Gabriel Gifford never aspired to anything other than to survive in an inhospitable and dangerous world. In the beginning years of the 1860s, a young man had few options to call his own, as serving the cause took every acceptable precedent. Accepting his station in life, he joined the federal army and ended up serving most of the war as a prisoner. Upon returning to his roots, he discovered that everything that he had ever known had changed and that this family, thinking he was a war casualty, had moved on. His wife was married to his best friend and, seeing that he could do nothing to change anything for the better, decided to walk away. He could only come to a single conclusion and that would be to travel west and disappear into the vast wilderness as was the calling for so many others. He crossed into Missouri on the Saint Louis ferry in July 1865 and by the fall was already making his mark. He had no clue as to his calling when he set foot on dry land, but that calling came to him with a vengeance. Missouri was still quite lawless and under martial law at that time and desperate for someone to step up, anyone willing to risk it all, to possibly begin the process of restoring order to a society near chaos. This is the story of that man. He swore allegiance, and just like that became a Federal United States Marshal with all the power afforded to that office, and he didn’t have to go looking for trouble. It found him.