Mary looked at Arthur, the man she loved, standing before her in the early afternoon sun with hat in hand. She sighed, trying to compose herself. "Only thing left to do is tell daddy," she said.

"Yeah, I'm not lookin' forward to it," he said.

"Just be yourself. But…but maybe be a little less…rugged." She licked her thumb and ran it across a clump of hair that was persistently in his eyes.

He scrunched his face. "Leave me be, woman," he said waving her off. "Ain't no amount of primping from you or pandering from me gonna make daddy like me now," he chuckled sarcastically. "Best square up with that."

"Arthur," she grumbled. "I know he hasn't been kind to you, but…this is the most important time you'll ever see him. Just try to be amiable."

"Well I will," Arthur said, "but I hope you told him the same."

Mary rolled her eyes as she turned to continue walking down the dirt path towards her family ranch, Arthur in tow.

They walked through the fence gate, and Arthur greeted Jamie as they passed. "Hey, Jamie! Watchya got there?"

"Hey, Arthur! A dog I found, named him Jeffrey. Pa's lettin' me keep 'im. Since I can't have a horse," he grumbled.

"Well, he's still an animal needs lookin' after. You take care of him. Hey, I'll take you riding sometime, if you like. Show you the ropes. If you're a good boy, that is."

"All right! Thanks, Arthur!" Jamie called as Mary and Arthur approached the homestead.

Arthur looked at the boy, then turned to see his father seated on the front porch, grimacing with his arms folded, looking down at both Arthur and Mary. "If your pa says it's all right," Arthur tried to add seamlessly. "Good afternoon, Mr. Gillis," Arthur said calmly, nodding to him.

"Arthur," he said brusquely.

"I hope you're well, sir."

"Was better a moment ago," he said as he stood and went to a small table.

"Daddy…" Mary said. "Please."

Mr. Gillis glanced at Arthur. "What can I do for you, Arthur?" he said as he turned to pour himself a drink.

"Well—" Arthur began.

"Daddy," Mary said stepping in front of Arthur, "Arthur and I have something we'd like to speak with you about."

With his back turned to them, Mr. Gillis cocked his head back and let out a long sigh. "He's a bandit, isn't he?"

Mary was tongue-tied at the assertion.

"Sweetheart, next time you bring a man to see your father, make sure he doesn't have a bandit's handkerchief hanging at the ready about his neck," he drawled, his tone dripping with disdain.

Mary looked back at Arthur who was looking down at the dual-purpose embellishment.

"You can't deny it, can you?" her father said.

Just then a man walked out from around the side of the house whom neither Mary nor Arthur had ever seen before, and Arthur's hand instinctively travelled to the iron on his belt. The man was clean-shaven and sturdy looking, and he carried a load of fence boards.

"Ah, Billy," Mr. Gillis said turning. "Perfect timing. Mary, Arthur, I'd like you to meet our new farmhand, Billy."

"Farmhand?" Mary said. "We haven't had one since before mama died."

"Well, I thought it was high time for one," her father said. "I can use some extra help around here. And what with all this talk in town of a rise in thievery and crime…" He paused. "You know, I thought I saw somethin' a number of nights ago out by the barn," he said shooting Arthur a sharp, icy stare before turning to pour himself another drink. "Thought we could use the extra security."

Mary tried to begin again on their previous course of discussion. "Daddy, I have somethin' real important I—"

Her father turned to look at the pair squarely. "You oughta be ashamed of yourself, Mary," he said as he drank from his glass. "After everything I've raised you to be, bringing home this filthy, rotten trash," he said gesturing with his glass. "I always knew there was something about him I didn't like, but the looks of him today confirms it."

"Daddy!" said Mary.

Arthur started forward involuntarily at the words, ready to defend his honor; but even in his anger he caught himself when he bumped into Mary's shoulder.

"And you," Mr. Gillis said lifting his index finger from the glass to point at Arthur, "best just stay away from her. For both of your own good. For if she follows you, you will surely drag her into the grave with you. And if you come near her? Well…I'll be sure to devise something that will send a clear message."

Arthur glared at him, and it took everything within him to turn and briskly walk away, knowing that every second he stayed, the risk increased that the encounter would not end pretty.

Mary was beyond words as she struggled to know how to mend the situation and bring the two of them together. She looked in Arthur's direction, glanced back at her father to see him sternly watching Arthur walk away, and she hurriedly went after Arthur.

"Arthur, wait!" she said running to catch up with him.

"Stop following me," he said quietly without turning. "Meet me at the drop."

"Couldn't you have taken it off?" Mary said walking up to Arthur when she finally got a chance to sneak away and meet up with him at their secret drop in the woods.

"You saw me beforehand, couldn't you have told me to take it off? Besides, would it have made a difference, Mary?" he said, his tone rising. "Would it have changed anything? Would it have changed who I am?"

His firm, true words stopped her in her tracks.

Frustrated, he shook his head and raised his hand to the back of his neck. "I don't know what to do. Your father is a problem, Mary," he grumbled.

"No, no," she said breathlessly. She went to him, cupping his face in her hands. "This changes nothing." She lowered her hands to his chest and looked up at him, trying to catch his gaze. "It doesn't, all right? We're going to be married just the same, with or without him."

He finally looked her in the eyes. "But…?"

She nodded and swallowed, knowing she couldn't keep anything from him. "I would like my father's blessing. Just like any woman."

He sighed and let his head fall back.

"I haven't given up," she said. "I think I can get him to come around."

He shook his head. "He's never going to come around, Mary. You saw the look in his eyes. He just about prefers me dead in the ground!"

"If his daughter can love you," she said steadying him, "so can he."

He tried not to be drawn into the look in her adoring eyes and pleading expression.

"I just need time," she said.

Finally, he said, "Fine. But I ain't goin' round your place no more. At least for the time being."

"My thoughts exactly. I had no idea daddy would ever hire someone to patrol the ranch."

"Yeah, well…" Arthur said cocking his head. "I heard rumblings there's a rival gang shown up near the area—real bad folk. He doesn't look like a bad character. Might actually be good for you to have another man on the property right now. Since I can't be there with you."

"As long as you feel all right about it, and as long as we can still meet away from home," Mary said.

He nodded. "Of course."

She came close, wrapping her arms around him and resting her head on his shoulder. With her face towards him, she said, "As long as you haven't given up on me."

He brought his hand to her back and held her tight. "Never."

.

"If I never would have held your hand,

if you never would have called my name,

Mary, maybe I could move along,

But I could never forget.

Baby, you're wrong if you're thinkin' I would ever wanna leave.

Baby, this ain't gonna be the last that you see of me."

- Wilder Woods, "Mary You're Wrong"