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Poem
Redmon Yost lived in Iowa
with mother and siblings,
the oldest of seven children
had just turned seventeen.
His pa had passed on two years back,
Redmon had gone to work,
punching cows at Holloway’s Ranch,
long hours made bones hurt,
but pay was good
and all relied
on what he earned,
so he did ride.
Had no room to drink down his pay
or in the saloons lurks.

Redmon differed from his partners
in that he had no gun,
his family were all Quakers,
he was forbidden one.
They ribbed him about that sometimes,
but he paid them no heed,
Ma said turning the other cheek
beat making pour sols bleed.
She said it was
the law of God,
so Redmon rode
without a rod,
and this town was a quiet spot,
so Redmon saw no need.

Until the day an outer ranch
was hit, the men away,
the bandits took horses and cash
in the bright light of day.
News ran fast across the prairie,
a true posse was formed,
but the trail was lost by the men
in sudden prairie storm.
A twister was
no little thing,
no robbers would
be seen to swing,
And everybody hoped that life
would return to the norm.

But normalcy was not to be,
a stage was hit that weak,
old Amos Tanner was gunned down
while driving to get free,
then came a string of robberies,
a murder and two rapes.
Who did this? Nobody could tell,
the town was fit to break,
Redmon saw the
increasing harm,
began to think
of going armed,
but his mother cried,”No, you fool!
Don’t join in with their hate!”

This didn’t make much sense to him,
did God want them to die?
Peace was great, but what evil man
just nodded and passed by?
If God have given him this life,
if it was his great gift,
would He turn and say,”I forbid
you from defending it.”
But mother said,
“It is his will,”
But did He mean
To get folks killed?
Redmon couldn’t believe He would,
and those thoughts made a rift.

CONCLUDES IN PART II.
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