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

Alec stopped and made a bird trill sound. He was answered by the men on either side of him and he could hear the call being passed down the line.

He signaled for Jorge to bring the men in. "Find cover and spread out. He's going to come back here sooner or later. When he does, we'll be waiting for him."

Alec didn't even jump when Red appeared beside him.

"You stole my idea boss," he complained. "I was hunting him all yesterday and today."

"Sorry about that," Alec whispered. "You'll have to take your turn now."

Marlow Chamber had stayed alive by listening to his inner voice when it signaled danger. Right now, that voice was telling him he had stayed in this spot too long. He gathered up his rifle and killing tools and climbed down from the nest he was using to spot his prey.

Alec waited patiently while Chamber scouted his camp. When the man came in, he delayed until Chamber stuck his rifle into the scabbard on the saddle before he stepped out into the glade.

"Looking for me?" he asked.

Chamber whirled around, his hand going instinctively for his holstered weapon. Alec made no move to draw his own, and Chamber hesitated.

"You're McCaffey ain't you? You alone? No, you've got St. Vyr's men out there in the bush. If I draw my gun, they’ll cut me to ribbons."

Alec shook his head. "No, they won't. You hear that?" he called. "This is my fight. If he shoots me, let him go."

Red, Jorge and several others stepped into the clearing. "We hear you."

There was a rebellious mutter from some of the men as they too came out of hiding. They stood silent and menacing as they waited.

"Let me step away from my 'corn. I don't want him hit," Chambers said, edging sideways.

Alec watched him, turning a little, so he still faced him. "What's your name? I want something to put on your grave."

Chambers scowled at him. "I'm Marlow Chambers. You won't need to put up a marker because I'm walking away from this."

McCaffey laughed. "Don't bet your life on it. I've heard of you. You're a money fighter who shoots from ambush. Who hired you?"

Chambers spat. "None of your business."

"I know him too," Red snarled. "He usually works for the Smiths in Copper City. Fact is, I owe him for a killing he did for them. A while back he took out a harmless old man named Cinders. Shot him in the back. You find out who in River Crossing has ties to the Smiths and you'll know who hired him."

"See here," Chambers protested. "This ain't got nothing to do with that other job—"

His hand dropped to his gun. Jerking the pistol up, he fired. Chambers did his hunting with a rifle. He had seldom faced another man with a handgun. His draw was fast, but his aim was poor.

The bullet burned Alec's ear, but because he had taken a step to the side when he saw Chamber's hand move, it smacked into a tree behind him.

Alec pulled his own gun and fired in one smooth motion. His bullet bored a round hole precisely in Chamber's forehead.

"Good shooting, boss," said Red.

Alec walked over to Chambers and kicked him in the side. "He's dead, alright. Jorge, go and tell Jack to bring our mounts down here. One of you boys throw him on his 'corn and tie him off. I don't know about the rest of you but I'm ready to go home."

The Drunken Scion

WHEN JOHNSON ARRIVED back at his ranch after completing his arrangements with Marlow Chamber, he was furious to find his crew idly playing a hand of cards in the bunkhouse instead of looking after his herds.

"Why aren't you men out working?" he demanded.

Jones, a short thin man with a wispy mustache, looked up from his cards. "We ain't had no orders to do anything, boss."

"What do you mean? Didn't my son give you orders this morning?"

"We ain't seen Sam in more than a week," offered Tom Wright.

"Where did he go?"

Jones shrugged, pushing two chips into the center of the table. "I call," he said. "If you mean Sam, he packed up stuff and took off."

"If you mean Emory, he's been drunk since he got here," Larry volunteered.

"Yeah," complained Bert Johns, "He got fresh with the cook and she and her family up and left. We ain't had any decent food since."

"I'll take care of the cook," Johnson promised. "You men get out to the south pasture and check on the herd."

He turned and went into the house. Samuel's room was bare. The bed was made up and the room tidy, but everything Samuel owned was gone.

When he went out to the tricorn corral, he saw that Samuel's favorite mount and three others were gone. Returning to the house, he sat down at the table and stared at the place where his middle son usually sat. He sat there for some time before he noticed the folded paper on the mantle.

"Dear Pa," it read. "I'm sorry to leave this way without saying goodbye, but it has now become necessary. I won't permit you to use Jeanne or myself to hurt her family. Please don't look for me. I expect nothing from you, and I wish you and Emory luck in making the J-4 into a prosperous ranch.

Your son, Samuel

p. s. Stay away from St. Vyr and his womenfolk."

Samuel was gone. He had turned his back on his family. Johnson realized bitterly that he had lost two of his sons in his attempt to take out St. Vyr. Abner had been a foolish kid who took on the wrong man in a gunfight, but he had died trying to help carry out the plan. Losing Samuel was different. Over the years, despite his refusal to take part in Ira's less than legal schemes, Samuel had become a rock he depended on to handle the mundane chores of life. Now he was gone. Ira was furious. He kicked the table