The conversation was dull when the boy brought the telegram in. He handed it to Travis and stood waiting while Travis stared at the piece of paper. The boy held out his hand.
“Oh, here!” the storekeeper said with frustration as he put a coin the messenger’s hand.
The boy turned with a thanks and walked away.
Then, knowing Travis couldn’t read, Jeb added with a snicker, “Well, what does it say?”
The gunsmith was a little more understanding. Giving Jeb a scornful look, he took the telegram from Travis and read, “arriving by train 11 am monday stop hope to see you stop sarah.”
Travis was sitting with the chair turned backward in his typical way, straddling the seat and leaning forward on the back of the chair. His eyes never moved from the table. He didn’t say anything, then knocked the chair over as he got up and walked from the room without picking it up.
It was Thursday. For the next three days, nobody saw Travis. He simply disappeared.
Sunday evening, the gunsmith found Travis leaning on a fence near the stable, staring at an open field, slowly eating some cornbread. Jake liked Travis and considered him a friend. Travis would joke with him, but they never talked seriously about anything except business.
“So who’s Sarah? An old girlfriend?” Jake was joking, trying to make conversation with a man he had a hard time talking to.
Travis looked him in the face. “My daughter,” he said. Then he walked away. He just wanted to be alone with his thoughts.
On Monday, Mark found Travis sitting on a bench at the train station, facing the tracks. Mark sat beside his deputy. For a while, neither of them said anything. Travis didn’t even realize his friend was there until the marshal final spoke.
“Travis? You never told me you had a daughter.”
Travis turned his head to look at Mark. “No, I didn’.”
“Where’s she been?”
“Chicago.” Travis turned back to look at the tracks again.
“Is that where her mother is?”
“’Er mother’s dead.”
“Oh, I’m sorry.” The marshal was truly sorry. His own wife had died just a few years before and Travis had been there for him. Mark had no idea Travis had ever been married or had any children.
He asked, “How long has it been since you’ve seen Sarah?”
“Long time. Couple a years ‘fore I came ‘ere. Do I ‘ave ta answer any more questions?” Travis asked, looking at his friend again. “I really don’ wanna talk right now.”
“Just one more. Do I get to meet her?”
“Sure.” Travis nodded.

“Travis, we need supplies,” Mark injected. “We should be close to Fort Hays.”
“No, I’m not stoppin’.”
“Travis, we need guidance. We could be headed the wrong way?”
“No, I’m not stoppin’!” Travis was adamant.
“I’m not going to do this, Travis. I’m not just riding with the hope we’ll run into them. We need eyes. We need a plan.”
Travis’s eyes were focused hard on Mark. Mark couldn’t tell what Travis was thinking. Travis had that look on his face. The look that told Mark his deputy was serious.
Travis responded calmly, “Ya do what yawanna do. I didn’ ask ya to come. Go back ta Harris, take care a the town. I’m gonna find Mary.”
Travis reached down and took the rabbit, ripped a chunk of meat off, and walked into the darkness to pray. God would tell him where to find Mary. He didn’t need the soldiers, or Mark, interfering.
Anyway, it would be easier to live off the land if he was alone. He wouldn’t have to worry about taking care of someone else, and he could travel faster. He wouldn’t be noticed as much either, if he was alone.
As Travis left camp, he recited scripture, “Now this I know: The Lord gives victory to his anointed. He answers him from his heavenly sanctuary with the victorious power of his right hand. Some trust in chariots and some in horses, but we trust in the name of the Lord our God.” (Psalm 20:6-7)
The next morning, Mark woke to the sound of Travis saddling his horse. It was still dark. There was no sign of the sun rising. The marshal started to slowly pull himself off the ground, but he turned quickly as he heard Travis ride off. Mark had not wanted it to end like this. He didn’t think Travis would be so impetuous.
But as Mark rode that morning, he thought about Travis and realized that Travis had told him what to do. He had told the marshal to go back to Harris. Travis hadn’t said it as an option or even a suggestion. He had given Mark a command. It was the same no-nonsense tone of voice his deputy used when he was dealing with hoodlums in town.
Mark realized that Travis had made a deliberate decision, and he had probably prayed about it too. Travis had started this journey alone, without asking or waiting for assistance, and that’s the way he wanted it.

The man suddenly threw the lantern and fled out the door, the dog after him. Travis tried to move out of the way as the lantern hit the floor near his feet. He fired and struck his target, then moved quickly to put out the fire on his boot and pant leg where the lamp oil had splashed. He yelled at Thomas to get the man and the boy out of the house. He had to help Reid. He couldn’t think of the house right now.
Travis ran back through the house and toward the barn. The backside of the barn was now engulfed in flames. The fire was moving quickly toward the front, lighting the entire area.
Travis ran inside. “Reid!” he yelled. And a shot came through the fire. Travis dropped low.
“Dad.” Travis heard his son behind him. He turned around and saw Reid crouched behind a chest of tools near the door. Travis reached him and saw blood on his leg.
“We’re getting’ out,” Travis told him, helping him up. They slipped through the barn door and Travis looked up into the eyes of a man who had come around the side of the barn.
Travis knew his rifle was empty. He pushed Reid away and watched.
“I’m told you were fast in your day, old man,” the man said arrogantly. He holstered his gun and stood ready.
Travis dropped his rifle and prayed, “The Lord is my strength and my song, he has given me victory.” (Exodus 15:2a) And Travis drew his pistol.