The trail was long, straight and hot. Nothing changed except Phillip told Samuel to saddle and ride Dobbin, because he needed to be ridden a bit more than he rode him. That left me to ride Chestnut or sit on the wagon seat beside Phillip.

We didn't move as far each day, because the night before we'd stopped and had only a small amount of water left in the water barrels. We gave that to the horses and didn't fix coffee either for our dinner of beans and dried meat mixed in, which finished the meat.

For breakfast it was crackers and there weren't many crackers left. I didn't know we had those, but Phillip found crackers while rummaging around for anything we could eat.

"How far to the general store?" I asked him.

"Can't be sure," he told me.

I asked each morning. The answer was the same as the morning before.

We didn't go as fast as we usually went, which was about as slow as one can go, but if we didn't find water soon, we wouldn't be going much further. I rode off the trail in both directions in a search for water, but there was none. Any place that looked like it had water at one time, had no water now.

Phillip pulled the wagon up between a couple of trees on a rise, and we stopped for the day in the late afternoon. The sun had passed overhead and was now in our faces, beating down on us relentlessly as we moved west.

We couldn't see water and we started a search, leaving the wagon in the shade after unhitching the horses and hobbling them to graze on a patch of grass nearby. There were more trees off to the left and Samuel rode Dobbin in that direction to check for water. I rode off into the trees on the right and I found a stream that had us taking the horses one by one to drink. Samuel spent the rest of daylight taking water to our water barrels a bucket at a time. It took a few minutes to fill the bucket and then five minutes to walk to the wagon.

Phillip took the 30/30 and went toward some rocks to see what he could see. I hoped he'd see something we could eat. Phillip didn't miss when he shot at something, but was there nothing along this godforsaken stretch of trail. I built a fire in the hopes we'd have something to cook besides coffee.

I was looking forward to a cup of coffee or two.

Samuel stayed close to me once the water barrels were full of water. He'd done all the filling. There was only one bucket. I took the horses to drink once Phillip went hunting. I knew they should drink more than once so they replenished the moisture they sweated out along the dusty trail. The stream kept flowing and for that I was grateful.

I listened as Samuel brought more wood. He was hoping for Phillip to make a kill too, but we hadn't seen any wild animals for days, and the odds were against Phillip shooting one now. We could hope, which was all we could do now. I hope we made it to somewhere that sold goods. I had money. I didn't have any goods.

It wasn't dusk yet, but the sun was low enough that it didn't boil my brain when I heard the horse coming. It was out in front of us, in the direction the dozen Indians who ate with us went in. The horse was wasting no time as I watched it growing larger.

It was an Indian riding directly toward our camp. He was coming directly at us once he saw where we were. I resisted the urge to go get my waist gun, and I thought if he killed me, my worries would be over, but it would be ashamed to die now that I wasn't dying.

Samuel waved as if it was a friend who came calling. I went to stand next to him, having a desire to protect him, but what was I going to do. I'd seen Phillip grab a man off his horse, but I didn't think I could do it. It wasn't something I'd even try, especially with the speed this horse was coming at us.

Once the horse was upon us, the rider made a circle, dropping a package on the ground near where we stood. He immediately rode back the way he came

"It's a roast," Samuel said. "It's meat. Oh, my word, it's meat. I thought I'd have to eat beans again tonight."

That was a speech for Samuel and I laughed at the sight of a twenty-five pound buffalo roast lying on the ground next to us.

I yelled, "Thank you," after the Indian but he was already a quarter mile away.

"Why?" I said, having no understanding for what just happened.

I didn't know what kind of meat it was, but Samuel had it on the skewer and ready to go over the fire as I got the fire ready to cook the wonderful roast.

"Should I go after Phillip?" Samuel asked me.

"Then I have two of you out in the woods to worry about. No, let's stay put. If he doesn't smell it and come back, it'll be too dark to hunt in another hour. That's about when we can start eating. We won't start eating until he gets back to camp."

Samuel stood next to the fire watching the roast charring on its outside. The heat didn't seem to bother him one bit, and the thought of a meal that would fill us up for the first time in days was glorious. Once more I thought of how little I knew about people.

Phillip came into camp with the 30/30 resting on his shoulder as he walked.

"You two have been busy," he said in jest. "Went out, got you a buffalo, kilt it, skinned it, gutted it, and cut us a nice roast, I see."

"It's buffalo?" I asked.

"A big beautiful buffalo roast. How did it get here?"

"Indian. He came from out in front of us. He was riding at a good clip. He came up, did a circle around us, and he dropped that beautiful piece of meat at our feet."

"Those old boys we fed yesterday, made a kill today. They'd seen how little we had to feed them, but we fed them anyway. Today, they made a kill and are sharing with us."

I looked off to the west wondering what kind of Indians took pity on three starving white men. It made no sense to me under the circumstances. No matter what I had been told about Indians, you had to meet them to understand them, or in this case, not to understand their motivation. Theirs was an act of kindness, and for the life of me, I didn't know why they hadn't killed us the day before. They could have taken what we had.

The buffalo meat was likely the most delicious meat I'd eaten. I didn't remember eating buffalo before, but this was as good as it got. Samuel had found a strawberry patch next to the stream where we got our water, and so we had a sweet treat for dessert.

We used the last of the salt to preserve about half the meat that was left, and Phillip smoked long thin strips of meat we would eat as we went along. Even with Samuel eating his fill, we had meat enough to last for the rest of the week, and maybe we'd reach the general store Phillip talked about by then.

We went back to trundling along at our one mile an hour top speed, and shortly after noon, with us all nibbling dried buffalo strips, we found a creek running off to the north. We put the wagon among the trees and let the horses loose to drink their fill. We topped off the water barrels and fixed coffee and put the salted meat on to finish cooking.

There were more trees today and the heat didn't penetrate as completely. It probably helped that we were full of buffalo meat and out thirst was quenched as completely as was possible. Drinking from the creek was done often, and we kept the bucket full while we ate to be able to dip our cups into the cool refreshing liquid.

It was the end of the week, we'd been moving along as usual, and Phillip perked up.

"I remember this section. The general store is close. I've ridden this section before."

With the luck I'd grown to expect, Phillip was correct, the general store was dead ahead after we started the next day.

We ate the last of the buffalo meat the night before, and we'd eaten the last of the dried strips that morning. A general store would allow us to replenish everything, and we'd been in Kansas since forever, and we had to get off this godforsaken stretch soon.

I'd never been on a more barren stretch of land before. I wouldn't soon forget Kansas, but the next blow to our plan to cross it hurt more than any other.

Phillip stood in the doorway of the general store. He kicked the door that hung on one hinge, and the door came off, sliding across the empty floor of the one time general store. It was empty. There were two tipped over broken chairs, a long counter covered in dust, and on the back wall was hung a dusty deerskin.

Phillip almost fell when he kicked the door off its single hinge, and Samuel caught Philip's arm to keep him from falling. Phillip rarely got far without Samuel. The three of us stood in the middle of what was once a thriving business. It was as dead as everything around us was.

What were we going to do now?

The general store hadn't been in business for years. Nothing had been bought and sold here for a long, long time. It was difficult to believe our luck had turned so bad, but we had to go on and if we didn't find food and water soon, we wouldn't be going much further.

July heat turned to August heat as Phillip sat on the wagon seat. He didn't say anything, but he was deep in thought. It was best not to interrupt him when he took to giving some thought to something on his mind. This was something he told me he'd heard another man saying while he was at this very general store years before.

I had been riding Chestnut to look for water. Samuel got on Dobbin and he searched to the right while I searched on the north side of the trail before the disappointing discovery of the closed general store. I decided to climb up on the wagon seat before we went on.

It took ten or fifteen minutes for Phillip to begin moving, and when we moved, we made a right turn to cross behind the general store going south. It wasn't a trail, but it was wide enough for the wagon to keep the wheels on firm ground.

We came to the trees a few minutes later and there was no clear path. The shade made it a fine choice as far as us making progress was concerned. I didn't know why the turn to the south, but if we were going to die, dying in the cool shade of the trees was good for me, but if there were trees, there was likely to be game, and if we could shoot some game, we'd be able to keep going. Kansas couldn't go on forever, but it seemed like it did.

It was another hour when Phillip stopped the horses. We were looking at a lake. It was surrounded with trees and went on for a good ways. The horses were nervous, realizing they'd drink soon, and we stopped there to unhitch them and let them drink their fill.

When Samuel caught up, he couldn't believe his eyes. He'd been looking for water on both sides of us, and when he came back to the wagon there was water everywhere.

After getting all the horses to the water and hobbling them on a grassy knoll, both Phillip and Samuel stripped and went in to bathe. I watched them for a few minutes. There was nothing to say and nothing to be said,

I joined them. The feel the coolness of the water. It was heavenly and washing the dust off after being dusty for so long was a nice change. I hadn't bathed since staying at the Missouri House in St Louis. I'd forgotten how wonderful it feels to get my body into cool refreshing water. Once in, I didn't want to come out.

The birds sang, the frogs croaked and the light of the sun low in the western sky filtered individual light rays into the lake. I felt something like I was still moving for the first few minutes, but then, I simply relaxed to let the water wash over me.

I got a good look at Samuel's back for the first time in a few weeks. The crossing scars told a tale of brutality. I couldn't imagine it and I remembered the slave. Samuel was a gentle lad who didn't deserve such treatment. I wanted to kill Nester all over again. I'd had the feeling before. It intensified as I looked at how Samuel had been beaten.

The best thing I'd done was shoot Nester. I wanted to shoot him all over again.

"How did you know this was here?" I asked Phillip, once I began to think again .

I'd watched him turn the wagon south. It was an uncertain turn. He wasn't sure he was doing the right thing. When we came to the forest, he seemed more certain he knew where we were going, and after a time, we sat looking at the lake. Neither of us said a thing, but we were thinking the same thought. Water, glorious water. Thank heaven for water.

"Didn't know. When I was here before, a fisherman came in with his fish. He'd been talking about a lake to the south of the store where he caught those fish," Phillip said.

"That's all. He caught them south of the store?"

"That's all," Phillip said. "What did we have to lose. I went directly south."

He did and here we were, and where there was water, there was bound to be game, and all we needed to do now was hunt, but Phillip didn't get out his 30/30. I watched him standing in the water up to his thighs. He stared down at the water. He was motionless. Samuel stood a few feet away watching him.

After standing as still as a statue for a few minutes, Phillip's hands shot into the water, and a second later a fish was flipping on the nearby bank. He stood perfectly still, and he did it again. His hands shot into the water and he flipped another squirming fish on to the nearby bank.

Samuel took to looking into the water, and when his hands shot out, nothing came of it. He turned to watch Phillip flip two more fish on to the bank. Samuel wasn't able to flip a fish out of the water the way Phillip did, but after several more futile attempts, Samuel did it. He flipped one fish on the bank and then he flipped another.

He laughed and he did a dance in the water.

"I did it. I did it," he said, happy as a lark. "I caught a fish with my bare hands."

"You did it. You did good. Let's get these ready to eat. We have plenty for today," Phillip told him.

Catching fish with their hands. I'd seen it all now. I couldn't do it and I didn't try. With two of them getting fish, there was no point in me trying it. We weren't going to waste food. If there was anything the past two weeks taught me, it was, we did not waste any food.

Fish wasn't my favorite food. I'd had a lot of fish in sections of the south near the Atlantic Ocean and next to the Gulf of Mexico, and it was okay, but fresh fish, and you couldn't get fish any fresher than these fish, gave this food a delectable quality.

Each fish was well over a pound, but once cleaned, they might have been less. We started out with Phillip doing three fish over the fire at one time. Once we'd mostly eaten one, he'd have more ready to roast. We were all ready to eat and fish was good food.

Needless to say, with Samuel around, there wasn't going to be any leftovers. After my third fish, I was done. I'd pop if I ate more, and it tasted good, but once you aren't eating regularly, I suspect most food tastes good. That's how it worked for me.

With one fish left to cook, both Phillip and I had already had enough. Samuel didn't mind eating the final fish. The boy could eat and I remembered watching Barnaby eat in the same way I now watched Samuel. They were surprisingly similar boys that had come from entirely different places.

Dear sweet Barnaby, I wondered how the lad was doing. I hoped being a messenger for George appealed to him. It was hard to believe, but it was a half a year since we left New York City.

*****

At the offices of 1st National Bank, New York City.

Barnaby sat slumped in the chair across from George's desk.

"Barnaby, you aren't a vagrant. Why must you slouch. Sit up and act like my best messenger, will you? You represent the 1st National Bank of New York City."

"George, you've had me going since six-thirty this morning. I've been to the lawyers, Western Union, to the bank and back, and back to the bank, to the lawyers again, and I'm tired and hungry. I'm slouching because I can't sit up straight. I need nourishment."

"You eat like a stevedore. I don't see how you can be hungry already," George said.

"They don't have breakfast ready at my house at six in the morning. I'm running on one piece of toast with butter and jam. I'm hungry, George."

"The Moss papers need to be at the lawyers before noon, and then they'll need to come back here to me."

"Where are they? I'll drop them off, go to lunch, and you'll never know the difference," Barnaby said.

"I'm listening to you. I know the difference. You have a job to do."

"I'm worn out. I'm hungry. I need to eat, I'm a growing boy, you know."

"You grow any faster and you'll grow out of your new clothes. Stop it. You eat more than any person I know. I have papers that need to go to the lawyers, and you'll need to wait for them to put their seal of approval on them, and bring them back here to me. This is important business."

"Where are they?" Barnaby asked.

"They aren't ready yet. You can wait and take them as soon as my secretary brings them up here. This is part of the Moss deal we've been working on this entire month."

"Tell you what, George. I'm going across the street for lunch. When these papers are ready, leave them with the clerk downstairs. I'll pop back in, pick them up, and get them to the lawyers. How's that sound?"

"I'd rather you wait and take them before you go to eat," George said.

"Yeah, I know you would. If they're ready before I'm back, give them to one of those other messengers you have. Let them run all over god's little acre. I'm hungry and I'm going to eat. Leave the papers with the clerk downstairs. I'll get them to the lawyers double time once I pop back in."

"You know I depend on you, Barnaby. I don't trust the other boys with paperwork as important as the Moss contracts. I won't let anyone carry them but you. I'll see they're at the clerk's desk once they're ready. Don't take all day."

"Like I said," Barnaby said, pushing himself up out of his chair. "I'm going to eat."

"Don't take all day, Barnaby."

"Slave driver," Barnaby said, laughing as he trotted down the stairs and out the front door of the bank's business offices.

George stood and went to the window of his office to watch Barnaby go. He'd made a good messenger, and George was glad he'd found one he could depend on.

*****

There was no mention of moving the wagon. The horses remained hobbled. They drank from the pond and grazed on the lush grass next to the lake. Samuel was in the water as much as he was out, and his pants got a good scrubbing. They wouldn't last many more washings, and we'd need to find a place to get him some clothes that actually fit the boy.

I once again thought of the general store we passed before we got on this trail, and why we hadn't stopped when we knew our supplies were dwindling, especially after we took Samuel on board. It wasn't something I would ask Phillip about a second time, but it worries me, like things I didn't understand often worried me.

I watched Phillip come back from hunting with nothing. It wasn't the first time I saw him go hunting and not kill something. He said there simply was no game this time of year. Everything was deep in the forest, staying cool on one hot day after another.

Fish were fine. I really didn't mind it three times a day. It beat nothing and I wasn't going to complain about having something to eat. Fish was moist, tasty, and plentiful, and I ate my share. Phillip didn't mind eating fish and he ate his share, Samuel ate as long as Phillip kept cooking. When the final fish came off the fire, Samuel took it and left no trace.

I understood why we didn't leave for the third day in a row. As August was wasting away, a cooler September was dead ahead. We could take our time and have much better conditions for the traveling left to be done. Once we left Kansas, there wouldn't be that far to go to where the survey was to be done in the Colorado Territory. It took forever to get through Kansas, but Phillip said he'd come to that general store a few days after leaving Colorado Territory. That meant Colorado wasn't too far away.

It was on the third morning I woke after sunrise to hear some giggling and laughing.

When I got to the fire, I poured myself coffee as Phillip sat shirtless across from me. Samuel was back in the lake, and when I looked for hm, I saw four heads bobbing up and down in the middle of the lake. There were three Indian boys about Samuel's age and Samuel. They swam, giggled, laughed and they were all chattering at one time. Samuel was doing some of the chattering. I knew his voice, but how did he understand the Indians, who were speaking what I found out was Pawnee.

"How do they understand each other?" I asked.

"They speak the universal language. They're boys doing what boys do."

I still didn't get it. I'd been a boy and I never communicated with someone who didn't speak English. When I thought about it, I had been around some Italian and Greek boys in New York City. None of us spoke the same language, but it didn't stop us from playing together and having a good time. I suppose boys did have a universal language.

Phillip and Samuel weren't the only fisherman in the crowd, and they caught more fish than I'd ever seen in one spot. With five of us eating, it took a lot of fish to feed us. We sat together eating, and Phillip began talking with the boys.

What they had to talk about, I couldn't say, but they spoke the same language with Phillip tossing in an English word from time to time and they all used their hands a lot. There was a good deal of pointing and gesturing with their hands.

The mystery surrounding Phillip deepened. I'd seen him interact with two different types of Indians, and he seemed comfortable with both. If I couldn't see that he was white, I'd suspect he might be Indian. He not only understood, but he could talk with them. He seemed to have an understanding of these people who I was told were savages. From what I had seen, they were kind and quite civilized in their actions.

Samuel was the center of attention. After they ate, and before they went back into the lake, the three Indian boys were feeling Samuel's chest and thighs as if they were fascinated by him. At first Samuel was a bit anxious, when the Indians had taken his shirt off the week before when Indians came to eat with us. They all touched his skin.

Now, these Indian boys were doing the same thing. I didn't get it, and I asked Phillip.

"Why are Indians so interested in touching Samuel that way," I asked as the three boys gave Samuel a thorough examination.

"There's a legend of a white buffalo coming to announce the end of the invasion of white men, and this will return the land to how it was before the Europeans came."

"Samuel isn't a buffalo. He certainly is white."

"That's the thing. He is white. Europeans are pinkish. They aren't white, no matter how much they insist they are white. Samuel is white. They see him as pure. When you think about it, Sammy Boy is pure. If you laid him down in the snow. You couldn't see him. That's how white he is."

"They seem so innocent. They're curious about Samuel. It's the kind of curiosity any boy might have. It's the kind of curiosity I had as a boy," I said as I thought it over.

"They are boys. Boys are alike in that way. They're discovering what's in their world," Phillip said. "When you first encounter a new thing that interests you, you want to know about it. It's natural. They want to know what Samuel's skin feels like."

"Why do we call them savages? They're no more savage than I am."

"It's easier to kill savages. The government has decided Indians are in the way. Calling them savages means anyone can kill us without feeling guilty about it."

"Like they kill the buffalo," I said, feeling like I'd been slapped into consciousness.

I heard the 'us' in Phillip's explanation. It was a slip of the tongue, or something more.

"Like they pay men to kill the buffalo. Kill the buffalo, starve the Indians."

I looked toward the lake where the three Indian boys surrounded Samuel as they all chattered, giggled, and laughed, while trying to dunk each other.


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"Indian Justice"

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"Sammy Boy"

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