woman was still on the ground reeling from the fever.

“What are you going to do Buck?"

“Guess that depends on you Sheriff.”

“Buck, I have to get her to town. I think I know the way. If you come with me…”

“No, I can’t go home.”

“Where are you going to go Buck?”

“Perhaps I'll go see Quanah, perhaps become one of the last of the mountain men on the other side of the Llano.”

“Well," Sheriff Red Barnes stuck out his hand to shake Bucks’ “If I ever get up in the mountains, I'll look ya up Buck.”

“You’re always welcome Red.”