Spring, 1853 “Are you certain you want to go to such a place? That country west of Missouri is all wild Indian country.” “But Sir, it won’t always be wild. I hear that is going to change and it is said that people are going to be moving west and land will soon be available just past the western Missouri border.” John Potter waved away the remark. “Look; there must be over fifteen different Indian tribes out there and I wager none of them are anxious to share their land with anyone. It’s one thing crossing their land to get to Utah or Oregon but to try to take away their lands…? They have been moved and shoved around much like we have and they aren’t going to put up with more of that kind of treatment. "Abrael, I believe you are just asking for more grief. And to be quite frank, on top of everything you must remember you are Jewish. Don’t you have enough worries as it is?” “But, maybe out there it won’t matter,” Abrael said quickly. “Maybe they will be different out there.” “And just what kind of folks do you think you will find out there, as you call it?”