Lucas Buck, always calm and collected on the outside, but on the inside there was a fire, one the which no one dared to even approach, stared at these Yanks that had come to town like carpetbaggers, comin' in to take what was not theirs to take. He'd let them believe they had the upperhand, that he was just some backwoods no nothin' southern boy.

What they didn't know would kill them.

"Where I grew up," Barrett said, glaring at Lucas and poking at his chest like he was somebody's somebody, "I pissed on little monkeys like you everyday."

Lucas' dark eyes remained on his, blank and dead calm as he listened with ebbing patience. Oh, there was already a plan blooming in his mind.

"You think the sun sets on your lil plastic badge," the man continued onward, "You're the ruler of all that you see. You got all forty acres and a few jackasses."

Lucas quirked a brow as he listened to this man's diagnosis of how he ruled Fulton County. He couldn't help but be amused by the comment of the jackasses, they came in the names of Ben and Floyd.

"You've just been made obsolete," Barrett continued on, "This town is now my town. And you're going to be working for me. You get it?"

Lucas pulled his gaze from Barrett to his little gang of nobodies and nothings that now had their hands i their pockets as if they were carrying a gun to use against him.

He took a step forward, a charmin' southern smile crossed his lips as he looked Barrett up and down, sizing him up, "Now you're gonna listen to some of my advice."

His words were flat as he continued forward, "You boys don't slip up, ya hear? Don't make any mistakes….don't even jaywalk. 'Cause this is my town," his sidelong smirk now in full place, "and here in Trinity, the punishment almost never fits the crime."