When Indian Joe gave the ten-year-old boy his dog, the dog’s gentle nature and zest for adventure fit right in with the boy’s Huck Finn lifestyle. They shared life’s challenges, excitement, conflict, joy, and multiple calamities until revenge took it all away. I was shivering while I sat on the ice-cold chopping block waiting for my brother Robert to saw a few blocks of wood so I could begin splitting them. Unaware that something was approaching from behind, I was about to go into the warm house and wait for the blocks to pile up when a cold nose pushed its way into my armpit. Startled, I jumped to my feet and wheeled around to see the most beautiful Shepherd dog I had ever seen, standing before me with his tail swaying side to side. After I got Robert’s attention, he stopped sawing and came over to us. Not nearly as excited as me, he said he had seen the dog around before and believed he belonged to someone over at the railroad bunkhouse. I knelt and the dog gave me a friendly shake with his big paw. We saw a lot of him over the next two weeks and he even accompanied us on some errands. Having the dog around did not sit well with my mother, but Frank was the one it bothered the most. She was quick to let us know we should get rid of him, and we were not going to have any more dogs. That statement was about to be tested.

We were dressed but had not eaten when a knock came on our door. It was a railroad supervisor, and he asked Robert and me to follow him to the bunkhouse, where he introduced us to Indian Joe, a handsome, well-built man in his early thirties, wearing a red and black checkered shirt while holding a sheepskin coat over his arm. His long black braids rested on his chest, and were tied at the ends with small leather thongs. Unnoticed until he licked my hand, the dog passed behind us and moved to Joe’s side. Joe knelt and placed an arm around him. With emotion in his voice, he asked if we liked the dog. We assured him we did. He said he believed the dog liked us too. What he said next, caused me to shake with excitement. “If you promise to take good care of him, I would like you to have him, will you do that? While Robert agreed, I was vigorously shaking my head yes. Joe turned his attention to the dog and using his left hand he held the dog’s head up and said his goodbye with his eyes. At a loss for words, Joe stood and using the collar, he pulled the dog toward Robert and motioned with his head that Robert should take him. As soon as Robert took hold of the collar, Joe turned quickly and left the room with us following. He boarded the motorcar that set idling on the tracks while we walked around the corner of the house.

Robert stopped and turned to face Joe and shouted, “Hey mister, what’s his name?” “Guck,” Joe answered. “What?” Robert shouted. “Guck,” Joe repeated. Again, Robert asked, “Did you say, Guck?” And Joe’s answer was the same “Yes, his name is Guck.” After the exchange, the motorcar pulled away and Guck would never see his Indian Master again. We could tell that the parting was very emotional for Joe and it appeared just as difficult for Guck. With Robert and Joe shouting his name back and forth, Guck tried his best to break free of our hold on the collar. Once the motorcar was out of sight, Guck settled down and stood to stare in the direction of the tracks, while the sound of the motorcar faded from our ears. A long mournful whine escaped his lips, which brought a lump to my throat. On the way home, we discussed how we might approach mom about keeping Guck, and talk to her without our step-father present, which didn’t happen. After we explained what had happened with Indian Joe, Robert gave his best argument, which seemed to fall on deaf ears. With the chance of keeping Guck slipping away, I began pleading at my highest level while promising to do anything. Just as Frank tried to put a stop to it, mom relented. In the years that followed, we learned that Guck was extraordinary, as you will see.