Cindy looked uneasily from Iris to Shannon.

"He's…"

"You might as well answer her," Iris advised. "She won't give up asking you."

"I won't," Shannon said.

"He's holding up a train."

"What?" Shannon gasped in astonishment.

"Wait a minute, I said that badly, didn't I?"

"Is there a good way to announce to his wife that a man is holding up a train?" Iris demanded.

"Well, he isn't really holding it up—"

"What are you saying!" Shannon demanded.

Cindy sighed and walked over to where a pretty little round cherry-wood side table held brandy and snifters. There were only two snifters—the room was planned for a party of two, and no more.

"We'll share," Cindy told Iris, and she drank a glass of brandy before pouring out two more and handing one glass to Shannon and the other to Iris.

"Cindy, explain about Malachi," Shannon insisted.

"All right. All right. Kristin is being held in the Hayden house. They've got bars on the windows, and at least twenty guards in and around the house. There was no way for the three men to break in and carry her away." She hesitated. "The boys just might have some friends around here, but we don't really know that yet. A lot of decent folk aren't pleased


that Hayden Fitz is holding a lady, no matter what legal shenanigans he tries to pull. Anyway, Jamie heard tell that some bushwhackers on the loose were planning to hold up the train south. And there's a Federal judge on that train. They're going to seize the train from the bushwhackers and then try to explain the whole story to the judge."

"Oh, those fools!" Shannon cried. "They're going to get themselves killed."

Iris slipped an arm around her. "Honey, come on! They aren't fools. They know what they're about."

"If the bushwhackers don't shoot them, the judge will!"

"Well," Cindy said dryly, "you can be sure of one thing."

"What's that?"

"If Cole Slater is killed, Hayden Fitz won't need your sister any more. He'll let her go."

"I don't know," Iris murmured miserably, staring at her glass. "Knowing the perversions of Hayden Fitz, I imagine—"

"Iris!" Cindy said.

Iris quickly looked at Shannon and flushed. "Oh, honey, I'm sorry. I really am…"

"It's all right, Iris. You don't need to hide the truth from me," Shannon said. She sank down on the bed. "Oh, God!" she murmured desperately. "He said that we'd be together tonight. He said that we'd be back together."

Iris and Cindy exchanged looks over her head. Shannon leaped up suddenly. "Iris, I can't just sit. here. Let's go into town."

"What?"

"Iris, you can get in to see Kristin, can't you? I would feel so much better if you saw her."

"Shannon, I don't know—"

"Iris, I can't just sit here. What if—" She hesitated, feeling her heart thunder hard against her chest "What if Cole and Malachi don't make it? Iris, we have to discover some other way!"

"Malachi would hang me if—"

"Iris, I'm going with or without you."

Cindy shrugged, lifting her brandy glass. "You both look like respectable young women right now. Can't see how a ride into town could possibly hurt. Besides, if Hayden is around, he probably will let you in to see Kristin, Iris."

"Iris, I'm going with or without you. Iris, please. I'll go mad sitting here wondering about Malachi and Jamie and Cole and that stupid train!"

Iris sighed. "All right," she said at last. "All right. Shannon, I hope to God that this works out! He'll flay me alive if it doesn't."

"We'll be fine," Shannon assured her. "Just fine."

She would have plenty of time later to rue her confident words.


Maybe, if Shannon could have seen Malachi, seated comfortably in the club car of the train along with both his brothers, she might have felt a little better.

The three Slater brothers were seated in velvet-upholstered chairs around a handsome wood table drinking whiskey from crystal glasses at the judge's invitation. Cole was intense, straddled across his chair, leaning on the back, his eyes silver and his features taut as he spoke. Malachi leaned back, listening to his brother, more at ease. Jamie was, for all appearances, completely casual and negligent, accepting his drink with ease. He wore a broad-brimmed Mexican hat, chaps and boots, and looked every bit the rancher. Only the way his eyes narrowed now and then told Malachi that his younger brother was every bit as wary this night as he and Cole.

Two friends of Jamie's from Texas were playing lookout while the brothers spoke with Judge Sherman Woods. Cole, seated to Malachi's left, was earnestly explaining what had happened at the beginning of the war, how his wife had been killed, how the ranch had been burned and how, sick with grief, he had joined up with the bushwhackers for vengeance.

"But I never gunned down a man in cold blood in my life, judge," Cole said simply. "Never. I always fought fair. I wasn't with Quantrill more than a few months, then I went regular cavalry. I was assigned as a scout. I took my orders directly from Lee. I was in Kansas, and I did kill Henry Fitz, but it was fair. Any man who was there could tell you that."

Judge Woods lit up a cigar and sat back. Malachi liked the man. He hadn't panicked when the masked bushwhackers had seized the train, and he had barely blinked when the Slaters had reseized it from the robbers at gunpoint, sending them on their way into the night. He was a tall thin man with a neatly trimmed mustache and iron-gray hair. He wore a stovepipe hat and a brocade vest and a handsome black frock coat and fancy shoes, but he seemed to be listening to Cole. He looked from one brother to the other. "What about you?" he asked Jamie.

Jamie smiled with innocent ease. "Judge, this is the first time I've been in Kansas since 1856. I was damned stunned to hear that I was a wanted man. And amazed that any fool could think that my brother was a murderer.''

The judge arched one brow. He turned to Malachi. "And what about you, captain?''

Malachi shrugged. "I wasn't in Kansas. I spent most of the end of the war in Kentucky, then in Missouri. I would have come to Kansas, though, if I had thought that Cole might need me. Fitz was a murderer. He killed my sister-in-law. He killed lots of other people. And it seems to me, sir, that if we're really going to call a truce to this war, we have to prosecute all the murderers, the Yank murderers, too. Now Hayden Fitz is holding an innocent woman. God alone knows what he could want with her, and so help me, I can't understand what law he is using to get away with this legally."

The judge lifted his hands. "You do realize that what you're doing right now is illegal?"

"Yes, it is," Cole admitted.

"But we did stop those other fellows from robbing you blind," Malachi reminded him.

"Of course. All right, I've listened to your story. And God knows, gentlemen, I, for one, am anxious to see an end to the hostilities! I'm afraid we won't live to see it, but I'm a father of four, and I keep praying that maybe the next gen-eration will see something good come to this land. You had best slip off this train and disappear into the night, the same way that you came. I give you my word of honor that I will look into this situation immediately. If you're patient, I'll see that your wife is freed, Cole Slater. But I suggest that the three of you remain out of sight for the time being. Understood? And, oh—stay away from Fitz. We don't want him finding you."

Malachi looked at Cole, and Cole looked at Jamie. They all shrugged. They were in hiding. Just because they were hiding right beneath Fitz's nose…

They shook hands with the judge. Outside the club car, Jamie waved to his friends, and they jumped from where they were standing on the engine platform and the mail car. The five men hurried quietly for their waiting horses, then galloped away into the darkness of the night.

A half mile from the train, they left Jamie's friends, Cole and Malachi voicing their thanks earnestly. The two men had served with Jamie during the war. "Don't mind helping a Slater," said the older of the two. "Jamie pulled me out of a crater in December of '64. I owe him my life."

"Thanks just the same," Jamie said, tilting his hat. Malachi and Cole echoed the words.

Then the brothers were alone together, riding through the night.

Malachi flashed Jamie a smile. "Well, I admit, it seemed like a reckless plan to begin with, but it went fairly well."

"Nothing really gained," Jamie murmured.

"Nothing lost," Cole said, sighing. Malachi saw his brother's frown in the moonlight. "And we're close enough. If Fitz does threaten Kristin…"

"Then we are close, and we just get a little more reckless," Malachi said. He urged the bay along a little faster.

"Hey!" Jamie called out to him. "What's your hurry now? We're not being pursued."

Malachi reined in. "I…Shannon is supposed to be coming in tonight."

Jamie started to laugh. "That hellcat in a whorehouse? You're right. Let's hurry."

Cole grinned. "It will be good to see her," he said softly. "I've missed Miss McCahy."

Malachi hesitated, then he muttered. "Mrs. Slater."

"What?" Both brothers queried him.

"Mrs. Slater," he repeated. He looked from Jamie to Cole. They stared at him in amazement.

"They were going to hang me," Malachi explained lamely. "I—er, we kind of had to do it."

"She married a Reb?" Jamie demanded.

"She married—you?" Cole said.

"I told you, they were going to hang me if we didn't. Damn it, quit staring at me like that!" He swore. He urged the bay forward. "It's a long, long story and I'm not in the mood for it tonight."