She gazed at him. "You're pathetic," she said softly.

He grabbed her thigh, pinching it mercilessly. She wasn't going to cry out, but the pain came so fiercely that she did.

"Talk to me nicely, little girl. Talk to me nicely. Tell me that you won't take off again. No more tricks. And maybe, just maybe, if you're good, real, real good, I'll let you live."

She lifted her chin. She ignored his hand upon her thigh, inching up the satin of her gown. "Death might be very simple, Justin," she said.

He started to laugh again. "Yeah, it just might be. But you ain't going to die. Not until I'm through with you." He cupped her chin in a cruel grip and moved his face close to hers.

She managed to twist away. "I will throw up on you," she threatened. "I swear, I will throw up all over you. That drug is heaving up and down inside of me."

He jerked away from her as if he had been burned. He stared at her, and then he chuckled and stroked her chin again. "You are a one, Miss Shannon McCahy. I've waited a long time for a woman the likes of you. A long time."

He leaned toward her again. She prayed that the earth would open up and swallow them whole.

The earth did not open up, but there was suddenly a massive rustling in the bushes near the road. Justin jerked away from her and stood up on the balls of his feet with his rifle ready. Shannon watched him with renewed fear. "Son of a bitch! Sit tight, sweetheart. I'll be back, and we won't waste any more time." He jumped close to the tree, then bent down and disappeared into the low brush.

Shannon strained frantically against the ropes that bound her. Maybe Malachi lived. Maybe he was out there thrashing around, needing help. Justin would hunt him down. He would hunt him down and shoot him between the eyes. Justin Waller might be a raving lunatic, but he had fought with the bushwhackers, and he had learned a lot about guerrilla warfare. He was wiry and athletic. He was an able opponent. Malachi…

"Watch out!" she screamed aloud. "Malachi! If you're there, watch out!"

Justin did not return to shut her up. She bit her lip, looking to the bracken. Night was just starting to fall. Suddenly, from around the tree, a hand fell over her mouth. Fear curdled within her again. With wide, startled eyes she twisted around.

It was Malachi. He had found his hat. It sat jauntily atop his head, the brim low, sheltering his eyes. He brought a finger to his lips, and she exhaled, so dizzy with relief that she nearly fell. Hunched down low beside her, he smiled the crooked, rueful smile that had stolen her heart.

"Are you all right?" he asked her swiftly.

She nodded. "Malachi—"

"He didn't—he didn't hurt you?"

"He hasn't had much time. He's been watching for you through the day. Oh, Malachi! Be careful! Please, just get me out of here. He's dangerous. He's sick. He's—"

"Shh!" He brought his finger to his lips again. He seemed to hear something that she could not. "Can you make it just a few minutes longer?"

"Malachi—"

"Can you?"

"Yes, of course, but—"

"Shh!" He didn't untie her. He slunk back into the brush behind the tree.

"No!" Shannon whispered. She heard the branches breaking and a soft tread upon the earth. Justin Waller was returning. He was returning, and Malachi had left her for him…

"Weren't nothing," Justin said. "Weren't nothing at all but a rabbit or a squirrel. I left you for a rabbit. Can you beat that? My nerves are raw, honey, but you're gonna fix that."

Laughing, he dropped the rifle. He fell down on his knees beside her, and he stroked her calf. She kicked out in a rage. He fell upon her, the whole of his length covering her, smothering her. She started to scream and writhe, and Justin smiled, bringing his leering features level with hers.

"Moment of truth, honey darling mine—"

He broke off at the sound of a gun cocking, right at the base of his ear.

"Moment of truth," Malachi said harshly. "Get up. Get off my wife."

Shannon watched as Justin Waller went as stiff as a poker and slowly rose. Malachi didn't miss a beat. The barrel of his Colt remained flush against the man's head.

"She ain't your wife. Not for real—Mr. Gabriel."

"She is my wife—for real, Mr. Waller. And I don't take kindly to you touching her. In fact, I don't take kindly to much that you've done."

There was another rustle in the trees. Malachi didn't move a hair. Justin sneered, and despite herself, Shannon stiffened. Iris Andre stepped in among them. She had a small pearl-handled knife in her hands. She hurried toward Shannon, knelt beside her and started sawing the ropes that held her.

"Just how many woman do you need, Slater?" Justin taunted.

Malachi walked around in front of him, aiming the Colt at his heart. Shannon looked gratefully to Iris as the red-haired woman freed her. Maybe she was a whore. Maybe she had been sleeping with Malachi. But they had come together to save her, and for that, she had to be grateful.

Iris flashed her an encouraging smile. Shannon rubbed her wrists.

"Can you stand, honey?" Iris asked.

"I—I think so."

But she couldn't. When she tried to rise, she fell back upon the tree. She was parched; she hadn't had water in hours. The nauseating taste of the drug remained.

Iris lent her an arm.

"Boy, captain, you do have it made. A whore and a wife, leaning on each other. That's mighty cute, Miss McCahy."

"It's Mrs. Slater," Shannon told him.

"Poor little fool. Can't you see what he's doing to you?"

"Iris, tie up his hands," Malachi directed.

Iris nodded, leaving Shannon against the tree. Shannon stood there, chafing her wrists, shivering as darkness fell and the coolness of the night came upon them. She watched as Iris walked toward Justin with firm purpose. Malachi tossed her a skein of rope.

But before Iris could reach him, Justin reached out, and grasped her and pulled her against him. He produced a knife from his calf, and caught it against her throat.

"Malachi, shoot him!" Iris called out.

Malachi didn't dare shoot; Justin would have slit her throat as easily as he breathed.

"Drop it, Slater," Justin advised.

Malachi reached out and dropped the Colt. But as he did so, he lunged.

Justin thrust Iris away from himself just as Malachi stormed against him. Justin had his knife; Malachi was unarmed. They rolled together. Malachi leaped to his feet. Justin swiped at him with the knife, and Malachi leaped again. The knife sliced through the air.

Malachi landed a blow against Justin's chin, but then Justin was swinging with the knife again.

Malachi was good. He was fast on his feet; he could whirl with the wind. But Justin was armed. Unless he was disarmed swiftly.

Shannon could barely move. She shook her head, trying to clear it, needing strength. Iris lay on the ground before her, trying to stagger up.

"Iris!"

The woman turned to look at her.

"The Colt. Give me the Colt."

"You'll hit…Malachi."

Shannon shook her head. She had to clear it. She crawled past the tree before falling to the ground. She couldn't quite reach Malachi's Colt.

Iris reached for it and swept it along the dirt to Shannon. For a brief moment their fingers touched. Shannon bit her lip, then smiled swiftly, encouragingly. Her fingers curled around the butt of the gun.

The men were still locked in deadly combat. Justin was on top of Malachi; Malachi was straining to hold the man's arm far above him, to escape the deadly silver blade of the razor-edged knife. Shannon blinked against the darkness and against her trembling fear and the nauseating aftereffects of the drug.

She aimed carefully, and then she fired.

She was a crack shot, and she proved it that night. She hit Justin right in the hand. His knife went flying as he screamed in pain, his fingers shattered.

Malachi pushed him away and reached for the knife. Stunned, he came up on the balls of his feet and looked at Shannon. He smiled slowly, smoothing back a lock of hair that had fallen over his eyes.

"Thanks…darlin'," he murmured.

He stood, dusting off his pants. Justin Waller was rolling on the ground screaming.

"Bitch! I'll kill you, I swear, I'll kill you—"

"You aren't killing anyone else, Waller," Malachi said softly. "We're taking you back to Haywood, and they'll see that you hang."

"There ain't no wanted posters out on me, Slater."

"They're going to hang you for murder. Reba died this morning," Malachi said.

Justin let out a howl. "Your wife wanted it, Slater. She was smooth as silk to touch. She was better than that blond whore back in town. She screamed and cried and asked me far more and more."

Malachi stood still.

"But then, you can't imagine that whore. She wanted to live so badly. She begged me to stop."

"I'm not going to kill you, Justin," Malachi said. He walked over to where the man lay. "I'm not going to kill you. The war is over. I'm done killing. They'll hang you, and you aren't going to say anything to make me kill you now and cheat the hangman."

"You shoulda seen her scream."

Malachi ignored him. He started walking toward Shannon

"I'm going to kill you, Slater!" Justin raged. He stumbled to his feet and came running toward them. Cupping his bleeding hand beneath his good arm, he stumbled toward them and fell upon his rifle where it lay by the tree. Malachi started to spring for him.

Then a shot rang out. Justin Waller fell down dead.

Malachi and Shannon stared at one another, then turned and looked at Iris. She had a little ivory-handled pistol in her hand. A small waft of powder floated from it.

She looked from the dead man to Malachi. "You couldn't kill him, Malachi. I had to."

Malachi nodded at her. He walked over and retrieved his hat from where it had fallen in the dust, then he came back to Shannon.

"Can you ride with me?" he asked her.

She nodded.

"What about him?" Iris asked, referring to Waller.

"We'll put him on his horse and bring him back to Haywood. They can do what they want with him there. If they happened to know that he was at Centralia, they might butcher him up and feed him to the crows. I don't know. We're done here. We've got to get moving."

Iris nodded. Malachi brushed Shannon's forehead with a kiss, then nodded to Iris. Iris came forward and slipped her arm around Shannon while Malachi picked up the dead man, throwing him over his shoulder.

Shannon looked at Iris sickly. "He—he killed a woman?"

"A friend of mine," Iris said.

"The blond woman?"

Iris nodded. "Come on, honey. Let's get out of these woods. It's been a long day, and it's going to be a longer night."

Arm in arm with Iris, Shannon made her way through the bracken and trees. Malachi walked ahead of them.

They came to where a trail showed in the moonlight. The bay and her black gelding were there. Malachi tossed Justin's body over the bay and looked at the women. "I'm going to give the woods a look for his horse. Will you be all right?"

"Of course, sugar—er, uh, I mean, sure, Malachi," Iris said.

"I'm fine," Shannon added. She wasn't fine at all. She was sick to death and cold and shivering, but Justin was dead, and the danger was over. And Malachi had cared enough about her to come for her.

She had loved Robert Ellsworth. She had loved him very much.

But that didn't stop her from loving Malachi now. No matter what his relationship had been with Iris.

She couldn't even hate Iris anymore.

Malachi walked into the bushes and disappeared. Shannon must have weaved in the night breeze, because Iris quickly made a clucking sound. "Let's sit. It's all right here, I'm sure. We'd hear a rattler if there was one around anywhere."

"Iris," Shannon said softly, sitting down beside the redhead.

"What? I'm sure that there's really nothing to worry about—"

"Iris, I'm really sorry about the whiskey."

Iris inhaled sharply and her eyes fell on Shannon. "It's all right." She grimaced ruefully. "Most ladies do feel that way about whores."

"Oh, Iris, trust me! I didn't act like a lady!" She smiled, and then she laughed, and she realized she was glad because she had wondered if she would ever laugh again. Then she was afraid, because perhaps her laughter sounded hysterical. "Too bad you couldn't have met my pa, Iris. He would have explained in no uncertain terms that a lady wouldn't do things like that." She hesitated, then she smiled. "Pa would have said that you were quite a lady, Iris. Thank you for coming for me. You don't owe me anything. Even if you—even if you do sleep with my husband."