....Hangin' out with the Boys in their Journey out West....

                       
                     We last left Jack Long & John Henry at a cross-roads in and around Mid-West in South Wyoming, setting their sights on the next job that might suit them at that time. Just getting back from a horrendous job that could have landed them in Jail or worse! But as we learn more about these two, that would be a somewhat normal experience.....

            We were at a junction, both in the present state of mind and also in our lives, to just what we should be doing. Right now we have to decide which road to take in order to make a living out here. Henry wasn't much help, since he was more of a loner than I and could care less what or which way to go, as long as he got paid and didn't get shot. So most of the time I was the one to chose. 
         As we traveled down a more well beaten trail, I could feel something just wasn't right. I just wanted to head out and find a group of wild horses to wrangle or a heard of cattle to bring to an Auction.
        Lucky that we got an early start, the afternoon Sun was starting to shine full, and the heat from it really wasn't what we needed now. We picked up the pace a bit just to get further down the trail to try and decide which way to go...it was going to be East toward Oklahoma, to see about some cattle, or Southwest for another group of horses, that a couple big Ranchers would put a nice size bid on at Auction.
        My thoughts  favored the horses, they tend to be cleaner and not as much trouble. They also brought more at Auction in lesser numbers, then the cattle, where the dust and dirt always flew, and would have to make an extra cut in pay so that the other wranglers got a decent payday. The Horses, we usually could handle ourselves, with maybe one extra man to cover ourselves in the open Range.

      Now the Sun gave us some relief by going behind some clouds, good in one way, but were we in for an afternoon storm..? We worked our way though a patch of trees and bushes, before it opened up to an open area of sand and tumble weeds. This was not a good sign. We had to continue in hopes of finding a better place to camp, I wasn't about to back track to that thicket, which would have given us some relief, and besides it was still too early by our standards to make camp.
      We worked our way over the sandy hillside, staying on the knoll so that we could see both sides, keeping one eye out for a better way, and the other out for Indians. There were some friendly ones but also hostile's that didn't like people from the other 'World' invading their land. As an Eastern Indian, like Henry, we could honor that belief, but as a hard wrangling Cowboy, trying to etch-out some kind of life out here, well now that was a different story. 
     
     Soon we made it to what appeared to be a spot where some have passed before. It didn't take long to notice that it did have some type of campsite not long ago. As we made our way over, I could make out a slight groan, that only a weak and desperate human could make. Henry heard it too, and motioned me over to an open spot, subject to all of Natures elements. There, only a few feet away was what looked like a head with no body visible. As we approched on foot, being skeptical of what the Hell it could have been but not a human head. Henry got close enough to exclaim that it was some Black guy. Well it wasn't just any Black guy, it was Grover, the man we pretty much saved his ass back in that small town.
    When he finally came to his senses, and had to concentrate on what was happening, he gave out a loud roar. Only a man like that could have survived being buried up to his head, left to die by a tribe of hostile Comanches. The story goes that this tribe of Indians believed that the Black man, since they don't see too many out there, had special powers, that couldn't not be controlled. So in stead of killing them they leave them to die on their own, thinking that the Great Spirit they posses does not come after them.

    Needless to say Grover was overwhelmed that we got there in time. He didn't have much more time. The top of his head was raw from the Sun, and his eyes could barely stay open. Maybe that Indian Folk Lore had some truth to it.
     After a time where we had to pitch camp and tend to Grover, he told us that after we saw him the time in that small town, where we saved hi the first time, he headed back east where he ran into his old boss Edmond Pierce, the ship magnet from Boston. He was talked into joining him and his Wagon Train, going out West, to try another venture that his brother in-law told him about in California.
     They got this far when they got ambushed by those Indians, and before he knew it Pierce had gotten away, leaving him behind.