The Tug Fork River, which separates West Virginias Logan County from Kentucky's Pike County, is also the home of the Hatfield's and the McCoy's, respectively. For many years, both clans got along wonderfully, intermarrying and bearing children that had the blood of both families in them. These two crowds were a lot alike; both were ruggedly outdoorsy people, often intelligent, although usually illiterate. The men of these parties (and on rare occasions, the women) made whiskey, logged timber, fished and hunted. Everyone: man, woman, and child knew how to shoot a gun…and they were usually very good at it. During the slow, sickly sweet summers, the youthful boys and girls would cross the Tug in search of sweethearts to bring home to meet ma and pa. During one such search is when this story finds its start.
"Ashley Rae Hatfield, where do you think you're goin girl?" yelled Captain Raife Anderson aka Devil Anse Hatfield across the dusty road that separated the stables and the main house. Ashley barreled her midnight black horse, Cliff, around to face her beloved father. She took in his appearance, from his soft gray eyes and curly light brown hair coupled with a full beard, to his broad shoulders wrapped up tightly in a long sleeved, stained, coarse cloth shirt.
"Headin' cross the Tug pa." She replied with her signature smirk playing across her tanned face.
"Oh yeah?"Anse put a piece of golden straw between his thin lips and sucked slightly while leaning back against a post on the porch. "Why's that?"
"Well…"started Ashley, stretching the word out. "There's a barn raising party goin on at the Jamesons place, down in Pike County."
"Yeah?" he asked, twisting the straw around with his tongue. "And you're going why?" Ashley looked up to meet her fathers joking, light eyes. She smiled brightly and began to respond before her brother, Connor, interrupted.
"Pa, I'm headin over to sell whiskey down in Pike County. Need me to pick anything up at the General Store?" Connor, a tale, blonde, blue eyed handsome young man in the prime of his youth, was Ashley's older brother by only two minutes, but he always held that fact over her head. Literally. After all, Ashley Hatfield was a woman on the shorter side of the spectrum where height was concerned. "Hey little sis." he said, finally taking notice of the curly haired wild child of the family. He let go of the horse he had been leading and rubbed his dirty hands over her head, petting her like a little dog. She shrugged him off with a loud laugh.
"I can still out shoot you, no matter how many minutes older you are than me."
"Oh yeah? You wanna make a wager?" he asked, stepping closer, a devilish look appearing in his blue eyes.
"Enough you two." The oldest Hatfield finally said, though a chuckle was noticeably lodged in the back of his throat, threatening to spill out. "Now Connor, go ask your mother if she needs anything before you go." Connor turned to enter the small, oak wood cabin that the Hatfield's proudly called their home. "Oh and one more thing! Take Ash with you when you leave." He then turned on his boot heel and went into the woods, whistling as he went.
Ashley waited for her brother atop her horse, passing the time by constantly readjusting herself in her new saddle. Finally, Connor reappeared with a long list written in chicken scratch. Ashley quirked her brow, "Momma need a lot?"
Connor looked up, frown firmly in place. "Oh? What makes you say that?" he asked sarcastically. She smiled and waited patiently for her brother to mount his own horse.
"Momma! Momma, where are my boots at?" yelled Spencer McCoy as she twisted across the banister of the windy stairs that led up the left side of her family's house.
"Why you yellin'?" her mother, Paula asked, moving from outside to step next to her oldest daughter.
Spencer took a step back, in shock, and lifted her hand to her chest dramatically. "Mother? You gave me a fright."
Paula rolled her blue eyes with a coy smile evidently on her mouth. "My gosh, who could've guessed that you'd turn out to be such a girl?" she said jokingly, making her way past her daughter and into the dirt floor kitchen.
"Only when spiders and loud noises come into play my dear mother." Spencer replied jokingly, following her mother.
Paula put her basket of clean laundry, fresh from the wash line, down on the table and heard her daughters heavy footsteps behind her. "And by the way, your boots are airing out on the front porch. They were caked with mud when I found em."
"Thanks momma." Spencer said with a bright smile as she crept up on her toes and kissed her mother's cheek. She then proceeded to speed out of the house, plop down on the rocking bench placed on her porch, and lace up her brown work boots. She looked up sideways suddenly, feeling someone's eyes on her. "Hey pa." she said simply.
"Spence, where you think you're going? You gotta help your momma get ready for the visit from your cousin, Nancy, tomorrow." Arthur McCoy, a quiet, religious man of about fifty said, running his tan calloused hands through his short dark hair.
"But daddy." She replied, whining. She looked up at him, batting her pretty, big blue eyes at him, and pouting her pink lips. Oh Spencer McCoy was known far and wide for her "puppy dog" look.
The two held each other's eyes for a moment before Arthur looked out across the open field and sighed. "Fine." Spencer jumped up out of her seat, her long blonde hair bouncing on her mud stained work shirt, before squealing with delight. "But," and then sat down with a 'hmph'. "You will be expected to entertain your younger cousin while she's here, and to help your mother with whatever she needs. No questions asked." Spencer said not a word, just smiled and nodded.
"I'll see you tonight pa." she said easily as she thudded down the four wooden stairs and down the dirt road that led from their log house, across the fields, past the barn, and into the woods.
"And don't be out too late!" she heard her father yell after she was out of sight.
She rolled her eyes in the dimming light, "Where else have I got to be?" she whispered to no one but herself and the ever present trees.
There were so many people, all dressed in their best clothing, all whirling around, and clapping along to James Hatfield as he played his fiddle. "Well brother," Ashley said, coming out from behind the stage during James's whiskey break. "You sure are playing mighty fine tonight." She looked around and finished, "Any particular reason?" She said all of this innocently of course, but James knew his baby sister and he could tell that she was fishing for an answer.
He took a swig from his unmarked bottle, sweat dripping from his face and neck, "In all actuality, my dear sister…no." he chuckled. She rolled her eyes and helped herself to a seat on the edge of the stage. She swung her legs freely, her eyes scanning the crowd for anyone of interest. James sat down beside her. There was silence as both Hatfield's got lost in their own thoughts before James pointed out on his index fingers, saying, "Hey lookey there sis, Ken McPherson." He bumped her shoulder lightly with his own. "He's lookin pretty spiffy tonight. Maybe tryin to catch the eye of a certain Hatfield?"
Ashley rolled her eyes and bounced off the stage, "I'm not interested." She replied, quickly looking around nervously, trying to figure out if anyone picked up on the hint that she had just dropped…the hints she had been dropping for quite some time. Nothing. Nothing from James or Connor who was just steps away, selling his moonshine. No one understood what she so desperately needed them to. She sighed heavily, and with that, James's eyes clouded with concern.
"Are you okay Ash?" he asked quietly, getting off the stage and placing himself not a breath away from her.
She looked into his eyes, her father's eyes, and decided that the truth could wait awhile. She forced a smile and said brightly, "No, yeah, of course I am. It's nothing James. Just tired from all this darn heat is all."
"Spencer McCoy, would you care to dance?" Spencer turned away from the conversation she was having with her cousin, River, concerning the result of the crops this year. Her eyes landed on light hazel brown ones. She followed the line of the jaw, down to the chin and across to the zigzag shaped scar which she would always look for first now. She remained silent for a second, "Of course Roseanna." She got up and out of her comfortable chair and took the offered hand of her first cousin and the girl her family expected her to share a life with.
As they made their way to the dirt floor specifically cleared for dancing, they heard River whistle and catcall after them. Roseanna blushed next to the older girl, while Spencer simply looked at her companions red face and laughed loudly. "Don't mind him, he gets too much whiskey in 'im during these outings and it shows." Roseanna laughed, her hand still clasped in her cousins. Spencer stopped when she reached the middle of the patch and waited for James Hatfield to start up his next song, which began exceptionally slow, during which time, Roseanna tried to move closer which her dance partner reluctantly allowed. Eventually the moment passed without Spencer feeling too awkward, and the song transitioned into something much faster. Spencer spun the younger girl around and clapped her hands along with the rest of the assembled crowd. As Roseanna came in close to her, Spencer grabbed her waist and stared deep into those eyes she knew all too well. One hand still around her slim waist, Spencer brought the second up to caress her jaw before tracing the outline of the hardly noticeable white scar. Hazel eyes flickered up and locked on blue orbs.
"Do you remember Spence?'' she whispered. Before Spencer could respond, there was a low crack that came from the whiskey keg. An out of control dancer had fallen into the keg, breaking the legs from the holder, which caused the whole jug to spill its contents all over the floor and Connor Hatfield, who was fuming. That's when they locked eyes for the first time, and brown met blue, and Hatfield saw McCoy, and a war began.