Jack Marston is at a low point in his life. His family is dead, Beecher's Hope is in ruins, and he has nothing left to live for. Most days he spends so drunk he can barely remember anything, he kills and robs people at will, and there isn't an ounce...
Oops! This image does not follow our content guidelines. To continue publishing, please remove it or upload a different image.
1985
"Happy seventieth birthday, dad!" shouted one of Archie Fordham's children. He had three sons and a daughter, and they were more precious to him than anything else in the world, except perhaps his many grandchildren.
In fact, Archie was now the patriarch of a large family with many members, and the sole owner of the Beecher's Hope Ranch. Seventy years old was a milestone worth celebrating for the fact of his age alone, but the older he got, the more afraid Archie became that his children would begin to squabble amongst themselves for the place once he passed away. Sure, they might love each other now, but what about when they had to divide up thousands of acres of prime ranch land amongst themselves?
They gave him no cause to suspect they might fight with each other over their inheritances, but even in 1985, land was worth a lot of money, especially in West Elizabeth, and especially so close to Blackwater. As he blew out the candles on the cake his daughter had baked him herself and laughed as he opened his presents, his heart still felt a bit dark and morose.
After all, the question of inheritance had been easy with him. He had been the only one in Uncle Jack's will to inherit it, as he and Tía Eva had never had children of their own. Archie had been their only child in a way, even though his own mother had lived to be an old woman before she died. Jack Marston, especially, had been like a father to him as he grew. He credited Jack with crafting him into the man he was today, since Archie's own father had been killed before he was born.
Jack had turned him into a shrewd cattleman, with plenty of business savvy and a backbone of steel, with no fear to speak up for what was right. He'd also taught Archie to use a gun, ride a horse, and rope a cow.
Tía Eva, however, had been the one who taught him how to drive a car. He smiled as he thought of how his Uncle Jack hated automobiles and how, when he'd been an old man, Tía Eva practically had to drag him onto an airplane to take a much-needed vacation in California one summer. It was strange to think that when he was a boy, Archie's family had used mainly horses for transportation. These days, no one did. These days, folk were more preoccupied with engines and motors and atomic bombs.
Not Archie, though. He didn't mind driving his car to the store to pick up groceries, but around Beecher's Hope, he still preferred horses. His favorite was a cremello mare with a hide the color of spun gold and eyes as blue as the sky. One of her grandsires had been Uncle Jack's horse, he was told, but the stallion in question had died before Archie was old enough to remember him. According to his mother, Uncle Jack had been very fond of that horse.
"Dad, is everything okay?" one of his sons asked, startling Archie back to the present for a moment. They'd moved to the living room after the birthday festivities in the kitchen, and while Archie's daughter and oldest son were outside with all the grandchildren, Archie chose to remain behind in the house for a bot of quiet time.
