Joe's head problems started when he was first kidnapped by the Chicago Mafia in the early 40's. At the time he was eleven and was known around the community as the home-run kid. He wore baggy, pinstriped baseball pants, a blue T-shirt and a Cubs, baseball cap.

He was standing in the middle of the street with his Louisville Slugger, waiting for his friend Barry to pitch the ball when he saw Tony Campenero and Frank Olivetti come racing down the road in a dark sedan from the late thirties. He wondered what they wanted when they stopped the car next to him. He saw Barry take off running when Campenero who was riding shotgun, jumped out.

Campenero stood about five-ten and was slightly heavy set. He wore a dark gray suit and a fedora hat. His face was scared from acme. He hollered, "Hey Joey! C'mere. I gotta talk to ya for a second."

Considering the intensity of the rivalry that had been going on between Joe's father, who was a half-breed Sioux, and Al Capone; Joe was naive. He walked up to Campenero dragging his bat, saying, "Yeah, whata ya want?"

Campenero grabbed the kid's left arm, and shouted, "Get in da car."

Joe was scared. He planted his left foot forward and swung the bat with his right hand, striking Campenero in the side of the face. There was enough force in the swing to cause Campenero to let go.

Olivetti had been sitting patiently behind the wheel, smoking a cigarette and watching. He wondered if he should jump out and help.

Campenero yelled, "You dirty rat. You're in a lot of trouble now."

Joe thought about running, but cocked the bat instead.

Campenero lunged at him hollering, "Get over here."

Joe took a full swing hitting Campenero hard in the mid section. Campenero grunted and fell to his knees. He then grabbed Joe's ankle and pulled him to the ground. Climbing on top of the kid, he shouted, "What? You tink you're Al Capone with dat bat?" He punched the kid in the face, nearly as hard as he could, yelling, "Don't ever hit me with a bat again." He punched the boy again. Joe screamed and the neighbors watched from a distance, but none of them helped as Campenero yelled, "If you ever hit me again I'll kill you. You hear boy? I'll kill your worthless ass." And da Chief ain't doin' nottin' about it." He punched him again, then picked the bleeding boy up by the front of the shirt and slammed him against the car shouting, "Now get in da car you dirty little rat." He opened the door and shoved the boy in.

Joe stumbled into the car, tears rolling down his face. He cried, "You just wait 'till my father finds out. He's gonna kick your fat ass all over this town."

Olivetti put the car into gear as Campenero closed the door saying, "Lemme tell you somethin', little punk. The Chief's goin' down. He's gonna bring us all his money to get you back and we're gonna gun him down. You hear me, boy? Your father's gonna be dead and you're gonna be another dirty face rat, scurrying through the trash."

Joe was extremely proud of his father and wanted to grow up and be just like him. Around Chicago the Chief had earned respect by being the only person brave enough to take on the mob. All of Joe's life there had been a feud going on between the tribe and the mafia. The Chief never showed fear and his people were proud to be a part of the tribe. "My father can take you two clowns out so easy," Joe cried. "Wait and see. You'll be begging for mercy."

The Chief drove a black Cadillac with Godfather white walls from the early forties. Jack, his right-hand man, was riding shotgun, as they pulled up to a white, farm house north of Chicago, where his son was being held captive. Near by was a barn; other than that, there was nothing but corn fields for miles. They parked the dusty, black Cadillac on the street in front of the house and grabbed their gun belts before getting out.

The Chief stood around six feet. He had a large chest and broad shoulders. He wore a black, Stetson cowboy hat from the eighteen hundreds. His straight, black hair hung down to his shoulders. Checking out the house, he strapped on his black, leather gun belt, with an ivory handle Colt 45 hanging on the right side and a tomahawk with leather wrapped around the handle on the left. The large oval shaped belt buckle was made of gold and spelled out CHIEF in capital letters. He tied the holster strap around his thigh and then slipped on his black, leather blazer.

At six-two Jack was much thinner than the Chief. He wore a fingerless glove on his left hand, dark blue jeans, a tan leather vest over a flannel shirt, and a reasonably new white cowboy hat. His tan gun belt carried a single action, 38 revolver.

The Chief grabbed a briefcase full of cash from the back seat, and the two of them walked cautiously down the gravel driveway. When they got to the front door, Campenero opened it saying, "Hey Chief, Jacko. C'mon in."

They entered the house ready for anything.

Campenero closed the door. Olivetti was wearing a dark gray, pinstripe suit. His short black hair and mustache were well groomed. He removed a cigarette from his mouth and said, "Hey Chief, ya know I don't believe in dragging women and children into our business. I did my best to watch after your boy."

"Where is he? Get him out here, now!" the Chief shouted.

Campenero jumped in. "Hold on; take it easy. First, we gotta count da money. You know dat."

The Chief threw the briefcase on the couch. Campenero sat down and opened it on the coffee table. After a few minutes he said, "A hundred grand. Not bad for an Injian." He yelled, "Fast Eddie, bring out da boy."

Fast Eddie had been shot by the Chief a few years back. He pushed the boy down the hall with jabs from his sub machine-gun.

As Fast Eddie and the boy came into the light, the Chief became more infuriated to see his son's face black and blue, and his mouth gaged with a sock.

Joe and his father stared each other in the eyes as he walked down the hallway. The Chief was one of few brown skin people with blue eyes. They were deep like the ocean, full of depth and mystique. Despite the steel in Joe's back he tried to yell, "It's a trap," but was only able to mumble.

Joe feared for his father's life. More than anything he wanted to run to his father's arms. He felt the gun barrel lift from his back and heard an extremely loud rat a tat tat tat going off in his right ear. He fell to the ground and watched his father stagger backwards with blood pouring from his chest. He saw his Uncle Jack diving sideways through the air, fanning his revolver. Joe heard Fast Eddie drop to the floor as he crawled toward his father hoping he'd be okay.

Campenero left the money on the table and dove through a window, when Jack rose to his knees shooting at him. Jack jumped to his feet, with his revolver pointed at Olivetti. Jack took a few steps closer to Olivetti. He looked to Joe who was leaning over his father, crying frantically. Fast Eddie was laid out in the hall with two bullet holes in his forehead.

"Go ahead, Jacko," Olivetti whispered. "End it for me. I want out. Dragging little kids into this shit ain't right. End it for me Jacko. Please pull the trigger."

Jack pulled the trigger, but shot a hole in the wall behind Olivetti's head. Tears pouring from his eyes, Jack yelled, "Get the hell outta here. Now!"

Campenero had the car running, waiting for Olivetti. "Did ya get da money?" he asked when Olivetti climbed in.

Olivetti managed to light a cigarette, despite his shaky hands. "I thought you grabbed it when you went flying out the window."

"Oh well! At least we took care of da Chief." He put the car into gear smiling as he said, "We'd better get outta here while we still can."

Jack kneeled next to the boy, who was crying on his father's chest, his hands still tied behind his back. Jack started to untie his hands. "Jesus Christ, son. I don't know what to say. I can't believe they pulled this shit."

Joe's hands came untied. He untied the gag himself and screamed, "They killed Dad. He's dead! They killed him." He saw the Chief's Colt and pulled it from the holster, knowing Campenero and Olivetti were driving away. He ran out the front door and fired the gun, blowing out the back window of the dark sedan."

"Jesus Christ, Tony! Get the hell outta here," Olivetti yelled.

The gun kicked hard enough to fall from the boy's hand. He quickly dropped to his knees and picked it up. Holding it tighter he pulled in the trigger and fanned the hammer, blowing out the rest of the sedan's windows. He was disappointed to see Campenero and Olivetti fish tail out the gravel driveway and race away.

Joe fell to his belly and cried in the grass. Jack walked over and sat next to the boy; he quietly rubbed his back wishing there was something he could say or do to comfort the boy, but knew there wasn't.

It didn't take long for Joe to grow into a cocky teenager with a bitter chip on his shoulder, toward the Mafia. Jack married his mother and they had a baby named Black-Jack who was two when Joe was fourteen. They lived above the Chief's Saloon. Jenny stayed upstairs taking care of Black-Jack while Joe and Jack tended the Saloon. They were closing down for the night. Joe was sweeping the floor while Jack counted the money. Jack smiled. "Not bad. We made over five hundred smackaroos tonight."

Joe didn't care. He was stuck sweeping the floor. As far as he was concerned he should be getting half the money. He never understood where all the money went. When his father was around, they were living first class. Without the Chief there never seemed to be enough money on hand. He knew his Uncle Jack was losing at the track, but not that much. Work was hard and there wasn't much time for the track. Joe usually went along. He had a good idea about how much his uncle had been betting and it didn't add up. Joe pushed the broom, wondering about the money. Though he was fourteen, he had the mind and body of a young man. He was slightly less than six feet with a large chest and shoulders. His black hair was short and he always wore his father's black cowboy hat and Indian Chief ring. It had been a week since his last shave. His mustache and sideburns were growing black peach fuzz.

Joe was still sweeping when Campenero and Olivetti walked in. They were both wearing dark suits with fedora hats and both smoking cigarettes.

Jack quickly stuffed the money into a brown bag and hid it next to the Chief's gun belt, beneath the bar.

Campenero said, "Heard you'uns had a good night tonight; Jacko!"

Jack scratched under his white cowboy hat. "Wasn't too bad."

Campenero took a drag off his cigarette and said, "Ya know you'uns are gettin' behind on your protection." He then flicked his cigarette against the wall and hollered, "I'd hate to see some darilic burn dis place down!"

"How much?" Jack asked, out of energy and frowning.

Campenero smiled saying, "Dat's what I like about you Jacko. You're smart. Five hundred bucks'll clear for da rest of da month."

Joe had been easing his way behind the bar. He grabbed the Chief's Colt and pointed the gun over the bar, shouting, "You ain't gettin' shit. Now get the hell outta here before I shoot your balls off."

Campenero pointed his finger yelling, "You better put that cannon away, or I'm gonna take it away and spank you with it." He reached out to grab the boy's arm and to point the gun away from him.

Joe remembered Campenero kicking his ass and remembered the look in his father's eyes when he was gunned down. He pulled the trigger. His arm kicked into the air as he staggered backwards.

"Jesus fuckin' Christ. Son of a goddamn bitch," Campenero screamed, falling to the floor. He landed on his side. There was a two inch hole in the back of his thigh where the bullet exited his body.

Olivetti ducked beneath the bar, pulling out his thirty-eight revolver. "Are you alright?" he whispered.

"No, I ain't fuckin' alright," Campenero screamed. "My goddamn leg's about to fall off. Kill that son of a bitch. Kill him, now!"

Holding it with both hands, Joe shot the forty-five into the air and yelled, "I wouldn't try it."

Olivetti hid under the bar. He yelled, "Don't shoot. I gotta get Tony to the hospital."

Joe stood behind the bar wearing his father's hat with his father's gun held out in front, and the hammer cocked back. For the first time since his father's death he felt he had control over Campenero and Olivetti, and liked it. He knew Olivetti had a gun, and wondered whether or not to go for the kill. He could tell what would happen to Olivetti by the way Campenero squirmed on the floor. He yelled, "Get him outta here, fast! And don't be stupid."

"Alright kid. Take it easy with that thing. You got my word. I won't try nothin'."

"Whata ya waiting for. Get him outta here, Now!" Joe watched Olivetti help Campenero to his good leg and help him out the door.

That night the Chief's Saloon burned to the ground and all the mafia's lose guns were looking for Joe.

Jack barely had time to get Joe and his family out of Chicago. He knew Sergeant Duffy was home from the war, and was helping Black Bear around the ranch. Black Bear and the Sergeant had killed hundreds of people, protecting what they believed in and they both had a bad attitude towards the Mafia for killing the Chief. Jack knew Joe would be safe if he could make it out to South Dakota. He drove the Chief's Cadillac fast as it would go and made it safely to the ranch the next day.

Black Bear who was a renegade Sioux that struck it rich gold mining in the eighteen hundreds was Joe's grandfather. He finished raising the boy on his ranch, but died when Joe was eighteen. Sergeant Duffy could see that Joe's anger was going to be a problem. He understood how much Joe's father and grandfather meant to him and didn't think Joe was ready to make it on his own. He thought Joe's temper would get him in trouble. The Sergeant was one of Eisenhower's pets. He had the pull to get Joe into his squad and they cleaned out caves full of North Koreans in South Korea. He knew Joe was destined for trouble and felt the boy could let off some steam, under his guidance in Korea. There Joe's anger could be released to do some good for the freedom of others and he could stay out of jail long enough to finish growing up.

After the Korean conflict Joe went back to his grandfather's ranch to find out all of the cattle had been sold by his attorney. The attorney had taken the money to Chicago and opened a restaurant.

Joe hit Chicago wearing his father's hat and jewelry. He wore his father's ring on his left ring finger. It was made of gold and shaped of an Indian Chief with a full headdress. The band of the headdress had two quarter karat diamonds inserted into it. He put it on the day his father got killed and his finger grew too thick to ever take it off, which suited him fine. He also wore his father's bracelet on his left hand which was gold and spelled out BLACKBEAR with quarter karat diamonds, in capital letters. His necklace was a thick gold chain with a bear made of gold hanging from the top of its head. The bear appeared to stand on its hind legs and had small diamonds its for eyes.

His mother and Uncle Jack were living in a cheap apartment on the south side of town. Jenny opened the door.

"Hey ma! Surprised to see me?"

"Jesus Christ son! I was afraid I'd never see you again."

Joe wrapped his arms around her and lifted her off the ground saying, "You knew better than that Ma." He squeezed her tightly and kissed her cheek.

When he put her down she said, "Well you sure grew into a strong and handsome young man."

Joe reached his hand out to his uncle.

"What? You're too old to give your uncle a hug."

The two men hugged each other. Then Joe kneeled down to hug his little brother who was around eight and a half.

"So what do you know about John Bradbury?" the Chief asked his uncle Jack.

"I know he opened a restaurant with money from your grandpa's cattle."

"Ya know where the restaurant is?"

"Oh yeah."

"Whata ya say we ride over there and make a visit?"

"He's paying Olivetti and Campenero for protection."

"So."

"Just thought I'd let you know."

Jack was still driving the Chief's black Cadillac. Joe grabbed the his father's gun belt and they rode over to Bradbury's Steak House in the Chief's Cadillac.

They went inside and most of the people knew Joe. Many of them were the Chief's men and missed his leadership. With the Chief out of the way, the mafia had uncontested run of the town.

Joe wore a suede blazer to cover the gun belt. His face was unshaven and there was a look of determination in his deep blue eyes. He was in his early twenties, but his physique and ruggedness commanded the respect of a much older man.

Joe saw Bradbury sitting at a table with Olivetti, Campenero and a bunch of other people.

Campenero's leg started to hurt when saw Joe approaching the table. "Hey look who's here. It's the little Chief."

Bradbury was the first to rise from his seat. Before he had a chance to say or do anything Joe punched him in the forehead with a left jab. Bradbury staggered backwards. Joe punched him with his left again, and then a right hook that spun Bradbury around before he dropped to his knees.

By this time women were screaming and men were preparing to do something. Joe picked Bradbury up by the lapels of his coat and slammed him onto the table in front of Campenero and Olivetti. Dishes and silver wear crashed to the floor.

Olivetti and Campenero sat calmly at the table. Campenero said, "Remember what happened to your father?"

Joe had Bradbury laid out on the table. He looked to Campenero and said, "Remember what happened to your leg?"

Bradbury shouted, "What the hell am I paying you guys for?"

A couple of Olivetti's men started to make a move, but Olivetti motioned them to stop.

Joe pulled the Chief's Colt out of its holster and stuck it in Bradbury's mouth. "I figure you owe me about five hundred grand. Ya got it?"

Bradbury shook his head from side to side.

"Ya got a safe in the office?"

Bradbury nodded.

Joe pulled the gun out of Bradbury's mouth saying, "Lets go take a look at it." He pulled Bradbury off the table and gave him a push.

Olivetti said, "Hey Chief!"

Joe turned and looked him in the eye. He and Campenero were still sitting at the table. Olivetti said, "You'd better watch your ass."

That was the first time anyone had ever called Joe, "Chief." It made him proud, but he knew he had some serious business to take care of before he deserved to be called the Chief.

There was about fifty thousand dollars in the safe. Joe pocketed the money and said, "Here's what we're gonna do. You're gonna sign the restaurant over to me, and I'm not going to kill you. Does that sound good?"

"Why should I do that? I pay the mafia a lot of money for protection.

Joe lit a cigar and said, "Yeah, and they're doing a real good job protecting you. Aren't they?"

Jack chuckled.

Bradbury said, "Alright. If I sign it over that's going to be it?"

Joe took a hit off his cigar and said, "It's your lucky day, though I do need a watch and yours looks pretty nice."

Bradbury's watch was made of gold. The face was black and the numbers were diamonds. The band had a buckle and holes like a belt. He unfastened it and handed it to the Chief. The Chief put it on his right wrist and said, "Don't look to bad. Now lets get down to business."