Tennessee "Tennie" Smith counted nine bullet holes in the RING BIT, TEXAS, sign swaying from one chain on the jail across the street. She glanced at the other buildings in town, most of them new, raw looking, and covered in paint that hadn't yet begun to peel. A third of them had windowpanes with the glass already broken out. She remained seated in the Conestoga wagon, letting the other excited women alight first, while she hoped the man she was supposed to meet had changed his mind.

"Tennie," Winn Payton said, holding his hand up to her.

She looked at the lined face with its wide white sideburns and thought Mr. Payton had aged twenty years since they had begun their journey from a state disseminated by war through a territory of renegade Indians and disgruntled ex- Confederate bandits. She had no choice but to take his hand and get down.

Three dead men lay bound in tarps on the sidewalk, and Mr. Payton began berating several slack-mouthed loafers for allowing the bodies to remain where the women could see them. An older woman took Tennie by the elbow and propelled her to the nearest storefront window to look at merchandise. Instead of looking at lanterns, shovels, and pickaxes, Tennie saw the image of herself reflected in the glass, an eighteen-year-old with soft curling brown hair, dark eyes wide with apprehension, and plummy lips that trembled despite her determination not to cry.

Moving her eyes away, she caught the reflection of a tall, lean man in his thirties walking on the street behind her. His wide-brimmed hat threw a shadow across half his face, but even so, an old scar running downward across both lips, as if made by the slashing of a knife or a saber, was visible. His eyes squinted as he stared at her in passing, causing her to lower her lashes when she realized he knew she had been observing him. She fought the urge to run to him and beg him to please help her out of the plight she was in. Pausing, she turned and watched him stride into a saloon. A man came out of another saloon, followed by a disheveled, dirty, and half-naked woman who screamed obscenities at him.

Winn Payton appeared at Tennie's side. "Tennie," he said in a low voice. "If you don't fulfill your bargain, that's what will happen to you."

She nodded, watching the beleaguered man push the drunken woman aside when he caught sight of them.

"The women are here!" he hollered at the top of his voice. Men began pouring out of buildings, most of them dressed in pants tucked inside boots with jingling spurs, wearing long-sleeved shirts and bright bandannas around their necks. A few others were dressed in suits; all wore hats. The better dressed ones swarmed the women, and soon, Mr. Payton was introducing a gray-haired man to Tennie as Ashton Granger, her betrothed.

At one time, he must have been considered a handsome man. Clean, dressed in a somber suit and a new Leghorn hat, his blue eyes were kind, but Tennie could not hide the dismay from her face. He was much older than she thought he would be. He, in turn, stared at her in surprise and appreciation before a look of apprehension made a slow march across his face.

Before Tennie could even say hello, they were hustled into the church, and after one mass wedding ceremony, she found herself sitting on a wagon seat by a man she'd just met heading for a home she'd never seen.

"It's not far from town," Ashton Granger said in a deep, likable voice, and Tennie assumed he was talking about his ranch. A series of popping noises came from a distance, and she turned to him.

"The boys in town are just blowing off steam," he said. "It's just a little gunfire. No cause for alarm."

Tennie knew it was probably more than that. She had already been warned about Ring Bit by a man who had stayed overnight on their wagon train. He had begged Tennie to run away with him rather than have her go to Ring Bit, but Mr. Payton had chosen that day to have the older women tell the younger ones what would be expected of them on their wedding night. After that, Tennie lost all desire to escape with a buffalo hunter who carried with him the overwhelming odor of something dead. Better to take her chances in Ring Bit, even though he had described it as a wild town unsafe and unfit for women.

Tennie stole short glances at her new husband. His skin was gray, and his breath came hard after every exertion. But he did not force himself upon her, and for that, she was thankful. Tennie knew before the night was over, she was probably going to be crying. To get her mind off it, she asked how the town got its name.

"It's named after a cruel bit used at one time here on wild horses," he said.

Tennie sighed, feeling fate had put a ring bit in her mouth. After that, she remained quiet.

The first sight of his ranch gave the impression of something that had once been worked on with care, but of late, had been neglected. Fences were falling down, the barns leaned, and one of them had a hole in the roof big enough to put a cow through. The porch of the ranch house had poles stuck under it hither and yonder, trying to hold up a sagging roof. Beside a broken gate, three boys with sullen eyes and turned-down lips watched them approach.

Granger helped her down. Taking her by the hand, he led her to the boys. "Tennie, these are my sons. Rusty is thirteen, Lucas here is ten, and little Badger is six. Boys, say hello to your, er —" He paused. "Say hello to Miss Tennie. We were married in town this afternoon."

They mumbled something while Tennie said hello. Rusty had reddish hair and freckles. Lucas and Badger resembled their father, blue-eyed and dark haired. Rusty and Lucas looked as slender as spring grass, but Badger still carried baby fat with him.

"We don't want her here," Badger said. "Why did you marry her?"

The look on his brothers' faces said they agreed.

Tennie felt her heart sink. Mr. Payton had only said the boys were "a little rambunctious," but she recognized malevolence when she saw it.

Granger reprimanded the boys then said, "Come, Tennie. I'll show you the inside."

She followed him through the house. It told the same story the outside did, of something once cared for and let go. The woman in the tintype on the mantle looked like Rusty.

"She's been dead three years," Granger said.

Tennie wished the woman had never died.

Granger indicated a chair for her to sit in. Before sitting down, she gave the cushion a surreptitious shake. Not to her surprise, a small grass snake slithered away. The boys looked at one another from under brows lowered in anger.

Granger looked old and tired. Tennie didn't even try to talk. When the boys announced two riders were approaching the ranch, everyone looked relieved.

Tennie walked outside onto the porch with the others, careful to miss the rotten boards. One man on horseback and another driving a wagon stopped next to the gate. She scanned their faces. With a start, she realized she recognized the one on horseback as the man she had seen in town.

Instead of carrying his guns under a jacket, he had them in the open. Two belts loaded with extra cartridges criss-crossed his leather vest. The collarless shirt he wore belonged to a workingman. Two guns were by his side, one facing butt backward. The one on his left faced butt forward. Both holsters were tied around his striped wool pant legs.

In the dime novel she and the other women had...