She was afraid anyway.

"Malachi —" she began again.

"Kristin?" He appeared at the door to the barn, his thumbs hooked in his belt, his golden brows knit into a furrow. He hurried over to her and watched the rider come. His eyes narrowed.

"Anderson," he murmured.

"Who?"

"It's a boy named Bill Anderson. He's… he's one of Quantrill's. One of his young recruits."

"What does he want? He is alone, isn't he?" Kristin asked anxiously.

"Yes, he's alone," Malachi assured her.

Jamie appeared then, coming out of the barn, his sleeves rolled up, his jacket off. He looked at Malachi. "I thought Quantrill was already on his way south. That's Bill Anderson."

Malachi nodded. "He seems to be alone."

The rider came closer and closer. He was young, very young, with a broad smile. He had dark, curly hair and a dark mustache and beard, but he still had an absurdly innocent face. Kristin shivered, thinking that he was far too young to be going around committing murder.

He drew his horse up in front of them. He was well armed, Kristin saw, with Colts at his waist and a rifle on either side of his saddle.

"Howdy, Malachi, Jamie."

"Bill," Malachi said amiably enough. Jamie nodded an acknowledgment.

"Cole's headed east, huh?" Anderson asked. He smiled at Kristin, waiting for an introduction. "You his new wife, ma'am? It's a pleasure to meet you."

He stuck out his hand. Kristin thought about all the blood that was probably on that hand, but she took it anyway and forced herself to smile.

"I'm his new wife," Kristin said. She couldn't bring herself to say that it was a pleasure to meet him, too. She could barely stand there.

"Kristin Slater, this is Bill Anderson. Bill, what the hell are you doing here? There's a lot of Union soldiers around these parts, you know," Malachi said.

"Yep," Jamie agreed cheerfully. "Lots and lots of Federals in these parts. And you know what they've been saying about you boys? No mercy. If they get their hands on you they intend to hang you high and dry."

"Yeah. I've heard what the Union has to say. But you've been safe enough here, huh, Malachi? And you, too, Jamie."

"Hell, we're regular army," Jamie said.

Anderson shrugged. "They have to catch us before they can hang us. And I'm not staying. I just had… well, I had some business hereabouts. I've got to join Quantrill in Arkansas. I just thought maybe I could come by here for a nice home-cooked meal."

Malachi answered before Kristin could. "Sure, Bill. Jamie, why don't you go on in and ask Delilah to cook up something special. Tell her we've got one of Quantrill's boys here."

Jamie turned around and hurried to the house. Delilah was already standing in the doorway. As Kristin watched, Shannon's blond head appeared. There was a squeal of outrage, and then the door slammed. Jamie came hurrying back to them.

"Malachi, Delilah says she needs you. There's a bit of a problem to be dealt with."

Malachi lifted an eyebrow, then hurried to the house. Kristin stood there staring foolishly at Bill Anderson with a grin plastered to her face. She wanted to shriek, and rip his baby face to shreds. Didn't he understand? Didn't he know she didn't want him here?

Men using Quantrill's name had come here and murdered her father. Men just like this one. She wanted to spit in his face.

But he had evidently come for a reason, and Malachi seemed to think it was necessary that he be convinced that Kristin was Cole's wife and that this was Cole's place now.

Kristin heard an outraged scream from the house. She bit her lip. Shannon obviously realized that one of Quantrill's men was here, and she didn't intend to keep quiet. She certainly didn't intend to sit down to a meal with him.

Anderson looked toward the house, hiking a brow.

"My sister," Kristin said sweetly.

"Her baby sister," Jamie said. He smiled at Kristin, but there was a warning in his eyes. They had to make Bill Anderson think Shannon was just a little girl.

And they had to keep her away from him.

Apparently that was what Malachi was doing, because the screams became muffled, and then they were silenced.

Malachi — the marks of Shannon's fingernails on his cheek — reappeared on the front porch. "Come on in, Bill. We'll have a brandy, and then Delilah will have lunch all set."

Bill looked from Malachi to Kristin and grinned. "That came from your, uh… baby sister, Mrs. Slater?"

"She can be wild when she wants," Kristin said sweetly. She stared hard at Malachi. He touched his cheek and shrugged. Kristin walked by him. "Too bad they can't send her up to take on the Army of the Potomac. We'd win this war in a matter of hours. Old Abe Lincoln himself would think that secession was a fine thing just as long as Shannon McCahy went with the Confederacy."

"Malachi!" Kristin whispered harshly. "You're talking about my sister!"

"I ought to turn her over to Bill Anderson!" he muttered.

"Malachi!"

Anderson turned around, looking at them curiously. "Where is your sister?" he asked.

"The baby is tucked in for her nap," Malachi said with a grin. "We don't let her dine with adults when we have company in the house. She spits her peas out sometimes. You know how young 'uns are."

Kristin gazed at him, and he looked innocently back at her. She swept by him. "Mr. Anderson, can we get you a drink? A shot of whiskey?"

"Yes, ma'am, you can."

Kristin took him into her father's study and poured him a drink. As he looked around the room, admiring the furnishings, Malachi came in and whispered in her ear.

"Shannon's in the cellar."

"And she's just staying there?" Kristin asked, her eyes wide.

"Sure she's just staying there," Malachi said.

Soon they sat down to eat. Sizzling steaks from the ranch's own fresh beef, fried potatoes, fall squash and apple pie. Bill Anderson did have one big appetite. Kristin reminded herself dryly that he was a growing boy.

He was polite, every inch the Southern cavalier, all through the meal. Only when coffee was served with the pie did he sit back and give them an indication of why he had come.

"Saw your husband the other day, ma'am."

Kristin paused just a second in scooping him out a second slice of pie. "Did you?" she said sweetly.

"Sure, when he came to see Quantrill. He was mighty worried about you. It was a touching scene."

She set the pie down. "Was it?" She glanced at Malachi. His eyes were narrowed, and he was very still.

"He used to be one of us, you know."

"What?"

Despite herself, Kristin sat. She sank right into her chair. "What?" she repeated.

Jamie cleared his throat. Malachi still hadn't moved.

Bill Anderson wiped his face with his napkin and smiled pleasantly. "Cole is one of the finest marksmen I ever did see. Hell, he's a one-man army, he's so damned good. It was nice when he was riding with us."

Kristin didn't say anything. She knew all the blood had fled from her face.

Bill Anderson forked up a piece of pie. "Yep, Cole Slater was just the same as Zeke Moreau. Just the same."

Malachi was on his feet in a second, his knife at Anderson's throat. "My brother was never anything like Zeke Moreau!"

Jamie jumped up behind him. He was so tense that Jamie couldn't pull him away. Kristin rushed around and tugged at his arm. "Malachi!"

He backed away. Bill Anderson stood and straightened his jacket. He gazed at Malachi, murder in his eyes. "You'll die for that, Slater."

"Maybe I'll die, but not for that, Anderson!" Malachi said.

"Gentlemen, gentlemen!" Kristin breathed, using her softest voice. "Please, aren't we forgetting ourselves here?"

It worked. Like most young men in the South, they had both been taught to be courteous to females, that a lack of manners was a horrible fault. They stepped away from each other, but their tempers were still hot.

"You came here just to do that, didn't you?" Malachi said quietly. "Just to upset my sister-in-law. I'm willing to bet Zeke Moreau asked you to do it."

"Maybe, and maybe not," Anderson said. He reached over to the sideboard for his hat.

"Maybe she's just got the right to know that Cole Slater was a bushwhacker. You want to deny that, Malachi?"

Kristin looked at Malachi. His face was white, but he said nothing.

Anderson slammed his hat on his head. He turned to Kristin. "Mighty obliged for the meal, ma'am. Mighty obliged. Cap'n Quantrill wants you to know that you should feel safe, and he's sorry about any harm that's been done to you or yours. If he had understood that your loyalties lay with the Confederacy, none of it would have come about."

It was a lie, a bald-faced lie, but Kristin didn't say anything. Anderson turned around, and she heard the door slam shut as he left the house.

Delilah came in from the kitchen. The old grandfather clock in the parlor struck the hour. They all stood there, just stood there, dead still, until they heard Bill Anderson mount his horse, until they heard the hoofbeats disappear across the Missouri dust.

Then Kristin spun around, gripping the back of a chair and staring hard at Malachi. "Is it true?"

"Kristin —" he began unhappily.

"Is it true?" she screeched. "Is Cole one of them?"

"No!" Jamie protested, stepping forward. "He isn't one of them, not now."

She whirled around again, looking at Jamie. "But he was! That's the truth, isn't it?"

"Yes, damn it, all right, he was. But there was a damned good reason for it."