Okay, this is my reinterpretation of how the Dark Brother episode should have gone. I was so, so disappointed in that script that I just couldn't leave it alone.

Another note – particularly for those of you who've read the first two chapters – I went back and reworked Chapters 1 and 2 (yes, again) because of a reviewer's suggestion that they'd like to see more of the other characters. I won't be messing with it any more, though!

I don't own the Young Riders, I just like playing in their rodeo now and again.

-xxxx-

The cool breeze tossed Little Bird's curly hair to the side. Her face was lined with worry and the tears on her cheeks glimmered in the morning sunlight. Buck stood in front of her and smiled, his hand coming under her chin to tilt her face up to his.

"It will be alright." His voice was low and soothing.

Her bright grey eyes stared back at Buck's. "No, something terrible is going to happen."

"It was just a dream, Little Bird. We'll be back in a few hours."

She nodded her head and attempted a small smile. "I'll see you then."

He turned from her and walked to his horse. As he mounted the young stallion, he took one last look at his future wife. She stood so small among the other women. Buck directed his steed to follow the other warriors but was stopped by screaming behind him.

He swung around to see men swarming the camp, shooting women, running down children and setting fire to the tents. He kicked his horse forward but the animal did nothing. Buck tried to dismount but was unable to move. He could only watch as the women and children were slaughtered. As he screamed helplessly, he saw Little Bird sitting on a horse, behind a large man.

The tears still streamed from her beautiful eyes when she spoke.

"I told you not to leave me, Buck. I told you…"

"No!"

Buck awoke in a cold sweat, his cries startling the stallion tied to the tree next to him. He ran his hand through his long hair and tried to calm his beating heart. The dream came to him often but in the last few months, it seemed as if the nightmare came back to him every few days. It was as if Little Bird was calling out, pleading with him for help.

The memories of that day haunted him. When the warriors returned from the hunt, they'd found their women and children murdered and Little Bird missing. Buck had gone after the men but being young and alone he'd only been able to go so far before losing her trail. It wasn't long after she'd been taken that Buck decided to leave the Kiowa. He'd always been a half breed and not much more than a slave to the tribe. Without Little Bird there to be his partner, his friend, and his love, there was nothing left for him but misery and loneliness.

Over the years, he'd tried to track her down with no success. He'd sent out inquires and letters but it had proven impossible to find her. She'd come to the tribe so young, her real name had never been known. He'd finally given up and gone about his life, hoping that someday they might be reunited.

He lay back on his bedroll and stared up into the black sky, the multitude of stars only amplifying his isolation. When they were younger, Little Bird and he used sit together around the fire at night, watching the embers wind their way into the black sky as if they were actually becoming the glittering lights in the heavens. They didn't have to find things to talk about or work at understanding each other. There were more times than he could count where something he'd been thinking would be spoken by Little Bird.

The only other person with whom he shared that kind of familiarity was Ike. He closed his eyes as the pain in his heart intensified. His best friend's death had consumed Buck with grief. Teaspoon had been right when he'd told Buck that shooting Ike's killer was crossing a line from which Buck would never be able to return. Buck tried time and again to find remorse for killing the man in cold blood but the regret never surfaced.

Buck turned on his side and watched as the fire struggled for life under the glowing embers. It was as if the flames echoed Buck's fight to emerge from the great weight of his past.

-xxxx-

Camille Doyle sat back in her chair and looked out the window of the small schoolhouse. The trees moved lazily in the spring breeze. She picked up her books and went to the open doors of the small building. Denver was beautiful but it was still a city. She longed to be in the open among the trees and mountains, listening to nature; watching the animals play in the streams.

Her heart clenched as images of her past flooded her mind. She tried so hard to push the memories back but they always managed to find their way out. She may have been born white, but her soul remained a Kiowa. Camille's eye's closed as she saw his face before her. He was so strong and handsome even for a young boy. She remembered one day when he'd been attempting to catch rabbits for dinner. His dark hair would trail behind him as he dodged around bushes, trying to corner the small animal. He'd fallen in the mud and been covered head to toe. She recalled how they both clutched their stomachs in laugher, despite his attempts to remain serious and stoic, reveling in the moment of being young and together.

A tear fell from her eyes. If only he hadn't gone on the hunt, he'd still be alive. They'd be with each other right now.

"I miss you Buck." She whispered to herself.

-xxxx-

Buck rode hard into the station and pulled his horse up alongside Kid, who took the mailbag from Buck's outstretched hand. Buck slowed his horse, and directed it over to the barn where he dismounted and took a moment to stretch his aching back. Louise came over and patted Buck on the back.

"Hey, Buck. Lemme take him for you. Go get some water and food."

"Thanks, Lou. I'm beat."

She smiled by way of a 'you're welcome' and Buck headed for the well only to be met by Cody, waving his arms wildly.

"Buck! Look at this! True Tales of the West published my Pony Express stories!"

Buck smiled and shook his head slowly; another one of Cody's addle-brained schemes.

"Congratulations, Cody."

"You're all in there, too! We're gonna be famous!"

"Cody, right now I just want to get a drink."

"Yeah, yeah, sorry. I'm gonna see how many copies Tompkins sold!"

Buck laughed to himself at his friend's never ending attempt at becoming famous. He was sure that someday William F. Cody would be very well known but Buck was happy being a contented nobody. He took a drink of water and poured the rest over his neck. The cool liquid wound its way around his back, soaking his hair. Wet hair….

She emptied the deerskin bladder over Buck's head, laughing as the water washed the mud from his face. He wanted to look so serious but he knew he looked ridiculous and her giggles only served to entice him into laughing right along with her.

The words were spoken as if in prayer.

"Little Bird."

-xxxx-

She opened the door to the mercantile and walked inside. She noticed that her husband to be, Bill Barlowe, was engaged with a customer so she strolled slowly back out to the front of the store. She sat on the bench and watched as the people moved about the street. It took all her strength not to stand up and walk down the road and straight out of town.

Camille was angry with herself. The resilient young girl she used to be was crushed under the weight of abuse, abandonment and loss. It felt like the day she was stolen from her Kiowa people, she'd been thrown in a raging river and rather than fighting to make it to shore, she let the waters throw her back and forth, almost drowning her. The men who'd kidnapped her fought over who would take her first. The orphanage they'd left her at treated her as no more than a servant. The light in her eyes that Buck had so cherished dwindled with each passing year. She'd managed to escape the children's home and find work as a cook in a local saloon. When she'd saved up enough money, Camille moved on to Denver where she'd reinvented herself as a teacher.

Camille met Bill in town a year ago. They'd talked for a few minutes but that was all it took for him to pursue her. He was a decent man and she cared for him but the fire in her heart remained with Running Buck. Camille didn't think another man would ever be able to extinguish the flame that burned for him. She'd agreed to marry Bill only a few months prior but managed to get by until now without setting a date. When he'd proposed that they move to St. Joe and take over his father's business, she'd felt as if another weight had been placed on her chest. Camille was tired of running and tired of attempting to fit in to a world where she only felt like an outsider but she couldn't see her way out of the trap.

She stood up and started to make her way into the store, intending to tell Bill she was heading for home and would see him in the morning, when a small periodical propped up on a stand caught her eye.

True Tales of the West presents The Pony Express Riders

She paused for a moment, picked up the paper and sat back down on the bench. There was something about the paper that intrigued Camille and she hoped reading about some wild west excitement might perk up her sullen mood. Her imagination stirred as she read the tales of outlaws, beautiful women and smoke filled saloons. As she finished a story about a young gunfighter named Hickock, she saw the title of the next chapter and her breath caught in her chest as she read the words:

The Adventures of the Hero Half-Breed, Running Buck Cross

She sat, staring at the paper in front of her, stunned and disbelieving. Snapping out of her reverie, she read the story, recognizing in the dramatic tale the young boy she used to know and love. It was him. Running Buck was alive. Her mind reeled as she reread the story, making notes of where it said he lived and worked. Rock Creek. It was far but she had enough money for a ticket on the stage. She stood up and made her way to the preacher, intending to tell him that she needed to take some personal time. The school year was almost over and she could feasibly finish up their school work in the next few days. Then she would be on her way.

-xxxx-

Buck stood outside the corral, watching the sun wind its way over the landscape. He remembered how he and Little Bird used to sneak away from the village and up to the sacred mountains to watch the sunset or pray to the Rising Sun. He wondered if he would ever find a woman so well suited for him. There had only been a handful of women he'd cared for and, only one, Jennifer Tompkins, had any idea what it was like to have a relationship with a half-breed Indian. His relationship with her ended before it even started. His eyes cast downward as he remembered the way Cathleen Devlin used him against her father. No white woman could ever understand the love he felt for his people or the anguish at being torn between the Indian and white worlds; no one except Little Bird.

Rachel's soft voice broke through his reverie as she came up to stand next to him. "That's a pretty sunset."

He nodded but remained silent.

"You're drownin', Buck."

His head turned sharply towards his friend. "I'll be fine, Rachel."

"You know damn well that ain't true. You haven't been able to put Ike to rest yet, have you?"

His large hand ran its way over his face. "It's not just Ike."

Buck was not someone who shared his feelings easily and Rachel knew for him to even admit something was wrong took a great deal of effort. Her voice was gentle. "You can tell me, Buck."

Once again, the ripples of his memory stilled and he could see her face clearly reflected in the dark waters of his mind.

"Ike was my best friend, Rachel. When we met, we became brothers. We understood each other better than any two people alive, I'd imagine." Buck turned around and rested his back against wood fencing. "Before Ike, there was only one other person who'd ever gotten that close to me. She was a young girl in my village. Her parents had been killed. Even though she was white, my people took her in and called her Little Bird. Both of us bein' outsiders in the tribe, we were drawn to each other. There was something about her I trusted."

He smiled and looked at Rachel. "She could finish my thoughts and sometimes I did the same to her. Drove each other crazy." The images reared again and he saw the aftermath of the day that changed his life.

"What happened?"

"The men went on a hunt one day and while we were gone, a group of white hunters came into our village and murdered all the women. They took Little Bird. I never saw her again. I was too young to search for her and by the time I got out on my own, I didn't have the money to look."

He turned around to rest his arms on the sturdy wood, watching the trees sway gently in the evening breeze. "I'm sure she has a new life now. Maybe a husband…children. But I just can't let her go, Rachel and between her memory and losing Ike…I just feel so damn alone."

Rachel pulled the young man into a strong hug. She felt his breath hitch ever so slightly as he fought to hold back the emotions that so desperately needed to be set free.

"I know it ain't the same, but you still got us, Buck."

After the briefest of moments, Buck pulled away and looked at Rachel, a soft smile playing on his lips. "Yeah, I know. You all are my family. I guess it will just take some time."

She put her hand back on his shoulder and lightly squeezed. "Just don't let it poison you, Buck."

He chuckled. "Funny, Teaspoon once told me the same thing."

"Well, it's about time you stop bein' so stubborn and listen to us wise old folk."

Buck stood back and held Rachel's hands in his own. "You're far from old but you are wise."

"Damn right. Now go wash up for dinner."

He smiled at her again and, as he walked away, Rachel couldn't help hope that Buck would soon find that he wasn't as alone as he thought.

-xxxx-

While the preacher had been disappointed at the prospect of losing such a good teacher, he'd also been supportive of her decision to travel to Rock Creek. Telling Bill Barlowe proved to be more difficult. While Bill had always been a bit on the temperamental side, in the year they'd been courting, he'd never been angry with her. But his reaction to her news had been shocking and frightening. Camille had only seen that level of fury on very rare occasions and from very evil men. She didn't want to think that the person she'd been so closing to sharing her life with was capable of such vitriol. But in that moment, she was honestly afraid he might do something to hurt her. He hadn't, instead choosing to heap on her hateful insults before leaving, promising that she would be miserable in her new life. She shuddered at the memory.

Camille stood at the stagecoach stop and waited as the driver put her bag on the roof. As she was about to move forward she felt a hand on her shoulder and knew instantly to whom it belonged.

"Bill, please don't."

She felt herself being turned around to face him. Bill's eyes radiated guilt and pain. She suddenly felt ashamed for thinking badly of him; she'd broken his heart, it could only be expected that he would be upset.

"I'm sorry I lost my temper yesterday." He looked down at the ground as he spoke. "I just love you so much Camille and I don't understand why you feel you have to go. Please stay, we can be happy together."

Her voice was gentle and low when she spoke. "Bill, I have to see this man. He was the most important person in my life once. I need to see him again."

His calm demeanor slowly ebbed away, allowing the agitation she'd seen yesterday to creep back to the forefront. "Fine, then. Go to your half-breed. But you'll regret it." He spun on his heel, took a few steps, turned back and pointed at her. "I would have made you comfortable, Camille. You would have had a good life. But, now you'll just be some Indian's whore."

With his parting insult, he turned back around and left her, seething with anger at his words. No matter what happened with Buck, she would never come back to this place again.

-xxxx-

Time passed for Buck as it always did. He focused on rides, the ranch and helping Teaspoon as a deputy. He actually enjoyed being a lawman and while not all of the townspeople tolerated an Indian with a badge, the majority of them hadn't objected to his position in the law office. At least the snickers and whispers of 'half-breed' and 'injun' had slowly started to be replaced with 'how-do's' and 'deputy'. He might not be wholly accepted in town, but the respect was slowly increasing.

He saw Teaspoon approaching from across the street, walking with a determination that usually meant trouble.

"Buck!" Teaspoon waved a piece of paper in front of him. "Buck, you need to ride this telegram out to the Murphy's place. Seems their oldest got in a bit of trouble and managed to end up at Fort Laramie."

Buck shook his head. "Too bad. Fort Laramie ain't a place you get out of once you get in."

"From the sound of it, he might be findin' himself on the short end of a noose by next week."

The young man mounted the horse tied up in front of the Marshall's office. "Be back in a few hours, Teaspoon."

"Ride safe, Buck."

-xxxx-

An hour had passed since Buck left for the Murphy's when the late afternoon stage began to approach the town. Teaspoon walked out of the jailhouse and onto the porch, leaning against a post as he finished his apple. He always enjoyed seeing the people coming off the coach; looking around the new town, sometimes being greeted by family with hugs and tears.

The stagecoach stopped in front of the hotel and a man and women stepped outside. They smiled at each other and stood arm in arm as another passenger exited the coach. She had a slender build and wore a simple brown skirt and dark red blouse. Teaspoon was taken aback at her long, curly black hair. He watched as the driver handed down her bags. She took a moment to survey the town and then started walking directly toward Teaspoon.

He stood up straighter and threw the apple core behind him into the office, moving forward down the porch steps. She was a beautiful young woman. The long, dark hair was only complimented by the deep color of her blouse. Her face was tanned and her eyes a bright blue grey. As she came closer, she smiled and greeted Teaspoon.

"Afternoon, Marshall."

"Afternoon, miss. What can I do ya for?"

Camille put her bags down and studied the man in front of her. With long grey hair and a cocked bowler hat, he didn't seem to be the typical lawman. But he seemed friendly enough and, really, he was her only hope of finding Buck.

"I'm hoping you can help me. I'm looking for a man…"

The Marshall's eyebrows rose upward. "This man gonna run to ya or away from ya?"

She laughed. "Oh, I hope he'll run to me, Marshall. He's an old friend and I happen to read this…" She drew the Tales of the Old West from one of her bags and presented it to him. "…and saw he lived in this town."

Teaspoon's eyes grew wide as he read the words to which the girl pointed. "Buck? You're lookin' for Buck Cross?"

She shook her head and looked up at him expectantly, trying to reign in the excitement in her voice. "So he is here. You know him?"

"Know him? Well, my dear, the boy is like a son to me." He stepped forward and took her bags. "Come right this way."

They began to walk towards the way station.

"What's your name, little lady?"

"Oh, I'm sorry, it's Camille Doyle."

"It's a pleasure, Ms. Doyle. Name's Teaspoon Hunter. Most folks just call me Teaspoon. So, what brings you here for Buck?"

He could tell she was a bit hesitant to reveal too much to a stranger but she smiled and began to speak.

"I knew Buck when we were children. I was taken from our village when just a young girl and for ten years I've thought he was dead. That story was the first I'd heard he was alive. So, I just had to come and see for myself."

Teaspoon's head reeled. Rachel had told him of her conversation with Buck and how he pined for the young woman walking next to him.

"Your name was Little Bird, wasn't it?"

Camille's face lit up. "Yes, but how…Buck told you? He remembers after all this time?"

"Oh, my dear, it's more than rememberin'. You own a piece of his heart."

Camille shot the older man a look and hear heart hammered in her chest. She walked with the Marshall in silence for a few minutes until they approached a small area that contained a home, corral, barn and bunkhouse. A young man stood next to the corral brushing his horse. Two others stood on the porch of the bunkhouse, watching the Marshall and her approach.

"This here is the pony express waystation where Buck lives."

She began to look around, searching the area for Buck when Teaspoon spoke.

"He's not here just now, Miss Doyle but he should be back shortly. I wanted ya to meet his friends since I have a feelin' you'll be stayin' awhile."

Camille looked at him and smiled shyly. This welcome was far more than she ever could have imagined. She looked around at the faces of the young men staring at her when she heard a female voice.

"Teaspoon, who is this lovely young lady you've brought to visit? Another relative of yours?"

The woman walked out of the front door of the house and down the steps. She was older with blonde hair and very pretty. Camille felt a bit intimidated and tried to fix her hair quickly.

"No, Rachel, this here is Miss Camille Doyle. She came here to see Buck. Miss Doyle, this is Rachel Dunne, she takes care of the riders…keeps 'em in line."

"Don't know if I do a very good job at that, Teaspoon." Rachel stopped just in front of where Teaspoon and Camille stood. She looked from the young woman to her friend, her face a study in confusion. The other riders had started moving closer to hear what was going on and Teaspoon spoke again.

"You may remember Buck telling us about his childhood friend, Little Bird."

The look on Rachel's face changed immediately. At first, she shot a shocked glance to Teaspoon, and then she beamed ear to ear, stepping forward to embrace a very surprised Camille.

"Oh! You have no idea, Camille! No idea at all how happy I am to see you!"

Camille laughed. "Well, thank you, Miss Dunne…"

Rachel pulled away and waved her hands. "No, no, you call me Rachel. Come inside. I want you to tell me how you got here."

Teaspoon smiled and began to follow the two women but paused to address the riders assembling in the yard. Lou raised her hands in a questioning gesture and started to speak but Teaspoon beat her to it.

"Y'all keep your trousers on and let us know when you see Buck."

Good news was hard to come by these days and Teaspoon was glad to know that at least one of his riders was in for a pleasant surprise.

-xxxx-

Buck rode into the pony express station for a quick bite to eat before heading back to the Marshall's office. Dropping the telegram hadn't taken long since the Murphy family seemed neither surprised nor dismayed to hear their oldest son was bound for hanging. They were not the most upstanding citizens in the area.

From just a short distance away, he heard one of the riders call out, "Buck's comin'!" It wasn't entirely unusual to hear one of the riders announced, but it wasn't the normal practice when the rider wasn't on a run. His gut was telling him something was going on.

As he slowed his horse in front of the corral, he noticed Teaspoon emerge from Rachel's house. The fact that Teaspoon didn't take his eyes from Buck and was quickly followed by Rachel exiting the front door made his curiosity rise even more. Then, he noticed the other riders standing around the outside of the bunkhouse with their attentions trained directly on Buck. With a wave of his hand, Teaspoon told Buck to come to the house.

He dismounted his horse and slowly started walking toward Rachel's, the question ready on the tip of his tongue, when he saw Rachel step aside to reveal a young woman standing behind her. She had long, curly hair and her clothing was plain. He began to close the distance between himself and the house, never taking his eyes of the girl. As he drew closer, he saw the features in her face and the realization made him stop in mid stride. She smiled at him and his breath caught in his chest. Her face, while longer and less girlish, looked exactly the same.

She began to walk down the steps and met him just beyond the house, where Buck stood as still as a post. They stared at each other, while Buck's head spun and his heart beat as if he'd just run a mile. He wanted to say her name and wake himself from this dream but he didn't want to break the reverence of the moment. Finally, he could wait no longer and the words tumbled from his mouth in a mixture of joy and disbelief.

"Little Bird?"