What happened came so fast, it's difficult to say exactly what the order of events was. It started with something bright flashing outside. It was too bright for a shooting star or some solar flare. It looked just like what it was, fire.

One flash outside the window got our attention. The second such flash sent us into action. The sound of objects landing on the roof had us moving toward the door. Burning objects were now on the roof of the cabin, and there was only one way out.

"They're setting the roof on fire. They're going to burn us out," Phillip said, heading for the door.

Anyone's reaction would be the same as ours. If the cabin was set on fire, we needed to get out. The idea was to get us to open the door and try to get out of the cabin before the fire spread. Even I knew what was going to happen when the door opened.

There was no way it could be avoided, and Phillip knew what he had to do.

Phillip drew his gun, knowing what he expected once he threw the door open.

As quick as Phillip moved, Samuel was right behind him. I was just getting out of my chair.

I was confused, taking a second for the flares and the thuds to make sense. If Phillip thought there was fire, who was I to argue, and I was on my way to the door behind them.

Phillip was standing in the cabin door when the gunfire began. Whoever threw the objects on the roof were waiting to ambush us when we tried to get out. They fired from the dark and we couldn't see them.

The gunfire had Phillip backing up from the door. I could tell by his awkward movements, he'd been shot. As Samuel reached Phillip's side, he was on his way to the floor. I expected to seek cover, or in some way make himself less to a target, because the fire in the fireplace, was lighting anyone in the doorway, making them an easy target.

What I saw Samuel do was as amazing as it was deadly. He saw the points of light from the muzzle flashes the guns made, and Samuel used the side of his hand to fan the Colt in a way I didn't know it was possible to do. In two seconds, the Colt was empty and Samuel was following Phillip down to the floor.

I was amazed and in shock, watching both of the men I was closest to being gunned down. It was my turn to move into the doorway.

The gunfire ceased as I got to the door behind them. I bent to check on my two friends, and bullets went over my head. Catching sight of the muzzle flash, I stood and emptied my gun at the muzzle flashes, figuring the man was at that moment reloading, because it immediately got quiet, and I didn't know what to do.

Once my gun was empty, my mind was racing. What did I do? I had no way to help them, and if there was anyone left to fire at me, I was a dead man, and we'd all die at the cabin if I didn't get Phillip and Samuel help.

As I rolled them both on their back, the blood was everywhere. I couldn't tell how many times either of them had been hit. There wasn't enough light to examine them. They needed a doctor, and it was up to me to get them to one.

It was then I remembered the last house in Goodland and the sign hung outside.

H R Doncaster, MD

I raced outside to get the horses out of the stable. I hitched them back to the wagon, and I went back to open the tailgate, bringing Samuel out first to place him in the back of the wagon. He didn't weigh anything, and I put him where the goods had been stacked, and went back after Phillip. He wasn't as easy to get in the wagon as Samuel, but with some extra effort, I had him lying on where my bedding was still in the wagon.

I spoke to them and assured them I was getting them help. I didn't know if they were alive. I had to get a hold of myself. The two closest people to me were depending on me, and there was no one else. Phillip would have known what to do, but all I could do was struggle to get control of myself.

If there were any gunmen left alive, they decided to let me do whatever it was they saw me doing. There was no more gunfire, and I didn't care if there was. I had to get my friends help.

When I got on the seat to let the horses run, I was pointed in the wrong direction. There wasn't enough room to turn the wagon behind the cabin. I jumped down to do what I'd seen Phillip do, when he needed to get the wagon pointed outward.

I grabbed the harness and the horses followed me as I walked them counterclockwise until I had the wagon pointed in the direction I wanted them to go.

I jumped back on to the wagon seat and shook the reins harder than I meant to, and the horses took off running. They'd obviously remembered Phillip running them out of town. I couldn't see anything but blackness as the wagon flew up the trail almost too narrow for the wagon, and as much as I wanted to slow down, I didn't slow down, or attempt to rein the horses back. They didn't seem to have any trouble knowing where to go, and I was going with them on a ride that had me holding on for dear life.

I could see light once we reached the end of the trail to the cabin, and I pulled on the reins to get the horses to go right and into Goodland. They hardly broke stride as they made the wide turn, tipping the wagon up on its right wheels, and I was sure we were going over, but we didn't and it didn't feel like we slowed at all. This trail was much wider, but I could see it no better than I could see the trail that took us out past the tall trees.

The horses ran and we hurdled toward town.

I shook the reins again, and if they could run any faster than they were running, I don't know, but we were going as fast as I knew how to make them go.

The amount of blood on the floor of the cabin told me that Phillip and Samuel were both in serious trouble. I knew where I was taking them, and the faster I got them there, the better off they were going to be. I'd never drive a wagon at that speed, but once again, it was up to the horses to pull us through.

No one had fired a shot once I emptied my gun, and I had no idea if the cabin was burning, or if anyone there would notice. I'd just come through a gun battle unscathed, and what I really wanted to do was go out to find those bastards and put a bullet in each of them if I found them.

Revenge sounded sweet as I drove the wagon like a maniac, but I really wasn't in control of the wagon. The horses were in charge. They seemed to know what they were doing, and I went along for the ride.

Your mind does crazy things in a panic, and the only thing I needed to do was get the wagon to the doctor's house without killing all of us. We'd survived a gun battle, and I was going to kill us all by tipping the wagon over trying to get my friends help.

The horses ran on into the darkness. They didn't realize how crazy it was to go this fast.

The horses ran like the hounds of hell were after them and I wanted them to run faster. Then, some sanity came back to me. If I turned this wagon over, or ran it off the trail, we'd all die out here. I had to go slower. I was pointed toward town and that was the main thing.

I couldn't see the trail, but the horses knew what they were doing, and we drove a straight line until I almost passed Dr. Doncaster's house.

All the lights had been turned out, and the sign became invisible in the dark.

I stopped the wagon and ran to the door and started to pound.

"Help me. Help me," I yelled over and over again as I pounded.

A window opened above me and a man leaned out.

"Stop your confound yelling. We got babies here," A man yelled down at me.

"My friends. They've been shot. I don't know if they're alive," and before I finished, lights were coming on in the house a man with a lamp and in a night shirt came out on the porch to pass me as he went toward the wagon.

"In the wagon?" he yelled a me.

"What?" I asked, my mind still frantic with fear..

"They're in the wagon?"

"Yes, in the back."

I was standing beside him as he got in the wagon to check the two bodies he found there.

"Mother, lots of hot water. Get the operating room ready. We'll take the big one first, he's stronger. I might save him. The boy? He'll need to wait."

I saw the light in the doorway and then it disappeared as the doctor's wife knew what to do to be ready when we took Phillip inside.

"Don't just stand there. Help me. We need to get him inside."

The doctor took his shoulders and I took his feet as we went straight into the house and followed the light to a room straight back away from the front door. We went into the first room we came to and Phillip went on the table. The doctor pushed past me.

I stood watching a woman putting instruments out and using hot water to boil them sterile.

"Don't just stand there. We got another one to bring in," the doctor told me.

Samuel went into a darkened room and no one was in there. The doctor ushered me out of the room and closed the door. I wondered if Samuel had died.

"Is he alive?" I asked no one.

When I turned around, the doctor had disappeared.

It was obvious the doctor didn't want me to go in, and I looked to see where he got to, when I wandered back toward the room where we'd taken Phillip.

The doctor had work to do, and he seemed to know what he was doing. I stood in the doorway as he used scissors to cut away Phillip's flannel shirt. I thought I was out of the way, standing at the door, but I wasn't far enough away, and the woman closed the door in my face.

What did I do now?

I'd gotten them to a doctor, and there was nothing I could do for either of them. Life had been so easy, so enjoyable, and now, this. My world had been shattered.

"Is he alive?" I asked.

No one answered me. They wouldn't be working on him if he wasn't alive, I calculated.

The doctor said he might be able to save him. He was alive, but for how much longer? A doctor told me I'd die in a year, two years ago. How much did doctors really know?

I was stunned and didn't know what to do. I went outside and sat on the front porch. I was alive and I had no idea why. I'd watched both Phillip and Samuel gunned down. I stood in the same doorway and I was fine.

How did I escape injury?

Had I been shot, we'd all be lying out at the cabin dead.

I cried and I felt as empty as I'd ever felt. I was helpless to do anything.

Had I killed my friends with my mad dash to get them help? Would they have been dead when I got here, if I took my time? Why did this happen to good people? How could Trag be coming through town at the same time as Phillip's wagon was parked on the street? What if the doctor had been out? What then?

The porch became bathed in light as a middle age woman came out of the front door. I didn't remember going outside, but here I was, sitting on the doctor's front porch.

"Come inside. You can't sit out there all night You'll catch your death.."

I stood and I followed her into the house. Was this the doctor's wife? Where were we going?

"Come with me," she ordered, walking in front of me.

"Are they alive?" I asked.

"Sit," she said, as we came to a sitting room with a big settee that had a blanket and pillow on it. "Sit down."

I sat down and she handed me a steaming cup of coffee.

"Drink this. It'll make you feel better," she said, and I drank the hot brew straight down.

"Are they alive?" I asked.

"Lie down. You'll feel better if you lie down," she said in a more comforting voice.

I laid back and when I looked for her, she was gone. The doctor and his wife seemed to appear and disappear without me knowing how they did this. Was she his wife?

What was wrong with me? Everything went out of focus after a couple of minutes. I had no intention of going to sleep until someone told me if Phillip and Samuel were still alive.

I was gone. Everything simply disappeared and I floated off into space. Where was I? Was this all some bad dream?

I cried and I sat up. I laid down and cried. It was the middle of the night.

It was daylight.

A big man was next to the settee talking, a woman came to guide him out of the room.

I slept. I woke up. I slept some more as time passed and I wasn't there for any of it. The woman had me sit up to drink more coffee. It was so good. I went back to sleep.

"Hey, hey you, time to wake up," the big man was back.

"I'm tired," I said, feeling like I hadn't slept for as long as I had.

"You've slept long enough. I need to ask you some questions, I'm Sheriff Petre."

"Sheriff," I said, opening my eyes to look at the big man with his hat in his hand.

"Yeah, you need to wake up now. I got me two shot fellows, and you with an empty gun on your hip. You see my problem here? They was shot with a .44 and you got an empty .44."

"Me. No. We were ambushed. We'd been doing a survey. We went to town to get supplies, because we're done here, and need to get ready to move."

"Surveyors. You're surveyors? The young fellow is a surveyor?"

"Yes. A cabin fifteen or twenty miles from here."

"The old hunters cabin? Is the older fellow Dubois. He was here a couple of years ago?"

"Yes, he's the boss. He heads the survey. We been out there a year."

The sheriff pulled a chair over and sat down. I need you to tell me exactly what happened.

"Susan, you're going to have me weighing a ton," Sheriff Petre said.

I was sitting at a table with a plate of food in front of me.

The sheriff was packing it away.

"This one has done nothing but sleep. He needs a solid meal in him," the doctor's wife said.

"Drink a bit of that coffee, Son. If that don't open your eyes, nothing will. That coffee is how Doc Doncaster has stayed up for two days taking care of those two fellows. I need to be asking you more questions, if you don't mind. Even if you do mind."

I sat staring at a man who was addressing his food more than he was addressing me, and between the hot cakes, eggs, bacon, and sausage, he didn't know which to talk to first."

The sheriff reached for his cup and began to drink.

"I been to the cabin. Saw the crime scene. I need you to tell me the sequence of events as they happened. I got two bodies out there. Two shot fellows in here, and you're the only one who can talk to me. You see where I'm coming from?"

"Are they both alive?" I asked.

"Who are you?"

"John Tanner," I said. "I came west with Phillip. He was wagon master getting immigrants across to St Louis. That's where the man who gives him orders is. He's Dan of 1st National Bank, and I need to let him know Phillip's been shot."

"Don't be worrying about other folks. You need to worry about you. I need a description of what happened after you boys was in town yesterday and left just before eight, according to Luke, barkeep at the Goodland Saloon. He says that you and some other boy had words. Would those other boys be the bodies at the cabin?"

"Phillip thought they were following us. They were teamsters on the wagon train Phillip took across. One of the other people, Stewart, told those teamsters that Phillp ordered him fired" I explained to the sheriff. "They rode out but the head of those teamsters, Trag, told Phillip he'd be gunning for him when he didn't have so many friends around."

"He had friends around?" the sheriff asked.

"Men in the other wagons were backing Phillip up. They'd all put on guns, once they heard what Stewart told them to keep them off his neck."

"Nice fellow. So these teamsters were the ones Phillip supposedly fired?"

"Trag, the head of the group was the one who had words with Phillip. I don't know if the other two were with him on the day of the incident with the wagon train."

"The two dead men out at the cabin were carrying .44s , which gets you off the hook, but your gun was empty, and the two dead men had .45s taken out of them. Who owned the Colt .45 on the floor of the cabin. I'd say it went with the rig the kid was wearing, but it's hard to tell. There were two six shooters. One was the .45 that killed those two dead men, and the other was another .44."

"Samuel, the younger of the two, carried the Colt. Phillp had the other .44."

"They threw something on the roof to get us to come out," I said. "That's when we knew they'd followed us to the cabin. Phillip opened the door and they started shooting."

"Just getting around to that. Two lanterns were tossed on the roof. They burned a little and went out. The wick burned but there was no fuel in either lantern. We saw several lanterns in the stables. Some had fuel in them. Other's were empty. They apparently didn't check to see if the lanterns had fuel. They lit the wick, tossing them on the roof to get you out," Sheriff Petre told me. "It was consistent with what you told me about fire, but the lanterns went out. There's two burn spots on the roof but nothing serious."

"The third man, and neither of the dead men had identification on him, rode away after he was shot. How was that one shot? I've accounted for all the shells from the .45. Where did the six bullets from your gun go to?"

"I went to the door right after the shooting started. Samuel rushed right in to help Phillip, and he used his palm to shoot all six shots in about two seconds, I'd say. He was going down right after he emptied his gun. I came up and leaned to check on them. A bullet came at the instant I leaned, and I stood up and empties my gun where the shot came from. I'd see the flash of the muzzle and I kept pulling the trigger until it was empty. You're going to find at least a dozen bullets in and around the door. They kept shooting after both Phillip and Samuel were on the floor. They knew there was three of us."

"Yes, I saw the bullet holes. I'm just making sure your story matches the evidence."

"You go to sheriff school to learn to investigate a crime scene? You sound like you know what I'm telling you is true."

"You're the only one left to verify what I found out there. I catch you in a lie, and you see my problem? You seem truthful enough, but you'd be surprised how good liars criminals are."

"I've told you as much as I can remember. It wasn't like I was taking notes. Mostly I was petrified and scared to death I couldn't get my friends help in time."

"Well, the third guy has at least one bullet in him. By the sounds of it, it's yours. I have an Apache scout out trying to track him, but that's a longshot at best. If he left a trail that can be followed, my Apache will find it, but by the amount of blood where he mounted up, he wasn't in the saddle for long. He's lying out there bleeding somewhere in that forest, and if my Apache don't find him, he'll be dead soon. There's only one other doctor in town, and Dr Horst has treated no gunshot wounds lately. My bet is, you got him when you emptied your gun at the muzzle flash, but we'll never know. I think he's lying out there dead somewhere.."

"More coffee, Sheriff?" the doctor's wife asked.

"Yes, I can use another little bit, Susan. That certainly hit the spot."

"My pleasure," she said. "You might want to let him eat so he can keep up his strength."

"One more question. How'd the boy's back get like that? Doctor says he took some severe beatings.""

"We picked him up in a small town in Missouri. Some guy named Nester what bullwhipping him. We put a stop to it. His name was Nester. Everyone knew what kind of snake he was."

"What, that boys seventeen, eighteen? Beat with a bullwhip? I just don't know what gets into people these days," the sheriff lamented. "The boy's alive. Barely."

"Are they both alive?" I finally asked anyone who wanted to tell me.

"Big ones probably going to pull through. The kid?" the sheriff said, shaking his head. "They lost a powerful amount of blood, which brings me to the cabin. You going out there to clean that mess up?"

"I'm not going back there. I'm having nightmares already. Nothing there I want," I explained.

"All that equipment. There's enough food to last a body an entire winter. You just going to leave it out there?"

"Phillip bought supplies for anyone who might be stranded and find their way there," I said.

"Well, that cabin has been used for hunting the last twenty years or so. Wouldn't do to let it go to seed. That blood needs to be cleaned or wild critters are going to find a way to get in. The roof will need some work. I guess I can find someone in town to go out and clean it up. No point in letting a nice cabin like that go."

"We've been out there for about a year, but Phillips got a job waiting in Denver," I said.

"No job he'll be doing for a spell. He can hardly keep his eyes open. He's shot up pretty good. He's lucky you got him to a doctor when you did."

"Can I see him?" I asked. "I want to see them both. They're like family."

"I can't help you with that. It's up to the doctor and maybe Susan will take you. I think the doctor has finally gone to sleep after nearly three days," the sheriff said as he stood up.

"Going, Susan. Thanks again. No feed like you feed me," the big man said, heading for the front door.

"Seems like a pretty good sheriff," I said. "Did some one train him to do sheriffing?"

"His father was town sheriff. He learned from him. He keeps order when someone rowdy gets loose in town," Susan said. "He knows his business."

I suddenly panicked. The horses. I forgot about the horses, they'd be hungry and thirsty and I'd left them standing out in front of the doctor's house.

I ran out on the porch and stopped. The wagon sat on the trail where I left it, but the horses weren't hitched to it.

The doctor's wife followed me out.

"I left the horses hitched to the wagon?" I said.

"Jimmy, my son took care of them. They're out back with ours. He's making sure they get fed and watered."

"Oh, thank you. Phillip would have skinned me if I let those horses go hungry for how many days is it now?" I asked.

"You've been here three days. You were so upset, I put sedatives in your coffee. You weren't going anywhere, and the sheriff needed to find out how your friends got shot. He asked me to keep you sedated until today, and then he needed you to verify what he found out there. How those two dead men got that way. You told him how your friends were shot and your story matched up with what he'd found."

"Can I see them, Mrs. Doncaster?"

"Just Susan to my friends. You can see the big one. My husband says that no one is to go in to see the boy but him. He lost a lot of blood. He's hanging on but no telling which way it is going to go at this point. They're both very sick men. I wish I had better news to give you. "

Susan opened the door and told me to sit by Phillip's bed.

Seeing Phillip still was odd. He was always in motion, up until now. He was pale and didn't look at all good. When I took his hand, his eyes opened.

"John," he said. "You're okay. Good. Good,"

His eyes closed and didn't open again. I sat for a long time.

My life had no meaning without Phillip in it.

My doctor told me that I might live a year. That was over two years ago.

The doctor now told me, "Phillip is probably going to live. It will be a long recovery."

When I asked about Samuel, the doctor shook his head and walked away. No one told me that Samuel would die. No one told me he was likely to live. No one told me anything.

Up until I left Alabama for Atlanta two years before, I was free and independent. I was rich and getting richer off the hardship of the indigenous people's land that came on to the market after they were removed. I was having second thoughts on that now.

That all happened before I was born, and so how the land got on to the market was no concern of mine. I was getting rich, had gotten rich. I could move on willingly, but I'd gotten sick while I was getting rich, and my doctor looked at me and shook his head.

I'd learned from Phillip that I wasn't as free and independent as I thought I was. Sitting by his bed, the only thing I could do was pray. I didn't put much stock in living after I died, but prayer was all I could think of to do for my friends. It might not help, but it couldn't hurt.

I'd learned from Phillip that white men and Indians aren't so different. In Phillip they were exactly the same. His knowledge that he was Pawnee, sent him on a journey of discovery. His Pawnee part outweighed his white part for some reason. Now he was Phillip Dubois.

Sheriff Petre knew of Phillip. Like in any small town, the sheriff knew much more than he was told about what was going on there. He knew about the hunter's cabin being bought by the 1st National Bank, and it was being used to conduct a survey of the mountain where it had been built. Phillip was there conducting the survey two years before. He'd come back to finish what he'd started.

I wired George for money to cover the medical bill that grew by the day. I was housed, fed, treated like a member of the family, and their eldest son made sure the horses were cared for properly. I asked George to wire me $500. I told him of the shooting, and of the condition of Phillip. I sent a message that told him I was alive and well, and I'd send for Barnaby when I got settled on the horse ranch I had yet to buy.

I hadn't been given a bill. I didn't expect to receive one. The doctor was doing what doctors did, and his patients weren't in any condition to accept the bill, and my care and feeding came with a package that circulated around men who desperately needed doctoring.

The doctor, and especially Susan, would receive payment in full for their kindness to me.

The only thing they hadn't done was to tell me Samuel was going to live a long productive life.

Phillip gave my life back to me. There was no way to repay him. He'd given me an understanding of the world and the people in it I didn't have before. I had a zest for living I hadn't had before. I had purpose in my life, besides making money, which was only good for one thing, securing your ability to live better than you could live without money.

I was closer to Phillip than I was to another soul. I likely knew more about Phillip than anyone but Samuel knew about him. What I knew could be the death off him if I let Sheriff Petre in on it, but the sheriff was none the wiser, and Phillip was Phillip, and no one was looking for Phillip Dubois.

I felt a little empty inside. All that Phillip had done for me, and I couldn't do a thing to help him. It didn't seem fair. Everything was going so well, and the vagaries of life injected a feeling of helplessness, because as much as Phillip had done for me, I was unable to do anything for him but sit by his bed and pray.

All things change in time, and this too changed.

One day later in the week, Phillip's eyes opened, like I was told they would. The doctor had been withdrawing the medications he was giving Phillip to keep him still, and he'd soon have wakeful periods to go along with the periods of sleep his body required to heal. One week became next week, and that week merged into the following week.

"I'm here, Phillip," I said as soon as his eyes opened and stayed that way.

"Samuel? Where is Samuel?"

"He's in the next room. He's not good, Phillip. I won't lie to you. He's just hanging on."

His hand reached out to pull me closer, so I didn't miss a word he said.

"Home. Take me home."

He let go once he issued his order as if he'd done a hard day's work.

"The cabin in the valley where the river runs? "I asked, knowing where he wanted to go.

He nodded and his eyes closed.

*****

"Barnaby, come up," George said, standing on the walkway outside his office.

"Thought you forgot I worked for you," Barnaby said, dropping down in the chair across from George's desk.

"I've heard from John Tanner," George said. "I thought you might like to read the message."

Barnaby perked up and he reached for the message George held out to him.

When Barnaby got to the last line, he found what he was looking for, and the smile grew on his face. John Tanner was a man who kept his word.

"He hasn't forgotten me," he said out loud. "he's alive. It's been two years, and he remembers me. I wasn't sure he hadn't died. He was pretty sick when I found him."

"Do you like horses, Barnaby? He mentioned buying a horse farm before he left two years ago. He mentioned buying a horse farm in his message"

"They're okay. A little big for my taste, but I don't mind them as long as I see the horseshit and walk around it".

George laughed.


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"Going Home"

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