In The Beginning Gail Daley (best books to read all time TXT) 📖

the Mill Creek Mine over the mountains? As I recall, he’s got an old gunhand he runs with name of Henry Miller."

"Why don’t we take him out before he gets here?" suggested Abner eagerly, patting his handgun. "Emory would have time to make up with his lady-love."

Ira shook his head. "If we arrange an ambush this soon after St. Vyr got shot, we’ll end up with an Enforcer down here. I don’t want that. They’re getting too nosy as it is."

"Who said anything about an ambush," countered Abner, "I’ll meet him somewhere and force a fight on him."

"Don’t be so sure you can take him out," Samuel warned his younger brother. "Word is McCaffey got his start as a gun for hire; even if Emory came with you to even the odds, Henry Miller isn’t the only one he has in his crew. There were six guys with him on the Mill Creek job."

Samuel was talking about Emory shooting at McCaffey from behind when Abner shot from in front and they all knew it. This was the part of his family Samuel hated. Love and loyalty kept him from riding off, just as it had kept his mother from leaving when she realized the kind of man she had married. Still, he did his best to discourage actions like these. It had earned him the reputation in the family of being too cautious, but sometimes the Old Man listened to him.

Ira considered battle tactics and his cocky youngest son. True, the boy was lightning fast with that gun, but he was green. McCaffey was rumored to be fast too and he was a seasoned fighter. However, Junction City was far enough away so a killing there might not be connected to St. Vyr’s shooting. It probably wouldn’t spark an investigation by the Enforcers office. The situation needed to be assessed. He could decide on the killing after he got there. It never occurred to Ira that he would be breaking the law. When he had taken over the J-4 five years ago, he had decided he wanted the Golden Tricorn. He planned to become governor of the Kenefic City State, and for that he needed money. St. Vyr had money and holdings. Laws were for the weak. Power was survival; to survive a man took what he wanted. He got rid of anyone or anything in his way.

"Maybe. Abner, You and I will take the riverboat up to Junction City. I’ll decide if you fight him after I’ve seen the setup there. You," he pointed at Emory, "get into town and buy that girl those chocolates! Samuel will stay here and run the ranch as usual."

The Wrong Mac

THE PROPRIETOR OF THE Ferry Boat Hotel in Junction City was a canny man. Junction City, once just a convenient crossing place above where the Wild Mans River joined Black River and two other rivers on their way to the southern coast, had grown to be the main hub for travelers using the newly minted steam trains. Hopeful settlers wanting to take up land in the North and West came here from the eastern and southern city states to buy supplies and find guides. Junction City was the second oldest human settlement on St. Antoni, almost as large as Gateway City itself, where the illegal Earth Portal operated. It was large enough to overtake several of the smaller towns that had previously surrounded it. These boroughs had retained their independence and local government for the most part, joining into a larger council who decided on issues affecting all of them.

Junction City had several fancy hotels to serve wealthy travelers who wanted a break before crossing the Wild Man and going on by train. Jim Faring, the owner of the Lilliput Saloon, was one of the business owners to decide to take advantage of the influx of travelers. He divided his Saloon into two parts and separated the halves with batwing doors. On one side, his regular customers could still congregate for food, liquor and cards. On the other, a man could safely bring his family for a nice meal or courting couples could enjoy a soft drink from the new soda machine.

On the Saloon side, Henry and Alec were enjoying a quiet supper before heading up to their room for the night. It was early evening. Arriving well before the rush from the incoming train, the mixture of miners coming off shift, far walkers and rivermen in town for a spree, they choose a table against the wall dividing the two areas, providing them a good view of all the customers.

At the bar, a tall, raw-boned man with dusty clothes leaned his double-barreled shotgun against it and ordered a whiskey. "You, better check that gun Mac, the bartender reminded him. You know how Sheriff Melody is about not following the City ordnance."

"Yeah, just as soon as I get a drink," the man called Mac replied.

At the sound of the name, Abner Johnson looked up. Like Mac, he hadn’t turned in his tied down handgun. Pa had said to wait, but here he was with a golden opportunity to rid the family of this McCaffey. He strode to the bar and bumped the man, knocking the shotgun to the floor.

"Hey, watch it!" he said loudly, shoving Mac again.

Instead of reaching for the fallen shotgun, Mac slowly turned to face him. "Kid, you need to settle down," he said mildly. "Joe, set him up a drink."

"I don’t drink with dirty Irish Micks!" Abner sneered.

"You got a big mouth, Kid," one of the other men offered. "Maybe we ought to shut it for you."

"Now, Tim," Mac drawled, "he’s just a baby with a loud mouth."

Across the room, Henry touched Alec with his hand and jerked his head towards the bar. "Trouble building," he remarked.

Alec turned his chair to watch. "Both with guns, this could get ugly. Kid’s looking to make a rep as a gunfighter."

Henry shook his head, "Big man’s shotgun got knocked down,