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angel: Ruth lang
by
ruth Ryan

"But I go into every game with the intention of winning .... " For my
father, lack Ryan, who is with the s.

And watching out for us still.

And for Tom, lover, protector.  My guardian .

DID YOU PURCHASE THIS BOOK WITHOUT A COVER?

If you did, you should be aware it is stolen property as it was reported
unsold and destroyed by a retailer.  Neither the author nor the publisher has
received any payment for this book.

All the characters in this book have no existence outside the imagination of
the author, and have no relation whatsoever to anyone bearing the same name
or names.  They are not even distantly inspired by any individual known or
unknown to the author, and all the incidents are pure invention.

All rights reserved including the right of reproduction in whole or in part
in any form.  This edition is published by arrangement with Harlequin
Enterprises H B.  V.  The text of this publication or any part thereof may
not be reproduced or transmitted in any form or by any means, electronic or
mechanical, including photocopying, recording, storage in an information
retrieval system, or otherwise, without the written permission of the
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This book is sold subject to the condition that it shall not, by way of trade
or otherwise, be lent, resold, hired out or otherwise circulated without the
prior consent of the publisher in any form of binding or cover other than
that in which it is published and without a similar condition including this
condition being imposed on the subsequent purchaser.

MILLS & BOON, the Rose Device and LEGACY OF LOVE are trademarks of the
publisher.

Harlequin Mills & Boon Limited, Eton House, 18-24 Paradise Road, Richmond,
Surrey TW9 I SR Ruth Ryan Langan 1994

ISBN0 263 79548 9

Set in Times Roman 10 on 12 pt.

04.  9605.  80778 C

Printed in Great Britain by BPC Paperback~ LM

Prologue.

Ohio, 1864

The prison
camp was little more than a shed surrounded by a makeshift fence.  Union
soldiers patrolled the perimeter.

Inside, the captured Confederate soldiers shivered in the frigid night air.
Even bone-chilling wind couldn't blow away the stench of rotting flesh
mingled with the fetid odors of human waste.  The darkness was punctuated
with moans and the occasional whimper from a boy who had lost both legs.

~ :~ ~7 ~ A doctor came from:'i nearby t w~='~nce a w~'k, but could do little
more than dispense a meager supply of painkilling powders.  He would move
among the prisoners, shaking his head, his eyes sad and haunted by what he
was forced to witness.  Then he would hurry away in his rig, eager to return
to home and hearth, grateful to escape this glimpse of hell.

The door opened on a rush of freezing air, setting up a chorus of savage
oaths, then was hurriedly shut.  In the darkness, one moved among them, the
glint of a coiled whip in his hand.  Though they could not see his face, they
knew him as the cruel, sadistic jailer who enjoyed tormenting them by
inflicting random violence.

He paused, his head turning from side to side, fetal eyes penetrating the
darkness until he located his latest victim.

"You.  Preacher."  The whisper scraped across nerves already taut with terror.

The prisoner, who'd earned his name because he was stoic in defeat and urged
his fellow prisoners to pray for deliverance, struggled to his feet,
determined to face his assailant like a Southern gentleman.  Weakened by his
injuries and lack of food, he stumbled and nearly fell before he managed to
regain his footing.

With an evil laugh the jailer uncoiled the whip.

"Now we'll see if your prayers can save you, Reb."

As his arm swung in a wide arc, the cruel laughter suddeuly died in his
throat.  He stiffened, then fell facedown, sending those in his path
scurrying aside.  Amid the stunned silence, a figure stepped from the
shadows, bent over the dead man and pulled a small, gold-handled knife from
his back.

"It's Gambler."

The whispers went up among the prisoners, along with an audible sigh of
relief.  No one else among them would have had the courage to do what this
rogue did.  They would not question how he came by the knife.  Probably taken
from a guard during a game of poker, which was how he'd earned his nickname.
It was Gambler who secured food and blankets for his fellow prisoners.  And
Gambler who sometimes came up with whiskey to ease the pain and cold.  No one
would question his method of obtaining a forbidden weapon.  It was enough to
know that their tormentor was dead.  Even the Union soldiers outside would
offer little more than a cursory investigation, since the jailer was
universally hated.

"Bastard," the gambler whispered as he stepped over the dead man and tucked
the knife into his boot.

Straightening, he caught his fellow prisoner before he could fall to his
knees.

"Gambler, my name is Ethan Montgomery," the man said between shuddering
breaths.

"Tell me your real name."

"Quin McAllister."

"I am in your debt, Quin McAllister.  And someday I shall repay you."

"You owe me nothing, Ethan Montgomery.  In this place, we are all our
brothers' keepers."

"Brother."  Ethan offered a corner of his ragged blanket, and Quin sat beside
him, sharing the warmth of his body.

"My home is in Atlanta."

"As is mine."

"Would you like to hear about my family?"  Quin heard the warmth that crept
into Ethan's voice.  It was the only warmth he'd experienced in this hellish
imprisonment.

"If you'd like."  He closed his eyes, his senses sharp to the sound of booted
feet outside the encamp- merit.

"If it would help you pass the night."

"It is all that keeps me alive, my friend.  The thought of my lovely wife,
and the images of my beautiful daughters."

In the months that followed, these two very different men, the preacher and
the gambler, formed a deep bond.

And while the fabric of a nation was shredded by bloody civil war, they came
to know each other better than brothers.

Chapter One Montana Territory, 1867 g ~ Cassie.  " The woman's voice was a
high-pitched shriek of alarm as she raced across the open space that
separated the house from the barn.  Snowflakes swirled in on an icy gust of
wind when she pushed open the barn door.

"Looks like trouble coming.  There's a rider heading this way."  She had to
stop and catch her breath before she added,

"Don't recognize the horse.  Better fetch your rifle, girl."

The young woman looked up from muck hag the stall.  The pitchfork dropped
from her hands.  Straggling into an oversized buckskin jacket, she picked up
the rifle that stood beside the door.

"Get back to the house, Ma."  She turned to the startled girls who'd been
helping her.

"Jennifer.

Rebecca.  Go inside with your Gram.  Ma, you'd better keep a rifle aimed
through that crack in the door.  " She waited until the others were safely
inside the cabin before turning to watch the approach of the horse and rider
across the northern slope.  The horse, coal black against white snow, moved
effortlessly through the knee- high drifts.

The rider, who appeared to be dressed all in white, seemed to float like some
sort of ethereal creature through the blinding snowflakes.  When he drew
closer Cassie realized that it wasn't his clothes that were white.

The man's wide-brimmed hat was frosted with snow.  A long cowhide duster was
equally caked with snow and ice, giving him the appearance of a ghostly
apparition.  He didn't speak until he drew alongside her.

Touching a hand to the brim of his hat, he drawled, "Ma'am.  I'm looking for
Ethan Montgomery."

In one glance she took in the expensive saddle and bridle, the shiny black
boots hooked into silver stirrups.

Whoever this stranger was, he didn't belong in this part of the wilderness.
A handsome devil like this would look more at home in a glittery saloon,
dealing cards and charming fancy painted ladies.

"He isn't here."

"Have you heard of him?"

Her eyes narrowed.

"Could be."

Seeing her rifle aimed at his heart, he kept his hands where she could see
them.  No sense spooking her.

Especially since he'd spotted another rifle just inside the cabin.

Montana homesteaders left nothing to chance.  If he made any sudden moves,
he'd be caught in the crossfire.  "Am I close to his place?"

"You're on it."

:~~ Surprise showed on his face before he quickly composed his features.

Of course.  In the few words she'd spoken, he'd detected the soft Georgia
drawl.  And beneath the hood of her jacket he could see wisps of fiery curls.
But he would have never confused this tough wilderness creature with the
gentle Atlanta beauty he had heard so much about.

"Then you must be Cassie--Mrs.  Montgomery."  "I am.  Who are you, sir?"

"Ethan's friend.  Ethan wrote and asked me to join him in Montana.

Name's Quin McAllister.  "

"Quin..."  He saw her look of astonishment.  Lowering the rifle, she blinked
against the swirling snowflakes.

"Forgive me, Mr. McAllister.  I don't usually welcome my husband's old
friends in such a manner.  You must be frozen.

Please come inside and warm yourself.  " He slid from the saddle and led his
horse toward the cabin.  The door opened and a middle-aged woman in a faded,
shapeless gown stood just inside, still aiming her rifle at him.

"It's all right, Ma.  This man is a friend."  The woman lowered her rifle and
stepped aside.  Just beyond her, Quin spotted two girls huddled together.
The older one was trembling so violently even her red hair seemed to be
shaking.  The younger one, perhaps four or five, grasped her older sister's
hand in both of hers.

Despite her young age, she showed no fear, only avid interest in this
stranger.

"You must be Jen and Becky," Quin said.

"Becky, your daddy says you have a voice like an and sing in the church
choir."  He shook the snow from his hat before entering the cabin.

"And look at you now.  Why, you're practically a young lady.  And Jen," he
called to the younger one, "the last I heard of you, you were no bigger than
a peanut."

"How'd you know all that?"  The little girl's eyes opened wide, taking in the
snow-covered figure, the white duster.  Her mouth dropped open.

"Are you one of Pa's s?"

Her grandmother pointed her finger at the children's mother.

"I

warned you about such nonsense.  Next the child will expect a heavenly host
to help her with her chores.  "

Quirt saw the flash of fire in the young woman's eyes before she turned away
and made a great show of removing her parka and smoothing down her skirts.

"This gentleman is Quin McAllister.  Mr. McAllister, this is my mother,
Luella Chalmers."

Quin knew how to pour on the charm.  It came as easily to him as the richness
of honey that softened his words.

"I'm happy to meet you, ma'am."

The look she shot him let him know that she did not share his sentiments.

"You already know my children, Rebecca and Jennifer," Cassie added.

Quirt smiled at the older girl and winked at the little one.  Jen looked
crestfallen.

"You aren't our guardian .*" "Sorry, Jen.  I've been called a lot of things
in my life, but never an .  In fact, there are those who might say I'm more
of a der" -- "Rebecca and Jennifer," Cassie interrupted quickly, "you heard
your father speak warmly of Mr. McAllister on many occasions.  Isn't it nice
that he came all this way to visit?"

"Actually," Quin said, crossing to the fire to warm himself ,

"I came here at the request of your husband, ma'am.  He wrote about a big
strike at his mine, and hoped I'd give him a hand with the operation."

He saw the looks exchanged between the older woman and her daughter before
Cassie cleared her throat.

"That was... is... my husband's dream, Mr. McAllister.  And perhaps, if all
had gone well this past summer, he would have needed your services.  But
nature did not cooperate.  We suffered through a drought and lost much of our
crop.

On top of that, Ethan wasn't able to work the mine as much as he'd hoped.  So
far, it has yielded nothing of value.  He must have written that letter a
long time ago, when things were looking hopeful.  "

Except for a slight narrowing of his eyes, Quin gave away none of his
feelings.  Whatever frustration he was experiencing was carefully banked.

"I move around a lot.  I suppose it took a long time for Ethan's letter to
reach me."  He glanced around the snug cabin.

"Where is Ethan, ma'am?"

"He..."  Cassie licked her lips and studied a puddle of water that was
growing beneath his boots.

"My husband is up on the high range with the herd."

"In this storm?"

"It came on suddenly.  Now, I fear, he shall have to spend several weeks, or
perhaps months, up there before he can return."  She glanced up and met his
puzzled look.  "Ethan will be so sorry to learn that he's missed you, Mr.
McAliist~r."

He felt his hackles rise.  Her politely spoken words couldn't mask the fact
that she was dismissing him.

Without regard to the fact that he'd just traveled a thousand miles across
primitive land.  Dismissing him.  As easily as if he'd just dropped by to say
hello on his way through this god-awful wilderness.  He wasn't going to let
her off so easily.

"I could ride up and find Ethan.  Maybe give him a hand with that herd."

"No."  She spoke the word a little too quickly and saw the way the others
were watching her.

"I mean, there's no sense in going out in this storm again, Mr. McAllister.
Besides, you wouldn't get very far before you'd have to turn back.  The
drifts up in those hills will be higher than your horse's head."  She set the
rifle beside the door.

"You'll stay to supper, Mr. McAllister, and spend the night before you go?"

Before you go.  She was leaving nothing to chance.  He was being told in no
uncertain terms that he would be given food and a bed before being sent
packing.

Quin nodded.

"Thank you, ma'am.  I'd like that.  But first I need to see to my horse."

"I'll go with you."  Jen began shrugging into her parka, but her mother put a
hand on her shoulder to stop her.

"No, Jennifer."  Her words, spoken softly, were commanding.

"You and Rebecca can go over your sums before supper."

"But" -- "Mr.  McAllister can find his way to the barn and back."  She turned
to Quin.

"There's a rope that runs from the cabin to the barn, in case the snow gets
too thick to find your way."

Jamming his hat onto his head, Quin let himself out of the cabin and led his
horse to the barn.  Inside he found an empty stall and removed the saddle and
bridle, tossing them over a rail.  Spotting the pitchfork that Cassie had
dropped in her haste, he scattered hay and hauled a bucket of water from a
nearby trough.

That done, he removed a bottle of whiskey from his saddlebag and uncorked it.
Lifting it to his lips, he took a long pull and felt the warmth snake
through his veins.  Leaning against the stall, he stared around, taking in a
wagon, a cow, a couple of aged horses, a cat curled up in the straw, and less
than a dozen chickens already asleep on perches.  Not exactly the prosperous
farm he'd been expecting.

"What in hell is wrong here, Cutter?"

The horse, responding to the deep voice, lifted its head.  Quin took another
pull on the bottle, deep in thought.

"Why is Ethan's wife so eager to get rid of us, old boy?  Not that I'm
complaining, mind you.  I can't think of a better place to be rid of than
Montana Territory in the dead of winter.  Especially on a hard scrabble farm
like this.

I'll be more than happy to make my way to San Francisco and find an
interesting game, an elegant hotel and a beautiful woman to warm my bed.  "

The horse lowered its head and began to munch hay.  "Go ahead and eat," Quin
said with a low chuckle.

"I've got to go back inside that cabin and face down those icy looks from
Ethan's wife and mother-in-law."  He took a final swig and corked the bottle.
As he stowed it in his saddlebag, he grinned.

"Ah, well.  We'll only have to put up with this until morning.  Then we'll be
on our way."  He ran a hand along the horse's flank, then closed the stall
and made his way to the barn door.  As he stepped outside he was assaulted by
the full force of the storm.  The snow was so thick that even the cabin, a
mere hundred yards away, couldn't be seen.  He found the rope attached to the
barn door and he let it slide through his hand, guiding his way back.

When he opened the door to the cabin, the voices abruptly ceased.

Though they appeared to have been having a vigorous discussion, they were now
str y silent.  No one was willing to meet his eyes.

He leaned his weight against the door and forced it shut, then secured it
against the howling wind.

Cassie, her face flushed, indicated a row of nails beside the door.

"You can hang your hat and coat there, Mr. McAllister, and wash up."  She
pointed to a basin and pitcher of water.

"Supper's ready."

"Thank you, ma'am."

He rolled his sleeves and washed, then ran his fingers through hair dampened
by snowflakes.  Across the room Cassie watched him, then turned away
abruptly.  While Luella ladled beans into bowls, Cassie removed a batch of
biscuits from the fire.  The rich aroma of biscuits and coffee filled the
little cabin, and Quin was reminded of the fact that he hadn't eaten since
early morning.

Jen eagerly chose the seat beside the stranger, and Becky took the chair
across from him, with their mother at the head of the table and their
grandmother at the other end.  "Jennifer, you may lead the prayer tonight,"
Cassie said.

Quin was startled when they all clasped hands and lowered their heads.

His big hand was caught by Jen's tiny, delicate fingers.  His other hand was
clasped by Cassie's.  Her palm was small and warm.  And callused.  It would
appear that this farm wife did a lot more than bake bread.  Shock rippled
through Cassie as her hand was engulfed in Quin's.  Her first impulse was to
jerk her hand free.  But pride and propriety would not permit it.  Through
ve'fied lashes she cast a sideways glance at this man who held her hand as
gently as if it were fine porcelain.  For all the soft hess of his touch,
there was surprising strength.  To her consternation she found that he was
looking at her.  She swallowed and ducked her head, but it was too late.  She
knew he had seen the direction of her gaze.  She knew also that her cheeks
were scarlet.

So this was the woman Ethan Montgomery had described in such perfect detail.
Quin had been afraid she wouldn't live up to his expectations.  If anything,
she was even more beautiful than he'd pictured in his mind.  Hair the color
of autumn leaves, long and lush and curling softly around the face of an .
Eyes more green than blue, hiding secrets in their depths.  A figure that,
though encased in a shapeless, tattered gown, was slender and womanly.  He
could imagine her in fine satin and jewels, descending a curving staircase in
a lavishly appointed plantation, presiding over an elegant dinner for a
hundred or more guests.

"Heavenly Father," little Jen said.  Her eyes were closed.  A sprinkling of
freckles dusted her nose.  A mop of unruly red curls fell across her
forehead.  It would appear that her blouse and britches had been made over
from a faded Confederate uniform.  Her father's, no doubt.  Ouin had spotted
a matching faded Confederate cap on a peg by the door, still damp from the
snow.  It would seem that the little girl was very close to her father, and
preferred his clothes to her mother's.

"Bless this food and all of us who gather around your table.  Espeaially
bless my pa, out in the cold" -- Cassie's head came up sharply.

"I've told you, Jennifer, your pa isn't cold.  He is warm and safe from all
harm."

She glanced at Quin and then back to her daughter, adding,

"Your pa has all the food and shelter he desires."  i~:~ "Yes'm."  As an
afterthought, the little girl concluded, "And bless Mr. McAllister, even
though he isn't our guardian ."

The others mumbled a quick amen.

"Thank you, Jen."  Quin shot her a grin.

"That was a fine prayer."  He broke apart a steamy biscuit and bit into it.

"Mmm.  And this is fine baking, ma'am."  Cassie flushed clear to her toes.

"It's just a plain old biscuit."

"No, ma'am.  I've eaten biscuits all over this country, and I've never tasted
better."

Luella fixed him with a look and barked a challenge.  "And what is it you do,
Mr. McAllister, that has you traveling all over this country?"

"I guess I've done most everything it takes to survive.  But mostly I play
cards."

The older woman choked and was forced to take several sips of scalding
coffee.  When she could find her voice, she sputtered,

"You're a gambler, Mr. McAllister?"  He gave her his most charming smile as
he emptied his bowl.

"Yes, ma'am."

At once Cassie filled his bowl with a second helping of beans.  He couldn't
recall when plain old beans and biscuits had tasted so wonderful.  For the
first time all day he felt warm and contented.  Still, he thought it strange
that this family had no meat.  Why wouldn't Ethan provide them with some game
before he left to fetch the herd?

"And what does your family think about your gambling?"  Luella asked primly.

"The war took my family, ma'am.  I'm the only one left.  But in his day, my
father took his share of risks.  Of course," he quickly amended, "they
weren't with cards.  My father gambled on land.  At one time he owned half of
Atlanta.  And my mother," he added with a wide smile, "took the biggest risk
of all when she agreed to marry a hardheaded Scot."  He polished off a second
helping and sat back, draining his coffee.

"I must assume your father's risks did not pay off."

"Why do you say that?"   ~ "If he had been as successful in land as you
hint, you would be living on your inheritance by now, wouldn't you, Mr.
McAlli.qter?"

He set the cup down very carefully, aware that everyone was watching him.
With considerable effort he kept his tone level.

"By the time I got home from a prison camp, there were carpetbaggers living
on my inheritance, ma'am.

And all of the fine buildings had been torched.  " He turned to Cassie.

"I thank you for that fine meal.  Now if you don't mind, I think I'll go
outside and enjoy a cigar."  Cassie placed a hand on his sleeve, then just as
quickly withdrew it, as though shocked at having been so bold as to touch
him.  But she had done so instinctively, as much to offer comfort as to
shield him from her mother's open hostility.  .

In a soft voice she said,

"It isn't necessary to go outside to smoke, Mr. McAllister.  Please stay and
enjoy your cigar by the fire."

"Thank you, ma'am."

He pushed away from the table, walked to the fireplace and bent down.

Removing a flaming stick, he held it to the tip of his cigar until a wreath
of smoke curled over his head.

"I'd forgotten how much I miss the smell of a cigar," Cassie said, and
sighed.  Then, when she realized what she'd revealed, her eyes widened and
she added,

"Though Ethan's been gone but a few days, it seems like forever."

Quin said nothing as he took a seat in one of the rockers that flanked a
bench in front of the fire.  While the two women washed the dishes, the two
girls sprawled on a rag rug on the floor, their faces flushed from the heat
of the flames.

Jen, eyes downcast, did sums on a small slate.  Every once in a while she
would glance at the man who sat in her father's rocker.

Across the room, her mother did the same.  Cassie thought about all the
stories her husband had told her about Quin McAllister.  If even half were
true, he would have to be superhuman.  Yet, from his outward appearance, he
was nothing more than a rogue and a dandy.  "How many is two plus three?"
Jen asked her sister.

"You're supposed to figure it out yourself," the older girl replied smugly.

The little one counted off her fingers, then said proudly, "I know.

It's six.  "

"You don't know anything," her older sister snapped.  "Do too.  It's six."  ,.

"It's five," Becky said.

The little girl looked crestfallen and began to count her fingers again.

"Maybe I can help."  Quin took a deck of cards from his pocket and began to
shuffle them.  Walking to the table.  " he lay three cards facedown.  In a
second row he lay down two more Intrigued, the little girl got up and walked
over to stand beside him.

"Now," Quin said, "how many are there?"  Jen counted.

"Five."

"Right.  That's because three and two," Quin said, pointing to the two rows,
"are five.  Now the~ two, when I turn them over, will make five, and so will
these two."

"But how do you know that?"   Jen touched the cards.

"You can't even see them."

"That's right.  But I know what every one of these cards is without turning
them over."

"Nobody can know that," Jen said.

"Want to bet?"

"Mr.  McAllister!"  Luella cried in alarm.

"We will not permit gambling in our home."

~Cassie hurried over to drop an arm around her daughter.

"My mother is right, Mr. McAllister."

"Sorry, ma'am."  His eyes crinkled as he looked down into hers.

Cassie's frown deepened.  He didn't look sorry.  In fact, he looked downright
pleased with himself.

He turned to the child.

"How about if we wager good works, Jen?"

The little girl was intrigued.

"What good works?"  Quin thought a minute.

"If you're wrong, you'll have to muck my horse's stall in the morning."

"And if you're wrong?"   she asked.

"The choice is yours."

After a moment's contemplation she said,

"I know.  You'll have to gather the eggs for breakfast."

"All right.  But remember," he cautioned, "there's a role all gamblers live
by.  A gentleman must always live up to the terms of his wager."  He watched
as the little girl considered the implications.  Offering his hand, he asked,
"Deal?"

"Deal," she said, and she shook his hand.

He flipped over the first two cards.

"You see?  A three and a two, for a total of five."  He flipped over the next
two to reveal a four and an ace.

"Another five," Jen said with a trace of awe.  "Right again.  And this last
one," Quin said, flipping over the card, "is the five of hearts.  Which means
that I won the bet, and you're going to have to start your chores early in
the morning."

Rebecca, who had come up behind them, wore a puzzled frown.

"How did you know what the cards were, Mr. McAllister?"

"A card player can't reveal all his secrets," he said with that same charming
smile.  He lifted the deck of cards and fanned them out.

"Pick a card."

When she nervously backed away, he made the same offer to little Jen.

She eagerly chose a card.

"Don't show me what it is.  Just set it back in the deck and shuffle."

She took the deck of cards, fumbling several times as she tried to emulate
him.  When she had finished, she handed the deck back to him.  He flipped up
a card and showed it to her.  She shook her head.  He held up a second.
Again she insisted that it wasn't the card she'd picked.  With mock concern
he muttered,

"I must be losing my touch.  I've never been wrong before."  He looked up,
then gave them all a quick smile.

"Ah.  I see what went wrong.

That slick old card got sidetracked by a pretty face.  " Stepping closer to
Cassie, he touched a hand to her hair.

Then he opened his hand and held out a card.

"Is this yours, Jen?"

The little girl let out a squeal of excitement.

"That's it.  Ma.  Gram.

That's my card.  But how did it get in Mama's hair?  "

"Now that's a mystery," Quin said.

The softness of Cassie's hair had shocked him to his core.  If he didn't know
better, he'd swear his hand was trembling.  But that was impossible.  He had
the steadiest hands of any gambler he knew.

"Can you teach me to do that, Mr. McAllister?  Please?"  the little girl
begged.

"Me, too?"  Becky asked, though more cautiously.  "Not in one simple lesson,
I'm afraid.  It took me years to learn this."  Seeing their looks of
disappointment, he added,

"But if you promise to help your mother and grandmother with the dishes, I'll
show you a few simple tricks."

Becky dropped' her arm around her little sister's shoulders and said solemnly,

"Come on, Jen.  Let's not wait."

The two girls eagerly finished the dishes.  As soon as the last one was
dried, they hurried over to where Quin sat by the fire.  ~ Cassie watched
them with a mixture of fascination and affection.  She couldn't ~ea~ember the
last time she had seen them so animated.  With a few simple tricks this
stranger had them agreeing to things they usually avoided.

She turned away and joined her mother at the table, preparing dough.

Brushing her hair from her eyes, she glanced over to the bench where Quin
McAllister sat, with Jen on one side and Becky on the other.  Their laughter
Angd filled the little cabin with more warmth than the tim that burned in
the fireplace.

A short time later, when her chores were finished, Luella called sternly,"
Children.  Time for bed."

"Oh, Gram," both children moaned in unison.

"Just awhile longer.

Please.  "

' "You heard-' ' She paused when Cassie dropped a hand on her shoulder.

"Just awhile longer, Ma.  I haven't heard them laugh like this in years."

"Card tricks and gambling."  With a frown of displeasure the older woman
turned away and picked up a basket of sewing.

"Becky, come here and thread this needle, please."  ' "Gram," little Jen
asked with all the innocence of childhood, "how come Mama says you can spot a
chicken hawk when he's as high as the clouds, and you can't see to pull
thread through a needle?"

"Jennifer," her mother cautioned.

"It's all right, girl," the older woman said.  Turning to her granddaughter,
she said,

"It's an affliction of my age.

If my arms were long enough to hold the needle across the room, I could
easily thread it myself.  But up close it's all a blur.  But the Lord made up
for it by giving Becky enough vision for both of us.  "

The girl did as she was told, easily threading the needle before handing it
back to her grandmother.

Pulling her chair close to the fire, Luella tackled her mending while Becky
returned to sit beside Quin.

Seeing Cassie watching him, Quirt said,

"Care to give it a try?"

She shook her head.

"I've never handled cards, Mr. McAllister.  I'm sure I'd be clumsy."

"You?  You couldn't be clumsy if you tried, ma'am."

Across the room he saw the older woman's head come up sharply, and he quickly
returned his attention to the children.  But he was acutely aware of the
woman who busied herself in the kitchen, kneading dough and covering it with
a towel.  In the warmth of the cabin little tendrils of fiery hair curled
softly around her cheeks.  Her gown, damp from chores, clung to her soft
curves.  The apron clearly defined her waist.  A waist so tiny his hands
could easily span it.

It was a good thing he was leaving in the morning, he told himself sternly.
He was thinking decidedly wicked thoughts about his best friend's wife.

Chapter Two ~ Have you ever been to California, Mr. McAllister?  " Becky
asked.

"Yes, I have."

"What's it like?"

"Rough and wild."

Across the room, Cassie listened with interest to this man who had traveled
so far and had seen so much.

"There are little towns springing up, filled with people from all over the
world.  There are valleys there with land so fertile they boast that they can
grow melons as big as a man's head."

The children were suitably impressed.

"I want to hear about San Francisco," Becky coaxed.  "A fascinating city.
The docks are teeming with people chattering in a dozen different languages.
In one day you can have your shirt laundered by a Chinaman, your food cooked
by a Frenchman, and a new suit made by an Englishman."

The children's eyes were wide with interest.  The cards lay forgotten.

"Will you go back there?"  Jen asked.

"I expect so."

"I sure would like to see it someday," Becky said wistfully.

"I'd just like to see Atlanta someday," Jen muttered.  "But you have seen
it," Ouin said gently.

"That's where you were born."

"I know."  Jen's tiny fingers fumbled with the deck of cards, and Ouin picked
up the ones that fell to the floor.

"But I don't remember what it looks like.  Mama said there were big sprawling
houses, with green lawns and more flowers than you could name.  But Gram said
there's nothing left there.  Everything is burned."

"I don't ever want to go back there."  Becky shivered, and a fearful look
came into her eyes.

"Atlanta will rise up from the ashes," Quin said softly.  "And someday it
will be even more beautiful than before.

But it will take a long time.  "

"Speaking of time..."  Cassie, who had been as caught up in Quin's narrative
as her children, got to her feet.

"It's time for bed, children."

This time Jen and Becky didn't argue.  The truth was, despite the excitement
generated by their visitor, their eyes had grown heavy.

They glanced at their grandmother, then shared a conspiratorial smile.

She sat, eyes closed, her breathing soft and easy, her mending spilled across
her lap.  Cassie gathered up the needle and thread and replaced the mending
in the basket.  Gently shaking her mother by the shoulder, she whispered,

"Ma.  Bedtime."

The older woman blinked, then got slowly to her feet.  "Where is Mr.
McAllister going to sleep, Cassie?"

I'll sleep in the barn, ma'am," Quin said.  Luella looked relieved.

"No, Mr. McAllister."  Cassie shook her head firmly.  "It's much too cold in
the barn.  I'll make up a bed in the corner of the cabin, as soon as I've
heard my children's prayers and tucked them in bed."

While the children and their mother retreated to a back room, their
grandmother remained where she was, studying Quin in stony silence.  It was
plain that, though weary, she would keep an eye on this stranger until her
daughter returned.

From the bedroom Quin could hear the softly murmured prayers of thanks and
petition, then the lovingly whispered goodnights.

When Cassie returned and began gathering an armload of fur pelts and
blankets, her mother watched as she prepared a bed for Ouin.

"I'd like to do something to thank you, ma'am."

"Thanks are not necessary, Mr. McAllister.   But I would be obliged if you
would toss a log on the fire.   One big enough to see us through the night."

"Yes, ma'am."

He bent to the pile of logs beside the fireplace.  As he lifted one, she
could see the ripple of muscles along his back and shoulders.  For some
unexplained reason she felt a dryness in her throat.  Then, seeing her
mother's stern gaze fixed on her, she turned away.

"Thank you, Mr. McAllister," she called softly.

"I will bid you goodnight."

"Good night, ma'am."

He watched as her mother entered the children's bedroom.  Cassie carried a
lantern into a second bedroom.

Even after she lowered the blanket that served as a door, he could see the
light from the lantern flickering as she moved about the room.

Stretching his feet toward the fire, he pulled a cigar from his pocket.  As
smoke curled upward he leaned back, deep in thought.

Ethan Montgomery was a modest, sensible man, not given to boastful ways.  Why
then had he described the mine as a successful, prosperous venture?  The mine
had yielded nothing of value, according to his wife.

His wife.  Quin frowned.  There was another puzzle.  Ethan Montgomery had
been a man deeply in love with his wife.  Why had Ethan not confided in her
that he'd sent for his old friend?

Her mother was easier to read.  Luella Chalmers seemed as protective of
Cassie as Cassie was of her children.  Easy to understand, when a man as rock
solid as Ethan Montgomery was trapped by a blizzard far from home.

But the one question that remained the most puzzling was, why had Ethan sent
for him?  As far as he could see, there was nothing here that required Quin's
assistance.  Quin McAllister was a man who had always trusted his instincts.
And right now his instincts told him that nothing was as it seemed.

Cassie lay in the big double bed her husband had made for her.  Solid and
sturdy.  Like Ethan.  She ran her hand over the embroidered pillowcases.
She'd made them as a new bride.  Not yet fifteen.  Everything then had been
shiny and new, like the gossamer gown, like the fine, translucent china.

Like the lovely plantation they had built on one hundred prime acres of his
father's land.  Like the dreams they had for the future, before the country
went mad.

She pressed a hand to her eyes, willing herself to sleep.  After the day she
had put in, she ought to be exhausted.

But this unexpected turn of events had her too distraught to rest.  Her
thoughts were in turmoil.

Why had Quin McAllister come here now?  What was he really after?

Angd He said Ethan had sent for him.  But that was impossible.  Unless Ethan
had known, all those months ago.  She rolled over, drawing the blanl~ts up to
h~ c~, ~d for~ h~lf to ~1~.  But the ~nsion was the~, ~ a ~fl~ sp~ng,
tigh~n~g with ~e~ b~th.  ~en she mnsider~ a~ ~at she had b~n throu~, it was
not surpds~g.  ~at was su~fising was that eve~ mom~g, no mawr how bad ~e
night ~fom had ~n, she manag~ to ~g~ an~.

She sat up, shoving tangl~ of hair from her eye.  ~e ~gh~ were ~ways ~e ths.
~e days were fffi~ with h~d, ~d-nmb~g work ~d ~e him~ of d~g~ ~at had ~ome
th(~ daily ~mpanion ~ ~is wildcmos.  But ~e ni~ ~m~ ~inable, fffi~ wi~
n~el~s, fa~l~ ~ors ~at often k~t her awake and tmmbl~g until da~.

She s~p~ from ~ ~d ~ch~ for a shawl, which she dm~ ~ound her shoulders, then
s~d her f~t ~to her boo~.  Moving soundl~sly from the room, she glan~ at e
mound of fur in the corner of ~e cabin.  ~su~ that ek gust was asl~, she
~os~d to the door and let her~ out.

~e atom had blo~ over, l~ng the count~ side bl~ket~ M white.  ~e ak was so
sha~ and cold it huRto b~the it M.  On a sigh Cassie lif~ h~ h~d.  ~ moon was
a golden c~nt in a black velvet s~ spfin~ ~th a mfl~on g~g s~m.

"~o~ ~1o~ enough to touch, d~n't it, ma'am?"  With a ~ of alam she ~ist~
around and brought a hand to her ~roat.  "~.  M~.  I ... thought you w~e
sling."

He was leaning against the porch railing, one boo~ foot cros~ over the other.

"So~.  Didn't mmn to startle you.  I knew the storm was over.  ~ought I'd ~
how Angd much snow it left behind."  He didn't bother to add that he avoided
sleep as much as possible.  In sleep the demons came.  As long as he remained
awake, he could hold them at bay.

She watched as he pulled a cigar from his pocket and held a match to the tip.
The flame illuminated the blackness and she saw his eyes, dark and
mysterious, before he extinguished the flame.  A moment later the rich aroma
of tobacco stung the night air.

"I suppose you can't sleep thinking about your husband up them in those
hills?"

She closed her eyes against the pain.

"Yes."  "Maybe I ought to consider staying around until he returns."

' Her eyes snapped open.

"That... would not be fair to you, Mr. McAllister."

"I have no ties, ma'am.  There's no place tugging on my sleeve."  He smiled
and she thought how dangerous he looked.  Like a predator that had cornered
its prey.  He was watching her too closely, as though trying to read her
thoughts.

"I had better get inside."  She started to walk past him, but his hand shot
out, stilling her movements.

"Not just yet."

At the touch of his hand on her arm she stopped in midst fide Keeping her
gaze averted, she whispered,

"It's very late, Mr. McAllister."

"Yes, ma'am.  But there are one or two things I'd like to ask you."

"Tomorrow."

She took a step, and his grasp tightened on her arm.  Her head came up
sharply.  She found herself staring into dark, narrowed eyes.  He was no
longer smiling.  :; "If there's one thing a gambler needs in order to be
successful, it's the ability to read his opponents.  And I happen to be very
good at what I do, ma'am."  His tone was deceptively impersonal as he added,

"That's why I'm so puzzled."

"Puzzled, Mr. McAllister?"

"By what I see in your eyes, ma'am."

She blinked.

"I don't know what you mean.  What could you possibly see in my eyes, Mr.
McAllister?"

"Lies, ma'am."

She tried to pull free.  When that failed, she went rigid with indignation
and lifted her head in a haughty manner that would have wilted most men.  But
this man, she realized, was not like most.  He continued staring at her with
the same cool, challenging look.

"If my husband were here, sir, he would demand an apology immediately."  Her
words were as cold as the night air.

"I expect he would, ma'am."  He saw the flash of fire in her eyes and felt an
unexpected surge of admiration.  By God, she had spunk.

"But it is pr~isely because Ethan isn't here that we're having this
discussion."

"I have explained to you.  Ethan is" -- He brought a finger to her lips to
silence her, and realized at once that it had been a dangerous miscalculation.

The softness of her lips against his flesh aroused him as nothing he had ever
before experienced.

He saw the look of alarm in her eyes and wondered if she had felt it, too.
He lowered his hand to his side, clenching it into a fist.  His voice was
rougher than he intended.

"Forgive me, Mrs. Montgomery.  I have no right to accept your hospitality and
then question your word.  But I'd like to know" -- They both looked up at the
sound of horses approaching.

"Ethan?"  he asked.

She shook her head quickly and reached inside the door for her rifle.

"But how can you be sure?"

"Trust me, Mr. McAllister.  It is not my husband."  Before he could question
her further, three men on horseback drew near.  In the darkness, they were no
more than three silhouettes.  Wide-brimmed hats, leather chaps, rifles
cradled in the curve of their arms.  Instinctively Quin drew his pistol and
stepped forward, sweeping her behind him in one smooth gesture.  "That you,
Ethan Montgomery?"  came a deep voice in the darkness.

"My husband isn't here."  Cassie stepped from behind Quin, her rifle gripped
so tightly in her hand the knuckles were white.

The leader of the three, whose horse, a massive red stallion, restlessly
pawed the snow, had a voice tinged with heavy sarcasm.

"I guess I expected as much.  Where is he this time?"

"Got caught by this storm up in the hills."  :.  "I don't believe you.

Though your story changes, the message is always the same.  I've always just
missed your husband, it seems.  I'm sure you won't mind if I take a look
inside your cabin, Miz Montgomery"-- he spoke her name in a deliberate
imitation of a Southern drawl that was insulting and sarcastic " --and see
for myself.  " As he began to slide from the saddle she lifted the rifle to
her shoulder and took aim.  Beside her, Quin was amazed at the change in her.
This soft-spoken woman had another side to her.  One that would brook no
nonsense.

"I do mind, Mr. Stoner.  My mother and children are asleep inside.  I will
not have them disturbed."

His face was a mask of fury.

"Don't threaten me, Miz Montgomery, unless you mean it."

"The lady means it," Quin said in a dangerously soft voice.

"And so do I."  He took up a stance, feet apart, pistol cocked and aimed.

Stoner scrambled back into the saddle.

"And who might this be?"

"Name's Quin McAllister."  Ouin's voice remained little more than a whisper,
yet all three men seemed to sit straighter in the saddle/~s they watched the
man who had the look and bearing of one accustomed to gunfights.

"I'm a friend of Ethan's."

"McAllister, I'm Cyrus Stoner.  Own most of the land around these parts."

"But not this land," Cassie said.

"Not yet maybe.  But soon I will.  Your husband can't keep refusing my offers
forever."  Cyrus asked cynically, "Just passing through, McAllister?  Or have
you come to stay?"

Quin gave a negligible shrug of his shoulders.

"Haven't decided yet.

Does it mal~ a difference to you?  "

"No."  The man laughed and glanced at his friends.  "But it might make a
difference to you, McAllister.  Or I should say, it might make a big
difference to your health."  The man threw back his head and roared,
thoroughly enjoying his joke.  The other two joined in the laughter.  A
moment later there was no trace of humor in his tone as he said to Cassie,

"You tell your husband I'm sick and tired of the way he's hiding behind your
skirts.  When he returns from the hills, or wherever he's hiding this time, I
expect him to be man enough to come and see me."

"My husband has heard your proposal, Mr. Stoner.  He is not interested in
selling this land."

"I'll hear it from his lips, if you don't mind, Miz Montgomery.  I think when
he hears my latest offer, he'll be more than happy to accept it."

Again the men beside him laughed.

"There is no offer you can make that will entice him to sell to you."

"I wouldn't be so sure.  Like I said, I'll hear that from his own lips, if
you don't mind."  He touched a hand to the rim of his hat, then tugged on his
horse's reins.  The other two followed, sending up a cloud of snowflakes.

Neither Cassie nor Quin moved until the horsemen disappeared below a
snow-covered ridge.  As she lowered her rifle, he heard the little sigh of
relief that escaped her lips.

"Thank you, Mr. McAllister."  She turned to face him and he thought,
fleetingiy, how incongruous the rifle seemed in the hands of one so small and
delicate.  Her hands were made for holding a fan, or perhaps a fluted glass
of wine.

"I regret that you were forced to be a party to this."  ~ "~ " ~" ~' ......~
~ He gave her a roguish smile and, without thinking, lifted a fiery curl from
her shoulder and watched the strands sift through his fingers.  It was a
purely sensual feeling that made his blood run hot.

"Didn't Ethan tell you?  I've always enjoyed a good fight, ma'am."

At his touch she felt the tingle deep inside and fought to ignore it.

"But this isn't your fight, Mr. McAllister."

Though his smile remained in place, his voice took on a rough edge.

"I've joined in a lot of fights that weren't mine."

"So Ethan has told me.  Why?"

He looked into her eyes and felt the jolt clear to his toes.  "It's the
gambler in me."  He shrugged and warmth returned to his tone.

"I just like to even the odds."  Her words were sharp, to hide the feelings
that curled along her spine.

"Must everything be compared to a card game, Mr. McAllister?"

He twirled the strand of her hair around and around his finger, all the while
staring into her eyes.

"All of life's a gamble, ma'am.  The way I look at it, we all have to play
the cards that are dealt us."

She swallowed, hating the weakness that had spread to her limbs, leaving her
unable to turn away from this man.

"Then I suppose you think the outcome is purely luck."  "No, ma'am."

His gaze centered on her lips and he was surprised by the flare of heat.  The
temptation to kiss her was so strong, it took all his willpower to resist.

"There's a whole lot more to life, and cards, than luck.  It takes skill to
come out a winner.  And sometimes the hand of fate."

She felt the pull of his gaze and ran her tongue over lips that had gone dry.
Sweet heaven, what would she do if he kissed her?  The rush of heat left her
trembling.  But though she wanted to bolt, she stood her ground.

"And do you always win, Mr. McAllister?"

"Not always, ma'am."  With an effort, he opened his fingers, allowing the
strands of hair to drift to her shoulder.

Very deliberately he lowered his hand to his side.

"But I go into every game with the intention of winning."

She took a step back, then reached for the door.

"I'll say good-night now, Mr. McAllister."  When the door moved inward, she
followed the movement, praying that her trembling legs wouldn't fail her.

"Good night, ma'am."

He waited until the door closed, then retrieved his cigar from the porch rail
and held a match to the tip.  His hands, he noted, were unsteady.

Damn the letter, he thought, that had dragged him away from the richest card
game of his life and brought him to this godforsaken wilderness.  And damn
Ethan for not being here to explain what in hell was going on.  And most of
all, damn his best friend's wife for being so tempting.  Cassie Montgomery.
She certainly wasn't the first woman he'd ever wanted.  But she was the first
who'd ever clouded his mind so that he couldn't recall a single word he'd
spoken.

He blew out a stream of smoke and gave a slow shake of his head in
admiration.  The lady had done it all while managing to remain every inch the
proper lady.  And she'd managed to evade every one of his questions.  She was
still a complete mystery.

l Chapter Three Quin lay in the nest of furs and blankets, clinging to the
last vestiges of sleep.  Sleep that had, as always, been tormented.

Morning sounds seeped into his consciousness so sub fly he was hardly aware
of them at first.  The soft rusfie of skirts.  The sound of water being
poured into a basin.  Dough being kneaded and shaped on a board.

Now fully awake, he yawned then stretched, calling out a sleepy, "Good
morning, ma'am."

Cassie swallowed.

"Good morning, Mr. McAllister."  To her own ears her voice sounded unusually
strained.

Though she'd tried, she'd been unable to keep her gaze from him as he'd
slept.  The sight of him, hair rumpled, chin darkened with stubble, had
brought an unwelcome rush of feelings.

"I hope you slept well."

"Very well, thank you."  It was a lie, of course.  He'd tossed and turned
until nearly dawn, his mind struggling to sort out the pieces to this strange
puzzle.  But he would never admit that fact to her.

He rolled from his bed and unselfconsciously walked to the basin of water on
a table by the door.  From across the room Cassie's t~hroat went dry at the
sight of him, naked to the waist, wearing only tight black trousers that
clung to his body like a second skin.  As he washed and shaved, she studied
the play of muscles along his back and shoulders, and stared in fascination
as he pulled on a shirt and buttoned it before tucking it into the waistband
of his pants.

She scolded herself for her wicked thoughts.  After all, he was a friend of
Ethan's.  A good friend, who had once saved Ethan's life.  Yet she felt so
aware of this man.  Aware of him in a way she had never before been aware of
a man.

That admission brought a flood of guilt.

When Quin glanced up he saw two bright spots of color on her cheeks before
she turned away.

"It will be awhile before breakfast, Mr. McAllister."  She set the part of
biscuits over the fire and placed the blackened coffeepot on a warming shelf
of stone above the coals.  Straightening, she moved back and forth across the
cabin, setting the table, laying out the children's clothes on the hearth
where they would be warmed by the fire.

"I

have a few morning chores to see to first.  "

"I'd like to help."

She glanced at the immaculate white shirt with its fancy cuff buttons, and
the black boots polished to a high shine.

"I don't think you're dressed for mucking out stalls or milking cows, Mr.
McAllister."

Once again that roguish smile lifted the corners of his lips.

"I was raised on a plantation, ma'am.  I know my way around a barn.  I'm sure
Ethan has a parka I could borrow."

She seemed surprised by his offer.

"Yes.  I suppose I could find you something to wear."  She withdrew to her
bedroom, then returned carrying a fur parka over her arm.  In her hand was a
pair of mud-spattered boots.

Without a word Quin slipped them on while she pulled on an oversized
buckskin jacket.  When she stepped out38 side, he followed and pulled the
cabin door shut behind him.

Cassie's gaze scanned the horizon.

"More snow coming," she muttered.

He could feel it.  In the bite of the North wind, in the dark clouds that
billowed in a leaden sky.

"Was it difficult for a Southen lady to adjust to all this snow and cold?"

"It took some doing."

Such simple words.  But to Quin they conveyed a depth of feeling.

They plodded through waist-high drifts to the ban.  Once inside, Cassie broke
through the thin layer of ice on the trough and carried buckets of water to
the animals, while Quirt picked up a pitchfork and began forking fresh hay
into each stall.  When all the animals had been fed and watered, Cassie
lifted a bucket from a peg and called out a greeting to the cow, who raised
its head to nuzzle her hand.  She settled herself on the milking stool and
pressed her cheek against, the cow's warm side, losing herself in the
familiar morning ritual.

Resting his hands on the pitchfork, Quin paused to drink in the sight of her
as she worked.  The gown, though faded and won, fell in graceful folds to the
floor, hiding the serviceable boots she wore.  The mannish buckskin jacket
was softened by her feminine curves.  Fiery hair spilled in a riot of curls
to her waist.  A strand had fallen provocatively over one eye.  The desire to
reach out and brush it away had him clenching and unclenching his hand.

"Morning, Mr. McAllister."  A child's voice shattered the silence.

Quin whirled, feeling a twinge of guilt at having been caught staring.

"Good morning, Jen."  .  ~ ~ "Why are you mucking the stall?"  the little
girl asked innocently.

"That's supposed to be my job, remember?  I lost the bet last night."

"This is a pretty big job for one little girl."  Jen solemnly took the
pitchfork from Quin's hands.

"You said a gentleman must always live up to the terms of his agreement.
Doesn't the same hold for a lady?"

Such a little lady, he thought.  And so serious.

"Indeed, it does.  It looks like you were paying pretty close attention."

He smiled.

"I guess I can find something else to do."  With a last glance at the girl's
mother, Quin picked up an ax and walked from the ban.

A few minutes later the air was filled with the ringing of ax against wood as
Quin began chopping firewood.  Out of the coner of his eye he caught sight of
Cassie walking slowly to the cabin, struggling under the weight of the heavy
bucket of milk.  Dropping the ax, he hurried over.  "I'll carry this, ma'am.
It's too heavy for you."

When he reached for the bucket, she edged away.

"I can manage, Mr. McAllister."

"I'm sure you can, but it'll make me feel better if you let me ear~ this."

As he took the bucket from her, their fingers brushed.  Cassie was stunned by
the rush of heat that danced along her chilled flesh.  She chanced a quick
glance at his face and found, to her dismay, that he was boldly studying her.

Though she immediately looked away, she knew that her cheeks were flaming.

"Where does Ethan store your firewood?"  There should have been several cords
of wood to see them through the winter.  Yet he had spotted none.

"He used to put it beside the cabin.  But this year, with the mine and
all..."  she said lamely, "he never got to it."

"Never got..."  Quin pressed his lips together to keep from saying anything
more.  Had Ethan let the thought of treasure cloud his mind?  Didn't he know
how important firewood was to survival in this wilderness?

Cassie opened the cabin door and turned, taking the bucket from Quin's hands.
Again she was forced to endure his touch, along with his penetrating stare.

"Thank you, Mr. McAllister.  I can manage now."

He returned to the ax and log with a vengeance.  Soon he had stripped off his
parka and rolled the sleeves of his shirt.  All the while he worked, he found
himself wondering about Ethan Montgomery.  What had happened to change his
old friend?  Why would an industrious, ambitious man like Ethan allow his
farm to fall into such disrepair?

If he no longer had an interest in the place, why not sell to Cyrus Stoner?
The answer had to be the mine.  Yet, Cassie Montgomery said the mine had
yielded nothing of value.

Could Ethan have found a treasure without telling his wife?  Wife.

Quin brought the ax down hard, biting deep into the log.  He would have to
keep reminding himself that Cassie was Ethan's wife.  He had no right to the
thoughts he was entertaining.  Thoughts as dark as the clouds that threatened
another storm.

As she worked alongside her daughter and mother, Cassie was tormented by
similar thoughts.  She was grateful that Quin would be gone soon.  It was
wicked of her to permit such thoughts about Ethan's best friend.

When little Jen pushed open the cabin door, carrying a handful of eggs,
Cassie caught sight of Quin stacking logs against the outer wall of the
cabin.  Muscles rippled beneath his beautifully tailored shirt.  She stood
very still, watching his every movement.  Then, aware that her mother and
daughter had glanced up, she quickly turned away.

"You may tell Mr. McAllister that breakfast is ready, Jennifer."  She lifted
the part of biscuits from the fireplace.

A short time later, when the cabin door was blown open by a blast of frosty
air, she forced herself not to turn around.  But even with her back to him,
she was entirely too aware of Quin as he hung the fur parka and pried off the
snow-covered boots.  Minutes later, when she approached the table, he turned
away from the washbasin and ran a hand through his hair.  It was beautiful
hair, she mused.

Slightly shaggy and dark as midnight, curling around the collar of his shirt.
A lock of it tended to fall across his forehead.  Probably quite a
temptation for the painted women who frequented the saloons where he played
his poker games.  Cassie imagined such women often brushed it aside before
wrapping their arms around his neck and lifting their faces for a kiss.

"Cassie," Luella Chalmers chided sharply.

"You're burning the beans."

Startled out of her reverie, Cassie snatched the pot from the fire, only to
drop it with a cry when she burned her hand.

"Lands, girl, where is your mind this morning?"  Pushing her aside, Luella
wrapped a linen towel around her hand and took up the pot.

"You'd better let me see that, ma'am," Ouin muttered, coming up beside her.

"No."  Cassie pulled her hand behind her back like a reluctant child.

"It's just a little burn."

He caught her hand and held it up.

"That's a whole lot more than a little burn.  Jen," he called,

"I have some salve in my saddlebag that will help this.  Want to fetch it?"

"Yes, sir."  Jen jumped up and pulled on her parka.  Within minutes she
returned, clutching the saddlebag in her arms.  From it she withdrew a small
vial, along with a leather-bound book and a bottle of whiskey.

"Which one do you want, Mr. McAllister?"  she asked, holding them up.

"Whiskey!  Mr. McAllister," Luella cried in alarm.

"We do not permit spirits in this house.  We are good, Godfearing people."

"Yes, ma'am."  He took the vial from the little girl's hand.  To Cassie he
muttered,

"I'm afraid this is going to sting.  You might want to consider a taste of my
whiskey before I get started."

Squaring her shoulders, Cassie said,

"I have no need of your artificial courage, Mr. McAllister.  You may apply
your salve."

"Yes, ma'am."  He helped her into a chair in front of the fireplace.

Dipping a finger into the sticky yellow substance, he began to spread it over
her palm.  Though she winced, she did not make a sound.  The truth was, she
found it hard to speak when he was so close to her.  His hands were so large,
both of hers could fit in a single palm.  Yet, for all their size, his touch
was gentle.  For Quin, the nearness of Cassie brought a different kind of
discomfort.  When he knelt beside her, his face was level with hers.  As he
bent over her hand, he was aware of the faint fragrance of soap and water,
and a lingering trace of lilac water.  Working the ointment into her palm, he
caught sight of the dark cleft between her breasts, and felt a rush of heat
that had nothing to do with the cheery fire at his back.

Cassie sat very still while he ministered to her.  After a few moments, the
pain dissolved, to be replaced by a , warm, stinging sensation.  It matched
the warmth that had spread low in her stomach.

"Where did you learn such things, Mr. McAllister?"

"During the war, ma'am.   I saw many of our fine soldiers burned by cannon
fire."

"Are you a doctor?"

"No.  Just a jack-of-all-trades, I'm afraid."  Up close she smelled as clean
and fresh as a new snowfall.

There was a dusting of flour on her cheek and he ached to brush it away.
Instead he took a fine linen handkerchief from his pocket and tied it
carefully over the burn.  She stared at his hands as he worked.  So strong
and sure.

He had unrolled his sleeves and buttoned the cuffs with jade buttons set in
gold.  While he worked over her, his shirt collar brushed her cheek and it
was as fine and soft as the elegant clothes she remembered from another time,
another place.  Once, everything she owned had been fine and new and elegant.

"I'll leave the salve with you."  He placed the vial on the mantel.

"If you apply it for the next several days, the burn will heal without a
scar."  ~ "Thank you, Mr. McAllister.  Now please eat your b~'eakfast.  I
fear we've made far too much of this."

With his hand beneath her elbow he helped her up, then held her chair at the
table.  His gallantry was not lost on the others.

Cassie stared pointedly at the chipped plate and said, "Rebecca, you may lead
the blessing."

Once again they grasped hands, and Cassie's bandaged hand was engulfed in
Quin's.

"Father, bless this food and all who partake.  And bless Pa" -- the girl
seemed momentarily speechless, then ended lamely "--and keep Mr. McAllister
safe on his journey."

"Amen," the others intoned.

Luella quickly ladled beans and passed around the biscuits.

Becky wrapped a towel around her hand and lifted the coffeepot from the fire.

"Coffee, Mr. McAllister?"

"Yes, thank you, Becky."

"The beans are burned."  Luella made a face as she began to eat.

Quin took a bite and sighed.

"They're just about perfect.

Don't you agree, Jen?  "

The little girl seemed surprised, then, following Quin's lead, tasted and
smiled, enjoying the flush on her mother's cheeks.  If a little flattery was
all it would take to brighten her mother's day, Jen was more than willing to
join in this game.

"Yes, sir.  My mama's the best cook in the whole world."

"I agree."  Quin sipped hot black coffee and leaned back.

"If you want to taste burned food, you ought to taste what I've had to cook
for myself along the trail."

The children chuckled at his joke.

"I thought you could do just about everything, Mr. McAllister."  Luella's
tone was caustic as she fixed him with a challenging look.

~~ "Just about."

~ "Do you not count cooking as one of your many talents?"

"Oh, I do admit that I can cook a bit.  But after tasting your daughter's
beans and biscuits, I'll be sorry to have to go back to eating my own
cooking."

"Have another of Mama's biscuits," Jen urged.

"No, thanks.  Three is enough."  Quin drained his cup.

"I think it's time I took my leave."

Luella breathed a sigh of relief.  .

"Would you show us another card trick first?"  Jen pleaded.

"Please?"

:~ Ignoring Luella's frown of disapproval, Quin pulled the deck of cards from
his pocket.

"I suppose it's only fair, since you paid your bet.  But I'll ask a favor of
you first."

"What?"

the little girl asked eagerly.

"I want you to help your mother with the farm chores.  You should be
especially helpful until her burned hand heals."

"Yes, sir," Jen said solemnly.

Across the room Cassie marveled at how easily this stranger managed to reach
an accord with her youngest daughter.  Jen needed no coaxing to agree to his
terms.  "Now," Quin said, shuffling the cards, "pick a card.

Any card.  "

Though Becky reluctantly hung back, she was soon caught up in the magic and
joined her LITTLE sister's laughter.

Quin regaled the children with card tricks, making cards disappear before
their eyes, only to appear magically beneath the table or behind their backs.
While she worked alongside her mother, Cassie was warmed by the children's
laughter.  For a brief time, her daughters had been lifted out of their bleak
existence.  For that, she would be eternally grateful to Quirt Me~ll[qter.
When the dishes were done, Luella caught sight of the book that Jen had
retrieved from Quin's saddlebag.  Glancing at the title, she looked aghast.

"Shakespeare, Mr. McAllister?"

"Yes, ma'am.  When I'm on the trail, I take comfort from' the words."

"I should think a man would find more comfort by reading the holy Bible."

"Some would, I suppose."  He held out his hand and the older woman returned
the book to him.  For a moment he studied it in silence.  On his face was a
look of such intensity, it struck Cassie that he went to a lot of trouble to
hide his true feelings.

He glanced up, and the look was erased.

"It's time I take my leave.

Cutter has been waiting outside the door, saddled and ready, for the past
hour.  "

"Not yet."  Jen's voice was high-pitched, pleading.  "One more card trick.
Please."

"I'll tell you what, Jen."  Quin placed the deck of cards in the little
girl's hands.

"I'll leave these cards with you.

You and your sister can practice card tricks every night, as long as you
promise to do your sums first and help with the chores .  " ' Luella's voice
was stern.

"Mr.  McAllister, you know how I feel about" -- Cassie dropped a hand on her
mother's shoulder.  The older woman shot her a glance, then clamped her mouth
shut.

"Thank you, Mr. McAllister," Cassie said gently.

"That is very kind of you, but I'm quite certain you will have need of those
cards."

"No, ma'am.  I have another deck in my saddlebag."  Seeing the pleading look
in her daughter's eyes, she relented.

"Very well, then, Mr. McAllister.  I will permit her to aecept your gift."

"Oh, thank you, Mama.  And thank you, Mr. McAllister," Jen shouted.

"You're welcome."  He hugged Jen and ruffled Becky's hair, then removed his
cowhide duster from a peg by the door and slipped it on.

"It's time I was on my way.  But first," he said,

"I'd like to thank all of you for your hospitality.

Mrs.  Chalmers.  " He took Luella's hand and felt the way she stiffened at
his touch.  It was all he could do to keep from Iaughing.

"Thank you, ma'am.  You have a daughter and grandchildren to be proud of.
And you, Mrs. Montgomery..."  he steeled himself before clasping Cassie's
hands "made this weary traveler feel welcome."

They both felt the sexual tug, and both struggled to show no emotion.

"Give my best to Ethan, ma'am.  Tell him how sorry I am that we won't have
time to catch up on the years."

Cassie knew her cheeks were burning.  She could feel the stares from her
mother and children.  Avoiding Quin's eyes, she said softly,

"Yes, Mr. McAllister.  Safe journey."  He released her hands and turned.  It
seemed the most natural thing in the world to draw Becky and Jen close and
hug them one last time.

When he pulled open the door, a gust of icy wind nearly tore it from his
grasp.  The storm had begun again, and snow fell like a gauzy curtain from
the heavens.  Despite the cold, Cassie and her mother and the children
gathered in the doorway and watched as Quin pulled himself into the saddle.

He touched a hand to the brim of his hat, then turned his horse into the wind
and was gone in a cloud of snow.

For long minutes no one moved.  No one spoke.  And then, as Cassie closed the
door against the cold, the cabin seemed somehow smaller, darker, bleaker.  As
though the light and warmth had gone out of it.  And out of their lives.

Chapter Four ~ ~ Easy, Cutter.  " Ouin reined in his mount and studied the
tracks.

Deer.  Four or five doe and a big buck, from the size of the prints in the
snow.

Quin turned to glance at the small cabin, barely visible through the curtain
of snowflakes.  It had been his intention to make it to the nearest town
before dark.  But the thought of finding a deer was too tempting.  Cassie and
her children had no meat.  Didn't he owe them at least this much in return
for their hospitality?

"Come on, boy."  He urged his horse up the ridge and into the forest.

The tracks were easy to follow.  A short time later he came upon the small
herd in a thick stand of trees where they had taken shelter from the storm.
He slid from the saddle and crept close.  Knowing a rifle shot would scatter
the herd, he slipped a small knife from his boot.  When the buck was within
range, he tossed the knife and watched as the animal stiffened, then dropped
silently to the ground.  The herd, skittish now, milled about in confusion,
then bolted when Quin approached.

"Sorry, Cutter.  You've quite a load to carry," he murmured as he finished
tying the deer to the horse's back and began to lead him through the tall
drifts.

The time spent skinning and gutting the deer back at the barn would set him
back several hours, he realized, leaving him no time to reach town before
dark.  The thought of camping out in this blizzard held no appeal, but at
least the Montgomery family would have some meat until Ethan returned.

Quin huddled deeper into his duster and chuckled.

"I'd better hope this good deed offers a measure of warmth tonight when I'm
lying in my bedroll, buried in snow."  He lifted his head.

Had there been a sound?  If so, it had been muffled by the sound of his own
voice.  He walked several paces in silence, straining to listen.  When he
heard nothing more, he shook his head.  It must have been the sighing of the
wind in the trees.

He had gone only a short distance when he heard it again, louder.  Not the
wind.  A sound like.  a child, or possibly a woman, crying.

Dropping the reins, he left the horse in a grove of trees and moved forward.
At the edge of the forest he saw Cassie Montgomery kneeling in a snowdrift.

He swore savagely.  Was she in distress?  Had she fallen or hurt herself?  He
plowed ahead, eager to aid her in whatever way he could.

Inching closer, he could hear bits and pieces of words she was uttering.

"... afraid to take him into my confidence.  I dare not trust anyone.

Oh, Ethan, what am I to do?  "

Ethan?  Confused, Quin stopped in his tracks.  And then he saw it.  What he
had thought to be a snowdrift was really a mound of earth covered with snow.
A crude wooden cross was dusted with snow, making it almost invisible.

God in heaven.  Here at the edge of the forest, hidden from view of all but
the woodland creatures, Cassie Montgomery was kneeling beside her husband's
grave.

Seeing the figure looming out of the snow, Cassie's eyes went wide with
fear.  Tears blinded her.  Picking up her rifle, she took aim.  But a hand
swept out and knocked it away.  She started to struggle, but rough hands
caught her, pinning her to the ground.  She fought frantically, kicking,
biting, but the hands were too strong.  Despite her struggles, she could not
break free.  At last her arms were held roughly over her head.  Her legs were
pinned beneath hard, muscled thighs.

"Release me at once.  Please.  You must not..."  She blinked once, twice.
Her breath came out in a long rush of air.

"Mr.  McAllister?"

He felt a little breathless himself.  But he couldn't tell if it was because
of their struggle, or because he found himself lying on top of her.  Despite
their heavy coats, he was shockingly aware of the softness of the body
beneath his.

His voice was gruff.

"I believe you owe me an explanation."

The fire returned to her eyes.

"I owe you nothing.  Release me at once."

"When you tell me what this is all about."  ~ ~.

"How did you find me here?"  Her tone ~e in dig ~ffant.

"Have you been following me?"

"Of course not."

"Then how do you explain this?  Just what are you doing here, Mr. McAllister?
You ought to be miles from here by now."

He felt his temper rising.  Once again, she was turning the tables and asking
questions instead of answering them.

But not this time.  This time, by God, she was going to explain everything to
his satisfaction.

"I want answers, Mrs. Montgomery.  And I want them now."

She felt the sting of his hot breath against her cheek, felt the heat of his
touch as his strong hands continued to grip her wrists.  But she resolutely
held her silence.  "All right," Quin said softly, I'll make it easy for you.

One question at a time.  To begin with, how long has Ethan been dead?  "

"It's been... almost six months."

"Six reonths."  His eyes narrowed, calculating.  No wonder the farm had
fallen into such disrepair.  It was a wonder they had survived this long.

"But Ethan's letter..."  How many towns had he been in in the past months?
How many saloons?  How had Ethan's letter ever managed to find him?  That
wasn't important now.  Instead he asked,

"How did he die?"

"A fever of some kind.  He was never robust after he returned from the war.
But he pushed himself to the limit.

He refused to give in until his body.  simply failed him.  " " And nobody
knows about his death?  "

She shook her head.

"Only my mother and the children.  Please release me, Mr. McAllister.  You're
hurting me."

Quin rolled to one side, then helped her to sit up in the snow.  For long
silent moments they both stared at the grave.  Then, dusting hln~n.  self
off, he got to his feet and helped her to stand.

"Why do you feel you have to keep Ethan's death a se- crew ' " That was his
dying wish.  He told me that Cyrus Stoner would take advantage of the fact if
he knew.  And so I've been forced to live a lie all these long months.  " " I
don't understand.  " She was too close, and the touch of her had him reeling.

"Why not sell to Stoner and be done with this place?"  ,; "Cyrus Stoner."
Her tone frosted over.

"The man is unscrupulous."

"In what way?"

"There have been accidents.  Nothing I can prove.  But I suspect Cyrus Stoner
is behind them."

He was suddenly alert.

"What sort of accidents" "Our small herd of cattle, one by one, wandered off
or was found dead in the hills.  A foul-smelling substance in our well.

And our dog, who always barked a warning when anyone approached, was found
dead.  Cyrus insisted it was the work of Indians.  But I suspect him.  He has
long cow eted our land.  "

"Then I ask you again.  Why not sell to Stoner and be done with this place?"

"This place, as you call it, is our home, Mr. McAllister."

"Look at you," he said with a trace of anger.

"A gently bred Southern lady.  You no more belong here than I do.  Do you
ever stop to think what this land will do to you" "what this land does to me
is of no consequence, Mr. McAllister.  The important thing is what it can do
for my children.  Ethan believed in the mine.  He was convinced that it would
produce a fortune."  '~'~ "what has it produced so far?"

There was a slight pause.

"Nothing."

"And what if it never produces a single thing?"  "Then we will survive."

"Survive."  He gave a scornful laugh.

"And what if this place sucks all the life out of you?  Or worse, kills all
of you" She drew herself up to her full height and met his gaze squarely.

"You think we are soft.  You see us as displaced plantation owners who do not
know how to work for ourselves.  But you don't understand, Mr. McAllister.
While our men were off fighting and dying, we were also at war.

' We watched our land destroyed, our buildings burned, and everything we
owned reduced to ashes.  Before our very eyes the place we knew as home
became an inferno.  " Tears threatened and her lips trembled, but she forced
herself to go on.

"Once you have walked through hell, Mr. McAllister, you no longer fear
anything, even death."

Her words touched a chord deep inside him.  Hadn't he said those very things
when he'd been released from the hellish prisoner-of-war camp?

Without thinking, he reached out and drew her close.  She was so small and
brave and angry and frightened.  And for all his glib talk, he could think of
nothing at all to say that would offer her comfort.

She thought about fighting the arms that held her.  But it had been so long.
So long.  And for just a moment she wanted to forget the endless work and
worry of their impossibly hard existence and just give in to the need to be
held.  Like a woman.  Like a lover.

"I'm sorry about Ethan," he murmured.  His hands were in her hair, though he
had no recollection of lifting them there.

"And I'm sorry about your home in Atlanta.  And the war.

And the unfairness of it all.  " ~" ~_~_~ :~ His voiee washed over her,
cleansing, soothingS.  ~ It ~a~h't so much what he said as the way he said
it.  Softly, as though he were whispering a prayer.  A little gruffly, as
though wrenched from his heart.  Fiercely, as though he meant every word of
it.

She found it impossible to say anything over the lump that was forming in her
throat.

"And I'm sorry" -- "Shh.  No more."  She touched a finger to his mouth to
still his words.

At once she realized her mistake.

He caught her hand and continued holding it against his mouth.  , ~: .  , I

Glancing up, she found herself mesmerized by his lips as they pressed a kiss
to each finger, and then her pall, and then her wrist.

A tiny thrill raced along her spine, followed by a trail of heat that left
her weak.

"Please don' t ."

"Shh."  Now it was his turn to silence her by pressing a finger to her lips.
For long moments he stared at her mouth, and she felt the heat as surely as
if he had already touched his lips to hers.

He lifted both her hands and kissed them, all the while staring into her eyes
with a hunger that left her trembling.

She could sense that he wanted to kiss her.  And the truth was, she wanted
him to.  Yet she was afraid.  Afraid of the feelings that pulsed through her,
igniting sparks along her spine.

Afraid of the hunger that suddenly gnawed deep inside.

"You must leave now, Mr. McAlli.~ter."  She could hear the panic in her
voice, and hated herself for it.  But her only salvation was sending him
away.  Quickly.  "Ma'am, I" -- They both looked up when his horse ambled into
the clearing.  Spotting the deer across its back, Cassie suddenly understood
.  ~' "You weren't following me."  : .  "I wanted to repay you for your
hospitality."  This was a safe topic, one with which they were both more
comfortable.  He released her hands and caught the reins of his horse.

Though he no longer held her, she could still feel the heat of his touch.
She shivered uncontrollably.

"My family will be grateful for the meat, Mr. McAllister."

They walked side by side through the drifts, taking great care to see that
they did not touch each other in any way.

When they reached the cabin, the door burst open and Jen let out a whoop.

"Gram.  Becky.  Mr. McAllister is back."  Her older sister poked her head
around the door.

"Are you going to stay, Mr. McAllister?"

"I guess I can stay long enough to skin and clean this deer ."  ' He saw the
frown that wrinkled Luella's brow and couldn't help adding,

"Of course, darkness comes early this time of year.  I may have to put off
leaving until tomorrow."  That would give the old woman something to chew on.
With a teasing smile he called,

"Come on, Jen~ and Becky.

Want to help me?  "

Becky was repulsed at the thought of the bloody task "No.  I can't watch."
She hurried to the bedroom she shared with her sister and grandmother, and
lowered the blanket in the doorway for privacy.

"I will."  Little Jen danced out the door, pulling on her parka as she
followed Quin into the barn.

Cassie watched until they disappeared inside, then turned to find her mother
studying her.

Carefully schooling her features, she said,

"Mr.  McAllister wanted to repay us for our hospitality.  If we're careful,
we'll have enough meat to last us through the winter."

"He's bound to find out about Ethan if he stays around long enough."

"He knows."  Cassie saw her mother's frown deepen.  "He happened upon me at
the grave.  I... had to tell him the truth."

Her mother's eyes narrowed.

"Do you intend to allow him to stay the night?"  .

Cassie shrugged.

"I don't see how I can ask him to go when he's just provided us with the
first meat we've had in months."  ~ ,"

"It isn't fitting for an unmarried woman to allow a man to sleep under her
roof."

Cassie lowered her voice so her daughter wouldn't overhear.

"He was Ethan's friend, Ma.  He can be ours, too."

"And what if it isn't friendship he's looking for?"  The two women studied
each other for long, silent moments.

"You're playing with fire, girl."  With a sigh, Luella Chalmers turned away.

Lifting her skirts above the snow, Cassie made her way to the barn to assist
in cutting the meat.

Dinner was a festive affair.  The little cabin was perfumed with the aroma of
meat roasting slowly over the tim.  A huge blackened pot had simmered all
afternoon with bones and innards.  Its contents were then strained to make a
rich broth, to which Cassie added chunks of meat and cut up vegetables from
their precious supply.  On top of it all she placed biscuit dough, which
formed mouthwatering dumplings.  Added to that was the rich aroma of coffee
bubbling on the hot coals.

"I would like to lead the blessing tonight," Cassie said as they took their
places around the table.

When her hand was engulfed in Quin's, she had to fight a tremor that rippled
through her.  Bowing her head, she began.

"We thank Thee for the gift of this meat, and for our good friend, Mr.
McAllister, who provided it.  We ask Your blessings on all who am gathered
here.  And we ask You, Father, to remember the one who can no longer be with
us.  Look kindly on your servant, Ethan, who lies in his grave these long
months."

The children's eyes widened, and they glanced from their mother to Quin, who
kept his gaze focused on the table.

"And we ask Thee for the strength to see us through this winter."  ' After a
chorus of amens, Becky asked timidly,

"You told him, Mama?"

"Mr.  McAllister discovered your father's grave this morning."

"Did Mama tell you how long our Pa's been dead?"  Sen asked.

"Yes, Jen.  Your mother told me everything."  The children seemed relieved to
have this burden of lies lifted from their shoulders.  Suddenly their
conversation became animated as they talked openly of their father.  It was
as though a floodgate had been opened.  "Mama says Pa's in heaven with the
s."  Jen lifted solemn eyes to Quin.

"Mama says he doesn't feel any pain anymore.  But I worry that he's cold at
night."

"I wouldn't worry, Jen.  That's why they call it paradise.  It wouldn't be a
happy place to be if the people them suffered any discomfort, would it?"

The little gift thought about that for a moment, then nodded, obviously
relieved.

"Do you think Pa knows what we're doing, and saying, and thinking?"

"I think your father wouldn't consider it heaven if he couldn't watch his
daughters grow into fine women."

"Then you think he still looks out for us?"

"I'm sure of it.   Even though he's gone, he's still your father."

His words were reassuring to two frightened, confused children.  With each of
Quin's responses, they seemed to relax a little more.

"Pa tracked a mountain lion once.  Have you ever killed a mountain lion, Mr.
McAllister?"

"No, Jen.  But I once had to shoot a fox in the hen- house."

"Is a fox as mean as a mountain lion?"

"He is to the chickens."   Quin winked at her, and the girl broke into
spasms of giggles.

"Aw, you're teasing me, aren't you, Mr. McAllister?"  He nodded, then, seeing
how withdrawn Becky was, he attempted to pull her into the conversation.

"What about you, Becky?

What do you remember about your father?  "

"Papa loved my hair," Becky said with a flush.  "I can see why," Quin said.

"It reminded him of your mother's beautiful hair."

Across the table, Cassie felt the heat of a blush begin at her throat and
move upward.

"Papa used to tug on my curls, didn't he, Mama?"  Cassie nodded and felt
Ouin's gaze linger as though mentally tugging on her hair, making her cheeks
even redder.

"He told me that you could sing like an ."  Quin studied the young girl, so
like her mother.

"And he vowed that one day you would study at the Conservatory of Music in
Savannah just as your grandmother did."

Becky's smile fled.  Her tone grew flat.

"Pa was wrong.  That was just a silly dream.  I'm never going back to the
South."  She pushed back her chair and said,

"I'd like to be excused."

~ CaSsie nodded and the girl fled to her bedroom.  When she was gone, Cassie
explained,

"Rebecca hasn't sung a note since her father died."

"I'm sorry, ma'am.  I didn't realize."  For a minute they were all silent.
Then JeWs enthusiasm returned.

"My papa could do' anything," she announted proudly.

"Gram said Pa was a hero.  Did you know that?"

"Yes."  Quin sipped his coffee.

"He stood up to those Yankees," Jen said.

"Even when he was in a Yankee prison, he never lost faith that he would make
it home to us.  And when he returned and found everything burned, he promised
that we could all start over in a better place.  Isn't that right, Gram?"

"Yes, indeed."  Luella bit into another dumpling.

"You knew our pa when he was in prison, didn't you?"

Jen asked.

"Yes, I did."  Quin didn't like where this was leading.

The subject was still too raw and painful.

"Then you knew he was a hero?"  Jen turned big trusting eyes on Ouin.

"Every man who fought for his country was a hero, Jen."

"Not the Yankees," she insisted.

"Even the Yankees.  I met a lot of brave men who fought on different sides."

~ i ~ "But Gram said" -- ;~-~ "The war is over," Quin said gently.

"And we have to learn to let it be over in our minds and hearts, as well."

In the awkward silence, Luella scraped back her chair and began to gather up
the dishes.

Quin glanced over at Cassie.

"I believe that was one of the finest m~als I've ever eaten, ma'am."

"Thank you, Mr. McAllister.  We have you to thank for the lovely meal."

"No, ma'am.  You can thank the deer that happened to cross my path."

Jen chuckled at his joke.

"Will you show me some more card tricks tonight?"

"I don't see why not.  As long as your chores are finished and you work on
your sums first."

Without a word of protest she skipped happily to the fireplace where she
retrieved her slate.  A short time later, when Cassie had checked Jen's sums
and given approval of the work she'd, done, Jen settled down beside Quin,
prepared once again to be entertained.  At the sound of her laughter, she was
soon joined by Becky, who shyly took a: seat beside Quirt.

Late into the night the little cabin rang with their laugh The cabin was
dark.  The log in the fireplace had long ago burned to glowing embers.

Quin sat in the rocker, deep in thought, occasionally drawing on his cigar.
His mood was somber.

If he had any sense at all, he'd be out of here at first light.  After all,
the last place he wanted to he was Montana in the dead of winter.  By war's
end he'd had his fill of snow.  He'd vowed to never again be cold or hungry.

He was good at what he did.  He made, and spent, great quantities of money.
A man's man, he attracted the kind of gamblers with s'mable fortunes, who
lost with grace and humor.

He'd rarely had to resort to a gun to settle a dispute But when he did, he
knew he was fast enough to come out a winner.

The life of a gambler suited him.  He lived by his wit and charm.  He loved a
good cigar, fine whiskey, the company of men bent on a little fun, and an
occasional perfumed woman to warm his bed.

So what was he doing here?  It was one thing when he'd thought to share the
adventure of searching for treasure with his old friend.  But Ethan was dead.
Dead.  He shook his head in disbelief, then drew deeply on his cigar.

Despite their differences, he had loved Ethan like a brother.  Through
Ethan's words, Ouin had come to know Jen and Becky as though they were his
own.  And Cassie.  Quirt frowned in the darkness.  No woman could live up to
the praise heaped upon her by her adoring husband.  Maybe that was why he'd
been persuaded to come.  To see for himself if the woman and children were
all that Ethan had boasted of.

And what now?  He stood and tossed the remains of his cigar into the embers,
watching as sparks leapt for a moment, then died.  He had come; he had seen.
Now it was time to move on.

Before he found himself hopelessly entangled in their lives, and they in his.

Chapter Five Cassie knew she was taking more time than usual as she washed,
pouting a few drops of her precious lilac water into the basin.  But, she
consoled herself, it wasn't often that they entertained a visitor.  In fact,
Ouin McAllister was the first one they'd had since their arrival in Montana.
It wasn't only her children who were excited.  Her own heartbeat was none too
steady.

Her choice of dresses was limited to three, and all three were worn and
faded.  But she kept them in good repair, and they were clean.  She chose a
faded yellow, which had once been the color of golden buttercups.  Because
she had lost weight, the dress was too big, but she compensated by tying a
clean apron around her middle.  She ran a brush through her waist-length
hair, then tied it back from her face with yellow ribbons.  The boots she
wore were old and scuffed, but, thankfully, only the toes were visible.
Moving aside the blanket that served as a door to her bedroom, she stepped
into the main room of the cabin.  At once her glance took in the empty bed in
the corner.  The furs and blankets were neatly folded.  A fresh log blazed
and crackled.  Coffee bubbled on the fire.  An empty cup rested on the table.
Ouin's cowhide duster was missing from the peg by the door.

He was gone.  Gone without a word.  She felt a wave of bitter disappointment.

As she moved mechanically around the kitchen, preparing breakfast for her
family, she was surprised by how deeply wounded she felt.  But what had she
expected?  He was a friend of Ethan's, brought to this wilderness under false
pretenses.  He had more than repaid their hospitality by providing them with
enough meat to last the winter if they were frugal.  Now he had to get on
with his life.  She laid out the children's clothes on the hearth to warm,
and prepared a part of biscuits, then pulled on her buckskin jacket and
headed to the barn for her morning chores.

A brittle morning sun nearly blinded her, reflected off a fresh snowfall that
had obliterated the path to the barn.  As she shoved open the door, she
caught sight of Quin mucking a stall.

"Good morning," he called.

"I thought I'd get an early start on the chores."

"Good morning."  Her eyes danced with unconcealed delight.

"I

thought.  "

"Thought what?"  He leaned the pitchfork against the stall and walked closer.
Comprehension dawned.

"You thought that I'd left?"

She nodded, suddenly shy.

"Without saying goodbye?"  The truth was, he had considered the idea but had
instantly rejected it.

"How could I leave without first lending a hand with the chores?"

"I'm glad.  I wanted the chance to return this to you."  From her pocket she
removed his elegant, monogrammed handkerchief, freshly washed and ironed.

"It was kind of you to lend it to me, but I know you'll be needing it."

Ansd As he accepted it from her hands he asked,

"How is your burn?"

"It's healed.  Thanks to you."  She felt a little breathless and chided
herself for it.

"I'm so glad I had a chance to thank you one more time before you took leave
of us."  He brought his hands to the collar of her jacket and surprised her
by hfting her hair from beneath, where it had been trapped.

"I'd be a fool to leave without one more sample of your fine home cooking."

At his touch her blood heated.  The cold barn was suddenly too warm.

On a sigh she whispered,

"The children would have been~ so disappointed if they couldn't say goodbye
to you."

He chuckled.

"Not to mention your mother."  Cassie couldn't help grinning.

"Don't fault Ma.  She's had so many disappointments, she's begun to expect
the worst from life."

"I've seen it happen to a lot of people."  He ran his knuckles along her
cheek and felt the jolt run up his spine.

Without realizing it, his tone lowered to a seductive whisper.

"I'm glad to see it hasn't rubbed off on you."

"Oh.  There are days," Her voice, too, had lowered.  "But for the sake of the
children, I have to remain hopeful."

He brushed snowflakes from her hair and thought about plunging his hands deep
into the tangles.

"They're beautiful children.  Ethan used to love to talk about them."  She
knew she needed to put some distance between them, but with his hand on her
hair, she was frozen to the spot.

"He spoke often about you, too."

He said nothing, merely stared into eyes so green they made him think about
cool summer ponds in his native Georgia.

Ansel "He said you were the unsung hero in the prison camp.  Without your
skill with cards, it seems, there would have been no spare blankets, nor
enough food to survive.  I can't tell you how many nights he lay awake
talking about how Gambler had saved his life."

Ouin's voice deepened with feeling.

"I'm no hero.  I was just like everyone else who was trying to survive."
With his big hands framing her face, he murmured,

"And right now, I'm trying to do the right thing.  But what I really want to
do is..."

He lowered his face and brushed her lips with his.  He'd meant it to be the
merest touch of lips to lips.  But the instant his mouth was on hers, his
good intentions fled.  Fire.  It engulfed him.  His blood heated, slowing his
movements, clouding his mind.

"No."  She started to back up, but his hands were already at her shoulders,
holding her still when she would have bolted.

And then, without any plan or design, her arms were around his waist and she
was clinging to him, offering her for more.

With a muffled oath his arms came around her, dragging her against him until
her breasts were flattened against his chest.  He heard her sigh as he took
the kiss deeper.  And, then he was lost.  Lost in a kiss that was both sweet
and bold.  He tasted her hunger.  It fed his own.  With a sort of desperation
he plunged his hands into her hair and rained kisses across her eyelids, her
cheek, her jaw, then back to her lips.

She smelled of soap and water, and faintly of summer lilacs.  Her lips were
the sweetest he'd ever tasted.  Clean, fresh, like new-fallen snow.  She felt
so good in his arms.  So right.

Cassie clung to him, feeling more alive than she could ever remember.

All her senses were heightened by the nearness of this man.  The taste of
him, dark and mysterious.  The carefully controlled strength in the arms that
held her, the powerful thighs pressed to hers.  She knew she had no right to
such feelings.  But she could no more resist his kisses than she could stop
the snow from falling.  With a sigh she gave herself up to the pleasure.

Quin could almost taste the loneliness, the longing that flowed from her.  He
knew he had to stop, but the need was too great.  He wanted one more drugging
kiss, one more moment to hold her just so, feeling her heartbeat keeping time
with his own.

"Mama.  Mr. McAllister.  You in there?"  At the sound of Jen's voice,
followed by the opening of the barn door, their heads snapped up.  They
stepped apart seconds before the little girl rushed in and peered about in
the gloom.

"Am I in time to help muck out the stalls?"  she asked innocently.

"You sure are."  Quin spun around, drawing attention away from Cassie, and
handed the little girl a pitchfork.

"Haven't you milked the cow yet, Mama?"

Cassie ran sweating palms along her skirt, smoothing it down.  On trembling
legs she crossed to where the pail hung on a peg.

"I was just going to get to it, Jennifer."  She dropped weakly to the stool,
leaning her cheek against the solid, steady bulk of the cow, and took deep
breaths to calm herself.

Across the barn, Quin busied himself with his horse.  But his gaze kept
straying to the woman whose mere touch set him on fire.  His hands, he noted,
weren't steady.  And it would be a long time before his pulse returned to
normal.

Even his horse seemed to notice the change in him, daneing skittishly as he
ran the brush over the sleek coat.

From her vantage point, Cassie watched as Quin groomed his horse.  She found
herself trembling with each movement as she imagined those same hands
touching her.

Breakfast was as festive as supper had been the night before.  Strips of
venison snapped and s'~led in a pan over the fire.  The wonderful aroma
permeated the small cabin.  They feasted on leftover stew, mopping up the
gravy with fresh biscuits.  The children drank milk warm from the cow, while
the adults sipped scalding coffee.

Even Luella, fortified by such good food, seemed in high spirits.  But Quin
suspected that his imminent departure might have something to do with her
good humor.  "Do you expect to make it to Prospect by day's end, Mr.
McAllister?"  Luella asked during a lull in the conversation.

At once, Quin saw the way the children's heads came up.  He'd hoped not to
cast a pall over the pleasant meal.

"That would be the town nearest here?  Yes, ma'am.  That was my intention
yesterday until I was distracted by a herd of deer."

Out of the corner of his eye he saw Cassie watching him.  He deliberately
kept his gaze averted.  Leaving was going to be harder than he'd thought.

"Quite a push for your horse, I'd say."  Luella realized that the children
had grown too quiet, and regretted her question.  But they may as well get
used to the idea of this man walking out of their lives as brusquely as he'd
walked in.  Cassie, too, for that matter.  And if the lesson was hard, all
the more reason to face it now rather than later.  After all, life would deal
many a harsh lesson.  "Cutter is used to the trail.  He and I have crossed
the entire country and back."

"I expect a gambler never stays in one place very long."  Luella sipped her
coffee and glanced around at the others to drive home her point.

Quin knew the game being played.  But though it hurt, the older woman was
right.  There was no sense in any of them getting comfortable with the idea
of having him around.

"That's right, ma'am."  He glanced at Cassie, then away.

"The last thing a gambler needs is roots."

"But you just came back."   Jen pushed away from the table and sprang to her
feet.   Her eyes had grown huge and tear-filled.

"Why can't you stay with us awhile longer?"

"Young lady," Luella called sharply, "did you ask to be excused from the
table?"

"Ma."  Cassie placed a hand over her mother's to still her reprimand, then
turned to her little daughter and said gently,

"Come back to the table, Jennifer."

"No."   Tears streamed down her cheeks.   Embarrassed, she lifted clenched
fists and swiped at them, then tore open the door and ran outside.

"I'll go after her, Mama," Becky said.

"No, Rebecca."  Cassie pushed away from the table.  ~'q'11 go.  "

~ But before she could reach the door, it was thrown open, and Cyrus Stoner
stepped over the threshold, carrying the kicking, flailing little girl in his
arms.

:' "Look what I just found thrashing around in the snow."  At once Quin was
on his feet, his pistol in his hand.  But Stoner's men pushed their way
across the room, aiming their guns at the women.

Tucking Jen under his arra, Stoner called,

"I'd drop that, McAllister, unless you want to see these good people dead."

Quin let the pistol drop to the floor.

That's better," Stoner snarled.

"Now, Miz Montgomery, I'll ask you again about that husband of yours."

"He's still in the hills" -- she began, but he cut her off with a string of
savage oaths that had Luella drawing Becky close and covering her ears with
her gnarled hands.  "And I thought you were such a virtuous lady," Stoner
said with a sly smile.

"Why, Miz Montgomery, don't you know it's a sin to lie?"

"I don't know what you" -- "Enough," he thundered.

The little girl in his arms whimpered, but he continued to hold her under one
arm like a sack of "My men happened upon something interesting near the
forest."  Stoner smiled at the stunned look on Cassie's face.

"They were following MeAl lister Wail, Miz Montgomery, and what do you think
they stumbled on?"

When she held her silence he hissed, '% grave, that's what.  And do you have
any idea whose grave it is?  "

"Please give me my little girl, Mr. Stoner."  Her voice was little more than
a whisper.  But the fear vibrated.

"I intend to do that, just as soon as we come to some terms, Miz Montgomery."

"I will not discuss terms with" -- "You have no choice," he interrupted.

"Now that know your husband is dead.  He is dead, isn't he?"

She said nothing, and he went on, as casually as though he were discos sing
the weather.

"That's what I thought.

How long have you been keeping that fact from me?  " She lifted her head a
fraction but held her silence.

"No matter.  I guess you're the one I need to deal with now.  Isn't that
right, Miz Montgomery?"

She swallowed and nodded.

"All right."  Satisfied at this minor concession, he said, "You just listen.
I'll do the talking.  The deal is this."  His voice was low, reasonable.
I'll pay you five hundred dollars for your land.  My men will be here
tomorrow with a couple of wagons to help you move your belongings to
Prospect.  From there the stage will take you to wherever you want to go.  "

"Pack up and leave?  Just like that?"  Her tone was incredulous.

"You don't really expect me to accept that offer, Mr. Stoner."

"And why not?  That's a dollar an acre.  For useless wilderness land.

Nobody with any sense would offer you that much, Miz Montgomery.  My offer is
more than generous .  " ' " This is our home, Mr. Stoner.  We can't just
leave and settle somewhere else.  "

"I've learned, Mir.  Montgomery, that with enough money, a person can do
anything he pleases."

"Maybe.  But I have no intention of selling, to you or to anyone."  ' He
lifted Jen up and turned the little girl around so that Cassie could see her
eyes wide with fear.

"Take a good look, Miz Montgomery.  If you value her safety, and that of your
other daughter, you'll think twice about what I've offered."

"Are you threatening this family?"  Quin asked.  It was the first time he'd
spoken, and the barely controlled fury was evident in his tone.

The two men turned and lifted their pistols until they were pointed directly
at his temple.  Becky whimpered.

Luella's lips moved in prayer.  But Quin didn't flinch.  "Threatening?"

Cyrus Stoner turned to Quin with a cool look.

"McAllister, I don't make threats.  I make predictions."  He hoisted Jen over
his head, where the little girl thrashed about ineffectively.

"And I predict that, unless the lady packs up and leaves, bad things are
going to start happening around here.  Maybe this time they won't just happen
to farm animals.  You know those Indians up in the hills?  They're savages."
He laughed.

"I don't think these proper ladies would care to hear what savages do to
women and children."

He let go the struggling girl, and for a moment it looked as though he would
let Jen fall to the floor.  Everyone caught their breaths.  Becky let out a
scream.  At the last second, Stoner caught the child and set her down.

"You see?  Be glad I'm not one of those savages," ; he said with a sneer.

On trembling legs the little girl rushed into her moth- efts arms.

"Tomorrow," Cyrus Stoner said as he spun on his heel and started out the door.

"My men and I will be by with the cash, Miz Montgomery.  Be packed up and
ready to leave."  He tipped his hat and signaled to his men, who backed from
the cabin, their guns still aimed at Quin until the door closed.

:~~Cassie dropped to her knees and gathered Jen into a ~--~-erce embrace.
Luella and Becky drew close and wrapped their arms around the girl and her
mother, forming a protective circle.

Across the room, Quin stood very still, watching the scene with eyes that had
gone as cold as ice.

"Looks like I'll be staying awhile," he said flatly.  Everyone turned to look
at him as he bent and picked up his gun.  Twirling the chamber, he checked
the bullets, then jammed it back into his holster.

In that moment, Cassie realized, he had changed.  The roguish glint in his
eyes was gone, along with the charming, teasing manner.  The man who stood
before them was a tough, hardened gunfighter.  In the blink of an eye, he
had become once more the shadowy figure Ethan had boasted about, who had
patrolled the prison camp, keeping his fellow prisoners alive despite
impossible odds.

"I guess," he muttered as he made his way out the door to unsaddle his horse,
"some wars are never over."

Chapter Six Cassie should have been elated to learn that Quin was staying.
So why, she asked herself, was she so troubled?

While she went through the motions of completing her daily chores, her mind
worked feverishly.  A part of her desperately wanted him to stay.  She had
seen the transformation in him when Stoner had made his threats.  She had no
doubt that his gun could make a difference if she decided to hold out against
Stoner and his men.  And, though she tried, she could hardly deny her
attraction to this man.  But the feelings he aroused in her worried and
frightened her.  The last thing she needed in her life was to lose her heart
to a rogue gambler.  -~ ~ Perhaps she should send him away.  Yet, even while
her mind formed the thought, she rejected it.  His staying meant that she was
not alone in this fight.  She would not have to accept Cyrus Stoneifs
ultimatum.

Still, the truth was, she wasn't at all certain that she was doing the right
thing.  Maybe she ought to take the money.

For five hundred dollars she could relocate her family to a warmer, more
hospitable climate.  For all her brave talk in front of Quin, this harsh land
terrified her.  She was here for only one reason--to keep a promise.

She thought again about Ethan's emotional plea while he lay dying.

"Promise me, Cassie, that you won't give up on this land."

"But how will we survive without you, Ethan?  How can you ask us to stay
here, alone, miles from our nearest neighbor?"

"You won't be alone.  I beg you, Cassie.  Trust me on this.  For your sake,
and that of the children, please don't allow yourself to give up.  Promise
me."

And so she had given her solemn promise to her dying husband.  But when she
had given her word to follow his dream, she hadn't known the price that would
be exacted.  How could she sacrifice her children for a dead man's dream?

"Becky, do you know how to use this rifle?"  Quirt asked.

At once the girl let out a cry.

Cassie, looking up from the dough she was kneading, was abruptly yanked from
her troublesome thoughts.

Rushing to her daughter's side, she said gently,

"Rebecca it's all right.  You may go to your room."

When the girl was out of earshot, Cassie explained, "The war has left her
terrified of guns and violence, Mr. McAllister.  By the time we fled Atlanta,
Rebecca was unable to even hear the sound of gunfire without weeping and
trembling."

"I'm not afraid," little Jen announced.

"Will you teach me how to handle my pa's rifle, Mr. McAllister?"

"No, Jen."  He touched a hand to her mop of curls.

"I don't think that's necessary.  But I don't ever want to see you or your
sister leave this house without one of us accompanying you.  Understand?"

"Yes, sir."

Luella looked horrified.

"Then you believe that man will carry out his threats?"

"I don't know what to believe, ma'am.  But I tend to take all threats
seriously."

"Do you really think we are strong enough to be able to defend ourselves
against those evil men?"

"A gun is the only thing they respect.  At least they'll think twice about
attacking us if they see that we're armed.

Without our weapons, we don't stand a chance.  From now on we don't leave
this cabin without protection.  Not even for an armload of firewood.  " He
turned to Luella.

"Mrs.  Chalmers, do you know how to fire a gun?"

The older woman drew herself up very straight.

"I once held off a passel of Yankees for two days when they tried to raid my
barn and run off my best sow."  The corners of Quin's lips turned up, and he
swallowed his smile as he handed her a rifle, cleaned and oiled, along with a
sack of ammunition.

"I expect you to keep this by your side, even when you're sleeping."

She took the rifle and examined it closely, pleased that it was in good
condition.  Her gray head beat as she loaded the rifle, before placing the
rest of the bullets in the pocket of her faded gown.  When she lifted her
head she gave him a stern, appraising look.

"My father used to say that a man who keeps his weapons sharp, keeps his mind
in the same order, Mr. McAllister."

He crossed the room to Cassie.

"Did Ethan keep a pistol?"

"Yes."  Wiping her hands on a towel, she walked into her bedroom and emerged
carrying her husband's holster and pistol.

Quin examined it closely.  Assured that the pistol was in good working order,
he handed it back to her.

"You won't need the holster.  But keep the pistol on your person, whether
awake or asleep."

She swallowed and dropped it into the pocket of her gown, but not before he
saw the fear in her eyes.

"Are we to be prisoners in our own home now, Mr. McAllister?"  He wished he
could offer her some measure of comfort.

To keep from touching her he strode across the room and pulled on the heavy
fur parka.

"I think this might be a good time to chop more wood."

"You mean we can go about our chores?"  Jen called.  "I don't see why not, as
long as we're careful."

All afternoon, while the fragrance of freshly baking bread wafted on the air,
the silence of the frozen wilder hess rang with the sound of an ax biting
into logs.  And by evening, Quin had piled enough wood beside the fireplace
to last them a week or more.

"That was a fine supper, ma'am."

"Thank you, Mr. McAllister."

"Think I'll take a walk around the barn.  Maybe enjoy a cigar while I walk."

Can I go with you, Mr. McAllister?  " Jen asked.  '::~ " May I, Jennifer,"
Cassie said softly.

"Not can I."  ".

: "Yes, Mama.  May I, Mr. McAllister?"

"Sure, Jen.   I'd like the company."   He glanced at Becky, who had been
quiet and withdrawn all day.

"Would you like to come, too, Becky?"

She shrugged, but it was plain that she was happy to be included.

"I

suppose.  " She pulled on her parka and followed Quin and Jen outside.

When they were gone, Luella frowned.

"You shouldn't have let them go, girl.  It isn't safe out there."

"I know, Ma.  But I can't keep them cooped up inside forever.  Besides,
there's something about Mr. McAllister.

I feel like"-- Cassie shrugged " --like he'd risk his life for theirs.  "

"Don't go making him into something he isn't, girl.  He told you himself.
He's a gambler.  Plain and simple.  And gamblers aren't the kind of men you
trust with your valuables or your life."

Deep in thought, Cassie cleared the table and began to wash the dishes.  Her
mother worked alongside her, giving voice to her worries.

"I know that Mr. McAllister's gun will be useful against Cyrus Stoner.  But I
still feel that it is unwise to permit him to stay beneath our roof.  Perhaps
he could sleep in the barn .... " "No, Ma."  Cassie set down a clean plate
and reached for another.

"He will sleep in the cabin."

"He is a strong, virile man, with a man's appetites."

"I don't want to argue with you, Ma, but Mr. McAllister is not going to
sleep in the cold barn."   "I just want to warn you, girl, that you are
inviting scandal upon your family if you should succumb to that gambler's
charms."

Dishes clattered in the soapy water.  Ca~she's eyes flashed fire.

"That gambler, as you call him, is risking his life for

US.  "

"Maybe," Luella said with a trace of suspicion.

"And then again..."

"What?"  Cassie whirled on her mother.  "Maybe this gambler sees a fortune
for the taking."

"What fortune?"

"The fortune that Ethan said was to be found in the mine."

"I told you, Ma," Cassie struggled to hold on to her last thread of patience.

"That fortune was in Ethan's mind.  He never found a trace of any treasure."

Luella shrugged.

"Maybe.  But it appears that Ethan didn't tell you everything.  There were
some things he kept to himself."

"And what is that supposed to mean?"  The two women eyed each other for long,
silent moments.

Finally Luella spoke.

"You had no idea that he'd even written to Quin McAllister."

Defeated, Cassie looked away.  She had nothing left to say.  The question
rankled.  Why had Ethan not told her about his letter to Quin McAllister?
While she finished the last of her kitchen chores, her mother picked up a
basket of mending and settled herself in front of the fire.

"I need Becky," the old woman complained, "to thread my needle."

Without a word Cassie took the needle and thread from her mother's hands,
looped thread through the eye and returned it to her mother's fingers.
Deeply troubled, she then immersed herself in work.

"Have you ever played poker with any famous men, Mr. McAllister?"  Jen asked.

The two children were seated on either side of Quin while he, over Luella's
protestations, taught them the basics of poker.  Cassie had argued that it
would help them pass the time.

And, although she refused to join them, she couldn't help glancing over from
time to time while she prepared dough for the morning biscuits.

"A few."

"Who?"  Jen asked with sudden interest.  "James Butler Hickok, for one."

The children seemed disinterested until he added,

"I'm sure you've heard of him.  Wild Bill Hickok."

' "Wild Bill?"  Jen's eyes were as wide as saucers.

"You met Wild Bill?  Where?"  .  ~' "In Deadwood."

"And you played poker with him?"

Quin nodded.

Luella looked up.

"Isn't he a respected lawman?"  Quin showed his familiar grin.

"Some would say.  But the truth is, law is just a diversion for Wild Bill.
His first love is gambling."

"Did you beat him?"  Jen asked.

"That I did.  And handsomely.  Needless to say, I didn't linger too long in
Deadwood, for fear the marshal would find some way to get his money back."
"You mean you thought he'd beat you in another game?"

"No, Becky.  I figured if I stayed around, he'd find some reason to put me
behind bars."

"Have you ever broken the law?"  Jen asked.  Aware that Luella's needle and
thread had gone slack, Quin answered carefully.

"Some laws are meant to be broken."  ~ :~~ "What laws?"  Becky handed the
eards over to Quin and atched as his long fingers easily manipulated them.

"Any law that favors the strong and powerful over the weak and defenseless."

"Do you set yourself above the law, Mr. McAllister?"  Luella's voice rang
with challenge.

"No, ma'am.  But I'm not above fighting to cha~ge what ought to be changed."

"And breaking the law if you can't change it?"  Quin gave her a lazy smile.

"Yes, ma'am.  I guess that's

SO.  " '

"My daughter is raising her children to abide by the law.  All the laws."
For emphasis, the old woman brought the needle angrily through the cloth
with such force she pricked her finger.  With a hiss of pain she returned her
attention to her sewing.

"An admirable thing.  My mother did the same."  Quin dealt the hand and the
two children picked up their cards.

"But my father was always a bit of a rebel.  He taught me to ask why."

Something in his tone had changed.  Though his voice was still low, with
little inflection, there was an edge of steel to it.

The two children looked up from their cards.  Across the room, Cassio watched
and listened.

"And sometimes," Quin said softly, "just by asking, you discover that nobody
knows the why of things.  They'll tell you it's the way things have always
been done.  But that's really no answer.  In this life we have to challenge,
to ask.  And when we see an injustice, we have to act to correct it.  Even if
it means we will have to pay the ultimate price."

"What is the" -- Jen struggled with this new, unfamiliar word" --ultimate
price, Mr. McAllister?"

"Its meaning is found in the Bible."  Cassio's voice had them all turning to
stare at her.

"Greater love hath no man than that he would lay down his life for another."
She crossed the room and lowered her hand to the little girl's shoulder, but
her gaze remained steady on Quin.

"The ultimate price, Jennifer, is to risk your life for a cause that is
noble, even if that cause should prove to be unpopular with others."

Glancing up, Becky saw the look that passed between her mother and Quin
McAllister.

From her position before the fire, Luella saw it as well.  Her mouth
tightened into a grim, tight line.

"Time for bed, children."  ~assie had allowed thorn to linger over their card
game in order to soothe the tensions of this difficult day.

"Good night, Mr. McAllister," they called in unison as they followed their
mother to the bedroom.

A few minutes later he could hear their voices muffled in prayer.

Through the doorway he saw Cassio standing between them, head bent, one hand
on each shoulder as they recited a litany of blessings on those they loved.
They prayed for their father, their mother and grandmother, and for
deliverance from Cyrus Stoner's guns.  ~!  ~.  , "She is very beautiful,
isn't she?"  ~.  ,~ Quin looked up to find Luella watching him closely.  When
he made no comment she went on,

"You are a very worldly man, Mr. McAllister.  My daughter has never met
anyone quite like you before."

He set the cards aside and waited.  It was obvious that the words had been
building up inside her and needed to find expression.

"Cassie has been alone now for some time."  Luella set aside her mending and
eased herself out of the chair, pressing a hand to the small of her back.

"With the war, and then Ethan's long illness, she was forced to handle more
than most young women."

"She seems to be doing fine."

Luella frowned.

"This is not the life I'd hoped for my daughter."

"The war changed a lot of lives."

"Some more than others."  She cast a quick glance at her daughter and
grandchildren, then said,

"Cassie is unaware of how her beauty affects men.  Even as a young woman in
Atlanta there were several who were beginning to pay too much attention.  But
Ethan came from one of the finest families in Georgia.  I knew that Cassie,
at not yet fifteen, wasn't ready for marriage, but an opportunity like that
does not present itself often.  And so, when Ethan pressed for her hand, her
father and I agreed, knowing she would be a good and dutiful wife."  For a
moment Luella's eyes glowed, and Quin could see that she was remembering
happier times.

"He built her the finest house, staffed with the finest servants.  The
furnishings were brought from Europe.  Belgian lace, Irish crystal.  Oh, the
lavish balls.  It was a life fit for a queen.  All my friends were so
envious."

Quin wondered if she knew how much she had revealed in that last statement.

"It must be quite a disappointment to live your days in a rough cabin, and
see your daughter fighting to save this little plot of ground in the middle
of a wilderness.  I can see why you would be protective of her."  Luella's
head came up.

"She is still my daughter, Mr. McAllister.  Though I question the wisdom of
her actions, I will support her in whatever way I can."  She turned and, see'
rag Cassie tucking the children into bed, added quickly, "I just want you to
understand something.  Despite her once lavish life-style, my daughter has
lit fie sophistication.  A woman of her background just might confuse
loneliness and gratitude with love.  Have I made myself clear, Mr.
McAllister?"

"Perfectly clear, Mrs. Chalmers."

She turned away and whispered furiously,

"A woman like Cassie has no defense against a man like you."

As she made her way to the bedroom she shared with her grandchildren, her
words echoed in Ouin's mind.  A man like you.

Deep in thought, he lifted a parka from a peg and walked outside.

A few minutes later, when Cassie emerged from the children's bedroom, she
glanced around, expecting to find Quin in front of the fire.  Instead the
cabin was empty.  Out on the porch she saw a sudden flare of light as he held
a match to his cigar.  She had hoped to spend a few quiet moments with him,
talking about what laws he thought were unfair, and how he hoped to change
them.  But from the angry frown on his face, she decided the time wasn't
right.

She made up his bed in the corner of the room, then snuffed out the candles,
leaving the cabin dark except for the light from the fire.

This was when the loneliness became the most difficult to bear.  In the quiet
of the night, she missed the easy camaraderie, the long, intimate
conversations, the sharing of ideas.  She shivered.

The mating of two minds, Ethan had called it.  Though he had been a man of
few passions, he had understood and respected hers.  Her deepest and most
abiding passion had been her family.  And her education at the hands of an
order of French nuns at the Convent of Notre Dame du Lac had opened her eyes
to the world and its ills.  But being a dutiful daughter and wife, she had
kept her thoughts locked away in silence, devoting herself to those things
that took precedence.  At first, those things had been a social life that
would have rivaled that of royalty.  During and after the war, her every
thought had been the survival of her family.  But now, when Quin had spoken
out so passionately, he had touched a chord deep inside her.

"I thought you would be asleep."

She had been so deep in thought, she hadn't heard Quin come in.  Her hand
flew to her throat as she whiffed to face him.

"Once again you have managed to startle me, Mr. McAllister."

In the firelight, her hair gleamed like flame.  He thought about touching a
hand to it, but her mother's words still rankled.

"And once again I find you lost in thought.  Care to share?"

She saw the teasing smile that always seemed to play at the corners of his
mouth, the light that always danced in those dark, mysterious eyes.  How
could she have believed that he was a man of deep passions?  Her mother's
words came back to taunt her.  He was a gambler, whose only real passion lay
in winning.

"It's late, Mr. McAllister.  I'll say goodnight."  "Good night, ma'am."

He carefully curled his hand into a fist as she moved past him, to keep from
reaching out to stop her.

At the door to her bedroom she turned.

"I am most grateful to you for staying to see us through this battle."

His tone was rougher than he'd intended.

"I don't want your gratitude, Mrs. Montgomery."

He turned away and stared into the flickering flames of the fire.  Her
mother's words echoed in his mind.  Was Cassie a woman who might confuse
gratitude with love?  With a savage oath he tossed the remains of his cigar
into the fire.  ' Chapter Seven Darkness shrouded the room.  Cassie shifted
beneath the covers.  For hours she had fought the dreams that tormented her.
In her sleep Ethan had come to her, reminding her about her promise to him.
But the image of her dead husband faded, to be replaced by the figure of
Cyrus Stoner, holding a gun to her little daughter's heart.  Her plea for
mercy had been met with cruel, chilling laughter.  She awoke with a start,
her night shift damp, her heart pounding.

Though it would be some time until dawn, she couldn't stay in bed any longer.
She had a need to do something, anything, to keep from thinking about
threat.  ~" Did he really believe that she would be packed and ready to leave
her home just because he'd ordered it?  She shivered, anticipating the
confrontation.  Despite her family's attempt at bravado, their guns would be
ineffective against a man like Stoner.  How many men would ride with him?
How much force would he use?

She had thought, after surviving the fiery siege of Atlanta, that nothing
else would ever have the power to bring her to the edge of terror.  But right
now, as the hour hovered between darkness and dawn, she felt all the old .

fears rising within her.  What if Stoner made good his threats?  What if her
stubborn determination to stay here caused harm to one of her loved ones?
Once again she fretted over the wisdom of her action.  Did she have the right
to place her mother, her innocent children in danger?

Throwing aside the covers, she slipped from bed and padded barefoot across
the room.  As she poured icy water from a pitcher into a basin and began to
wash herself, she shivered violently.  It wasn't merely the cold, she knew.

It was nerves strung as tautly as the strings of her grandfather's violin.

With hurried movements she pulled on long woolen hose, chemise and
petticoats.  From a hook beside the door she lifted down a pale ivory wool
gown, with long sleeves and a high, modest neckline.  After running a brush
through her hair, and pulling it back with white ribbons, she draped a shawl
over her shoulders.

The simple act of making up the bed gave her a sense of normalcy .  How could
there be danger pending when she had the luxury of household chores?

Within minutes the bedroom was tidied, and she lifted aside the blanket that
hung at the doorway.  ~ She was startled to see Quin standing at the small
window, a rifle in his hand.  His straight razor lay beside a basin of water.
Droplets still glistened in his dark hair.  "Have you been awake all night?"
she asked softly.

He turned, and caught his breath at the sight of her.  Dressed all in white,
she could have been some ethereal creature, had it not been for the blaze of
hair that spilled down her back in a riot of curls.  Damp tendrils still
kissed her cheeks, cheeks as red as holly berries from her icy ablutions.

"I slept some.  But I thought Stoner and his men might try to surprise us
with an early morning visit."

She walked up beside him and glanced out the window.  "Any sign of him?"

"None."  He breathed in the clean, fresh scent of her and felt the stirring
of feelings he'd thought long buried.

"Do you think it's safe for me to go to the barn?  I'd really like to milk
the cow."

He nodded.

"I'll go with you."

They pulled on their parkas and stepped out into the frigid predawn darkness.
Starlight reflected off the frozen crust that had formed on the snow.  The
moon was a pale diver in a darkened sky.  Snow crunched beneath their feet.

The air was sharp and pure, and carried the tang of evergreen from the nearby
forest.

Inside the barn, they breathed in the mingled scents of fresh hay, earth and
dung.  The chickens, awakened by their early visitors, clustered around their
feet, eager for grain.

When Cassie tossed some into the hay, they scratched and pecked.  The cow
1owed softly in her stall, while Cutter tossed his head and nuzzled Quin's
hand.

Cassie and Quirt worked in companionable silence, mucking stalls, gathering
eggs, milking the cow.  The hard physical work offered a release from the
tensions that were building.

Tensions brought on by the knowledge that this day they could face a
confrontation with an enemy bent on destroying them.

It was Quin who broke the silence.

"I've been thinking that maybe you and your mother ought to take the children
and hide."

She looked up from milking the cow.  His suggestion took her by surprise.

"And if I hide, what would prevent Cyrus Stoner from simply taking over my
house and barn and property?"

"I'll see to Stoner."

She got to her feet so quickly she knocked over the milking stool.

"I

have no intention of abandoning my home.  " ' " I'm not suggesting you
abandon it.  " He watched as she righted the stool and lifted the heavy pail
of milk.

"Just... stay out of sight until he leaves."  She placed the pail by the door
and turned, pulling on the parka, which she'd shed while doing her chores.

"So, you think I should hide like a coward, while you stay and face Cyrus
Stoner and his men alone?"

"I've faced worse."

With her hands on her hips she crossed the space that separated them.

"This is my home, Mr. McAllister.  And my problem.  I won't be persuaded to
run away while someone else fights my battles."

Giving in to anger and frustration, he caught her by the front of the parka
and dragged her close.

"Then at least make plans to get the children out of the line of fire, in the
event there's a gunfight."  He saw the flash of fear that came into her eyes
and cursed his clumsiness.  Why was it, in time of grave peril, when the need
for comfort was greatest, there was so little time for it?  In a softer tone
he asked, "Is there someplace we can hide them?"

She swallowed, touched by his attempt at gentleness.  "In the mine shaft."

"Is it far from here?"

She smiled.

"Come on, Mr. McAllister.  It's time I showed you."

With his rifle in one hand and the pail of milk in the other, he followed her
from the barn.

When she retraced her steps to the cabin, he hesitated.  "I thought we were
going to the mine."

"We are."  She held open the door to the cabin.  Inside, she crossed the room
and moved aside a small handmade rug to reveal a portion of the floor that
could be lifted up.  "The entrance to the mine is under here."

When he lifted the door, Cassie handed him a lantern and he climbed down a
rough-hewn ladder.  Cassie followed.

Quin found himself in a dark, narrow tunnel.  As he inched forward he
whispered,

"Why did Ethan build the cabin over the mine?"

Cassie's voice was dose behind him.

"He didn't.  The mine is actually on the other side of a series of large
hills.

He dug a separate shaft leading to the mine, so that he could come and go,
day or night, without being observed.  "

"Then he had to believe in this mine."

"He did," she said softly.

"He never gave up hope of finding a treasure."

The tunnel suddenly split into two passageways.  Lifting the lantern, Quin
asked,

"Which way?"

Cassie shrugged.

"Ethan left no map.  But the last place he worked, before the illness
overtook him, was this way."

He followed her lead and found himself in a labyrinth of tunnels.

"Did Ethan dig all these?"  Quin asked.  Cassie shook her head.

"Most of these were already here.  When Ethan discovered them, he became
convinced that this was the mine he had heard about when he was a boy.  An
old man who had befriended his father had boasted of it on his deathbed, and
had left behind a faded map.  Ethan and his father often talked about
searching for treasure, but..."  She shrugged.

"The time was never right.

Montana Territory sounded, to a Georgia farm boy, like the end of the earth.
"

Quin gave a low whistle of appreciation as he set the lantern on a shelf of
rock.

"I'm impressed."

"That would please Ethan."  At his arched brow, Cassie explained, "Ethan
credited the war, and his friendship with you, for bringing him here.  He
claimed that, once our home was destroyed, he was forced to turn his back on
all that he knew and loved.  And you had convinced him that a man must be
willing to risk everything for what he believes in.  He swore that without
you, he never would have found the courage to chase his dream.  As you well
know, it was not in Ethan's nature to take risks."  Quin chuckled.

"For a man who didn't like to take risks, he managed to finally do it in
grand style."  He turned to study her.

"But what about you?  Didn't you have anything to say about traveling all the
way to Montana Territory and settling in this godforsaken wilderness?"

She blushed and looked away.

"I suppose I could have dissuaded Ethan.

But it was his dream, and I felt I had no right to trample on it.  Besides,"
she added softly, " all my life I've had to do the right thing, the sensible
thing.  I was always the good daughter, then the good wife and mother.  And I
suppose there was, deep inside me, a yearning to do something completely
unexpected.  "

Her admission caught him by surprise.  He felt a sudden kinship with this
woman.

Tugging on a lock of her hair, he said,

"Couldn't you have chosen something a little less dangerous, until you got it
out of your system?  Like flirting with the preacher?  Or sipping some of
Ethan's whiskey?"

She laughed, a rich, golden sound that seemed to trickle over his senses like
warm honey.  He found himself wishing he could always bring that light of
amusement to her eyes with such ease.

"I did try Ethan's whiskey."

"Why Mrs. Montgomery.  How bold of you."

She grinned.

"I discovered I didn't like it.  As for the preacher back in Georgia, he had
lost his front teeth, and had a face that resembled a mule.  In fact, I would
rather flirt with a mule than with Reverend Poindexter."

Quin threw back his head and roared.  Then, leaning his forehead against
hers, he whispered,

"I believe, Mrs. Montgomery, that you are the most delightful creature I have
ever had the good fortune to meet."

She joined in the laughter, but her smile faded when he suddenly framed her
face with his hands and lifted it for his inspection.  ~ ~ ~.

"And the most beautiful," he breathed.  ~"~ ~ His gaze centered on her mouth
and she felt her throat go dry.

"Don't..."  she started, but the word was swallowed by his kiss.

The rest of the words died in her throat.  Her thoughts scrambled and fled in
a wild rush, leaving her feeling str y disoriented.

His lips were warm and firm and practiced as they moved seductively over
hers.  Her lips trembled slightly when she struggled to absorb the first
shock.  He lifted his head and stared down into her eyes.  HIS hands still
framed her face, but his thumbs now moved slowly, tracing the outline of her
lips, sending strange, curling sensations along her spine.

She saw the fire smoldering in his eyes and thought fleetingly about stepping
back from it.  But though his touch was gentle, she was held as surely as if
she'd been ensnared by a steel trap.  She found it impossible to move away
from the flame that poured from him into her, heating her blood, searing her
flesh.

"Mr.  McAllister" "It's Quin," he muttered thickly.  His thumb traced her
full lower lip, while his eyes held hers when she tried to look away.

"I think the time for formality is over, Cassie."  He lowered his head and
brushed his lips over hers.  His arms came around her, dragging her roughly
against him.  Fear jolted through her.  Fear of the tightly controlled
passion she could feel pulsing through him like waves of heat.  Fear of her
own response to such passion.  But as quickly as she recognized it, the fear
was replaced by something even stronger.  Needs.  Needs she hadn't even
recognized until now.  Needs so potent they left her trembling.  At his
touch, his kiss, she felt the awakening of long slumbering passions that
struggled for expression.  With her hands against his shoulders, she pushed
away.

"We can't" -- "The hell we can't."  His hands tangled in her hair as he
kissed her with a thoroughness, a savageness that left them both breathless.

Her protest was forgotten.  Everything was forgotten except this man, this
moment.  Her arms twined around his neck.  Her body pressed tightly against
his.  With a sigh she gave herself up to the pleasure of his kiss.

His mouth moved on hers.  Lingering over her lips, he drew out every
exquisite taste, like a starving man.

In that instant before their lips met, he'd seen a flash of something in her
eyes.  Something dark and liquid and fathomless.  Fear or passion.  Or
perhaps both.  "Cassie."  Her name was wrenched from him as he took the kiss
deeper.

She forgot to breathe.  Her heart forgot to beat.  Quin had.  an almost
savage need to take her here, now.

The thought brought a fierce, shocking arousal that had him clutching her so
tightly she cried out.  At once his touch softened, while his lips continued
to plunder.

"Open your eyes," he muttered against her mouth.  Her heavy lids fluttered,
then opened.  In her eyes he could read the newly awakened passion, which
only excited him more.

"I want to see you while I kiss you.  I want you to see me."  ' His mouth
crushed hers, ruthless, savage.  He could feel her heartbeat, ragged, racing,
keeping time with his as he took the kiss deeper.  With a little moan her
lips parted for him.  His tongue probed all her sweetness, unlocking hidden
mysterious tastes.  Tastes that sharpened his appetite to feast until his
hunger was satisfied, to take until he was sated.

Cassie felt desire claw at her.  Wants, needs, warred within her, struggling
to be set free.  It would be so easy to put aside everything except the
pleasure he could bring her.  Into her harsh, frigid world, this gambler's
kisses offered the treasures of summer, a garden of sensual delights.  Still,
though all her seases had been assaulted, a tiny voice of reason found its
way to her consciousness.  "No.  Quin, no."

He lifted his head but kept his hands on her shoulders, as much to steady
himself as her.  Even as she tried to back away, he brushed kisses across her
forehead, her cheek, the tip of her nose.  But before he could take her lips
again she stopped him.

"We must get back," she whispered.  But she made no move to turn away.

He waited until his erratic heartbeat slowed, then dropped his hands to his
sides and took a step back.

"I'll lead the way."

He picked up the lantern, held it high and began to retrace his steps.

He noted idly that his hand trembled, and blamed it on the crude footpath.
But there was no denying the need for her that still pulsed.  Or the taste of
her that was still on his lips.

nuella and her grandchildren were gathered around the fireplace.  Jen and
Becky had shrugged into their clothes, which their mother had laid out to
warm on the hearth.  All heads came up when Cassie and Quin emerged from the
mine shaft.

While Cassie blew out the lantern, Quin met the questioning looks of the
others.

"What were you doing in the mine?"  Luella asked.  At her mother's sharp
words, Cassie felt her cheeks flame.

It was Quin who answered.

"I wanted6tosee if it might offer a safe haven for the children."

Immediately Luella's attitude softened.

"You expect a gunfight, do you?"

Quin shrugged.

"With a man like Cyrus Stoner, I don't know what to expect.  It's always wise
to plan for the worst ."  ' "I'm not surprised."  Luella wrapped a towel
around her hand and lifted the coffeepot from the fire.

"Sit.  I'll fix breakfast.  We'll want to fortify ourselves for the day.  I
expect we'll be ... entertaining company before very long."

Cassie found herself drawing strength from her mother's stoic acceptance of
danger.  As she took a seat, she Chapter Eight glanced around at her
daughters, and wished again that she could spare them this confrontation.

"Ma," she said softly, "would you like to lead the blessing?"

As they joined hands the older woman's voice rang out like a preacher.

"Bless this food, Lord.  And bless Your humble servants.  This day, as we
face the enemy, we ask for the wisdom of Solomon, and the strength of David,
who smote the mighty Goliath."

To a chorus of amens, they began to pass around biscuits and coddled eggs and
thick slabs of venison.

They were clearing the table a short time later when they heard the sound of
hoofbeats.  Following Quin's lead, the two women took up their weapons.

"Jennifer and Rebecca," Cassie called softly.

"I want you to climb down to the mine shaft."

"But Mama" -- Jen began.

"There's no time to argue.  Hurry."

Quin led the way, handing them a lantern and blanket.  As they started down
the ladder, Cassie bent and kissed each of them tenderly.

"No matter what you hear, you must not show yourselves," she whispered.

"If I don't summon you, remain below."

"For how long, Mama?"  Becky's voice trembled, betraying her fear.

"Until darkness, Rebecca.  Then take the horse and the two of you ride to
town."

"But" -- "Go now," Cassie said firmly.

' "Yes, Mama."

Quin waited until they had descended before lowering the trapdoor and
replacing the rug.

"Mrs.  Chalmers," he said softly, "you might want to stand away from that
window.  Here."  He tipped the kitchen table on end and motioned for her to
take up a position behind it.

"Miz Montgomery."  The sound of Cyrus Stoner's voice came from outside the
cabin.

"Are you ready to leave?"

Quin opened the cabin door a fraction, then shielded Cassie's body with his
and whispered,

"I don't see his men.  They might be surrounding the cabin fight now."
"Where are your men, Mr. Stoner?"  she called.

"I told my men to stay back by that line of trees until you invited them to
come closer."

Surprised, Cassie shot a suspicious glance at Quin.

"Do you believe him?"

Quin shrugged.

"I haven't figured out his game yet, but he could be telling the truth."

"I've brought you five hundred dollars," called Stoner.  "Are you ready to
accept my offer, Miz Montgomery?"

As she started forward Quin clamped a hand around her arm.

"Don't show yourself," he whispered.

"Just give him your answer."

"I'm sorry, Mr. Stoner."  Cassie was amazed at how calm her voice sounded.
There was no trace of the fear that bubbled just below the surface.  Perhaps
it was the presence of Quin beside her, silent and steady, or the touch of
his hand on her arm, strong, sure.

"I've decided not to accept your offer.  My family and I are happy here.
We'd like to stay in the cabin my husband built for us."

"I don't think you understand," replied Stoner, his voice reasonable,
persuasive.   Slipping from the saddle, he boldly walked to the cabin door.
He kicked it open.   Seeing the guns aimed at him, he held up his hands and
gave a broad smile.

"Now that isn't very neighborly.  I didn't come here to fight, Miz
Montgomery.  I came here to make you wealthy."

He reached into his breast pocket, retrieved a handful of bills, and held
them out to her.

"There's .

enough money here to build a fine house in Prospect, where your children can
go to school, and your poor mother can walk to Sunday services and chat with
her neighbors.  "

Cassie wondered if Stoner knew that he'd just described paradise.

Putting aside such thoughts, she said, "We like it here, Mr. Stoner."

He glanced around the bleak surroundings, his smile widening.  His words were
as smooth as honey.

"And who wouldn't7 A snug, sturdy cabin.  Of course," he added, "it seems a
bit crowded, with all these bodies.  But then I'm sure a man like Quin
McAllister won't be staying around these parts very long."

He could see he'd touched a nerve.  Cassie glanced uncertainly toward Ouin,
then looked away.  There was fear in her eyes, along with indecision.  She
was quite certain that if Quin and his guns had not been here, they would not
even be having this discussion.  Stoner and his men would have simply forced
her out as soon as they'd discovered Ethan's grave.  Now Stoner was trying
persuasion.

"Still," Cyrus went on in that same friendly tone, "any fool can see there's
room to grow out here, with all this land around you.  As long," he added
slyly, "as you're willing to hold off Indian attacks, chop down forests, and
survive the ever-changing whims of nature."  He fixed Cassie with a look.

"Is that what you want for yourself and an old woman and two helpless
children, Miz Montgomery?"

Cassi swallowed.

"How can I resist, now that you've made it sound so inviting?"

"Maybe you feel you need a little more money."  He reached into his breast
pocket and pulled out more bills.

I'll add another two hundred, just so you'll understand that I'm a fair and
generous man.  "

He saw Cassie's gaze fasten on the money and he thrust it toward her.

He'd had enough business dealings to recognize the signs of hunger, of
desperation.  If he could get her to take the money into her own hands, to
hold it, feel it, her resolve would weaken.

"Go ahead now, Miz Montgomery.  You take this money and count it yourself."

For the space of several seconds she studied the bills in his hand.

Suddenly lifting her chin in a defiant gesture, she stiffened her spine and
took a step back.

"No, Mr. Stoner.  This land is not for sale.  At any price."

Quin, standing beside her, felt a rush of admiration and wondered how many
others would have been able to resist such an offer.

Cyrus Stoner's hands fisted in sudden fury before he composed himself.  He'd
hoped they could conclude this offer in a civilized manner.  Now the lady had
just forced him to resort to his second plan.

With an exaggerated shrug of his shoulders, he returned the money to his
pocket.  Tipping his hat, he murmured, "That was my last offer, Miz
Montgomery.  I won't be bothering you again."

Puzzled by his bland reaction, Cassie watched as he turned and made his way
back to his horse.  She'd expected blazing temper, threats, even a gunfight.
As he pulled himself into the saddle, he gave her a chilling smile.

"By the way.  My men and I happened upon a cow out behind your barn.  I sure
hope it wasn't yours."

"Out behind..."  She took a step forward.

"What do you mean?"

He thought of his men, awaiting his signal, and his smile was smug.

"It was dead, ma'am.  All mangled and bloody."  He looked up, as though
suddenly seized with a new thought.

"Would you care to have my men drag it up here for your inspection?"

Before she could reply, he aimed his pistol into the air and fired two quick
shots in succession.  The sound of the gunshots echoed and reechoed across
the hills.  Long minutes later two men emerged from the edge of the forest
and rode slowly toward the cabin, their ropes dragging a heavy burden between
them.  When they drew closer, Cassie recognized the cow as hers.  With a cry
she rushed out into the snow.  Quin darted out behind her, followed by her
mother.

Qu'm dropped to one knee and examined the cow.  It was plain that the animal
had been freshly slaughtered, probably as soon as the men had heard Stoner's
gunshots.  Blood still spurted from the deep cuts across its throat and
stomach.

"Looks like it might have got itself tangled up with a wolf, poor thing,"
Cyrus muttered sarcastically.

Quin stood.

"I've never seen a wolf slit an animal's throat with the precision of a
knife."

"Besides," Cassie said through clenched teeth,

"I milked that cow not an hour ago.  Before I left, she was safely locked in
her stall."

"Maybe an Indian sneaked into your barn and stole your cow.  I've heard those
Crow are thieving savages."

"And slit its throat?"  Quin asked in ominously quiet tones.

"Looks like."

"No Indian would waste something as precious as a cow.  They know the
importance of its milk and meat.  They would never leave it for scavengers."

Ignoring Quin, Cyrus turned to Cassie.

"Between the wolves and the Indians, Miz Montgomery, I'd say you're going to
have your hands full."  He tipped his hat and gave an exaggerated bow.

"I hope you won't find our Montana Territory winters too harsh, ma'am.  Good
day now."

He urged his horse several paces, then turned.  His voice was a low purr of
satisfaction.

"Let me know if you change your mind and decide to leave, Miz Montgomery.  Of
course, the price will be much less than I offered today, but I might be able
to take this land off your hands."  As an afterthought he added,

"I hear you're a gambler, McAllister.  I'm a fair card player myself.  If
you'd ever like to enjoy a friendly game, ride on over to my place.  You'll
recognize it.  It's the biggest spread in these parts."  He and his men rode
smartly away, leaving Cassie and her mother staring with shock and horror at
the remains of their only cow.

For a minute tears stung Cassie's eyes as she thought about how much milk she
could have bought with Cyrus Stoner's money.  Then she thought about her
promise to Ethan and she blinked away the tears.

Lifting her skirts, she headed toward the cabin.

"I'll summon the children from the mine shaft and return with some knives.
We'll have to work fast if we're going to butcher this cow before it freezes."

Quin watched her with growing ~dmiration.  Cassie Montgomery was stronger
than she looked.  It was going to take a lot more than threats and
intimidation to drive her from this land.  Still, the cow was just the
beginning.

How much more would she have to sacrifice, in order to follow Ethan's dream?

"How much milk is left, Mama?"  Becky asked as they cleared away the supper
dishes.

"Enough for a day or two."

"Then what?"

Cassie avoided her daughter's eyes.

"I don't know."

"Growing children need milk."  Luella's voice held a hint of disapproval.

"I know, Ma."  Cassie struggled with impatience as she immersed her hands in
the dishpan.

"But we still have eggs.  And plenty of meat.  We'll manage."  While she
dried the dishes, Luella fixed Quin with a rio us look.

"How did Cyrus Stoner know that you are a gambler, Mr. McAllister?"

Quin looked up from the harness he was mending.  From the looks of the farm
implements in the barn, Ethan's health had been much poorer than he'd let on.
Everything from plow to wagon had fallen into disrepair.

"I've been wondering about that myself.  It would seem Stoner made it his
business to find out all he could about me."

"Why.9" "A gunman likes to know his adversaries.  My guess is he's been
learning all he can about all of you, as well, looking for a weakness."

Luella appeared indignant.

"I don't think I like that at all, Mr. McAllister.  Why, the very idea of a
man poking into my business" -- "It doesn't matter, Ma," Cassie said gently.

"The only thing Cyrus Stoner needs to know is that I'm not giving up this
land."

"Maybe..."  Luella paused, as if choosing her words carefully.

Glancing at Jcu and Becky, who were lying in front of the fire, she lowered
her voice "... you ought to give some thought to his offer."  Seeing her
daughter's shocked e~pression, she ~plained,

"You ought to know, Cassie, that men who would butcher our only cow, might
not be above resorting to other forms of bloodshed."  She shivered, seeing in
her mind the crimson stains in the snow outside their cabin.

"I do know that, Ma."  Cassie felt the lump that formed in her throat and
quickly swallowed it back.

"But I won't be driven from my home again.  I've run as far as I can."
Hearing the emotions that clogged her daughter's voice, Luella softened her
tone.

"I know, Cassie."  She placed a hand on her shoulder.

"We've both run as far as we can.  I just want you to consider the
consequences of your actions."  She turned away, and in a brighter voice
called, "Children, it's been a long day.  I think it's time for bed."  Jen
and Becky, made drowsy by the warmth of the fire, offered no protest as they
followed their grandmother into the bedroom, calling out a sleepy good-night
to Quin as they did.

Quin bent to his work while, in the other room, the children murmured their
prayers before climbing into bed.

When Cassie emerged from their bedroom, she poured a cup of coffee and handed
it to Quin.

"There was one cup left in the pot."

"Thank you."  He sipped, then handed it back to her.  "We'll share."

Surprised and pleased, she took several swallows of coffee before returning
it to him.  Then she turned toward the fire and stood, deep in thought.

After hanging the mended harness on a peg by the door, Quin set the empty cup
on the table, then turned and studied her for long, silent minutes.  "Cassie,
you need to have a plan."

"A plan," The sound she made could have been a laugh or a cry.

"My only plan is to stay on my land and try to survive the winter."

"when spring comes, will everything be suddenly fight?"

She drew her arms around herself, feeling chilled despite the warmth of the
fire.

"Maybe in the spring I can plant a garden and raise enough crops to trade
for another cow.  And then..."  Her voice faded as the enormity of her
sRuation dawned.

"And then what?  Weather another winter?  And another?"  Quin's tone was low,
angry.

"Do you think that's what Ethan wanted when he exacted your promise to remain
on this land?"

"I don't know."  She rubbed her temples, feeling a welling of despair.

"I don't know anything anymore.  All I know is, we survived another day."
With eyes downcast she turned away from the fire and headed toward her room.

"Right now I need to rest, to sleep."  He caught her roughly by the arm as
she passed him.

"Damn it, woman.  You need to think, to plan."  His words brought her head up
sharply.

"In this house we do not swear, Mr. McAllister."

At another time he would have laughed at her injured tone.  But worry over
her had his temper close to the surface.

"The way you're going, there may not be any house.  Is that what you want?"

"Take your hand off me."  ~ He brought his face so dose she could feel the
heat of his breath.

"Not until you listen.  This is a game with Cyrus Stoner.  A deadly game in
which you're allowing him to make all the rules."

She pushed his hand away and took a step back.

"I was never very good at games, Mr. McAllister."

"Then it's time you learned."

"And I suppose you'd like to be my teacher."  He studied the way she looked,
head high, eyes challenging.

Oh, the things he could teach her.  He slxuggled to keep from reaching out to
her.  He dared not touch her again.  Not when the cabin was so quiet and
temper still heated his blood.  I "The lessons will begin in the morning.  I
suggest you get a good night's sleep, ma'am."

He pulled on a parka and picked up the harness before opening the door.
Sparks danced in the fireplace when the door slammed behind him.  She
listened to the sound of snow crunching beneath his boots, and the creak of
the barn door.  Then there was only the silence of the cabin, punctuated by
the occasional sighing of the wind.

r Chapter Nine The morning sky was gray, with the promise of more snow.
Already a fine dusting frosted the snow's crust, obliterating the blood that
marked the spot where the cow had been butchered.

Cassie emerged from her bedroom to find the children dressing in front of the
fire.  Luella set a blackened coffeepot on the fire.  Within minutes it was
bubbling, filling the cabin with its wonderful aroma.

In the corner of the room, Ouin's bedding had been carefully folded.

Fresh logs had been placed beside the fireplace.

"Where is Mr. McAllister?"  Jen asked.  Cassie shrugged.

"In the barn, I expect."

"Is it safe for us to go out there?"  Becky peered through the snow-frosted
window.

Cassie nodded and picked up a rifle.

"Come on.  Rebecca, you can gather eggs while Jennifer and I muck the stalls."

"Fresh hoofprints," Jen exclaimed as they crossed to the barn.

"Looks like Mr. McAllister is out riding Cutter.

Where do you think he went, Mama?  "

"I don't know."  Cassie's gaze took in the wide expanse of white that
stretched as far as the eye could see.

ii "Maybe he left," Becky suggested.

Jen's eyes widened.

"Mr.  McAllister wouldn't leave without saying goodbye, would he, Mama?"

Cassie shivered as she pulled open the barn door.

"No, Jennifer.  I don't think he would do such a thing."

"How do you know?"  Becky asked.

"He's a gambler.  And Gram said gamblers can't be depended upon to stay in
one place for very long.  Gram said gamblers need the excitement of taking
risks."  There was contempt in her voice.

"How much excitement can there be around here?"

"There's lots of excitement," Jen cried.

"Mr.

McAllister can teach us card tricks.  That's exciting.  And don't forget Mr.
Stoner and his gunmen.  They're exciting.  "

"You don't know anything," Becky taunted.

"You don't even know enough to be afraid."

"Mr.  McAllister isn't afraid of Cyrus Stoner or anyone.  And neither is
Mama," the little gift added with all the confidence of the very young.

"See what I mean?  You don't know anything," Becky said.

_~w~ "Do too," Jen announced with pride.

"Mr.  McAllister said I would have been proud of my mama if I'd seen the way
she stood up to Cyrus Stoner yesterday."

"Really?"   Surprised by the rare compliment, Cassie smiled as she leaned
her weight against the barn door to shut out the cold.

"What else did Mr. McAllister say?"

"Nothing.  Except that you're pretty."

Jen turned away and began to gather eggs from the hay.  But Becky caught the
flush that touched her mother's cheeks before she turned away.

While she worked, Cassie's thoughts were on Quin and the things her mother
had said about him.  She couldn't fault her mother for her opinion.  Even so,
Cassie's opinion of him was changing.  Though Quin gave the appearance of a
self-centered, easygoing gambler whose only concern was the next card game,
his actions belied such a misleading reputation.  A man concerned only with
himself would not have paused to hunt deer to replenish the larder of
strangers.  Nor would he have stayed to face possible death at the hands of
Cyrus Stoner.

She thought about the things Ethan had told her after the war.  The man
called Gambler had become a legend among the soldiers held in the prison
camp.  According to Ethan, Ouin had been a loner who kept his own counsel.

A man of mystery who always managed to provide food or medicine or blankets
for those who most needed them.  A ruthless man, not above killing.  Some
thought he was a spy, sent to the camp to learn military secrets.  Some
thought him a traitor for engaging in poker games with their jailers.

Yet, according to Ethan, Quin McAllister had never done anything to make his
own life easier.  Everything he had done had been for the benefit of the
other, less fortunate, prisoners.

:r-r---- And now he was here in Montana Territory.  Probably against his
will.  Certainly against his better judgment.  But for now, he was here, and
his presence had been the deciding factor in yesterday's confrontation with
Cyrus Stoner.

Hearing the sound of hoofbeats, Cassie reached for the rifle and peered
through a crack in the door.  Relief flooded through her at the sight of Quin
astride his horse.  Amid a flurry of snowflakes he reined in and dismounted.

She pulled open the barn door and was surprised to see two more deer tied
behind his saddle.

"Did you think one butchered cow and deer weren't enough to keep you in meat?"

As he led his mount inside the barn, he was relieved to see that her good
nature had returned.  Her eyes were less shadowed, the strain around her
mouth less pronounced.  For a minute he just wanted to drink in the sight of
her, with her hair all shiny and combed, her skin still flushed from morning
chores.  He smiled, and she thought again how handsome he was.

"Maybe I just woke up hungry, ma'am."

"Then you'll be happy to know that there is beef roasting over the fire, and
biscuits warming on the hearth.  My mother and I fixed enough food for half a
dozen hungry men ."  ' "You do know how to please a man."

He turned away, missing the color that flooded her cheeks.

After untying the deer, he hung them from a rafter of the barn, then followed
her and the children to the cabin.

Shaking the snow from his wide-brimmed hat, he stepped inside and hung his
hat and parka by the door.  While the food was carried to the table he paused
by a basin and washed, then took a seat at the table.

:~After a brief prayer, Cassie turned to her mother.

"Mr.  McAllister has brought us two more deer."

"Well, ma'am, they're not exactly for you," he said, helping himself to a
thick slab of beef and several eggs.

Hunting before dawn had given him a ravenous appetite.  "I don't understand."

He eyed her over the rim of his cup and took several gulps of scalding coffee.

"Your first lesson, ma'am.  When engaging the enemy, know your friends."
"Friends, Mr. McAllister?"

"Yes, ma'am.  Allies.  Neighbors.  People you can count on to come to your
aid in the event of a fight."

"But we have no neighbors," Luella protested.

"If you believe that, ma'am, then you haven't been looking around."

The food forgotten, everyone watched as he tucked into his breakfast, sighing
over the biscuits, devouring the meat and eggs.  When he was finished, he
accepted a second cup of coffee and leaned back.

"Now that was a meal fit for a king.  I couldn't have had better if I were
staying in the finest hotel in Boston, ma'am."

He glanced at Cassie's food, as yet untasted.

"Aren't you going to eat?"

"In a minute, Mr. McAllister.  I'd like you to explain about our neighbors."

"Actually, it was something that Cyrus Stoner said that made me realize just
how many friends you have."  He reached for a cigar, thought better of it and
drank his coffee instead.

"We have no" -- "Indians," he interrupted.

"Crow.  There are hundreds of them here in Montana Territory."

"If you think the Indians are our friends" -- "Not yet, maybe.  But they are
your nearest neighbors.

And if you treat them kindly, I'm willing to bet they'll be your friends.  "

~ "But how-- ?"

~'~ ~ He held up a hand to silence her questions.

"I saw their markings and knew that they'd been hunting on your land."  To
the others he explained,

"Crow ponies are unshod.  It's easy to distinguish them from a party of white
men, especially with snow on the ground."  He turned to Cassie.

"I

thought, since I knew where a herd of deer had taken shelter, that I'd just
hunt a couple.  I sent a message to the leader of the Crow asking him to come
by your cabin.  "

"A message to the Crow!  How?"

He smiled.

"It was easy.  I called out to two braves who had concealed themselves in the
woods.  Asked them to take a message to their chief."

"But why ?"

"So that you can present the deer as a gift of friendship."

"But Mr. McAllister, I've never spoken to an Indian.  I don't even know how
to speak their language."

"That's all right.  The missionaries were here before you.  The Crow speak
our language, ma'am."

"You mean they are civilized, Mr. McAllister?"  Luella was clearly intrigued.

He swallowed his smile.  A woman like Mrs. Chalmers set great store by
manners and customs.

"They consider us the uncivilized people, ma'am."

"We must make them welcome."  She started toward the fireplace.

"Would they care for coddled eggs and beef, Mr. McAllister?"

"I wouldn't bother, Mrs. Chalmers.  They don't care much for white man's
cooking."

"Oh."  She appeared deflated, then brightened.

"Will they be bringing any women and children?"

"I'm afraid not.  Just their chief and a couple of warriors."  ' "How will we
welcome them?"  Cassie asked.  "The same way you'd welcome any neighbor.
Invite them" -- He looked up at the sound of hoofbeats.

"Looks like they're here."  He snatched up the rifles and set them out of
sight in Cassie's bedroom.

"Wouldn't want them to think we brought them here for a shooting match."

He gave a final glance around the cabin and at the others.

"Ready?"

Cassie nodded and walked to the door of the cabin.  When she opened it, a
party of six Crow sat astride their ponies.  She struggled to show no fear
as she studied their stern countenances, all peering at her in stony silence.

"Welcome to our home.  Please come in."  Clearly puzzled, the braves slid
from their ponies and strode to the porch.  As they stepped inside, they
stared around, fascinated by what they saw.  Except for a few abandoned
cabins, they had little chance to see how the white men lived.

"You must be cold," Cassie said.

"Please warm yourselves by the fire."

Following the chief's lead, the braves moved closer to the fire, all the
while keeping their hands on the knives they carried at their waists.  One of
them bumped into the rocking chair, setting it into motion.  At once they
gathered around, touching it, watching as it rocked back and forth.

"Maybe the chief would like to sit," Quin suggested.  The chief took a seat,
clearly enchanted with the movement.

Plucking a cigar from his pocket, Quin offered it to the chief, then held a
flaming stick to the tip.  The chief took several puffs.  A smile of pure
delight crossed his face.  When he offered it back, Quin shook his head and
withdrew a second cigar, which he lit.  The two men puffed contentedly.

"Coffee?"  Cassie asked.

Luella and Cassie filled cups with coffee, sweetened with sugar, and passed
them among the braves.  At Cassie's whispered command, Becky offered a plate
of biscuits.  Stuffing the biscuits into their mouths, the braves choked them
down, then drank the coffee without even seeming to taste it.

When one of them burned his tongue, he spat a mouthful into the fire.

Luella looked appalled at their lack of manners.  The children, who had never
been close to an Indian before, merely stared in fascination at the long
hair, braided with feathers and beads, and the buckskin leggings and fringed
winter shirts.

The younger men were lean and muscular, and carried themselves with the
assurance of royalty.

The chief, who waited until the others had eaten, followed suit, managing to
swallow his coffee without incident.

Then he returned his attention to the cigar.  "I think it's time to present
your gift," Quin muttered, afraid that at any moment Luella might order them
out of the cabin.

The women draped shawls around their shoulders and led the way to the barn,
with Quin and the Crow following.

Inside, Cassie indicated the deer.

"We would like to present this to you, as a token of our friendship."

The chief showed no emotion, though several of his younger braves showed
surprise at such a generous offer.

Ignoring Cassie, the chief spoke to Quin.  "why do you desire our friendship?"

~ .  ~v ~:~c, ~ m~- ~' Quin chose his words carefully.

"A~%Y~=c/m'~see~we'~r~:- few.  And we live far from our own people.  There
are tho~ who would harm us."

"The People have never brought harm to you."

"We know this.   We do not accuse the People.   But some of our own people
have tried to drive us from this land.   All we desire is the chance to live
in peace.   But as the chief knows, it is sometimes necessary to do battle
with those who would harm us, before we can live in peace."

"Do you ask the People to join your battle?"  "No."

"Then what do you ask of the People?"

"We ask only that you warn us if you see strangers on our land."

The chief digested this, then said,

"In the name of the People I accept this gift."  He turned to his braves and
uttered a command.

The deer were cut down and placed on the backs of their ponies.

When he had pulled himself onto his pony's back, the chief studied Cassie for
long moments, then addressed Quin.

"Your woman?"

Out of the corner of his eye, Quin saw Cassie's mouth open to protest.  ,~
"Yes," he said quickly.

"And the old one?"

"Also mine."

"Ah."  The chief turned toward BeckY, seeing, beneath the faded gown and
ragged shawl, the beginnings of womanhood.

"The young one.  Daughter?"  Quin nodded.

"I have a son" -- he indicated a handsome brave who was staring boldly at
Becky's flaming hair and green eyes "--in need of a woman."  ~ The three
women froze,"to~rtled to react.  Even little Jan seemed to understand the
significance of what was being said.

Quin was careful to keep his steady gaze fixed on the chief.

"She is too young to leave her mother."

The chief had seen the look of interest in the eyes of his son.  The boy was
special to him, being his firstborn, who would one day be chief.  As for the
girl, she was young and a bit thin for his taste.  But if the interest
continued.  He nodded in understanding.

"We will talk again when the snows are gone and the land is green.  She will
make a fine squaw."

At a signal, the braves moved out and the chief raised his hand in a symbol
of friendship.  Quin did the same.

"The People will remember the kindness of those who dwell in this place."

Without a glance at the others, he urged his horse into a trot.

As soon as they were out of earshot, Luella's barely controlled temper
erupted.

"You lied to that man.  You told him that Cassie and I were your ... women."
She spoke the word as though it were an obscenity.

"It was the only way to keep him from taking you."

"This would have kept him from taking us," Cassie said, pulling the pistol
from her pocket.   "Yes, ma'am.   And those braves would have worn my scalp
on their belts tonight while they feasted on your deer, which you and your
mother and daughters would have served in their camp."

"Are you saying that those heathens would have stolen US?"

"They don't consider it stealing.  They see it as their right, and even their
duty, to take any women who have no men to protect them."

"And what about poor little Rebecca," Cassie said, drawing her daughter close.

"He actually suggested that he would be back in the spring to take her for
his son."

"The chief considered that a supreme compliment,"

Quin said patiently.

"Compliment?"  Luella was so agitated her voice was little more than a squeak.

"Yes, ma'am.  To be part of the chief's family is an honor that any Crow
maiden would relish."

"Oh, Cassie," Luella wailed, "what have we done?  By listening to this
wicked man, we have invited those say116 ages into our home, and we have
exposed our innocent children to even more danger than that which was
threatened by Cyrus Stoner."

Becky, who had been str y silent, suddenly blurted, "I didn't think they were
savages, Gram.  Different, maybe.  But..."  she shrugged "... they seemed..."
her voice took on a dreamy tone "... not savage like Cyrus Stoner."

Cassie watched as her daughter turned and walked back to the cabin.

Becky lifted her head a fraction.  Her walk slowed, her hips began to sway in
that unmistakable way of a woman.

Though she tried to tell herself that nothing had changed, Cassie was
achingly aware that everything had changed.  The Crow considered Quin
McAllister the head of this household.  And what was far worse, in the space
of a heartbeat, her little girl had seen herself reflected in a man's eyes,
not as a child, but as a woman.

Her heart ached at the realization that some part of her daughter's childhood
had just slipped away forever.

Chapter Ten Quin sighed in his sleep, then sat bolt upright, listening.  His
hand went automatically to the gun beneath his pillow.

What had awakened him?

Outside, the wind picked up speed, hurling sleet and snow against the
northern walls of the cabin.  On a gust of wind, sparks danced in the
fireplace.

Beyond the wind, he could distinguish nothing that would have roused him.
Yet the prickly feeling persisted.

Something, or someone, was out there.  Trusting his instincts, he slid
silently from his bed and pulled on his boots.  Moving with the stealth of a
cat, listened at the door, then peered through the window.

At first he couldn't distinguish the darkened forms from the trees in the
forest.  But as he continued watching, several shadows separated themselves
from the woods and moved ever so slightly.  Though he tried to count them, a
cloud passed over the moon, making it impossible to see.  He swore and strode
across the room to Cassie's bedroom.

"Cassie.  Wake the others."

"What?  Why... ?"  Even as the questions formed, she slipped from her bed and
was racing to the other room.

"Men," Ouin whispered.

"Creeping toward the cabin."

"Ma."   Cassie shook her mother, then moved to the small bunks where her
daughters slept.

"Rebecca, Jennifer.  Hide yourselves."

Without a word of protest Luella flew to a rear window, while little Jen took
up a position peering through a chink in the cabin wall.  Becky sat huddled
in the corner of the cabin, her hands over her ears, her eyes squeezed
tightly shut, reliving the horrors of the war that had ravaged her beloved
home.

Cassie hurried to Ouin's side, holding the pistol in her hand.

"I

don't see them.  " ~ " There.  " He pointed.

She peered into the darkness.  Two of the figures had crept closer until they
were between the barn and the cabin.

Several others separated and began to slink around to the far side.

"What do you think they're planning?"

"What would you do, if you wanted to drive people from their home against
their will?"  At the thought, his blood seemed to freeze.

Cassie's eyes widened at the sudden blaze of light.

"Oh.  Dear heaven, Quin.  Fire."

It was what he had most feared.

Cassie could see the men clearly now, holding aloft flaming torches as they
ran toward the cabin.

"There are more back here," Luella shouted from the back of the cabin.

"And all of them are carrying torches."

I'll help, Ma.  " Cassie raced to her mother's side.  " Stay low," Quin
shouted as he took aim with his rifle.

He felt sweat bead his forehead.  He knew he could take out these two.

But how many more men were coming at them from all sides?  It would be next
to impossible to get all of them in time.  Already the figures were close
enough to reach the cabin by merely tossing the torches as they fell.

In quick succession he fired several shots, stopping the two men in his line
of fire.  Then he rushed to the rear of the cabin, ready to join the women in
another gunfight.  Instead, he was surprised to see the torches in the snow,
sputtering uselessly, while several men lay sprawled in a semicircle.

"You managed to stop all of them?"  he asked.  Luella and Cassie seemed as
surprised as he was.

"I don't understand it.  They dropped before we could fire a shot,"

Cassie said incredulously.

Just then their heads came up at the sound of thundering hoofbeats.  As they
took aim once more they found themselves staring at a cluster of Indians, led
by the chief and his son.

Several of the Crow slid from their ponies and examined the dead men, before
nodding to their chief.

"I ordered my braves to see that these men did not use the fire sticks
against you," the chief called out loudly.

"You killed them?"  Cassie looked from the chief to his son, then back.

"But they are not your enemies.  This is not- your fight."

"Once a warrior of the People gives his hand in friendship, the enemies of
his friends become his enemies, as well ."  ' "We're grateful," Quin said.

"I hate to think what would have happened to us if you hadn't been here."

The chief lifted a hand.

"Such words are never necessary between friends."

He wheeled his mount and his braves followed suit.  All except his son, who
continued staring at Becky.  In a pristine white night shift, she stood
several paces behind her mother, her skin still pale from the shock of the
gunfight, her eyes still wide with fear.  For long moments he continued to
study her.  Then, without a word, he followed the others.

"Mama!  Gram!"  Jen's high-pitched shrieks as she raced from the barn to the
cabin had everyone looking up.

"Mr.

McAllister saw the Indians coming.  " Cassie wiped her hands on a towel.
Luella looked longingly at the rifle propped up beside the door, then,
remembering how these strangers had intervened in their behalf, opted instead
for a small kitchen knife, which she tucked beneath the folds of her apron.
For a woman like Luella, who had been through so much grief in her life,
trust did not come easily.

Keeping the children behind them, the two women opened the door just as Quin
reached the porch.

There were more than a dozen Crow, riding in single file, with their chief at
the head of the column.  Beside him, in a place of honor, rode his son.
Though their expressions were unreadable, the chief's voice rang out with
pride as he addressed Ouin.

-;t "My braves saw more white men."

Quin was instantly alert.

"Where?"

"Here on your land."

"When?"

"While the sun was at rest and the moon and stars filled the sky."

Dear heaven, Cassie thought.  Would they now be robbed of all sleep?

Day and night, their safety was being threatened.

"What were these white men doing?"  Quin asked.  The chief turned to his son,
who took up the narrative in a deep, str y cultured voice.

"They carried fire sticks toward your barn."

"Not again."  Quin swore savagely.

"I'll have to sleep in the barn from now on."

The chief's face showed no emotion when he said, "These men will visit your
land no more."

"what do you mean?"

"My son ordered my braves to stop these men from doing harm to your animals.
We left their bodies where other men will see and understand.  If they are
wise, they will leave you in peace."

At his signal one of the braves nudged his horse forward.  In his hand was a
rope from which trailed a cow.

The warrior handed the rope to the chief's son, who in turn handed it to
Cassie.

"You gave the People food," the chief said.

"Now the People return the favor."

For a moment Cassie was speechless.  Fighting tears she whispered,

"I

can't tell you how grateful we are.  "

"As I have said, words are not necessary between friends."  With that same
fierce expression, the chief turned his mount and rode between the column of
horsemen.  His son remained behind for several moments, his gaze holding
Becky's.  When he turned away, t!  ~ .  brav~es~,.  followed his lead.

~:~:~ No one spoke, no one moved, until tl~row disappeared over a rise.

While her mother and children returned to the cabin, Cassie led the cow
toward the barn.  Inside, after a thorough examination she lifted her head to
find Qu'm watching her.

"Where do you think they got this cow?"  With an amused expression he
shrugged his shoulders.

"Stole it, most likely."

"Stole it?"  She was horrified.  Her outrage grew when she saw the grin on
his face.

"And I suppose you think that's funny."

"No, ma'am.  But it does seem like some kind of justice if that cow came
from Cyrus Stoneifs herd.  You did say he owned most of the land around these
parts."  With a trace of impatience she muttered,

"Now what am I supposed to do with a stolen cow?"

He picked up a pitchfork and said with a deadpan expression,

"First thing you'd better do is milk it.  After that I'd give it some hay."

"Mama," Jen shouted, "there's a horseman coming."  Grabbing up the rifle,
Cassie stepped onto the porch just as Quin walked from the barn holding his
pistol.  Both of them watched as a horse and rider crested a ridge.

When the rider drew near, Cassie smiled and set aside the rifle.

"It's all right," she said with a sigh of relief.

"That's Jedediah Taylor.  He lives in Prospect and stops by a couple of times
a year.  Good morning, Jedediah," she called.

"Mornin', Miss Cassie."  The words were muttered around a pipe clenched
between his teeth, several of which were missing.  In a courtly gesture, he
snatched his hat from his head and held it in one leathery hand.  His hair
was the color of ripe cotton, as was the beard that flowed down the front of
his bearskin parka.

"Jedediah Taylor, meet Quin McAllister."  The two men nodded.  Despite the
white hair and wrinkles, the eyes looking into Quin's were as sparkling and
lively as a child's.

"Will you come inside?"

"Thank you, I will."  He slid from the saddle and followed Cassie.  From the
pronounced limp, it was obvious that he favored his left leg.

Inside, he greeted Luella and the children, and took a seat in front of the
fire.  Reaching into his pocket, he pulled out several pieces of rock candy
and held them out to the girls.

"You know I wouldn't come all this way without bringing you some of your
favorite candy, now, would I?"

"Thank you, Jedediah."  With giggles, the two girls accepted his offering and
eagerly popped them into their mouths.

"Coffee, Jedediah?"

"Thank you."  He blew into the steaming mug before drinking, and accepted a
plate of venison stew and biscuits, which he downed in a few hungry bites.
Cassie refilled the plate and handed it back to him.  He ate the second
serving as quickly as he'd eaten the first.

When he had mopped up every drop of gravy with his biscuit, he glanced at
Quin, considering his words carefully before saying to Cassie,

"There's been some talk in town."

"About what?"

"Cyrus Stoner said he found Ethan's grave.  That right?"

~ .  :, Reluctantly Cassie nodded.

"How 1ong's he been dead?"

~- :: ~ ~ ' "Almost six months."

~ ~ :~- ~:~' -'~ ~: "Six months."  He seemed to be calculating.

"You should have told me, Miss Cassie.  That's a long time for women and
children to survive alone out here."

"Thank you for your concern, Jedediah, but we've managed."

He tamped a bit of precious tobacco into his pipe.

"Last time I saw Ethan, I thought he was looking pale."

"When was that?"

'"Bout six months ago.  He asked me to take a pouch to the assayefts office
for him.  I recall thinking that what he ileeded was~" Quin saw the look of
surprise on Cassie's face.  "Pouch?"

The old man pulled himself back from his ramblings.  "Yes'm, Ethan didn't
tell you?"

"~ She shook her head.

"What was the assayer's report?"  "Can't say."

Jedediah shrugged.

"It was in a sealed envelope I gave to Ethan."

"Did he read the report?"

"Yes'm."

There was a sense of barely contained excitement in her voice.

"Did he seem happy or sad after he read the report?"

Jedediah thought a minute.

"Can't say as he was either.  He looked... grim.  Like a man about to go to
war."

Cassie's face fell.  She'd hoped.  "I recollect," Jedediah continued,

"Ethan muttering something about vultures picking at his bones.

"Course, now that I know he's dead, it makes sense."  "It does?"

"Yes'to.  I'd guess Ethan had some sense that he was dying and was worried
about those he'd be leaving."  He cleared his throat.

"That brings me to the rest of the talk in the saloon, Miss Cassie."

She waited while he glanced at the children before continuing.

"Cyrus Stoner is telling folks that you've taken up with a gun-toting
gambler, ma'am."  He swiveled his head to peer at Quin.

"You see," Luella cried,

"I knew he would bring scandal-" "And he's saying that you're just doing what
comes naturally, since you were..."  He shot a glance at Luella and his
leathery neck flooded with color.

"Begging your pardon, ma'am, I just wanted to warn you about what Cyrus
Stoner's been saying."

For a moment Luella looked as though she'd been struck dumb.  Cassie watched
sadly as her mother stood and walked to the fireplace, keeping her back to
the othJedediah continued.

"He's also saying that since the gambler came to live here, there are strange
things happening out here."

"What strange things?"  Cassie tore her troubled gaze from her mother's rigid
back.

"Several of Stoner's ranch hands found dead at the edge of town.  The bodies
of three of his men found frozen in an abandoned barn just over that ridge.
And the foreman of Stoner's ranch found floating in the river."

"How many men are dead?"

"Ten, at last count, ma'am."

Cassie glanced over the old man's head to where Quin stood.  The Crow had
been back to her cabin twice since they brought the cow.  Both times they had
spoken with Quin before taking their leave as silently as they'd arrived.

And both times Quin had been grim faced.  But when she had asked him what
they wanted, he told her that they were just reporting on the activities of
Stoner's men.  Even though a part of her mind told her that Quin had probably
been trying to protect her and her family from the brutal facts, another part
of her was furious that he had withheld information from her.

"And you came out here to warn me about the gossip."

"No, ma'am.   I just came to see for myself that you were getting by."   He
shot a quick glance at Quin, then back to her.

"And now that I've seen, I'll be taking my leave."

"Thank you, Jedediah.  For your friendship, and for taking the time to come
all this way."

"No trouble, Miss Cassie."

.

As she took the empty plate and cup from him he said, "If you don't mind,
Miss Cassie, I'd like to visit Ethan's grave before I return to town."

"Of course."

She pulled on a buckskin jacket and picked up her rifle before leading him
outside.  Quin followed.  They walked to the edge of the forest in silence.
When they reached the snow-covered mound, Cassie knelt while the two men
doffed their hats and bowed their heads.

It was a somber group that returned to the cabin a short time later.

As Jedediah pulled himself into the saddle, he leaned down and whispered for
Quin's ears alone,

"I don't want to alarm Miss Cassie and the others, but I got a look at the
bodies of Stoner's men.  Most of 'em weren't killed by white men.  It looks
like the work of Crow to me."  The two men eyed each other for long, silent
moments.

A slow smile touched the old man's lips.

"I get the idea that you're not surprised."

Quin merely shrugged.

"You look like a man who knows how to handle that gun, McAllister.  I think
maybe Miss Cassie and her family are in good hands."

"Thanks, Jedediah."  As the old man reached for the reins, Quin caught them.

"Tell me something.  After you brought that assayer's report to Ethan, did he
ask you to mail a letter?"

"Letter?"  The old man scratched his beard.

"Nope.  Ethan never gave me any letter."

Looking beyond Quin to where Cassie stood alone, Jedediah called, "Don't you
pay any attention to the gossip being spread by Cyrus Stoner, Miss Cassie.
No one else will.  The good people of Prospect don't bother to judge a person
by what others say."

"Thank you, Jedediah," she called.

"Goodbye."  Quin took a step back, and the old man touched a hand to his hat.

"Goodbye, Miss Cassie.  McAllister."  When the horse and rider were gone, she
turned a frigid look on Quin.

"Ten men, Mr. McAllister.  All dead.  And all killed by our... good
neighbors."

"Would you rather the bodies had been your mother?  Your children?"

She flinched.

Regretting his words spoken in anger, he deliberately softened his tone.

"I'm convinced that Ethan found proof of his treasure.  That's the only
reason he'd ask you to stay here.

And somehow, Cyrus Stoner found out about it, and wants it for himself.  "

"Treasure."  She turned away, still angry.

"You heard Jedediah.  When Ethan opened the assayer's report, he looked grim.
Does that sound like a man who'd just been informed of a treasure?  I won't
have men killed for the sake of something that may not even exist."  Quin
caught her by the arm.  His voice was low with anger.

"A man like Stoner will stop at nothing to have what he wants.

Without the help of the Crow, we'll be the ones dying.  Is that what you
want?  "

"I don't know."  Tears blurred her vision and she drew herself stiffly away.

"I don't want any more violence, any more death on my hands.  I don't want
gossip ruining our good names.  I just want to be allowed to live in peace."

"Then sell to Stoner and walk away."

For what seemed an eternity they stared at each other in silence.

Finally she lowered her head.

"How can I sell Ethan's dream?"

He lifted her chin and gave her a grim smile.

"That set- ties it then.  Starting tomorrow, we devote at least a few hours
every day to the mine."

Reluctantly she nodded, then turned and made her way inside.

Heading toward the barn, Cassie paused as Quin brought the ax down, neatly
splitting a log.  He had shed his parka and rolled his sleeves, revealing
muscles that rippled each time he lifted the ax above his head.

Seeing her, he stopped.  A breeze ruffled his dark hair and she felt her
throat go dry.

In the past days, the attacks from Stoneifs men had abruptly halted.

Life at their little cabin had fallen into a routine of hard work, followed
by an early supper, and then a long night of more work.  After morning
chores, they all worked in the mine.  After supper, when the children were
tucked into bed, Quin and Cassie would spend several more hours in the mine.
But though they searched the uncharted tunnels below the ground, they found
no sign of treasure, and no sign of Ethan's last work site.  The hours were
long, but Quin managed to make it all seem like a pleasant diversion.  It was
a gift he had, Cassie mused.

He could make even the toughest tasks seem like fun.  Each evening, though he
was probably exhausted from the demands made on him, Quin managed to find an
hour or two to relax around the fire.  He taught the children card tricks,
and was able to coax all but Luella to join him in poker.

Underneath his charming smile, however, Cassie sensed a layer of pain that
Quin kept carefully hidden from view.

It was there, just below the surface.  Sometimes, in unguarded moments, she
was able to glimpse it as he gently teased her daughters, or turned away to
stare silently into the flames of the fire.  She found herself wondering, as
she often did, what his life had been like before the war.

Quin watched as Cassie disappeared into the barn.  He always felt the same
familiar jolt at his first glimpse of her in the morning.  Despite the faded
gown and mud-spattered boots, she was the kind of woman who took a man's
breath away.  The face of an and the body of a temptress.  Skin as cool and
pale as porcelain; hair that, when brushed loose, reminded him of heat and
fire and passion.

The hardest part of being here was working alongside her and never being able
to touch her.  But he knew if he did, he wouldn't be able to stop, and a
fine, decent woman like Cassie would wind up hating him.

With his muscles protesting and his back aching, he stacked the wood neatly
beside the cabin, where it joined several more cord of logs he'd chopped and
split.  By now there was enough wood to see them through the harshest of
winters.

Struggling beneath another armload, he cursed and called himself every kind
of fool.  What in hell was he doc ing here?  He might have the Montgomery
family fooled, but he couldn't hide the truth from himself.  He was here
because of a pair of haunting green eyes that had looked into his and touched
his soul.  He might tell the others that he worked so hard because he wanted
to be prepared, but he knew better.  Work was the only release from all the
heat and passion that were building inside him.

~ ~When I get big," Jen said as she gathered eggs,

"I'm never going to be afraid of anything."

"That's just silly," Becky called from the other side of the barn.

"Everybody is afraid sometimes."

"Not Mr. McAllister," Jen retorted.

"Tell her," she called to Quin.

"Tell Becky that you're never afraid."

Cassie, seated beside the cow, looked up in alarm.  But before she could
interrupt, she heard Quin's voice, low, serious.

"I can't do that," Ouin called from the stall.

"It would be a lie, Jen.  Becky is right.  Everybody is afraid at some time
in their lives."

"Even you?"  The little girl was astonished.  "I've been afraid a lot of
times."

"Then how come you stayed here and joined in our fight?"  she demanded.

Becky stood, straight and still, watching and listening, her eyes wide.

"Because some things are more important than fear," Ouin explained.

Seeing the way Becky studied him, he leaned on his pitchfork and said gently,

"There's nothing wrong with being afraid.  It's as natural as every other
emotion.  But the measure of a person is how they behave 131 while they're
afraid.  When something needs to be done, it's up to all of us to do it."

Cassie closed her eyes and whispered a grateful prayer.  Then, lifting the
pail of milk, she called,

"Bring the eggs, Jennifer.  Your gram is waiting to fix breakfast."  "Yes'm."

They departed on a swirl of icy wind.

The barn returned to silence, with only the soft swishing sound of Quin's
pitchfork as it moved through the straw.

' "Do you think I'm pretty, Mr. McAllister?"

"Quin looked up.   He'd thought the girl had left with her mother and sister.

"You're very pretty, Becky."

She walked closer and leaned her arms on the rail.

"As pretty as my mama?"

He spread fresh hay before setting the pitchfork aside and mopping his
forehead with his sleeve.

"It's plain to see that you're going to look just like her when you grow up."
"I am grown-up."  She ducked under the rail and stepped into the stall
beside him.

"Mama and Gram might not think so, but I am in the eyes of the chief and his
son."

Quin picked up a piece of cloth and began rubbing down his horse.  His
movements stilled when she placed a hand on his arm.  Her voice came from
directly behind him, where she stood on tiptoe to make herself taller.

"I've never been kissed by a man, Mr. McAllister, and I was wondering" --
"Becky."  Tamping down on his surprise, he tossed the cloth aside and turned
toward her.  He caught her by the shoulders and held her a little away, so
that she was forced to look into his eyes.

"Don't you want to kiss me, Mr. McAllister?"

His mind raced.  He had to find a way to refuse her without causing undue
pain or embarrassment.  She was troubled enough as it was.

"I remember being your age.  My body used to run ahead of my mind sometimes.
I said and did whatever I thought, without regard to the consequences.  And
oh, how I wanted.  I wanted things I knew I wasn't ready to have, but I
wanted them anyway."  She opened her mouth to protest but he continued
smoothly,

"I know that it's very tough, growing up out here, alone and isolated, to
sort through so many confusing feelings.  It's true that you're almost a
woman, Becky.  But you still have so much of life ahead of you.  Don't be in
a hurry.  Take the time to learn, to do, to experience all that life has to
offer.  And most of all, be stingy with your kisses.  Save them for special
people.  That way, when you finally give your heart, it will be to someone
who deserves it."

Her cheeks flamed.

"You think I'm just a little girl, don't you?"

"No, Becky.  I've seen so many good qualities in you.  I think you're a very
fine, special person."

~"But not as fine and special as Mama."

~She lifted her chin in that same defiant way as Cassie, and he bit back a
smile.

"What do you mean?"

"I mean, Mr. McAllister, that I've seen the way you watch my mother when you
think no one is looking.  If she was standing here offering her kisses, I
don't think you'd refuse."

Instead of the angry denial she expected, he laughed.  "You're right, Becky.
I sure would enjoy having your mother offer to kiss me."  His laughter faded,
but his smile remained.

"But remember this.  Your mother is a very wise woman.  Wise enough to know
that she shouldn't waste her kisses.  And I hope you'll take a lesson from
her."

                                      I

                                      I

She swallowed, touched by his honesty.

"You're not mad at me for asking?"

"Mad?  Becky, I'm flattered."  He pressed a kiss to the top of her head, then
turned her around and said,

"Now, you'd better get back to the cabin and give your grandmother a hand
with the cooking."

As she let herself out of the barn, Becky shot a last quick glance at the man
who had already returned to his chores.

In his eyes there had been neither censure nor condemnation.  In fact, what
she had seen was--the realization stunned her--the look of a loving father.

"Rebecca.  Didn't you see these eggs?"  Luella pointed to a cluster of eggs
in the straw.

"No, Gram.  I guess I overlooked them."

"There's no excuse for such carelessness, child.   Open your eyes."

"I'm not a child, Gram.  I'm almost a woman."

"Then act like one, and take pride in your chores, no matter how menial they
may seem."   Luella touched a finger to the unlatched barn door.   Her eyes
flashed.

"Did you forget the rule?  You're to see to certain precautions at all times.

Your carelessness could cause harm to you and, what is worse, to Jen, who
depends on you.  Now latch this door at once.  "

"Yes, ma'am."  In sullen silence Becky crossed the barn and threw the latch.

"This is another reason why I want you to consider following in my footsteps
and studying at Miss Atherton's Conservatory of Music in Savannah.  Music is
a discipline, Becky.  You have the gift, but lack the discipline.  At Miss
Atherton's, you will become prepared for all of life's hard lessons."  :~ :
"I told you, .Gram I have no intention of ever returning to the South.

And as for my singing.  " The girl's voice trembled.

"I only sang for Pa.  And now that he's gone..."  She turned away to hide the
tears.

From his position in the stall, Quin watched and listened, wishing he could
think of some way to ease the tension.

The war of nerves was beginning to take its toll.  Unable to go outdoors
alone, the children bickered over the simplest things.  They argued over
their sums.  They argued over who would sit closest to the fire after supper.
They even fought for the last biscuit on the plate.  At the most unexpected
time, Becky would stare dreamily into the flames, or sulk in the barn.  Often
after supper she ordered Jen out of the bedroom they shared with their
grandmother, declaring that she desired her privacy.  To taunt her, the
little girl would sneak in and catch her writing poetry on her slate, or
staring at her reflection in a chipped mirror.  Then the bickering would
begin again.

Luella found fault with everything her daughter or grandchildren did.

She fretted, too, about the dwindling supplies of flour and sugar.  The war
and its aftermath had left permanent scars on the old woman's soul.

Remembering the terrible hunger of that time, she lived in fear of starvation.

Quin's card games with the children after supper were a constant source of
irritation to her, as well.  She called cards the devil's tools and
threatened to burn them if she found them lying around one more time.

Cassie struggled to soothe, to admonish, to cheer.  But the long hours spent
in the mine after the others went to sleep, coupled with the added tensions,
were beginning to show.  She moved through her chores more slowly, often
forgetting to make coffee, or burning the biscuits.  When

                                      I

135 that happened, her mother would remind her how much her carelessness cost
them.

One evening after supper, Luella began her usual litany of complaints.

"We're almost out of flour.  And sugar.

And I'm almost out of thread.  And if we don't soon"-- " Ma.  "

Distressed, Cassie turned too suddenly and felt the plate slip through her
soapy hands.  Before she could catch it, it shattered on the floor.

"Now look what you've done," Luella cried.

"How could you be so clumsy?  That was one of the last of my mother's dishes.
They're all I have left of her."  With tears stinging her eyes, Cassie bent
to pick up the shards of china.

I'll clean this up.  " Ouin snatched up a broom and gently herded the two
women across the room.

"Mrs.

Chalmers, why don't you tend to your mending?  And Cassie, go sit by the
fire.  It's time you got off your feet.  "

"I don't need" -- "Never argue with someone bigger than you," he said with a
grin.

The two children watched in amazement as he 'swept up the broken glass, then
proceeded to wash the dishes.  Turning he called to them,

"Are you going to just sit ~: there?  Or are you going to dry?"

At once Becky and Jen picked up towels and began to work alongside him.

"How long has it been since you went to town?"  Quin asked as he set a stack
of plates in the part of soapy water.

"A year, I guess."  .  Becky muttered.

"The last time I went to Prospect, I was with Pa."

"How about you, Jen?"

"I've never been to town."  The LITTLE gift set a dry plate on the table and
reached for another, being extremely careful.  She wouldn't want to have her
grandmother di136 A~gel rect her anger at her.  And she certainly didn't want
to see her mama cry again.

"Pa said I was too little.  I had to stay home with Mama and Gram."

"You mean the whole family never went into town together?"

Becky shook her head.

"We couldn't.  Pa said some, body had to stay here and tend the animals."

"That does it."  Quin dried his hands and unrolled his sleeves, then turned
to Cassie and her mother.

"Tomorrow we're leaving for Prospect."

For a moment the two women stared at him in stunned silence.

' "All of us?"  Cassie asked in amazement.  "That's fight."

"But what about the animals?"  Luella asked.  "We'll ask our neighbors to see
to the cow and the chickens."

"Neighbors?"  Luella peered at him.

"You mean the Crow?"

"That's fight.  And in payment they can help themselves to the milk and eggs.
I'd say that's a fair trade, wouldn't you?"

"What about Cyrus Stoner's men?"  Cassie asked.  "They haven't been spotted
around here in nearly a week."

"But once they know we're in town, won't they jump at the chance to break
into our cabin?"  Cassie shivered.

"In fact, what's to stop them from burning us out while we're away?"

"The same thing that stopped them before," Quirt answered.

"It wasn't our guns that drove Stoner's men off.

It was our neighbors, the Crow.  Besides, this is all part of the game.  You
have to show Stoner that you're not afraid 137 to leave your cabin.
Otherwise, you become a prisoner of your fear.  "

Cassie frowned.

"Do you really think it's safe to go into Prospect?

It's almost a whole day on the trail.  "

"I not only think it's safe," Quin said,

"I think it would be good for all of us."

"What about money?"  Luella, ever the practical one, began to fret aloud.

"Besides the supplies, we'll need lodging and meals in town.  We have no
money for such frivolous things."

"I'll hunt up a couple of deer right now.  And whatever else I can find."
Quin crossed the room and picked up his rifle.

"We'll barter the meat and pelts for whatever we need.  Now, what do you say?"

Cassie glanced at her children.  Becky had her hands pressed together in
supplication.  JeWs eyes pleaded with her, awaiting a response.

She let out a long breath.  "

" I know I'll regret this.   But.   all right.   "

With a smile Quin let himself out.

After lifting down the last of the flour and sugar, Cassie began mixing
biscuit dough.

"I'd better start baking.  We'll need enough food to get us all the way to
Prospect."  With a yelp, Becky began dancing around the room.  Jen broke into
a grin so wide it seemed to cover her whole face.  Only Luella seemed more
restrained than usual as she set aside her mending and joined her daughter at
the table.  She whispered,

"If we're truly going to Prospect, you'll need to have that talk with Becky."
Cassie looked up, and her mother could read the refusal she was about to
make.

Clutching her arm, Lnella continued,

"If, as Jedediah has said, Cyrus Stoner has already spread vicious gossip,
you must prepare her."

"Oh, Ma" -- "Now, girl," Luella said urgently.

"You must not put this off."

With great reluctance, Cassie dried her hands on her apron and called,

"Rebecca, would you give me a hand in the barn, please?"

As she walked, Cassie steeled herself against the inevitable questions.  Once
inside she leaned against the closed door and studied her daughter in
silence.  Becky looked around.

"Why are we here, Mama?  What do you need my help with?"

"I need to talk to you, away from the others."  "Talk?  About what?"

"About... about growing up," Cassie said softly.  "I didn't think you
noticed."  Becky's frown turned into a smile.

"Mama, how old were you when you married Pa?"

"Fourteen.  Almost fifteen."

"Why, you" -- Becky's eyes widened.

"You weren't much older than I am."

"You're only twelve, Rebecca."

~ ~ "I'll be thirteen in January."  .  "You're still a little girl."

"Jen's little, Mama.  I'm almost grown.  why, I'm taller than you already."

Cassie felt a knife pierce her heart.  She wished she could deny the truth,
but it was there for her to see.

"There are so many things I want for you, Rebecca.  A fine home and
education.  A chance to be young and carefree.  A chance to experience life
before you settle down and raise a family of your own."

"But what about what I want, Mama?"  Cassie looked startled.

"What do you want?"

The girl's voice lowered.

"Do you know, Mama, that's the first time you've ever asked?"

Cassie felt tears spring to her eyes, but quickly blinked them away.

Moving closer, she said,

"I guess I've been so busy seeing to all the things that needed doing after
your father died, I forgot about the things you and Jennifer might be wanting
or dreaming about."  She caught Becky's hand, but the girl tugged it free and
turned away.  "why don't you tell me what you want, Rebecca."

"That's just it.   I don't know."   Her voice quivered with unshed tears.

"But I feel things.  Things I don't understand.  And I want..."  She kicked a
toe in the straw, searching for the words.

"I don't know what I want.  I just know I want to be more than your little
girl, or Jen's big sister, or Gram's eyes.  I want to be treated like
somebody who can make her own decisions, even if they're the wrong ones."
She glanced up defiantly.

"I suppose Mr. McAllister told you."

Cassie stiffened.

"Told me what."  "

" That I asked him to kiss me.   "

Though she was surprised, she merdy said,

"No, Mr. McAllister never said a word."

Becky's cheeks flamed, aware that she had no choice now but to confess
everything.

"I came up to him here in the barn and asked him to kiss me.  And he said I
should save my kisses for someone special."

Cassie experienced a wave of relief that he had been so gentle with her
daughter.  It was one more favor she would owe Quin McAllister.

"He gave you very good advice," she said tenderly.

"But..."  Becky's lips quivered.

"How will I ever find someone special out here, Mama?"

In the silence that followed, Cassie watched as her daughter's body shook
with the tears she could no longer hold back.  For the space of several
moments she agonized over what she had to say.  Then, stepping closer, she
dropped an arm around the girl's trembling shoulders.  "You may not believe
this, Rebecca, but I know how you feel.  I remember saying something quite
similar to my mother."  A smile came into her voice as she remembered.

"It was such a carefree time.  I wish you could have known what it was like
then.  It was before the war, before the madness .... " She took a deep
breath.

"I was so young.  And pretty.

Oh," she added quickly, " not as pretty as you are.  But pretty, I suppose.
And there were young men paying attention.  It's very exciting, having young
men who notice you.  " She tightened her grip on her daughter, thinking about
the chief's son, and the way he watched Rebecca.

"You walk differently, knowing they're watching.  And you begin to feel
things .... " She sighed.

"I was looking forward to dances, and parties.  But my mother was worried, as
all mothers worry, that such things would turn my head.  You see, Rebecca, my
mother knew all too well what can happen to a pretty, carefree girl.  Though
you wouldn't know it now, your grandmother was a rare beauty when she was
young.  And there was a young man who hurt her.  He..."  Cassie swallowed.

"There are always callow young men who want a pretty girl, just so they can
boast to their friends.  But they don't really care about her.  And when they
have satisfied their own needs, they leave her... soiled."

Shocked, the girl's head came up.

"Gram was hurt by a man?"

Cassie nodded.

"He claimed to love her, then, when he discovered that she was carrying his
child, he abandoned her."

"Oh!"  For the first time in her young life, Becky could see her grandmother
not as an old woman, but as a young, beautiful girl.

"What did she do?"

"It was a terrible, desperate time for your grandmother.  Her family turned
against her, claiming that she had disgraced them.  People who had once been
her friends turned against her, as well.  But one man didn't care what others
thought.  He saw only goodness in her, and offered her his love and
protection.  Though you don't remember your grandfather, he was a wonderful
man who married her and loved her and her baby with all his heart."

"What happened to the baby?"

Cassie blinked, aware that her daughter, so caught up in the story, had no
idea.

"I was that baby, Rebecca."

"You!"

"Yes.  And I grew up with a special burden.  I always felt that I had to
prove to my mother that I would not repeat her mistake.  So when she saw that
boys had begun to no- rice me, and that I was responding to them, she
insisted that it was time I married.  She said that she had found the perfect
man for me.  And though I argued and wept and pleaded, in the end I did as I
was told.  I married your father, even though I hardly knew him."

"Oh, Mama."  Becky threw her arms around her mother's neck and began to cry.

For a moment Cassi was almost overwhelmed by all the old feelings that
swamped her.  Her pain was as fresh as it had been all those years ago, when
she had felt hopelessly trapped.

Then she gathered her strength.

"Hush.  It's all right.  Your father was such a good man.  He truly loved me.
And he loved you and Jennifer, as well."

Cassie wiped her daughter's tears, then drew her close and murmured, "I give
you my word, Rebecca.  You will never be asked to pay for the sins of
others.  Whatever choices you make in your life, I will stand behind you."

"Oh, Mama," the girl sobbed.

"I love you."

"I love you, too, Rebecca.  I will always love you."  They stood, clinging to
each other for long, silent minutes.

Then, swallowing back her tears, Cassie said,

"Your grandmother asked me to tell you, so that you would be prepared before
our visit to Prospect.  Cyrus Stoner may have spread ugly gossip."

"Knowing doesn't change the way I feel about Gram," Becky said.  She sniffed
back her tears and, pausing at the door to the barn, asked,

"Mama?  Did you love Pa?"

"I..."   Cassie paused.   It was a question she had never allowed herself to
probe too deeply.   But now she no longer feared the answer.   Taking a deep
breath, she looked into her daughter's eyes.

"Yes, Rebecca.  Your father was a good man.  I will carry his memory always
in my heart."

They left, arm in arm.

When the door closed behind them, Quin stepped from the stall where he'd been
saddling Cutter.  He hadn't meant to eavesdrop, but there had been no way to
make his presence known.  ~ ~ Leaning against the stall, he took a cigar from
his pocket and held a match to the tip.  Secrets, he thought as smoke curled
upward.  Everybody had them.  And if you lived long enough, you stopped being
shocked by them.  But now that he'd overheard, he faced an even worse dilemma
than before.  He would have to be more diligent than ever to see that he kept
a tight rein on his feelings.

By the time Quin returned from the forest, it was well past midnight.

He had fashioned a travois behind Cutter to haul the game--three deer, a bear
and half a dozen rabbits.

The little cabin was filled with the fragrances of biscuits and beef and
venison and the sharp, pungent odor of lye soap.  A rope had been strung
across the length of the cabin.  On it hung dresses and several feminine
frilly petticoats, as well as a little girl's shirt and patched britehes.
Luella and the children, despite their eager anticipation, had retreated to
their beds.  Cassie, wearing a prim nightgown covered by a modest shawl, was
asleep in the rocking chair.

Quin dropped to his knees beside her and drank in the vision of her as she
slept.  Her hands rested on top of the shirt she'd been mending for Jen.
Such small hands.  So work roughened.  Quin placed one of her hands on his
and~ gently lifted it to his lips.  She smiled in her sleep but didn't awaken.

A lock of hair had fallen over one eye.  He lifted a finger to it, brushing
it aside, and allowed himself the luxury of studying the smooth brow, the
curve of cheek, the full sculpted lips that begged to be kissed.

She stirred, then opened her eyes.  Seeing him so close, she was jolted fully
awake.

"I'm sorry," she murmured.

"I meant to stay awake until you returned.  I've left the bucket of water
over the fire to wash your clothes."

As she started to stand, he placed his hands on her shoulders and eased her
back into the chair.

"You've done enough for one day, Cassie."

"But your clothes" -- "I' 11 wash them."

"No.  You've already done more than you should.  Please," she whispered
furiously.

"Let me wash your clothes before you go into town.  You arrived here looking
so splendid.  And now, you look" -- "Like a tired, dirty rancher."  He smiled.

"Don't worry yourself over it.  I'm capable of washing my own clothes.

The only thing you're going to do is sleep.  " To prevent any further
protest, he bent and lifted her in his arms.  For a moment, as he cradled her
against his chest, he felt a rush of heat that left him stunned.

Cassie, too, felt the jolt, and was troubled by it.  But though she wanted to
resist, there seemed nothing to do but wrap her arms around his neck.  That
simple movement was followed by the press of her cheek against his.

She breathed in the musky, male scent of him, filling her lungs with him.

"I'll never be able to sleep," she whispered.

"I'm too excited... about tomorrow, I mean."

"Mmm-hmm."  He could have stood there like that for hours, holding her just
so.

"Trust me.  You'll sleep."  His breath was warm against her temple as he
carried her to her bedroom.

After drawing back the covers, he deposited her in her bed.

For a moment, as he tucked the blanket around her, he felt a sudden, violent
arousal that had his pulse racing.  The thought of lying with her, of
spending the night loving her, was almost more than he could resist.  i~ji~
He rubbed the back of his knuckles affo~s her cheek in a gesture that was
achingly tender.

"Good night, Cassie."

It took all of his willpower to turn and walk from the room.  She was asleep
before he lowered the blanket that served as a door.

Chapter Twelve A leaden sky threatened snow.  A north wind blew across the
plains, stinging the eyes, reddening cheeks to the color of berries.  But the
little party, bundled into furs in the wagon, was as festive as if they were
on their way to a summer picnic.

The two plow horses easily pulled the wagon across the frozen ground.

Quin was astride Cutter, who pranced eagerly alongside the wagon.

"I see no Indians, Mr. McAllister," Luella called.  "No, ma'am.  But they're
there."  Quin knew, by the prickly feeling along his scalp, that they were
watching nearby.  And though they would leave everything exactly as they
found it, he knew that the Crow would enter the cabin and satisfy their
curiosity about its occupants.  He smiled.

For that reason he had left a cigar on the table, as a gift for the chief.

"All this land you see now belongs to Cyrus Stoner," Cassie said.

"It stretches from here all the way to Prospect."

Quin scanned mile after mile of rolling plains.

"If a man's worth is judged by how much land he owns, I'd say Stoner is a
very wealthy man.  Why would he need yours?"

Cassie looked away.  The same thought had occurred to her.

"How long before we're there?"  Jen called.  "We have hours to go.  And more
miles than you can count."  Quin urged Cutter up a hill and surveyed the vast
empty land that lay before them.  Glancing back at the 'wagon, he took pity
on the little girl, wedged on a hard seat between her sister and grandmother.
He wheeled his mount and retraced his steps.

"How'd you like to ride with me, Jen?  We'll scout the trail ahead."

The little girl's eyes lit.  Turning to her mother, she whispered,"

Please, Mama.  "

Cassie stared at Quin, astride his magnificent stallion, bundled into his
cowhide duster, the wide-brimmed hat casting his eyes in shadow.  This
morning, before dawn, when she had ironed his shirt, she had held the fine
fabric to her face, breathing in the scent of him that still lingered in the
folds.  There was a time when she had taken such finery for granted.  Now her
faded gingham gown seemed all the more shabby by contrast to his expensive
apparel.

"I think the c~d should stay~,~ith us," Luella said sternly.  ~ -~.  ~a~
~:r~c, ia:: "She'll be fine, Ma.  You may go with Mr. McAllister, Jennifer."

At her mother's words Jen gave an excited yelp before being lifted in C}uin's
strong arms.

"Think you can hang on?"  C}uin asked.

"Yes, sir."

In one smooth motion Quin settled Jen behind him.  The girl wrapped her thin
arms around Ouin's waist, and Cutter took off at a slow, easy pace.

"It might be rough going at times."  Ouin guided his mount up a steep,
slippery incline.

"You let me know when you get tired, Jen."

"I'm n~ver going to get tired of this."  $en's voice quivered with excitement.

"Look."  Ouin pointed and the child was suddenly rendered speechless at the
sight of hundreds of buffalo spread out on the plain below.  Their great
shaggy bodies moved slowly as they pawed the blanket of snow in search of
precious bunch grass.

When she finally found her voice, Jen asked,

"Are you going to shoot some?"

Quin shook his head.

"We have more than enough meat in our wagon.

We'll leave the buffalo for our friends, the Crow.  Their survival depends
upon the buffalo.  " " Why?  "

"They use the buffalo for food and clothing.  They even build their tepees
with their skins."  Quin chuckled.

"And though I enjoy buffalo meat occasionally, the truth is, I much prefer
beef or venison."

"Me, too," Jen said emphatically.  Right now, she loved everything Quin
McAllister loved, even if she didn't know why.  But somehow, riding behind
this man, astride his big black stallion, Jen felt safe and warm and secure,
the way she had before her father had died.  And her heart was beating as
though it would burst from excitement.

Unlike her older sister, Jen could no longer remember the place of their
birth.  The stately mansions, the opulent life-style, the slow, gentle rhythm
of the South, were completely wiped from her memory.  She stared down at the
vast panorama spread out below and drank it in, feeling a welling of love.
From the stark mountain peaks around them, swarming with sheep and goats,
gri~lies and cougars, to the waterfalls and clear lakes, this strange,
foreign land had become home.

Overhead a hawk made slow, lazy circles and Jen pointed a finger as it
suddenly plummeted to the ground, only to lift into.  the air again, holding
a squealing rabbit in its beak.

"Breakfast," Quin said with a laugh.

"That reminds me.  Are you hungry yet?"

"No, sir."

"Good.  Hang on, then.  I'd like to take a look at what's ahead."

With a flick of the reins, Cutter broke into a run, and the little girl clung
to the man, blissfully unaware of the wind in her face.

Several hours later, when Quin noticed the press of Jen's cheek against his
back, and felt the girl's grasp go slack, he gathered her into his arms and
made his way to the wagon.  There, Jen was tucked into a nest of furs in the
back of the wagon, where she slept.

"Prospect."  Quin pointed and the LITTLE party studied the town in the
distance.  .

After spending so much time in their cramped cabin in the wilderness, they
were impressed by the distant cluster of buildings.  But as they drew nearer,
they realized that the town was small, even by their standards.  As the wagon
rolled along the main street, which was really only a wide dirt road, each of
them focused on a different building.

For Luella, the only building that mattered was the church, with its crude
wooden cross.  It had been so long since she had heard the rich, resonant
tones of a preacher exhorting her to more lofty ideals, or the voices of a
congregation raised in song, touching a chord deep in her soul.  More than
anything else, she had missed the comfort of her church.

Becky's gaze was caught and held by Sutter's Memantile.  Through the window
she could see bolts of brightly colored fabric, and pretty bonnets adorned
with 'i i lace and feathers.  She was old enough to remember Atlanta before
the war, when the city had been every bit as fine as New York or Boston, or
so her father had told her.  Though she had never been to those other places,
she had thought Atlanta the prettiest city in the whole world.  In her drab,
faded dress, which had been made over from one of her grandmother's, she
thought there could be nothing more wonderful than a trip to the mercantile,
where she would wish and dream and pretend.

Jen stared hungrily at the tiny schoolhouse, wondering what it would be like
to hear the voices of other children talking, laughing, teasing.  Playing.
Learning.  There was so much she didn't know.  And she wanted to know
everything.

Maybe that was why she loved listening to Quin McAllister.  He had been
everywhere, had done everything.

And someday, Jen vowed, she would be like this man, roaming the land in
search of adventure.

For Cassie, it was the row of neat houses, with smoke curling from chimneys,
and curtains at the windows.  She was unaware of the look of hunger that
crossed her face as she watched women and children bustling about inside,
preparing supper.  How she missed the comfort of a real home and hearth.  She
had once presided over dozens of servants while she entertained hundreds of
Atlanta's finest citizens.

Her dinner parties had been the talk of the town.  Her gowns had come from
Pads and London, as had her furnishings.  And now.  she glanced down at her
hands, rough and callused from ranch chores.  Now she was lucky to survive
one day at a time.

As he led them through town, Quin's attention was drawn to the gaudy lights
of the saloon.  His eyes narrowed at the sound of a woman's laughter and
tinny piano music drifting on the evening air.  A scuffle erupted, and a
towering hulk of a man could be seen hurling a sec150 and man through the
swinging doors, where he landed in the dirty snow in the road.  At once
Quin's pulse quickened, his lips curved into a smile.

He turned.  Seeing Cassie watching him, he cleared his throat.

"We'll find a boardinghouse first.  Then I'll see to the horses."

As he continued along the dusty road, his smile fled.  He'd once boasted that
there was nothing that excited him like a game of chance.  And now?  Now, he
thought grimly, there was something else.  someone else, he corrected
himself, that excited him far more.

"Evening."  The blacksnii~h stepped out of his shed, eyeing the wagon and its
occupants.

"You folks planning on staying the night?"

"We'd like to.  Is there a boardinghouse in town?"

"Just down this road.   The widow Claxton keeps a clean place."   His teeth
flashed in a quick smile.

"Good cook, too.  That's where all the men in this town go to eat if they
aren't lucky enough to have a wife to cook for them."

"Thank you."

Quin turned to Cassie.  I'll settle everyone in first, then bring the horses
back here.  " After discussing price with the blacksmith, they settled on a
deer in payment.  Quin mounted and led the way to a large rambling house at
the edge of town.  Besides the main house, of two stories, there were several
large outbuildings in back.

A knock at the door brought a quick response.  The door was opened by a plump
woman whose dark hair was pinned into a neat knot.  A plain white apron was
tied around her ample middle.  She dried her hands on the apron before asking,

"Are you folks looking for just food, or food and lodging?"

"Both, ma'am."  Quin indicated the women and children in the wagon.

"Is there room for all of us?"

"Indeed there is."  She glanced at his rifle and side arm.  "I have two
rules.  Neither whiskey nor guns permitted in my house.  Can you abide by
that?"

"Yes, ma'am."

"Have you made arrangements for the horses and wagon?"

"I've already stopped by the stable and paid the smith."

"Fine.   My son Willy will see to them."

She stood aside and a boy of about fourteen or fifteen stepped outside,
pulling on a parka.  He was tall and rangy, with a dusting of fine blond hair
that spilled over a wide forehead.

After catching Quin's reins as he dismounted, the boy took the lead harness
and held the horses still while Quin helped everyone from the wagon.  His
blue eyes looked startled when he caught sight of Becky, seated between her
mother and grandmother.  When she looked up, he flashed her a bright smile.
.  "iiii,.

Becky blushed and turned away.  ~i~i:~ ~'~:~ ~i~ ~ ~ "Come in," Mrs. Claxton
called.  : .  ~ ~ '~' "Before we go inside, ma'am, I'd like to settle our
payment."  Quin indicated the two deer.

"I hope this will cover our rooms and meals.  I'd like to use the rest to buy
supplies."

The woman looked them over carefully, admiring the size and quality.

"These will more than cover everything, including tubs of warm water.  I
usually charge a dollar extra for such luxuries."  She strode to the porch
and held the door.

"Please, come inside."

Removing his holster, Quin handed it to her as he stepped past her.

The formal parlor boasted a horsehair sofa and several inviting, overstuffed
chairs.  A fire crackled in the fir~ place.

"Please sit and warm yourselves.  Supper won't be ready for another hour, but
I'll bring you tea and some biscuits before I show you to your rooms.  The
tubs and warm water will be brought up shortly."  The woman extended her hand
to Quin.

"My name is Florence Claxton."  "Ouin McAllister."

"Welcome, Mr. McAllister.  And Mrs. McAllister," she added, extending her
hand to Cassie.

Cassie felt her cheeks grow hot.

"My name is Cassie Montgomery.  And these are my children, Rebecca and
Jennifer.  And my mother, Luella Chalmers."

"Forgive me.   I just thought..."   The woman arched a brow.

"Mr.  McAllister is your... ?"

"Ranch foreman," Quin put in quickly.

Just then a muscular youth of sixteen or seventeen entered the parlor with an
armload of logs for the fire.

"You met my son Willy.  And this is my son Zack," Florence said.

"Zack, say hello to Mr. McAllister."

The youth deposited the wood beside the fireplace, then wiped his palms on
his pants and extended his hand to Quin.

"Mr.  McAllister."  Like his younger brother, Zack had fine blond hair.  But
there the similarity ended.  His arms were already corded with muscle.  He
stood nearly as tall as Quin.

"And this is Mrs. Montgomery and her mother, Mrs. Chalmers, and her children,
Jennifer and Rebecca."

The young man acknowledged everyone with a smile, but his smile grew when he
caught sight of Becky.

"I'll need logs for the upstairs rooms, Zack.  And tubs of hot water,"
Florence said briskly.

"These folks are staying the night."

"Yes, ma'am."  The youth nodded and left the room.  A few minutes later they
heard his heavy footsteps as he car tied wood to the upper floors.

"I'll get that tea now," Florence said, "and then I'll show you to your
rooms."

She returned a short time later with a silver tray loaded with cups of
steaming tea and biscuits spread with butter and ]am.  For Jen there was a
mug of warm milk.  The little girl was so enchanted by the sweet jam that she
managed to down at least four biscuits before her grandmother scolded her.

"Enough, Jen," she said sharply.

"Leave something on the plate for the others."

"Yes'm."  Jen kept her eyes downcast until a little boy of six or seven
years, with fine, corn silk hair and an infectious grin, danced into the room.

"My name is Oren," he called.

"What's yours?"

"Jen."

~ For a moment he seemed taken aback, and it was clear that he'd thought the
little figure in the cap and britches was a boy.  Then, with the resilience
of the very young, his broad smile returned.

"Want to see our puppies?"  he asked.

Jen's eyes were suddenly alight with pleasure.  She jumped up, then cast an
anxious glance toward her mother, who nodded her assent.  With a delighted
laugh, she dashed off behind her newfound friend.

Florence Claxton appeared in the doorway.

"If you're ready, I'll take you to your rooms."  As they climbed the stairs
she said,

"I've given you four ladies the big bedroom."

She opened a door to reveal a large, airy bedroom with two big beds, each
covered with a colorful handmade quilt.  In addition there was a chest in one
corner, holding a porcelain basin and pitcher, and in the other corner a tall
looking glass.  The wood floor was softened with colorful rag rugs.  A cheery
fire burned in the stone fireplace.

On a rug in front of the fire was a tub filled with steaming water.

"I'll leave you to freshen up in here, while I show Mr. McAllister to his
room."

"Thank you, Mrs. Claxton."

"It's Florence," she said.

"Thank you, Florence."

The woman closed the door and led Quin along the hall toward a second,
smaller bedroom.  Inside was a sturdy bed made of rough timbers, in a room
made cozy by the addition of a huge stone fireplace.  As in the other room, a
tub of warm water stood on a rug in front of the fire.  "Supper in an hour,
Mr. McAllister," Florence said as she started down the stairs.

"Thank you, ma'am."

He closed the door.  Before she had even made it to the bottom step, he'd
stripped off his clothes and was immersed in warm water.  He leaned back,
eyes closed, while the rich smoke from a cigar curled above his head.

At a knock on his door he called,

"Come on in.  It isn't locked."

"Mr.  McAllister.  I wondered if..."  Cassie's skirts swirled around her
ankles as she bustled in and closed the door behind her.  Taming, she let her
word trail off.  Her face flushed several shades of scarlet.  She lifted her
hand to her throat.

"You should have told me you were... not decent."

"There's nothing indecent about this, ma'am," he said with a humorous drawl.

"It's just the way God intended."

"Perhaps, but I do not intend..."  Before she could turn away his hand
clamped around her wrist, holding her still.

"I was just wishing for someone to scrub my back.  Want to volunteer?"

He drew her down until she was forced to her knees beside the tub.  With a
lazy, sardonic smile that had her breath hitching, her heart racing, he
handed her a soapy cloth.

She was constantly being surprised by the strength in him.  Though he always
gave the impression of easygoing humor, she knew it masked an iron will.
Right now it was evident in the press of his fingers around her wrist.  It
would be useless to struggle.  Her strength was no match for his.

"You are too bold, Mr. McAllister."

"Did you ever think you may be too timid?"

"Timid?"   She drew back, but he held her firmly.   Her head came up, her
chin jutting in that way he'd come to recognize.

"If it is timid to refuse to play the part of a wicked, painted saloon girl,
then I am timid.  And if it is timid to blush at the sight of a naked man,
then I am timid.

But I will not play your game, Mr. McAllister.  " She took aim with the soapy
rag.  Seeing what she intended, he caught her hand in a vise like grip until
the rag dropped into the water.

"That wasn't nice, Cassie."

"Laughing, he dragged her close until she was pressed against the edge of
the tub.

"I

may have to teach you a.  lesson.  "

For one startled moment she stared at him, her eyes growing round with fear.
Then she saw his laughter fade.

His eyes darkened; his gaze fixed on her mouth.  Before she could pull back,
his arms were around her.  His lips coy156 ered hers in.  a hot, hungry kiss
that hinted of the passion smoldering just below the surface, waiting to
erupt.

She was so aware of him.  She could fe~l him in every part of her body.  She
kept her hands balled into fists, which she held firmly between them.  But at
the press of his naked torso, her hands slowly opened until her palms were
splayed across his hair-rougbened chest.

"Oh, God, Cassie."  His words were ground out against her mouth as he changed
the angle of the kiss and took it deeper.

She gave no thought to resisting.  All she could do was cling to him and
offer her lips.  Water sloshed over the rim of the tub, soaking the front of
her gown.  But still she clung to him, returning his kisses with a fervor
that matched his.

He lifted his head.  His eyes were the color of slate and she could see
herself reflected there.  As he drew her close, she felt the tiny threads of
excitement and fear.  How could she have allowed this to go so far?  When she
had entered his room, it had never occurred to her that he would be naked.
Naked.  There was something deliciously wicked about such a thing.  She was
shocked at her own boldness.  And yet, as he raised his mouth to hers, she
couldn't find the will to pull back.  All she could do was twine her arms
around his wet, warm neck and allow herself the pleasure.

His lips and hands were able to weave magic.  At the first taste of him,
there was no doubt that she wanted more.

He studied the way she looked, her cheeks flushed, eyes glazed.  The wet
fabric clung provocatively to the soft curves of her breasts, making them as
visible as if she wore nothing.

He felt a rush of heat as his hands moved along her back, drawing her even
closer.

"I don't believe I can stop, Cassie.  I have to keep on touching you, kissing
you."

Before she could protest, his lips covered hers in the softest, gentlest kiss
she'd ever known.  Despite the passion that raged between them, he held her
gently, like a fragile flower.

The only sound in the room was the quiet lapping of the water as it sloshed
perilously near the top of the tub, and the soft, barely audible sound of her
sighs.

Cassie had never believed a kiss could be this tender.  Quin touched his lips
to the corner of her mouth, to her nose, then pressed a kiss to her cheek.
With his tongue he traced the outline of her lips until he heard her sigh of
impatience.

Still he didn't take the kiss deeper, but moved his lips instead to her ear,
where he tugged on her lobe before circling her ear with his tongue.  His
breath sent little tremors along her spine, and she clutched blindly at his
waist when he darted his tongue inside her ear.  When she would have pulled
his mouth to hers, he pressed moist little kisses dlong her throat until she
moaned and arched her neck, giving him easier access.  With his tongue he
licked at the little drops of water that dripped at her throat.  Steeped in
such pleasurable feelings, she clung to him and moved in his arms.  Never had
she known such feelings.  Still, she didn't know what to do about them.  She
longed to touch the mat of hair on his chest, but she was afraid.  She was
aching to kiss his cheeks, his throat, to explore his ear as he had explored
hers.  But fear held her back.

When his lips bent to the swell of her breast, she let out a little gasp.
Through the wet cloth his lips found her already hard nipple.  At the first
touch of his lips she felt as if a fist had tightened deep inside.  Pleasure
pulsed through her body; her blood roared in her ears.

All her years as a wife had not prepared her for the shock that rippled
through her at his touch.  Ethan, aware of her youth and inexperience, had
been a far different lover than this man.  Out of respect for her need for
modesty, their only lovemaldng had been at night, under cover of darkness.

Never before had she experienced such mindless pleasure, such hard, driving
need.  And all of it by the light of the fire and the soft glow of lanterns.

She wanted him to go on touching her like this forever.  But she knew she had
to stop him.  How long, she wondered, could they continue this love play
before she lost all sense of reason?  There were so many things she didn't
understand.

Oh, if only there were someone to talk to.  But there was no one.  Her
mother, she knew, would be scandalized by such behavior.

Calling on all her willpower, she pushed herself free of his arms.

Lowering her face, she refused to meet his gaze.

Her cheeks burned with shame.

"Cassie."  Tipping her face upward, Quin stared into her eyes and saw a
glimmer of unshed tears.

"Look at me."

Her lids fluttered, and for a moment she met his look before lowering her
gaze.

                                      W

~:~ "You're a beautiful, desirable woman."  He C~iight her wrists, holding
her when she tried to pull away.

"It's the most natural thing in the world to share what we shared."  To cover
her embarrassment she resorted to the only weapon she had.  Anger.

"Let me go, Quin."

As he bent to kiss her again, her hand hit the water, sending a spray across
his face.

"I said let me go."

His hands fell away, leaving her to fall backward in a puddle that had formed
on the floor.

Stunned, she sat a moment, then, eyes narrowed, mouth a thin, tight line, she
scrambled to her feet.  She seemed puzzled by the grin that suddenly split
Quin's lips.  Then, looking down, she realized that her gown was soaked, both
front and back.

"You did that on purpose."

"I believe I did, ma'am."  His smile was swift and teasing.

"I kissed you on purpose, too.  And if you're not careful, I'll do it again."

"Oh."  She whirled and headed for the door, striving for as much dignity as
possible.  Her soaked petticoats and gown clung to her rounded bottom with
every step.

Behind her, Quin felt a rush of heat and wondered if she had any idea just
how seductive that haughty walk of hers was.  When the door slammed behind
her, he plucked the soaked cigar from the water and tossed it into the fire.

With a muttered oath he stepped dripping from the tub and, ignoring his
nakedness, strode across the room and picked up a thick square of linen.  As
he began to dry himself he paused, hands in midair.

What the hell had she done to him?

God in heaven.  Did he love her?  Was that it?

In the beginning, it may have been simple lust, he admitted logically.  But
now_ his feelings went much deeper.

But love?

Through the window came the tinny sounds of the piano from the saloon.  He
pulled on his pants and boots, then leaned against the sill and stared at the
men below walking through the swinging doors.  Ordinarily his first thought
after a satisfying bath would have been to mingle with the men and women who
frequented the saloon.  Now he hesitated.  Even the thought of a game of
poker had lost its appeal.

Damn this miserable snow-covered wilderness.  And damn the woman who'd
enticed him into staying.

With a savage oath he turned away and finished dressing.

Chapter Thirteen Cassie was grateful for the time alone in her room.  It was
a rare luxury, and one she intended to savor.  Thank heavens her mother and
daughters had already gone downstairs.  Their voices could be heard in the
dining room, where they chattered and laughed as they helped set the table
for supper.  She could have never explained her wet clothes.  Worse, they
would have known, by the high color on her cheeks, who had been responsible
for her disheveled state.

She lingered in the tub, then slowly dried herself.  What did Quin see when
he looked at her?  Dropping the towel, she studied her reflection in the
looking glass.  It had been so many years since she'd taken the time to
really look at herself.  What she saw startled her.

She had lost her youthful roundness.  Her figure was now that of a woman.
Far too slender for her taste.  High, firm breasts.  Tiny waist.  Long, slim
legs, and almost no hips.  She thought her features plain, with cheeks too
high, lips too large.  She never knew if her eyes were green or yellow.

Cat's eyes, her mother called them.  As changeable as her moods.  And her
hair.  She had always yearned for dark, silky curls, or a lion's mane of
flax.  Instead, thick hair the color of autumn leaves tumbled to her waist.
She glanced down at her hands, callused and work worn.  Cringing, she held
them behind her back for a moment, wishing Quin could have seen her as she'd
been before the war.  Young, pretty, carefree.  No, she thought suddenly.

That wasn't quite true.  Even as a child she had sensed her mother's need for
perfection.  Life had never been completely carefree.  But compared with her
life today, she had lived like a pampered princess.

With a sigh she studied her hands.  There was no sense trying to hide what
she'd become.  She was almost twenty-eight years old.  No longer a girl.  Her
own daughter was almost a woman.  And yet, there were times, like now, when
she felt all the confusion of a child, while posSeSsing all the needs and
desires of a woman.  She had no right to the feelings that swirled about
inside her, tempting her to go against everything she had ever believed in.
Yet the man in the next room could, with a simple touch, cause her to throw
caution to the wind and believe, for a little while, that she was young and
beautiful.  His boldness seemed to reach a need deep inside her.  A need to
take risks.  A need to taste and feel and--experience.  A need that had her
behaving in a most indecent manner.  Just thinking about the kiss they shared
had her cheeks flaming.

Such nonsense.  Next she would be sulking and dreaming like Rebecca.

She stepped into her petticoats, pulled on her faded gown, ran a brush
through her hair, and tied it back with a simple ribbon.  Then she resolutely
turned away from the looking glass, chiding herself for her vanity.

But as she descended the stairs, the sound of Quin's deep voice had her
heartbeat quickening, and she wished, fleetingly, that she could be young and
pretty again, if only for one brief moment.

"There you are," Florence Claxton called from the parlor.

Cassie paused in the doorway and felt her cheeks redden when Quin glanced up.
Though she was aware that there were others in the room, her gaze was drawn
to him.  "I ... was enjoying the luxury of a warm, leisurely bath,"

she confessed.

"That's just what Mr. McAllister was telling us."  Cassie's mouth dropped
open.  Quin's knowing smile had her quickly looking away, but not before he
caught the blush on her cheeks.

Unaware, Florence Claxton went on with her conversation with barely a pause.

"Mr.  McAllister said he couldn't recall when he'd enjoyed a bath more.
Isn't that right, Mr. McAllister?"

"Indeed it is, Mrs. Claxton."

"Florence," the woman corrected with a smile.  "Florence," Ouin repeated.

"Call me Quin."

Cassie's lips thinned.  It was plain to see that Quin McAllister had already
managed to charm the widow Claxton.

Turning to Cassie, Florence said,

"I believe you know Jedediah Taylor."

"Yes."  Cassie smiled at the old man standing with his backside warming
before the roaring fire.

"Jedediah has been a friend since we first came to Montana."

"And this is Sheriff Clayton Wilson."   Florence indicated a bewhiskered man
whose stomach protruded over his belt.   A leather holster was empty.   Out
of deference to his hostess, he had been forced to deposit his pistol on a
shelf by the front door.

"Mrs.  Montgomery."  He inclined his head and studied Cassie as she took a
seat on the sofa beside her daughter.

"I'm surprised that a town as small as this would need a sheriff,"

Quin remarked.

"We may be small," Florence said, "but some, like Cyrus Stoner, have a lot of
valuable land to protect."

"So you were hired by Cyrus Stoner."

The sheriff swiveled his head to peer at Quin.

"I was hired by the town of Prospect to keep the peace and protect its
interests."

Cassie had the impression that the sheriff was angered by Quin's remark.

When the front door opened on a gust of icy wind, everyone turned to watch
the arrival of their latest guest.  A tall figure in a long cowhide jacket
leaned his weight against the door, then turned to their hostess with a smile.

"Forgive me, Florence.  I didn't mean to hold up supper."  ' "Not at all,
Reverend Townsend.  We were just about to go into the dining room."  Handing
his coat to her son, Florence said,

"The reverend, being a widower, is staying at my place until his parsonage is
built.  Reverend, come and meet these nice folks who just arrived this
evening."  Leading him around the room, she made the introductions.

'~:' :~'~ '~,~.  ~'j~ "This is Mrs. Montgom~d her da" ~ghter, Rebecc~'~.  And
her mother, Luella Chalmers.  And this is their ranch foreman, Quin
McAllister.  "

The reverend was an impressive figure.  Tall, ruggedly handsome, with dark
hair just beginning to gray at the temples, he looked more like a prosperous
rancher than a man of the chumh.

"Nice to meet all you good folks."

"Where were you today, Reverend?"  Florence asked.  "Burying Lester Cleat's
father."

"So the Lord finally took him."

"Don't know about the Lord, but somebody shot the old man in the back, and
helped themselves to a herd of unbranded cattle," Reverend Townsend said as
he followed the widow into the dining room.

"Who do you think did it, Sheriff?"  Florence asked.  The lawman shrugged.

"I'm still investigating.  Indians, most likely."

The others trailed behind.  While they took their seats, Jen and Oren, their
hands and faces glowing, their hair slicked back, came racing into the room,
then skidded to a halt.

"Well, don't you two look clean," Florence said with a smile.

"Oren showed me his puppies."  Jen's voice was high with excitement.

"And he let me hold one.  Mama, it was this big," she said, moving her little
hands a few inches apart.

"And it licked my face and fell asleep in my arms."

"That's nice," Cassie said.

"I think he likes me," Jen whispered.

"Oren says Mr. Sutter over at the mercantile has offered to buy him for a
dollar.  Do you think I could" -- ~ "That's enough, Jennifer," Lu lla said
sharply.

"Say hello to Sheriff Wilson and Reverend Townsend."

"Hello."  Jen shot them quick smiles, then returned her attention to her
mother.

"I even thought of a name for the puppy."

"All right, folks," Florence called.

"Reverend Townsend will lead a prayer, and then you can all help yourselves."

Everyone bowed their heads while the minister offered a prayer of thanks for
the food.  Then, with the aid of her two older sons, Willy and Zack, Florence
Claxton began serving the food.  There were mashed potatoes and carrots Ansd
16.  5 and platters of roast beef and gravy.  And a part of biscuits still
warm from the oven.

"If the puppy was mine, I'd name him Whiskey," Jen continued, as though there
had been no interruption, "because he's the color of Mr. MeAl lister
whiskey."  Luella was clearly shocked.

"We will not permit such a name to be spoken in our house, child."

"All right.   Then I guess I could call him" -- the little girl studied the
biscuit in her hand "--Biscuit.   He's the color of Mrs. Claxton's biscuits."

"There is no point in this discussion," Luella said, glancing toward her
daughter for support.

"The puppy belongs to Oren.  It's his to name."

When Jcn opened her mouth to protest, Cassie touched a hand to her arm.
There was a pained expression on her face as she whispered,

"Your grandmother is right, Jennifer."

The little girl fell silent.

Sheriff Wilson studied Cassie across the table.

"Florence tells me you and your family live out on the plains.

What brings you to Prospect?  " ~_~t~J: :.~-~ ~;t:~ " We needed supplies.
Flour, sugar.  " ..... '~- ...... " And thread," Luella interjected.

"Don't forget my thread."

"Long way to come for a few simple things."  For some unexplained reason,
Cassie resented the sheriff's intense scrutiny.  He was studying her the way
a lawman might when taking the measure of an adversary.

"They may be simple, but they are necessary to our survival."  She abruptly
changed the subject.

"Did you know my husband, Reverend Townsend?"

"No, ma'am, I didn't."

"And you, Sheriff?"

"No, ma'am.  Never had the pleasure.

"Course, I've only been here a few months.  Florence tells me he's dead.  How
did it happen?"

"A lingering illness.  After the war he was never robust ."  ' "A pity you
didn't send for the reverend to give him a decent burial."

Again Cassi felt the piercing stare.  Had the sheriff heard that she had kept
Ethan's death a secret for all this time?  Ignoring Sheriff Wilson, she
turned to Reverend Townsend.

"I

couldn't ask you to spend an entire day on the trail.  " ..... " But I'd have
been happy to do it, my dear.  I've traveled farther than that to carry the
word of God to people who need marrying or burying.  "

"Speaking of burying..."  Sheriff Wilson turned to Quin.

"We've been doing a lot of that lately.  A number of Cyrus Stoner's men have
been turning up dead."  Quin helped himself to a second serving of meat and
potatoes.

"Some people just seem to have a string of bad luck."  He turned the full
force of his smile on his hostess.

"Florence, the blacksmith wasn't exaggerating when he said you were a fine
cook."

Her cheeks bloomed.

"Thank you.  But I can't take all the credit.

Luella gave me a hand in the kitchen.  I've already decided I like her recipe
for beef better than mine.  Try the biscuits.  Luella baked them.  "

The sheriff, refusing to be put off by easy banter, persisted.

"There are a lot of rumors in town, McAllister.

Some say you've east your lot with the Crow.  " " Now who would say a thing
like that?  " Ouin lifted a cup of coffee to his lips and studied the sheriff
over the rim.

Sheriff Wilson shrugged.

"Cyrus Stoner is a powerful man in these parts.  He doesn't take kindly to
having his men attacked and his cattle rustled."

"Rustled?"   Ouin set his cup down but kept his eyes narrowed on the sheriff.

"Is that what this is about?  Cattle rustling?"

"The Crow, especially during the long winter, need meat to survive.

And they're not above helping themselves to the property of others.  "

"They have all the game they need.  Just today we passed a herd of hundreds
of buffalo."

"According to Stoner, it's easier for the Crow to shoot the white man's
cattle than it is to hunt buffalo on the plains."

Quin's tone remained conversational, but there was a thread of steel in it.

"According to Stoner.  I suppose it was Cyrus Stoner who suggested that the
Crow were responsible for the death of the man the reverend buried today,
tOO."  ' "I believe it was.  I'll remind you, McAllister, in these parts,
cattle rustling is a hanging offense."

"I surely will keep that in mind."  Quin drained his cup.  "Fine coffee,
Florence."

"Wait 'til you taste my ma's apple cobbler," Willy boasted.

"With cinnamon and sweet cream," Oren added.  "My mouth is watering already."
Effectively dismissing the sheriff, Quin accepted a second cup of coffee and
winked at the little boy across the table.

Beside him, Sheriff Wilson could hardly contain his temper.

"You don't strike me as a fool, McAllister.  But only a fool would side with
thieving Indians against white men.

Especially when one of the whites is as powerful as Cyrus Stoner.  "

Quin said blandly,

"I've been called worse things than a fool, SherifL" Becky and Zack helped
Florenee serve the cobbler, to the raves of everyone at the table.

"My wife used to bake cobbler," Reverend Townsend said as he took his first
bite.

"I still miss it."

"How long has your wife been gone?"  Luella asked.  "Five years.  And your
husband?"

Luella thought about the man who had stood beside her for twenty years.  With
his gentle humor he could always teas~ her out of her little fits of temper.

"He's been gone for nine years now."

"That's a long time to be alone."

"Yes.  Well, I have my daughter and my grandchildren.  Do you have any
family, Reverend?"

"Please call me Matthew.  And the answer is no," he said a bit wistfully.

"My wife and I never had any children, though we'd always hoped the Lord
would bless us.  You're a very lucky woman to have your family."  He glanced
around the table.

"And you're all very lucky to have such a fine grandmother."

At his words Luella felt a warm glow.  She dipped a spoon into the cobbler
and took a bite.

"Oh, this is wonderful."

She sighed as she leaned back in her chair.

"I haven't eaten anything like this since before the war."

"Well, this is a festive occasion," Florence said as she walked around the
table, refilling coffee ~ups.

"Children, will you clear the table, please?"

Jen and Becky pushed away from the table and began to help clear away the
dishes, along with Zack, Willy and "Special occasion?"  Luella prodded.

Florence bobbed her head.

"I've been busy baking for over a week now, what with Christmas just a few
days away."  ' "Christmas!"  Jen and Becky stopped in their tracks.  "Why,
yes.  Don't tell me you two forgot."  Florence smiled at Luella.

"I knew all along why you folks came to town today.

To load your wagon with all the special things you'll need to celebrate.  "

"Christmas.  Of course."  Luella busied herself with her napkin.

"Let's take our coffee in the parlor," Florence said, leading the way.

Quin glanced across the table at Cassie, who had remained silent.  He was
surprised by the stunned look on her face.

Sensing his probing stare, she pulled herself together and got to her feet.
Squaring her shoulders, she followed the others into the parlor.

Shirtless, Quin stood by the darkened window of his room, listening to the
sounds of music and laughter that~ drifted from the saloon.  It seemed
strange that he wasn't .  tempted.  After all, he couldn't sleep.  He wanted
a cigar.  What's more, he wanted a glass of whiskey.  And when it came to
poker, he was the best there was.  So why wasn't he at the saloon?

The thought of winning didn't heat his blood.  It wasn't cards or whiskey he
craved.

He wanted Cassie.

The thought came in a rush.  At once he dismissed it.  Cassie Montgomery
wasn't the kind of woman a man merely played with.  She was the sort of woman
who made a man think about home and family.  Roots.  Permanence.

All the things he had always disdained.  A man could never have a woman like
Cassie and then walk away.  Her memory would linger, like the taste of fine
wine, like the essence of French perfume, haunting him to his last breath.
He clenched his hand into a fist and turned away from the window.  After
quickly pulling on his shirt and boots, he made his way downstairs, intent
upon smoking a cigar on the front porch.  As he passed the darkened parlor, a
sound caused him to h~it.  Peering inside, he saw that the fire had died to
embers.  In a chair pulled close to the fireplace was a hunched figure.

As he drew closer he realized it was Cassie, her face buried in her hands.
She was sobbing as though her heart would break.

"Who did this to you?  Who made you cry?"  His voice was gruff as he dropped
to his knees in front of her and dragged her hands away from her face.

"Tell me who hurt you."

"Quin..."  Tears streamed down her cheeks and she struggled to find her voice.

,.  ~"Was it the sheriff?  If that bastard" -- *~"No.  Oh, Quin..."  The
tears started again and she was powerless to stop them.  ~ '* :~' Desperate
to ease her pain, he stood and drew her into his arms.  At once he felt the
jolt.  It was the most purely sexual feeling he'd ever known.  Heat consumed
him.  He was aware of her as he'd never before been aware of a woman.  The
soft contours of her body pressed against him.  His hands were actually
shaking.  She was so small, so belpless.  He would fight anyone, kill anyone,
who made her cry.

At his sudden, shocking arousal, he cursed and called himself every kind of
fool.  What Cassie needed at the moment was tenderness, not passion.  And he
would, by heaven, give her whatever she needed, if it was in his 171 power.
At the moment she needed his quiet strength, his comfort.

She was racked with sobs.  He felt a moment of panic.  She had always been so
brave, so stoic in the face of every danger.  Whatever had caused her pain,
it was more terrible than anything she had yet been forced to endure.  And
all he could do was hold her and murmur words of endearment until her tears
had run their course.

"Now tell me, Cassie."  He handed her his fine monogrammed handkerchief, and
waited while she wiped her tears.

"You have to tell me what's happened."

"It's..."   She sighed and swallowed and dabbed at the tears that stained
her cheeks, before attempting to continue

"It's Christmas."

He waited, expecting something more.  But when she said nothing else, he
studied her with a puzzled look.

"That's it?  Christmas?"

She nodded, and had to struggle with fresh tears.  "Don't you see?

Florence said that the day after tomorrow is Christmas Eve, and we didn't
even know.  It has become just another day of hard work and misery for my
mother and my children.  Oh, Quin, what has this place done to us?

What have we become?  "

He realized that, until this moment, he'd been holding his breath, afraid to
hear what disaster had befallen her.

But now that he knew, he felt as though some terrible weight had just been
lifted from his shoulders.

He placed a hand under her chin, tipping her face up for his inspection.  His
tone was gruff with a welling of unexpected tenderness.

"Stop being so hard on yourself, Cassie.  You've survived a war that
devastated this land.

You've lost your husband, your home, your friends.  You're carving out a life
for yourself and your family in a hostile wilderness.  And on top of all
that, you've held on to the ability.  to laugh, to love, to hope for
something better.  " He touched a hand to her cheek.

"Is it so terrible that you forgot about Christmas?"

"Yes."  Her eyes filled and she blinked rapidly to keep from crying again.

"It mars my heart out to think that my children will not celebrate Christmas
as I did when I was a child."

He didn't smile, though laughter lurked in his eyes and warmed his tone.

"I can see that we'll have to do something about this."

"But don't you see?  There's nothing we can do."  Her eyes were troubled and
for a moment he feared she might begin to cry again.  Then she pulled herself
together, lifting her chin in that way he'd come to recognize.

"I'm sorry.  I didn't mean to burden you with my problems, Quin.  It won't
happen again.  I'm fine now.  I guess I just needed a shoulder to cry on."

He framed her face with his big hands.

"You can use my shoulder anytime."

Now that the storm had passed, she became aware of a strange, new emotion.
Not desolation.  Not despair.  Not even the comfort Quin offered.  Cassie was
suddenly aware of the hands that touched her so gently, of the warm breath
that leathered her hair, of the inviting lips that hovered just above hers.

Heat coursed through her veins, leaving her weak- limbed.  Her legs were
rubber.  Her fingers seemed to have a will of their own as they wrapped
around his arms, clinging for a moment before inching upward until they were
twined through the hair at his collar.  Her tone softened, invited.

"I should ... go up to bed now."

"Mmm-hrnm."  He made no move to release her.  Instead, his arms came around
her, drawing her closer.

"Ma might notice I'm gone."  Her gaze fastened on his lips.  Such firm,
tempting lips.  Still, he made no move to kiss her.

"Or Rebecca.  Or Jennifer."

"They might."

She wanted desperately for him to kiss her.  But still he waited, watching
her in that strange, silent way he had.

"I..."  She lifted herself on tiptoe until her lips were even with his.

"I don't want to go up yet, Quin."

"And why is that?"  His eyes narrowed slightly.  He wouldn't make the first
move this time.  The decision had to be hers.

"I ... want to kiss you first."  She pressed her lips to his.  For the space
of a heartbeat, he didn't respond, and she drew away to slant a look at him.
Then, bringing her lips back to his, she kissed him again, this time more
fully.

She heard his quick intake of breath before his arms tightened around her,
dragging her against him until their bodies fused.  His mouth moved over hers
with a hunger that matched her own.

"Dear God, Cassie, I want you."  The words escaped his lips before he had
time to think.  Once said, there was no way to snatch them back.

Her heart soared at his admission.  He wanted her.  And she knew in her heart
that she wanted him, as well.  Wanted him as she'd never wanted anyone or
anything before.  With a sigh she gave herself up to the pleasure of his kiss.

He felt the gradual change in her as she relaxed in his arms and offered her
lips.  It was not an act of submission, but rather a sharing of pleasure.
Lost in the kiss, she lowered her defenses.  It was his undoing.  Heat danced
through him, quickening his pulse.  At once his arms tightened, drawing her
so close he could feel her erratic heartbeat inside his own chest.

He knew if he didn't soon find the strength to step away, he would take her
here, now, like a savage.  And still he lingered over her lips, savoring the
sweet, fresh taste of her, unlike anything he'd ever known before.  He wanted
her.

Wanted her so desperately, he had to call on every bit of willpower to resist
the urge to take them both over the line.

His hands were almost bruising as he caught her roughly by the shoulders and
drew her away.

Cassie's lids slowly opened.  She felt breathless.  And slightly exhilarated.
As though she had just tempted fate, and stepped back from the very edge of
a steep precipice.  Would she have fallen?  Or would she have soared?

"I'd... better go up to bed now."

Quin merely nodded.  The truth was, he was afraid to trust his voice.

"Aren't you coming up?"

He cleared his throat.

"Not yet."

"Good night, then."  ~r "Good night, Cassie."

On legs that still trembled, she made her way to the door.  She turned.

"Quin?"

"ires?"

"Thank you.  For listening.  For... everything."  She turned away quickly,
before she said something she'd regret in the morning.

He listened to the sound of her quick, light footsteps on the stairs, and the
sound of her bedroom door as it was opened and closed.

For long minutes he stood very still, considering.  Then he pulled on his
duster and wide-brimmed hat.  His hands, he noted, were unsteady.  Not
exactly the cool, steady 175 hands of a gambler.  But maybe a walk in the
frigid night air would have the desired effect.

With a steely look of determination in his eyes he made his way outside.  And
headed straight to the saloon.

Chapter Fourteen Florence Claxton's boardinghouse was perfumed with Sunday
morning breakfast.  Thick slabs of bacon sizzled in a pan, along with
potatoes and eggs.  There were freshly baked biscuits ready to be smothered
in gravy.  Stacks of wheat cakes dripped butter and blueberry preserves.  A
blackened coffeepot sputtered over the fire, emitting its heavenly fragrance.

Jen and her new friend, Oren, could hardly contain themselves as they watched
the women putting the finishing touches on the table.  When everyone began
assembling for the meal, their mouths watered at the stack wheat cakes.

The sheriff, who lived in a small room in back of the jail, and regularly
took his meals at the boardinghouse, huro tied in accompanied by a gust of
icy wind.  Reverend Townsend followed him a minute later.

Florence looked up from the stove.

"Now that everyone is here, I guess we'll begin.  Matthew, will you lead the
blessing?"

His rich, warm voice flowed around the room as he led them in prayer.

Afterward, as they started to take their seats, Florence hesitated.

"I don't see Mr. McAllister.  Jen, would you go upstairs and call him to
breakfast, please?"

177 " es'm."

Afraid that all the wheat cakes would be devoured fore she returned, the
little girl took the stairs two at a time and knocked on Quin's door.
Hearing nothing, she timidly opened it and looked inside.  Finding it empty,
she raced back downstairs.

"He isn't there," Jen announced as she sat down and reached for the stack of
wheat cakes.  Her plate was filled almost before the words were out of her
mouth.  "Not there?"  Florence glanced from Cassie to Luella, then back again.

"Did he say where he was going?"  Cassie shook her head.

"I didn't see him this morning.

I just assumed he was in his room.  "

"Did anyone see Mr. McAllister last night7" Cassie's cheeks flooded with
color.

"I saw him.  Before I went up to bed," she added quickly.

"But he didn't say anything about going out."

She saw her mother staring at her, and lowered her gaze to her plate, knowing
she would have to deal with questions and recriminations later.

"Nowhere to go in Prospect except Lottie's place," the sheriff mumbled around
a mouthful of biscuit.

"What's Lottie's place?"  Jen asked.

"Nothing you should know about, Jennifer," Cassie said quickly.  But she
knew.  Everyone else at the table knew.  Quin had given in to the urge to
drink and gamble and.  whatever else men did in such places.

"We should have expected as much."  Luella sniffed and lifted her cup to her
lips.

"Can't change a skunk's stripes."

"How long has McAllister been your foreman?"  Sheriff Wilson asked
suspiciously.

"A few weeks."  Luella's tone revealed her disdain.  "How much do you know
about him?"

The older woman's voice lowered.

"Only that he's a gambler."

"He was a very good friend to my husband," Cassie said in Quin's defense.
Though she was stung by the knowledge that he had spent the night at a
saloon, she would not allow others to demean his name.

"I don't mean to frighten you good ladies," the sheriff went on.

"But a man like McAllister is certainly aware that women and children, so far
from their nearest neighbors, would be no match for him.  No telling what a
man like that might do."

Becky and Jen, glanced wide-eyed from their mother to their grandmother,
before turning to stare at the sheriff.

Sheriff Wilson, pleased that he had everyone's attention, continued in his
most authoritative tone of voice.

"Seems to me a lot of strange things have been happening since this gambler
drifted into Montana."

"What are you suggesting, Sheriff?"  Cassie's food lay forgotten.

"Only that I'd be real careful if I was you, ma'am."

"I trust Mr. McAllister," she said softly.

"Unless he proves otherwise, I believe him to be our friend."

"Yes'm."   The sheriff forked another helping of meat, potatoes and eggs
onto his plate.   His tone rang with sarcasm.

"I guess there's a good reason why your... friend spent the whole night at
Lottie's place."  Subdued, Cassie sipped her coffee and tried to banish the
images that were torturing her.  Images of Quin smoking a cigar, a whiskey in
one hand, cards in the other, surrounded by beautiful women who knew how to
please a man.  Women in revealing gowns, who smelled of French perfume.
Women with painted faces and soft hands.  She clenched her own callused hands
together in her lap.

Hoping to smooth over the tension, Florence motioned for her sons to begin
clearing the table.

"There's just enough time to wash the dishes and get dressed for Sunday
services."

She glanced around the table.

"You folks will be joining us, won't you?"

Luella answered for all of them.

"We wouldn't miss it."  "What about Mr. McAllister?"  Jen asked worriedly.

"Do you think he'll be there, Mama?"

"I don't know, Jennifer.  But I hope so."

"So do I," the little girl said softly.

Luella frowned.

"Don't go getting your hopes up, child.  A man like Quin McAllister has
probably never seen the inside of a church."

"Ma.  That isn't fair," Cassie began, but her mother cut her off.

"And you know better than to encourage your daughter to wish for the
impossible," Luella said with a sigh of impatience.

"Honestly, Cassie, when are you going to stop defending that gambler?  Is
that the sort of man you want your children to admire?"

As the others left the table and made their way upstairs, Cassie trailed
slowly behind, deeply troubled.

Cassie and her family followed Florence Claxton and her boys up the aisle,
aware of the curious stares from the congregation.

Zack and Willy managed to sandwich Becky between them as they took their
places.  Each brother offered to share his hymnal with her, and it was plain
that Becky was enjoying their attentions.  She was wearing a pale pink gown,
which had been made over from her mother's best Sunday dress, and around her
shoulders, her grandmother's favorite shawl.  Her long hair had been brushed
until it gleamed.

There was a sparkle in her eyes, and color on her cheeks that turned the
head of every man, young and old, in the church.  It was easy to see she
would grow to be a beauty.

Cassie, determined to separate her younger daughter from Oren, so that these
two new friends wouldn't be tempted to whisper or giggle or otherwise
distract, caught Jen by the arm and held her back until the others were
seated.  Then she allowed the little gift to precede her into the pew, while
she took a seat next to the aisle.

"Mr.  McAllister's going to come, Mama," Jen whispered.

"You'll see."

Cassie dropped a hand to her shoulder, as if to spare her.  Her mother was
right.  The longer she encouraged such thinking, the more painful would be
the little girl's disappointment when Quin let her down.

"You must fit expect so much of Mr. McAllister, Jennifer.  He's just..."  She
struggled to find the words.  But what could she say?  That he was a friend
of Ethan's, who had been tricked into coming to this harsh land against his
judgment?  That he was a gambler, who would rather spend his nights in a
saloon?

"He's just a man who doesn't always believe as we do" .  ~ '~ :~.  ~ ,~ ," ;i
" He'll be here," Jen said, turning away.  The simple wooden benches were
crowded with towns:~ people and ranchers from nearby, who took a break from
their chores to worship together.

Reverend Matthew Townsend was resplendent in a dark suit.  Standing on a
raised platform at the front of the church, he made a striking presence as he
offered a word of welcome.

Spying an organ, Luella leaned toward Florence.  "Where is your organist?"

"We haven't found anyone who can play' the plump woman admitted.

"The congregation bought the organ almost a year ago, but so far, the Lord
hasn't se~n fit to send us anyone who can play it."

"I could try," Luella said softly.

"You?"  The other woman's eyes widened.  Scrambling to her feet she called,

"Reverend Townsend, our prayers have been answered.  Mrs. Chalmers can play
the organ."  All eyes turned to Florence and the woman seated be~ side her.

' "Can you truly play?"  the prea~cher asked.  "I can, though I haven't had
the opportunity to play in years."  Luella got to her feet.

"I studied piano and organ many years ago at Miss Atherton's Conservatory in
Savannah, Georgia."

"Praise be."  Reverend Townsend motioned toward the organ.

"Please, Mrs. Chalmers, if you would honor us with a song."

Luella walked to the front of the church and settled herself at the organ,
allowing her stiff fingers to roam the keys.  Looking up, she said loudly,

"I'd be proud if my granddaughter, Rebecca, would come up here and lead us in
song."

Becky's cheeks turned bright scarlet as everyone in the church strained to
see her.  But seeing the pride on her grandmother's face, she knew she
couldn't refuse.  She moved slowly out of the pew and made her way to her
grandmother's side.

Luella began to play the first notes of a familiar hymn.  At first Becky had
to fight back a wave of fright at the sea of faces turned toward her.  But as
the organ swelled, she thought of her father, who had always been so proud of
her talent.

"This is for you, Pa," she whispered before she sang the first tentative
notes.  Then her voice rose.  Her nerves were forgotten and she lost herself
in the music.

Hearing the rich, clear voice, Luella felt a shiver of pure joy.  Oh, how
her prayers had been answered.  She had missed her church and its
soul-stirring music.  She had longed for the comfort of tradition.  Caught up
in the moment, her fingers flew over the keys while her granddaughter's voice
soared like an .  After the first verse, the congregation joined in the
chorus, their voices swelling to the rafters in the tiny church.

From his position in the pulpit Reverend Townsend watched and listened while
Luella played.  All her features were transformed.  On her face was a look of
ecstasy.  When the last notes died, he allowed the silence to settle over
them before he said,

"God has truly blessed us this day.  What we have been given is a very
special gift.  It is gratifying to see the gift of musical talent used to
praise our Creator.  We can only pray that these fine women will grace us
with their presence again in the future, for they have added much to our
service."

Lifting his voice, he led the congregation in prayer.  His voice rang with a
plea for peace among men, for forgive hess among neighbors, for love and
understanding among family members.  ~'~ ~a~.  ~a ;~ Beside her, Cassie felt
Jen shifting and turning to glance frequently toward the door.  Each time,
she shot the little girl a disapproving look until Jen managed to return her
attention to the minister.

At last, with the prayer ended, everyone settled down and stared expectantly
toward the crude wooden pulpit.

"My dear people..."  As Reverend Matthew Townsend began to speak, the door
opened.  The reverend paused.

Every head swiveled to see who would dare to arrive so late, causing the
preacher to interrupt his sermon.

Quin, hat in hand, strode up the aisle until he came to the row where Cassie
and her family sat.  To make room for him, everyone was forced to scoot down.
Jen leaned around her mother, beaming with pleasure.

"My dear people," Reverend Townsend began again.

"I was reminded of something this morning.  And it is the basis for my
sermon."  He paused.  A smile softened his eyes and warmed his voice.

"How fortunate we are to have found each other in this splendid, untamed
land.  How great are our blessings.  As we look around this church today,
think of all the fine people we now call friend, who were not known to us a
year ago, or even a few months ago.  And think how these same strangers, who
are now friends, have enriched our lives."

Cassie shuffled uneasily beside Quin.  Friend indeed.  His hair and clothing
bore the unmistakable odor of tobacco and whiskey.  His eyes, when he glanced
at her, were bloodshot.  She felt a wave of fury that he should have caused
her family such humiliation.

Beside her, her youngest daughter beamed with joy.  Somehow, Quin's arrival
made their little family seem .  less alone, less incomplete.  Now if only
her mother wasn't so angry.

-~ Feeling Cassie's angry stare directed at him, Quin glanced over.

And winked.  At once her cheeks flamed and she looked down at her hands,
squeezed tightly together in her lap.

When would she ever learn that he was nothing more than a charming rogue?  He
could not even give this place of worship its due.  Instead, he was as
relaxed as if he were still in that.  in that den of wickedness.  Across the
room she caught sight of the thin, tight line of her mother's mouth.  To a
woman like Luella, the proper image was so important.  She had learned a
painful lesson in her youth.  Rules were not meant to be broken.  Woe to
those who did not walk the line.  The censure of others could be a painful
thing to endure.  And now, just as Luella was being singled out for honor
among these strangers, she was being forced to endure another public
humiliation.

Cassie's displeasure grew as the preacher's voice washed over her, reminding
them of their duty to God, to country, to each other.  Now that Quirt had
displayed this weakness, she must face some truths.  It was time she realized
that Quin McAllister was not some gallant knight riding to her defense.  He
was a mere mortal.  A man who, by circumstance, was forced to endure a few
weeks in a snowbound wilderness.  To him it must seem a prison from which he
was eager to escape.  And soon enough, she realized, he would.

He would ride off as abruptly as he had arrived, leaving them to face the
future alone.  The congregation was on its feet, singing.  Startled out of
her reverie, Cassie stood and began fumbling with the pages of her hymnal.
Quin stood quietly beside her, then reached up to share the book.

His voice was low and deep and melodic, with traces of his Southern heritage.
Her own rich voice blended perfectly with his, and she found herself
enjoying the familiar hymn until she glanced up and caught him looking at
her.  She stopped singing and was forced to swallow several times before she
could continue.

When the song ended, the people bowed their heads while Reverend Townsend led
them in another prayer.

Then they were seated and the preacher began his second, related sermon.
Again he spoke of the need for love, brotherhood and a community that stood
by one another through good times and bad.

Quin's shoulder brushed Cassie's.  It was the merest touch, yet Cassie had to
struggle against the rush of heat.

At once she felt her annoyance growing.  What sort of fool was she, that she
could respond shamelessly to a man who 185 had just spent the entire night in
the saloon?  Not only that, but everyone in this church had seen him
swaggering up the aisle, reeking of smoke and whiskey and cheap perfume.

She glanced at her young daughter, who was staring adoringly at Quin.

At last Jen snagged Ouin's attention.

With a sly wink Quin gave the girl a quick smile.  It was immediately
returned.

Cassie sighed.  It was plain that Jennifer looked up to this man.  The longer
she permitted it, the more harmful it could become.  Perhaps Quin couldn't
help being what he was, but she certainly didn't want her daughter to grow up
believing that it was perfectly normal to play cards for a living, or spend
the night in a saloon.  Besides, she warned herself, what would happen to the
little girl when the man she adored left her?  She had witnessed the pain of
Jen's loss at the death of her father.  How much worse would it be when Quin
McAlli.  qter, the only other man in her young life, calmly rode away forever?

She experienced a wave of guilt when she realized that the sermon had ended.
Instead of listening, she had allowed her mind to wander.  Something she had
permitted far too often lately.

"Please, my dear people," the reverend called out, "help me thank our dear
friends, Luella Chalmers, and her lovely granddaughter, Rebecca, for the
beautiful music which added so much to our service this day."

There was applause, and the room was filled with the sound of shuffling feet
as the congregation began to file from the church.

"Mama, aren't we going to go?"  Jen tugged on her mother's sleeve.

"Yes.  I... yes."

Taking Jen's hand, Cassie got to her feet and walked down the aisle, with
Quirt beside her.  Once outside she paused to thank the reverend for his fine
sermon, but Jen's words stopped her.

"Gram said you wouldn't come to church, Mr. McAllister.  But I knew you
would."

"Did you now?  And how did you know that, when I didn't even know it myself?"

The little girl brushed a wisp of bright red curls from her eyes.

"I

asked my pa.  "

"Your pa?"

Both Cassie and Luella stopped in their tracks.  Jen's head bobbed up and
down.

"Mama said my pa is in heaven now, like the s.  So I figured, if I can ask
the s for favors, why not ask my pa?  I ask him for all kinds of things."

"And you asked him to see that I made it to church."  Pleased that Ouin
understood, Jen's smile widened.

Luella pointed a finger at her daughter.

"Do you see what sort of lessons you've given that child?  She can't even
tell the difference between her father and her heavenly Father.  And as for
you."  Her anger had been simmering throughout the entire service.  Now she
swooped down on Ouin, poised to attack.

"How could you embarrass us like that?"  she demanded in a loud whisper.

"Didn't it occur to you that everyone in that church would know where you
spent the night?  Look at you!  Unshaven, unwashed."  She wrinkled her nose
with disgust.

"You reek of whiskey and cigar smoke."

"Yes, ma'am."  Ouin shot her a lazy grin.

"I guess I do."  She was in a fine fury now.  The full force of her temper
exploded.

"Oh!  When I think of you parading up the aisle, holding up the reverend's
sermon, drawing attention to all of us, I could just die from the humiliation
of it all.  Didn't 187 you stop and think what the people of Prospect would
think of us?"

Noting Jen's stricken look, Reverend Townsend stepped between Quin and
Luella.  With a gentle smile in the little girl's direction he said,

"I couldn't help overhearing what you said to Mr. McAllister.  I'm pleased
that your mother has taught you how to pray, Jen."

Luella was clearly shocked.

"You don't think it wicked that she prayed to her dead father?"

"Not at all.  I believe in the power of prayer," Reverend Townsend said
gently.

"And I believe that our Father hears our prayers and answers, often in
strange, unexpected ways.  As for Mr. McAllister."  A wide smile split his
lips.

"I used to indulge in a bit of high living myself, before I found my
calling."  He shook his head.

"There is still nothing like a fine cigar, a sip of spirits, and a pair of
aces.

Unless, of course"-- he turned his full gaze on Quin " --it's the love of a
good woman.  "

Quin merely smiled.

"Reverend Townsend!"  Luella appeared scandalized.  "I think we sometimes
forg~," he said, taking her hand, "that we are a congregation of sinners, not
saints.  Until, like Ethan, we join the s, we must be forced to acknowledge
our shortcomings."

He turned to Quin and offered his hand in friendship.  "Personally, I much
prefer the company of men who admit they are somewhat less than perfect.  I
hope you'll come back to our church, Quin, whenever you're in Prospect."

"Thanks, Matthew," Ouin said, accepting his handshake.  Taking a cigar from
his pocket, he handed it to the preacher.

"Maybe you'll enjoy this after Christmas services ."  ' "Thank you.  I
will."  Reverend Townsend took Cassie's hand and looked into her eyes, seeing
the lingering clouds of worry and anger.  It would be some time, he fig ureA
before Quin would manage to redeem himself.

"I hope you and your lovely family will return to our church often, Mrs.
Montgomery."

"Even me?"  Jen asked.

"Especially you, Jen.  I hope that all your prayers are answered this
Christmas."

"Come on, Oren," the little girl called, grabbing her friend's hand.

The day had suddenly taken on a glow.

"Let's go look in the windows of the mercantile."  Cassie watched the two
children scamper away.  Then she turned to where her daughter stood with Zack
and Willy.  The two youths were showing off, pelting each other with
snowballs.  They looked so incredibly young and carefree.  But when a
snowball glanced off Becky's head, Zack immediately became her fierce
protector.  In order to shield her from further attacks, he stepped between
her and his younger brother.  When he'd driven Willy away with a barrage of
snowballs, Zack turned and lifted a hand to her cheek to brush away the snow.
~_~ ~ "You will stay for supper, won't you?"  Florence's voice had Cassie
whirling.

Reluctantly she shook her head.

"We can't spare any more time away from our home."

Becky, walking between Zack and Willy, overheard and called out, "Please,
Mama.  Can't we stay another day?"

"I'm truly sorry," Cassie said softly.

"I wish we could."  She saw the regret in her daughter's eyes before she
turned away.

"Come along," Luella called briskly.  Despite the reverend's words, she
wasn't about to let Quin forget his indiscretion.

"It's time we loaded the wagon so we can make it home by nightfall.  If," she
added in her most strident tone,

"Mr.

McAllister isn't too weary after his night of debauchery.  "

Quin rolled his eyes.

"I'm sure I can manage.  I'll bring the wagon around to Mrs. Claxton's in a
little while, as soon as I've picked up our supplies at the mercantile."  As
he sauntered away, he could still feel the heat from their angry stares.  The
ride home, he knew, promised to be long and cold.

"I wish you weren't leaving."  With a sigh, Florence placed several plucked
chickens in a large roasting pan, in preparation for a big Sunday supper.
She turned to Luella.

"All my life I've been surrounded by men.  Not only my husband, God rest his
soul, but three sons, and all these men who room here and take their meals
with us."  She glanced at Reverend Townsend, who always took Sunday supper
with her family.  For some reason, he'd come back to the kitchen, something
he'd never done before, and was seated at the table, sipping coffee.

"Nothing against you, of course, Reverend.  We love having you."

"Thank you, Florence.  I'm grateful to have a place where I feel welcome."

"I hope you know you'll always have a place with us here, even after your
parsonage is completed."  Florence trimmed a piecrust and began rolling a
second.

"Luella, you're the first woman I've had staying here who enjoyed helping me
in the kitchen.  I can't tell you what a joy it's been having you."

"I enjoyed it, too."  Luella finished stirring her special biscuit dough and
began dropping spoonfuls onto a flat tin.  When she was finished, she carried
the baking tin to 191 the oven.  Turning, she spied Reverend Townsend licking
the bowl, and stopped in midstride.

"Why, Matthew, my husband always did that same thing."

"I can see why.  I do believe you make the best biscuits in the world,
Luella.  My wife used to make biscuits like this, and I always thought nobody
would ever top hers.  But there's just something about these..."  He went
back to licking the spoon, allowing his words to trail off.  Luella felt
overwarm and blamed it on the heat from the oven.

"I can see that you're enjoying yourself here," Reverend Townsend said.

"If truth be told, I think this is the happiest I've been in a long time.
There is something so satisfying about cutting, peeling, washing, stirring."
Luella took a deep breath, inhaling the wonderful aromas.

"The rich variety of foods in this house has restored my soul almost as much
as the Sunday services."  When she realized what she'd revealed, she shot the
minister an apologetic look.

"Forgive lflicme, Matthew.

I know noth'_mgshould be as i~ring as our ~H He lifted a hand.

"N6~at all.  I can see ~'hat you derive ~- ~great satisfaction from seeing
others eat your cooking, in the same way that I derive much pleasure from
seeing others find solace in my ministry.  It is as important to feed the
body as the soul."

It was true, she realized.  She loved watching others savor her cooking.
Especially a man like Matthew Townsend, who ate the way he seemed to do
everything-- With great joy.

Upstairs she could hear her daughter and granddaughter laughing and talking
easily together while they made up the beds and tidied up the room.  She
glanced around the big, cheery kitchen.

"It's so cozy here.  You have no idea how I'll miss this.  It's been so good
for all of us."

"Do you think you could ever make a home here in Prospect?"  Reverend
Townsend asked.

Luella shook her head sadly.

"How I would love to.  But I couldn't leave my daughter.  She needs my help.
Besides, since the war, nothing feels like home.  Although I must admit this
is the closest" -- They all looked up at the sound of the wagon wheels.
Luella struggled to hide the feelings of regret that filled her.  It was time
to return to the bleak little cabin and the endless work.

Removing her apron, she walked to the stairway and called,

"Cassie.

Becky.  Mr. McAllister is here.  "

When they descended the stairs, Luella said to her granddaughter,

"As usual, you'll have to hunt for your little sister."

"She's probably out in the shed with Oren."  Florence called to her oldest
son.

"Zack, go with Becky to fetch the young ones."  ~ "Yes'm."  He and Becky
started outside together.  As soon as they were out of sight of their
families, Zack boldly caught Becky's hand.

"Careful," he muttered, "it's slippery out here."

Becky looked up and, seeing the shy smile on his face, walked alongside him
in silence.  Even though it felt good having her hand held in his, she
wondered if she ought to allow it.

But after a moment's hesitation, she decided that he was, after all, only
seeing to her safety.  They took as much time as they could walking to the
outbuilding.  From inside came the sounds of childish laughter.

Instead of going in, the two slipped around to the back, where they stood a
moment, silent and breathless.

"I wish you weren't leaving."  Zack kicked a toe in the snow.

"I'll come back someday."

"When?"

Becky shrugged.

"The next time we need supplies.  Springtime, I guess."

"Spring_time."  He stared at their linked hands.

"I wish..."  He stopped, embarrassed.

"Wish what?"  Becky studied the way his fine blond hair spilled across his
forehead when he ducked his head.

"I wish you were older."  He lifted his head until their eyes met.

"I will be."  She gave him a tremulous smile.  "~i'you wait for me, Zack?"

At her words, all his features seemed to be infused with light from his
radiant smile.  It was the knowing smile of the young, the innocent, who have
just discovered the secrets of the universe.

"I'm not going anywhere," he said "I'll be bee.  _ ~ She tugged on his hand.

"Come on.  We'd better get Jen before Gram starts hollering."

She started to turn away but he dug in his heels.

"Don't go yet," he whispered.

"I'd like to... kiss you."

"I'd like that, too."  As he impulsively stepped closer, she remembered what
Quin had said and added,

"But not just yet.  I'm... not ready yet."

Spying Willy walking toward them, they stepped apart.  "Here you are.

Ma's looking for you," he said.

"We just came out here to get Oren and Jen."  "Uh~huh."

Fourteen-year-old Willy glanced from Zack to Becky.  Neither would meet his
eyes.  Both looked flushed and guilty.

His Adam's apple bobbed up and down as he cupped his hands to his mouth and
shouted,

"Come on Jen, Oren.

Time to go.  "

The door to the shed was flung open and two laughing children spilled out.  A
minute later, with Willy, Jen and Oren trailing them, Zack and Becky walked
slowly toward the house, taking great care to see that they didn't touch or
even look at one another.

"You come back soon, you hear?"  Florence Claxton stood on the steps, wiping
her hands on a towel.

Zack held the horses still while everyone climbed aboard.  When Becky pulled
herself up to the seat, he caught a glimpse of ankle before she smoothed down
her skirts.  He stood very straight and very tall, wishing with all his might
that some miracle would prevent them from leaving.  Not that he wished them
ill.  But springtime seemed like a million years away.

Reverend Townsend watched Luella as she took a last, lingering gaze around
the parlor.

"Our town needs fine people like you and your family, Luella," he said,
coming_ up behind her.  He surprised her by placing his hand on he~ shoulder.

She whirled, her eyes round and wary.

To ease her fears he removed his hand and gave her a.  reassuring smile.

"You take care of yourself, Luella.  And someday soon, I hope, I'll hear your
sweet music again in church."

His voice lowered.

"When you first started to play, I thought I was hearing heavenly music."
Flushed with pleasure she said,

"I will miss your Sunday services, Matthew."

"And I will miss your special biscuits."  He paused, considering, then added,

"A man who lives alone would think he'd found heaven if he could have a woman
like you waiting for him each night, filling his home with good food and
music."

She was too shocked to say a word.

He cleared his throat.

"I know that you know very little about me.

But I have been alone for a number of years, and this is the first time that
I have given a thought to the empty space in my life.  I think, since you are
also alone"-- Luella stepped back a pace, halting his words.

"You do not know me, Matthew.  I'm sure you have heard.  There are shameful
things in my past that I regret."  He touched a finger to her lips.

"Shh.  I care nothing about the past.  I set no store by gossip.  If we were
to trade stories, I think my own would make yours pale by comparison.

No one can live as long as the two of us without having regrets.  But
remember this, Luella.  We would not be who we are now if we had not made
those mistakes in our past.  "

"But" -- "I care only for the woman you are now, Luella."  The7 both looked
up at Florence's ~ice, su~oning "And I know this," he said softly,

"You are a woman I would like to know better, I hope you allow me that
opportunity,"

He offered his arm and she accepted, Outside, he helped her into the wagon,
then stepped hack, keeping his gaze fixed on her.

Oren good-naturedly tagged Jen as she climbed into the wagon.  At once, Jen
climbed back down to tag Oren.

Within minutes the two little ones were chasing each other around and around
the wagon.

"Jennifer," Cassie called more sharply than she'd intended.  Her emotions
colored her words.  And right now her emotions were playing a tug-of-war.
She was dejected about leaving this warm, cozy house with its lively,
interesting people.  Worse, she was furious with Quin for publicly
embarrassing all of them.  Everyone, including these good people, knew that
he'd spent the entire night at a saloon.  She simply couldn't get that
thought out of her mind.

"Jennifer, get in here now, please."

At once she regretted her harshness.  It wasn't Jen's fault that this was so
painful.  It was hard enough leaving all this comfort to return her family to
their rough cabin.  Harder still was the thought that the sweetest of
holidays would be just another day of hard, backbreaking work.  She couldn't
help but notice how reluctant everyone was to leave their newfound friends.
Luella had displayed more tenderness toward both Florence and Reverend
Townsend than she had displayed toward her own family in recent years.  Becky
was basking in the attentions of the Claxton boys.  And poor little Jen had
never before had a friend to play with.

It was wrenching to have to drag them away.

~.

"Jennifer," she called again in a softer tone.  "Yes'to."  With a hurried
touch to Oren's back, Jen scrambled up into the wagon, evading the boy's
attempt to tag her.

"I won," Jen taunted.

With shrieks of giggles, Oren tried to climb up.  At a word from Florence,
Willy caught him and hauled him backward.

"That's enough," Florence said to the kicking, struggling little boy.

"Don't make a nuisance of yourself, Quirt tipped his hat to her, then handed
the reins to Cassie, who gave him a dark look.

"It took you long enough to pick up our supplies."

"Yes, ma'am.  I certainly didn't want to miss anything on that list you gave
me."

The horses leaned into the harness and the wagon jolted ahead.

"Goodbye.  Godspeed," Matthew Townsend shouted.  Luella stared straight ahead
and blinked rapidly, blaming the moisture in her eyes on the stinging wind.
It did make a body's eyes smart.

Becky, seated between her mother and grandmother, chanced a glance at Zack.
When she realized that he was staring at her, she blushed and looked away.
Horses and wagon picked up speed, and Becky gathered her courage and turned
to wave until the boardinghouse and its occupants were out of sight.  Then
she drew the blanket around herself and hunched into its warmth, shutting out
the voices of the others, losing herself in a jumble of thoughts.

Cassie, too, was lost in thought.  Most of it centered on the man who rode
the trail ahead of their wagon.  The image of Quin spending the night in
wicked pursuits had cast a pall on the entire trip.  Added to that was the
knowledge that tomorrow was Christmas Eve, and she and her family would spend
the day, as they did every day, struggling' to survive.

"Oren said Mr. Sutter gave him a job sweeping the mercantile.  He's saved up
almost twenty-five cents and he's going to buy his mama some rose water for
Christmas."  Jen glanced at her mother's pinched features.

She hadn't smiled since they'd left Prospect.  Neither had her grandmother or
Becky.  In fact, Becky had crawled into the back of the wagon, loaded with
sacks of flour and grain and sugar, and hadn't spoken a word to anyone in
hours.

"Would you like rose water for Christmas, Mama?"

"No, Jennifer.   We don't have twenty-five cents."

"I know.  But if I lived in town, and worked at the mercantile, and had some
money, would you like rose water?"

"Yes," she said wearily.

"Yes, I would."  "How about you, Gram?  Would you like rose water too?"

"Hush, child.  Stop talking about things you can't have."

"But someday, when I'm bigger, and I have lots of money, maybe even a whole
dollar, would you like rose water, Gram?"

The older woman gritted her teeth.

"Yes.  Rose water smells very nice."

"How about you, Becky?"  the little girl persisted.  "Would you?"

"Be quiet, Jen," she shouted.

"I'm sick and tired of hearing about what you're going to buy for Christmas
someday.  Don't you understand?  There isn't going to be any Christmas this
year."

Jen's eyes went wide.

"You take that back, Becky.  There will too be Christmas.  Tell her Mama.
Tell her she's wrong."

Cassie flicked the reins and the horses started up a steep incline, their
breath pluming in the frosty air.

"Mama?"  Jen waited with all the impatience of a five- year-old, but Cassie
remained silent.  "' " Becky's right.  " Cassie flinched as her mother spoke
in quick, staccato phrases that lashed like a whip.  Sometimes the only way
to deal with pain was to face it head-on.  " Times are hard, Jen.  Even
though your mother disagrees with me, I think you're old enough to understand
that this year"-- " Jen.  " Quin slowed his mount as he drew alongside the
wagon.

"I was going to wait until Christmas, but I don't think I can keep it a
secret much longer.  Would you mind holding something for a little while?"

"What?"  The little girl barely looked up, so great was her despair.

Reaching inside his coat, Quin withdrew a wriggling, squealing bundle of
yellow fur.

"Biscuit!"  Jen let out a squeal of delight.

"Mama.  Gram.  Becky.  Look.

It's Biscuit.  " She pressed the puppy to her cheek.  In return the pup
licked her nose and whimpered happily.

"You'll have to keep him (~n," Quin said.  "I will.  Biscuit can share my
blanket," Jen promised.

"And see that he gets some of this every couple of hours."  Quin reached into
his pocket and withdrew a small bundle of linen.  Inside were bits of chopped
meat that Florence had given him for the journey home.

"Yes, sir."

All Cassie's anger melted.  She shot Quin a grateful look.  With a delighted
shout Jen climbed into the back of the wagon beside her sister, where the two
burst into laughter at the antics of the clumsy little puppy.  Whatever
tension they had felt earlier was qu~!  y forgotten in the ~xcitement of the
moment.

With a tip of his hat Quin urged his horse into a run and was soon far ahead
of the wagon.  Cassie watched with a mixture of joy and sadness.  Joy that
her youngest daughter had been spared the truth for a little while longer.

Sadness that, despite the excitement of the moment, her mother was right.
There would be little to celebrate this Christmas.  But at least for now,
their troubles were forgotten.  And a little child's heart had been spared.

It had been snowing for hours.  The night was bitter cold, and the
temperature was still dropping.

With his hat pulled low, Quin rode in silence alongside the wagon.

Becky and Jen slept snugly under a layer of furs in the back of the wagon,
with Biscuit between them.  Cassie hunched in her blanket.  Her fingers
holding the reins were stiff.  Beside her, Luella's head bobbed.  "Ma,"
Cassie whispered.

At once the older woman's head came up .  "Climb into the back with the
children and go to sleep."

Luella shook her head.

"And leave you up here alone?"  "I don't mind.

And I'd feel better knowing you were comfortable.  "

"I'm fine right here."  The older woman straightened her spine and faced into
the wind.

Cassie sighed.  Stubborn.  Her mother had always been stubborn.  And she
supposed she'd inherited that same trait from her.  Why else would she drag
her family out here in the middle of a wilderness?

"I'm sorry, Ma."

Luella turned to look at her.

"Sorry for what?"

"For the mess I've made of things.   I shouldn't have agreed to come all
this way with Ethan just to follow some silly dream.   I should have insisted
that we stay in Atlanta and start over.   At least there we wouldn't have to
fight a dangerous man like Cyrus Stoner.   And at least there we wouldn't see
all this snow.   We'd be warm and safe and..."   Her voice wavered.

"And what?"  Luella prompted.

"The thought keeps haunting me.  Maybe if we had stayed there Ethan wouldn't
have died."

"Now you listen to me, girl."  Luella's voice rang with righteous indignation.

"It is true that if we had remained in Atlanta, we would be safe from Cyrus
Stoner.  But we would still have to deal with villains.  The city must be
swarming with them by now.  Scavengers ready to pick the bones of a dead city
and its unfortunate citizens.  As for this snow."  She stared out at the sea
of white that glistened like an ocean in the darkness.

"I do admit I find it a cross to bear.  But think of how precious the
springtime shall be when it comes."  She cleared her throat.

"Now about Ethan.  Don't ever think that it was this place that caused his
death.  It was the war."

"But Ma" -- "I know," she said, nodding her head for emphasis.  "He survived
the war.  Nevertheless, it was the war that killed him, as surely as if he'd
taken a musket ball in the chest.

And you can take comfort in the fact that he died surrounded by the ones he
loved, here in this untouched wilderness, far away from the scars of battle.
"

"Oh, Ma."  Cassie's cry caught in her throat.  "I know."  Luella draped an
arm around her daughter and drew her close to press a kiss to her cold cheek.
Her voice thickened.

"Now, let's stop talking about what might have been and talk about what we
can salvage for celebration."

"What celebration?  You said yourself there will be no Christmas."

"So I did.  And thanks to Mr. MeAl lister generous gift of that animal," she
said, nodding toward the sleeping puppy, "we'll have one more mouth to feed.
But we need not despair.

It might not be grand, but at least we will not go hungry.  "

Cassie blinked back a tear as her mother went on in that same matter-of-fact
tone.

"Florence gave me a little basket of apples and a cinnamon stick.  I shall
bake an apple pie and add cinnamon to my biscuit dough.  Won't that make the
cabin smell nice?"

"Yes, Ma."

"We'll cook venison and roast beef and..."

In the darkness Quin slowed his mount, allowing the wagon to pull ahead.  He
studied the two women, heads !  xmt against the cold.  Despite all their
tough talk, they loved each other without question.  And despite their bleak
existence, they were determined to find a glimmer of hope, to bring a small
measure of joy, to those they loved.

He shook his head in admiration.  They were two remarkable women.  And damned
if he wasn't hopelessly in love with one of them.

Chapter Sixteen The cabin was little more than a dim outline in the darkness.
As they drew closer they could see that it was still standing exactly as
they'd left it.  For some odd reason, Quin felt reassured by the sight of it.
Could it be that this crude shelter was actually becoming home to him?  A
dangerous thought, he reminded himself.  It was just because he had spent the
past few weeks here, had taken risks to defend it.

He was still more at home in a saloon, holding a winning hand, he assured
himself, than he'd ever be mucking a stall or handling a pick and shovel.

The wagon rolled to a stop at the door.  Quin dis~ mounted and took the reins
from Cassie, then helped her~-~ down.  Beside her, Luella stirred, then
accepted Quin's hand as she made her way from the wagon.  She moved slowly,
her muscles stiff.

"Don't bother waking the children," Quin muttered.  "I'll carry them inside
and get a fire started."

Luella let herself in and struck a match to the lantern.  A small thin flame
chased away the darkness.

While Cassie held the door, Quin carried jen to her bed.  Even in sleep the
little girl never loosened her hold on the puppy, cradled against her chest.
When they were tucked into Jen's bed, Quin returned to the wagon for Becky,
who yawned and snuggled against his chest.  While Cassie covered her, Quin
hauled an armload of logs and kindling to the fireplace.  Soon a cheery tim
crackled.  "I'll help you unload the wagon," Cassie said as she started out
the door.

"No."  Ouin caught her roughly by the arm.

At her arched look he softened his tone.

"You've done enough.  It was a long, hard ride.  I'll take care of the
supplies."

It took him more than an hour in the bitter cold to unload the wagon, as he
dragged barrels inside, then tossed the heavy sacks over his shoulder one at
a time.  After that he led the horses to the barn, and fed and watered the
weary animals.  A check of the cow in its stall showed that the Crow had
taken their obligation as good neighbors seriously.

The animal had been carefully tended.  Quin hoped the Crow children had
enjoyed the milk.

It was well past midnight before he made his way to the cabin.

Inside, coffee bubbled over the fire and a meal of dried beef and biscuits
had been left on the table for him.  Cassie and her mother were nowhere in
sight, but he knew, from the lowered blankets at their doorways, that they
had retired for the night.

He poured himself a cup of coffee and held it between his hands, warming
them, then drained the cup before prying off his boots.  Stretching out his
feet toward the fire, he ate, then drank a second cup more slowly, and
afterward enjoyed a cigar.

It was then, when he was warm, mfmshed, relaxed, that he sensed her presence.

Turning slowly, Quin watched Cassie walk across the room until she was
standing in front of him.  She wore a pale woolen night shift, and over that,
a shawl for modesty Her hair spilled, long and loose, across her shoulders,
down her back.

"I want to thank you," she said softly, "for taking us to Prospect, and for
seeing us safely home."

"You're welcome."  ' "I especially want to thank you for what you did for
Jennifer.  She wiil never forget you.  Nor will I."  She took a deep breath.

"And now it's time for you to think about leaving."

"I.eaving?  Now?  Before Christmas?"

She flinched, but refused to back down.

"I think the day after Christmas is soon enough."

"I see."  He dragged smoke into his lungs and exhaled slowly.

"Is there some reason why?"

"I think you know, Mr. McAllister."

"No, but I'm sure you'll enlighten me."

"It isn't just the fact that you spent the night at the saloon, though that
would be reason enough," she said sternly.

"It's the mason why you did such a thing."

"The reason."   He studied the way she held herself, rigid, unyielding, as
though her spine would snap if she dared to relax even a fraction.   ~.   ~ ~
.   "I cannot blame you for gambling."   She f6Ught her tone even.

"Right from the start, you made it plain: that you're a gambler who doesn't
stay in one place very long.  So we should not have been surprised by your
behavior in Prospect.  It is as my mother said.  You cannot change.  But by
your actions you let us know that you have been confined here for too long.
It is plain that you are eager for your freedom.  We have no right to hold
you here any longer."

"I didn't know I was being held."  She was so solemn, so serious.  He got to
his feet and set the cup on the mantel with a clatter.

To her credit she held her ground, although she lifted her hand to her
throat as if reluctant to stand so close to him.

"You feel an obligation to Ethan's memory.  I can appreciate that."

"An obligation."  He lifted a hand to her hair and watched the fiery strands
sift through his fingers.

She was caught off guard by the heat that flared, but forced herself to go on
with the speech she'd rehearsed.

"It is not fair of us to expect you to give up your own way of life for us.
We must accept the fact that it's time for you to move on."

He knew his touch had surprised her.  He could almost see in her eyes all the
emotions that were churning inside her.

"That's very noble of you.  What about Cyrus Stoner?"

"Cyrus is our problem, not yours.  You have to get on with your life, Mr.
McAllister.  And..."  She turned away.

The hem of her shift swirled about her ankles as she sailed toward her
bedroom, effectively breaking contact and ending further discussion.

"We must get on with ours.  Good night."

He stood for long minutes, smoke curling over his head.  A smile touched his
lips.  What would have been her reaction if he'd done what he wanted just
then?  What he'd wanted, he thought, his smile growing, was to pull her into
his arms and kiss her until all that pent-up anger dissolved and she was
purring like a kitten.

A kitten?  Hardly.  He chuckled.  A wildcat.  The most amazing little wildcat
he'd ever met.  All that fire, all that passion, hidden under a very proper
demeanor and a carefully controlled temper.  He'd give her her due.  No
matter what, she was always a lady.

He took a final drag on his cigar, then tossed the rest of it into the fire.

It was suddenly cold in here.  Maybe frigid air had seeped through the chinks
between the logs.  He'd have to seal them with moss and hot pitch in the
morning.  He grinned.  Maybe the frigid air in here was due to Cassie.  She'd
certainly tried her best to make him believe she wanted him to go.

Go?  How could he leave, when there was still so much to do?

He smiled again, just thinking about her.  Funny.  He'd convinced himself
that the only kind of woman who attracted him was an earthy, bawdy saloon
girl, who knew how to laugh and tease and please.  Now, none of the women
he'd ever known could hold a candle to this very proper woman who wanted no
part of him.

Tossing the last of his coffee into the fire, he made his way to the nest of
blankets and furs in the corner of the room.  After the day he'd put in, he
was asleep instantly.

Cassie awoke from a fitful dream.  For the next hour she tossed and turned,
unable to get her mother's warning out of her mind.

"Girl, that man is a gambler.  A wanderer.  If you couldn't face up to that
fact before, at least now you can no longer deny it.  The man proved it in
Prospect, in front of everybody in town.  Show his kind a saloon and
everything else will be forgotten.  Men like that never settle down.  They
just take their pleasures where they can find them, and then move on.  And if
you don't dig up the courage to send him packing soon, you'll be hurt by him.

And not only you, but those two children.  You can see how much influence he
already has over a fatherless girl like Jen.  "

That had been like an arrow to her heart, wounding her deeply.

Everything her mother had said was true.  Nothing had been the same since
Quirt McAllister had entered their lives.  They'd begun to depend on him.
Trust him.  And that was dangerous.  Hadn't she learned anything from her
mother's mistake?

Restless, she slipped out of bed, drawing a blanket around her shoulders, and
walked from her room.

The fire had burned low.  Red-hot coals painted an eerie glow across the
ceiling.  Outside, the wind had picked up, sending gusts of snow whipping
against the cabin walls.  Spotting the coffeepot on the warming shelf, Cassie
poured herself a cup and settled into the rocker.  Her gaze was fixed on the
glowing coals, as though, somehow, they held the secrets to all life's
worries.  "Nothing can be that bad."

At Quin's deep voice, her head came up sharply.

"I thought you were asleep."

"I was.  But I have this peculiar habit of reaching for my gun when I hear
someone walking around the cabin at night."

"I'm sorry."  She returned her gaze to the fire.

"Go back to sleep."

"That's not going to be easy to do now."  He tossed back the covers and got
to his feet, wearing only tight black pants.  After pulling on his boots, he
crossed to the fireplace and added another log.  Sparks leapt and danced
until the bark caught fire.  He turned to face her.

"Now, tell me what has you walking the floor before dawn."

"I have some decisions to make."

"Want to talk about them?"

She couldn't meet his eyes.

"I'm thinking about accepting Cyrus Stoner's offer."

"What?  After his men tried to burn you out?"

                                      I

"I

"I know."  Her words were anguished.

"But think what we could do with five hundred dollars."

He felt a wave of guilt.  He'd often risked more than that on the turn of a
single card.

Mistaking his silence for recrimination she said in a rush, "I know it
doesn't sound like much to you, Quin, but it would be enough to move my
family to town.  They would be around people.  My mother would have her
church and music, and the children would have friends."

"And you, Cassie?   What would you have?"

In agitation she set aside her cup.  Getting to her feet, she gathered her
blanket around her and began to pace.

"I

don't know.  Sometimes I think I'll stay and keep on searching for Ethan's
treasure.  But other times I realize what a fool I've been for sacrificing
everything for a dream.  I don't mind for myself.  But it isn't fair to ask
my family to suffer like this.  "

"I don't hear them complaining."

"That's just it."  She drew her arms around herself, hunching deeper into her
blanket, wishing she could chase away the chill that seemed to have settled
deep inside her.  "They never say a word.  But it tears at my heart to see
what they've become."  Her voice lowered.

"You saw how happy Ma was when she was playing the organ in church.

And the pleasure she took in Florence's kitchen.  And then there are Jennifer
and Rebecca.  They opened up like flowers around the Claxton boys.  They need
to be around people.  They need the comfort of church and school.  And I'm
standing in their way.  "

"You're too hard on yourself, Cassie."  "No."  Her head came up.

"I've been selfish.  But no more.  It's time to make some decisions."
"You'll regret this."

"Maybe.," She started to brush past him.

"But it has to be done."

His fingers closed around her wrist, stopping her in midstride.

"Cassie."

That was all he said, but the sound of her name spoken so urgently had her
heart pounding.  Beneath his fingertips he felt her pulse leap.

"It's time I got dressed."  She kept her face averted, afraid of what he
might see in her eyes.

"It will be dawn soon, and I'd like to get started early on my chores."

"Why do you keep turning away from me?"

She stiffened, then slowly faced him.  Fear mixed with anger, deepening her
tone.

"Don't confuse me with your saloon women.  I should think you've had
enough... pleasure to satisfy you until you reach the next town."

"Is that what this is about?"  Humor sparked in his voice and he caught her
by the shoulders, staring deeply into her eyes.  ~.

She flushed and tried to pull away but he held her fast.  The corners of his
lips curved in a hint of a smile.

"If I didn't know better, Mrs. Montgomery, I'd say you were jealous."

"Jealous?  She hoped she looked properly horrified.  " Of you and some
painted woman in Lottie's Place?  "

"Lottie's Place."  His smile grew.

"My, my, Mrs. Montgomery.  I'm impressed.  You even learned the name of the
saloon.  It would appear that you indulged in a bit of gossip with the good
people of Prospect."

"And how could we not gossip?  Everyone in town was witness to your stroll up
the aisle of church, reeking of tobacco and whiskey, and looking as pleased
with yourself as the cat who just skimmed the milk bucket.  And everyone in
that church knew what you'd been up to."

"Did they now?  Tell me.  What had I been up to"

"Drinking.   Gambling.

Forni"-- She stopped, her cheeks going bright red.

"The word is fornicating," he said with a laugh.

"And I wish now I'd indulged myself, since I'm already guilty in the eyes of
you and the town busybodies."

"I am not interested in your guilt or innocence."  Her mouth pursed in a
little pout, and he felt as if he'd just taken a blow to the midsection.  He
knew there and then that he could no longer resist the urge to kiss her.

Though his smile remained, his tone was rough.

"What are you interested in?"  He lowered his mouth to hers.

"This?"

The heat was so swift, so sudden, she had no time to react.  The kiss was hot
and hungry, his lips firm and possessive.

Even though her first instinct was to break free, the unaccustomed rush of
desire overruled and won.

Heat.  Strength.  Carefully controlled passion.  She'd discovered all these
things each time he'd kissed her.  Her body seemed to become fluid as he
dragged her against iiI Without any logic, without any reason, without any
thought to the consequences, she leaned into him, wrapping her arms around
his neck.

It seemed so easy, so right.  Though his kiss was anything but gentle, though
the hands that held her were almost bruising in their intensity, she knew no
fear.  She knew so little about him, and yet she felt as if she'd known him
forever.  Needs grew.  Needs so long denied.  To be held.  To be loved.  To
be cherished.

Quin questioned his sanity.  He must be losing his touch.  Earlier tonight
this woman had ordered him to leave.  Now, with the taste of her on his lips,
the scent of her filling his mind, he was thinking about home and family and
forever after.

He could feel both their heartbeats racing until their breathing became
shallow.  He heard a hoarse voice whispering her name, and realized it was
his.  He tore his mouth from hers to hurry desperately over her face, her
throat.

The need grew inside him until it was a rage.  He wanted her, here and now.
And he wanted all of her.  Mind, body, soul.

This was madness, he knew.  At any moment her mother would be waking up.  Her
children would be strolling out to begin the day.  It didn't matter.  Nothing
mattered except to hold her, to kiss her, to feel the fire.  He indulged
himself for a moment longer, drawing out the kiss, feeling her body pressed
firmly against his.

"Do you still want me to leave?"

Her eyes snapped open.  For a moment she felt str y disoriented.  Then,
wrapping herself once more in dignity, she took a step back.

"I think it would be best."

"For me?"  He reached out and tipped up her chin, staring into her eyes.

"Or for you?  .... She backed away, breaking contact.

"For both our sakes I want you to leave.  But not until after tomorrow.  It
would be too upsetting for the children."

"Fine.   The day after tomorrow."   His voice was a low, fierce whisper.

"That suits me just fine."  She turned and walked stiffly toward her bedroom,
Behind her, Quin watched with a feeling of frustration.  She was the most
damnably independent woman he'd ever met.  It would be impossible to stay now
that she'd ordered him to leave.  And yet, how could he leave her in this
desperate situation?  How could he leave, when everything he'd ever wanted
was here?

The little figure stood in the doorway of the bedroom and watched her mother
walk away.  Then her glance turned to Quin, who pulled on a parka before
stomping out of the cabin.

With the puppy pressed firmly to her chest, the LITTLE girl hurried across
the room and crawled into Quin's bed, snuggling into the heat that still
lingered in the folds of the blankets.  She breathed in the scents of leather
and tobacco, all the scents she had once associated with her father, and
squeezed her eyes tightly shut.  It would be wrong to go against her mother's
wishes and yet.  "Please," she silently pleaded, "don't let Ma~nd Mr.
McAllister away."

"Is that why you saved my pa's life?"  Jen asked.

Quin went very still.

"What makes you think I saved his life?"

"I heard Mama talking to Gram.  She said she owed you for saving Pa's Y~fe.
What did you do?"

Owed.  The word grated.

"Nothing special."  Quin sealed the final row of logs.

"I bet you killed a man," Jen said suddenly.

"And that's why you won't tell us."

"Did you kill a man, Mr. McAllister?"  Becky asked.

Both children were watching him carefully.

"Yes, I killed a man."

"Was he a bad man?  Did he hur~ my pa?"

Quin knelt down, so that his eyes were level with the little girl's.

"He hurt your pa, and a lot of other innocent men."

"Then I'm glad you killed him."

Quin caught Jea by the shoulders, fore hag the little girl to meet his eyes.

"Remember this, Jen.  Taking a life isn't something you can do lightly.
Don't ever be glad for someone's death."

"Even if they're bad, like Cyrus Stoner?"  ~ '~i~ "Even then."

"Are you sorry you killed the bad man?"

"I don't regret what I did," Quin said, choosing his words carefully.

"But I'm not proud of it, either.  I just did what I had to do to survive."

"So what does that make you, Mr. McAllister?"  Jen's eyes revealed her
confusion.

"Gram says you're a no account gambler.  And Mama says you're a hero for
saving Pa's life."

"I'm just a man, Jen.  Not the worst, not the best.  Just a man."

Before either of the children could ask any more questions, Ouin got to his
feet and turned away.  But as he turned he found himself face-to-face with
Cassie.  From the look on her face he surmised that she had overheard more
than she'd intended to.

For the space of several seconds they stared at each other in silence.

"You'll be wanting something hot," she said at last.  "There's a pot of soup
on the fire."

"Sounds good."  Brushing past her, Quin led the way to the cabin door.

Cassie and the children followed slowly, their thoughts as tumultuous as the
storm that raged.

"Something smells wonderful.  Is that apple pie?"  Quirt breathed in the
aroma of apples and cinnamon.

"It is."  Luella ladled soup into bowls and cut a thick slice of bread.

"I baked two of them with the apples Florence gave me."

The little pup scampered up from a rug in front of the fire where he'd been
sleeping and launched himself into JeWs arms.

Quin and the children hung their parkas and washed, then took their places at
the table.  Soon the cold outside was forgotten in the cheery warmth of the
little cabin.  "Cassie and I are going to spend the rest of the day cooking
and baking," Luella announced.

"And if you children have finished your chores, we could use your help."

"Doing what?"  Becky asked.

"Shelling nuts.  Cutting up bits of dried fruit."  Becky's interest was
piqued, but Jen looked decidedly unhappy at the prospect of spending the rest
of the day in the kitchen.

"If this storm keeps up, I'll be going down in the mine," Quin said.

"I could use some help."

At once Jen's head came up.  An eager smile lit her eyes.  "Can I help?"  she
asked.

"I'd like that.  Unless..."  Quin glanced at Cassie.

"Do you really need her to help with the cooking?"

Cassie shook her head.

"I think we can do without Jen.  Ma and Rebecca and I can manage just fine."

The little girl gave Quin an adoring look.  Somehow, the mere presence of
this strong, silent man made her forget all her loneliness and isolation.

By midafternoon the sky was as dark as night and the snow had drifted to the
windowsills.

"No sense trying to go outside," Quin muttered as he turned from the window.

"I guess I'll go work in the mine."  ' Quin pulled on his parka and Jen did
the same.

Biscuit scampered about underfoot, stopping every few inches to sniff the
walls of the tunnel.  When the pup ambled off to explore, Jen followed,
always keeping Quin's warning in mind.

As long as she could see the light from the lantern, she knew she was safe.
"Where are you, Jen?"  came Quin's voice~ "Over here, following Biscuit."
"Bring him back this way.  I want you to stay close enough to see."

"All right."  The girl turned to pick up the puppy.  But all her good
intentions fled when Biscuit scampered away.

One minute she could see the pup plainly, sniffing at a blackened hole in the
wall.  The next, the little animal disappeared.

"Biscuit!"  With a cry of alarm, the little girl raced off into the darkness.

Behind him, Quin heard the cry and dropped his pick.  Peering around the
small circle of light cast by the lanS .  front f the fire the lit tern, he
felt a flicker of annoyance

"Jen," he called coop rag up me puppy cunea in o ' ' .  9" ' ..... ~ffii[:
loua~y.  where are you.  tie girl climbed down the ladder behind Qum, wno
careen {~ He .nrtatahiti nn tho.  Inntarn uncl a torch They moved easily
along the familiar tunnels and iall~la~[~Th-o~a--l~-th-~- d'~' f .......
..u... ~e, .......... -- , Xalal~l~l~ g no ness was trightening to a small
child, passageways until they came to the site of Quin s latest ~ ~i Jen was
even more afr i .~ ~:~ a a u o~ ~os~ng ner Oeloveo puppy.

work.

Racing along the tunnel, she began calling frantically, "There's just one
rule," Quin said firmly.

"I want you i and Biscuit to stay close by.  Don't go wandering off.  If you
ever got lost in this maze, there's no telling how long it would take to find
you.  Do you understand, Jen?"

The little girl nodded solemnly.  Setting the lantern on a stone ledge, Quin
lifted a pick and began to cut away at the rock.  Close by, Jen amused
herself by holding up her fingers to the light and making pictures on the
shadowy walls, just the way Quin had taught her.

"Here Biscuit.  Here boy."

Suddenly she stopped running and listened.  Close by she could hear the dog's
muffled barking.  It sounded as though it came from under the ground.
Dropping to her knees, she listened.  The sound was closer.

In front of her was a narrow, chiseled hole in the rock wall.  She peered
around, expecting the interior to be shrouded in darkness.  Instead, her eyes
widened at the vision before her.

"Mr.  McAllister!"  she shouted.

Quin paused and held the lantern aloft, staring into the pale circle of
light.

"Jen?  Jen, where are you?"

"In here."  As if from a great distance, the child's voice seemed to bounce
off the walls.

Quin raced on, calling out more urgently,

"Jen, answer me.  Where are you?"

"In here."

The voice was closer but still very faint.  When he spotted the small
opening, Quin dropped to his knees.

"Jen, are you in here?"

"Yes, sir.  Wait 'til you see."

"Are you all right?"  .  >, "I'm fine.  But hurry."

Lying flat on his stomach, Quin thrust the lantern ahead, then crawled
through the opening.  When he was inside, he scrambled to his feet.  Jen,
holding the puppy in her arms, didn't look at all contrite.  Quin grabbed her
by the shoulders, intent upon scolding her for her foolishheSS.  Before he
could say a word, he stared around with a look of wonder.

They were standing in a huge cavern.  Light filtered down from above, bathing
the entire scene in an ethereal glow.

Evidence of earlier mining was everywhere.  A pick and shovel rested against
the far wall.  Leather pouches were scattered about, overflowing with rocks.
"It's like a city beneath the ground," Ouin said in hushed tones.

"How did you find this place?"  "Biscuit found it," Jen said simply.

"What do you think it is?"

"I'm not sure."  Lifting the lantern high Quin said tersely,

"Follow me.  And stay close."  He muttered, "There has to be an opening up
there, covered by snow.  Probably a mine shaft dug many years ago, and then
forgotten."

He led the way across the wide expanse, noting the gashes in the earth where
great quantities of rock had been removed and broken into stones small enough
to carry.  Ouin knelt and examined one of the stones, holding it close to the
lantern while he turned it over and over in his hands.

When he got to his feet he slipped one of the leather pouches over his
shoulder.  As he continued to circle the cavern, his look grew more
thoughtful.  "Come on, Jen," he said at length.

"I think we've been down here long enough."

They crawled through the narrow entrance to the cave, then, after marking the
spot, made their way along the maze of tunnels until they came to the ladder.
Quin held the lantern while Jen carried the puppy up the ladder.  When the
little girl reached the top, Quin followed.

"I was just going to climb down and call you two," Cassie said.

"Wash up.  It's time for supper."  Catching sight of the leather pouch she
arched a brow.

"Rocks, Mr. McAllister?"

"Not just rocks.  I suspect they may be what Ethan sent to the assayer's
office."

Across the room Luella and Becky, busy setting the table, glanced up.

For a moment no one moved.  No one spoke.

At last Cassie found her voice.

"What makes you think that?"

"Jen found a cave.  It's bigger than the cabin and barn put together.

And inside are tools.  My guess is they're Ethan's tools, lying just as he
left them.  " " Jen, you found your father's site?  " Cassie hugged her
daughter fiercely.

Embarrassed, the little girl said,

"It wasn't me, Mama.  It was Biscuit.  I just followed him."

~ ~ "Then Biscuit deserves a reward."

, "See, Gram," Jen said in all innocence.

"And you thought Biscuit was just one more mouth to feed."

Luella joined in as the others burst into laughter.  .  Cassie eyed the
contents of the pouch.

"Is that what Ethan was mining?  Those rocks don't look like gold to me."  '
"Not gold," Quin said.

"We won't know for certain until the assayer has a chance to test one.  But
if my hunch is right, Ethan found his treasure before he died."  :?  ~.  "Oh,
praise the Lord."  Luella caught her daughter and hugged her, then hugged
both her grandchildren.  Cassie looked a bit dazed.  When she glanced at
Quin, standing apart from the others, he winked at her and her heart tumbled
over.

"Well now," Luella said, taking charge.

"Let's get washed up and get ready to enjoy Christmas Eve supper, such as it
is."

"You mean Christmas is coming this year after all?"  Jen asked.

"It will be Christmas tomorrow whether we celebrate it or not,"

Luella said matter-of-factly.

"But Mr. MeAl lister hopeful news will certainly add to the festivities, even
though there won't be church services or presents."

"Presents."  Looking startled, Quin headed toward the door.

"I'll just be a few minutes?"

Puzzled, the others watched as he stepped out into the storm, catching hold
of the rope that ran from the cabin to the barn.  A short time later he
returned, his hair and clothes white with snow.  Under his arm were several
par!

"I picked these up in Prospect.  I was going to wait until morning, but I
think the celebration should begin now.

Merry Christmas," he said as he handed a package to each of them.

"Now what in the world... ?"  While Cassie and Luella merely stared at their
packages, Jen and Becky tore into the wrappings.

Jen opened her parcel and stared at it for long, silent moments.

"What is it?"  Luella asked.

"It's a gold locket," the little girl said.  ~:~r "Open it," Quin said softly.

When her little fingers had managed to open the locket, she gave a gasp of
surprise.  On one side was a miniature portrait of her mother, her sister,
and herself painted when she was an infant.  On the other side was a portrait
of two handsome Confederate soldiers.

"That's my pa," she cried, hurling herself into his arms.  "And you, Mr
McAllister" i" , ."

~ That s right.  He scooped her onto his lap and fastened the gold chain
around her neck.

"Ethan gave it to me when we were released from the prison camp.  He asked
that I keep it, so I'd never forget him or his family.  I thought it was time
I returned it to its proper home."

"Thank you," Jen said, wrapping her arms around his neck.

For a minute he seemed to freeze.  Then, enfolding her in his arms, he hugged
her fiercely before releasing her.

Across the room, Cassie watched in silence and struggled to swallow the lump
in her throat.

"Aren't you going to show us your gift, Becky?"  Jen demanded.

"Oh, Mr. McAllister."  Becky held up a silver-handled comb and brush and
silver-framed oval mirror.

"I've never seen anything so fine."

"I'm glad you like them, Becky.  I thought, since you're becoming a beautiful
young lady, you might have a use for them."

"Thank you.  I love them."  She held the mirror aloft and studied her
reflection as she danced around the room.

Jen pointed to the gift that lay in her grandmother's lap.  "Are you going to
open your gift, Gram?"

"Indeed I am."  Luella unwrapped the small parcel.  For a minute she was
unable to speak.  Then she held her gift aloft.

"Spectacles."  Slipping them on, she peered through them, unable to believe
how clearly she could see.

"Lands," she said with a sigh as she examined the intricate stitches on one
of the faded dresses in her sewing basket, "I can even thread my own needle."
After carefully removing them, she surprised Quin by kissing him.

"Thank you, Mr. McAllister.  I can't think of anything I agement.

"I agree," she said.

"There will never be a better time to wear such a lovely gown.  It's
Christmas Eve, girl."

Cassie walked into her bedroom and lowered the blanket at the doorway.

A short time later she emerged, flushed and slightly embarrassed at the
thought of modeling her new gown in front of the man who had bought it.

It had a high, modest neckline and long sleeves cuffed with white lace.  A
pale pink sash encircled her tiny waist.

The full skirt was gathered here and there by deep rose bows, revealing a
deep rose underskirt.

She had gathered her long hair up on top of her head with combs.  Soft wisps
of hair escaped to curl around her forehead and cheeks in a most beguiling
fashion.  "Oh, Mama," Becky sighed.

"You look" -- "Beautiful," Luella breathed.

"More beautiful than a song."

Cassie blushed.

"I feel... beautiful," she admitted.

would have liked more than these.  "

"What do you think, Mr. McAllister?"  Becky turned to "~i:~Juin and saw the
stunned look on his face.

"I'm glad, ma'am."  ;"' ::~ It was the first time in his life that Quin had
ever felt They all turned to Cassie .... " Well, Mama," Becky demanded.

"Open your gift."  speechless.  But the woman before him took his breath
"Yes.  Of course."  Cassie felt the heat rising to her away.

"You look ... like Christmas."

cheeks as she tore the wrappings from her package.  When the paper fell away
she let out a gasp.

"Oh, my."  In her hands was a beautiful pale pink gown.

"Put it on, Mama," Becky urged.

"I couldn't.  It's far too pretty to wear.  I can't possibly accept something
like this, Mr. McAllister."

"But it's Christmas Eve," Becky argued.

"Besides, how will we know how it looks unless you try it on?"

Cassie looked to her mother, expecting her to show her disapproval.

Instead, the older woman nodded encour

"I

Cassie lowered her gaze, afraid to meet his eyes.  Nervously touching a hand
to her hair, she said,

"Thank you.  But I don't know how you could afford such beautiful gifts.  All
you had were a few pelts .... " The poker game.  It hit her with all the
force of a storm.  He had spent the night gambling because he had found her
crying.  He hadn't gone to the saloon to satisfy his own needs.  He had
risked her anger, and that of the town gossips, so that she and her family
could have Christmas presents.

She turned away to hide the tears that threatened.  How could she have been
so blind?

"Are you crying, Mama?"  Jen asked.

"No.  I'm just... overcome."  She swallowed the lump that had lodged in her
throat.

"Mr.  McAllister, would you care to lead us in prayer before we eat?"  They
stood around the table, hands grasped, heads bowed.

As Quin spoke the words of blessing, Cassie glanced at him from beneath
lowered lashes.  She felt such a welling of love for this man, and thought
again of the things she had overheard him telling her children.  He claimed
to be neither hero nor villain.  He was just a man.  But what a man.  He had
come unbidden into their lives, had saved them from peril and, with his
irreverent charm, had brought them warmth and tenderness and laughter.

And she loved him.  Sweet heaven, she could no lor~er deny the truth.

She loved him.

Chapter Eighteen ~ ~ One more hand of cards, Gram.  Please.  " Luella
surprised everyone by agreeing.  With her spectacles perched on her nose, she
seemed to be having a grand time learning to play poker.

"This is the last game," Quin insisted.  "You're just tired of being beaten,
Mr. McAllister."

Luella picked up her cards and began sorting them.  "You're right.  I am.
It's a good thing we're not playing for money."  wo~ "You mean you aren't
happy about doing t ays or- kitchen chores?"

she asked with a perfectly straight face.

"Not to mention the cow I'll be milking."  He shot Cassie a look and she
demurely glanced at the cards in her hand.  But he could see the laughter
glinting in her eyes.  "I do recall hearing you say that you always win, Mr.
McAllister."

"I used to.  Until I ran into the Montgomery Gang."  That brought a round of
laughter from the children.

"All right.  Who can open?"  Quin looked around the table.

"Cassie?

Luella?  "

"I'll open," Becky said with the air of one who'd been playing poker all her
life.  She dropped a piece of straw in ~lngel the center of.  the table and
announced,

"Ante up, everyone."

"I don't believe it."  Quin added a piece of straw to the pile in the middle
of the table, and everyone else followed suit.  They were playing a game Quin
had named Cutthroat.  Whoever won each jackpot could assign chores to the
losers.

"How many cards?"

"I'll take three," Becky said, discarding the same number.

Quin dealt, then turned to Luella.

"How many?"  She shook her head.

I'll keep these.  "

He managed a straight face as he dealt to the others, then picked up his
hand.  Placing the ace next to the pair he already had, he said aloud,

"I smell victory.  Becky, what do you have?"

"A pair of queens."

"I don't have anything," Jen said.

"Neither do I."  Cassie dropped her cards.  "Sorry, Becky.  It looks like I
win.  Three aces."  Ouin set them down, then began to reach for the pile of
straw.  As he dragged it toward him, Luella said,

"Tell me aga what it takes to beat three of a kind."

"Oh, Gram," Becky giggled.

"You have a full house?"  ?  ~ "Indeed I do."

Luella dropped her cards, saying,

"It's still hard for me to understand how two little old threes and three
fives can beat all those pretty aces."

Cassie and the children roared with laughter as Ouin surrendered the straw to
Luella, who doled out a list of chores like a hardened wagon master.

"That's it," Quin said, gathering up the cards.

"I think we've had all the fun we can stand for one night."

"Who would like warm milk and cookies?"  Luella asked as she pushed away from
the table.

, With the children eagerly following her, she placed a part of milk on the
fire and began filling a plate with cookies.

"You cheated, didn't you?"  Cassie whispered.  Quin looked offended.

"How can you say such a thing?

Did you see me cheat?  "

"Of course not.  You're too good to get caught.  But it was you who decided
that the loser would have to assume all the burdensome chores on Christmas
morning.  I know you cheated so we'd all win."

He gave her a roguish smile that had her heart leaping to her throat.

"A gentleman never cheats."

"And you're always the perfect gentleman, aren't you?"  He winked and slid
the deck of cards into his pocket.

"Yes, ma'am."

"Sit over here, Mama, Mr. McAllister."  Becky and Jen moved apart to make
room on the bench.  When they sat down, Jen climbed onto Quin's lap, while
Becky sat beside her mother.

Luella settled herself into the rocking chair, a fur robe over her lap, a cup
of warm milk in her hands.  Despite the howling of the wind outside, they
were snug and warm.  Biscuit was curled into a ball of fur on a rug in front
of the fireplace.  It was a scene of perfect contentment.

"Mama," Jen coaxed, "tell us what Christmas was like before the war."

The war, Quin thought.  Everything in their lives was defined by the war.
Life before the war.  Life since.

Cassie stared into the flames, remembering.  Her voice took on a dreamy
quality.

"Friends would come from miles around to our Christmas Eve supper.  Robert
always came.  General Lee," she added, seeing the children's questioning
looks.

"Oh, the food.  We always killed several geese, which I stuffed with sage
dressing.  Ethan and some of the men would hunt pheasant and partridge and
doves.  The governor always personally delivered a whole roasted pig, which
became a tradition.  There was punch and wine and even French champagne.  And
the sweet table was a wondrous thing to behold, with pies and rum cakes and
fancy cookies."

"I can almost remember," Becky said with a sigh.  "Was I there.9" Jen asked.

"Oh my, yes," Cassie said.

"Your father was so proud of his baby daughter.  He carried you in for all to
admire, and watched as you and the other children scampered off to enjoy the
taffy pull and play a game of tag.  And at midnight, Saint Nicholas came,
dressed in his bishop's robes, to distribute candy and presents to all the
good boys and girls."

"That's the best part," Becky said with a sigh.  "I don't know."  Jen yawned
and leaned her head back against Quin's shoulder.  Her hands rested atop
Quin's big hands.

"I

don't think it sounds as nice as this.  I think this was the best Christmas
ever.  "

For a moment everyone fell silent as they looked at her.  Jennifer.

Cassie felt tears spring to her eyes.

"You're right, This has been a fine Christmas.  We are truly blessed.  We
have this snug cabin and more than enough to eat.  And best of all, we have
each other."

"Don't forget Mr. McAllister," Jen said.  "Yes," Cassie said softly.

"We are grateful for Mr. McAllister."

"Do you remember the songs we used to sing at your Christmas party?"

Luella asked suddenly.

Cassie nodded.

"Sing with me, Becky," Luella urged.

In her clear voice Becky began to sing, of a wondrous night, of humble
shepherds keeping watch over their 231 flocks, of a host of heavenly
messengers heralding the birth of an infant who would change the world.

As Luella joined her, she stared into the flames, the cup in her hands empty,
the plate of cookies forgotten.  Soon Cassie and Quin joined in, their voices
lifting, filing the little cabin with rich, beautiful music.

When the song ended, Cassie glanced at the little girl nestled against Quin's
chest.  Though she was making a valiant effort to stay awake, Jen's eyes
blinked, then closed.

"I think it's time to say good-night."  Cassie got to her feet.

Before she could reach for Jen, Quin stood and effortlessly lifted the little
girl in his arms.  With Cassie leading the way, he carried Jen to her bed.
Cassie drew the covers over her, and Biscuit jumped onto the foot of the bed,
where he promptly curled up, fast asleep.  Cassie pressed a kiss to her
daughter's cheek, and Quin did the same before he tiptoed out.

"Good night, Mr. McAllister," Luella called as she draped an arm around her
granddaughter's shoulder.  ~ .

"Thank you again for my spectacles.  I can't believe how much I've been
missing."

"You're welcome.  Good night, ma'am."

"Thank you, Mr. McAllister."  Becky surprised him by brushing a kiss across
his cheek.

"Merry Christmas."

Luella and Becky made their way to the bedroom.  Quin heard the whispered
words of endearment before Cassie emerged a short time later.

He tossed another log onto the fire, then stood a moment, deep in thought as
the flame licked along the bark.

When he turned, Cassie was standing across the room, looking flushed and a
little breathless.

~ ~ "Where do you go," she asked softly, "when you get all quiet like that
and stare into the fire?"

When he didn't answer, she said,

"You never talk about your family, and what your life was like before the
war."

He shook his head and began to turn away.  Instantly she crossed the room and
touched a hand to his arm.

"Forgive me, Mr. McAllister.  I had no right..."  She felt him stiffen at her
touch.  The look on his face was so bleak, it seemed to pierce her heart.
"I'll say good-night now, ma'am."  He drew away, breaking contact.

"I'm going down in the mine to work for a while."

"But it's so late."  She gripped her hands together, feeling helpless.

Her impulsive question had caused him to turn away from her, but she had no
idea how to make amends.

"Why, it's almost midnight.  After the day you've put in, you can't possibly
feel like going back to the mine."

"I'm not tired yet.   Besides, it will give me a chance to work off all that
good food."   He pulled on his parka and called, without looking at her,

"Good night, ma'am.  A happy Christmas."

"Yes.  Ahappy."

She watched as he picked u~ lantern and lifted the trapdoor.  Within minutes
he had disappeared.

Quin set the lantern on a shelf of rock and removed his parka.

Rolling his sleeves, he took up the pick and began to chisel away at the
entrance to the cave.  Each time the point bit into the wall of rock,
straining his muscles, he welcomed the release of hard physical work.  It
would help to take his mind off the images that tormented him.  Images made
all the more painful tonight, while a little girl slept in his arms and a
beautiful woman sat beside him.

                                      I

He pushed himself beyond the pain, working until his muscles ached from the
effort.  In no time the entrance had been enlarged from a tiny crawl space to
an opening that could accommodate a man and wheelbarrow.

Satisfied, he set aside the pick and turned to retrieve the lantern.

That was when he saw her.  She had draped a blanket around her shoulders.
She stood now, clutching it tightly about her, watching him with the wariness
of a frightened doe.

His voice was gruff.  ~ "I thought you'd _b.~e..a,sl_eep by now."  I j ~ "I
can't sleep."  She moistened her lips with her tongue and took a tentative
step closer.

"I never properly thanked you for this" -- she touched a hand to her gown,
then lifted her eyes to him "--and all the other things you've given

US.  "

"I've been properly thanked."  His manner was brusque.  He spun on his heel.

"Now go up to bed.  This is no place for you, dressed like that."

She would not be ignored again.  She'd had t~e:to gather her courage.

Lifting her chin, she walked closer and placed a hand on his arm.

"What is it?  what have I done to upset you?"

She felt him flinch, but he kept his back to her as he said,

"You haven't done anything."

"I'm not leaving until you tell me honestly what's wrong."

He turned.  Very deliberately he kept his tone rough.  "what's wrong?

You look entirely too fetching in that gown, Mrs. Montgomery.  That's what's
wrong.  And unless you get out of here now, I'll have you out of that gown
and into my arms so fast your head will be spinning.  " His eyes blazed.

"Is that honest enough for you?"

He saw the stunned look in her eyes before he gripped her roughly by the
shoulders and turned her around.  There was no gentleness in his touch as he
gave her a shove.  "Now leave me and go back to your safe haven before I do
something... unforgivable."

Without another word he grabbed up the pick and stormed into the cavern.  If
he worked through the night he could have enough rocks to fill the wagon.
With that goal in mind he bent to his task with a vengeance.

"I understand now."  The sound of her breathless voice, so near, sent shock
waves through him.

"You want me.

But you think somehow you'll hurt me.  "

The gentle touch of her fingers on his arm caused him to drop the pick.  He
swore as he swung toward her.

"Woman, leave me.  Now, before it's too late."  The blanket slipped from her
shoulders and fluttered to the floor of the cave.

Her voice was hushed.

"Don't you see?  It's already too late."

He clenched his hands into fists and, through sheer force of will, kept them
at his sides.

"Damn it, Cassie, you're confusing gratitude with love."

"I'm not confused.  And what I feel is not gratitude."  Still he resisted.

"It sure as hell isn't love.  A woman like you... it isn't possible for you
to have feelings for a man like me."

"I'll be the judge of my feelings."

His nerves were stretched to the limit, but he gave no indication, except for
the clenching of his jaw.

"I'll hurt you."

"Oh, no."  In an achingly sweet gesture she wrapped her arms around his waist
and pressed her cheek to his.

"You could never hurt me."  But even as she spoke those words, she knew that
he could.  He was the only man who could, 235 if she daxed to open her heart
to him.  She pushed aside that thought.  For this one special night she
didn't want to think.  She wanted only to feel.

"I want you to hold me."

He swore again, softly,

"If I do, I won't be able to let you go.  And in the morning, nothing will be
the same."

"I know.  But this is what I want.  What we both want."  She stood on tiptoe
to reach his lips.

The moment her lips brushed his, he knew he had lost.  The arms that crushed
her were almost bruising as he dragged her against him and savaged her mouth.
For a moment she was startled by the roughness of his kiss.  Then she leaned
into him, giving herself up to the moment.  His lips moved over hers, taking
until she was drained, then filling her with the dark, mysterious flavor of
him, until all she could taste was him.

"Quirt."  She breathed his name.

At once his touch gentled.  His name on her lips was the sweetest sound.

"Say it again," he murmured against her lips.

"Say my name."

"Quin.  Quin."

His kiss cut off her voice.  His mouth moved over hers, slowly, deliberately,
drawing out the kiss until she sighed and her lips parted.  His tongue
tangled with hers, drawing out all the sweetness until they were both lost in
the pleasure.

He lifted his head and for a moment she felt bereft.  Then his lips whispered
over her face, pressing light kisses to her eyelids, her cheeks, the corner
of her jaw.  "Oh, Cassie.  Do you have any idea how sweet you are?"

He was determined to show her, by word, by touch, how precious she was to
him.  And so he forced himself to go slowly, to keep his kisses, his touches,
as gentle as he could manage.  But inside a storm was brewing.  A storm of
passion that he.  knew once unleashed, would devour them both.

With his tongue he traced the curve of her ear, nibbling, tugging, then
darting inside until she gasped and pushed away.  He dragged her close,
burning a trail of kisses down her neck.  When he buried his lips in the
sensitive hollow of her throat, she gave a little moan of pleasure and clung
to him, afraid that at any moment her legs would no longer hold her.

As if reading her mind, he lowered her to the blanket and kissed her until
she was breathless.

"There's still time to change your mind, Cassie."  Even as he said it, he
knew it was a lie.  He would beg, he would crawl, to keep her here with him.

"I've already given you my answer, Quin."

She twined her arms around his neck, but still he held back.

"I can't make you ~ny promises."

She felt the knife-edge of pain and shrugged it aside, offering her lips.

"I won't ask for any."

He took her offering with a hunger that shocked them both.  His kisses were
by turns punishing, then gentle, as he waged a war within himself.  He wanted
her.  More than anything in the world.  But he knew that what she offered was
too precious, too priceless, to squander.  He wouldn't merely take; he would
give.  All the pleasure, all the grafffication, all the rapture, he could
manage.  Outside the wind raged, but inside, the cavern was silent, with only
the sounds of their whispered sighs.  The light from the lantern made
shifting patterns on the walls of the cave, bathing them in a pool of amber
light.  Quin struggled to bank the needs that raged within him, seeking
release.  For her sake he would go slowly, allowing her to set the pace,
allowing them both to savor each moment.

His kisses became gentle, almost reverent.  With teeth and tongue and
fingertips he explored her face, her neck, her throat.  And with each touch
he felt her body grow more tense, her breathing more shallow.

Time stood still.  There was no tomorrow.  No yesterday.  There was only now,
this place, this woman in his arms.

"Cassie.  Cassie."  Her name was a prayer on his lips.  She lay in his arms,
steeped in pleasure.  She wouldn't allow herself to think about tomorrow.
For now there was just Quin, his touch, his taste, the pleasure he brought
her.

And if she repeated the mistake of her mother, there would be no regrets.
For this one special night, she was loved.

As his kisses intensified, her breathing grew more rapid.  The thought of
what she was about to do had fear leaping into her eyes.  Seeing it, he
soothed, caressed, calming her fears, easing her tension, until she relaxed
in his arms.

He felt the gradual change in her.  Trust.  She trusted him.  The knowledge
excited him.  With mutual trust they could take the next step.  Together.

~ .  He reached for the buttons of her gown and, with infinite patience,
undressed her.  As he slid the gown from her shoulders he brushed his lips
across her naked flesh.  She trembled and sighed, exciting him more, and he
reached for the ribbons of her chemise.  When that last barrier fell away, he
was at last able to see the body she had kept hidden from his view.

She was so beautiful, so perfect, she took his breath away.

With her eyes steady on his, she reached for the buttons of his shirt.  She
slipped it from his shoulders, then bent to brash her lips across his
hair-toughened chest.  She felt him tremble as a moan escaped his lips.
When her fingers fumbled with the fasteners at his waist, he helped her until
his clothes lay discarded with hers.

They knelt facing each other.  He reached up and removed the combs from her
hair, watching as fiery curls tumbled loose, spilling down her shoulders.
Without a word he plunged his hands into the tangles and pulled her head
back, then covered her mouth with his.

The kiss was hot, hungry.  It spoke of loneliness, of needs so long
suppressed, of a deep, abid.  in.  g need to touch and be touched.

She wrapped her arms around his waist and clung to his strength.  At that
simple contact, she felt his muscles contract violently.  Then his hands
began moving over her, enticing, arousing, until her body hummed with need.

Ever since he'd first seen her he had fantasized about making slow, torturous
love to her in a big feather bed in a gilded saloon.  But now, with a fire
blazing inside him and a hunger that bordered on madness, he had no need of
fantasies.  This was real.  This was now.  She possessed him, body and soul.

Now she understood why he had struggled so long to remain aloof.

Always before he had revealed only the charming gambler.  Now it was as
though a stranger had emerged from some deep, cavernous prison to devour her.

This dark, dangerous side of him excited her.  Knowing that it was her touch,
her taste, that aroused him, made her bold.  She pressed light kisses across
his shoulder, down his chest, exploring his body as he had explored hers.
His low groan of pleasure made her even bolder.  Half-starved, they feasted.

Half-mad, they took and gave and took until they slipped beyond reason.

His body was alive with needs.  Though he had intended to go slowly, he could
no longer rein in the desire that smoldered.  With her own passion unleashed,
he was free to lead her higher, to take her to new places.  Together they
would taste and touch and feel.  If he could give her nothing else, he could
bring her this one night of exquisite pleasure.

With great care he lay her down on the blanket and brought his lips to her
breast, moving his tongue across her nipple until it hardened.  Then he moved
to the other breast, nibbling, suckling, until she moaned and writhed beneath
him.  Her breath came faster now, as she clutched at the blanket and moved in
his arms.

The cave was cold, but the heat rose between them, dogging their throats as
he drove her higher, then higher still, keeping release just out of reach.

She trembled as he moved over her, warm flesh to warm flesh.  He felt her
stiffen and gasp as, with lips and fingertips, he brought her to the first
peak.

There was no time to think.  Now there was only Quin.  His taste, his touch,
his voice, low, urgent, as he took her to places she had never been before.
He gave her no time to recover as he moved over her, dragging his lips back
to hers.

Her eyes were steady on his, glazed with passion.  She hadn't thought it
possible to want more, but she did.  As he entered her, she enfolded him in
her arms, moving with him, matching his strength.

He filled himself with the fresh clean taste of her.  He knew that in the
years to come, wherever his journeys took him, he would think of her, of
this, and be warmed by the memory.

And then all thought fled.  They moved together, strong, sure, chasing a
distant light.  Her name was torn from his lips as he began to soar.  At last
their bodies shuddered, quaked, as they reached the sun, embraced it, and
shattered into a million glittering fragments.

                                      I

Chapter Nineteen They lay, still joined, feeling their heartbeats slowly
return to normal.  The enormity of what they had shared brought a mist to
Cassie's eyes.

Quin pressed his lips to the corner of her eyelid.  Feeling the moisture, he
immediately levered himself above her.

"I've hurt you.  I know I was rough" -- "No."  She caught him before he could
roll away.  Pulling his head down, she brushed her lips over his.

"These are happy tears."

, ~.  ~ .

"You're sure?"  His heart began to oeat again.

"You aren't having regrets?"

"I'm sure, Quin.  No regrets."  No matter where life took them, she knew,
they would always have this memory, this special bond.  Even though they had
made no promises, there would never be room for anyone else in her heart.

Her man, she thought fiercely.  Hers.  And the love she felt for him would
warm her through all the cold, lonely winters of her life.

He pressed his lips to the sheen on her forehead, then rolled to one side and
drew her into the circle of his arms.

Mistaking her silence, he whispered,

"I'm sorry.  I didn't plan for this to happen."

"I know.  I did."  When he leaned up on one elbow to stare down at her she
began to laugh.

"Well, what choice did I have?  All of a sudden you had become the very stem,
righteous, noble gentleman."

He joined in the laughter.

"If I'd known about your change of heart, ma'am, I could have saved myself a
lot of long walks in the snow."  His tone became serious.

"You are so very special, Cassie.  Do you know how long I've wanted you?"

Intrigued, she sat up.  Her hair spilled in disarray around her shoulders.

"How long?"

He caught a handful of her hair.

"Since the minute I laid eyes on you, looking so fierce, aiming that rifle at
me."

"Why, Mr. McAllister," she said in her best drawl, "if I'd known that, I
could have had my way with you days ago.  All I would have had to do was get
out my little old pistol and aim it at your... heart."

He was so delighted by her wicked sense of humor, he threw back his head and
roared.

"Mrs.  Montgomery, you do continue to surprise me."

"I'm glad you don't object.  Because I have a few more surprises in mind."
Reveling in her newly discovered power, she leaned forward and began to press
kisses along his shoulder, his collarbone, his chest.

The laughter died in his throat.  He gave a low moan of pleasure.

"Do you know what you're doing to me?"

"Good.  I can't think of anyone more deserving."  He brushed his lips lightly
over hers.  At once he felt the rush of desire.  He was amazed that he could
want her again so soon.

But the truth was, he would never have enough of her.  A lifetime of loving
would not be enough.  She felt a surge of power.  Knowing it was her touch,
her kiss, he craved, she straddled him and began to move over him.

                                      I

"Woman, have you no shame?"

"None."  Realizing that he was fully aroused, she flashed a dangerous smile.
Her hair swirled around him as she ran hot, nibbling kisses across his
collarbone and down his stomach.  When she moved lower she heard his quick
intake of breath.

"I can see that there's only one cure for this," he muttered as he suddenly
rolled her over and covered her mouth with his.

Her smile fled.  She gasped as he entered her.  And then they were lost in a
world of quiet sighs and passionate kisses.  A world of endless pleasure.  A
world of love.

Quin studied the woman in his arms.  Her eyes were closed, her breathing slow
and steady.  There had been so little time for sleep.  As the hours sped
past, they had loved with a desperation born of the knowledge that all this
would soon end, for he had already told her of his plan to leave at first
light for the assayer's office in Virginia City, the territorial capital.

~ nz~y Their lovemaking had been at tim fre of emotions that sent them into a
swirling storm.  At other times they had been as gentle and as tender as old,
comfortable lovers.

It was cold and damp in the mine, and Quirt knew they would both be more
comfortable in the cabin, in Cassie's bed, or in his bedroll of furs.  Yet
neither of them had made any move to leave.  This cave had become their
sanctuary.  Despite the cold, they were warmed by each other's bodies, and by
their love.

Love.  Quin wondered when the passion, the desire, had become love.  It felt
so right, so natural, to love this woman.

Cassie stirred, and he saw the look in her eyes as she glanced at the hazy
light in the mine.

"What are you thinking about?"

"Freckles," he muttered, running kisses across her shoulder.

"There's something intriguing about all these freckles.  I'm going to have to
kiss every one."  She sighed her pleasure at the touch of his lips.

"Is it dawn?"

"Almost."

She surprised him by wrapping her arms around his neck.

"I like waking up in your arms.  In fact, I can't think of a nicer place to
be."

"I was just thinking the same thing."  He kissed the tip of her nose.

"Which must mean that we've both lost our senses.  Do you realize there's a
warm fire just above us, while we have nothing more than this blanket and the
heat from our own bodies?"

"Mmm-hmm."  She touched her lips to his and stretched contentedly.

"But you must admit, we've managed to generate a great deal of body heat."
Laughing, she brought her hands down, running them along his body,
anticipating his response.  Her teasing suddenly stopped when her fingertips
encountered a raised scar that ran along one side from shoulder to thigh.
Until now, she hadn't had the confidence to ask about it.

"what is this, Quin?"

"Nothing.  Just an old wound."

"Oh, Quin."  She could feel him closing up, turning away from her again, as
he had the previous night, before their lovemaking.  And again she felt
helpless.  As her fingers moved along the ridge of flesh, her eyes grew
troubled.

"I hate the war and what it did to you."  "How can you say that, love?

You don't even know what it did.  "

Love.  She was warmed by his use of that endearment.  It gave her the courage
to whisper,

"I know that whatever it was, your pain is so deep you can't even bring
yourself to speak of it."

Without a word he drew her against his chest and wrapped the blanket around
the two of them, enveloping her in warmth.  For long minutes they remained
that way, neither of them willing to break the silence.

Just when she thought that he would keep his secrets, he gave a deep sigh and
began to speak.  The pain was evident in his voice.

"You have a right to know, Cassie."  He twirled a slxand of her hair around
his finger, avoiding her eyes.

"Ethan and I had much in common.  Maybe that was why we were drawn into such
a close friendship.  I was the only son of a wealthy plantation owner.  I
adored my two younger sisters, and they adored me.  When I think back, I
realize how young, how foolish I was.  I thought everyone was open and
generous and fun loving like my family."

Cassie heard a slight change in his tone.  :~j "when a beautiful, aloof young
woman~rstmd me, ~I was more than a little flattered.  We were soon married,
and shortly thereafter, expecting our first child."

Though Cassie was stunned at this revelation, she forced herself to say
nothing, for fear that he would draw back into silence.

"It should have been a wonderful time in our lives," Quin muttered, "but the
truth soon became apparent.  She didn't love me.  In fact, she was incapable
of loving anyone.  She had married a man of means because her father was
deeply in debt.  After I cleared his debts, she became even more aloof, often
falling into black moods that would last for days or weeks.  By the time our
beautiful little daughter was born, ours was a marriage in name only.  She
had no interest at all in our baby."

Thinking of her own children, and her boundless love for them, Cassie felt a
wave of compassion.  Without realizing it, she rested her cheek against his
chest and tried to find comfort in the strong, steady beat of his heart.

"And then came the war," Ouin said softly, "which I saw as a means to escape
my personal unhappiness.  I must admit that I thought of the war as little
more than a brief adventure.  I gave no thought to the reason why we were
fighting.  I was not only willing, but eager, to join the fray.

Leaving my wife and daughter with my family, I accepted an assignment no one
else wanted, as a courier between General Lee and General Longstreet.  I
found myself constantly in enemy territory.  "

She shivered.

"It must have been frightening."  "Not at first," he admitted.

"I still thought of it as no more than a fine challenge.  It satisfied my
need to take risks.  But as the war dragged on, and I saw the carnage, the
thrill of adventure was replaced by a kind of numbing horror.  I saw so many
good men killed, so many others left to suffer.  I saw limbs severed, young
healthy bodies shattered beyond recognition.  And then, suddenly, I was
captured and found myself spending the rest of the war in a prison camp."

"Where you met Ethan," she said in hushed tones.  "Where I met Ethan."

He fell silent for several seconds, and she could see that he was back,
reliving the horror~ Then, with a deep sigh, he continued,

"I discovered that my skill with cards could be useful in securing food,
blankets, and whatever else we desperately needed to stay alive in that
ffithy place.  And except for a few ... ugly incidents... the treatment was
tolerable.  I remember after the war, heading home, still believing I could
put the war behind me."  His voice lowered.

"By the time I reached Atlanta, everyone and everything I loved was gone.
All of them dead.  Some of my neighbors thought my family had been murdered
by roving bands of former soldiers.  But others suggested that they'd been
killed at the hands of a woman driven further into madness by the war."

Cassie felt a wave of revulsion.

"Are you saying your wife killed your family?"

His voice trembled with emotion.

"I will never know.  But if it is so, then their deaths are really on my
hands.  My parents, my sisters, even my beautiful daughter, died because of
my arrogance."

"Your arrogance?  You blame yourself?"  Sitting up, she stared at him, tears
welling in her eyes.

"But why?  What could you have done?"

"Oh, Cassie, don't you see?"  He turned his head to hide the anguish in his
eyes.

"I didn't go off to war for any noble reasons.  I went to escape an unhappy
marriage.  And because of it, all those who depended on me had to suffer.

If I had been there with them"-- " You could not have stayed there, Quin.
Even if you had not gone voluntarily in the beginning of the war, you would
surely have been forced to join the battle as the war raged on.  " She
touched a hand to his cheek and felt him flinch.

"You are not to blame for their deaths, Quin, any more than I am to blame for
Ethan's.  It is as my mother said.  It was the war."  She felt her lips
tremble but forced herself to go on.

"Ethan felt much the same way as you when he returned.  He could not forgive
himself for the things we'd been forced to suffer while he was gone.  Can you
imagine?  He was more tortured by what we had endured than by what he'd been
forced to live through.  I thought..."  She shivered, remembering the torment
in her husband's eyes.

"I thought it was just the sickness.  But I realize now it was a sickness of
the soul.  He could not let go of this need to protect us, even when his
health was ebbing.  He truly believed that he could continue to watch over
us, even after his life was over.  This torment, this dedication is, I
believe, what really killed him."  She was quiet for a long time.  Lifting a
finger to Quin's forehead, she traced the lines of worry as she said,

"I have seen that same look in your eyes, Quin.  If you would free yourself
from these demons, you must first forgive yourself."

"How can I forget that I failed all those who trusted me?"

"The failure was not yours.  Whatever else you believe, you must know this.
However your loved ones died, it was ordained by one greater than you.  You
must accept that they have found their eternal peace."

"Oh, God, Cassie."  His voice trembled with emotion.  He pulled her close,
his mouth seeking hers.  The kiss spoke of pain, of anguish, of
soul-wrenching torture.  But as the kiss deepened, it became some thug else.
Passion, need, dark des fie ~.  :'~.  ~,~, They came together in an explosion
of raw emotion.  And as the light of dawn filtered into the cavern like a
benediction from heaven, they moved in each other's arms, absorbing each
other's pain, healing each other's wounds.  And when at last they lay, spent,
arms and legs tangled, they felt a rare kind of peace.

"Tell me honestly," Cassie murmured against Quin's throat.

"Did Ethan speak of me?"

He ran a finger along her arm, studying the fine porcelain skin.

"He spoke of nothing else.  You were his reason for living."  And mine, he
realized with a shock.  Though Quin had never before admitted it, it had been
Ethan's description of his wife and children that had kept them both sane in
that place of insanity.  And though he hadn't realized it until now, he had
fallen in love with Cassie all those years ago.  Her goodness.  Her
sweetness.  Before he had ever seen her face or heard her voice or felt her
touch, he had fallen in love with another man's wife.

For a moment he was rocked by the knowledge, and experienced a sense of shame
that he should be given such a gift.  Then the shame was replaced with a
sense of humble acceptance.

He would always be grateful to the fate that' had brought him here.  For it
was with Cassie that he had at last found peace.

He studied the thin rays of light that streamed from the ceiling of the cave.
His arms tightened around Cassie, and he pressed a long, lingering kiss to
her lips before muttering,

"It's time."

Cassie sat up and shoved the hair from her eyes while he dressed.

"I

can't bear to think of you spending Christmas Day on the trail.  "

"Don't think about that."  He watched as she slipped into her dress and
buttoned the row of tiny buttons.  The temptation to linger, to taste her
lips one more time, wasL~ great, but he knew that the day could no longer be
put off.  "Just remember, by the time I reach Virginia City, Christmas will
be over.  And as soon as the assayer's office opens, I'll have the answer and
be on my way home."

Home.  She wondered if he realized what he had revealed.

Cassie handed Quin a linen towel wrapped around an assortment of biscuits and
dried meats.  He stuffed the food into his saddlebag, then turned for a final
goodbye.  After he embraced Jen and Becky, and tipped his hat to Luella, he
merely touched a finger to Cassie's cheek.

, It was then that Luella sensed something different.  Standing a little to
one side, she glanced from Quin to her daughter.  She felt a sudden shock as
realization dawned.  There was no denying the truth.  It was there in their
eyes.

In the way their bodies strained toward each other, though they steadfastly
maintained a proper distance.

They had become intimate.

The old woman felt a tightening in her throat.  She could understand how it
had happened.  Two lonely people.  A desperate yearning to be held, to be
comforted.  Had she not experienced similar feelings?  But, oh, how she had
prayed that it would not be the fate of her beloved daughter.  Luella knew
only too well what could happen to a woman foolish enough to let her emotions
overrule common sense.

"Look for me tomorrow night," Quin said as he pulled himself into the saddle.

"You can't possibly make it to Virginia City and back in that length of
time," Cassie protested.

"Unless you don't bother to sleep."

"Don't worry about me.  I'll be here.  Just take care of yourselves until I
get back."

He nudged his horse into a run.  They all watched until he was out of sight.
As the others returned to the cabin, Cassie stood alone in the biting cold,
her spine straight and stiff beneath her shawl.  But from her vantage point
inside the cabin, Luella watched as the thin shoulders suddenly sagged, then
shook, as her daughter gave in to the need to weep.

The trail was steep and slick.  Cutter picked his way through several feet of
snow.

Quin, hunched into his long duster, spoke words of encouragement while the
horse strained to the top of the rise.

Despite fatigue and the biting cold, a smile touched Quin's lips at the sight
of the darkened outlines of the familiar barn and cabin in the distance.  He
touched a hand to the assayer's report tucked in his pocket.  Christmas
festivities were about to be extended another day.  Or a lifetime, if truth
be told.

As they began the long descent, Quin felt a prickly feeling along his scalp.
What was wrong with the scene before him?  He peered through the darkness,
straining to put his finger on the problem.

It wasn't unusual to see the cabin in darkness.  After all, it was well past
the time when Luella and the children would have retired for the night.
Still, he'd expected a lantern burning and Cassie waiting up for him.

The feelings of unease increased as he drew closer.  It wasn't just the lack
of light.  Something else was wrong.

And then it dawned on him.  There was no smoke coming from the chimney.

His mount, sensing his urgency, broke into a run.  When they came around the
barn, Quin spotted a patch of darkness against the white snow.  A human form.
Unmoving.  His heart forgot to beat.  He leapt from the saddle and sprinted
toward the darkened form.

"Cassie.  My God..."  The words died in his throat as he knelt in the
blood-spattered snow and lifted the lifeless form in his arms.  He realized
at once that it wasn't Cassie.  The body was that of a handsome young Crow.
The son of the chief.  Rage bubbled, hot and furious, at the knowledge that
this fine young brave had given his life in defense of others.  Quin's memory
flashed back to the war and he experienced once again his fury at the
inhumanity of needless bloodshed.

A little beyond was another dark form, and another.  Quin bent to each.  They
all bore the unmistakable signs of gunshot.  And each time, his rage grew.
The bodies of the Crow warriors formed a trail of blood all the way to the
cabin.

The cabin door stood ajar.

Dreading what he would find, he drew his pistol and strode inside.

The interior of the cabin bore testimony to a terrible struggle.  The table
lay on its side, dishes smashed, chairs scattered about.  In the bedrooms,
beds had been overturned, blankets tossed in a heap.  At his footsteps, a
tiny bundle of fur lifted its head and, whimpering, crawled out from beneath
a blanket where it had been huddled.

"Biscuit."  Ouin gathered the trembling puppy into his arms, his feeling of
dread growing.  Jen would have never willingly allowed herself to be
separated from her pup.  When the whimpering stopped, he stowed the little
ani: real inside his parka where it nestled against his chest.  Lifting the
trapdoor, he listened to the silence, then scended the ladder.  A lantern
hung on a peg, a thin flickering flame still burning.  Ouin grabbed it and
began to run, though he already knew what he would find.  The cavern was
empty.

He climbed the ladder, then strode outside to Cutter, who was still standing
where his master had left him.  Ouin vaulted into the saddle and headed
toward Cyrus Stoner's ranch.  In his eyes was a calm, deadly look that belied
the white-hot fury that burned.

Chapter Twenty Ouin's rage grew with every mile.  He had no way of knowing
whether Cassie and her family were still alive.

And he had no plan.  He knew only that if they had been harmed, Cyrus Stoner
would pay deafly.

He was a man who'd known little fear in his life, but he was afraid now.
Afraid for Cassie, for Luella, for those two sweet children.  As a gambler
he'd always lived impulsively, accepting winning and losing with equal grace.
But now, recalling Ethan's deep and abiding faith, he found himself praying
that he was in time to make a difference.

Even before he reached Stoner's land, Quirt spotted the guards, silhouetted
against the snow.  Keeping to the high ground, which was heavily forested, it
was an easy task to avoid being seen.

He skirted the barn and bunkhouse, moving in the shadows.  When he reached
the main house, he dismounted and led Cutter to a stand of trees, where the
horse would be hidden from view.  After wrapping the puppy in his parka, he
slipped his rifle from the boot of the saddle, then made his way on foot to
the back of the house.

As he peered into windows, he was puzzled by the lack of activity within.
The kitchen was dark.  In Stoner's parlor he spotted Cassie and Luella, bound
and gagged, seated stiffly in wooden chairs on either side of a fireplace.
For the first time in hours Quin felt alive again.  Seeing them gave him his
first my of hope.  His gaze shifted.  Across the room, Stoner sat behind his
desk, looking perfectly at ease as he tended to his paperwork.

Quin circled the big house, and found, to his dismay, that the other rooms
were empty.  Where were the children?

He tipped his head to study a spill of light from the second-story windows.

He slung his rifle over his shoulder and climbed to the balcony.  With the
stealth of a cat, he moved from window to window until he located Jen and
Becky, flung across a big bed, their hands and feet bound.

When Quin slid open the window, the curtain billowed inward, causing the
children to cry out.  Cursing the wind, Quin touched a finger to his lips and
their cries ended abruptly.  He worked quickly to free them.  Once free they
wrapped their arms around his neck and he hugged them fiercely.

"Mr.  Stoner has Mama and Gram," Becky cried.  "I know.  I'll see to them in
a minute," he whispered.

"First, I have to make certain that the two of you are safe."

"Why can't we stay with you?"  Jen asked.  "Because Cyrus Stoner won't give
up without a fight.

And I won't have either of you in the line of fire.  Now," he said as he led
them toward the balcony,

"Cutter and Biscuit are down there, hidden among those trees."  The children
looked where he pointed, and could see several dark shadows moving and
shifting in the wind.  Though they were clearly afraid, they uttered not a
sound of protest.

"I want you to climb down and stay with Cutter, no matter what you hear."  He
handed Becky his rifle.

"I

know how you feel about guns, Becky.  But if any of Stoneifs men should find
you, you know what you have to do.  "

The girl gathered her little sister close and nodded.  Quin waited until the
two children climbed out the window.

Then he pulled open the bedroom door and headed toward the stairway.

Cassie was still reeling from the events of the past few hours.  At first,
when Stoner and his men had approached the cabin, she'd expected to deal with
them as she had in the past.

Always before, she'd been able to hold them at bay with stern words issued at
the point of her rifle.  This time, however, he had come with an army of men
who surrounded the cabin.  Though she and her family had scrapped with a
frenzy born of desperation, Stoneifs men had simply overpowered them.

The Crow, who had been keeping watch over their new friends, had fought
valiantly to defend them, but in the end, had been brutally shot down.
Cassie knew she would never be able to wipe the memory of that bloody
massacre from her mind.  ;:, ~m~ :~v ~ ~-~,.  , ~m~ The ride to Stoner's
ranch was LITTLE more than a blur.

She could hear her mother's voice, angry, outraged, as she was lifted into a
saddle.  And the children crying as they were roughly herded into a wagon.
Stoner had wisely separated them, so that they couldn't comfort each other or
plot an escape.  Cassie had been forced to endure Cyrus Stoner's arms holding
her as they sped across the frozen plain.  What was even worse was his boast
that, at long last, he would have everything he wanted.

Now Cyrus folded his hands on the desk and looked at her with an air of
supreme confidence.

"Miz Montgomery, isn't this cozy?"

Seeing the anger in her eyes, he laughed.

"What a fine joke this is.

When I think of how long you lied to me, keeping your husband's death a
secret, I do believe this is my moment of sweetest vengeance.  "

Cassie closed her eyes against the knot of fear that threatened to choke her.
When she thought of the exquisite joy she had felt--was it just a night ago?
--she had thought she had it all.  Quin's love.  Security for her family.

How was it possible that she was now cast into the very depths of despair?
She struggled with the terror that lurked in the dark recesses of her mind.
All the torturous work, all the sacrifices, had been in vain.  Ethan's dream
had fallen into the hands of a monster.

Quin heard the sound of Stoner's laughter and his finger tightened on the
trigger.  The thought of that brute touching Cassie, tormenting her, nearly
blinded him with rage.

He had intended to move cautiously, to take the time to assure himself that
there would be no guards.  But the sound of Stoner's voice changed all his
plans.  Without regard to his own safety, Quin put his shoulder against the
door and forced his way into the room.

Cyrus half rose, then, seeing Quin's gun aimed at him, slowly sank back down
to his chair.  It occurred to Quin in that fleeting second that something was
very wrong.  Stoner's smile hadn't been wiped away by the sight of him.

In fact, his smile had actually widened.  Quin glanced across the room to
make certain that Cassie and Luella were unharmed.  Though they couldn't make
a sound, their eyes looked wild and troubled, and they were trying
desperately to cry out.  Or to sound an alarm.  As he turned back to Stoner,
he realized his mistake.

A voice from the doorway commanded sharply,

"Drop the gun, McAllister."

Quin whirled and found himself facing half a dozen of Stoner's men standing
in the doorway.  All were holding guns pointed directly at him.

"Welcome to our little trap, McAllister," Cyrus said.  "As you can see, we've
been expecting you."

Quin felt the butt of a rifle crash against his skull.  He staggered,
dropping to one knee, but refused to lower his weapon.  He heard a strange
whimper, and recognized Cassie's muffled cry.  It seemed important that he
get to her, to shield her from this violence.  But before he could take a
step, a second blow to his head brought a shower of stars.  And then, as pain
engulfed him, he sank into merciful blackness.

"Do whatever you have to."  Stoner's words sounded as though they were coming
from a great distance.

"I want him awake, to witness this."

Whiskey fumes stung Quin's nostrils as the rim of a glass ~was forced between
his lips.  He gagged on the first few ~dr ps, then managed to swallow the
rest.  He struggled~ ~~through layers of pain, shaking his head to clear the
eon-~ fusion.  That only made the pain worse.

~ "He's coming around" came a voice directly beside him.  ~ Quin's eyes
opened, then squinted against the brightly ~colored lights that moved and
danced.  He blinked several times and the swirling lights steadied and
stilled.

He was tied to a chair, his hands so tightly bound the leather strips dug
into his flesh, drawing blood.  Still he raged against his bonds, bringing a
smile to Stoner's lips, and a murmured,

"That's better."

Someone forced his head up so that he could see Cassie, standing beside
Stoner's desk.

"Now, Miz Montgomery, I'll free you and your family," Cyrus said, "as soon
as you agree to sign over your property to me."

"Will you free Quin, as well?"  she asked.  Though her hands were still
bound, there was nothing meek in her demeanor.

Her head was high.  Her eyes flashed with deft- ance.

"What's McAllister to you except a hired gun?"  Cyrus remarked.

"Once you sign this paper, you won't have need of him."

"I won't sign it unless you agree~ to allow Quin to go Cyrus gave an
imitation of a smile.

"You drive a hard bargain, Miz Montgomery.  But if you insist..."

"If you sign that, Cassie" -- Quin struggled to get the words out through a
swollen, bloody lip.  His mouth felt stuffed with cotton "--you'll sign your
own death warrant.  Stoner can't afford to let any of us live."

"Now why would I want your deaths on my hands?"  Cyrus asked in careful,
patient tones.

"I just want your land."  He shoved the paper into Cassie's hands.

"Read it and sign."

Quin's mind raced.

"Go ahead," he said suddenly.

"It doesn't matter anyway."

Both Cassie and Cyrus lifted their heads to stare at him.  "Sign it away,"
Quin muttered.

"It's just a piece of worthless land.  Not worthy of the time and effort
you've put into it."

"Worthless!  What do you mean?"  Cyrus snarled.

"Is this another one of your jokes?"

"You can see for yourself."  Quin knew that he had Stoner's complete
attention now.

"I have the assayer's report right here in my pocket."

Cyrus stormed across the room and fumbled in Quin's pocket until he found the
paper.  As his fingers closed over it, Quin brought his knee up with such
force, Cyrus gave a grunt of pain and collapsed on the floor.  At once
Stoneifs men aimed their guns at Quin's head.  "No," Cyrus said between
painful gasps of breath.

"Don't kill him yet.  I want to save that pleasure for myself."

Stoner stumbled to his chair and sat down heavily.  Then he unfolded the
document and read.  When he'd finished, his eyes glittered with greed.

"You lying bastard," he said to Quin.

"I knew you were lying."

"And how would you know that?"  Quin asked.  "Everybody used to laugh about
the crazy old man searching for his treasure.  But though my men and I
searched the entire area, we could never find the entrance to the mine, so we
figured it was just a myth.  But when the Montgomery family came all the way
from Atlanta, and settled in the same spot, I figured I'd wait and watch and
see if there might be something worthwhile after all."  A stow, evil smile
curled his lips.

"And there is.  Silver," t~ announced, holding up the document.

"The highest grade silver the assayer has ever tested."

Cassie's eyes filled with tears.

"Truly, Quin?  Ethan's fortune wasn't just a foolish dream?"

"It's real," Quin said bleakly.  He thought of the eager- hess with which
he'd left Virginia City to head hack to the cabin.  The thought of the joy he
would bring Cassie and her family had filled him with such happiness.  Now he
would give anything if the assayer's report had found nothing but useless
rocks.  The fortune they'd worked so hard to find would guarantee that they
would die.

"And the minute it becomes Stoner's, it seals our fates."

Cyrus opened a desk drawer and removed a pistol.  "You're meddling in
something that isn't any of your business, McAllister.  I guess what I heard
about you is true."  With his eyes steady on Quin's, he fondled the gun.

"The information I received is that you thought you were pretty tough during
the war.  The hero who carried secret information across enemy lines."

"How would you know that?"

Cyrus laughed.

"Oh, I made it my business to learn all I could about you, McAllister.  With
enough money, a man can learn plenty.  Your nickname was Gambler, and the
rumor was that there wasn't any risk you wouldn't take.

The greater the odds, the more you enjoyed your work.  General Robert E.  Lee
called you his avenging , and said he would trust you to outsmart the devil
himself.  Only one night, near Gettysburg, you met your match, hero.  "

He smiled, enjoying his own narrative.

"And found yourself removed from the action, and rotting in a prisoner-of war
camp."

Quin's eyes narrowed and Cyrus knew his words had found their mark.

"There's a rumor that you killed a guard in that camp, McAllister.  Nobody
could ever prove it.  But I don't need proof.  That guard was a friend of
mine, and just for tonight we're going to pretend the war is still being
fought.  I'm going to enjoy killing a Reb tonight, McAllister."

Quin relaxed a bit.  When it came to his own life, it didn't matter.

He'd been prepared to die a hundred times during the war.  If only he could
barter his own life for Cassie's, he would die a happy man.

"All right.  So you still want to kill Rebs.  I'm your man.  But you don't
need to kill the women, Cyrus.

With this vein of silver, you'll be the richest man in Montana.  Just give
Cassie enough money to take her family away, and you'll never hear from them
again.  "

"Cassie, is it?  The lady has gone from Mrs. Montgomery to Cassie."

Stoner's smile grew.

"Know what I think, McAllister?  I think you're sweet on her."  He glanced
from Cassie to Quin, saw the look that passed between them, then laughed.

"Oh, this is too good.  Now I know how to really hurt you, Reb."  He shoved
back his chair and stormed around his desk, grabbing Cassie roughly by the
arm.

"My men and I are going to have a little fun with the lady.  And when we're
through, guess who's going to be blamed for such ... unspeakable crimes?"
His laughter grew.

"You, Reb.  You and those Crow.  And after the rumors we've been spreading in
Prospect, no one will doubt it."  He turned to his men.  "Tonight we're all
going to celebrate my good fortune.

We're going to drink, and pleasure ourselves with this pretty little thing,
and"-- he threw back his head, enjoying his own joke" --for good measure,
we'll let our gambler watch the festivities.  And when we've had enough fun,
we're going to kill him.  And tomorrow, McAllis~ and his good friends the
Crow are going to be hated and reviled by every good citizen of Prospect.
Now what do you think about that?  "

He hauled Cassie roughly into his arms, and with his knife, cut her bonds.
While his men laughed and hooted, and Luella silently wept, he drew Cassie's
head back sharply and covered her mouth with his.

Though he was forced to sit helplessly by and watch, Quin vowed that, with
his last breath, he would see Cyrus Stoner pay dearly for this.

I

Chapter Twenty-One With a sound of disgust, Cassie pushed free of Stoner's
arms and stood rubbing the back of her hand across her mouth to erase the
foul taste of him.  "Pour the whiskey," Cyrus shouted.

At once one of his men bolstered his pistol and filled several tumblers from
a decanter.

Cyrus accepted a glass, saying,

"Help yourselves, boys."  When everyone had a glass, Cyrus lifted his aloft,
saying, "Here's to my new fortune."  He bowed grandly to Cassie.

"By the time we finish with you, woman, you'll not only sign away your
property, you'll beg to be put out of your misery."

He flashed a smug smile at his men.

"From now on, I'll own the entire Montana Territory.  Anyone who gets in my
way will have to deal with the army I intend to form.  And you boys will be
my officers."

They let out a cheer before draining their glasses.  While they were
distracted, Quin worked frantically at his bonds.  The leather strips cut
clear to the bone, and the pain was so severe he had to fight to remain
conscious.

Blood dripped from his wrists to pool on the floor, but still he struggled
against his bonds.

Across the room, Luella watched him and knew, from the pain etched on his
face, how desperately he was working to save them.  Overcome with regret for
all the unkind things she'd said to him, she moved her lips in silent prayer.

"Pour another round," Cyrus ordered.

The men relaxed, clearly relieved to be warm and snug and enjoying the
friendship of this powerful man.  Not one of them would trade places with the
men riding shotgun on the far-flung boundaries of Stoneifs empire on this
bitterly cold night.

Cyrus knocked back a second drink, then turned to Cassie.

"Come here, Miz Montgomery.  Let's put on a show for your hero."

She stood her ground.

Quin studied her, head high, chin lifted in that haughty way he'd come to
know, and felt a surge of pride.  Even in defeat, she was magnificent.

"I said come here."  Stoner's voice took on a dangerous tone.

~ .  ~ Cassie refused to move.

Cyrus started across the room.

"It's time you learned a lesson, Miz Montgomery.  In this house" "Don't you
touch her."

Everyone turned as the door was flung open.  Becky and Jen stood framed in
the doorway.  Becky held Quin's rifle to her shoulder and took aim at Cyrus.

"I know you told us to go, Mr. McAllister."  Becky's wavering voice revealed
her nerves.

"And we really tried to.  But by the time we got to your horse, we both knew
that we had to be here with Mama and Gram.  I was sick and tired of being
afraid all the time.  Did we do right?"

"You did just fine," Quin said.

"Now Jen," Becky said to her little sister, who stood uncertainly beside
her, "untie Mr. McAllister and Gram."

As the little girl darted across the room, Cyrus bellowed,

"Are we going to be ordered around by a couple of kids?"

"She's got that rifle pointed straight at you," one of his men called.

"Yeah?  Well, I say she's too scared to fire."  Cyrus took a tentative step
toward Becky.

"You stop right there," she cried.  But though she tried to put up a brave
front, she couldn't keep her hands from trembling.

Seeing it, Cyrus laughed.

"I was right, boys.  The kid is shaking in her boots."

He took several more steps.  As he reached for the rifle, Quin, freed by Jen,
leapt at Cyrus, knocking him to the floor.

Racing to her daughter's side, Cassie took the rifle from her trembling hands
and aimed it at the circle of men.

"If any of you go for your guns, I'll be more than happy to shoot.

And if you think, because we're outnumbered,!  1 i~ :'-~'~we're easy prey,
just remember this.  At least some of you/~ :?  ":~vill die before you manage
to kill all of us.  I ask you, is Cyrus Stoner worth dying for?"

The men exchanged glances but remained motionless as their boss fought with
Ouin.

"Jennifer," Cassie said, "you may retrieve their guns."  The little girl
scampered around collecting weapons, which she piled on Stoner's desk.
Luella and Becky each shouldered a rifle and took up positions on either side
of Cassie.

Quin and Cyrus, oblivious to everything except the fury that had been
building, thrashed and rolled around the floor, exchanging blows.

"This is for Cassie," Quin said, sinking a fist in Stoner's midsection that
had him doubling up.

Cyrus gasped, then pulled a knife from a sheath at his hip.  In the firelight
the blade glittered dangerously.

"And this is for you, Reb."

The two men struggled and Quin, already wounded, could feel his strength
ebbing.  But the deep, simmering anger he felt renewed his determination.
With his last ounce of willpower he wrestled the knife from Stoner's hand and
gave him a blow that sent him sprawling.  Stumbling to his feet, Quin took
several deep breaths, then glanced at Luella and Cassie, Becky and Jen, to
reassure himself that they were all unharmed.

They looked up at the sound of approaching horses.  Quin grabbed up his
pistol and raced to the window.

Cyrus, looking supremely pleased with himself, listened to the sound of
booted feet marching along the hallway and said,

"You don't really believe you can hold off the rest of my men, do you,
McAllister?"

Before Quin could respond, Stoner's voice thickened with anger.  He dragged
himself to his feet, holding firmly to the back of a chair for support.
Indicating the document on his desk, he thundered,

"Now, Miz Montgomery, this game is over.  Your guns will be meaningless
against all of ours.

Sign away that property, or prepare to die.  "

The door was thrown open and Cyrus turned toward it with a triumphant smile.
His smile faded when he caught sight of Sheriff Clayton Wilson, pistol in
hand.  For a moment Cyrus looked puzzled.  Then, finding his voice, he said
in his most indignant tone,

"Sheriff.  I'm glad to see you're looking out for me.  This man attacked me
in my own home."

"Then you'll want him arrested."  The sheriff remained where he was.

"That.  won't be necessary.  As you know, he's nothing but a two-bit gambler
and drifter who insinuated himself into Miz Montgomery's life like an
unwelcome pestilence.  My men and I will look out for the lady and her family
and see that he doesn't bother any of us anymore."  Sheriff Wilson peered at
Cassie and the others, who held rifles in their hands.

"Looks to me like these folks can look out for themselves."

He held out his hand to Cassie, who gripped her weapon so tightly her
knuckles were white from the effort.

"Would you care to hand over that rifle, ma'am?"

"No, Sheriff;, She kept her eyes firmly on Cyrus while she spoke.

"This man killed half a dozen Crow warriors and forced my family and me to
accompany him to this place.  We are here against our will."

"Now why would he do a thing like that, ma'am?"  The sheriff flicked a glance
at Luella and the children, then back to Cassie.

"Because he wants me to sign over my rights to my " Axe you raft fig :t tell
me that a wealthy man like Cy Stoner would go to all this trouble just to
steal your property, Mrs. Montgomery?  "

"Yes, Sheriff."

"Why?"

"Because we found a treasure."

"That so?"  The sheriff's lips curved.

"A treasure, you say.  Gold?"

"No, sir.  Silver."

The lawman arched a brow in surprise.

"Silver?  So that's what this is all about."  He turned to Cyrus.

"If what the lady tells me is true, it looks like I'm going to have to take
you back to Prospect, Mr. Stoner."

"What are you saying?"  Outraged, Stoner drew himself up to his full height.

"Are you going to take the word of this woman over me?  Have you forgotten
who hired you?"

"No, sir.  I sure haven't.  And I was hoping, when I rode over here, that
you'd have a logical explanation for all those dead bodies over at Mrs.
Montgomery's cabin."

"You've been there?"   Cassie asked.

"Jedediah brought me."  He nodded toward the hallway with a sheepish smile.
Jedediah poked his head around the doorway.

"I dropped by to bring the children some rock candy for Christmas,"

the grizzled old man said, "and discovered what looked like a bloody
massacre.  So I rode back to town to fetch the sheriff."

"But what brought you here to Stoner's?"  Quin asked.  Jedediah shrugged, and
behind those lively eyes, Quin could see just how much the old man had
already figured out.

The sheriff answered.

"Jedediah suggested that Mr. Stoner, being the closest the'~hbor, might know
something about all this."  His smile faded and his features hardened.  He
turned to Cyrus.

"You and your men are under arrest, Mr. Stoner, for the murder of six Crow
warriors, and for the abduction of these good people."  He glanced over at
Quin.

"Would you mind giving Jedediah and me a hand with these men?"

"I'd be happy to."  Quin picked up the bloodstained leather strips that had
been cut away from his own wrists and tied them around Stoneifs.  Though he
still seethed with anger, it helped to know that justice would be the
sweetest revenge of all.

"Are you folks going to be all right now?"  Sheriff Wilson asked.

.

Cassie gathered her mother and children close, and let out a long, steadying
breath.

"We're going to be just fine, Sheriff.  Thank you."

Quin awoke with a start and glanced around.  He was lying in the familiar
nest of furs in the corner of the cabin.

A fire blazed in the fireplace.  Coffee bubbled, meat sizzled, biscuits gave
off their wonderful fragrance.

Cassie and her mother barely looked up when Becky and Jen returned from the
barn with a pail of milk and several eggs.  They were busy preparing a
breakfast fit for a celebration.

"Good morning, Mr. McAllister," Jen called out.  "You'd better get up or
you'll miss breakfast."

Moving slowly, stiffly, Quin pulled on his boots, then walked to the basin
and washed.  Cassie stared at his broad shoulders, his muscled back, with an
affectionate smile.  Lifting his shirt from a peg by the door, he worked his
arms into the sleeves.  He glanced down at his wrists.  Cassie had insisted
on bandaging them before going off to her bed the night before.  She had
kissed him, a slow, leisurely kiss that had kindled a fire in his loins and
had he him wishing had the strength to carry her off to the mine for another
night of loving.  Instead, he'd done nothing to hold her back when she walked
away to her bedroom.

That was when he'd realized that he had some serious thinking to do.

He'd stayed up half the night mulling things over in his mind.  But before
sleep overtook him, he'd come to a decision.

Luella filled a cup with coffee and handed it to him.  "Good morning, Mr.
McAllister.  You'd better drink this.

You look like you could use it.  "

"That bad?"

"I've seen you look better."

He drank deeply, then finished dressing and made his way to the barn.

Outside, a fresh snowfall obliterated all sign of the earlier carnage.

The Crow had retrieved their dead and had been assured that their murderers
would taste swift justice.  The tribe, known for their love of the plains,
had retreated to the mountains, where they would spend the rest of the winter
seeking solace from their grief.

In the barn, Quin mucked the stalls, grateful for the release of such simple
tasks.  Now that the threat from Cyrus Stoner had been removed, he was forced
to deal with an unpleasant fact.  (i,.  ~!

His job here was'~ver.

Cassie and her family were wealthy beyond their wildest dreams.  With their
fortune, they would no longer have to live out here in this wilderness.  They
could afford to hire a foreman and crew.  That would free them to move to
Prospect, or even to return to Atlanta if they chose.  Hell, he thought with
a frown, if the assayer's report was correct, they could afford to live any
life-style they wanted, in The barn door was thrown open on a swirl of
snowflakes, and Jen rushed in.

"Gram said" -- Her glance took in Cutter, who was already saddled.  The
saddlebags were packed, Quin's bedroll tied behind the saddle.  The little
girl blanched.

"What are you doing, Mr. MeAl lister It looks like you're getting ready to
leave us."

"That's right, Jen."   Avoiding her eyes, Quin lifted Cutter's leg and
examined the knee.   The swelling was completely gone.

The horse could easily handle a long journey.

"I figured it was time I was on my way."  "But where will you go?"

"I haven't really thought about it.  California, I guess."

"San Francisco?"  Jan twisted her tongue around the big word.

"Maybe."  Funny, Quin thought.  There was a time when the very word fueled
his imagination, conjuring images of high-stakes games that went on for days.
Now all he could think of were the snow-covered miles that would separate
him from this family, from this small cabin.  He looked up.  "You started to
tell me something about your grandmother."

"Gram said to come and eat."  The little girl's tone was flat Quin left
Cutter in the barn and followed Jen to the cabin.  Inside, he washed his
hands and took a seat at the table.

"Mr.  McAllister is leaving," Jen announced.  Everyone glanced up.  At
Cassie's surprised look, Quin ducked his head and busied himself buttering a
biscuit.  "Why?"  Cassie asked.  The shock, the pain, were evident in that
one word.

"You don't need me now, ma'am."  The words were like ashes in his mouth.

"It's time I was moving on."

"I see."  Cassie's tone grew crisp to cover the ache.  "We've stood in your
way too long.  You must miss the excitement of the life you left behind."

"I suppose there will still be plenty of poker games to be won,"

Luella remarked.

"I suppose."  Quin found he wasn't hungry.  Shoving aside his plate, he
drained his cup.  The coffee tasted bitter.

He glanced around the table.

"Why all the sad faces?  Don't you realize yet that you have everything you
dreamed of?  You're rich, you're free of Cyrus Stoner's threats, and you can
leave this isolation and live among people again."

Nobody said a word.

He shoved back his chair and got to his feet.  No sense dragging out his
goodbyes.  Besides, if he hung around too long, he might be persuaded to
change his mind.  Walking to the door, he removed his duster from a peg and
shrugged into it.  From his pocket he removed a ragged, leather-bound book
and handed it to Becky.

"I think you'll enjoy Mr. Shakespeare's poetry.  The words have a way of
touching the heart."

"But I can't take it.  You said it was special," she protested.

"It was my father's.  That's why I want you to have it, Becky."

He withdrew a deck of cards and held them out to Jen.  "These are for you.
Don't forget to practice your card tricks."

The little girl refused to accept them.  Placing them on the table, Quin
turned away from her sad, accusing eyes.

"I'll say goodbye now, ma'am."  Quin offered his hand to Luella, then to
Cassie.  As their fingers brushed, he steeled him~lf.  When the jolt came, he
showed no reaction.

"Goodbye, Quin."  She would not cry, she told herself.  She had always known
that someday he would leave.

Hadn't he warned them right from the start that he was a gambler, a drifter?

At least, for one special night, they had shared something truly wonderful.
She would have to be content with that, and not selfishly hold him here when
he yearned to be free.  But the thought of all the lonely nights that
stretched out before her had her lips quivering.  To hide it, she bit the
inside of her mouth until she tasted blood.

Luella wrapped meat and biscuits in a linen towel.  "You'll need sustenance
along the trail, Mr. McAllister."

As he went to take it from her hands, she said,

"I'll walk with you to the barn."

"Yes, ma'am."  He pulled his wide-brimmed hat from a peg and held the door.
Luella walked outside ahead of him.  He gave a last look at Cassie and the
children, then turned and walked out the door.

He and Luella strode in silence to the barn.  Once inside, she handed him the
parcel.  While he stored it in his saddlebag, she said sternly,

"I was wrong about you, Mr. McAllister.

I once accused you of being a no-good drifter and gambler.  I thought you to
be a careless man.  Careless with responsibility.  Careless with other
people's feelings.  "

Her voice lowered with emotion.

"I know why you are leaving, Mr. McAllister."

He looked up.

"Ma'am?"

"You don't fool me.  You are leaving because you think somehow this is best
for my daughter."

When he said nothing in his own defense, she added, "But you are wrong to
think that."

He secured the saddlebag, then looked up to meet her eyes.

"No, ma'am.  For once in my life I'm going to do something right.  You once
warned me that Cassie might confuse gratitude with love.  And that's exactly
what's happened.  The best thing I can do is leave, so she can get on with
her life."

"Oh, Mr. McAllister."  Luella felt the sting of tears and turned away,
embarrassed.

"I feared you would break my daughter's heart, and you will, if you leave her
now."

"You don't understand."   He lowered a hand to her sleeve.   His voice
softened.

"A long time ago I fell in love with my best friend's wife.  And when I got
his letter asking me to come here, I didn't hesitate.  Do you know why?  I
wanted to see this wonderful, beautiful, paragon of virtue he had described
to me in such glowing detail.  Maybe I thought she wouldn't live up to all
his claims.  Or maybe I hoped she would."

Did she?  "

"Cassie was all that Ethan had said, and more.  But you must see that there
was nothing noble about my intentions.

My motive was purely selfish.  In fact, in my whole LIFE, this is the first
time my intentions have ever been noble.

So, please, don't deny me this one chance to to something right.  Your
daughter, and her family, will be much better off without me.  And when she
puts her life together there will be all kinds of well-bred gentlemen vying
for her attention.  "

Luella watched as he led his horse toward the door of the barn.

Catching up with him, she whispered,

"You are far too hard on yourself, Mr. McAllister.  I do not know what you
see when you look in your heart, but when I look at you I see a fine, noble
man who changed our lives.  I pray God will go with you on your journey."

"Thank you, ma'am."  He tipped his hat to her, then opened the barn door and
pulled himself into the saddle.

Cassie and the children had gathered in the doorway.  Seeing them, he felt a
knife turn in his heart.  He reined in his mount and took a last, lingering
look at matching fiery hair, freckles and identical looks of concern in green
eyes.

The longing was so swift, so deep, he was stunned by it.  If he had played
his cards right, they could have all been his.

His wife.  His children.

He saluted them and rode smartly away.

Chapter Twengy-Two The railway car was so lavishly appointed, Quin could
almost convince himself that he was in the finest drawing room in San
Francisco.  The walls were wood paneled, the draperies lush red velvet.  A
poker table had been set up in the middle of the room, with chairs for six
players.  On a side table was a box of the finest Cuban cigars.  A white
gloved waiter poured whiskey into a crystal tumbler and handed it to Quin.
One taste proved it to be as smooth as silk.

"It doesn't get better than this," said the portly gentleman who stood beside
him.

"I've won and lost mflhons in my day.  I've played in smoky saloons that
reeked of stale whiskey and unwashed bodies.  I've played in gentlemen's
clubs in New York and Paris.  But this..."  He spread his hands to indicate
their sumptuous surroundings.

"This is how the game should be played."  He took another long drink, then
added,

"The game, McAllister.  It's always the game.  That's what keeps men like us
from getting trapped in dreary lives like ordinary people."

Men like us.  Ouin experienced a pain around his heart, remembering Luella's
taunt.  A man like you.

He finished his drink, then followed the others to the table.  The cards were
shuffled and dealt.  A strikingly beautiful young woman dressed in a red
satin gown from Paris, a mane of golden hair piled high on her head, paused
beside Quin and placed one soft hand on his shoulder.  Her French perfume was
sweet, cloying.  He reached for a cigar and she struck a match and held it to
the tip, revealing perfectly manicured nails.  She retired to a gilt chair
positioned a little to one side.

The men played in silence.  Cards were tossed aside, others dealt.  The
losers sat back, drinks in hand, to wit hess the final outcome of the
high-stakes game that had been going on for more than twenty hours.  It
seemed anticlimactic when Quin finally won.  There were hearty words of
congratulations.  A few slaps on the back.  The money was counted, a check
issued.  One by one the players drifted away, back to their beautifully
appointed sleeping cars, until only Quin remained.

The woman lingered, hoping the winner would take notice of her.  When he did,
he sent her away with a dismissive wave of his hand.

The waiter reillled his glass, then took up a position beside the bar,
yawning discreetly behind his gloved hand.

Outside the railway car, the land was steeped in dark- hess.  The winter snow
had melted.  Except for an occasional mountain peak or glassy body of water
reflecting the stars there were no familiar landmarks.

Where had Cassie finally settled since he had left her four months ago?  he
wondered.  How was she doing?  She would wear her wealth, her success with
quiet grace and dignity.  He tried to imagine her in an elegant gown, gliding
down a curving staircase, her every wish fulfilled by a staff of well-trained
servants.  But the only image that came to mind, the only one that ever came
to mind, was the way she had looked when she had stepped out of her bedroom
wearing his Christmas gift.  Cheeks flushed.  Hands touching her hair.
nervously Lips curved in delight.  Eyes alight with pleasure.

God, he was driving himself mad with the memories.  Whiskey sloshed over the
rim of his glass and the waiter was there at once, mopping the spill, seeing
that the glass was refilled.

"Sorry," Quin muttered.

"I didn't realize you were still here.

Please, go to bed.  "

"No, sir.  I don't mind, sir.  I'll just stay here until" -- Quin turned on
his heel and stalked away.

In the morning, when the train pulled into the station, a uniformed porter
knocked on the door of Quin's sleeping car.  Along with his coffee, the
porter delivered an envelope.  Quin tore it open and read.  His head came up
sharply.

"I have a horse on the last car of this train."  He unfolded several bills
and handed them to the man.

"See that he's saddled and ready."

"Yes, sir."

The coffee was forgotten in his haste to dress.  By the time the train pulled
away from the station, Quin was seated astride Cutter.  From his position
alongside the tracks he watched as the gilded cars chugged past.  Then he and
his horse blended into the line of trees, away from the town, away from the
lure of fast money.  Away from civilization.

They were soon swallowed up in the vast wilder- heSS.

"How long will you be up at the mine?"  Luella asked.  She and Cassie were
seated in Florence Claxton's dining room, lingering over a last cup of
coffee.  "Just overnight."

Cassie looked up as Jen and Oren raced down the stairs and snatched up their
lunch baskets.  Biscuit, who already stood as tall as the children, loped
happily behind them.  He was Jen's constant companion, even trailing her to
school, and dozing in the schoolyard until she was ready to return home.

"Jennifer, you will mind your grandmother while I'm away."

"Yes, ma'am.  I wish I could go with you."

"Another time.   When school lets out.   I promise we'll spend a whole week
up at the old cabin this summer."   "Can Oren come, too?"

"I don't see why not, as long as his mother approves."  Jen gave her mother a
quick kiss, then started toward the door after her friend.  On a sudden
impulse she retraced her steps and stopped beside her mother.  In a solemn
voice she said,

"You won't have to be sad anymore, Mama."  Cassie stared at her little
daughter in confusion.

"Pa talked to me last night," Jen said in that matter-of- fact tone they all
recognized.

"And said he was going to send Mr. McAllister back to us."

She gave her mother another quick kiss, then ran out the door, with Biscuit
at her hm',.  ~.

"I'm worried about that child," Luella muttered.

"I intend to speak to Matthew about her."

"Ma" -- Becky entered the room, holding a fat envelope.

"Gram, I wonder if you'd read this and tell me if it's good enough."

"Good enough for what?"

Becky stared at the toe of her shoe.

"Good enough to get me into the Miss Atherton's Conservatory of Music."

Luella and Cassie exchanged looks.

"But I thought you had rejected the idea of going back to the South."

"I've said a lot of things.  Mr. McAllister once told me that at my age his
mouth used to work faster than his brain."  Becky fiddled with her sash.

"It's true that Savannah is a long way from here.  But, like Mama pointed out
to me, there are riverboats and stagecoaches.  And soon, I think, the
railroad will have to come to Montana."

"Didn't I hear you say you wanted to live in the fine, big house your mother
is having built here in Prospect?"

"I do look forward to living in it.  I still have a year before I would leave
for the conservatory."

"What about Zack?  You said you would never leave him."

At the mention of Zack's name, Becky smiled.

"He is special.  And he has said he'll wait for me.  But this is something I
need to do for myself.  I think my music will become an important part of my
life.  I think I'd like to teach music here in Prospect."

"And when did you come to these momentous conclusions?"  Luella asked with a
gentle smile.

"I guess I've learned a few things from other people.  Mr. McAllister said
people have to be able to take risks for the things they believe in.  And
watching Mama, I realize that life must go on."  She glanced shyly at her
mother.

"I'm proud of you, Mama, for taking charge of the mine, and hiring the men
you'll need to run it.  And for" -- she looked away, suddenly embarrassed,
but unable to stop the flow of words "--not giving up just because Mr.
McAllister went away."

Blushing furiously, she kissed her mother's cheek, then her grandmother's.
As she snatched up her lunch basket and slate, she called,

"I wrote three pages, explaining to the director of the conservatory why I
should be considered for enrollment.  Gram, I'd like you to read it and tell
me if you think it's good enough."

She was out the door in a rustle of petticoats.  "Three pages" ' Luella
breathed.

"I'm so proud of her."

She closed a hand over Cassie's.

"I'm proud of you, too, girl.  I know it hasn't been easy."

"I had a good teacher, Ma."

The two women stared at each other in silence.  They both looked up as the
front door opened.  Reverend Townsend hurried in, shaking snow from his hat.
At the sight of Luella, his face creased with smiles.

"Here you are."  He greeted her with a kiss to the cheek, and another kiss
for Cassie.

"I was hoping you could spare an hour or so to come to the church with me,
Luella.  I'd like you to hear the sermon I've prepared for Sunday's service
and choose some hymns that are appropriate for it."

"I'd love to, Matthew.  As long as we can be back by noon.  I promised
Florence that I'd help bake pies for supper tonight."

"Apple, I hope.  They're my favorite.  After lunch I'd like you to ride over
to the new parsonage with me and see what you want done with the front
parlor."  _ "I was thinking, Matthew.  Even though it will be a public room,
where you will counsel those who come to you, I also think it should reflect
a cozy, comfortable feeling, so that those in need can relax and find solace.
There are so many young people cut adrift since the war, frightened, lonely,
in need of a loving, forgiving father .... " With a knowing smile, Cassie
headed for the stairs, determined to give her mother and Matthew some privacy.

"Jedediah will be along with the wagon," she called.

"Tell him I'll be right down."

Even before she was gone, Matthew framed Luella's face between his hands and
murmured,

"God has truly blessed me.  I count the days until we are wed."

She closed her hands over his.

"Thank you for agreeing to wait until Cassie's house is completed.  With the
extra burden of both the mine and the new house, I couldn't desert her."

"I understand.  And I agree.  But soon, love, soon, we'll be husband and
wife."  He draw her close and kissed her.

Cassie took the stairs hurriedly, ashamed that she'd overheard.  When she
reached the bedroom she heard her mother's voice, alerting her to the
approaching wagon.  Minutes later, she handed a carpetbag to Jedediah, then
climbed up onto the seat beside him.  With a wave to her mother and Reverend
Townsend, she was gone.

The mine bustled with activity.  The area now resembled a small town, with
dirt trails ringing the area, and wagon loads of ore and supplies sending up
clouds of dust.  Several large bunkhouses had been built to accommodate the
workers.  From a separate office, a mine foreman, hired from Virginia City,
worked with three apprentices, one of whom was Zack Claxton.  Several
outbuildings stored explosives, tools and equipment.

A new mine shaft had been drilled directly over the cavern where the first
vein of silver had been discovered, allowing easier access.  Several new
tunnels had been dug, revealing more veins of silver.  The mine, which Cassie
had named Speculation, contained the richest store of silver found in Montana.

After meeting with the foreman and his assistants, and going over the details
of yet another mine shaft being planned, Cassie and Jedediah climbed into the
wagon and drove to the cabin.

Smoke poured from the chimney and she knew that Zack had dispatched one of
the workers to lay a fire in preparation for her arrival.

At the front door, the wagon came to a halt and Jedediah helped Cassie down,
then carried her tapestry bag inside.

The cabin looked much the way it had when she and her family had lived here,
blackened coffeepot on the warming ledge beside the fire, rocker and bench
positioned in front of the fireplace, rough-hewn chairs placed around a
battered kitchen table.

"I'll leave your bag here, Miss Cassie."  "Thank you, Jedediah."

He saw the way her gaze was drawn to the corner of the room.  Turning in that
direction, he strained but could see nothing.  Clearing his throat, he said,

"I'll be back for you tomorrow morning."

She nodded absently.

When he was gone, she forced herself into action, carrying her bag into her
old bedroom, removing the faded quilt that served as a dust cover over her
bed.  In the kitchen she made a pot of coffee and rolled biscuit dough.
While stew bubbled in a kettle, she drew the rocker close to the fire and sat.

Becky's announcement at breakfast had been ~pleasant surprise.  Cassie felt a
rush of gratitude that the once haunted, unhappy girl had been restored to an
eager, hopeful young woman.  She was grateful, too, that Jen seemed to be
blossoming in town, surrounded by friends, and that Lnella's future happiness
was assured.

She continued to rock, watching as late afternoon sunlight turned to evening
shadows.  The sounds of men and equipment began to fade as work slowed, then
ended, and the men returned to their bunkhouse for supper.  A strange feeling
of peace descended upon her.

Strange, she thought, that this little cabin should become her refuge.

It had felt like a prison until Quin had come into her life, setting her
free.  Free.  She pondered the word.

When she had been a girl, she had wanted, more than anything, the freedom to
choose her own path, live her own life.

It was not to be.  Choices had been made for her that would forever alter the
course of her life.  Yet, as an adult, she had freely chosen to give her
heart to a man.

She had known, of court, that no promises were changed.  She had gone into
his arms with eyes open, asking for nothing more than a night of love.
Still, his choice of freedom had left a void in her life that no one else
would ever fill.

Her thoughts drifted to Jennifer.  She was concerned that the child was
becoming too fanciful.  She'd hoped, with time, the little girl's
conversations with her dead father would cease.  And yet, how could she tell
that sweet child to stop believing, when she had so many doubts of her own?
So often since his death, she had felt Ethan's presence in her life, urging
her to take courage and go on with her life.  Even when she had given her
heart to another, she had sensed somehow that Ethan understood and apspace of
several heartbeats Quin remained motionless, drinking in the vision.  During
the long ride here, he had feared the worst.  For the first time since he'd
left the train, he found himself relaxing.  Then, reminding himself of the
reason for this visit, he found his voice.  "Hello, Cassie.  You look fine."

She lifted her chin a fraction.  Even while her heart was doing somersaults,
she was determined to be as calm, as cool as he.

"Thank you.  So do you, Quin."

He slid from the saddle.

"I didn't really expect to find you here.  I figured by now you'd have used
your fortune to build your family a fine, big house somewhere far from here."

"Then why are you here?"

He took a step closer.

"I had nowhere else to begin looking for you."

Up close he seemed taller, and if possible, even more handsome.

Despite the fact that he needed a shave and his eyes were shadowed with
fatigue, he still had the power to make her heart behave erratically.

proved.

At the sound of an approaching horse, she roused her- i~lll~ "Why are you
looking for me?"

"To help you with this latest trouble you've gotten self from her musings
and got to her feet.   Though the men~ yourself into."

from the mine watched over her from a distance, they rarely intruded on her
privacy here at the cabin, knowing how jealously she guarded it.

Through a crack in the door, she watched the shadowed figure of a horse and
rider draw near.  For a moment her heart forgot to beat, as she recalled
another, wearing a wide-brimmed hat and a snow-covered duster.  Then,
scolding herself for becoming as imaginative as her daughter, she caught hold
of her rifle and opened the door.

Light from the fireplace spilled into the darkness, illuminating the woman
who stood in the doorway.  For the She looked at him blankly.

"Trouble?"  When she stared into his eyes, the hand holding the rifle
trembled violently.

See'rag it, he misunderstood.

"Better get in out of this air, before you freeze to death."

When he reached out a hand, she turned away to avoid his touch.  She placed
the rifle beside the door, then strode to the fireplace, clutching her hands
together tightly.  Quin remained just inside the door, staring around the
little cabin.  It pleased him to see that it was exactly as he'd remembered
it.  All the way here, he been afraid that nothing would be the same.

For several seconds Cassie watched him.  Then, gathering her courage, she
said,

"I think you'd better explain yourself.  Just why are you here?"

Quin reached into his breast pocket and retrieved an envelope.

"I

came because of the letter telling me that you were in trouble.  "

Her voice frosted over.

"How could I possible write to you?  If you'll recall, you left no forwarding
address."

He heard the pain beneath the haughty words and winced.  He deserved her
contempt.  But it was nothing compared with the contempt he felt for himself.
Since the brief time he'd spent with her and her family, he realized just
how useless his life was, and how empty his future.  His voice was gruff.

"I don't know who wrote it.

Frankly, I never even questioned it.  When I heard that you were in trouble,
I had to come.  "

"How very noble of you."  She held out her hand.

"I'm sure you won't mind if I see it?"

He crossed the room and handed it over.  When their II fingers brushed, they
both felt the flare of heat, though both denied it.  ~ ~' ~ As soon as Cassie
began to read, her eyes filled with hot, furious tears.

"How could you?  Oh, how could you do such a cruel thing?  I would have
expected better of you."  Now it was Quin's turn to be puzzled.

"What do you mean, Cassie?  What are you talking about?"

"This letter."   She clutched it in her fist, which she shook in his face.

"I knew you did card tricks, Mr. McAllister, but I never expected something
this foul, this hurtful."

His confusion turned to anger.  Catching her hand to still it, he muttered,

"I still don't know what you're talking about."

~lngel "This is Ethan's handwriting."  The tears fell, not just from shock
and pain, but also in frustration over the fact that, even now, with her
heart breaking, this man had the power to arouse her with a simple touch.

"Somehow, you have managed to copy his writing and pretend that this letter
came from him."

His eyes narrowed, then widened in sudden comprehension.

"Ethan's handwriting?  Are you sure?  Are you quite sure?"

She could read the shock, the look of horror, in his expression as he
suddenly released her and took a step back, as though he'd been struck.  This
sort of stunned reaction was not something he could feign.

She took a long, deep breath.

"Explain yourself, Mr. McAllister."

He shook his head.

"I... can't explain.  Until you said that, it never occurred to me to notice
that the handwriting on this letter was the same as the first one I'd re-
eeived.  In both cases I was curious to know how these letters found me, when
I had no permanent address.  But the urgency of the situation kept me from
further, until now."

"Now?"  She stood very still, watching his eyes.  "Now that you have
confirmed that it is written in Ethan's hand, I am forced to believe what Jen
told me.  Her father is with the s.  And he continues to look out for those
he loves."

"What are you saying?"  Her heart had begun to beat wildly.  And yet, at the
same time, she felt str y at peace.

"Do you really believe that Ethan... ?"  She licked her lips and tried again.

"That even from beyond the grave, he is working to bring us together?"

"I don't know what I believe anymore.   I only know this."   He struggled to
keep from touching her, but the need was too great.   Lifting a hand to her
face, his fingertips grazed her cheek.   He stared into her eyes and felt his
throat go dry.

"You are the very best thing that has ever happened in my life, Cassie.  I
tried to stay away, because I believed that I was the worst thing in yours."

"Oh, Quin."  She blinked her eyes against the pain and allowed the tears to
spill unchecked.

"How could you think such a thing?  Don't you understand what you did for us?

Couldn't you see what a difference you made in all our lives?  "

Her words seemed to melt the ice that had formed around his heart since the
day he'd left this little cabin.

Warmth flooded his veins.  Love filled him, until the blood pounded in his
temples and his body throbbed with need.

He took her face in his big hands and stared deeply into her eyes.

"I

have nothing to offer you, except my undying love.  But know this.  I love
you, Cassie.  I have loved you for so long.  "

His lips sought hers.  And as the kiss deepened, she brought her arms around
his neck.

"I love you, too, Quin.  But this time, I want more.  I want marriage, I want
vows, I want my children to ha~e a father."

~ :~ ~ It s what I want, too.  It s what Ive always wanted~ut until now, I
never felt worthy of such a gift.  Oh, God, Cassie.  I can't believe you
forgive me, and love me.  I want to be with you and the girls forever.  " He
kissed away her tears, then c6vered her mouth with his.  Against her lips he
whispered,

"My life has been so empty, so lonely, so" -- "Stop talking," she said with a
sigh, "and show me."  On a moan he scooped her up and carried her to her bed.

The letter slipped from Cassie's nerveless fingers and dropped to the floor.
Outside, the wind picked up and a 287 breeze, stirring through the crack/n
the door, caught and lifted the slip of paper, carrying it into the fire.
Despite the intense heat, it neither curled nor burned.  As the flames grew
hotter and leapt higher, it suddenly disappeared, leaving behind nothing but
fine white ash.

In a little schoolhouse in Prospect, six-year-old Jennifer Montgomery was
dreaming of summer, when she and her mother would go back to the little cabin
in the plains.  In her mind's eye Quin was there, too.  She glanced out the
window and caught sight of a strange golden-tipped cloud.  For some reason it
reminded her of her father's face.  She smiled, remembering what Quin had
once told her.  Though her memory of her pa might fade in time, she would
never forget his love.  It was etched forever in her heart.

LEGACY/ LOVE

Coming next month

A FRAGILE MASK

Elizabeth Bailey TV~RmaE WELLS 1795 Miss Verena Chaceley was a mystery to her
neighbours.  She was stunningly beautiful, but so coldly calm that she held
all at a distance.  Only Mr Denzell Hawkeridge saw a break in her facade, as
she frolicked joyously with the local children.  He realised that there was a
turmoil of feeling beneath her polite, expressionless exterior.

Shaken, Denzell knew that this time his flirting could hurt, and he
determined to find the truth about Verena--falling in love with her wasn't
part of the plan at all.  KATHERINE Helen Die on

LONDON 1641

It was useless for Katherine Blair to repine over Blake, Lord Russell.  He
was betrothed to Lady Margaret Tawney, daughter of the Earl of Rockley and an
excellent match.  But Katherine could still enjoy a season at the court of
Charles I, if only Blake would allow her to go.  It was strange that every
suitor for her hand--for she was lovely as well as an heiress--had some fault
for Blake to find, but, if it could not be him, she was in no hurry to gain a
husband.  First she had to solve the mystery of her background, risky in the
tense court atmosphere, and with Blake watching like a hawk.