Lydia

Twelve

Jack Swanson grimaced as he watched his daughter carry on with the Pinkerton agent as if they were married. Disgust for his daughter's actions grew inside him and festered, making him want to lash out at both of them. Lydia was just as much a harlot as her mother had been.

He could tell by how Agent Drake's body had stiffened that the man knew Jack was in the room. Now was the time to let them both know that he was in control and would be from now on.

"Aren't I invited to the weddin'?" he snickered and walked closer, aiming his gun at Nicholas Drake.

The man's head snapped up, and he glared at Jack. This made him laugh harder. He enjoyed surprising people before killing them. Although he hadn't killed many people, he had sent his fair share of lawmen to the grave. Jack would enjoy beating the life out of this particular agent, especially now that he had soiled Lydia's reputation beyond repair.

Slowly, Agent Drake moved off Lydia and pulled her up beside him. Her chest rose and fell with fast breaths, and she glared at him nearly as fiercely as Nick was doing. She resembled her mother so much. Jack recalled when he'd caught his cheating wife with another man. She glared at Jack the same way Lydia was looking at him now.

"Surprise," Jack exclaimed with a touch of humor in his voice. "I'm sure neither of ya figured I'd be here."

"Jakeson," Nick said in a calming voice. "We meet again. But now you're on my territory."

Jack laughed and shook his head. "Looks to me like I'm the only one with the gun." He glanced over the agent quickly. "Ye ain't wearing yer holster."

Nick raised his hands in surrender. "True. I don't have a weapon. However, to make this a fair fight, you should put down your gun, too."

"Now, why would I do somethin' foolish like that?" Jack rolled his eyes. "Ya must think I'm pretty dumb, don't ya?"

"I know you well enough, Jakeson, to believe you want something from me. Why else would you have returned to see if I was alive? And I know you enjoy torturing your victims."

Jack nodded. "Ya know me well, Agent Drake. And havin' ya alive does create a problem for me."

"Why is that?" Nick arched an eyebrow.

"Because I have a reputation for beatin' agents within an inch of their lives so that they can tell the other agents not to mess with me."

Nick chuckled. "Do you honestly believe that's what we would do? True, we tell each other how you bested us, but we don't run from a challenge."

"So, when I kill ya, maybe the other agents will know not to mess with me." Jack lifted his chin higher. "Thank ya kindly for lettin' me make an example out of ya."

"This argument," Nick said, still using the same calming tone of voice, "is between us. Let the lady leave the cabin."

"Leave?" Jack belted out a laugh. "What kind of father would I be if I turn my daughter away from seein' her old man take care of the man who wants to ruin her?"

"My father?" Lydia jumped up and stepped by Nick. "You, Jakeson, have no right to call yourself my father!"

Jack wasn't sure if he was hurt by her words... or just really annoyed with her outbreak. He hadn't raised his girls to be so disrespectful, and it angered him that she had not only turned out like her harlot mother but that Lydia – who had once been the quiet daughter – had a sore attitude now.

Like Mother like daughter.

* * * *

Lydia couldn't care less about the gun in the outlaw's hands. She wanted to spit in his face and claw his eyes out. And, if given a chance, she would surely do it.