In The Beginning by Gail Daley (top 100 books of all time checklist .TXT) 📕

sigh of relief. She tied her gray striped mare up to the hitching rail in front of the tack room and unsaddled her. Coming out with a brush and currycomb after she deposited her saddle on a rack inside, she was surprised to see that Redbird, her father’s mount had come up to the hitching rail where she had tied Grayling her own tricorn, and was investigating the feedbag she had dropped over her nose.

"Redbird, how did you get loose?" she demanded of the tricorn, picking up his trailing reins. As she moved to re-tie him to the rail, she spotted the wound, still oozing a trickle of blood, on his rump where the second bullet had grazed him. When she stepped back and looked more carefully at the stallion, she could see a smear of blood on the stirrup leather.

Her first impulse was to remount and back trail Redbird to see if she could find her father. Looking around for help, she realized the stable area was empty. This time of day the thirty or so people who earned a living working for St. Vyr around the home ranch were probably inside resting from the burning heat of the day. The herders and farmers who normally would have been close by were doing the same in the orchards or out in the fields with the stock. Jeanne finished tying Redbird to the hitching rail and ran through the open doors on the courtyard to the house, shouting for her sisters, her grandmother and Margo the housekeeper.

"What is it, child?" Giselle, her grandmother asked in alarm when Jeanne burst through the French doors leading from the patio to the sitting room.

"Papa’s tricorn came back without him," Jeanne gasped out. "There is blood on the stirrups, and he has a bullet burn across his rump. Where is everyone?"

"Margo went into town to do the weekly shopping," Bethany, her older sister said, referring to their housekeeper. "Did you say Papa was hurt? Where is he?"

"I don’t know," Jeanne said. "Redbird was loose by the corral when I got back. At first, I didn’t notice he was hurt. Where was Papa going today?"

"He went into town to see the lawyer," Iris, the next oldest sister, told her.

"Jeanne, go saddle us some mounts while we change into riding clothes," Bethany ordered. Jeanne ran back outside.

Bethany looked at her grandmother, her grey eyes worried. "Gran, you need to send someone out to the men working in the pastures closest to the house and have them come in and help with the search. If Papa was shot between the ranch and town, he’ll be found somewhere along the road to the Crossing."

Giselle nodded her understanding and left quickly, calling for Macon, the head gardener.

Bethany came downstairs a few minutes later, dressed in homespun grey pants and shirt. The tight shirt and pants fit snuggly on her hourglass figure, and the grey color brought out the red highlights in her hair. she went to her father’s gun cabinet and loaded rifles and pistols for herself and her sisters. She belted on a holster belt specially made to fit around her waist. She slid a handgun into the holster.

"Oh, no," Iris protested, her green eyes widening when she saw the weapons. She was tucking her white blond hair up under a wide-brimmed leather hat. "Surely we won’t need those."

"If something happened to Papa," Bethany told Iris grimly, "It wasn’t an accident. Jeanne said Redbird had a bullet burn across his rump. Do you want to be helpless if we need to rescue him?"

Bethany handed the second pistol and rifle to Iris who took it reluctantly. Despite her height, this middle girl of Michael St. Vyr's had an air of fragility, belied by the expertise with which she checked the pistol and rifle.

"Where is mine?" Giselle asked, returning from her errand. Like the girls, she had changed to homespun pants, shirt and boots. She was a beautiful woman despite showing her fifty years of age and could still turn heads in the tight pants and shirt.

"In the gun cabinet because we need you need to stay here in case Papa makes it home," Jeanne informed her as she came back in through the window. She took her weapons from Bethany. "The Tricorns are ready to go."

"Thank you, Jeanne," Bethany said. She turned to Giselle. "You are our best doctor. You know you need to stay here in case someone brings Papa home wounded, Grandmother."

Giselle gave reluctant consent to the plan. "I'll give you girls three hours to find him, before I come out to look also."

The land between the Golden Tricorn and the town of River Crossing looked flat, but it was pocked with shallow dips and cuts in the earth, making searching for a wounded man who might be trying to hide, slow and difficult work. The knee-high grass growing off the road could hide a body as well.

It was Iris who spotted the marks Michael had made when he dragged himself into the ditch for cover.

"Here!" Iris called, dismounting and sliding down into the waist deep ditch. Her tricorn smelled blood and pulled back nervously on the reins, nearly dragging her back up the embankment.

"Papa!" Jeanne called urgently. "Where are you?"

She too dismounted, and taking the reins of Iris’s tricorn, she tied the nervous animal to her saddle horn. She had no fear of her own mount running off because she smelled blood; she had spent hours training Grayling not to flinch under more difficult circumstances than a smell she didn’t like. When Bethany dismounted, she handed the reins of the tricorns to her and joined Iris in the ditch, carefully lifting the bushes to see if her father had crawled under them.

Iris had just spotted one of Michael’s boots sticking out from under a bush against the far bank, and she rushed forward, yanking the bushes out of her way.

"Be careful. There might be a Sander under there. You know how they like the shade when