The morning came quickly, the sunlight accompanying the sound of singing birds. With each waking hour, Jack's rage grew and grew. It swelled inside him until it almost nearly consumed him. He dug a plot in the yard near his mother and brother's graves, big enough for the three of his family members to fit in. Perhaps if he wasn't in such a rush, he would have taken the time to dig three individual plots. But vengeance waits for no man. 

Upon buring his father, brother, and sister, Jack returned to the house. He searched every corner, every hole, every square inch of that house, nearly turning it inside out in the process. If he was going to set out on this quest, he would need to bring whatever food and money the family had left. After nearly two hours of searching, it was not looking good for Jack. The men had taken a good portion of what little the family had left. By the time 9:00 am rolled around, he had nothing more but twenty five dollars and two jars of beans. That was until he perched on an old trunk in his parent's bedroom, burrowing his face in his hands out of frustration. He kicked his heel back against the trunk out of anger, only to hear a loud thud. The trunk certainly contained more than Jack had originally thought.

Out of both confusion and curiosity, Jack opened the trunk. He had gone through it earlier that morning only to find clothing. But there was definitely something more in there. He threw out all the clothing onto the floor until he reached the bottom of the trunk. This time, he noticed that the bottom of the trunk was not only uneven but was not sealed. Reaching down, Jack pulled up the flat piece of wood to reveal a folded blanket. He unraveled it carefully, finding an aged hand gun and an envelope. Inside the envelope was a thin wad of cash, adding up to $200. Whatever excitement Jack had was being suppressed. He couldn't bring himself to smile yet. But he couldn't help but feel more optimistic. 

Everything was set. His bags were packed, his guns loaded, his money secure. It was nearing noon by the time Jack exited the house and made his way to the stable. Without a car to travel, Jack was left with only one option - horseback. The Reed's had sold close to all of their livestock earlier on. However, two animals remained. One of which was Clover, his father's horse. Clover was remarkably healthy and was well fed as he was the only horse left. Jack was unsure how long Clover could help him for but he intended to keep him alive and safe as long as possible. With the sun beating down on the thirsty land, Jack took off, headed north. 

The tire tracks in the dust pointed north. Jack's father was the real tracker of the family but Jack had picked up quite a bit from him. He intended to keep on the trail of the tracks until they went off the road. Jack was sure these criminals did not live in the city. 

As his horse maintained a slow gallop, Jack began to make out something in the distance. He squinted through the swirling dust, trying to make out the scene that was at least a hundred feet infront of him. As he neared closer, he could faintly make out two cars and three humanoid figures. No, four. One was collapsed on the ground, barely moving. It appeared that the other three men were searching the man on the ground...and then shredding through the contents of his vehicle. Jack's stomach quickly began to spin, an odd mixture of anxiousness and excitement inside him. Were those the men? Could he really be so lucky as to stumble upon them after a mere twenty minutes? Only time would tell. 

Approaching the scene, Jack pulled Clover to a stop and pulled the two hand guns that were holstered at his hip. If he acted now, he could catch them off guard, as they were preoccupied with the car. "Good afternoon, men," he announced his presence before shooting the third man in the gut and holding the other two at gunpoint. He noted the close to unconscious man laying on the road, as one of the men had what looked to be an instrument case in his hands. Looking at them now, in the daylight, he knew these weren't the men from last night. He could just take off right now if he wanted to. But what kind of man would that make him? 

"That don't belong to you," the young man said from atop his horse. The whole thing was very unlike him. But this new found rage had turned him into an entirely different person.