Sammy Boy and me rode out to the horse ranch the day we left for St Louis. I wanted to take a look at how far they'd gotten with the cabin.

The cabin sat on the rise above the river. The roof was on and smoke was coming out of the chimney. Both John and Big Joe were inside eating by the looks of it. I could see the pile of lumber Big Joe cut for the interior was about gone. I suspected they were doing inside work. Big Joe wanted to make separate rooms like in the big house on the plantation.

At the cabin in the valley where the river runs, we had a utility type space that was where we kept our goods and where Maw put what she'd canned out of the garden. It had always been enough room for the three of us.

"You going to wire Dan to wire George to send Barnaby?" John asked.

"We're aiming for Goodland. We'll wire from there. It's still a two week horseback ride to St Louis. How long does it take a train to go from New York to St Louis?"

"I figure three days," John said. He could take the train as far as it gets out here. You could mail the papers and meet him where the train drops him off."

"George knows you're sending for Barnaby about this time?"

"Yes, I wired him from town when we picked up supplies," John said.

""How did you get the supplies back. The wagon hasn't moved in months," I said.

"Joe built us a fine open wagon. It's a buckboard if you rearrange it, and it's a flat bed right behind the driver if you go for supplies. No end to Joe's talent," John told me.

We said our goodbyes near the new cabin above the river. We crossed at a spot we found the week before. It was a half mile up stream from the cabin. Luckily it was a fine sunny day and spring rains were a few weeks away. We crossed the river without difficulty.

By crossing the river at John's horse ranch, it saved us the trip south to Denver, and a trek east from there. There was a trail on the far side of the river that went east through the great forest that picked up after we crossed the river. We'd be in the forest for most of the day, but when it opened up into pasture land twenty miles east, we came to a trail going north and south that would take us to the main east west trail. We would take that to Goodland.

I remembered it was there from an earlier surveying trip I went on.

The north and south trail would have taken me close to the village of my people, had we turned north, and I had a strong pull to go in that direction, I made the turn to the south. The next time I saw Running Horse, I would see him in that village. I wouldn't leave him again, which was built into my plans for the future, if and when it came.

I couldn't say who might take the trip north on that trail with me, but I made up my mind to leave the life I had and return to my village. I was older, perhaps some wiser, and the man I loved was waiting for me. It's all the incentive I needed.

He gave me a year to finish being a white man and to join him. It was March, and he would expect me in May or June. I figured I was right on schedule.

I didn't know I knew that part of Colorado, until we crossed the river to leave it, and then it came back to me and put a smile on my face. I never knew my lives would bring me back to a place in the middle of nowhere, where I had been with Running Horse. It would make the ride back to him even more delicious, knowing we had gone that way before, and John's horse ranch was directly across the river from where we had been.

The trail wasn't wide enough in places to ride side by side, so Sammy Boy took the lead, and I followed. I didn't want him behind me. I wanted to be able to see him, and in that way he couldn't get lost. Samuel was still a boy in that way. He was easily distracted away from what he set out to do.

I told John we'd be back in little more than a month. If I knew when we left, what was going to happen in St Louis, I would never have agreed to take Samuel with me. Not only can't we see what is months in the future, we can't see past the next turn in the trail where anything might be waiting for us.

John had a bad feeling about us leaving Paradise Valley for what could be months. I didn't let his usual worrisome nature stop us from doing what I had in mind to do. It was all part of a way bigger plan, and I needed to do it my way to get it to turn out okay.

John would worry no matter what we did.

To say I misjudged the distance to St Louis was an understatement. I would send a telegram to the Denver office telling John we were delayed. I wouldn't give the reason why, but I would let him know not to expect us until we got there. After six weeks or two months, John would ride into Denver to see if we wired where we were and why we weren't home.

He'd worry about us from the time we left, but that's what John did. He regarded us family the same way we regarded him.

As we rode south to meet the main trail, I noticed how broad Samuel's shoulders were. He still ate like a horse and he'd grown as tall as me. He was a splinter of a boy but if he grew into his shoulders, he would be a substantial man in a few years. The work he and Big Joe were doing on the cliffs had added muscle to what was once a boy's body.

I was sure he was eighteen or nineteen by this time. It seemed like he had been with us forever. He could still get distant at times, but Sammy Boy knew what to do and he did it. It didn't require me to do much. Since Big Joe joined our survey team, Samuel has spent a goodly amount of time hauling rocks as they build that monument up on the cliffs.

Big Joe has built wooden supports to allow him to pile rocks twenty feet high up front. I can see the structure when I ride into the canyon, but it looks like the rest of the landscape. It's tall and set back enough you would never know someone piled those rocks up there.

For the life of me, I couldn't figure out why they were building a monument there. It did block any view of what was up top, but the only ones who had a view of the top were birds.

That labor has put muscle on Samuel where it hadn't been before. I figured he'd get bored with piling rocks up. They have an endless supply on top. It's all rock for as far as those cliffs go. I suppose the formation blocks a view of anyone who might be up top, but that's a lot of work to do when it would be just as easy to duck behind a bolder if you see someone in our vicinity. I'd rarely seen anyone on that trail, but it is the main north and south trail east of the Rockies near Denver. We spent as little time coming in and going out of the canyon as is possible, so it isn't like I sit and wait for someone to come along.

We are four days out and we're going east toward Goodland. It seems like we should be further along. We rode down the north spine of the mountain there, which put us a few hours from the cabin where we were shot. I had no urge to see it.

Moving east, we turn toward Goodland once we reached the north/south trail. We sat a spell when we reached Dr. Doncaster's house. It was one more reason to take the trip. Both Samuel and I owed Dr. Doncaster our lives. Thanking him seemed in order.

Mrs. Doncaster fed us well. They were both as proud as peacocks to see us on our feet this time. They wished us safe travels, when we left. I had no memory of either of them, but I knew the house when I saw the inside. Samuel surprised them both. He is tall, handsome, and delighted to meet the doctor who kept him alive, until I got him to Paw.

I sent the telegram and we started the trek east from there. I told Dan we would be a couple of weeks getting there at the end of our first week on the trail. I wasn't even close. How I underestimated the distance by so much is difficult to understand, but I did. I would wire him again at the end of the month from Kansas City to say we were most of a week away.

It wasn't a hard ride. We had a long way to go once we left Goodland. On horseback, and with Chestnut and Dobbin hauling us, we made twenty miles a day. To push the horses any harder would only tire them out. With a wagon it was a much longer trip, and we made good time, it was just further than my calculations said it was.

It was a day or two east of Goodland that I saw Samuel do something that surprises me still. I know it surprised Chestnut, and he nearly tossed Sammy Boy, but all is well that ends well, and it ended with us having a rabbit supper that day.

We were riding along easy like, and my mind really wasn't on the trail. It's a wide stretch of trail along there, and folks came along from time to time. Some we stopped to pass the time with, and others waved and gave us a howdy, before going on their way.

I saw Samuel move, and it got my attention because he was as smooth and fast as I seen anyone move. He had the 30/30 out of its sleeve, and fired off a shot that fast. I didn't even see the rabbit, but as I said, he shot us dinner, and we cooked the critter right beside the trail going east. It's where we camped that night.

We still use the bedrolls to sleep, because it's chilly at night. I figure it's March, but it could be April by this time. If we're lucky, we'll be back home before the heat is turned up. Wouldn't do to spend another summer in the Kansas heat. On horseback it will be far less of a chore to get back across before the real hot weather comes.

I think a bit about what John and Big Joe are doing. They were working on the stables for John's horses when we left. If we hadn't met up with Big Joe, I suspect the house wouldn't he half built and the stable would be a dream somewhere in the future. If things are meant to happen a certain way, this way worked out well for John.

Big Joe don't say much, but when he goes to work, he puts his head down and he does more in a day than any man I've known before. I wouldn't doubt the stable and barn will be built by the time we get back, and he might have horses in the stable. Big Joe said he'd seen a herd of mustangs on the north side of the river. He thought he could run some of them on to John's horse farm.

Rained something fierce the last two days. Set us back a bit. We had meat we could heat to eat, but couldn't get the fire going. Rained and rained and we sheltered up under some trees, but all our gear is soaked, and we will lose a day getting it dried out now that the sun is shining again.

I needed a bath and my clothes washed, but I didn't intend to do it all at once. I am dry and Samuel has taken to riding shirtless with his shirt on the saddle horn. I hung my clothes on a tree limb once the rain stopped, but he tossed his close in a pile, and he had to put them on wet. If I wasn't so tired from such a long ride, I might have seen where he went wrong.

We met some folks going west that left from New York City over three months before. They tell me it's May, but I'm not sure they knew for certain. They're going to the gold fields in Denver. I told them they were a month away by wagon. Now, I think it is closer to two months, but they'll know once they get there.

Seemed like nice folks. They had three wagons and the men were driving them. They saw no point in hiring teamsters to do a job they could do. They came from Denmark. Spoke plain English, and they've come to America to get rich. Lots of folks do that.

The trail seems wider and better traveled this time. We pass wagons every day. If we stop to talk to each wagon, we'll never get to Missouri, and I don't want to be gone any longer than necessary. Running Horse will be expecting me by June or July. If it's May, that won't give me much time once I am back in Paradise Valley.

Turns out it was still April when we reached Kansas City. It was most of a week to St Louis, but we wired Dan not to look for us until next week. We'd pushed the horses for days on end and there was a nice stable outside of town where we'd put the horses up, until we could arrange to buy a horse for Barnaby, and be on our way back home.

The stable man had horses for sale, and he said he could pick a nice gentle one for a greenhorn who had never ridden before, and then I realized, we had most of 900 miles to go back to where we started, and Barnaby was never on a horse.

I knew that wasn't going to go well. We'd spend days nursing a tenderfoot's bottom. It was not something I was looking forward to. I told John I'd bring him. Turns out he hadn't reached St Louis yet, but he was on a stage and would be in St Louis before we left.

Dan had us put up in the Missouri House. There were two rooms and we ate in the sitting room that had a fireplace and a window that looked out on the street full of people. They were all in a hurry and adding to the madness were horses, wagons, and more activity that the law ought to allow. How could anyone live in a madhouse like this one?

I remembered there were plenty of people in St Louis, but not this many.

We had those two rooms, and they would bring us food any time night or day. I never remembered we really didn't need to go to the dining room, but Samuel knew, and I don't know what our bill was, but Samuel made sure he kept the waiters busy going up and down the stairs. We mostly ate at that place with the beef sandwiches. A passel of people ate with us. That was fine dining as far as I was concerned.

I sat across Dan on the first full day, after a day off to rest up, and he listened to me tell him what I wanted and why I came all this way to get it.

Turned out we had a lot of business to do, and it was Friday, and nothing could be done on a weekend, because everyone was closed. I figured it to be a poor way to do business. I never heard of taking days off because you worked all week. We worked every day and no one asked us if we needed a day off.

What would we do if we didn't have work to do?

Dan told us to enjoy the two days and we could run the bill up as high as we wanted. It's the least he could do for the head of the western divisions survey teams. That was all well and good, but what were we going to do for two days.

When I found out what we were going to be doing, I knew days off weren't my cup of tea. St Louis was a big city and all big cities had the same problem. They were trouble.

Dan sat with the pile of papers from Robby's and my survey of 1st National's land holdings north of Denver. I told him it was good land and nowhere near the gold fields.

He handed me the assay report for the rocks I left from Paradise Valley the day we met up with Big Joe. I wasn't sure what I was looking at, and Dan could see my confusion.

"I'm told by New York assayers, you've got a fairly modest amount of gold. They also tell me, this didn't come off of 1st National Bank's land holdings. Do you mind telling me where these rocks came from?"

"That's from Paradise Valley. It's across the trail from your land. That's the land I want you to buy for me," I told him.

"I've been trying to get you to take land as part of your pay for, how long is it? You want to buy a gold mine for you? Dubois, this doesn't sound like you. Want to tell me why this land? Don't get me wrong, I'll secure it for you, I'm curious why this plot of land and not others."

"It's the valley I want. I could care less about the gold, but I needed to know if it might become a place that miners got a hankering to explore. It's a beautiful spot. Not if someone is going to make an industrial mining operation there. There are places man shouldn't be allowed to destroy, even if destroying it makes them rich. This is one of those places."

"The answer would be no on a mining operation. A one man operation might get enough gold to make it worthwhile, but no more than one or two miners. It's not rich deposits, but there is a modest amount of gold. Why do you want to own this? Where is it?"

I took the piece of paper from my pocket and handed it to Dan.

"Two pieces of property? You're going to be land rich. Doesn't sound like you."

"Second is for John Tanner. He wants George to send you whatever funds it requires. It's the horse ranch he has been threatening to buy. It's about as nice a location as you can imagine, Dan," I told him.

"That's why he sent for Barnaby? George told me about Barnaby in a telegram. He's due in Saturday afternoon. Put him on a stage. Something wrong with those new trains going west out of there. George wasn't taking any chances. It's an express coach carrying mail and dispatches for the military. Takes ten days. It hasn't been late in five years."

"That's why he sent for Barnaby. This is on the far side of 1st National's land? It's as nice a piece of ground as I have found, except for Paradise Valley."

"That's where the rocks are from? Where the gold mine is?"

"No gold mine. Caves with rocks that appear to have gold in them. It' well north and east of where the big gold strikes are. That's where your land is. It has no great valley at the moment, Dan, but once Denver starts growing, 1st National is going to own some expensive real-estate," I told him.

"You are telling me to hold on to that land?"

"I am telling you to hold on to that land. Not only is it across the trail from the valley I'm having you buy for me, it's right in the way of where the city will expand in a few years. Besides being where the latest gold rush is, the city sits directly below the Rocky Mountains. I mean they are so close they look like they are in Denver. Many people will fall in love with that view, and before long they'll spread out to 1st National's section."

"Can't do much for you until Monday, but I don't see a problem with the land you want to secure. When we bought land up that way, there was no gold strike. We are getting offers from property that the buyers are willing to pay a for more than we paid for the whole kit and Caboodle, and you say not to sell, because it will be worth a lot more in the future."

"Can help but gain more value as more gold is found in the gold fields. Lots of folks are going out there to get rich, Dan. We passed dozens of wagons going toward Denver while we were on the way here. Hold that land and it will make you richer than you already are."

"I'll pass that on. Thanks, Phillip. It's why I pay you so much to work for me."

"Speaking of which, Paradise Valley?"

"There's no problem. I'll research it and buy it. You'll own yourself a valley."

"The valley is several miles wide and four or five miles long. I don't have John's money, Dan. I want that valley. If nothing else, I want it preserve it."

"Like I told you, we paid almost nothing for that land. I'm sure we can make arrangements to get the land you want, but not until Monday, and then we're talking a week to trace the ownership and get clear title for 1st National, and then we'll turn it over to you. Most of that land was controlled under Spanish land grants, and the ownership is dubious at best. We paid six thousand dollars for what you surveyed, and it is an extensive acquisition. At two dollars an acre, it's thousands of acres, but you've been on it. I haven't seen it. People names in those land grants are often Spanish noblemen who never leave Spain. Most people don't have six thousand dollars laying around. Banks do, and so we can buy up land and wait for the prices to rise. Prices always rise. They rarely go down. We buy off whatever claims made on the land, and we hold it, until it pays to sell it."

"How much?" I asked.

"Phillip, go out and enjoy my wonderful city. Eat your fill, walk the streets, try to enjoy yourself. You'll be back in the wilderness soon enough, and we'll make sure you have the land you want. Enjoy yourself while you're here," Dan said.

"I will, as soon as I get home. Don't you ever get tired of all the people?"

Dan smiled and shook his head. We stood on opposite sides of the people divide. He loved them because they spent tons of money that ended up in his banks. I hated them because they are here.

"How much, Dan? You know my assets better than I do. You send me what I need to get from job to job, and that's all I spend. It's been plenty so far. Am I able to buy Paradise Valley."

"Whatever it costs. I won't make money off of you, Phillip. We've been trying to get you to take land as partial payment for your labor, but you didn't want to own land. That's up until now," Dan said with a smile. "Let me research it and once I know who owns it, I'll have some idea what they want for it. It's far enough from Denver that the gold field economy won't figure into the land's price. That could take weeks to track down, Phillip."

The meeting lasted an hour. Since I took him the paperwork on both Robby's and my surveys, he would owe me a passel of money. Robby would get half of it, and I thought Dan would let me put my pay on the land he was buying for me.

When I left St Louis, I would have the guarantee that John's land for his horse ranch was secured. I might leave without the same guarantee of Paradise Valley belonging to me. That idea was unappealing, but St Louis was by nature unappealing to me. I would enjoy it much more if there were far fewer people.

I would take Samuel out and let him decide where we would go. He lived near St Louis and was familiar with it. I suppose that's why he came with me. They did have some fine food and there were gadgets at the Missouri House that defied the imagination.

How could I sit in my room and talk to people in the restaurant to order our food?

Barnaby's stage didn't arrive until Saturday, and we would spend Friday night enjoying not being on horseback for a change. Being on the streets was a lot like someone had stampeded all these folks who got in front of us and then, walked in slow motion.

I spent a lot of time going around folks who stopped to look in store windows. What were they looking at? You would think they never saw a window before. Takes all kinds, I suppose. I would walk with Samuel a little longer, and then I would suggest returning to the room, or maybe stop at a restaurant Dan recommended across the street from the hotel.

Our dinner was a T-bone steak and we each had two beers with our dinner at a nice watering hole Dan directed us to. We finished our meal and we would walk to the stables to see that Chestnut and Dobbin were being treated well, and we were to look at a horse picked out for our greenhorn by Tombstone.

Doing something, rather than doing nothing, helped pass the time. Not hunting for our supper saved a lot of time. I didn't know who cleaned those cows we ate off of, but the flavors of the dishes that came with it were nothing like we got out in the wild. It wasn't bad.

"Here he is," Tombstone said, leading a dapple horse to where we stood . "Phillip, this is Dynamite. Picked him myself. Gentle as a warm summer breeze."

"Dynamite?" I asked. "He's a land lover. Never been on a horse. Dynamite isn't what I had in mind for him to learn on."

"We call him that to make him feel good about his lack of spirit," Tombstone said. "He's the best mannered horse I got. He'll be no trouble."

For $50.00, we had ourselves Dynamite. I wasn't in a position to object. We had a young man who needed a horse, and Dynamite would need to do. I didn't ride him. Tombstone was a fair man I dealt with most times I came to St Louis. He wasn't prone to deception. If he said Dynamite was gentle, I wanted to believe him.

There was a carriage right around the corner from the stable, and since the only business left to do was collecting Barnaby, I hailed the driver and we had him take us back into the center of St Louis. I knew why we hadn't taken a carriage to get to the stable when the driver told me what I owed him.

"I don't want to buy it. I just wanted a ride in it," I told him, forking over the two bits.

"Here," Samuel shouted. "I want to see this shop. Can we get ice cream?"

Sammy Boy walked toward the corner as I paid off what I owed, and he became excited.

"Can we go in, Pop? Ice Cream. I love ice cream. Can I have some ice cream?"

Samuel was seldom that happy about anything. I couldn't resist his enthusiasm.

The ice cream shop had eight different flavors of ice cream. Who could pick out one flavor when you had all those choices?

"You pick, Sammy Boy. I'll eat what you eat," I told him.

For ten cents we got two bowls of strawberry ice cream. We'd just had a supper that was enough to last me until Monday, but that ice cream was about the best thing I ever ate. The flavor got all over my mouth and there was no chewing. It simply dripped into your belly.

Maybe St Louis had something going for it, but you'd need to be well off to stop at each shop and eat whatever they had to offer. Luckily Samuel was satisfied with the ice cream, and he kept walking and looking into the shops.

I stopped to look at whatever was worth looking at, and there was nothing but junk in those windows. Looked like someone cleaned out their barn and took the stuff to St Louis and put it in that window.

As I paused to look at another window, thinking one might have something other than stuff to look at, I lost track of Samuel. Oh, he couldn't get far, but there were way too many people in between us, and as I looked for him, that's when the trouble started.

Now, I knew letting him wear that gunslinger's rig weren't wise. I had enough warnings from John that there would be trouble. It was way easier just to let the boy do what he wanted. When we left Paradise Valley, Sammy Boy had the gunslinger's rig strapped to his waist, and it was there every day after we started heading toward St Louis, and it was there now.

Once we left the ice cream shop, it was less than a block to the Missouri House. I could see our hotel from the door of the ice cream shop. Samuel couldn't possibly get lost, and if I didn't catch right up with him, I would go to our room and he'd come in directly.

I did look at all the bobbing heads to see if his long blond locks were among them. While there was some blond hair in St Louis before Sammy Boy got there, none was more blond than his hair, but I didn't see it at first.

We licked the cones we took with us as we moved toward the Missouri House. If we hadn't done each thing we did to end up with those ice cream cones, there wouldn't have been any trouble, but we did what we did, and there we were, a block from the Missouri House.

"I own you," I heard without knowing I heard it until later on.

It was just a man's voice louder than other voices that were humming in my ear all the time, while we were walking, but I heard it and it bothered me. I didn't like those particular words.

The words stopped me dead, and as my eyes searched for Samuel, he stepped off the sidewalk into the street twenty feet ahead of me.

I found my boy.

I could see his long blond hair, the flannel shirt I just bought him for eating out. He separated himself from the people walking on the sidewalk. A wagon and then two horses passed between Sammy Boy and the other side of the street, while Samuel faced that way.

I saw a man standing twenty feet from Samuel, directly across the street. He too had separated himself from everyone else. I thought I recognized him from somewhere, after he was facing Sammy Boy.

What an odd situation.

"You don't own nothing," came a vicious reply Samuel issued directly to that man.

"Nester," I said to myself. "Nester."

"The man I took Samuel away from all those years ago was standing in the street with his hand dropping toward the same gunslinger's rig Sammy Boy wore.

I started for Samuel to knock him off his feet, but he was too far from me, and I was too late to stop his hand dropping down to where it could reach the Colt in a flash.

"NO!" I screamed.

There was a single gunshot and I stopped moving.

People jostled me as I stood stunned.

"Watch out."

"What's wrong with you?"

I stood paralyzed as I tried to catch sight of Samuel, but he had disappeared, and I could find him, until I looked across the street toward Nester.

I found Sammy Boy finishing his walk across the street.

He stood over Nester, looking down at his body, and then he spoke to him.

"Own that you mother fucker."

Nester didn't move. He didn't reply. He simply laid on his face like the dead man he was.

What did I do now? I bought him that goddamn gun, and he did with it what I had it in mind that he might do one day. I figured he had that gun to protect himself from Nester. I would want to kill a man who did what Nester did to Samuel, and Sammy Boy did just that.

"There's going to be trouble. You know it as well as I do," I heard John's voice in my head..

I looked across the street. People stood around Nester's body. He lay on his face in the street. Samuel killed him. He was not moving as someone bent over him to check for some sign of life. There was none, and no doctor could help Nester now.

"Did you see that, Daddy? He's fast."

"Fast and deadly," the fellow said to his son. "Don't you ever play with guns, son."

"He's fast. Did you see that?" the boy said, paying no attention to his father's warning.

"Never cleared leather," a man said. "Hands on his gun, but never got it out of the holster. That kid is fast," the man said, standing close enough to Samuel to touch him.

"The man called him out. What did he mean, "I own you?"

"He don't own nothing," Samuel said, looking at his tormentor to be sure he was dead.

I wanted to kill Nester all those years ago. I would have if people hadn't held me back, and now, I wouldn't get to kill him. Samuel killed him and I had no idea what that meant in a city like St Louis. It wasn't the policy in most big cities to allow gun fights in the street.

When the police showed up, a dozen people stood around. I stood next to Samuel. He was still watching the body. I didn't know what to do, but I knew what running from murder was like, and I didn't want that for Samuel. We had to face up to what he did.

I wasn't clear on what he had done.

If anyone had a right to shoot Nester down, it was Samuel. He had a good reason for wanting Nester dead, and I saw all those times John had me watching him practicing his quick draw.

"There's going to be trouble. You know it as well as I do," John said it over and over again inside my head.

"Come with us," a constable said, taking Samuel's arm.

He did not resist.

"I'm his Pop," I said, thinking that might give me some consideration.

"We need to take him in. This is St Louis, not Abilene. We don't allow gunfighting within the city limits. There needs to be an inquest. There needs to be a judgement made on charges that apply in a case like this."

At the police station they sat me next to Samuel. They went off to do what police did in a case like this. We could have gotten up and walked out, no one would be the wiser, but I had no urge to run. I was as guilty as Samuel was. I bought him that gun.

I watched Samuel remove the gunslinger model off and he dropped it on the floor next to where we sat as if he was done with it. I'd seen Nester's gunslinger rig. It was the same model Colt as I bought Samuel, except the leather on Samuel's holster was darker.

The second time Samuel asked for that model Colt, I wondered what it meant. He hadn't remembered the shootout at the cabin, which is how he lost the first Colt I bought him, but he remembered the model he practiced on while Nester owned him.

I had given it a lot of thought. I didn't know what it meant. I knew now.

I came to the conclusion, there was only one way he got a hold of Samuel. Nester was Samuel's father. Something happened to Samuel's mother, and the boy was all that was left of her, but Nester hated him as much as he hated the woman who bore him. Nester was Samuel's father and Samuel had avenged them both.

I had no idea the price he was going to pay for that revenge.

I wonder if Nester killed Samuel's mother or if she died on her own? Maybe she left him and that's why the anger was with Samuel. I should have killed him all those years ago.

It was too late now. I wasn't leaving St Louis without Sammy Boy. I couldn't go back and face John with the news Samuel was going to hang for killing Nester. John warned me about the Colt. If I told him what happened, he'd pull out. Our friendship would end, rightfully so.

I can hear him now.

I can hear John now, "I told you that gun was nothing but trouble, but you wouldn't listen, and because of that, Samuel is going to hang?"

The last thing I needed was to get mixed up with the law in a big city. There were doctors, lawyers, and constables all over the place as we sat pondering an uncertain future.

"This ain't the wild west. We allow no gunplay in St Louis. You are under arrest."

Their words rang in my ear as we sat waiting for whatever came next. We just sat there. I recognized faces from where it happened. People were shuffled in and out as we waited to hear what we were to do.

When I looked up and saw Dan standing next to a group of uniformed police, I thought I was hallucinating. A tall man was brought to where Dan stood, and Dan guided him to me.

"Phillip, this is Chief Mansfield. Chief, Phillip heads 1st National's Western Division. He does our surveying and this is his son, Samuel."

"Don't mind telling you, you've sure churned things up on what was a peaceful Friday evening in St Louis. Dan vouches for you and that's good enough for me. We'll be having a coroner's report on the shooting next week. Can't say how the coroner will rule, but if you promise me the boy will be at the inquest, I'll take Dan's word that your word is good."

"We'll be at the Missouri House. Dan arranged for our room. He knows where we are. Send a message to us about the coroner's inquest. We'll be there," I said, not believing our luck.

When we went out, Samuel was holding the empty holster and following me, as I followed Dan out of there.

"How did you hear so fast? They never asked me for my name," I asked, as soon as we got on the sidewalk in front of the station.

"Hear about it," Dan said alarmed. "My wife and daughter were in the carriage that stopped right next to you when the shot was fired. I saw that man die. Luckily, my wife and daughter missed it, Phillip. When I said go enjoy yourself, I didn't mean shoot up the town. Do you know how much trouble this boy is in?"

"A lot, Dan. I'm just glad you were there to vouch for me."

"Don't try to go anywhere. My reputation is on the line here. This boy needs to be at that inquest, and don't be surprised if he isn't leaving town with you. I sent my wife and daughter on to the opera house. I need a drink. Let's go get a cold one and I need to know what the hell is going on. What's this all about? How long have I known you, Phillip? You've never made a wrong move. What's this all about?"

Samuel sat across from us in Shooters. I ordered a beer for him, but it sat in front of him and he never drank from the glass.

He was in shock now. He finally realized that vengeance comes with a cost. Neither of us knew what the final cost would be.

Dan knew the basic story behind how I found Samuel, and the conditions involved, but just what I put in a telegram, and no details beyond it. He just knew when Samuel had joined my crew a couple of years before."

"That was the man beating Samuel with a bullwhip when you found him, and he just happened to be walking by and he challenged Samuel? That's your story?" Dan asked.

"Just like you were driving by," I said, and a light came on in his eyes. "I would have killed him the day we found Samuel, but I was stopped. It's a town just to the west of here."

"Littleton," Samuel said.

"Littleton," I said. "I never thought he'd be in St Louis while we were here, but he lives and hour or so west. Why wouldn't he come to town on a Friday night."

"He came on Fridays," Samuel said. "To St Louis."

"It's too much information for me to be able to explain to you what is going to happen. The coroner's inquest will be where they decide on charges, if there are to be charges. The fact the man never got his gun out of the holster is not good, Phillip. I don't know what will happen to either of you. I just don't know. Go back to the hotel and stay there until you hear from me. Do you understand?"

"I have Barnaby tomorrow," I said. "He comes in on the stage at noon."

"Do that. Take care of the boy, but don't go wandering around town. Stay put once you get back to the hotel. Eat there, and I'll send a messenger when I know what you need to do."

"How long will an inquest be, Dan," I asked.

"The problem," Dan said, "The other fellow never drew. He was gunned down and he never got his gun out of its holster. That's murder in St Louis. We're civilized here. You shouldn't have brought the boy back here. You let him wear that gun around. Phillip, what were you thinking? Nester is a resident of the area. You didn't think you might run into him?"

"Didn't think, Dan. Didn't think of it at all," I said.

"The dead man, Horace Nester Jr called the kid out. A dozen people heard him. They both stepped into the street, and the Nester guy picked the wrong man to go up against. The boy was so fast, witnesses didn't see him draw. Nester was dead when he hit the ground," Dan reported to him the next morning. "The chief gave me those facts an hour ago. There's a lot of contradiction in what people described. The chief said that wasn't unusual. He knew the basic facts, but the coroner isn't that old. He doesn't remember St Louis as a wide open town. That goes against us, because gunfighting in the street is against the law."

"Should Samuel have stood there and let that son-of-a-bitch shoot him, Dan?"

"Anything but what he did is what he should have done. I don't know. The chief doesn't know. It will be up to the coroner and the DA of St Louis will be there to enforce any laws that have been broken."

Samuel said nothing. He showed no emotion since the gunfight. It could be the reaction of a coldblooded killer, or the reaction to the tormented killing his tormentor. I knew what was behind it, but the coroner didn't step in the way of a bullwhip for Samuel.

How a coroner read it would be the difference between Samuel and I leaving for home together, or maybe Samuel wouldn't leave with me. I couldn't leave without him. I couldn't wire John a thing like this. He'd be on a horse coming east as fast as he read the wire.

I would not do that to my friend. I did not want him in St Louis.

I had Barnaby to deal with. I met him one time at the offices of the 1st National Bank. He was with John the day I met him for the first time. The one thing I remembered about the boy, he had bright red hair. It's how I knew John, because George told me, he'd be with a boy who had bright red hair, and I mean to tell you, his hair was that red. I don't believe he spoke, but John spoke, and I had already agreed to take him on. He was a fine fellow.

That was at least four years ago. I met John for the first time the day I saw Barnaby. John was expecting him. I'd get Barnaby to the horse ranch, tell John where I was going, and I would return to St Louis. Nothing else mattered now. I was responsible for Samuel, and I wouldn't desert him. I would do what I could to save his life.

Of course, I was going to say he didn't do one thing wrong, unless wearing the gunslinger rig was against the law in St Louis, but even if it was, how many days would that get him?

I knew how many days murder would get him, and I'd been on the run because of who I kilt, and I might always be on my guard because of it. I wouldn't let that happen to Samuel.

There had to be a way to get this to turn out according to real justice, but I stayed out of the way so long, I didn't know what the laws were as white people took over everywhere.

Neither of us had anything to say. Samuel was always quiet, I'd never seen him this quiet. It was not a good night's sleep and neither of us had an appetite. We went to meet the stage that came in just before noon. The first person to get his feet on the ground was Barnaby. He was tall, lean, and he had bright red hair. I remembered John told me he was from Ireland. I had seen red headed Irish men before.

I didn't recognize him from all those years ago, but I knew who he was.

"Does he ever have red hair?" Samuel reminded me.

Barnaby wasn't quite as tall as Samuel, and Samuel was larger than Barnaby in his upper body, but he was probably a year or two older than Barnaby. That's how it looked to me, as I reached for one of the bags he collected.

"Phillip," Barnaby said. "Remember me?"

"Who could forget you, Barnaby?" I said.

"I could do it in a minute," Samuel said in less than a cordial manner.

"You the porter?" Barnaby asked. "Here, be useful, take my bag."

"I'll put that bag somewhere the sun don't shine, Red," Samuel said angrily.

"I doubt it will fit, but you give it a try. Bet it don't even fit."

They started for each other and I stepped between them.

"It's been a hard week on all of us. Let's back off the fisticuffs until I get you two settled."

"I'm Barnaby," the boy told anyone interested.

"You don't look like much to me," Samuel said, not impressed at all by our new ward.

"Speaking of not looking like much, I've seen better looking mongrels," Barnaby had a ready reply.

I stepped between them as fists were at the ready a second time.

"Okay, you two, we're a long ride from home. I'm not putting up with no bullshit. First one that causes trouble, I'll put over my knee and spank, and if you don't want to walk to Colorado Territory, you best mind your manners," I warned, not having the patience for this at the time.

"Where's John? He sent for me."

"And you are about halfway to where he is. I can put you on a stage back to New York City," I warned him a second time.

"What did I do?" Barnaby suddenly went on defense. "He's the one with the mouth. I did nothing. I've been on a stage for over a week and I get met by an English bulldog."

Samuel smiled because he knew I would never hit him. He laughed at Barnaby.

Barnaby smiled because he knew I better not touch him.

I smiled, because I meant every word. I was in no mood to be trifled with. It had been a disastrous trip and we hadn't even gotten to the inquest part of it.

Samuel made a comeback Saturday. I'm sure Barnaby was responsible. I had to get in between them more than once. They rubbed each other the wrong way. I decided to take the new kid to the stable to get him introduced to his horse. That would put a horse between us for a little while. The stable was across from the stage depot, which made it convenient for my purpose.

We stood at the end of the corral as Tombstone brought Dynamite over.

"Here he is. Meet Dynamite," Tombstone told Barnaby.

Tombstone smiled as a man might do when his name was Tombstone and he was introducing someone to dynamite.

One red eyebrow arched up as Barnaby looked at the horse, Tombstone, and then, the man he held responsible for this indignity.

"You don't really expect me to sit on that thing, do you?"

"That or a stage to New York City. You choose. It's a long way to Colorado. You could walk."

"Here, it's easy. I'll show you," Samuel said in a voice loaded with contempt for the tenderfoot.

"If you can do it, I sure can," Barnaby said. "Get off my horse."

"Sure. I don't want to miss this. Watch out, he bites," Samuel tossed in for good measure.

"Samuel, stop," I said, and he backed up.

Barnaby already had his left foot in the stirrup, going in circles as Dynamite took him in circles trying to see what the boy he didn't recognize was up to."

"You might try the other foot," Samuel said, becoming hysterical with laughter.

"I didn't say anything," he said when he saw me glare at him.

"You could try to help me out here, Sammy Boy," I said.

"Sammy Boy. Should have known he was a sissy."

Samuel grabbed for Barnaby and they went around in circles with Dynamite moving out of their way as he tried to figure out what was happening. I was tempted to let them fight it out, but that was probably against the law too, and I was already up to my ears in trouble.

I grabbed the back of Samuel's shirt and put him on one side of me and I addressed Barnaby.

"Left foot in the stirrup. Kick the right leg over."

"Kick?" Barnaby said.

"Swing. Get your right leg on the right side of the horse. Can you do that?"

"Doesn't know his right from his left," Samuel said, laughing and Barnaby collided with me trying to get to him, but once he bounced off me, he backed away.

"Can't you control him. He's a menace," Barnaby explained.

Once I got them separated again, Dynamite had disappeared. Whatever we were doing, that horse wanted no part of it. I wanted no part of it either.

"Neither one of them would be able to sit down if they was mine," Tombstone said.

"Yeah," I said. "We'll be back Tombstone. Thanks. We need a break for now. I'll settle up with you when we leave for home."

"I do teach… I might need to smack him a few times to get his attention. On really stubborn horses, I got a two by four, but he don't look like it would take a two by four on him."

"I'll keep that option in mind, Tombstone. It shouldn't be this hard. The horse does all the work, but you know how kids are these days," I said.

"Got two of my own. I'm tempted to take the two by four home, but my wife wouldn't approve of such a thing."

"No one said I had to ride one of those things," Barnaby said, as we left the stable.

"What did you think you was going to ride?" Samuel asked with a sneer.

I separated them again.

"That's enough," I said, not thinking I could put up with this for the next two months.

"You will ride the horse, or you'll walk. It's up to you, but I ain't waiting around for you to walk to where we're going. You want to go back to New York, feel free," I told him.

"You like to walk?" Samuel asked.

Barnaby grabbed at him, but he ended up with my arm in his hands.

"Excuse me," he said politely, glaring at Samuel on my other side.

I laughed at the way these two took an immediate dislike to each other.

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"Inquest"

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"Defending Paradise?"

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