Jim McCoy was losing sight like the Apostle Paul with the fish scales in his eyes. He was letting bitterness and self loathing eat into his soul. And he was doing nothing to stop the rot.

Nothing convinced him more of this than when he raided the church with Bad Frank and his gang of supposed lawmen. They ripped three Hatfield supporters right out of their pews, flailing their weapons among women and children, then locked the men in the sheriff's wagon. He did nothing as Phillips emerged from the sanctuary flexing his hand with blood on his knuckles. Jim peered into the church where the congregation was still singing to see the reverend wiping blood from his mouth.

He decided not to tell his father of the incident. It might distract the man from their goal; unmitigated vengeance for his three younger brothers. However, he wondered if his pap would care that the preacher had his jaw busted by their hired men. After all, the reverend had stood by when those damn Hatfields had shot his brothers in cold blood. The preacher got what he deserved, man of God or not.

They jailed the men and the buffoon named Ransom who was Phillips' second tossed them a couple questions. Jim sat off to the side, seeing the devil in their eyes. The Hatfields were a scourge, a plague of biblical proportions and the land needed to be cleansed of them.

"So when was the last time you saw ol' Devil Anse?" Ransom asked, slicing into an apple with his pocket knife.

The men were silent, staring off into the distance. Jim leaned forward on his knees and with a wry grin.

"You won't be getting' nothing out of them. Not unless Devil Anse pulls that string of his to make them dance."

"Don't you sound like a jilted bride at the altar, Jim McCoy."

Jim glared across the room at the son of bitch behind bars. He didn't care to remember the bastard's name, but apparently he knew his well enough. "What you say?"

"I said how does it feel to have your girl stolen by one of ours?"

Jim rose to his feet and slowly walked towards the cell. "What girl are you talkin' about?"

"That Yankee girl," the man replied with a slow smile, straightening the lapel on his Sunday coat. "The one we all knew you was cow eyed over. Disappeared without a trace after she shot and killed one of Bad Frank's goons."

Ransom strode over, tapping his blade against the bars. "The bitch that killed Bryant?"

"Don't call her that," Jim hissed under his breath.

The men in the jail cell chuckled. The arrogant one took to his feet and spared a leisurely step towards him. Jim knew he was trying to rile him up. If the men in custody came to any harm, it would be hard to explain to the authorities. They didn't need their official deputy papers taken from them just because Jim lost his temper over a man shaming Cordelia Robertson. Wherever she was at that moment.

"You know she's been with them this whole time? Hiding out?" he continued. "You'll never find them."

"Have you seen her?" Jim pressed.

The man nodded and beamed back at him. "A week or so ago. Went up there for a wedding."

Jim's blood went cold. "Who's wedding?"

"Cap Hatfield, Anse's son. He done married your gal. Wedded and bedded-"

Gripping one of the bars, Jim reached in and snatched the man by the collar, ready to strike his filthy mouth. Ransom dragged Jim away and shoved him towards the door. The men in the cell laughed like a herd of demons.

"Best get on out of there till you can control yourself, McCoy. I don't want Phillips on me for you beatin' one of these bastards," Ransom directed.

Jim huffed and pounded the jail door open with his fist, dragging his fingers through his hair. He paced the space outside along the covered walkway, thoughts spinning with the news. He refused to visualize the entire unholy thing, though the image of Cap's arm around Cordelia as they rode away into the night bit through his mind like acid.

She must have been seduced, just as his sister had been by Johnse. Perhaps Cap possessed that same fiendish charm and forked tongue that his brother flaunted. However, it nagged at him that Cap had married the girl. He didn't just ruin her, he'd made her a wife. It was a challenge to Jim, it had to be. Now a Hatfield had not only taken his brothers from him, but the one woman who had turned his head. Cordelia couldn't have done it of her own free will, it made no sense.

He seriously considered walking down to the saloon to have a drink. He had never entered the place except for a couple times on business. It was a pit of hellfire burning out of control with cards and liquor and loose women. The thought of Cordelia being treated like one of those soiled doves tore through him and he strode off in the direction of the saloon.

No one bothered him as he marched up to the bar, oblivious to the other customers around him. He bought a drink and stared into it as though it would give him answers. He didn't notice the lawyer Perry Cline pull a chair up next to him until the man said something.

"Ransom told me what the men were saying in there about the girl," Cline started in his slippery, refined drawl. He lifted a finger and gave the bartender a smile after he brought him a glass. "Can you control yourself around them?"

"Yes," Jim snapped, the alcohol cooling his blood. The anger was receding but leaving him sick with the unknown. He cursed himself for letting her go that night, for not taking her with him regardless of his father's edict and eloping with her, if only to keep her safe under the McCoy name. He'd not have forced anything on her, which he could only imagine Cap would have demanded.

"You know, we scare out these sons of bitches and whatever union there is between Miss Robertson and the Hatfield boy could be easily dealt with, that is if he's still alive after we've finished with them. And if you want her back after he's had her." Perry Cline swirled the liquor in his glass, smoothing his mustache.

"An annulment?"

"Simple as the swipe of a pen."

Jim glanced over at the man. Perry Cline didn't do a thing unless it could benefit him in some way. "Why are you talking about this?"

"I have recently received word from some interested parties up north concerning Miss Robertson. There are some very influential men up there searching for her and her father. If I told them that her father was murdered by the men who kidnapped her and that we are now hunting those beasts down, there could be a very good reward. We could split it and you could convince the girl-"

"Convince her of what?"

Perry's mouth smiled, but his eyes didn't. "Of the benefit in marrying you. If these men carry news that she has come into an inheritance of some kind, you could be a very rich man."

Jim jutted out his jaw and studied him. "Everything comes down to the dollar for you, doesn't it?"

"A man has to be practical in times like these."

"I'll talk to her once we get her back."

"And indeed we will, don't you worry," Perry replied, tipping his hat onto his head and leaving Jim alone with his whiskey.

Jim threw back the drink. He'd talk to Cordelia, but not to beg for her hand. The only way for her to have a life worth living would be to leave the Tug River Valley. He'd convince her to desert that worthless husband of hers then he'd send her north. Get her as far away from them as possible because Jim was convinced of one other thing; Hatfield or McCoy, both those names would only bring Cordelia Robertson misery.