Caleb: A Western tale, circa 1880's

Prologue

"I was able to file for the entire thing!" boasted the new ranch-owner to his bride, "all three thousand acres."

Sitting in her rocker before their fire, the young woman stared at the flames for a few moments. "Did you file for a brand too?"

"Of course." He fiddled with his pipe.

"Here, let me," she offered, holding out her hand. He passed her the pipe and the tobacco wordlessly. "And what brand would that be?" she asked, packing the pipe.

"It'll read as the 'Lazy 8', he offered apologetically, "but this here's now legally 'Infinity Ranch'. Every time we look at one of our horses or the cattle, we'll know that them two circles'r our wedding bands, side by side."

She sighed in reply, gifting him with a loving glance as she finished packing his pipe and moved to light it with a splinter from the fireplace. When it was drawing properly, she handed the finished pipe to her husband. "That's about the most romantic thing you ever done said to me."

He took a few puffs of the pipe and smiled. "Won't top the most romantic thing you ever told me."

"What was that?" She frowned in thought.

"You said 'yes' when I asked you to marry me." He paused to grin at her, pleased by her expression. "Tomorrow, I plan to ride out and check things out down in the draw. Something don't seem right about this. It's been filed on three times, someone's built this cabin, fenced in the garden, even got part way through building the barn but never finished it. None of the locals ever push their cattle onto our range, nor file for it when it comes up."