I rode out in front of the wagon for a few hours the next morning. Our guests, Samuel's Pawnee friends, had stayed the night and gone back toward the village before we got underway the next morning.

They'd brought us eight horses and more food than we'd ever eat. Some of the food was still warm from coming off the fire a few minutes before they brought it to us. We had some very delicious squash, tomatoes, and corn on the cob that was almost immediately hot once it passed over our fire.

"Are these the horses from those buffalo hunters?" I asked Phillip. "They don't want them in the village, so they send them to us?"

"Too clean and well kept for buffalo hunters. They don't keep anything clean but their rifles, and they only clean their rifles because they don't work once they collect too much dirt."

The food they brought was beyond any need we had, but when a Pawnee chief sends you a gift, you graciously accept it. Except that we'd been on the edge of starving, and wasting food wasn't something we wanted to do.

While Phillip's story flowed after we stopped the day before, it was far from settling. It was sad he'd been forced to leave the people and the life he loved.

He'd done what any brother might do, should such an event take place in his life.

His story was amazing in that he'd survived so much upheaval. He'd gone from one life to the next when the time came, but it was the Pawnee identity he wished to embrace. He had a wisdom from living in both the white world and the Pawnee world few people had. He was able to relate to the settlers as well as the Indians. It was no wonder his services were sought after.

I went from Chestnut to the seat beside Phillip, as we trundled on. We'd left Dobbin and Samuel back at the campsite with his friends. They seemed reluctant to break the bond they'd established, and he said he'd catch up with us later in the day.

On horse back he could cover ten miles in less than an hour, but it wasn't comforting to leave him. I'd come to view my role as one of guardianship. I felt responsible for him.

The fact he made friends was good. It reaffirmed that he was a normal kid, doing what normal kids do, enjoying his friends.

Chestnut walked beside me once I transferred to the seat beside Phillip.

I laughed when I looked at all the horses trotting along on the right of the wagon.

"What?" Phillip asked, as he smiled my way.

"What are we going to do with all those horses?"

"We'll figure something out. I hope we find water. Our barrels are full, but we have more than twice as many horses. We'd run out of water in a day with the extra horses. We've been finding water more regularly the past day or two. We need to hope that continues."

"I can go further off the trail to look for water. I'm well fed and watered. There's more greenery the past few days. It hasn't felt as dry to me," I said. "Why did they say they brought even more food and eight horses. We already had six horses."

"The older boy said, Iron Pants say, "You need."

"I guess it will remain a mystery," I said. "It's a lot of extra horses. Did he think ours might drop dead? I thought he was giving the horses from the raid to us, so other buffalo hunters might not see them."

"That's not something a Pawnee would do. He has no shame for what his warriors did."

I got back on Chestnut, after climbing down from the wagon seat. I'd ride ahead a ways and do a search for water where we might camp tonight. We were back to moving along at the speed we maintained for going on six months now. It was hard to believe how much we'd seen and experienced in that six months.

I found had more to consider since meeting up with Phillip, than I ever had to consider before. Phillip's life was full of diverse experiences from tangling with teamsters to dealing with idiots signed on to his wagon train. I thought about Mrs. Simpson's biscuits and my belly took to growling. I did miss Mrs. Simpson's gifts of food to us.

While riding back toward the wagon, I could see Samuel off in the distance. He wasn't moving very fast, but faster than the wagon, and he was catching up."

I rode to meet him.

"Say goodbye to your friends?" I asked. "Why so sad?"

"I never had any friends. I liked them. They liked me. I don't know if I'll make any more friends," he said.

"You have Phillip and me," I said. "We're your friends."

"That's different. You own me. Phillip is like my dad."

I laughed.

"I don't own you, Samuel. You can't own another person," I said.

"Nester owned me," Samuel explained.

"I bought the rights to you to make what I did a legal binding contract with that jerk. I paid the price so you'd be free of him without questions," I told him.

"You don't know Nester. He owns me and what you did won't change his mind on that."

"Samuel, I have but one regret concerning how we found you. I regret I didn't kill Nester."

"That makes two of us. I dreamed of killing him. I saw myself killing him a million times."

"You're free of him now. You are free. All I did was purchase your freedom from a bad man."

"I'm hungry. Maybe we can stop and eat," Samuel said.

"I think we can arrange that," I said, as we caught up with Phillip.

As soon as Samuel mentioned eat, we were pulling over to set up for a meal. Phillip really wasn't in a hurry. A lot went on over the last few days. Stopping to enjoy some of the bounty we found ourselves with sounded like a fine idea.

There were two really big roasts, and two smaller ones that had been salted, and we had bread to put our meat on and vegetables to make a complete meal. In no time we had coffee going and meat on the fire that tantalized our tastebuds. We let our horses graze, they'd been able to drink at their leisure for several days, and we didn't look for water before stopping. By nightfall, we should be able to locate a campsite with water nearby.

Smauel went quiet again, but he hadn't lost his appetite, and he loved the roasted corn on the cob, as did I. It was sweet and flavorful, and the venison once again hit the spot. I'd only had venison a few times while in the South. A regular diet with venison in it didn't hurt my feelings at all.

I poured us all coffee as I wrapped a piece of Indian bread to let it soak up the juices that ran out of the freshly cooked meat.

Phillip hadn't said much and it made for a quiet campsite as we all ate our fill. It was nice that we had no fish to eat for a change, but I wasn't complaining, fish is nice to have when you are caught short of food. I thought of the lake and the cool refreshing water there. We'd been lucky to find it, and once again, Phillip's knowledge saved us when we could have ended up in serous trouble along the trail west in Kansas.

We'd been maybe five miles since leaving the Pawnee village. We were moving at our usual speed, but stopping had become a habit. We were aware that Samuel got hungry more often than we did, and a growing boy needs to eat. He'd become the center of our world in short order. Having a young energetic lad with us did make things more exciting.

"Can we go back there one day?" Samuel asked.

"We're still close enough for you to go back," Phillip said. "They really liked you. "

Samuel pondered this a while. It didn't improve his mood. If food didn't improve his disposition we'd need to find something that would.

"You want to get rid of me, Pop?" he said with hesitancy in his words.

"Oh, Sammy Boy, you're like my own," Phillip said, standing and going to pull Samuel up on his feet.

Phillip wrapped his arms around the boy and Samuel rested his head on Phillip's shoulder.

"You are one of our team. We don't go anywhere without you, Sammy Boy. No, I don't want to get rid of you."

"I never been anywhere I belonged before," Samuel said.

*****

"Barnaby, will you come upstairs for a minute," George called down to the tallest boy who sat with three other messengers who might be called into action at any time during business hours.

"I need the Korastenski file to go to the lawyers. Bring back the two files they'll give you, and stop by the Western Union office and see if there's anything for us."

"You don't want me to pick up your laundry or walk your dog, do you?"

"Barnaby, I'm not in the mood. Go. " he said, using his hand to removed him from his office.

"What's wrong?" the boy messenger asked. "You're usually up for a bit of banter."

"Your banter is my sassiness." George explained.

"You're dog die?" Barnaby persisted.

"No, but one of my kids has the mumps and the other whooping cough. No sleep at my house, and my wife holds me responsible for all that goes wrong in the world," George said.

"You're just a bank vice president. The world is a little beyond your beat, isn't it?"

George chuckled.

"Go, Go. I need the Korastenski file back as soon as possible."

"Want me to wait for it? I will wait if you order me to wait," Barnaby said.

George gave it some thought.

"No, go do what I instructed you to do. Maybe I'll send you back for the file at noon. They need to give it a good going over. I think by noon it will be ready to come back here."

Barnaby danced down the stairs whistling a happy tune.

His life was good. His life had never been better.

*****

Phillip thought about making camp where we ate, but he decided it was time to get back on a regular schedule of moving at dawn and going until dusk. The days were long, but we were closing in on our destination and Phillip wanted to get started with this year's survey on the mountain where he'd already spent a year surveying the far side.

Samuel tied Dobbin to the back of the wagon, and I rode Chestnut out in front. I was still looking for any water in our path, but the horses were refreshed and ready to go when the wagon began to roll.

We went west into the mid day sun.

It was well after noon, and we'd gone two or three miles since making our stop for food. We were making good time, and the weather was more toasty warm than hot. Even the dust seemed to be less of a factor when I breathed. As I went up a rise, one of the two we'd seen in eastern Kansas, I was sure I was seeing things.

When I studied the Conestoga wagons as they sat in a row, it seemed odd not to see people, and even more odd not to see horses hitched to the wagons or grazing near them. I knew this wasn't how it went with any of the wagons we'd had following us west. I turned Chestnut and rode back to tell Phillip about the wagons with no one around.

"They are sitting all in a line how you do it, but there is no one in sight. There are no horses in sight, and on the top of this rise, you can see forever."

Phillip let the horses walk at the same pace we'd been going. As he reached the peak of the rise, he stopped the wagon, surveying the flatland out in front of us. He clicked his tongue and gave the reins a shake, and when he reached the four wagons, he stopped behind them. He sat a minute to take in what he could see.

Reaching under his seat, he removed the waist gun and double barreled shotgun that had been sawed off to a neat easy to handle two foot long weapon.

Phillip walked cautiously along the side of the wagons where we stopped. He cradled the shotgun in his arms. All his senses were alert and focused. The first three wagons had canvas tops that made them safe to carry anything and keep it out of the weather. The fourth wagon had no canvas. That was the wagon Phillip walked carefully toward.

I walked behind him, Samuel walked a bit behind me. The wagons were neatly unhitched from the horses and the harness was neatly attached to the tongue of each wagon the way teamsters left them. In the first wagon was a dresser, a four posted bed headboard and footboard, and various chairs and household items.

Phillip could see what was in the wagon, because the canvas had been stripped off of it. It didn't take but a minute to find the canvas cover a large space at the shady side of the wagon. Phillip was sure he'd found the people who belonged to the wagons, but what were they doing out in the middle of nowhere?

"Hey, come out here. Don't come out shooting, we're friendly," he reassured any one within earshot.

It took a minute or two and a bit of rustling for two men to come out with long guns from the last century. They looked as though they were ready to shoot.

"Put the damn guns down. We're here to help you," Phillip barked at the frightened men.

Phillip had the shotgun cradled in his arms, but he did not point it at the men. He figured they'd realize he wasn't there to do them any harm.

A young girl came from under the canvas. She spoke to the men, and they lowered their rifles. The little girl walked around the wagon to face us.

"Who are you?" the little girl wanted to know.

"Name's Phillip. What are you doing out here. Do you know how much danger you're in?"

"No more than we've been in. We got to St Louis late. Our wagon train left without us. We'd contracted to go to Oregon. Some men came by and a man said he was a wagon master, and he'd help us catch the wagon train that left five days before."

"Right, and I'm US Grant," Phillip said. "Let tell you what happened. They got you out here in the middle of nowhere, took anything of value, along with the horses, and they left you out here to die."

The two men began talking in a foreign language to Phillip, and it was obvious they were relieved but still suspicious.

"You know these men?" the girl asked.

"What language are they speaking?" Phillip asked.

"German. We're from Hamburg. We came last year. Then, we got a chance to buy land in your Oregon, and my people bought it," she said.

"Don't be shocked if when you get to where that land is, there is no land you own. You people are ripe for the picking. You can't trust anything anyone tells you. Once they know you're a foreigner, their eyes light up. They begin counting how much they can take you for."

"How do you know so much?"

"I'm a wagon master. I bring people across for the 1st National Bank. I know these kind of men. They're without scruples."

"And I should believe you why?"

Phillip laughed.

"Yeah, well, you can't trust anyone but me. I'm honest."

The little girl laughed sensing his honesty.

"I just happen to have some extra horses. What's the food and water situation?"

"Enough water for another day. Food ran out two days ago."

"Why are you speaking for how many of you are there."

"Twelve and me. I'm the only one who speaks English. I do all the bargaining."

"Well, I'm not bargaining. I'll feed you and get you to the closest town. You'll need to wait for a wagon train to come this way. Most don't come this way, but I'll get you to safety."

"Oh, Gut, Mein Her. You do not know gut dat sounds," the girl said as she collapsed.

Phillip carried the girl to the shade of the wagon. Samuel brought water for her.

She was the only one to speak English well enough to communicate with the three men that had come to their aid. Phillip set up our camp with the fire between our wagon and the four stranded wagons. There were eight adults and five children. They'd also come from New York City, where they landed and made arrangements to settle in the west.

Because they brought their furniture with them, they had to have money to pay for it to be shipped and then to transport it across the country. Most people leave all but their essentials and important personal keepsakes. They expect to be situated to buy what they need in short order in a land with streets paved in gold.

They soon learn the truth, realizing they are in a strange land, and they'll need to start over

Their story unfolded as the little girl drank and ate her fill. The rest of the immigrants were between standoffish and hesitant. While Samuel and stayed close to our wagon, Phillip went about being the host for foreigners' who had learned the hard way, you can't trust everyone. Since we were feeding them, furnishing horses to pull their wagons, and prepared to get them to safety, they did their best to act appreciative, while trying to hide the suspicion they'd keep for a long time to come.

I imagine if I'd been stranded in the middle of nowhere, ran out of food, and were about to run out of water, I might be suspicious of anyone who came along. The little girl, Heidi, was gracious and thanked us enough to make up for her relatives' reluctance.

It was late enough in the day we weren't hitching the wagons up just to unhitch them a mile or two down the road. We'd gone as far as we were going to go this day. We kept the fire going and the coffee hot. We also kept food warm to make sure everyone got his fill.

We'd been nearly as desperate as these folks were after finding the closed general store. We spent two days eating often, once we found the lake. We'd extend the same courtesy to our new wards. They might doubt they'd been rescued and were safe, but I didn't.

We would start early the next morning, after hitching the extra horses to the wagons of the immigrants. Two horses could pull each wagon on flat land, and for a few days it wouldn't be overburdening them. Any more than a few days would be more of a strain than Phillip was comfortable putting on the horses.

We didn't know how far Hays was. Phillip thought that we were no more than five or six days. It was large town that could provide anything the immigrants needed, and maybe even someone who might be able to take them west from Hays for a price.

I'd been delighted to ditch the ten wagons Phillip was responsible to get to St Louis. Collecting four more wagons was no picnic. The idea we were rescuing folks from what could have become deadly meant we were doing our duty as people. The Germans were a bit stiff, and since none of them could cook over an open fire nearly as good as Phillip did it, he not only lead the wagons toward Hays, he cooked and did his best to be sure everyone got food that appealed to them.

The vegetables and bread Iron Pants sent to us were fast to disappear. We had plenty of meat, potatoes, carrots and such, and of course, there were always plenty of beans.

It was five days to Hays, and a welcome sight it was.

We reached Hays just before dark, and Phillip took all four wagons as well as ours down the main street of town. There wasn't a suitable place to pull off to camp on the east side of what was an expanding city. On the far side were woods to the west that would provide shade in the heat of the day.

Phillip intended to contact Dan and tell them about the immigrants we'd rescued, but he was almost positive Dan wouldn't go for them taking the new four wagons to where they were going. Not only did he have half a mountain to survey, and after that survey was done, we were going to help another surveyor work north of Denver.

The original plan of the Germans was to go west from St Louis to Cheyenne, and then to Oregon. They were now hundreds of miles south of the trail they should have been on, and there was no way they could get out of Cheyenne before spring. From Hays to Cheyenne was over four hundred miles, and it was getting late in the year to risk that trip. No one wanted to be out on the plains in the dead of winter. It was a sure way to get stranded.

These people had already been stranded and risking a trip that was sure to take a month and a half or more, wasn't wise by this time in September.

Phillip did have a memory from his first trip east. It told him we were no more than two to three weeks from Goodland, the closest town to where we would do our surveying in far eastern Colorado Territory. Having some idea of how much longer it would take to get where we were going was refreshing. We actually wouldn't continue moving west forever.

While we were no longer responsible for the German's, Phillip wasn't going to leave them to be fleeced by people who would do such a thing. We kept our wagon a distance from the four German's wagons. He advised them and wanted to be sure they were comfortable in this location before we left them to continue west.

When he went to the feed and grain store to inquire about the flow of wagon traffic in the area, the proprietor told him that he knew teamsters who carried people to Cheyenne from time to time, and they were due to come through the area any time.

This was what Phillip was hoping for when he went to the place where products and farming implements came in from all over the country. If anyone knew teamsters and wagon masters, it was people at the food and grain.

Phillip hooked Hans and Heidi up with Mr. Saul, and it was up to them to come to some agreement on when and how the German immigrants could continue their trip to Oregon.

We would remain in Hays for a day after we separated from our new friends, but before we could make a clean getaway, Hans came to Phillip with an offer it was hard to turn down.

"My Uncle Hans says that he will pay you twice what he already paid to get to Oregon, if you'll stay with us and see we arrive there safely," Heidi said.

"As generous as his offer is, Heidi, you must explain that I have a job I've told a man I'd do for him, and I am not free to accept his offer. The proprietor at the feed and grain is a smart man, and he's assured me that he'll put you into safe hands. You need to trust him."

"It will be hard to say goodbye to a man who saved our lives," Heidi said without prompting.

"I've done my best for you. The horses are a gift to your family for the bad treatment you've received, but no self-respecting teamster will allow you to pull those wagons with two horses. You will need to have four horses for each wagon. Mr. Saul has horses available to sell you. You must do that before you give any thought to moving."

"I'll see to it," Heidi said. "Thank you."

We left Heidi and the twelve German's who stood waving to us as we rode away, after Heidi gave Phillip a big hug. She was such a pleasant child, and responsible for so many. All we could do was wish them well.

We'd done all we could do, and now it was time to get to where we were going and go to work.


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"Goodland"

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"West"

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