From fifty miles north of Lampasas south to the Mexico border, Longhorn cattle made it rough on men trying to raise beef cattle and milk cows. Their grain fields were raided by thousands of Longhorn cattle. What wasn’t eaten was trampled into the ground. One of those farmers had his hundred acres of feed eaten and grass in his sixty-acre fenced pasture trampled into the ground one too many times. His small ranch and farm, he was about to lose to the bank. No way he could afford to buy winter feed when all the feed and grass were gone. Elijah Thompson was a big man, hard and mad. He rode into Lampasas and stopped at the saloon. “I need men, thirty or forty that’ll ride with me and rid this whole country of them Longhorns that destroy our fences and crops.” “Yer crazy, Elijah. Can’t be done.” “Watch me! I’ll by damn well get it done if it’s the last thing I ever do.”