Silas, the bride’s father, wasn’t pointing the gun, but he wasn't putting it down either.
"Welcome to the family, Beau," Silas said, patting the stock of the gun. "Don't make me bring 'The Negotiator' out for the anniversary."
The humid air of the Louisiana bayou hung heavy over the makeshift altar, a wooden pier jutting into the cypress-choked swamp. Beau stood at the end of it, his tie loosened and sweat beading on his upper lip. He wasn't just nervous about the vows; he was acutely aware of the double-barrel Remington cradled in the crook of Silas Vance’s arm.
"Be real sure about that 'I do,' son," Silas rumbled, his voice like gravel in a blender.
Silas, the bride’s father, wasn’t pointing the gun, but he wasn't putting it down either.
"Welcome to the family, Beau," Silas said, patting the stock of the gun. "Don't make me bring 'The Negotiator' out for the anniversary."
The humid air of the Louisiana bayou hung heavy over the makeshift altar, a wooden pier jutting into the cypress-choked swamp. Beau stood at the end of it, his tie loosened and sweat beading on his upper lip. He wasn't just nervous about the vows; he was acutely aware of the double-barrel Remington cradled in the crook of Silas Vance’s arm.
"Be real sure about that 'I do,' son," Silas rumbled, his voice like gravel in a blender.