In the Beginning The West was still one of the places many would think last of settling. But make no mistake, there were the few dusty, run-down towns inhibited by the odd fifty or so people. If you were in the Army, you had duties to perform. If you were a Housewife, staying inside and cooking, taking care of the children were your duties, without question. You either had a job or not. If you were a child, your father either had horses or not. You would have known how to ride or not, and that depended on whether your father was around..or not.. If you had nothing to do, you were just out of luck. Sometimes the children would content themselves with the silly childish games that came to their little creative minds. No one could complain about anything when one thought up a game. If you didn't play games, hell, you were doing chores that many teenagers could easily perform. Complain about that and your butt would've been as red as the skin on a Cheyenne Indian. The Cheyenne lived in southeastern Montana. They never bothered the people in the neighboring town. No one did. That one kid was always posting himself at different nooks and crannies at every hour of the day. Who was he? He's the orphan boy. John was his name. He was 15 and his "adults" assigned him the job of protecting the town from whatever harm anyone opposed. His rounds of the town's outcrop were on horseback, protecting himself with only a rifle. It was his grandfather's, who gave it to his father and it wound up in his hands. Both of his relatives belonged to the US Army. Of course, they were lost in trivial battles with enemy Indian tribes. Since he was the only able-bodied male in the town old enough to care for himself, he was left to guarding duty. Most of the people that lived in that god-forsaken place were seniors, women and children. Men ALWAYS went out for Army purposes, sometimes never returning home. It was hot that day. It seemed as if the town was settled on the sun. The day was a complete copy of it's predecessor.Not much change occurred. Some liked it that way. Today, John was going to give himself a day of rest, since he felt he rarely had enough time to himself. Having his horse Timbo at a full gallop across a wide-open pasture, the wind brushing past so violently. If there was any place he wanted to get to so quickly, it was the nearby pond, which was surrounded by oaks and pine, giving it the solitary look one could ask for. John laughed to himself. This was a wonderful day to spend doing as he pleased. He was one of those few who kept themselves out of trouble, bowing to every woman and using his proper speaking skills when in the presence of an adult. He was brought up by a senior couple old enough to pass as his grandparents. They were the ones who taught him what respect was. The man, Levi, was the one who taught John all he needed to know about the horse. "Grandma" as she liked to be called was his cooking instructor. Not many men cooked then. Both were skills very useful to the traveling soldier. John slid off the back of Tim and stretches his legs gratefully, glad to be back on earth, what he was supposedly on. He thought otherwise, the sky was more fitting of a birthplace to him. He grabbed the reins and led the weary horse to the water and loosely tied the straps of leather to a tree for anchorage. "Well Timmy-boy.looks like we're by ourse'ves. Whatcha think of that, huh boy?" The old horse looked at him with kind eyes and passed air through his nasal passage, coming out as a weak whinny. John turned to the water and squatted down, looking at his reflection and the fallen leaves that floated daintily on the water's smooth surface. This was his refuge when he was trouble. The quiet serenity was his favorite aspect of the little secret area. Only he and Tim knew of the place. Nothing could interfere with what he had.Nothing. But that was to change in a few moments. Not only did trees flourish here, so did bushes, enough to hide a person. A slight ruffle of the bushes caused the horse to perk up and stare at the foliage with curiosity. John took no notice of it. He had lain down on his back, head propped up on his arms. Contentment had been the strong drug that induced sleep on the relaxed. A band of Indians jumped John and covered him with a buffalo pelt. One, who seemed to be the leader, held his hand firmly over John's mouth Who knew what the Red Ones intended to do?