The Blood of Jeb O'Hearn, Part Iii

...Floyd never left after that night, all such thoughts vanished right quick. He found himself with a step-daughter, and a wife, in the mornings quite sick. He had to buy some new horses, fresh cow ponies of the first rank. He settled down into a family life, working his father's big ranch. And though his new twins brought him joy, and he was doing well for money, he sometimes found himself still mad at the thought of O'Hearn riding free. Two years passed and once again Beverly's belly greatly did swell, when Sheriff Tom Black road on up with some important news to tell. He handed Floyd a newspaper, with a headline in bold proclaiming that away up north if far Oregon, the villain Jeb O'Hearn did swing. It read that he had botched up a job on a bank that had looked fat and swell. But it had gone south and Jeb O'Hearn two fine deputies had brutally killed. The posse that had run the thug down, of his actions they had taken note, and the law had barely saved Jeb O'Hearn, to live long enough for the rope. Floyd put it down, thanked the sheriff, and thought of those two fine men dead. His mind harkened back to Beverly's words, to the things on that cold day she'd said. He looked at her now, her belly full teaching knitting to their little girl, while the twins innocently tottered around, exploring their big, brand-new world. And then Floyd sat by the fireside, to God he gave a prayer well deserved, for giving him the strength to put it all aside, to forsake the blood of Jeb O'Hearn.