We rode west into a low hanging late afternoon sun. I wanted to get clear of St Louis. We would only ride a few hours before making camp. I didn't think the tenderfoot would last that long. We were nearly a month from home if everything went well. Things rarely did.

Dobbin was a sight for sore eyes, and Chestnut seemed happy to see us. Barnaby took to calling Dynamite Mite, which suited the horse's personality. When Samuel held Mite's reins, he talked Barnaby up on his horse. He seemed quite pleased with himself once he was on board and the horse stood still for it.

I paid off Tombstone, bid him, "Farewell," and we headed for the trail out of the city.

I didn't scold the boys or try to make them go faster as they lollygagged, riding side by side so they could look at each other. They were moving. That was something, and maybe Barnaby wouldn't require a long break-in period to become accustomed to the horse. Of course, that was wishful thinking. I just wanted to get going.

If anyone asked me where I thought I would be this afternoon, once that judge started in on that coroner's inquest, I wouldn't have give a plug nickel for our chances of leaving St Louis today.

Had I been smarter, I would have gone in there, told Samuel take off his shirt, and said, "Horace Nester Jr done this to him. That skunk needed killing."

I owed Barnaby a debt for having Samuel show the coroner his back.

No one had to say much after that. As bad as I knew it was, no one knew what Sammy Boy went through in the hands of that mean son-of-a-bitch.

If I killed Nester back then, this wouldn't have happened, and I surely intended to kill him.

Samuel walked beside Barnaby once his bottom had enough for a while. I recognized the strange posture that came with a new rider. He limped some and tried to walk faster but I had to stop more than once to wait for them to catch up.

"Maybe try it again for a few minutes. We'll stop for the night soon," I suggested.

We camped five miles out of town. It was a start and we were all breathing fresh air.

Barnaby warmed himself near the fire like he had done it plenty, and the vittles I bought that would heat up fast didn't require hunting or cooking.

There were no complaints and we all settled down for a good night's sleep, after they got done keeping me up with love making and then arguing over who had done what.

"No. That thing won't fit."

"I let you do it to me."

"I'm normal size. You're too big."

"I'm not too big."

"You are."

"Let it go soft and it will get smaller," I said, tired of being tired, and needing some sleep.

It was warm not hot, and nights remained cool. The three horses were rested, well fed, and anxious to go the next morning. We hardly got warmed up the day before, and we did as much sitting and waiting as we did riding.

There was no way to avoid the sore muscles from riding a horse the first time, but I bought liniment to be applied after each day's ride, and I didn't need to apply it once. Samuel was more than happy to get Barnaby on his stomach with his pants around his knees. I left them alone at times like these, but they were noisy no matter what they did.

Samuel found out that screwing Barnaby after applying the liniment wasn't such a good idea. Barnaby would need to tough it out until Sammy Boy got enough for a few minutes, and then he'd rub up his ass for him.

Barnaby still had the same complaint.

"I let you do it to me."

Samuel's answer was always the same. He laughed.

"No way Jose. I got to use that shitter for shitting."

Luckily I needed to check on the horses and make sure they were drinking water and grazing on the summer grass that was going well in the middle of May. They were never done by the time I came back to fix the fire and get the food warmed up.

Sometime between the fourth and fifth day, when I came back from tending horses, Barnaby was on top of Samuel, giving him what for. Samuel didn't seem any worse for wear, and I had seen one pisser as big as Barnaby's, and it was on Running Horse, and I never said he was too big.

Running Horse was just right as far as I was concerned.

I had heard Barnaby say the night before, "Boys at the freight yard didn't think I was too big."

The idea other boys did what Samuel wouldn't do did the trick, and unfortunately, that meant lasting even longer each night as I listened to them coming and going from love.

It only served to make me even more aware of how much I missed my man.

As I talked to Mite, Dobbin, and Chestnut, they had become acquainted in the stables, when Tombstone began adding Dynamite to their stall. He let them graze together in the field behind the stables, which meant they were well acquainted and accustomed to being together each day.

With Samuel's assist, we got Barnaby aboard with wide eyes and uncertain prospects each morning just past dawn. He didn't complain… too much. He hadn't ridden a horse before, and he knew the sun shined each day, but he didn't know how it got high in the sky.

He remained half a sleep for the first few hours, which gave us some peace and quiet before we stopped to eat. Barnaby was fascinated by Samuel's hunting skills. He needed to adapt to eating food off of a stick, but he loved rabbit. Woodchuck was greasy, and squirrels tasted like chicken.

Once we ran out of store bought vittles, we needed to stop early for Samuel to take the 30/30 to go get game. Besides needing to get up and get going at first light, the periods of the boys walking together while holding hands grew shorter.

Even after Samuel no longer needed to use the liniment on Barnaby's bottom, he kept using it and at time, after applying it, he had a need that required him to ignore how much the liniment stung his pisser.

This was most often done while I tended the horses once the day's ride ended, but as much noise as Sammy Boy made, it was obvious he hadn't had enough riding time on those days, and Barnaby took him as far as he wanted to go.

Neither of them was the least bit bashful about their lusty desires. They always had their hands on each other, which was tricky for a tenderfoot. How Barnaby didn't fall off of Mite is a mystery. More than once when I looked back, Samuel was watching the hand in his lap giving him what for.

If Barnaby hadn't adjusted as quickly as he did to riding Mite, I might have hurried them up from time to time, but we were making good time across Kansas, because the boys kept riding even when they were entertaining each other.

I just shook my head and kept riding. That was one thing I hadn't tried with Running Horse. We never did anything on horseback. Maybe we weren't too old to try some new tricks.

By the time we were halfway through Kansas, it began getting warmer and drier. Nothing like the first time I brought John and Samuel this way, but warmer is comfortable while riding into the sun as it sunk in the western sky.

Horseback was far easier even when Barnaby insists on using the liniment for him on Samuel. They are shameless in the way they touch each other, but it isn't like I haven't been touched that way or found it necessary to touch Running Horse in places that did him the most good. It was good that I already decided to return to Running Horse, because after this over active period for the boys would have had me riding straight for Running Horse.

I suppose we were as busy keeping each other satisfied as these two, but after so long without my lover, the days of old were more on my mind than ever.

Samuel has taken the liberty to tell Barnaby about Running Horse and me. I suppose I did spend every minute I could loving and being loved by him at the family farm when I didn't think Samuel was all that aware of why I was doing what I did with Running Horse.

Now, I believe had had a perfect understanding of what I did and how it was done. He seemed to have a working knowledge of all of Barnaby's parts, which kept them up at night long after I was sleeping.

When their shenanigans woke me, nothing they did I hadn't done with Running Horse.,

I hadn't seen it done, before. I knew what they were doing while they did it, once wide awake and listening to them once the fire light flickered out.

They didn't care if I heard them. They hardly cared about anything but getting each other to where they were going. In the saddle and out, they were becoming expert at the art of love.

My mind had been on Running Horse since Sunday morning when I went to the room to collect the boys. It was closing in on a year since he rode away from the cabin in the valley where the river runs. We agreed that in a year, we'd meet and never be separated again.

I had a good life as a white man. It gave me cover and kept me alive. I learned my lessons well. I saw the entire country, except the deep south. I met white men I respected, like Dan. They were mostly too ambitious and too willing to get all they could, within reason. That was the problem I saw, there was no reason to own a bunch of stuff. It merely held you back from moving freely on the land. You were stuck in one spot forever, rather than moving what you accumulated item by item over years of living.

Indians were nomadic, following the buffalo and the sun. Cutting everything into little patches someone owned cut the country off from moving to where the living was best.

I suppose it was the same old story. I was more Pawnee than I was white. I couldn't return to being Tall Willow, but I could return as Phillip Dubois to Running Horse. No one in the village would be fooled for long, but I didn't care about what anyone thought.

What I cared about was Running Horse. How I stayed away from him for all these years I can't say. I wouldn't be separated from him for much longer.

We would live together now, and in the greater scheme of things, we would die together. I needed to go home. I wanted and needed to be with the man I loved. He wanted the same thing I did. He knew the risks. He knew the future better than I did, because a chief knows many things. At times, a chief can see the future.

I wondered if Running Horse could see me riding back to him soon?

Running Horse knew the past as well as I did. He knew the risks involved. We were about to leave the past behind us, and move into the future side by side. We didn't know how long we had before they came for us, but we would make the best of each day.

We were meant to be together again.

The trail we were on over two years ago had changed. It was wider and smoother, and new towns had sprung up to make western Kansas less of a challenge to cross. Some towns sprung up and then, they died out, but with the railroad coming, most towns knew if they were in the path of where the railroads would come west. You couldn't keep a thing like that a secret, once they began laying the track down.

"These accommodations aren't up to New York City standards, Barnaby, but they're what is available in this country," I told him as Samuel put out his bedroll. As soon as Sammy Boy had his shirt off, Barnaby was feeling his chest and his arms.

I hadn't noticed how much more like a man Samuel was becoming, but Barnaby sure didn't miss much. I saw them kiss for the first time, and it was comforting to know it wasn't all sex all the time. I knew Samuel well enough to know still waters ran deep. I didn't know if he was capable of loving someone, after the childhood he had.

He could have turned mean, but when I saw him with Barnaby, I knew there wasn't a mean bone in his body, and there was no longer a Colt Forty-five on his hip. He wrapped it up and put it in his saddlebags. It remained there until this day. He didn't hesitate to grab the 30/30 and head off into the forest to hunt, but the Colt stayed out of sight.

"Don't get me hot and bothered. I got to hunt if you want to eat," Samuel told him.

"I got all I need right here," Barnaby said, feeling the expanding pants under his palm.

"You don't need to show off in front of Pop, Barnaby. He knows what we're up to. You should see Running Horse. He's a man if I ever saw one."

"Is he big as me?" Barnaby wanted to know.

"Bigger?" Samuel proposed. "As big, maybe bigger than yours."

"Samuel," I said. "There are things we don't talk about in front of little boys."

"Nothing little about me. Biggest one in the freight yard," Barnaby bragged.

"I think Running Horse is bigger," Samuel said.

"Samuel," I said.

"Just teasing him. He's so proud of his, wouldn't hurt to bring him down a peg or two."

"Bring it down? You spend a lot of time trying to get it up, Sammy Boy."

Barnaby ran when Samuel grabbed for him, and they chased each other around the clearing.

I decided to take the 30/30 and get supper while they worked off their desires. There wasn't much light left and they were too busy to think about what was for supper.

Samuel had once again taken over the hunting chores, and I last hunted with a bow. I didn't know I would shoot anything, but a big fat rabbit hopped out of some brush, and he hopped his last shortly thereafter. I thanked him for being handy so we didn't go hungry, and I cleaned him and took him back to the fire Samuel built when he heard the shot I took.

"I didn't mean for you to need to hunt supper, Pop. I would have done it."

"Yeah, but as long as you take to get where you're going sometimes, I decided I wanted to eat tonight and not in the morning."

"I don't take that long," Samuel defended.

"Yes, you do. I can hardly stretch my mouth that long," Barnaby said.

"Don't say that in front of Pop."

"Don't worry about Pop. Nothing you can think up I didn't think up a hundred years ago. We do need to eat. At least I do, you two can live on love."

"Be right back," Sammy said, looking at Barnaby's hand.

"What's it like with an Indian," Barnaby asked, after leaving Samuel well satisfied just beyond the light of the fire.

"I am an Indian," I said straight out.

"He said something like that. The stuff he tells me is so outlandish, I don't know I can believe him," Barnaby said.

"Samuel isn't prone to lie, Barnaby, and how is it you two went from all out war to…"

"He took his shirt off," Barnaby said. "Once you left us alone at the Missouri House, I saw his back. I never saw anyone who had been beaten like that."

"That's all he needed to do? Wasn't that easy when I was young and randy."

"You know what I mean," Barnaby told me.

"He had open sores when I found him. I had to nurse him for weeks. He heeled up pretty good, and he's quite a boy."

"A man to me. We figure he's nineteen. I'm seventeen. At least I know when I was born. How could anyone not know how old they are? He has no mother. No father."

"He didn't have much when we found him. We give him a home and took care of him shortly after we left you in New York City."

"That's been nearly four years," Barnaby said, taking a tick full of rabbit I handed him.

"Better step back a step or two. Wouldn't want to burn off half your pisser," I said.

Barnaby took a step back.

"John shot the man too. Isn't that odd. John shot him when you found Samuel, and Samuel shot him when you returned to St Louis. Did you think anything like that could happen?"

"I had business. He wanted to come along. I thought about that Colt. I thought about why he wanted it. I really didn't see us running into Nester, but that shows you what I know."

"Says he trusts you. Never trusted anyone before. That's why he likes going with you."

"What's your story, Barnaby. You're from Ireland. You have red hair. That's what I know for sure," I said.

"Lived in the freight yard with twenty other Irish boys who came to America alone."

"How can a boy book passage across an ocean?" I asked.

"You look for work on a boat going to America. That's where everyone wants to go."

"You were twelve when you went to work on a ship that brought you to New York."

"That covers it. I wasn't alone. Five boys were working their way across."

"You get to America. How do you survive?"

"You find someone to tell you the ropes. He says find your protector. Make sure he likes you plenty. He'll see that no one bothers you, and you'll see he is happy with you. You treat your man right, you'll be a king pin in a bit, and young boys will do for you. It's the way it is."

"Do what?" I asked, thinking it sounded fishy.

"Anything he wants. Yes, I slept with my man. He kept me safe. I never went hungry."

"You grew up," I calculated.

"I had a place George arranged for me. I stayed there, but I didn't stop going to the freight yard. I had a job. That made me a big man. Most boys get a job today, maybe a job in a few days, maybe not. A guy works for a living, he helps the ones who aren't working. Feeds them."

"What does that earn you?"

"Anything I want, any time I want it. Boys are horny. I'm horny. We help each other with that."

"Sex."

"Sex makes the world go around, haven't you heard?

"So Samuel is?" I asked with no right to go there.

"Sweet. Damaged goods. Someone who needs holding. I do that for him. Not to mention a few other things. He's not like anyone I know, or have known. He's smart, but uneducated. I'm educated, but not that smart. Not as smart as he is. Samuel is easy to like. I like him."

I had no reason not to believe everything Barnaby said. Samuel could hear every word. I could see the shadow of him sitting just beyond the light of the fire.

"You said the man who did that to his back, the man Samuel killed, was his father. You think he didn't hear that he probably killed his father?"

"It's a truth that took a long time coming. I think about how to do for Samuel, but I also think of him being with a man who treated him that way. How'd he get a hold of him."

"Beat him like a dog," Barnaby injected.

"The wife left him? He beat her to death? Some peddler comes to the door? Sweet talks his mama, and she escapes the brute she's married to, leaving the boy behind, saves herself?"

"To be beaten and brutalized. You wouldn't treat a dog the way. Samuel was beat. If I had a gun. If I knew how to use a gun. I would have gladly killed that man. It wasn't his father. A father couldn't do that to their kid."

"Up until you said that, I believed every word that came out of your mouth. Nester was his father. Samuel paid for the sins of his mother. It's the only way Nester got hold of him."

"Possible, I suppose," Barnaby said after a minute.

Samuel took that time to stand and walk into the light. Barnaby took him into his arms, while Sammy Boy cried. I had seen him cry before. I held him while he cried more than once. Now Barnaby held him, and Samuel cried in a way I never saw him cry before.

Whatever was behind it. It all came out that evening as Barnaby attended to Sammy Boy. I took care of business and let them be.

Tomorrow was another day, and we would get a fresh start.

I saw a sign on the trail advertising a general store close by. I watched the storm clouds building in the western sky the afternoon before.

I bought slickers at the general store. I bought enough coffee to last us until we were home.

We were closing in on the last part of Kansas. We had a week to ten days before we would reach John's horse ranch at the river crossing I used in the early spring. It was May and probably a little head of the schedule I wired to Denver for when John came to town to see if we sent word on where we were and how much longer we would be.

Barnaby had money and he bought some candy and canned goods, and an opener, which was smart because I didn't carry one. I didn't buy canned goods because the prairie was littered with discarded cans. Why people just throw their garbage on the ground like they are the only people living here is beyond me, but I don't do that..

Canned goods saved a lot of time cooking meals. You heat the can after opening. In five minutes you were eating. There was no way to speed up cooking game, but while you waited, you could eat what came out of the can. Then, you got the sizzling meat to eat. I was particularly fond of the peaches that came out of the can. They were plump and tasty.

It seemed to work and Barnaby no longer complained about the constant riding, although Samuel did keep applying what I thought was liniment to Barnaby's very shapely bottom.

Heaven knows what they were really up to, but I simply went about my business. I wasn't going to worry about the lovers who I guided across country. They were capable of getting it done, while doing it their way.

They didn't ask me for instructions while they did it, and since we were making good progress, I would leave well enough alone.

Going west on horseback seemed to go faster than when we rode out to St Louis. Maybe there was more to see and think about. Maybe going home always goes faster than when you are leaving home behind.

I thought about the home I left behind when I went to get me a griz.

When we reached the old general store that had even more sand, dirt, and dust inside this time. I turned south to ride through the forest to the lake where Samuel learned to catch fish with his hands. I thought Sammy Boy might like to show Barnaby his technique. I had been thinking about a dip in the cool water for the last week. Since we were making such good time, and Barnaby had been a good sport about it, we earned a couple of days off.

The lake was unchanged and some of the remnants of our first visit were still there. The firepit was where I left it, and the water was perfect as the tall pines shaded it from the broiling hot sun that set in our face every night, but not tonight. We were already setting up camp before the sun had a chance to start its western motion.

The horses weren't that worn out from the trail. They'd been eating stable oats and grazing behind where they boarded during the morning and afternoon, but as quick as the saddles were off, they went to frolic in the meadow. The green grass looked perfect, and they would be on their own, until we left.

As I fished for our supper, Samuel and Barnaby swam nearby. When Barnaby got up behind Samuel, the playfulness got more serious. It was difficulty to tell by Samuel's expression. Was he in severe pain, or was he in ecstasy? When I finished setting up the camp, Samuel was behind Barnaby, and you didn't need to ask Barnaby if he was in ecstasy. He did all with in his power to give Samuel all he had and all Sammy Boy could handle.

They laughed. They giggled, and they swam a while, before they went at each other again. By the time we were losing light, I went to catch supper. Barnaby was fascinated by how I flipped fish on to the bank. He came over to get a closer look. When he looked into the water to see what he could see, he cupped his hands and tried to catch a fish. All he caught was water.

"How do you do that?" he asked me as Samuel was kissing his shoulder from behind.

"Relax. Put your hands a few inches above the water, and when you see something flash past, you flip him out on the bank," I said, flipping out a nice trout.

Barnaby kept trying.

"Stop. I can't concentrate with you doing that," Barnaby said, trying a half dozen more times and each time, he came up with a handful of water.

Samuel stepped around him and said, "Like this."

He immediately flipped one and then a second fish up on the bank.

"How do you do that?" Barnaby asked, coming up with more water.

"Like this," Samuel said, flipping another fish on to the bank.

"Okay. Okay. We have more than we can eat. I'll put a couple back, but stop catching them," I said as I waded over to keep the biggest six fish. They were a good size, but we would get hungry later, and fish heated up in a minute once they were cooked.

It took a minute to clean a fish. By putting a sharpened branch through the mouth, and pushing it out of the tail, the fish was ready to go on the fire. In five minutes you were eating the most glorious fish ever. There was no doubt it was fresh.

"Because I know how to do it," Barnaby bragged. "You don't need to rip someone open to get it done. Nice and slow and then as you build up …"

Barnaby lost his mind about that time and Samuel used his hand on himself and the results were familiar and at the same time foreign as the redhead gave the blond boy all he could handle, and they weren't about to stop until it was over with.

I had a sudden feeling of shame for being caught up in the vision of the two boys making love. It's nothing I hadn't done, no matter the position they were in. It was just seeing Samuel so entirely blissful, when I remembered him crying in my arms after I treated his back not that long ago, and now he was very much smitten with Barnaby.

As happy as he was, and he didn't appear to be happy very often, I was happy for him. Barnaby had brought Samuel to the realization, there was love, and he could love. When you've never been near or around love, it isn't an easy concept to master. Because I had the help of Lit'l Fox, my love for Running Horse came as naturally to me as being hungry or breathing. Loving Running Horse was simply another involuntary part of me. I didn't volunteer to be in love with Running Horse, but I was sure glad I did love him, and more importantly, he loved me. We had a forever love, and soon, we would be together again.

Since Sunday at the Missouri House, Running Horse came to mind more often than ever. It didn't bother me, well, it did bother me, but I knew the drought would soon be over. I had no thoughts of love in most of what I did the last twelve years. I did not look for love or noticed anyone I could love. When I thought of love, I thought of Running Horse.

He was my forever love, which we both renewed the year before.

"I'm proud of what I got," Barnaby said. "Most boys liked it."

"Boys in the freight yard?" I asked, remembering an earlier discussion.

"Yeah, other boys watched me the way you do. I think it's my size, but you tell me why you watch us."

"You're lovely together. Seeing Sammy Boy so deliriously happy is a treat. I didn't even know I was watching you, until I was watching you. It does my heart good to see Samuel happy. I've never seen quite so much of him happy as when he is with you. He hasn't had a lot of opportunity to smile, laugh, and be a boy."

"He's all man where it counts, Phillip. Most boys at the freight yards got done fast. They watched me with other boys. Some liked getting with me. Boys at the age we were, don't think so much about how it looks to others. We get busy doing it and that's that. When boys are on their own, no one tells them no, don't do that, and so we do it, because it is great when you're working your way up to a happy ending. We all liked it, even the boys who didn't participate liked to watch. They liked what they saw but were unable to do it."

Samuel stood with his long wet hair dangling down to his shoulders. He was becoming a man, and he stepped up to take a stick with a fish. He let his lips brush on Barnaby's shoulder once he stepped back from the fire. His body was bigger than Barnaby's. He looked somewhat more mature.

Barnaby had lived life as it came at him, and Samuel only lived the life Nester let him have. They were as different as the night is from the day. Together, they were a matched set.

I recognized the familiarity and the desire to be close to each other. After this trip ended, I would be leaving for the village and Running Horse. It was more vital than ever that I do so.

There were no obstacles that stood in my way now. Everything I needed to do was done, and whatever it took to get back to Running Horse would be done as well.

Both boys agreed the fish was about as good as it got, and once eaten, they didn't bother to get dressed. They were back in the lake seeing how many times and how often they could climb the mountain together. It was the falling off that kept them going at each other.

It was the rise and fall of love making, while testing the limits of love. When they came out of the water, while I cleaned up our camp, they held hands and walked around the edge of the lake, stopping to kiss from time to time.

We stayed put for the entire next day. I took a long walk in the forest. The smell of it was like being in a garden. The sounds had me stopping to listen from time to time. I went in a straight line, but deep in a forest, you can never be sure if you won't miss your camp site by ten or twenty feet, and you never know you are passing it, and that's how people become hopelessly lost in large forests.

Luckily, Samuel and Barnaby yelling and laughing made it impossible to pass our campsite without recognizing where I was. The water was inviting, and after lunch I went to soak a while. I washed the stink and dirt off the day before. This time I merely luxuriated in water that was a perfect temperature for a good soak.

For Running Horse and me, making love was serious business. We knew the other's touch was the most magnificent feeling of all. Being in each other's arms. Making love and being in love, were as good as life got, and we would get busy making up for the time we lost.

We would be together. We would stay together once I returned to the Pawnee village. For as long as we had, our love would sustain us. It was hard not thinking about the love I felt for Running Horse in the company of boys who were very much in love with each other, and with no desire to hide it. I suppose they lacked the restraint older boys had. They were passionate and in love and they wanted to yell it from the tree tops. They settled for yelling it in the lake as they wrestled, swam, and did the things boys do at times like these.

It was quiet with the rustling leaves and bird songs creating the music in the forest for us.

Fish for breakfast, before we rode out of the forest and back to the trail and we took to the west. I let them ride ahead of me. I didn't want them stopping to get their hands on each other, and me riding on like they were right behind me and weren't.

Life is an experience that baffles me, the underdeveloped feelings of boys in their teens come alive when two start off going to war and end up in each other's arms. I might never figure it out. Who figures out love? Certainly not lovers lucky enough to be in love. They are too busy doing it to worry about the being in it.

After a day and a half at going each other all the time, they seemed content to ride side by side as I followed on Dobbin. Once in a while one would stick out his hand, and the other would take it, and they'd ride that way for a while, until they couldn't hold the arm up longer.

I suppose I was fifteen when I realized I was in love. Running Horse knew it long before I caught on. It wasn't like we didn't touch each other. Touching came early on and often. Once I began to get big ideas about Running Horse, I put myself in places where he couldn't miss me, but he never tried to miss me. He went out of his way not to miss me, and I caught on to how to make him want to miss me a lot less. We went off together and I made sure he had a good time. I make sure he remembered who I was.

I doubt a day went by when Running Horse didn't come to mind. I suppose that's love, when you can't get your lover out of your mind. The first time I saw Running Horse, I could see what a beautiful Indian he was. The closer he got to me, the closer I wanted to be to him.

We were meant to be together. We just weren't able to stay together. Running Horse knew I would need to leave the village before I did. After killing Major Meeks and Tall Elk, Riggs made it possible for me to escape.

Good old Riggs. A cavalry man let me escape. I killed his commanding officer. It's the only reason I am alive. A man in the cavalry helped me escape. Life can't get weirder than that.

I was on my way back to being white. I stopped at the cabin in the valley where the river runs. That's where it all started when I was fourteen. I was a grown man, a Pawnee Indian, and I asked my parents for help. They clothed me, cut my hair, gave me my new identity, sending me on my way into a new life as a white man.

I was half white. The other half was Pawnee.

It took years for me to branch out beyond cattle ranches and cattle trails. I took a job as a guard on a gold shipment to St Louis. The pay was too good to turn down, and while I planned to get out of St Louis the same day we got the gold to 1st National Bank, I ended up going to work for 1st National.

My life as a white man spread me out from one end of the country to the other.

I learned there were good white men.

I learned how to handle myself. I learned about wagon trains. I learned how to survey. I learned that my knowledge I gathered while being Pawnee captivated the imagination of white men. They saw me as an adventurer, an explorer who knew and could tell wonderful stories about the West.

Dan had me dress like a cowboy to meet his eastern partners invested in 1st National's land holdings. I was the man they were looking for and hoped to find. I was just the man to head 1st National's western survey teams. Somehow, I had become important to bankers.

It wasn't a plan. I put one foot in front of another, which took me to St Louis. A chance meeting with Dan, and it changed everything.

What would all those bankers say if they knew that I was Pawnee?

The real Phillip Dubois was an adventurer, an explorer, a trapper, and a man who could spend years in the wilderness alone, and he could come back to take care of business.

I imagine if there was a way to follow in the real Dubois footsteps, I about done it. He would never sit still to take a job with bankers. I blazed a new trail as Phillip Dubois, and this is where it took me. When I left the farm, I hoped it would take me out of danger. Now, it had.

I was a surveyor by trade, but I was an adventurer and an explorer, and I felt like I got another education while being Phillip Dubois. I had run for my life. I made the most of it, and now, I was going home at last.

The west was changing. The west was filling up. We moved west and we saw people coming and going. I only rode ahead of Samuel and Barnaby because they kept slowing down to looking at each other. I wanted to get home now that we were closing in on Colorado.

We were rested. The horses were rested, and Barnaby was riding fine.

I wanted to go.

They wanted to lollygag. That's not all they wanted to do, but doing it on horseback might not end well, and so they looked into each other's eyes and held hands. I clicked my tongue and Dobbin rode around them with authority in his canter.

I didn't want him to gallop, there was too much chance I could lose the lovers, but a canter got me out in front, and it got them moving in behind me. They didn't want to lose me.

We stopped at a stream to let the horses drink. Samuel got off of Chestnut to dip his metal cup in the water. He drank two cups, handing Barnaby a full cup. He drank it down, handing the cup back for a refill, and he drank some more.

"We going to stop soon?" Samuel asked.

"We need to go a little further today. We'll stop in an hour or two," I told him.

We stopped at a general store near Goodland, and I bought three dusters to be prepared for the chill I felt in the air. It was still spring, but it wasn't as warm as it had been.

Barnaby bought more canned goods, and we ate out of cans that night. The days were getting longer, and Colorado Territory was close. Once we were in Colorado, it wouldn't be long until we reached John's.

Once we left Kansas, the weather turned a bit cooler. With so much forest land, the sun didn't have as big an effect, and even in the afternoon it was pleasant.

I entertained going north and stopping at the cabin in the valley where the river runs to say hello, but that would put me hours away from my Pawnee village. That was more temptation than I needed. I told Running Horse I would be home in a year. I was actually ahead of schedule, considering I had gone to St Louis and back. Once I was at the village, we would go to the cabin in the valley where the river runs any time we liked.

We stayed on the trail to Denver, and we would turn north at Limon to be able to cross the river at John's horse farm. I knew the route home from there. I could have wired Dan from Denver and ask if the land was ours yet, but when Dan said he'd do a thing, it was as good as done. I didn't need to worry about it, but I had taken to worrying while I was away.

As luck would have it, the river was still running high from spring rains, once we reached it. I was tempted to cross and let John know we were home, but the two boys would try to do what I did, and after getting them all this way, drowning one of them wouldn't do. Drowning both of them would ruin what had been a big adventure for Barnaby.

We waited a day and a half for the river to get lower, and we crossed mid-day, and came up between a shiny new stable and the freshly built barn. There were thirteen horses I counted in the pasture. They were the mustangs Big Joe thought he could capture.

The horse ranch was really a horse ranch by the time we got home.

Big Joe walked out of the forest while we were dismounting and putting our saddles in the stables before setting the horses free to run in the meadow.

"Stranger, good to see you. Everything go okay," Big Joe asked.

"Fine, Big Joe. I see you've been busy," I said, looking at the barn.

"Going to start work on a smoke house. We'll put a root cellar closer to the house, and the cabin is close to how John thinks he wants it. I went out and put a rope on the stallion with the mustangs. Once I brought him across and put some oats out, the rest crossed the following day. They've stayed in the meadow. I do put some fine oats out each day."

"Big Joe, this is Barnaby. Barnaby, Big Joe."

"Hello," Barnaby said, looking refreshed once he put his saddle up.

"This is John's young man?"

"No, I'm more Samuel's young man," Barnaby bragged, "but John sent for me."

"You done him a favor I understand," Big John said. "He talks about you all the time."

"We helped each other out back some time ago," Barnaby said.

When John came out of the cabin, his tears betrayed him.

"You're grown," John said, hugging Barnaby.

"Near abouts. You look healthier than the last time I saw you."

"I can thank Phillip for that," John said. "He nursed me back to health."

"No end to the man's talent," Barnaby said. "He can catch fish with his hands."

"I know," John said. "You stopped at the lake?"

"We did," I said. "Let's go sit a spell. We'll catch up," I said.

"I've done enough sitting for a while. Samuel will show me around," Barnaby said.

"Those two seem to get along," John said, handing me a cup of coffee as soon as my bottom was on a chair. "I worried some about that. Boys that age often rub each other the wrong way. I remember Barnaby as a polite boy, but George said he could be a handful."

"They squared off at first. It was Barnaby seeing Sammy Boy's back that changed things. I took another room, figuring there would be blood shed the first night. No blood shed, and they're like peas in a pod since. Nesters dead. You were right about that gunslinger rig causing trouble, John. We was in a passel of it. Barnaby helped pull us out."

"Wo, slow down, partner. Peas in a pod, oh by the way, Nester's dead? You want to back up a little. Maybe fill in a blank or two."

"Yes, I want to hear about this," Big Joe said, getting a cup for coffee once he came in to sit a spell and chat.

"St Louis is even bigger than when we were there just before we met Samuel. We were out on the street. He wore his Colt from the time we left here, and he had it on that Friday after we got to St Louis. We saw Dan but had to wait to Monday to do business. We had been to the stables where we left the horses, and we had dinner before going to the hotel."

"Is the land ours?"

"Let me go through it step by step. I'll forget something if I don't. Barnaby was coming in Saturday afternoon, and we ate out and were walking back to the hotel."

"Missouri House if Dan arranged it."

"Missouri House," I said. "There was a yell. I heard it and I stopped, and I couldn't find Samuel. The sidewalk was crowded and I stopped to look into shop windows, and there was this yell, "I own you,"" I told him.

"I didn't know just what was said at first, but I knew I needed to find Sammy Boy in that crowd. There he was stepping out into the street. "You don't own anything," he yelled, and I see Nester step into the street twenty feet away from Samuel. I tried to grab him to knock him out of the way. Don't know what I would have done, my gun was at the hotel. I didn't think I needed that in a town like that. Too many people in the way to do much shooting."

"Nester," John said with a hiss. "I should have killed him when I had the chance."

"He's dead. I went for Samuel, and he drew his gun and Nester was dead on the ground without ever clearing leather. One bullet in the heart. You know about me and the law. I don't mind telling you, I was petrified. I feared the worst, but it actually had a crazy kind of feel to it. I figured we was okay, but there was all this rigmarole."

"Rigmarole. Sounds like the buffalo soldiers," Big Joe said.

"Oh, my Lord. What happened? You're here. That's a good sign. You aren't on the run?"

"No, wasn't going to allow Samuel to go through that, but I gave it a thought."

"What did Samuel do?"

"He walks to where Nester fell. He looks down at him and says, "Own that mother fucker."

"Boy's got spirit," Big Joe said. "I seen it while we was hauling rocks. He'll do whatever he sets his mind on. He was fast, Phillip, or was the other boy slow?"

"Never saw faster. Nester never cleared leather, and that was a problem."

"He kept practicing with that Colt. Did he go with you so he could kill Nester?"

"Something funny about that. You know what you said about buying him that gun. You know what I said. We were both right. At the coroners inquest, and at first, I thought Sammy Boy might swing for killing that snake, but it was turned around pretty fast," I said. "It was Barnaby said, 'Show him your back.' That's what he did, and it turned everything around. The coroner said, "I would like to have killed the son-of-a-bitch myself. Justifiable homicide." He apologized to Samuel for putting him through that ordeal."

Barnaby stepped into the room.

"Because you turned it around," Barnaby said. "You asked them for that bastard's gun. That coroner fellow says, 'They're the same gun.' Phillip tells them why Samuel wanted that gun, and he had him take off his shirt. There was a gasp, and complete silence as Phillip explained what Nester had done to Sammy. Justifiable homicide. Gives Sam back his gun, and says, "I would have liked to have shot the son-of-a-bitch myself. The coroner said that."

"I like how you tell it, Barnaby. You were the one who said, 'Take off your shirt.'"

"I did. Well, I knew how it made me feel to see what that bastard did to Samuel."

"Did he go there with the idea he would kill Nester?" John asked.

"You really don't want to ask him if he planned a premeditated murder, do you?"

Samuel came in looking for Barnaby, as we pondered the meaning of it all.

"Where's the Colt, Sammy Boy?" I asked.

"In my saddle bag. Want me to get it?"

"Why aren't you wearing it? You wore it all the way to St Louis."

"Barnaby doesn't like it. Besides, I don't need it any more. Come on, Barnaby. I want to show you the stables."

"I've seen the stables," Barnaby said.

"Will you come on," Samuel said.

"Oh, yeah. I would like to take another look. Nicest stables I've seen, not that I seen that many."

"The odd couple. I'm sure Samuel is older than Barnaby," John said. "It's obvious which one of them is the most in demand. I guess Samuel really hasn't had anybody before."

"He has us, John, and he has taken to Big Joe."

"I meant mother and father. He never knew his mother or father. That's when you first see what love is all about. Your parents show you."

"He knew his father," I said, as John looked at me.

"He said he didn't know who his father was," John calculated.

"Samuel killed his father in St Louis."

"Nester was his father?"

"How else would he have been with Samuel as far back as he remembered."

"The boy killed his own father," Big Joe asked.

"Only thing that makes sense. He hated Samuel's mother. She left him, or he killed her. That's how he was the only one Samuel remembered."

I didn't want to think Samuel was that cool under fire. I watched him kill Nester. There was never a doubt in his mind, once he saw him, Nester was going to die. He killed him without blinking twice. Samuel was very fast, and he did what he dreamed of doing while he practiced his quick draw with the Colt forty-five Nester was wearing that day.

That was enough talking for one afternoon. After John fixed up dinner and we ate until we were stuffed, I was ready to ride to my valley. I knew John's horse ranch was secure, but I didn't know if my valley would be. I hoped for the best, but I wasn't staying for long.

Send Rick an email at quillswritersrealm
@yahoo.com

On to Chapter Thirteen
"Going to Running Horse"

Back to Chapter Eleven
"Inquest"

Chapter Index
Paradise & Big Joe Main Page

Rick Beck Home Page