Prologue

Dan Rivers is my name. I am nineteen years old, not quite six feet tall yet but I am still growing and hope to pass the six foot mark before I stop growing. I am 200 pounds of rock solid muscle from all the time spent on my father's farm doing chores and just being a young boy. When I turned eighteen, after having saved up enough money to buy a trappers outfit and supplies, I asked my father for his blessings to head out west.

My father was a farmer by choice, not by trade. His trade was that of a Military scout, as were his father and grandfather before him. He was constantly teaching me everything he knew, as his father and grandfather had done. I could load and fire a rifle or pistol in the dark fast enough to shoot twice in less than a minute with a rifle and three times in just over a minute with a pistol. I could throw a knife, hatchet or axe; deadly accurate to 20 feet and hit more than miss at 30 feet.

The day of my birthday party, I had just finished my morning chores and was washing up for breakfast when I heard the sound of several wagons and horses riding up to the house. I dried myself and walked around to the front of the house to see what was going on.

"SURPRISE!" most of the town and all of my family and friends were getting off of wagons and horses. My mother was standing at the front door, smiling like a cat that ate a canary. The party lasted until well past lunch, which was a full blown BBQ, a calf and hog were roasted and near all gone. The presents were more of a shock than the party was. I was given a good horse and pack mule. A complete field camp set which had a cooking pot, skillet, coffee pot and utensils; a bedroll and two sets of buckskins; a 13" Bowie knife, .50 cal. Pistol, and .50 cal. Rifle. Enough lead, powder and caps for 200 shots and all the tools to make bullets and maintain the weapons. Also I had over a week supply of dry goods and two water skins.

A little over a week after my party I was up and packed to begin my adventure. My mother was trying not to cry and my father was smiling on the outside but I could tell he was sad on the inside, but he would never show it. I said my good byes and rode westward.