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

"My new brother-in-law—at least he isn't yet, but he will be."

Samuel Johnson drew back a little and looked at her. "Let’s sit down and start over. Why can't women tell a story straight instead of always starting in the middle?"

"If I didn't love you, I'd shoot you for remarks like that. Give me back my gun."

He pulled her down with him on the bank and kissed her until she was breathless. Faintly, from across the river came a woman's scream and the sound of breaking glass. Samuel reluctantly lifted his head.

After a moment, he said. "This isn't a good place, Hellcat. Tell me about this new brother-in-law."

"That gunfighter Dad was waiting for arrived last night. Bethany is going to marry him. They came into town to make wedding arrangements today."

Samuel pulled thoughtfully at his lower lip. "Emory sure won't like that."

"Who cares what Emory likes? My sister can marry anybody she wants, you know."

"I know," he agreed absently. "Does this gunfighter have a name?"

"McCaffey is what Dad called him, but I don't know if that's his real name."

"Alexander McCaffey?"

"I think so, but he goes by Alec. Why?"

"Whatever else he is, Emory is my brother. We may not see eye to eye about some things just now, but I don't want to see him killed if I can help it."

Enemy lines. There it was, between them, just as it always was.

"Let's go away," said Jeanne impulsively. "The next steamboat that comes up the river, let’s get on it and go away. Away from both our families."

"It wouldn't stop Dad," Samuel replied honestly. "If he thought we were together anywhere, he would still think he could use you if—if something happened."

"You mean if my Dad and sisters were dead," Jeanne said in a hard voice.

Samuel didn't answer her. He pulled her to her feet and put her on her tricorn where he stood looking up at her. "I wish it was different, Hellcat."

Jeanne stroked his soft, dark gold hair back from his face. "Me too."

He stood there in the shadows, watching to make sure she got safely back to town.

Bethany and Alec weren't back yet, so Jeanne went into The Hotel café and ordered a cup of coffee. The locals referred to the brew made by the native roasted and ground beans as coffee, but the bitter, spicy taste would have been unfamiliar to an Earthling. Despite its different taste, the new settlers had christened the brew made from roasting and grinding the native bean coffee because it served the same function coffee had at home on earth.

The wedding interview was not going well. Bethany studied the minister of the church she had attended since she came back to River Crossing with exasperation mixed with affection. She could tell that Parson Mayer was unhappy about her coming marriage because he kept fidgeting in his chair and tapping his foot. He frowned at the young couple across from him.

"I think you should consider this more carefully, Bethany," he said. "Marriage is a big step. You have just met this man. I think you should wait until you know each other better before making a lasting commitment."

"I’m sorry, but we intend to be married this Sunday. There is always Margo's priest," Bethany added thoughtfully, throwing down the gauntlet. "I would rather be married in my church..."

Mrs. Mayer, silent until now, gave a soft shriek of consternation. "Get married in another church? John, what can you be thinking of? Of course, he will marry you!"

Parson Mayer pushed up his glasses with his finger and tapped his foot again. "You always were the most obstinate, self-willed child," he said at last. "Very well, Bethany, I will perform the ceremony after church on Sunday."

He gave McCaffey a stern look. "If you don't treat her right, you must answer to me, young man."

McCaffey looked at Mayer with amused respect. "I promise I will take good care of her."

This Is My Land

MICHAEL ST. VYR ASSEMBLED his riders at dawn the next morning. St. Vyr had already mounted Redbird With the help of Stevens, the out of work miner Bethany hired to help him with mobility issues.

McCaffey wasn’t in the saddle yet because he expected to take on a couple of challenges from the hands before they left this morning.

Most of the men facing him were young; the life ranch hands led on St. Antoni was a young man's game. All of them wore guns; some McCaffey knew, would even be good with them. Three or four of them wore the wide sombreros, short jackets and big spurs marking them as vaqueros. The others wore homespun shirts and pants and wide brimmed leather hats. To a man, they eyed McCaffey suspiciously. He was on trial and he knew it.

St. Vyr studied his men from the back of his red-striped tricorn.

"Boys, this here's Alec McCaffey. He and my daughter Bethany will be married come Sunday. You're all invited to the wedding. In the meantime, McCaffey here will be leading you against Johnson in my place. Questions?"

"Yeah, I got a question—who the Hell are you?" The speaker was a tall, strapping man who answered to the handle of Red. Red Courteen had been acting as Segundo or foreman while Michael was sick. He had done a good job and had expected to take over the job of running the ranch.

"I'm the man who's going to lead you. Questions?"

Red spat out a chaw of the flax seed some of the men chewed instead of tobacco. "I hear you're a gunfighter. I bet you ain't so tough without that gun."

McCaffey unbuckled his gun and handed it to St. Vyr. "I'm not wearing my gun now. Still think I'm not so tough?"

With a grin of pure joy, the redhead came in swinging. A big man, he was accustomed to winning fist fights. McCaffey ducked under the strike and hit his opponent in the belly with a hard left. Red gave a grunt of pain and swung again with his