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

and he hasn’t got a handgun; besides, he’s a blade man. He’s got a big-ass knife on his belt, one in his boot and another down his back under his shirt. My moneys on him."

Abner slapped Mac across the face and stepped back so he could draw. A riverman sitting nearby stuck out his boot and Abner tripped. He went down on his rump, accompanied by jeers and laughter from the crowd. Furious, he scrambled to his feet and jerked at his gun. His draw was fast and sure, but before he could fire, ten inches of steel flashed across the room, speared itself into his throat and out the back of his neck. Abner’s bullet went into the sawdust floor.

"What’d he make me do that for?" the man called Mac complained.

"Guess he was looking to make a name," suggested one of the bystanders.

The outside doors swung open and Ira Johnson came running in to kneel by his son.

"Who did this?" he demanded.

"It was a fair fight. He tried to pull his gun on Mac here Mister," offered the riverman who had tripped Abner, gesturing to the tall rawboned man standing at the bar.

Sheriff Melody pushed his way past the crowd. "Anybody, see it?"

"I saw it, Sheriff," the bartender said. "Mac here was minding his own business when the kid shoved him and slapped him. He was looking for a fight. He tried to pull iron and Mac knifed him."

"That’s right, Sheriff," corroborated several witnesses.

The sheriff eyed Mac with disfavor. "Jeb Mackenzie, maybe I ought to have you check that knife as well as the shotgun."

"Sheriff, my son was just a boy," Ira protested. His son was dead, and he would grieve for him later, but perhaps the situation could still be salvaged. "This man McCaffey is a known gunfighter. I say this was murder."

"Didn’t use a gun, used a knife. And Mackenzie here is a pain in my ass but he’s no gunfighter," the sheriff retorted. "It looks like a fair shooting to me."

"His name’s not Alec McCaffey?" Ira asked.

"Nope. This here’s Jeb Mackenzie."

At the back table, Alec exchanged looks with Henry. "Well now," Henry observed. "Looks like Mike was right and you’ve bought chips in this game whether you anted up or not."

"Yeah. I think we better check out and take the boat south tonight instead of in the morning."

A Warrior Comes

THE MORNING HER PROSPECTIVE bridegroom was expected to arrive, Bethany woke early after a fitful night’s sleep. The darkened sky was just showing the first streaks of light when she got out of bed to sit on the window bench in her room. A light breeze floated in through the open shutters. She propped her chin on her hands and looked out over the ranch. From here, she could see the kitchen gardens outside the walls, and the groves of fruit and nut trees at the base of the mountains where they joined the gray Ironwood trees thrusting up toward the darkened sky. Mike St. Vyr planted the orchards with the seedlings Giselle brought back from her final trip as a Portal Runner. Gold Creek cut through edge of the orchard, headed for its meeting with the Black River that gave River Crossing its name. Further west, the low rolling land covered with dry yellow grasses looked like a buttery sea extending to the horizon.

Everything was quiet, but she knew it wouldn’t last; already she could hear Iris’s goats and Jeanne’s geese stirring around. Below, a cooking pot clanged, and a door slammed as the housekeeper, Margo Alvarez, added bluestones and water to the iron stove to start a fire for breakfast.

Life began early in the valley. By three o’clock, St. Antoni's sun would have turned the place into an oven. Everyone living in the valley started early so they could rest in the afternoon to avoid working in the heat of the day.

The Steamboat Bethany knew Alec would take downriver from Junction City to the Crossing wouldn’t arrive until noon, so he wouldn't arrive at the ranch itself until later that day. He would ride out from town and that was at least an hour ride. There was plenty to do to get ready for Alec’s arrival. She stood up and dressed for the day.

By lunchtime, Bethany had worn out her welcome with most of the household. She had squabbled with both her sisters, snapped at Margo and accomplished nothing the entire morning. In exasperation, her Grandmother, recognizing the ill temper for the nerves it was, thrust a broom into her hands with instructions to sweep the flagstones on the courtyard and stay out of everyone’s hair.

Both large, arched wooden gates in the courtyard had been thrown open for the day, allowing the breeze to cool the house and grounds. Bethany had barely begun her task when she discovered both Iris’s and Jeanne’s especial pets had again escaped confinement and invaded the inner courtyard.

King George, Iris’s irascible Billy goat, was sneaking toward Giselle's prized flower bushes. He loved the taste of them which was why he was not allowed in the courtyard when they were in bloom. Lulubelle, Jeanne’s pet goose, who had decided the courtyard was her property, fiercely resenting any encroachers human or animal. When she spied George, she hissed and spread her wings, attempting to drive him out of her territory. King George responded to her threat by lowering his head and stomping his feet. It was obvious battle was about to be joined.

Out of the corner of her eye, Bethany noticed the two riders dismounting just inside the gates. She ignored them and walked toward the combatants, intending to use her broom to separate the pair. She was too slow. Just as she approached, King George lowered his head and charged. Lulubelle, back-winging to avoid his rush, smacked into Bethany. Furious at what she considered an attack from behind, Lulubelle hissed and honked, battering Bethany with her powerful wings and bill. Reeling backwards from the impact of the forty-pound goose,