Sisson was a big man and strong, but John was wiry and strong as hell. Sisson took him down the way he would a steer, pushing his whole body weight into him and pulling John's hand down with a quick pull before John could fully tense his arm, and then he upended the bottle over John's eye and nose. When John brought his arm back up, Sisson pulled it down, dropped the bottle, and pulled open John's eyelids so the alcohol ran into his eye. When John's mouth came open, Sisson rolled his shoulder into it to muffle the yell. “It's over,” he said. “It's over now. Calm. Calm. Calm. Come on.”

“Oh, fuck me,” John groaned.

“No. You already had enough fun for one day.”

CHAPTER TWO

1889

The young couple had ridden nearly four hours through the tall grass and scrub of the Hill Country, heading for Junction, Texas, county seat of Kimball County. They were dressed in their best clothes, though her dress had become embedded with grass and thorns from the terrain, and her hair had long ago come undone and hung in long, sweated curls. His shirt, once laundered white with lye soap, was going brown at the neck and arms from the combination of sweat and dust.

Thomas Jefferson Power was twenty-four. His bride-to-be, Martha—Mattie—Morgan, was four years younger. He had their wedding license folded in the back pocket of his best trousers, going limp in the damp heat. They had nearly another hour's ride to Junction, where there was a preacher. They plodded forward, watched impassively by small groups of range cattle carrying a variety of brands. He had no doubt driven some of them. He was a cowboy, well known in the area as a hard worker and something of a harder customer. He took offense easily and was willing to throw a punch when he did.

In Mattie he had found a woman who not only tolerated his ways and quick temper but also brought the promise of stability and prosperity. Martha's father, Sebe, was a rancher who owned a small Hill Country spread. He was not a rich man, but he owned land and cattle, and that made him far richer than Jeff Power had ever been.

Mattie was anxious. It was growing late, the summer sun well into the west now, and they had a long way to go. She didn't want to stop and camp on the way. She knew the ways of men and their world. She had grown up around cowboys who were often tough and occasionally brutish, and she did not want to start her married life before the preacher had made it right. Jeff (never Tom or Thomas) was an honorable man, but he was a man and impatient about such things. She wanted things set right. Right from the beginning.