What's In A Name?

Buck's story begins many years before, when a young man leaves a sheltered Indian tribe for the first time in his young life to live with his father's people. The White World. A world that, since birth, he had been subconsciously taught to hate. A young man named Running Buck.

Not all that surprising, really, given all that which he had grown up with. Given the circumstances of his birth. No one had let him forget that he was half-white. That his father, his white father, had raped his mother, and he was the product. The Kiowa warriors he had grown up with never really accepted him; even when his half-brother, Red Bear, did. And Red Bear was the Kiowa chief.

Things came to a head when young Running Buck was asked to join a hunting party. While the men were away, the camp was raided by a trappers. The women and children were killed, and a young white girl, Camille, who was raised by the Kiowa and to whom Running Buck was promised, was 'taken back to her own people'. The Warriors in the hunting party, looking for someone to blame this tragedy on, took it out on Running Buck. He was the closest and considered white in their eyes.

To protect his younger half-brother, Red Bear sent him away. To live in the White Man's World and learn about his other half. While he understood Red Bear's line of reasoning, deep down Running Buck resented being sent away, forced to live in a world he did not understand. He knew that speaking English would not be enough to be accepted there.

It was a half-starved and very angry young Running Buck whom was found by Sister Vera, a nun from the Saint Bridgette's Mission, located on the far western border of Nebraska Territory. A compassionate soul, Sister Vera took Running Buck back to the mission with her. But the young man's first meeting with Mother Elizabeth left much to be desired.

"Now, young man, what is your name?" Mother Elizabeth asked, briskly, but not unkindly.

"Running Buck," he sullenly answered. One thing these past three months had taught him was not to trust strangers.

"Now, you must have another name. We can't call you by that heathen name here."

"My name is Running Buck," was all he replied. The more Mother Elizabeth tried to get him to reveal another name, the more sullen and cross Running Buck became. The argument was going no where fast. Finally Sister Vera suggested they should call him Buck Cross -- Buck from his Indian name and Cross because that was how he was evidently feeling.

"Would that suit you Buck?" Sister Vera asked.

The look on Buck's face suggested that he was not all that thrilled with the development, but the name 'Buck' was sufficiently Indian for him, so he just sullenly nodded. He sensed that he wasn't going to win there anyway.

Mother Elizabeth agreed, and they moved on to other matters; Buck's earing and medicine pouch. She was adamant that they had to go. Buck was equally adamant that he was not going to get rid of them; and he was not going to give in on that point. "They are sacred to me. You have no right to tell me to get rid of them." His deep brown eyes blazed. "How would you like it if my people came in here and told you to change your name and get rid of that!" He pointed to the large crucifix handing on the wall behind Mother Elizabeth's desk.

"It's not the same thing at all. The crucifix is a symbol of Faith and the sacrifice that Jesus made for us."

"The cru...si...fix" Buck stumbled on the unfamiliar word. "It is sacred to you?"

"My word yes."

"Then you should know how I feel. Why I won't give them up."

"I will not allow anybody to perform any heathen rituals here on this mission, is that understood? Now please get rid of them."

"I won't." Buck said, stubbornly. His wide brown eyes, now narrowed, bore into Mother Elizabeth's steel grey ones. They stood there, unmoving, neither willing to budge on the issue. Buck could feel his legs weaken, but he ignored the sensation. He kept his back straight, and he looked the Reverend Mother directly in the eyes, determined not to show any signs of weakness.

"I have an idea," Sister Vera spoke up.

"What is it," Mother Elizabeth asked.

"What if Buck were to take of his earing and pouch, and put them in a box? You could lock the box so he couldn't touch them while he was here, and when he comes of age and leaves, you can unlock the box and give them back to him."

"I would rather he get rid of them all together."

"I would leave before I let you," Buck responded with a deadly calm anger that left them with no doubts that he would.

"We can't let him do that, Reverend Mother. Isn't it our Christian duty to make sure that he doesn't starve or worse on the streets?"

Mother Elizabeth stared at Buck for a long moment, her gaze boring into him. Buck could almost see the thoughts whirling in her mind, considering what Sister Vera suggested, and her determination not to give in on this point. But he stood his ground.

Suddenly, without warning, Mother Elizabeth turned away and opened a nearby cupboard. She pulled out a wooden box with carved patterns on it, and a lock and key. She turned the key in the lock, opening it to reveal that it was empty. "All right, Buck Cross," she said without preamble, "put you're earring, and that pouch in there."

Buck hesitated. Since he had gotten them, he had never taken either the medicine pouch or the earring off. He was unsure whether he should now. Would it anger the Spirits?

"It's your choice, Buck," Mother Elizabeth went on. "You can put those things in here, or we send you on your way."

After another moments hesitation, Buck reluctantly did as she asked. He knew that this mission might be his only chance of living in the White World and learning about it. His other choice...he couldn't even think about.

"The knife, too. You won't be needing that here. You having a weapon will only serve to antagonise the other children here."

Silently Buck regarded her before untying the sheath for the knife, and placing the knife in the box, sheath and all. "Can I keep the box with me?"

"I think not. I'd prefer it here." Mother Elizabeth locked the box and placed it back in the cupboard. "Now, I have one final question for you before you go wash up. How old are you, Buck Cross?"

"Thirteen summers. I was born in the Moon of the Falling Leaves."

"And what is that supposed to mean?"

"I think it means that he is thirteen years old."

"I figured that , but what about the other 'Moon of the Falling Leaves'. That doesn't mean anything."

"Well the leaves start falling in September. Maybe that's what the Indians call the month, and that was when he was born. September 1841."

"All right, Buck Cross." Mother Elizabeth turned back to him. "That's all, for now. Miguel!"

The door opened, and a young Mexican boy, about two years older than Buck came in. "Yes, Reverend Mother?"

"Take Buck here, and show him where he can wash up. I will send new clothes down for him shortly."

The next few weeks seemed like the longest in Buck's life. He soon found that he did not fit in at the mission school, and lived up to the name 'Cross'. The other children were either too afraid to get to know him, or they taunted him outright about his heritage. He had gotten into more than a few fights for his honour, and regardless of whether he won the fight or not, he was always blamed. The other child or children involved would say that he was the first to punch, and the other children would back them up. No one would stick up for him.

White Man's ways were strange to him. He felt almost naked without his long dark hair, which had been practically shaved off (the nuns were afraid that he had vermin), yet, to counter this feeling, he had to wear more clothes at one time than he ever had before. Custom did not permit him to eat with his fingers, he had to use strange utensils, like knives and forks and spoons. These were not too strange for him; what he found strange what that he had to predominantly use his right hand. Everyone was afraid of the fact that he normally used his left hand. It was natural to him, but it seemed to be bad medicine to the whites.

He also found lessons hard. Although Camille had taught him how to speak English rather well, he had not learned how to read or write the language, and learning was no easy task -- especially as the other children would laugh and tease him about his lack of knowledge.

All except one boy, named Ike McSwain. Ike was just as much the outcast that Buck was, teased because he had no hair, and did not talk. Ike was also very shy, as Buck found out the one time he tried to befriend the boy. He scurried away the moment Buck approached.

Things had just begun to settle down when Sister Vera took Buck, Ike, and some of the other boys into the nearby town of Robertson to pick up supplies for the mission. The owner of the General Store would not let Buck in, so after loading supplies on the buckboard, he wandered off. Not realising where he was going, he walked past a group of six or seven drunk men who had been kicked out of the saloon and were itching for a fight. They circled him, pushing him back and forth, taunting him.

"Well, looky here, it's that half-breed the Nuns have taken in."

"I wonder if he can understand English."

"Of course he can't he's just another dumb Injun."

"He's part white. I reckon his mother was just a whore for the soldiers."

Buck was able to stoically endure every taunt that the drunk men made...until that one. But he couldn't let them get away with insulting his mother, and he began to fight back. He was outnumbered seven to one. He was fighting sober, but he was slight compared to most of these men.

The next thing Buck was aware of was that he was not fighting the men alone. At first he was afraid, not knowing who this person was or what his intentions were, but then he caught a glimpse of who it was. Ike McSwain. It lightened Buck's heart some, but he knew that it was hopeless. Two thirteen year old boy, sober as they were, were just no match for six or seven, full grown, drunk men. Buck and Ike were left semi-conscious on the ground outside the saloon.

This was how Kelly Davidson found them when he went looking, and he wasted no time in telling Sister Vera. One of Buck's chief tormentors, he told the nun that Buck had probably deliberately fought with Ike, and Buck had no strength to contradict him, even if he thought that it would do any good.

"I don't think so this time, Kelly," Sister Vera said. "These boys smell like whisky, and there was no time for them to get this drunk. I think they were just in the wrong place at the wrong time. Help me get them onto the buckboard.

That was the last thing Buck remembered.

Later that night, Buck awoke to find himself in a darkened room and Sister Vera watching over him. "How do you feel?" she asked when she saw that he was awake.

Buck winced. "Sore. I..."

Sister Vera held her hand up. "Save your strength. We know what happened. Ike told us. He wasn't hurt as bad as you, and he saw the whole thing. How you endured what those men were saying until they insulted your mother."

Buck had the sense that Sister Vera was disappointed with him, and he hastened to explain, not wanting her disappointment to continue, as she was the only person in the mission who was truly kind to him. "I couldn't help it, Sister. My mother was not a..."

"Don't say it," Sister Vera warned. "You know that you're not supposed to swear."

"Well she isn't one. She was good and honourable and it was a white men who raped her. I don't know who he was!"

"I didn't expect you would. Poor Buck. You have such a cross to bear, and you do it so bravely.

Buck frowned. He did not understand what Sister Vera meant by him having a cross to bear. Noticing his confusion, she went on to explain about Christ's crucifixion, and how he was forced to carry the heavy cross through the crowds of people.

"Now," she finished up, "whenever somebody has a heavy load or burden to carry, it is said that they have a cross to bear. And you have such a heavy one. That's partly why I suggested the name 'Cross' for you."

"I thought that was because I was such a 'cross young man'."

"Well that too. But when I first met you I was struck by how proud you are of your heritage and how you refuse to concede and a minute part of it. What happened in town today is your cross to bear, Buck Cross. The prejudice you will inevitably face over your Indian blood. I fear that you will not completely fit into either world. But you bear it so stoically. You keep your head up, you stand firm by your beliefs and you don't flinch. Those are qualities to be proud of. I believe you'll grow into a fine young man."

Buck wasn't so convinced. "I still don't get what this cross I have to bear has to do with my name."

"Because those qualities I mentioned are because of the cross you bear. The burden you carry is what shapes you into what you are. I can't think of a more suitable name than 'Cross'. One thing though."

"What's that?"

"You are really going to have to work on your reading. There's a young man out there, by the name of Ike, who would really like to be your friend. But the only way he can communicate is by writing.

Onto the Epilogue

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