He was nine years old when the American Civil War began, but being a black boy from the south made it hard for him to be involved.  He had never had a name, being servant to one of the gentlemen that remembered the original purpose for enslaving other men.  He had merely been called Servant, or when addressed in the third person, Jack's Man the Younger, as there was another servant assigned to the same duties as he was in serving Master Jack Little.  

Yet in the confusion of war, he escaped, attaching himself to the first Union corps he could find.  When asked his name, he had been unknowing of what they spoke.  When asked of what others called him, he could answer quickly and easily: Jacksman Younger.  And that is what they called him as he was trained under General Ferrero with other escaped men, what he called himself as he hid from the terrible fight that destroyed General Ferrero's division in 1864, what he was at the end of the war in 1865.  

He was fourteen years old when the American Civil War ended.  Being a black boy, he could have returned to the south with his money that he had earned in his wartime efforts and joined with his fellows to wreak retribution in the Reconstruction Era.  

Yet one thing he remembered most of all from the war were the great, magnificent animals that the officers rode on, the same that Jack Little had rode.  With his earnings from wartime, he bought himself a horse and the necessary supplies, and rode west, having heard of the great riches to be found out there.  

Jacksman Younger would have died within a week if Buck had not found him.

Buck was the name that Jacksman gave him.  The boy could not have been more than ten when he was found, dressed in rags of former breeches and his namesake: buckskin.  He had carried a rifle much too large for him, and when Jacksman had found him rooting through his supplies, the boy had handled the musket as though it was too large, but well adjusted.  Luckily for Jacksman, there were no more cartridges for the weapon, but it did stall the young teen from reacting as he would have to any pesky creature.  

Jacksman set the boy down after relieving him of musket and gave him food, and the boy spent the night.  When Jacksman woke the next morning to find him gone, the teen had shrugged and decided to move on.  When Buck found him the next day, it was with a brace of rabbits, cudgeled over the head the both.  Jacksman cooked the meat, shared it with Buck, and they never parted after that.  

The first few weeks with Buck were trying, as Buck had never spoken through his young life.  He never completely explained to Jacksman what had occurred in his childhood to leave him in the state that he had been found in.  Yet he took to the name quickly, and showed a great amount of loyalty by standing up for Jacksman, insisting upon a blood relation to all the white men in the towns they traded in.  With money Jacksman worked for, he bought the boy shells for that rifle, and before long, they were eating well.  

It was Jacksman that brought the passion and adhesive to the family.  It was Buck that brought the food and means of survival.  It was Daniel that brought the humor and optimism and a realistic view of events.  

Buck was the one to find him, curled up in his bed in a burned out homesteader's house.  While Buck was unwilling to speak of his childhood, Daniel turned out to be unknowing.  He had awoken to Buck's nervous nudging, yawned in the innocence of an eight year old, and he had not understood Buck's worry for him.  Buck had brought him to the fire that Jacksman was waiting at, and Daniel had watched all the action around him with wide eyes.  When asked his name, he had answered boldly, but he could not remember a mother or father or family.  He knew his age, but he grew confused to upset when asked more than what he professed to know.  

The horse, though, the poor old nag that carried two boys upon its back, drew Daniel's attention.  Wide-eyed and curious, the child approached the horse and ran his hands over the long limbs and delicate muzzle.  Jacksman, ever the paternal figure in the two boys' lives, rushed the child to sleep after he had eaten.  Yet when the eldest woke, the two younger boys were awake, Buck watching with wide eyes as Daniel put the horse through impressive paces.  

It was then that Jacksman knew he had to do something more than what he had been doing.  Daniel could ride a horse.  Buck had been learning quickly how to stay seated.  Jacksman's horse could not carry much more weight.  

At the first ranch he came across, Jacksman rode boldly into the ranch grounds.  Men with bowed legs, small hips, and rugged faces watched them with narrowed eyes.  Nervous, the teenager stopped the horse beside the biggest building, looking around for one who appeared to be in charge.  Finally, one of the men approached him.  

"Well, hallo, kid.  What do you want?"

Jacksman swallowed and looked at the man.  "I wanna see your boss."

"You lookin' for a job, Kid?"

"Yes.  Me, and my brothers."  He motioned with his head over his shoulder at the younger boys.  "We need a job."

The man looked the boys behind Jacksman over and sneered.  "Your brothers, eh?  Different fathers, or different mothers?"  

Buck frowned, Jacksman knew, and handled the too-big rifle he still carried to swing it to face the man.   "He's my brother.  You gotta problem with that, Big Man?"  The ten year old's vicious turn convinced the man to not overreact.  

"We can ride.  Buck can shoot.  I've got ideas.  We want a job," Jacksman snapped.  The man pursed his lips and looked around at the men watching.  

"Well, fine, Kid.  I'll get the Boss."  

Frowning, the man returned to one of the smaller buildings, rubbing his head with a grubby hand.  During that moment, Daniel slid down from the horse with a wide grin on his small face.  With boyish enthusiasm, he approached the men and asked about their horses and how long they had ridden them.  None of them could claim the boy was unwelcome, as he showed true curiosity and interest in all things the cowboys could tell him.  

When the Boss came out, Daniel was getting a crash course in roping techniques and was making the riders laugh at his antics as he roped himself or his limbs in his attempts to throw a good lasso.  

"You want a job," the Boss spat to Jacksman, who nodded hesitantly.  "Why should I hire you?"  Buck, the fiery child that he was, went to draw a bead on the man, but Jacksman pushed the barrel down quickly.  

"We can ride.  Buck shoots well.  I have good ideas.  We can fight for your cattle."

The Boss smiled slightly as he looked at the youngest brother, who had just roped another unwitting cowboy.  "They're not mine.  You say you can ride.  What do you want if I were to give you boys an outfit?"

Jacksman swallowed, knowing that his request might be a reason that he might lose the job.  "I need horses for my brothers.  Food, supplies for whatever we need to do.  You need not pay me until our work repays the horses."

The Boss smiled crookedly.  "That's a request I've not heard.  Let me bring it to Gallington.  He's the true boss here.  Wait.  Give that horse a rest, though.  The nag looks exhausted."

"That is why we need horses," Jacksman responded softly.  "They are too big to ride with me."

The man looked Jacksman over again.  "Just bin freed?"

"Five years," Jacksman replied shortly.  "I fought in the war."

"Good.  Good man.  Never thought much of those gennelmen anyway," Boss muttered.  "Call me Boss or Tanner.  I answer to either.  The owner is Colonel Gallington, 'long with his sons.  They were Union men, all.  The Missus is gone, so don't ask after her.  The daughter is off at school, so we don't have to worry about these cowpokes.  I doubt I would worry about you."

"No, sir," Jacksman replied quickly.  "No need to worry about me."

Tanner was about to reply when a shriek cut both short.  Jacksman looked toward Daniel, but the boy was already wrapped tight around his legs.  "Daniel?  Danny?  What's wrong, boy?"

The child whimpered and buried his face into his brother's stomach, hiccupping.  Tanner spun upon his wide-eyed men, glaring at them.  "What did you lousy cahoots do?"

One cowboy cussed and dropped a lit match.  "I don't know, Tanner.  One minute I was lighting a smoke, and the next, the kid was shrieking like someone was killin' him.  How'm I sposed to know?"

"You boys know why he'd react like that?" Tanner asked, looking at Jacksman and Buck.  Both shook their heads, Buck clinging to his adopted little brother with a glare at the cattlemen.  

"We don't," Jacksman vocalized.  "We did find him in a burnt out house, though.  He don't know what happened to him, but matches and him do not get along well.  Shoulda told you."

"Huh.  Okay," Tanner accepted the turn around easily.  "So, no matches around the kid.  How're you gonna light campfires at night?"

"If we're close, he don't fright much with matches.  We musta been too far away."

"Six paces?" Tanner whispered.  "That's not a lot of space."  

"That's how it is," Jacksman replied.  "Never been too far to test it."

"Huh.  I'll be back."  Tanner disappeared into the big white house behind the trees, rubbing the back of his head.  Not long after, Tanner returned with a man in tow, mopping his head as the other carefully placed a wide-brimmed hat on his head, an unconcerned expression on his face.  

"Colonel," Jacksman greeted politely, nodding his head as the tall, chisel-faced man stared down at him.  "I need a job.  My brothers and I can ride."

"You told Tanner you got ideas.  Let's hear them."

Jacksman blinked and swallowed before he nodded.  "Sure.  You have a problem with cattle thieves, yeah?"

"Simple knowledge.  What's your magic cure?"

"Rustler hunters."

The cigarette that the colonel had been absently lighting dropped into the dust.  "Tell me that again?"

"I learned it in the war.  To defend a city, sometimes you had to attack the force coming at you, right?  So, why not just ride out and meet the rustlers?"

"You'd have to be where the rustlers are, and not just attacking random people."

"If we make it clear that we're shadowing the herds, no one would bother the herds, right?  The rustlers would rather go after other people's stuff and not take the risk, right?"

Gallington licked his lips and rolled the cigarette in his fingers, dark eyes squinting at the distant horizon.  "Okay, kid.  We'll give you a shot."

Jacksman nearly jumped in excitement.  "Really?"

"Yeah.  What's your name, kid?"

"Jacksman Younger."

"Uh huh.  That what your original gennelman call you?"

Jacksman looked away and nodded.  "Yes, Sir."

"Jack, then.  No more of that name.  Jack Younger is good enough.  Can you go by that?"

"Yessir."

"Good boy.  Tanner, get these boys outfits and someone that can teach them the ropes.  We'll see what this kid's plans come to.  I'm willing to try anything."