J. D. Lassiter stood in the darkened barn, brushing down the horse. It stood a full seventeen hands tall and would serve him well in the coming days. It would take a lot of horse to go where he needed to go and do what needed to be done.

He had known it was bad news, earlier that afternoon, when he spotted the sheriff coming up the trail to the house. It was never good news when the sheriff came by. This time was no different, J. D. was needed to run down an outlaw that had made it out to the badlands.

J. D. had seen his share of trouble, having fought on both sides during the War between the States, and further, having claimed his land from the Sioux and Cheyenne Indians. He, himself, had even served as sheriff for a while, until the town had calmed down. And still, from time to time, he was called upon for his knowledge of the badlands beyond his spread to bring some no-account cowboy back to justice.

More often than not, the justice took place out in the rolling hills of the badlands. Cowboys gone bad seem to think that the only way out of a bad situation is with guns. J. D. could even that score as well. There weren't many folks in the territory that could shoot as straight, as far, as J. D.

He thought as he saddled the gelding. All he had wanted to do was carve a piece of land out of the wilderness and raise his family. Since moving out from town, it seemed that Emily had child every year. He could almost count the number of years they had worked the spread by the number of children they had, all seventeen of them.

Teaching each of the boys, in turn, how to work with rope, how to sharpen a knife properly, how to shoot. Each of the boys was almost as good as he with a gun, some perhaps even better. He taught them to track, and how to survive on the country around them. Each would be a proper man in the wilderness that surrounded them.

Each, perhaps, except Caleb. That boy Caleb had been a worry from the start. He was basically a good boy, just misunderstood, and a little high strung. Couple that with a desire to do things the easy way and Caleb was pointed to trouble right away. J. D. had thought that, with a little more time, Caleb would have been all right.

He brought the saddled horse around to the front of the house. As he tied it to the porch, it stamped the ground as if impatient to start their journey. J. D. stroked the neck of the powerful beast to calm it, then went inside to gather his gear.

There wasn't much he was taking. He tied a couple of blankets inside a rawhide cover for his bedroll. Into his saddle bags went a couple clean pair of socks, a clean shirt and jeans. He went to the wash basin, and looking in the mirror, decided not to take his shaving gear. He wouldn't be gone that long.

Grabbing a slicker, he completed his gear by adding a Sharps .50 caliber carbine, and his Navy Colt .44 hand gun. After confirming that the rifle and handgun were both clean and fully loaded, he stuffed a box of ammunition for each weapon into the saddle bags.

Almost in afterthought, he picked up the Arkansas Toothpick a friend had given him during the war. Pure Death would have been a better name for the knife. It had a blade fourteen inches long, and an inch wide, tapering to a sharp point. He tucked it in the sheath, and hung the sheath around his neck so the knife hung between his shoulder blades, with the handle less than an inch below the back of his neck.

Strapping the Colt to his waist, and gathering up his bedroll, saddle bags, the Sharps and the bag of food Emily had prepared, he started toward the door. Her gentle touch upon his sleeve caused him to turn and look into her eyes. The tears brimming in her eyes said all she needed to say, but J. D. didn't know how to answer her.

Instead of all the things he wanted to say, he left instructions. "Tell Seth and Luke to turn the horses out to the north pastures, and Matthew knows that he and Sue Ellen need to drive the hogs over to the Barkers. Mr Barker knows they're coming and will have the bank draft all made out for them. Tell Matthew that if Mr. Barker tries to bargain with him to turn them hogs around and bring them home. I'd rather feed them another winter than to sell them too cheaply. I should be back in about a week, and I'll have to ride by and see the sheriff before I come home."

Not knowing what else to say, he kissed her cheek and walked out the door. He slid the Sharps into the scabbard, tied to his saddle, and threw the saddle bags across. Making sure the bags and bedroll were securely fastened, he hoisted himself into the saddle. The horse seemed to know the journey was to begin, and was impatient.

Without looking back to the house, J. D. rode west, away from his ranch. He was thinking that Caleb would have made for the springs by the cotton wood stand, about a half days ride first. He remembered the conversation with the sheriff. He told J. D. about drinking and a card game that got out of hand resulting in Caleb shooting a man who turned out to be unarmed.

J. D. understood the point of view. A man that will kill unarmed people is dangerous. Caleb understood it too. He knew that J. D. would be the one the sheriff would send after him. Caleb would also understand the penalty. Such an offense will result in hanging in any of the new territories.

J. D. also knew that Caleb would understand that J. D. couldn't just let him go. If it got around that law breakers escaped from Cambridge County, then there was no telling the amount of trouble that would cause. The only result guaranteed was that a Lassiter was going to die.

J. D. knew that Caleb was going to die at his hand. It's not a good thing to have to kill your first born, but he had at least a dozen more children at home that were too young to work, and needed a father to feed and protect them. Just because Caleb turned out to be a bad apple was no need to throw out the lot of them.

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