I.
In open Nebraska, eighteen eighty-six,
lived a man named Floyd Belgard.
Only twenty years, he lived with his pa,
a ranching man named Richard.
Richard had moved out this way
about seven long years before.
After loosing his wife and dry-goods shop,
he\'d given up on keeping stores.
Instead he\'d found out on the plain,
working long be it dusk or dawn,
that he had a skill at riding hard,
working both the cattle and the hogs.
Not that far from Floyd\'s ranch home
another couple did live handsomely.
A young couple and daughter, staring out:
William and his sweet wife Beverly.
They had a young girl, only two,
raven-hair like her mother she had.
A friendly pair, Will worked for Richard,
the two riding daily \'cross the land.
One night in fall a ruckus arose,
shouts and whinnies loud from the barn.
Richard rode out to see to it all,
but the man didn\'t get very far.
A figure appeared, his guns a-blazing,
riddling Richard with nary a word.
Floyd saw him clear as he rode on,
\'twas the wanted rustler Jeb O\'Hearn!
Three more ride riders soon did appear,
and they put up quite a merciless fire,
shooting up both homes, Floyd dove low,
the situation growing ever more dire.
And then it just stopped, quiet and cold
until a loud neighing filled the night.
The horses they stole, drive them away
soon vanishing far out of sight.
Floyd ventured out, found his pa dead,
laid low and lifeless by the fiend.
Then echoed out a torturous wail,
a piteous, and broken girl\'s scream.
He dashed over to William\'s house,
his stomach a cold knot of dread.
He found lying bloody, with lifeless eyes,
the form of William, shot full of lead.
He heard the poor widow Beverly
sobbing as she stroked William\'s face,
Floyd\'s mind froze and he backed out,
then spent the night in a long, restless pace.
At morning light Beverly emerged,
in her arms her young daughter Mary,
she walked up to Floyd where did pace
and near him she then chose to tarry.
He looked at her, her blue eyes all red,
his stomach it roiled and churned.
he said aloud,\"I swear not to rest
until I spill the blood of Jeb O\'Hearn!\"
The widow\'s eyes went wide with fear.
\"Please, don\'t go act like a fool!
You\'re not a killer raised on the gun,
you are no man fit to fight duels!
\"And with your father and my Will
gone on now to the next life,
I have no way to make ends meet,
no family or man to provide.\"
Floyd still looked at Beverly,
he knew that her words rang true.
He said,\"Stay in the ranch, sell off cows,
that aught for the winter keep you.\"
He turned and he left her, his heart a-rage,
and made for the town to get a horse.
As he walked away, he heard her say
\"I will pray for your Floyd, of course.\"
II.
For the next year he road about
searching for O\'Hearn\'s bloody trail.
But after time tracing countless leads,
he felt instead like he was chasing his tail.
For O\'Hearn he never stayed put long,
and hid his tracks with the best,
with a year gone by and nothing gained,
Floyd returned home for a rest.
Beverly greeted him when he came,
and gladly she did show him in.
He saw she\'d yet sold only four cows
to pay for her house-keeping.
For days he slept and loafed about,
watching the joyous, young Mary play.
While Beverly endlessly fussed over him,
it left him sorely tempted to stay.
So much so that despite the rage,
the desire to seek his revenge,
his week at home became two, then three,
he could not bring it to an end.
One night at dinner, brooding hard
over whether or not he should go,
he looked up and realized suddenly
that he\'d rather stay with the widow.
She seemed then to know his deepest thoughts
as she gently rose up to her feet,
and said,\"I\'ll be back in just a short bit,
it\'s far time young Mary went to sleep.\"
Off she went to his old back room,
to put the her tired, little girl down.
When she returned a half-hour had passed,
and she wore neither a dress nor a gown.
Floyd nearly then choked on his drink,
seeing her curves in the candlelight.
He tried to speak, to say anything,
but his throat was seized up real tight.
Beverly did smile softly at the sight,
at the young man stammered and stunned.
She took his his hand and said to him
\"Relax, I\'ll teach you how it\'s done.\"
He let himself be led slowly away,
into his father\'s old bedroom,
and spent the night warm within her arms
losing all thoughts of vengeance and doom...
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.