"Dang blast it! It's too fucking hot to be out here riding. Why couldn't Bandit Jack rob the bank when it was cooler?" I heard Chris say, yet again. I swear if I had to hear him whine about the heat one more time, I would shot him with my own gun. Of course, then I would have to arrest myself and throw myself in jail, but I really think it would be worth it.

"Chris, if you don't shut it, I swear to all that's holy I will put a bullet in your rear end," I said to him. I didn't care if he was the town sheriff. He was a fat tub of lard, if you asked me. Most of the time I could get along with anyone, but the fact of the matter was it was hot and I was frustrated.

We had been tracking Jack for a week. That was another skill Sheriff Chris had yet to master. Hell he had yet to figure out what tracking even was. Jack was one of the best bank robbers in Texas. I had followed him all the way to Texas City, where he successfully robbed their bank. I had the feeling he had already gotten on the train again. He had the habit of robbing a bank and sneaking on the next train to anywhere. So long as they had a bank, he didn't seem to care where he went.

"Mr. Whitlock, don't you think we could stop and rest our horses again?" I inwardly groaned at him.

"Sheriff, we've only been tracking Jack for two hours now. They don't need to be watered yet. Why don't you head back to town? I can track him myself." Sheriff Chris turned his horse around and left me alone to track. He left so fast it seemed like he was only waiting for me to say the words so he could get his fat ass back behind that desk. Lazy bastard.

This is how I preferred it; being alone. Jasper Whitlock didn't need help. I just needed the open air and my horse. They had tried to put me with a partner but I refused. For some reason I couldn't describe, they listened. I guess after they gave me my first and only partner when I first joined the Marshalls, and said partner almost got himself killed trying to help me, they decided Jasper Whitlock was better off alone.

My horse was the only companion I needed, to tell the truth. I didn't need anyone's help finding Jack or any other criminal. I was a U.S. Marshall. I didn't need some sheriff, who didn't know how to point his gun, to help me.

I had spent my whole life in Texas. I was born and raised here. Some say I was born with my rifle in one hand and horse reigns in the other. Those two things were my life; my horse and my job. That's all I have ever needed. My papa used to tell me "As long as a man had his horse, he was set for life." Well, that's how I had spent my life.

Of course, Mama had a different view point. "Jasper," she would tell me, "you need to find you a woman. You're 28 years old. It just ain't right that you don't have a woman. You need a woman in your life."

"Mama," I would tell her, "What do I need a woman for? I don't spend much time at home anyways. She would be home alone all the time and I would just be travelling around Texas, worrying about her. There's no point, Mama. The only woman I need in my life is you, Mama. I don't have the time for any other woman, especially a wife." I shuddered at the thought of a wife.

I followed the tracks of Jack for another five hours with only my thoughts as company. When it was dark I decided I would make camp. I had followed Jack for twenty miles.

I built a small fire to keep me warm during the long night. Then, I took my pouch off my horses back and unrolled it. I rolled out my sleeping bag on the ground next to the fire. When everything was set I got out the bread I had packed and sat down on my sleeping bag.

These were the times where I did wish I had someone with me; the only times I wished that. Being alone made for a very lonely night. It wasn't that I missed having a woman under me. I could stop by any brothel and I could have sex with them. I missed talking to people. I missed just having someone there; someone who could help take shifts watching our backs. I missed having….company.

I don't know. Maybe I just needed to tell my boss that I should have a partner. The only problem is having to train them to stay the hell out of my way. I laughed at that thought; having some young shithead who would probably have to learn how to track and shit. Yeah, that's out of the question.

After I was done eating, I laid back in my sleeping bag with my rifle by my side. Never did I sleep without my rifle. Like I said before, I was born from my mother with a rifle in my hand.

About midway through the night, I woke up cold. So, I added a little more wood to my fire. I didn't want it to get too big and attract people. That would be a bad thing. As I was quietly adding more wood, I heard a twig snap to the east. I shot up with my rifle and got ready to shoot. I watched with an eagle's eye to see who would dare come up on Jasper Whitlock in the middle of the night. Everyone in Texas knew that you don't sneak up on Jasper Whitlock.

"Marshall, don't shoot me. It's Jonathon Dickson from town." I heard from a distance. The kid was smart. I didn't lower my rifle though. You never could tell when you were being set up. A few minutes later, a short blonde haired boy I remembered from town walked toward me. The kid couldn't be more than 18 years old. "Sir, I promise you, I am alone. You can lower your weapon."

I slowly lowered my rifle as I said, "Son, you got some nerve coming out here in the middle of the night."

"Yes, sir. Well, that's why I called out to you, sir. I didn't exactly want to be shot." I could tell he was still nervous. The boy was sweating more than a pig in the Texas summer sun, and he was wringing his hands.

"What's brought you out here, then?" I wanted to get this over with. I needed to get back sleep. I had a long hard day of tracking ahead of me tomorrow.

"Sir, a telegram was received for you at the Telegram Office. It was marked urgent. So, I was sent out here to deliver it. Seeing as how I was the only one brave enough to come."

"Well, where is it?" I asked as he reached into the pocket of his britches and pulled out a piece of paper. He handed it to me. It was from the Marshall's Office. That alone made me nervous. Nothing good ever came from the office when you were on a mission. My heart stopped as I read the message.

Marshall Jasper Whitlock

Your mother fell sick Tuesday-(STOP)- Things are not looking good for her –(STOP)- Marshall Terrell will be there to relieve you at noon –(STOP)- Go home –(STOP)-

Marshalls Office

My heart stopped. I couldn't believe what I was reading. Mama was sick? How? Why didn't they tell me earlier? It's Friday. Which means that they hadn't told me for three days.

"Alright, kid. Thanks for coming out here. Go one back, now," I said. Internally, I was about to lose my mind with worry for the most important person in my life.

"Is there anything I should write back, Sir?"

"No, just go." When he left, I stood up and paced. I had a lot to think about and plan. Should I all the way to Amarillo or take the train? Train, because then I can still be riding at night. If I were to ride Lightening, my horse, all the way there it would take longer because I would have to stop at night. I would still have to ride up to Houston but that wasn't hard or long at all. I could be in Houston in two days time.

What was wrong with Mama? Did she have the Spanish Influenza that was going around? God, I hope not. I haven't heard of anyone surviving that yet. I don't know what I would do if my Mama died. I was in no way a "Mama's boy" but I love my Mama more than anything. I couldn't explain it, but she was everything to me. She took care of me. She gave me everything she could.

When Father was fighting the Great War, Mama did everything she could to keep us going. She was the one out there working the farm, tilling the land, while Father was out killing others for our freedom. She would spend all day tilling the land, feeding animals. Then she would come in a cook and clean the house.

I would hear her crying herself to sleep every night, when I was home. I didn't think it was from pain, although it could have been. I think it was more from missing Father. I know I missed him. I know it was especially hard for her to be away from him, having to do all that work. A woman should never have to till the land or feed the animals. A woman's hands should never have to have calluses. Their hands should be smooth from only every doing housework. My mama though would have calluses upon calluses. Her back would hurt her so bad she could hardly stand.

I would have loved to help her and keep her from having to take care of man's work but during the Great War I was hardly ever home. I was already in the Marshalls during the Great War and couldn't help her out as much as I would have liked. I was busy chasing criminals around Texas then too; just like I might be doing when she died.

I don't want to think about what could have happened to her while I was away on Marshal business. Bad things could and would happen to women who were alone at night. At any time I could have come home to her dead body. The only way I got through that was never thinking about it. It was hard to not think about it now. Death could very well be knocking at her door.

Who would yell at me about settling down with a woman and giving her grandbabies if Mama died? Who would tell me that I needed to bathe more often and shit if she wasn't around? Who would be there when I actually did settle down? Who would help my wife when she had children?

I worried all through the rest of the night. I worried up until Terrell got in town at noon. I stood outside the saloon watching as he rode up to me. He was a tall, skinny man with blonde hair and blue eyes. His eyes always had a hard glint in them. He was an older gentleman who had lost his wife and kids during the Civil War when the Yankees had burned down their home. He had been out fighting when his family died and still blamed himself. "Marshall," he said in greeting, nodding his head in my direction.

"Terrell. Come on in here and I'll update you on Bandit Jack." We walked in the saloon and up to the bar. We sat on the bar stools and asked the bar keep to get us a beer. "I tracked Jack over to Shiney's Ridge. He's probably already on his way to the next town by train. There's not much you can do."

"Don't worry about Jack, Jasper. I'll take care of him. You go home and take care of your mama," he said slapping me on the back.

We talked for a while over a beer. Then, I walked out to Lightening and left for Houston. Along the way I thought about Terrell's story. How would I feel if I lost my family? Personally, I think he just needs to let it go. It's been a long time since the Civil War and he needs to just get past it. I would never let a woman or kid get to me so bad that I would mourn them this long. Hell, it's been about forty years since that war ended. Let it go.

No woman in a skirt would get to me that bad. I would die first. I will never marry. I'm the kind of man who is happy being alone. No one is going to get to me so bad that I would mourn for decades over them. Maybe he just needs to go to the local brothel and let Madame Jennie sooth him. I laughed at that thought.

Exactly two days later, I arrived in Houston. I don't know why but I had this strange feeling that my life was about to change. I just hoped that my mama wasn't about to die.