

### Suicide Plunge

### Philip W. Arnold

Copyright © 2012 by Philip W. Arnold

Smashwords Edition  
All rights reserved. No part of this book may be used or reproduced in any manner whatsoever without written permission, except in the case of brief quotations embodied in critical articles or reviews. Please do not participate in or encourage the piracy of copyrighted materials in violation of the author's rights. Purchase only authorized editions.

### Acknowledgements:

This story could never have been completed without the gift of imagination that the good Lord has blessed me with, and that my mother Maureen never let me lose. Many thanks go out to my daughters Carolyn and Angie who worked countless hours typing my manuscript and changed it from a muddled mess of written words into an organized final copy. I give thanks to every middle school student whom I have ever taught. They are the ones who helped me see this story through the eyes of a young adult. Especially helpful were my 2012 8th grade Language Arts class; Isaac, Grace, Emma, Angelica, Shylo, Ashlee, Shyenne, Zach, Bryce, Robey, Jesse T., Jesse W., Garnett, Ally, Mikel, Anthony, and last, but certainly not least, Maicel.

Finally, to you the reader, I genuinely hope that you have as much fun reading this book as I did writing it.

Philip W. Arnold  
Garden Valley, Idaho  
2012  
Send comments to: Parnold@gvsd.net

### Table of Contents

Chapter 1  
Chapter 2  
Chapter 3  
Chapter 4  
Chapter 5  
Chapter 6  
Chapter 7  
Chapter 8  
Chapter 9  
Chapter 10  
Chapter 11  
Chapter 12  
Chapter 13  
Chapter 14  
Chapter 15  
Chapter 16  
Chapter 17  
Chapter 18  
Chapter 19  
Chapter 20  
Chapter 21  
Chapter 22  
Chapter 23

Author's Note

"The Suicide Hill Race is run every summer in Omak Washington. Brave young men, some out for a thrill, some just out to prove themselves, enter the race. They race their horses over a 100 yard flat piece of ground that abruptly drops off to an impossibly long and steep slope which ends at the edge of the Okanogan River. If the horse and rider manage to negotiate the "Suicide Plunge" then they must swim across the river and race into an arena on the opposite side. The first horse and rider to make it into the arena are declared the winner."

CHAPTER 1

Although all of the bedlam seemed to assault his senses at the same time, it was always the sounds that affected him the most. The thunderclap of the starter's gun came first. This would be followed almost instantaneously by pandemonium; shrieks and yelps of Indian boys and men as they goaded their horses to maximum speed. As the horses and riders charged over Suicide Hill, the noise level would increase so loudly that picking out individual sounds was impossible. At that point vision became difficult too. The dust would become so churned up that individual horses would appear only as a blur.

As the bedlam reached its highest level, the riders in a boiling cloud of dust would appear. The horses would literally fly over the cliff's edge in a mad dash towards the river. Sand and small rocks tossed up by flailing hooves would pelt the top of his head. The smell of leather, sweat and dust all intermingled and formed a musky aroma that stung his nostrils. This craziness nearly always caused his senses to spin into overload.

In today's race, a horse right in front of him stumbled and the young rider quit the saddle, narrowly avoiding the slashing hooves of the oncoming horses. Both rider and horse careened down the hill like a tumble weed caught in a hurricane.

Towards the bottom of the hill a pileup of horses and riders began. The faster horses that had raced here before saw the river and bolted towards its cool safety. The less experienced horses balked. They whistled and snorted with fear due to the steepness of the incline, but in the end they were forced to surrender to gravity.

The young man grimaced as he watched slower animals pile into the logjam of horseflesh. The last horse literally pushed the shrieking mass into the Okanogan River. He stood on his tiptoes now to watch the horses swim the river. The lead horses crow hopped through the shallows to the other side. The slower horses, some riderless, swam towards the far bank. He heard the shouts of excitement from below as the first rider entered the arena and crossed the finish line.

Billy, an 18 year old native of Washington State's Colville Indian Tribe, had always dreamed of being one of those riders. This race was one of the few things left that could bring a young man honor and glory in the tribe. Honor and glory however were two traits that had been lacking in his family for many years.

Billy's excitement about the race was short lived. "Hey Apple," a drunken voice slurred, "Remember how your dad cost Stew Coley the race in '88?" Billy turned to face the crowd of spectators. His tormentor could have been any one of a dozen leering faces. A chorus of laughter greeted his cold stare. Billy clenched his fists and advanced menacingly towards the sounds of their mockery. He didn't care if there were a half dozen of them and he was alone. He had a fierce pride and allegiance towards those he loved. Although his father had failed miserably at his job of being a dad, nobody could get away with disrespecting the man.

Fortified with liquid courage, a crowd of drunks shouted vulgarities that were meant to hurt his absent father, but in his place, Billy became the target. Too late to think, time only to react, Billy swung a chopping right hook at the first hate filled face he could reach. His large hands, callused from hard labor, did not miss. The closest nose exploded in a spray of crimson mist. The ugly circle of sneering faces involuntarily oozed back at the sight of their fallen comrade. With his eyes glaring daggers into the crowd, Billy bulled his way through the drunks and out into the street.

Shaking his right hand, and sucking on the knuckles, Billy tried to ease the pain of his throbbing hand. "Apple Indian, red on the outside and white in the middle is it?" Billy spun around at the sound, but his dower expression immediately turned into an enthusiastic grin. "Uncle Blake, where have you been?"

Blake, a mountain of a man, wrapped Billy up in his arms and gave him a bear hug that would send most men to the chiropractor. "I've been up in the hills minding my own business when I decided to come down here and see how you flat landers race horses. I heard the commotion and figured my infamous nephew must be right in the middle of it." The remaining crowd quickly melted away at the sight of Blake. No sane man would dare challenge him.

"Have those vultures been riding you about your dad again?"

Billy nodded. "It's been the same for the past ten years." Billy said. He spat out the words in disgust. "It's the same old broken record. Your dad cost Stew Coley his title. Your dad was bought and paid for by the rich white man."

"You think in ten years, they'd come up with something new." Uncle Blake chuckled softly.

Billy became serious and asked, "Blake, you know my dad better than any other man, and you were at the race of '88. Do you think dad purposely knocked Stew and his horse over just so another horse could win?"

Blake stared into space for a long while. The announcer's voice droning on in the background startled him out of his brooding. "Come on Billy, The Longhorn is still open, let's get some grub and I'll tell you what I can remember." As the tinny sounds of the PA system faded away Blake kicked the old stock truck into gear and they headed out to the restaurant.

CHAPTER 2

The aroma of old grease, fry bread, and stale beer filled Billy's nostrils reminding him that he hadn't eaten since breakfast. Blake guided him to a worn table. A red cowhide chair comforted his back. Billy was able to fully relax for the first time all day. A young waitress whose nametag read "Jill" glided up to their booth. "It's Billy!" she said, looking thoughtfully at his scraped knuckles. "Been up to no good as usual?" Without waiting for an answer, she said "I'll bring some ice."

Blake smiled. "That one likes you, didn't she graduate with you a couple years ago?"

"She's doing the Omak shuffle," explained Billy. "She went to college for two years dropped out and now is back here swimming in circles going nowhere."

"As if you should talk," grumbled Blake. "You work with me in the hills for a year and a half, and then come back here to live with your dad. Since he is off truck driving you are just bumming it yourself!"

Billy smiled mischievously at Blake. "Hey Uncle, when have I ever not had a plan? I've been thinking, I don't intend to stick around Omak with the rest of the fish. I want to leave my mark on this town, and then get out of here for good. The most important thing to me is to make up for what my dad did."

Blake's face didn't change yet his hand restlessly drummed on the old formica tabletop. "Billy, how can you do that? Your dad, my brother, forgot the most important thing about being an Indian. A man can choose to live any way he sees fit. But to disgrace himself, his family and his people, is unforgivable. Billy you were there at the race that night, you saw what your father did to kill any chance at all of Stew Coley winning his 14th race in a row."

Billy remembered that alright, like an ongoing nightmare that he relived nearly every day of his life. It was like watching a bad movie playing on a never ending loop. The emotions always ran their course in the same order. First, he felt the intense pride of having a father, his father, riding in the Suicide Race. For months before the race he and his father had practiced in the hills above the town. Billy and his friends would watch his father as he galloped full speed down hills and cliffs that would give a mountain goat trouble. On the night of that race, Billy had brushed his father's horse until its coat glistened like an oiled black cat. With pride he'd dipped his hand in bright red paint and mashed it down on the horse's flank. This was a tradition his tribe had used for decades. It showed a mark; his family's mark. It was a way of showing family unity and spirit.

Finally the riders lined up, cameras flashed, the starter's gun sounded and the race was on. In his mind the picture quickly changed. It was always as if he was watching a TV in a tunnel of fog. His father's horse broke out into an early lead on the flat. In his mind, the movie changed from pride to horror at that moment. For what his father did next brought the utmost shame to Billy and the tribe.

Just seconds before his horse was to make the plunge down Suicide Hill his dad suddenly pulled violently on the reins. He nearly jerked the bit out of his horse's mouth as he veered directly into the path of an oncoming rider. That rider just happened to be the most revered man among his people, Stew Coley, a thirteen time winner of the Suicide Race. It was hard enough to get to ride in the race, and the odds were extremely low to even win once. Stew Coley, a man looked upon with awe by the entire tribe, had won the race an unheard of thirteen times. As his father's horse veered left, Coley had no choice but to pull up his horse. In the ensuing tangle Stew tumbled to the ground. Although uninjured, there would be no fourteenth win.

His father never talked about the incident. Although other members of the tribe had no trouble finding a reason for his father's unexplained mishap. The rumor quickly circulated that his father had been bought off by rich white gamblers who had made a lot of money that day by betting against Stew Coley. To add fuel to their speculations his father bought a used Kenworth truck and began hauling freight across the country. He never seemed to end up back in Omak much after that.

The sounds of clinking ice broke up Billy's painful image. His uncle got to his feet and helped the waitress with the soup bowl full of ice that she brought up to the table.

As he returned to the table he stared long and hard at Billy "Billy, we've been over this hundreds of times before. It's time to bury this and move on. Come with me up to the hills and help me with the dudes this summer."

Billy knew working with the dudes meant working with the city folks that paid his uncle good money to ride horseback into the mountains with the intention of getting back to nature. Although Billy hated the silly tourists, the idea of another summer wasted doing nothing had little appeal to him. Besides considering the shape his body and mind were in, perhaps it was time that he got back to nature.

Blake paid the bill and as they left, Billy smiled and said, "Uncle Blake, you are a great salesman, pick me up in the morning and by afternoon, I'll have your tourists riding like pros." The two men shook on it and grinned as they both departed separately into the night.

CHAPTER 3

The old flatbed truck crawled slowly up the hill in low 4-wheel drive. During the long dusty ride Billy had time to recollect how much he really did enjoy getting back into the mountains. In spite of how he tried to resist it, the pull of his mind and body back to nature was the result of his Indian heritage. He had no doubt whatsoever about that. Although he lived in a city, his people still netted salmon and hunted elk and deer in the fall for winter substance. Some of his greatest experiences with his father had been in these same woods. It seemed that every fall, they'd drop whatever grudges they currently held against each other to head out to hunt and fish. It seemed the greatest benefit was simply in finding themselves again. His father had referred to it as a cleansing of their souls.

For Billy those times in the woods were the best memories he had of his dad. It seemed like that was the only time his dad ever opened up to him. They'd laugh and joke for hours just enjoying where they were and forgetting about the city and all its tarnished glamour. The only unspoken rule was they never discussed "The Race."

The old flatbed hit an especially deep hole. As if reading Billy's thoughts, his uncle remarked "I called your dad, asking if he'd join me this year. He never would commit. Maybe we'll see him Billy, you never know."

Billy grimaced and shot Blake a knowing glance. "Uncle Blake we both know we won't see him here today or any other day."

Blake sighed and shrugged his shoulders. That was it; end of conversation. Billy had experienced his father's decline in the last few years. There were few happy times now. So often now his father was gone on another long trip in his big rig. When his father was home it seemed his only desire was to get to the bottom of one bottle after another. They began to have less and less in common. Billy had seen enough of his father's downslide to last a lifetime. That was why it was so easy to say yes to Blake and let the beautiful mountains welcome him back into their embrace.

The last few miles before they got to camp made Billy more excited by the minute. Very little had changed in the splendid wilderness. Every hill and mountain seemed to be newly painted green. Animals were abundant everywhere he looked. Every stretch of road with borders of grass seemed to contain some kind of animal. Billy saw grouse, deer, cotton tailed rabbits, and even a tired porcupine waddling up the road oblivious of the roar of the old engine.

Finally Billy saw what he had been dreaming about for so long. Tucked in at the end of the meadow stood the camp. Billy could distinctly make out the green military surplus wall tent. It looked worn but well kept. It seemed to beckon to him like an old friend. Next to it stood a magnificent tipi. Blake always said he kept it up to keep the tourists happy, but Billy knew the tipi kept Blake happy. "Get back to your beginnings and you will find your future," Blake had always said.

"Throw your gear in the Indian tent we've got to go check on the stock," Blake commanded. Billy did as he was told and they both set out on foot for the high pasture.

The high pasture was a meadowed oasis amid the prolific aspens. The small spring at the western end was the only year round water for miles around. This tended to keep the horses from straying. Blake had never believed in fences. "Just ruins the view nature is giving us," he once said. Blake hobbled any horse that had the tendency to wander. After a few weeks of hobbles, Blake's horses learned not to stray far.

As they crested the hill they caught sight of the horse herd. Most of the horses were grazing contentedly on grass not yet withered by the summer heat. A few horses jerked their heads up to gaze alertly at the strangers. Blake whistled and all of the horses looked up expectantly. Blake took several apples from the pockets of his jean jacket and tossed them towards the herd. The horses trotted quickly forward and gobbled up Blake's treats. Billy studied the animals closely. There were an even dozen horses. He noticed that most of the horses were paints with a sprinkling of appaloosas in the herd. "Those are Indian ponies" stressed Blake as he nodded towards the herd. Billy saw one horse had a noticeable limp as he stepped towards the apples. As a result of his slow pace, he got no apple. Blake reached into his pocket one more time and produced an apple which he handed to Billy. "Nephew, that's your project for this summer." Billy looked questioningly at his uncle. "His name is Samson. He's just average in size," his uncle explained, "but he has heart as big as any Marine I've ever met!" Billy looked more closely and noticed a nasty scar just above his rear left hoof. He nodded questioningly at the wound and Blake told Billy the heartbreaking tale. "Until about a month ago, he was my quickest horse. He had stamina too, but what I liked most about him was his guts. He could go longer on the trail with a heavier pack than any other horse I've ever owned, yet look at his size. He's built like some rich kid's horse, but he thinks he's a Clydesdale." Billy looked more closely at Samson, studying his deeply scarred leg. Blake continued, "One night about a month ago we had a terrific lighting storm." Blake nodded towards a huge pine at the head of the meadow that had its top burned and shattered. "Lightning hit that pine and sent the horses stampeding. Sam was quicker than the rest and didn't see the cattle guard as he raced up the road. At the last minute he must have seen it and tried to jump over it. He didn't quite make it and hooked his leg in the grate. The rest of the horses saw him trapped and had enough time to stop. So in a way he saved them from the same fate. Smart horse that one, he stayed put till daybreak when I found him and worked him loose. Most horses would have struggled till they tore their leg to pieces."

Billy chuckled, "A true survivor. I'd like to see what I can do with him."

Camp chores got Billy up early and to bed late. He enjoyed his days of riding with the tourists into the mountains early in the morning and then leading them back safely in the evening. After the day's ride Blake would regale his clients with stories of his life as a wrangler and cowboy. Billy always got a kick out of his uncle telling stories as an "Indian" cowboy. While Blake's audience listened intently Billy would cook the evening meal. The people had a healthy appetite at the end of a long day's ride. Billy cooked up hearty camp food: steaks, potatoes, beans and his specialty peach cobbler. All of the cooking except the steaks was done in Dutch ovens which the guests always seemed to enjoy. After a hearty meal the tourists were happy to sleep under the stars.

Days passed each one similar to the last. Billy worked hard and enjoyed the challenges his job threw at him. He especially appreciated getting to know Samson. Billy came to regard him as, "The Little Horse that Could." At the beginning of each day as the other horses with their riders left, the little horse would become very agitated. He whinnied and circled restlessly around the corral until finally one day Blake relented and let him follow the pack string. Without a load Sam pranced alongside the other horses thrilling the tourists with his antics.

Finally one day after three weeks without a break Blake pulled Billy aside. "Well nephew, it looks and smells to me like you could use a day off. I want you to take the truck and horse trailer into town and have the vet give Samson's leg a final check- up."

Billy greeted this news with great enthusiasm. In no time he loaded Samson up and started out of the camp. The season was changing from summer to fall. Billy took his time easing down the rutted road and marveling at the changing color of the trees. The aspens were starting to turn their golden color which always reminded him of gigantic cornflakes fluttering in the wind.

It would be hunting season soon and a new type of client would be coming into camp. These clients were more serious than the tourists. Blake would guide them into the hills seeking elk and deer. They would not care how a horse looked as long as it could pack venison. Billy grinned and figured Samson would be up to the task.

Several hours and many bumps later Billy arrived at the town's veterinarian clinic. He led Sam out of the trailer and tied him to a rail in the back. He sauntered into the main office. Looking for Dr. Bradley, he reached the waiting room and was surprised by what he smelled. Instead of the usual sharp smell of liniments and medicine, his nose detected the pleasant smell of perfume. When he got to the desk he was even more surprised to see a pretty young girl who definitely was not Dr. Bradley.

A cheerful voice answered Billy's question before he even asked it. "Dr. Bradley is out on a call, I'm Carolyn, his assistant". Billy's watchful eyes carefully studied the pretty brunette. She had long wavy hair and a pretty nose that upturned slightly at its end when she smiled. Billy stammered out his introduction and asked Carolyn if she would come out and have a look at Sam's healing leg. "Sure, a sick horse always interests me," she replied. She told Billy that she had been hired to work the summer in her uncle's vet office. She'd fallen in love with the town and her job. She intended to stay as long as she could.

Samson whinnied as she approached him. It was his way of saying he approved of her examination. She studied his leg from all angles then lifted it gently probing around his wound. "I'd say whoever has been tending him has done a wonderful job of getting this leg to heal."

Billy smiled shyly, "My Uncle Blake knows which wild plants and herbs help in healing. His grandfather taught him and now he is teaching me."

Carolyn beamed, "I thought you might be a member of the Colville tribe. They have ways of healing animals that few white people could ever know." Suddenly a frown clouded her flawless face, "Billy Frank? Are you related to Burt Frank who cost Stew Coley the win in the Suicide Race?" Billy's smile immediately turned into grimace; here we go again he thought.

CHAPTER 4

Carolyn sensed by Billy's grimace that she must have hit a raw nerve. She decided to explain, "Dr. Bradley is in charge of checking the health of all of the horses prior to and at the end of the race. This year I helped him. I overheard a native rider talking about it to his friend. I didn't know if the story was true or not but it stuck in my mind because I was so shocked at how something like that could cause people so much anger for such a long time."

At any other time Billy would have ignored the white girl's remark and stormed out never to return again, but he liked her attitude, not to mention her cute smile. Perhaps the hard work in the hills had dulled the ever present inner anger that he usually felt towards strangers. For once, instead of letting his temper escape and run, he let his words run. "Listen Carolyn, that story is true, Burt Frank is my father and he did cost Stew the race. The rumor is that the rich white gamblers paid my father to block Stew so that their top rider would win the race rather than Stew. It has been a source of shame for me, my family, and my people ever since. My father has never spoken to me about what happened that night. I've been living with it since then."

Carolyn's face softened and her bright blue eyes sparked with compassion for Billy. "I never had any idea." She said nothing more as they led Samson back to the horse trailer. As Billy was buckling up his seatbelt Carolyn leaned forward with her face framed in the truck's window. "That horse of yours is as cured as I can get him. The only thing he needs now is a regular exercise routine and you can do that on your own. I don't need to see Samson again, but I sure would like to see you again!" She handed him a piece of paper with her phone number on it. Billy looked at it and frowned while shoving it into his pocket.

"There's no phone where I'm at," he said dejectedly.

Carolyn winked mischievously at him and said, "I am sure you'll think of something!"

CHAPTER 5

When he got back to camp Billy decided to tell Blake nothing about the day's events. Instead he asked Blake if he could have the next day off. He'd need the day to go back to his dad's trailer and get rid of several weeks' worth of grime. Blake seemed puzzled with the request but agreed to let Billy have the day off since they were at the end of the tourist season.

The next morning Billy headed the truck down the road and called the vet's office from the first gas station he came to. Carolyn answered the phone on the second ring. After he identified himself, she said, "Billy! I don't know any Billy, but I do remember a dusty cowboy who came in here yesterday and stole my number!" Carolyn teased. Billy grinned and asked her if she'd like to go out to eat that night. Carolyn quickly agreed and Billy promised to pick her up when she got off work at six.

Billy continued on into town and finally turned onto a long dirt lane. As he coasted to a stop in front of his father's trailer, he was not surprised to notice that his father's big rig was parked in the driveway. Lately his dad's drinking kept him off the road more often than not. In a way that was a good thing thought Billy.

He pushed the unlocked door open and let himself in. Somewhere in the back a radio was blaring a talk radio show. His father was nowhere to be seen. Billy stepped through the small living room to the back bedroom. He peeked in the room and saw his father sleeping soundly in his bed in spite of the loud radio. Billy reached over and switched off the annoying sound. "Dad," he said, "Wake up!"

His dad slowly opened one eye and grunted, "Boy, get me some coffee!"

Billy did as he was told. He edged back into the kitchen and found the pot amongst the clean but cluttered pile of dishes. He opened a few cupboards until he found the big red can of coffee and heaped several large spoonfuls into the pot. He filled it nearly to the top with water, started the stove, and then sat back to await its boiling.

As he waited he studied his surroundings and meditated about his many years spent in this very trailer. He'd been born and raised here. William Wayne Frank was the only child born to Ruth and Burt Frank. He'd had a good childhood. His parents had managed to avoid the problems of alcoholism and apathy that had plagued many of his people. His mother worked at the clinic in town as a physician's assistant. It was perfect work for her as she was a kind and compassionate woman. Both father and son thought the world of Ruth. Unfortunately tragedy struck when Billy was in junior high. One evening as his mother was emptying some trash, a hypodermic needle pricked her hand. The needle had been contaminated with the AIDS virus. Little was known about the disease then and the clinic had immediately forced her to quit her job. Things had gone downhill for her after that. Billy had always regretted that there had been no "cocktail" drug for her at that time. If there had been then maybe her death could have been postponed for many more years. As it was, she fought and lasted about a year before she succumbed. His mother had drawn her last breath on the very couch that he was now sitting on.

Things had moved in a downward spiral after that. His father, who had formerly been a light social drinker, now began to drink heavily. Before his wife's death Burt spent most of his days driving truck or working with his brother in the hills. Now except for brief stints on rare trucking jobs he spent his days sitting on a bar stool.

Billy, who had been an excellent athlete and student, began to act out. He got to know the inside of the principal's office very well that year. He fought for no reason at all. He had little or no respect for his teachers. Although his teachers and friends sympathized with his plight, most of them came to realize that the only person who could help Billy was Billy himself.

Unfortunately, although he knew it too, Billy did little to help himself. His grades slipped, he was kicked off both the football and track team. Luckily, because he knew it would hurt Blake terribly, he had never tried drugs as a way of coping with his depression. His anger became his drug. Some days it seemed the person he hated the most was himself.

As he sat thinking, he heard his father get up and begin moving around the bathroom. Billy got up and poured his father a cup of coffee. He set it on the small table beside his father's bed. After a quick shower he quickly gathered up a set of clean clothes and slipped out the door. A hung over grouchy father was not the father he wanted to deal with today. He'd try to see his father some other time he thought. He hurriedly changed into his clean clothes in the truck and then started off.

Gravel spattered against the old truck's fender wells as it eased into the clinic's parking lot. Billy shifted the truck into low gear and crept into an empty parking space. No need to kick up a cloud of dust to announce his eager arrival. He had finally admitted to himself on the drive over that he hadn't been this excited about anything in a long time.

He checked himself one last time in the mirror before stepping out of the truck. He liked what he saw. Staring back at him was a handsome, well groomed young man. For the "date" he chose a button down denim shirt that seemed to say cowboy, not tourist. His shirt was tucked into a new pair of Levis. To top off his "going to town duds" he wore a pair of shiny black cowboy boots. It was a neat but low key outfit.

Before he even had a chance to knock, Carolyn met him at the door. He was struck by how great she looked. Her brown hair, with wavy curls was pulled back into a pony-tail. She had on a pair of dark jeans and a white buttoned blouse. Her face radiated natural beauty. She'd added just a touch of makeup to her eyes and lips.

Since the weather was getting cooler in the evenings, they spent no time talking. Instead they quickly jumped into Blake's truck which Billy had kept running with the heater on. Billy was embarrassed about how dirty and full of clutter the truck was. Fortunately he had remembered to lay a clean blanket on the seat so Carolyn wouldn't get quite so dusty.

Since it was Friday night Billy had decided to take Carolyn to the high school football game before dinner. The Omak Pioneers were taking on their fiercest rivals, The Okanogan Bulldogs. It should prove to be an exciting game. Since Billy had relatives on both teams it would be hard to cheer too loudly for either team.

It had been a year since he graduated, and the sights and even the smells jogged Billy's brain with memories; some good and some bad. He had played football on this very field himself.

Many people from his tribe were in the stands that night. Some of the young men carried the grudge of his father's shameful race. Some of the young women were jealous that Billy was at the game with a white woman. As they took their seats in the stands both of them could feel hard eyes upon them.

Perhaps a football game of such intense rivalries was not the place to take Carolyn, thought Billy. After the rival Bulldogs scored on the opening kickoff, the home fans had become more boisterous. Billy's cousin Ethan had run the kickoff back 93 yards untouched. Billy cheered loudly for his cousin. That was not the wisest thing to do considering the circumstances. The thought that he could no more stop himself from cheering for his cousin than stop himself from liking Carolyn made him grin. The crowd noise turned into a drowning roar of pandemonium. Omak had been forced to punt after its first possession, and Okanogan had quickly scored a touchdown as soon as they got the ball back. The home team was getting trounced by their arch rivals. By this time the crowd's mood had turned ugly. It seemed as if the home crowd's anger towards the game's negative result turned them rabidly hostile. Some of that hostility was now clearly being directed towards Billy and Carolyn. The catcalls aimed at the young couple began. Most of the crowd did not participate but enough did so that it became extremely difficult for Billy to bear. It seemed as if all of his old demons had come back to visit him during such a significant night.

The already volatile crowd was whipped into frenzy when one of the Okanogan players delivered a hit to an Omak player who was clearly out of bounds. It was an obvious cheap shot. To add insult to injury, no penalty flag was thrown. The player lay there not moving. The mood of the crowd was evenly split with those who were outraged at the outcome of the play and those who were concerned about the motionless player. The coach knelt beside the fallen player and looked helplessly at the unmoving body. It was obvious to everyone that he was unsure of what to do. Normally the volunteer ambulance and EMT personal attended every game, but on this night they had flashed by Billy's truck just as he pulled into the stadium. They had gotten a call to go to some other emergency.

The crowd became increasingly agitated at the lack of care available for their star player. Billy's dream date was turning into a nightmare. Suddenly he felt a body brush past him. It was Carolyn and she was heading down to the field. As she hustled past him she yelled to him, "I was trained to work on people before I got to work on animals." Perhaps sensing the gravity of the situation the crowd parted and let Carolyn through. Billy, although unsure of what was going to happen, decided to follow Carolyn.

They made their way onto the field. Carolyn nudged the onlookers aside. When they got to the injured player a circle of coaches and players blocked the view. Carolyn pushed through to the middle of the circle. Although it had been a while since he'd played for the team, the coach recognized Billy. He shot him a quizzical look. Billy said, "Coach, she knows what she is doing!"

The coach instantly reacted and yelled, "Everyone back!"

With a quick look, it was obvious that the player was unconscious and having trouble breathing. Carolyn carefully inserted two fingers into the prostrate figure's mouth. She gently probed into his mouth as spasms wracked his body. Suddenly her body stiffened and her arms tightened. She drew her arm back and held up a mouth guard.

Immediately the quarterback's labored breathing became easier, and color returned to his face. Carolyn flipped the mouth guard to the coach and said, "Due to the severity of the hit, this was jarred and lodged partially down his throat. He was choking on it." By now the injured player was coming around and trying to get back up. Carolyn allowed him to sit up but advised the coach to let him take it easy for a few minutes before he should stand. Two players grabbed him under his arms and helped him to the bench. When the audience saw their star player was up they broke into a loud applause. Billy grinned and indicated to Carolyn, "That is as much for you as it is for him!"

Carolyn smiled, "I think it's time to go home now. That was too much excitement for one night."

When they got back to Carolyn's house she gave him a big hug and said, "I had an interesting, but great time tonight. Can we go out tomorrow for the dinner we missed tonight?"

Billy almost shouted, "That sounds fantastic!"

"Getting a little bold, aren't you?" She replied. This time they both laughed. It was the laugh of two people who cared very much for each other.

On the drive back to camp, Billy did a lot of thinking. The day had gone very well. Samson was on the mend and he had found a girl that he had been able to talk with and share his most personal thoughts. He felt an almost euphoric level of comfort. That hadn't happened in a long time.

He got back to camp just about dark. Blake was thrilling the last group of this year's tourists with his humorous tales. As Billy listened to Blake's final tale of the night he recognized it as an old Indian legend. It was a tale of a young brave who stole the heart of a princess from another tribe. Eventually they married. Was this some sort of omen about his future? Billy liked that thought and a tiny smile appeared on his face. Future omen or not, Billy always admired how Blake could captivate his audience with those stories. Blake's knowledge of his heritage was well known and respected in the tribe.

After the last story was told, and the campers had bedded down, Blake called Billy over to a log. They both sat silently gazing into the fire. Finally Blake asked Billy how his trip into town was. Billy laughed and said "I met a girl..." His voice trailed off. Blake smiled knowingly and nodded his head for Billy to go on. "She works for Dr. Bradley and her name is Carolyn."

Blake's back suddenly stiffened and a pained expression came over his face. In a steady voice he explained, "I have heard of a girl named Carolyn who works for the vet, she is a member of P.E.T.A." Billy's expression changed from happiness to confusion. "Billy, P.E.T.A., stands for People for the Ethical Treatment of Animals. They are the ones who say our tribe is cruel to horses because we race them in the Suicide Race. They are trying to get the race shut down forever!"

CHAPTER 6

For years the P.E.T.A. followers had come to protest the race. They believed that it put the horses in extreme danger. In Billy's mind their fears were unfounded. The horses and riders had to pass three tests to demonstrate their ability to run the race safely. The state appointed veterinarian checked the horses' health before and after the race. The horses were subjected to a swim test as well as a hill test before the race. This was done in order to see if they could perform those tasks successfully. Horses that were weak swimmers or those who balked at the edge of the cliff were not allowed to race.

Billy also knew how much horses were cherished and revered by his tribe's members. The Colville tribe viewed the horses and race as a spiritual journey. It was the ultimate test for a young brave and his horse. Many riders chose to pray in sweat lodges before the race. Others adorned their horses with feathers. The race was the high point of the year for most of Billy's people. In Billy's mind, and in the minds of most of the local people, they knew and cared more about their horses' safety than the people of P.E.T.A. did.

The more Billy thought about it, the more he became consumed by anger. What did she, a non-Indian, know about his life? How could she understand the rules by which he lived? How could she comprehend the rules that dictated his heritage? The anger that had been such a part of his life for the last few years began to boil. He decided that the best thing to do would be to confront Carolyn about what his uncle had told him.

The next day he drove back to her house. This time the ride was not nearly as joyful. His brain was consumed in turmoil about the obvious fact; just when he thought he had his life getting back into some sense of stability, once again he was betrayed by another trusted person. He grimaced as he remembered how his dad had betrayed him in the race and by his alcoholism and neglect. His mother's death was also a brutal blow to his young ego. Finally a girl he had let himself like, and even trust, stood against all that was important to him.

As the old truck eased into the driveway, Billy noticed that Carolyn was standing outside. She was facing away from him and engrossed in conversation with a young man Billy had never seen before. As he pulled closer, two things became very clear. First Carolyn was holding hands with the man, and second, the back of her jacket had large letters that clearly spelled out P.E.T.A.

CHAPTER 7

The sight of Carolyn with another man ripped at his heart. He angrily circled the truck around in a swirl of dust and sped back onto the main road. As he drove back into town he turned at Blake's driveway and pulled up to his house. Friendly dogs barking at his arrival told him that his uncle had returned from his camp, but he had no time for them. He burst into Blake's house. His uncle was seated at the kitchen table reading an outdoor magazine. Blake looked up at the pained face of his nephew and knew at once that something was very wrong. Saying nothing, Blake poured a fresh cup of coffee into a mug with the U.S. Marine logo on it and passed it to Billy. Billy nodded thankfully while they both sat in silence. When Billy finished the coffee, he slowly began to tell his uncle the entire story. Blake listened silently. Billy finally finished with an apology. "Uncle Blake, I am sorry I doubted your word about Carolyn, please forgive me."

Blake just chuckled and said, "Now you know why I stayed single. The United States Marine Corps was the only wife I needed for twenty years. After that, no lady would have me." he said thoughtfully.

Billy stared down into his empty cup "Uncle Blake" he finally said, "You know it's always been my dream to become a Marine like you were. Now would be the perfect time for me to enlist. I have no job and nothing in my future, but I just can't do it. It would just seem to everybody like I am once again just running away from my problems.

This town, my teachers, and now Carolyn have never believed in me. I've been thinking about a way to prove my worth to all of those doubters. I'm going to work with Samson this winter and spring, then in the summer I'll race him in the Suicide Race!"

Blake at once stood up and angrily said, "Billy, you are talking nonsense! For starters the worst thing you could do to our family is bring up old grudges against us by participating in that damn race! Next you don't own Samson, I do. Finally Samson is a healed horse physically, but he is still crippled mentally. He would not have the heart to participate in training for such a dangerous race. The race itself is a tremendously risky thing. Billy, trained horses have been killed in this race. Riders too have been crippled and sometimes killed. This is not some paleface game. This is a race that is very sacred to our people. By participating in it you would need the right mindset. Doing it because you have a grudge against a girl and a town doesn't count!"

Billy waited until Blake sat down. He decided to tell his uncle what was in his heart. "Uncle Blake, I have nothing but the deepest respect for you and our elders. I know you think I want to be in this race for revenge. That is only a small part of it. My name, your name, and the names of our ancestors have been shamed since my father participated in the race. What I am asking of you is what any true warrior would ask; I want not only a chance to redeem myself, but most importantly, a chance to redeem our family's honor. Uncle Blake, give me that chance. It will be the last chance to erase the persecution against our family and to truly break this family's curse. I promise you that I will work hard all winter and spring with Samson. I won't enter the race if either he or I are not one hundred percent ready physically and mentally. If this whole thing works out, then after the race I'll be in great shape and ready to join the Marines."

For several minutes Blake stared wordlessly into his empty coffee cup. Billy obediently waited for his uncle's final word on the subject. Finally Blake looked up at Billy and said, "Is that what you think you want, or is that what you really want?"

Billy nodded, "I have thought about this a lot and it is what I truly want."

"All right," Blake said shaking his head. "This will be the toughest thing you've ever done but if you want to do it right, I'll mentor you. Although I've never participated in the race, I know many of the tricks your father used to get the most out of his pony. I also know a place where you and Samson can train all winter long without any distractions." Billy knew that the word "Carolyn" could be inserted instead of distractions, but he said nothing. Blake continued, "The Johnstones have a ranch up near Republic and they are going to be gone all winter. They asked me to be the caretaker for their ranch all winter long. I wasn't interested but I'll bet they would hire you. I'll put in the good word for you. For now, go home and pack up all of your stuff. You'll need all of your warm gear. I'll rustle you up some tack. Meet me here tomorrow morning at six. If all goes well, we'll head up to Republic at dawn."

Billy was ecstatic when he reached his father's trailer, but that soon turned to concern when he entered the trailer. His father was nowhere to be found and the place stunk of burned leather. The reason soon became obvious. Two blackened leather gloves lay on the floor next to the woodstove. From the looks of things his father had tried to dry out the gloves by laying them on the stove. More than likely he had forgotten about them until they began to smolder and stink. His father had finally realized what was happening and knocked them off the stove. Billy opened up all the windows and glumly thought how this never would have happened before his father started drinking.

After a sleepless night, Billy heard his father stumble in at about 2 a.m. the next morning. Just about the time all the bars have closed thought Billy. He managed to get a couple of hours sleep before the alarm went off at 5 a.m. Billy decided against waking his father and telling him of the plan. He'd find out sooner or later.

It was a tight fit to get all of his gear into the well-used green duffel bag that had the letters USMC boldly stenciled on the side. It had been a present from uncle to nephew. It was a cherished item, and Billy hoped to get his own from the Marines soon.

Blake had crowded almost all of the needed gear in his old Ford pickup. The rest of the gear along with Samson went in the extra truck and trailer Billy drove. "Well, boy I found you a place to hole up during the winter and you'll be paid for it. What do you say to your old uncle about that?"

Billy's wide grin was rewarding enough for Blake. He knew Billy would work hard at his duties on the ranch. He knew the Johnstones had made a good choice with Billy. Although everything seemed good now, if Billy could have looked into the future, he never would have left Omak.

CHAPTER 8

The ride up was very pleasant. It had been a while since either of them had been out this way. If anything the hills and rolling terrain were even more beautiful than Billy remembered. Blake's old Ford, which was leading the way, finally turned off the blacktop and started up a gravel road that followed a narrow creek. The road followed the winding creek upward through golden patches of aspens and emerald stands of pine trees. Finally the creek peeled off to the left and disappeared into a steep gorge. The road veered to the right and entered a beautiful open valley. Billy could see a house and correctly guessed that it was the Johnstone's. He also noticed the cattle troughs and miles of fences. His job would be to care for the cattle that would soon be brought here to their winter grounds.

Both trucks pulled up to the front of the rustic log house that Billy would call home for the next several months. An elderly couple came to the porch. Blake introduced Billy to the Johnstones, Ted and Angela.

With two Border Collies following obediently at their heels, the Johnstones welcomed Billy by showing him around the house and the grounds. The longer he walked the more he realized the huge amount of work that went on at a working cow ranch. In spite of the fact that his task seemed overwhelming, Billy felt he'd be up to the challenge.

After his tour of the ranch Billy dropped his stuff off in an empty upstairs room. He quickly headed downstairs to the dining room for dinner. During the meal Angela said "There's plenty of beef in the freezer. You'll also find venison there too from a deer Ted shot. We've got enough canned food in here to feed a hungry cowboy for a long time. You can cook can't you Billy?"

Billy nodded and pointed with his fork to the last of the peach pie on his plate, "I can, but not nearly as good as you Mrs. Johnstone!"

Angela beamed as she cleared up the dinner dishes. "You'll get along here just fine," she said as she smiled at Billy.

Later that night as they sat around the fireplace Ted told Billy and Blake about a few important things. "Billy, there is not much on this ranch that can get you in trouble if you stay on your toes. The cattle are mostly tame. Our more aggressive bulls are on another ranch. The steers, cows, and calves, are very passive. Get them their feed and water and they'll follow you anywhere. We have a few problems with coyotes and the occasional cougar. Since hunters can't chase the cougars with hounds anymore, they are becoming more common around here. You can shoot can't you?" Billy silently nodded. Ted pointed to the corner of the room. "My ranch rifle is always there and it is always loaded. Its caliber is .223 which will handle anything you may run into around here. Shoot at any coyote you see harassing these cattle. Billy, many people say that there are wolves around here too." He turned towards Blake "I know of your people's reverence towards the wolf, but I have never seen one myself. I have seen tracks that were way too big to be a coyote. Like I said before, just be aware of anything that doesn't seem right and you'll do just fine. We'll be leaving the day after tomorrow for Phoenix. My old bones just don't take to winter like they used to. We'll spend tomorrow packing, and then she's all yours."

Billy nodded eagerly, and said, "You won't be disappointed in me."

Ted nodded towards Blake, "You came with a great recommendation."

The next day was a flurry of activity as Blake and the Johnstones labored at showing Billy the workings of the ranch. His main job was to ensure the welfare of the eighty head of cattle on the ranch. They had to be watered and fed every day. There were miles of fences that would need to be checked for breaks. In the spring calves would need to be attended to. The town's veterinarian owned the ranch in the next valley. Billy could go to him for advice in the case of an emergency. Mostly though, Billy would be on his own. The enormous amount of responsibility invigorated Billy. He loved a challenge, and running this ranch certainly was just that. He realized that the daily operation of the ranch would consume most of his time. Samson's training would have to come with whatever spare time was left.

The next morning the Johnstones and Blake each said their goodbyes to him and headed out. As Billy stood on the front porch watching them go, he shivered. He wasn't sure if he was shivering from the morning chill, or because of the enormous responsibility he had just inherited.

CHAPTER 9

Every day in the next month was full of hard work and new experiences for Billy. His day always started at five in the morning and often lasted until ten at night. His daily routine rarely varied. He'd awake, shower, gather the eggs from Angela's three hens and then have breakfast. A few eggs, a breakfast steak, and toast were his usual choice. He always drank strong black coffee with his breakfast and kept the pot warm throughout the day. At first light he would be out on foot checking the cattle. They had to be fed and watered which meant breaking the ice in their troughs and then spreading out bales of alfalfa for the hungry cows. The feed came in bales that had to be wrestled down from the barn into a wagon that was then hitched to an ATV. He would then drive the four-wheeler and wagon into the field and spread the hay out into the pasture.

The cows were always hungry and many times he thought for sure he would be knocked down by the many pushy black heads, but they always gave him just enough room to get the job done.

After feeding was done, he'd have to ride around the pasture and check the fences for breaks or weak spots. This was always a cold and dreary job but it had to be done.

His biggest assets were the two cow dogs Pete and Max. They kept him company while he was alone, but more importantly they allowed him to work with the cattle without any other helpers. The dogs' entire lives seemed to evolve around the cows. They loved their work, and it never ceased to amaze Billy how good they were at it.

When he was done with the cattle the rest of the day would be spent on what Billy called chores. Wood had to be chopped, the other farm animals had to be tended to, and various pieces of farm machinery had to be kept up. Those things and a million others always kept him busy. If he was able to completely finish the chores by dark, he would use that time to work with Samson.

About every third or fourth day Billy would find all of his chores done. That was when he got to devote a bigger chunk of his day to Samson. It was an inexact routine but it certainly seemed to work. Carolyn had advised Billy to take it slow with Samson's exercising. Leg wounds on horses healed slowly and could be tricky. Luckily Samson adapted easily to Billy's busy schedule.

When the two did get time to train, they did so enthusiastically. Samson was a born runner, but Billy kept him from going all out until he could be sure that his leg would take the strain. So he kept Samson to an easy regiment of exploring all of the trails, draws, and canyons the ranch had to offer.

One winter afternoon, Billy finished his day's work early and saddled Samson for an evening ride. As he stroked the powerful horse's back Billy thought proudly of how far the horse had come in his rehabilitation. If anything, Samson was stronger than ever. He showed no signs of his previous limp, and loved to run, which Billy had finally allowed him to do.

They started the ride on a trail that would take them out to the farthest corner of the ranch. Both the horse and the young man were completely in-sync with each other, so after an hour's ride when Samson suddenly stopped and would go no further, Billy knew something was wrong. Samson stood completely still with his head held alertly up and his ears pointing towards a thicket of trees. The mighty horse's nostrils flared as he strained to catch an unknown scent. As Billy slipped from the saddle he prudently took the old rifle from the scabbard and cautiously advanced forward. In the fresh snow his eyes made out a set of tracks. As he eased forward to study them, his eyes widened in shock. The prints were easily as big as his fist with five claw marks at the outside of the track. "Manitatanka" Billy said aloud. "Brother Wolf!"

CHAPTER 10

Billy grinned as he studied the track. Although he had never seen a wolf track or a wolf before, it was easy for him to identify what he was now looking at. Many times he had listened to stories about the wolves that used to live in Washington State. The last one was thought to have been killed in the 1940s. A few though, like this one, had been coming down from Canada and making their way back into their old hunting grounds. This no doubt, was one of those nomads. Billy watched his horse intently. Samson seemed much calmer now and had gone to pawing through the snow looking for any sign of suitable food on which to graze. Billy carefully placed the rifle back in the scabbard. He could no more shoot this wolf than shoot Samson. He was worried however about the cattle. Wolves, being carnivores, eat meat. Nothing was tastier to a wolf than fresh beef.

Trusting Samson's keen hearing and sense of smell, Billy decided to follow the tracks to see where they were headed. He felt just as excited as he was curious, and he couldn't wait to report his findings back to Blake. The tracks remained clear and easy to follow in the fresh snow. They could not possibly be the tracks of a big cougar Billy mused, because he could see the toenail imprints in the snow. A cat, he knew, retracted its claws when it walked. Eventually he came to an open slope where the timber turned to sagebrush. Samson's ears pointed downward toward it. Billy suspected that the wolf must be hidden in the draw. He scanned the snow and saw no tracks exiting into the sagebrush. He was sure now that the track maker was in the draw. That was all Billy needed to know. The wolf had gone nowhere near the cattle and showed no intention of doing so. He pulled on the reins to turn Samson away from the draw and back on the trail towards home. The horse however seemed very tense and agitated. Perhaps the wind had increased the wolf's scent and it had become extremely strong to the horse. All Billy knew was that one minute he was in the saddle thinking about getting back to the cabin. The next minute he was several feet in the air and Samson was bucking for all he was worth! Billy came down on a snow covered sage brush that cushioned his fall. He watched helplessly as his horse quickly disappeared into the trees obviously heading back towards the ranch. Billy dusted the snow off himself disgustedly. It was probably his fault that he had ridden so close to the wolf. He knew now that Samson, like his ancestors from years ago, had a strong aversion to wolves.

Instead of heading back towards the ranch, Billy inched his way slowly towards the lip of the draw. He wanted to see this wolf that had caused all of the excitement today. His patient approach was rewarded by a sight that took his breath away. In the draw, next to the picked clean carcass of a jackrabbit, lay a beautiful wolf. It was much larger than the biggest German Shepherd, but it had the same markings. Its thick fur glistened in the frosty light. Billy now understood why his people held the wolf with such deep regard. This wolf had no tracking collar. Billy knew that his brothers in Idaho of the Nez Pierce tribe had been instrumental in getting wolves reintroduced into the neighboring western states. Billy figured that without a collar, this wolf was probably not one of those pioneer wolves. More than likely the wolf had emigrated in from Canada. Whatever the case, the wolf was here. As he watched he felt a puff of wind on the back of his neck. The breeze that had been blowing into his face now blew towards the resting wolf. The wind carried Billy's scent directly to the wolf. Instantly the wolf was on its feet. The hair on its back bristled and it uttered a low warning growl. Although he was not fearful, Billy did feel concerned when he realized that his rifle was still in its scabbard. Both scabbard and gun were probably half way back to the ranch by now. As he looked on, the wolf purposefully trotted out of the gully. It looked back only once towards the human whose scent it now strongly detected. He continued to trot across the field until he was far onto the open expanse of grassland. The wolf finally disappeared from Billy's sight as he trotted into some brush. Billy let out a sigh of both relief and awe. Blake and every member of his tribe would be amazed at his encounter with the wolf.

After a long walk in the snow, Billy arrived back at the ranch. Just as he suspected Samson awaited him. The horse snorted sheepishly as he waited for Billy to unsaddle him and rub him down. Billy didn't even bother to chastise the runaway. "Samson, I'm sure that your forefathers knew that wolf scent means trouble. I don't blame you for running off but couldn't you have waited up at least one time for me?" For a reply, the horse just grunted, and devoured the oats Billy had left for him. It had been a long exciting day for both of them.

That night as Billy lay awake in bed, he heard a long mournful howl. He knew that this was no coyote. It could only have come from his friend the wolf. Since there was no answering call, he knew the wolf must be alone. The only thing that troubled him was that the howling had come from close to the cattle pens. Nothing I can do about it thought Billy, as he drifted off to sleep. Down on the porch, Pete and Max both lifted their heads from dozing, and growled nervously.

Their noses quivered in unison as they searched the night air currents for whatever had aroused them. The scent that reached their nostrils was one they had never smelled before. Instincts told them both that whatever animal was out there was one neither to be trusted nor trifled with. The hair stood up on their backs as they both growled again. Soundlessly they left the porch and padded off towards the pasture. For years they had been working as a team and they needed no human guidance for the challenge they now faced. As the dogs split up, some primal instinct directed them to try and find the path that the unknown intruder had taken. At last Pete caught the scent he had been searching for on a path that led directly to the cattle pens. He barked once sharply to let Max know his intentions. But unknowingly, this bark had put them both in perilous danger.

CHAPTER 11

The trail Pete followed was fresh. As a ranch dog, he was afraid of nothing that prowled in his domain. Therefore he rushed forward instead of waiting for Max. A cow dog is taught to protect the cattle from anything at any time. Pete had tangled with coyotes numerous times, but nothing in his background could prepare him for a confrontation with a wolf.

He was so intent on trailing his canine nemesis that Pete almost ran into him. The wolf had snuck into the pasture, pulled down a yearling calf, and was feeding on it. The wolf's attention had been on eating, but he was now alerted by the dog's bark. When Pete saw the wolf he didn't hesitate and sprang up to meet his enemy. In an instant the fight was on. Pete was greatly outmatched due to the wolf's strength. This was not a coyote, which would bark once or twice then flee. Pete was fighting the most powerful canine on earth. The wolf soon gained the advantage and rolled Pete on his back. His gaping mouth sought Pete's throat. The wolf would have quickly snapped Pete's neck if it hadn't been for the dog's thick leather collar which disrupted his grip. The wolf finally found the soft spot he was looking for and began to lock Pete's exposed throat in a death grip. The dog's struggles gradually decreased as the wolf applied steady pressure. Death for the dog would have been a certainty if Max hadn't piled on the wolf at the last second. The wolf quickly released Pete's throat and turned his attention to the new set of teeth that were clamped down in his back leg. Max hung on to the wolf's leg with all his might and bit down as hard as he could. The wolf immediately spun around, grabbed Max by his back hackles, and tore him loose from his damaged leg. With a twist of his head he flung Max into the snow, tearing a large gash in Max's back. The dog rolled in the snow and let out a tremendous yelp of pain.

Billy bolted upright in his bed; he had been awakened by Max's cry. He immediately ascertained by the tremendous amount of noise, that the dogs were fighting something outside. At least one of them was in deep trouble. The only thing he knew that would fight two dogs so viciously would be a wolf. As he threw his boots on and ran to get the rifle, he chided himself at being so lax about the wolf's presence. He ran from the house towards the sound of the fight. The flashlight in his hand blazed a beam of light that danced up and down as he ran. It seemed like forever, but in less than a minute he had caught up to the battle. He played the flashlight over the three struggling animals. It was clear that the same wolf he'd seen earlier was in a battle to the death with the two ranch dogs. Billy knew there would be time for just one shot and he quickly took it. As the loud boom echoed in the night air, the two dogs realized that help was near and they leapt clear of the snarling wolf. The wolf sprang to his feet and streaked off into the darkness un-hit. A tiny puff of smoke rose from the gun barrel that was pointed up into the sky.

Billy had decided that he would not kill the wolf if he didn't have to. Hoping to frighten off the wolf he had fired straight up into the air. It was an emotional decision to let the wolf go. He was torn between the right thing to do as a ranch hand and the way his tribe's customs governed him to act. Luckily the shot had scared the wolf off and allowed the dogs to break free. He knew that he would have killed the wolf if his plan had failed.

As he knelt beside the dead calf, he immediately deduced several things. First it was a late calf from last year. It would never have grown into a high dollar cow like most of its stable mates. Secondly, the calf had died quickly of a broken neck. Billy decided to salvage the carcass. He'd eat beef three times a day until the calf was completely consumed.

As he walked back to the porch he found both dogs under it. After a quick exam he decided both would be okay until morning when he would take a more thorough look at their injuries.

By the time he'd hung up the calf and skinned it, the first rays of sun were poking over the horizon. As he cut chunks of meat from the calf he realized just how happy he was that the wolf had not killed a mature animal. This young cow was small, about the size of a full grown mule deer. He'd been successful at hunting enough times so that he knew the correct way to process an animal of that size.

Later that morning he wrapped and labeled the last of the packages of meat and put them in the freezer. The dogs had been hanging around and begging for scraps with which he happily obliged them. Other than being cut up, the dogs seemed okay. They had been extremely lucky that the wolf hadn't had more time to battle them. Billy poured hydrogen peroxide into their cuts which caused the dogs to yelp, but he knew it would help prevent infections. He'd bring them to the vet if there were any signs of complications.

Billy figured that after the wolf had fought with the two ranch dogs, it wouldn't show its hide around this neck of the woods for a long time. He had the option of reporting it to the authorities or even tracking it down in the snow himself. Part of him knew his job was to take care of the ranch. That obviously meant making sure that the wolf would never prowl this rangeland again. He also knew it was wrong to cover up the death of the calf, but in the end, he decided to say nothing about the wolf at all.

CHAPTER 12

In the weeks that followed Billy kept up his grueling routine. If anything, the coming of spring meant an even harder day's work. Calves were born during the spring and if they were not cared for properly, then an entire year's profit would be lost. Luckily the Johnstones had arranged for a team of two Mexican ranch hands to help out during this critical time. Their names were Pedro and Rey. They spoke little English but Billy learned quickly that they knew exactly how to work with cattle. As a matter of fact, Billy learned more about ranching from these vaqueros in two weeks than he had known in all of his previous life. The two weeks of prime calving season passed quickly. Many calves were born and often times this happened at odd hours. So it was not unusual if Billy found himself up at two in the morning standing knee deep in thirty-five degree mud helping a reluctant calf successfully enter the world. After the three men had ensured the cattle were all properly cared for, the new calves and their mothers had to be separated from the other cattle. This involved placing them into separate enclosures. A job made more difficult by the fact that the new mothers were prone to fight when anyone came near their calves. Those jobs usually took up most of lunch time, so it had to be eaten as rapidly as possible. Tortillas and beef were the usual meal.

After lunch all of the cattle had to be fed. Since these were beef cattle, they required extra food so that they would fatten up to their required weight. Therefore countless bales of alfalfa had to be hauled from the cavernous barn. This task would last until well in the afternoon. The evening chores would consist of filling up water troughs, fixing fences, shoveling manure, and snow, taking care of the other animals and finally taking care of any personal chores. The days flew by and ran together in a jumbled and exhausting flow. They were complete prisoners to the needs of the cattle.

One day in late spring, Pedro approached Billy and said, "We about got things all finished up for dis year. Maybe tomorrow we take three of the horses out and check all the fences."

Billy didn't have to think twice, he almost shouted, "SURE!" He was very excited about the prospect of going out on a ride with Samson.

The next day the three riders set out into the chilly spring morning. The last time two cowboys and an Indian rode through here, they were probably shooting at each other. Billy chuckled at the thought. The horses trotted out in an easy ground eating pace. They had many miles of fences to check and all day to do it, so the men were in no hurry. Every so often they would come to a section of fence that was completely broken through or had a strand or two of wire missing. When this happened the three men would dismount, grab the coil of wire and the proper tools and mend the fence. They also had to clear the fence of brush and make sure the metal posts were still solidly anchored into the ground. The men talked and joked as they rode. They were happy to be at the end of a very long period of grueling work.

About noon the men stopped to make lunch. Pedro brought an old blackened coffee pot and a small Dutch oven out of his saddle bag. Rey found a dead cottonwood tree and broke off some of its branches. These he snapped into smaller pieces, and with them he was able to kindle a fire. Pedro filled the coffee pot with clean snow and set it next to the roaring fire. The pot began to hiss as the cold metal met the blazing fire. The fire began to die down a little and some good coals appeared. Using a stick, Pedro pushed some of the glowing embers away from the fire. He covered these with a thin layer of dirt that had become exposed because of the fire, and onto this layer he put the Dutch oven. He opened the lid of the pot and gestured for Billy to have a look. Inside he saw a frozen mixture that was comprised of a red sauce with hearty chunks of beef mixed in.

"Carne asada," Pedro explained.

He placed the pot next to the coffee and eventually it too began to steam.

The three men sat on a log by the fire and warmed up their hands. Although winter was just about over, the damp cold hung late this year like an unwanted house guest. As his two friends chatted together in Spanish, Billy decided to stretch his legs and scope out this unfamiliar country. He heard voices behind him and smiled as Pedro and Rey joined him.

"The carne asada got to simmer a while till it's done. Let's see what going on over dat rise." Rey suggested.

The three men topped the rise and found themselves looking out at the sage covered hills that sloped up to the timbered ridges so common in this country.

"We can almost see all de way to Canada from here," exclaimed Pedro.

The sight of such unspoiled beauty was certainly worth the walk. Suddenly in the distance Billy could hear Samson snorting urgently. Soon the other horses' cries could also be heard. The three men hustled back to camp. Nothing had been disturbed yet the horses pulled at their ropes and acted very nervous. It was obvious that something had spooked them. Suddenly Rey cried out and pointed to some tracks in the snow. He spoke in rapid Spanish. Billy knew a smattering of the language but not enough to keep up. He didn't need translation for the one word repeated excitedly several times; "lobo" or wolf!

CHAPTER 13

The huge tracks were plain to see. They came out of the brush and passed within thirty feet of the picketed horses. The two Mexican cowboys squatted down and eyeballed the tracks.

Pedro motioned Billy over. "He is not el gato grande, or as you call it, cougar. Look at his tracks."

Rey silently pointed to the five distinct claw marks in the track. "The cougar, she keeps her claws in when she walk, not el lobo."

Billy went to check on the horses while the other two men split up and began tracking the wolf. The horses were still rattled, but Billy's calm soft words settled them down.

Rey spoke excitedly as he returned. "He was watchin us de whole time. Good thing them horses say something or we would have lost them for sure."

Billy wasn't that easily persuaded that the wolf was out to harm the horses. His thoughts were confirmed when Pedro returned from following the direction the wolf had taken. "The wolf, he don't stop for nothin. He running so fast he might be in Canada by now."

Billy grinned to himself. He was rooting for the wolf. He realized however that his two friends might not be as lenient towards the intruder.

The wonderful aroma of lunch brought the men back to the fire. The food was delicious and the men had worked hard. Their appetite proved it. After the last of the spicy meat had been scooped up by tortillas and eaten, the men squatted silently around the fire.

At last Pedro said, "We goan have to watch the cattle closely now el lobo is here. He goan be hungry this time of year and he'll be lookin for a fat calf to steal. We best take shifts so somebody always be awake at night with the rifle, ready to shoot him if he come around the cattle."

Billy nodded along with the other men. He wasn't sure if he could kill the wolf, but he didn't want his friends to know that.

"Well boys dats enough excitement for one day," said Pedro as he untied his horse. "We best be getting back to the ranch before dark." The other two men got their horses ready in silent agreement with Pedro.

The journey back was bone chilling because the wind had begun to pick up. Billy noticed that along with the increased wind, huge gray clouds had begun to form. It was obvious to all of the men that a storm was building. Even the horses seemed to sense the change in the weather. They picked up their pace, eager to get back to the safety of the warm barn.

As the men and their horses exited the drafty valley, a set of eyes watched them go. A wolf's cry echoed after them, its warning went unheard in the howling wind.

CHAPTER 14

The storm that blew in that night was an unusual one for spring time in northeastern Washington. Normally the weather was mild and pleasant, with only the nights being cold. But this storm was spawned in the northern Canadian plains. It swept down into the U.S. and combined with a moisture filled storm coming from far out in the Pacific nicknamed the Pineapple Express. The frigid air combined with abundant moisture to produce a whopper of a blizzard.

Billy and his two amigos sat close to the blazing wood stove. Power at the ranch had gone out hours earlier, a victim of the fierce wind. They had plenty of firewood, and with candles to provide a bit of light, the men were comfortable enough. The only thing that disturbed their night was the fact that the animals needed to be checked every couple of hours. The men had agreed to take turns so as to fairly spread around the discomfort of riding out into the storm. Billy had the second shift which began at midnight. Pedro, who had just finished the first shift, came in and shook the ice off his coat. He nudged Billy's sleeping bag gently.

"Amigo, it's time to check the cattle. They gettin mighty restless out there. This storm makin them jumpy I guess." He went on to explain how the storm was growing in ferocity. "Be careful out there Billy, lots of wind and real cold, bundle up and we'll have de fire stocked and de coffee boilin when you get back."

Billy grinned at his friend. He had come to enjoy the company of the two hired hands. They were hard workers and very down to earth. They admired Billy for his work ethic and never asked him about his past or taunted him about his father's actions. It was a rare thing these days to have such good friends.

Billy hustled out to the barn. The wind had in fact picked up. It drove the fine snow horizontally. The icy pellets felt like grains of sand beating into his face. He pulled his wool jacket up as far as he could. He knew the wool would scratch his neck, but it would also keep him warm and dry while he was exposed to the elements. He found a head lamp and tightened it around his forehead. It would serve as his only light in the storm. Samson snorted nervously as he approached. Billy figured that the storm had him feeling uneasy. The wind continued to howl through cracks of the barn. It sent the fine snow sifting onto the dirt floor. Billy finished saddling his horse and made the cinch strap tight. He paused and waited until the horse breathed out and tightened the cinch one more notch.

"We've got to make sure your saddle doesn't come loose tonight buddy!"

He then grabbed the loose bridle and led the horse towards the main door. The door was big and heavy. It was on rollers and had to be manhandled to slide open. As soon as he had opened it just a fraction, the wind hit him. He heaved with all of his might as he fought both the power of the wind and the heaviness of the door. At last the door yielded and he and Samson were out. He jumped up on the horse and they started on the long cold journey.

By the time they had reached the south pasture he could barely see past Samson's nose. The great northern blizzard blocked out everything that would normally be easy to see. In order not to get lost they followed the fence. It acted as a slight break from the wind and snow. The cattle also knew this and as he rode along the fence he found them huddled against it. Their pitiful mooing let him know that they hated being in the storm as badly as he did. Their bodies appeared in the gloom as huge white snowy lumps only becoming cows when they shook themselves of snow and mooed at him. Eventually he came to a spot where the snow had been driven from the ground and swept into the next county. The ground was bare of snow, and with nothing to stop the snow it streaked past leaving a patch of brown on the white landscape. Billy could hear Samson's iron shod hooves pounding against the frozen ground.

Billy rode on further and found no more cattle. He guessed that they had stayed out of this windswept area. He decided to ride a little farther and check a gully at the end of the fence line. In the past he had sometimes found cattle bedded there. The wind in this area was especially fierce. Billy shivered, thinking of the warm fire and strong coffee that awaited him back at the ranch. Samson trudged up to the lip of the gully, intent on nothing more than getting to the shelter that it might bring. Billy was thinking to himself how good it would feel to get out of the hurricane like wind. Because both the horse and rider's minds were solely on gaining shelter from the wind, neither was watching ahead very carefully. Maybe it was the lack of sleep or more likely the wind drowning out all sound, but Billy was completely unaware of the danger until it was leaping at Samson. Billy caught only a vague streak in the beam of his headlamp. It bounded out of the night and came upon them before they had time to think. It was the wolf. He'd been holed up in the gully waiting for the storm to blow over when Samson had nearly stepped on him. In almost every other instance both animals would have been more alert and recognized each other's presence in time to avoid conflict. However this time was different due to the blizzard which all but shut off both creatures' senses.

Samson reacted as his instinctive fear of wolves had taught him. He reared high up on his back legs and began to kick out viciously in the direction of the wolf. The wolf though had already disappeared into the storm. Due to the suddenness of the encounter, Billy had no time to hold on. He was violently pitched into the rocks of the windswept gully. The last thing he remembered before he lost consciousness was the sickening thump his back made as it connected with a watermelon sized rock. After that he saw only stars and blackness as he pin wheeled into unconsciousness.

CHAPTER 15

Back at the house, Rey and Pedro began to worry about Billy when he didn't show up at the end of his shift. When they went out to the barn to saddle up their horses to go look for him they found Samson, riderless, standing obediently at the door. The storm had finally started to abate, but the wind had blown away whatever tracks Samson may have left.

Rey looked thoughtfully at the few tracks still left under the eve of the barn. They appeared to be going towards the fence line. It would be logical for Billy to follow the fence when checking on the cows, but he could easily have gone in several directions.

Rey looked up from the ground and said to Pedro, "Git those dogs. We see if they can help us find our amigo."

Pedro hustled off while Rey saddled two horses and rustled up headlamps and some warm clothes. After Pedro returned Rey explained, "We split up, and each of us will take one dog. They ain't gonna want to follow, so tie the dog up and drag him along if you have to. We gonna need their noses to sniff out Billy."

The situation was very obvious to both men. Billy was missing and most likely in trouble. With the freezing temperatures and brutal wind, it was imperative that they find him now. There was no time to get the sheriff or the local search and rescue team. Both would take hours to organize a search and Billy could freeze to death in that time. The two men rode off in to the storm knowing that their efforts could mean life or death for Billy.

The searchers separated at the first intersection of the fence. Rey took Pete and headed north to the back pasture. Despite the howling wind, Pete ranged ahead along the fence. Perhaps he could sense the gravity of the situation. Occasional marks in the snow appeared that could have come from Samson but because of the terrible conditions, tracking anything or anyone was out of the question.

Pedro and Max were equally unsuccessful in their search. Pedro had given up trying to get Max to help search. He'd boosted him into the saddle and now cradled him in his arms. Neither beast nor man should be out in this storm he thought.

The fruitless search had taken its toll on Pedro and he was tempted to turn around. For the last half hour he had seen no sign of anything other than a few snow coated cattle. Suddenly he felt Max tense up in his arms. The dog scratched at the saddle until he pulled himself clear and leapt down. Pedro lost sight of him as he disappeared into a low spot in the ground. When the dog failed to reappear and started barking excitedly, Pedro suspected he had finally found Billy.

CHAPTER 16

A terrible dilemma was laid straight at Pedro's feet. As he surmised he had indeed found Billy. His friend lay unconscious with his body bent backwards at an awkward angle. Pedro had been around long enough to know that any animal or person lying in a position such as this must have a serious back injury. Pedro also knew that a victim with an injury of such magnitude was not to be moved. This all flashed through his head as he knelt by the boy. He could see tiny puffs of Billy's breath curl up and then get torn away by the relentless wind. Seeing this, he knew there was at least some life left in his friend. He noticed that the young man's body was trembling and realized immediately that he needed to get Billy warm or he would freeze to death. With the horrible wind, there was no hope of kindling a fire so Billy would have to be taken back to the ranch regardless of further injury to his back.

Pedro was at a loss as to how he would ever get Billy back to safety. There was no way that he could ever get Billy off of the ground and into the saddle. Even if he could somehow be lifted into the saddle, he'd just quickly fall over. Pedro pounded his fists against his thighs. If only he could think of a way!

Suddenly an idea came to him. He covered Billy with his own coat and tucked it tightly under the unresponsive body. He jumped on his horse and guided it around back the way he had come. What he was looking for turned out to be a very old truck whose rusted remains had been abandoned along the south fence for as long as anybody could remember. His horse almost ran into the hunk of metal but stopped just in time. Pedro quit the saddle and ran to the front of the truck. He lifted the hood and ripped it open. Moving to the side he gripped it carefully and tugged the hood back and forth. After thirty seconds the old metal could take the force no longer. The entire hood wrenched free into his grasp.

He dropped it and raced to his horse. Grabbing his catch rope off the saddle he threw it out allowing it to uncurl quickly. In a flash, he attached one end to the pommel of his saddle and the other end to the stainless steel hood ornament. A small grin came to his face as he jumped on the horse and rode back to Billy. He now had an instant sled!

With the old hood bouncing behind his horse, Pedro hurried back to Billy. When he arrived he was relieved to see that Billy was still breathing and that the coat was keeping the wind away from the boy. Pedro was starting to get cold himself but he decided to leave Billy covered with his coat. As carefully as he could, he rolled Billy into the concave side of the old hood. He whistled to Max and pushed him in beside Billy. The dog seemed to sense the seriousness of the situation and lay beside Billy without protest. With a dog and extra coat to keep him warm, Billy just might make it, thought Pedro. The Mexican cowboy then jumped onto his horse and gave it a kick. He moved out slowly with the sled pulling along steadily through the snow. The curve of the top of the hood kept most of the snow from rolling onto Billy.

Pedro hurried as carefully as he could but the "sled" occasionally hit rocks or sagebrush in the snow. Several times Billy groaned loudly as his back was jolted by the rough terrain. Pedro knew he had no choice but to hurry, regardless of the obstacles. He continued his ride through the storm towards the safety of the ranch house. He knew a jolting ride through the snow could cripple or even kill his close friend, but he had to hurry. Luckily the horse knew the way and at last the vague silhouette of the ranch house came into view.

Without his own coat for warmth, Pedro's entire body had become numb. His mouth was too cold to yell and his hands too cold to move. The grim reality was that he might die before he could fumble with the latch and get the barn door open. His mind imagined that the falling snow would make a wonderful bed. He shook his head to clear it. He had to get the barn door open and get Billy and himself out of the cold. With a final supreme effort he threw his shoulder against the side of the door and was immensely gratified when it moved grudgingly aside and yielded to his effort.

Later Rey found his two amigos frozen, but alive, in the barn. Incredibly the unconscious men lay in a bed of hay which Pedro had somehow managed to cover both Billy and himself with. It was an extremely brave man who showed so much courage and determination to save the life of a friend that night.

CHAPTER 17

Brilliant white light beat down into the slits of his eyes. He heard voices that were speaking, but they were vague and fading in and out. There was a constant aching throb from his head but nowhere else. But what Billy felt most of all, was a jumble of confusion and a desperate tiredness. How many times he faded in and out of consciousness, Billy didn't know. Finally though, a single word got through the cobwebs and made it into his consciousness. It was his own name being called out over and over again by a female voice. Mom? he thought. The voice persisted, tugging at him, willing him to respond. He tried to ignore it because sleep was so easy, but the voice was like a vacuum sucking him in. He opened his eyes half way and made an attempt to see who was tormenting him. For a brief moment he thought he saw his mother's face. "Mom?"

"No Billy, it's me!" A face materialized out of the brightness and leaned over him. The vision gained in clarity.

The shock of recognition gave a jolt to Billy's lethargy. "Carolyn!"

He settled back down in his bed and a slight smile came to his face as he felt her hand grasp his.

"What happened?" was all he could manage to say.

Through the course of the next hour Carolyn told Billy everything about the accident. He lay there and silently listened. She told him of how Pedro had found him injured and nearly frozen to death. She went on to tell him about how he'd been in the hospital for a week, and that he'd nearly died the first day there. His heart had been shocked by this ordeal and as he learned later, if he hadn't been a young man in good shape, he would never have survived.

With all the tubes in his body and his daily dosages of pain killers, Billy liked sleeping most of the day away. He'd wake up periodically and see Carolyn's face. Sometimes he'd talk to her softly, other times he just fall back to sleep within seconds. As the days passed, Billy began to become acutely aware of one important thing. Although he felt very sore in his upper body, his lower body was completely numb.

Finally a day came when he awoke with more energy than usual. He was also ravenously hungry. Carolyn was nowhere to be seen but eventually a nurse came in to check on him, "Good morning Sunshine," she said, "How's my favorite patient doing today?" Billy was unsure how he could have been her favorite patient when he didn't even recognize her.

Nevertheless, he managed a smile and simply said, "I'm hungry!"

The nurse, whose name tag said "Joanne" smiled and said, "Tired of eating from a tube, eh? I'll see what I can do for you."

She whisked in a few minutes later carrying a tray with pudding and a glass of ice water. She adjusted Billy's bed so that he could sit up and eat.

"No solids for you for a while. This will keep you going for a little bit though," she said with a grin. She looked on silently as Billy ate eagerly. When he was finished she asked him how he felt.

"I feel tired and sore, my legs are numb but I'm sure I will be back to normal, right?" Billy ended the sentence with a question in his voice. Joanne caught on at once. Instead of answering, she turned and quickly left. Billy thought her behavior was odd, but surmised that she must have lots of work to do besides waiting on him.

He began to acquire a pattern of longer periods of wakefulness. Usually when he awoke, Blake, Carolyn, or a nurse was there. Once he awoke and found his father sitting by his bedside with a look of great concern on his face. Billy said, "Hi." But his father only leaned in closer as if to study Billy with intense scrutiny. Later Billy wondered if he had dreamed it but during another time of wakefulness Blake confirmed that his father had been visiting him regularly. "He was sober every time," Blake reported. Billy grinned as he fell back to sleep.

Finally a day came when Billy awoke feeling very refreshed. He looked up and Carolyn was sitting by his bed reading a book.

She quickly put it down when she realized he was awake. "Hey stranger, how are you feeling?"

Billy managed a grin. "Other than feeling like I got squashed by a tank, I don't feel too bad. I remember you telling me what happened, but why won't anyone tell me why I can't feel my legs? They don't hurt but when I move in this bed, they don't move with me."

The pleasant look that had been on Carolyn's face now turned into an expression of pain. Immediately Billy knew something was very wrong and that Carolyn hadn't told him everything.

Carolyn's lip trembled. She started to speak and said simply, "I'm not the one who can best tell you about your legs, the doctor will have to do that."

Her lack of an answer infuriated Billy who in his mind had been patient far too long. "Well, if you won't tell me what the hell is wrong with my legs, why don't you explain to me why you wear a P.E.T.A. jacket and why when I drove up your driveway you were holding hands with another man?"

Tears streamed down Carolyn's face. "Is that how you feel about me? For starters my jacket says PET "A" on the back. The clinic was given PET "A" dog food to sell. Billy, they gave us the jackets free if we would display their product. PET "A" dog food has nothing to do with P.E.T.A.! Secondly, the man who you saw in my driveway was my brother. He is in the army and was scheduled to ship-out overseas. He was good enough to spend three days with me before he left and I am grateful that he did! And one more thing Billy, you really need to do a better job of appreciating those who care! If you'll excuse me now, I've got to go to work." With that, Carolyn turned and left.

Before Billy had time to ponder the events that had just unfolded, loud laughter filled the room.

Blake strode in with a grin on his face. "Nephew, it looks like you have not lost your touch with the girls!"

Billy wasn't buying into his uncle's joke. "Blake, everyone here including you, has been talking in riddles. This all has to stop now! I want, no I need to know what is wrong with my legs." Blake's grin immediately disappeared. Blake slowly shook his head and said simply, "I'll get the doctor."

Billy fretted for the next five minutes. He realized that the matter was entirely out of his hands. True to his word Blake returned with a man Billy assumed was the doctor.

The man smiled and offered his hand to Billy. "Hi, I'm Doctor Barter."

He took a seat on Billy's bed and began to speak. "Billy you've been through a terrible accident that would have killed most men. The only reason you are alive is because you are young and in great shape. Your body was able to overcome most of what occurred but I'm afraid it can't overcome what happened to your legs and back. You see Billy, when you were thrown from the horse your pelvis was crushed on the rocks. Getting drug back to the cabin on the old truck hood made matters much worse. When the back is injured it is imperative to stabilize the victim before transporting him. What I am saying is that the fall severely injured your back and the ride back to the cabin paralyzed you. We still have more tests to do, but it is very likely you will spend the rest of your life in a wheelchair."

CHAPTER 18

The next few days passed in a blur. Each day was filled with friends, relatives, tribe members, doctors, priests and even a medicine man. Each person had a positive message for Billy but the bottom line remained that he was, and would stay, paralyzed from the waist down.

As always the two most important people in his life, Blake and Carolyn visited him every day. Carolyn seemed to have forgiven him for his misunderstandings about P.E.T.A. and her brother. Blake of course, was his usual cheerful self. Their visits helped with the terrible depression he now felt about his incurable condition.

Days, then weeks, of physical therapy followed. Billy slowly learned how to get around in a wheelchair. There was a little bit of good news when Billy regained some feeling in his lower waist. He was able to use a real bathroom now instead of being hooked up to a bag. Unfortunately, that was the extent of his return to normality. His body had repaired itself as much as it could. The fact remained that his legs would never again have feeling and because of that he would be forever unable to walk.

Depression set in, and Billy began eating less. Blake claimed he looked as skinny as a starved out three legged coyote. He simply collapsed in the hospital bed and watched soap operas all day. It got to the point where some days, he refused all of his meals. The hospital staff tried everything to get him to eat but he refused even the most tempting offerings.

One day a doctor cornered Blake and spoke frankly. "We've done all that we can for your nephew. Keeping him here is just slowly killing him. He needs to go back into his familiar surroundings and get into some sort of a routine."

Blake thought for a minute and slowly nodded in agreement. "Doc, I think you're right. Because of all that has happened I failed to see what Billy really needs. It is not this hospital. He needs to get back into the woods to cleanse his soul."

The next day Billy found himself being wheeled out of the hospital and into Blake's old pick-up. The hospital staff helped Billy into the passenger seat and adjusted his seatbelt. They wheeled his chair away and Blake headed the truck out of the parking lot.

The trip back remained a quiet one until finally Billy blurted out, "How in the world am I going to pay that hospital bill, and how am I going to get around now that they have taken away my wheelchair?"

Blake chuckled, "Money has never worried you before boy, why now?" Without waiting for an answer he went on. "Billy, you are an Indian and that was an Indian hospital on federal land. They'll take care of most of the bills. The rest was covered by a drive Carolyn set up to collect money to help your lazy butt out!"

Even Billy chuckled at that one. "I'll take being lazy any day over working for you!"

Blake continued, "To answer your second question, there was money left over after the hospital bill was paid, so Carolyn and I bought you a new wheelchair. It is smaller and light weight, just like the kind of wheelchair that athletes use. You can do most anything."

Billy retorted angrily, "Can it help me ride a horse?"

Blake paused and then answered back slowly. "Billy, you've got to realize just how lucky you are to be alive and how many people are out there who love you and have been praying for you. I have no idea what it is like to be in your shoes now, but you've got to take the bumps God gives you, get back up, and do the best you can." Billy didn't say anything for a while. He was thinking of Blake's sage advice.

Finally he grinned slightly and said, "Uncle Blake, for a member of the F.B.I, you sure are wise."

"F.B.I?" Blake said.

"Full Blood Indian," chuckled Billy.

As the truck pulled up to Blake's hacienda two familiar forms came rushing out from the porch barking furiously. "Max and Pete!" Billy exclaimed.

Blake explained, "Angela thought you might like a couple of familiar faces to meet you when you arrived. We can keep them here with you until they are needed for the cattle round-up in the fall."

The dogs leaped in the truck through Blake's open door and licked Billy furiously. Blake came around to the other side of the pickup and helped Billy into his new wheel chair. Billy's strong arms grasped both wheels and immediately pulled the front tires up into a wheelie. He raced down the driveway to the main road and back again. With a huge grin he wheeled up to Blake. Billy didn't have to say a thing. The grin on his face told the whole story.

"So you like it?" Blake asked.

Billy grinned and said, "I LOVE it, it's a thousand times better than my old one!"

Later that day, after Billy had worn himself out with his new toy, Blake motioned for Billy to follow him. As they headed toward the barn, Billy wheeled the chair expertly. It hadn't taken him long to get the hang of it. He marveled at the freedom it gave him.

Blake spoke up, "Do you have enough energy in you for one more surprise?" Billy nodded and Blake muscled open the heavy old barn door.

As the door opened Billy saw an old friend, "Samson!" he yelled in joy.

Billy wheeled quickly up to Samson. The horse had never seen a wheel chair speeding towards him and reacted as horses do when frightened. As Blake watched helplessly, Samson reared up and lashed out his hooves at the perceived threat. Billy and his wheelchair tumbled completely over. Billy hit the ground hard as the horse raced past him.

CHAPTER 19

Billy felt himself being picked up by strong arms and gently put back into his wheelchair. A cowboy hat fanned much needed air into his face. He saw Blake looking at him anxiously.

Billy managed a crooked grin and said. "I feel like I've been run over by a tornado!"

"Nope," replied Blake, "What hit you was nothing but pure horsepower!"

Billy checked himself over carefully. Finding nothing apparently wrong he breathed a sigh of relief. Later as Blake pulled Billy up the stairs into his house he explained to Billy that things with Samson would take time to get back to how they were.

"Billy, you've got to understand that Samson went through a trauma too. He lost his master and friend. I've been a stand in for you. I sensed in the last month or so that he had given up hope of ever seeing you again. When you suddenly rolled up in that wheelchair, he didn't know what to do. So he reacted like any scared animal would when faced with the unknown. That's why he acted the way he did, and just like you, he needs time to heal."

Just as Blake had predicted, Samson slowly returned to his old self. In the ensuing weeks the horse and the young Indian bonded once again. Time, the one thing both of them had plenty of, gave them the hours they needed to reconnect.

Billy started a daily routine with his horse. He'd enter the barn at daylight, feed and curry Samson, and then the two of them would go for a "walk" around the ranch grounds. The horse would lead as Billy gamely wheeled himself behind. If they came to a spot too rugged for Billy to push through, Samson would pull Billy. Blake had been the one to come up with the idea of trailing a rope behind the horse. It hung off Samson's left side at about his belly level. Billy would hold on with his right arm. In almost every case, this enabled Samson to pull Billy through the rough spots.

Although Billy now had a purpose to each day, Blake was worried about his nephew's future. Billy's father had visited his son a couple of times since the accident.

It was as if Burt wanted to make peace with Billy but for some reason he was unable to do so. Blake also worried about the unchangeable fact that as autumn rolled around he would have to go back into the hills to guide hunters. Samson could come along, but as for Billy, it was out of the question. It snowed often and hard in the high country and it was no place for a wheelchair bound person.

Billy knew the fact that Blake would have to leave soon, as well as how things stood with his father. The thing that tormented him the most however, was the fact that he would never be able to compete with Samson in the Suicide Race. It ate at him that he had trained himself and his horse so hard, and so long, for nothing. That was bad, but the worst part was that he would never be able to clear up his family honor. Although he had nothing to do with it, some of the tribal members still looked down on him because of his father's apparent cheating.

It didn't take long before each day took on the sameness of the previous day. Visits from Carolyn helped, but Billy couldn't help but wonder how much longer a beautiful woman would want to hang around a crippled Indian.

An act of kindness by Blake and Burt improved Billy's spirit for a short while. One day the two brothers came driving up in an old pickup. It had been broken down and abandoned at his father's house the last time Billy had seen it.

They both got out and walked up to Billy. "We've got something we want to show you," said Blake, who did all of the talking.

They left the door open which allowed Billy to wheel up and look inside. Billy's eyes widened as he saw that the brake and gas pedals had been modified so that they could be used without his legs. Billy pulled himself into the driver's seat and tried the levers that took the place of foot pedals.

"Well what are you waiting for kid? Start her up!"

Billy did just that. He slowly circled around the driveway then headed quickly out to the pasture. The pickup took off in a cloud of dust heading towards the upper field.

"He'll be alright up there," Blake said, "Nothing there that can hurt him." Burt grinned back at his brother.

Although the truck gave Billy a new found freedom, he still saw no light at the end of the tunnel. The idea of being unable to walk, of being stuck in a wheelchair for life, was like being wrapped forever in some hellish cocoon.

Day after day the hopelessness of the situation ate at him. He began to spend less time with Samson and more time in his room. He did try to keep positive, and one day on the spur of the moment he drove to the clinic to show Carolyn his new truck. Unfortunately, she was in the middle of surgery on a dog and couldn't spare the time needed to see him.

More and more, he found himself aimlessly daydreaming. It just seemed to him that the world was passing him by. His life lacked purpose and he had nothing left to look forward to. His dreams were gone. The Marines don't take cripples he thought angrily.

One day Blake came over and literally hauled him out of his room and wheeled him outside. "Billy Boy, you and I are going to the back of the pasture to fall one of those dead cottonwood trees. We can buck it into smaller pieces and it will make excellent firewood."

Billy scowled and said, "My wheelchair could never make it through the woods!" Blake said nothing and simply disappeared behind the barn. He came back leading Samson. Hooked up to Samson was something Billy hadn't seen since he was a kid. It was an Indian travois.

Indians used the travois for many years to haul their possessions from camp to camp. The one Samson was pulling was made up of two pine poles about twelve feet in length. They crossed slightly above Samson's head and were tied together just behind the horse's neck. They were then snugged up to the pommel, or handle, of the saddle. The remaining end of the poles reached back behind the horse and dragged on the ground. A piece of canvas was tied across the two trailing poles, which enabled Billy to sit and ride on it. With extended bridle reins, Billy could control the horse.

Blake helped Billy out of his wheelchair and onto the travois. As Samson trotted away Billy hung on for dear life. After a while though he became adjusted to the bouncing and swaying and soon he was at ease with this new mode of transportation.

After a long day of practice, Billy had learned to control both Samson and the travois by himself. Blake did the cutting and Billy and Samson hauled the pieces of firewood back to the cabin. Billy rode on top of the load and then flung the pieces off into a pile. Then they'd head back to the woods for another load. On each trip back, Billy challenged Samson to drag him faster and faster. Billy loved the feeling of the wind and the thud of Samson's hooves. It was the greatest thrill he had experienced since the accident.

The next morning Blake carried a cup of coffee to Billy's room and handed it to him. "I've gotten all of my chores done around here. It's time for me to get up into the woods and set up the camp for this year's hunters. I'll be bringing the horses up next week." Of course, it went without saying that Samson had to go too, thought Billy.

"I'll be o.k.," he mumbled to Blake.

With that he turned to face away from Blake. A few minutes later Billy heard the truck start up and leave.

The next morning Billy awoke to an exceptionally beautiful sunrise. This motivated him, and he quickly pulled himself out of bed and into his chair. He got himself washed up and dressed. As he wheeled himself out to the pasture, he whistled loudly for Samson. The horse perked up his ears and came quickly. He sensed his master's energy. It was a struggle, but Billy was able to hitch the travois up to Samson all by himself. With a flick of the reigns, off they went.

Billy pushed the horse and himself hard. By lunch time they were in a rhythm that was a pleasure for both man and horse. Samson was a quick learner, and with just a gentle tug to either side of the reins, Billy was able to communicate direction to his horse. By laying forward and flat in the travois and grasping a rein in each hand, Billy was once again enjoying a freedom he thought he would never experience. He and Samson would once more be a team!

At mid-day Billy turned the travois back towards the barn. The day had been exhilarating for him but the rough ride had failed to tire him out. He was sure Samson felt the same way. Once in the barn, Billy unhooked the long poles from alongside Samson and let the travois slide to the ground. Samson happily trotted out of the barn for a quick roll in the dirt.

Billy cooked himself a hearty lunch and cleaned up. It had been an inspiring day and now he had another brainstorm. He carefully wheeled himself back outside. He eased his way over to his truck. His luck held as he saw that Blake had left the trailer hitch on the bumper. He slid himself into the driver's seat and wrestled his wheelchair inside the truck. The next part would be very difficult, for he had to back the truck up to the horse trailer so that the bumper's hitch met exactly at the receiver of the trailer. Normally this was done with two people. One person acting as a spotter, and the other a driver, but Billy had only himself. He backed the truck up as close to where he thought he had things lined up. He then killed the engine, put on the parking brake and wrestled out his chair to see how he had done. He wheeled himself to the back of the truck and groaned as he saw he was about a foot to the right. Back to the truck he went to start the entire process over again. It took him nine tries and over an hour until he got it right. Finally with a thud, the trailer hitch fit perfectly over the ball on the bumper.

Happy, but not done yet, Billy called to the horse as he wheeled himself into the barn. Once again he hooked the travois to Samson who then loyally followed Billy up to the horse trailer. He quickly unhooked the travois and spanked Samson on the rump. With a squeal the horse jumped up into the trailer. Billy slid the travois alongside Samson and wrestled the gate of the trailer shut behind him. Billy was exhausted but exuberant as he pulled himself, and the chair, into the truck and then started down the road. Wouldn't Blake be surprised at the guest who showed up at hunting camp that night?

CHAPTER 20

"What the hell are you doing here?" Blake asked incredulously. "I told you that I needed time to get the camp ready. Don't you understand this is how I make my money? You and I both need this money to survive on. How can I get this camp set up and look after you at the same time?" Blake's rant was certainly not the greeting Billy expected.

When Blake saw the look of anguish in Billy's face, he softened a little.

"Look," he said, "We need to talk." He took a seat on a stump next to Billy.

"Everyone knows the trauma you have been through, but few people, including yourself, know the pain those who love you went through. Your father, Carolyn and I worried and prayed about you. I even brought a medicine man in from Montana to pray to the Great Spirit for your recovery. You should have seen the hospital staff going crazy when he burned some sage and filled the room with smoke. They about hung me over that one. The point is that all of us sacrificed mentally for you and in spite of that, your legs did not heal. We are all at the point now of regrouping and figuring out how to help you move on. Billy, you'll forever be crippled and we all have to deal with that. Your options are very limited as to what you can do. Have you thought about that?"

When Blake finally stopped there was a long period of silence.

Billy finally replied, "Are you saying you're finished helping me? If that's the case, then I can take care of myself." Sadly he wheeled himself away.

Blake shouted after him, "Billy, it's not that I don't want to look out for you, it's that sometimes I am unable to."

If Billy heard or even cared to listen, he didn't show it. Blake watched with a helpless feeling as Billy silently wheeled himself over to the truck. He lifted himself and his chair into the cab. With a loud clash of gears, the truck and horse trailer disappeared in a swirl of dust.

CHAPTER 21

The drive down the mountain gave Billy plenty of time to reflect on everything that had happened. He thought about tonight, his accident, and even things before that. It seemed to him that his life had been one disappointment after another.

His mother had died when he needed her most. His father had cheated in the Suicide Race and consequently ceased playing a significant role in Billy's life. His girlfriend didn't, or couldn't, make time for him. Even his cherished horse had thrown him into the rocks which turned him into a useless cripple. Now Blake, his beloved uncle, didn't have time for him anymore. His dream of becoming a Marine was gone. There just wasn't much future for a man with useless legs.

As he turned off the dirt road and onto the pavement, he noticed a busy stream of traffic on what was normally a lightly used road. When he saw that every other rig pulled a horse trailer it occurred to him that this was Suicide Race week. Some races took place at night under floodlights and judging by the amount of traffic, there must be a race happening tonight.

Almost without thinking he pulled into the stream of traffic and headed towards town. Since the day had been so disappointing this might just be the thing he needed to cheer himself up.

He followed the other trucks into the rodeo grounds. Parking for trucks with horse trailers was ample and he had no trouble finding a spot. He got himself situated in his chair and wheeled around to where he could see Samson. The horse was excited and jittery with all of the noise and smell of other people and horses. "Easy boy, I need you to stay here and relax, I'll be back soon enough." He heard the horse reply with a soft snort as he wheeled away.

Billy had rarely been out in public since his accident and the size and volume of the crowd nearly overwhelmed him. His goal was to wheel up somewhere near the river where he could watch the racers come down the hill and cross the river to the side he was on.

The crowd of people made Billy's progress extremely difficult. They bumped his wheelchair, stepped in front of his path, and generally drove him crazy. It was just no use he thought, as another person blocked his already limited view. He could hear the race but seeing it from this side of the river was impossible.

Suddenly he found his chair being grabbed from behind and spun around. He balled his fists up in anger ready to strike at whoever was toying with him. Before he could react though, a familiar voice reassured him.

"Hey Cuz, didn't mean to scare you, I was just messin with you."

It was one of Billy's cousins who he'd gotten along with fairly well before the accident but whom he hadn't seen since.

"Man you really are messed up! Sorry, I didn't come see you in the hospital. I never was much for going to such a depressing place."

"Ah...No problem," said Billy, who was rapidly tiring of his cousin's presence.

"Hey," said his cousin, "me and the boys are gonna finish this off after the races, but I don't want my dad to catch me with it. Here, you take it, and I'll find you after the races and we can polish it off."

With that he thrust a quart of cheap whiskey into Billy's hands.

"Nobody will ever suspect a dude in a wheelchair. Catch you in a couple of hours, Cuz!" With that he disappeared into the crowd. Billy quickly stashed the bottle under his coat.

He dejectedly wheeled himself back to the truck. Again the feeling of overwhelming hopelessness came crushing down on him. As he wheeled past the horse trailer, Samson snorted. The sound of his horse, the horse he could never ride again, only served to deepen his depression. He climbed into the truck's cab, rolled down the window, and listened to the race that he had once planned to participate in. Although it had been his greatest dream to race, he glumly knew that it would never happen.

As he adjusted the seat to get more comfortable, he felt the hard glass bottle poke him in the side. He took the bottle out from the inside of his coat and studied it. They say this will grow hair on you, he thought to himself. Too bad it doesn't grow new legs. Figuring he had nothing to lose, he loosened the cap and tried a swallow. The molten liquid burned all the way from his throat to his stomach. Horrible stuff he thought, but it matched his foul mood perfectly. He took another swig and started his truck. He thought that perhaps the view of the race might be better from the other side of the river.

He pulled out of the lot and swung back through town heading for the bluffs where the race started. As he drove ahead he realized he had forgotten that over the course of time many houses had been built around where the race started. The streets became more crowded and narrow. This was no place for a big truck and horse trailer. Several cars began honking, and soon the others joined in. Try as he might Billy just couldn't navigate the narrow streets any faster. As the honking behind him became more persistent, Billy finally gave up and pulled right up onto somebody's lawn. They'd neither know nor care he thought because undoubtedly, they'd be at the race too.

He looked again at the bottle lying beside him on the seat. What the heck he thought. He drank a big swallow and this time felt the whiskey immediately rush to his head.

The alcohol however failed to cheer him up. He felt more depressed and lonely than ever before. He'd come so close to living his dreams but one catastrophic event had changed everything. He had lost control of his life, his legs, and his relationships. It was especially depressing to know that Samson would never again feel his weight in the saddle.

The more he thought about it, the more despondent he became. Suddenly an idea came into his mind with surprising clarity. He would show everyone that he could still get around by using Samson and his travois. He was desperate to prove to everyone that he was not a useless cripple, but rather a proud productive man. He would show them a man who was still able to move about freely, a man in charge of his own destiny.

He took another swig from the now half empty bottle and eased himself out of the truck. He struggled mightily because of his drunken condition. He just could not get his wheel chair out. In the end he gave up and decided to just pull himself along with his hands towards the back of the trailer. He was a strange sight indeed crawling along grotesquely towards the back of the truck.

Several passersby started to help him but he shook them off. "I don't need anybody's help!" he shouted.

Several of the people looked at him shaking their heads. "Drunken Indian!" one of them muttered. That last comment cut him deeply.

He hurled the bottle at the retreating people. As it smashed into the asphalt he screamed, "I'll show you what a drunken Indian can do!"

Almost maniacally he opened the back of the horse trailer and pulled out the travois. Samson snorted nervously sensing his master's distress. But being a loyal and bright horse he obediently backed out of the trailer which made Billy's job of hooking up the travois that much easier.

His paralysis along with the alcohol made every task extremely difficult. The one thing that he did have on his side was extreme stubbornness and in the end he got everything hooked up and ready to go.

As Samson started off at a trot, Billy had a very difficult time guiding him around cars and past people. Luckily most of them stepped aside when they saw him coming, although a few made snide comments when Samson nudged them out of the way. The closer he got to where the race started the more crowded the streets became. Finally he came to the fence where the horses were staged before the upcoming races. He could go no further.

There he sat for the next half hour hearing the races starting yet not seeing them due to his poor position. People hemmed him in but other than the occasional odd look, they left him alone. Depression again set in. He had come all this way for nothing. Nobody at all was seeing what he could do. His despair must have been apparent, because a sheriff's deputy with a police dog came up to chat with him. The cop remembered Billy from before the accident. He was a little suspicious about how Billy was acting, but he figured that Billy's personality had changed due to the terrible accident. As they talked, the dog and Samson reached an uneasy truce. Finally the officer smiled and said, "I don't think it would hurt if I let you into the starting area where you will have a better view."

As he slid open the gate, Samson and Billy squeezed in. Billy thanked the officer and guided Samson to a much better spot. As the horse pulled him around he was able to visit with some of the other riders. Most of them knew him and knew of his accident. For the most part they were polite but since Billy was no longer able to ride, the conversations gradually ended. Billy had been hoping that he could reconnect with his old riding buddies but he could see now that it would never happen. He did not share the same bond with them that he once had.

Again he felt his bitterness building up. He felt like a hopeless freak getting around in a travois the likes of which his tribe hadn't used for many years. The whiskey had him depressed and light headed. He felt as if life had played an incredibly cruel joke on him.

Suddenly two events happened simultaneously that would forever change Billy's life and everyone else around him who witnessed the event. First the gun sounded starting the next race. At that precise instant the police dog that had moved next to Samson let out a loud aggressive bark. It will never be known whether the horse mistook the bark of the police dog to be that of his enemy the wolf, or if he heard the starter's gun and simply reacted. Whatever the cause, the end result was unchangeable as Samson took off at a dead run joining the other horses heading directly for the lip of the cliff.

CHAPTER 22

In a split second Billy was both living his dream and about to die because of it. Samson had caught up with the middle of the pack. All of the horses were seconds from plunging over the cliff to the river at the bottom. By instinct Billy simply went with the situation. He neither tried to stop Samson nor encourage him on. He just held on with firm resolve to see this through to the inevitable conclusion.

The crowd seemed shocked at first to see Billy and his sled careening towards the sheer drop. A few however did not pick up on the gravity of the situation and roared their approval. Billy heard those roars and all of the months of frustration and anguish came to a head. There was no time for fear, only action. He grabbed the reins tightly, let out an Indian war whoop, and whipped Samson's flanks with the leather guides.

It was everything he dreamed it would be. The crowd was going wild. There was the deafening sound of horses' hooves pounding the earth and riders screaming as they goaded their horses towards the plunge. The travois jerked wildly from side to side as it pulled nearer and nearer to the other horses' thundering hooves. Billy held on with his heart racing but mind surprisingly at ease. He knew now as most of the audience did that this would literally be his suicide plunge in every sense of the phrase.

Suddenly Billy heard nothing but silence as his sled started to sail over the abyss. He got a surreal sensation of floating as he shot out from the edge. Calmness came over him because he knew what the result would be when his crippled body landed in the midst of the charging horses. He would have freedom from life restricted to a wheelchair, freedom from being half a man. He embraced his impending death with a dull sense of satisfaction. He was going out his own way. He closed his eyes and imagined himself soaring above the crowd into the heavens.

At the last second, the back end of the travois hit the edge of the precipice and was smashed to pieces. Billy was flipped up and over Samson's head. He landed with a sickening thud on the steep hill. His mind only comprehended one thing; impending doom as a dozen sets of horse hooves tore into his helpless body. He felt, rather than saw, a horse looming over him and he braced for the violent impact. That impact never came.

The looming horse was Samson, and in Samson's last act on this earth, he stood and protected his master's body with that of his own. Like a rock in the middle of a stream, Samson stood and took the blows of horse after horse. The blows which would have torn Billy to pieces were instead impacting on the brave horse's body.

Some of the riders were able to steer their horses around the obstacle in their path. Unfortunately however, most riders could not avoid it in time. Over and over, Billy felt and heard the ugly wet sound of flesh striking flesh, as horse after horse slammed into Samson at full speed. Samson took each blow with a determination that seemed impossible to keep up. He shielded Billy's helpless body with every ounce of strength he had. To Billy it seemed that the punishment Samson took went on forever. Reality was that it was all over in the course of 10 seconds or so but in those 10 seconds, dozens of flailing hooves cut the horse to pieces.

Suddenly the sounds of the race moved downhill from Billy. A couple of the last riders had been able to rein their horses up short of the plunge and those two riders immediately forgot about racing and rushed to Billy's aid. Billy sat up with their help and it was apparent that he would be alright.

Samson on the other hand was not so lucky. Scores of open wounds covered his body which bled freely. Billy shook off his two helpers and crawled to his horse. Samson's head was on the ground and as Billy crawled to him their eyes locked. One set of eyes was tearful and knowing, the other set of eyes had already begun to glaze over. Billy hugged his horse's head with one arm and pounded the sand with the other. He had seen enough dying animals to know that Samson's time left in this world was short. As he watched an ever widening pool of blood stain the sand, he felt a hand touch him lightly on his cheek. He looked up and saw Carolyn at his side. He noticed her official smock which read "Race Veterinarian." He also noticed her black bag of instruments and medicine. No words passed between them as Billy nodded towards the bag. Tears streamed out of Carolyn's eyes as she nodded back. She knew what needed to be done. Swiftly she withdrew a hypodermic syringe. A quick plunge of the needle into the horse's neck ended all of his suffering.

CHAPTER 23

The race that so nearly ended Billy's life really wound up saving it. All of the townspeople and tribal members who witnessed the event that day would be forever changed. Never in the history of the tribe had a horse and rider acted with such courage. He went from being an anonymous cripple, to a beloved hero.

After the race Billy reconnected with his father. The two became a team on the road. Wherever Burt went with his big rig, Billy rode along as the navigator. Billy had plans of taking over his dad's driving spot whenever his father decided to retire. The 18 wheeler could be remodeled and adjusted to accommodate Billy's condition.

Carolyn eventually became the head veterinarian and owner of the clinic in Omak. She had a guest house built next to the clinic where Billy stays whenever he is not on the road. They both continue to love and care for horses. They even own two horses who are Samson's brothers. The courageous horse's attitude is carried on in their genes.

Whenever the Colville tribe gets together for their annual Pow-Wow a good portion of that time is spent honoring Billy and Samson. The tribe had a bronze statue of the horse made. It sits proudly above the river. It permanently keeps watch over the race course.

During the ceremony, both Billy and his father now sit in the highest place of honor. The elders have given Billy a new name too. The name "Goes Ahead First" is a testament to their pride in Billy's will, determination, and the bravery he showed, in the Suicide Race.

### Author's Note

The inspiration for this book came from a story I heard about an Indian who lived in the 1870s called "Useless Legs." He was a native of the Blackfoot tribe in Montana who at the time were the most feared Indians in the west. Useless Legs, like Billy, had been injured and as a result was unable to use his legs. He got around by using a travois. He was generally looked down upon by the men of his tribe.

In one of the tribe's last battles against the US Army, the tribe found itself having to attack a long line of dug in U.S. troopers in order to escape. The situation looked grim because the Blackfoot warriors would have to take enormous casualties in order to make their escape. Suddenly, Useless Legs, who had been left in the rear to watch the ponies, appeared. He was riding his travois and he raced it in a dash parallel to the Army positions.

He went back and forth several times as the troopers fired round after round into him. In the end his body was cut to pieces by the trooper's fire but his brave ride gained his tribesmen enough time to escape. From that day forth the name Useless Legs was never again used when referring to him. Instead the tribe honored him by giving him the name "Goes Ahead First." Like Billy, he will ride forever in immortality.
