The Washoe

(Given the subject matter of this story, I wanted to present it with dignity and respect and offer my sincere apologies to anyone who feels I was not successful. While there is some basis of truth in the story, the characters, some of the ceremonies, and the tale itself are all fictional. Any reference to real individuals is explained in the Author's Notes at the end of the story).

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Winter comes early in the higher elevations of nearly all the western mountain ranges, and Kid and Heyes knew from experience that traveling the Washoe Mountain Range in winter was a treacherous and dangerous journey. They knew because they had made that trek at least a half a dozen times and were knowledgeable about the mountain passes, the risk of avalanches, the rapid temperature changes caused by the Chinook Winds. They knew the rivers and streams, the ravines and the valleys. They knew of the Indian Tribal Camps and the unmarked boundaries. They had learned from experience to travel with a pack mule, a stubborn creature, but nearly as strong and definitely as durable as an ox.

Crossing the Washoe Valley in late October brought cold mornings and sometimes frigid nights, but also during that time of year, the sun still warmed the afternoons. Golden brown leaves still clung to branches, and the prairie grasses, now yellowed and brown, still swayed in the breeze as if daring the winter snows to befall them.

The mountains, still two days ride in the distance, were already heavily spotted with snow. Some areas retained a snow covering all year long. But the autumn colors of the valley banked against the snow covered, hazy blue mountains created a picturesque tranquility that could soothe the most troubled soul.

"As I recall, Treasure City is about forty miles southwest of here," Heyes said as they finished breaking camp that morning to continue their journey.

"Should make it there for supper," Kid replied.

Heyes gathered the lead rope of the mule, then mounted his sorrel and waited for Kid to finish tying down his bed roll. Kid slipped a boot into the stirrup and climbed into the saddle. Leaning forward, he patted the chestnut's neck, then sat back and gathered his reins.

"After you," Kid said, turning to Heyes with a smile. "I'll just ride behind the ass."

Heyes scowled but Kid shot him a look of total innocence and splayed his hand out in a sweeping gesture toward the mule. "To help him keep pace with us," Kid explained.

They headed southwest, riding on a dirt road that ran parallel to the mountain range. By early afternoon the temperature had risen enough that they both shed their jackets as their long johns and wool clothing were enough to keep them warm.

"I like this time of year," Heyes said, not knowing if Kid was even within earshot. "There's a crispness to the air and the leaves are so colorful. It's like their last great exclamation to the world."

"Before they up and die," Kid said, obviously not appreciating the beauty surrounding him.

"Before they sleep, and await the spring and a grand rebirth," Heyes added.

"Never known you to be such a philosopher, Heyes. I thought that was my job."

Heyes smiled but did not turn around for Kid to witness his amusement.

Late that afternoon they passed a stately looking two story wood siding house that was obviously very well maintained. The house, painted white, had a large enclosed porch that spanned two sides of the home. Three large windows resembling those found on a church decorated the front side of the second floor. Two brick chimneys, one in the front and one in the back of the house extended beyond the roof.

"Ain't but one outbuilding and that don't look big enough to house more than two horses and a buckboard. Owner must not be a rancher," Kid said as they slowly rode past the property. "Must own a railroad."

Heyes smiled. "There are other ways to make money besides owning a railroad."

"Uh-uh. Robbin em."

"Might be a rancher, Kid."

"Nope. No barn, no corral, no bunkhouse. Maybe there's silver or gold in them mountains. Maybe he owns a big mining company."

Heyes nodded. "This could be fun, Kid, deciding what someone we've never even seen does for a living."

"You don't want to talk? Fine. I'll just keep watching the ass's back side."

Heyes started to turn in his saddle, then reconsidered. He knew Kid was likely hungry and when Kid was hungry, there was really no talking to him. So he straightened himself in his saddle, and they road the remaining five miles to Treasure City in silence.

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Reaching Treasure City, or any city for that matter, any irritations or petty animosities between them were quickly brushed away as each carefully scanned the street, spotting such key locations as the Sheriff's Office, the saloon, hotel, and livery.

"Sheriff Tom Fogarty. Ever heard of him?" Kid asked in a low voice as he brought his horse up next to Heyes.

"Can't say that I have," Heyes replied as they continued to move slowly down the street.

Reaching the hotel, they pulled up to the hitching post. Heyes remained in his saddle, while Kid dismounted, handed his reins to Heyes, and proceeded to gather all their necessary gear.

"I'll get us a room and get these things upstairs, then meet you in the lobby," Kid said as he hoisted two sets of saddle bags over his shoulders and tucked two bedrolls under his arm.

Heyes nodded and once Kid stepped up on the boardwalk, Heyes pulled his horse back, then led Kid's horse and the mule down to the livery.

Two hours later, with Kid now in a better mood, and sporting a full belly, Heyes and Kid stepped out of the cafe and glanced up and down the street. Heyes spied an establishment called The Waterin' Hole and pointed it out to Kid.

"Usual night in a town?" Heyes asked. "A couple of beers and a little poker?"

"I'm right behind you, Heyes."

Heading into the saloon, they walked up to the bar and ordered beers. Being as the saloon had only a few customers, and no active poker table, they stayed at the bar to drink their beers and maybe engage the bartender in some idle conversation.

"Oh and, just out of curiosity, who owns that big house about six miles northeast of here?" Heyes asked.

The bartender smiled. "You're asking about the Ted Winters place. He owns the biggest spread around, over six thousand acres. Made his money from a silver mine along the Comstock Load. He raises pedigree horses now. Even has a racetrack out there on that land of his."

"Sounds like quite the character."

"When you're as rich as he is, a little eccentricity don't bother folks none," the bartender replied.

Heyes laughed. "I suppose not," he replied.

"Well, the Winters have done a lot for this town. Without them, Treasure City would have become a ghost town a long time ago. Why, when I first come here about seven years ago now, whole town consisted of about a hundred and seventy-five people. This is Indian country and Indians has got a whole different way of looking at things. They don't like us moving in and taking over the land."

"Imagine that," Heyes replied.

"And they got no concept of land ownership. They think the land belongs to everybody. What kind of thinking is that? Why, land can make a man rich."

"I suppose when you've lived somewhere your whole life, being told to up and git just wouldn't settle too well," Kid said.

"I wouldn't know about that, mister. My time here in Treasure City is the longest I've roosted anywhere. But things should be different a generation from now."

"Why's that?" Heyes asked.

"All them Indian Residential Schools that are popping up. Various churches run em, the government pays for them, and most all the reservation children go to them. In fact, there's one about sixty miles from here, near the base of the mountains. The kids are all rounded up from the reservations and shipped off to one of them schools. The idea is to teach them to speak and read English. You know, take the Indian out of em and teach them the settlers way of thinking. It's like Col. Pratt said, "kill the Indian, save the man." Twenty years from now all the Indians will be living right here in towns, with all the rest of us."

"That's kind of sad," Kid replied.

"What's sad about it? Them Indians is savages. Government is trying to help em, not hurt him."

"To your way of thinking, maybe. Not mine," Kid replied.

"You must be one of them Injun lovers. Listen, no settler is safe in this land so long as the Indians run wild."

Kid sighed. He knew better than to try to have a rational conversation with a man whose ideas on the subject were not fully rational. He raised his glass and swallowed the last chug of his beer before turning to Heyes. "You ready?" he asked.

"Uh-uh," he replied, as eager as Kid to distance himself from the conversation that had no simple answer.

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"Don't let it eat at you, Kid," Heyes said after they had returned to their hotel room. "It ain't the only injustice in this world, you know."

Kid plopped on his bed and leaned his back against the headboard. "I know it ain't the same as what we went through, Heyes. I know them Indian children have it a lot worse than we ever did, but..."

"But you can see similarities between the Indian Residential Schools and the orphanage?"

Kid nodded. "No child should ever have to be separated from his folks. From what I understand, if an Indian child loses his folks, relatives take him in. It just don't seem right to pull em all off the reservations and try to make em citified."

"I know. I agree with you a hundred percent. All this land belonged to the Indians long before any settlers came through."

"And they're just children, Heyes. They got no say in the matter."

"Apparently their parents don't either. But the government sees these schools as a solution to the Indian problem."

"Indian problem?" Kid said with sarcasm in his voice.

"The government's polite way of saying eradication. People don't get riled up with words like 'Indian problem' they way they would with words like mass murder or culture annihilation."

"I just wish there was something we could do, Heyes."

"It's too big a problem for just you and me. Besides, you can't fight the government. Maybe one day enough people will realize just how wrong it all is."

"Yeah," Kid said with a heavy sigh. "Maybe. But that's another thing, Heyes. It's like that Winters fella and that fine house he's built from the money he gets from his silver mine. For generations the Indians have been sitting on all that cache of gold and silver. Government comes along along and steals the land, and the Indians don't get a red cent of all that money."

"You're right, Kid. It's a terrible injustice. But rather than trying to solve the problems of the world, we'd best get some sleep. We got a long ride tomorrow,"

Kid sat up and pulled off his boots and unfastened his gun belt and hung it on the post. Then he and Heyes both stripped down to their long johns and climbed into their beds. Heyes reached over and doused the light of the oil lamp and they both settled in for the night.

The next morning, after a breakfast worthy of sustaining them throughout the day, they bought a few additional provisions, readied their horses and the mule, and started out once again toward the mountain pass that they hoped to reach before dark.

After the conversations the previous evening, both found themselves looking at the distant mountains with new perspectives. As far across the valley as they could see there was not a homestead, not a fence, not a cow or a steer to be seen. There was simply nothing to suggest ownership of any kind.

"You know Heyes, it must have been pretty amazing for the Indians, before the explorers and the settlers arrived, just to look out at all this...all this untouched land."

"And only taking from the land what they needed. It's certainly an interesting concept. No greed..." Heyes paused and looked at his partner with a smile. "We're a fine pair to be talking about about the perils of greed."

"Ah Heyes, we only took what we needed. We just...somehow needed more than others, that's all."

"I always have admired your logic, Kid."

By late afternoon they had reached the mountain pass and they made camp for the night. They called hot beans and coffee their supper and at dusk, they settled into their bedrolls, planning to start out at first light.

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Well after midnight Kid woke at the sound of the snapping of a twig and two quick whinnies from the horses. Lying on his left side, Kid half opened his eyes, just far enough to see in the moonlight, the silhouettes of two figures moving between the trees where the horses were tied. He watched them carefully as his hand slowly slid to his gun belt that lay on the ground next to him.

The two failed horse thieves froze in their tracks at the sound of Kid's gun being cocked.

"Easy boys, just walk over here by the fire so we can get a good look at ya. Joshua, wake up. We got company."

The two boys appeared to be about twelve years old. As they walked toward the camp fire, Heyes noted both boys were dressed in gray wool pants that only reached their ankles, blue wool shirts, two sizes too big, and long over worn tan boots. Their jet black hair hung in uneven strands just below their ears.

"Sit down on that log," Kid told them, his gun still in his hand. "Now, you boys got names?"

Neither boy spoke and neither took their eyes off the gun.

"Well, I know you can understand me, cause you followed my instructions to a tee. You runaways?"

The boys exchanged quick glances, but still said nothing.

"Look, we ain't gonna hurt you, and we ain't gonna take you back. We might even be willing to help you," Kid said and, deciding to take a risk, he holstered his gun.

"You hungry?" Heyes asked and both boys looked at Heyes briefly as he pulled himself to his feet. Heyes looked at the boys and smiled. "You're growing boys, of course you're hungry. I'll fix us something to eat."

"So, now that you know we ain't your enemy, how about your names?"

"Tom."

"Jarrod."

"Them the names they gave you at the school?"

The boys eyes widened as they realized Kid knew more than they had told him.

"Look, I figure the two of you ran away from that Indian Residential School. Judging by how far away from there we are, I'd say you ran away two, maybe three days ago. By the look in your eyes, you think we are Indian Agents. We ain't. We're just a couple of drifters who happen to be sympathetic to you. But we can't help you unless you start being honest with us."

"Thaddeus, we ain't told them our names," Heyes said as he ladled a can of beans into a frying pan and placed it in the hot embers. "Maybe that honesty ought to go both ways."

"Fair enough. I'm Thaddeus Jones and my partner here is Joshua Smith. Now how about your real names, that ones your parents gave you?"

"Running Bear."

"Soaring Eagle."

Kid and Heyes shared triumphant glances.

"So, where's your tribe, your people?" Heyes asked.

"White soldiers made my people move north, near Medicine Line."

Heyes' jaw dropped. "They moved you two all the way from Montana to this school?"

"All the children," Soaring Eagle replied.

"When?"

"Five white man's years ago," Running Bear said.

"So you boys was... seven years old?"

Both boys nodded. "Many were younger."

Heyes put heaping amounts of beans on two plates, then handed the plates and spoons to the boys.

"And you ain't seen your family since then?"

Both boys shook their heads.

"Teachers say never again. But it is time for our vision quest. We must return."

Kid and Heyes locked eyes in a decisive visual exchange.

"There goes San Francisco," Heyes said after several moments.

"Yep."

As the two boys ate, Heyes and Kid moved back away from the camp so they could speak quietly among themselves while still keeping an eye on the two boys.

"Northern Montana is gonna take us a week, maybe ten days," Heyes said.

"Uh-uh."

"Harboring fugitives is a crime. I suppose that applies to runaway Indians."

"S'pect so."

"Putting our amnesty at risk."

"Ain't the first time."

"We still got two or three hours of darkness. I suppose we'd better get packed up and on our way."

Kid smiled, then turned to the boys. "We're gonna help you get back to your people," he called to them.

Running Bear looked at them skeptically. "Why?" he asked.

"Because Thaddeus and me got taken from our families and shoved into a Residential School of sorts when we was about your age. In a way, you might say we are kindred souls," Heyes explained as he and Kid returned to the warmth of the fire.

"What is this, kindred?" Running Bear asked.

"It's like...being of the same spirit," Heyes explained.

"The animal spirit," Soaring Eagle replied. "Atsa. The Eagle. It is the symbol of freedom and of strength. The eagle soars high above us and will lead us on this journey. The eagle will protect us."

"Well, you boys put the fire out and I'll bring the horses around while Joshua packs up our things. Traveling at night will be slow, but it's likely the safest way to travel, at least until we cross over into Oregon or Idaho. The school staff ain't likely to go looking for us out of state, but I ain't so sure about the Indian Agents." Kid said as he turned and walked toward the horses.

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They traveled the road at night, both riding double with one of the Indian boys. As the sun began to rise, they moved up the mountain and into the safety of the trees to avoid being seen. By mid afternoon, they were ready to make camp so as to have several hours of darkness to travel that night.

They made camp near a stream and Kid offered to cut some branches for fishing poles, but both boys told him poles were not necessary, although a good knife for whittling a sharp point was a necessity. Kid pulled his hunting knife from it's sheath and handed it to Soaring Eagle. The boy gave Kid a nod of his head before the two boys hurried off toward the stream.

"You do realize those two might up and decide they are better off on their own?" Heyes asked as he and Kid built a small fire for cooking.

"Uh-uh," Kid replied.

"And if they do?"

"Don't reckon we can stop them. We was on our own at that age, Heyes. We managed."

"We didn't have Bureau of Indian Affairs Agents after us."

Kid nodded. The Indian boy's plight was far worse he had to agree.

Running Bear and Soaring Eagle returned with their cache of fish all impaled on one of the spears they had carved. Heyes dug a frying pan out of his saddle bags and the boys cleaned the fish for frying.

Fresh fish and canned beans were devoured by all and they shared a canteen of water.

"What would happen if you boys were to get caught?" Heyes asked as they ate.

The boys looked at each other as though questioning just what to tell Heyes.

"You have a choice of whipping tools," Running Bear replied.

"You're whipped?" Kid asked.

"A strapping, a cat-o-nine tails, or a cotton cord with nine knots."

"You're parents know this?" Heyes asked

Both boys shook their heads. "We're not allowed to visit. They are not allowed to leave the reservation," Soaring Eagle explained.

"Did the school make you cut your hair?" Kid asked.

"Long hair is not allowed, even among the girls. Braids are chopped off and thrown in the garbage."

"I thought long hair was important to Indians," Heyes said.

"To the Indian, long hair is a sacred thing. It represents self esteem, self respect, a sense of pride."

"And the Residential School steals that from you?"

"They steal the hair, the symbol. They will never steal my pride or self respect," Soaring Eagle said proudly.

"What tribe do you belong to?" Heyes asked.

"We are Cheyenne. Our people were moved to a reservation in northern Montana. Once we were moved, the soldiers and Indian Agents stole all the children."

"Stole them?"

"Every child older than four was taken from the reservation and placed in a Residential School."

"Even if the parents didn't want them to go?"

Soaring Eagle nodded. "They were not given a choice."

"What happens when you get back to the reservation?" Kid asked.

"Running Bear and I have only our vision quests to complete. Then we are men."

"So you can stay with the tribe?" Heyes asked.

Neither boy knew the answer to this question. "If our animal spirits protect us."

"And if not...you go back to that school?"

"Or we continue to run. Perhaps across the Medicine Line."

"Thaddeus and I know a little about running. It ain't a good way to live. How does crossing the Medicine Line protects you?"

"The Medicine Line is very powerful. The soldiers cannot cross the Medicine Line."

"Oh, so the Medicine Line is the U.S. and Canadian border," Heyes replied. "No wonder it protects you."

"Well, I don't mean to bring this conversation to an end, but we've got a long night ahead of us if we want to make Oregon by morning and Idaho sometime tomorrow afternoon," Kid said.

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By seven that evening they were on their way, but stayed hidden behind the trees until nightfall when they moved back down to the road and traveled in the moonlight. Well after midnight they crossed into southern Oregon, then turned northeast toward Idaho. By noon, they were just outside of Boise, and all four were exhausted.

They again moved off the road where they made camp beneath a cluster of trees. Despite his fatigue, Heyes ventured alone into Boise, not wanting to draw any attention to the Indian boys who would not be welcome in any town. At the Mercantile, Heyes bought a few provisions including two blankets, a pound of bacon, some flour, and a bag of peppermints. He loaded the items into his saddle bags, then brushed off a pang of guilt and headed into the saloon for a beer. As he walked up to the bar, Heyes noticed an old man with brown, leathery skin and two long white braids cleaning the spittoons.

"How far is it to the border?" Heyes asked the bartender.

"Which one?"

Heyes smiled. "Canadian."

"Oh, about 350 miles due north, but you can't get there going due north."

"Why not?"

"Can't pass through the reservation. It's restricted land. Northeast will get you where you're wanting to go."

"Into Montana?"

"Of course you hafta skirt around reservations in Montana, too."

Heyes half laughed. "How many?"

The bartender shook his head. "The government's always changes the boundaries. More settlers arrive and the Indians get shifted. I don't think there's a single reservation in this country that still has its original boundaries."

"You sound a little disenchanted with the government."

"I know the settlers got as much right to this land as the Indians, but that don't make it right the way the Indians get shuffled around. They was here first. You see that old man cleaning up over there?"

"Yeah."

"He lived his whole life on open, free land. He don't understand the idea of boundaries. All the land, all the air, all the sky, to his way of thinking, ain't none of it can be claimed or owned. Government wants to ship him up north, but he's too old to survive those northern winters. Government don't care. If he dies, it's just one less Indian to deal with."

"So you took him in, gave him a job?"

The bartender laugh. "That old man is my wife's father. Indians take care of their own. Red Feather and me, we won't let him die out in the cold on some desolate reservation."

After listening to the bartender, Heyes decided to take a bit of a risk. "Do you know the best route to the Northern Cheyenne reservation in Montana?"

The bartender looked at Heyes with dubious eyes. "Who's asking?"

Heyes looked around to see if anyone was within earshot."Like you, I want to help. I have a load of cargo to get to that reservation."

"Cargo meaning guns, rifles?"

Heyes shook his head. "No, nothing like that... People... Indian people... Children."

The bartender smiled. "You know, except for my wife, I ain't never heard nobody refer to Indians as people... You got a few minutes, I'll draw you a map."

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Heyes returned to camp in time for leftovers as Kid and the boys had eaten.

"Best get some sleep boys. We'll be starting out at dusk," Kid told Soaring Eagle and Running Bear.

"Here, I got you each a blanket," Heyes said as he unpacked his saddle bags. "And I thought everybody might like some peppermints," he added as he tossed the bag of candy to Kid.

Kid opened the bag and pulled out three peppermint sticks and handed one to each of the boys before sticking one in his own mouth. "You boys ever had candy?" he asked.

They both shook their heads.

"Well go ahead and try it. Just suck on it like I am. It's mostly just sugar and a little peppermint flavoring. You'll like it. Heyes, you want a piece?"

"No, thanks," Heyes replied. "You want to help me hobble the horses?"

"Sure," Kid replied and tossed the bag of candy to the boys. "Don't eat too much of it all at once or you'll get a belly ache. But a little is a good thing."

Kid walked across the camp to help Heyes with the horses and Heyes motioned him to the far side of the horses, out of view of the boys.

"I struck gold in town," Heyes said.

"You played poker?"

"No, something better," he said and pulled the map from his shirt pocket.

Kid unfolded the map and studied it. "A map to their reservation? How did you get hold of that?"

"You'd be surprised how many people are sympathetic to the Indians."

"I would?"

Heyes frowned. "Alright, fine, there aren't that many, but I managed to come across one who is. This is the shortest route there. Man said it will cut at least a day's riding off our time."

"How do you know you can believe him?"

"The man works at the saloon, so does his father-in-law, who happens to be Indian."

"Heyes, this looks like we cut right through a couple of reservations to get there. I ain't sure that's a good idea. A couple of cowboys with a couple of Indian boys in tow? And neither one of us speaks any of the Indian languages, nor French, nor Spanish. Hell, not even sign language."

"But Soaring Eagle and Running Bear do. If there's explaining to do, they can do it. None of those Indians are gonna keep a couple of boys from returning to their tribe."

"You're sure about that?"

"Sure I'm sure," Heyes said, trying to sound more confident than he was.

Kid rubbed his hand over his mouth as he studied the map a second time. "Alright," he finally said. "But better keep your gun fully loaded."

"We'll be fine, Kid."

"I hate it when you're over confident, Heyes. That always means trouble."

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They spent the next four days moving eastward across Idaho, two men and two boys, each riding double astride two horses. They continued their habit of sleeping during the afternoon hours and traveling primarily dusk into night, into dawn and the early morning hours. If they camped in open areas of high visibility, they forwent a fire and ate cold beans and jerky. When they were lucky enough to make camp in a more secluded area, the fire was small, as smokeless as they could make it, and just hot enough for cooking.

In the evening of the fifth day, they crossed into Montana and just beyond Billings, they began following the Yellowstone River northeastward toward Miles City. Just beyond Miles City, the Yellowstone River veered eastward at the edge of Williston, and just beyond Williston was the western edge of the Paiute Reservation.

"Heyes," Kid said as he brought his chestnut to a stop and studied the map.

"You should be more careful, Thaddeus," Heyes replied.

"It ain't like they know the names," Kid argued. "Besides, I think we got more important things to consider right now. According to this map, I think we've got about ten miles of the Paiute reservation to cross through. I think we'd best do that in broad daylight."

"So they can get a better shot at us?" Heyes asked.

"So we can see where we're going iffin we hafta hightail it through there at a gallop."

Heyes could see the logic in Kid's suggestion. "Alright, then we make camp here for the night?"

Kid nodded. "Yep."

They found a spot along the banks of the Yellowstone and again Soaring Eagle and Running Bear borrowed Kid's hunting knife and set to work whittling sharp points on straight and well balanced tree limbs. An hour later they returned with a large cache of fish and the four ate very well that night.

"I doubt if your people would be too receptive to us actually riding into the reservation," Heyes said, looking at Kid for approval. "If we was to loan you the sorrel, would be be able to get it back to us?"

"Yes, but you are wrong about our people. They would be grateful that you helped us. They would give you food and shelter. No harm would come to you," Soaring Eagle told him.

"Well, that may be true, but I think Thaddeus and I would rather not take the risk," Heyes replied. "We'll stay close to the outskirts so once you've found your tribe, you can bring the horse back to us and we'll be on our way."

"We will return the horse," Running Bear promised.

The next morning they slept till the sun was up, then ate breakfast and packed their bedrolls and gear. Sitting in his saddle, Kid reached down to offer Soaring Eagle a hand as he slipped his foot into the stirrup and hoisted himself into the saddle behind Kid while Running Bear did the same with Heyes on the sorrel.

"If we kick into a gallop, you boys hang on tight. It won't be a good outcome if one of us was to fall," Kid told the boys.

They rode at a cantor pace until they neared the Paiute reservation. Here they stopped and checked that their gear was secured well. Climbing back into the saddle, Heyes waited patiently till Kid had mounted his chestnut.

"You want lead, or backup?" Heyes asked.

"I'm guessing if we're chased, they'll be coming at us from every angle. I'll ride backup and do my best to protect us, but I want everybody to understand that if one of us falls, the others don't stop. No sense in all of us getting stopped if we can avoid it."

Heyes scanned the distant mountains. "If they're watching us, they're making sure they ain't being seen."

"They are watching," Soaring Eagle said soberly. "They are always watching."

Kid gave Heyes a cautious look. "You ready?"

"Ready as I'm ever gonna be," Heyes replied and urged the sorrel forward.

Kid left a distance of only a few yards between them and all four kept their eyes pinned to the landscape as they moved steadily northward along the inside boundaries of the reservation.

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They had passed peacefully though eight of the ten mile journey through the Paiute reservation when they were suddenly engulfed in loud war hoops and, turning their heads, they saw at least fifty warriors in hot pursuit coming at them from three directions. Heyes and Kid slammed their heels into the sides of their horses, quickly moving into a full gallop as they fired random return shots. Arrows and bullets alike flew passed them, some so close they could hear the whiz sound as the bullet split the air.

The mule could simply not keep up the pace and Kid freed his grip from the lead rope and the mule instantly slowed its pace until finally coming to a full stop. Two Indians abandoned the chase to capture the mule and the provisions the animal carried. But the remaining Indians stayed in hot pursuit of the trespassers.

Three of them heard the thud of the bullet as it slammed into the rider's back just below shoulder and thrust him forward against the horse's neck. Instinctively Running Bear reached around Heyes and grabbed the reins as Heyes' own hands grabbed and wrapped around the saddle horn in a desperate attempt to stay astride the sorrel. Kid emptied his gun with random shots in the direction of their pursuers. When the barrel was empty, Kid thrust the gun at Soaring Eagle who immediately began pulling bullets from Kid's gun belt to reload the weapon. He skillfully reached around Kid's left side, enabling Kid to grasp the loaded gun with his right hand and he again began returning fire.

The fifteen minutes it took to cross over the boundary line felt like an eternity and they maintained the galloping pace until Kid was sure the Paiutes and had ceased their pursuit. Bringing their horses to a stop, Kid leaped from his saddle and raced over to the sorrel where Running Bear still struggled to keep Heyes astride the horse.

Raising his arms to grasp his partner, Kid eased Heyes to the ground and gently laid him out, while Soaring Eagle dropped to his knees next to Kid and Running Bear slid from the saddle and managed the reins of both horses.

Heyes was unconscious and Kid gently rolled Heyes toward him to examine the wound. Soaring Eagle helped Kid remove his partner's bloody jacket and Kid raised Heyes' shirt. Pulling his bandanna off his neck, Kid wadded the cloth and pressed it tight against the still bleeding wound.

"Can you get his belt off?" Kid shouted urgently.

Soaring Eagle struggled but managed to free the belt and handed it to Kid. Working quickly, Kid slid the belt beneath Heyes, then positioned it to fit directly over the bandanna dressing. He then buckled the belt tight to hold the makeshift bandage in place.

"You boys are gonna hafta to help me get him in the saddle. Then you two climb on the chestnut. I hope your tribe's camp ain't to far now."

Kid and the two boys tugged and pulled to get Heyes into the saddle. With Heyes now sitting in front of him, Kid pulled his partner back so he was leaning against Kid's chest and shoulder. Then he slipped his arms under Heyes and carefully positioned the reins between his fingers.

Kid waited for the two boys to pull the chestnut up beside him. "It's gonna be slow going, but we ain't gonna stop till we get to your people. My partner needs help, and I can't take care of him till we get somewhere safe."

"Our Shaman will treat him. He is good medicine," Soaring Eagle promised.

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In the dark of the night Kid sat on the ground, his back leaning against a tree trunk, his knees bent so the soles of his boots rested firmly in the dirt. Not thirty yards in front of him was the Shaman's tepee where inside, Heyes lay unconscious. Not permitted inside, Kid stared at the closed flap entrance as a low, rhythmic chanting was sung in unison with the steady, slow beat of a drum that emanated from within, and the pungent smells of incense intermingled with the smoky odor of burning pine to fill the air.

A woman approached with a steaming bowl venison stew. Only when she lowered the bowl in offering did Kid become aware of her presence. Startled, he looked up at the offering, then raised his eyes toward the woman and shook his head. She offered no encouragement, just turned and quietly retreated.

As the hours passed, the rhythmic chanting lulled Kid into a light sleep and when he woke, lying on his side on the ground with his knees still slightly drawn, the sun was rising over the mountains. Kid sat up, stretching stiff muscles and realized the air was silent. No chanting. No drum beat. No sign of movement or life within the tepee.

"I brought you something to eat," Soaring Eagle said as he sat down beside Kid and handed Kid a plate of cornmeal mush and flatbread.

Kid accepted the plate but made no attempt to eat. "Why is it so quiet?"

"This marks the transition. It's the deciding point where the soul and the Great Spirit decide what is to become of the earthly body."

"You mean Heyes is...dead?" Kid asked.

Soaring Eagle shook his head. "Heyes and the Great Spirit are deciding if Heyes should remain in human form or join the spirit world."

"How long does it take?"

"Sometimes hours, sometimes days. The Great Spirit and the spirit of the living must reach an agreement. When that is done, the chanting will resume with songs that will help lead Heyes back to the living or forward to the spirit world."

"Can you tell where he's headed by the songs?"

Soaring Eagle nodded, then motioned to the untouched plate. "Please, eat."

Kid picked up the flatbread and held it in his hand. "Where is Running Bear? I ain't seen him since we got here."

"He and the elders assigned to him have left on his vision quest. When he returns, I will go."

Kid broke off a small piece of the flatbread and began eating.

"So the two of you will stay here, now?"

Soaring Eagle nodded once again. "Here among my people we are all of one family. Everyone of each generation are considered brothers and sisters... Many of mine have died at the school."

"Died? How?"

"From a sickness of the lungs, from beatings, many of the girls die from the ravages of rape, many long before their blood time has begun. The school uses a white man's doctor and will not bring in an Indian Healer. They do not tell the parents when a child has died. That responsibility has fallen upon me."

"A heavy burden for someone as young as you."

"When the Shaman has assisted your friend to wherever he is bound, he will conduct the ceremony to guide those lost children safely into the spirit world. That is a far heavier burden than mine. Today families will mourn. Tomorrow they will celebrate the union of the Great Spirit with those of the lost children."

Shortly after Soaring Eagle returned to the camp, the chanting and drum beat resumed. With Soaring Eagle gone, Kid knew only that the Shaman had determined Heyes' fate, a fate that remained unknown to Kid.

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It was nearly dusk when the chanting of the Shaman and the steady beating of the drum ceased. Kid pulled himself to his feet, feeling a bit lightheaded from the lack of food and water. He pressed an open palm against the rough bark of the tree to steady himself as he waited pensively for the Shaman to emerge.

Seemingly from out of nowhere, Soaring Eagle was suddenly at Kid's side. When the Shaman emerged from the tepee he stopped in the entrance way, holding the flap open. Kid locked eyes with the Shaman but could not find the answer he sought. When the Shaman spoke, the words were in his native language, a language Kid did not understand.

But Soaring Eagle did understand and acted as interpreter. "Your friend has decided to stay here among the living," Soaring Eagle said. "You can go to him, now."

Kid stayed stationary for a long moment. "Tell him thank you," Kid told Soaring Eagle.

Soaring Eagle related Kid's gratitude to the Shaman who then reached his open hand out toward Kid, then gestured toward the entrance. Kid took a timid step, before rushing inside.

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The following day an hours long ceremony was held in the Indian camp. All the women had spent the previous day weaving and caning small burial baskets, one representing each child known to have died at the Indian Residential School. Each basket was carefully laid out in four long rows representing the Great Spirit's gifts of the earth, the wind, the water, and the fire that provided life and sustained the Indian people. All day long members of the tribe dropped tokens and other such items into the baskets to guide the children's spirits to the one Great Spirit.

A large fire burned in the center of the camp and the men danced and chanted funeral songs. Soaring Eagle participated in this ritual and as he danced around the fire, his eyes fell upon Kid, standing off in the distance, his hat in his hands, his head bowed respectfully.

At the end of the day, just as the sun was beginning to fall beneath the crest of the mountains, each family gathered their funeral baskets and a long procession moved slowly down a long and winding path to the burial land where wooden planks were tied to large branches or wooden scaffolding was erected for the bodies to rest upon. Here, each basket representing a child was carefully laid to rest with only the sound of a single drum beating slowly and rhythmically.

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Kid and Heyes remained guests of the tribe for over a week, until Heyes was able to travel. They did not want to risk traveling through the Paiute reservation again, so instead they headed north across the Medicine Line, then turned westward and traveled through lower Canada until they could turn southward toward central Montana, eventually reaching Wyoming. There were dangers for them in Wyoming as well, but these were dangers they were familiar with, dangers they knew how to avoid.

"Even given what happened to you, Heyes, I think we done the right thing getting them boys back home to their people," Kid said as they rode east toward Porterville.

"I know we did, Kid," Heyes replied and sighed heavily. "Maybe one day people will realize the injustices done to the Native American people."

"Suspect that will come any time soon?"

Heyes shook his head. "I doubt if we'll live to see it. I hope the next generation will."

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Author's Note: Given the current headlines, I wanted to broach his subject in a thoughtful and respectful manner. I hope I have accomplished that. A few interesting facts:

1. Col. Richard H Platt founded the first Indian Residential School in the US and was credited for saying in a speech "kill the Indian, save the man."

2. Tuberculosis was a rampant killer among children in these schools where the children lived in close quarters. One school reported that 1 in every 20 Indian children died of tuberculosis in that school.

3. If a child tried to run away, the school staff or Indian Agents went after them. Punishment for running away was usually one of the several means of whipping mentioned in this story.

4. Sexual abuse of these children was also all too common