Big Joe knew all about the Indian Wars. He'd been in the middle of them for ten years, maybe more. Most of what he told us, I had heard of, but I didn't know the details, or how much of the western territories were now controlled by the cavalry.

I didn't know that the great chiefs I knew about were on their back foot and trying to keep as many of their people alive as possible. Sitting Bull, Crazy Horse, and Red Cloud were all ready to come in to the reservations to keep their people alive.

On the reservations their people would die slowly. On the reservations tribes would starve, and no one gave a damn.

It was one more thing they told the Indians to get them to do what they wanted them to do. The Indians knew it was a lie, but there was the hope, once we gave up the fight, they would leave us be, but Indians were a reminder of who they stole the land from.

No self-respecting European wanted to be called thieves by the savages. It wasn't done.

All the fighting, all the dying, had taken its toll on the chiefs who put up the toughest fights. Many young bucks saw this as a betrayal. The chiefs spoke of great battles, and of great victories, and finally getting all white people off their land, but it wasn't their land any longer, and it was the Indians forced off any land worth owning.

When they couldn't stop the white people from coming, they sang, they prayed, and they asked the Great Spirit to help. They took to dancing to exhaustion with the promise, if they danced hard enough, all the white people would be gone, and the buffalo would return.

All the time they knew their way of life had been destroyed and there was no hope.

If they came in, Indians would be fed and given tools to garden and the U.S. Army would feed them. It didn't matter to the cavalry if Indians ate or not. When put in the hands of Indian agents, the good food and tools were sold by the Indian agents and they pocketed the money while feeding Indians rancid meat while giving them tainted clothing and blankets to hasten their death.

Indians were savages with no right to anything but what the Indian Agent gave them. The great chiefs would take the blame for the quality of life the Indians on reservations didn't have. The chiefs signed treaties that ensured good treatment and it promised them food.

There was no treaty made with the Indians that white men honored. Once they gave up their weapons and went on to reservations, savages didn't deserve to be treated with any human dignity. They were savages after all. What did that say about Europeans?

I heard it in drips and drabs. Big Joe knew details I did not know. As bad as I heard it was, I couldn't imagine the brutality forced on the Indians once we submitted. Any idea we'd receive fair treatment was an illusion. When you are the losers, you get nothing.

I immediately thought of Running Horse and our village. A few months before we met, the village was safe, after an initial search for me. From what Big Joe said, any Indians not on reservations were subject to be killed. This was a result of Custer and his command being wiped out by the Lakota, Ogalala, and Northern Cheyenne.

Custer had the misfortune of running on to the largest group of Native Americans ever assembled in one place. They were discussing how to stay alive and out of the way of the cavalry. It was said that Sitting Bull had a vision of cavalry soldiers falling upside down into the camp.

When Custer found the encampment, he had no idea how large it was. When the Indians saw Custer, they ran, and it's what he probably thought would happen. He had Reno to the north and Bentine to the south to block an Indian retreat, but they didn't retreat. This time they attacked, and Custer and all his men died at the Greasy Grass.

The Indians greatest victory spelled doom for the plains people. Any Indian not on a reservation would be shot. I couldn't do anything about the Lakota or Ogalala, but I could rejoin my Pawnee brothers and suffer whatever fate they experienced. If Running Horse was killed, I wanted to be standing beside him when death came. I wanted to die with him.

Life had been an unusual experience for me, but there were still things I'd die for.

"What was it like being a slave?" Samuel wanted to know.

It was obvious a question Big Joe hadn't been asked before. Samuel was interested in the newest member of our team, and he asked questions I wouldn't ask, but I would listen to hear Big Joe's answer.

Big Joe took his time getting around to answering. I'm sure he thought about what to say.

"It ain't like nothing. You gets up and eat whatever is cooking, and you head out to the fields as the sun starts to rise. You pick cotton until the sun leaves the sky, and you go back and you eats. You talks, maybe you sings. You sleep and next day you do it again. That's what it is like being a slave."

"You said you went to the big house. How big was the big house," Samuel wanted to know.

"We lived in slave quarters. Mostly there was no room to do much but eat and sleep. The big house was big. I only got to go with Aunty Esther because she tended to Missy Millie. Missy Mill and me played together, but not if the Master was around. Missy Millie snuck me candy and cakes. We was friends when no white folks was friends with black folks. We played tag and hide-and-go-seek. Things like that. When Missy Millie was at school or with the master, they would go out in the carriage. Aunty Esther sat me down with a book, mostly history and such, and I'd read until it was time for her to return to the slave quarters," Big Joe said. "She had a place in the house with the other house Niggers, but Aunty Esther always took me back to where the slaves slept. She told me that is where she belonged, not in the big house."

"You didn't mind it?" Samuel quizzed.

"Didn't like or dislike. It was what it was. Aunty Esther taught me, and she was always handing me a book Missy Millie give to her to read. They talked about books. Aunty Esther was taught to read by her grandma. We ain't supposed to read, you understand. Books weren't allowed in the slave quarters. We had our bibles, and those books Aunty brought from the big house, but few of us read, and the bible was read to us by our elders. It wasn't exactly our beliefs, but some of it comes close to say to share and care about each other. It's how we was taught. If we had something, and we came upon someone had nothing, we shared the something with them. One day, when we got nothing, someone shares with us. This is the way of the Lord. This was how we was taught."

"You going to heaven, Big Joe?" I asked to test our boundaries.

"Don't reckon I know. Got to take care of the here and now right now."

"That's about how I see it," I figured I'd add my two cents worth.

"My grandfather was a preacher, and I knew his view on Indians and black people. I figure if he's going to be waiting in heaven for me when I get there, I'll pass on heaven. I want to be in the happy hunting ground with my people. It's where I belong."

"I figured something like that. I can see the Indian in your face. You have Indian eyes. You see things no one else sees. You see with your heart, Aunty Esther would say. You ain't white. Samuel here, he's a pure white man, but he's the first truly white men I seen. White is pure, and white folks say they is white, but they ain't really white at all. We all have color, except Samuel. He is white. They say they is white. They claim white is pure. I would say depends on what side of being white you is on. From my side, they ain't all that pure, but no one cares much about how I sees it."

I laughed.

Samuel listened.

The horses' harness jingled and squeaked. The wheels of the wagon turned on a smooth straight and wide trail that carried us north.

"He is white. He was shot. He's about completely healed by now, but he was close to death," I told him. "If you can imagine him being whiter, he was even whiter back then."

"I got an arrow in my shoulder one time. Hurt a bit. One of my buffalo soldiering friends cut the arrow out and patched me up. I don't guess I got much paler than usual. Doctor at the fort looked me over. Said I was fine to go back to my unit."

"I was shot too," I said, coming clean.

I felt like I wanted Big Joe to know me and feel like he knew me some. I didn't know what he intended to do, but adding to what we knew about each other seemed right. We were a strange group if you looked at us. We were all different while we were all together.

"What happened to get you shot?" Big Joe sounded concerned.

"Ran into a man I had a run in with before. He decided to put some bullets in me. He followed us home from Goodland, Kansas. Samuel was stood beside me in the doorway of a cabin we occupied. They were outside. They got me and then, they got him. John, a man you'll meet at our camp, got us help. He didn't know if any of the guys were still out there or not, but he risked his life to get us help. John's backed me up more than once."

"Sounds like a good man to know," Big Joe said. "Soldiering means a lot of men backing you up. It's why buffalo soldiers like what we do. We are together sunup to sundown. We sleep side by side. We rides side by side.

"John is a good man," I told him.

"Which one of you belongs to that gunslinger rig back there?"

"It's mine," Samuel said.

"As usual, I left mine at camp. If you hadn't come along, I don't know what might have happened Big Joe," I said. "I had the Colt in my hand by the time I saw you, and I wasn't sure I shouldn't shoot you."

"Glad it was not. Wouldn't take to no bullet being put into me. Haven't had that pleasure."

"Don't remember any of it," Samuel said. "It's like I was never there. When I was shot."

"Things have a way of working out," he told me. "If you pay attention."

"Nothing like getting a little help from your friends," I said.

Big Joe smiled. He liked that I called him my friend.

I didn't know the first day if Big Joe would decide to stick with us or move on down the road.

He'd need to make that decision according to his needs and what he was looking for in life.

The next morning I had the fire going before first light. It would be all day to Paradise Valley, and we'd return at about the time John would be expecting us. My plan to get home early hadn't exactly worked out, but in a way, it had worked out well for all of us.

Big Joe stood looking into the fire as he drank his first cup of coffee. Samuel was looking after the horses, and I would walk Big Joe over to lay claim to one. We'd already talked about him taking his pick. They were all good horses, and I picked each one out when I took my first wagon across. They were all sturdy and capable of carrying a man Big Joe's size.

We only had the dried meat and I didn't pretend we were going to feed him well on the way back, but Big Joe was accustomed to dried meat in the morning and mounting up to ride out early after a cup or two the cook usually had going for the buffalo soldiers.

Once we were ready to leave, I brought each horse over to hitch to the wagon. Big Joe had seen them all and he looked each one over as he was put in place for three horses to do the pulling from now on.

"This one," Big Joe said when I brought over the gray with the wide backside. "He's the one I want. You do know you don't need to do this? I didn't help you to get something out of it."

"This one. Good choice. He's always been up to going to work each day, Big Joe. He'll serve you well. He's about seven years old according to my memory of such things."

Big Joe disappeared as I brought the next horse to allow the most spirited horse to be out front to feel like he was in charge. It didn't take long to shorten the tongue and get them all in place to go to work.

Big Joe brought his saddle from the back of the wagon. He carried it with him until he stood eyeball to eyeball with the gray.

"I'm Big Joe. You're Moses," he said to the gray. "We going to do fine. I'll be putting this here saddle on you, and we'll be fine."

He put his saddle on the horse and he mounted it with only the cavalry shirt and pants on. It was chilly, but I was in my shirt sleeves, and Samuel had on a jacket. Big Joe made no effort to collect his belongings, when Samuel got up on the seat after we cleaned the camp site,

Big Joe road beside us on the wide trail. I'd told him he was welcome to come along, and he seemed to be ready to join us. His goods were in the wagon and he was on his new horse.

We rode for several hours, and when we stopped to let the horses drink from a stream, Big Joe got down and took Moses to drink. He talked as he walked him. Moses seemed to take to his new job just fine. He'd always been in a cluster of horses since I bought him, and now he graduated to being a riding horse.

"If you want to ride on the wagon seat, I'll ride the horse for a while," Samuel said.

"Yes, I would like that, Samuel. Thank you. He's a good horse," Big Joe said.

Big Joe climbed up beside me as we kept going North. I picked up the speed to be sure we got into the valley before dark. We would need to leave the wagon up top at the exit from the canyon until the next morning, if we got there after dark. I wouldn't try to get the wagon down on the narrow path that led to the valley floor in the dark, but I was sure we'd make it while it was still light enough to take the wagon on to the floor of Paradise Valley.

Samuel kept riding Moses until we reached the boulders that sat in front of the entrance to the valley. He rode up the trail a few dozen yards, and I turned the wagon toward the boulders, and I stopped to look back where we came from, and no one was coming.

Big Joe looked concerned when I drove the wagon up between the boulders, going to the left and then going to the right. The horses walked slowly as the canyon walls towered over us, before we came out of the diminishing light in the canyon entryway.

"I'll be," Big Joe said softly as he looked out over the valley.

"This is Paradise Valley, Big Joe. This is home," I said.

Big Joe climbed down, immediately looking across at the waterfall. He let his eyes move from the furthest corner, down the walls of the formations surrounding the valley, and he found the open end. He took an interest in that as he surveyed the furthest point in the valley before letting his eyes work back up the wall of the valley closest to him.

Big Joe turned to look up at the towering cliffs we just passed through, taking in both sides of the canyon. I could see his interest in the opening we came out of and the cliffs that protected Paradise Valley from prying eyes. You had to be a bird to get the best look.

I left him alone with his thoughts. I remembered how impressed I was the first time I saw it.

"What do you think?" I asked him after he turned back around.

"You called it paradise. I can't argue with that, Phillip. Looks like paradise to me. Never seen so much green. Paradise looks healthy as can be."

"I'm going to take the wagon down. You want to ride with me?"

"No, I want to stand here a few minutes and the, I'll walk down. After you show the way."

Samuel rode Moses down to where John was waiting and he dismounted. John and Samuel stood talking for a minute, and then John looked up at Big Joe.

"Just put on a pot of coffee. I expected I'd see you pretty soon," John told me as we unhitched the horses and walked them to the pond.

They knew they were home and they got frisky before prancing into the meadow to graze.

"Big Joe, this is John. He's the third member of our team. My good right hand," I said.

"Pleasure," John said.

Big Joe took off his hat and accepted John's hand.

"Let me get the cups," John said. "I took them to the stream to rinse them out."

It wasn't long before the four of us sat around the fire with hot coffee. It sure hit the spot.

Big Joe stood behind the log he picked to sit on. He turned toward the cliff directly behind him and just beyond where I parked the wagon.

"Quite a fortress. When you went between those boulders, I wondered what you was up to. Didn't see the canyon until we was in front of it. Quite well hidden, if no one comes up to see what is behind those boulders," he observed, taking in the exit of the canyon and the path that led to the valley floor fifty feet below.

"I haven't brought down the roast I picked out. Wasn't sure what time you'd come in. I'll go up and bring it down with some potatoes and carrots," John told me. "Everything go okay? Where did you meet up with Joe?"

Samuel picked that time to go chase Demon off toward the trees beside us.

When I turned around, wanting to sit there drinking my coffee and not climb at the moment, Big Joe stood to follow John as he took the easy way up to just below where the cliffs hung out over the top of the valley. He seemed seriously interested in what the valley offered.

As John made his way to our cold storage, Big Joe moseyed along behind him, and when they came back, Big Joe carried the potatoes and carrots, and John brought the roast.

I had enough energy to get the tools out to be able to turn the roast, and the wire piece on which we cooked our potatoes and carrots had been freshly scrubbed. All I had to do was get it cooking. In an hour, supper would be ready.

Samuel came back with a stick he threw and Demon did his impression of a dog fetching it for his master. When Sammy Boy gave it a mighty heave, Demon disappeared into what was a darkening forest to go after it.

Samuel filled his own cup with coffee before walking around to fill our cups with brew.

About that time Demon returned, and he decided it was time to check out Big Joe. I saw Big Joe gun down two cowboys, and he hadn't flinched at what was most certainly danger, but he did flinch when Demon came over to smell the latest arrival.

Demon may not have known he was a wolf, but Big Joe knew he was. He showed fear on his face and in his eyes. I'm sure he knew the wolf belonged here, but he wasn't sure he did.

"Demon, leave Big Joe alone," I ordered.

Demon looked over his shoulder at me, and he looked back at Big Joe. He smelled the roast, and if he wanted some, he better do what he was told, and he walked over to sit between Samuel and me.

Big Joe's eyes followed him.

I cut off a piece of fat and tossed it his way. He caught it and made it disappear.

I turned the roast one last time before starting to fill plates with food. Our guest got the first plate, Samuel took the second, and I served John before serving myself. The venison smelled wonderful and its juices seasoned everything.

"That the only way in?" Big Joe asked, pushing some potatoes and carrots on the metal plate I handed him with a good portion of venison roast.

"Yeah," I said. "The open end opens to more canyon walls even taller than the ones at the entrance of this valley. Even if you got over those canyons, the entire slope leading up to the far side of the valley is impossible to climb. It's all loose gravel and shale. No one's coming in that way."

Big Joe once again took an interest in the canyon I brought the wagon through. Over the next few days, as Samuel and I unloaded the supplies to put in the storage shed, Big Joe came along and while we worked, he questioned me about the inside walls of Paradise Valley, and I described the things I found here, without really exploring except to look into the caves I found.

When Samuel took the bow and a few arrows, Big Joe could not resist seeing the boy bow hunt, and they went out together. They went toward the waterfall, and in the late afternoon, while I was seasoning some beans with a piece of fat I'd cut for that purpose, I glanced toward the waterfall. Big Joe was on a rock ledge overlooking that falling water. He disappeared behind the falling water, and a few minutes later he stood on the far side of the waterfall. It was a place I hadn't gone, because I didn't think I could.

I don't know how he got up there, but he did. I never even tried to climb it, but Big Joe climbed all over Paradise Valley while I was there and when John and I went to pick up where we left off the survey. We were cleaning up out of the way places that took a bit of work to reach, and I saved those places for when we were almost done.

It took a day for John to start asking questions about Big Joe. I told him about the run in we had with the claim jumpers, and how Big Joe came to the rescue. John listened with his usual concern for how we managed to get ourselves into trouble no matter where we went.

We didn't so much get into trouble as trouble came at us, no matter what we were up to.

John had a new appreciation for Big Joe, and he appreciated that no matter what was to be done, Big Joe lent a hand. He didn't talk a lot, but he was a big help, and when he wasn't helping he was climbing. He was a regular mountain goat. He saw things I didn't see. He understood things I had no understanding for.

"Those steam vents at the waterfall, you figure they is thermal vents from the earth's core?"

I stopped what I was doing. I knew the vents were there, and they obviously got the heat from somewhere underground. The idea we were receiving heat from the earth's core was one idea, but I didn't know enough to give him an intelligent answer.

"What do you think, Big Joe?"

Big Joe swirled the coffee in his cup in a familiar way. He seemed lost in the liquid.

"I've been in the cave behind the waterfall. Went down a spell. Couldn't see, but I used my hand to check that I wasn't going to fall into something. It's a pretty slow incline, but it is definitely heated by those thermal vents. I only went so far. I was scared of what I can't see, and I came back. That heat is more intense the lower I went. I moved down for maybe a half hour. It was always going down. What's at the bottom, I can't say. There is something down there, but too hot for me to take a look see ."

Big Joe had a curiosity I didn't have, and one morning when I was doing paperwork by the light of the fire, I watched Big Joe climb the cliff behind the wagon. He just kept climbing and he found a way up to the top, and once he was standing on the top of the cliff, he started moving away. I lost site of him.

I wondered what he was looking for. I didn't climb up there because it was too high, and I liked staying closer to the ground. Big Joe had been everywhere in Paradise Valley, and now he investigated the heights above the canyon entrance.

An hour or so later, he showed back up. I watched him climb down until he disappeared behind the wagon before he came over to get more coffee.

I kept my face in my paperwork. I didn't want him to know I was watching him, or that his curiosity about our valley fascinated me. He was a man who wanted to know what was where he was. Even while drinking his coffee, his eyes were on the cliffs above us.

It amused me that Big Joe climbed the cliffs that surrounded Paradise Valley. I had never done much more than pick up rocks in the mouth of caves to get a read on what they were. Big Joe wanted to know about his new home. He was a curious man.

It was the second or third week, we'd come in early from surveying, and Samuel got the bow out of the wagon, and Demon fell in behind him. This was where Big Joe usually tagged a long, because he was amazed at how Samuel could kill a critter with a bow just as easy as he could kill game with a long gun, or his shotgun. It was a new way of hunting to him.

John was talking about going to his Virginia horse ranch to get ready to build a cabin, and Big Joe said that he'd like to go along. He did a bit of building on the plantation house, and he wanted to see if maybe he could lend a hand. Big Joe liked being useful.

We would talk at meals, and John spoke of his impression of where we had been and the thing we did together. He explained how we met Samuel, and this was our family. We all did what we did without much to get in our way.

It was a breath taking view each time I sat on the ridge above John's horse ranch. The river was wide and you could see rapids in several places from the ridge above it. It made for a nice boundary. It couldn't be easily crossed, but the front way in, from the ridge I was on, the property was all meadows and forests with no natural barriers to limit entry.

There was no trail coming out this far, even when there were trails all over 1st National's section that indicated people accessed it on a regular basis. The horse ranch and river were maybe four or five miles from the main trail. Anyone who wanted to go east in this direction would be stopped by the river. It would only take one trip to know this wasn't a good route most of the year, especially during spring rains that brought flooding.

"Right pretty," Big Joe said. "You got more wood than you'd ever need in that forest down there. You got plenty of meadow for horses to romp around. Make a right nice horse ranch. You'd want the cabin on that high ground near the forest. Plenty of room for stables to keep them above the water when that river takes to flooding."

Big Joe summed up what John already decided on, and when we rode down the several miles to reach the high ground where the cabin would go, Big Joe dismounted first, walking into the forest and back out, before he stood looking at the river.

We didn't do any romping, but we rode down to feel out the highest ground. I hadn't seen it flood, but spring rains a hundred miles away flooded our river almost every year. Building the house, stable, and barns on high ground was the smart move. When the rains came, and the river was on the rise, the horses could stay in the barn where they'd eat hay until the water left the meadows where they grazed the rest of the year.

"What do you think, Big Joe?" John asked.

"We could have a way to cut lumber right here for a house you put over there," he said, pointing at the rise with the best view of the river and pastureland. "Need an ax and saws. We'd need a big saw, and a medium size saw, maybe a couple of small saws. Need clamps to hold the tree while I saws lumber off of it."

"We could go in and bring those back on horseback," I said, not knowing when we'd get our first big snow. I didn't particularly want to return to Denver, but if there was a good reason to go, I would go, or if John wanted to go to see what's available in the way of building tools, he and Big Joe could go, and I could finish my paperwork and get ready to go to St Louis..

We'd had two bouts with freezing rain, and it snowed a little one day while we were surveying, but it didn't amount to much, and we were coming down to the end of the survey. I was sure we'd be done in January, except for things I wanted to check over in case something didn't look right. It was a matter of finishing up now, once the main sections were surveyed. We had plenty of time to attend to the details.

If the weather wasn't too bad, we would have a month or more to get a cabin built, once the survey was completed. I would leave for St Louis as soon as the weather began to warm. I would take Samuel with me when I left, because he said he wanted to go.

I no longer needed to worry about leaving John alone, and Big Joe seemed to know everything you needed to know about building a cabin, and I don't think John knew much about how to properly build one. The two of them could get a lot done while we were gone.

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"Defending Paradise?"

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"Big Joe"

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