My ribs ached from the rough landingand my ears were ringing, but I was still alive.The door to our cabin swung open with a booming crash. "Arnash! H...w *dare*you lay a hand on my daughter!" The wind picked up and dark clouds beganto gather in response to his wrath. I turned and saw my father, thunder inhis beautiful eyes, his long platinum hair and glowing white robe whippingin the growing breeze.The stranger who struck me seemed frozen with fear, not to mention totallybaffled when he glanced. Far’s I’m concerned, all you pissants can go rot in hell.’ Just then a look of intense pain crossed the man’s face, and he quickly uncorked the bottle, poured another glassful and downed it quickly. Then he sat back and told a sad tale of love, betrayal and revenge. ^ ^ ^ ^ EL PASO, 1875 Folks in El Paso always said that Feleena Menendez was trouble, but they never said it where Marty Claymore could hear. Marty was a lanky Scotsman who didn’t say much unless he was riled, then he could be a. More

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