McKettrick's Choice
Arizona Territory,August 12, 1888
HOLT MCKETTRICK hooked a finger under his fancy collar in a vain effort to loosen it a little. Wedding guests milled on the wide, grassy stretch of ground alongside the Triple M ranch house, their finery dappled by shivering patches of shade from the young oaks thriving there. Two fiddlers played a mournful rendition of "Lo-rena," and there was a whole hog roasting in the pit Holt's three half brothers had dug in the ground and lined with flat rocks from the creek. The wedding cake, baked by Holt's sisters-in-law, was the size of a buckboard, and a long table — an improvised arrangement of planks supported by half a dozen fifty-gallon barrels — wobbled under the weight of a week's worth of fancy grub.
The old man and the rest of the McKettrick outfit had spared no effort or expense to make the gathering memorable. Holt reckoned he might have enjoyed it as much as the next fellow — if he hadn't been the bridegroom.
A hand struck his back in jovial greeting, and Holt nearly spilled his cup of fruit punch, generously laced with whiskey from his brother Rafe's flask, down th ... read full excerpt from: McKettrick's Choice ebook
