He paused again, inhaling deeply. Shannon had gone very pale and very still. She had forgotten Cole in her fear for Kristin. Malachi had not.

He dropped her arm, pushing her from him. "I want to find out if Cole is alive or dead," he said flatly, and he spun on his heels.

It took Shannon a few seconds to follow him, and when she did so, she did in silence. Dread filled her heart. She hoped Cole had left already. But the second that she learned something about her brother-in-law she would be gone. Maybe Malachi could let those men ride away with Kristin— she could not.

He heard her following behind. He spoke without turning around. "I am going after Kristin. If you don't mind, I will arm myself first."

"As soon as we…as soon as we find Cole," Shannon said. "I'll get everything we need. We can leave—"

"We aren't leaving. I'm leaving."

"I'm coming with you."

"You're not coming with me."

"I am coming—"

"You're not!"

Shannon opened her mouth to continue the argument, but she didn't get the chance. The porch door swung open again as Delilah came running out. Tall, black and beautiful, with the aristocratic features of an African princess, she was more family than servant, and no proclamation had made her free. Gabriel McCahy had released both her and her husband, Samson, years before the war had ever begun.

Now her features were wretchedly torn with anguish.

"Shannon!" she cried, throwing out her arms. Shannon raced to Delilah, accepting her embrace, holding her fiercely in return. Delilah spoke again, softly, quickly. "Shannon, child, I was so afraid for you! They dragged Kristin from here so quick—"

"Delilah," Malachi said harshly, interrupting her. His voice was thick. "Where is my brother? What happened? Cole would never—Cole would never have allowed Kristin to be dragged from his side."

Delilah shook her head, trying to get a grip on her emotions. "No, sir, Captain Slater," she said softly, "Cole Slater never would have done that. He—"

"He's dead," Malachi said, swallowing sickly.

"No! No, he isn't dead!" Delilah said with haste.

Relief flooded through Shannon. She couldn't stand any longer. She staggered to the porch and sank down on the lowest step. "Where is Cole, Delilah?"

"He rode out before—"

"When?" Shannon cried. "I didn't see him go!"

"Let's come inside. You both look as if you could use a little libation," Delilah said.

Shannon shook her head and stood with an effort. "I'm going after Kristin—"

"You're not going after anyone," Malachi said. "I'm going, and I'll do so as soon as I'm ready."

"Don't tell me what I can and can't do, Malachi Slater!"

He walked over to her, his eyes narrowed, his irritation as apparent as his limp. "Shannon McCahy, you are a willful little fool, and you will get us both killed, as well as your sister. I will tell you what to do, and if you don't listen to me, I'll lock you in your room. No, that wouldn't do, knowing you, you'd come right through the window. I'll tie you to your bed. Are we understood?"

She wasn't going to get into another test of strength with Malachi, not at that moment.

Nor was she about to listen to him.

But she inhaled and raised her chin with what she hoped was a chilling dignity. She walked up the steps to the porch and paused before the door. "Yes, let's do go in. I'll get Malachi some of Cole's breeches, and we'll all have a shot of whiskey. Delilah, you can tell us what happened. We do need to move quickly. Malachi needs to get going."

She smiled at him sweetly. She saw his lashes fall as his eyes narrowed, and she saw the cynical curl of his lips beneath his mustache. He didn't trust her. Not a bit. It didn't matter.

She entered the house with a serene calm, walking quickly through the Victorian parlor toward the office. It had been her pa's office; recently, she had begun to think of it as Cole's office. One day, she hoped, Matthew would reclaim it. The country would rebuild after the war, and Matthew's children would come and crawl on his lap while he went over accounts or the payroll.

Delilah and Malachi followed her. She opened the bottom drawer of the desk and drew out a bottle of Kentucky bourbon. With steady hands she found the shot glasses on the bookcase and poured out three servings, then handed one to Delilah and one to Malachi. She took her father's place behind the desk. "All right, Delilah, what happened?"

Malachi was watching her. He perched on the edge of the desk, waiting.

Delilah didn't sit. She swallowed the bourbon neat, and paced the floor.

"Cole left here about an hour ago. He came to speak with Samson and me, explaining that he thought things were going to get hotter a lot sooner than he expected. Some guy called Fitz wanted revenge. Cole didn't think that this Fitz would want to hurt the McCahys—but he knew that Fitz wanted all the Slaters, and just to be safe, he wanted to move Kristin and the baby right away. He didn't want to say anything to Kristin until he had a place to take her and little Gabe, and, well, you know your sister, Shannon, she wouldn't have let him get away. She'd have risked anything, herself and even little Gabe, I think. He meant to come back within a day or two. He didn't want her risking that child or herself." She paused.

"Go on, Delilah," Malachi prodded her. He leaned over the desk and opened the top drawer, reaching for a cigar. "Excuse me," he said to Shannon, smiling politely. She didn't care for the slant of his smile, nor for the touch of blue fire that sparkled in his eyes.

He was, indeed, watching her. And he wasn't about to trust her.

"I gave Cole some food. He gave me a kiss on the cheek, and said that he'd be back, and that everything would be fine. He also said that I shouldn't be surprised to see you coming here mighty soon, Captain Malachi, and that Jamie might be on his way, too. And he left a letter to Kristin on his desk. I brought it up to Kristin right away. She had guessed that he was gone. She ripped the letter open and read it quick, and then she let it drop to the floor. She just sat there, staring at me with her pretty face white as a sheet."

Delilah sighed, slumping down into the leather-covered sofa before the desk. "Then finally she started to cry. 'I knew that he'd have to run, but we meant to run together. He must be desperate, to have gone without me, without the baby! He knew, he knew…that I would follow him anywhere. But he was afraid that they might hurt me or the baby to get to him. Oh, Delilah!' she cried. She cried out my name, just like that. It hurt so bad to hear. I told her that he'd be back for her, just as soon as he could find a place…"

Shannon nodded. So she had been right. Cole had been gone all along. Cole would have heard Malachi in the barn. He would have heard the shots. He would have come to her. Not that it mattered now.

Delilah paused, shaking her head, staring blankly at the desk before her. "Then the horses came."

"And the Red Legs took Kristin?"

"They swept right in here. But Kristin was so glad to tell them that they were too late. Cole was gone, long gone. Then that bearlike bastard brought his knife so tight against her throat that he drew blood. Thank God he didn't seem to know anything about the baby."

"The baby!" Shannon and Malachi cried in unison, jumping up in alarm.

Delilah smiled. If there was one thing in the world that Malachi and Shannon could agree upon, it was their nephew, Gabriel. They both doted on him, and their alarm was clearly written upon their faces. "Gabe is just fine. He's upstairs sleeping with my boy in my room. They fell asleep on the bed together, and so I left them there. I don't think those men even know that he exists." She stared straight at Shannon. "They know about you, though, missy. They were going to look for you, tear the place apart for you, but the dark-haired fellow with the beard said that they should hurry, they had Kristin Slater, they didn't need anyone else."

Shannon inhaled and exhaled slowly. She looked down at her hands. Maybe she had been lucky. If she hadn't been out at the stables with Malachi, she might have been taken, too.

Or she might be dead now, because she would have tried to fight them. She might have shot some of them down, but there had been an awful lot of them. Red Legs…

She jumped to her feet, staring at Malachi in renewed horror. "Red Legs! They were Red Legs!"

Malachi shrugged. "The Red Leg units are all part of the army now, Shannon. Lane and Jennison were stripped of their commands long ago."

His words didn't help her much. Shannon had learned to hate the Southern bushwhackers, but she'd always had the good sense to despise the jayhawkers as they had butchered and plundered and murdered and robbed and raped and savaged the people and the land with every bit as much—if not more—ruthless energy than the bushwhackers.

The Red Legs, as the men were called, were infamous for their brutality. She had seen the uniforms worn by the men in front of the house. But in the darkness, she had not realized who they were. But Malachi had seen them clearly, and he had known right away. He had good reason to know them. A unit of Red Legs had killed his sister-in-law, Cole's first wife.

"We have to get Kristin back," she said.

Malachi rose, too. "I will get Kristin back, I promise you."

"Malachi—"

"Shannon, damn it, you cannot come."

"I'm an ace shot, and you know it."

"And you also panicked just a little while ago. You started racing after them with your mouth wide open and your hands bare. Shannon, the only way I'm going to get Kristin away from those men is to sneak her out of their camp. I can't go in with guns blazing—they will kill her if I even try it."