John Valentine stepped into the unrestricted space outside Crowloft Prison and stood with his eyes closed, breathing in the air of freedom. After twelve years inside for his part in a stagecoach robbery, it was time to begin anew. With just the clothes he had arrived in and a few dollars, compliments of the government, he waited for the prison wagon to take him and three other men just released, into the town of Digby. The ride was slow and dusty and the men just sat in silence, each contemplating their own circumstance. When the wagon finally entered the town and stopped in front of the sheriff's office, the driver told them all to get out and check in with the law before going anywhere. They were free only according to the calendar.

John climbed the few steps to the office door, turning to see if the others were coming... only one did.

"They not coming?" John asked.

"Don't look like it. Their business, not mine." The man pushed the door open and stepped inside. John followed.

"You the boys from Crowloft?" The voice was raspy rough and it came out of a large, pot-bellied man with grey whiskers and eyes so pale a blue they were almost white.

"John Valentine. Yeah, we just got in."

The sheriff looked at the other man. "What about you?"

"Cobb. Howard Cobb."

"Supposed to be four of you. Where's the others?"

"No idea. They just left." John said.

"Just left huh." The sheriff hitched his gun belt and strolled over to the window. He squinted through the dirty panes and cursed under his breath. "Okay, you two. The government gave you some startin' out money. Don't be drinkin' it away across the street. Git yourselves a good bath and a shave and have a solid meal. That'll be your best bet to find any kind of work, which you will need... soon as possible."

"Think I could get a decent horse for cheap anywhere?" John asked.

"You got someplace to go?"

"Yeah, as far away from here as I can."

"Try the livery. What about you?" He asked Cobb.

"I'm goin' to get a drink." The reply and look were both surly.

"Why do we bother." The sheriff turned his back, fluffing them both out with a wave of his hand.

******

The day was not even finished before Cobb and the other two ex prisoners held up the dry goods store and shot the clerk. Cobb and one other escaped on stolen horses and the third ended his freedom face down in the street with several bullets in his body. Immediately, John was shunned by the townspeople. Guilt by association was the verdict and he was warned off and told to get out of the town. The sheriff just shrugged and ignored him. After twelve years in prison, knowing no one and having very little money, John went into the town's church and begged the minister for help.

"I'm afraid there is little I can do, my son. I have no work here and the church is poor as it is. The people in Digby are mostly good but I can't tell them what to do, I tell them what they should do once each week; it's the best I can offer." Reverend Morrel, looked apologetic.

"It's not fair. I served my time for my mistake. What am I supposed to do without any help?"

"You can stay here for as long as you need. I have a small room beside the rectory. I can offer you food, it's the one thing with which the Lord has blessed this church. I have quite a vegetable garden out back."

"Thanks. I really appreciate your offer. I just don't know what to do."

"Have faith son, the Lord minds all his flock."

John wasn't so sure.

Two week passed and John became depressed, nervous and anxious to do something, to go somewhere. The life he was stuck in was no better than the prison he'd given twelve years. Unable to take any more, he waited until dark one night, sneaked out to the church stable, and stole the minister's horse. By morning, he had put ten or fifteen miles between himself and Digby. The note he left was discovered the following morning by the minister and he immediately went to the altar and said a prayer for John Valentine.

When John rode into Seamount, his luck vanished again. In the middle of the street, one of the men released from prison with him stood with his gun wavering between the two deputies flanking him, aiming their carbines. He steered his horse to the side of the barbershop and watched the scene play out. The man shouted that he was never going back to prison and fired his gun. The two deputies responded, shredding the man's chest and send him spinning like a rag doll down onto the dusty road.

"Guess he got his wish." One of the deputies quipped.

"Got another one over here."

John started and looked up to see Sheriff Jarvis, from Digby standing on the wooden sidewalk right above him. With one hand on his gun, he waived John out into the street. There was no hope of riding off, the pair of deputies already had their carbines leveled at him.

"Well ain't this a coincidence, Mr. Valentine."

John climbed down from his horse, took of his hat and wiped his face. "Sheriff. Why the guns?"

"Well looks like we caught another horse thief, that's why."

"I ain't no horse thief–"

"No? I think Reverend Morrel might think different. I know that's his horse and tack, boy."

John blew out a disheartened breath. "You said another, who you talkin' about?"

"Your friend Cobb and that piece of trash over there came through here and made the mistake of trying to rob the telegraph office. Cobb got away but we got his pal." Jarvis tipped his head toward the body behind him.

"He wasn't my friend."

"No? Well, horse thieves are horse thieves I say. All one mangy crew."

******

Back in Digby, Sheriff Jarvis argued angrily with the Reverend. Reverend Morrel had refused to press charges, saying that the horse and tack were a gift. Having no recourse, Jarvis freed Valentine with a heavy threat about his future activities. Valentine spent the evening with the Reverend, questioning his purpose in lying about the theft.

"I broke your trust, why would you help me?"

"I see a good man under your rough exterior, John. I see a man who took the wrong path because he had no map of faith to follow."

"Reverend, I am not a religious man."

"It doesn't matter, John. We are all members of the same flock and our shepherd sees us all as one."

"I can only say thanks, Reverend and maybe ask for my job back, to pay for a horse of my own."

Reverend Morrel smiled and touched John's arm. "The horse and tack are yours, John. The only payment I require is that you give me your word you will turn your life around, becoming and staying, an honest man."

Valentine studied the old man silently. How easy it would be to say yes and leave with a horse and tack, no charge. Yet something tugged at his mind, and he thought about the trail he was on and how it had been through laziness and stupidity he followed it in the first place. Here was a stranger, really, who was willing to forgive him and assist him in finding a new trail; Valentine looked deep inside and discovered that he couldn't destroy such open trust and generosity.

"Reverend, you have my solemn word. I will not abuse the faith you have put in me." He shook the old man's hand and avowed his promise again.

"I will have to change my name to begin again; Jarvis will see that my history is announced all over the territory."

"He is a vindictive man, I know." Morrel smiled and nodded his head. "Go with God, my son."

******

A month later, in the small town of Mountain Trail, Valentine found work on a homesteader's ranch, handling livestock, under the name of Middleton. Over time, his diligence and ingenuity led to huge improvements for the ranch and word of his success extend through the area, placing Middleton in great demand. His ideas spread and their implementation brought increased wealth to the town; He soon joined the town's council and with his advice sought in all aspects of the community, quickly became the chair. His life had turned around. The promise he made became a reality. He sent word of thanks to his mentor in Digby, only to learn the Reverend Morrel had passed away.

The news was delivered by telegraph and signed by Jarvis, the newly appointed Marshall of the territory that included Mountain Trail. Middleton new he had erred.