"Neither Cole, Malachi or Jamie will let you do it, either," Kristin warned.

"They won't know!" Shannon said.

"But—" Kristin began.

"Shh! We'll be back," Shannon told her.

"Be ready," Iris warned Kristin. She grabbed Shannon's arm and pulled her to her feet. "We've got to move now, or they'll suspect us of something tonight, and we don't want that."

"Take care!" Shannon warned her sister, and hugged her fiercely again. "We'll be back."

"Come on!" Iris tugged on her sleeve.

They hurried to the door together. There was no one on the upstairs landing and they hurried down the steps. When they reached the bottom, Fulton was blocking their way. Iris smiled at him. "Thanks, Fulton. We'll be seeing you soon."

"You bet you will, Iris."

"Why, Fulton, what's wrong with you, honey?"

Fulton stepped aside. Shannon gasped, stunned.

Bear stood there. He was the massive jayhawker who had carried Kristin away after the righting between the jayhawkers and the bushwhackers, and it was obvious from the glint in his eyes that he remembered his brief glimpse of Shannon.

"What's going on?" Iris asked uneasily.

Shannon didn't say anything. The big man walked toward her with a wide grin plastered against his beefy features. "It is her," he said flatly. His arms crossed over his chest, he walked around Shannon. "Saw you when I was coming down the street, little miss. I thought I recognized you." He spun in a sudden fury and banged Fulton on the head with his hat. "Couldn't you see how much she looked like that Slater woman? They're as like as two peas from the same pod, you damned fool."

"Don't go beating at me, Bear!" Fulton protested. "Herbie said that the women were all right."

"Well, Herbie's going to have to answer to the boss, and that's that," Bear said. He grinned at Shannon and Iris. "Let's go and see the boss man, little lady."

Bear grasped Shannon by the arm. Iris slunk back against the wall. Shannon bit hard into Bear's fingers. When he screamed, Iris pulled out her small pistol.

"Let her go, Bear," Iris said.

Bear lifted up his hands. Shannon grabbed the Colt she was carrying from her skirt pocket. She drew the gun and held it on Fulton. "We're going to walk away. I'm going to go back up and get my sister out, and we're going to walk away."

"I think not, ma'am," a deep male voice called out.

Shannon spun around and looked up the stairs.

Kristin stood on the top step now, biting into her lip.

Behind her stood a tall, lean man with snow-white hair and cold gray eyes. He wore an elegant brocade vest and a frock coat and he held a small silver pistol to Kristin's skull. "Drop the gun," he told Shannon.

"Don't do it!" Kristin charged her. "Get out, Shannon, just get out—oh!"

The man cracked Kristin hard upon the head and she fell at his feet. He smiled at Shannon and aimed the gun toward her sister's back. "Drop it."

"Do it, Shannon," Iris advised wearily. "That's Fitz. And he will shoot her, without a thought."

"Why, thank you, Iris," Fitz drawled softly, "for that fine commendation. Girl, drop the gun."

Shannon inhaled and exhaled. Fitz cocked the gun. Shannon slowly bent and lay down her Colt.

"That was a very fine idea, young woman." He nodded to Bear. "Bring her to my office."

Bear set his arms upon Shannon. She tried to shake him off. "I can walk on my own!" she spat out.

"Fitz, you can't hold this girl—" Iris began.

"Iris, I am so disappointed in you!" Fitz said, shaking his head with a half smile. "Fulton, escort our friend Iris to my chamber, will you? Iris, I don't know what promises you made to get in here, but we'll just discuss them all. Later. And you will pay up."

Fulton grabbed Iris, sweeping her little pistol from her hands and jerking her around. "Come on, Iris. You heard the boss."

"Fitz, you can't hold her! Fitz, you—"

"I can, and I will, Iris," Fitz said. He stepped over Kristin and started down the stairs. "Get her out of here, Fulton. You'd better start worrying about yourself, Iris. Harboring a known criminal like this one here. Why, we could just shoot you down on the spot, Iris, and no court of law in the country could have a thing to say about it. Fulton, get her out of here!"

"Fitz, you'll pay!" Iris vowed as Fulton wrenched her arm behind her back. Iris cried out in pain. Shannon couldn't bear seeing Iris so hurt on her behalf. She flew at Fitz, her nails gouging his flesh.

"Let her alone, you bastard!" she hissed.

She didn't expect the iron grip of the man. He caught her flailing fists and pressed her against the banister. When she tried to kick him he lashed out, slapping her so hard that she staggered to her knees. He jerked her to her feet and prodded her before him. He threw her through a door in the foyer, and she fell to the ground.

He followed her into the office, stepping over her skirts. He closed the door behind him and walked around his desk to sit, idly watching her for several moments.

Shannon barely dared move. She stared at the man and waited.

"Well, well, well," he murmured at last. "My net is closing fast around all the little fishes."

"I don't know what you mean," Shannon said.

"Don't you?" he said, arching a distinguished white brow. "I think that you do. After all, my dear, you are here now, aren't you?" He smiled. "I hear things, you know. Nothing much happens in these parts that I don't hear about. Captain Malachi Slater was with you in Haywood."

Shannon shrugged. "I'm here on my own."

"Come, come, my dear. Malachi Slater gunned down half my men in the woods along with his bushwhacker friends. Bushwhackers. You never can trust them. I even heard that Malachi Slater gunned down a fellow Reb just the other day."

"He didn't gun down anyone," Shannon said.

"Ah, but he is near!" Hayden Fitz said. He smiled. "And your name is Shannon, and you're a Slater now, too. Is that true?"

Shannon shrugged. "Malachi despises me. If you hear everything, you must know that he and I are enemies. We were on different sides during the war, Mr. Fitz. Perhaps you should know, too, that my brother is a highly respected Union officer. When he gets his hands on you, you'll be really sorry."

Fitz laughed, delighted. "Don't fret, girl. Your brother will be too late to help you. Oh, young lady! I can't tell you just how happy I am to have you. The net does draw tighter and tighter. And I know you are Mrs. Malachi Slater." He stood up, coming around the desk. He looked down at her. "You're even prettier than your sister, and I didn't think that possible. My men would really enjoy you. And they just might, you know. I could enjoy an evening with you myself—" He broke off, shrugging. "But I want the Slaters first. I want every last one of them dead."

"You'll never do it," Shannon said defiantly. "They'll kill you, and you know it. You're so damned afraid of them that you can barely stand it!"

"Those Slaters are cold-blooded murderers!"

"The Slaters! Your brother swept in and murdered innocent women! How dare you talk about cold-blooded murder?"

"Bushwhackers deserved to die."

"There weren't any bushwhackers back when Cole's wife was killed! Just bastards like your brother!"

Fitz clenched his teeth and struck out at her with his booted foot. She screamed with the sudden pain.

The door burst open. Bear and Fulton rushed in.

"Trouble, boss?" Bear asked. Fulton was frowning, staring at Shannon.

"Boss, you know you can't hold another woman here. Someone will protest—"

"Shut up, Fulton."

"But boss, if this gets out, too, now…"

"Mary Surratt was hanged for complicity in the Lincoln assassination," Fitz said quietly, staring at Shannon. "I'm sure that I can pin complicity on these lovely ladies, too."

"But boss, what about Iris?"

"Fulton, are you questioning me?"

"Sir, it's just—"

"Bear, go out, will you? Check the street and see if we've got any other visitors running around tonight."

"Yes, sir."

Bear ran out. Fulton asked, "Mr. Fitz, should I go out with him?"

Shannon should have seen the curious cold light in Fitz's strange gray eyes, but she wasn't prepared for what happened next.

"No, Fulton, you stay here," Fitz said. "I need you." Then he pulled out his little pistol and aimed it at Fulton.

"No!" Fulton gasped, his eyes widening with horror.

Fitz fired. Fulton dropped to the floor.

And Hayden Fitz threw himself on top of Shannon, pretending to struggle with her.

The door burst open. Bear was back.

"She shot him!" Fitz cried. "The little bitch came flying at me and stole my pistol and shot Fulton, shot him down dead, in cold blood."

"Liar!" Shannon raged, trying to free herself. Fitz held her tightly, meeting her eyes with a cold smile.

"Murderess!" He stood and dragged her to her feet. "Damned bushwhacker's murderess!" he swore. He held her very close in a deadly challenge. "You'll hang for this!" he promised, and shoved her toward Bear. "Lock her up. Lock her up with her sister. They can both hang for murder, and for conspiracy to do murder!"

"You can't get away with this!" Shannon cried.

"Watch me, Mrs. Slater. Just watch me. You'll feel the rope around your neck and then you'll know."

She escaped from Bear and flew at Fitz with such a rage that she managed to rake bloody scratches down his cheeks with her nails. He hissed out something, and Bear came up behind her. He struck her hard on the head with the butt of his gun.

Hayden Fitz went hazy before her. Then the world went black.

"Lock them both up," Fitz said. "And make sure poor Fulton is brought over to Darby's funeral parlor. See that he's done up right. Stupid, murdering bitch."

"Yes, sir, yes, sir," Bear said. He scooped Shannon up into his arms and left the office.

Hayden Fitz stepped over Fulton's body. He walked to the stairs and looked up them. He smiled.

Iris had yet to pay for her part in the night's proceedings. She had yet to pay…

But she would pay very dearly.

He set his hand upon the banister and started up the stairs.


"That's—that's all I know," Cindy said unhappily, staring at the three Slater brothers. "A friend of Bear's come in here about midnight, and told everyone what happened. We've got to move the three of you—they'll come here looking for you, and I'm giong to have to pretend to be innocent. I—"

Malachi stood up. "Cindy, you don't have to do anything. I'm going in tonight," he said softly.

"No! Malachi, no, that's just what Fitz wants!" Cindy protested. "If you go raging in—"

"He's got my wife," Malachi thundered.

Cole stood and clapped Malachi on the shoulder. "He's had my wife, Malachi, don't forget that. I admit, bursting in, guns blazing, was my first thought. But Fitz will kill them, Malachi."

Malachi slunk back into his chair. He stared across the room.

"We have to bide our time," Jamie murmured.

"There will be some kind of a trial," Cindy said. She looked unhappily at Malachi. "But Hayden's telling everybody that Shannon McCahy Slater shot one of his men in cold blood. The trial will be rigged. She'll be condemned, and unless he gets his hands on you, he will hang her. He'll hang them both."

Malachi stood again. He strode across the room and came back to stand before Cole.

"A hanging. A big crowd, ropes. Lots of confusion."

Cole smiled slowly. "A few sharpshooters could do a fair amount of damage in a crowd like that."

Malachi grinned his slow, crooked smile. Cole laughed, and as Cindy watched, even Jamie smiled with a leisurely pleasure.

"You've all lost your minds!" she told them.

"No, darlin'," Malachi drawled softly. "I think we've just found our way out of this mess."

"What are you—"

Cindy broke off. Someone was knocking at the door. A voice called, "Cindy! It's Gretchen. I need to see you."

The Slaters quickly stood. Malachi came around behind the bar. Cole and Jamie sank against the pillars. Gretchen pushed open the door. She was followed, by a tall man clad in the dark blue uniform of the Union cavalry man.

"Cindy, this man insists he get to you!" Gretchen said, rubbing her wrist and looking at the stranger in the shadows. "He said that he knows the Slaters are around here somewhere, and he wants Cole to know that the baby is fine." Pretty, sandy-haired, freckle-faced Gretchen looked at the man resentfully. "He said something about a house shouldn't be divided, not a family, and that the Slaters ought to know what he was talking about."