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“We be a’needin’ better government in this area.” The words still rang in Lige’s ears as he turned his mule and headed up the holler. Chick Allen had just told him the constable had sent word for them to, “Cut the ropes and let Rosco loose. That they weren’t aiming to carry him halfway across the state.” Why, they hadn’t had Rosco tied up and ready for the law to pack off, and they wouldn’t do a thing. Seven months later Lige was summoned to court over to Jackson, fifty miles away, because of the murder case. There was too much fussing and feuding in these rugged hills of Kentucky in the late 1800’s to leave a man sitting easy. It was paining Lige to leave Clarie with the six children and it being planting time. At best, it would be five days for going out and back and a day for court. To top it off, Lige knew there was trouble brewing in their home. What was a man to do?