The Trail Never Ends, Montana Kid Hammer's third novel in his series, trails Ornery and Slim into another set of high adventures; escapades that grow out of the very frontier that holds them fast. Ornery, a Civil War survivor turned veteran cowhand, and Slim, a young orphan from Philadelphia and a burgeoning cowman in his own right, partner up to ride for the brand handled simply as the O U T (Oh-Ewe-Tee) Spread. Their third season of cow crafting finds this pair in the company of, or referenced to, such historic old west personages as, Wyatt Earp, Teddy Blue Abbott, Crazy Horse, and Teddy Roosevelt. Ornery, Slim, and the other hands of the outfit experience such calamities as encounters with rustlers, prairie storms, unsavory saloon types, sheep wars, cantankerous US Army personnel, and wonderful womanly wiles that up the ante of their challenges and try both soul and gun hand. Kid's Old West series is intended to rekindle fond recollections of Old West evenings sat around campfires to a passel of never before told bone rattling and hair-raising cowman tales. Offered is a unique opportunity to 'ride' back to those wild and wooly days of America's western yesteryears.

Little Brooks lives, hunts, and rides with the Plains Indians. While with them, he witnesses first hand a massacre of a pioneer woman and her two children. This act spurns hatred and bigotry between the communities of the White Settlers and Native Americans that would be felt for over 100 years. Can Little Brooks lay to rest this social strife with the truth he has witnessed?

"Hey, saddle tramp," said Vernon. "I don't think I like a bum like you coming in here to drink with us men." Matt turned to face Guthry, spread his feet shoulder wide with his gun hand thumb still hooked in his belt, still three fingers from his .44. The men that stood along the bar, drifted to one side, out of the line of fire. The room grew deadly quiet. "I've had just about all the crap I'm going to take from a local loudmouth like you," Matt said. There was a deadly chill to his voice and Vernon shivered slightly from the feel of it. All of a sudden, he realized that he might be biting off a little more than he could chew. Being the braggart that he was, he couldn't back down from the step he had taken. He crouched and went for his pistol. Realization that he didn't even have his gun half way out of leather, and was already looking into the black hole of a barrel, that looked three inches in diameter, he froze and in no time at all he felt the sting of salty sweat in his eyes from the large beads that had popped out on his forehead and trickled down. He swallowed hard, his Adam's apple moved up and down but the lump in his throat was just about to choke him and he couldn't swallow it. He lost control of his bladder and pissed down his leg, the warm fluid trickling into his left boot. Dawning on him that he had just pissed in his own whiskey, he sucked in a mountain of air and said with a high pitched, fine toothed comb, squeak, "Ohooo, shit." .

Jeb never learned that he was an illegitimate child. Those who knew him did not dare call him bastard. He was gentle. He was tough. With little effort, he took care of himself, having learned by being brought up in isolation, deep into the timber of the Ozark Mountains. Exhibiting these traits, he did both good and bad things, both of which tended to be excessive, even in the midst of war and lawlessness.