First Drive

A Seph Vermillion Western Adventure Book 1

by David Fitz-Gerald

Genre: Historical Western Adventure Fiction

Grab your hat, step into your boots, and strap on those spurs. Your cow pony is saddled up and ready to ride the trail from San Antonio to Abilene.

Seph Vermillion grew up dirt poor. As long as he can remember, he’s been pushing a plow and arguing with a mule. A couple of times a year, a trio of bandits ravage the
family farm and make off with their savings.

Pa never returned home after the war. Seph’s siblings have been gone so long, he doesn’t remember what they look like. When Ma dies after a long illness, Seph trades the family
farm for a horse named Sheriff. The kid next door tells Seph about the Deatherage
Longhorn Cattle Ranch. The allure of adventure beckons. They partner up and hit
the trail. Lacking skills, they are the last cowboys hired and agree to work
for half pay.

The outfit’s top hand, Stoke Moreland, pranks, taunts, and threatens Seph. Why does the seasoned cowboy seem intent on driving him off? Seph doesn’t know much about
self-defense, but he is tired of being a victim and feeling violated. How long
can he turn the other cheek?

The trail is fraught with hazards from perilous river crossings to the mother of all
stampedes. When they realize they’re being tracked, followed, and hunted, a
growing sense of doom overwhelms the fledgling outfit of cowboys who are still
wet behind the ears. The outlaws that plagued Seph’s past have followed them
and they are determined to take the herd. Their plan is simple: pit the cowboys
against each other, pick them off one by one, and stampede the beeves.

Since they left San Antonio, the drovers have looked forward to whooping it up at the end of
the trail. That was before somebody began killing cowboys. Now, Abilene seems
like an impossible dream. Will anybody make it to the end of the trail?

Grab your slicker, fetch your bedroll, and swing up into the saddle. Sign on with the Dagger
D, Angry R brand—First Drive is calling your name.

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Meet Lullaby and Yodel

In First Drive, James “Lullaby” Funderburk and his older brother, William “Yodel” Funderburk, are more than cowboys. They anchor the Deatherage outfit with wisdom, music, and their unshakable bond.

The brothers hail from Springfield, Illinois, where their father worked for the bosses’ dad. But it was their Granny Matilda, with her firm hands and unyielding spirit, who left the deepest mark on their hearts and minds.

At 19 and 20 years old, these young black cowboys carry the wisdom of storms weathered and lessons learned beyond their years.

Lullaby is the outfit’s spiritual compass, a calming voice of faith and wisdom. When the cowboys need a steadying presence, they turn to Lullaby for a thoughtful prayer or a soothing hymn.

Yodel, by contrast, is quieter, often letting his harmonica speak for him. He teases his brother when the mood strikes, but his rare words carry weight. Together, they embody balance: Lullaby’s steady faith and thoughtful guidance complemented by Yodel’s restless energy and mischievous heart.

One stormy night on the trail, as the firelight danced and the wind roared, Lullaby shared a memory with his fellow cowboys—a story shaped by Granny Matilda’s wisdom and the lessons of his youth. The boys were quiet, listening intently as Lullaby began to speak, his deep voice loud enough to carry over the wind, but steady.

Back when I was just a kid, about eight or nine years old, we lived up in Springfield with Granny Matilda. She was a strong woman, not just in her hands, but in her spirit too. One night, there was a storm so fierce, I thought it might tear the house right off its foundation. Wind howlin’, lightning flashin’, and rain hammering the roof like it had a grudge. We were scared—me and my brother, Billy-Goat, though he never would have admitted it.

Granny lit a single candle. I remember it like it was yesterday. She set it down in the middle of the room, and she made us both sit there with her. The wind rattled the windows, and the whole house creaked, but she just kept her eyes on that flame.

“Don’t pay that storm no mind,” she said. “Look at the center of the flame.” And I did. I stared right at it, and the more I looked, the more I saw how steady it was, even when the wind outside tried to shake everything else. “That’s where the fire’s strongest,” she told me. “No matter how wild things get, the center holds.”

Billy-Goat, though, he couldn’t sit still. Always fidgeting, tapping his foot. Granny smiled at him, passed him his harmonica, and said, “Play me something, Billy Goat. You know you got music in you.” And sure enough, he started playin’. The storm didn’t seem to bother him much after that.

Granny had a way with music. She could sing a lullaby that would put you to sleep faster than a long day in the saddle, but she’d also yodel when she was feeling lighthearted, just to make us laugh. And that night, she did both—softly hummin’ a lullaby one minute, lettin’ out a little yodel the next. It was like she was remindin’ us that no storm could take away what we held inside.

By morning, the storm had passed, and Billy-Goat, with that quiet grin of his, teased me, sayin’, “You keep staring at that flame, Jimbo. One day, you’ll be puttin’ folks to sleep while I’m playin’ tunes for ‘em.” He didn’t say much, but when he did, it stuck with you.

Lullaby paused, letting the memory linger before adding:

I learned a lot from Granny that night. The storm didn’t stop, but I found my peace in that old flame, just like she said. I’ve carried that lesson with me ever since. Don’t matter how rough it gets. As long as you hold onto what’s steady, you know where you belong.

His words settled over the group like a warm blanket, drawing the cowboys closer to the flickering fire and to each other.

The brothers’ shared upbringing shaped them into complementary forces on the trail. Lullaby’s faith keeps the crew grounded, while Yodel’s harmonica fills the silences and lifts heavy hearts. Their music helps quiet the beeves, and their balance calms restless souls.

Whether leading the outfit in prayer, lightening the mood with a tune, or sharing Granny Matilda’s wisdom, the Deatherage outfit would not be the same without these musical brothers.

Even as storms rage and danger looms, Lullaby and Yodel remind their trailmates to find their center—where the fire burns strongest—and hold steady no matter what comes.

David Fitz-Gerald writes westerns and historical fiction. He is the author of twelve books,
including the brand-new series, Ghosts Along the Oregon Trail set in 1850. Dave
is a multiple Laramie Award, first place, best in category winner; a Blue
Ribbon Chanticleerian; a member of Western Writers of America; and a member of
the Historical Novel Society.

Alpine landscapes and flashy horses always catch Dave’s eye and turn his head. He is also an Adirondack 46-er, which means that he has hiked to the summit of the range’s
highest peaks. As a mountaineer, he’s happiest at an elevation of over four
thousand feet above sea level.

Dave is a lifelong fan of western fiction, landscapes, movies, and music. It should be no
surprise that Dave delights in placing memorable characters on treacherous
trails, mountain tops, and on the backs of wild horses.

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