She was told to sit again, this time in a chair in front of an old vanity mirror in what she assumed was Luda's room. She stared silently out the small window to see the sun was high in the sky. It was hard to believe just twenty four hours ago it had been a beacon of hope. Now, as the minutes ticked by and it continued it's ascent it felt as though the wooden walls were closing in around her. They were going to get their way whether she liked it or not. She could feel it in the ache of her bones that Thomas was right. She was too weak to run, she was trapped left to hope for whatever mercy these people would allow her. She felt betrayed by her own body, sickened by her weakness and how naive she'd been. Maybe if she hadn't stopped she'd be in Santa Fe right now. Then again, maybe that was the only reason she was alive. Whatever he had seen in her seemed to be the only reason she was still breathing. Though, as she stared out the window she wondered if maybe her best bet was to run and let them shoot her down. He had been kind thus far, but the thought of being forced to wed him, to be his wife? She closed her eyes and tried to settle the growing pit in her stomach as Luda hobbled into the room. Ronnie turned to face herself in the mirror and saw in the reflection she was holding another gown. A white one.

"I hope Tommy got that leg of yours cleaned up good," Luda started as she set the dress down and looked over Ronnie in the mirror, "you already ruined one of my dresses and I don't want you bloody'n your weddin' gown. Turn and face me girl."

Ronnie did as she was asked and let the woman check her knee, "Bless him, he tried. Boy just forgot to wrap it."

She shook her head as she contemplated what she would bandage the wound with. It didn't take her long to decide to rip some of the dress Ronnie had on and fashion it out of the old cloth.

She smiled to herself as she tied it, "Guess we won't have to worry about findin' you a garter after all."

Ronnie looked down her nose at the elderly woman. She wanted nothing more than to wring her neck each time she so casually reminded her of what they intended to do with her. It had to be survival instinct holding her back, because it wasn't like Ronnie to freeze. She took a deep breath and looked back at herself in the mirror. Luda glanced up and saw right through the girl's hardened expression. She could tell she was scared stiff and she did feel some sympathy for her. She stood up and gently rested one hand on her shoulder while the other played with a few strands of Ronnie's hair.

"You got them unruly curls just like Tommy does," she said, "your poor babies won't catch any luck with those genes."

Luda felt the girl tense and let out a chuckle as she started to gather Ronnie's curls into a bun, "Now, I know you're nervous and I wanna give you the benefit of the doubt that maybe you ain't done this before."

She took note as Ronnie's eyes cut sharply up to her through the reflection, "Then again, I don't know what exactly you girls get up to these days. But I can tell you this, Tommy has not. I'm not sure he's ever so much as thought about a girl until you showed up. So you'll have to be patient with him."

She patted Ronnie once she'd finished with her hair and waited for her to stand up. She looked over her with a pleased smile before she grabbed the white dress.

"But don't you worry, Tommy's a quick learner. It won't take him too long to figure everythin' out," she added, making Ronnie's stomach churn, "now go on and take that dirty thing off. This oughta fit you better anyway," Luda said.

The poor girl hesitantly began to lift up her dress as she gave Luda an unsure look.

"Don't pay me no mind, it's nothin' I ain't seen before," Luda reassured her, "I'm just as much a woman as you are where it counts."

She pulled the dress over her head and tossed it on the ground at Luda's feet. She refused to meet the woman's eyes as she held the gown out for Ronnie to step into. She slipped her arms into the sleeves and Luda began to lace up the back. Ronnie looked back to the mirror to watch. Under any other circumstance, she would have admitted the thing was lovely. Luda finished lacing the back of the dress and met Ronnie's gaze in the mirror. She smiled as she admired how well it fit the girl before she reached her hand up to take a few strands of her hair out of the bun. She placed them so that they'd frame her delicate features just right.

"There," she said quietly, "if Tommy thought you were pretty before, he's gonna be beside himself when he sees you now."

If a look could break glass, Ronnie's would have. Her rage was silent, but there nonetheless. Everything the woman had said to her sank deep in her heart like a blade to flesh. Being powerless to stop any of this only made the words she'd heard cut deeper. She could feel Luda's disturbingly pleased gaze on her reflection.

"What's your name, girl?" She asked softly.

"Ronnie," she whispered as she kept her eyes glued to her own appearance, hoping the sound of her own name would remind her who she was and not to let these people take that from her.

"Ronnie," Luda repeated as she glided over to the door to hold it open for her soon to be daughter in-law, "Ronnie Hewitt. Does have a nice ring to it, don't it?"

"No," Ronnie whispered before she turned to face Luda straight on, "I may not be able to stop you from doing whatever it is you think you're doing, so go on, have your phony wedding. But let me make this clear. I will not be bred like cattle, I will not allow you to break me for whatever purpose you think I'm going to serve. You won't, none of you will. I'm not your daughter, you ain't my mama, I will not be his wife and I will never be a Hewitt."

His butcher's knife hit the wood underneath it with a loud thud. He had no meat to cut, but he needed the release only a blade in his hand could give him. He knew any minute now Hoyt was going to come down those stairs to call him up. He watched them over the top of his mask as he let the blade fall, hit, lift and repeat. The table became more unstable with each dent he left in it. Let it break he thought to himself before his mind wandered back to what was about to unfold. It was no secret that Mama had wanted this for quite sometime, though it had been mutually agreed that Thomas would never actually be able to marry. At least that's what the more realistic members of the family assumed. He had been reminded by Hoyt since he could remember that his face wasn't one women would fawn over. In fact, Hoyt had been the first to suggest he cover his facial shortcomings much to Mama's dismay. Luda Mae had been the only one deluded enough to think her youngest son had been beautiful from the start, but Hoyt made sure Tommy knew what he was. He had never been kind about it either. He was no stranger to Hoyt's cruelty, but this was a new kind of torture. Tommy knew the man was fully aware he was condemning him to a life filled with reminders that he was simply unwanted. That girl didn't want him and Hoyt knew that each time Thomas looked into his soon to be wife's eyes he would be reminded of that. That was the price Thomas would pay for disobeying the 'sheriff's' order.

Tommy heard the sound of the door at the top of the stairs swing open. He reverted his gaze back to the table to see he'd all but destroyed the thing. It was riddled with marks from the butcher's knife, though he thought it could use a few more. He continued to chop away at nothing as Hoyt made his way down the stairs.

"Come on up Tommy, don't want to keep your bride waitin' or she might run off on you again," Hoyt said.

Thomas didn't look up. He kept his focus on the rise and fall of the knife in his hand. Hoyt spit some of his dip out as he grew agitated by Thomas' refusal to acknowledge him.

"You know, that girl pouts less than you do," Hoyt muttered.

Tommy slammed the knife down harder in response. Hoyt knew he couldn't force him up the stairs, but he might be able to poke him just enough to make him listen.

"If you ain't up to the task boy, I'll happily take your place," Hoyt said as he stepped closer to Tommy.

Tommy began to tense, but tried his best to ignore the man. He didn't want to gratify him with a response. Hoyt narrowed his eyes at the boy as he thought of the next vile thing he could say.

"A woman like that would probably appreciate a little more experience than you got below the belt," he said quieter now.

Thomas gritted his teeth and tightened his grip on the butcher's knife. Hoyt knew him well enough to know he had hit a nerve. He could tell by the way his eyes fixated on the table in front of him and the way his shoulders began to lift up and down as he breathed.

"Come to think of it, probably best I do. We both know she'll come lookin' anyway once she figures out you ain't man enough to do the things I'd do to her," he said with a sneer.

Thomas slammed the knife down through the table this time. He let go of the handle and turned to face Hoyt with the same stubborn glare he'd given him the first time he'd suggested such a thing. Hoyt wasn't one to back down easy and he was growing tired of the newfound defiance Thomas had towards him.

"You don't want that now, do you?" He said with a wicked look in his eyes, "Then be the man you think you are and get your ass up those stairs. Cause if you don't, I got half a mind to walk up there, put a bullet right between those pretty blue eyes and make you watch while I skin her for dinner."

If blood wasn't thicker than water, those would have been Hoyt's last words. Thomas let out a deep breath and admitted defeat.

"You made your bed, boy," Hoyt said before he nodded up the stairs, "now go lie in it. Or I'll do what should have been done the minute you laid eyes on that bitch."

For her sake, he did as Hoyt asked. As he walked it seemed like there were fewer stairs than he remembered. He had made it up them in no time all the while aware of Hoyt's vengeful gaze weighing heavy on his back. He could feel he was quite pleased to get his way as he watched Thomas push the door open. The room was silent as she stood there in the living room. She kept her head down, but he knew she'd heard him come in. She looked different from when he'd first seen her and he had to admit it did make it hard to keep his eyes off of her. The dress Mama had given her to wear was modest, but it hung on her body in such a way that made Thomas feel what he could only describe as weak. That wild dark blonde hair she had was tamed and tied up into a bun, but some of her curls had been left out to frame her face. She looked beautiful. For a moment he felt maybe what most men would at the sight of her, he felt lucky. She looked up to catch him gazing at her and that's when the reality of the situation made its way back into the pit in his stomach. Within all that beauty he saw it clear as day, it didn't matter how white that dress they made her wear was, it didn't blind him to it. She was sad. Beautiful and sad. Thomas figured that's just what Hoyt had hoped for.