The wagon sat behind the cabin in the valley where the river runs.

The horses were hitched and ready to go back to work. After months of frolicking in the pasture, grazing at will, they nervously waited to get back to pulling their weight.

1st National Bank's wagon was about to make the trip to Denver to finish a survey one of the surveyor's Phillip trained started but he wasn't able to finish. Mostly healed from his brush with death, Phillip's survey team was ready to go.

Phillip would like to be returning to Running Horse and his Pawnee Village, but he was the head of the Western Land Division's survey teams. He was needed, and he owed it to Dan to get an important survey done. He'd already been months at the family farm healing. He would do one last survey, and then he would return to Running Horse and his people.

The bank needs that survey yesterday, and Phillip told them, "I'm on the job."

The day is crisp but not cold, and the activities revolve around the wagon, where Phillip speaks with his father, Proud Eagle. As an adult, Phillip knows how wise and patient his father is. Seeing each other eye to eye, the difficulty between them has passed, and Phillip sees his parents differently now than he did when he left home at fourteen.

Phillip had stood in the white world, found his way to the Pawnee Village of his father, and he returned to the white world in an effort to stay one step ahead of the US cavalry. He was on the way back to his village, but there was work to do first.

John and Samuel will leave the family farm where Phillip directed them, knowing his life and Samuel's might depend on his father's knowledge of Medicine Woman's herbs and roots having restorative properties. He'd seen desperately ill villagers cured by her herbs and potions. She used to cure maladies running through her village.

John considered wiring Dr. Doncaster of the seemingly miraculous comeback of both Phillip and Samuel. He realized if he told the doctor of Proud Eagle gathering the necessary natural medicines to give Phillip and Samuel the vitality it took to finally heal, he'd think of it as voodoo. John settled on a simple phrase, "Phillip and Samuel are healing nicely."

John thought of Dr. Jones in New York City. He had let him know he was still alive, but he didn't mention the drink Phillip had him drinking. He wondered if doctors should talk to people like Medicine Woman, but of course they would see her as a savage using weeds to do the important scientific work doctors were trained to do.

John watched both Philip and Samuel recover, and that was what mattered. He didn't know how such things worked. They did work and for that he was grateful. He feared the worst, but he had been pleasantly surprised by Phillip's and Samuel's complete comeback.

Phillip has been healing while he watched Samuel come back to life, after months of what turned into a tedious recovery. John has lived a life of leisure while his companions were on the mend at the cabin in the valley where the river runs.

They are all looking forward to being on the move. Easy living at Phillip's maw's and paw's is nice, but there is work to do, and being healed means getting back to work, and Phillip can't go back to Running Horse until the work has been completed.

He told Dan he would do it, and that's what he intended to do.

Demon and Dobbin are together again and they're both raring to go on a new adventure. They've been reunited after over two years. Demon was left at the family farm, while Phillip went to St Louis for a meeting with Dan, Phillip's boss and the man in charge of new land acquisitions in the west.

Once in St Louis, Phillip expected to go on to New York City and a meeting with the other shareholders of 1st National's Western Land Holdings division of the bank. Taking a wolf to St Louis and on to New York City isn't wise if Demon hopes to live a long life. Their brushes with folks having the urge to shoot Demon were too numerous to risk taking him along, but they are together again and ready for the trip to Denver.

Leaving him with Proud Eagle was like leaving his dog with his father for safe keeping. To his father, Demon was the family dog he would care for, until Phillip returned for him.

Demon may not have understood being left behind, but he was safe and well fed. He kept an eye on the trail leading to the cabin for Phillip. One day he would come back for him. That day was slow in arriving, but it finally came, and Demon didn't intend to be left behind again if he had anything to do with it.

Before leaving, Tall Willow walked with his father, and they compared notes.

"I'd be more resistant to you taking my dog if Sheba hadn't dropped her litter. I've got three Demon look alikes, only one who takes after her mother."

"He was only on loan, Paw. Didn't want to get him shot in a big city. Demon has been with me since shortly after I left here as Phillip Dubois. He's ready to go, and I don't plan to spend any more time in Denver than absolutely necessary. We'll be surveying property north of Denver, toward Fort Collins."

"You aren't worried the cavalry might take an interest in your survey? They don't ever forget the murder of a cavalry officer. Doesn't matter what a snake he was. He was cavalry."

"Running Horse said they're too busy chasing Sitting Bull and Crazy Horse. I can't hide the rest of my life, Paw. I want to be with Running Horse. I'll take my chances."

"I've heard that," Proud Eagle said. "I want you to stay in touch, son. Your mother worries about you, and I know you can handle yourself, but you came back all shot up, and that has put her back on edge about your exploits."

"I'll return to my village once I'm done with this survey. I'll return here with Running Horse any time he comes for a visit. This will become the plan after a year. I told Running Horse it would take a year to do the survey. I don't think it will take that long, Paw, and I'll need a few months to be alone with Running Horse. After that, we'll come for a visit at least once or twice a year," I told my father.

It sounded like something I could do, and he liked hearing me say it. Life a year from now was likely to be nothing like I wanted it to be. Wanting a thing didn't always make it possible to make it happen. A year was a very long time. A year ago I was surveying a mountain north of Goodland, Kansas. A lot had happened since then.

"Yes, take some time to be with Running Horse. Keep your eyes open for the cavalry. In spite of them being busy, they're never too busy to wipe out a village of Indians if they have a mind to. They don't need a reason. It's what they do. Keep your eyes open, but keep your mind open too. It sees in ways the eyes can't see. Your life might depend on it, son."

"I'll try, Paw. I have never seen as well as you see. I've never been dedicated to the land the way you are. I learned to be in places where I didn't want to be. By moving, I don't spend too much time in those places. It has taught me self-control and to see what is going on behind the eyes of white men who want our people out of their way. There is value in being white."

"That was my fault. You were too long white, and I never prepared you to be Pawnee. It's why you love to wander. It's how you found your people, my people. It's how you reunited me with my first son. That was the greatest gift I have received."

"Lit'l Fox," I said.

My heart ached for my brother. I didn't think of him every day. I did think of him most days. All that I learned since his death was because Lit'l Fox had lived.

"You weren't exactly made welcome here. I knew that was why you didn't want me to admit that I was Pawnee. The problem was that I was more Pawnee than white. I always was. Paw, but I couldn't see your side of it until I was Pawnee. I learned a lot from far wiser people than I met in any of my school days. Lone Wolf and Dark Horse were far wiser than any white man I've met over these years."

"White men have very restrictive views of anyone who is not white. They build things not knowing which way the wind blows. They insist on keeping their own ways in a new land. They don't take time to stop, listen, or observe what is here. They never think that people who have been on this land forever, might know things they do not know," My father said.

Paw was right. I had seen it for myself by this time.

"You've lived among them now. You know they don't take time to think about what they are doing. They decide to do a thing, and they do it. Their actions may spell disaster for some of them, but once they make up their mind to do something, they don't stop until it's done."

"Arrogance is a curse," I said.

"It doesn't occur to them to stop, to listen or to let things be. They seek to make this place like the place they left. They left that place because they didn't like it. They come here and create a place just like what they left. They brought what they hated with them. Why not just stay where you were and not come to steal someone else's land?"

"Everyone wants familiar things around them. It's human nature," I said. "White men want what they want. If they can't have it, they take it."

I didn't need to tell Paw that.

"Nature is nature," Paw said. "White people are something else. They will deny nature."

"Medicine Woman was smarter than any doctor I've known. Lone Wolf was as smart or smarter than all the presidents and vice presidents of businesses I've met over the years."

They might have been clever about business. They weren't clever about living in harmony.

"They weren't so much smart as they were wise. Wisdom is gained from living. There are things books do not tell you," Paw said. "Things you must experience to know them. Things that are the way they are, and you can't change them. It's like the weather. You see it coming. You watch it do what it does, but you can't change it. It is what it is."

"You are far wiser than I gave you credit for, Paw, because I didn't know anything when I left out of here. I brought Samuel to you, because I somehow knew you had Medicine Woman's secrets. When doctors shook their heads like there was nothing they could do, I remembered who your mother was. When I couldn't even stand up on my own, I had John bring me home. If anyone could help Samuel, you could." I do know my father better, now that I've been Pawnee. I'll return once I settle in at the village. I told Running Horse a year."

"I'll tell your mother. That will set her at ease. I want you to be careful. Drink the drink a couple of times a week. Your body is still healing. You were shot up pretty good. Samuel is young and strong but make him drink the drink, so his insides keep healing. You need to take your own journey, Tall Willow. Always listen when your instincts speak to you."

"I'll try, Paw. Thanks for what you've done. Let Maw know I appreciate the care she took with Samuel and John. They're both special in their own ways. Special to me."

My father nodded.

Proud Eagle became silent as he watched us prepare to start moving again. Once I was grown, once I had been Pawnee, my father and I learned to communicate with each other. He knew I would keep my word to come home, once I went back to being Pawnee.

It was time to do the work I said I would do, and then, I was going back to Running Horse. I wouldn't leave John and Samuel without giving them a chance to go with me, but I would return to my village next year, and they would do what was best for them.

John shook my father's hand before climbing up on the wagon seat beside me.

Samuel gave Paw a hug. Paw saved Samuel's life, and Samuel knew he was responsible for him healing. It's why we went there when no one thought Sammy Boy would live.

Samuel tied Dobbin to the back of the wagon before getting up on Chestnut. He knew the program as he rode out ahead of us while we drove up the trail going to town. We'd take the main trail west once we reached it. We were on the way to Denver,. I figured we would arrive there in a bit more than two weeks if weather didn't slow us down.

The first winter storms were months away, and the spring rains came and went weeks ago. The summer storms that popped up randomly in the Colorado Territory could slow us for a day or two if we ran into one.

With the reins in my hand, feeling the horses walking away from the place where I was, had me happy and sad. I was going to get done what I said I would do, and once that was done, I could get on with my life. I probably wouldn't quit working with Dan and George and 1st National Bank, but what I would do wasn't go out for six months to a year to do surveying. This was going to be my final survey. That prospect didn't worry me.

We'd be fifty miles or more from Denver, and there would be no cabin to shelter us this time. We would build some kind of shelter to keep the weather off us, but I knew it would be a hard year. I didn't worry about John. He seemed to have good instincts. I worried about Samuel. If I was shot up and still healing, he'd been shot worse. A winter outside might not be good for him, I could send him away, but he wanted to be with us, and so we'd need a structure to keep him out of the weather.

It was too early to worry about winter, but I would always worry about Samuel.

"Don't hardly know what to call you. Your mother calls you Gregory. Your Paw and Running Horse call you Tall Willow. Do you want us to call you Tall Willow? That seems to be your true identity."

"I'm Phillip Dubois, surveyor for the 1st National Bank. Calling me Tall Willow in front of the wrong person, and I might end up swinging at the end of a rope," I said. "Truth can often get mixed up with necessity, John. For the time being, I need to be Phillip Dubois."

I fell back into being Phillip Dubois. The identity went with the wagon and the job. I was Gregory for the first part of my life. I became Tall Willow, which was my true identity, but necessity created my Phillip Dubois identity.

I was on the road back to becoming Tall Willow for good, but being Phillip would keep me safe for a while longer. I didn't stop being Phillip Dubois because I went home. There was still more for Phillip to do.

I was Phillip Dubois for most of my adult life. I could have gone on maintaining that as my ability, but once Running Horse came to the cabin in the valley where the river runs, I knew what I needed to do. Now he had come, and I knew he would come, I might have stayed Phillip Dubois. Once I saw Running Horse, even before we spoke or kissed, I knew from that day forward, we were on the way back to each other. This was our destiny.

It wasn't just being with the man I loved that reminded me of who I was. It was the Pawnee blood surging in my veins that spoke to me. I changed my identity to go on living. I was successful at being a white man making an honest living. It wasn't distasteful for the most part. I was half white. I could change back and forth, but it was where my heart was that told me I knew where my home was. It's where I should be. It's where I would be soon.

There were risks. There were risks to being a surveyor. There were risks being a wagon master. I was recovering, but I knew I didn't have the stamina I once had. Perhaps, in time, my stamina would return, but for now, I had what I had, and no matter who I was, the risks came with the territory. I may as well be where I longed to be for as long as possible.

It didn't matter where I was if death came calling.

I left the Pawnee village so that my people wouldn't be slaughtered. If the cavalry found me in the village, they'd have killed everyone and burned every lodge. They burned many villages and killed many Indians, and it was the price you paid for being an Indian.

I didn't fear death. I feared my people going to their death for something I did alone. That I couldn't allow, and I rode away from my life and my love. It was time to ride back. No matter what I did, my village was in the same danger as all Native American Villages. We were being hunted down and killed.

Why did they need to destroy us?

They weren't just killing us, they were trying to remove any knowledge we ever existed. Did they think that would make them feel better about their theft of a country they had to take foot by foot, yard by yard, mile by mile, from the people who were already on the land?

I didn't fear death. I feared being responsible for the death of my people, and for that reason alone, I became Phillip Dubois. They would be so determined to ride me down and kill me, that they wouldn't have time to waste burning my village. Once they were running me down, they'd forget about my village, and if they ran me down, they would feel victorious. If they didn't run me down, they'd feel defeated, and they would go home.

My village slipped out of their thoughts, after I slipped through their fingers.

When I rode away from Running Horse, I was running without a destination. I didn't know where I would go or who I would become, but I had to ditch Tall Willow along the way. The longer I stayed alive, the better chance my people had, so I needed to keep running.

Now, Tall Willow was the only one who might pay for killing Major Meeks, but the village was no longer in danger should someone recognize me as Tall Willow, but who could recognize him after so many years? Cavalry troopers were never that close to me to remember what I looked like. Even the picture on the wanted poster hardly looked like me at all.

I changed far more than anyone could have predicted.

I was twenty-four when I killed Major Meeks. I just turned thirty-seven. My blond hair had turned brown. My trim six-foot body put on weight. Phillip Dubois would never be mistaken for the wanted Indian, Tall Willow. I looked like a middle age white man. My body always seems to agree with whatever identity I took. I had been Phillip Dubois for so long, I could maintain that identity a while longer.

I had a story and plenty of proof that I was who I said I was. The bank would answer any inquiries about me in short order. Phillip Dubois headed the western division of 1st National's land holdings.

No one had questioned where I came from.

No one knew where Tall Willow went.

The real Phillip Dubois was out there somewhere. I was young enough to be his son. The real Phillip Dubois would know I wasn't his son, but he was off trapping and hunting in the wilderness, if he was still alive at all. I had no fear I would run into the real Phillip Dubois.

I didn't think he'd be around where he could say, "What son? Maybe he had a son."

It was all a gamble. Life was a gamble.

Some people went through lives of predictability, never doubting their identity. My identity changed from time to time, because situations changed, and if you didn't adapt to it, you fell under the wheels of progress. I hadn't fallen yet.

I went to town to wire Dan, once I was ready to go to Denver. John kept his eyes open, because he went with me. We stopped at the telegraph office and then the bank to pick up money Dan wired me to conduct the Denver survey. No one recognized me.

I stayed away from Lawrence's Store. Men there specialized in watching the folks who came in there to shop. They might remember me from when I came in with Paw.

In the wire, Dan wrote that new equipment would be waiting for me along with Juan, who aided Robby with the survey. It was now quite important I got to Denver and Juan, because Robby was called home on an emergency and wasn't expected back to finish the survey. That would be my job now. It well might be the final thing I did for 1st National Bank, but I'd do it because I promised Dan I would, and he'd always kept his word to me.

I trained Robby. His paperwork was as good as my own. I had no fear I'd need to start all over because I couldn't read his notes. The only thing I needed to know was where the property was and how far Robby got in his survey. I didn't know Juan, but if Robby hired him, he would be able to take me where I needed to go with little trouble.

Demon took to walking beside Samuel as he rode Chestnut at the speed the wagon went. From time to time, Samuel rode ahead to check for places where the horses could be watered, and at other times he would drop back to look at the landscape we passed.

Samuel had the 30/30 in the holster attached to Chestnut's saddle, and if he thought he might get some game, he'd move off the trail to hunt and catch up with us later with whatever game he killed. If we pulled off the trail before he caught up with us, we were never far from the trail, and I would have a campfire going, ready to cook what he shot.

We didn't leave for Denver until we both healed enough to make the trip. There was no hurry, except for Running Horse giving me a year to come home to the village. It might take a year to complete one of the bank's surveys from beginning to end, but Robby had been working on it for six months before he was called home. Robby was a good surveyor, and his notes looked a lot like my own. I trained each of my surveyors to keep good paperwork.

I never knew when one might get sick or leave before a survey was done. As the head of 1st National's land holdings in the west, it was my job to follow up on surveys that weren't completed by the surveyor on the job. I didn't hire a man who couldn't keep legible notes.

"We'll stop before we get much closer to Denver. Even fifty miles out, prices will be higher than usual," I told John.

I did not want to risk going into Lawrence's store while we were at the farm. I went into Lawrence's plenty with my father. Someone there might have been able to recognize me. Prices would have been cheaper there. I'll pay extra to avoid Lawrence's.

We'd been on the trail for ten days when I began seeing signs of development that told me a town or maybe a city wasn't far ahead. There would be a general store, and since I hadn't stocked up on goods before leaving the farm, we'd need to do so now. We'd eaten our way through the food Maw prepared for us to take along, and Samuel began to take Chestnut to hunt in likely places where he might get game.

The general store was off the trail a few miles, but they were smart enough to post signs. Lance's General Store was 4 Miles Ahead. Why they built it so far from the main trail, I couldn't say, but they probably built it with some future plans about the nearby town.

The proprietor had his store clerk, Gobbler assist Samuel in loading our goods. They worked together to toss each sack into the back of the wagon. Once they got them all on the wagon, Samuel manhandled the bags up behind the seat where they rode best.

As I walked with the proprietor to go settle up, I added goods to the order.

"Waist guns, shells for a 30/30, and we'll need shells for the waist guns."

The sheriff had offered to give John the Colt and .44 that he picked up off the floor of the cabin, but John didn't want anything from the cabin where his friends were shot.

The empty holsters were left at the doctor's house. That meant Samuel and I needed waist guns. Denver was a boomtown, and places like Denver were notorious for being wide open cities that required a man to wear a gun for protection.

Along with miners and merchants coming to Denver to get rich, there would be the usual range of grifters trying to get rich off of men who got rich the old fashion way. They worked for it. Con men had a thousand ways to make money off hard working men.

"Come up front. We keep our guns near the counter where we can keep an eye on them. You'd be surprised how many guns we lose each year. Even one's right beside the counter."

"I believe it," I said. "Frontier model .44 will do for me. I need one for the boy," I said.

Samuel was just then catching up with us. He was panting from the exertion of loading our goods, and he walked over to the counter where the guns were on display.

I told Samuel we would be buying our waist guns today, before we got to Denver.

John was busy picking out some clothes for Samuel. He was growing out of what we bought the year before. Even recovering from his injuries, Samuel was growing.

John had clothing folded over one of his arms as he joined us while I made the gun purchase. He knew we were buying what we would need for a survey of undetermined length. He knew why we all needed to be armed.

If Samuel and I were traumatized by being shot and nearly dying, John was petrified by that event. We were a family by the time we concluded the survey at the cabin on the mountain, a few hours from Goodland. John had to get us help when he didn't know it wasn't already too late. No matter what he did, he feared he was making matters worse.

His anguish was far greater than mine, while I lingered between coming back to life and unconsciousness. John was certain that Samuel's condition was fatal. No one offered him any hope Samuel might survive.

He was left to feel helpless while watching what might have been our final hours.

I kept this in mind, when dealing with John.

He saved our lives by getting us help. Then, he didn't know we would survive. I can't imagine standing by and watching Samuel and John, if they'd been the ones who had been shot. All I had to do was heal, while John had to watch us healing.

We became a family once we had taken in Samuel. When one family member was hurting, we all hurt. We all survived it but it took a toll on John. It still wasn't clear to me how much Samuel remembered, but I was never sure what was on the boy's mind. He stuck close to John and especially to me, but he was far smarter than we knew. No one ever expected him to do anything, and that's what he did.

There were certain things it was necessary to do, and John didn't like. One of those things was buying Samuel another gun. John blamed the gun Samuel wore for his condition. It was perfectly irrational but Telling John that would only complicate his condition.

He knew why we needed to wear guns, but he still didn't like it. I can't say I liked it, and I refused to wear a waist gun, figuring I could disarm most situations, and that got me shot.

While Samuel was close to being completely healed, he expressed no interest in the details behind his injuries. We all sat together to talk about the night of the shooting, and once John spoke of the mad dash he took to save our lives, Samuel yawned and asked for another piece of rabbit. He didn't ask for any details.

I had no opinion about this, and John didn't like it. We had this conversation at the cabin in the valley where the river runs. It was after Running Horse's visit, and we were talking about leaving for Denver sooner than later. Samuel wanted to start moving right away. Since we found him, we'd slowly moved further and further away from Missouri and Nester.

We left the farm at the end of the week. We took our time getting to Lance's General Store. It was time to buy our goods. It was time to arm ourselves for the trip into Denver.

John was sure that Samuel forgot about the Colt .45 and the gunslinger rig. He was likely to want the model waist gun I bought. The one thing that hadn't changed, his devotion to the man he called, "Pop." It gave me a feeling of importance I didn't remember having before.

When Samuel looked down at the models I picked one that was in a holster and ready to strap on. Samuel looked up at models on the wall behind the counter, after looking at the guns displayed on top of the counter. He hadn't seen what he wanted, so he asked.

"Tie down. I want a holster that ties to my leg," Samuel said. "A Colt."

John's heart sunk. He did remember the Colt .45. John would have bet he forgot it, but he hadn't. As with most things about Samuel, I wondered about the significance of the Colt. There was a reason he wanted that gun. I didn't know the reason, but I would find out.

"Certainly we do. We keep those locked up. Too expensive to leave out," the proprietor said. "Is that what you want?"

The proprietor looked at me to see if I approved. I was the man with the cash.

"Give the boy what he's asking for," I said.

A few minutes later the proprietor came back with a box that looked the same as the box the last Colt .45 came in. He set the box on the counter in front of Samuel, taking the lid off.

"This is our best model. We sell a lot of these. You can't beat a Colt."

Even when the words passed over the proprietor's lips, John had gone pale. Like me, he thought Samuel had forgotten the gunslinger's rig, and now he picked another one just like the first Colt .45. I calculated there was more to it than meets the eye, and I wanted Samuel to have what he wanted. If he felt safer carrying that Colt, I wanted him to have it.

John would prefer Samuel didn't carry a gun at all, but John didn't like guns, not that I did. John associated that waist gun with the damage done to us at the cabin. It wasn't the guns that caused the damage done to us, it was the men who carried the guns that shot us down.

Had I known what was coming, I might have had second thoughts too, but I had been shot, and if I didn't want to get shot again, I needed a gun to defend myself. Samuel wasn't just fast with a gun. He hit what he shot at, and we might need another gun in a pinch.

"How much is it?" I asked.

I figured it would be more here than the first time we bought him a gunslinger's rig.

"$175.00."

"Pricey little fellow, ain't it," I said.

I figured it might cost $200.00. Dan wired me plenty of money, but I was curious about what I'd pay as I got further west where everything had a higher price.

"It's a Colt .45. No better handgun made. You can't beat a Colt."

John remembered how Samuel fanned the gun before being shot at the cabin. It was a difficult image to forget, and he hoped to never see it again. He hoped he'd never see Samuel with a gunslinger's rig again. It all merged into the here and now for John.

There was a difference. Samuel didn't put the Colt on. He didn't tie it down. It was placed in the back of the wagon on top of the sacks of goods that went in before the Colt went in.

The Colt was more than a waist gun to Samuel, but I didn't know that then. I couldn't have imagined why he wanted that particular model. There must have been dozens of models of waist guns by that time, but even not remembering how he was shot, he wanted the Colt.

I bought jeans with the smallest waist size they had. I bought two flannel shirts that had to stretch across Samuel's widening shoulders. We bought hundred-pound sacks of the usual, buying two sacks of coffee this time. The total came to $430.00, but the waist guns were $275.00, and the shells weren't included. I bought plenty of shells, including the 30/30 Samuel hunted with.

As for our food and coffee, along with two sacks of potatoes and a sack of carrots, we had enough food to last for the entire survey. I wouldn't get caught short this time out, and I didn't need to pay Denver's boomtown prices.

The proprietor said, "Jeans wear like steel. Sell like hotcakes. We can't keep them in stock. Same problem they have all over the country. Can't make these jeans fast enough. It has almost completely replaced coveralls. Coveralls were easy to throw a patch on and get another year out of them. Jeans don't need repairs. Wear like steel."

At which time I remembered that all my clothes were back in the cabin on the mountain.

I added two pairs of jeans for myself. I bought two flannel shirts for each of us. Most of our clothes were left at the cabin, but John packed his carpet bag and put it in the wagon before we went to town on the night of the shootout, but Samuel and I needed to have things to wear. For every day.

It added another thirty dollars to the total, but we had what we needed to get through with the surveying we'd do north of Denver. We didn't want to make any more trips into town than was necessary. I wanted to get the survey done and head northeast to my village.

Samuel got up on the seat beside me and John rode Chestnut. We went back to the trail and turned west. We were now well stocked and ready for the job we were heading toward Denver to do. It was always a good feeling to know we had plenty of goods to add to the game Samuel would get with the 30/30.

We were all set. We'd pick up the new equipment at the assay office, and meet Juan there, and he would take us to see the section we would survey.

Once we stopped and made camp, Samuel went out to hunt. He brought back a rabbit Demon carried in his mouth. It was a good size rabbit, and there was enough to give Demon a taste. He could have eaten the whole thing, but we were hungry too, and he'd need to settle for leftovers, and some dried meat Paw gave us to eat in a pinch.

Samuel was back to being hungry all the time. He had no solid food for months, and even when he got up the first month or two, he didn't eat much solid food. He was making up for it now, and we bought plenty of potatoes and carrots that John told me people survived on, but I had never survived on it. Samuel had no objections to having something more than meat in his stomach. That allowed us to see Demon had some meat to eat. He was downright onery if we ate meat and didn't share some with him, but he passed on the beans we fixed most nights to go with whatever game Samuel shot.

"We paid more than we should have for our goods. Dan gave me enough to pay Denver prices, but he knows I wouldn't wait to get what we needed in a wide-open town like Denver. It's not like he didn't give me enough to pay me and both John and Samuel. I didn't like paying more than fair market value for things we needed.

I bought enough coffee to make sure we won't run out any time soon. It was still the drink that kept us alert and moving from dawn to dusk most days We got downright grouchy if we didn't get our coffee to start the day.

After running out of food in Kansas and risking our lives on the way to the cabin on the mountain in Colorado, I wouldn't soon get caught short of food again. Water was trickier, but any time I got a chance to top off the two water barrels, I topped them off. I knew Kansas could be plenty dry, and Colorado wasn't as dry as Kansas, but you never knew when you might run into a dry spell, and I was taking no chances this time.

Being gun shy was a different story. I wasn't sure what to do about that. I'd been shot, and I can frankly say, I didn't like It much. I lost a piece of myself. I didn't know whether or not I'd find it along the trail, or maybe once we got back to work, but it was gone, and it scared me. I'd always been a peaceful man. Love can do that to you. Love mellows you out in ways nothing else can. It's an amazing thing, love, which makes losing love hard on a fellow.

I've pretty much always done what I had in my mind to do. Like going to get me a griz. I didn't have sense enough to be scared that a griz might get me. One nearly did, but he didn't. I got caught short at the cabin on the mountain. When push came to shove, I wasn't sure what to do, so I did what I always did, keep moving, but that was wrong. I should have stayed in town. We could have camped out of the way and not go back to the cabin. If we'd camped near Goodland, we'd have been fine, but I let them follow us home, and it's a wonder we all didn't get killed. I knew there were men like Trag. I didn't realize how dangerous men like him are. I knew to be more careful now.

I wasn't as sure of myself, and that's another reason why I wanted to run back to Running Horse the first chance I got. I needed his love more than ever, and I wanted to have it without risking my life, John's, or Sammy boys either.

I wasn't sure I would live to see Running Horse again, but I'd only been nearly killed once, if you don't count the time I fell off the mountain while trying to get out of a grizzly bear's way. I didn't count that because it was such a long time ago, and I didn't die.

It was that hunt that put me on the trail I traveled now. I didn't know much when I went to get me a griz, but I learned well as the years passed, and it had gone as well as I could have expected. I was still alive, and there were no varmints after me as far as I knew. That's if you didn't count the U.S. Cavalry.

Paw said, "Listen to your instincts."

My instincts told me I was heading into trouble, and as sure as I had always been about what I needed to do, I couldn't be sure about this. I had no idea where the danger would come from, or if we were all in danger, or if I was the only one facing trouble.

The plain simple truth, I wasn't sure of anything any longer. Moving forward was better than waiting for trouble to show up. Perhaps it was more people on the trail the closer we got to Denver. Maybe it was Denver itself. I had to go get Juan to show me 1st National's section north of Denver, and we didn't need to go back to Denver very often for supplies.

Like when I was facing trouble in Goodland, I did the wrong thing. It nearly got us all killed. Could I wire Dan and tell him I couldn't finish up the survey he was depending on me to do?

No, I couldn't do that. Dan always kept his word to me. I told him I would finish this survey. He knew my services weren't going to be available in the near future, after this survey.

We kept moving each day. After we got our goods, it took five days to reach Denver. We were seeing signs of it long before we got there. The trail got wide and smooth, and we passed people leaving Denver, and we were passed by cowboys heading to Denver. It was all cordial and we said our hellos to those we encountered as we got nearer to town.

"I was in Denver once," I said to John, who was on the seat next to me.

Samuel rode out in front of the wagon. He didn't stray far once we got close to the city.

"What were you doing in Denver?" John wanted to know.

"They sent me to Denver to get five wagons to Cheyenne. It was late in the year. One of their wagons broke and they left the wagon train they were on. Wagon trains don't usually come this way, and you know why. I got them to Cheyenne before the snows began to fall, which was what they signed on for with 1st National Bank."

"What's Denver like, Phillip?"

"Don't know. I was here two days. I rode to meet the wagon train. Never did more than ride through part of town. We left the second day I was there. Drove directly to the trail north, which required I pass through a few blocks of what they called, 'Old Town.'"

"You weren't curious?" John asked.

"It was early on after I met Dan and then got on my first wagon train. I still worried about the cavalry and such. They never bothered with wagon trains, but I think I ran into Custer once," I told him, just then remembering the soldier in buckskin. "He had yellow hair."

"The boy general?"

"Wasn't in a uniform. I was leading wagons across Nebraska Territory. I saw the company of cavalry coming. He did that thing with sitting with his back to the sun. Never got a good look at him, but he wore buckskin, and no hat a cavalry man would wear. Just wanted to pass the time. Where was we coming from. Where was we going. That was it, but I heard a description of him and the flag said 7th on it when the company passed the wagons."

"Cut a dashing figure, did he?" John asked.

"Yeah, I'd say he did. Nice enough when he spoke. I worried until he said hello, and then I just answered his questions, and he rode on. I was always worried that one of them would see through Phillip Dubois right down to Tall Willow. Custer didn't do more than pass a little time being friendly to a wagon master before moving on."

"Suppose to be quite a soldier," John said. "He was well known if not highly regarded in the South. Something about northern aggression."

The wagon rolled on as daylight faded, and Phillip knew the place where the wagons camped a mile or so below Denver. It was a forest and plenty of room to spread out and no one in town would know they were there. It was off the beaten path.

Buildings were built in clusters. They were connected by wooden walkways when one cluster got built near another cluster, and each cluster of buildings stood alone. After passing a half dozen such clusters on Halifax Street, I saw the turn off that would take us to the forest where I camped before. It wasn't far but it was out of sight of Denver once you pulled among the trees.


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"Denver Town"

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