Eleanor tugged her coat around her, trying to shut out the cold breeze that blew across the Nebraska flatlands. The weather was different here than it had been when they lived near Denver. There they had seen lots of snow and a dryer cold. Here in Nebraska they didn�t seem to get as much snow but the wind that blew was cold and moist. Eleanor wasn�t sure which she preferred . . . wind or snow. And at times she wondered if it wouldn�t have been smart to stay in Ireland, where the weather was more consistent. But they had a good life here in the states and had done well for themselves. Perhaps better than they would have back home.

She continued walking until she reached her destination, the bunkhouse used by the Pony Express riders. There was one rider in particular she sought. He was just a few years older than her grandson and had come to live among the whites at much the same age, from what Teaspoon Hunter had told her. She had discussed what she planned to do with her husband, Liam, and he had reluctantly agreed. They were both unsure how to handle their situation and they needed some help.

Eleanor stepped up on the porch and knocked on the door. A young man with longish blond hair opened it.

"Yes ma�am?" he said, one hand resting on the doorframe.

"I�m looking for a young man by the name of Buck Cross. Would he be here?" She asked, her voice still holding just the hint of a brogue, even after all these years.

"Buck? Yes ma�am, he�s here. Hey Buck! You got company." Buck was already approaching the door as Cody said his name.

"Mrs. Thomas? What can I do for you?" The tall half-breed asked, puzzlement and concern flashing across his face. Had the boy run off again?

Eleanor recognized the young man as one of the boys who had found Cayden the last two times he had run off. Even the blond young man looked familiar, but until now she hadn�t had names to put to the faces.

"I was wondering, would there be someplace we could talk?" she asked.

"Sure. I think Rachel�s out visiting. I�m sure she wouldn�t mind if we used the house." The young man reached along the wall, grabbing his coat and hat, pulling them both on as he closed the door. He led the way over to the station house and escorted Eleanor inside.

"What can I do for you, Mrs. Thomas?" Buck asked as he pulled a chair out from the table for the older woman and took one himself.

"Mr. Cross�"

"Buck."

"Buck," she corrected, "I was hoping you could give me some advice. While you�re childhood was a bit different than his, it was still similar to what my grandson, Cayden, has experienced. Mr. Hunter said that maybe you could help us. Help us understand what to do for him, how to help him."

"I�ll do what I can."

The two talked for several hours. Eleanor explained how her daughter had been killed in an Indian raid and Cayden taken, then traded to the Lakota, who raised him for the next nine years. Buck did his best to explain what life was like in a Kiowa village, hoping that life was similar among the Lakota. He told her of his life amongst the whites, going to the mission school and trying to adapt. He told her how similar, and yet how different, the two cultures were.