Unkempt cowboys stood on either side of him. Obliterated by alcohol they clutched at the bar, the only thing that managed to keep them upright.

"Rough crowd," he muttered to the Barkeep.

The man replied with a discreet nod.

"Whiskey, please." Jese threw a pile of money onto the bar.

The Barkeep found a freshly buffed glass, and started to pour. "Ya haven't left yet."

"Something came up."

"A dame?"

Jese took a sip of the whiskey, before displaying the wedding band on his finger. He still hadn't become completely accustomed to seeing it there. It reminded him of the time before... He managed to stop his head from spinning dangerously.

"You move quickly," the man chortled.

"You've got to. Not often you find a decent one out here."

"Cheers to that!" The barman poured himself a neat drink and raised it in salute.

Clinking their glasses the men drank in companionable silence. "It's a fine part of the country," the Barkeep spoke. "You'll find it agreeable."

"With a few modifications, I think it could be my heaven on earth." It wasn't going to be easy, Nova was already seeing to that. But, once he'd asserted his control, he would soon be able to spend an enjoyable evening watching the setting sun with his wife quietly at his side.

And yet, here he was. Seated in this stinking Tavern, trying to keep watch over his wayward wife.

But, the spirit that Nova had shown him earlier that day - the fire in her eyes - Jese had no idea how he was going to manage to gain any kind of control. Would he have to resort to barbaric behaviour? Tying her to a chair every evening, or selling her horse? It seemed a little overbearing - even by his standards. Until he decided how to deal with her, he was forced to sit there keeping watch, ensuring that no danger came to her. There was no way he could allow another wife of his to -.

His gut lurched. Jese squeezed his eyes shut. Through a haze of hurtful memories, Jese heard his Nova stepping out onto the stage to a deafening applause. Jese immediately felt defensive. If he heard anyone speaking about his wife in a less than favorable way - how was he not going to react violently?

His eyes were drawn to the white paint she'd so cautiously applied to her body. He yearned to see the beautiful skin she hid below it. The colour of coffee with cream sparkling in the sun.

"Look at the ass on that one!" The cowboy at his right elbow remarked.

His companion muttered something leecherously.

Jese's fingers turned white against his glass. He turned his gaze back to Nova. She smiled and simpered around the stage.

If Jese had known he would spend the second night of his married life watching her try to hustle a room full of drunk cowboys he would have been appalled. Would it have stopped him from marrying her? He wondered. No. But perhaps he wouldn't have done so quite as quickly. Let her situation get a little more dire ... wait till her last suitcase was lugged to the road. And then would he have swooped in to save her. Then she would understand the concept of being grateful.

He felt the muscles in his forearms tightening in rage. Cracking his knuckles, he lifted his glass to drink. She was gushing over this bunch of pricks for a lone dollar. And yet all the thanks he'd had for his help were a few scarcely contained hateful glances. He'd really thought he deserved more from her than that.

Jese had never lied to her.

So he'd told her his name was Jese Calhoun, but she had never directly asked him for his birth name. He'd adopted his new name through an innocent mistake. His writing had always been undecipherable, and he'd used it to his advantage. As he'd fled North Carolina the train driver had easily mistaken José for Jese. As to the surname, the man had just taken a wild guess at it, to which Jese had nodded. No dishonesty had passed his lips, but he'd never corrected it. He would have been foolish to turn his nose up at such an undeniable favour. With the law snapping at his heels, ready to hang him, Jese liked to believe a Benevolent God was smiling down upon him that day.

And now he'd married a woman with land, and no overprotective father in the sidelines searching records and asking questions. She was the perfect disguise. Now he'd scribbled his name - messily - on his marriage certificate, he no longer needed to fool the authorities. His wife would do that on his behalf - completely innocently.

Jese was dragged from his black mood by the sound of a glass smashing on stage. He saw the shards beside one of Nova's feet.

"Did your mother not teach you how to treat a lady?" A man hollered at the assailant.

"Ain't no lady I can see, in this Tavern!" The culprit cried.

"Don't be talking trash!" He heard the first man reply. "The only feminine charms you've witnessed these last four months are of the four legged variety."

"Well-" The assailant cried amongst the jeering. "The only thing my horse hustles me for is a sugar cube." A crow of laughter rang out.

Jese saw Nova's glance in his direction. She'd obviously searched the crowd for his face as soon as she'd stepped onto the stage. Was she worried that he would try to jump to her rescue? This, he decided, was just what the woman needed. To realize just how lucky she was. He couldn't have planned it better if he had organized the kerfuffle himself.

Another smash rang out, as the angry drunk threw his friend's glass at the stage as well. Leaving Nova hopping over its remains. The bouncer - a muscle bound freedman - emerged from the crowd and grabbed the man simultaneously by the scruff of his neck and the seat of his pants, and hurled him out the saloon doors. As he turned back, the bouncer found the drunk man's friends with their sleeves already rolled up and fists bunched.

Tables and chairs were broken in the scuffle which ensued. The bouncer threw men about as if they had the body mass of an overripe melon, the mess was similar.

Jese noticed that peaceful men, who'd sat on amused moments before, were suddenly outraged by a comment from their neighbours. Everyone in the tavern seemed to be on their feet fighting. His wife sure had a way with making men infuriated!

He could see her gazing around in confusion. Jese charged to stage to clasp her hand. "Follow me."

"Sure will!" She snarled, "When hell freezes over."

He'd been prepared to put aside his displeasure, and help her out of the mess that she'd made. Yet, once again, she was behaving like he was incorrigible. "You'll do what I say!"

"Or what? You'll throw me over your shoulder and march out?" She taunted him.

"I've another plan... far more damaging."

"Oh right." She feigned interest. "Throw me over your knee and spank me?"

Tempting. "I'll drag that wig from your head and expose you to the crowd."

"Well," she seemed impressed. "Very creative! Unfortunately, thanks to the all the pins attaching it to my head, you'll just look like you're abusing a poor defenceless woman. You wouldn't want your night to end at the Sheriff's Office would you?"

"You prevented me from making a frightful mistake." He stared into her challenging gaze. "Get off the stage now, or you better hope you took the time to paint every single area of your body." He expertly undid her top button of her dress. "Otherwise your secret will be out." The second button popped easily in his fingers. He could see the soft skin of her cleavage turning into goose pimples where his fingers brushed against her. Her breathing became shallow and her eyes were huge with fright.

"You wouldn't dare!"

In answer he unfastened the third button. Her cleavage spilled forth from the corset underneath, and there he could see her skin color exposed. "You must know by now to expect the unexpected with me."

"Brute!" Clutching her bodice together, she sprinted from the establishment.