Joe watched the men get ready. He looked on as a little cowboy named Quince was combing his hair. Looking down, Joe fingered his own long hair. A decision came quickly to his mind. He walked resolutely toward the chuck wagon. Wish was primping up himself, reminding Joe of a rooster. The grizzly man glanced over at Joe and continued with his washing. "What's on your mind, boy? Gettin' ready to head into town with the rest of the boys?"

"That's just it Mr. Wishbone, I'd like to ask you something."

Wish dried himself with a raggedy towel. "Well, what is it?"

Joe felt like he was jumping into an icy pond when he asked abruptly, "Wish, will you cut my hair?"

Wishbone nearly knocked over his wash pan. "Cut your hair! What do I look like, a barber? And besides, I thought you didn't cut your hair."

"I…I think it's time I started. I ain't a Comanche no-more, and a cowboy shouldn't have hair longer than a cow's tail."

Wish shrugged. "Well, alright. Sit down on that wagon tongue there and I'll get out my shears."

Joe complied, balancing on the shaft of wood.

Wish stepped over, shears and comb at the ready. He leaned in close to Joe's face. "Are you sure, boy, that this is what you want? 'Cause once I start, there ain't no turnin' back."

Joe just nodded once, staring at the dust under his feet.

"Well, alright then."

Joe held his breath and clenched his legs with his fingers so tight it hurt. He felt like he was betraying his people by doing this, by turning to the white man's ways…but he was white. It was time to let go of the past and to look toward the future. The Indians' ways were on the brink of being lost forever and if Joe wanted to make a place in the world, it would be best to accept his heritage and become his own man. His life as a Comanche would shape him into the man he would become now. Cutting his hair was just one step down the road to the rest of his life.

Wishbone put the comb in his teeth before taking one braid in his hand. Snip. The long hair came loose and fell limply in his hand. Joe gave a rattling sigh but did not move. Snip. Wishbone draped both braids over the wagon tongue. He had felt the impact of what had just happened almost as clearly as if it were happening to himself. He took the comb out of his mouth, his voice shaky when he said, "I'll just trim it up now real nice for you."

Joe nodded once, his entire body relaxing now that the anticipation was over. Wishbone attempted to lighten the atmosphere by chatting about the events that could quite possibly happen in town, the things to see, the people to avoid and places not to go. He almost had run out of things to say, a rarity for him, when he was finally finished. He really wanted this first haircut to be a good one, and he had done a fair job. He retrieved a mirror and held it out to Joe. "Here you go, boy. You look just right dandy, if I do say so myself."

Joe held the mirror at arm's length, afraid to look. Finally, he turned to see his image. He fingered the short locks. "I…thank you, Mr. Wishbone. It looks real good." He shook his head in amazement. "I look so different, like I hardly am myself anymore."

"Aw, shucks, boy, you might look different on the outside, but you're the same fella on the inside, and that's what counts. No little haircut's gonna change that."

The young man smiled lightly before holding the mirror out to Wish. "I reckon I better finish gettin' ready. Chad'll be rarin' to go."

Wish watched the boy go. He shook his head. "Strange boy, but a fine one for sure." He turned back to continue his own preparations. The braids were gone.

When Chad found Joe later, he hardly recognized him. "Joe, is that you?"

In reality, his friend really didn't look that much different. He was still wearing his buckskin clothing, but the distinctly-Comanche loincloth and vest were gone…as was the man's long hair.

"Shoot, Chad, you act as though I was half-naked or somethin'."

"Well, you practically are without those two pigtails you been toting around since I met you!"

They were interrupted by Rowdy. "Hey, are you two fellas ready to go?" He took Joe's appearance in half a glance. "Nice haircut, Riley. Suits you."

Joe's face was graced with a pleasant smile, one Chad hardly ever saw. He grinned in return. "Of course we are! Just you wait, Joe. I'll show you how to have a good time."

"Remember what Mr. Favor said, Chad," Joe said seriously. "We gotta go straight to the mercantile."

"Oh…right. I guess there's always next payday."

They mounted up on some horses from the remuda. Buck was tired after a lot of hard hours on the trail, and Chad had yet to purchase his own mount. That would have to wait until the next payday, too.

Chad joined in with the rest of the cowboys when, with a hoop and a holler, they charged out of camp like the barn was on fire. He looked over his shoulder to see Joe hanging back with Wishbone and the supply wagon. He shrugged. Joe didn't know what he was missing.

They arrived into town around 30 minutes after the main group of cowboys. Wishbone could already hear them wasting their money in the saloon. "Humph. Fools, the lot of them." He looked over at the single cowboy who had ridden with him, Joe Riley. The young man's face showed a mixture of amazement and unsurity. His eyes were moving around quickly, lighting on everything, like he hadn't seen any of it before. The fact was probably true, from what Wishbone had gathered on the boy's past.

"Well, come on, boys, don't have all day. Mushy, I'll need you to help me load up supplies in a while. Meanwhile, go and find that Chad Cooper. He needs to get hisself over here, boss' orders." They climbed down from the wagon seat while Joe tied up his horse to the hitching rail. Mushy went toward the first saloon while Joe and Wish entered the mercantile door together. Joe was staring at everything, touching bolts of fabric, peering into cases, his mouth gaping. Wishbone grabbed his elbow and steered him over to the men's clothing. He waved at the clerk, a young lady with blonde hair. "Excuse me, miss. I've got a fella here who needs some ready-made work clothes. Think you could fix him up?"

She was as pretty as a painted pony. "Of course, sir. We have clothes of all styles and sizes…though I might have go in the back to find a shirt his measurement." She blushed when she beheld Joe's shoulders and arms and the way they stretched his buckskin shirt. The boy just gawked at her like a love-sick pup.

Wishbone rolled his eyes. "Thank you kindly, miss." He elbowed Joe in the ribs, nudging him toward the table of pants. The young lady came forward, a tape measure in her hands. "If you'll just stand here, for a moment." She didn't wait for him to respond, but placed the end of the tape against Joe's hip and let the other end fall to the floor.

"Mmhmm…these over here should be long enough for you." She directed him toward one end of the table. He looked at the stacks of folded pants, a helpless expression on his face. She smiled at his hesitation. "Here, how about these?" She held up some light tan trousers that looked like they would cover those long legs. Joe took them from her and held them up to his waist, letting them hang down to his feet. "Uh, yeah, seem fine, ma'am."

Her smile broadened, revealing dimples. "Please, call me Katy, everybody does. How about we find some shirts now?" He nodded mutely.

Wishbone continued his own shopping, checking on the boy every once in a while. The girl was getting him fixed up with a couple shirts, even making comments on which ones would look best with his complexion, which Wish was sure was a word Joe didn't understand. Finally, Joe was ready to try on his selections. He went into a room in the back, returning a short time later wearing the tan pants and a patterned red calico shirt. He looked like a completely different person, and in spite of himself, Wishbone's eyes popped at the sight. "You look like a real cowboy now, boy, for sure!"

Joe smiled shyly. His hands rubbed the legs of his new pants nervously. "I really look alright?"

The young lady came from behind a counter, her face beaming. "You look wonderful! I just knew that was your color. While you were trying those on, I took the liberty in looking for boots. I think you might like these." In her hand was a pair of light tan cowboy boots. However, what made these special was that on the outside of the boot were silver conchos with leather fringe dangling out of each, reminding all of Joe's previous outfit.

He stared at them, a bit of wonder on his face. "I can't remember the last time I wore boots," he murmured.

"Here, try them on. Oh, and here's some socks too."

Joe seated himself and pulled on the socks and boots. They went on fairly easily; they were soft leather, not unlike his moccasins. He tucked his pants inside to fully show off the conchos. He stood and walked around in them, swaggering like he had worn them for years.

Katy giggled behind a hand. Wish said, "They sure do suit you, boy." Joe looked so happy it nearly was enough to make an old crusty coyote like Wishbone shed a tear—almost, not quite.

Joe looked at himself in a long mirror, admiring himself with his new outfit. He buckled his own beaded Comanche belt onto the trousers. He noticed something on the pants that he had not before. He asked Katy, "What's this here on the leg? Some sort of pocket?"

She looked at what he was indicating. "I think we made those custom for this man a while back, but he never picked them up." She frowned, her adorable nose crinkling. "I think he got arrested or something. Anyway, I think it's for a knife. This man was into carrying his knife like that instead of in a sheath like you do."

The pocket looked to be almost the same size as his antler-handled blade. Was worth a try, but he would do it later.

Wishbone came forward, more socks and a set of men's drawers in his hands, along with a razor and comb. He set them on the counter. "How much for all'a this stuff, miss?"

Katy figured the total up on a scrap of paper. "It all comes to… 10 dollars and 2 bits."

Joe felt he had been hit in the gut. His pay had seemed like a fortune, but this would take most of it. He had no idea the world was so expensive.

Wishbone snapped his fingers. "I almost forgot. Mr. Favor wanted you to pick out a rig, too. But we'll spot you on that until next payday."

"Over here, gentlemen," Katy said, opening a glass case with hand guns displayed.

Wishbone looked them over. He pulled out a pistol with a wooden handle. "Colt .45, standard gun for cowboys. Here, try it," the old man held it out to Joe, who took it gingerly. He'd held and shot guns before, but had never needed to judge a gun for his own person use.

"All our guns have been tested by a local gunsmith. He checks them all to be sure they are in working order. He was impressed with that one. Said it had been well cared for," Katy informed the two men.

"How much?" Wish asked.

"15 dollars, with a complementary box of shells."

Joe's eyes might have burst from his head. That was his entire pay, right there! Wishbone didn't seem fazed. He merely nodded and took the gun back from Joe's hand, testing the balance for himself. "A real nice gun, here. Reasonably priced, too. This the one you want, boy?"

Joe nodded mutely. He doubted he'd have any money left by the end of the drive that wouldn't automatically defer to Mr. Favor. Wishbone wasn't done, either. "Pick yourself out a rig to put it in, sonny, unless you fancy stickin' it your pants."

Joe followed his direction and looked over a few holsters, quickly settling on a simple, dark brown one with a pattern stitched on the back in white thread. Joe buckled it around his trim hips, wondering at how good it felt, so natural. Wish handed him the gun, which he settled into the holster, the weight of it strangely comforting. Wishbone pointed at his leg. "Them strings there, use them to tie it down."

Joe did as commanded. Standing up straight again, he looked at the two helpful people before him, shyly smiling. Katy beamed at him, her hands clasped over her chest. "You look…amazing!" She blushed profusely after her outburst, an action that was mirrored by Riley. He could have stood there all day, just staring at her, but the moment was interrupted by a clatter of boots on the boardwalk. He reflexively turned around, his hand going for the knife that wasn't there. However, it was just Mushy and Chad.

"Well, it's about time!" Wishbone was not pleased.

"Sorry, Mr. Wishbone, but I couldn't hardly get him to leave the saloon," Mushy said, his youthful face worried.

Cooper didn't look the least bit concerned. "Hey, Joe, I tripled my earnings!" He started forward, some bills in hand, before he stopped mid-stride. "Whoa, look at you, boy! I hardly knew it was you—again! You better stop changing yourself so much, or I won't be able to keep track of you." Chad strode forward slowly, his eyes trailing Joe's length. He circled completely around the tall man. He let out a low whistle. "You look right-dandy, pard." He leaned back, his hand on his chin in thought. "Something's missing, though…." Suddenly, his hand flashed to the side, coming back to put something on top of Joe's head. "There," Chad exclaimed. He grabbed one of Joe's arms and turned him toward the mirror. "How do you like that? Now it's perfect."

Joe beheld himself with amazement for yet another time. Chad had impulsively selected a rather large cowboy hat, a tan one with a curved brim and a plain dark leather band. It sat comfortably on his newly shorn hair, its brim plenty wide to shade him from the sun and the color light to keep him from getting too hot. He was so staggered by his appearance he just stood motionless, staring at himself for a long time. Once, he had felt pride in his Comanche clothes and hair…and now, that same pride was welling in his chest at the sight of his new identity. He felt a bit of uncertainty, however. Was this who he was supposed to be, a cowboy, forever punching bovines on the trail? He just wasn't sure. In truth, he felt more lost than when he had first left the reservation all those years ago.