"Kristin… do you take this man for your lawful wedded husband, to have and to hold, from this day forward, to love, to cherish and to obey in all the things of this earth?"
She stared at him blankly. It wasn't right. He didn't love her. And she was falling in love with him.
"I, er…"
"Kristin!" The pressure of his fingers around hers was becoming painful.
"Cole…" She turned to him, trying to free her hand from his grasp. "Cole, this is marvelously noble of you, honestly. But I'm sorry, I don't think —"
"Kristin!" Shannon gasped.
"Kristin…" Cole began, and there was a definite threat in his tone, like a low rumble of thunder. What could he do to her, here, with all these people, she wondered recklessly.
He caught her shoulders and jerked her against him. The reverend was sucking air in and out of his cheeks very quickly. "Mr. Slater, if the young lady isn't prepared to take this step, if she isn't completely enamored of you —"
"She's enamored, she's enamored!" Cole snapped. He wound his fingers into Kristin's hair and kissed her hotly. He kissed her with such conviction and passion that she felt herself color from the roots of her hair to her toes. His lips molded around hers, and his tongue plunged deep into her mouth. She couldn't breathe, and she could barely stand, and her knees were beginning to shake.
"Really, now —" the reverend protested.
"They really are in love!" Jamie assured him cheerfully.
"Cole —" Malachi tapped his brother on the shoulder. "I — er… think you've made your point."
Cole lifted his lips from Kristin's by just a whisper. His eyes burned into hers. "Say 'I do,' Kristin. Say it."
She inhaled. Her ribs felt as if they had been crushed. She tried to shake her head, but it wouldn't move. "Say 'I do,' " he insisted.
She felt as if the trembling in her heart were an earthquake beneath her feet. She parted her lips, and they felt damp and swollen.
"For God's sake, do it!" Shannon whispered. "We need him. Don't be so naive!"
She nodded, but she couldn't speak. Cole caught her fingers and brought their hands together and squeezed. " 'I do,' Kristin! Say it!"
She formed the words at last. I do.
"Go on!" Cole roared at the reverend.
The reverend asked Cole the same question he'd asked Kristin.
He almost spat out the answer. "I do!" His lips twisted bitterly, as if, having forced her to do what he wanted, he had found a new contempt for her. She tried to wrench her hand away from him, but he held her firm and slipped a ring on her finger. It was a wide gold band, and it was too big for her.
She heard Delilah saying that if they twined some string around it it would fit fine.
Then the reverend announced that they were man and wife, and Cole released her. No one said anything, not a single word. The silence went on and on, but Delilah finally broke it.
"This calls for some of that fine white wine in the cellar, I think. Samson, you go fetch it up here, please."
"Yessir, a wedding sure calls for wine," Samson agreed.
The room seemed very still, and Kristin was still unable to move. She was hot and cold by turns. She had never felt more alone in her life. Cole had moved away from her, far away, as if he couldn't bear to touch her now that the words had been spoken. He thanked the reverend and paid him. Then he seemed to notice Kristin again. She had to sign the marriage certificate.
She balked again. He grabbed her hand and guided it to the paper, and she managed to scratch out her name. Nothing seemed real. Delilah said she would set out a cold supper, and Shannon promised to help. Somehow Kristin wound up in one of the big plush wing chairs in the parlor. Jamie stood beside her, resting a hand on her shoulder.
"He's really not as bad as he seems, you know," he whispered. She clenched her teeth together to keep them from chattering. "No, he's worse." Jamie laughed, but there was an edge to his laughter. He sat down on the sofa across from her and took her hands in his. His eyes were serious. "Kristin, you have to try to understand Cole."
"He doesn't want to be understood," she replied softly.
"You're not afraid of him, are you?" he asked. She thought for a moment, then shook her head, smiling ruefully. "Afraid of Cole? Never. He saved my life. No, Jamie, I'm not afraid of him. I just wish that —"
"That what?" Jamie murmured.
They could both see Cole. He was rubbing the back of his neck as he talked to Malachi. He looked tired, Kristin thought. She bit her lower lip, and wished for a moment that the marriage was real. She wanted to tiptoe up behind him and touch his shoulders with soothing fingers. She wanted to press her face against the coolness of his back and pretend there was no war, no Zeke, no chaos.
"I wish I understood him," she said at last, staring straight at Jamie. "Want to help?"
He straightened and released her hands. "I'm sorry, Kristin. I can't." He stood and smiled down at her. "Look at that, will you? Delilah is a gem. A cold supper, indeed. She's got biscuits and gravy, turnip greens and a shank of ham over there. Come on!" He took her hands in his again and pulled her to her feet. Suddenly, impulsively, he gave her a kiss on the cheek. "Hey, welcome, sister," he whispered.
Some instinct caused her to look behind him. Cole was watching them. He scowled darkly and turned his attention to Malachi again.
"I'm not very hungry, Jamie," Kristin said. It was true. She wasn't hungry at all. She smiled at him, though and whispered, "Thank you, Jamie!" She felt like crying again, and she shook herself impatiently. It was absurd. She had stood
tall in the face of tragedy. Now there was only confusion, but it was tearing her apart.
Cole didn't seem to be very hungry, either. He waited with barely concealed impatience for his brothers to finish their meal. When they had, he started toward the door with long strides, and they followed. He paused in the doorway and said to Kristin, "We're going to ride out and take a look at things. I want to tell the ranch hands."
He was going to announce their wedding the way he might have spread the news of a battle. She nodded, wondering again at the fever that touched his eyes. He couldn't wait to be away from her, she thought. Then why, she thought angrily, had he done it at all? Surely his obligation to her wasn't as great as that.
She didn't say anything. He looked at the reverend, thanking him again for making the trip and urging him to make himself at home. Then he paused again. Malachi and Jamie shifted uncomfortably, exchanging worried glances.
"Write to your brother," Cole told Kristin. "Write to him immediately. There's a good possibility I may stop a Yankee bullet before this is all over, but I don't intend it to be because of a stupid mistake."
Then the three of them were gone. Kristin stood up, watching as the door closed, listening as their booted feet fell against the floorboards of the front porch.
Then, ridiculously, she felt her knees wobbling. She heard a humming in the air, and it was as if wind were rising again, bringing with it a dark mist.
"Kristin!"
She heard Shannon calling her name, and then she heard nothing. She sank to the floor in a dead faint.
Several hours later the Slater brothers rode back from their inspection of the ranch. They'd told all the ranch hands about the marriage. Old Pete had spit on the ground and told Cole he was damned glad. He seemed to understand that with Cole and Kristin married, they were all safer from Zeke Moreau. He didn't seem to care much whether the marriage was real. He seemed to think it was none of his business.
The brothers had gone on to ride around the perimeters of the McCahy ranch. It was a quiet day. By the time they headed back for the house, night was coming and coming fast. Still, when they were within sight of the place, Cole suddenly decided he wanted to stop and set up camp.
Jamie built a fire, and Malachi unsaddled the horses. Cole produced a bottle of whiskey and the dried beef and hardtack. By then the stars had risen, bright against the endless black velvet of the night sky.
Let it rest! Malachi thought. Let it go. Kristin McCahy — no, Slater now — was young, beautiful and intelligent, and if he wasn't mistaken, she was in love with Cole. Cole was too caught up in his memories of tragedy to see it. Even if he did see it, it might not change anything. Malachi knew his brother had acted out of a sense of chivalry. He also knew Kristin would have preferred he hadn't. Malachi sighed. Their personal lives were none of his business. He had to leave. He was a regular soldier in a regular army, and his leave was about up.
"This is kind of dumb, ain't it?" Jamie demanded, swallowing some of the whiskey.
"Dumb?" Cole asked.
"Hell, yes. You've got yourself a gorgeous bride, young and shapely —"
"And what the hell do you know about her shape?" Cole demanded heatedly.
"Come on, you can't miss it," Malachi protested dryly. He was determined to have a peaceful evening. He sent Jamie a warning scowl. They both knew what was bothering Cole. "Jamie… stop it."
"Why? Does Cole think he's the only one who's been hurt by this war?"
"Damned brat —" Cole began angrily.
"But the damned brat came running when you asked, Cole, so sit back. Hell, come on, both of you stop it."
"I just think he should appreciate the woman, that's all. And if he didn't mean to, damn it, he shouldn't have tied her up in chains like that."
Cole, exasperated, stared at Malachi. "Will you shut him up, or should I?"
"There's a war on, boys!" Malachi reminded them both.
"He should be decent to her —" Jamie began.
"Damn it, I am decent to her!" Cole roared.
"Leaving her alone on her wedding night —"
"Leaving her alone was the most decent damned thing I could do!" Cole said. He wrenched the whiskey bottle from his brother's hands. "You're too young for this stuff."
"Hell, I'm too old," Jamie said softly. He grinned ruefully at his brother, and all the tension between them seemed to dissipate. "I'm twenty, Cole. By some standards, that's real old. Seventeen-year-old boys are dying all over the place."
"Quantrill is running a bunch of boys," Cole said. He lifted his hand in a vague gesture. "The James boys. The Youngers. And that butcher Bill Anderson. He's just a kid."
He swallowed the liquor, then swallowed again. He felt like being drunk. Really drunk.
Malachi reached for the bottle. The firelight played over his hair, and he arched his golden brows at Cole. "You think that Quantrill can really control his men? That marrying Kristin can keep her safe?"
Cole looked out at the Missouri plain before him, gnawing on a blade of grass. He spit out the grass and looked over at his brothers, who were both looking at him anxiously. If he hadn't been knotted up inside he might have smiled. They were both concerned. There was something about the McCahy place that got to a man. He could understand how even the great struggle between North and South had ceased to matter here, had ceased to matter to Kristin. The brutality here was too much. It left the mind numbed.
"I know Quantrill is about to head south for the winter. He doesn't like the cold. He'll make one more raid, I'm certain. Then he'll head on somewhere south — maybe Arkansas, maybe Texas. I'll stick around until he moves on. Then I'll go on over to Richmond. If I can just find some train tracks that are still holding together, I should make it in time."
"If Jefferson Davis is still in the Cabinet," Jamie said glumly.
Cole looked at him sharply. "Why? What have you heard?"
"Nothing. It's just that the battle of Sharpsburg left a lot of dead men. A whole lot of dead men."
"Watch your step around here," Malachi warned Cole. "There's Federal patrols wandering all around the McCahy place."
"Yeah, I know."
"That little witch just about got me hauled in today."
"Witch?" Cole asked.
"Shannon," Jamie supplied.
Malachi grunted. "I envy you your wife, Cole, but not your in-laws."
"And he doesn't mean the Yankee brother." Jamie laughed. "It's a good thing Malachi has to ride out soon. I don't think she's too fond of him, either."
Malachi looked as if he wanted to kill somebody, Jamie thought, but at least Cole laughed, and Cole needed it the most. "What have I missed?" Cole asked.
"The antics of a child," Malachi replied, waving a dismissing hand in the air. He reached for the liquor bottle. It was going down quickly.
"Some child!" Jamie said. "Why, she's coming along just as nicely as that wife of yours, Cole."
Malachi and Cole looked at one another. "We could end this war if we just sent this boy to Washington to heckle the Union commanders," Malachi said.
Cole grunted his agreement. Jamie grinned and lay back against his saddle, staring up at the stars. "You know, Cole," he said suddenly, "I am sorry about the past. I sure am."
There was a long silence. The fire snapped and crackled. Malachi held his breath and held his peace.
"But if I were you," Jamie went on, "I wouldn't be out here with my brothers. Not when I had a woman like that waiting. A woman with beautiful blond hair and eyes like sapphires. And the way she walks, her hips swinging and all…Why, I can just imagine what it'd be like —'"
"Son of a bitch!" Cole roared suddenly. He stood up, slamming the nearly empty whiskey bottle into the fire. The liquor hissed and sizzled. Jamie leaped to his feet, startled by the deadly dark danger in his brother's eyes. Malachi, too, leaped to his feet. He couldn't believe that Cole would really go for Jamie, but then he had never seen Cole in a torment like this. Nor had he ever seen Jamie so determined to irk him.
"Cole —" Malachi reached for his brother's arm, and they stared at one another in the golden firelight.
"No!" Jamie told Malachi, his eyes on Cole. "If he wants to beat me up, let him. If he thinks he can strike out at me and feel better, fine. Let him hurt me instead of that poor girl waiting for him at the house. At least I understand why he strikes out. Hell, she doesn't even know why he's so damned hateful."
"What the hell difference does it make?" Cole thundered. "All she wanted from me was protection!"
"She deserves some damned decency from you!"
"I told you —"
"Yeah, yeah, you came up with some puny excuse. You are a bastard."
"You don't know —"
"I know that it wasn't my wife killed by the jayhawkers, but we loved her, too, Cole. And she loved you, and she wouldn't want you making your whole life nothing but ugly vengeance."
"Why, I ought to —"
"Cole!" Malachi shouted. Between the three of them, they'd consumed almost an entire bottle of liquor. This wasn't a good time for Jamie to be goading Cole, but Jamie didn't seem to care. And now Cole was losing control. He shook off Malachi's arm and lunged at Jamie with a sudden fury. Then the two of them were rolling in the dust.
"Jesus in heaven!" Malachi breathed. "Will the two of you —"
"You don't know! You don't know anything!" Cole raged at Jamie. "You didn't find her, you didn't feel the blood pouring out all over you! You didn't see her eyes close, you didn't see the love as it died. You didn't watch her eyes close and feel her flesh grow cold!"
"Cole!"
His hands were around Jamie's neck, and Jamie wasn't doing anything at all. He was letting Cole throttle him. Malachi tried to pull him off, and Cole suddenly realized what he was doing. Horrified, he released his brother. Then he stood and walked away, his back to his brothers.
"I need to stay away from Kristin," he said softly.
Jamie looked at Malachi and rubbed his throat. Malachi spoke to Cole.
"No. You don't need to stay away from her. You need to go to her."
Cole turned around. He came over to Jamie and planted his hands on his brother's shoulders. "You all right?"
; Jamie nodded and grinned. "I'm all right."
Cole walked over to his horse. He untied the reins which were tethered to a tree, and walked the horse into the open. Then he leaped up on the animal's back without bothering to saddle it.
"You going back?" Malachi asked.
"Just for another bottle of whiskey."
Malachi and Jamie nodded. They watched as Cole started back toward the house, the horse's hooves suddenly taking flight in the darkness.
"He's just going back for another whiskey bottle," Jamie said.
Malachi laughed. "We betting on when he's going to make it back?"
Jamie grinned. "You get to bring his saddle in the morning." He lay down again and stretched out, feeling his throat. "Too bad I wasn't blessed with sisters!" He groaned.
Malachi grunted, pulled his hat low over his face and closed his eyes. The fire crackled and burned low, and at last the two of them slept.
Cole heard one of Pete's hounds barking as he approached the house. Then Pete himself, shirtless, the top of his long Johns showing above his hastily donned trousers, came out to challenge him.
"Just me, Pete," Cole assured him.
"Evening, boss," Pete said agreeably, and headed back to the bunkhouse.
Cole dismounted from his horse, sliding from the animal's back without his accustomed grace. He gave his head a shake to clear it. The whiskey had gotten to him more than he would have cared to admit, but not enough to really knock him out the way he wanted, not enough to take away the last of his pain. He was determined to be quiet, but it seemed to him that his boots made an ungodly noise on the floorboards of the porch.
The house was dark. He stumbled through the hall and the parlor and into what had been Gabriel McCahy's office. He fumbled around for a match and lit the oil lamp on the desk, then came around and sat in the chair, putting his feet up on the desk and digging in the lower right hand drawer for a bottle of liquor — any kind of liquor.
Then he heard a click, and the hair on the back of his neck stood straight up. His whiskey-dulled reflexes came to life, and he slammed his feet to the floor, reaching for his revolver.
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