3
JONAH
As we rode our horses north toward the Carr ranch, leaving Butte behind us, I was able to study the infamous, and beautiful, Tennessee Bennett. The landscape was stunning—the late afternoon’s sun dappled on the rolling prairie, snow-capped mountains in the distance—but I only had eyes for her.
I’d heard as much of the conversation with the prostitutes as James had. If he hadn’t pulled her out of the clutches of the woman eager to earn coin from Tennessee’s virginity, then I would have. Once out of the alley behind the saloon, James had made introductions, and while she’d studied me, tipping her head back to meet my gaze because she was so small, her eyes had widened, but she’d remained silent.
She hadn’t said a word, but appeared relieved to have James and I at the saloon to re
