I was struck by how we never really hear much about Buck's mother in the show so, of course, I got to thinking about what might have happened to her and how it makes Buck feel. Very short one-shot here.

I don't have anything to do with the Young Riders except for thinking up stories.

-xxxx-

The bitter wind cut through his clothes as efficiently as any blade. Buck Cross pulled the collar of his coat up farther against his neck and pulled the blanket from his satchel. The fire struggled against the wind's hostile onslaught but was quickly showing signs of surrender. Calling his shelter a cave was generous. It was really just a small indentation in the side of a small hill he'd found just before nightfall. It wasn't much but it saved him from taking time out to build a lean-to. With just a little more wood, the fire would manage to eke out enough warmth to keep him from courting frostbite during the night.

He wrapped the blanket around his shoulders and opened it just enough to catch what warmth he could from the haphazard flames. As he stared into the orange glow and listened to the whistle of the wind's voice through the trees, his mind was thrust back to that night almost twenty years ago when his life changed completely. Back then, the wind howled much like it did now, only he had the warmth of his brother, Red Bear, to help him ward off the cold.

-xxxx-

She lies still, breathing shallowly as a fish does when it's been thrust ashore and fights for air. He doesn't realize he is unconsciously holding his breath until Red Bear puts his arm around Buck's small shoulder and squeezes gently. His brother isn't that much older than he, but the strength of his young arm is comforting to Buck.

The medicine man chants and waves the incense around and, somehow, Buck thinks it might cause her to awaken; to come back to him and let things go back to the way they were. The feeling of being without her causes the pit in his stomach to grow into a great chasm of fear and pain. It is hard enough being a reminder to the chief of the man who'd raped his wife. Without her to shield him from the scorn and resentment, Buck feels as if any security he has is being ripped away more quickly and violently than a flash of lightning in the dark sky.

The chanting stops and Buck looks from the medicine man to the face of the woman he loves more than any other person alive.

Mother.

Her face, while pale and dotted with sweat, remains as beautiful as when she ran after him in the field of wildflowers; waving her arms and roaring like a mountain lion. Her rich laughter still echoes through his head. The images of her tumble through his mind like leaves falling from a tree. He smiles as he recalls her playing the hiding game and how she would scream loudly when he would sneak up to scare her even though he was never very sneaky or scary.

The smiles turn to tears as he realizes those times are gone. The only thing he will have of her is memories and the medicine pouch she made for him. His hands reach absently for the leather sack and he clutches it as if the items inside will bring her back to him.

As her breath slows, Buck breaks free of Red Bear's arm and crawls to her side, his small voice whispering "Ina" over and over as he brushes her face with his small hand. He sees tears spill from the corners of her eyes and her chest convulses one last time as her spirit is released. He buries his face in her neck, desperate to find solace in her presence one last time. He clings to her, wanting to ignore the feeling of his brother's hand on his shoulder, urging him to come away. His eyes closed, he moves back and sits, once again, next to his older brother. She is gone and he is alone.

-xxxx-

Buck's throat ached from the effort of keeping the tears from flowing. Finally, he surrendered the fruitless battle and allowed himself the chance to mourn the mother he lost so many years ago. As it did back then, his hand held the medicine pouch she so lovingly made for him. No matter how much time had passed, the pain of her death was a wound that remained raw and exposed. When she died, Buck was thrust into the cruel reality from which she'd protected him. Maybe his life would have been different had she lived to nurture her son in a world so set against him.

He felt the wetness on his cheeks begin to grow colder and swept the blanket across his face, wiping away the traces of his sorrow. Sleep would not come tonight. The ghosts of his mother and the others he'd lost whisper in his ear; the memories of the happy times overshadowed by the haunting pain of their absence. He bows his head and closes his eyes as he wraps himself in the blanket, imagining it as the warm arms of his Ina, comforting and loving him as she did so long ago.

*Ina - mother