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said gently, approaching cautiously with his hand extended outward.
    Again, Zach nodded toward the two criminals in the road. “Not while they can still hurt my dad,” he replied with valiant resolve.
    The ranger seemed to understand. Diverting to the prone bodies, he bent and checked each, kicking away their handguns. He then rose and then looked Zach in the eye. “I give you my word as a ranger, Zach, they aren’t going to hurt your dad anymore. Now please hand me that shotgun.”
    Zach studied the approaching lawman. There was a projection of confidence, kindness, and earned authority in the man’s demeanor. It made the boy feel safe. It was the first trust he’d felt since his father had been wounded.
    Zach nodded, lifting the scattergun as if to hand it over. As soon as the ranger took possession of the firearm, he moved to the wounded police officer and then Mr. Bass, broadcasting a status on his radio the entire time.
    Police, ambulances, and even a volunteer fire department’s EMT unit began arriving. Vehicles, shouting voices, and running men were everywhere.
    When the two EMTs tried to reach Mr. Bass, Zach wouldn’t budge. Again, the ranger stepped in, pulling the worried son gently away while promising the ambulance crew would help his father.
    Amidst the whirlwind of activity, lights, and rushing responders, the ranger managed to get Zach to take a seat in his truck. Slowly, with a kind tone and careful words, he pulled the story out of the frightened boy.
    When he spotted his father being lifted onto the stretcher, Zach tried to exit the cab. “Don’t worry; we’ll follow the ambulance in my truck. I promise I won’t let it out of my sight,” reassured the lawman.
    And he kept his word.
    The senior Bass survived the encounter, as did the state trooper they had rescued. But Zach’s father had taken a bullet to the spine and lost the use of his legs.
    Being confined to a wheelchair was too much for the once able-bodied and powerful rancher. Over the next few years, Zach watched helplessly as his father’s outlook deteriorated as much as his lower body. Bitterness, hard liquor, and remorse ruled the Bass household. Despite the awards and appreciation heaped upon the handicapped man, he couldn’t deal with the stigma of being dependent. Mr. Bass’s health dwindled away, declining until pneumonia finally took him to the grave just three years after the incident.
    Zach’s grandparents assumed the responsibility of raising the youth, the elderly couple moving back to the ranch from their retirement cottage in the Texas Hill Country. It was a struggle, but throughout it all, Zach knew he was loved. He also knew from that point forward that he wanted to be a Texas Ranger.
    As the years passed, Zach replayed that fateful day a thousand times. The two men who had attacked the state trooper were escaped convicts from Oklahoma. With a stolen car and firearms, they were making a run for Mexico. Both had been lifelong criminals, neither surviving the encounter with Mr. Bass’s 12-gauge.
    Of all the memories and impressions, it was the ranger’s presence that most impressed the young Bass. He began to read and study everything he could find about their organization. While other teenagers were interested in cars, the latest music group, or social media, Zach studied and read everything he could about the history and legend of the Texas Rangers.
    Maturity led to understanding. Fate had been cruel that day, the odds of the encounter occurring in the remote lands of West Texas in front of father and son beyond calculation. It was a struggle for Zach to avoid the pitfalls of blaming God or feeling cursed for the misfortune.
    A key weapon in his fight to remain optimistic was the memory of the ranger’s actions that morning. Zach fully understood the difference between the deputy’s pistol pointing, near-panic response, and the calm, in-control attitude of the senior lawman. It was a dichotomy that he often