Beraru-Hungry-HeartThe Hungry HeartElise Dee BeraruAwe-StruckCopyright © 2003 Elise Dee
BeraruRomance. 72103 words long. enNoveltext/xml

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The Hungry Heart

by Elise Dee Beraru

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Romance

Awe-Struck

www.awe-struck.net

Copyright ©2003 Elise Dee Beraru

NOTICE: This work is copyrighted. It is licensed only for use by the original purchaser. Making copies
of this work or distributing it to any unauthorized person by any means, including without limit email,
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copyright law and subjects the violator to severe fines or imprisonment.

PROLOGUE

Vallequette Manor, near Savannah, Georgia, December 1864

She froze. Voices.

She inched over to one of the front windows and peeked out. There was no mistaking the uniforms.

Yankee Blue.

General Sherman's troops were cutting a swath through Georgia, burning everything in sight. If anything
remained to steal, they took it, particularly edibles. And unless she talked them out of it, they'd burn the
house down around her and her cousins? ears.

Screwing up her courage, she opened the front door and stepped out onto the verandah as the patrol
rode up. She held her hands away from her to show she was unarmed.

Without dismounting, the young officer leading the troop glared down at her. ?We've orders to
confiscate any livestock and other comestibles."

Jenny Clarkson looked at the three men mounted behind him then back at the officer. ?We have nothing.
We've been living on squirrel and stream-caught fish."

?I'll give you until sundown to gather blankets and whatever personal items you'll need, because I'll be
burning the house."

Cold sweat covered her. ?Please, don't burn the house. My cousins are ill and will die if forced to live
out of doors."

?Orders are orders."

Jenny touched his arm. ?Please, I'll do anything. Isn't there something I can do, something I can trade?"

?Do you sleep upstairs?"

?No, by the kit...? Realization slowly spread through her. Stiffly she nodded. ?You promise you'll leave
the house be?"

?If you'll do it with my men after I'm done."

She nodded again. ?This way.? As she turned, she began unbuttoning her bodice.

* * * *

Eight days later

?Why couldn't you have died nine days ago?"

Jenny glared at her cousins lying side by side in the three-foot-deep hole. She swallowed her rage,
grabbed the spade from the wheelbarrow, and ignoring the freezing rain as she had all day, began
shoveling oozing mud over the bodies.

A shiver ripped through her. God she was cold, and not because of the freezing rain. She hadn't been
able to get warm since that day with the soldiers.

She wiped the dripping water from her eyes and returned to her task. ?You're lucky you got three feet,?
she muttered. After tossing a last scoop of mud on the grave, the spade dropped from her nerveless
fingers. ?The last Vallequette slave has been freed."

Pivoting, she started back toward the mansion, then stopped, frozen, immobile as the ground shook and
the sound of thundering hoofs broke the stillness. ?Oh, my God, not again.? She collapsed behind the
tombstone beside her and curled into a ball. She couldn't let them find her. She could endure anything but
that.

Sometime later, as the laughter drifted away, she smelled rather than heard the fire. Pushing herself
upright, she glanced over her shoulder at the new burial mound.

?It was for nothing."

Eight days ago, her soul had died.

All that was left cowering in the graveyard was her body, breathing but not alive.

CHAPTER 1

Loomis, Missouri, August 1866

The hammering had been going on for three days now. Funny, Jenny Clarkson thought, I always
thought it took less time to build a gallows.

It then occurred to Jenny that she had never given the time necessary to build a gallows any thought at
all.

But then, she had never considered that a gallows would be built to hangher.

Sheriff Clayton, none too courteously, had assured Jenny that the scaffold would definitely be finished
before dusk today and that they would hang her at noon tomorrow.

?Oughtta be quite a shindig,? the lawman smirked. ?It's not every day the town sees a woman hung."

Jenny sighed. ?Hanged,? she said more audibly. ?A picture is hung. A person is hanged.? Not a
person?me. She shuddered, suddenly cold despite the heat of the day.

Clayton spit out a wad of chewing tobacco and removed his hat solemnly. ?Why, thank you, teacher,?
he said with a mocking bow. ?Hanged or hung, you'll be just as dead.? He clapped his hat back on his
macassared brown hair. ?By the way, whaddaya want for your last meal?"

Jenny turned away from the barred window and leaned back against the wall of the cell, folding her arms
across her bosom. Don't let him see how scared you are. ?Lobster bisque, clams on the half shell, sole
Florentine with capers, artichokes with drawn butter, a French baguette, followed up by fresh
strawberries with sweetened whipped cream and a nice sauternes."

?Huh?? responded the primitive lawman. ?Whatever all that damned stuff is, we couldn't get it for you in
a hundred years."

Jenny shrugged. ?I'm willing to wait."

It took a full minute for Sheriff Clayton to get the joke. He laughed in that horse neigh of his and said,
?Yeah, I just bet you are."

Jenny smiled and closed her eyes for a moment. ?Could I have a rare steak, carrots, fried potatoes and
a slice of pie with coffee?"

?That we can do for you."

Jenny was sure that she would have little appetite this last night of her life. She walked over to the barred
door of her cell. Wrapping her hands around the bars so he wouldn't see them tremble, she called out,
?Sheriff Clayton, do you think my mysterious benefactor could arrange for a bath for me tomorrow
morning before the hanging."

?Why? You had a bath just four days ago."

Four days ago. The morning of her conviction and sentencing on bank robbery charges.

Jenny sighed. ?If I'm to meet my Maker, I'd prefer to do so with a clean body and a clean soul. You
know I've made no attempt to escape or do anything else to abuse the privilege."

?You think I don't think Danny Clarkson and his gang won't try to come bust you out at the last minute?"

?Sheriff,? Jenny responded with conviction, ?I've been sweating in this jail cell for over a month since
you arrested me and the gang escaped. My brother has given me up for dead or he'd have tried to bust
me out before I stood trial."

?And your lover?"

?Lover? What lover?"

He laughed. ?You're joking again. Like with the food.? He glared at Jenny Clarkson. She stood against
the jail cell door. She was nearly five feet nine inches tall and reed slender. Her chestnut hair was
chopped off mannishly, framing an oval, high cheekboned, slightly suntanned face with dark brown eyes
and a broad slash of a mouth. She wore a plaid cotton man's shirt tucked into worn black men's trousers
with scuffed boots covered by the trouser legs. She was pretty in an understated way when she wore the
Quakerish gray dress that hung on a peg in the cell. She had worn that dress every day of her trial and
planned to wear it on the scaffold tomorrow. She was so small bosomed that in man's apparel she
looked neither male nor female, but a combination of the two. The rumors that she had slept with every
member of the Clarkson gang were unfathomable.

Jenny cocked her head noncommittally. ?If you say so. But to answer the question I think you intended,
I don't think Jesse Coltrane or any other members of the gang will be back for me. They saw my horse
go down and me unseated. It's safe to guess they believe I'm dead already. By tomorrow it won't matter
much. Could you please talk to someone about the bath?"

?Yeah, yeah,? Sheriff Clayton said dismissively.

Jenny walked back to the cot and sat down, drawing her knees up and resting her chin on them as she
wrapped her arms around her folded legs. She'd put up a good fight to save her life, but she'd lost. If her
life wasn't going to pass before her eyes, certainly the events of the last month would...

??

July 1866

She had a feeling about the bank robbery in Loomis. A premonition of disaster, she would call it. She
glanced around the outlaw camp. Her brother Danny and his partner, Jesse Coltrane, were huddled
together, again discussing last minute details.

They had gone over it numerous times. The gang would ride into town separately, ?coincidentally? all
finding themselves in the bank at one o'clock. As the clock stuck one, they would take out their guns and
hold any customers still while Danny and Jesse would force the tellers to clear out the cash drawers and
safe. Then they would ride off in different directions to elude the posse and meet back at their hideout in
three days to divide the loot.

Jenny held up the coffeepot. ?Anyone want more coffee before I douse the fire??

It had been a little over a year since Danny found her living in the remnants of a slave shack on the
burned out Vallequette plantation. He didn't like his sister being part of the gang, but after what had
happened to her, Jenny hardly cared what he thought. She wasn't his virginal baby sister anymore.

Besides, there was nowhere else for her to go.

Jenny doused and buried the campfire until it was cool enough to touch. She ran her fingers through her
chopped-off hair. She'd cut her formerly hip-length hair with Danny's knife when she began to ride with
them so she wouldn't be as easily identified as a woman and because it was easier to take care of in
uncertain living conditions. She clapped her wide-brimmed man's hat over the shorn tresses and walked
over to retrieve her gunbelt from her bedroll. She checked the pistol to make sure it was cleaned and
loaded and then buckled the belt around her slim hips. She checked her horse's cinch and bridle and
mounted astride. The other members of the gang were doing likewise.

Danny rode over to her, Jesse on his tail.

?You don't have to do this.?

Jenny sighed. ?You say that every time. I won't sit here in this hole and wait for word that you're dead."

?They won't kill me, Jen. These stupid farmers won't know what hit them."

?There are no guarantees, Danny. But I'm either a member of the Clarkson gang or I'm just a camp
follower."

Danny's face reddened with rage. ?Don't say that!?

Jenny's eyes narrowed. ?Face it, Danny. It doesn't much matter whether I am or not, everyone will think
it's true."

Danny raised his arm as if to strike her.

?Lay a hand on her and?brother or not?I'll kill you where you sit,? said Jesse Coltrane in his gravelly
voice.

Danny lowered his arm. ?Just remember, be careful. We can't stop for you if you get wounded or
captured."

Jenny nodded. ?I understand."

Danny rode away. Jesse maneuvered his horse until he was parallel with Jenny's.

In a low voice, he said, ?When the job is over, whaddaya say you follow me out of town? I can show
you a good time."

Jenny peered from beneath her brim. Jesse was a big man, strong as an ox and neither gentle nor careful.
His black hair was prematurely grizzled and he always seemed to have a couple days growth of
salt-and-pepper beard stubble on his square, tanned face. She turned her horse's head to go.

He grabbed her upper arm harshly. ?You're my girl, Jenny Clarkson."

She yanked out of his grasp. ?I'm nobody's girl. I've told you before ... Now, we've got a job to do.?
She rode off to join her brother as they rode out of camp.

??

The robbery itself was more or less a blur. Jenny remembered holding her gun on bank customers who
trembled with raised hands while Danny and Jesse went behind the tellers? cages. Then she heard the cry
and the gunshot, followed by Danny's voice saying, ?Shit, Jesse, what'd you do that for?? and the
panicked rush out of the bank.

Shoving her unfired pistol back into the holster she ran outside of the bank and mounted up. She heard
shots fired behind her, then felt her horse crumple to the road, throwing her free. Without hesitation,
Jenny lay face down in the road, her arms stretched over her head as far away from her gun as she could
until a deputy sheriff forcefully yanked her upright and trotted her off to the jail at gunpoint.

The jail had been her home ever since?the last home she would ever know.

* * * *

Micah Peterman rode into town on his buckboard that afternoon. He nodded or tipped his hat politely in
greeting to those that greeted him, but said little. Beneath the shadow of his felt hat he observed far more
than he let on.

He could not fail to notice the progress on the scaffold. He drove his wagon beside the platform and
called up to the carpenter who was industriously performing his task.

?Almost finished,? Micah remarked.

The carpenter gestured with his hammer. ?Near to it. Looks like we'll be hanging the little whore
tomorrow noon. Should be quite a show,? he added before returning to his work.

Micah veered the horse towards the end of the main street to a two-story frame house with a short white
picket fence surrounding a small garden. A sign on the fence read: Claudius Plascove, Circuit Judge.

Micah braked his wagon and climbed down from the seat. He headed up to the front porch, climbed up
the steps and knocked on the Judge's door. A black woman in a dark gray dress and white apron
answered the door and soon ushered Micah into Judge Plascove's private office.

?Judge Plascove,? Micah said quietly in greeting.

The white-haired, ruddy-faced jurist held out his hand and took Micah's thin, long-fingered one in his for
a shake. ?I don't believe we've met, Mr. ah..."

?Peterman. Micah Peterman."

?Ah yes, Mr. Peterman. What can I do for you this fine day?"

Micah looked down at his feet. ?I wanted to ask you about the interpretation of an ordinance, Your
Honor."

?Is this on a pending case?? the judge asked cautiously.

?No, sir,? Micah responded. ?It has to do with the Marital Parole Law."

Judge Plascove raised one white eyebrow. ?The Marital Parole Law has only been in effect since a few

months after the War ended."

?Actually, sir, it isn't the law I have a question about, it's an understanding of its wording."

?Its wording?? the judge echoed. ?Come to the point, my boy."

At thirty-two years old it had been a long time since anyone had called him ?boy.? Micah continued, ?I
understand when male gender is used in wording a law it's supposed to apply to either men or women
unless the law states otherwise."

?That is correct,? Judge Plascove replied. ?The grammatical albeit somewhat suggestive truism ?he
embraces she? applies in the Missouri statute books."

?This law uses male gender. Would you say the ?he's? in that law refer to women as well as men."

The jurist frowned. ?I never considered it before. The ordinance was passed to alleviate the shortage of
farmhands due to war casualties, but its intent is not specifically given in the statute."

?So then it might apply?"

?Have you something in mind, Mr. Peterman?"

Micah smiled peculiarly. ?I do indeed."

* * * *

Some raucous music floated through the air from the saloon. Its rowdy cadences filtered in through the
barred window of the jail where Jenny sat waiting for the dawn.

If there was ever a time to feel sorry for oneself, it was now. Jenny had cried at intervals ever since night
fell. All she knew was that she was going to die. Tomorrow morning she was going to put on that ill-fitting
gray gown and climb up the freshly-built scaffold steps. The sheriff would put a noose around her neck
and someone would pull a handle that would drop her through the floor. If she was lucky, she would die
instantly. Otherwise she would dangle, choking and frightened, until finally her air was cut off and she
ceased to be.

It was hard to stay within herself. It was hard not to curse Jesse for shooting Leon Purdy. It was harder
still not to curse Danny for abandoning her to this fate without a second thought.

The local preacher had been by earlier in the evening. Jenny had never been particularly religious, but
she was willing to listen to him until she realized that his words were not those of comfort but of censure.
She asked him politely to leave, saying she would pray for God's forgiveness in her own way.

Right now, sitting wrapped in the thin blanket, clad in one of the chemises and drawers given her by her
mysterious benefactor, Jenny tried to pray.

?God, I've always believed in you. I've done what I've had to do to survive and it hasn't always been
right. I could have stayed in camp but I chose to ride with the gang...

?God, I don't want to die. I'm not going to make any bargains with You because I have nothing to
bargain with, but if You could see Your way clear to letting me live past tomorrow, I'd be eternally

grateful. I'm only twenty-five. Surely You have some task I can do on Earth more important than anything
I could possibly do in Heaven. Please think about it, God."

* * * *

Well after midnight, the door between the sheriff's office and the jail opened and Deputy Filer stepped
in.

?You asleep, Clarkson?"

A gravelly voice answered, ?If I was I wouldn't be now."

?Someone to see you."

?Not the preacher again."

?Nah."

Filer unlocked the cell door and allowed the visitor in. He hooked a lantern on a rail and exited, locking
the door behind him. Jenny looked up from her crouched position on the cot.

Into the eyes of a thin man.

Those dark, blue-violet eyes were deep set in a face so gaunt and pallid as to seem skeletal. The man
had a strong aquiline nose and equally strong jaw surrounding a mouth that looked surprisingly soft for
someone so lean. His hair was a dark blond, short, limp and lifeless. His mouth was framed by a tawny,
drooping mustache.

He was very tall, well over six feet, but appeared to be as thin below the shoulders as his face was. His
clothes?a blue chambray work shirt, brown wool trousers, a brown buckskin jacket?all seemed too large
for his frame, as though he had been heavier but had never bought new clothes to accommodate his
present build.

It seemed to Jenny that he might have been a reasonably handsome man at some time in his life, but now
he was too emaciated for her to tell. She reckoned his age to be in his early to middle thirties.

For a while the man stood there, a look of vulnerable anxiety on his lean features. She had never seen a
man show emotion so plainly on his face.

?Welcome to my parlor,? Jenny finally said, spreading her arms to indicate the expanse of her cell.
?Please forgive its somewhat disordered state. I have something of a journey facing me tomorrow and I
wasn't exactly expecting a gentleman caller."

He loved the way her educated speech was gentled by her soft Georgia accent. He glanced down at the
slim, blanket-wrapped body. She was beautiful, not in the fashionable way his late wife Melissa had
been, but in her intelligence and dignity. Even with her tear-streaked features she was beautiful.

?I saw you at the back of the courtroom every day during my trial. You were the only person in the
gallery courageous enough to look me in the face. Sometimes I thought you were the only one in the
courtroom who wanted me to be acquitted."

?Maybe I was. He and I were only passing acquaintances, but Leon Purdy was a popular fellow."

?I'm sorry he's dead. I got the jury to believe it wasn't my doing?for all the good it did me."

?Well, maybe it did do you some good."

?Look,? Jenny said impatiently, ?even though I saw you every day and feel a little like I know you,
we've never been formally introduced.? She held out her hand. ?My name is Genevieve Louise Clarkson,
but they call me Jenny."

He took her hand and held it for a moment. His was a large, long-fingered hand; callused from hard
work but as fleshless as the rest of him. She also noticed his hand was cold. Whether from nervousness
or thinness, Jenny didn't know.

?My name is Micah Peterman,? the thin man said. ?I own a small horse farm just outside Loomis.? He
noticed a book lying open beside her. ?What are you reading?"

Jenny picked up the book. ?Hamlet," she said, quoting ?'To die, to sleep, perchance to dream. Aye,
that's the rub, for in that sleep of death what dreams may come when we have shuffled off this mortal coil
must give us pause...'? She looked up. ?Strangely philosophical reading for the last night of my life, but I
do enjoy Shakespeare."

?I was impressed by your performance in the courtroom."

Jenny snorted. ?Thanks, but a rare lot of good it did me."

?You beat the murder charge."

?And I'm still going to die tomorrow."

?Maybe not, Miss Clarkson."

Jenny's head shot up. ?What do you mean?"

?Have you ever heard of the Marital Parole Law?"

Jenny shook her head. ?I haven't exactly had time to thoroughly study the Missouri Statutes."

He fought a smile. ?No, I imagine not. Anyway, it was enacted about a year ago because of the shortage
of men in the state since the War. It says if a condemned felon not convicted of rape or murder agrees to
marry an unmarried landowner and remain married for a minimum of seven years, the death sentence is
suspended and then commuted completely at the end of seven years whether the marriage continues or
not."

?You said this law was designed to alleviate a shortage of men?? Jenny splayed fingers through her
ragged waves. ?Despite my short hair, I haven't exactly been considered a man."

Micah smiled warmly. ?Indeed not. But I did a little checking. The intent of the law is not written into the
statute and only uses the word ?he? in reference to the felon. In Missouri, the use of ?he? also means
?she? unless the law specifically states otherwise."

Jenny blinked, connecting the logic of his statements. ?Are you saying because I was acquitted of the
murder charge I might be eligible for parole under this law."

?That's exactly what I'm saying. I even checked it out with Judge Plascove to make sure I understood it
before I came here."

?So all I have to do is find some landowner in this county to marry me and I don't have to be hanged.?
Jenny laughed bitterly. ?Who'd marry me?"

?I would."

Jenny looked in those dark eyes. Sincerity was etched in his lean features.

?Why? Why would you want to marry a convicted felon and hold yourself out to ridicule and scorn from
your fellow citizens, not to mention how they're going to feel about you cheating them out of my hanging?"

?Miss Clarkson, can you cook and sew and keep house?"

?Of course. I kept house for my father after my mother died and for my cousins during the War. It's
been a while, though."

?The truth is, Miss Clarkson, I need a housekeeper more than I need a wife. I have four wranglers who
work for me who need a cook and a large house that needs taking care of."

?Then why marry me? Why not hire a housekeeper?"

?Call it a woman shortage. Unmarried women are hesitant to risk their reputations to take on a live-in
position in a household with five unmarried men."

Of course, I have no reputation left to harm. ?I should tell you, Mr. Peterman, that I'm not a virgin."

Micah blushed. Jenny found that endearing. She had never seen a man blush. Even her late fiancé J.C.
Vallequette had never gone red in the face except with anger.

In a quiet voice Jenny felt reverberating to her soul when Micah answered, ?Meaning no disrespect,
Miss Clarkson, but I reckon I'd be more surprised to find out that you were than that you aren't. But that
means little. I don't expect you to endure the intimate duties of a wife."

Endure? Jenny remembered how J.C. had fumed when she suggested he bed her than continue to bed
slave women. J.C. had made it very clear he considered her a lady, capable only of doing her duty after
marriage. Thus, they'd never been lovers before he was killed in the War. No, it had taken a patrol of
Yankee soldiers to initiate her. And she never wanted to endure that kind ofintimate duty again. But for
a man to decline sex! She had never heard of that.

?Why marry me, Mr. Peterman, if the thought of touching me disgusts you? Seven years is a long time to
bear the company of a repulsive woman."

Suddenly, Micah took her hands in his. ?No, Miss Clarkson, don't think for a moment that I don't find
you attractive."

?Under this law, must the marriage remain unconsummated to be dissolved, then?"

Micah shook his head. ?No, that's not it."

?Are you one of those men who would rather bed other men?"

Micah paled and his eyes widened in a moment of terror before calming. ?No, Miss Clarkson, I'm not.
I've been married before. My wife and son died of typhus fever in 1864. It's that ... how do I tell you
this?? He inhaled and exhaled deeply several times, his face drawn with indecision about what he was
going to tell her. Finally, a little bit coldly, he said, ?Miss Clarkson, I need a housekeeper, but I can't find
one. You need a reprieve from the noose, and I'm the only one you're going to find at this late date. That
ought to be enough."

?I'm going to die tomorrow. I reckon I shouldn't be so particular. Surely there are a host of widows in
this town who would jump at the chance to marry you."

?Right,? Micah said sarcastically. ?I was captured by the Rebs in ?62 and spent the remainder of the
War in an assortment of Confederate prison camps. We spent that time hovering on the brink of
starvation, wracked by dysentery and disease, dying by the hundreds..."

That's why you're so thin, Jenny realized, though it had been more than a year since the surrender.

?Anyway, when they brought me home I was more dead than alive. I came home to find that my wife
and son died on the same day while I was languishing in prison."

Jenny saw the surprisingly broad but thin shoulders slump. She had been too busy trying to survive to
worry about losing anyone she loved. And Danny had survived the War.

She found herself wanting to run her fingers through the strands of his tawny blond hair. A small voice
told her it was absurd that with her life on the lineshe was actually considering comforting him. Jenny had
never felt this kind of sensation. Where they had come for this sad husk of a man she would never know.

?So you don't really want to get married again."

She saw Micah's jaw tighten beneath his sunken cheeks. ?No,? he said dully as he put some distance
between them. ?I can't just contract for your services like mill owners can with convicts. Marriage is the
only solution that solves both of our needs. I get a housekeeper; you get a parole. The law only allows
the commutation if the felon marries the landowner. Once we're married, nobody is going to question or
care if it's a marriage in name only as long as we stay married for the required seven years."

?Mr. Peterman, I have nothing left. I have two complete outfits: The gray gown I've been wearing in
court and the men's clothing I was wearing when I was arrested. My gun and grip were confiscated by
the County to pay for my keep. And my saddle was falling apart, so I doubt it was worth much. You'll
need to buy me clothing and basic necessities. They needn't be expensive, but they will cost money."

?Money is tight right now, but I have enough to buy you what you need."

?What I'm saying is this: I have nothing to offer you in exchange for this unbelievable thing you're doing
for me. All I have to offer are my industry and my fidelity. If you marry me, I promise I'll do nothing to
cause you shame. If you want a marriage with no sex..."

?It's not..."

?You're saving my life. You're the answer to a prayer. During the last year of the War and since then I
did what I had to do to survive. I'm not proud of it. But I promise you, if I'm your wife, I'll have no man
in my bed excepting yourself. I'll likely be called a whore regardless, but you deserve that respect."

?Were you one?"

Jenny smiled ruefully. ?It depends on how you define the word. You can get pretty cold and hungry
standing on principle. What does it matter anyway? You need a housekeeper and I don't want to be
executed. You're willing to offer me marriage to give us each what we need. I will be happy to marry
you, right now, tonight, if you want."

Micah smiled. It lit up his melancholy face. He walked back to stand in front of Jenny, but before he
could do anything else, Jenny placed her hands on both sides of his face, stood on her toes and kissed
him tenderly on the cheek.

?What was that for?? His heart pounded at her touch.

?To thank you for saving my life."

?You saved your own life, Miss Clarkson."

?Jenny."

?Micah."

?Micah,? she repeated and kissed his cheek again.

Micah stepped back and turned toward the cell door. He turned back to face her. The look in his eyes
seemed strangely like longing, but mixed with melancholy. ?Jenny, would you object to letting your hair
grow out again?"

She shook her head, surprised he would care. ?Not at all. It's only been short a year."

?Why wear your hair short?"

The day Danny and Jesse found her in the slave shack near the burned out Vallequette plantation she
hacked off her hip-length hair with her brother's bayonet. If she was going to be riding with men she
wanted no obvious reminders of her womanhood. ?Why is yours short?"

Micah shrugged. ?Easier to take care of, I suppose."

?That's as good a reason as any. Micah, who were you planning to have marry us?"

?I hadn't thought. Preacher Edwards, I suppose."

Jenny frowned. ?I'd prefer not. Do you think you could ask Judge Plascove?"

Micah raised an eyebrow. ?He's the man who sentenced you to death."

?And the one who gave you the means to avoid it."

?Jenny, do you think you got a fair trial?"

She nodded. ?Actually, I do. The judge could have been far less accommodating to me than he was. A
bad judge can tear apart a defendant representing himself if he wants to."

?Sometimes you sounded like a real lawyer."

?My father was a lawyer?a good one. Sometimes I helped him research cases. He always said that if I
had been a man, perhaps I could have been a lawyer, too. Of course, if I had been a man, I probably
would have ended up dead on some battlefield."

?I'm glad you're not a man."

?So am I,? Jenny responded with a grin. ?So am I."

CHAPTER 2

Jenny watched Micah walk into the darkness before sitting on her cot. He had promised to be back with
the judge just before dawn. She felt the first ray of hope since her conviction.

She could bear seven years as this man's wife. There was a gentle guilelessness to Micah Peterman.
Jenny sensed that there was a considerable amount of hidden pain in the man. She wondered if his
feelings about wanting a marriage of convenience stemmed from the recent death of his family or because
of her shabby reputation.

It was really too bad, she mused, because despite his extreme thinness, she was more than a little drawn
to his long-legged grace and sympathetic eyes. She could well imagine herself lying with him, touching
him, drawing his pain out of him with her love...

Her love? She jerked herself upright. That was ridiculous! She could not love a man she had only just
met a few moments ago. It was gratitude. That was all. Gratitude for his saving her life. Why would she
ever want to lie in the same bed with a man again after what happened to her?

He had said so himself, he did not want a wife. He wanted a housekeeper. He was willing to marry
Jenny to prevent her execution and in exchange she would cook, sew and clean for him and his
farmhands. It was more than a fair tradeoff. In seven years she could leave if she wanted.

If she wanted. After all, where would she go when the time was elapsed? The chances of Danny still
being alive seven years from now were remote. She was sure that bank robbers were not long-lived. If
she could convince him to keep her, maybe she could stay on beyond the seven years. Maybe she could
not replace his departed wife in his heart, but maybe he could accept her as more than just the equivalent
of hired help. Experience had shown her that men seldom abstain from sex long when there is a woman
handy. She had learned the hard way.

But could there be that kind of hunger in this man? Jenny suspected that there was. She suspected that
Micah Peterman was a man on the brink of starvation in more ways than one.

He said he found her attractive?or at least not repulsive. It was something.

* * * *

Micah Peterman spent the night in a bedroll in the back of his buckboard. He would need to conserve
his funds if he wanted to survive until his farm started to show a profit again. It would be spring before his
crop of horses was salable at the Louisville Horse Fair. There was still some stud value in his old stallion,
but war's aftermath caused a recession. Though better off than the decimated South, times were hard in
Loomis.

When Jenny told him she would need clothes, he knew immediately it was not vanity or greed. He had
paid for the gray gown and underwear she had worn to court, as well as her trips to the bathhouse,
though, as far as he knew, she didn't know it.

Jenny: Calm, intelligent and unpretentious, but with a cynical streak that challenged his mind. Melissa had
never been cynical. Oh, she had pouted and complained and sometimes nagged, anything to turn
attention toward her. Jenny must have been in Sherman's path during the War. Maybe war made cynics
of people. Micah felt the same ironies Jenny spoke aloud.

By God, she was bold! He would enjoy having her around the house. She would blow the cobwebs
away. Maybe she could even chase the pall of Melissa's ghost out of the house. Her reaction when he
used the word endure in describing a wife's duty surprised him. If her reputation was as painted, the
marriage bed might not be a test of endurance for Jenny Clarkson. It was too bad he couldn't make love
to her.

Micah stiffened. No, he had to stop thinking about such things. His loss just had to be accepted. He had
to remain physically aloof from her. If she discovered the truth about why he insisted on a chaste
marriage it would drive him mad and make her hate him. When she got her pardon after seven years as
his wife, she would undoubtedly find herself a man who would be able to love her in both body and soul.

Yet Micah already felt that if she left him he would not want to go on living.

He pulled from his pocket the rings he had bought the previous afternoon at the mercantile. He tried
them on. One fit his left ring finger; the other fit to the second knuckle.

He had never worn a wedding band when he married Melissa. Why did he want to wear one now? For
this wife who was not a wife?

He was heading back to the jail when he passed the office of Adam Caldwell M.D. Dr. Caldwell and
Micah had grown up together in Hannibal. It was he who wrote to Adam to come to Loomis when the
previous doctor died.

Adam leaned against the doorsill, fluid and casual despite his ubiquitous black frock coat. The doctor
was a notoriously early riser.

?Micah,? he called out to his old friend.

Micah turned. ?Adam."

Adam swept his eyes up and down Micah's skeletal frame in his baggy clothes. A frown creased his
handsome brow. ?Come in here,? he commanded, straightening up and gesturing at his friend.

Reluctantly, he followed the doctor into the cool confines of his medical office, past the waiting room into

the surgery.

?Get on the scale, Micah,? Adam commanded, gesturing toward the counterweight doctor's scale
standing along the far wall.

?I haven't got time for this, Adam.? He stood on the scale.

Adam moved the counterweights until they read out their sorry total. ?For God's sake, Micah, you've
lost five pounds since the last time. You're six foot three and there are five foot tall women in this town
who weigh more than you do!"

Micah shrugged. They had gone around and around on this subject since he came home on a litter the
end of the war.

?Do you want to die, Micah?"

Micah shrugged again.

?Did you eat breakfast this morning?"

?No."

?Micah!"

?I wasn't hungry."

?We've been through this before. Your body doesn't know when it's hungry anymore. You lived at the
edge of starvation for so long your metabolism is ruined. You've come a long way since you came home,
but if you don't eat more and put some more meat on your bones you are going to die ... Wait here."

?I don't have...? Micah began to protest, but Adam was gone. He returned with a hunk of cheese, a
large square of cornbread and a couple of peaches. He handed them to Micah and commanded, ?Eat!"

?Adam..."

?Eat. Doctor's orders."

With a sigh, Micah forced himself to eat. He never had any appetite. Food had taste and texture, but
little interest and after a few bites he always felt full.

?Lots of excitement in town today,? Adam said. ?A lot of bloodthirsty savages out for the blood of that
girl."

?A hanging has always been a civic event,? Micah said between bites. ?Are you planning to go?"

The doctor shrugged. ?I have to. As the town's only doctor, it's my job to pronounce her dead after the
hanging.? He sighed. ?God, I hate the idea."

?What, pronouncing her dead, or hanging her?"

?Both, I suppose."

?Can you keep a secret?"

Adam frowned. ?You know I can."

?There isn't going to be a hanging."

Adam started, intrigued. ?You aren't one for gossip. How do you know it isn't going forward?"

?Because I found a way to prevent it. There's a law in this county that if she marries a landowner and
stays married for seven years her sentence is commuted."

?So?"

?So, I'm going to marry her just as soon as I leave here."

Adam's eyes widened. ?You're going to marry a convicted bank robber? Why?"

?I need a housekeeper."

?But a convict? Aren't you afraid she'll rob you blind and light out the moment you get her to your farm?"

?It's a calculated risk. If she leaves before seven years, she would be a fugitive with a death sentence
hanging over her. If she stays seven years, she's free. I suspect she'll be motivated to stay around."

?But is marrying her the only way?"

?It's the way the law is written. She either marries me today or she hangs."

Adam let that sink in as he watched his friend finish the impromptu breakfast.

?Micah,? he began, ?does she know about..."

?She knows that I don't require marital duties from her, just cooking and cleaning,? Micah cut him off.
?She'd rather live than worry about such unimportant things. You know most women prefer not to be
pawed."

?Don't judge all women by one, but most well-bred women spend their lives fighting their bodies? needs.
I saw Miss Clarkson in court a couple of times. They say she's lost count of how many men she's slept
with."

?Like all gossip, exaggerated I'm sure."

?Even in that frowsy gray gown she emitted sexuality. She wasn't even trying. Do you think a woman
like that is going to remain chaste for seven years?"

?She promised me fidelity."

?You believe her?"

?I could just let her hang and she knows it."

?What if you don't last seven years? The way you neglect yourself, you might not last another year."

?If I die of natural causes before seven years, she's free.? Under Adam's watchful eye, Micah forced
himself to take the last bite of peach and swallowed it. ?I have to leave now. We've got to be married
and out of town in the next hour or so if we've got any hope of beating the mob."

Micah turned to leave.

?Good luck, old friend,? Adam said.

Micah smiled. ?Thanks, Doc."

* * * *

Jenny stared out of the cell window as people were beginning to mill around the gallows. The sky was
beginning to turn pink. Her heart was pounding a mile a minute.

?Jenny,? a soft voice startled her. She turned to see Micah. He was wearing a dark brown frock coat
that hung sadly oversized on his wasted frame, likewise a matching vest. His shirt was white with a stiff
collar and he wore a square bow tie.

?I was afraid you'd changed your mind."

He shook his head. ?I wouldn't do that ... The judge will be here in a few minutes.? He stuffed a
package through the bars. ?Here, put these on."

She opened the parcel to find a dark blue, sprigged calico gown, another petticoat and a lightweight,
cream-colored shawl.

?You were very sure I'd say yes."

?You're a smart woman. I counted on that. I'm sorry it can't be more bridelike, but since we have to
hightail it as soon as we're married, I figured at least you might want to get married in a dress everyone in
town can't identify. I have a bonnet out here with ribbons about the same color."

She looked up with tears shining in her amber eyes. ?Why are you being so nice to me?"

He blushed. ?You're going to be my wife, at least in name. We're going to have to live together for seven
years. It can be pleasant or unpleasant. I'd prefer pleasant ... Now, hurry up and change. We have to be
out of town before everyone realizes you're gone."

Jenny mumbled thanks with a voice thick with emotion. Micah left her to some privacy.

As she unbuttoned the gray gown and pulled it over her head, she remembered the ivory satin confection
with its full hoop crinoline and yards of lace that was being made for her wedding to J.C. Vallequette
back in 1861. Even though she was only the daughter of a successful attorney, she was marrying into one
of the county's most respected families. The Clarksons were distant cousins of the Vallequettes, so the
engagement between J.C. and herself was not so outlandish. The Confederates were going to lick those
damned Yankees in a matter of months. There was no need to change the August tenth date for their
wedding. He would come home a hero long before that.

He came home two months later in a coffin. He died of pneumonia after getting caught in a sudden
rainstorm. Some hero! The ivory satin gown was given to another girl to wear for her wedding and Jenny
never saw it again. She assumed it had been cut up for flags thereafter. J.C.'s mother Virginia and his
spinster sister Charlotte were so distraught they took to their beds and seldom ventured downstairs,
leaving Jenny to manage the household and its rapidly shrinking larder and staff.

J.C. had a photograph taken in his uniform. It burned when the Yankees torched the house in December
1864. Jenny closed her eyes. She could barely remember what her erstwhile fiancé looked like, except
that he had dark blond hair and expressionless brown eyes.

She folded the gray gown and put on the dark blue one and the extra petticoat. It fit a little better than
the gray. If Micah had a sewing basket in his house she would be able to fix both gowns to fit properly. If
not, she would make him a list of what she needed so he could get her the notions the next time he went
to town.

When was the last time she had really cared how she looked?

She combed through her hair, which had become mussed in changing clothes. She put the gray gown
and her comb in a pile with her men's clothes, wrapped them in the brown paper and tied them with
string. She draped the shawl over her elbows and sat down to wait.

A few moments later Sheriff Clayton entered and unlocked the door to the cell.

?Well, Clarkson, it looks like you beat the rope."

?Sorry to disappoint you, Sheriff."

?I just bet you are ... Now you listen here. You're gettin? away with it account of some stupid law. I'll
have my eye on you. You do anything suspicious and I'll string you up before you can say Jack
Robinson."

?I'll remember that."

Jenny preceded Clayton out of the jail into the sheriff's office. Micah stood next to Judge Plascove, who
looked just as imposing in his black frock coat as he had in his judicial robes. An open hatbox sat on the
desk. Micah stepped away from the judge and picked up a plainly-trimmed, chip straw bonnet. He
exchanged the bonnet for Jenny's package of clothes.

?You look very nice,? he said as she tied the ribbons of the bonnet under her chin. As gaunt as he was,
he looked almost handsome when he smiled.

?Thank you.? Micah held out his hand to her and she took it. There was a look almost akin to pride in
his violet eyes as he led her to face the judge. The witnesses were Sheriff Clayton and Deputy Filer.

She wondered why he would feel pride. She was no prize.

Judge Plascove looked sternly at her. ?Miss Clarkson, do you understand what is about to happen?"

?I understand. If I stay married to Mr. Peterman for seven years and don't do anything that would be
considered a violation of parole, my sentence for the robbery will be considered served. If I break my

parole, you can go ahead and hang me. Does that about sum it up, Your Honor?"

?That about covers it. I take it you're willing to marry Mr. Peterman here."

?Your Honor, Mr. Peterman is being very nice to offer to marry me and save my life, but I'd have
married the devil himself if it meant not hanging today."

She felt Micah stiffen. She was immediately sorry for her cynical outburst. She had hurt his feelings.

?I'm sorry. I'm very grateful to Mr. Peterman. I'll do everything possible to make him a good wife. It's
the least I can do to pay my debt to him."

The judge nodded and?opening his book?began to read the civil marriage ceremony. Afterwards, Jenny,
Micah and the two lawmen signed the marriage license and certificate. The judge took the license to file
with the clerk as Micah folded the certificate into the inside pocket of his frock coat.

The judge handed Micah another document. ?Miss Clarkson, excuse me, Mrs. Peterman. That paper is
your parole. You are technically in Mr. Peterman's custody, and it is probably not a good idea for you to
come into town, at least for a while. You cannot leave this county without permission of the court and
without being accompanied by your husband. If you have met the conditions of your parole, on August
10, 1873, you return to town and I'll give you your commutation certificate."

Jenny's head shot up. ?Today is August tenth?"

?Yes, why do you ask?"

She shook her head. ?No particular reason."

August 10, 1861, she was supposed to have married J.C. Vallequette. August 10, 1866, exactly five
years later, she married Micah Peterman.

Life was funny, sometimes.

CHAPTER 3

They left town by six in the morning. Jenny pulled the brim of her new bonnet forward and down as
much as possible to hide her face. Likewise, Micah lowered his hat brim to shadow his features. There
was almost nobody on the street to pay any attention to the anonymous buckboard, its cargo covered
with a canvas tarpaulin, as it pulled away from the jail at a leisurely pace. No crowds were gathered in
front of the scaffold as they drove past, but since the hanging was scheduled for noon, no one was paying
any attention to either Judge Plascove or the simply dressed man and woman who preceded him out the
door.

Still, they were a good half-hour down the road before Jenny could draw a comfortable breath. Even
though she was legally out of jail, she felt as nervous as if she had busted out. She worried if the
boundaries of Micah's land would be enough to protect her.

She looked down at the plain gold ring she wore on her left hand. She had been quite surprised when he
handed her an identical ring to put on his finger. For a marriage in name only, it seemed strange to have a
man choose to wear a wedding ring.

She twisted the ring nervously around her finger.

?Does it fit?? Micah asked. For all its deep resonance, Jenny had never known so quiet a man. It was as
if starvation had robbed him of his voice as well as his physique.

?Fit?"

?The ring."

?Oh, yeah,? she mumbled. ?Yes, it fits fine, thank you."

?Good."

A tense silence resumed between them as the wagon rumbled down the road away from town.

?How much further?"

?We'll be home about a half hour before everyone figures out there isn't going to be an execution. If
Clayton, Filer and the town clerk keep their mouths shut, it may be days before anyone realizes where
you've gone."

?And if they don't?"

Micah reached out as if to clasp Jenny's hand, then pulled his hand away abruptly, rewrapping it around
the reins. ?You're my wife now. I'll protect you."

She wrapped her arms about herself. ?I was always pretty good at protecting myself."

?And look where it got you. Married to a scarecrow, with a death sentence hanging over your head."

Jenny's head snapped over to glare at Micah's profile. Her new husband just stared straight ahead and
guided the horse.

It was too bad he was not interested in a real marriage. She might have been able to bear it with him. He
was not that hard to look at. In profile, he was actually sort of handsome. There was strength in his jaw.
It took a great amount of inner strength to survive three years in Confederate prison camps.

Morning was nearly gone when Micah turned the buckboard off the main road onto a dirt path through a
split rail fence. A faded sign read ?Peterman Horse Farm.? A wide expanse of emerald pasture was
visible on both sides of the driveway. Another split rail fence separated a small herd of mares and their
foals from a few colts. The foals galloped around the pasture full of the enthusiasm of the children they
were. Jenny knew enough about horses to know that none of the youngsters would be salable until they
were yearlings. Doubtless this was his first crop of foals since returning from the War. It would be a
couple of lean years for Micah Peterman now.

Seeing his wife's eyes follow the scampering horselings, Micah slowed the buckboard to a stop. Setting
the brake, he climbed down and offered her his hand.

Jenny took the proffered hand and jumped down. Immediately she let go of her husband's hand because
of the warm feeling holding it sent through her.

It's just lightheadedness because I haven't eaten anything today.

She approached the rail fence and climbed onto the bottom rail. A couple of curious colts trotted over.
The braver of the two poked his velvet muzzle through the rails, almost pushing Jenny off the rail.

Immediately, Micah was behind her, his hands on her waist to steady her. Even through her gown and
chemise she could feel the warmth of his touch. All too soon he released her and stepped away, leaving
her strangely empty.

Before she could ruminate further on it, the little bay horse nudged her again. Laughing, she stroked his
muzzle, scratching him lovingly between his pricked-up ears.

?You're a beauty, aren't you, boy?? she said in a sing song voice. Without looking at Micah, she asked,
?Does he have a name?"

?We leave that for the buyers. He's listed in our studbook as 1865 Bay Colt Number Three. He's a
thoroughbred. There are rumors circulating that the New York financier August Belmont may be
inaugurating a stakes race for two-year-olds in the next year or so. This little fellow will be old enough by
next year to be a contender. Any kind of good finish in a race like that could bring this place back to
where we were before the War."

She turned her head in amazement. It was the most she had heard him say at one time. His angular face
glowed with hope. She could tell it meant a lot to him. For a long moment they just looked at each other,
until the moment was interrupted by Jenny's stomach growling.

She blushed. ?Excuse me. The condemned ate her last meal, what I could of it, around eight last night."

?We better get to the house then. I'm sorry, I didn't think about it."

?It's all right. I'll improvise something from your larder when we get to the house. You must be hungry,
too."

He shook his head. ?No. Not really."

He handed her up onto the buckboard seat and climbed up beside her. Releasing the brake, he took up
the reins and drove the rest of the way to the house.

They drove quite a way through the lush green landscape. ?You have a lot of land, Micah. Nearly as
much as some of the plantations near where I lived."

He nodded. ?Wedding present to my wife from my in-laws."

She heard the dull tone of his voice. He must miss his first wife terribly.

As they came nearer to the house, Jenny saw a shady oak tree. A small white picket fence encompassed
the tree and two granite headstones. She assumed it must be Micah's wife and son buried there. She
thought briefly about the carved headstone over J.C.'s grave and mound of earth that marked Virginia
and Charlotte Vallequette's graves. By the time the women died there wasn't even money for food. That
was the difference between being on the winning side and the losing side of a war.

Jenny forced herself to look away. Micah saw the gesture.

?My in-laws commandeered that tree to shade the graves. They tore up the circular bench that
surrounded the tree when they decided to turn the best shade on the property into a monument to
Melissa and Ethan."

?What would you have done?"

?Bought graves in the churchyard, where they belong,? Micah said through gritted teeth. ?I haven't
gotten around to asking the undertaker to exhume the coffins and move them. I'd also have to deal with
my mother-in-law when she found out."

?That I can understand. My late fiancé's mother vexed me something fierce after I went to live with her
when my father died.? She paused, then could not help laughing.

?What's so funny?"

Through her laughter, she answered, ?The first thing to be glad about marrying me."

?Huh?"

Jenny raised her hands, palms up as she shrugged her shoulders. ?No in-laws."

Micah found himself laughing, too. It felt good. He had not laughed in a long time.

Finally, they approached the house. It was a rambling, two-story, frame affair with a front verandah in
serious need of painting and a shake roof. Off to the side and back, she could see an outbuilding he
identified as the bunkhouse for the hands and the birthing barn and carriage house a bit further back near
the paddocks.

He drove the buckboard around behind the house to the back door. In one of the paddocks, Jenny
could see four men working with one of the horses.

At the sound of the wagon, the men turned, climbed the corral fence and sprinted toward the house as
Micah handed her down from the seat.

Well, three of them sprinted. The fourth followed behind, limping noticeably.

A more motley group of wranglers Jenny had never seen. The apparent leader of the foursome appeared
to be in his early forties. Wiry of build, he was less than five feet in height. His skin was almost ivory in
tone; his tightly curly hair was black with coppery highlights and liberal threads of white.

?How do, Boss,? the tiny man remarked. ?You found us a housekeeper?"

Micah grinned. ?More or less. This is the new Mrs. Peterman. I suppose you could all call her Miz
Jenny."

The lame man whistled through his teeth in surprise. ?Married? No kidding."

Jenny looked at this man. He was without a doubt the most beautiful man she could ever imagine God
creating. His face was a sculpted, burnished bronze, his eyes sky blue, his hair dark brown with just a

hint of wave, his mouth full, like a Renaissance angel. She wondered how he came by the limp.

?Jenny, let me introduce you to the boys,? Micah said. For the first time, Jenny saw the melancholy
leave her husband's thin face. Gesturing to the Adonis, he said, ?This is Tom Allen. He worked for me
before the War and came back after losing his leg at Fredericksburg."

?Fortunately,? Tom remarked, tipping his hat, ?what's left is enough to control a horse."

Micah then pointed out a swarthy young man barely out of his teens. The boy had olive skin, black hair
in looping curls and nearly black eyes framed with lush eyelashes. ?This is Louis Friedman."

Louis saluted at his brim. ?Everyone calls me Luigi Boccherini."

Her brow wrinkled. ?Why Luigi?"

?Nobody in Missouri wanted to hire a Jewish boy, so I became Italian. Knowing the truth doesn't seem
to bother the Boss, though."

Jenny's respect for her husband grew in leaps and bounds.

Micah then introduced another tall man whose long, straight raven hair, high cheekbones and copper
skin tone bespoke Indian blood.

?This is Collis Redhawk. His father was full blood Shawnee and his mother part Cherokee. He can
break a horse to saddle by just talking to it."

Collis nodded. ?I just speak their language."

Micah continued, ?Now, saving the best for last...? He pointed to the last man. ?This fellow, what there
is of him, is Hal Ostrow. He was a jockey in his youth and he's the best horse trainer in the country. He's
been working on this farm fourteen years, since I started. He kept the place going during the War and I
couldn't run it without him."

?Where did you find someone with those kind of qualifications?"

?He won me in a poker game,? Hal said.

Jenny's eyes widened. ?You mean he won your contract."

Hal shook his head. ?You're from the South, ma'am. I mean he won me. He owned me for about ten
hours and that's only because he had to wait until morning to find a lawyer to draw up freedman's
papers."

?You're colored?"

?By State Law."

There was a tense moment, then Jenny reached out her ungloved right hand and said, ?I'm very glad to
meet you, Hal.? Hal took her hand in his and shook it and the tension was broken. ?I'm so glad to meet
all of you. As soon as I get settled in I'll get supper started."

?Thank God,? Luigi said.

?Why thank God?"

?No more suffering through my cooking. I can sure tell you how glad I am you married the boss."

Micah gave instructions for the horse and wagon to be unloaded, unhitched and put away. As they stood
before the kitchen door, he quickly touched Jenny on the arm to get her attention.

?Jenny, we have to talk."

She turned. ?Of course."

He looked a bit uncomfortable. ?It's about the men."

?I promised you fidelity. I meant it."

He shook his head. ?No, that's not it. My wranglers?they and I?well, we've been eating our meals all of
us around the kitchen table since I got back home."

?So?"

?Well, you're from the South..."

She nodded. ?Go on."

?I meant that we eat together. The hands don't eat in the bunkhouse."

Jenny's eyes widened in understanding. ?You figure because I'm from Georgia that I'm going to refuse to
eat at the same table with a colored man?"

Micah looked dubious.

?These men are your trusted employees and friends. I'm just a paroled bank robber, a convicted felon
with a bad reputation. I think your men are more to be praised if they're willing to sit at the same table
with me than the other way around."

?I'm sorry. I misjudged you."

She shrugged. ?You hardly know me. But don't worry, we've got seven years to figure each other out.
We don't have to do it right away ... Now, let's go in and see what's available for supper."

On entering the kitchen, Jenny did not know whether to swear or cheer. The kitchen was the best
equipped she had ever seen. There was a large wood-burning stove and oven with a warm water
reservoir, shelf upon shelf of pots, pans, bowls, utensils and good, and serviceable china dishes. The sink
had an indoor pump. The large walk-in pantry had a good selection of spices and staples. There were
bins for potatoes and onions. Micah had told her there was a smokehouse for keeping meat and a
springhouse for keeping things cool in the summer as well as a cool box just outside to use during the
winter. A large, pale wooden trestle table?big enough to sit eight if necessary?dominated the kitchen.

But the kitchen was a study in disorder. There were dishes piled in the sink and on the table, a skillet left

over from breakfast was coated with burned bacon from being left on the stove for hours. There did not
appear to be a clean dishrag and the floor needed sweeping badly, if not a good scrubbing.

Jenny sighed and folded her arms across her bosom. ?I can see why you need a housekeeper."

Micah blushed. ?We try, but sometimes it just gets out of hand."

?What does the rest of the house look like?? she asked with trepidation.

?The hands don't go in the rest of the house. Just me. But I don't think anyone's dusted since my
wife?my first wife died."

?And she died...?"

?Two years ago."

?Two ... years ... ago."

She looked around the kitchen again. As messy as it was it was sunny and spacious. Considering she
could be lying in a coffin now, it was not too bad at all. Jenny nodded and smiled.

?Why don't you show me where to put my things and I'll get started on the kitchen."

Micah actually found himself breathing again. He told himself that it should make no difference whether
she liked it or not, she was bound to him for at least seven years or she would hang. But he had observed
her attitude toward his men and toward Number Three. At times she seemed forthright and bold; at
others as demure as a well-bred Southern belle. He wondered what had turned Jenny Clarkson to ride
with outlaws and give over her body to strange men.

Well, as she had said, they had seven years to learn all about each other.

Micah led Jenny through the kitchen door to the spacious, darkly furnished, formal dining room. She
glanced at the badly tarnished silver hollowware, the dusty curtains and table as she mentally began to
take inventory of what needed to be done.

The dining room led into a formal parlor that had an uncomfortable-looking horsehair love seat and
equally uncomfortable-looking upholstered chairs with piecrust tables. One end of the parlor had been
appropriated for use as an office. A desk was piled with papers and ledgers and a bookcase with
ledgers, a few books and a small safe sat behind it.

She was surprised to see what resembled a small organ against one wall. She walked over to view it
more thoroughly. Like everything else, it was dusty and dull looking.

?An organ?"

?A harmonium."

?You don't play?"

He shook his head.

?Did Mrs. Peterman?what was her first name?play?"

?Melissa. And no, she just decided that a civilized home required a piano or organ and ordered it. Do
you play?"

Jenny thought of the friendly little spinet in her childhood home and the beautiful grand piano at
Vallequette Park, long ago burned to ashes along with the rest of the house.

?A little, and not for years. Do you mind if I play of an evening?"

?You'd be the first in years to go anywhere near the thing. Luigi plays his fiddle and Collis has one of
those eerie Indian flutes."

?Thank you, Micah. It'll be nice to play again.? Her sweet smile warmed him clear to his gut.

Stiffening his resolve, he suggested they go upstairs.

At the top of the stairs was a hallway with several doors. He showed her the linen closet, then led her to
the next to last door in the hall. Opening the door, he stretched out his arm and said, ?You can sleep in
here."

She walked over to where the sun peeked in through closed curtains in the stuffy room. A medicinal
smell lingered in the air. She pulled open the curtains, sneezing as dust floated into her nose. She
unlatched the window and pushed it open, then turned around to look at the room.

The room contained a canopy bed covered with a lacy coverlet. The curtains were edged with the same
frilly lace. A pale area rug covered the floor from the bed almost to the door. White furniture: an armoire,
bureau, dressing table, night table and two chairs completed the ensemble. Like the rest of the house, this
room looked like nobody had dusted since Melissa Peterman died.

But this room had the look of a shrine despite its dust. On top of the dressing table, brush, comb, mirror
and cologne bottles stood as if their owner had only just vacated. She opened the armoire to find it still
filled with the dead woman's gowns and shoes.

?This was Melissa's room?"

?Yes."

?But not yours."

?My room is the next one down.? His voice was suddenly sharp.

?Will it disturb you too much if I put her clothes and things away somewhere? I'll be careful with them, I
promise."

He visibly stiffened. ?I'll have a trunk brought down from the attic. Do what you want with the room. It's
yours now."

Before he could say more, Luigi appeared carrying some parcels. Micah directed the youth to put them
on the bed. Luigi did, then quickly left to return to his work.

Micah excused himself to let Jenny change clothes.

Jenny grabbed a gown and a pair of shoes from the armoire. The gown was lacy and pale, designed for
a blonde. It was also designed for a woman of far shorter stature. In a million years, she could never
wear the style or size. The shoes, too, were far too small when she compared them to her booted feet.

She wondered if there had been a housekeeper before. The clothes in the armoire were far too fragile
for chores. Even had they fit Jenny, they were decidedly too impractical for every day use. About the
only thing she would be able to do with them was store them away until Micah could face the prospect of
donating them to charity.

In the bureau were undergarments, handkerchiefs and shawls. The silken underclothes would just have
to go into the trunk with the fancy dresses and the monogrammed handkerchiefs. The shawls were about
the only things she might be able to use for herself.

Jenny opened the first parcel and took out her men's clothes and the gray dress. Clearing out a drawer in
the bureau, she folded the cambric shirt and woolen trousers and her second chemise and drawers and
put them away. She took Melissa's toiletry articles and put them in a drawer to deal with later and put her
own comb on the dressing table. She changed out of the dark blue calico and put on the gray dress,
rolling the sleeves up past her elbows.

Then she opened the other parcels. She smiled when she saw the other dress, the lisle stockings, the
wooden-handled, boar's bristle hair and tooth brushes, the long-sleeved, high-necked, white muslin
nightgown and sprigged muslin wrapper. She put the stockings, nightgown and wrapper in the drawer she
had cleared for herself and hung her two new dresses in the armoire. They had to be squeezed in for
now.

She squealed with delight when she opened the second parcel and found the fabric and sewing notions.
She realized that she had not made a garment for herself, in fact, not done more than mend anything since
the early days of the War. After the blockade cut off supplies there was no fabric to make new gowns.
As the War dragged on, there was no money to buy fabric even if there had been any to buy.

?Oh, Micah, you're so good to me,? she exclaimed to the air. Although nothing he had purchased was
fancy, he had bought her far more than she had any right to expect in her station. She was his wife in
name only. She could have been clothed in missionary barrel castoffs and it would have been sufficient.
Instead she had all new clothes.

It was a little like being reborn.

CHAPTER 4

Jenny had water heating on the stove to wash dishes. She found a butcher's apron and a broom in the
broom closet. She moved all the dirty dishes to the sideboard next to the sink and was sweeping the
kitchen floor when she heard Micah approach through the door from the dining room.

She turned, smiled and said, ?Hi,? casually. He had changed clothes into a blue chambray work shirt
and serviceable brown work trousers. Like everything she had seen him wear, the clothes hung loosely
on his gaunt frame. He had probably not bought a single article of new clothing for himself since returning
from the War. Judging from the size of the clothes and the way they hung, he had been a
broad-shouldered, well-muscled man before his imprisonment. She wondered if he would ever again be

more substantial than the fragile wraith he was now.

He had a couple of sheets of brown wrapping paper and a pencil in his hand. He glanced around the
kitchen, which was?even now?more organized than when they arrived just over an hour previously. He
smiled back at Jenny, who again marveled at how his looks were improved when he smiled.

?Hard at work already."

She raked her fingers through her short hair. ?That's what I'm here for. I thought I'd start with the rooms
most in use, then in the next few days work my way through to the unoccupied ones."

Micah could not help staring. Adam was right in his assessment of Jenny Clarkson. Even in a stained
butcher's apron, her face flushed with summer and kitchen heat, and a broom in her hands she exuded
sexuality. She was not what a person might call voluptuous. She was too tall to be dainty. Her bosom
was too small for her to be considered curvaceous. Yet there was a grace to her movements that could
not be taught. And her dark brown eyes. A man could drown in them.

?If that's okay, I'll do laundry tomorrow.? Her voice interrupted his appraisal.

?Huh?"

?I said, if it's okay to clean the house a bit at a time, I'll do laundry tomorrow and work out a plan to get
the whole place in order around my daily chores."

?Oh, that's fine,? he responded absently.

?I'll also start a list of things we need from town. Judge Plascove is right. I probably shouldn't be seen in
Loomis soon or often ... Micah..."

?Yes?"

She frowned. ?Are you feeling all right?"

He snapped to attention. ?I'm fine."

?Did you eat any lunch?"

?I'm not hungry."

?Speaking of hungry, do you have any preferences for supper?"

He waved an arm casually. ?No. It doesn't matter. There's meat in the smokehouse."

?Do any of your hands have any preferences?"

?Huh? I don't know. I've never noticed. I guess they eat whatever is on the table."

Jenny nodded and returned to sweeping the floor. Micah stepped past her heading toward the outside
door.

?Micah..."

He turned.

?Are you going outside?"

He nodded.

?What are you doing with the brown paper?"

He looked down at his hand. In gazing at his unlikely bride he had quite forgotten. Clearing his throat, he
replied, ?I realized I forgot to get you any shoes. Since you can't go into town, I figured to draw the
outlines of your feet so I could get you some."

?That's so sweet.? She leaned the broom against the sink and sat on one of the kitchen chairs. She hiked
up her skirt and yanked off her worn riding boots, giving her husband an unimpeded view of her slim
ankles and shapely calves beneath the cotton lisle stockings.

Micah approached her and laid the first piece of paper down on the floor for her to stand on. Crouching
on the floor, he drew around her feet with the pencil. He gritted his teeth at the intimacy of touching her
long, narrow feet. It was insane to want what he could never have.

Jenny did not see his struggle because she was struggling with her own thoughts. She wanted to stroke
the fine, limp, dull gold silk of his hair. She knew she should fight her attraction. He was bringing up an
achy feeling in her private parts. It needed to be suppressed. He did not want her in that way and that
was just as well. It was insane to want what she could never have. Ah, but seven years of this would be a
sentence indeed!

?One more,? he said hoarsely.

?Why?"

?Just in case."

She stepped onto the other piece of paper and went through the torture again.

Finally finished, Micah stood up and mumbled something about putting the outlines on his desk and
getting his hat. He quickly strode back into the dining room and reappeared a few moments later with his
battered felt hat shading his eyes. He walked through the kitchen and out the back door without saying
another word.

Jenny heard the roiling of the wash water. As she poured the kettle of hot water into the dishpan, she
glanced out the window over the sink to see Micah walking with a fluid stride toward the barn. She
wanted to know more about him?where he came from?who his family was?what his interests were.

There was plenty of time to find out, she thought wistfully.

* * * *

Micah walked into the horse barn. As he expected, Collis Redhawk was examining Jenny's battered
saddle.

?Can you refurbish it?? he asked. There was little or nothing made of leather or hide that Collis could not
make or repair.

Collis nodded. He pointed to a hole that ran clear through one of the side flaps of the saddle. ?Bullet
hole. Recent.? When Micah made no comment, the Indian continued, ?Your new wife is Jenny Clarkson,
the bank robber."

?Yes."

?You really married her, Boss?"

?Yeah. This morning."

?Why?"

Micah sighed. ?A good trade. Her housekeeping for her life.? He drew a folded piece of brown paper
from his shirt pocket and handed it to Collis. ?I forgot to get her shoes in town and she can't wear those
little things Melissa put on her feet. Any chance you could make her a pair or two of moccasins until I can
order her some?"

Collis grunted affirmatively. ?If I do it now, I could have a pair for her by this time tomorrow. Nothing
fancy. Worked around my other chores, I could have a second pair in a week."

?Thanks. I'll pay you a bonus for them."

Hawk held up his hand. ?You insult me. Consider them a wedding present. Rumors in town were she's
got quite a reputation in the blankets."

Micah's face flamed. ?I wouldn't know."

?No, I suppose not. Well, I guess you'll find out tonight."

?Whatever she was in the past, she's my wife now and the slate is clean where that's concerned."

Collis grunted his accord. ?Can she cook?"

?She says she can."

?Good, because Luigi's cooking tastes like he washes the meat in soap and water."

Micah laughed. ?I don't think he uses soap, unless it's some Hebrew custom."

Collis grunted again as Micah left to supervise the other hands. Going into the storage shed, he found
some buckskin and brought it to the worktable to begin to cut out the pieces for a pair of moccasins for
the new Mrs. Peterman.

* * * *

As Micah approached the training track, he saw Hal Ostrow mounted on 1864 Filly Number 1, a
two-year-old thoroughbred filly the ex-jockey had bred during his boss's absence. Tom Allen was
leaning against the rail fence. His weight was on his good leg; his other knee was bent and his false foot

rested against the bottom rail. Tom had one eye on Number 1 and the other on the railroad watch with
the second hand they used to time horses in training.

?How's she running?? Micah asked.

Tom shook his head. ?Not good enough, but Hal would know better."

Micah muttered an oath under his breath. ?It's going to be another lean year. I don't know how long I'm
going to be able to keep paying you all."

?I can't speak for Hawk or Luigi, but I'll stay on for room and board and I'm sure Hal will say the same
thing."

At that moment Number 1 passed a marker tied to the fence and Tom looked down at the watch to
register the elapsed time. Repeating the figure aloud several times, he reached into his shirt pocket, pulled
out a small notebook and pencil and jotted it down. Hal was slowing the filly down and walking her cool.
Eventually, he dismounted and walked the horse over to where the two younger men stood. Tom handed
Hal the notebook. The trainer looked at the times and muttered an oath of his own.

?That bad, huh?? Micah asked.

?Not bad, just not good enough,? Hal affirmed. ?She'll never be a champion herself, Boss, but there's a
chance we could breed a few on her."

?If I'm still in business in a few years."

?She might win some purses at a few county fairs. Maybe you need a younger jockey. There's lots of
freed men who used to jockey for Massah before the War."

?And who do I fire to hire a first class jockey?"

?I'm willing to work for room and board ?til things begin to turn."

Micah felt his eyes smarting. The loyalty of his hands was startling. He blinked away the moisture that
threatened his composure.

?If that becomes necessary, I'll let you all know so you can make the choice,? he said thickly.

?She could use a bit more cooling down,? Hal said and led the filly toward the paddock.

Tom and Micah sauntered back toward the stables, Micah shortening his stride to accommodate the
shorter, handicapped wrangler. For a while they walked in silence, then Tom spoke.

?Boss, can I ask a personal question?"

?Sure."

?I'd've thought, after Miss Melissa, the last thing you'd ever want to do was get married again."

?Things change."

?I've known you a lot of years, Boss. I can't see you marrying a bank robber. The minute you called her
Jenny, I knew. I take it somehow marrying you saved her neck."

Micah nodded.

?You're one of the few men I know who was consistently faithful to his wife during your marriage. I
admired that, even though I thought it was wasted on..."

?Watch it, Tom."

?You couldn't go into town the last month without hearing about Jenny Clarkson and all the men she was
supposed to have slept with, including that murdering bastard Jesse Coltrane."

?My relations with my wife are between her and me. I'd also appreciate if you and the others would not
be so free and easy with her good name. She's Mrs. Peterman now and what's past is past."

It was all Micah could do to school his features. Despite her pledge, would a woman with her reputation
really remain chaste? Or would their unnatural marriage of convenience drive a healthy young woman like
Jenny elsewhere. She looked healthy, almost too healthy for Micah's sanity.

* * * *

The summer sun stayed light until past eight, but it was around six that five tired, hungry men began to
drift toward the house. The first to arrive was Luigi. He was just reaching for the kitchen door when it
opened in to reveal Jenny holding one of the large kettles by its towel-covered handle. She handed the
kettle to the youth. He could see steam rising from the spout.

?What's this?? he asked.

?Hot water."

Luigi rolled his eyes. ?I know it's hot water. I meant what's it for?"

?It's so you and the other hands can wash up before supper."

Luigi pursed his lips. ?We never had to wash up before."

?Maybe living in a bachelor household you all didn't care how you smelled, but I've just spent most of
the afternoon getting this kitchen in order and I expect you all to act like gentlemen. Do you need soap
and towels?"

?Nah, there's some in the bunkhouse."

?Fine. Supper'll be on in half an hour.? She started to close the door, then opened it again. ?Luigi..."

?Yes, ma'am?"

?Do you eat pig meat? I've heard Hebrews don't."

Luigi blinked as if nobody had asked him that question in years. ?Yes, ma'am, I guess I do. Some things,
I guess, you leave behind to get along in the world."

?I quite understand,? she responded, then closed the door.

Luigi was carrying the kettle toward the bunkhouse when he intercepted the others.

?What the hell is that for?? Tom Allen asked.

?Mrs. Peterman says we're to wash up before supper,? Luigi replied.

The other hands responded in various stages of indignance. They looked to Micah in protest.

Their employer shrugged his shoulders with a half smile. ?I reckon a gentleman washes up before
supper. It won't do any of us any harm to come to the table in clean shirts smelling of something other
than sweat and horse manure. It appears that under the six gun and the chopped-off hair my bride is a
lady."

?Look,? Luigi whined, ?I don't give a damn whether you wash up or not, this kettle is heavy. I'm going
to the bunkhouse with it."

Hal, Tom and Collis followed behind. Micah laughed at the odd parade as it trudged toward the
bunkhouse. Jenny was right. He was determined to treat her as a lady despite her unsavory past. What
harm would it do to wash up before supper? He strode toward the house and opened the back door.

?Wipe your feet!? a determined female voice called out.

?Yes, ma'am,? he replied, doing just that.

Micah glanced at the table. It was set with six place settings and napkins. The salt cellar and pepper mill
were in the center of the table flanking a vase filled with an arrangement of dried flowers. There were a
pitcher of water and a napkin-covered basket he guessed contained some kind of bread. He wondered
what kind of bread she had been able to make in an afternoon and still have made the kitchen spotless.

From the pantry, Jenny called out, ?There's a small kettle of water on the front of the stove for you. I
laid soap and a towel by your wash stand and a clean shirt on your bed. Supper will be ready when
you're done."

?Yes, ma'am,? Micah said with a chuckle. She had been his wife for not quite eight hours and was
already taking charge of his house. It was a little overwhelming that she could make the transition from
notorious bank robber to efficient housekeeper without missing a beat. What kind of chameleon was
Jenny Clarkson?

Picking up the small kettle, Micah headed upstairs to his room. He was surprised to find his bed made
and the clothes he had left strewn about hung up. On the bed were laid a clean white shirt, a clean pair of
trousers and a fresh pair of socks. On the floor beside the bed was a pair of dress shoes.

Almost as notable as what Jenny laid out was what she failed to lay out. Melissa had always insisted that
Micah dress for dinner, including a stiff collar, tie and frock coat. They had eaten meals in the dining
room alone after Ethan ate in the kitchen with the housekeeper and the hands ate in the bunkhouse.
Micah began the practice of everyone eating meals in the kitchen after he was strong enough to be out of
bed because he did not want to eat the meals he could barely consume sitting all alone.

But there was no starched collar. Jenny apparently wanted the men at her table not to smell of horse, but
not to be uncomfortable.

?Good for her,? Micah mused. She had not let the hardship of recent years cause her to forget what it
was to be civilized.

Micah had learned the hard way that civilization was a hard veneer, but a thin one.

* * * *

There was little veneer to his civilization when he first met Marcus Baker. When his mother died, Micah
was little more than eight years old. He remembered his mother showing him a marriage certificate as she
told her small son never to forget he was the result of married parents regardless of what anyone might
call him. Micah had to leave school because when his mother died because there was no home, no
money and no food. He could not scrounge all day for enough small change to buy a day's eating if he
spent six prime hours of the day sitting in a schoolroom.

Micah cried at the thought of leaving school. He had caught on to that reading thing with an ease that
surprised his teacher only to have the joy of books torn away. It also separated him from Adam
Caldwell, his best friend for as long as he could remember. Adam tried to help his unfortunate friend, but
being a member of a large, poor family, there was not much he could do. After a while, Micah was too
ashamed of his disreputable appearance to accept the few invitations to supper that Adam could supply.
Micah could barely stand the smell of his own body, much less to inflict it on others.

For two miserable years Micah spent his days and nights huddling in doorways, shivering in stables,
eating out of garbage bins, begging for pennies on the streets of Hannibal. That he remained alive and
unabused was a credit to his ability to fade into the night shadows.

He was standing outside the bank, offering to hold men's horses for a penny. His blond hair was grown
past his shoulders, matted, lice-ridden and so filthy its natural color was nearly indiscernible. Bony wrists
and ankles peeked out from a ragged coat and pants two years too short. If he grew any taller he would
be as good as naked.

He saw the glorious bay thoroughbred as it strode proudly through the streets as if it knew its own
beauty and majesty. As Micah stared in awe, horse and rider stopped not three feet from him and the
rider dismounted.

The rider was a brown-haired man of medium stature with the start of a prosperous girth about his waist.
His garments bespoke the tailor's skill and his tall boots gleamed in the daylight. It took Micah a moment
to remember his task.

?Hold your horse, sir?? he asked. ?Only a penny."

The man looked down at him. He knew he was scrawny and filthy. He should have been chased away
as a nuisance. Instead the man spoke to him with kindly amusement, ?Quite the entrepreneur, aren't you
boy?"

Micah shrugged. ?I reckon."

?You don't know what that means, do you?"

He shook his head honestly. ?No, sir."

?You aren't in school."

Micah shook his head sadly. ?Not anymore, sir. Had to stop when my ma died."

?Where do you live, boy?"

?Nowhere, sir. Where I can, I reckon."

Baker tossed Micah the reins and stepped into the bank. ?Be careful with him, boy. He can be skittish
when he's a mind to."

Micah gripped tightly on the reins as the magnificent stallion loomed over him. The horse tried to throw
his head back, but the boy held on tight. Then the stallion lowered his head and nudged Micah with his
nose.

Using his free hand, Micah tentatively stroked the long, reddish muzzle of the proud animal. The beast
lowered its head further and Micah took the cue to scratch between the pricked up ears.

?You're a good boy, ain't ya?? Micah crooned. He loved horses, but had never been this close to one
quite so gloriously perfect. The horse was so enraptured by the attention that he moved closer and
Micah's hold on the reins relaxed, though never enough to let the beast go free. He stroked and patted
the long face and neck like old friends.

?Well, I'll be damned, boy,? a voice remarked.

With a squeal, Micah jumped back, his face reddening with shame to see Marcus Baker standing behind
him, arms folded in front of him.

?I'm sorry, sir,? Micah stammered, holding out the reins and knowing his chance at a penny had slipped
away. ?I know I ain't got the right, but he's so purty, sir."

?You like him?"

?Oh, yes, sir,? he responded, barely able to breathe.

?Samson doesn't cotton to too many, but he surely seems to have taken a liking to you."

Micah nodded.

Baker stroked his chin for a moment in thought. ?You've got the touch all right,? he mused. ?You willing
to do an honest day's work, boy?"

Micah's eyes widened with hope. ?Oh, yes, sir."

Baker scanned him up and down. ?You aren't against bathing?"

Micah looked at his filthy, ragged clothes and his face flushed with embarrassment. ?No, sir, only a bath
costs a half dime and so does a loaf of day-old bread.? He couldn't have sunk lower than to have to
choose between eating and bathing.

An hour later, a squeaky clean, deloused and short-haired Micah Peterman?his skin itching from the
starch in his new shirt and his feet burning from the stiff new lace-up shoes he wore on feet that had run
barefoot for more than a year?sat perched before Marcus Baker on the front of the magnificent Samson's
saddle, heading for a new house and a job to earn his keep. Before school and after he would muck out
stalls, fork hay, fill troughs and feed bags, hot walk and curry animals after a day's training runs. He made
a solemn vow to himself that day that whenever he had the chance to help someone in need, he would.

Micah and Mr. Baker arrived at the Baker Horse Farm. The older man dismounted and then lifted the
ten-year-old to the ground.

?Well, Micah,? Baker said, ?I'll show you the bunkhouse where you'll be sleeping and introduce you to
the hands..."

As he spoke, the front door to the big house opened and?to Micah's eye?an angel emerged. A tiny girl,
no more than eight or nine, came running out. She wore a pale pink frock with a white pinafore. Her
golden hair exploded in ringlets about her heart-shaped face. As she ran out into the yard calling ?Papa,
Papa, you're home at last,? Micah saw that her eyes were the color of a summer sky. He was enthralled.

The girl ran into Marcus Baker's arms and he spun her around. When father set daughter down, she
asked him, ?What did you bring me?"

?Now, Melissa, I can't be bringing you presents every time I go into town for the day."

Melissa's pretty mouth set in a pout. ?Aren't I your favorite girl?"

?Of course you are, my darling."

Then Melissa fixed her blue, blue eyes on the entranced Micah. ?Who's that boy, Papa? Did you buy
him for me?"

Baker's eyes widened. ?Come now, Melissa, you know you can't buy white boys. This is Micah and
he's going to help out with the horses and go to school."

Melissa flounced over to where Micah stood in awe. She looked him up and down like she was
examining a doll in a toyshop window. Her little forehead wrinkled in a frown.

?I don't like him, Papa. He's too skinny and his eyes are purple."

Baker looked at Micah closely. ?Well, I'll be damned. Your eyes are purple."

Micah looked down. Would that make him unacceptable for his new job? Already he liked being clean
and having clothes that fit again. Could he lose it all before he had it?

?Yes, sir. My ma's eyes were this color."

?Well, the color of a man's eyes doesn't mean a thing. Melissa, you are not to tease Micah about things
he can't help. He's going to be working for me, the same as any other wrangler on this farm, except he'll
be going to school with you. He doesn't belong to you."

?Good,? the girl spouted, ?'cause I don't like him."

* * * *

Sometimes, Micah found himself wishing that Melissa's opinion of him had remained as it had when she
was nine.

* * * *

Micah worked hard. He was up before dawn doing his chores. Then he would wash and dress for
school. He would sit in the carriage next to Melissa and be driven to school until he was twelve and
considered old enough to drive the carriage himself, chauffeuring Melissa on the drive to the Hannibal
Grammar School.

At school he excelled. It took him less than a month to catch up with two years lost schooling. Another
month later his only rival for head of the class was his old friend Adam Caldwell, who was overjoyed to
see his friend again. Micah's teacher told him that he was smart enough to go to high school and even a
university, but Micah knew that once he finished grammar school at fourteen his education would end. He
could not see Mr. Baker paying school fees for him to go to high school and he did not make enough
money beyond room and board to afford it himself. He made the best use of his education, reading every
book he could get his hands on like a starving man at a banquet.

After school he and Melissa would return to the farm, where Micah would perform the remainder of his
job duties until suppertime. Then, while the other farm hands talked or played cards or dice, Micah
would do his homework and read until sleep forced his eyes closed.

After he graduated from grammar school where he ranked first in his class, it meant new tasks during the
daylight hours. He was growing like a weed, his body filling out to catch up with his arms and legs as he
approached his eighteenth year.

The other farm hands tended to ignore the youth because he spent so much time with his nose in a book
while they pursued more worldly matters. His touch with the horses garnered him a grudging respect
among his co-workers as his responsibilities grew. He learned not to say more than was necessary and
always to speak in a low tone of voice. His equine charges responded better to soft words and soft
handling than violence and invective.

But as Micah grew and developed, so did Melissa. Though she never topped more than five feet in
height, she became voluptuous and glorious?a golden angel. Micah barely noticed that she was spoiled,
flirty and willful. Her beauty captivated him. The enchantment he had felt as a child grew into what Micah
identified as love.

Of course, it was hopeless. Micah Peterman was her father's farm hand. She was as untouchable as a
Madonna. How many times had Micah stood outside the house when Melissa hosted dances and socials
and watched her dance and flirt with boys from good families?boys who could not spell cat if you
spotted them two letters?boys whose horses bore the scars of whips and spurs? Micah was as legitimate
as they, but the gap between their position and his was as wide as the Mississippi.

He wondered if Melissa loved any one of them. He never saw her kiss or hold hands with any of them
except with gloves on during the dancing. He wondered if he had land or money or a good family if she
would turn her attention to him. If he could win her he would love her forever.

He had even kept himself pure and chaste in order to be truly deserving of her.

CHAPTER 5

A few weeks later, after church, Melissa found Micah in the stable. Still in his brown Sunday suit, though
he had removed his jacket, Micah sat in the hayloft reading Uncle Tom's Cabin, which had just been
published to great controversy. He leaned his back against the loft wall, stretching out his long legs as he
absorbed himself in the desperate flight of Eliza as she fled the slaver, Simon Legree, in search of her
husband, George, in the safety and freedom of Canada.

?Micah?? He heard a harsh whisper. Looking up he saw Melissa. Like him, she was still dressed for
church, though without her bonnet. She stood on a rung of the hayloft ladder, her face streaked with
tears.

?Miss Melissa, what's wrong?? Micah asked, putting down the novel and rising to meet her at the edge
of the platform.

Two huge tears fell on his angel's cheeks as he held out his hands to guide her off the ladder. Seeing his
frock coat lying on the hay, Melissa sat down on it like it was her right. Micah eased himself down beside
her, though not touching her.

?Oh, Micah,? the seventeen-year-old girl wailed. ?It's Mama. She wants me to marry Lawrence
Bartlett. She's says I don't have any choice."

Micah's heart skidded to a stop. Carefully, he swallowed the lump in his throat. ?I don't know him very
well, Miss Melissa, but he seems like a good man."

?Oh, he's vile,? Melissa cried into her hands. ?Just thinking about him touching me makes me want to
die."

The thought of any man touching Melissa?his Melissa?made Micah want to die himself.

?It might not be so bad?if he loves you."

?But he's ugly. He's not tall and handsome like you are."

Micah's heart began to thump in his chest. ?You think I'm handsome?"

Melissa glared at him. ?Don't you know? You're ever so handsome. You're so tall and
broad-shouldered and you have that handsome mustache. Why, you're just about the handsomest man
I've ever seen."

Micah found himself rendered speechless.

Then Melissa cried out, ?Oh, why couldn't I marry you instead of Lawrence. I'd be so happy."

Hope flickered in Micah's heart at her statement, then quickly died. ?Your parents would never allow it."

?Papa likes you. He's always afraid some other horse farm will offer you more money and you'll leave
him. If you were his son-in-law he'd never have to worry."

?But your mother thinks I'm dirt under her feet."

Melissa stroked Micah's jacket absently. Micah shifted uneasily as his manhood began to tighten. ?I'm
sure she'd come around once we were married."

Micah stood up quickly and awkwardly strode through the hay, trying to put some distance between
himself and the girl with whom he was infatuated. ?It's impossible."

?No, it isn't. We could take the ferry across the river to Illinois and get married and come back once it
was done. If we were already man and wife, Mama and Papa would have to accept you."

?God, Miss Melissa, you don't know what you're asking."

Melissa frowned. ?Don't you love me, Micah?"

He turned to face her. ?I've loved you forever. From the first time I saw you."

?Then it'll all work out if you want it to."

Melissa left Micah in the hayloft to think about what she had said.

To marry Melissa was the dream of his growing up. It was what he lived for, what he had saved himself
for, what he thought was completely impossible. But now, it seemed that Melissa was placing her trust
and herself into his trembling hands.

It never occurred to Micah until much later that Melissa Baker had never told him that she loved him.

* * * *

The hardest part was sneaking the buggy out. Melissa categorically refused to ride on a saddle. They
managed to get away from the farm and all the way to the levee. While Melissa shivered and pouted in a
velvet cloak that was pretty but not very warm, Micah paid some of his hard-saved wages to have a
dockside boatman row them across the river to the Illinois side.

As they walked from the levee to a justice of the peace, Melissa complained that her feet were getting
wet. Micah was carrying two carpetbags, hers and his. Hers weighed a lot more than his, even for just
overnight.

He looked down at her feet at the dainty slippers she wore. ?Miss Melissa, no wonder your feet are
wet. Those shoes are hardly adequate for more than a dance floor. Why didn't you wear your half
boots?"

?Did you want me to get married in cloddy old half boots?? Melissa whined. ?It's bad enough we have
to elope without my having to look bad, too."

Micah was already having second thoughts, but he realized that, having transported Melissa across the
river without permission or a chaperon, he was now going to have to marry her or end up in jail or beaten
to a pulp by Marcus Baker. Gritting his teeth, he strode forward, saying, ?Hurry up then or we'll get even
wetter."

Melissa picked up her skirts and trotted along behind Micah's long-legged stride. Finally, they reached

the office of the justice of the peace.

The judge appeared accustomed to being awakened by eloping couples. He took Micah's two dollars,
put on his dressing gown and awoke his wife and sister to act as witnesses and performed the ceremony.

* * * *

?...I now pronounce you man and wife. You may kiss the bride,? he concluded.>

Micah turned and bent to brush his mouth against Melissa's. He felt the cold tightness of her lips. She
made no move to kiss him back. He realized this was the first time he had actually kissed her. Maybe the
whole idea of marriage was overwhelming and it embarrassed her to be kissed in front of strangers.

The justice directed them to a clean inn nearby. As they walked toward the inn, Melissa complained,
?You didn't buy me a ring."

?I didn't have a half day to go into town since we decided to do this. I'll get you one real soon."

?I don't think that the stores in Hannibal have the kind of ring I want anyway. We'll have to ask Papa to
send us to St. Louis."

?Come on, darling, it's cold out here."

?Can't we go home now?"

?Honey, if we don't make this a marriage in fact tonight, your father can annul the marriage and throw
me in jail. You have to go home a wife, not just a bride."

Intent on reaching the inn, Micah wasn't sure what he heard was Melissa gasping. They reached the inn
and he requested one room for the night.

The landlord led them up the stairs and opened the door to the room, handing Micah the key. The
bridegroom turned the key in the door, locking them in.

The room was small but clean, dominated by a double bed, a dressing screen and a dresser. The
window let in some outside light through its clean panes, but most of the light was from the lantern the
landlord left with them.

?This is awful,? Melissa said.

Micah walked over and tested the bed. It was a well-sprung feather mattress covered with clean sheets.
?It's not so bad and it's only for tonight."

?Where am I going to sleep?? Melissa asked.

Micah frowned. ?Here, in the bed."

?Then where are you going to sleep?"

?Here, in the bed."

The color drained from her face. ?Do you mean you expect us to sleep in the same bed? At the same

time?"

?Of course, darling. That's what married couples do."

?My mama and papa don't sleep in the same bed."

Micah had not known that. ?Well, maybe they're exceptions, but most married couples do. Otherwise,
how would they ever have children?"

Shock etched her face. ?You mean all a man and woman have to do is sleep in the same bed and they'll
have children?"

He chuckled. Even he knew better than that and he was a virgin himself. ?No,? he said with a half smile,
?they have to do a little more than sleep in the same bed."

Melissa paled to ghostliness. ?More?? she squeaked out.

Micah held out his hand and took his bride's icy cold one within his clasp. ?Come on, darling. I'll show
you."

She stood frozen. He tugged, but she refused to move. He realized she was not teasing him. She really
did not know what to expect. His smile fled. He pulled on her arm again, but she held her ground. Finally,
with a growl, he dropped her hand and picked her petite frame up in his strong, well-muscled arms and
carried her to the bed.

Immediately, she curled into a little ball and stared at him with eyes filled with terror. Micah climbed onto
the bed to sit beside her. He was more than a little afraid himself, having no experience except years of
bunkhouse talk. Gently, he touched her cheek and kissed her lightly on the mouth.

She pulled away. ?Don't touch me. Why do you have to touch me?"

He sighed. ?I can't make you my wife all the way if I don't touch you. Now, why don't you get ready for
bed over behind the screen and come back here when you're done?"

Melissa scampered off the bed, grabbed her carpetbag and fled behind the screen. While she fussed
behind the screen, Micah pulled off his own clothes and pulled on the dressing gown like the one all the
hands had been given by Mrs. Baker to hide their long underwear on trips to the privy. This was the first
time he had worn it and he noted in passing that it was far too short for his six-foot-three frame. He sat
back down on the bed and waited.

It seemed to take forever.

?Melissa, it can't be taking you that long to undress. Come to bed. Now."

The little blonde emerged. She wore her wrapper around her high-necked, muslin nightgown tied so
tightly one might mistake it for armor. Her feet were bare, and her hair hung in an odd combination of
braids and ringlets as though she had removed her hairpins but not known how to brush out her hair. She
was hugging herself until her knuckles were white. Her sky blue eyes showed white all around. Gingerly,
she returned to the bed and stood beside it.

?Get into bed,? Micah commanded wearily. Already he knew it was going to be hard to become

aroused with his wife acting so fearful.

Melissa climbed under the covers and lay down, her arms firmly across her breasts.

He leaned down to kiss her, to try to relax her fears, but the touch of his lips on her face seemed to do
the opposite. He reached for her arms and moved them to her sides. She grabbed the bed linens
desperately.

He tried to stroke her arms and shoulders, telling her he thought she was beautiful and how he loved her.
She lay stiff as a corpse. When he began to unbutton the top buttons of her nightrail, she screeched and
grabbed to close the placket shut.

?What are you doing?"

?Making love to you, Melissa."

?Why do you have to unbutton my nightgown?"

He rolled his eyes and expended an exhausted breath. ?Because I want to see your beautiful body. I'm
your husband. Did your mother never tell you about what goes on between a man and woman?"

?No, why should she? She didn't think I was getting married so soon."

Micah nodded. He did not realize how very ignorant she might be. He exhaled wearily again. ?It's very
simple, sort of. A man has a?um?part of his body...? He paused, not sure what words would not shock
his sheltered bride beyond what she could take. ?Well, that part, it carries the seed that's his half of what
makes a baby when he makes love to his wife. Do you understand so far?"

Melissa nodded stiffly.

?Good. Now a woman has a womb. It's inside her body. Her body makes some kind of egg that joins
with a man's seed and then a baby grows inside her. Just like horses."

She looked blankly at him. He realized that she had probably never stumbled into the birthing barn either
during stud season or foaling.

?The only way for a man and woman to have a baby is for the man to put his seed inside the woman's
womb so it can join the egg and make a baby. And the only way that can happen is for the man to put his
man's part inside the woman's body. Is any of this making sense to you?"

?I think so,? she said through gritted teeth.

?Good. That's what I want to do, darling. I want to put my man's part inside your body."

?And you have to kiss me to do that?"

?No."

?And do you have to unbutton my nightrail to do that?"

He gritted his teeth. ?No, but I have to be able to get near the entrance to your womb."

?Which is where?"

?Between your legs. Where you bleed every month. It's the same opening."

Melissa gasped. ?You shouldn't talk like that."

Micah was confused. ?Like what?"

?Saying legs. And talking about such horrible things like...? She paused ominously, ?...the curse of Eve."

?Oh, for God's sake, Melissa, I'm your husband. I'm not going to publish the dates of your monthly
cycle in the Hannibal Gazette!"

She recoiled at his vehemence. He had never come close to losing his temper like this before. Suddenly
she seemed more afraid.

?Do you have to do this thing?"

?Of course I don't have to. A man can live without sex..."

She gasped at the word.

?...but you married me to avoid marrying Lawrence Bartlett and the only way we can stay married is if
we do this. And if this marriage was annulled and you married Bartlett, he'd have the same right I do to
make love to you."

?He wouldn't!"

?Oh, for God's sake, Melissa, of course he would! I've met him a time or two, you know. He's a man
the same as any other. Just because he comes from a wealthy family and I don't doesn't make him any
more or less of a saint. And I'm no saint."

She pulled her knees up and wrapped her arms around them. ?Micah...? she started tentatively.

?What!"

?If you just lifted the hem of my nightrail, you could get to that entrance and do what you have to do,
right?"

?I reckon."

?And you wouldn't have to kiss me or touch me anywhere else?"

?I reckon."

Melissa straightened her legs and lay back against the pillows with her arms at her sides. ?Fine then. Do
what you have to do."

This was not the wedding night Micah envisioned. He rose from the bed and untied his robe. At the sight
of his body, Melissa screamed again.

?Oh my God!? She fisted her hands over her eyes. ?What are you doing?"

?I'm taking my clothes off."

?Do you have to?"

Micah sighed. ?No, I don't have to."

?You have hair all over your body."

Micah looked down as if he had never seen his body before. True enough, his work-hardened chest and
torso were matted with dark blond hair that thickened at his groin to crown his currently inactive
manhood. His long legs were similarly scattered with dark blond furring, as were his muscular forearms.

?Most men have hair on their bodies. Some more than others."

?It's awful. Cover yourself up."

Micah tightened the sash on the dressing gown again. He walked over to the lantern and extinguished it,
plunging the room into stygian darkness. If the sight of his naked chest so disgusted her, he could just
imagine what the sight of his penis would do to her. In the black, he reached within the folds of his robe
and manipulated his organ to harden it for what was becoming steadily a more and more unpleasant duty.
He climbed back onto the bed and under the covers.

Feeling himself becoming hard, Micah took one hand and began to gingerly raise the hem of Melissa's
billowy nightgown until it was just above the small cloud of what he assumed was dark blond pubic hair.
He could feel the stiffness in the muscles of her legs as she submitted like a human sacrifice. He pushed
her legs apart and knelt between her thighs. When he attempted to stroke the sensitive skin between her
legs, she told him to stop touching her and get it over with. As he brushed her mons with his fingers, he
could feel no moisture. She was dry as a bone. Consummation would be unpleasant and painful, but
every time he tried to stroke her woman's flesh to arouse and lubricate her, she kept telling him to keep
his hands off her.

All the talk he had heard about sex from the wranglers in the bunkhouse had not prepared him for the
unpleasantness of this encounter. True, they had been with whores and Melissa was a lady, but she
would not relax or even try to enjoy his company.

Bracing his body up with his arms so as not to touch his bride more than necessary, Micah touched her
with the tip of his manhood.

?What's that?"

?That is my man's part."

?Oh."

Micah began to push himself inside her dry passage. He heard her hold her breath as his touch irritated
her sheath. Angrily, he withdrew for a moment. He spit on his hand and wet his penis with his own saliva
in hopes of salvaging this night. It helped a little. Pushing and withdrawing slightly in increments, he slowly
entered the tight passage. He could hear her shallow, pained breathing. As little as he was enjoying this,

she was enjoying it even less.

Finally he reached the barrier he had been told he should find. With a mumbled apology, he pushed his
way though her maidenhead and buried himself completely. He heard her cry out with the pain he knew
he caused and felt her stiffen anew, if it was possible for her to be stiffer than she already was.

Ironically, the spilling of her virgin blood served to ease the horrible dryness, but the sound of stifled
sobbing robbed Micah of his forced arousal. Without spending his seed he found himself softening within
her. With a frustrated groan he withdrew and threw himself onto his back.

Staring into the darkness, he hoped that when they got back to Hannibal Mrs. Baker would explain
matters to her daughter and in future things would be easier.

He heard Melissa's breathing even. ?Are we done?? she asked tentatively.

?Yes."

?Did we make a baby?"

?Probably not."

?Does that mean we'll have to do this again?"

?They say it's always difficult the first time. It'll be easier in future."

He could feel her shudder.

He wanted to shudder himself.

CHAPTER 6

Micah returned to the present to find his clean shirt crushed in his hands. He would never go through a
nightmare like that again. He never could. He would maintain this marriage of convenience. Jenny would
never know his secret shame. Let her think it was because of her criminal past.

* * * *

?I gave you the son you want. If you think I'm going to put up with you grunting and sweating over me
so I can get all fat and ugly again, you're mistaken.">

?Are you telling me I'm going to stay locked out of your bedroom?"

?I've done my duty. I've endured all I'm going to."

Micah felt a fist to his stomach. ?What am I supposed to do?"

Melissa shrugged. ?That's what harlots are for, but if you touch me again, so help me I'll shoot you
where you stand. And just remember: Papa deeded this land to me alone, not to you. You signed the
papers agreeing to it. If I want to I can sell this farm out from under you and there's not a thing you can
do to stop me. Where are you going to put your precious horses then?"

* * * *

By the time the War broke out, Micah had turned the farm into a moneymaker. He could easily have
paid a bounty and been released from military service, but he longed for a release from his oppressive
marriage. He and a number of his hands, including Tom Allen, packed up their kits and volunteered. He
was pained to leave his blond, nine-year-old son, but he felt he was doing the right thing. Leaving the day
to day running of the farm to Hal Ostrow, he rode off, like many Missourians, to fight for the Union.

He served in the Army until the spring of 1862 when, following a particularly fierce skirmish, he was
captured by Confederate troops and sent to a prison camp. His wound was minor. His captivity would
nearly kill him.

* * * *

Jenny was pacing the kitchen floor. The last time she cooked a meal on a real stove was before the
Yankees finally burned down Vallequette Manor in the last months of the War. The last time she had
whatever foodstuffs she needed to cook a meal was even longer ago. In the last year and a half she
cooked over campfires where she spitted or stewed rabbit and squirrel with whatever vegetables she
could find. While she had made a beginning on cleaning the house, this would be the true acid test of
whether Micah Peterman had got the best of the bargain between them. Earlier in the afternoon, while
mixing ingredients in a large bowl, Jenny mused that a wife only needed to do three things well: cooking,
sewing and sex?and Micah only wanted two of the three. Tomorrow she would see if she could still sew.
Too bad Micah didn't need a law clerk. That her father had taught her to do!

At the same time Jenny heard footsteps coming through the dining room she heard low-pitched laughter
growing louder from outside. She yanked off her apron and said a quick prayer to the God she had
almost forgotten existed until last night.

?Good evening, Jenny.? Micah greeted her in his soft voice.

She turned to see him. He wore the plain white, collarless shirt buttoned up to his neck and the dark
gray trousers she had laid out for him. Like the rest of the garments she had seen him wear, these too
were overly loose, yet the pristine shirt made a pleasing contrast to the sun burnishing of his skin. The
more she looked at her new husband, the handsomer he appeared. Jenny wondered if it was just that his
gauntness was only shocking on first glance or if she was becoming attracted to him. For her own sake
she hoped it was the former. Micah Peterman had made it quite clear he did not need for her to be
attracted to him.

?You look very nice this evening,? Micah continued.

Jenny wore the dark pink calico gown that was the other new dress in the parcel of clothes he had
purchased for her. The soft warm color of the modest garment brought out the natural rosiness in her
cheeks and made her look especially feminine. Micah was taken aback at how naturally female she was.
The Quakerish gown she wore during her trial was too severe to emphasize her femininity. If she worked
in it until it fell apart, he would not care, as long as she came to supper in something more cheery. He
promised himself he would make sure she had time to make gowns from the fabric he had bought for her.
He only wished he could give her more.

She smiled. ?Thank you for the compliment. I only hope that still matters after you try my cooking. I
didn't have time to make yeast bread today. I hope you all don't mind cornbread."

?After eight months of Luigi's cooking, anything would seem like heaven,? the voice of Tom Allen
interrupted as he limped in ahead of the other hands into the kitchen.

?My cooking isn't that bad,? Luigi countered. ?But something smells like heaven on earth."

Collis and Hal brought up the rear. Micah noted with amusement that, like himself, they all washed and
wore fresh clothes for this supper. There was a look of anticipation on everyone's face as they slipped
into their usual seats around the kitchen table.

Jenny did not sit. Instead she served. A plate of sliced smoked venison with a brown onion gravy,
mashed potatoes, boiled greens and sliced pickled beets and freshly baked cornbread with butter and
honey. As she placed the steaming plates and bowls on the table, the men helped themselves generously
while she poured fresh, hot coffee into their cups. The hands filled the air with compliments both on the
appearance and taste of everything before settling down to a discussion of the work accomplished.
Finally, his wife sat down and served herself.

No sooner was she down than Hal Ostrow stood up and raised his coffee cup.

?We were all worried about the Boss when he came home from the War so sickly. Well, we're all glad
that he's decided to put all his misery behind him and find himself a new wife. Miz Peterman ain't the kind
of woman you meet every day..."

?That's for certain,? Jenny interjected to everyone's laughter.

?...But something tells me she's going to be the best thing's ever happened to the Boss since I know him.
You've married the best man ever drew breath and we just want to say welcome to Peterman Farm."

Jenny felt her eyes burn with tears as she acknowledged the huzzahs of the other hands as they drank
down their coffee. She looked up the table at Micah, whose dark eyes seemed more liquid than she had
yet seen. Their eyes met and held for a long moment before her husband looked away, his face
reddened.

As the men sat down, Jenny looked to Micah to speak. When he declined she spoke herself.

?Gentlemen, thank you for your welcome. All I want to do is be a good wife to Micah and put my past
behind me. People would probably call me a bad woman, a fallen woman?and maybe they're right. But I
believe if a person falls she can rise again. I think Micah believes it, too, or he wouldn't have given me a
second chance at life. Let me prove to you he didn't make a mistake.? She paused for a second, then
continued, ?Oh, by the way, I'm going to do laundry tomorrow. When you come in to breakfast in the
morning, if you could bring any sheets and towels and any clothes you need washed or mended, I'd
surely appreciate it. Now, let me get dessert."

She brought out bowls to serve a cobbler made from tinned peaches and a pitcher of cream to pour
over the sweet dessert. As the men began to serve themselves she started to clear the supper dishes. She
noticed that while the wranglers? plates were left with only crumbs and smears of gravy, Micah's plate
was nearly full. It looked like he had done little more than push his food around and ate only a bite or two
of everything.

As the men began to eat the cobbler, Micah rose from the table. ?I'll leave you to your dessert. I have
some paperwork that needs doing,? he said stiffly and walked out.

Suddenly, Jenny lost her taste for her own dessert. She followed her husband with her eyes as he left the
room.

?He didn't like the food. What did I do wrong?"

?Nothing,? Hal Ostrow assured her. ?It's just the Boss ain't had an appetite since he came back from
Andersonville."

?Andersonville!? she breathed. ?My God in Heaven. Our prison camps were bad as the War dragged
on and supplies grew scarce, but Andersonville was a horror beyond imagining. It's a miracle he survived
at all."

?According to Doc Caldwell, he nearly didn't,? Tom added. ?Sometimes I think I was luckier losing a
leg. At least I ended up in a Union hospital with somewhat sanitary conditions and good food and nursing
care until I was discharged."

?And to come home and find out his wife and son were dead! It would have crushed a weaker man."

Hal nodded. ?He's so frail nowadays from how he was before the War, but he's stronger'n most folks
think. He carries a heap of sadness. Losing Ethan hurt him something fierce. Comin? home to find his
business near ruin was rough, too, but he works as hard as the rest of us."

?Too hard,? Collis put in. ?Won't take care of himself."

?He's got me to take care of him now,? Jenny declared. As the men turned to go, she stopped them.
?Gentlemen, I'm going to need your help another way. It's going to be quite a handful cooking, cleaning
and sewing. I would surely appreciate it if two of you would stay after supper to wash and dry the dishes.
It can be a different two each night, but I don't think it's too much to ask."

Jenny held her breath. The members of Danny's gang always laughed at her requests for help. And even
after the house slaves abandoned Vallequette Manor, neither Charlotte nor Virginia Vallequette would
deign to do something as ordinary as washing dishes.

?Where do you keep the dish towels?? Hal asked. Jenny felt herself breathe again. Hal was the foreman,
in character and respect if not in name. When the ex-jockey volunteered, it made it easier for the others
to agree. Collis said he had a job Micah had asked him to finish. Tom and Luigi were both willing, so
they flipped a coin. Thus Tom ended washing the dishes and Hal drying while Luigi sped out to check on
the stock.

While the hands washed the dishes, Jenny wiped off the table and began to prepare for the next
morning's breakfast. Being able to perform so homey a task made Jenny feel, for the first time in years,
that her life had returned to normal. Normality was an illusion, but Jenny was grateful for small favors.

Into a large mixing bowl she measured flour, baking powder and salt for baking powder biscuits. She
checked the larder and counted in a sawdust-filled box to make sure she had at least a dozen eggs and a
bucket of lard. Needing bacon or sausage, she stepped outside to go to the smokehouse.

?What do you think of her?? Hal asked Tom once Jenny was outside. The two men had known each
other eight years and trusted each to keep the other's confidence.

?Not what I would have expected from a girl who rode with outlaws. If I didn't know better, I'd've

pegged her as a lady through and through."

?Lord Almighty,? Hal said with a shudder as he placed a dried plate on the growing pile of clean dishes.
?Last thing the Boss needs after Miz Melissa is another lady. Maybe a reformed whore's just what he
needs."

?The Boss'd have a fit if you called his wife a reformed whore, even if she is. But you're right. Shouldn't
speak ill of the dead, but when I came home from the Army, Miz Melissa wouldn't give me my job back.
She said she had no use for a cripple."

Hal raised an eyebrow. ?I didn't know."

?Horses are all I know. Thanks to the Boss, I'd made enough money to put a little aside working before
I enlisted. I figured I could hold out ?til he came home. Course, I didn't know he was in a prison camp or
how much longer the War would last. Lucky for me, when Miz Melissa passed on, I came back and you
gave me a job."

Hal nodded. ?Anyone who wore the Blue's okay in my book, but I knew you too long not to give you a
chance."

?I'd lay down my life for Micah in an instant,? Tom affirmed solemnly. ?But I'm worried, Hal. It scares
me to death to see him still looking so poorly."

?Maybe Miz Jenny will be a help to him there, too. She's an aces cook, if you go by supper. And she's
got the most life of any woman I've seen in years."

?Maybe you'd be, too, if you just dodged the hangman..."

Jenny returned with a slab of bacon. She wrapped it in cheesecloth to slice in the morning. She took the
newly dried dishes and reset the table for the morning. Finally, she measured out coffee beans in the
grinder.

The dishes done, Tom and Hal bid Jenny good night. She thanked them most graciously and told them
she would see them in the morning.

As Hal and Tom walked back to the bunkhouse, Tom commented, ?She saidthank you. Miz Melissa
never would've."

?Damn right. The more I see, the more I like."

* * * *

Jenny finished setting up for breakfast. All she would need to do in the morning was grind the coffee and
cook. What a pleasure not to be cooking a makeshift meal over a campfire or trying to make an
acceptable meal when there was little with which to make.

With a nod and grunt of satisfaction, she left the kitchen and headed through the dining room into the
parlor.

Micah was sitting behind his desk, a ledger open before him. A pair of steel-framed spectacles rested on
his nose and a steel-tipped pen was in his hand, but his head was down and he was not writing.

A brief snore told her he had fallen asleep at his desk. An overwhelming feeling of tenderness seeped
through her.

No wonder he's exhausted, working a full day after rescuing me and hardly eating anything. She
stood next to him and glanced at the pile of bills and the meticulous numbers in the ledger.

She could not resist the temptation to lean over and press a gentle kiss on his temple.

?Sweetheart,? she whispered.

His head jerked back as he woke with a start, dropping his pen. His eyes went wild with what looked
like fear.

?I didn't mean to startle you."

?What are you doing sneaking up on me?? he snapped, his voice accusing. He yanked off his glasses as
if embarrassed to be caught wearing them.

?You were asleep."

?I was not!"

Jenny frowned. Why deny it?

?It's been a long, emotional day for both of us. You ate so little supper.? She put her hand on his
shoulder. ?I could fix you a plate of..."

He yanked himself away from her touch, stood up and walked across the room.

?I'm not hungry,? he declared. He swayed slightly, as though he might pass out.

?Micah, are you ill?? She started to walk towards him. The sound of her boot heels on the wooden floor
caused him to turn to face her. Beneath his tan his gaunt face was bloodless.

?No!? he rasped.

She came towards him. He put up his hand, palm out, to stop her.

?I'm not ill and I'm not hungry."

?Micah..."

?Why should you care anyway?"

Jenny recoiled as from a slap, freezing where she stood. ?I'm your wife."

?In name only."

?That's your choice.? She put her hands on her hips. ?Even so, I care what happens to you because I'm
a human being."

?Don't. Just do your work and leave me alone. That's all I married you for anyway and you know it."

With that he strode out of the room. She heard his heels as they landed wearily on the stair risers.

Jenny collapsed on the settee. Resting her elbows on her knees, she buried her face in her hands and
fought off the burn of tears. While she knew the purpose of their marriage, she could not believe how
quickly Micah turned from the sweet man she had wed this morning to the stern and distant one who had
just fled the room. One thing she knew for certain. Her husband was ill, or at least radically underfed. His
gaunt, pallid face and the way he had been swaying, plus falling asleep at his desk confirmed it to her
mind.

For a moment she thought he simply didn't like her cooking. It was possible, but from the way the hands
had complimented her and refilled their plates she guessed her cooking was not at fault. He had not eaten
anything at noontime either.

She sat back on the settee and stretched her arms across the top. She had to find out if Micah was truly
ill. She needed to talk to the town doctor, but how could she get to town? Going to Loomis would be the
death of her for sure.

With a sigh, she pushed herself off the settee. It had been a long exhausting day. She took a walk
around the house to make sure the stove fire was properly banked and the lamps were extinguished.
Carrying one lit lamp, she approached the stairs and climbed up to her bedroom next to Micah's.

Among the things she did this day was dust and air out the room. Melissa's clothes could wait for
another day.

As she changed into her nightgown, she glanced around the room. She hated the lace and frills and pale
colors. It was not what she would have chosen for herself. It was like all the gewgaws gathering dust in
the parlor?overdone. If she could find a way to make the room more to her liking, she would do it. She
wished she knew how deep Micah's emotions regarding his first wife's things were. Sleeping in a shrine
pleased her not at all.

Despite what had happened to her, she would have rather had the chance to be a real wife instead of the
pale imitation of the woman for whom the shrine had been erected.

Maybe she could find a way to get Micah to change his mind.

Jenny smoothed her hands over the crisp muslin of her new nightgown. It was plain, white, long-sleeved
and high-necked. It was a lady's nightgown, modest and demure. She looked at herself in the ornate oval
peerglass. Were it not for her chopped-off hair, she would look like any young woman of her age.

Twenty-four hours ago she was sitting in her chemise and drawers on a hard, lumpy cot in a jail cell
counting the hours until she was hanged by the neck until dead. Her brother and his gang had left her to
her fate without a backward glance and she was numbingly alone.

Tonight as she crawled between the frilly comforter and white percale bed sheets she had a husband, a
home, an honest occupation and a soft bed.

And a reprieve from the noose. If she stayed here seven years and did her job, she would be free.

She pulled the comforter up to her shoulders despite the warm summer evening air. Hugging one of the
thick feather pillows against her, she thought perhaps that her prayer the night before had been answered.
The God she had not been sure she still believed in must have something important for her to accomplish
in this world before summoning her to the next.

With a grateful sigh, she closed her eyes and let sleep overtake her.

* * * *

In the next room, Micah tossed and turned until he was tangled up in his covers and nightshirt and near
panic. He was exhausted, but afraid to sleep for fear the nightmare would come again.

Finally, he arose from bed and pulled on his oversized dressing gown over his nightshirt. Opening up the
bedroom door he saw the house was pitch black. With the knowledge born of fourteen years of living in
this house, he turned in the hall and walked until he stood outside his new wife's bedroom door.

Soundlessly, he reached for the doorknob. It turned in his hand and the door opened slightly. Melissa
had always bolted the door against him after Ethan was born.

He padded on bare feet to the side of the bed. Light from the moon crossed the bed. Against the white
linens, surrounded by pillows, Jenny slept like an angel amid the clouds.

He reached out as if to brush her hair away from her forehead, then pulled his hand away abruptly. He
could not afford to become attached to the willowy bank robber. If she found out his terrible secret he
would become the object of derision. He had to keep his distance. The marriage was only to save her life
so she could be his housekeeper. He had to think of her as he had thought of Mrs. Goodman, the
housekeeper his mother-in law hired so her little girl didn't have to do domestic work.

No. He had hated Hannah Goodman with a passion. Between that pinch-faced widow and Melissa,
Micah often felt himself an interloper in his own house.

Then again, it had not been his house, not really. When he and Melissa returned from Illinois married,
Mrs. Baker had threatened to have him arrested for abducting an underaged girl. She would only be
mollified by Micah signing a contract agreeing the wedding gift of this land to be in Melissa's sole name.
He had been too debilitated upon his return home to pay much attention to the issue of inheritance. He
assumed the title was now his.

As he stood there, Jenny shifted slightly and tightened her hold on the pillow she was hugging. One hand
was splayed and stroked the flat of the pillow as she nuzzled against the end of the feather-filled ticking.
A soft humming sounded in her nose. It looked like she was caressing the body of a lover.

Micah closed his eyes against the pain in his soul. Who could she be dreaming about? All his life, he
dreamed of being held as she held her pillow, but now he never could. He could never hope for a
physical relationship. He was destined always to be bereft of female contact.

In her sleep, she looked so innocent and beautiful. Her short, dark hair was straight and spiky about her
face like a pixie. She did not resemble a bank robber reputed to have a string of outlaw lovers. She was
as different from his first wife as night from day.

Except that the dainty Melissa Baker Peterman with her lush, pale ringlets was the one who had filled his
life with darkness, while the chestnut-haired sleeper, here with her sun-kissed features had already, in the

short time he had known her, flooded his weary existence with light.

She again shifted and murmured unintelligibly in her sleep. Worried she might wake and find him gazing
longingly at her, Micah turned and padded out of the bedroom, closing the door noiselessly behind him.

Wearily, he trudged back to his own room, removed his robe and collapsed face down on the mattress.

Thankfully, sleep soon found him.

* * * *

Kansas City, Missouri?that same night

Danny Clarkson glared bleary-eyed into the smoky atmosphere of the cheap saloon. Getting drunk was
a poor substitute for tears of grief, but it was the best he could do.

Quickly, he downed another shot of rotgut, needing the burn of the liquor to purge his guilt.

?You won't be fit to scrub spittoons,? Jesse Coltrane snarled as he straddled a chair beside his partner.

?At least a spittoon cleaner has enough honor not to leave his only sister to the hangman,? Danny
retorted, pouring himself another shot.

?She knew the risks when she rode with us,? Jesse countered dispassionately.

?We should've tried to bust her out."

?And put the noose around our necks, too? That's what'll happen if we go anywhere near Loomis now."

Danny's eyes narrowed. ?Why'd you have to shoot that man? We robbed banks before without anyone
being killed."

?Bastard had a derringer in his vest pocket. It was him or me. I chose me."

?So my sister died because of you. They hanged her today."

?That paper was three days old."

?It said she was convicted and sentenced to die today. We should've ridden back and busted her out."

?We wouldn't've made it there in time."

?We should've tried. I should never've taken her with us. She wasn't an outlaw."

?No, just a whore."

Danny rose unsteadily and made a lunge at Jesse with fire in his eyes. Jesse was not drunk, and easily
grabbed Danny's forearms and forced him to his knees.

?Don't you call her a whore!"

?She spread her legs for every man in the Yankee army. What would you call her?"

Danny pulled himself back into his chair. ?I thought you loved her."

Jesse snorted. ?No woman is worth being in love with. If you don't believe me, look at yourself in the
mirror. And that's just for your sister."

?I've got to go back,? Danny said as he tried to rise again.

Jesse stood up and pushed on Danny's shoulders until the younger man was fully seated.

?She's dead, Clarkson. You and I go anywhere near that goddamned town and they'll string us both up.
Look, the town'll have to bury her at their expense. Lie low for a few months until folks forget our faces.
Change your looks. Then we can go back and you can put flowers on her grave or any other goddamned
thing you want to do. A few months won't make a damned bit of difference to Jenny anyway."

Jesse was right, Danny realized.

Before Jesse's eyes, Jenny's older brother seemed to diminish in his chair. The grizzled outlaw saw it
happen, but felt only annoyance as he saw big tears leaking out of Clarkson's eyes.

?We need to get away from bank robbery for a while. I've got a scheme that's a lot surer and safer.
With your looks and your gentleman's ways and my brains and skills, we can make a fortune off of
people too proud to report us to the police. You game?"

Danny shrugged. ?Sure, why not? Bank robbing will always remind me of seeing Jenny fall off her
horse."

Worse than some woman, Jesse thought contemptuously. Jenny would not have wasted time weeping.
She had been one hell of a woman.

He had not loved her. He was not capable of that gentle emotion, but he sure had liked her.

And he would miss her now that she was dead.

Too bad he'd never find out how good a lay she was.

CHAPTER 7

As morning broke, Jenny stretched luxuriously in her feather mattress, then rolled out of bed. She was
glad to face the dawn; a dawn she had no business experiencing. Even the backbreaking toil of laundry
seemed like a pleasure considering the alternative.

Quickly she stripped off her nightgown and washed in the tepid water in her wash bowl. Having put on
the gray gown, underwear, boots and a single petticoat, she rolled up her sleeves and combed her hair.

Before leaving the room, she stripped her bed and piled her remaining underwear and her male garments
on top of the bed linens. Gathering them up in her arms, she clattered down the stairs. Before she did
laundry, she had breakfast to prepare for five hungry, hardworking men.

She decided the uncomfortable way she and Micah parted the previous night was not going to ruin her
day. She ground coffee in the mill, set the coffeepot to boil on the freshly-lit stove and began to cut the
lard into the flour and prepare biscuit dough.

Soon, biscuits were baking, bacon was sliced and sizzling in the skillet, eggs were whipped to a pale
yellow froth waiting to fry.

She was practically singing with delight as she worked. She felt useful?appreciated in a way she last felt
before her father's death.

About an hour after dawn the hands started drifting in, arms filled with dirty laundry. Laughing and
joking, they added to the growing pile of clothes and bed linens.

Jenny was nearly done frying the skillet of eggs when Micah appeared in the doorway. He wore the
same kind of oversized work trousers and chambray work shirt he had worn the day before. The
buttoned-up collar and cuffs were loose at his wrists and neck.

She turned and their eyes met. Her husband's deep set, violet eyes were filled with a strange
combination of hunger, desire and sadness. Her breath caught and her heart began to pound in her throat.
In that moment the other men and their playful banter disappeared.

Regret. That was what she saw reflected there. Her own gaze softened. What had happened last night
was an aberration. His rejection of her had nothing to do with her.

She was determined to find out what it was.

As they had the night before, the hands devoured the breakfast, but Micah left his plate virtually
untouched. He barely ate enough to keep a bird alive. There was no need to conserve food. There
seemed to be an abundance. Why would he not eat?

Breakfast concluded, the hands filed outside to haul out the large cauldron used for laundry, fill it with
water and light a fire under it before heading out for the stables.

She sliced some leftover biscuits, filled them with leftover scrambled egg and bacon slices and wrapped
them in a napkin. When her husband returned through the kitchen with his hat, she approached him.
Deftly, she unbuttoned his shirt pocket and tucked the wrapped biscuits gently in the pocket. For a
moment, her hands lingered on his chest until she imagined she could feel his heart beating. She looked up
to see the same burning longing she had seen before.

Suddenly, he broke the spell by stepping back from her touch. He fumbled with his pocket.

?What's this?? he asked dully.

?You ate so little breakfast. If you get hungry before noontime you can nibble a little something."

?I'll be all right."

?Micah..."

?I don't want to discuss this further,? he said and stomped out, clamping his hat tighter on his head.

He did not remove the biscuits from his pocket before he departed. Jenny wondered if he would
consume them.

* * * *

She mixed bread dough and set it to rise before beginning the laundry. The humid August heat combined
with the steam of the boiling water made the job uncomfortable and sweaty, but still satisfying. Soon
sheets, shirts, long johns and other garments were hanging to dry on the lines.

Back in the kitchen, she pulled freshly baked bread from the oven. She was slicing one loaf to make
sandwiches for the noon meal when she heard the sound of horses approaching the house.

She ran to the front door and peered out from an adjacent window. She saw a large group of riders
carrying guns.

Oh, God, not again!

Immediately she rammed the bolt to the front door and raced to the kitchen. She managed to beat one
of the riders to the back door and throw the bolt just as he was reaching for the doorknob.

Her heart began to pound. She had not seen one in the house. She could not recall Micah wearing one.
He must have at least a rifle or shotgun, even if he did not use a revolver.

She could barely breathe.

No, if she was seen with a gun she would be breaking the terms of her parole. These armed men were
no friends of hers. She knew she saw a man who had been identified to her as the deceased Leon
Purdy's father-in-law.

?Clarkson, come on out here with your hands up,? yelled a voice in the crowd.

No, they were no friends of hers.

* * * *

Collis was in the near stable finishing Jenny's moccasins when he heard the riders. He, too, was
unarmed. The gun rack was in the bunkhouse.

The Shawnee realized, even armed, he was no match for an angry mob alone. He had to get help.

* * * *

The sound of a rifle shot echoed outside the house as Jenny paced. She was locked inside, but there
were plenty of windows in the house and it would not take more than a stone or another bullet to shatter
one. She was more frightened than back in Georgia. These men were not going to be content with raping
her in series.

They wanted her dead.

?Clarkson! Jenny Clarkson!? she heard shouted. ?Come on out of there, girl."

To respond meant to open a window, which might leave her a target. She crouched by the staircase,
near enough the front door to hear what was going on outside, but somewhat protected if anyone shot
through the door or a window. Cold sweat collected in the small of her back and between her breasts.
She wrapped her arms around herself as terror built.

Just when she was beginning to feel safe and secure again.

She should have known that her whereabouts could not stay secret long. She began to think of Micah
and the others. What might they suffer because of his kindness toward her?

* * * *

?Was that a shot?? Tom Allen said as the report echoed to the far paddock.>

Immediately, Micah and Luigi snapped to attention. A moment later, Collis came running up, out of
breath. He reached the others and spoke before they could even ask him:

?Lynch ... mob ... She's ... in the ... house."

?Damn!? Micah breathed. ?There aren't any guns in the house."

By this time Hal rode up to meet them and dismounted.

Collis, having regained his breath, said, ?We can go through the bunkhouse to the gun rack and get them
from behind.? He gestured them to follow.

Hal dropped the reins of the horse he had been training and ran along with the others. Tom's game leg
slowed him down, though he trotted as fast as he could.

As Micah ran, his energy, flagged by his meager diet, began to desert him. As he began to slow, he
thought of Jenny, unarmed, facing an angry mob. He had to save her. He had vowed that from the
moment he saw her in the courtroom. His resolve gave him new energy.

* * * *

She heard the crash of glass in the parlor window. Quickly she rose and grabbed the banister to run
upstairs, then stopped. On the second floor, they could push her out the window to her death and claim it
was an accident. If she stayed where she was and did not resist, they would have to hang her and that
would be murder.

It was small consolation.

She smoothed her skirts and combed her fingers through her hair. Two strangers rushed into the
entryway. Jenny glared at them as she slowly raised her hands over her head. She heard a hammer cock
as one of them trained his Colt at her heart and gestured for her to come with him. The other man
unbolted and opened the door and they pushed her out onto the porch.

?Jenny Clarkson,? the leader of the mob intoned from atop his horse.

?No. Queen Victoria."

?I'm Bennett Matthews."

She nodded. Matthews was Leon Purdy's father-in-law. The older man sat in the front row every day of
the trial with blood in his eye. Even the widow had not been so formidable a presence.

?I recognize you, Mr. Matthews. This is the Peterman farm and I believe you're trespassing."

?I believe you're trespassing,? someone mimicked.

?I think we'll be forgiven our trespasses,? Matthews intoned, ?once justice is done."

?Justice?? she challenged.

Someone dangled a rope already tied into a noose. ?You got yourself a death sentence, girl."

She felt amazingly calm considering how afraid she was. Where she got the courage to respond as if they
were merely discussing the weather she would never know. ?I was given a parole. Judge Plascove
arranged it with Mr. Peterman."

?Who gave my son-in-law a parole, whore?? Matthews cried.

?I think you should take that up with Jesse Coltrane, sir. I didn't kill your son and the jury acquitted me."

?They still sentenced you to hang. We're here to see that the sentence is carried out."

She folded her arms across her chest. ?Mr. Matthews, if you want to kill me, go right ahead. I'm not
going to resist. Then I'll meet you in hell with a clear conscience after they hang all of you for murder. My
reprieve is legal, so I don't give a damn what you do to me."

?String her up, Matthews,? someone yelled. The two men standing beside her on the porch pushed her
down the stairs as the man holding the noose tossed it over the branches of a tree by the house. Jenny
straightened her back and walked over to the tree with minimal prodding by the pistol to her back. Even
in her sweat and water-dampened gray dress she was determined to carry herself like a queen.

She stood beneath the tree facing Matthews, never taking her eyes from his face. The old man began to
look away from her glare. Someone pulled her hands behind her back and tied a rope around her wrists.

?If you know any prayers, you better say them,? someone called out and the noose was tightened
around her neck.

She closed her eyes. Dear God, she thought, please take care of Micah. Let him find a way to be
happy.

Suddenly, shots rang out from behind the mob. Jenny opened her eyes to see Micah and Collis carrying
rifles, Luigi brandishing a shotgun and Hal and Tom both holding revolvers.

Micah strode around to the front of the mob until he stood between Matthews and the tree where she
stood. She could see determination in every line of his body.

?You're on my property, Matthews,? Micah called out.

?Just doing a little trash removal,? Matthews announced.

Micah cocked his rifle. ?Nobody comes on my property and threatens my wife or my employees."

Matthews? eyes narrowed. ?Wife,? he mouthed with disgust. ?You mean to tell me you married this
whoring little..."

?Careful what you say, Matthews. If my men and I killed the whole bunch of you, the law would
probably call it self-defense. Jenny Clarkson is my responsibility now. I hold her parole. It's all legal and
according to statute. You touch one hair on her head and?so help me?you'll follow her to the graveyard."

The mob shifted uneasily at the sight of five ill-assorted but determined men, each aiming a weapon at
one of them more or less at random. Fortunately, at that juncture, the sound of hooves echoed from two
mounted riders and a small buggy.

Entering the yard in a cloud of dust were Sheriff Clayton and Deputy Filer on horseback and Judge
Plascove in his buggy. Clayton reached the spot where Micah held his ground and drew his own
six-shooter. He glanced over at the defiant, trussed-up Jenny Peterman for a moment, then at the
determined, furrowed brow of Micah Peterman before staring down Bennett Matthews.

?What the hell do you think you're doing?? Clayton scowled.

?Dispensing a little justice,? Matthews replied.

?You got every right to feel cheated out of your hanging,? Clayton said, ?but my job is to uphold the
law. The girl got a legal reprieve. I don't have to like it, but I got to enforce it."

?The sheriff is right, Bennett,? Judge Plascove announced as he joined Clayton and Micah. ?Mrs.
Peterman is aware of the limitations of her parole and should be left alone to serve her sentence. As long
as she complies with those provisions, she will remain in Mr. Peterman's custody. And I will make sure,
insofar as my power allows, to prosecute to the fullest extent of the law anyone who harms or harasses
Mrs. Peterman while she is serving her probation. Do I make myself clear?"

?Untie her, Horace,? Matthews barked at one of the men flanking Jenny.

Jenny felt the knife slice through the rope. She slowly brought her hands forward and began to rub her
wrists.

?Damn,? she muttered, ?he cut my sleeve, too."

While Micah, the hands and the two lawmen remained armed and alert, the mob gradually followed
Bennett Matthews down the path and off the property.

As the last one turned to leave, Jenny finally walked forward to where her husband and the Judge stood.

?It isn't going to be easy, this next seven years, is it?"

?No, I'm afraid not, Mrs. Peterman,? Plascove responded.

?Micah, that was very brave of you,? Jenny said.

But he didn't respond. His face grew alarmingly ashen and damp.

?Micah?? she said.

A moment later, Micah's eyes rolled up and he collapsed in a heap in the dirt before either Jenny or the
judge could stop him.

It took barely a moment before the wranglers were gathered around their employer's fallen form. By the
time they were gathered, Jenny was sitting on the ground with his head resting in her lap.

?What happened?? Hal asked.

Micah's breathing seemed normal. Jenny looked up from where she sat and said, ?I think he just fainted.
Has this happened before?"

?No,? Hal replied.

?Yes,? Collis contradicted.

They all looked at him.

?A couple of times before when he worked too hard in the barn on a warm day. I guess running all the
way here from the far paddock wore him out."

?Should we send for the doctor?? Jenny asked.

?Times before I burned some feathers under his nose and he came to at once."

?I think I saw some smelling salts in the top drawer of the dresser in my?um?in the room next to the
master bedroom.? Jenny hesitated to reveal that she and Micah had separate rooms.

?I'll get them,? Luigi volunteered and scampered into the house. The others collected the firearms and
returned them to the bunkhouse.

Jenny continued to sit with Micah's head in her lap stroking his hair. She noticed the napkin with the
biscuit sandwiches in it was still in his pocket, untouched.

?Mrs. Peterman,? Sheriff Clayton said, ?I'll stop by Doc Caldwell's on the way back to my office and
see if he can't come out here tomorrow to look in on Mr. Peterman."

She looked up and smiled. ?Thank you, Sheriff. I'm sure it's nothing to worry about, but it would be
good if the doctor came out to make sure."

The sheriff nodded and mounted up to leave with his deputy and the judge. As they rode off, Luigi came
downstairs clutching a small bottle in his fist.

?Is this it?? he asked, holding out the bottle.

Jenny took the bottle from the boy. It looked like the kind of vinaigrette she had seen her cousins use
when they felt swoony. She opened it and held it to her nose. Immediately, her head jolted back from the
ammonia scent.

?Yeah,? she said, blinking away the sensation, ?this is it."

Carefully, she held the bottle to her husband's nose. His whole body jerked like a puppet on a string as
he lurched into consciousness. He lay back for a moment until he saw Luigi kneeling beside him and
realized where his head was. Suddenly, he hoisted himself to a sitting position as if somehow
contaminated by the physical contact with his wife's lap.

Unfortunately, his quick movement brought back his dizziness. He began to sway as if he might pass out
again. Without a word, Jenny signaled to Luigi to give him a hand and the youth slipped his arms around
Micah's shoulders.

?Come on, Boss,? Luigi said gently. ?I'll take you upstairs to your room.? He glanced quickly at Jenny,
who affirmed that course of action. Luigi helped him stand and guided him toward and into the house
while she rose and stood very still watching them go, thinking she should have asked the sheriff to send
the doctor out tonight.

* * * *

Luigi helped Micah upstairs and until he got his boss seated on the edge of his bed. The younger man
knelt quickly and helped him off with his boots, but when he offered to help Micah undress, the older
man refused.

?I'll be all right,? he said.

?Miss Jenny looked real worried about you."

Micah nodded. ?It doesn't matter."

?I was really scared of that lynch mob. You think they would have hanged Miss Jenny if we hadn't
shown up when we did?"

?It's possible. Myra Purdy is deeply mourning Leon's death and Matthews would do anything for his
daughter."

?Did you see her standing there? I never in my life saw anyone so brave. She didn't struggle or anything.
She's one hell of a lady, even if she is an outlaw."

?I noticed,? Micah responded quietly.

?You saved her life, Boss."

?We did it together.? he sighed. ?I think all that running took more out of me than I thought."

Luigi agreed and left, shutting the bedroom door behind him.

Without taking his clothes off, he lay down on top of the blankets. He did not even have the energy left
to pull the blankets over him. Within moments he was deeply asleep.

* * * *

Nobody complained that evening when Jenny served a cold supper. Despite her seemingly calm

exterior, she had been deeply shaken by the near lynching and further distressed by Micah's fainting spell.

Micah did not come down for supper. By the time they were done eating, the dishes washed and
tomorrow's breakfast partially prepared, Jenny was feeling the strain of the day. She had managed to
take down the laundry and fold it. The men reclaimed their things and the linen closet was full of clean
sheets and towels. Jenny set up the ironing board after the men returned to the bunkhouse and ironed
shirts and trousers, dividing the piles by man. Her clothes and Micah's she gathered up in her arms and
brought upstairs.

His door was still shut. Jenny worried that again he had managed to avoid eating both dinner and supper.
Afraid to wake him, she took his clothes into her room and laid them in a pile on her dressing table
before putting away her own.

She again went downstairs to bank the stove fire and extinguish the lanterns. Climbing slowly up the
stairs, Jenny realized that she was tired, but even more emotionally drained from having to keep in how
frightened she truly had been. She could not dissolve into womanly tears and hysterics. She had never
been the sort of woman who could.

As she changed into her nightclothes and prepared for bed, she remembered what kind of woman she
had been when she first came to Vallequette Manor back in 1859. Innocent, trusting, dreaming of a man
who would love her and want her in all the ways a man wants a woman.

Instead, she found a man who did not really want her in that way. Funny, although they were as different
as night and day, Micah and J.C. seemed to have in common a complete lack of interest in sex with her.
Except that with J.C. it had been because she was supposed to be a lady. With Micah, it was because
she was supposed not to be one.

And while she did not know if she could bear that intimacy, it would have been nice to have a man she
cared about want her in return.

* * * *

The mattress felt like gravel, the pillows like rocks. Jenny tossed and turned, feeling suffocated. It
seemed like hours since she had gone to bed yet sleep would not come. She could not get the fear of
what had nearly happened this morning out of her head.

She tried to remember what she had done in the past when sleep eluded her. She tried counting sheep,
but that did no good. She tried lying flat on her back and telling her body to go to sleep in individual
sections, but that did not work either.

Finally, she lit the lamp by her bedside. She thought she might read herself to sleep, but she did not have
a book in the bedroom. She would have to go down into the parlor and see if there was one there.

And while she was downstairs, she could go into the kitchen. There should be enough heat left on the
stove to warm some milk to mix with honey. That combination had always been restful in the past.

She rose and pulled on her calico wrapper over her nightgown. Taking up her lamp, she left her room
and headed downstairs into the parlor.

Scanning the bookshelves, she found a book she had never read. She pulled the book from the shelf and
blew lightly across the top to dislodge the dust. Tucking the book under one arm, she raised the lamp and

headed for the kitchen.

As she entered the dining room, she noticed a flickering light coming from the kitchen. Micah must be in
there.

Jenny took a deep breath. She could only hope, for his sake, that he was eating something. With a smile
on her face, she set her lamp and the book on the dining room table and walked to the kitchen doorway.

A single candle on the table illuminated the kitchen. The bathtub stood in the center of the room. In the
dim light, she could see Micah's pale form as he stepped out of the tub.

Her eyes widened and filled with tears as she gasped in shock. Micah turned at the sound and met her
eyes in silent pain as he stiffened before her, bath water still running from his body.

She now knew what Walt Whitman had meant when he wrote of Yankees released from Confederate
prison camps, ?Can those be men? The dead there are not to be pitied as much as some of the living that
have come from there..."

How often had she heard people remark that someone was just skin and bones? They did not, could not
know or even imagine!

His every bone stood out in relief beneath pale skin molded and stretched like a drum skin. Below the
shriveled barrel of his ribcage his waist dropped off to such small proportions as one might not even hope
for with tight lacing. His hips and buttocks were little more substantial than the pelvis bones beneath, his
buttocks so flat there was almost no division. Elbows and knees were larger in circumference than the
limbs they hinged. In some places there were pink scars that looked as if he had been gnawed upon by
some horrendous creature. Beneath a damp mat of dark blond hair, there was only a barest hint of
muscle in his chest, arms and shoulders from the work he did around the farm. The hollow gauntness of
his face was no freakish anomaly. Micah Peterman was little more than a walking skeleton.

In the dim light, his dark eyes were stricken and melancholy. He began to shiver slightly as his wife saw
for the first time the wreck he truly was. Nobody had seen him undressed except Adam Caldwell since
his release from Andersonville. He waited for the look of disgust to cross over her face, for the words of
derision to bubble forth.

Instead, she said nothing. A quick glance away from him saw a bath towel resting near the candlestick
on the kitchen table. Stepping quietly on bare feet she walked over to the table and picked up the towel.
Then she walked until she stood so close to him they were barely separated by a breath.

As Micah held his breath, Jenny met his violet gaze with her brown one. Never letting his eyes go, she
began to use the towel to gently dry his body. She drew her hands across his shoulders, surprisingly
broad despite their emaciation. Rubbing in gentle circles, she ran her hands down his back, feeling the
knobs of his spine and the struts of the back of his ribs. Drifting lower, she cupped the flat planes of his
buttocks as she let the towel absorb the water.

Her touch was so gentle and caring his eyes began to fill. He blinked and looked away from her a
moment, returning his gaze to see an enigmatic smile on her oddly pretty face. He barely felt the towel
and her magic hands as they dried his chest and torso, the tips of her fingers grazing the springy curls on
his wasted frame. A flood of warmth filled him as her towel-covered hands drifted lower and lower.

It was then he felt her hands move through the thatch of dark blond hair at his groin. Before she could

touch him there, his eyes filled with terror and he moved one hand to her wrist to stop her movement.

Jenny saw his expression change. Blinking several times, she lowered her gaze to his manhood. She saw
it hanging from beneath the blond thatch, quiet and still. She closed her eyes, feeling his pain.

She knew.

Her gaze again rose upward to meet his. She nodded knowingly, then knelt in front of her husband to
dry off his matchstick, hair-roughened legs without attempting to touch his sex again.

Micah looked down, still quaking with mortification.

She knows, he thought with despair. Then he realized that there was no disgust, no pity, no rejection of
him. The look in her eyes was one of?he could only describe it as understanding and acceptance.

Having dried him thoroughly, touching every part of his body through the towel except where he had
stopped her, Jenny rose again. Holding the towel in one hand, she raised the other and stroked his hollow
cheek with its shadow of blond beard, then ran her fingers along the breadth of his mustache and the
shape of his well-formed mouth while he stood perfectly still. Finally, she lowered her hand to his
shoulder and, beginning to his right, she planted three closed-mouth but loving kisses along the ridge of
his right collarbone, then three along the left, lingering slightly on each kiss. She stepped back, folding the
towel and laying it on the kitchen table. With a shy smile she turned away at the kitchen door and
retreated into the parlor, picking up her lamp and book and disappearing toward her room upstairs.

Micah watched her slim, tall form in her modest nightgown as she walked away from his sight. For a
long time he dared not move. Then he walked over to the kitchen table and collapsed, still naked, on one
of the chairs.

He was in love with Jenny Clarkson.

Yet he could never have her. Not like he was.

Burying his face in his hands, he wept for his lost hopes.

CHAPTER 8

?I swear, he's as gray as a ghost,? Tom remarked as he entered the house the next morning.

?Who is?? Jenny asked as she finished cooking breakfast.

?Micah,? Tom answered. ?I offered to take over chopping the firewood, but he refused."

?Micah's outside?"

?Yeah. Damn fool can barely lift the ax..."

Jenny pulled the skillet off the stove and ran outside.

Micah stood by the chopping block. Painstakingly he raised the long-handled ax as if it weighed a ton,
pulled it over his shoulder and dropped the blade into the piece of wood that sat on the block.

?Micah!? She ran to him.

Tom was right. His complexion was ghostly. There were dark circles under his eyes. His face was damp
with sweat. He looked as though the slightest breeze would topple him over. But worst were his eyes.
They looked dead and dismal.

?Go away, Jenny,? he said in a soft voice.

?Micah, we're all worried about you."

?Don't."

She put her hands on her hips. ?I don't believe you came through the War in one piece to die now."

?Not exactly in one piece."

She raised her hand to touch his cheek, but he pulled away.

?Please,? he croaked, his voice barely audible, ?haven't you touched me enough?"

Jenny looked down at her hand. ?I must be truly repugnant to you. For all I went through I never really
felt soiled before. I thought I gave up the shame long ago."

?It's not you, Jenny,? he rasped, his voice weakening. His legs began to tremble as if they could no
longer bear even his minute weight.

?I'm sorry, Micah.? she said. ?Sorry for so many things. I can't be the sweet, pretty, petite angel your
Melissa must have been..."

His spine stiffened.

?...The War changed me too much for that. Nobody will ever make his house a shrine to my memory..."

?Please don't talk about Melissa anymore."

?...I know I'm not good enough to wipe her boots, but sometimes we do what we have to do to
survive."

?I know.? The response was nearly voiceless.

?Micah, you must have been through hell in the camps. I could tell that last night. To get through that
alive ... my God, that takes a will to live above all else. But now, the way you push yourself and starve
yourself, I'm truly afraid you're going to die."

?If I die, you'd be a free woman."

Jenny's head shot up. She had not been told this. She took a breath before responding. ?I'd rather hang
than earn my freedom at that price.? She stepped close to him again, took his hand in hers and tugged
gently. ?Come in to breakfast, please. You'll feel so much better."

?I feel fine and I'm not hungry,? he repeated as he had done at the occasion of every meal since their
marriage.

She felt her teeth grinding. ?Micah, your hand is like ice and your eyes are glazed.? She rubbed his hand
between hers. ?You haven't eaten anything to speak of in twenty-four hours. It can't be good for you.
Please, darling, do it for me, even if you don't feel about me the way you did your first wife."

?I don't feel the same for you as I did for her."

She let go of his hand. She wrapped her arms around herself and sighed painfully. Of course he could
not feel the same for her as for Melissa. Melissa Peterman was a paragon with golden curls who wore
custom-made silk gowns and kid slippers and was a real lady. Jenny Peterman had chopped-off, straight,
reddish-brown hair, wore calico dresses bought off a storekeeper's rack and whose only shoes were a
pair of riding boots the worst for wear and a pair of homemade moccasins. She had been a lady once,
but those days were gone with her virginity and her innocence, which for her were two separate things.

The only thing she figured she had in common with the heavenly Melissa was her love for Micah, but it
was clear he would never return her affection.

?I'll never beg you again. If you want to die, fine. Do something quick and painless. I would think you'd
know from experience how horribly painful death from slow starvation is."

She turned on her heel and walked back into the house.

Micah closed his eyes against the wave of dizziness that overwhelmed him. He began to sway.

As the men watched through the window, he dropped to his knees.

Collis swore under his breath. ?Not again."

?He's chopping wood again?? Jenny asked cynically.

?No, passing out."

She closed her eyes. ?Tom's right. He's a damn fool,? she gritted out. ?A fool wanting to die ... A
couple of you better go get him upstairs and get his boots off."

Luigi, Tom and Collis went outside. Jenny sat wearily on a kitchen chair.

?He must have loved her very much to want to follow her into the grave."

?Loved who?? Hal asked.

?Melissa."

?If he did, then he is a damn fool,? Hal said angrily. ?This farm's in near ruin because that woman did her
damnedest to bring down everything Micah spent fourteen years trying to build. I was here during the
War. It's a good thing she and her ma didn't know I'm colored or they'd've put me off the place and
there'd've been nothing left for him to come home to."

The kitchen door opened before Jenny could inquire further. Collis had his arms around Micah's

shoulders while Tom limped behind carrying the boss's legs. Micah was out cold.

?Luigi's gone to town to get Dr. Caldwell,? Tom explained.

?Take him upstairs and lay him on his bed. Just yank his boots off. I'll undress him later,? Jenny said.

The two young men carried their unconscious burden through the house. When they were out of earshot,
Hal remarked, ?Thanks, Miss Jenny."

?What for?"

?For not letting them see how bad he really looks.? Their eyes met. ?He don't know it, but who do you
think took care of him when he first came home from the doctor's house? He don't sleep much because
he has nightmares."

?About what?"

He shook his head. ?He don't talk about it. He wouldn't tell Doc and he won't tell me, but they haunt him
?til I think he'll go mad if he don't starve himself to death first."

Jenny buried her face in her hands. ?Oh, Hal, what am I going to do? I didn't count on all this, but I
won't run away from it."

?Because they'd hang you if you bolted?"

She looked up. ?No, because I owe him my life and my freedom. That's something I think you, of all
people, would understand."

?He's the best man I've ever met. He does things without expecting anything back except a fair day's
work. But being a good man has won him nothing but pain."

?And now he's leg-shackled to a worthless felon like me."

?And now he's leg-shackled to a woman who might be his first real chance at happiness."

She raised her head. ?You don't even know me, Hal."

The jockey half-smiled. ?I know you, Miss Jenny. Don't think I don't."

* * * *

Luigi met up with Adam Caldwell about a half hour up the road. The doctor had seen Sheriff Clayton the
night before and was already en route to the Peterman farm.

Leaving his horse in care of the young man, Adam took his black bag and headed into the house with his
loose, long-limbed stride. At the bottom of the stairs he met Jenny Peterman for the first time. In her dark
blue calico dress and apron she looked life any farmer's wife despite her short, shaggy hair. Her dark
eyes were filled with a softness and concern he would not have expected from the hardened criminal and
whore she had been painted to be in the local gazette.

?When did he eat last?? he asked her without ceremony.

Jenny frowned, but realized that the doctor knew his patient well. ?Breakfast yesterday, and barely that.
He keeps telling me he's not hungry and he won't eat.? She caught her lower lip between her teeth. ?I
don't think he's eaten a plateful since we've been?since I been here. I've never seen anything like it.? Her
voice thickened with emotion. ?He's so very thin."

The look on the doctor's face said he was surprised that Micah had affected her so rapidly. He nodded
grimly. ?I'll see him alone and talk to you afterwards. You might want to make some broth. If he's acting
like he has been lately, he's probably dehydrated and that'll kill two birds with one stone."

She nodded as the doctor headed upstairs. As worried as she was, she still had breakfast to clean up
from and lunch, as well as some broth to prepare. Wringing her hands with worry, she headed back into
the kitchen.

She worked like an automaton, occasionally responding ?I don't know yet,? to the questions regarding
Micah's condition as his hands poked their heads in the kitchen door to inquire. Jenny noted how
concerned they were about their boss. It only reconfirmed her assessment of how special he was to his
men. They were more like brothers to him. She doubted that any person who had ever worked on the
Vallequette plantation, white or black, free or slave, would ever have bothered to inquire after the health
of any member of that family. But these men loved Micah Peterman.

It was not hard to do.

After all, Jenny was in love with him, too.

* * * *

Adam opened his medical bag and pulled out a revolver. With teeth gritted, he dropped the pistol on
Micah's lap.

The weight of the gun woke Micah painfully. With a moan he opened his eyes. His violet gaze perused
Adam, then the pistol, and then his old friend again.

?What's that for?"

?That's so you can put yourself out of your misery. It's quicker and far less painful than the form of
suicide you've chosen."

?I don't want to die.? It occurred to him that he meant it for the first time in months.

?Well, you certainly fooled me. You're doing a fine imitation of a man with dying in his plans."

Micah closed his eyes again. ?If you think that, why do you bother with me anymore?"

?Because, my friend, you're too valuable for me to lose. Besides, I spent a lot of time and energy pulling
you from the brink of death when the Army carted you home from Andersonville. I intend to recoup on
my investment. Then there's that pretty new wife of yours to consider. She's downstairs now worried sick
about you and she doesn't know you for more than a couple of days."

Micah turned his head away. ?It was a mistake to marry her, being how I am. She may be concerned
about me now, but that'll change when she realizes what it means to be married to half a man."

Adam sat down on the edge of the bed. ?Micah, we've been through this before. There's no saying the
condition's permanent. But this self-starvation is crazy."

?I'm just not hungry."

?We've been through that before, too.? The doctor pulled from his bag the long, brass-flanged tube he
used to listen for heartbeat. He unbuttoned Micah's nightshirt and put one end of the stethoscope on his
patient's chest, pressing his ear to the other end. For a moment, silence filled the room as the doctor
finished listening to the heart and raised Micah's fragile wrist to feel his pulse.

?Your pulse is weak and your heartbeat slow. I can tell from your lips that you're seriously dehydrated.
You're passing out because your body is so depleted it has nothing left to nourish itself with. If you don't
start eating more and regularly, your body is going to start eating at your vital organs, your heart and so
forth. If you don't die of a heart seizure, you'll catch some kind of infection and have no strength to fight it
off.? Quietly, he added, ?I'm too far away from here to get back in time to save you if one of those
happens."

?Maybe it'll be better. I've left the ranch to Hal and Tom. Hal's been running the place since ?61
anyway. Jenny will have her freedom. If I die, her sentence is automatically commuted and she can go
anywhere."

?Shut your damned mouth! If you were strong enough I'd grab you by the shoulders and shake a little
sense into you. Consider yourself shaken. You're to stay in bed for the next week except for meals.
You're to drink a gallon of boiled water every day. You eat what your wife feeds you and you sleep the
rest of the time."

?I can't sleep."

?Then lie here and look at the ceiling, but stay in bed and eat. I can't give you laudanum because in your
condition it would probably kill you."

Adam took up his gun and stethoscope, put them back in his medical bag and stood up from the bed.
He was just about to leave when Micah called his name.

?Take care of Jenny, will you? If I die, make sure she gets safely out of town before the citizens of
Loomis take it into their heads to try to lynch her again."

Adam nodded. ?I'll do my best. Just don't ask me to marry her."

Without waiting for a response, Adam exited the room and headed downstairs.

The doctor was downstairs and nearly through the dining room when he met Jenny coming to meet him.

?The broth?? he asked.

?Boiling now. Can we talk in the parlor?"

Adam nodded and led the way.

Jenny walked toward the bookcase. ?I believe Micah has some whiskey..."

He held up his hand. ?Thank you, no."

She seated herself on the settee. ?How is he?"

The doctor leaned against the windowsill, crossing his ankles. ?He's suffering from severe
malnutrition?mostly self-inflicted at this point?and dehydration. He has a condition called anorexia. It's a
morbid loss of appetite that leads to self-starvation. He isn't hoarding food, is he?"

?No. I haven't found anything hidden in his room or anywhere else. He just won't eat."

?The medical journals discuss this affliction as not uncommon among people who lived on starvation
rations for an extended period of time. Something happens that suppresses the sensation of hunger so the
patient never feels hungry. Sometimes they hide food against a day when they will be forced to fast again,
but that doesn't seem to be happening here."

?Could an emotional blow cause someone to do this?"

He shrugged. ?I don't know. I wouldn't be a bit surprised. We know very little about the workings of the
human mind."

?Obviously, he's emaciated because he refuses to eat. But is his impotence caused by his anorexia or the
result of it?"

Adam's eyebrows rose at the frankness of the question. ?You know about it? I assumed Micah didn't
tell you."

?He didn't. He still hasn't. I should have suspected when he proposed a chaste marriage, considering my
reputation, but last night...? She told him about the incident by the bathtub. ?...When that kind of contact
couldn't get a reaction I realized he was ashamed to admit he was impotent.? She sighed. ?I would have
married him anyway. I didn't want to be hanged."

In answer to her question, Adam replied, ?From the bits and pieces I've managed to drag out of Micah
in the last year or so, he first noticed it about the time he was brought to Andersonville in early ?64. By
that time he had been living near starvation for nearly two years, but all reports of Andersonville indicate
the starvation and death during the year the camp was open rival any battle fought by either side.
Something happened to him there that still causes him nightmares sometimes and about that time he
noticed signs of impotence that even a celibate man would."

Jenny nodded.

?Micah was sent home on a litter. They sent him here so he could die in his family's care. Only by the
time the war ended he had no family except for Hal Ostrow and me."

He sat down wearily beside her. Draping his arms over his lap so his hands dangled in front of his knees,
he continued. ?Micah weighed barely more than eighty pounds when they dumped his litter at my surgery
door. He couldn't see or hear. He couldn't raise his head or lift himself on his elbows or turn over in bed.
He was filthy, infested with head and body lice and clumps of his hair had fallen out. His body was
covered with ragged sores that looked like rats had been gnawing on his skin."

Jenny sucked in her breath. ?I saw the scars,? she said, her voice barely audible and her eyes liquid with

unshed tears. ?Oh, poor Micah."

?Miraculously, he didn't have pneumonia or consumption and his gums and teeth were sound. A lung
ailment would have killed him for sure. He was a barely living skeleton, so bony there was hardly enough
flesh for him to close his mouth. He's actually gained over thirty pounds in the last year. He didn't know
about Ethan or Melissa's death and it wasn't until he was home for nearly two months that he was well
enough to accept that news. He stayed in my house for almost three months and then Hal took him back
to the farm."

?He gained back his sight and hearing and ability to move, Dr. Caldwell. Is it possible if he gets stronger
the other will come back, too?"

He nodded emphatically. ?I believe so, but I think he has to put on another twenty-five or thirty pounds
at minimum and stop this self-starvation. But there's probably more to it."

?More?"

?Micah's confidence in his manhood..."

?I know.? With a sigh, she rose and walked to the sideboard. Wrapping her fingers around a porcelain
figurine, she said, ?It's my fault about this morning. He doesn't want me touching him.? Her fingers
fluttered about the gewgaw. ?I can understand that, I reckon. After all, I'm not exactly an example of
maidenly virtue. He must miss his wife and son terribly, but I can't be the lady his first wife must have
been..."

?Thank God,? Adam blurted out. ?The best thing that ever happened to Micah is widowhood."

Jenny turned, her brow furrowed. ?I don't understand. This house...? she gestured. ?All these gewgaws.
Her clothes and personal things in her bedroom as if she were coming back in a few minutes. Except for
the kitchen and Micah's room, this whole goddamned house is like a shrine to her memory."

?If it is, you can blame it on Melissa's mother, not Micah. I doubt he's had the physical strength much
less the interest to take her things and put them away. I'm sure he misses Ethan dearly, but Melissa Baker
was like a block of ice. She despised Micah's touch. She locked him out of her bedroom after Ethan was
conceived and never let him back in."

Jenny hugged herself nervously. ?Is?was?Micah a bad..."

?Inexperienced certainly. I doubt he ever had a chance to develop any?um?technique since he was a
virgin when they married. No, I believe Melissa had some kind of fear of being touched at all. I never
even saw her shake someone's hand or lay her hand in the crook of Micah's elbow unless she was
wearing gloves and his sleeves were rolled down. She probably would have reacted that way to any man
she might have married."

?Dr. Caldwell, I wasn't born yesterday. Most gently bred ladies are taught to dislike sex if they know
anything about it at all. My late fiancé could not imagine that I would want to participate beyond my
wifely duties. He was having relations with slave women up until he left for the War and probably would
have continued after our marriage had it taken place. Surely Micah sought female companionship
elsewhere."

Adam shook his head.

?What do you mean, no?"

?Micah Peterman is a man with more honor than sense sometimes. He took his vows seriously. If he
made a bad bargain, he was determined to live with it."

?Are you telling me he never strayed?"

?As far as I know. And there are few secrets between us."

?And he was how old when Ethan was born?"

?Nineteen."

?And he's how old now?"

?Thirty-two."

?Damn!? With an angry gesture Jenny swept all the delicate porcelain figurines off the top of the
sideboard with her arm. They landed on the polished wooden floor and either chipped or shattered.
?Micah's too good a man to have borne so much grief in his life."

Adam applauded in agreement.

?Doctor, what can I do?"

?Be what you are, Jenny."

?And that is?"

?Mrs. Micah Peterman. It's time Micah had a real wife to care for him."

?A real wife.? She could do it for him. She knew she could. She had thought she would never be able to
let another man touch her, but she could bear it for him. She would be the one in control of it. She
walked over to Adam and kissed him on his clean-shaven cheek. ?Dr. Caldwell, I'll love him back to
health if it's the last thing I do."

?It won't be easy. He's as raw as an open wound."

?I know. I don't intend to do things the conventional way. I may shock him."

?He may resist you."

?He may. But I won't be alone in this project. I'll have you, Hal, Tom, Collis and Luigi to help me. You
all are as close to brothers as a man could have."

?If you need anything from me, just get word into town."

?I will."

* * * *

Micah was floating on the edge of consciousness when he felt the gentle touch of lips on his brow. He
opened his eyes slowly to see Jenny sitting on the edge of his bed. A strange warmth filled him as he saw
her smile.

?Welcome back to the world, darling.? She had a tall tumbler of water in her hand. ?Can you sit up and
drink something?"

Before he could answer, he felt an arm slip under his shoulders and lift him to a sitting position.

By God, she smelled good! He sensed soap and vanilla and something distinctly female. He wanted to
curl against her to bury his head against her small but sweetly feminine bosom. Instead, he stiffened his
spine, determined not to have any intimate contact with her.

Jenny felt him stiffen, but did not remove her arm. She held the water glass to his mouth. ?Drink up.
Doctor's orders."

He took a sip and frowned at the unfamiliar taste.

She saw the grimace. ?I put a little lemon juice in the water to help it go down better. I'll get you
another..."

?It's fine. I was just surprised is all.? He raised his hand to grasp the glass, then dropped it wearily as if
he lacked the strength to hold his arm up. He allowed her to hold the glass while he swallowed the entire
contents. He was so completely aware of her closeness. He wanted it and dreaded it. He felt as helpless
as a newborn kitten. He hated being so weak, even more so because she seemed not to think any less of
him despite it.

?What time is it?"

?Around six. You slept the day away. You must have really needed the sleep because Dr. Caldwell said
he didn't give you any laudanum."

?I'm a really sorry specimen."

He felt her tighten her hand comfortingly at the ball of his shoulder. ?You're debilitated, dehydrated and
suffering from the effects of malnutrition. None of those are exactly character flaws."

?Jenny, do you have to hold me so close?? he asked gruffly as he put his hands down on the bed to
raise himself up.

Immediately, she let him go. She stood up and walked to his armoire. Finding his dressing gown, she
went back to the bed and dropped it on his lap. ?Here,? she said, ?put this on. You're going downstairs
for supper."

?I'm not..."

?I don't give a damn if you're hungry or not. You're coming downstairs because Dr. Caldwell said so. If
you don't come downstairs I'll bring up a tray and feed you myself."

Micah saw the fire in Jenny's eyes. It was that fire he had seen in the courtroom that had caused him to

admire her and want her to beat the death sentence. By God, she could be magnificent when her ire was
up!

He reached for his robe and slowly pulled it on. Gingerly he eased himself until he was sitting on the side
of the bed and tied the sash around his concave waist. Using the headboard for leverage he rose to a
standing position, wobbly though he was.

She held her arms out. ?Do you need a hand?"

?I'm not an invalid!"

?Of course you're not.? She moved toward him. Standing before him, she reached up and stroked his
stubbled cheek as she met his violet eyes with her warm, steady amber gaze. ?Please come down to
supper, Micah. The men are so worried about you?as I am."

His face burned where her hand touched him. He longed to turn his head and kiss the palm of that caring
hand, but he dared not. He could not let her get too close to his heart. This highly sensual woman would
only come to hate his weakness and impotence. She would never stay a moment later than the seven
years required for her parole.

He nodded and began to move toward the bedroom door. He moved slowly, like an old man. Jenny's
eyes filled. He could be so stubborn. Men were so bullheaded! Their definition of manhood involved
strength, independence and virility. If it killed them, they would shrug off any assistance from a woman.

She joined him and slipped an arm about his waist.

?I'm all right,? he protested.

?Micah, sweetheart, give yourself the chance to regain your strength. I won't think any less of you and
neither will your men. They love you like a brother. It's all right to lean on me."

She felt his tentative touch as he draped his arm across her shoulders. There seemed to be no substance
to him. Though Jenny was a slender woman, she estimated that right now she weighed more than her new
husband did.

Quietly they started down the stairs and through the house to the kitchen. Micah was greeted brightly by
his hands. He could see the relief in their faces at his presence. He felt strangely moved that his
employees should care so much for him.

Almost as moved as the thought of how much his wife cared. Even if she did not mean it, she called him
sweetheart. Nobody had ever called himsweetheart before.

She helped him sit in his place at the head of the table. Micah noticed that the chair from the opposite
end of the table had been moved to a place next to his.

As the hands took their places, Jenny began to serve supper. There was sliced ham with gravy, boiled
potatoes, cooked carrots and sliced bread with butter. The men helped themselves as she served herself
and Micah.

The hands were digging in with gusto. Jenny watched Micah sit there. Reaching for his fork, she speared
a piece of carrot and held it to his mouth.

?I'm not hungry."

She leaned over and whispered into his ear. ?I'm sure your brain isn't hungry, but I'll bet your stomach
is."

Suddenly, Micah felt a kiss on the ear into which she had just whispered. His face reddened and his
mouth dropped open.

A moment later that carrot piece was in his mouth.

?Good,? she crooned into his ear as she nibbled at the lobe. ?Now, chew it up and swallow it."

He did. She moved away from his ear and cut him a bite of ham. Holding it up to his mouth, their eyes
met. Her gaze bored determinedly into his.

?Jenny,? he warned.

?Eat."

He looked at his employees. They ate and chatted as if nothing out of the ordinary was going on at the
head of the table.

Micah glared at Jenny, his jaw jutted out stubbornly. She set down the fork and stood up. Then she
leaned over and put his head between her hands.

?What are you doing?? he hissed.

She leaned over and kissed him tenderly but thoroughly on the mouth.

?Jenny,? he whispered harshly.

?Yes?? she responded between kisses.

?My men."

?So?"

?They're watching."

She glanced over at the hands who?true to the plan she had outlined earlier in the day?were acting like
the Petermans were not at the table, or like they saw what was going on so often they no longer noticed.

?No, they're not.? She returned to kissing his unresponsive face. She brushed her bosom against his
arm, seemingly inadvertently, then began to kiss his cheek and ear.

?Jenny,? he repeated.

?You want me to stop?? she crooned between kisses.

?Yes,? he lied through gritted teeth.

She leaned away and picked up the fork. ?Then eat everything on your plate."

?But..."

She kissed him along his jaw, stroking his stubbled cheek with her empty hand. ?If you promise to eat
everything on your plate, I'll take my own seat. If not, I'll just have to keep on kissing you and feeding
you."

She lifted the fork to his mouth. Angrily, Micah grabbed the fork out of her hand and shoved the piece
of ham into his mouth. Deliberately he chewed and swallowed the meat.

?Now another,? Jenny commanded as she sat in her chair.

He glared at his wife. She glared back. His jaw set, he cut another piece of ham and shoveled it into his
mouth.

The tension was palpable, but as she glared defiantly at him, her arms folded across her chest, he angrily
and systematically ate every morsel on his plate. Noisily, he dropped his utensils on the plate with a
clatter.

?There,? he growled, ?satisfied?"

Jenny's face softened to a brilliant smile. ?Yes, sweetheart, I am. For now.? She turned to the men.
?Now, who's for dessert?"

Four hands immediately shot up. With a laugh, she rose and cut four slices of freshly baked pie. After
serving the men she sat down and made quick work of her own dinner.

?What's the matter, Jenny? Not going to coerce me to eat dessert?"

She gave him an angelic look. ?You don't have to eat dessert if you don't want, but it's peach pie."

She rose again and poured six mugs of coffee. While the hands finished their pie and coffee, they gave
the boss a progress report of the day's work. As Micah sat there sipping his coffee, he felt a strangely
unfamiliar sensation of energy running through his veins. His feeling of hopelessness that was a constant
companion for years seemed to drain from his body.

He looked down at his now empty plate, then at his wife, who was merrily chatting with the men about
mundane matters. Could this new feeling of wellbeing be the result of a full stomach? Or was it his
growing emotional attachment to Jenny the cause?

Or both?

?Jenny..."

She turned. ?Yes, Micah?"

He looked down, his face flaming. ?May I have a piece of pie, please?"

Jenny grinned and squeezed his hand lovingly as she stood up. ?Of course, darling,? she said and went

to cut him a slice.

He ate every bite.

CHAPTER 9

The nightmare came in snatches. Flashes of images of horrors unimaginable by anyone who
hadn't lived them. The gnawing feeling in the stomach that never went away. Of insides turned to
water. Of a fetid stream both sewer and fountain. Ragged blankets covering tattered remains of
what once were blue uniforms. Human beings fighting their own comrades for scraps of rotten
meat, moldy bread, rancid beans. Men making meals of rats. Rats making meals of men. And
dying. Hundreds dying every day until a man would do anything for a scrap of food to stay alive
one more day, while others crawled toward the fences hoping that vicious guards, not that far
from starvation themselves, would end the suffering with a well-placed rifle shot.

And the devils. Commandant Wirz observed from a distance. To the fevered mind he resembled
Satan. His minions the most sadistic of the Confederacy. Transformed into monsters with claws
and dripping fangs. Private Wolf shriveling into carrion despite Micah's promise to protect him...

* * * *

Screams rent the night, immediately awakening Jenny. Without putting on either her wrapper or
moccasins, she dashed into the hall and toward the screams. Screams that sounded like someone being
ripped apart.

Screams coming from Micah's room.

She pushed the door open so hard it crashed into the wall as she ran in. In the moonlit darkness she
could see Micah alone in bed. His arms and legs were thrashing protectively as if warding off some
horrible unseen enemy. The covers were halfway off the bed, kicked off in his struggle.

Without thinking twice, she climbed onto the bed and wrapped one arm around his shoulders as she
used the other to turn his head against her shoulder. Instinctively she rocked him, stroking his hair.

?Micah, Micah,? she crooned. ?It's just a dream. It's over. Micah."

Eyes still closed, he moaned, ?No, no,? over and over as his body jerked, fighting the strong arms that
held fast.

She stroked his temple and cheek as well as his hair as she continued to rock him. His moans and
denials melted into sobs that rattled his debilitated body. His tears wet the shoulder of her nightgown.

?It's all right, sweetheart,? she said softly. Though her legs began to cramp from sitting on her haunches,
she continued to stroke and rock her trembling husband until he began to calm.

When he finally seemed to return to sleep, she lowered him gently back against the pillows. She climbed
out of the bed and pulled down the hem of his nightshirt, then reached down to restore the covers over
his matchstick legs.

She was straightening the blanket over his chest when his eyes opened.

?What are you doing in here?? His voice was hoarse from his screams and gruff with ire.

?You were having a nightmare."

?I do sometimes. Ignore them."

?You were screaming to bring the house down."

?I said ignore them."

?Micah,? Jenny protested as she tried to sit on the edge of the bed, ?maybe if you talk to me about
them..."

?It's not your job. Go back to bed."

She reached for his cheek with her palm. ?Micah..."

He thrust his head to one side. ?Stop touching me. I don't want you touching me. I didn't marry you to
have you act the whore in front of my men."

Jenny felt slapped by his remark. She stood up, brushing down the skirt of her nightgown.

?I already know what you think of me, more fool I. Will you be able to sleep again, or should I, as your
housekeeper of course, bring you some warm milk to help you sleep?"

Micah turned his head toward the window. ?I'll be fine. Just get out of here."

She turned and walked out of the room, pulling the door closed behind her. She reached her own room
and collapsed on the mattress, wrapping her arms around herself.

?A couple of fools,? she grumbled. ?No,? she declared aloud. ?Call me a whore if you want, Micah
Peterman. You need me, more than you know. And I'm not going anywhere."

Jenny remembered what it was like to have nightmares of the day that changed her life forever that
December of 1864. She remembered, too, how there had been nobody to care about her cries in the
night. Nobody to care for the devil's bargain she had made that day.

She didn't want to think about that time anymore. Micah was right. She was a whore.

No, she had been a whore. Now she was a wife. Well, she'd be Micah's wife whether he wanted her to
or not.

* * * *

Glaring at Jenny throughout breakfast the next morning, Micah shoveled every bite of bacon, eggs and
biscuits from his plate into his mouth, washed them down with strong coffee and returned to his room.

She stared at his back as he trudged away, worrying her bottom lip and blinking back tears.

?He hates me,? she mumbled as the hands began to rise to leave.

Hal picked up Micah's plate. ?But he ate breakfast, Miz Jenny. I can't recollect the last time he ate a real
breakfast."

She crumpled in her chair. ?I don't know if I can bear seven years of this."

The diminutive ex-jockey placed a small but strong hand on Jenny's shoulder. ?I don't know as you'll
have to. He needs you. He may be resisting it, but he needs someone to care about him. And you care,
probably more than you want to."

?He's so very wounded. I've known soldiers and ex-soldiers before?perhaps too many, but I've never
met anyone so nearly dead inside.? Including me, she thought.

?But nearly isn't the same as dead, Miz Jenny,? Tom put in. ?When I was in the hospital after they cut
off my leg, there were a lot of men who let the fevers take them, or did the deed themselves with
smuggled pistols. Now I don't rightly know if they could've saved my leg or not, but I figured a life with a
wooden leg beat no life at all."

?Micah's the same,? Hal continued.

?Survivors,? Jenny intoned. She glanced around at the men who stood at the table: The ex-slave who
could pass for white, the half-breed who belonged in neither peoples? world, the angel-faced amputee,
the Jewish orphan with the Italian alias and herself?who had traded her virtue and her reputation for
self-preservation. She thought about her husband. He had survived Andersonville and all its horrors but
hovered between life and a death wish. What was he burying deep in his heart that made him punish
himself?

Micah was no coward. She realized that when he faced down the lynch mob and saved her life for the
second time in twenty-four hours. But such a violent nightmare had its origin in some private horror?a
personal ghost needing exorcism before it haunted him into the grave.

But would she be able to get him to tell her what he had obviously not told his workers, nor the doctor,
his oldest friend?

Breakfast finished, the hands grabbed a basket containing the lunch she had packed for them and left her
at the table.

Jenny sat for a long time, fighting back tears, before she rose to clear the table, wash the dishes and
tackle another of the sadly neglected rooms in the house.

* * * *

The nightmare came again. Hell gnawing at his vitals; demons cackling at his despair. The dead
face of Private Wolf sinking in a mask of decay.

Micah screamed as he batted away the demons, only to feel two strong arms wrap around him. His
dream darkness became filled with a heavenly light as consciousness began to return. He became
gradually aware of a soft mouth and gentle, stroking fingers caressing his hair, of a soft voice saying
soothing nonsense caressing his mind.

?Hush now, sweetheart. It's all right,? said the honeyed voice. ?It's only a dream. It's over, love. You're

home. You're safe."

He became aware of a soft bosom and the vague scent of vanilla. He wanted to close his eyes again and
rest against the sweet angel who promised to protect him.

But he couldn't. It was Jenny who held him, not some heavenly angel. Jenny Clarkson Peterman, his
paroled bride, who knew his shame. Who robbed banks and was said not to remember how many men
she'd slept with. Who forced him to eat when he wasn't hungry by kissing him in front of his men.

With whom he had fallen irrevocably in love, but could do nothing about it because his manhood was as
dead as his hope.

His labored breathing settled back to normal as she rocked him and crooned in his ear. He stiffened and
pulled away. She released him at once.

?Go back to bed,? he growled.

He felt a hand on his shoulder.

?Maybe if you tell me what you dreamed it would go away."

?It was nothing,? he insisted. ?Now, go back to your room."

?But..."

?No buts, Jenny. I thought I made it clear last night I don't want an intimate marriage."

The mattress dipped as she crawled off it. He caught a glimpse of well-formed ankles before the hem of
her nightgown slid down to cover them. His heart began to pound erratically even though his nether
regions remained impassive.

Without another word, Jenny left the bedroom and shut the door behind her.

Micah lay back against the pillows. Finally, he'd made her understand. She'd leave him alone now.

The thought pleased him not one bit.

CHAPTER 10

?I should've let them hang me,? Jenny huffed as she landed heavily on her bed. ?No, I didn't mean that,?
she amended quickly.

She had to admit, Micah had told her at the outset that he expected only housekeeping from her.

?It's not like he's handsome or anything. Damned scarecrow."

No, even emaciated he was better looking than any man she had known before. Smelled better, too.

Holding him, even in the face of his rejection, was the most whole she had felt since her father was alive.
It was as if the hunger in her heart that had been aching for eight years had stopped.

She hugged her knees against her chest. ?I'm doomed."

Doomed to love a man who recoiled at her touch. Jenny had never loved this way. What she'd felt for
J.C. was a schoolgirl's admiration coupled with familial duty. What she'd felt for Jesse was born of shame
and self-hatred.

This was different. But was it merely the reaction to having her miserable life saved?or was it the lifelong,
lasting kind of love?the kind Jenny had never felt before?

Rising from her bed, she lit her lamp and opened the armoire. Even though new, her three simple,
practical dresses looked sad compared to the frilly, fragile, petite gowns of Melissa Peterman. She held
up one of Melissa's gowns against her and looked in the peerglass.

The dress scorned her and her chopped-off hair and suntanned face. But then, even as a gay young
girl?had she ever really been one??Jenny Clarkson had never looked quite right in ruffles and lace.

Ironic how Micah had chosen these garments for her. Was it because they were the colors she looked
best wearing? Or because they were obviously the colors Melissa Peterman appeared to avoid?

Who was Melissa Peterman? Micah wouldn't discuss her. Dr. Caldwell and Hal Ostrow told her the
marriage had been a troubled one, yet the entire, cluttered house was a shrine to her and her taste.

Jenny would never be fragile and petite. If she was careful of her complexion, she had half a chance of
regaining a lady's pallor. Given a year or two, her hair would be a decent length, but she could never
wear gowns like this.

She dropped the ruffled concoction on the floor and kicked it away. No sense hanging it up. Tomorrow
it and all the rest were going into a box to store in the attic.

If this is going to be my room, it's going to be my room.

?My room?and my house. After I'm gone, you can change it back any way you want. I'm Mrs. Micah
Peterman now, whether you want me that way or not. I won't let you keep punishing yourself, but you
are my husband and I'll make you see it that way."

* * * *

Still under doctor's orders, Micah awoke from his afternoon doze to hear Jenny's voice just off his
doorway. Pulling on his dressing gown, he padded to the door and opened it.

A bandanna covering her hair and a dusty apron covering her dark blue dress, she directed like a
general while Collis and Luigi lugged a trunk up the attic ladder. ?When you get it up there just pile it on
top of the other one. And bring down that crate of books on your way down."

Luigi pushed an errant curl off his sweaty forehead. ?I never thought silk and satin would weigh so
much."

?That's because you've never had to wear them,? Jenny snapped.

?Tenk Gott,? Luigi muttered in a most un-Italian accent.

Collis grunted in accord.

?Besides, there are shoes in there, too,? she added. ?Come on, there are boxes in the parlor to bring
up."

?What the hell is going on here?? Micah roared.

She turned toward the sound, ?Oh, hello, sweetheart. Sorry if we woke you.? She smiled a brilliantly
mischievous smile, as if she wasn't the least bit sorry.

Micah shuddered with frustrated longing at the glowing face. Exertion had pinked her cheeks like no
rouge ever could. Even with a dust-streaked forehead she was beautiful.

?What are you doing,? he repeated as the ranch hands climbed into the attic.

?Putting your first wife's clothing and gewgaws away until you decide what else to do with them. Do you
want me to leave her photographs out?? she finished with a challenge in her voice.

?There's one of her with my son,? Micah responded quietly. ?It's the only picture of Ethan I can find.
The others...? He held up one hand briefly in surrender. ?...I don't care what you do.? His voice trailed
off at the end as unbelievable weariness spread over him.

There was a long silence as her eyes met his. Could she see his pain? He preferred she see his anger. It
would put some distance between them.

The clump of boots and hiss of moccasins interrupted the moment as Collis and Luigi came down the
attic ladder with a crate between them.

?Where do you want these, Miz Jenny?? Collis asked.

?In the parlor. I'll be down in a moment. One of you bring in a claw hammer."

Jenny stood silently as the men tromped past them carrying a dusty, half-opened crate. A cloud of dust
followed in their wake.

?What are you doing to my house, Jenny?"

She looked him straight in the eye. ?Trying to make a home of it. Any objections?"

?I don't have much money to spend on nonsense."

?Fine. If I need any money, I'll let you know and you can decide. Or I'll hold up another bank. Now, go
back to bed. The doctor says you can go back to work tomorrow if you don't overdo it."

?Yes ma'am,? Micah saluted before returning to his bed.

General Jenny, he thought, amused at the alliteration.

"Trying to make a home of it,? she had said. That's what had always been wrong with this house, he
thought as he lay staring at the ceiling. It had always been a house, Melissa's house, but never a home.

But now, his wife who wasn't a wife wanted to make a home of what she ought to be regarding as her
prison.

But then, whose prison was it? Hers?or his?

* * * *

When Micah came down to supper that night, the parlor was transformed. The wood had all been
polished to a brilliant shine. The lamp chimneys were sparkling clean. The harmonium was uncovered and
a piece of sheet music stood against the holder.

The furniture had been rearranged to promote conversation. The anti-macassars had been rinsed and
dried before being put back on the chair backs.

But the biggest change had been in the loss of clutter. In place of the porcelain and crystal gewgaws that
had previously covered all the surfaces now stood books and vases or mason jars filled with wildflowers.
The rugs and curtains had been beaten until they were dust-free and the late afternoon sun shone through
clean windows. Only the top of his desk had been left untouched, though the sides and legs had been
polished.

Micah walked over to the breakfront turned bookcase. Gingerly he touched the books. His Dickens,
Cooper, Fielding, Dumas; beloved friends paid for with any spare penny set aside working at the Bakers
in his youth. Books he had thought long gone.

A home, Micah thought.

The sound of male voices drifted in from the kitchen. A moment later, Luigi came in, his wooden violin
case under his arm.

?Hi, Boss,? Luigi greeted brightly, as he put the violin case on top of the harmonium. ?How ya feeling?"

?Better, thanks."

?Smells like fried chicken.? Luigi looked around the room. ?Miz Jenny did a hell of a job in here today."

Micah nodded.

?Miz Jenny says the Doc said you'll be back working tomorrow."

Micah nodded. He was feeling very overwhelmed.

Luigi grinned. ?Good. We need you back, Boss.? The younger man walked back into the next room.

A few moments later Jenny came into the parlor. She walked over to Micah and reached up to
straighten the collar of his dressing gown. He caught the unmistakable scent of vanilla that always seemed
to accompany her.

He stiffened. Reflexively she pulled back and walked back toward the kitchen with a sigh. Before going
into the kitchen, she turned back toward him.

?We found some music. Luigi and I are going to try to play some of it after supper. I doubt it will sound

like much?I haven't played in a couple of years?but you're welcome to listen if you want."

?I might do that.? He walked over to the breakfront and picked up one of the books, hefting its weight
in his hand. ?Jenny..."

?Yes, Micah?"

?Thank you."

She shrugged. ?All part of our friendly service."

* * * *

Micah felt well enough to return to work the next morning. He had sat in the parlor the night before,
rereading an old favorite of his, while Jenny and Luigi laughed their way through a perfectly ghastly
rendition of a virtually unrecognizable keyboard and violin duet. He recognized a stab of jealousy at the
easy camaraderie between his wife and his adolescent wrangler. Luigi was young, exotically handsome
with his black curls and swarthy complexion. And while the youth still had some filling out to do, he was
finely put together.

But while Micah gazed hungrily over the top of his spectacles, it was clear that their conversation was
limited to the music and the only physical contact Jenny and Luigi made was the occasional inadvertent
touch as they passed the music paper back and forth and argued about interpretation.

Jenny had promised she would be faithful. He would have to believe it until she proved otherwise.

But this feeling of jealousy?this was new.

* * * *

It felt good to be active again. Rather than fight with her or endure Jenny's sensual feeding techniques,
Micah had forced himself to eat every bite of every meal she had given him during the weeks gone by. As
he walked the paddocks and barn and supervised the training of the horses, he noticed that his joints
didn't ache like they had. He seemed to be aware of his surroundings at all times, rather than having blank
spots in his day. He had even started to have to use the next belt notch. Had he been ill for so long he
had forgotten how healthy felt? He wasn't sure, but he did know that if he felt better, it was directly
because of her ministrations.

She would be good for him?if he could just keep his heart detached.

The late autumn sun reached its zenith and the day was scorching. Tom and Collis had taken off their
shirts, while Hal and Luigi had opened extra buttons against the humid heat.

Micah pulled off his hat and, eyes closed, drew his sleeve across his brow.

?I've made some lemonade.? Jenny's voice startled him. He had not heard her approach. She was
wearing her bonnet against the sun and carrying the basket in which she usually brought them their
luncheon. She opened a covered crock in the basket and poured some into a glass that she handed him.
As their hands touched, he felt an electrical charge.

?Oh!? she exclaimed at the same moment. It was apparent she had felt something, too. The glass began

to slide, but she caught it before it could spill.

There was no doubt there was an attraction between them, one Micah was determined to resist. She
had changed subtly since their marriage. There was a softness he hadn't noticed before. Her lengthening
hair wisped about her face. Her complexion was paler. He could not remember seeing her outside
without her bonnet, even when hanging the laundry. Even her fingernails were longer, giving her hands a
more graceful appearance?though they were not the useless talons Melissa had affected.

?Here, drink it while it's still cool.? Her voice interrupted his thoughts before they could get morbid. By
then the hands had stopped and gathered over to get their noon meal. She turned efficiently from him to
serve the men as she did any noon hour when she brought out their lunch. With smiles and thanks the
men took their sandwiches and lemonade and drifted away to sit with their meals.

?Micah, your sandwich.? She handed it to him. ?It's only ham today. I'll need to make a list for someone
to take into town next time. We're nearly out of some things and definitely out of cheese."

He stared at the sandwich. Thinking about Melissa had robbed him of his appetite, as it so often did. He
started to hand the sandwich back to her.

?Micah..."

?I'm not..."

He felt a hand on his cheek, stroking gently. A finger traced the shell of his ear and rubbed the lobe. She
moved closer to him until he could sense her vanilla scent. He glared at her in warning.

Jenny dropped her hand from his face, but then reached around him and stroked at his buttocks through
his trousers.

?Jenny!"

She held up his hand that held the sandwich. ?Eat."

He raised his hand to his mouth and bit off a huge mouthful. She dropped her hand and stepped back.
As she put the basket down beside the paddock fence, Micah got a good view of her calico-covered
bottom. ?I'll just leave this here. One of you bring it back when you come in for supper.? She smiled
sweetly as she rose and turned to walk back toward the house. The sway of her walk was so feminine he
just stared.

Jenny turned back again. ?Eat,? she said before resuming her trek back to the house.

Micah took another bite, and another. Suddenly he was hungry.

But it wasn't for food.

CHAPTER 11

The screams from Micah's room grew harsher.

From her bedroom, Jenny opened her eyes and threw her hands over her face. She took a deep breath

and blew it out through the seam between her hands.

?That's it!? she declared aloud. She threw back the covers and rolled out of bed, grabbing her wrapper
as she rolled and slipping into her moccasins as she rose to her feet. Her wrapper on one sleeve she
yanked open the bedroom door and stomped toward her husband's room.

As usual, he was thrashing about, tangled in the sheets.

She slipped off her moccasins and let the wrapper slip off her arm and slide to the floor. Clad only in her
nightgown she strode to the big bed, pulled up the covers and climbed in beside her husband. She
wrapped her arms around him and held him silently until he quieted down.

Rather than return to sleep, his eyes opened, appearing nearly black in the light.

?I've made a decision,? she said. ?From now on I'm sleeping in here with you."

?I've told you I don't want you here.? His voice was hoarse with sleep and strain.

?I don't care anymore. I'm your wife and I'm sleeping with you. That way when you have these
nightmares I'm already here to stop them."

He crawled out of the bed and stalked to the window. ?You know why."

Jenny crossed her arms. ?Suppose you tell me. I know I'm not the paragon of femininity your first wife
was..."

Micah's fist slammed against the window sill. ?Melissa was an icicle. She didn't want me touching her!
She didn't want me! I was just her way of defying her parents. I was miserable from an hour after we
took our vows."

?And do I make you miserable, too?"

The fist slammed again. ?It's not the same thing."

?Because I'm a whore?"

He turned to face her. ?You're not a whore. I don't know why you lived like you did, but there's nothing
whorelike about you."

?Then give me a fair chance to be a wife to you."

?It can't be."

?Why the hell not?? She held out her arms. ?I'm here, in your bed. I'm not going anywhere. I want you!
What the hell is stopping you?"

?You know. You saw that night."

?I saw a man near starved to death, all skin and bones. If that disgusted me, would I have kissed you?
Would I be sitting here now?"

He turned away again. ?You know it's more than that."

Her arms folded again. ?Suppose you tell me."

His voice became very quiet. ?Would you leave me no pride?"

Her voice gentled. ?Not if your pride is killing you."

?How can you want half a man?"

?Now that's interesting. Tom Allen has half a leg missing, but I don't see him calling himself half a man.
I've seen you naked, sweetheart, and I haven't noticed any missing pieces. So why don't you tell this
stupid little Southerner what you all are talking about so I'm sure we're speaking the same language."

For a long period there was a deafening silence. Micah leaned his forehead against the window frame
while she watched him, her body stiff with anger.

?Jenny, I'd sell my soul to be able to make love to you. But all those years in prison camps?no food, no
shelter.? Micah turned to face her. ?I can't. I'm physically ... incap ... imp...? The words wouldn't come
out. He walked back to the bed and sat down heavily. ?God in heaven, Jenny, my pecker is dead.? He
buried his face in his hands.

Moving behind him and pressing her chest against his back, she gently embraced him. As she touched
her lips to his ear, she whispered, ?Thank you for saying it. Now, do you want to make love to me or
not?"

?But you just heard me say..."

Her hand slid gently over his nightshirt-covered chest. ?You don't need it to be a man, or to make love
to me. I know what Dr. Caldwell told me about your first wife. If she was raised the same way I was,
she probably didn't know anything about it on your wedding night.? She felt him shudder. ?I'm your wife
and will be until you say so. When you gain back some more weight and your body recovers..."

?But what if it never does?"

?I'm not a brood mare. You're not a stallion. We're a couple of human beings who've walked very sad
roads. Now we're walking down the same road for a time. It can be pleasant or it can be hell. I don't
know about you, Micah, but I've had enough hell to last me a lifetime."

He raised his hands to grasp her forearms gently. ?Jenny, I'm not sure I even know how anymore. I
never cheated on Melissa, never went to brothels. I haven't had relations with a woman since I was
eighteen years old. The moment she was expecting she locked me out."

Her hands tightened into fists. ?If she weren't already dead, I think I'd kill her for doing that to you. After
all, what could they do, hang me?"

Micah actually laughed.

Jenny smiled. ?Then, shall we start to make up for lost time?"

She released Micah from her embrace and climbed off the bed. She walked over to the dresser and

struck a match to light the lantern.

?No, please."

Jenny raised the match to her lips and blew it out. She walked back to the bed and stood before her
seated husband. She couldn't let him know how frightened she was; how brutal her little bit of experience
had been.

?There are only two rules. First, you can touch any part of my body with any part of yours and vice
versa. Second, we neither of us do anything to cause hurt. Whatever happened to either of us before we
married is in the past and doesn't count."

Jenny bent to lift the hem of her nightgown, then stopped. It was more than she could do. The moonlight
coming through the window bathed the room silver. She climbed back on the bed and lay back against
the pillows with her arms stretched towards her husband. ?Kiss me, Micah,? she whispered.

Micah turned slowly. Even through the fabric of her nightgown she looked lean and toned from hard
work. Her shaggy hair formed a dark halo between her pale face and the white pillowcase. In the
moonlight he imagined he could see the subtle darkening of the aureolae compared to her small but
perfectly formed breasts and the darker cloud that shielded her woman's part. In his dreams he had never
imagined she could be so very beautiful.

He thought about removing his own nightshirt, but realized he couldn't. Though he had looked far worse
that night in the kitchen than he looked now, he was still too self-conscious of his wasted frame to feel
comfortable unclad.

He was aware of moving into her arms and pressing his mouth to hers. He felt the fingers of one of her
hands caressing the nape of his neck and drifting into his hair as her other hand wrapped around his
shoulder and drew him against her. He heard her sigh raggedly.

Her mouth was sweet, so sweet. Her skin smelled of vanilla and soap and something else indefinable.
Micah's first kisses were tentative, little more than soft pecks as he anticipated resistance, but he felt
none. She drew his mouth to hers and parted her lips to yield him access. The tips of her breasts seemed
to pierce him through their nightclothes and he could feel himself trembling.

?Touch me, Micah,? he heard her urge. He slowly slid his hand along her ribs as he continued to kiss her
gently, reverently.

Jenny could feel the tremors in his hands as he touched her. As uncomfortable as she was, she felt he
was even more ill at ease than she was. She needed to be careful how she led him, he was so very
fragile. Carefully, she placed her hand atop his searching one and followed the path around her breast,
down her side and over her hip, so close to her core but not near enough. Running tender kisses along his
jaw, she whispered, ?Touch me there, love. I want you to.? She realized she meant it.

Micah pulled his face back and looked deeply into her eyes, looking half afraid of what he had heard.
Jenny met his gaze and nodded silently in affirmation, then guided his face back to hers and deepened
their kisses. She felt the tentative fingers begin to brush the fabric covering the soft cloud of hair covering
her mound and again put her hand on top of his to show him the way.

When his fingertips first grazed the sensitive nub she gasped involuntarily, for his experimental touch both
frightened and aroused her. Courage, girl. This is Micah. He started to retreat, but she said, ?Please,?

as her hips met his searching hand. He resumed his exploration to her confirming ?yes? as her breathing
grew shallower. She released her hand and began to stroke at his back with both hands as his touch
became more assertive. She was barely aware that he pushed up the hem of her nightgown and touched
her uncovered skin. She began to moan as pleasure built within her and her whole body became moist
with desire.

Micah became gradually more aware of his power over Jenny. Her body was spilling its honey over his
hand as he stroked and explored the swelling folds and listened to the changes in her breathing. He had
never touched a woman in this way before and was unprepared for the rise of her hips against his hand.
As he found the opening to her womb and explored it with a finger, Jenny almost rose right off the bed.
He could feel her fingers grasping at his back as her need grew. He could feel her nipples tighten through
his nightshirt as she began to cry out. He could feel her straining at something and realized that he could
give this to her. His own body began to ache with need, even though he did not become erect. His own
nipples ached with his desire and he pressed his mouth against hers hungrily as he continued his manual
onslaught.

Jenny hadn't expected this to go so far, but she couldn't stop now or she'd destroy her husband. She
swallowed her discomfort and reached for something beyond her fears. She kissed Micah back until her
mouth was bruised with the driving force of their kisses. She nearly dug her fingernails into his back as
she drew him closer.

And then with a piercing cry, she shattered. Wave upon wave engulfed her and she pulsed around his
fingers, her hungry inner muscles trying to pull his hand inside her. She breathed in deep gasps as the
waves spread out from her core and made her shudder with the intensity of the sensations.

It hadn't been terrible as she had feared. It had been indescribable. Good wasn't the word, though she
didn't know what was.

Then the room grew nearly silent but for the steadying breathing of both of them. Micah released her
from his intimate grasp and slowly rolled over to lie beside her on the bed. She rolled from her back onto
her side and rested her head on his shoulder. Her underside arm slipped beneath his neck while her other
hand wrapped around his waist. She began to snuggle against him.

?Thank you,? she said in a voice still devoid of energy, yet sultry in its tone. A moment later her steady
breathing indicated that she had fallen asleep.

Micah lay very still for a long time listening to her breathe. He had never brought a woman pleasure
before and the feeling was frightening in its intensity. For the first time in many years he felt whole and
complete.

As he began to feel sleep waft over him, he pulled the blanket over them both and wrapped his arms
around his sleeping wife. He had not shared a bed with a woman since his disastrous first wedding night.

But somehow, he felt he could easily get used to it.

* * * *

She kissed him awake as dawn peeked in through the window. Lazily his eyes opened, the rich violet
color clearer than she had seen before. His mouth spread into a grin. She grinned in return.

?Good morning, sleepyhead,? she said. ?Time to face the day."

Chuckling, he reached up a hand and pulled her face down into another kiss. ?I halfway thought I was
dreaming last night,? he said. ?I wouldn't have been surprised to find myself alone this morning."

?Well, if you're going to laze around in bed like some potentate when I have to get up to make
breakfast..."

?Oh, a potentate, huh.? Micah grabbed Jenny by the arms and pushed her over onto her back while he
loomed over her.

?Another minute and you'll be twirling your mustache like the villain in a melodrama."

He lowered his face to her and began to give her short but tender kisses.

Giggling, she protested, ?Micah, I have to get up and make breakfast."

?I'm not hungry.? His familiar protest lacked the venom of his usual claim.

?But your men will be, and that is why you married me."

Immediately, he let her go as if she was red hot iron. He reached down to the floor beside the bed and
tossed Jenny's wrapper at her. ?Then go."

?Micah..."

?Get out of here."

?Micah, look at me, damn it. We have every night if you want. You never have to be alone again. I
never want to sleep in that damned shrine of a room another night. I'd rather sleep right here, in this bed,
with you, than any place on earth. Damn me for a fool, but for the first time in my benighted life I could
actually pretend that someone cared about me, about how I felt, about what I was feeling...? She sighed.
?But I still have to make breakfast."

Jenny slipped on her wrapper. Her moccasins in her hand, she walked out of the bedroom and into her
own to wash and dress for the day.

?You're not the fool, Jenny,? Micah said to the air. ?I care, God help me. You deserve better."

* * * *

They didn't speak to each other the rest of the day. Jenny made breakfast and set it on the table, but left
the kitchen before Micah arrived downstairs. She packed a picnic basket for the men to take for
luncheon, a sure sign she would not come out to the paddocks this noontime.

Micah ate his meals and did his work, but to his men he appeared distracted.

On the way back to the house after the workday, Hal Ostrow hung back and walked a while with him.

?Boss, is something wrong between you and Miz Jenny?"

?Why would you think that?"

?Because I ain't a fool and neither are the rest of us."

?She's far too good for me."

Hal paused a moment. ?A bank robber and God knows what else. Boss, you run yourself down too
much."

?She wants someone to care about her. She's willing to pretend I care, but all she thinks I care about is
her housekeeping."

?And it ain't?"

Micah sighed. ?I think I've fallen in love with her. And I can't afford to do that."

?Why not? Seems to me that loving a good woman'd be good for what ails you. And bank robber or
not, Miz Jenny strikes me as a good woman. Boss, that first night you brought her home and didn't eat
your supper, she was near tears she hadn't pleased you. When we go into your house for supper or to
help her move things around, I can't help noticing that the air feels different than it did when the first Mrs.
Peterman was alive. I can't explain it, but warm, sort of."

?She does do that. She's very good at her job, but I guess we both know it's only temporary. She only
married me to escape the noose. She admitted as much the day we married. I gave my heart to Melissa
and she stepped on it. I don't think Jenny will tread on my heart the same way, but when her seven years
is up, how long will she stay? I don't think I can bear to lose her. I have nothing to give her. If I don't do
well this spring in Louisville, this farm is sunk. With no Fair since before the war, we're just barely getting
by."

?Miz Jenny's not going to leave you over the lack of a little money. She doesn't seem like that type.
Besides, where would she go?"

Micah couldn't answer that question.

CHAPTER 12

?Definitely B flat.? Luigi leaned over Jenny's shoulder and pointed at the score with the tip of his bow.
?B natural doesn't make sense in the chord."

Jenny was sitting on the harmonium bench. She leaned forward and squinted at the staves covered with
tiny notes. Pumping the pedals with her feet, she tried the chord once with the white key, then again but
with the black key to its left. The second attempt proved decisively that the first chord was wrong. She
reached for a pencil and wrote in the accidental next to the printed note to remind her.

She sat up straight again to find her back pressing against Luigi's waist. It took a full second for the youth
to step to the side. He placed his violin under his chin and they again attempted the duet. This time
through the violin and harmonium sounds blended sweetly to fill the parlor with a luxurious waltz tune.

?You're very good, Miz Jenny,? Luigi gushed.

Jenny shrugged. ?For someone who hasn't played in years, I suppose."

?No, just in general. Shall we go again?"

?I think we've had enough music for tonight,? Micah's voice broke through. ?So if you're through with
the mutual admiration society, I think you ought to be heading back to the bunkhouse."

Luigi looked as if he'd been struck, but he quickly recovered his normally sunny demeanor. He placed
his violin in its wooden case on top of the harmonium, loosened the horsehair on his bow and slid it in its
place before closing the case and leaving through the kitchen.

Jenny turned on the bench and glared at where Micah sat at his desk, just taking off his reading glasses.
He stood and walked upstairs.

She followed him into their bedroom. ?That was unkind of you."

?I saw him leaning all over you."

She gasped. ?Micah, he's a seventeen-year-old boy."

?Exactly. A seventeen-year-old with a young, perfect body with all the working parts."

She folded her arms. ?But I'm your wife and I made you a promise when we married. Besides, I'm not
interested in Luigi and he's not interested in me. Once he's mature enough to admit to the world he's not
Italian, I'm sure he'll find a nice Hebrew girl to fall in love with. I can't believe you're jealous."

?Damn right. Of any man who looks at you and speculates what it must be like to bed the notorious
Jenny Clarkson."

?Who's seen me except your men and Dr. Caldwell since the mob tried to lynch me? I haven't set foot
off this farm since we were married. Your employees are all good-looking men, but I would never cheat
on you with any of them."

?But you notice their looks."

?I'm not blind, Micah, but this has nothing to do with whether Luigi leaned against me to correct a
mistake in the music, does it?"

He didn't answer. She walked over to him and held out her arms. ?Dance with me, Micah."

?I don't dance very well."

She thrust her arms out again. ?Neither do I. Dance with me anyway."

?There's no music."

She put her right hand on his shoulder and lifted her skirt with her left hand. Softly she began to hum the
waltz she and Luigi had been playing earlier. Tentatively, he put his right hand at her waist and took her
right hand in his left. They began to move in time to the tune.

Micah had been lying. He was a graceful dancer. He guided her around the bedroom in complete
control. The only sounds were Jenny's humming and the sounds of their shoes scraping on the floor.

When she stopped humming they were near the bed. Jenny sat and pulled Micah down to sit beside her.
Gently she stroked his cheek and brushed at his mustache with her thumb.

?Now, what is it?"

He looked away. ?I'm worried I might lose this place. I'm dangerously low on money."

?How low?? She tried hard to keep her voice passionless.

?Low enough that if we don't do well in Louisville this May I might have to sell everything. If we budget
carefully and don't spend money on frivolities, we can still put food on the table and pay at least part of
the wages."

?You can sell the harmonium right now if you want. I don't need to play, particularly if it upsets you."

Suddenly, Micah pulled Jenny into his arms and held her. ?I wouldn't do that to you. You have so much
joy when you play."

?Thank you.? Her voice was thick. ?Nobody since my father died ever cared before how taking an
action would affect me."

?You're my wife."

?That's hardly a reason to care what happens to me."

He was stoking her hair. ?I think I've cared what happens to you since the first time I saw you in that
courtroom."

?How? Why? I was pretty unpleasant that day."

?After ten days in jail in the clothes you were standing up in, I'm not surprised."

?All I wanted was a bath, but the sheriff had taken all my money to pay for my keep. I was lower than
I'd been since the War ended, but then someone agreed to pay for me to have baths and bought me that
gray gown.? She sat up and looked him right in the eyes. ?It was you, wasn't it? You were my
anonymous benefactor."

Micah looked away as his face reddened.

?You didn't know me from Adam. I was on trial for murder."

?You didn't murder anyone. And you didn't stand a chance in those filthy men's clothes you wore that
first day in court. On top of the impression those clothes would have made on the jury, you wouldn't have
cared enough about yourself after a while to fight for your life."

She turned away. ?You've lived in Loomis for years. Why stand with me against everyone in town?
They can't be treating you too well when you go into town for supplies."

?I'm getting by."

?You've lost your credit, haven't you? That's why you're low on money. You're paying cash for
everything and it's because of me."

?I would rather pay cash for everything than have made any other decision."

Jenny felt Micah's mouth against the nape of her neck as his hands slid up and down her arms. She
covered one of his hands with hers, not to stop him, but to encourage him to continue. Since she had
invaded his bed, he had not taken the initiative in any of their lovemaking. She felt his hands drift to the
buttons that ran up the back of her gown, his kiss following each opened button. She was so in love with
him she wanted to tell him, but hesitated to say the words. From what she knew of Micah's first marriage,
love was the last thing he claimed to want.

She felt warmth diffuse through her body as his kisses continued down her back. In the months they had
been married she had hoped he would begin to take the initiative in their lovemaking, if only to prove to
himself that he was still a whole man, despite his disability. She clung to Dr. Caldwell's prognosis that the
condition was temporary and would eventually repair with good nutrition. He was still underweight,
though he was far from the starved skeleton he had been on their wedding day.

She felt his hands skim her bodice off her shoulders and down her arms, which she lifted to free them
from the sleeves. He pulled her against his chest and began to caress her breasts through the cotton of
her chemise. Already her nipples were pebbling with arousal and her legs moved together to still the
sensation building between them. A quick tug on the ribbon and her chemise loosened to allow his hands
to touch her breasts unimpeded. She sucked in her breath. No one had touched her uncovered breasts
since that awful day. His callused, working man's hands delighted her as they kneaded at her, gently but
assertively while his mouth fastened to where her neck met her shoulders and pressed wet kisses in the
hollow there. She began to moan her pleasure as one of his hands left her and began to pull up her skirt
and petticoats and drift up her thigh. Instinctively she opened to him. With a sure hand he found the slit in
her drawers and unerringly discovered the pleasure center of her womanhood. He parted the feminine
hair guarding her secrets and probed at the swelling flesh until Jenny's hips rose to meet his ministrations.
Her arms stiffened across her waist, trapping his other hand against her as her arousal grew to a fever
pitch.

Suddenly, she arched forward, the back of her head thrust against his chest, as waves of pleasure
flowed through her and she cried out her climax. Slowly, he brought her back down to earth with gentle
touches until both of their breathing evened out. For a long time they sat on the bed, her back against his
chest, his chin resting on her hair, his arms around her and her arms around his arms.

What had happened to the woman who thought she would die before she'd let a man touch her again?
Maybe, with this man, she could let the past die.

* * * *

Later, as they lay in bed, Jenny cuddled against his side, her head on his shoulder and a possessive arm
thrown across his chest, Micah looked down at the two of them lying together and said aloud, ?You're
worth every cent and every inconvenience you may cost me."

She murmured unintelligibly in her sleep and cuddled closer.

?God help me,? he finished, ?I love you, Jenny."

CHAPTER 13

April 1867

Micah waved a letter at the supper table. ?I've got the confirmation from Louisville for a place at the
Horse Fair next month. That gives us about six weeks to get all the salable stock up to quality. We need
good sale prices on all of them this year. Hawk and Luigi will stay here and take care of the farm and Hal
and Tom will come with us. Hal, bring your silks. You may not need to ride yourself, but we'll need them
for whatever jockey we do hire."

?Yes, Boss."

?Micah...? Jenny began, ?what did you mean by ?come with us???

Micah frowned for a moment. ?I meant ?us,? you and me."

?You would take me with you?"

?Absolutely. When a man doesn't take his wife to the Fair, it either means she's increasing or he's on the
lookout for a mistress."

?It couldn't possibly mean that his wife is on parole for bank robbery?"

He chuckled. ?Sometimes I forget that."

She looked down. ?Then it's a good thing I never do. Excuse me, please.? She grabbed at her skirts and
disappeared into the next room.

She plopped down on the parlor sofa and raised her apron to her eyes to stem the flow of tears that
threatened. Suddenly, a hand grasped her shoulder and she was pulled against a strong, warm chest.

?Jenny, Jenny, Jenny, don't cry.? He stroked the soft hair that now fell unevenly to brush at her
shoulders and wave about her face. ?Jenny, I want you with me. I'm not ashamed to have you for a
wife."

She looked up. ?Micah, you should be. I'm a convicted felon and your forgetting it won't make it
otherwise."

?I know that. It's just, despite the circumstances that brought us together, you've been more wife to me
in the last eight months than my first wife was in all the years we were married. You've cared more about
me than yourself and more about us than about me. The only thing you haven't given me I'm not sure
anyone can, despite Adam Caldwell's predictions."

?But am I allowed to leave this county, much less Missouri, to go to Kentucky with you?"

?I'll get a pass of some sort from Judge Plascove. I think as long as you're in my custody, you can travel
with me. You wouldn't use this as an excuse to escape, would you?"

Jenny stood up, then moved away stiffly. ?Escape to what? What is there but a fugitive life for me out
there and a noose if I'm caught?"

?I didn't think you would, but I'm glad to hear it from your lips."

She turned back to face him. ?Micah, there's another problem I hesitate to mention."

?Yes?"

?The Louisville Horse Fair is a big society meeting, isn't it? Race meets, a ball, teas for the ladies and so
forth?"

?It was before the War. I'm sure it still is."

?And if you aren't prosperous, it helps to create the illusion that you are?"

?I suppose."

?Well, your best clothes were stored with camphor before you left for the Army, but they'll need some
tailoring since you're still thinner than you were. But with money so tight..."

?Could you do the tailoring?"

?Probably. You wouldn't want them taken in to permanently, since by this time next year they'll probably
need to be back to the size they are now. The problem is me. The clothes I have are suitable for a farm
wife, and they haven't needed to be anything more than that, but they're not fashionable enough to create
the illusion of prosperity or go to a society ball. So it would be better if I stayed home."

?What's the minimum you think you could get by with."

?Really?"

?Really."

She thought for a moment. ?Two day gowns, probably with some kind of bolero jacket, a traveling
gown and a gown that could be used for evening or dancing. I can make do with Melissa's old hoops and
my own unmentionables, but I will need a taffeta petticoat to go under everything. I'll also need a small
bonnet to perch on my head. And white gloves. That's all I can think of. But it's already too much."

Micah paused a moment in thought, glancing up. Jenny suspected he was thinking of the trunks full of
Melissa's useless clothes upstairs in the attic.

?Then tomorrow, you'll come into town with me and you'll buy what you need to make those clothes. I
won't have my wife look like a ragamuffin."

?I never said I looked..."

?And you don't, for farm work, but you're right. I have some rings that belonged to my first wife. I'll sell
them once we're in Louisville."

?But you should save those for an emergency."

He grinned. ?What greater emergency than that my wife should look her best when we try to impress
those horsey swells that the Peterman Farm is back to its pre-War prosperity!"

?Oh, Micah,? she cried and ran toward his open arms. ?I swear you'll be proud of me."

As he held her in his arms, he murmured, ?I never doubted it for a moment."

* * * *

The buckboard rumbled into Loomis. Jenny peeked around the wings of her bonnet. It was the first time
she had been in town since her parole. Her heart was going a mile a minute and a trickle of perspiration
that owed nothing to the weather ran down her spine. She knew she looked different than she had the
previous August. Her hair, now shoulder length, was tucked inside a snood that disguised its shortness.
The dark blue gown she wore had been made from calico purchased from the store, but nobody in town
had seen her in the dress. She wore plain, black women's shoes purchased from a mail order catalogue.
With any luck, she could go into the general store, buy what she needed and be back to the buckboard
before Micah finished clearing her travel permit with Judge Plascove.

?Scared?? Micah said as he handed her out of the wagon.

?No,? she lied.

?I'll meet you back here in about half an hour."

?Okay."

He handed her some cash. ?Will that do?"

She glanced down at the combination of greenbacks and coins and nodded tightly before stuffing the
money in her reticule.

Micah bent down and gave her a quick kiss before heading toward the courthouse. She took a deep
breath before stepping into Grimsby's Mercantile.

She took a quick glance around. It looked like every other general store she'd ever seen. The smells of
fabric sizing, coffee beans, pickle brine and human bodies were pretty much the same, too.

She pulled her list out of her reticule and walked over to the counter that stood before the bolts of uncut
fabric. She took inventory of the selections compared to her list, vaguely aware that Mrs. Grimsby had
spoken to a small boy who scooted out the door.

?You're not welcome here, Mrs. Peterman."

Jenny looked at the older woman. ?I don't want any trouble, ma'am. I just need to buy some fabric."

?It's spoken for."

Jenny raised an eyebrow. ?All of your fabric is spoken for? My, that's very good business if it's true, but
I don't believe it."

?Well, it's true. You can just take your business somewhere else."

Jenny smiled bitterly. ?There is no somewhere else, and you know it."

?Natalie, why don't you sell her a length of that black crèpe?? a voice Jenny didn't recognize cut in. She
turned to see a woman wearing a severe gown in unrelieved black crèpe with a similarly decorated black
straw bonnet behind her. The woman was about her age and Jenny recognized her immediately as Myra
Purdy, the widow of the man Jesse shot in the robbery.

?Mrs. Purdy, in deference to your feelings, I've stayed away from town for the last eight months..."

?Murderer!"

?The jury found otherwise."

?You should have been hanged for your crimes."

?But I wasn't, and I've stayed out of everyone's way and kept to the boundaries of my parole. I'm going
to live in this town for at least seven years. I can't be barred from shopping in every store in town."

?You'd be surprised,? Natalie Grimsby put in. ?You might be able to fool the men with your smooth talk
but you can't fool us."

?I'm not trying to fool anyone. I just need to buy some fabric."

?Well, you'll have to buy it from somewhere else."

?Fine, I'll go to the local dressmaker."

?I'm the local dressmaker,? Myra Purdy said.

A harsh laugh escaped Jenny's nose and rumbled inside her closed mouth. ?Then I reckon I have a
problem."

?Yes,? Mrs. Purdy mimicked Jenny's accent, ?I reckon you do."

?Mrs. Peterman,? Mrs. Grimsby said, ?I want you to get out of my husband's store before I count ten or
we won't do business with your husband or anyone else on your farm. We don't want your kind in our
town."

Jenny straightened her spine and walked out of the store without saying another word.

?And don't be sending your husband or any of his hands to buy any yardage, ?cause I won't sell it to
them either,? Mrs. Grimsby called after her.

Jenny strode out to the buckboard. She had barely climbed up to the seat when she felt a wet object
strike the back of her neck. She reached behind and pulled forward the remnants of a tomato. She
quickly shook the smashed vegetable from her gloved fingers and looked around at the crowd gathering
around the buckboard.

?Oh God,? she muttered as the crowd began to chant ?Murderer? at her. There was no place to run.
The reins were tied to the hitching post, so driving off was not possible. If she climbed down from the
buckboard, any one of the men gathering around her could grab and hold her for the crowd's violence. If
she fought back, she could be accused of violating her parole and thrown into jail or even shot. Her only

possible course of action was to sit perfectly still and accept the taunts and projectiles.

So she sat very still on the buckboard seat as she was taunted with cries of ?murderer? and ?whore?
and worse. Globs of mud, more vegetables and chunks of horse manure struck at her from all sides. The
best she could do was raise her arms to cover her face. Then a hard object, a rock or something, hit her
temple through the brim of her bonnet and she felt herself falling sideways before blackness overtook her.

* * * *

Micah was walking back from the courthouse when he heard the commotion outside Grimsby's. Shoving
the travel permit into his pocket, he ran towards the store, stopping first in the doorway of the sheriff's
office.

?Sheriff Clayton, there's a mob outside Grimsby's. I think they're attacking my wife."

He ran towards the store while the sheriff clapped on his hat and followed, mumbling something about
Jenny always causing him trouble.

Micah reached the crowd just in time to see the rock strike Jenny and her beginning to pitch over.

?That's enough!? he yelled at the crowd. A gunshot quieted them.

?Who started this?? Clayton called out. The crowd got quiet, but nobody pointed out anyone until the
kid who'd been in the store when Jenny entered pointed at the unconscious woman and said, ?She did,
Sheriff."

Clayton walked over to the kid. ?Johnny Mayberry, right?"

The kid nodded.

?Now, Johnny, tell me how Mrs. Peterman started this brawl."

?She went into the store."

?And then what happened."

?Miz Grimsby told me to get Miz Purdy and tell everybody Mr. Purdy's murderer was in the store. So I
did."

?And then what happened."

?Then she came out of the store and climbed on the wagon and somebody threw a tomato at her."

?Did she say anything or do anything?"

?Nossir, she just sat there."

?Okay, Johnny, get out of here."

?Yessir."

Clayton turned toward the buckboard. ?Peterman, is your wife all right?"

?She's unconscious and bleeding, Sheriff. I'm taking her to Dr. Caldwell now."

Micah slipped his arms under Jenny's knees and neck and lifted her out of the buckboard and down to
the street. Ignoring everyone around him, he carried his wife to Adam Caldwell's office.

* * * *

?Yeeoww,? Jenny yelled when Adam daubed the small cut on her temple with alum to stop the bleeding.
She had only lost consciousness for a few moments but had awakened to the pleasant sensation of being
in Micah's arms. She hadn't realized he had regained sufficient strength to be carrying her, but it felt so
good to be in his arms and pressed against his chest.>

?Fortunately the brim of your straw bonnet kept the cut from being worse. You won't need stitches and it
should heal without a scar."

?We should press charges,? Micah growled from somewhere behind her.

?No, we shouldn't,? Jenny countered. ?All I did was go into the mercantile to buy fabric and I nearly
started a riot. How much do you think it would take for the good citizens of Loomis to testify that I
started it. Not only would they be acquitted, but I could be taken back into custody."

?That's why you didn't resist."

She nodded, though it made her head ache. ?It's not my way to be so passive."

Micah chuckled.

?But they've already tried to hang me twice..."

?Twice?? Adam exclaimed.

?Well, once legally first. It's not going to take much to set them off again.? She looked around the
surgery. ?Nice office, Doc. Too bad I'll never see it again ... Well, it's clear I can't come into town again."

There was a knock at the surgery door. The door opened to reveal Sheriff Clayton.

Immediately, Jenny held up her hands. ?You arresting me, Sheriff?"

?Nah, folks may blame you, but I'm satisfied all you did to provoke it was go into Grimsby's to shop.?
Jenny lowered her arms. ?But I think you oughtta not come into town for awhile."

?For what, the seven years of my parole?"

?Well, that'd do it. Seeing as how you're all right, I'll be leaving now.? The sheriff tipped his hat and
exited the way he came in.

* * * *

?So where's the next town to Loomis?? Jenny asked as they rode the buckboard back to the farms. She
sat at the extreme edge of the seat because she could smell the unpleasant mingling of odors on her
clothes from the projectiles thrown at her.>

?About forty miles, across into Pike County. I'd need written permission to take you there."

?Micah, I'm sorry."

?You don't have to be sorry. I should've known something like this would happen when I married you."

?Micah, I can stay at the farm. I don't have to go to Louisville with you. You could tell people I'm ill or
something."

?No, you go with me. I got the papers from Judge Plascove and I'll be damned if you stay home now.
We'll think of something."

* * * *

Later that evening, Micah heard sounds of footsteps and scraping coming from the ceiling. He reached
over to find himself alone in bed. Pulling on his robe and stepping outside the bedroom, he saw the ladder
to the attic pulled down and a light coming from above. He climbed up the ladder to find Jenny had
opened several trunks to pull out his late wife's clothes. Two piles of gowns were forming, one on a
sheet, the other on the dusty floor.

?What the hell are you doing? I thought you stored this stuff away for good."

She turned. She wore the wrapper she had changed into after washing off the debris that had been
pelted at her. She was holding one of Melissa's skirts up under her chin.

?What do you think? Can I wear this color near my face?"

?Huh?"

She smiled. ?Micah, don't you see? This will solve the problem. I can use some of these skirts as
yardage to cut new bodices over other compatible skirts. I can use what's left of the bodice fabric to
make ruffles to lengthen the skirts and just re-gather the skirts and petticoats and make new tapes and I'll
have plenty of proper gowns to wear to Louisville without it costing you another penny."

He stiffened. ?I don't want you wearing Melissa's clothes."

She dropped the gown she was holding. ?I know I'm not good enough..."

He held up his hand. ?Jenny, I never want to hear you say you're not good enough for me again. You've
heard bits and pieces about my first marriage. I could never be as fine a gentleman as her father or any of
the men she could have married. If Hal hadn't been here during the War to protect my interests in my
stock, she would have run this farm into the ground just for spite. She nearly did anyway. I don't want
you to have to wear her clothes because you deserve new clothes of your own."

Jenny blinked. Micah saw moisture glistening on her eyelashes from the lantern light.

?But I can't go to Pike County to buy the fabric and I'm barred from shopping in Loomis. You're
already short of ready cash because of me. I've hurt you in so many ways, made your life more difficult."

Micah stepped toward her and held out his arms. She came into his embrace and lay her head against

his shoulder. He stroked her hair and arms. Freshly bathed, she smelled of fine milled soap and clean,
female skin.

?And so much better. Jenny, before you came into my life I didn't care whether I lived or died. I merely
existed. I worked because I didn't know what else to do. No matter how bad it gets in Loomis, I swear
I'll never regret marrying you."

She hugged him to her for a long time, then stepped back. ?Micah, even understanding all that, can't you
see it's the only real solution? By the time I'm done sewing, you won't recognize any of these clothes as
having been hers. I'll bet you never even saw her in some of these gowns. Who knows how long I'll have
to stay out of town? Your money paid for these damned gowns, so why shouldn't we get some use out of
them instead of having them feed the moths and mice.? She reached up and stoked his mustache. ?Trust
me. It'll be all right."

He took her hand in his and pressed his mouth into her palm. ?I do trust you. I...? He didn't finish what
he was going to say. ?Come back down to bed, Jenny. You can do this after breakfast tomorrow when
the light's better."

She reached to pick up the lantern and followed him down the ladder. She set down the lantern on the
bedroom dresser and blew it out before dropping her wrapper and climbing into bed beside her husband.
His arm immediately snaked around her to hold her close against him.

I trust you. I...

It wasn't ?I love you,? but for a convicted felon, it was more than she deserved to get. For now, she
would take it.

CHAPTER 14

May 1867

Jenny was as good as her word. She worked miracles with her needle. Not only did Micah's suits fit as
well as if they had been made for his thinner body, but she found prints and tartans to go with solids to
make the necessary traveling costume, day and evening gowns for the Louisville trip. If a plaid basque
over a deep blue skirt finished with ruffles in the same plaid were not exactly a Worth creation, she would
wear it with an ease that belied its improvised origins. She even re-trimmed some of the small bonnets to
go with her new creations. Nobody except she and Micah would ever see that her petticoats had panels
of non-matching fabric lengthening them from the waist or that her hoops began a little lower on her hips
and ended a little higher off the ground. She cut the fingers off the lace gloves to wear as mitts and
gartered the stockings with fewer rolls around the garter. Pirating Melissa's reticules and parasols intact,
Jenny accessorized her new clothes until she resembled the stable, innocent horse breeder's wife she was
pretending to be, and not the hard-bitten parolee she really was. In all, she managed to create five
ensembles out of the various gowns. The rest were stuffed back into the trunks in the attic with the dozen
pairs of too-small shoes. Jenny would have to make do with her one pair of mail order lace-up shoes for
the whole trip.

Jenny gave herself one more look in the mirror. She knew she hadn't looked so good since before the
War. Her hair was covered with a crocheted snood that hung beneath her hat. Except for the most
formal of affairs she could wear the snood. If necessary she could get her shoulder-length hair pinned up
enough to disguise its shortness.

A commotion outside drew her to the window. Micah and the men were finishing tying the remuda onto
the buckboard for the short trip to the steamship dock just outside the Loomis city limits. If they left the
house in the next hour, they would arrive at the dock about an hour before the steamer arrived. The men
would guide the horses onto the deck and set up a rope corral for them, then Collis and Luigi would take
the wagon back to the farm while Hal, Tom, Micah and Jenny boarded for the trip to Louisville. The
steamer would take them down the Mississippi to the Ohio River, then easterly on the Ohio to Louisville.

Picking up her reticule and parasol, she smoothed the bedspread one last time. She had known, in the
biblical sense, more men than she ever wanted to remember. Regardless of the circumstances, she had
never felt anything except used.

Until Micah Peterman came into her life. The thin, sad, fragile survivor of more horror than any human
being should ever bear had made her feel like a whole woman, feminine and desirable for her own sake.
With him she was more than an object to be used and discarded. He might not love her, but he made her
feel cared for. Even if he never regained his virility, she could see herself spending a lifetime learning his
complexity?if only he'd let her.

Her very presence in his life was a cause of grief to him. Persona non grata in Loomis; he was
tolerated but not welcomed. It was not as bad as the pariah she was, but his choice to marry her had
cost him dearly. He claimed not to care, but she couldn't believe it.

But for the next three weeks they could both pretend. In Louisville nobody would know Jenny was a
paroled convict. She could pretend to be the kind of lady she had been raised to be. Nobody would cut
her as an undesirable. She would be Micah's pleasant and cooperative wife; the perfect horse breeder's
little woman.

True, it would soon end and they would return to the purgatory of life in Loomis, but it would be like the
honeymoon they could not have had.

Perhaps, she could even get Micah to love her.

She swiped a tear off her cheek and strode out of the bedroom. When she reached the bottom of the
stairs and left through the front door, the bags were loaded, the remuda tethered and the men waiting for
her so they could leave.

?Miz Jenny,? Luigi said, ?you look like a real lady in that get up."

Jenny laughed lightly. ?I guess I'll fool a few people."

Luigi blushed. ?I didn't mean..."

?I know."

Micah handed her up onto the buckboard seat as the others mounted their horses. He looked every bit
the prosperous breeder in his newly altered suit. His skin was a healthy tan and although his cheeks were
still lean, there was little of the frail scarecrow left in his aspect. He climbed up and sat next to Jenny.
Calling to the yoked draft horses, they set off toward the quay.

* * * *

?Jenny, I didn't want to tell you before this,? Micah began as he opened the door to their tiny cabin, ?but

except for meals you'll have to remain in the cabin during both directions of the trip. Judge's orders.">

?Will you have to lock me up, Warden?"

Micah reddened. ?If you stay put, I won't have to. For safety sake I want you to be able to get out in
case of emergency. If I'm helping Hal and Tom with the stock and there's a need to evacuate, I don't
want you trapped in a locked cabin."

?You have my parole,? she said simply and walked into the cabin. There was barely enough room for
more than the double bed and a dressing table. A chamber pot sat under the dressing table. ?If you
borrow some books from the ship's library, I'll be fine in here. After all, nothing could be less comfortable
than the jail cell in Loomis."

?You're not angry?"

?Yes, I'm angry, but what good would it do to rail at you? I made my bed. I'll just have to lie in it."

* * * *

The next day, at St. Louis, the boat picked up among its travelers two well-dressed men, one near thirty
with chestnut hair and a full mustache, the other a bit older with gray-sprinkled dark hair and a full beard.
The younger man looked around uncertainly as they boarded, finally turning around to the other man and
saying:

?Jesse, are you sure this plan will work?"

?It's a cinch, Vallequette, as long as you remember who we are and don't slip up. Besides, there won't
be any posters out for us in Kentucky. Now, who are you?"

Danny Clarkson stood with the façade of the negligent air of a man born to wealth, ?I, sir, am Mr.
Daniel Vallequette of the Georgia Vallequettes."

Jesse Coltrane then asked, ?And who am I?"

?You are my trusted estate manager, Mr. J. Cole Smith. Do you really think this will work?"

Coltrane directed his partner to a deserted section of the railing overlooking the river.

?Of course it'll work. You've got dozens of horse breeders and race enthusiasts who haven't had a
decent meet since before the War. They'll be greedy and hungry to make a quick buck and they should
fall for our syndicate scheme like melted butter. Before anyone realizes it's a con we'll be across the river
in Indiana with enough cash to lay low."

?But what if someone recognizes us?"

?Who the hell is going to recognize us in Kentucky? We left the rest of the boys scattered across
Missouri and we're not wanted anywhere else. Besides, the law'd be looking for a couple of cowboys.
We're dressed like gentlemen now and with that soup strainer of yours and that curly hair, I doubt your
own mother would recognize you."

Danny pulled his watch out of his pocket. It was about 1:30pm. ?Do you think the dining room is still

serving?"

Jesse shook his head. ?You go ahead. I'm not hungry. I'll just check out our cabin and see if there's any
action in the card room."

The two men strode off in separate directions. Danny slipped his watch back into his pocket and headed
up the deck to the dining room. He held onto the railing for a moment as the big paddlewheel began to
shudder and move to take the boat back out on its journey before proceeding to the dining room.

Not surprisingly, the main dinner crowd was filing out of the dining room as he got there. As he waited
for the exiting passengers, he spotted a tall couple. The man was blond and lean with a drooping
mustache and dressed in a well-made brown frock coat and camel-colored trousers. The woman had
reddish-brown hair tucked into a crocheted netting of some kind and wore a gown with a solid blue
bodice and a blue and white skirt with a blue ruffle at the bottom.

Danny did not recognize the man, but something about the woman made him start.

The man spoke gallantly in the flat tones of Missouri. ?Shall I escort you back to the cabin?"

The woman answered with an educated Southern lilt, ?I know the way, Micah. I'm sure you want to
check with Hal and Tom and the stock. And I'll just be busy having a tryst with Mr. Dickens."

Micah laughed. ?Our Mutual Friend?"

She laughed and nodded at the unintended double entendre.

Danny thought he knew that laugh, but it was impossible. This softly feminine woman only looked a little
like his late sister. He watched as the man lifted the lace-mittened hand of the strangely familiar woman
and kissed its back. Quickly in return she stroked the lean cheek of her companion and smiled. Then,
lifting her skirts, she turned and brushed past Danny without acknowledging his presence beyond a
mumbled, ?excuse me? as she maneuvered her hoops out of his way and headed down the corridor. The
man watched her for a while, a look of terrible longing painted on his face. Then, with a touch of his hand
to the brim of his hat, he acknowledged Danny silently but politely and headed off toward the stern.

She only looks like Jenny, Danny thought. Jenny was dead, hanged forhis crimes nine months ago. It
was only guilt painting her face on this stranger.

Suddenly, Danny lost his appetite. He turned and headed off to find his cabin.

* * * *

?Boss,? Hal said to Micah as they inspected the horses one more time, ?Tom and I have everything well
in hand here. Why don't you just go back to spend time with Miz Jenny? I'm sure she's bored just sitting
in her cabin reading all day.">

?Yeah, Boss,? Tom cracked, ?we're just sitting here playing cards and keeping an ear open while one of
us makes runs into the saloon for more coffee. Seems a shame to leave a nice, warm wife in a nice, warm
cabin."

Micah's spine stiffened. He knew Tom was only joshing with him, but it stung all the same. ?I'll go get us
all some coffee,? he said sharply and walked toward the saloon.

As they watched his retreating back, Tom asked, ?What's got into him, d'you think?"

Hal shook his head. ?I don't know, and that's a fact. Could be a fight about Miz Jenny having to stay in
the cabin the whole trip."

?Can't imagine her making that big a fuss about it. After all, it ain't exactly like she's a free woman."

* * * *

Micah walked stiffly toward the saloon. He couldn't stay in that tiny cabin in that undersized bed with
Jenny draping herself all over him as they slept. There was no room to push her away and not nearly
enough floor space for him to get any sleep.

And what reason could he give her for his sudden desertion of their bed?

How could he tell her of the ache resembling desire that had begun to haunt him the last few days? It had
been better when his dead manhood was not reminding him of his loss by feigning the sensations of
arousal. Then he felt the freedom to pleasure her as she had welcomed him. He felt the freedom to love
her in secret and pretending he didn't mind being the next thing to a eunuch.

Now he had an aching, pulling feeling at the base of his abdomen, a feeling he had not felt since before
becoming a prisoner of war. But no physical change accompanied the ache. Desire without performance
would be worse than no desire at all.

Micah knew Jenny would be sympathetic. She would touch him there and do her best to soothe the
agonizing ache her very presence was causing. She would gladly service him?no, he couldn't use that
word. Whatever his Jenny had been before they met, she was no whore now. As they sat at meals in the
paddlewheel's dining room she never looked at other men. She hadn't even noticed the well-dressed
dandy who had observed their brief, after-dinner exchange. And she was being very sporting about her
confinement to the cabin otherwise.

But when he climbed into the narrow bed in the cabin, she would immediately turn towards him and
commandeer his body. His shoulder became her favorite pillow, his chest her hand's resting place, a
possessive thigh across his hips. As he tried to sleep he could smell the clean smell of her auburn-kissed
hair, her intoxicating female scent. He could feel her mouth as she found his skin in her half-awake
moments and pressed tender kisses wherever she found a part of him handy. And all he could do was
wrap his arms around her and hold her close as he fought back the frustration of wanting to be inside this
woman so badly and not being able to do anything about it.

He walked into the saloon and approached the bar. ?Three coffees,? he said to the bartender who stood
behind the bar wiping glasses while he waited for customers? orders.

?Got a fresh pot brewing in the galley if you want t? wait a bit."

?That's fine."

He leaned against the bar. Several card games were going on. Micah had played a little bit, but he
wasn't especially drawn to gambling and didn't feel the chance of winning?with his level of
skill?outweighed the possibility of loss of money he could ill afford to lose.

One of the men who looked like he was winning big stood up from his table and approached the bar. He

was shorter and stockier than Micah and wore a full beard that was grayer than his gray-sprinkled hair.
He ordered a whiskey.

?Buy you one?? he said to Micah.

Micah shook his head. ?No, I'm waiting for coffee."

?You temperance?"

?No, just don't care for it."

The other man gestured toward the table. ?Join us for a little poker?"

Again Micah shook his head. ?I'm not a gambler either. And it seems that luck is running your way at the
table tonight."

?Not luck. Pure skill,? the other said with a laugh, then held out his hand, ?J. Cole Smith, estate manager
of the Vallequette Plantation. Finest horses in Georgia."

?Micah Peterman, Peterman Horse Farm, Loomis, Missouri. Did you sayVallequette?"

Mr. Smith's eyes narrowed. ?I did. Surely you've heard of it."

Micah nodded, ?Yes, but not in that context. My wife had cousins by that name. They all died during the
War. Perhaps your employer and she are distant cousins."

?As far as I know, Mr. Vallequette is the last of his family, though, between you and me, I wouldn't be
surprised if that changed once we get to Louisville ... You wouldn't be heading for the Horse Fair, would
you?"

?Yes, my stock are tied up with the others in the stern."

?I haven't seen you with Mrs. Peterman. She stay home?"

?No, she stays pretty close to the cabin most of the time."

?Married long."

?A few months."

?She pretty?"

?I think so."

?Then why the hell are you up here and she's in your cabin? If I had a pretty woman handy, well, let's
just say I wouldn't be wastin? my time playing poker when I could be playing poke her.? He laughed at
his own joke.

?You ever been in love, Mr. Smith?"

Smith shrugged. ?Not exactly. Had me a pretty girl ?bout a year ago. Tall glass of water, stubborn as all

get out when she wanted to be, but when she wanted to be, my, my, smoother than this fine Tennessee
sipping whiskey."

?What happened to her?"

Smith shrugged again. ?Jenny? She died. Don't think much about her anymore. What's the point?"

?Hey, Smith,? called a voice from the poker table. ?You gonna jaw or you gonna play?"

Smith downed the last of the whiskey, banged the glass on the bar and returned to his seat at the table.

The bartender came up behind where Micah stood and poured out three mugs of fresh, steaming coffee.
Micah absently threw some coins on the bar and took up the mugs with him back to the stern.

As he walked he thought about what Mr. Smith had said to him. No, it was too coincidental. Jenny's a
pretty common name, must have been a lot of Jennys who died. A lot of tall women named Jenny. A lot
of tall women named Jenny who had lovers and who died.

A lot of tall women named Jenny who had lovers, who died and whose ex-lover worked for someone
named Vallequette.

Just a coincidence.

CHAPTER 15

Jenny was in bed with the lanterns turned low when she heard the key in the lock. While Micah didn't
lock her in, she seldom failed to lock the door herself when in the room. Their money and the last of
Melissa's jewelry were in the cabin and thieves were known to work the riverboats.

She heard the familiar footfalls of her husband as he walked into the cabin. His steps were steady, so he
was not drunk, though Jenny hardly knew him to drink at all, especially since Adam Caldwell had
recommended against it in Micah's debilitated state.

Every night since they had boarded the riverboat it was later and later after supper that Micah came to
join her. She had felt him stiffen against her touch when in bed. She knew the bed was narrower than the
big bed at home, but they had been sleeping together in it for months.

Since he would not tell her what was wrong, she could only think it was worry about the outcome at the
Horse Fair. Their future rode hard on their success in selling the colts and arranging stud service. She had
been perfectly obedient on this trip, staying in her cabin except for meals and to use the communal
bathing room. Yes, she chafed with boredom at having nothing to do except read and sleep and she
longed for Micah to do more in bed except just hold her while they slept.

It must be the thin cabin walls, she thought. He's afraid I'll be too loud in my enthusiasm.

She heard the clunk of shoes hitting the floor and the whisper of garments. A sudden coolness as the
blankets were lifted and Micah slipped into bed beside her.

She reached to kiss him. He tasted of coffee but stopped her from deepening the kiss.

?What have I done?? she asked.

?Nothing,? he whispered back. ?I'm just tired is all."

?Fine.? She relaxed against his side. For several moments they just lay side by side, only the sound of
their breathing breaching the silence.

?Do you know a man named J. Cole Smith?? he asked.

?No. Should I?"

?Didn't you tell me once you had cousins named Vallequette?"

?Yes, I lived with my Vallequette cousins after my father died. I was going to marry my cousin John
Calhoun Vallequette?we called him J.C.?but he died early in the War."

?Are there any other Vallequettes that you know of?"

?None. I know it's not a common name, but Cousin Virginia was so possessive of her family name and
line that I'm sure I would have heard of any others. Why? Did you meet someone with that last name?"

?No, but I met a man who claims to work for a Vallequette selling horses in Georgia."

?He could be a distant cousin, but I don't know him ... Micah, why are you avoiding me?"

?I'm not."

?Micah, I wasn't born yesterday, remember. You go off after supper to check the stock and you stay
until the wee hours of the morning. You come in and lie so close to the edge of the bed that I'm afraid
you'll roll onto the floor. I know the bed is small, but I get the feeling you don't want to touch me."

?You're mistaken."

?Micah, the tone of your voice is like when you used to say ?I'm not hungry.? I didn't believe it then and
I don't believe this now."

?Believe what you like."

Jenny sat up in bed, folded her knees up to her chest under her nightrail and sighed.

?Micah, I'm going to tell you something I've never told anyone before."

Silence responded.

?Micah, this is hard for me since I know this marriage will only last until my parole is completed, but I
love you. I do. I don't care if you never get your health completely back. Well, I care, but I mean it
doesn't mean I'd feel any different for you. I love the man you've proved yourself to be."

There was no response.

?Did you hear me?"

?Don't."

?What?"

?Don't love me, Jenny."

A cold chill spread through her body. She relaxed her legs and turned toward the wall with her back to
him. She had opened her heart and had it stepped on.

Well, she'd said it and she'd meant it. She wouldn't take it back.

* * * *

Jenny walked into the lobby of the Galt House, one of the finest hotels in Louisville, on Micah's arm. She
wore the plaid basque traveling gown and carried a closed parasol in her free hand. A bellboy had taken
their luggage and Tom and Hal were supervising moving the stock to the Downs where the Horse Fair
would be held.

The lobby was luxuriously appointed with marble floors, lush draperies, crystal chandeliers and plush
furniture arranged in conversation areas. Jenny tried not to gawk as this was her first time in a fancy hotel.
This was the one of the hotels where Charles Dickens had stayed when he came on his reading tour to
America. She wondered what he thought of the place. It was said he hated everything about America.

Micah led her to the front desk where he quickly registered them. He took her by the arm again and
escorted her to their room.

After the bellboy left, he said, ?Here are the rules. You can go anywhere on the hotel property, even
down to the river, but you must stay on the property unless you are with me. It doesn't matter to me what
excuse you use with others. Tell them I'm a stingy bastard or overly possessive if you like, but no
excursions and no shopping trips without me."

?Yes, Warden."

?And don't call me Warden."

?You are in a foul mood today. Let's go down to the lobby and look around. We might as well make
social contacts starting now. After nearly a week confined to our cabin I'm just about driven mad."

He handed Jenny her room key, which she put in her reticule. He rested her hand in the crook of his arm
and walked her out and down the stairs to the lobby.

They had barely made it downstairs when a man's voice called out, ?Micah, my boy."

Jenny felt Micah's spine stiffen as an older couple approached. The man looked well-to do and jovial
with his silver hair, square face and well-made clothes.

The woman on his arm was spare and pinched-looking. Her hair was pulled back into a tight bun and
she wore half-mourning. Jenny could see hostility in her eyes as the woman looked at Micah and even
more when the woman looked at Jenny as if taking inventory of her.

?Mr. Baker, Mrs. Baker,? Micah responded civilly. He looked at Jenny briefly. ?Jenny, these are my
former in-laws, Mr. and Mrs. Marcus Baker. Mr. Baker, Mrs. Baker, my new wife, Jenny."

At the word ?wife,? Jenny saw Mrs. Baker recoil as if struck. These were Melissa's parents. No
wonder they were taken aback at their daughter's replacement.

She smiled politely. ?Pleased to meet you both."

Mrs. Baker stood silently. If looks could kill, she and Micah would both be stone cold dead where they
stood.

?Well,? Jenny said with false gaiety, ?I'm sure you have old times to discuss. I'm going to walk around
the property a bit. I hope to talk to you both again soon."

She raised her skirts and began to walk away.

?Actually, I'm glad to see you, Micah,? Marcus Baker said. ?I want to talk to you about some issues
affecting the Fair. Can I buy you a drink, boy?"

?If you don't mind it being coffee this time of day, I'll be happy to join you."

?My dear,? Marcus said to his wife, ?You are welcome to join us."

?No, I think perhaps I'll take a short walk myself."

* * * *

Margaret Baker caught up with Jenny as she stood at the railing by the river walk, gazing out at the
traffic on the river.

?My daughter's barely passed on and he marries you,? she said without preamble. ?And not only that,
he dresses you in her clothes."

?I hoped nobody would recognize the fabric. But your daughter was dead nearly two years when Micah
and I married. Was he supposed to stay a widower forever?"

?My daughter was a saint to put up with that man. He should have worshipped the ground she walked
on."

?So you're the one who turned the house into a shrine. Should've guessed as much.? Jenny turned to
face the woman. ?Look ma'am, we don't know each other. I don't want to cause you grief, but your
daughter's gone. Micah needed a wife and he married me. The clothes, well it seemed like a shame to let
all that good fabric go to waste rotting in a trunk, so I used it to make some clothes for me. That's all you
need to know about it. If you can't be friendly to me, at least be civil. If you don't want to be civil, please
leave me alone. If I wanted to be insulted and ridiculed I could have stayed in Loomis ... Now, if you'll
excuse me,? Jenny finished with a smile, ?I have something else to do."

As she started to walk away, Jenny heard Mrs. Baker warn, ?You'll rue the day you married Micah
Peterman."

She turned. ?No, ma'am, I can assure you that's one thing I'll never do."

* * * *

Jenny returned to the hotel building and entered. She saw a pair of men talking to another one. Not
interested in prying, she began to move through to the staircase when the familiar timbre of the voice
made her pause.

She felt all the blood drain from her face. Standing not five yards from her were her brother Danny and
Jesse Coltrane. Both were dressed like gentlemen and sported unfamiliar facial hair, but it hadn't been so
long ago that she could forget either her brother or the man who had killed Leon Purdy.

Damn! That's the last thing I needed, Jenny thought. A slip on her part or theirs and she was exposed
and Micah humiliated. And with the thoroughly unpleasant Mrs. Baker hovering nearby waiting to find
some weakness to get back at Micah for a perceived insult to the blessed Melissa's memory, Jenny didn't
need to have her status as a paroled felon made public knowledge.

But even more pressing, Jesse was a murderer. Both he and Danny Clarkson were fugitives from justice.
She was willing to bet that Danny was the mysterious Mr. Vallequette, borrowing a family name as his
alias. And Jesse must be the Mr. Smith Micah met on the riverboat. If she reported them to the police
and they escaped there was danger for both her life and her husband's. If she didn't report them, would it
be considered aiding and abetting a fugitive and a violation of her parole? Could knowing their identities
and doing nothing put a noose back around her neck?

She realized the best way was not to be spotted by either of them. She could stay in her room, as much
as she hated it. She could remain as scarce as possible.

She couldn't tell Micah. She knew he would insist on reporting them to the police, which might make
Jesse try to kill him. He was already facing a possible noose if convicted. What would one more death
mean to him?

She went to turn back toward the staircase when her eyes met her brother's. She tried to school her
features to simulate non-recognition, but it was too late. With a few quick words, Danny separated from
the conversation and approached her, grabbing her by the arm before she could turn and retreat up the
stairs.

?It is you,? he said, soto voce. ?How is it possible?"

?I don't know what you're talking about. Please unhand me."

?You can lie to others, but not to me. You're supposed to be dead."

?No thanks to you,? she spit out in an undertone. ?Now, let me go and pretend we never met and so
will I."

?Jenny, you owe me an explanation."

?I owe you nothing, Mister whatever-your-name-is. Now for both our sakes, good-bye."

She lifted her skirts and ran up the stairs as quickly as a woman in high button shoes and hoop skirts
could.

Danny returned to the conversation between Jesse and the mark. ?Forgive me, gentlemen. For a
moment I thought I saw someone I knew."

* * * *

Margaret Baker followed Jenny into the lobby by a few moments. She saw the mustached gentleman
whose hair was astonishingly close in color to that of the new Mrs. Peterman as he spoke to the
obviously agitated and angry young woman.

So the outspoken and blunt Jenny Peterman was afraid of something or someone. Mrs. Baker couldn't
hear the conversation going on between the two, but whatever it was, it could be something she could
use against her erstwhile son-in-law.

She would just pay close attention and sooner or later one of them would become careless and she
would strike and strike hard.

She had just the tool, too. She just needed to wait for the right time to use it.

* * * *

Jenny was shaking by the time she reached her room. She felt well and truly trapped. She couldn't leave
Louisville, not without Micah. If she even stepped off the hotel property without him she might be
violating her parole and find herself in jail. Or worse. She couldn't convince Micah to take her back to
Loomis. He needed the full week of the Horse Fair to swing enough deals to put the farm back on a
profitable basis.

She couldn't reveal her familiarity with Danny and Jesse or risk both Micah's reputation and possibly his
life and she couldn't ask him to do anything about it for the same reason.

Since they had left Missouri, Micah seemed to abhor her touch.

And then to top it all off, she had Melissa Peterman's mother to harass her.

Jenny felt like falling straight backwards onto the bed, but her hoop skirts prevented that unless she
wanted to be suffocated in yards of skirt. Suddenly her corset felt like an iron maiden.

Wearily she sank down to the floor and sat cross-legged with her skirts billowing into a circle around
her.

?It's all too much,? she exclaimed.

* * * *

Micah came in several hours later with a huge smile on his face. He found Jenny lying on the bed fully
dressed except for her hoops, which lay in muslin-wrapped concentric circles on the floor beside the
bed.

He nearly sprinted over to the bed, thinking to kiss her awake and share his great news when he saw her
staring at the ceiling, her eyes wide open, salty tracks from tears dried on her cheeks.

?Jen, honey, what's wrong?? Micah sat on the bed next to her. ?Jenny?"

She rolled away from him to face the opposite wall.

?Nothing."

Micah had a moment's revelation how she must have felt when he would deny he was hungry. ?I know
that tune. You never cry, so what is it?"

?Oh, it's everything. This place, these stupid clothes, your mother-in-law, being trapped in this hotel all
day..."

?What did Margaret say to you?"

?It's not that important."

He touched her shoulder, but she shook him off. He brought his hand back toward himself. ?She's a
foul-minded bitch who thought her daughter walked on water while I wallowed in the mud. She
encouraged Melissa to reject my bed after Ethan was born. And to fill the house with so much frivolous
junk. And buy silly, useless gowns so she couldn't do housework. I may have loved Melissa for about the
first six hours of our marriage. It went straight to hell after that. If it wasn't that the title to the land my
farm rests on was in her name alone, I'd've divorced her long before I went to war. Instead, I enlisted,
hoping I'd get killed and be put out of my misery. Ironically, she's the one who died. If it wasn't that my
son died the same day, I'd've celebrated her passing. Instead, I just tried to do what hundreds of Rebels
and two Confederate prison camps couldn't do?starve myself to death. Then I saw you defending your
life in court and a spark of me wanted to live again. I wanted that fiery urge you displayed to live in me as
well and I tried to find a law that would free you."

Jenny rolled back to face her husband and eased herself back into a sitting position. ?But I've got
potential enemies on all sides and I'm not sure how you feel about me deep down."

?Who is your enemy, Jenny? Margaret Baker? After this week is over you probably won't see her again
until next year's fair. Myra Purdy? She'll never forgive you unless that bastard who really killed her
husband is captured and hanged..."

Jenny visibly stiffened. ?Don't talk about that!"

Micah felt an unfamiliar anger burn through him. He had never had cause to feel jealousy of any man
before.

?Is that why you've been crying? Are you missing Jesse Coltrane?"

?Well at least he never rejected me like you've been doing since we boarded the ship!? She crawled off
the bed and stomped to the other side of the bedroom to the wash stand. Angrily she poured water over
a washcloth and pressed the soaking cloth to her swollen eyes. ?What is it, Micah? Now that you're
almost back to your normal weight I'm not good enough for you? Were you really spending the time on
board with Hal and Tom and the horses or was it something else?"

He stood up angrily. ?I don't have to put up with this."

?No, you can just walk out of here and go anywhere you want while I'm confined to the boundaries of
this hotel. I had more freedom on the farm."

?I wouldn't cheat on you, Jenny. How the hell can I cheat? I can't even get it up for you and I love
you..."

She whirled to face him. ?What did you say?"

His face was beet red. ?I said it and I won't take it back,? he said quietly.

?Then why the hands off in bed the past few days?"

He looked down. ?It's been hurting me to have you touch me in bed."

She came towards him until she stood close enough to touch him, but she didn't. ?Micah, I'm sorry. Is it
something I can help you with, or do you need to see a doctor?"

?Yeah, probably I'll need to see Adam when we get back to town, but for now I just need to have you
not sleep so close to me for a while."

?I would never mean to hurt you."

?I know that, I reckon."

The answer was not phrased the way Jenny would have preferred, but he'd told her he loved her, even if
it was inadvertent.

?You'd better get dressed for supper. I have wonderful news we need to celebrate."

She smiled. ?What news?"

?I sold Desdemona and all of this season's yearlings today."

?To whom?"

?An agent representing August Belmont, the New York financier. Mr. Belmontis considering sponsoring
a race in New York City for two-year-olds."

?Was it enough?"

He grinned. ?Enough to pay all the back wages, two years? taxes and keep us going well into ?69 if
necessary."

?Did you know this agent before?"

He frowned. ?Why do you ask?"

She shook her head quickly. ?It's just that there are always confidence men at a place like this."

?Well, I'd never met the man before, but a man I knew before the War met him several years ago in
Saratoga and vouched for his identity. Why, did you hear something?"

Now, she knew she couldn't tell him that Danny and Jesse were in the hotel. ?I don't know,? she

waffled. ?I was wondering about that Vallequette you asked me about that I'd never heard of before.
And his partner: nobody's really named Smith, are they?"

?I've met Mr. Smith. Word around the Fair is they seem to be promoting some kind of syndicate. I don't
believe in syndicating racehorses. I breed ?em, but I leave it to others to seriously race them."

?Good. Then we can go home now?"

?In a couple of days. I still have some business to take care of. Now, wear that evening gown you made
for yourself and I'll take you to the nicest restaurant in Louisville."

?It's not in this hotel, is it?"

He laughed. ?No, you can go anywhere you want with me tagging along."

?Anywhere,? she echoed.

?With me."

CHAPTER 16

It happened the next morning quite by surprise. As he had every morning since leaving Loomis, Micah
rose from bed, quickly washed, dressed, and then went to check on the stock. Once in Louisville he
drove a hired surrey out to the Fairgrounds to meet with Hal and Tom.

The morning was crisp and cool with a nice hint of moisture. Leaving the yearlings to his employees, he
went into Desdemona's stall.

The two-year-old chestnut filly immediately lowered her shovel-like head to nudge at Micah's pocket for
a treat. He scratched her between her ears. He thought absently about how close in color Desdemona's
coat was with Jenny's hair.

He began to think about how wonderful Jenny had looked last night at supper. The puffed-sleeved
bodice was cut to show off Jenny's slender arms and flatter her small-but-well-formed bosom. He
thought about how, when they got back to the hotel room, she had let him push down her bodice and
suckle at those compact orbs.

Suddenly, a pain ground through his groin, but also an unfamiliar, almost forgotten sensation.
Instinctively, Micah looked down at himself. His breath caught at the sight of his trousers.

Tented.

Micah was aroused. He was erect. Desperately he tore at the buttons on his fly placket, barely able to
slip them through the holes his fingers were shaking so badly. Like a schoolboy discovering his sex for the
first time, Micah reached unbelievingly for himself.

He was hard! As a rock! Just thinking about Jenny had made him so.

He owed it all to her. She never lost faith that this would eventually happen. She never ridiculed or
belittled him or even pitied him. She just kept shoveling food down his stubborn gullet until his body

healed.

Micah dropped to his knees and thanked God for giving him Jenny Clarkson. Then he rose, determined
to return to the Galt House and share his new found virility with the woman he loved.

Yes, indeed, loved.

Wait! He couldn't travel on city streets this way. Closing his eyes and breathing deeply, he convinced his
reawakened manhood to calm and relax itself. He tucked it back into his trousers and tried not to look so
excited.

Wouldn't Jenny be surprised? He could hardly wait to see her face.

* * * *

It was a pretty boring book Jenny was trying to read. She put it down and went upstairs to put on her
bonnet and gloves and walk down to the railing by the river. She was just about to reach for the handle
of the exit door when she felt the presence of people just behind her.

?Pardon me, Madam,? a familiar voice behind her and to the left began, ?but could you tell me, is the
capital of Kentucky pronounced Looeyville, Lewis-villeor Lou-a-ville?"

?It's pronounced Frankfort,? she snarled. ?What do you want from me, Danny?"

?We want you to take a little walk with us,? Jesse answered.

?I don't want to have anything to do with you two. Go away."

?I think you'll walk with us,? Jesse said. ?It wouldn't take much to pass around the story that you're a
fugitive from justice..."

She stiffened. ?I'm not,? she protested. A cold shiver ran down her spine.

?...just think about what that'll do to the reputation of that skinny excuse for a man you've latched onto.
Why he won't be able to show his face here for years."

She suddenly became very afraid. Jesse was right. In this crowd, respectability was everything. A
scandal could ruin Micah's business. She owed him more than that, but she had to try to bluff. ?All I have
to do is scream and someone will come running. I can tell them you're the fugitives."

The unmistakable click of a hammer being drawn back interrupted her and the sound of a hard object
clicking against the bones of her corset brought her to immediate attention.

?You didn't think I'd go around unarmed. Not with a dangerous criminal like Jenny Clarkson hanging
around the Galt House."

Jenny tried to glance around to make sure they hadn't been overheard, but with Jesse on one side and
Danny on the other, she couldn't see past them. All she could be aware of was the gun at her waist and
the intermingled scents of Danny's and Jesse's bodies and the smell of her own fear.

?You ready to go, Jen?? Jesse said.

?Danny...? She began.

?Just take my arm, Jenny,? Danny interrupted her. It was clear he was either unwilling or unable to
counteract Jesse's initiative. Ha! The Clarkson gang, named for Danny, had been Jesse's gang all along.
Jenny slipped her hand into the crook of her brother's arm. She would keep her eyes open for a chance
to escape.

The three walked out into the sunshine, almost as nonchalantly as if going for a simple walk. When they
reached the edge of the Galt House property, she appealed to Danny one more time. ?Please, Danny, if I
leave the property, I'm a dead woman."

Jesse growled, ?If you don't leave the property, you're a dead woman."

Struggling as much as she dared, Jenny was propelled across the property line where two horses stood
saddled.

?Two horses! What the hell am I supposed to ride?"

?You'll ride double with me,? Jesse answered.

Jenny pulled away and struggled in earnest. She could hear her shoulder seam give way and a button
pop off the back of her bodice. ?I will not. Let me go. I won't tell anyone who you are, just leave me
here."

?Damned right you won't,? Jesse yelled and then clipped Jenny against the temple with his gun butt and
hefted her over his shoulder.

Jenny felt a blaze of pain and then everything went black.

* * * *

?Jenny Clarkson ... a fugitive,? Margaret Baker muttered to herself in a tight voice as she watched
through gimlet eyes as the second Mrs. Peterman walked away arm in arm with Mr. Vallequette and Mr.
Smith.>

A trace of a smile shuddered on her lips as she stored the information for use later.

Not much later, certainly.

* * * *

Micah handed the reins of the surrey to a hotel groom and half-ran, half-walked back into the hotel. He
tried hard to be dignified, but he didn't want to be. He glanced around the hotel lobby, but didn't see
Jenny reading.

Maybe she's upstairs?even better. He took the stairs two at a time until he reached their third floor
room. Flinging open the door, he stepped into the room.

?Jenny, Jenny, you'll never believe it!"

Only silence greeted him. He looked around. Her book lay on the dressing table. Her lace mitts and

bonnet?she only had brought one of each kind?were gone, but her cloak hung in the armoire.

Maybe she went for a walk down to the river. Their room had a view of the street instead of the river.
Micah quickly left the room and headed back downstairs.

She had not returned to the lobby. He went out the back doors and looked around the walk from the
hotel to the riverfront, but there was no sign of his wife.

Unaccustomed anger filled him. Jenny knew she couldn't leave the property without him.

He thought about the hotel restaurant. He strode purposefully toward the dining room, his original
mission forgotten in his zeal to find his missing wife.

She wasn't there. Where was she? He walked out of the restaurant and strode to the front desk.

?May I help you, sir?? asked the clerk.

?Have you seen my wife?? he asked. ?About five foot eight, chestnut hair?"

The clerk nodded. ?I thought I saw her walk out the riverfront exit with the two gentlemen from Georgia,
but I wasn't really paying attention."

Without thanking the clerk, Micah stormed back to the riverfront exit. Bulling himself outside, he walked
all the way to the railing calling Jenny's name.

No response.

Again he headed back to the hotel, only to find himself staring down at Margaret Baker, who stood in
the doorway looking like Nemesis.

?Looking for someone?? she asked.

He hated to have to ask her. ?Yes, my wife."

?Wife, huh? My daughter barely cold and you take up with a criminal. Somehow that doesn't surprise
me."

His head snapped up. ?What did you say?"

?Didn't think anyone would find you were hitched up to a criminal, did you? Well, she as much as
admitted it to those two men. Then she slipped her hand in the shorter one's arm and walked out of here
as easy as you please."

Micah raised his hands as if to choke the life out of her. He only refrained because it would be worthless
to kill her. The old witch was so dead inside nothing he did would really kill her.

?Did you see where they were headed."

?Didn't care to see. You'll be hearing from me again, Mr. Peterman. Count on it."

With a lift of her skirts she walked away.

Micah went back outside. He walked the length of the riverfront in both directions looking for some hint.
As he reached the eastern end of the property he saw something dark on the edge of the lawn. He
crouched down to pick it up.

It was a crocheted snood; the kind Jenny wore to hide the length of her hair.

But had she lost it or torn it off in making her escape? Surely as a fugitive she wouldn't need to disguise
her hair to look ladylike.

A bit farther away, he saw something else. He reached for it and discovered a lavender-covered button.
He remembered Jenny using some lavender fabric left over from remaking one of her gowns to cover the
odd-colored buttons she was cannibalizing.

Had she run off or been taken?

Micah rose and looked around again. In the soft earth he saw hoof prints. But how many horses? He
couldn't tell. He wished Collis Redhawk had made the trip from Loomis. He would get Hal and Tom to
help him, but regardless of whether she had run off or been taken, he was bringing her back.

Both his pride and his heart insisted on it.

* * * *

Jenny regained consciousness with a splitting headache. Slowly she opened her eyes and tried to lower
her arms. They wouldn't budge. Immediately she felt the rope holding her tied flat on her back on a bed
with a stale-smelling tick.

She looked around in the dim light. She was in some kind of dingy cabin. The whole place smelled of
dust and mildew. She could see sunlight through cracks in the walls and ceiling. To her left were some
glass windows, but they were so dirty behind their ragged curtains as to be nearly opaque. The single
room was cluttered with mismatched, broken chairs and a battered table.

She looked down. Her feet were also bound. Her skirt was flat against her legs; her hoop crinoline
looped over one bed post; her hem raised to about mid-calf. One of them had taken her hoops off. She
hoped it had been Danny. The thought of Jesse touching her there disgusted her.

As much as she could, she tested herself. She didn't feel like she had been molested, but she felt bruised
and sore. She tugged on the bonds, but they held fast.

Her temper began to simmer. Neither Danny nor Jesse was in the cabin, but both of them should be glad
they thought to tie her down. Were she free, she would be lying in wait.

All she could do was lie still and wait for a chance.

The cabin door creaked open. The first one in was Danny.

?Untie me, you worthless excuse for a man,? she spat at her brother.

?Leave her be, Clarkson,? Jesse commanded as Danny approached the bed.

Danny looked back and forth between his sister and his partner. Indecision was written on his face.

?Danny, don't you realize what you've done to me? You've put a noose around my neck."

Danny pulled a chair in reasonably good condition next to the bed and sat down. ?No. I won't let
anyone catch you."

She glanced toward the heavens before continuing. ?Don't you understand, you idiot? I'm on parole. I
leave Micah's custody and I'm a fugitive. Take me back to the hotel right now and maybe he'll let it go."

?We'll help you escape."

?I don't want to escape. I owe my life to Micah Peterman. I wouldn't betray him, but who knows if he'll
believe that this wasn't my choice? I told you both I wouldn't let on who you were, but no, like a couple
of damned idiots you had to spoil things. You already abandoned me once."

?And I'll never do it again."

?Danny, it's too late. Please just let me go. Blindfold me and take me somewhere between here and the
Galt House and leave me there. Then ride off in the other direction."

?Shut up, Jenny,? Jesse shouted, ?or I'll shove a sock in your mouth."

?Go fuck yourself, Jesse,? Jenny swore at him in words she had never used before. Even angry as she
was, the words felt unnatural.

Jesse approached the foot of the bed. ?I'd rather fuck you."

Jenny's eyes narrowed. ?Touch me that way, Coltrane, and you'll have to keep my hands tied forever,
?cause the first chance I get I'll slit you from groin to gullet."

?You think so?"

?I know so."

Jesse leered. ?I used to think you wanted to do it with me."

?You thought ... Well, my tastes have changed for the better then. Consider yourself warned. I've got
nothing to lose now. I'm dead already."

* * * *

?I can't imagine she'd just run off, Boss,? Hal said as Micah told them about Jenny leaving. ?Who are
the men she's supposed to have left with?">

Micah was saddling a horse in the racetrack stable. ?Those two speculators from Georgia, Margaret
Baker said."

Hal raised an eyebrow. ?And you believe something that woman said?"

?The desk clerk confirmed it. One of those men called himself Vallequette. That's a family name of
Jenny's. The other one is Smith."

?What Smith?"

?J. Cole Smith."

?Wasn't the man who shot Leon Purdy named Cole?? Tom asked as he led his own borrowed horse to
where Hal and Micah stood.

?Coltrane.? Micah stiffened. ?Jesse Coltrane. ?J? Cole. Damn. If Smith is Jesse Coltrane then the
Vallequette must be Danny Clarkson. Who else would be likely to use that surname?"

Wavering between anger and despair, Micah walked over to a nearby hay bale and plopped down
heavily. ?Oh, God, I trusted her. What a fool I am! She was just waiting for a chance to escape back to
her brother and her lover."

?I don't believe that, Boss,? Hal said.

?Believe what, Hal? That she wasn't just using me to escape the hangman and waiting her chance to
skedaddle? This isn't some lady we're talking about. It's Jenny Clarkson, bank robber and wh?wh...?
Micah couldn't even say the word. She'd breezed into his life, made him feel human again, given him back
his manhood, then ran off and didn't look back.

His mouth formed into a grim line. ?Grab your guns and saddle up. If I catch up to the cheating little
schemer I'll deliver her to the hangman myself."

Armed and ready, the men mounted their horses.

?Where do you think they'd go, Boss?"

?I have to think northeast along the river to find somewhere just out of the city to cross into Indiana.
Some place where they won't be easily seen."

?Have you contacted the police?? Tom asked.

?No, involve the police and she might get hurt. I want the pleasure of delivering her back to Loomis in
custody."

The three men rode back to the Galt House to the spot near the river where Micah had found Jenny's
snood and button. As they followed the hoof prints away from the hotel it became more noticeable that
there were only two horses. One's prints were cut deeper into the ground, as if carrying double.

?Boss,? said Tom, ?if Jenny was planning to escape, wouldn't they have arranged to have three horses?"

Micah pressed his lips tightly together. He had been thinking the same thing. He hadn't wanted to think
Jenny had betrayed him, but what else was he to think? Now, with the evidence before him, he couldn't
be so sure.

She had told him she loved him. Theirs wasn't a love match. There was no reason to confess love unless
she meant it. He didn't want to think it was all a game. Why would she have taken so much trouble to
keep him alive, to build his strength? She knew his death would set her free, yet she had fought his own
death wish until he regained the desire to live.

If she was escaping him, especially now, Micah wasn't sure he wanted to go on living.

* * * *

Jenny had fallen asleep again. Unable to move, hungry and bored, there was little to do except doze. But
her growling stomach and full bladder awoke her from her doze.

?Danny, you've got to untie me."

?I can't."

Jenny groaned angrily. ?I need to use the pot or I'll soil myself.? She had no patience for trying to act
like a lady.

?Promise you won't try to run?"

?I'm not promising anything, Danny."

The sound of a rifle bolt being drawn alerted them.

?Untie her, Danny,? Jesse commanded. Danny quickly complied.

Jenny rose stiffly, slowly lowering her cramped arms to her sides and rubbing at her sore wrists. Slowly,
like an arthritic, she walked toward the door.

?Take her outside, let her go squat somewhere. Stay by her.? Jesse said. ?Jenny, you so much as blink
in the wrong direction and I'll blow your head off."

She straightened her spine, lifted her skirts to keep them from dragging in the dirt and walked out of the
cabin, Danny in lock step behind her, Jesse in the doorway, his rifle at the ready.

Danny directed his sister to a clump of bushes. ?This'll do."

Jenny looked daggers at him as she squatted down. Through gritted teeth, she told her brother, ?I'll
never forgive you for this as long as I live. If they catch you and hang you, I'll be the one selling tickets.
Both of you."

* * * *

From a few yards away, Micah and Tom hunkered down, Tom as far down as he could go considering
his prosthetic leg, their guns drawn. They saw the horses in the rickety lean-to and watched the cabin
door to see who would emerge. Hal held the horses out of earshot. He could not chance killing anyone.
If he were discovered to be a black man passing for white who had killed a white man, his life was surely
forfeit.

The door abruptly opened. Jenny stepped out into the dappled sunlight, walking like she was in some
pain. Micah saw the torn sleeve seam of her basque and the disarray of her hair. Walking barely one foot
behind her was the man he knew as Vallequette. In the doorway was the man he knew as Smith, cradling
a rifle in his arms.

Suddenly, she squatted down, her skirts billowing around her. She seemed to be mouthing words to
Vallequette. Even from this distance, Micah could see the scowl on her face.

A couple of moments later, she stood straight and lifted her skirts off the ground as she strode back into
the cabin. Smith and Vallequette?or were they Coltrane and Clarkson??followed close behind her.

?Keep an eye out. When it gets closer to dark we'll make a move."

Tom nodded. All they could do now was wait.

Micah swallowed hard. Were they waiting for a captive or a fugitive? He prayed for the former while
dreading the latter.

* * * *

When Jenny returned inside, Jesse didn't let her lie on the bed again. Instead, he pushed her to a sitting
position on the floor in front of the bed and tied her hands behind her back to the footboard. She glared
at him as she crossed her legs tailor fashion. Fortunately, her skirt billowed around her and settled
modestly over her folded legs. Jesse immediately threw himself on the bed and was snoring loudly a few
moments later.

Jenny looked at her brother. When he'd taken her away from the ruins of the Vallequette plantation
she'd thought him her haven. But if anything he'd taken her to greater degradation.

Now Danny looked small and insignificant. If Jesse said to jump, Danny asked him how high.

?I don't know what's worse, Danny. Coltrane trussing me up like a Christmas goose or you letting him
do it."

Danny didn't answer. He walked to the window and stared out into the growing darkness. Occasionally
he squinted as if he saw something moving outside. A deep snore sounded from the bed.

?You could let me go right now. I'd walk out of here, go back to the Galt House and try to find an
explanation as to why I broke my parole. You and Jesse cross the river to Indiana and we never need to
see each other again, which right about now would please me just fine."

Danny gestured toward the bed with his head. ?He'd kill me."

?I don't really give a damn if he does. He's already succeeded in killing me twice. The only difference is,
this time I doubt Micah Peterman will stop it."

?When I thought you were dead, I didn't want to go on living."

?You chose your life over mine and you're still doing it.? Jenny laughed bitterly and leaned back gingerly
against the footboard. ?You had one moment of caring what happened to me and that was the day you
arrived at the plantation. So don't be very shocked that I've ceased to care whether you live or die. All I
want to do is go back home."

?What home do you have to go back to?"

Jenny leaned her head back and stared at the ceiling. ?You really are an idiot. I have a husband and a

home and constructive work to fill my days. I'm not dodging the leers of men who think if I was taken by
Yankee soldiers I'll sleep with anyone.? She cocked her head toward the sleeping Jesse Coltrane.

?Does he love you?"

She laughed again. ?If he did, I doubt he does now. There's not much to love. I've ruined his standing in
the community, cost him money he can hardly afford to spend and everyone still thinks I'm a murderer
and a whore. But I'd rather serve a life sentence under his wardenship than another minute of freedom
with you.? She yanked at her bonds. ?Particularly this brand of freedom."

?Do you love him?"

She closed her eyes. ?That's none of your business."

Did it matter that she loved Micah anymore? She was going to die one way or the other. At least she'd
told him before all of this began. Now it was too late.

* * * *

A rifle shot pierced the silence, jarring Jesse awake. Jenny, too, had dozed off and was suddenly alert.

A voice outside yelled out. ?Clarkson, Vallequette, Smith, come out with your hands up."

Jenny immediately recognized Tom Allen's voice. If Tom was out there, Micah must be nearby. She
yanked on her bonds, but they held fast.

Jesse bounded toward the window, keeping to one side of the frame. Danny tossed him his rifle.

?Whaddya want?"

?It's over, whatever your name is.? she recognized Micah's voice. ?Throw out your guns and come out,
all three of you."

?Yeah, Jesse,? she spit out. ?Why not surrender and we can hang side by side."

?Shut your trap, slut,? Jesse shot back at her, then yelled out the window, ?Come and get us, if you
dare."

A rifle shot splintered the windowsill.

?Geez, that was a close one,? Danny cried. He raised his pistol and shot out the window. Jesse followed
with a rifle shot.

Jenny began to tremble as rifle shots began to ventilate the wall of the cabin. The wrong shot could get
her killed and she couldn't do a thing about it.

Crouched on either side of the window, Jesse and Danny kept returning fire as rifle shots continued to
pepper the cabin.

Suddenly, Jesse fired and no flash showed from the barrel of the rifle. Angrily, he tossed down the rifle
and pulled out his pistol. He pushed open the chamber and counted the bullets.

?Only four, damn it."

?Give up, Jesse,? Jenny yelled. ?They'll kill us all."

Jesse turned to face her. ?Like you said, we're both already dead.? He raised his pistol toward her.
?Shame you got self-righteous. You had the makings of a pretty good piece in your day."

Jenny felt a sudden sense of complete calm. ?I never wanted to be a piece. I just wanted to be someone
a man could love."

Jesse cocked the safety and started to squeeze the trigger.

A shot rang out. Jenny waited for her body to recoil, but she didn't move. Instead, Jesse suddenly had a
surprised look in his eyes. He dropped the revolver as his eyes began to glaze and his knees buckled.

She looked behind him. Danny's pistol was smoking. Her brother looked almost as surprised as Jesse
that he had shot his partner. He stepped in front of the window in a daze.

Another shot rang out. Danny lurched forward and sprawled on the floor. He slowly raised his head and
looked at his sister. For all his cowardice, his last act had been to save Jenny's life.

?Sorry,? was all he managed to say before the life drained out of him.

CHAPTER 17

It got quiet. Too quiet. Micah glanced over at Tom, who was reloading his rifle.

?Listen,? he whispered.

?What?"

?They're not shooting back."

Tom cocked his head. ?You're right. I hope Miz Jenny is all right."

Micah lowered his rifle. ?She was probably doing some of the shooting.? He eased his way through the
trees closer to the cabin. ?Had enough?? he shouted.

Silence greeted him.

A chill sweat dripped down his spine. He realized he didn't want to be the instrument of Jenny's
destruction. He moved closer to the cabin.

?Vallequette! Smith!"

?They're both dead!? a familiar female voice called out.

?Jenny Clarkson!"

?That's Jenny Peterman to you!? she yelled back.

?Come out with your hands up."

?I can't."

Micah recoiled. ?Can't or won't?"

?Can't."

Micah felt even colder. Her voice sounded strained. Had she been wounded? He wanted not to care. It
wasn't working. He signaled to Tom to cover him. His rifle still at the ready, he approached the cabin,
avoiding the window. Reaching the door, he pushed it open with the barrel of his rifle.

On a dirty floor littered with wood chips and spent shells lay the sprawled bodies of the men he knew as
Smith and Vallequette, whom he assumed were Jesse Coltrane and Danny Clarkson. Sitting on the floor
against the bed was his missing wife. Her gown was torn and dirty, her hair tousled, her face dirt stained,
her temple purple with a bruise. He didn't see any blood on her.

Micah almost smiled with relief, then hardened his heart. ?Stand up, Jenny."

?Micah, I can't. I'm a little tied up right this moment."

It took Micah a second to get it. ?You won't shoot me?"

She rolled her eyes. ?Micah, I can't even move my arms."

He crouched down beside her and untied the knots. ?What happened? You change your mind about
running away?"

She was devastated by the harshness of his voice. Now she knew he believed she had fled on her own
accord.

?I didn't want to go,? she said quietly. ?Jesse stuck a gun in my ribs.? Slowly she pulled her stiff arms in
front of her, rubbing them to restore circulation.

?I thought he was your lover."

?Lover? I never gave our relationship so much credit. He was just someone who wanted me to sleep
with him, just like the others. In the end he was going to kill me, but my brother shot him, then one of you
shot Danny.? Her voice was emotionless. ?I suppose you're going to take me back to Loomis in chains."

?Give me a good reason why I shouldn't."

?Beyond telling you that I was abducted, which you don't believe, I can't think of a reason.? Except the
one reason you won't accept.

Her arms feeling more or less normal, Jenny gingerly unbent her legs and pushed herself into a standing
position. She walked over to where Danny had tossed her hoops and picked them up. Normally she
wouldn't care about such stupidity as a hoop skirt, but it was the only one she had and her dresses were
all too long without it. Raising her skirts, she stepped into the crinoline and tied the tape near her waist,

then dropped the skirt around it and arranged it to cover.

?I'm ready to go,? she said calmly.

Micah slipped her hand in the crook of his arm and, holding his rifle under the other arm, led her past the
bodies.

?They were Jesse Coltrane and Danny Clarkson then?"

?Yeah.? She stopped beside Jesse's corpse and glared at it. ?You murdering bastard,? she muttered,
kicking the body viciously with the toe of her shoe. As they walked outside, she added, ?Guess you can
tell Myra Purdy that her husband's murderer has been brought to justice."

Tom Allen stood outside. ?You all right, Miz Jenny?? he called out to her.

?I'm just fine, Tom, thanks to you and Micah."

?Tom,? Micah began, ?you and Hal ride to the Louisville police station and get them out here. Tell them
Jesse Coltrane and Danny Clarkson are dead in there. Tell them I'll give them whatever statement they
want tomorrow. I'll bring Mrs. Peterman home myself."

Tom turned and headed off to where Hal waited with the horses, his uneven gait more pronounced than
usual.

?Hal's nearby?"

?Not far. Couldn't chance him being accused of killing any white men, even garbage like that."

?Part of that garbage used to be my brother."

?I don't see you wailing over his corpse."

?And you won't. At least not now.? Her face was set in hard lines. Micah couldn't tell whether it was
grief, shock or she just didn't care. She had probably swallowed a lot of grief in her time. She might cry
later.

The sound of hooves grew fainter as Hal and Tom rode away, leaving one horse for Micah and Jenny.

?Do I walk back to Louisville?? she asked.

?No, if we go slowly, this horse can carry us double. You're not in a hurry, are you?"

?Well, a hot bath and a decent meal would be appreciated."

?Drop your crinoline and I'll tie it behind the saddle."

That done, he gave her a boost into the saddle, then mounted behind her. Reaching around her, he took
up the reins and they began to head back upriver towards Louisville.

Jenny sat rigid in the saddle with her husband's arms wrapped around her. Waves of tension rolled off
him and crashed over her. ?Micah?? She glanced down at his white knuckled grip on the reins. ?I don't

blame whichever of you shot Danny. It was bound to happen sooner or later."

Only the plodding of the horse broke the stillness.

?I didn't intentionally break parole. I made you a promise when we got married and I fully intended to
keep it.? She didn't hear but felt his intake of breath. ?I'd never hurt you. Not intentionally. I love you.?
She tried to shift position. She had to see his face, know what he was thinking. She was used to his
quietness, but not the silence. Always before, she'd known what he thought by watching his eyes. But
now, without them to guide her, she was lost.

?Don't do that,? a choked voice spit out.

Jenny moved backward an inch, then slowly smiled. ?Is that what I think it is?? She slipped her right
hand behind her, then slid it down until it reached an unmistakable hard ridge beneath his pants. She tried
to grab for the reins. ?Let me down!"

He pulled back on the lead, brought the horse to a stop, dropped the reins on the ground, and
dismounted.

She immediately threw her leg over the saddle and landed beside him. A half smile on her face, she
studied his sad violet eyes. ?When?"

His face turned red, he looked over her head. ?This morning. At the track. I rushed back to tell you..."

?And I was gone. Oh, Micah, I'm so glad! It's just what Dr. Caldwell promised.? Her smile broadening,
she threw her arms around his waist and lay her cheek on his chest. The beating of his heart reverberated
against her ear. With hands on his hard, spare buttocks, she pressed her hips closer while pulling him to
her.

He groaned. She stepped back a moment and looked around. On seeing a thick copse of trees she took
his hand in hers and began to pull him toward it.

?What are you doing?"

?A miracle like that is too good to waste."

He looked around. ?You mean here? Now?"

?Why not?"

?Outside?? he choked.

She quashed the desire to laugh at Micah's blush that went well into his hairline. She knew he'd retreat, if
for no other reason than they weren't hidden behind a bedroom door, unless she took immediate action.
Hands planted on her hips, she glared up at him. ?What's the matter, my love? Haven't you ever done it
anywhere except in a bed?"

?Until I met you, I'd barely done it there."

She reached out both hands toward him. ?No one will see us."

Micah stood frozen beside his mount contemplating his unconventional Jenny. His groin tightened at the
thought of making love to her. Even with her gown torn, her hair disheveled, and her face smudged, she
was still the most beautiful woman he'd ever seen. His gaze flicked to the trees by the riverside, then back
to his wife.

Gently, he touched her cheek. ?Your brother just died, Jenny. A few hours or days won't make a
difference to me."

?Danny Clarkson quit being my brother when he left me in Loomis to face the hangman. He redeemed
himself, a little, when he killed Jesse before he could kill me. But nothing Danny did could ever make me
not want to make love with you. In that cabin I realized how far I've come. I tried to be vulgar. But it
wasn't me. Not anymore.? She clutched his forearms. ?I was so afraid you hated me and would take me
back to Loomis to hang."

Her desperation worried him, and made him feel ashamed because he knew he was the cause. ?I'd
never have done it. Couldn't have."

?I'm your legal wife. Isn't it time I became your real wife.? She laid her hand over her heart. ?For years I
felt nothing. But I do now, Micah.? A half smile played about her lips. ?I feel so full now, I think I'll
burst."

?I know.? He caressed her cheek with the back of his fingers. In less than a year she'd filled the
deadness within him. If she'd had gone off with her brother, he would have died. Without her, he couldn't
have gone on. ?I love you, Jenny Peterman."

?Then love me, Micah. Right here, right now."

A slow, and he knew all too rare, smile broke free. Wrapping an arm around her waist, he escorted her
as he led the horse into the copse. He quickly tied the reins around a low branch, then glanced back
down at her. ?You're sure?"

Her beaming face told him everything he needed to know and more. Stripping off his jacket, he laid it on
the ground, then slowly, reverently covered her mouth with his as he lowered her to the ground.. He
whispered her name between kisses that were barely brushes against her lips. He touched her face with
his hands gently as he felt her hands stroking his back and the nape of his neck. He could feel the heat of
her hands through his shirt. His hunger grew and his manhood surged to greater and more painful life then
he'd believed possible. She had taught him well. Yet men were supposed to teach their wives, not the
other way around. Yet, he'd had a virgin bride once before?one who would have preferred to remain that
way. From the moment they'd wed, Melissa had destroyed his manhood more completely than the War,
illness or starvation. By contrast, Jenny?the supposedly hardened criminal?had restored the emaciated,
debilitated and impotent wreck he'd been to vitality.

He quickly worked the buttons on Jenny's bodice free, revealing her camisole and corset. Enraptured,
he watched her breasts rise and fall with each breath. With a low growl, he untied the drawstring at the
top of her camisole and kissed the bared skin..

As he fumbled with the buttons on his trousers, he knew he'd die and soon if he didn't bury himself deep
within her. His sex sprang free. He grabbed her skirt and bunched the fabric toward her waist.

Suddenly, Jenny wailed, ?No! Not again, never again!"

He watched in frozen horror as she wrenched free of him and sobbing, crawled until she was several feet
from him, then curled into a ball. ?What...? He swallowed hard. She looked as if the hounds of hell were
snapping at her.

In his fear for her, he ignored his open trousers and crawled after her. He pressed his chest against her
back and gathered her into his arms. As she wept, he silently stroked her hair from her face and tried to
break through her hysteria. ?Jenny, it's Micah,? he crooned. ?I'm here. You're safe."

?Save ... the ... house for ... Vir ... Vir ... ginia.... Don't....burn ... the ... house ... Soldiers ... four of ...
them. One ... after ... another.... Died ... anyway.... Too ... late..... Always ... too ... late."

As sobs racked her body, he continued to croon reassuring nothings to her as the reason behind her
panic slowly worked its way forward until he understood what she'd endured. Shame filled him. He'd
debased her. Called her a whore. Believed she was nothing more than a whore, one he'd sacrificed to
save. He wasn't worthy of her. She'd suffered, survived and gone on the bring him back to life. She'd
made him whole again. And through it all, she'd known what he'd thought yet still didn't stop.

Somehow, someway, even if it took a lifetime, he'd make it up to her. ?The soldiers raped you in
exchange for not burning your house?"

She tried to pull free. ?I ... let ... them. I ... let ... them! But ... my cousins ... died ... anyway. It was all
for nothing. Never again. Never again. I never let anyone touch me again."

?There were never any lovers, were there, Jenny?"

?Only you."

With one hand pressed against her abdomen, he kissed her neck. ?Ah, but I'm your husband and I love
you. Only you."

?I'm so sorry."

?For what? Surviving, so you could come into my life?? He stroked her hair. ?I never told you about my
nightmares, did I?"

She shook her head.

?At Andersonville there was a young soldier named Wolf, recently captured. Wasn't more than nineteen.
Pretty face, like Tom, but slightly built. There were gangs of prisoners who terrorized the camp. One of
them took a ... fancy to Private Wolf. Wanted to use him ... like a woman."

?You don't have to tell me this."

He nodded stiffly. ?I do. The boy wasn't like ... He didn't want that. I couldn't let him be ... I was
already ... you know, unable, so what did it matter? I offered to take Wolf's place, let that bastard use
me instead ... A couple of days later the boy got typhoid drinking water from Sweetwater Branch and
died. My bargain..."

?Was for nothing.? Jenny laughed bitterly. ?What a matched pair we are."

?It's over now. Remember what you said the first time you came to my bed? What was past wouldn't

count. I didn't understand it then. I do now. There're no more soldiers and no more Melissa. There's just
my sweet Jenny and Micah who loves her."

As she relaxed against his back and curved into his touch, he blinked back tears he didn't realize he'd
shed. Once her breathing had slowed to normal, he stood, straightened his clothing, then reached down
and lifted her upright. ?Let's go back to the hotel, sweetheart. And when you're ready to accept me, we
can try again."

CHAPTER 18

?What is the meaning of this?? Micah roared as the day clerk handed him his bill. ?We have the room
reserved for two more nights."

Jenny stood off to one side, trying to look inconspicuous despite her dirty, torn gown, messy hair and
bruised face. From her vantage point she could see their luggage stashed behind the front desk.

The hotel manager came out from the office behind the desk. ?Mr. Peterman, the Galt House is one of
the finest establishments in Louisville. We cater to a very exclusive clientele. It is not our practice or
desire to provide rooms for felons."

She shivered as the word floated over to her. She caught the manager's eye for a moment, then saw him
immediately break eye contact.

?I'd pretend I don't know what you're talking about, sir,? Micah responded, ?but I don't intend to lie.
How did this come to light?"

?One of our other guests overhead a conversation between your ... wife ... and those two purported
gentlemen. Several of our female guests have demanded that we do something about it."

?Whatever my wife is accused of, she is my wife and I won't have the word used instead of some
vulgarity she doesn't deserve."

The manager looked decidedly uncomfortable, but stood his ground.

?It's seven in the morning. Neither of us has slept in over twenty-four hours. We've just had a harrowing
experience. The Horse Fair is over in two days. If you want, we'll eat in our room and Mrs. Peterman
will remain in the hotel room until it's time to leave."

?We had a maid pack your bags, Mr. Peterman. The liveryman is bringing up your surrey. If you'll just
settle the bill and not make any further scene..."

?Just make sure he doesn't try to charge you for Jesse and Danny's room,? she called out angrily. ?It's
not our fault they rented rooms to them."

The small portfolio Micah had placed in the hotel safe was brought out to him. He opened it and pulled
out the billfold where he kept all but his walking around money. ?If anything is missing from our luggage
we will press charges."

?After all,? she added, ?Theft is a felony, you know."

Her husband cast her a look somewhere between angry and amused, then closed the portfolio and
walked over to her.

?You're not making this any easier,? he hissed at her.

?They don't deserve to have it any easier,? she whispered back as she wrapped her hand around his
forearm. ?Besides, I'm too tired and hungry to be civil."

The disheveled pair straightened their spines and began to walk through the lobby toward the livery
entrance when a group of women came down the stairs, Margaret Baker among them.

?Of course,? Jenny mumbled. ?Who else?"

At the base of the stairs, Mrs. Baker looked the Petermans up and down like she smelled a foul odor.

?Now that the War is over, why they'll let just anyone stay here,? she sneered.

?Yes,? Jenny responded, ?even the foul-minded mothers of grasping, greedy, frigid, emasculating
bitches masquerading as ladies.? The last word came out sounding more profane than those what
preceded it. ?Let's go, Micah. It's beginning to stink in here."

* * * *

With most of the hotels full due to the Horse Fair, it took most of the morning for them to find a hotel
that would take them for the two nights they needed. The shabby little rooming house they found was
spotless, though in need of repair. The landlady bundled Jenny up to a sunlit room and promised a hot
bath lickety split. Micah had to return to the track to check up on his men and stock and left his wife and
the bags in the room until later.

The bath was warm and the landlady offered what appeared to be a treasured bar of scented soap, but
Jenny could not relax. After drying herself off, she put on her nightgown and tried to sleep. The bed was
clean and the mattress reasonably comfortable considering the poverty of the owner, but she could not
close her eyes. Too much had happened in the last twenty-four hours.

Though she tried to deny it, Danny's death was hard to take. He was the last of her blood kin and in the
end he had saved her life at the cost of his own. She curled up in a ball around the feather pillow. She
had nobody left in the world.

Except Micah.

She smiled sadly. Poor Micah. His manly parts had come back to full, roaring life. She had dealt with the
kisses and caresses; they hadn't awakened harsh memories, but she had never been sure how she would
react when it finally happened. And what happened terrified her.

* * * *

Micah came back later that day. He had closed the deal for the horses and delivered them to their new
owners. A fat cashier's check in his name, enough to get them through for at least a year or even two,
rode in his pocket, along with exchanged steamboat tickets that would allow them to leave a day earlier.
Hal and Tom would meet them at the wharf in time to head for home.

As he entered the bedroom, he could see his wife's form beneath the neat coverlet on the bed. Quickly
he stripped off his clothes and drew on his nightshirt. He slipped beneath the covers and sidled up to lie
with his chest against her back. He slid his arm around her waist and drew her against him. He felt himself
go hard again, but he knew he could bear the temporary discomfort of his instant desire. His Jenny
needed his love and care more than his sex.

His Jenny. He liked the sound of that. It would stay that way if he had any say in the matter. He kissed
the nape of her neck.

She turned over to face him. ?Hi."

?Hi yourself.? He brushed strands of hair away from her face. ?Feel better?"

?Uh-huh.? She raised her arm to around his neck and drew his face towards her. Her kiss was tender
and sweet. Her hand fluttered around his collar. ?Take that off, please."

He blinked. ?Are you sure?"

?This is Micah, who loves me."

He pulled away long enough to draw the nightshirt over his head and toss it to the floor.

Jenny could see the change in his body since they had been married. Gone was the scarecrow, replaced
by a form still lean, but sculpted from hard work and good food. His erection stood away from his body
from the dark blond thatch at his groin. She was no longer afraid. This was her husband and she loved
him. ?You're beautiful.? She reached out her arms.

He laughed as he rejoined her in bed. Her hands stroked at the curls on his chest, testing his contours.

?Go ahead and touch. It's your doing."

She slid her arms around to the smooth skin of his back. She could feel his warmth radiating into her as
his mouth descended on hers. His mouth felt so right against hers as he kissed her, fitting itself to her own.
She stroked his back as he deepened his kisses. His hand stroked her face and neck for a moment. Then
it moved to slowly unbutton the front of her nightgown.

As she felt his hand slide beneath the fabric to cup her breast, she felt a moment's panic, then thought,
this is my husband, who loves me. A new warmth spread through her. She wanted him to touch her.
His fingers traced circles around her breasts, grazing her nipple to an achy tightness. He used both hands
to spread the fabric of her gown further, stroking her as he did, then lowered his head to suckle at one
breast. She gasped as lightning shot from her nipple to her core.

?Am I hurting you?"

?No, it feels good.? She reached down for her hem. ?Help me.? A moment later her nightwear joined
his on the floor and he lay half on top of her, skin to skin for the first time. She felt his hardness against
her thigh and the softness of his mouth against hers as he kissed her more deeply than he ever had before
as one of his hands plunged into her hair. She felt his other hand slide down her waist and hip and drift
towards her sex. The ache she felt grew intense as he played with the tender flesh. Her hips rose to meet
his hand. He stroked and teased at her until she could barely breathe between his kisses. She spiraled
higher and higher under his touch until she shattered with a cry.

As she lay back, still shaking from her climax, he moved her leg and shifted himself between her thighs.
She bent her neck down.

?No, love, look at me."

She raised her head again to gaze into those astonishing violet eyes that were filled with such tenderness.
As their eyes locked she felt him slide easily deep inside her. It didn't feel like an invasion, but like a
welcome fullness. She wrapped her legs around her husband's waist and twined her hands in the soft hair
at the nape of his neck. He had not moved since entering her.

?Micah?"

He buried his face in the crook of her neck. She could feel moistness against her skin. Tears?

?You feel so good,? he groaned out, ?I'm afraid it won't be good for you."

She wrapped her arms around him and stroked his back. ?Ah, Sweetheart, it's the first time for both of
us. We have years ahead to practice until we get it perfect."

He raised his body again and stared at her.

She grinned. ?We'll just have to do it again?and again?and again. I'm very patient."

The tension seemed to drain from his body for a moment, then he began to move within her, his hips
rising and falling as he pulled nearly out and plunged in again. Then, abruptly, his whole body strained and
she felt him flooding inside her.

His body drained, he collapsed atop her. His breathing was harsh and ragged at first, but soon began to
calm.

Jenny looked up. The sky was going dark as night fell.

?I can't believe what we just did,? he mumbled.

?Yes, wasn't it grand?"

He shook his head rapidly as if he hadn't comprehended. ?Grand?"

She smiled. ?To be with the man I love."

* * * *

They returned to their room after supper and went back to bed, making love once more before Micah
drifted off to sleep.

Jenny couldn't sleep. The last step in bringing him back to health had been their lovemaking today. Until
that point he had needed her as much as she needed him.

But more than the return of his physical strength and vitality was a subtle change in his demeanor. He
was more assertive, more authoritative. Not that he had become a tyrant, but with his health he had

become willing to live in the world again as an actor rather than a reactor.

All she was now to a man like that was a burden. He deserved a real wife, one who didn't get refuse
thrown at her, didn't get them evicted from hotels, one he could be proud to call his wife. Her life seemed
not to have any purpose left. He would be better off without her. Now that he was healthy and fully
functional, he could find someone better.

She stretched out on her back, barely feeling the tears leak from her tired eyes. She couldn't simply run
away. He would chase her down the way he had when Danny and Jesse took her. He wouldn't let her
go. He might not turn her over to the hangman, but he would make sure she didn't become a fugitive. She
was afraid he would stand by her and bear the slings and arrows until he hated her.

She couldn't let him do that. She loved him too much.

She really should find a way to set him free before anything else happened.

* * * *

The trip home to Loomis was blissfully uneventful. Micah didn't lock Jenny in their cabin. Leaving a day
earlier than expected, they ran into nobody who would make a scene and she wasn't about to run off.

Before they left the cabin to have supper he approached her while she was pinning her snood over the
back of her hair. She wore a white and pale blue gown that bared her throat though nobody would call it
low cut. She had worn it in the dining room several evenings while they were in Louisville.

He stepped behind her and rested his hands on her shoulders. She saw his frown reflected back in the
mirror. ?Is something wrong?"

His hands gently caressed her shoulders and neck. She could feel the heat of him behind her.

?That gown needs something."

?It's pretty plain as dinner gowns go, but I couldn't find anything to trim it with that looked right on me."

?Maybe this will help.? He handed her a velvet drawstring bag.

?What is this?"

?Open it."

She slipped two fingers into the bag and pulled it open. Out poured a string of pearls and a small card
through which were hooked a pair of pearl earrings.

?I thought you sold Melissa's jewelry."

?I did, for a good price. I bought these for you."

Jenny felt her eyes fill. ?After everything that happened."

?After everything that happened. I love you."

?Once you told me not to love you. I should have told you the same about me. I'm not good for you. I'll
always be trouble for you."

He lifted the pearls from her hand and gently clasped them around her neck. They seemed to glow
warmly from her skin. His hands brushed her neck again. ?I can live with that kind of trouble. Put the
earbobs on and we'll go to dinner."

She slipped the hooks through her lobes. The dangling pearls on their delicate little chains fell at the
corners of her jaw. She leaned back against his chest and closed her eyes as his arms slid down to press
her against him..

How could she ever leave him?

Even though she knew she must.

* * * *

It feels good to be home. Jenny changed into one of her calico dresses and unpacked their luggage.
She put her new pearls in their bag in the top drawer of her bureau.

The lavender day gown was ruined by her ordeal. She never wanted to see it again, not even as rags, so
she climbed the ladder to the attic and stuffed it in one of the trunks with the remains of Melissa's
wardrobe.

How quickly one fell back into routine! Micah and his hands were at the paddock. She cooked and
straightened. She knew her husband would do his paperwork after darkness fell. As she dusted the
parlor, she imagined him sitting at his desk, glasses on nose, pen in hand, dealing with the expenses that
would be so much more easily relieved by the money he had made in Louisville.

Tomorrow she would do the laundry. She was sure after ten days away everyone would need clean
clothes. She was glad for the mundane. It would give her time to think.

* * * *

Jenny was out behind the house hanging sheets on the line when she heard a female shriek out front.
Dropping the sheet she was working on back in the hamper, she ran around the front of the house to see
a buggy and two figures standing by the oak tree. It took a moment for her to realize who they were and
what was the matter.

?Where is she?? Margaret Baker yelled while her husband stood a few feet away. Mrs. Baker looked
up as Jenny approached and her face grew even darker. She charged, nails ready to strike, but Jenny
grabbed hold of the older woman's wrists and held her in a firm grip.

?What have you done with my baby?? she screamed as she struggled. ?You ungodly creature, where's
my angel?"

Her screams brought Micah and a couple of the hands running from the barn.

?What's going on here?? Micah shouted. ?Marcus, what are you doing here?"

His former mentor looked sheepish. ?She wanted to see Melissa and Ethan's graves."

Micah waved his wranglers back toward the barn. ?So what's the screaming about?"

Micah looked at the oak tree for the first time in months. His own mouth gaped in surprise. Instead of
the grave markers that were there before they left for Kentucky, the circular bench had been restored
around the base of the tree and there was evidence of new sod.

?Jenny..."

?While we were away they were reburied in the churchyard,? she affirmed.

Where I said they belonged the day I married her. ?Marcus, after Margaret had us evicted from the
Galt House, I don't know how you have the gall to trespass on my property. Please leave right now
before I run you off at gunpoint. If you want to see Melissa's grave, I'm sure the preacher or undertaker
can direct you. Jenny, let her go."

Jenny released her grip. Mrs. Baker straightened her spine and walked toward the buggy.

Micah approached Marcus. ?Unless Margaret can deal politely with my wife, you are no longer
welcome here. You should never have allowed her to turn my front yard into a cemetary."

Marcus shook his head. ?I can't control her anymore. I've given up trying."

?That, my old friend, is not my problem."

Marcus Baker walked to the buggy and handed his wife up. Before she settled in her seat she called out,
?This isn't over."

?Yes, ma'am, it is.? Micah responded.

Micah and Jenny watched as the buggy drove towards the gate and off the property. When it was out of
sight, he strode over to where she stood and grabbed her upper arm in a strong grip. Forcefully he led
her towards the house and inside until they reached the parlor. He motioned her to sit on the sofa.

?Why didn't you tell me?"

?I forgot. I asked Luigi to see the undertaker with a note the day we left and arrange it. I gave him some
of the household money to pay for it. He and Collis rebuilt the circular bench."

?Why didn't you ask me?"

?I wanted to surprise you. You said if you'd had a say in it they would have been buried in the
churchyard in the first place. If I hadn't been attacked that day you took me to Loomis, I would have
arranged it myself. I never expected that harpy to come here and make a scene."

He sat down heavily on the sofa next to her. ?You should have asked me. I would have agreed. I'd like
to think I'm still in charge of my own house."

?How much trouble can Mrs. Baker make for us?"

?I don't know. She can't have you thrown in prison because I would testify that you haven't violated

your parole. She's always hated me, so if she had a way to take the farm she would have done it
already."

?But you're not sure."

?I never thought about it before now."

* * * *

Six weeks later

Jenny yanked another weed in the flower bed in front of the house when she saw Sheriff Clayton ride
up.

?Where's Micah?? he asked without preamble.

She gestured with her trowel. ?The paddock, I think. Can I help you with something?"

?No. I've got something to deliver direct to him."

The sheriff rode towards the paddock and Jenny returned to her gardening. She wondered what kind of
delivery the sheriff would be making to Micah. Usually a sheriff delivered warrants and summonses.

She sat back on her haunches. She hoped Micah wasn't being sued for something. Had something been
wrong with one of the horses they'd sold in Louisville? He hadn't commented on getting any letters of that
nature since they'd been back.

Unexpectedly, a wave of nausea swept over her. She promptly bent forward and vomited up her
breakfast. I hope I'm not coming down with something. She wiped her face with her sleeve and turned
the mess under the garden dirt with her trowel. She rose, and immediately had to brace herself as her
head was spinning. When the world stopped moving she walked through the house to the kitchen to get
some water to wash out her mouth. In the last couple of weeks she had been so achy. How ironic to
cheat the hangman only to die of influenza or something!

* * * *

Later that evening, after dinner, Jenny sat in the parlor mending. Micah came in and sat at his desk. He
picked up a small stack of papers bound together on a piece of heavy paper.

?Your dad was a lawyer, wasn't he?"

She looked up. ?Uh-huh."

?Did he teach you anything about the law?"

?Some. Did Sheriff Clayton bring you some kind of lawsuit summons today?"

He gestured with the paper. ?I don't know.? He drew on his glasses. ?I thought lawsuits were Someone
versus Someone."

?Usually they are."

?What's an ?Action to Quiet Title???

She paused to think. ?That's a lawsuit to determine who owns a piece of property. Who filed a quiet title
action against you? No, don't tell me. Your mother-in-law.? She put aside her mending and reached out
her hand toward her husband. ?Let me see it.? He handed her the pleading. She scanned the neat
handwriting, mumbling, ?In Re Estate of Melissa Baker Peterman, Hmm.? On through the complaint she
read a word or two aloud. ?This says the real property of the ranch was in Melissa's name."

He nodded. ?That was Margaret's idea. I signed a contract. I couldn't divorce Melissa or go against her
wishes without her selling the land away from me."

?So the land was hers to sell or will away?"

He shrugged. ?I never thought about it. When I first came home I was too sick. I assumed that she left
the land to me."

?You didn't see her will?"

?No, there's no copy of it in the house. I never asked. It's been over two years and nobody's said
anything."

She shook the pleading. ?Until now. Mrs. Baker claims that the will?there's a certified copy attached to
this lawsuit?gives the land to her. The will says Melissa left the land to Ethan unless he didn't survive her
in which case it was to go to her mother. She left you nothing. Mrs. Baker's suing to take the farm from
you ... Oh, Micah, it's my fault for moving those graves."

?Or mine for marrying a living, breathing, loving woman?after the death of the icicle daughter she
worshipped."

?Don't you see. All I've ever caused you is trouble and grief. Every time I take a deep breath, something
else I've done causes you trouble. You'd be better off with someone else, someone else more worthy of
your affection."

He rose from his seat and strode to her chair. He pulled her up against him and shook her. ?I don't want
anyone else. I wanted you from the first time I saw you in court. You're so full of life it spills over and
touches everyone. I'd trade this farm and everything on it for you in a minute and never regret it."

A moment later he swung her up into his arms and carried her up the stairs to their bedroom. He nearly
popped her buttons and his getting them out of their clothes before he deposited her on the bed and
followed her into it. He was hard and ready for her and she opened for him gladly, returning kiss for kiss,
caress for caress, rising to meet his downstrokes as he moved inside her. They came together in a
glorious crash as he shouted his triumph and emptied himself inside her.

Later, as they lay entwined in her others arms, he said, ?We'll find a way to beat her. Together we can't
fail."

To Jenny's ears he couldn't have said ?I love you? more forcefully than to use that word.

Together.

CHAPTER 19

Micah came home from town late the next day, his shoulders dragging. For the first time in months he
refused to eat dinner, immediately putting Jenny on alert.

She followed him into the parlor after the dinner he didn't eat.

?Talk to me, sweetheart. What did the lawyer say?"

?You mean before or after he refused to represent me?"

?He won't represent you?"

?Not for any price."

?Is it the same one who wanted me to plead guilty to murder and bank robbery and take my
punishment?"

?Yes, but you did better on your own. I'm no legal scholar."

?Enough to save my life."

?Yes, but for how long?? He sat down wearily on the sofa.

?What do you mean?? A chill rode down her spine.

?The Marital Parole Law applies to marriage to a landowner. If I didn't own the land when I married
you, the marriage was legal but the parole might not be. You could be sent to prison."

?Or hanged."

?That's why the bastard won't represent me. He figures if I lose title they'll finally hang you like everyone
in town wants. I won't let it happen. I'll go fugitive with you before I let them hang you."

Whether it was his frustration or the truth, hearing him declare it overwhelmed her with emotion.
Nobody in her life had ever willingly put himself at risk for her sake before. ?We'll beat this somehow."

?How? I can't represent myself. And you can't represent me either. I checked it out. I have to have a
trained lawyer or I have to represent myself."

She walked over to stand behind the sofa and leaned over to put her arms around him from behind.
?We'll find a way, somehow. A theory of some kind. I don't know, land abandonment, undue influence
by Mrs. Baker, something."

He rubbed her arms tenderly. ?What would I do without you.?"

You'd be better off, that's for darned sure.

* * * *

Late July brought sticky, steamy heat into the courtroom when the hearing finally started. Judge Plascove
presided.

At the plaintiff's table sat Margaret Baker and her lawyer, Mr. Drake. Margaret wore what must be her
most severe black gown, looking like Melissa and Ethan had died just days ago instead of nearly three
years gone by.

At the defendant's table, Micah sat alone. Mr. Drake had objected to Jenny sitting next to Micah at the
table on the grounds that she was neither a lawyer nor a party. Micah started to protest, but Jenny
touched his arm and whispered to him to save his battles for important issues. She walked behind the
defendant's table and sat down in the first row of the gallery where she could still pass notes to her
husband if she observed anything helpful.

Mr. Drake had only two witnesses scheduled?Margaret Baker and Gladys Goodman, who had been the
housekeeper for most of the Petermans? marriage, but who had quit after Melissa's death.

Mr. Drake called Margaret Baker first. She painted a picture of Micah Peterman as a ruthless fortune
hunter of questionable parentage who had seduced Melissa into marrying him. She testified that title to
the land had been put into her daughter's name to protect her from the monster she'd married; that
Melissa was so afraid of Micah she feared he'd mistreat their son if she left the property to her husband
rather than to her son or her mother. Finally, she testified that Melissa had not known whether Micah was
alive or dead, but despite being ill herself, had made her will of her own choice.

After Mrs. Baker testified, there was a brief recess. Micah rose and turned to see a sea of hostile faces.
He, who had never lifted a hand in anger against either of his wives, had been declared some kind of
horrific monster by his mother-in-law.

His wife sat in the front row, busy scrawling down notes on a piece of paper. She handed the paper to
him and smiled broadly at him. ?Do you want a drink of water, sweetheart?? she asked.

He nodded. She rose and left the courtroom, returning a few moments later with a glass of cool water.
While she was gone, he stared at the paper. There was a line drawn down the middle of the page. On
one side were notes of Mrs. Baker's testimony. On the other side were questions for him to ask in
cross-examination.

He had another reason to bless his unusual wife. He had considered some of these issues, but she caught
and worded others in a more effective way. Obviously the time spent at her father's knee had not been
wasted.

He quickly drank the water and waited for the judge to return. When the hearing resumed, he rose and
approached his erstwhile mother-in-law.

?Mrs. Baker, isn't it true that you hate me?"

The older woman recoiled at the bluntness of the question. ?I don't know what you mean,? she
stammered.

?You didn't want your daughter to marry me."

She nodded. ?That is most certainly true."

?Isn't it true you encouraged your daughter to spurn my exercise of my husbandly rights?"

The color drained from the woman's face as the murmur level in the courtroom increased. Judge
Plascove banged his gavel and called for order.

Micah again faced her. ?Answer my question, ma'am. Didn't you tell her once Ethan was born she didn't
have to endure my man's passions?"

?I am a lady, sir, and do not speak of such things in public."

?Your Honor,? Micah answered. ?This is not a ladies? sewing circle. This is a court of law. Don't I have
the right to have my questions answered?"

Drake jumped up. ?Objection. Relevance."

The judge looked at Micah, as if expecting a response. ?Mr. Peterman, plaintiff's counsel is asking why
this line of questioning is important in this case. Please tell me why you want to ask the question of the
witness before I rule."

?Uh?? Micah turned towards Jenny. Why, he mouthed.

?Undue influence,? she whispered back.

?This witness had so much influence over my late wife she could convince her to deny me a man's most
intimate rights. Put that together with her longtime hatred of me going back before my marriage to her
daughter and it would be easy to see she took advantage of my wife's illness and my absence to
manipulate Melissa's will in her favor."

Judge Plascove said, ?The witness will answer."

Mrs. Baker straightened her spine again. ?My daughter did her wifely duty. She gave you a son. There
was no reason to endure your cruelty again."

?Cruelty? Did she tell you I struck her?"

?No."

?Berated her?"

?No."

?Called her names?"

?No."

?Did I ever even raise my voice in anger that you know of?"

?No, she never told me anything like that."

?So the only so-called cruelty I inflicted on her was to request my rights to have sexual intercourse with
my lawfully wedded wife."

?I don't know. Maybe she didn't tell me that."

He looked down at the pad to see the notes scribbled there. ?Didn't you advise Melissa on every
clothing purchase she made."

?I made suggestions."

?Last May in Louisville you insulted my new wife for wearing a dress made from cloth you recognized as
belonging to Melissa."

?I don't remember."

?Why would you recognize fabric like that? Did you pick it out?"

?I don't know."

?Did Melissa follow your suggestions?"

?She was a good daughter. She knew I wanted what was best for her."

Move to strike as non-responsive, the objection rang in Jenny's head like a reflex, but there was no
way to transmit the thought to Micah.

?So if you told her to write me out of her will, would she do it?"

?I don't know."

?Oh, don't you?"

?Objection,? Drake yelled out.

?Sustained,? Plascove intoned.

?What does that mean, Your Honor?? Micah asked.

?It means she doesn't have to answer to your last remark."

Micah nodded. He glanced back at Jenny. She shrugged and raised her index finger across her throat.

?I don't have anything else to ask Mrs. Baker."

* * * *

After court Micah and Jenny sat in the parlor of Adam Caldwell's house. Or rather, Jenny sat while
Micah paced angrily.

?It's hopeless,? Micah said. ?I couldn't get her to answer my questions.? He collapsed into a chair and
buried his face in his hands. ?I'm no lawyer. The judge will never believe how much that witch controlled
her. But to hear her say that Melissa was afraid I'd mistreat Ethan if she died. He was my son. I loved
him even though..."

?Even though what?"

He looked up. Misery and anger were warring on his face. ?She kept him away from me. That
housekeeper, Mrs. Goodman, watched over him like a mother hen. Melissa wouldn't let him ride or
spend time with the horses. She wouldn't let me roughhouse with my own son. She kept him in fancy
duds like some city boy until kids in school beat him up for being a mama's boy. Every time I tried to be
a father to Ethan she would threaten to sell the property, take my son and leave. I always capitulated.?
He groaned. ?That's the kind of man you married. I wasn't much of a man before the War either. She
controlled me and Margaret controlled her."

Jenny rose and walked over to where he sat. Putting her arms around him, she drew his head against her
breast and said, ?I think you're a fine man, gentle and compassionate. You married a willful and
manipulative girl who used you every chance she got.? She stroked his hair. ?I don't remember my
mother very well, but my daddy taught me to stand up for myself and take care of myself, but not at the
expense of others. We'll just have to think of another theory besides undue influence."

He pulled away from her embrace. ?Why did you stop me when you did?? he accused.

?Because she was going to keep evading your questions and each question was tearing at your soul to
ask her. I don't know what Mrs. Goodman will say, but we'll listen and think of something."

?Aren't you afraid?"

She shook her head. ?No, we'll find a way. You'll find some way to maintain my parole. And if we can't,
I'll turn myself in to the sheriff and you can keep on fighting."

?I won't lose you. They'll have to go through me to get to you."

She grabbed his face between her hands and forced it in her direction. ?No! I won't have you injured or
killed for the likes of me. I don't die so easily, Micah Peterman, but I wouldn't want to go on if something
were to happen to you because of me. You'll still own the horses. You can rebuild elsewhere whether I'm
with you or not.? She dropped his face and walked over to look out the window, her arms drawn around
her waist. ?It might be better for you if I wasn't around to give you any more bad luck."

?By God, the luckiest day in my life was the day I married you."

?And it's gone downhill from there.? Jenny walked back towards the window.

A knock interrupted them. Bidden entry, the parlor doors opened and in walked Micah's ranch hands,
followed by Adam Caldwell.

?What this?? He, rose to greet them.

Hal stepped forward, shifting his bowler through nervous fingers. ?Well, Boss, we heard if you lost the
farm they might come and take Miz Jenny to jail."

?That's possible. We don't know for certain,? he answered.

?We heard you have to own land to have saved Miz Jenny in the first place. Well, none of us had a lot
of ready cash, but Dr. Caldwell helped out.? Hal reached into his inside coat pocket and pulled out a

folded piece of paper, which he handed to Micah. ?It's the deed to that little patch of land where that
burned out barber shop used to be. It ain't real big, only about ten feet by twenty, but it's in your name
now. So whatever happens Miz Jenny can stay out of jail."

Micah squinted at the tight writing on the deed. It was hard to read through the flooding filling his eyes.
In a choked voice, he said, ?This must have cost you every cent you had. Why would you do it?"

Hal looked down at his feet before raising his eyes again. It was obvious the hands had chosen their
minute foreman to speak for them. ?Well, Boss, it's like this. Miz Jenny has been real good to us,
considering how generally undesirable we are...? He held up his hand to prevent a protest. ?...But what
she's done for us ain't nothin? compared to what she's done for you. Before you married her, we's all
pretty sure you wasn't going to last out the year before you starved yourself to death. So, we figured
someone that good don't deserve to be sent to prison or hung."

?Hanged,? Jenny mumbled. She had come from the window to stand next to Micah.

?What did you say, Jenny?? Micah asked.

?Oh, nothing."

Hal continued, ?Well, anyway, the land's in your name, free and clear. So you and Miz Jenny don't have
to worry about that part. All you gotta do now is beat that witch."

Micah handed the deed to her. As she perused it, he said, ?I'll pay you back, every cent."

?Boss, we kinda figured this was us paying you back for all the good you done us over the years. So
don't go worrying about paying us back ... We oughta be getting back to the farm now. Will you be
coming back tonight?"

Micah saw Adam shake his head. ?No. I reckon we'll be staying here tonight.? Hal, Tom, Collis and
Luigi filed out of the parlor, leaving Adam standing in the doorway and the Petermans in the parlor.

?So what was your role in this, Adam?? Micah asked.

The doctor shrugged. ?Thirty-five percent of the money and the idea of which property might be for sale
cheap. Besides, I agree with them. A woman who could bring you back from the brink of death has a life
worth saving.? He faced Jenny. ?I've known Micah since we were schoolboys in Hannibal. But all my
medical know-how couldn't save his life. Thank you isn't enough, but it's the best I can do."

Her eyes glistened. She slipped her hand around her husband's arms and moved closer to him. ?I would
do it again for a man like Micah. He's the best thing ever to happen in my life and despite all the trouble
marrying me has cost him, I'm very glad he did."

* * * *

They lay entwined in Adam's big bed, the doctor having relinquished his room to the couple in favor of
taking one of his clinic beds for the night. Neither of them had the energy to make love. Jenny couldn't
sleep. Her joints and breasts felt achy and swollen, but besides that her mind was troubled. Tomorrow,
regardless of the outcome, she would turn herself in to the sheriff and ask to be sent to the state prison.
The sacrifice of the farm hands was sweet, and it would keep her from hanging, but she could no longer
allow Micah to continue to sacrifice his name and standing in the community. Though her husband had

been lost in thought and misery on the walk from the courthouse to the dispensary, she had seen the
hostile faces of the citizens of Loomis. Micah was fortunate Judge Plascove would decide the case rather
than a jury. A jury of the men of Loomis might give the property to Mrs. Baker just for spite, rather than
the right or wrong of it. The judge would give them a fair chance, as he had during her trial.

She huddled closer to him. Resting her head on his chest, she breathed in the unique scent of him. She
would miss that essence when she was gone, miss the tickle in her nose from the hair on his chest, miss
the possessive wrap of his arm around her while they slept.

Almost as she was thinking it, his arm tightened around her. Tears began to track down her face and fall
on his chest. He would never forgive her for leaving him, even though it was necessary. With her gone he
might regain his standing in the community, or, if he had to start over somewhere else, her bad reputation
would not follow him to a new town. The black cloud that followed her around would stay with her,
leaving him free in the sunshine as he deserved.

Immediately after the trial was over and the verdict, for or against, she would do it. She'd put it off long
enough. It was the only gift she could give this man she loved more than her own life. She would give him
his freedom to marry a better woman than either of his wives had been.

In time he would forget her, or chalk up their abortive relationship to a moment of madness born of
starvation and weakness, when it seemed like a good idea to save a condemned bank robber from the
gallows in exchange for a little cooking and cleaning. He would tell his children from this better marriage
about the strange story of the bank robber he'd been married to and what happened to them.

And perhaps he might remember how she satisfied his hungry heart until he had no need to starve
himself.

For her own hungry heart would never be satisfied again.

CHAPTER 20

As Gladys Goodman took the stand, Jenny couldn't help thinking that the woman looked like a pale
copy of Margaret Baker?spare, angular and stern. Her dark gray gown leeched what little color her face
might have had and if her hair had been any more scraped back from her face her eyes would have been
on the side of her head.

Mrs. Goodman painted Micah as a reluctant father who paid no attention to his son, a sardonic husband
who had little civil to say to his wife. Melissa Peterman was described as an angel far too good for her
low-class husband. She related Melissa's alleged fear that Ethan Peterman would be abandoned by his
father unless the property was willed to the boy; that if the boy didn't survive his mother, Melissa did not
want Micah to benefit from her or her son's death.

She watched Micah's shoulders drop lower with each damning comment. All this testimony about how
Melissa feared her husband's wrath and desired to protect her son and make sure he was raised a
gentlemen did not jive with the man Jenny married. Surely mere imprisonment, even as ghastly an
imprisonment as he had endured, could not have brought so radical a change in him that the monster was
turned into a lamb.

Mrs. Goodman paused a moment to get out her pocket handkerchief. Daubing at a tear, she said, ?I
never saw any child as sweet as little Ethan. And how he loved his mother and she loved him.? Her voice

broke for a moment before she continued. ?I remember that horrible fever. Ethan was delirious half the
time. The rest of the time he was calling out for his Mama. He couldn't understand why she wouldn't
come to him and her on her own deathbed in the next room. That last day, I wanted to bust out crying.
Poor little boy, calling out for his mama, and her gone to her reward early that same morning..."

Jenny jerked up straight. Had she heard what she thought she heard? She kept her face as composed as
possible, but quickly scribbled a note to Micah and reached forward to tap him on the shoulder.

He took the note and opened it. Let me see the will. He grabbed the summons with the copy of the will
attached to it and handed it to her.

Quickly, she flipped back the pages and began to read the will. Her heart began to fill with hope. If she
was right ... She began scribbling on her pad again.

Mrs. Goodman finished her tearful account and rose to leave.

?One moment,? Micah asked.

?Please remain seated, Mrs. Goodman,? the judge said. ?The defendant is entitled to cross-examine
you."

?I can't read this,? Micah hissed.

?You've got to try. Ask for a recess,? she whispered back.

?Your Honor,? said Drake, ?this is ridiculous, all this note passing. If Mr. Peterman can't defend his own
case..."

?I need a recess, please, Your Honor,? Micah said.

The judge gave them ten minutes. Jenny followed Micah out of the courtroom and into the foyer. She
tried to explain, but he didn't understand.

?That's very complicated. Are you sure it will work?"

?I don't know, but if Missouri is like Georgia you could win."

He grabbed the pad and tried to follow the chart she'd drawn. ?It would be better if you asked the
questions."

?I'm not a lawyer."

?You're a better lawyer than I am. I need you to do this. I may not be much of a man, but I know when
I'm out of my depth. Both of our futures ride on this."

Yours does, my love. Mine rides on nothing anymore. In a couple of hours I'll be sitting in a jail
cell.

Deputy Filer, who was serving as the bailiff, came out of the courtroom. ?The Judge says to come back
in now."

The Petermans both nodded and followed him back in. This time Micah held out a chair at the
defendant's table and seated Jenny next to him.

Mrs. Baker began to whisper furiously to Mr. Drake.

?Your Honor,? Drake said, ?I've already protested that woman being allowed to sit at that table."

Micah countered, ?Your Honor, I agree with you that all this note passing is unprofessional, therefore I
ask your permission to allow Mrs. Peterman to cross-examine this witness. You are well aware of her
skill and respect for the court."

?Your Honor, I protest,? Drake cried. ?This is a mockery of the legal system. This woman is little better
than she should be, and not fit to grace a counsel table."

?Mr. Drake,? Judge Plascove said, ?I've seen many members of the bar who were little better than they
should be. If things were different, Mrs. Peterman might have been one of the most effective counselors
at law ever to grace a Missouri courtroom. I will allow her to conduct the cross-examination."

?Do something,? Margaret Baker hissed in Drake's ear. ?Can't we walk out in protest or something?"

Drake's only response was to sit.

Jenny stood. Her knees felt like rubber. When she had been defending her own life she hadn't felt this
nervous. But then, the stake had only been her miserable, useless life. Now, it was the future of the man
she loved that hung in the balance.

She felt a hand touch her waist. She looked toward Micah. He mouthed the words I love you.

She straightened her spine and smoothed her sweating palms on her skirt.

?Mrs. Goodman, you know who I am, don't you?"

The witness looked down her nose at Jenny, but said nothing.

?Mrs. Goodman, my name is Genevieve Peterman. I'm a bank robber and maybe worse and once we
step outside this courtroom you never have to lower yourself to speak to me again, but right now I am
counsel for the defense and you are required to answer my questions truthfully. Do you understand me?"

?Yessss,? came the answer.

?Thank you. Mrs. Goodman, are you a God-fearing woman?"

?I'm a good Christian."

?Then you understand the difference between the truth and a lie?"

?Yes."

?And you understand that if you lie to me under oath, that is a crime called perjury and you could go to
prison?"

?Yes."

?So, whether you like me or not, Mrs. Goodman, you are on your honor to tell me the whole and
complete truth in answer to my questions."

?Yes."

?Thank you. Did you help nurse both Melissa and Ethan Peterman through their final illnesses?"

?Yes."

?You testified earlier that Ethan was crying out for his mother, but she was already dead?"

?Yes. I can still hear his weak little cries for his mama."

?Mrs. Goodman, to the best of your recollection, what time did Mrs. Peterman die?"

The older woman paused a moment, tapping her finger against her mouth. ?Let me see. As I recall, it
was between breakfast and luncheon, about ten or eleven in the morning. Yes, closer to ten I think."

Jenny nodded. ?Are you sure?"

The witness paused again, closing her eyes. ?Yes, I definitely remember the clock in the parlor striking
ten before I went into Mrs. Peterman's room and found her already gone. Yes definitely around ten
o'clock that morning."

?Thank you. After you discovered that Mrs. Peterman had passed away, did you check on Ethan?"

Mrs. Goodman nodded. ?Yes, I went right into his room, fearing the worst. But the little boy was tossing
weakly in bed and calling out for his mama in his delirium."

?So at shortly after ten, Melissa Peterman was dead and Ethan Peterman was still alive."

?Yes. The little boy died just before sundown that same day. Yes, it was around four o'clock in the
afternoon, five at the latest."

?So it's your testimony that Ethan Peterman lived for about six or seven hours after his mother died."

Jenny heard a heavy scraping from the plaintiff's counsel table of a chair being pushed back. She waited
for some kind of objection, but nothing came.

Mrs. Goodman answered, ?Yes, as God is my witness, that's the truth. They died on the same day, six
or seven hours apart."

Jenny folded her arms over her chest. ?Mrs. Goodman, what is your opinion of Micah Peterman?"

The woman gave Micah a withering glance. ?White trash, not fit to be married to an angel like Mrs.
Peterman."

Jenny heard a shifting of her husband's chair. With a half-smile on her face, she went for the kill.

?But you wouldn't tell a lie just to hurt Mr. Peterman would you?"

?No, I wouldn't."

?So the sequence of events you described is true?"

The woman put her hand over her heart. ?I wouldn't tell a lie, even to save Mr. Peterman's life, even to
save my own life."

?That's admirable, ma'am. Thank you very much.? Facing the judge, she said, ?I have no more questions
of this witness."

Judge Plascove excused the witness and she quickly walked off the witness stand, sweeping her skirts
aside as she passed Jenny as if afraid some corruption would rub off on her.

?Your Honor, may I ask you a question?"

?You may."

?Are the rules of common law intestate succession in effect in Missouri?"

She could see a hint of a smile on the judge's face as he affirmed the fact.

?And the minimum age to make a valid will in Missouri?"

?Twenty-one years old."

?Then I move for an immediate order of summary judgment in favor of Micah Peterman as the rightful
owner of the Peterman horse farm through inheriting it from Ethan Peterman."

The audience began to roar. Margaret Baker, no longer careful to lower her voice, cried, ?What is the
little whore talking about?"

Jenny glared at the plaintiff's table. Drake gave his client a murderous look, then returned Jenny's gaze.
He said nothing, but nodded his head.

Jenny picked up the will copy. ?Your Honor, Melissa Peterman's will plainly states,? she began to read,
?'I hereby bequeath all my real property wherever situated, including the Peterman Horse Farm land and
structures to my son Ethan Peterman. Should Ethan fail to survive me, then the property shall go to my
mother, Margaret Baker.? Mrs. Goodman clearly testified both on direct and cross-examination that
while both Melissa and Ethan Peterman died on the same date, Ethan survived his mother by six or seven
hours. For those few hours, he owned the Peterman Horse Farm. But since he was ten years old, he
would have been incapable of making a valid will, even if he had actually done so. In the absence of a
will, property is inherited by the closest living relative of the deceased. Since Ethan had no children, the
closest relative he had would have been his father, Micah Peterman, not his grandmother. Melissa's will
was carried out in accordance with her wishes. She left her property to her son. But under the rules of
intestate succession, Ethan Peterman died intestate, and his property, including the farm, was left to his
father. Mrs. Baker has no rightful claim to the property and this case should either be ruled in Micah's
favor or dismissed with prejudice."

She glanced over at her husband. He had the dopiest smile on his face she had ever seen. She smiled

back and winked at him.

?It's not fair.? Margaret Baker was almost shouting. She made a fist and punched Mr. Drake's arm.
?That monster has no claim on the property. It's supposed to be mine. That's what I wanted?I mean
Melissa wanted. Why don't you do something?"

The judge banged his gavel until the courtroom got quiet. ?Mr. Drake, have you any other witnesses?"

Drake rose. ?No, Your Honor."

?Have you any argument to counter Mrs. Peterman's motion?"

?Only that Mrs. Peterman's wishes regarding her property should not be disregarded over an obscure
point of law."

The judge peered over the edge of the bench. ?Intestate succession is hardly an obscure point of law,
Mr. Drake. I suggest next time you question your client a little more thoroughly regarding such important
matters. Motion for summary judgment is granted. Title to the Peterman Farm is granted to Micah
Peterman.? He banged his gavel once more. ?This court is adjourned."

The judge rose and left through the door to his chambers as the tumult of voices increased in volume.
Margaret Baker was screaming at her lawyer and at Gladys Goodman to the point of incoherence.

Jenny turned to where Micah stood behind the defendant's table. He held out his hands to her and she
came to him.

?Come on,? he shouted over the noise as he took one of her hands in his. ?Let's go outside where I can
kiss you properly."

He led her outside to the courthouse steps and drew her to his chest. Not caring who saw him, he
lowered his head and kissed her good and hard. She kissed him back, pressing against him.

?Once again, you saved my life. I could never have done what you did. I'm so proud of you."

?Let's go home and celebrate more privately,? she responded. She could turn herself in tomorrow. She
wouldn't ruin his triumph by leaving him today. Tomorrow was soon enough. Holding his hand, she
stepped around to his side.

?Bastard!? a harsh female voice cried out.

Jenny's head followed the sound to see Margaret Baker standing about ten feet away from them, next to
Mr. Drake. Her eyes looked strangely wild. Her hands were hidden in the folds of her skirts.

?You think this is over? You think I've lost?? she yelled at him.

?It's over, Margaret,? Micah said quietly. ?Let it rest."

?This won't be over until one of us is dead!"

Jenny saw Mrs. Baker's right hand rise from behind her skirt. She saw a glint of metal. Immediately she
threw herself against Micah's chest as a gunshot rang out and a searing pain tore through her right

shoulder and propelled her into her startled husband's arms.

Over her slumping body, he saw Drake wrestle Mrs. Baker to the ground and force the derringer from
her grip. His shocked face clearly said he didn't know his client was armed.

He looked down at the woman in his arms. Her face was waxy pale. All the hyperbole about saving his
life before had been nothing. This time she had taken a bullet meant for him.

She looked up and smiled weakly. ?I guess I was wrong about not dying so easy ... I guess I was never
meant ... to get out of Loomis ... alive."

Her eyes closed and Micah didn't realize that the horrible scream he heard came from his own throat as
he held her limp form in his arms.

CHAPTER 21

Adam Caldwell came out of his surgery, wiping his hands clean with a towel. The white apron he wore
over his clothes when operating was blood-stained and he looked grim.

Micah didn't know how to interpret the look of his old friend's face. He had been barely aware that
Jenny had passed out rather than died in his arms until Adam gently pulled her limp body away. Someone
had guided him toward the clinic. He wasn't sure who it had been. The world had vanished except for
Jenny?and his guilt.

She had purposely stepped in front of him to take a bullet meant to kill him, and might still have paid for
her unselfishness with her life.

He rose from the chair in which he had barely sat when he saw the doctor come in.

?Jenny?"

Adam nodded stiffly, dropped the towel on a table and began to roll down his sleeves. ?I got the bullet
out and stopped the bleeding. If she beats the fever and avoids infection, she may just make it and so will
the baby."

For a long time Micah just stood silently as if the words were not said in English. First to sink in were
?she may just make it.? The rest took a bit longer.

?Baby?"

The doctor looked at him. ?You didn't know she was expecting?"

He shook his head. ?She didn't tell me. I knew she was feeling achy and had thrown up a couple of
times, but she told me she was worried she had influenza. She was trying not to burden me with her
troubles because of the trial.? He paused, a crooked smile creeping across his mouth. ?A baby. I can
hardly believe it. When?"

?My best guess is she's about two months along. You seem to have regained your health with a flourish,
old friend."

?Now we just have to hope Jenny regains hers."

?If she does, she may not have full use of her right arm. The bullet did a lot of damage to her shoulder
and getting it out did more."

Micah felt the color returning to his face. His smile broadened. ?But she'll be alive. And we'll have a
child to care for. She saved my life. Why would she have done that?"

Adam glared at his old friend. ?From the day I met her, she understood that was her mission. I think she
may have loved you even then, though I doubt either of you thought you deserved to be loved."

?I'll never stop loving her. She's the best part of me."

?I suggest you tell her if you haven't already."

Micah grinned. ?Thank God, I have. Now I just have to get her to believe it."

?For both your sakes, I hope you can."

* * * *

I must be in hell. Nothing else could possibly hurt so much.

Consciousness seeped back into Jenny like a walk through a deep cavern into the light. Her eyelids felt
so heavy, too heavy to lift. Her right side felt like it was on fire. She tried to move her arm, but it wouldn't
move. Her left hand was very warm. It took a moment for her to realize that the warmth came from a set
of large fingers laced through hers.

Slowly she opened her eyes. Slivers of light floated in through the shutters. As her focus returned she
realized her right arm was tightly bandaged against her body. She didn't know where she was. Looking
to her left, she saw that the warm fingers belonged to Micah, who sat in a chair next to the bed in which
she lay, his head lowered as if he had nodded off while she slept.

It can't be hell. Micah's here. Jenny smiled weakly, realizing that she must be alive. She squeezed the
fingers of her left hand.

His head popped up. His deep purple eyes were ringed with similarly colored bruises as if he had not
slept in a long time. ?Jenny,? he breathed out.

?How ... day ... what...? She couldn't force a sentence out. Her mouth and throat were so dry. ?Waa ...
thir..."

He nodded and released her hand. He rose a moment and walked to the door. He opened it and called
out Adam's name, then headed right back to the table where he poured water from a pitcher into a glass.
Sitting in the chair again he gently lifted her under her left shoulder until she was at an angle where she
could take a sip. ?Slowly, slowly."

Dr. Caldwell strode into the room as Micah was lowering her back to the mattress.

?Welcome back to the world,? Adam said cheerily. ?How do you feel?"

?Like ... someone ... shot ... me. How long..."

?It was four days ago,? Micah answered.

The doctor drew a hand across her damp forehead. ?The fever's broken. I think you and the baby will
be just fine."

She shook her head awkwardly. ?What baby?...Can't ... have baby. All those ... soldiers ...and never ...
missed...? A dark blush painted her pallid face. She looked at her husband, who shrugged his shoulders.

?You didn't know? You had morning sickness and body aching."

?Influ ... en ... za. No? How far..."

?Louisville, Adam thinks,? Micah put in.

She reached up her hand and brushed at Micah's stubbled cheek. An embarrassed smile appeared.
?When you get your ... virility ... back, you don't ... waste time."

Now it was his turn to blush.

?Growing ... a beard,? she mumbled.

?No, just haven't had a chance to shave."

?Micah's barely left your side since you came out of surgery."

Her face showed concern. ?Did you ... eat?"

Suddenly, Micah threw back his head and laughed. ?Yes, sweetheart, I ate. Believe me, I wouldn't dare
not."

?Harpy?"

Micah and Adam exchanged glances until the light struck.

?In the jail waiting for Marcus to come and take her to an asylum for observation."

She frowned. ?No M'Naughten ... insanity. She knew right from ... wrong."

?Is that lawyer talk? No, she's lost her mind. They don't know when she'll be competent to stand trial, if
ever.? Micah took up her right hand in his and clutched it firmly. ?I don't care if she never regains her
sanity. You're alive and that's all that matters."

?You're alive is ... all that matters ... Not me."

?Stop that! I don't ever want to hear you tell me you're unworthy again. Do you hear me? I'm your
husband and I command it."

Her eyes closed briefly, then opened again. ?Yes ... sir, my lord and ... master.? She laughed weakly, as
if she had no more strength. ?Want to sleep. Go eat something.? She closed her eyes and immediately fell

asleep.

Micah gently placed her hand on the bed. Leaning over, he brushed her shaggy bangs away and pressed
a kiss on her forehead.

?Yes, ma'am. My beloved wife,? he whispered in her ear before going off to do just that.

* * * *

Myra Purdy walked into Adam's waiting room and through, up the stairs to the clinic patient rooms
before anyone could stop her. Quickly, she opened several doors, closing them when she found them
empty until she opened the door to Jenny's room.

Micah saw her out of the corner of his eye as he was returning to the bedroom after eating lunch. He
lengthened his strides until he caught up with the widow just as she stepped into the room.

Jenny heard the sound of the door opening and raised her eyelids in time to see her husband grab Mrs.
Purdy by the upper arm and say to her, ?You have no business coming in here."

Jenny held up her left hand to stop him. ?It's all right, sweetheart. I'm not afraid.? To the widow she
remarked as she lowered her hand, ?Although I'm not really feeling up to a berating right now.? She
noticed Mrs. Purdy had put away her severe black widow's weeds in favor of a dull violet half-mourning
print and a straw bonnet with plain dark purple ribbons. Could it be a year since the robbery? So
much had happened in the last twelve months.

?Are you going to be all right?? the widow asked.

?The bad news is, I'm expected to live. I'll be returning to the farm in a few days."

Mrs. Purdy looked down at her feet for a moment, as if gathering her courage. ?Mrs. Peterman, I was at
the courthouse last week when you did what you did. I never saw anything quite so courageous in my
life."

?More reckless than courageous."

?We may never be friends, but I am willing to admit that I was wrong about the kind of woman you are
deep down."

Jenny's eyebrows lifted in surprise. This was the last thing she expected.

?I don't know why you got involved with the bandits who killed my Leon, but you proved you don't
deserve hanging."

?The man who killed your husband is dead. My brother killed him as he was about to shoot me."

?I can't say I'm not happy he's dead, but I'll say what I came to say and then I'll leave. My father and I
used our influence this past year to make life difficult for you and Mr. Peterman. I've been thinking this
past week that we were wrong. I promise to do everything within my power to make it easier for you to
do commerce in Loomis and not to have you be victimized by mud-slinging if you come into town to
shop just like anyone else in town. I can't promise any miracles, but I'll do my best."

?I can't ask more. I have to live in this town for at least another six years. It would be nice not to be a
pariah all that time."

The widow nodded. She glanced at Micah, who was staring amazed at her, then looked back at Jenny.
?I should go now."

?Thank you for coming."

Mrs. Purdy nodded a farewell and slipped past Micah out the door.

?Well, that should make our lives easier,? Jenny said to him. ?It's too bad I had to get shot to prove I'm
not a villain."

He walked all the way into the room and sat in the chair that had been by the bed since she came out of
surgery. His eyes showed plainly that he had slept little since she had been shot. She realized he had
probably spent every night in that very chair.

?Adam says if we put a pallet in the buckboard bed so you can lie down I can take you home
tomorrow."

?Home. How wonderful it sounds! I thought I'd never see the farm again."

He swallowed hard. ?Did you think we would lose the case?"

She shook her head. ?No, it wasn't that. I was going to leave you, turn myself in to Sheriff Clayton and
let myself be sent to prison."

?I see.? His eyes went cloudy and his care-worn face became an impassive mask.

?No, you don't see. I didn't want to cause any more trouble for you. I love you enough I was willing to
get out of your life rather than cause any more grief for you."

?It didn't matter how I felt."

She looked away. ?No, it didn't. But I've been lying here for days with nothing to do except sleep and
think. I realized I'm selfish. I love you too much to want to leave you like that.? She used her left hand to
awkwardly pull the blankets away from atop her. ?I've missed you in my bed with me. Please take off
your boots and come to bed."

?But Adam says we can't..."

She nodded. ?I spoke to Adam. He says once my shoulder heals there's no reason we can't make love
until about a month before the baby's born. But right now, I just need you to hold me close."

?And lovemaking is more than sexual intercourse. You taught me that, sweetheart."

He stood up and went to lock the door. No chance of anyone else walking in unbidden. Within moments
he had yanked off his boots and stripped down to his underdrawers. He slipped into the space Jenny
made to her left and carefully wrapped his arms around her, avoiding touching her wound. Jenny's bound
up arm rested tight against her body on the opposite side, but her free arm reached behind her husband
and held him close.

Their mouths met, hungrily feasting on each other, drawing strength from each other's kisses. Each
stroked the other's back pressing their bodies as close as possible. She could feel his arousal through the
thin layers of fabric, but when she leaned back against the pillows, a shock of pain shot through her so
severe she couldn't suppress a groan.

Immediately, he released her.

?Sorry,? they said simultaneously.

?I guess it's too soon,? Regret filled her voice.

He gently raised her up to hold her tenderly against his chest. Her head rested on his shoulder.

He stroked her hair carefully. ?Let me take care of you, Jenny, the way you've taken care of me this
past year. Let me love you the way you deserve to be loved. You are so precious to me, you and the
miracle inside you. I'll see you get well and strong again and protect you as a husband should."

?Micah..."

He pressed a few fingers gently over her mouth to silence her. ?I adore you, Jenny Peterman. You're
headstrong and brave and independent. Don't leave me; not for prison or my own good or anything else
that smacks of my best interests. You've made me care about life again and having that life back, I want
to share it with the only woman I've ever really loved."

?No more hungry heart?"

A warm, broad grin lit up his handsome face. ?No more of that hunger. My heart is too full of loving you
to feel that awful hunger again."

Jenny closed her eyes and drank in the scent of this man she loved. Her own heart had also been empty,
hungry for love, hungry to care for another human being. And now it too was filled to overflowing with
her love for Micah Peterman.

If she was with him, she would always be home.

And never know a hungry heart again.

EPILOGUE

August 10, 1873

Judge Plascove held out a paper that bore an official state seal.

Jenny Peterman shifted little Edith on her left hip and reached out to take the paper with her right. Six
years after taking the bullet from Margaret Baker's gun, she had regained most of the use of that arm.
The toddler tightened her hold on her mother's neck.

?Here, I'll take her,? Micah said, reaching out and taking their daughter into his arms. The little girl rested
her head on her daddy's shoulder while five-year-old Charlie, named for Jenny's father, stood by

solemnly and watched his mother out of violet eyes that matched his father's unusual color.

Her hands free, she scanned the document. It was a full commutation of her sentence.

?It's not a parole,? she said quietly. ?My sentence is considered fully served."

Judge Plascove nodded. ?That's correct. I wrote to the Governor myself. I tried to get you a pardon,
but he was unwilling to overturn your conviction."

She smiled. ?I've always felt you were on my side, Your Honor. This means I'm free."

?It does."

She moved her eyes from the white-haired jurist to the little family picture. Micah stood facing her, one
blond child in his arms and the other, equally blond one beside him. At forty some white had begun to
creep into his temples, but his lean, tanned face was as handsome as it had been these past six years. His
clothes fit him well now; no more baggy garments. He looked every inch the prosperous horse breeder
he was, yet so right with the children.

She scanned the commutation decree, then looked at Micah, weighing the document in her hand.
Abruptly, she folded it, put it in her reticule, pulled on her gloves and said, ?Would you excuse me for a
moment?? and walked out the door to the astonishment of the men.

For a moment, Micah was taken aback.

?Where did Mama go?? Charlie asked.

Micah swallowed hard. After seven years she was free.

It couldn't be.

Thrusting Edith into the surprised judge's arms, he said, ?Wait here,? to Charlie and loped out the door.

He scanned the main street up and down, his heart pounding as he looked for the blue plaid walking
gown she wore. Finally, he saw a woman in blue standing on the rail of the livery stable corral. He loped
up the street to see Jenny gazing at the horses.

She had pulled off her bonnet; the action must have yanked out some hairpins because her waist-length
chestnut hair floated in soft waves down her back. A light breeze shifted her hair and played with the
ruffle on her fashionably narrow skirt.

He approached quietly and joined her at the rail.

?What was that about?? he asked, heart in his throat.

She didn't turn to face him. ?When we got married, Judge Plascove told me that after seven years of
marriage, we could dissolve our marriage and I would be free to go anywhere."

A shot of pain crossed his heart. Despite that, he bit out, ?Do you want a divorce?"

She looked at him now. ?I wanted to see how it felt to be free?to go anywhere I wanted?alone if I

chose. I wanted to see if I could do it, could walk out with no regrets and not look back. But I can't.
Standing here, I realized I've been free from the moment you married me. Sure, I had to walk a narrow
path and things weren't always so wonderful the first year, but I've always had you. And then the kids
came along, kids I never thought I would ever be able to have and to them I was never a paroled
convict, just their mother. And to you...? Her eyes flooded with tears. ?I could never leave you. Without
you, I would never truly be a free woman."

He held out his arms and she stepped off the rail and into his embrace. Caring little who saw them, he
lowered his face to hers and kissed her hungrily as she kissed him back.

Releasing her, he said, ?let's get our kids and go home."

She reached up and stroked his cheek. ?Don't you know? Wherever you are, I'm already home."

~The End~

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