CHAPTER ONE

Texas hill country, March 10, 1878

"Marry by my thirtieth birthday or lose this ranch to my worthless uncle?" Seething with rage and betrayal, Drake Kincaid stepped off the porch of his ranch house, glared up at his grandfather and over to his cousin, Lex. "How could my own flesh and blood put me in this position? Allow all I've worked for to hang by a wedding ring and a length of lace?"

He gazed across the wide expanse of gently rolling range sloping to the Pedernales River. New leaf buds swelled in the branches of the cottonwoods and willows, promising the end of winter. Early bluebonnets would soon be joined by other wildflowers bursting in a riot of color.

The sight of this land usually filled him with pleasure. Today the threat of losing all he held dear blinded him to the rustic beauty. Dear Lord, how could he bear such a loss? The thought staggered him and he shut his eyes against the pain.

Without turning, he asked of the man who had followed him as far as the broad porch of the ranch house, "Why didn't you talk them out of it, Grandpa?"

"I tried. You think they listened to me?" District Judge Robert Kincaid put his hand on the shoulder of his grandson. "Be reasonable, Drake. You've known the conditions of your parents' will these twelve years since they died. Why hold me responsible now?"

Drake shrugged off his grandfather's hand and spun around. "You are responsible, you're the Judge here. Instead of enforcing the marriage clause in that ridiculous will, you could help me break it."

He'd always thought his grandfather would do just that. For years he'd pushed that absurd marriage clause to the back of his mind, never considered the will a threat. Until now.

He watched his grandfather's craggy face break into a scowl. The older man's faded blue eyes sparked beneath bushy white brows as he pointed a weathered finger at his grandson's chest.

"That's where you're wrong, son. If I don't enforce the law for my own family, how can I expect others to respect it? And just what makes you think your Uncle Winston would stand for such a thing?"

Drake turned on his cousin. "You're a lawyer. Why don't you help me?"

Lex shook his head. "They've got more lawyers in Boston than you could shake a stick at. Why, Cuz, if you tried to break the terms of that will, your Uncle Winston would be on you like a chicken on a June bug. You can bet good money he's already counting the days 'till your birthday."

Drake watched Lex walk over and slump a lanky hip against the hitching rail. Wind ruffled Lex's auburn hair and sunlight brought out the freckles splashed across his amiable face. If not for the concern in his cousin's dark eyes, Drake might have thought Lex unaffected by all he heard.

Concern was well and good, but Lex wasn't the one who stood to lose everything. Drake paced to the corner of his home and leaned against the calming strength of hand-hewn limestone. After a moment he turned and strode back to the front step. His voice rose as he forked fingers through his hair.

"Look how Uncle Winston ruined that ranch he used to own east of town, before he had it fenced and sold off in parcels. He'd do the same to this one, or worse, curse his ornery hide. Have you forgotten he actually threatened to run sheep on this place? Sheep!"

He gestured to the land sloping to the river before he turned to face his grandfather eye to eye. "But damned if I'll marry some mindless skirt just so I can keep what's rightfully mine from passing into the hands of my useless uncle."

"You've found a reason to disqualify every woman in Kincaid County and all the counties around," his grandfather snapped, drawing himself up to his full six-foot-five height. "Facts be known, you don't want to settle down and raise a family."

Drake could not deny the charge. Plenty of marriageable women had paraded before him over the years. Some had even dared broach the subject of marriage when he failed to do so, but he refused to give in to his grandfather.

"I couldn't spare time from building this ranch to play courting games." He didn't add he had no wish to expose himself to the sorry ordeal he had watched his parents endure. Instead, he tried reasoning with his grandfather.

"How would you have felt if you'd married someone you didn't love before you met Grandma? I don't want to settle for a wrong, or even an almost-right, woman. The true one and only one for me might be waiting just around the next bend." He walked a few feet from the shelter of the porch and turned his face to the morning sun.

Grandpa followed Drake. "Then, son, you better round that bend and be gol' durned quick about it. If you don't catch you a bride by your thirtieth birthday, everything you've worked for will be gone and be damned. This ranch will revert to your mother's brother, and you'll be looking for a job and a place to live."

"Grandpa, if I haven't found her in almost thirty years, how can I find her in a few weeks?" Desperation tinged his voice and he hated hearing it. He felt as hopeless as he sounded but he faced his grandfather. "Be reasonable, will you?"

Anger flared in the older man's eyes as Grandpa used his hat to point at Drake. "Since none of the women of Kincaid County suits you, you'd best look around on your trip east to buy horses. Find yourself a good woman. And, son, I mean a good woman. Marry her by April tenth. Otherwise, you'll be looking for a new place to live and your Uncle Winston or his lackey will be living here." The elder man slapped his leg with the large-brimmed hat.

Drake refused to accept this could happen to him. "I'm the one who made this ranch into a profitable business." His voice rose in pitch as his indignation grew. He gestured wildly. "How can you consider taking the ranch from me, your own grandson, your own flesh and blood? I've fought--"

His grandfather interrupted with a roar, "Don't you go bellyachin' about what you've done for this land. You think you're the first Kincaid who had a hard row to hoe?" He gave a derisive snort. "Didn't my own grandfather lose all his family's land in Scotland to the English? Didn't that same man and my father beat those English in the Carolinas to carve out a place for themselves?"

He stepped closer to his grandson and pointed to the ground. "Didn't I help wrench this very piece of land you're standing on from ol' Santa Anna and the Comanches? Even after that we had the devil of a time holdin' on to it through the War, and purt near lost it afterward to that bunch of thievin' carpetbaggers. But we've kept it, by damn."

Grandpa's eyes narrowed and pinned Drake where he stood. "That's the way of it, boy. Kincaids fight for what's ours, for our land. But what good is it unless we have sons and daughters to pass that land on to?" He punctuated his remarks by stabbing a gnarled finger at Drake.

Drake stood nose to nose facing down his grandfather. "Do you think I don't know that? But why does it have to be right now? Why can't it be in my own time? Why can't you bend a little on this?"

Grandpa's voice softened, but he offered no hope to his grandson. "Believe me, Drake, this is not easy for me. The law is the law, and it's supposed to be impartial. I'm pledged by oath to uphold it for you the same as for anyone else."

He clapped his hat on his head. "Now, I've said as much on this subject as I'm going to." Whirling on his heel, the older man stomped to his horse.

With a swiftness that belied his years he mounted and, half turning in the saddle, shouted, "By April tenth or you lose the whole shootin' match!"

Drake watched his grandfather ride away as if the hounds of hell were in pursuit.

He paced, giving his cousin the brunt of his complaints.

"My whole life I've devoted every waking moment to this ranch. How could my own parents, and now Grandpa, hinge all those years and work on this one ridiculous clause? Marry or lose everything to pompous Uncle Winston, a man who knows nothing of ranching. After all, the man lives in Boston!"

Drake clenched his fists. "Winston doesn't give a whit about the land or its people, only the profit to be made. The man's mean as a snake and twice as crooked. He'd have some manager do all the work for him and pay the hands only a pittance for hard labor."

"He wouldn't have the loyalty of his ranch hands that you do, that's for sure." Lex knew Drake paid the best wages anywhere around and provided the best housing for his workers' families. The extra expense paid off in many ways for Drake, from loyalty of his ranch hands to the quality of work provided.

Drake glared at him as if he'd defended the infamous uncle. "Probably wouldn't even visit the place over twice a decade, durn his blue-blooded, worthless hide. And that's only if he didn't break up the ranch and sell it off in parcels as he's threatened. Or run sheep. Sheep, on this land!"

Lex shifted his weight and looked at Drake. "Remember when we first heard the terms of the will? We joked about the marriage clause."

"I was eighteen. Thirty seemed aeons away. I never dreamed Grandpa would enforce the stupid thing. He even joked with us."

Lex reminded him, "He's not laughing now."

"No, the old man's dead-level serious. And me planning a trip east this close to my birthday sure put a burr under his saddle." Drake stalked to a nearby stand of live oak trees, wondering how best to fight this battle. With the toe of his hand-tooled boot, he worked a rock loose from the soil.

He would take his fists to anyone who called him a romantic. Still, he had hoped one day to meet a woman and, well, just know she was the one for him. Evidently, real life didn't work that way. Not his.

"I've told Grandpa I'm perfectly capable of finding a wife for myself--when the right time comes. Now the old man's come up with this hair-brained idea for a bride search. All I want is to look for a few thoroughbred mares. I refuse to roll over and play dead on demand like some trained dog."

He scooped up the stone and, with unerring precision, threw the missile to thunk against the trunk of an oak tree. From a branch above the target, a startled squirrel chattered angrily at the intrusion.

"Damn that will, and damn Grandpa's meddling."

Lex Tremont shifted his weight against the hitching post, still waiting patiently for his cousin to calm. He watched Drake's long fingers work forcefully through his thick hair and marveled no furrows were left in his cousin's scalp.

He sympathized with Drake, and wondered about him giving in to their grandfather's edict. Drake and their grandfather were too much alike, each a remarkable man in his own way. Nose to nose a few moments ago, the two looked a picture of the same person at different ages.

Both tall, Drake's black hair hung longer than their grandfather's bushy white mane. But they shared wide shoulders and amazing strength. Drake's eyes were a steel gray to their grandfather's pale blue, but one had only to see them together to know Kincaid blood ran true.

They shared more than looks. The same mile-wide streak of Kincaid stubbornness ran through both men. With a smile, Lex counted himself lucky his affable Tremont blood tempered his obstinate Kincaid blood.

Not that he denied his own trace of that stubborn streak. He smiled. No, not stubbornness. In himself, he preferred to think of it as standing firm in the strength of his convictions.

"Well, to be truthful," he offered, "it was your own father and mother who put that clause in their will. Grandpa's just enforcing it--or reminding you to before we go east."

Drake turned. "I'm so upset I've let the morning get away from us. We're supposed to be on the road right now."

Giving his bay mare a pat on the nose and, stepping clear of Drake's massive gelding, Lex left the hitching post and strode over to his cousin. "Calm down first. Let's think this through."

Lex knew his cousin was more intelligent than he was, but Drake's temper sometimes caused his actions to bypass his brain. And that stubborn streak had landed him, and them, in more tight spots than either cared to remember.

"If I have to settle for merely suitable, it's going to be on my terms," Drake said as his boot worked at another stone.

"You heard Grandpa, and you know how stubborn he is." Good Lord, who would know better, since Drake was exactly the same? "What do you figure on doing?"

Drake answered, "I'm going to do just what that old man asked."

"No." Lex gave a brief shake of his head and clamped his hat on his head. He adjusted the brim to shade his face. "I know you're too muleheaded to back down so easily."

He tilted his head upward to look closely at the man who topped his six feet by a good five inches. Though Drake now appeared relaxed, Lex recognized the steel behind that look. The little muscle tick at the corner of Drake's mouth gave him away.

"No," Lex repeated. "I know you too well to believe that. What is it you really have in mind?"

Drake scooped up another rock and hit the same trunk, sending the angry squirrel bounding to the next tree. "He wants me to go east. Find myself a bride. So, that's just what I'll do."

Lex saw anger flash in his cousin's eyes as he faced him.

Drake said, "I give you my word, I intend to find the most disagreeable, the homeliest, absolutely the most unsuitable virgin I can and make her my bride." Drake spoke with such derision the words seemed a curse. "Let's just see how happy Grandpa is then."

Lex struggled to conceal his shock and tried once again to reason with Drake. "That's cuttin' off your nose to spite your face. This is a wife you're talking about, not a hat. You're going' to be married to her for a long, long time." He paused as the shock deepened. "Say, you don't plan to run her off or somethin' soon as you're married, do you?"

"Naw, nothing like that." Drake paused as if in thought, then raised his ornery gaze to his cousin. "If I wanted a wife, it would be different. I don't, especially not like this. Don't have time for one, don't intend to live in the same house with the woman once I marry her."

Lex stepped toward his cousin and placed a restraining hand on his shoulder as he repeated his advice. "Drake, calm down and think this through. How will that meet Grandpa's ultimatum or satisfy the will's conditions?"

Drake affected a shocked expression and clutched his chest. "Why, how could I expect a genteel lady to live the rough life on the ranch anymore than my mother did? She can live in town--with the old man." He smiled. "Yeah. Let Grandpa see how well he likes having a woman forced on him."

Worry furrowed Lex's forehead. "Don't do this, Drake. Don't you want children, sons to carry on the ranch like Grandpa said?"

"Oh, I'll do my husbandly duty often enough for that." He stepped into the stirrups and mounted Midnight, the huge black only he could ride. "Well, you still game to go with me to buy horses--and join this search for the most unsuitable bride I can find?"

Lex shook his head in wonder as he mounted his own mare. Drake and trouble were no strangers. This plan might make sense to Drake in his hardheaded, stubborn way of thinking, but it smelled of crisis to Lex. Since his cousin begged for real trouble this time, he was certain to find it.

"Grandpa's let me off work and my stuff's packed. Believe me, I wouldn't miss this for the world." He shook his head in disbelief. "Most unsuitable bride, indeed."

* * *

Piper's Hollow, Tennessee, two weeks later--

Pearl Parker watched the sun send its first tentative fingers of light over the crest of hills framed perfectly in the cabin window. Robins in the hawthorn bushes beneath the window called noisy greetings while a nearby cock crowed to herald the day. Inside the cabin, Pearl's workday had begun hours ago. Proof of that labor was the tempting yeasty scent of fresh-baked bread mingled with the tangy perfume of spiced fruit in warm pies.

She turned as her half-sister slipped into the kitchen carrying a basket of eggs.

Sarah set the basket in the dry sink, cleaned her hands, and reached for a slice of warm bread. "Looks like you're about ready for town. There's a chill in the air this morning. Aren't you going to wear shoes?"

"On, no. You know I hate those stiff old clumping shoes. Lately they pinch my toes something awful." Pearl untied her apron and tugged at the neck of her faded brown dress.

Sarah's eyes were a shade bluer than the violet of Pearl's, Sarah's hair a shade lighter blonde. In stature and features, though, tall and willowy thirteen-year-old Sarah mirrored Pearl at the same age. Pearl hoped Sarah stopped growing before she reached her own five-foot-nine stature. Sarah had shot up over the winter until she was only four or five inches shorter than Pearl.

Pearl leaned against the kitchen table and inhaled the fragrances surrounding her. This was her favorite time of day, full of promise and hope. She turned and spread butter on a slice of bread. Eyes closed to savor the taste, she took a bite. "Mmm, nothing better than fresh-baked bread and butter." When she finished the treat, she took several sips of her coffee. "Now, I'd better get back to work."

Pearl and Sarah wrapped each loaf in a clean cloth made from flour sacking, working rapidly in a pattern learned from daily practice. Warm loaves were placed in neat rows in the lower part of the cart. Pies made from Pearl's cellar cache of apples and dried peaches were stacked on racks across the top. Eggs for the general store went into a special basket nestled securely in a corner slot.

Once all her wares were loaded to suit her, she tucked her most precious belonging of all, her medical bag, safely inside the vehicle's wooden base. Though she loved baking, she loved healing more. Making people well or bringing a new life into the world gave satisfaction far beyond life's ordinary pleasures. It made a difference in the world. Even though only a few patients could pay her, she made healing her true life's work.

The cart took up most of the open kitchen area in the large cabin and barely fit through the outer doorway. She hated having the thing inside, but knew no other way to protect it from the vicious vandals plaguing her family the past few weeks. The wheelbarrow-like conveyance served its purpose well as she made her daily deliveries of baked goods across the area. Her half-brother, Storm, had helped build it using pieces of planking and parts of broken machinery salvaged from the barn. She thought of it with pride. It was their most ingenious invention.

Sarah leaned forward to sniff a warm apple pie. She straightened and fussed, "I wish you didn't have to wear those hateful old dresses of Granny's. That one's been mended and re-mended until it's the ugliest thing I've ever seen."

Pearl fingered the unsightly hopsacking garment in question. "Yes, I hate this one even more than the others, but it serves its purpose. I need the baggy clothing to disguise my figure."

"But you work so hard and help so many people, you deserve pretty things. I hate to see you look so unattractive and dowdy."

"If I don't look this way, men trail after me and make improper remarks and propositions." Pearl twisted her face into a grimace while she wriggled and tugged the upper body wrap across her breasts into a more tolerable position.

"Doesn't that binding on your bosom hurt?"

"Yes, it bothers me some, but I don't mind." She straightened and smiled at Sarah. "I don't mind the dresses, either, not if that's what it takes for us to stay in business. A housewife won't buy our baked goods if her husband gives the baker"--She fanned the voluminous skirts in a mock curtsy to her sister--"a second glance."

"They'd give you more than a second glance if they saw how pretty you really are. They'd be chasing after you for sure."

"We have enough problems without men getting ideas into their heads about either of us." She thought of the troubles she had encountered over the past few years. A controversial lone woman acting as head of household could not be too careful, especially with two young people in her care. "All people need to see is we're clean, we're good cooks, that I can help sick folks, and we mind our own business."

"Hmph, that's more than most of them do." Storm strode in from feeding the animals and milking the cow. In one hand he carried a pail of fresh milk, he carried a rifle in the other hand. He set the pail beside the churn and leaned the rifle in the corner.

His long black hair was clubbed behind him. In a nut-brown face that confirmed his half-Cherokee heritage, his cobalt blue eyes made a startling contrast responsible for his Cherokee name, Eyes Like Storm Cloud. Though he had turned fourteen last week, Pearl thought he looked several years younger, maybe even as young as eleven or twelve.

Pearl caught the twinkle which sprang into his eyes as he watched her ritual.

"Getting all prettied up for town, I see."
She grinned at him, happy they shared the joke of their conspiracy against the public. What would she do without him? His dry sense of humor and sharp mind bolstered her spirits as much as his helpful nature made her work easier. In fact, he helped her in so many ways each day, and so did Sarah. Once again Pearl thanked God for sending them to her.

The two had come into her care at separate times when she was no more than a girl herself. Both were big responsibilities, but she couldn't love them more if they were her own children. She would never turn them over to someone else or abandon them. She couldn't imagine her life without them in it.

Pearl's hand skimmed across the block of butter on the table. She patted oiled fingers to the front part of her hair flowing into her braid. Then, she frizzed the hair around her face into what she thought of as her "wild woman" look. With a dusting of flour to make the greased hair appear dull and listless, she felt her masquerade complete.

Sarah wrinkled her nose in disgust. Pearl gave her a smile. They went through this routine each morning. Sarah never approved, but Pearl knew her disguise helped insure their fragile existence.

In one fluid motion Pearl swung her thick braid of hair behind her right shoulder and picked up her revolver. She slid the heavy Colt .44 into the special pocket of her voluminous dress and patted the weapon for reassurance. She drew a tattered blue shawl around her shoulders and gave last minute orders to her charges.

"Storm, bar the door behind me and stay inside the house. Sarah, please take care of our guest till I get back, you hear?"

Storm drew his thin frame to his full five feet. "Aw, I don't see why I have to stay here. Sarah can look after Belle. Let me help you." He rushed forward to open the door for his sister.

"I don't mind," Sarah agreed, but Pearl was having none of it.

"Those blasted Ainsworths were due out of jail yesterday. They'd just love to cause another ruckus, or come causing mischief around here. I really need you stay home and keep a sharp eye out. Belle's not well enough to help Sarah fight them off if those two worthless brothers show up."

Belle Renfro worked at the local saloon, Roxie's Place. She had been brought to Pearl a week ago after a beating from a viscious customer. For the first two days they feared the woman would bleed to death from internal damage, yet she seemed to gain a little strength each day. But Belle's presence in their home only added more conflict to their unsettled lives.

Pushing her cart before her, Pearl cleared the sloping ramp from the front stoop. She paused, waiting to hear the bar slide into place on the door. She took a deep breath, filling her lungs with the clean, crisp morning air. With bare feet, free of the pinching shoes she hated, she scuffed little puffs of dust through the chill as she trudged the half mile to town and her first customer.

By the time Pete Hammonds unlocked the town's only store, Pearl had finished all her deliveries except those for the storekeeper. She parked her cart and gathered her remaining wares to carry inside.

Pete pulled the door open to admit her. "Mornin' Pearl." From the living quarters above, smells of Pete's breakfast sausage wafted down the stairs and into the merchandise area. "Got my cinnamon-apple pie this mornin'?"

"Right here, but your eggs are still in my cart." Pearl laid four loaves of bread and a plump pie on the counter. She handed Pete a list written on a small piece of foolscrap. "And here's the supplies I'll be needing today."

Pearl liked to visit Hammond's Mercantile. While the dapper shopkeeper filled her order, she strolled slowly between shelves stacked with clothes and household goods. Baskets hung from the beams. Dried herbs, vegetables, oil, and other smells blended with the odor of Pete's breakfast.

The sights and aromas kindled her imagination. What unseen hand made the overalls? Where had these buckets come from? What wonderful sights had the lanterns seen on the way to this small village? Pearl loved dreaming of the places these things had traveled. Someday she'd leave this nowhere place and take her family to see a bit of the world for themselves.

Today her load would be heavier on her trip home than when she came into town. While the storekeeper carried sacks of flour and sugar and other supplies to her cart, she wandered the shop's aisles. How she would love to surprise her brother and sister with special treats, but she must save every penny. Well, maybe a few peppermints or some sticks of licorice wouldn't be too wasteful.

Lingering over a bolt of blue calico, she fingered the fabric longingly. What lovely dresses she could make for herself and Sarah, and maybe even a shirt for Storm from the red nearby. On a shelf overhead, a spool of sky-colored ribbon caught her eye, and she brushed at the wisps of hair escaping her braid.

With a deep sigh, she put pretty dresses and hair ribbons from her mind. There would be time for such things later. At least, if her plans worked out.

By the time Pete loaded her purchases, other townspeople were about their daily chores. The steady clang of the blacksmith's hammer resonated from the smithy down the street. In the cottage nearby, old Mrs. Peabody wielded her broom to attack the dust on her front porch with a fury that defied her age. The woman must be close to one hundred.

From the west end of the village, two strangers rode slowly into town, dismounted and tied their horses in front of the jail. They were dressed differently from local men, more like pictures in the penny dreadfuls depicting men from the Wild West. She wondered if they were from California, or maybe Texas.

Would they be outlaws or cowboys or businessmen? Not many strangers came to Pipers Hollow. She memorized each detail of the men to relate later to Storm and Sarah. At least today she would have something interesting to tell when she got home.

Both men wore waistcoats and wide-brimmed hats, and each had a rifle in the saddle scabbard. The taller of the two caught her attention as he leaned against the front of the jail, his gaze slowly roaming the town. He appeared relaxed until she noticed the way he stood, back to the wall, as his scrutiny took in each building along the short main street.

Oh, my. Just look at the man standing there like one of those Greek god drawings in Mrs. Cummins' books. Of course, the statues in the pictures didn't have on a western hat or boots. In fact, most times they didn't have on anything at all.

Unable to stop the images that leapt to her mind, she smiled. In spite of the clothes he wore, this man beat those pictures seven ways to Sunday for good looks. He stood tall, much taller even than her long frame, and the tallest man she'd ever seen. Even she would feel dainty standing beside a man that size.

His long, dark hair hung almost to shoulders wide enough to furnish shade for three people. With a shrug, he rolled those massive shoulders as if to lessen their fatigue. Maybe this past night he'd slept on the ground instead of a fine feather bed like her own.

Though casually dressed, his clothes appeared of a quality superior to those of Pipers Hollow residents. The tan fabric of his pants fit taut across muscled thighs. One thumb hooked in his belt loop and pressed his dark brown jacket aside. From the wariness of his expression and his stance with one hand near his waist, she decided he must have a handgun tucked into his waistband. Few would venture far without one and, clearly, this man had come from far away.

She wondered if he thought himself better than the people in a little hick village like this? Probably so. Most travelers who wandered through here had only criticism to offer for its lack of opportunity and unfriendly residents.

Under her lashes, she tried to appraise the other man. He wore his large hat at an angle. Though shorter than his companion, he would tower over anyone hereabouts. He wore his clothes well and his waistcoat looked made of cow's hide with the hair still on it, of all things. Dark pants of fine wool tucked into boots with fancy stitching on them.

Her gaze strayed back to the other man. His clothes were not so fancy as his friend's, but she figured they cost plenty. And didn't he look fine? Standing there like a king surveying his domain, he set her mind wandering to fanciful dreams.

How wonderful to have a man like that sweep her and her family away. His arms would be strong, his character stronger. They would be partners against all life's problems, share all of life's joys. Their romance would be as powerful as Antony and Cleopatra, Romeo and Juliet, Lancelot and Guinevere.

With a start, she brought herself to task. Just look where romance and dreams got those couples. Yet this man looked so handsome, so strong, so intelligent. At the very moment she decided he surpassed any man anywhere, his gaze swung her way.

Piercing stone-gray eyes roamed up and down her form and a frown puckered his brow.

A frown?

Indignation boiled up from deep inside her, and she fought to keep from stamping her foot. How dare he? What gave him the right to stare at her and frown, of all things?

The devil take the man, anyway.

She long ago grew tired of people treating her as if she were so much trash on the heap. Did that scowl mean he thought her worthless, too? Or maybe he thought her too tall and spindly?

She held herself as straight as she could while pushing her cart. With her haughtiest glare, she met his stare. She saw his surprise and could have sworn his mouth opened, as if he meant to speak.

Pleased with the unexpected reaction, she let her gaze assess him openly. Let him see how he liked being subjected to examination. Once again, she took in every detail of his clothing from fancy boots to wide-brimmed hat.

What brought him here to a wide place in the road like Pipers Hollow? To her mind, only those who absolutely had no other choice would be anywhere in this county where more rocks than crops grew.

The other man appeared more polite. He smiled and tipped his hat as she passed, revealing a shock of unruly auburn hair and a pleasant face sprinkled with freckles.

"Mornin', Ma'am."

She watched the corners of his eyes crinkle and his smile shine out of sparkling chocolate eyes.

"Good morning to you, sir." She spoke directly to him, pretending to ignore his glowering companion.

The taller man continued to gape at her. What on earth was wrong with him? Had he no manners at all?

Movement across the road caught her attention. She spotted the two worthless Ainsworths loitering about with that evil Jug Eggers. Inwardly she cringed, but kept herself straight and tall. She dared not let Jug know how much he frightened her.

Pearl figured those three hooligans would make trouble for her, maybe even tip over her cart again. Well, she vowed to prevent that. Precious flour and sugar spilled across the road would do her no good.

She saw that stocky brute Jug nudge Willard Ainsworth before he yelled.

"Lookee here who's come to town all by herself, and her friend the sheriff ain't even around."

Willard moved his rotund form and stepped into the road. His brother Burris followed him. The two of them reminded Pearl of plump roosters. Burris' Adam's apple even looked like a wattle. Between them, she thought, they didn't have as much sense as one rooster.

"Let's just see what ol'e Pine Tree Pearl, The Pig Girl, has for us this mornin'." Willard smacked his lips and ran his tongue over them before he repeated the tormenting rhyme they'd used most of her life.

"Pearl, Pearl, the tall pig girl,

Pine tree Pearl, the pig girl."

Willard slapped his leg and chortled, "I sure would like to sample me some of the pig girl's bacon--or grab me her pine cones."

Burris and Jug laughed as if stupid Willard made clever remarks.

Pearl stopped her cart. Her right hand slipped into her pocket and gripped her pistol. She made a shooing gesture with her other hand.

"You three just get away and leave me alone. I'm warning you, now. Didn't sittin' in jail a few days teach you anything?"

"It made us awful lonesome, if'n you know what I mean. Oink, oink, you big ol' pig girl." Willard spoke as the three moved closer, spreading out as if to surround her.

Jug made a calling gesture with his broad hands. "Why don't you come with us. We'll just step over to my place and show you a good time. Even a pig girl needs some romancin' in her life."

"Ha." Withdrawing the revolver from her pocket, she motioned the three together. "You wouldn't know romance if it poleaxed you."

"We could teach you the ways of men and women. You'd be plum grateful to us 'fore we were through. You come with ol'e Jug and we'll get us a room over Roxie's Tavern."

"Even if I was that stupid, which would make me the stupidest woman in Tennessee, Roxie won't let you set foot in her place and you know it."

She almost shuddered at the thought of Jug's arms around her. Though no taller than she was, his huge arms dangled to his knees and reminded Pearl of the picture of a big ape she'd seen long ago in one of Mrs. Cummins' books.

Jug stretched a grimy finger toward her. "Why don't you share some of your Granny's gold with us and we could all go somewheres real nice? Wouldn't you like to go to New Orleans?"

With her free hand she pointed to herself and the faded and mended dress. "Can't you fools see the way I'm dressed? Do I look like I have a bunch of gold from my Granny? Dresses like this and our little plot of land are all she had to leave me."

She took a step toward the three men and waved the gun. "Now you get away from here and let me alone or I'll shoot the three of you so full of holes, you'll leak water ever time you take a drink."

Burris put up a hand and whined, his Adam's apple bobbling as he spoke, "Aw, Pearl, you don't want to be pointin' that there gun at us. We was just havin' some fun."

"Your last 'fun' near ruined me. You wasted a hard day's baking, and it took my brother a whole day to repair my cart. I hope the three of you rot in hell for the cowards you are."

Jug snorted. "Damn, I don't know why you call him your brother. Sonofabitch ain't nothin' but a half-breed, and a bastard at that."

"Ooh, that does it," she growled at them and cocked the gun. Jug's statement pushed her fury ahead of her caution. "Quit talkin' and start walkin'." She fired two shots into the street, one on each side of Jug's feet. He was the man nearest her and by far the most dangerous of the ruffians. Dust flew up, and the men turned and ran.

She yelled at their retreating backs, "Now you stay away from me, and don't you be goin' toward my place neither." None of the three even looked back when she yelled, but disappeared around the corner of the nearest building.

From her other pocket, she took two bullets. With shaking fingers, she replaced the spent cartridges. That done, she slid the pistol back inside her pocket, firmly grasped the handles of her cart, and walked away from town.

She refused a backward glance at the two men standing in front of the jail or the curious townspeople on the street. Her knees wobbled like jelly and she trembled something fierce inside. Never would she let anyone in this stupid town know how terrified she felt right now, nor how often she felt that way.

Sheriff Evan Cummins tore around the corner of the store, yanking his suspenders up on his shoulders. He rasped out, "I heard shots! What was that ruckus about?" He must have run all the way from his house in the trees behind the store, for now the gasping man stopped and bent with his hands braced against his knees. "Are you okay, Fannie Pearl?"

She patted his arm, his brown eyes level with hers. He hadn't even combed his hair today and his thin salt and pepper wisps blew in the light breeze. She had to help herself and this dear man.

She closed her eyes and pushed the fear deep inside her. "I'm fine. It was the Ainsworths and Jug making mischief again. I--I'm sorry, Evan. I lost my temper and shot at their feet."

"You got to be careful, girl. You're just giving Higgins and the pastor more fuel against you when you do things like that."

"You're right." She sighed, then spoke with quiet desperation. "Lord help us, I've got to get away from here. And it has to be soon."

"I know, girl. I know."

She worried for the sheriff. His breath still came in gasps through lips tinged blue against the gray pallor of his face.

He gasped out, "Soon as I find out who's terrorizing you and threatening anyone who tries to buy your place, we can get you away."

She would never confess to Evan Cummins she thought him well past the ability to do any real peace keeping or detecting. She knew he did his best, and that he alone protected her and her family. Best to change the subject.

"You're taking the thornapple syrup I made for, aren't you?" She frowned with concern. "Have you been taking it and drinking the tea?"

"Yes, yes, I'm doing just as you said." He waved a hand of dismissal. "Won't make me any younger, though. Get on home now, Pearl, and take care."

"I have a sick call to make first. Mr. Wilson hurt his arm real bad and the kids have the croup, but I'll get on home after that. You take care, too, Evan."

Pearl pushed her cart toward the edge of town, but paused at the corner to watch Evan greet the two strangers and take them into his office. As she turned, she saw that pompous Pastor Fayne Upperly and his bony stick of a wife Dessie Mae storming down the opposite side of what passed for a street. The couple glared at Pearl as they drew even with her, but continued toward the sheriff's office without speaking. They were probably on their way to complain about her again. More trouble for her, Sarah, and Storm. More bother for Evan.

Pearl regretted her earlier burst of temper, but she had to defend herself against idiots and ruffians. It seemed she couldn't control her temper lately. Her nerves were on edge since Granny died three weeks ago and all the extra meanness started. And Belle staying with her family only gave people like the Pastor more cause to condemn them. With a sigh of resignation, she started on her way, her cart rumbling.

Dear Lord, what's to become of me and my family?

CHAPTER TWO

Drake stood mesmerized by the sight of the woman's bold gaze as she passed him. A prickle of unknown origin raised hairs along the back of his neck. When she had boldly met his gaze, he felt thunderstruck.

She had violet eyes. They pierced right into a man, as if she saw deep into his soul.

Then he watched this lone woman face down three polecats. When Lex would have stepped to her assistance, he stayed him with a word and a hand to his cousin's shoulder. Oh, he almost rushed to her assistance himself--until he saw the pistol. It was then he decided to see what she would do.

That she had faced these same men in similar situations many times became obvious. Why hadn't some of the other people in town come forward to help her? To speak up for her? To her? Only the storekeeper and the sheriff even conversed with her. What kind of crazy place had he come to?

Damn. She had violet eyes.

Her sunkissed face provided a perfect contrast to her jewel-toned eyes. Dressed in a ragged brown sack of a dress far too large for her and pushing a strange cart full of packages, she was without doubt the most unusual woman he had ever seen.

The little toss she gave her head as she walked away sent that thick plait swinging with a tantalizing swish back and forth across her hips. Sunlight turned the wisps of hair escaping her braid into a halo around her head. As regal as a queen in spite of her ragged dress and bare feet, she intrigued him beyond all reason.

Those men called her "pine tree" and "pig girl." Her height no doubt caused the reference to a tall, strong pine. But why the other? Not because of her looks. Her features certainly were not porcine. Maybe her family raised swine.

She had violet eyes. Imagine that?

* * *

Sheriff Evan Cummins saw the two men waiting outside his office in front of the jail. He suspected he knew the identity of at least one of them. Well, if so, they had arrived none too soon. He pulled out his keys and walked up the street toward the men.

When he reached the door, he fitted the key in the lock and gave it the extra jiggle it needed. "You may as well come inside to state your business." He pushed the door wide and motioned the men ahead of him.

The taller of the two swept off his hat and stuck out his hand. "Drake Kincaid, Sheriff. This is my cousin Alexon--uh, Lex Tremont."

Evan smiled with pleasure. "You'd be Rob Kincaid's grandsons then? I had a letter from your grandfather just a couple of days ago. Said you might be headin' this way. Real treat to meet you both. How in the world is that old renegade?"

Both men smiled broadly and Drake answered, "Strong as an ox and mean as a bear with a sore paw. We stopped by to pay our respects."

"And to offer our thanks to you, also." Lex nodded. "Grandpa often says we wouldn't be here, or anywhere else for that matter, if you hadn't saved his hide."

"Works both ways, boys. Many's the time he saved me, too. Lordy, but didn't we chase old Santa Anna out of Texas? Couple of wild ones, we were, young and feisty. It purely is a wonder we survived at all."

He addressed Drake as he looked him up and down. "I truly would like to see Rob again, but you look the spittin' image of the man I knew. Be patient while I tend to a few matters, then we can have us a good long talk."

Evan poked the embers of the fire in the pot-bellied stove and added some coal before he started coffee.

"Though we haven't seen one another in a long time, Rob and I keep in touch with long letters. I feel like I know both you boys almost as well as I know my own daughter."

With a last poke at the coals, he turned to start his coffee. "I keep a pot going all day. Folks claim by evening the brew's so thick and strong a spoon will stand straight up in the cup. That's the way I like it. If a man wants water, he should drink water. If he drinks coffee, then by damn it ought to taste like coffee."

No sooner was the pot brewing than the door slammed open. Fayne Upperly, Pastor of the Church of the Fount of the Blessed Word, ushered his wife inside. Thin as a rail, Dessie Upperly made a perfect contrast to her husband's potbelly.

Evan thought Dessie's mouse brown hair looked pulled so tight into her bun her face must hurt. Could be that's why her sour expression matched that of her prune-faced husband. Evan sighed and resigned himself to another lecture on the sins of Pearl Parker.

"Sheriff, as God-fearing, law-abiding citizens, we are once again lodging a complaint against that Parker woman." Fayne pounded his fist into his hand as he spoke. "We just spoke to the mayor and he is in agreement with us."

Evan held up a hand. "Now, Pastor, you're not in the pulpit here. No need to preach at me."

Dessie Upperly thrust a finger under Evan's nose. "Now that Nancy Parker is dead, those young people have only Nancy's lawless granddaughter to guide them. You saw her yourself, shooting off a firearm in the middle of town at eight in the morning. She shouldn't even carry a handgun. I ask you, what sort of example is a woman like that for young folks?"

The sheriff tried to quell the temper rising in him. "I'd say she's a good example, Dessie. And Nancy never helped her granddaughter when she was alive. I'm sorry to say, I don't see how my cousin Nancy dyin' could do more than lighten Pearl's load."

He took a deep breath and continued. "Pearl Parker works hard to make a living for herself and those under her roof, she helps a lot of folks with her medicines, and she minds her own business."

He emphasized the last phrase, wishing he could say something more terse. Being a public servant definitely had its disadvantages for putting people in their proper place.

Dessie gasped. "Well, if you think practicing withcraft and harboring a--a common harlot under her roof in sight of two youngsters and--and strutting around town toting a pistol and firing it at our citizens is setting a good example, then you are no better than she is."

"She has my permission to carry that gun. The woman travels alone all hours of the day and night to doctor folks. And helping folks with herbs and such is not witchcraft. In case you've forgotten, Pearl learned her doctorin' from my own good wife. And a better woman never lived, may she rest in peace."

Dessie screwed her face up like an apple left too long in the sun. "We haven't forgotten, Sheriff, nor have we forgotten the story of how that woman came to be named after your wife. She's not fit to raise young folks, I tell you." In a perfect imitation of her husband, she pounded one gloved fist into her other hand. "The Higgins are willing to take Sarah and that Storm person into their home and give them a good Christian upbringing, even though the boy is a heathen."

Evan snorted in disgust. "The fact that Merline Higgins is ailin' and Billy Joe is just plain lazy wouldn't have anything to do with their so-called generosity, would it?" His temper bested him and his voice rose.

"If you think those kids would have a decent life with the Higgins, you are sadly mistaken. In case you've forgotten, the slaves have been freed. Now get on back about your own business and leave enforcing the law to me." He waved a hand of dismissal at the pastor and his wife.

Fayne Upperly bristled with indignation and thrust his weak chin into the air. "It was only with a good many reservations I supported you in the last election. Now it's clear you are not fit for your job. I'll be speaking with the town council about recalling you from office."

"Suit yourself. Just leave me be now," he thrust a gnarled finger at the couple. "And you two best leave Pearl and those in her home alone. As long as I'm still sheriff here, I'll arrest anyone who bothers her or hers, and that includes you two."

After the angry couple left, Evan sank in his chair and put his hands on his desk. He sighed and, with his right hand, massaged the muscles over his chest. "Welcome to Pipers Hollow, boys."

Drake sat in a chair near the wall. Lex pulled the one remaining chair near the desk and flopped more than sat, stretching his long legs out before him. He grinned at the lawman and asked, "This just your usual day here?"

"I'm afraid so." Evan massaged his left shoulder and worked down his arm. Each time the pain went further along his arm and the tingling lasted longer.

Drake looked concerned. "Are you all right? Your color's downright gray."

He felt gray inside, too. "Give me a few minutes, and I'll be fine. Damn, but I'm gettin' too old for this job. I'd love to quit and move to Chattanooga. My daughter's been after me to come live with her."

Evan pinched the bridge of his nose and closed his eyes. "Lordy, but I'd love to have nothing more to do than sit on Mary Alice's front porch and rock while I spin yarns for my grandchildren." Even the thought cheered him.

Drake frowned. "Sounds like a great idea. What keeps you here? Why not leave and do just that?"

"You saw that incident out front, didn't you? I can't leave till I get that young woman and her family far away from here. I just haven't been able to think of a way, short of taking them to Chattanooga with me."

"Wouldn't that work, at least temporarily?" Lex asked.

Evan shook his head. "Mary Alice and her husband just barely have room for me. They don't have room for Pearl's brood for more than a day or two."

He paused, trying to gather his thoughts and calm his breathing. "I guess I'm a little shaken by that encounter with the pastor. No doubt town council members are already hearing the preacher's latest version about the need to replace me."

He saw the two younger men exchange concerned looks before Lex asked, "You mean everyone in town is like the two who were just here?"

"No, no. Some of the people hereabouts are good honest people. They mind their own business. But there's a few, like the so-called good pastor and his wife, who are spiteful and blind where Pearl's concerned."

Evan leaned back in his chair and looked from one man to the other. It was so good to have Rob's kin here, to speak frankly for a change. "Damned if they don't take what's good about Pearl and twist it to make her look bad. Then they worry with it, like a dog with a bone, and get folks all riled up over nothing."

He rubbed again at muscles which betrayed him more and more often of late. No amount of rubbing could fix what was wrong inside, so he turned his attention back to Drake and Lex. "Well, boys, enough of my problems. Tell me about your grandfather and why you're here."

* * *

Pearl settled her cart inside the kitchen and exhaled a weary sigh. Sarah closed the cabin door and the bar slid into place. Her sister slipped away and Pearl leaned against the cart, her mind clouded with worry. All the way home she had replayed the incident in town and speculated on the backlash sure to follow.

They must leave this place, and soon. For some time now she had plotted with Storm and Sarah for their escape. Never would she let them live with the Higgins.

She saw the looks Billy Joe gave Sarah when he thought no one else noticed, and she had no doubts as to his evil intentions. She would never let him get Sarah into his bed or even under his roof. For most of their life, Pearl had provided for Sarah and Storm. And now, at least for a while, she must provide for their new friend, Belle, too.

If only she could think of a way to get herself and her family away from here. If only she could start over in a place where no one knew--or cared--about the background of her or Sarah or Storm. If only her Granny really had left her gold instead of only this house and land and a legacy of bitterness. She sighed and admitted her life held too many "if onlys."

Sarah brought a steaming cup of tea from the table and shared a gentle smile. "You're late. We ate lunch but there's still some cornbread and beans if you're hungry."

Physically, Sarah looked almost her twin. The main difference lay in their nature. Pearl considered herself stubborn and sturdy as a mule. Shy Sarah displayed a spirit gentle as a dove's.

Pearl shook her head. "Pete Hammonds told me the Wilsons asked for me, so I went over there. They gave me lunch after I dosed their children and stitched up Mr. Wilson's arm. If that cup is for me, though, I'll take it. Mr. Hammonds saved a newspaper for us a traveler left in his store. It's in the cart."

"Oh, that's wonderful. Something new to read." Sarah stepped forward and offered a cup to her sister. "I heard your cart and made you some chamomile tea."

"Thank you. What would I do without you?" She sipped at the liquid, letting the honeyed warmth slide down her throat. "How's Belle?"

"She's asleep now." The girl darted a glance toward the back bedroom housing their guest. "She still won't say who beat her. A little earlier today she was able to walk to the door and back to the bed."

"And the bleeding inside has stopped?" When her sister nodded, she added, "I'll see to her in a few minutes."

Sarah shook her head. "Walking tired her, so I gave her a dose of the laudanum and some tea. She's just drifted off to sleep. This time she's resting peacefully."

"That's good. Rest will help her recover faster." Pearl turned toward the large range against the wall. "You've started dinner. It smells heavenly."

Sarah gestured to the large cooking pot. "Jim Mitchell brought us two hens to thank you for helping with his son's birthing. He even plucked them for us." She frowned as she laid an arm across her older sister's shoulder. "You look worried. Was there trouble in town again?"

"Just the Ainsworths and Jug up to their usual tricks." Pearl patted her sister's hand before she stepped forward to draw the rocker nearer the warmth of the huge stone hearth. "I don't know how much longer Evan can go on as sheriff. He looked real bad today."

"I know he only stays because of us. He's been a good friend." Sarah worried with her apron, twisting it in her fingers.

"I must have caught a chill." Pearl sighed as she sank onto her rocking chair, pulling her shawl close before cradling her mug of tea. "Tomorrow I suppose I'll wear those blasted shoes."

She sat lost in thought for a few moments, her feet toward the fire. "There were two strangers in town who looked like the western men in those papers Evan loans us. It looked as if they were waiting to see Evan." She let her head fall back against the chair. Oh, no, they must have seen everything. "I guess they were in Evan's office when the Upperlys went to see him."

Fear darkened Sarah's lavender eyes. "The Upperlys? You think the Pastor complained about us again?"

Pearl nodded. "You can be certain of it. Oh, if only I hadn't lost my temper. I fired two shots at Jug's feet." She closed her eyes a moment as the scene replayed in her mind. "By now Pastor Upperly and his wife are probably riling people up again, trying to get Evan removed from office and you and Storm removed from my evil influence."

What on earth must those two men think of her? She couldn't say why it mattered, but it did. Her first impulse was to bury her head in her hands and cry. Instead, she gathered all her worries into a ball inside her, hidden from her sister. When her brother entered the room, she leaned her head back against the chair.

Storm pulled another rocker near hers. "Tell us about the strangers you saw in town."

In as much detail as she remembered, she described the men. She tried to recall every detail of their appearance. Why could she see the taller man so much more clearly in her mind?

"What about their horses? You said they rode into town."

"Trust you to ask that." She tried to sound reproving, but ruined it when a smile broke across her face. "I hardly remember, except they had big fancy saddles with big stirrups. You know, like the ones Evan described from Texas?"

When she had answered all his questions, she remembered something more important. "I may have found us a wagon," she said, setting the rocker in motion again.

"From someone who would sell to us and not tell the pastor or those Higgins?"

"Maybe. The Pinckneys over the ridge have two wagons and they'll sell one."

"Ha. How can we get it? We've got no horses or mules. It'll take most of our savings to buy the wagon and supplies." Then, as if his cynicism turned hopeful, he asked, "Did they make a fair price?"

"Yes, it's in line with what we agreed. I haven't quite figured it all out." She stopped rocking and stood. "You and Sarah won't be forced to live with the Higgins, though. I promise you that."

Sarah wrung her hands. "Why are people so mean? We're doing fine here as we are, if they would just leave us alone."

Storm's jaw jutted and his head came up in anger. "They hate us 'cause we're all different." He addressed Sarah, anger fueling his words and sparking from his dark blue eyes. "They'd like to force you and me to work for Billy Joe Higgins. He'd have me slavin' on his farm and you, well, never you mind his plans for you 'cause it ain't never going to happen. Then they'd run off Pearl and Belle, or worse if Sheriff Evan didn't stop them."

Pearl shuddered at the picture her brother painted, knowing it only too accurate. "We know we're family, but I have no legal papers to prove I have any rights to raise you. The good pastor and his crowd don't consider your mothers bringing you here enough."

Storm's blue eyes turned to ice. "The so-called good pastor wouldn't accept any papers from our mothers either, 'cause he don't approve of either woman. Still, he believes himself equal to the Creator."

Pearl sighed, wishing she could contradict her brother. "Now that Granny's gone, they're saying I'm unfit to supervise two young people"--she lowered her voice--"especially now that Belle's here."

Storm snorted in derision. "As if your Granny ever helped. All she did is have you and Sarah slavin' for her all day."

Pearl watched a familiar look of pain crossed his face before he continued.

"She wouldn't even speak to me 'cause I'm half Cherokee. Called me a heathen."

Pearl hated the pessimism in Storm's voice, sorrowed for all the experiences that caused him pain and taught him distrust of others. "Hush, now. It's not right to speak ill of the dead." Even if they deserve it, she added mentally. "You know that you're a wonderful and gifted young man, no matter what any small-minded people might say."

Thinking aloud, she added, "If anyone tries to take you two or Belle away, we'll have to get out of here fast."

The boy looked at the bedroom and shrugged. "How? Belle can't walk anywhere, no further than across the room."

"I remembered something I read." She nodded. "If we have to leave before we get a wagon and mules, Belle can ride in the cart. You and I can take turns pushing her. We can all carry food and a few things in packs on our back. I read where some people called Mormons moved halfway across the country that way."

A lifetime of living in fear of reprisal had sharpened her brother's innate senses. Seconds before Pearl heard hoof beats, Storm's head came up. He moved swiftly to grab the rifle as he rushed to the window and peered through the curtains.

"Someone's coming. Three men on horses. Hey, it looks like one of them is Sheriff Evan."

Pearl patted the gun in her pocket, then lifted the bar from the door.

* * *

Drake watched Evan as they rode. The sheriff looked terrible, probably his heart playing out on him. The older man rode slumped in the saddle, barely able to remain seated on his horse. Evan's gray face and blue-tinged lips were as worrisome as his difficulty breathing.

Lex and Drake flanked the ailing man, ready to catch him if he fell. They had wanted to take him back to town, but Evan insisted they continue. Through gasping breaths, Evan directed them here for help. Drake only hoped the man would last until they could get him inside and onto a bed.

The house looked large by local standards. Rather than the thin boards or rough logs Drake expected, the sturdy logs of the dwelling had been hand-hewn to square them. The pitch of a high roof indicated a loft or second floor.

When the door opened, the girl he'd seen in town stepped onto the porch, her hand in her pocket. Remembering the confrontation he'd seen earlier, he thought he knew what else she had in her pocket. He wanted no part of the business end of her pistol, so he called out to her.

"We've a sick man here, your friend the sheriff."

Evan slumped, barely supported between him and Lex. His cousin braced the sheriff while Drake dismounted, then Drake slid the older man from his mount. He carried Evan forward while Lex dealt with the horses.

Pearl stepped backward, concern shadowing her face. "Bring him in. Gently, now, be careful with the man. Right this way." She moved ahead, around her cart, and through to her bedroom at the back of the house. She threw back the covers of the bed with a smooth motion. Drake laid Evan there as gently as possible.

"Careful now. He's not a sack of potatoes," she chided.

"Pearl . . . forgot . . . medicine," gasped the sheriff.

Drake's eyes met hers across the bed and he explained. "He had an upsetting confrontation in town earlier. We were on our way to the Walker's when he got sick. Forgot to bring his medicine with him. He asked us to bring him here."

Lex came into the room as Pearl patted the sheriff's hand.

"It's all right, Evan. I'll get my bag and you'll be feeling better in no time. You'll have to stay here tonight."

She stepped out of the room and returned with a large satchel. "I started some new thornapple syrup for you and Sarah just strained it up today."

From the bag she extracted a blue bottle and uncorked it. She poured the thick liquid into a spoon and fed it to Evan.

Lovingly, she ran her hand over the man's forehead, then checked the pulse at his throat. Without looking up, she said, "You gentlemen step back into the parlor. I'll be there in a bit and fix you some tea."

Drake's hackles rose at this bossy woman ordering him about. "If he's going to stay here, you'll want help getting his clothes and boots off."

Without even looking his way, she dismissed him with a wave. "He doesn't need to be jostled any more right now. My brother will help me later." The men nodded and left the room.

When Pearl emerged from the bedroom, the two men stood by the fireplace. "He's sleeping now. Thank you for bringing him here. I'm Pearl Parker."

The tall man stepped forward, hat in his hands. "Drake Kincaid, Ma'am. This is my cousin Lex Tremont. Our grandfather is an old friend of the sheriff's." He pointed toward Belle's room with his hat. "Um, Ma'am, do you think you could tell whoever's in that room to point that rifle somewhere else?"

She turned toward the room and called softly, "It's all right, Sarah. These are the men I told you I saw in town. They're friends of Evan's."

The tip of the rifle disappeared, and a pretty young woman peeked her blonde head around the doorframe. After a glance and a shy smile, she retreated into the darkened room and closed the door. Pearl turned back toward them. "Sarah doesn't care much to be around people, especially strangers."

Lex stepped forward. "Look, Ma'am, we were on our way over to the Walker place, Oak something or other. If the sheriff isn't going to need us, can you tell us how to find the place?"

Pearl frowned. As if enough hadn't already happened today. "Why would you be wantin' to go there?"

Drake stepped in front of her and challenged, "Does it matter?"

"We're going to look at horses," Lex volunteered. "Evan said Walker has some good stock to sell."

A young boy stepped into the room, his rifle cradled in his arms and his finger on the trigger.

"It's all right." Pearl stepped to him and placed her arm around his shoulders "Gentlemen, this is my brother, Storm. This is Mr. Kincaid and Mr. Tremont. They'd like you to show them the way to Oak Haven."

To Drake and Lex she added, "Don't say a word to anyone about the sheriff's illness. His safety, as well as that of others, depends on it. I must have your word on this."

Drake shrugged. "If you wish." Lot of good that would do. How could the locals not notice their sheriff was near death? "Can we get going now?"

Her brother said nothing, but walked to the door and opened it. His eyes shone in admiration as he glanced back over his shoulder before he sauntered to the rail. With only a pat and a word to the sheriff's horse, Storm concentrated his attention on the other two mounts.

"The bay is nice. Ahh, but this black is a beauty." He ran his hand down the horse's nose and spoke quietly to the large animal. Then, he slid his hand down the black's neck.

Drake watched, amazed at Midnight's response. The mighty horse trembled, but made no move to harm the boy.

"Yours?" Storm asked Drake.

"Yes. You must have a gift with animals. Midnight doesn't like strangers."

A smile transformed the boy's face. "Neither do my sisters."

He moved in front of Midnight and slid under the hitching rail to loosen the reins of the sheriff's horse. "Come on, I'll show you the place you want."

With an agile leap into the saddle, the boy led them off the road and across the countryside. A path of sorts led through the trees, up ridges and down. He and Lex had to duck tree limbs and dodge brush to keep up with the youngster.

When they came to a rail fence, Storm stopped and pointed. "Follow this fence west to the house. That is the home of the great Quinton Walkers. You'll like their horses very much."

"You won't continue with us, then?" Drake wondered why the boy accompanied them only this far.

He shook his head. "You'll get a better bargain without me. Tell them you heard in town they had horses. Don't mention me or my sisters."

He started to turn, then stopped and placed a hand on Drake's arm. "Please, sir, it's very important--don't tell anyone the sheriff is ill. Not anyone." With that, the boy turned the sheriff's horse and rode away.

Lex watched Storm's retreating figure, then turned to his cousin. "Damned odd. What do you make of that?"

"Don't know." Drake shrugged, then the two men urged their horses slowly forward. "Seems the lady Pearl doesn't have many friends except for the sheriff, doesn't it?"

His cousin nodded. "Pearl and her sister are honey-blondes. They look a lot alike. But that boy they call their brother looks like a half-breed. And there must be a doxie we didn't see living there as well. Sheriff Cummins said Pearl takes care of her family. Strange family."

"Yep. Appears that way to me, too. But I guess she takes care of her own just like we do ours." Drake rode in silence, thinking of the home they just left.

What an odd woman, that Pearl. Those violet eyes captured his imagination. He sighed and shook his head. The oddity of this place must have put peculiar notions in his head. Yeah, that had to be it. He shook his head, as if he could shake away the curious atmosphere of the place and its effect on him.

Apparently Lex shared his opinion, because his cousin said, "This is a strange place we've stumbled into just to say hello to an old friend of Grandpa's. I can't put my finger on why, but it kind of makes my skin crawl."

"I agree. Be glad to see the last of Pipers Hollow."

At the crest of a small rise, they saw a huge white house. The rail fence bordered the drive, winding its way along a tree-lined paddock. A dozen or more fine looking horses grazed inside the enclosure.

They stopped a moment to admire the unexpected scene. Drake wondered if the plantation in front of them would vanish into thin air. "Can you believe this is even in the same state as that ramshackle town?"

His cousin shook his head. "You could fit the whole town on the front lawn of this place."

"I'd think a set up like this would have suffered during the war. From here it looks prosperous."

"It does at that." Lex turned to him and asked, "You really planning to buy some horses here?"

"If what Evan said is true. Can you imagine horses in this backwoods place that came from the same lineage as old Sam Houston's horse, Copper Bottom?"

"Hard to fathom, but stranger things have happened."

"Reckon I might find me another Copper Bottom or Steel Dust in the lot?" Drake chuckled at the thought of owning a horse even distantly kin to the one owned by the great Sam Houston.

"But what about the other matter? What about the wife? Time is running out and you haven't even courted a woman yet."

"Yes, there is that. Have to do something about that, won't I?" A plan so ridiculous formed in his mind that he had to chuckle to himself. Drake touched his heels to Midnight's side and the horse broke into a smooth stride.

CHAPTER THREE

As they neared the house, the facade of prosperity vanished. Clearly, this home begged for care. Rotted boards at the eaves needed replacing and a corner of the porch sagged. In contrast, the horses they passed looked magnificent.

At the front door, a wizened old man dressed in threadbare gray livery greeted them. Drake stated their business, but they were allowed to cool their heels in the entryway until the butler returned. They were ushered into a small study, as if being granted an audience with the king.

The dark wood paneling and bookcases all around cast the room in shadow. In the sparse furnishings, a large desk dominated the room. Light from the window behind the desk threw sunlight to burnish the dark blond head of the man seated there.

When Drake and Lex entered, the man rose to greet them. Tall, fortyish, he smiled and extended his hand.

"Gentlemen, welcome. I'm Quinton Walker. My man tells me you're here to look at horses. You won't find better bloodlines in the country than right here on Oak Haven, don't you know?"

As he studied their host, Drake noticed gray laced the thick blond hair at Walker's temples. Something about the handsome man seemed familiar, yet Drake knew they had never met. He couldn't put his finger on it so he dismissed the thought. The oddity of this community must really be getting to him. With smile intact, he introduced himself and his cousin.

"We were headed for Kentucky and Virginia, but we heard in town you have stock as fine as any in the South."

"You heard right. Shall we go to the stables?"

A younger version of their host joined them in the hallway and the elder man paused. "Gentlemen, this is my son, Quin. He'd be about your age or a bit younger, don't you see?"

Drake thought the age might be near his and Lex's, but there the resemblance ended. Possibly he matched his father in height, but the slight paunch and slumped shoulders made him look ill proportioned. Puffiness around bloodshot eyes spoke of a late night the previous night. In fact, Quin bore the indolent and pampered look of one who lets others do his work for him. Drake had no use for idlers, and struggled to keep his face from revealing his opinion.

Quin stuck out his hand in a cheery greeting. "Say, where're you fellows from?"

"Texas," Drake said as his callused palm met the other man's soft, smooth hand. Only a few scabbed abrasions on the top of Quin's hand marred the perfect skin.

"Kincaid County, in the central Texas hill country," Lex said as he shook Quin's hand in turn.

Calculating looks flashed simultaneously across the faces of both the Walkers. The elder spoke to Drake. "Kincaid County, as in your last name?"

"Well, actually, as in our grandfather's name." Damn his cousin for supplying more information than necessary. Lex's gregarious nature sometimes caused his tongue to disconnect from his brain.

The elder Walker stroked his chin in thought. "Hmm, I believe I met your father or maybe an uncle once--many years ago. If my memory serves me correctly, it must have been when he stopped by to see Evan Cummins, don't you see? That'd be a few years after Evan came back from Texas."

Drake fingered the brim of the hat he held in his hand. "That's possible, I suppose, but I'm afraid it must have been before my time."

The senior Walker stroked his chin. "Yes, don't you see now, that would probably have been well over thirty years ago? I believe he was on his way back east."

Lex spoke up. "Say, Drake, that must have been when your father was on his way to Boston to marry your mother." There went his cousin's tongue wagging again.

Senior's mouth broke into a smile that never reached his eyes. "And how are your father and mother?"

"They died over ten years ago. My grandfather is still quite active, though." Drake clamped his hat onto his head. "Shall we have a look at those horses?"

The stables were magnificent in style though they, too, lacked recent paint or repair. Matching the architecture of the manor, they were built better by far than any of the buildings Drake saw in the village of Pipers Hollow. Two stable hands moved with deliberation, darting sidelong glances at the Walkers and their two guests but never meeting their gaze.

Damned if he wouldn't give the Walkers one thing. They had some fine looking horseflesh in addition to an amazing stable layout. He examined teeth, mouth, legs and conformation to narrow his choice to half a dozen horses. After riding each of the six, Drake picked out two mares he wanted and selected another two if the price was right. He prided himself on driving a hard bargain and kept his enthusiasm hidden.

Quinton Walker was no easy mark. When they reached a tentative price for the four thoroughbreds, he invited the men back to the house to look at bloodline documents. Once again in his study, Walker produced paperwork to prove his claims. The man knew horses. Unless his papers lied, these mares were linked to Sam Houston's Copper Bottom, and several other well-known steeds. As the deal was struck with a handshake, the elder Walker addressed Drake.

"Perhaps you two would join my son and me for dinner this evening to continue our discussion of horse breeding."

Drake stood, his fingers working the brim of his hat. "Thank you, but we have other obligations. We'll be back tomorrow for the horses. In the meantime, we have to arrange for their transport to Texas."

"I can't let you gentlemen leave without at least a little celebration, don't you see now? How about joining me in the drawing room for a toast to seal the bargain."

Quinton Walker led them out of the study and down the hall, his son trailing behind. As they entered the drawing room, both Drake and his cousin stopped dead in their tracks. There, over the fireplace mantle, hung a portrait of one of the most beautiful women Drake had ever seen.

Golden ringlets framed her face and she wore a lavender gown. She posed with a few white lilacs in her arms and her rosebud mouth beckoned with a warm, sweet smile. Most astonishing of all were her eyes.

Lex gained his voice first. "Imagine, a woman like that here--"

Drake knew he stepped hard on his cousin's foot, but he had to stop Lex's comment before he insulted their host. "Yes, she's the most beautiful woman I've ever seen, too, Lex." He turned to his host. "Who is she?"

Both men beamed, but the elder also puffed out his chest with pride. "My mother, Elizabeth Piper Walker. Her father built this house and gave his name to the town of Pipers Hollow."

Drake realized Walker's coloring and facial features resembled those in the portrait. The eyes of the woman portrayed in oil haunted him. He tried to make sense of the eerie feeling they caused, but could not.

"Yes," Quinton continued, "that portrait and most of the objects of any value you see in this room were hidden by my son and me during the war. Like I told you outside, soldiers liked to have wiped us out."

"That must have been a feat. Where'd you hide?" Lex asked.

"A Cherokee family led us to a cave. You couldn't see the openin' 'til you were three feet from it. That cave opened onto a hidden valley with their garden and home. Said my grandfather gave it to their family to prevent the gov'mint finding and removin' them years before and it was time to repay the debt."

"You left this place all during the war?" Drake wondered the place hadn't been burned to the ground.

"No, no. We stayed here on and off, don't you see, and spent the other time hidden with the Cherokee man and his daughter. Had to check on things--make the soldiers believe they got all we had. We hid whatever of value we could carry. Told the soldiers others took everything, don't you see?"

Drake saw the flash of pain and anger on Quin's face and wondered about the cause. So many had painful memories of the war, he shrugged off the thought and examined the beautiful room.

"The house doesn't look badly damaged."

"The structure is sound, in spite of the repairs it needs. Still, that was a terrible time. The constant terror drove my poor wife out of her mind in '63. She jumped from the upper floor when she spied a band of roving soldiers."

Embarrassed at his uncharitable thoughts earlier, Drake could only apologize, "I'm sure sorry to hear that, Walker. That was a tough time for everyone."

Quinton Walker tossed back his drink and set down his glass.

"That it was. All in all, this county escaped damage for the most part--too remote, don't you see now, to be on the way to anywhere. But there's a lot of damage here we're still trying to repair." He pointed to a series of jagged scars on a wall. Each about shoulder high, they marred the otherwise perfect panels.

"Soldiers thought there might be a hidden storage area for treasures behind these walls. Like I said, I was able to hide five of my beautiful horses from those theivin' scoundrels but couldn't save my own wife." He stood silent for a moment with head bowed, as if lost in memories.

"Well, now," he continued with a start. "It took me ten years to rebuild the bloodlines to those beauties you see today."

After drinking the bourbon offered him, Drake once again begged off dinner. What he most needed was to get away from these people and think. At least Lex finally got the hint and kept his thoughts to himself.

"I'll walk our guests to their horses, Father." Quin trailed behind them down the spacious steps of the home. As the two visitors gathered the reins of their horses, he addressed Drake and Lex in a hushed voice.

"Don't tell my father I told you so, but if you're looking for someone to help with the horses on the trip to your ranch, there's a boy who would do you proud. He lives in the next house from here toward town."

Lex looked at Drake but, for once, said nothing.

Drake spoke casually. "Oh? A boy, you say?"

"Yes. 'Bout thirteen, looks younger. He's a half-breed. Cherokee, you know. Got no real family and needs whatever money you could pay him. Don't know how you feel about Indians, but this one has a real gift with animals."

Drake had another odd feeling about this. Why would Quin make certain his father didn't hear him speak about the boy? Why mention the boy at all?

"The next house you say? What's his name?"

"Calls himself Storm Cloud. He lives at the Parker place just over the hill and around the bend. You passed it coming here. Be sure you take the right fork when the trail splits."

Drake mounted his horse. "Thanks. We'll look into it." He touched a finger to his hat brim. "See you tomorrow."

The two cousins rode swiftly in silence until they were out of sight of the Walker home, then slowed their horses.

"This is the craziest place I've ever been. By the way, thanks a lot for stomping on my foot. I think my toes are broken." Lex took off his hat and scratched his shock of dark red hair.

"I thought you were going to ask what a beautiful woman like that would be doing in this godforsaken place."

His cousin looked embarrassed. "I guess I was at that." He smiled sheepishly. "Probably our host would have taken exception to a statement which insulted his home." A thoughtful expression settled on Lex's face. "You know, the woman in that portrait reminded me of someone. Can't think just who, but someone we've seen recently."

Drake shrugged off the comment. "Probably everyone we've met. I imagine most people in this isolated valley are related."

"Maybe, but I think it's the eyes. Yes, that's it. They remind me of that Pearl Parker's eyes. Never seen eyes that odd shade of blue before."

"Violet. Her eyes are violet."

Drake rode deep in thought, mulling possibilities over in his mind. "We've got to stop and see about the sheriff. Maybe we'll get some questions answered then."

He shrugged again, his mind made up on another issue. "There's one answer especially I intend to get before we leave."

With that said, Drake urged Midnight faster along the ruts that passed for a road.

* * *

Storm stepped out of the door as they dismounted in front of the Parker house--or Storm Cloud house--or whatever the hell place it was. The boy still carried his rifle, but now with the barrel down, using only one arm. This bunch trusted no one. Given the odd sequence of events Drake had witnessed since his arrival in Pipers Hollow, he thought maybe caution was a good thing here. Damn, but he hated this place, and he'd been here less than twenty-four hours.

As he examined the young man more closely, he realized Storm was older than he had at first thought, maybe as old as thirteen or fourteen. Except his eyes. They looked close to a hundred.

The stark look in the slightly built boy's gaze spoke of more than caution. Here stood a young man with the weight of the world on his shoulders. What troubles placed a burden on a youngster and brought this small family to such wariness and distress?

As Drake stepped onto the porch, he smelled dinner cooking inside the house and his stomach gave a rolling growl, reminding him he'd missed lunch. If the aromas wafting from the kitchen were any indication, he and Lex made the right choice in a place to dine. Well, if they were invited, that is.

* * *

Pearl paced the small room. When she saw Evan rouse, she moved to his bedside and leaned over to check his pulse. "Your color's better. How do you feel?"

He gave her a weak smile but made no move to sit up. "I'll be fine in a bit."

"You need quiet and rest, but I need to talk to you." She glanced toward the open doorway, then resumed pacing. "There's not much time."

"Well, either sit down or go in the other room. You make a body plum dizzy goin' back and forth."

She whipped a napkin off a bowl and sat near the bed to feed her patient. With a nod of her head she indicated those in the other room. "We talked something over while you were asleep."

Spooning chicken broth with chunks of breast meat into his mouth, she tried to think how best to word her notion. Her idea might be crazy, but she very much needed it to work.

"These men who brought you here. Are they really friends of yours?" She paused in her feeding to let him answer.

Evan pushed himself higher on the pillows. "Their grandfather. Told you 'bout Rob Kincaid."

She exhaled with a sigh of relief. "Oh, yes. Your good friend in Texas. I thought that must be the connection."

"Grandsons." He gasped, as if already exhausted from the dual effort of eating and talking.

"Just listen and let me feed you while I tell you our plan." She shoved another bite of the nourishing broth at him. "I have a little money saved. It might pay part of our fare to Texas. If one of these men would pay the other part plus our food, then I would work as a maid or cook or housekeeper until I repaid it."

"Crazy." He shook his head. "Bachelors." A look of concern descended on his face, and then he raised his gaze to meet hers. "Rob might."

Those words were all the encouragement she needed. She knew her plan crazy, improbable, but desperation drove her. "Then I would work for your friend, sort of as an indentured servant until I'd repaid him. We're going to ask this Drake and Lex to stay for supper. Then, after they've seen how Sarah and I cook, I'll ask them."

As she set aside the empty bowl and helped her old friend drink some tea, his eyes fluttered in fatigue. "Rest now. Likely they'll want to check in on you. I hear them coming inside now." What would these two strangers think, though? More importantly, what would Drake Kincaid think?

Evan grabbed her hand. "You--not so bossy."

Her face felt on fire and she knew a blush spread. Evan, and before him his late wife, had tried to train her to act like a lady. Many times they cautioned her against being so bossy. But how else was she to behave when everyone in her family waited for her to make decisions, when everyone's welfare depended on her alone?

"I'll try to be ladylike, but you know I can't help telling everyone what to do. I've had to do it too long to change over night." She gave his hand a reassuring pat and left the bedroom.

From where she stood in the kitchen she heard Storm answer their questions about Evan. Sarah stood by the bedroom door, wringing her hands and chewing on her lower lip. Neither Sarah nor Storm quite approved of her decision, but neither had a better suggestion. Like her, they both felt desperate to leave this place as soon as possible. How on God's green earth could she broach the subject to a stranger?

"Hello again." The big man, Drake, took off his hat and used it to gesture to the bedroom where Evan lay. "Your brother said the sheriff's awake now. You think I could talk to him a bit?"

Pearl gulped and nodded. "Don't let him talk much, um, please," she added as an afterthought, remembering Evan's warning. "You do the talking and let him listen. He needs rest, lots of rest."

The man was so darned good looking he left her almost speechless. She must be out of her mind to think a man like him would ever consider a plan that would throw the two of them together on a long trip. He wouldn't want even to be seen with the likes of her in tow. Already her nerves were taut as a banjo string, and the evening wasn't half over.

When the second man remained in the room, she scooted a rocker around, practicing the good manners Mrs. Cummins had drilled into her so many years ago. "Won't you sit down, Mr. Tremont? Supper will be ready in just a few minutes. We hoped you'd stop back by and eat with us."

Lex dropped into the chair. "Please, call me Lex. That's a powerful good smell you're cookin' up."

Pearl smiled to reassure Sarah as the girl inched her way into the room to help. Years of teasing and harassment, coupled with a reclusive nature, made the girl shy to the point of awkwardness. When Lex smiled, Sarah blushed and hurried across the room to set the table.

Unused to dinner guests and with her nerves jangling, Pearl tried to make conversation. "Were you and your cousin successful at Oak Haven?"

"Yes. Well, Drake was. He'll pick up his horses tomorrow." Lex watched the two women prepare to serve the meal. "That's one fancy place, Oak Haven. Do you go there often?"

"My brother helps in the stables when there's trouble with a foaling." With the pride of a mother hen, she said, "Storm has a special touch with animals. Everyone says so." She added, "I've never been inside the house, only delivered bread or medicine to the back door."

Drake emerged from the bedroom in time to hear her. "You've never been inside that house?"

"No." She felt herself flush once more with embarrassment. How could she explain the situation at Oak Haven to strangers? Better just to avoid it altogether. "Dinner's ready. It's chicken and dumplings with vegetables on the side. If you gentlemen would like to wash up, there's a basin and soap by the pump. You'll find a clean towel on a hook by the door."

Pearl was glad she'd given Belle her evening meal earlier. The woman hadn't eaten much, but at least she gained strength and optimism each day. Although Evan needed quiet and lots of rest far away from this place, Belle needed so much more.

Unused to grown men, apparently very hungry men, sharing their meal, Pearl watched the food quickly disappear. Cooking was one thing she knew she did better than most, at least better than anyone else in Pipers Hollow. Only one biscuit remained and the apple pie vanished before her eyes.

As she poured another round of coffee for the men, Lex patted his stomach and grinned. "Ma'am, that meal made me happy all over. You're not just a good cook. You're a great cook."

Pearl felt another blush spread across her face as Drake pushed back from the table. She pressed a hand to her warm cheek. Good heavens, she'd blushed more this evening than in the past year.

"Thanks for the best meal I've had in a long time." Drake said and stood. He pushed his chair to the table. "There's something I need to discuss with you, Ma'am. Privately. Mind if we step into another room?"

She knew her eyes widened. Had Evan already explained her plan? No, surely not. She gestured toward another room. "We can go into the parlor."

After glancing over her shoulder at the puzzled faces of the three people who remained seated at the table, she led the way. Although she and Sarah kept it spotless, no one had used the room since her grandmother's funeral three weeks ago. This was where Granny used to sit, where Granny received Pastor Upperly and the few neighbors who came to call.

Pearl hated being in the sitting room with the bitter memories it held. In her mind she still saw the rigid woman reigning from the high backed chair beside the sofa. For the few hours she had left her bed each day, Granny had sat here with a stony glare on her face. If infrequent visitors called, Granny filled their ears with tales of her supposed sacrifices and the heavy burdens she had to bear.

Sarah's mother, Roxie, had sometimes slipped over to visit Sarah in the early morning hours. Storm's grandfather, Tom Black Bear, occasionally stopped by with fresh game or a story.

Evan was the only person who called on Pearl--unless her medical or cooking services were needed. The sheriff preferred to sit at the kitchen table while he sipped coffee, complaining all the while her brew was too weak to deserve the name. The big kitchen eating area was hers, and where she kept her own rocking chair and one each for Sarah and Storm. That's the part of the house she felt home, that and her own bedroom where Evan rested.

Now Pearl sat primly on the red plush sofa, avoiding what she thought of as Granny's chair. She tugged the hem of her dress lower to hide the dust that clung to her bare feet. Then, to still the shaking of her hands, she folded them together in her lap.

While she searched her mind for a way to explain her plan, Drake launched into his own speech. "I've asked Evan and he, well, he thought it would be all right to speak to you about an idea I had."

Pearl watched Drake, mesmerized by the man, yet astonished he suddenly seemed so ill at ease. He paced the length of the small room and back. She watched the muscles rippling across his shoulders as he removed his coat and hung it on the back of a chair.

The fabric of finely woven pants pulled tight across his thighs as he moved, outlining powerful legs. He clasped and unclasped strong hands which, from the looks of them, were no strangers to work. His every move spoke of a forceful man used to being in control.

She felt the familiar ball of worry tighten and grow in the pit of her stomach. Why would such a man help her and her family? How could she have been so foolish as to hinge her escape on him and his cousin?

Drake raked a hand through his dark locks. "I don't know how to work up to this so I'll just say it out fast." As he faced her, he took a deep breath and blurted, "Willyoumarryme?"

She blinked once, then leaned forward. "What? What did you say?" Did she imagine he voiced those words?

After another deep breath, he spoke very slowly. "I said, will you marry me?" He held up his hand before she could speak.

"You don't know me, but Evan will vouch for me. He and my grandfather have been friends for over forty years. He knew my father as well."

"You just met me, but you--you want me to marry you? To go to Texas with you?" She chewed on her lip, surprised that his plan coincided so perfectly with her own. No, she thought as she looked at the handsome man who stood before her. It far surpassed her plan. "What about my family?"

"Oh." He must have forgotten about her family. "Well, they'd come too, of course." He tugged at his ear in thought. "We'd take Evan with us as far as Chattanooga and leave him with his daughter. Then we'd go on to Texas."

Pacing again, he continued, "I live on a ranch only a few miles from town, but there's a real nice house in Kincaid Springs which belongs to my Grandpa. Our town's bigger than Pipers Hollow, and it's the county seat."

He stopped in front of her. "Kincaid Springs has shops and ladies' socials and all kinds of things to keep a woman occupied every minute of the day if she's up to it. Your brother and sister could go to school, have friends their own age."

Drake recalled the encounter in the sheriff's office early that morning and surged ahead. "We have three churches and none of the pastors are anything like the one here. My grandfather, Robert Kincaid is his name, is the District Judge. My Aunt Lily Stephens, Grandpa's widowed daughter, lives with him."

"Why me? You don't even know me."

He shifted his feet and took another deep breath. "Ma'am, I hate lies of any kind and intend to start off being honest, but you might not like this part. I'll make it as brief as possible."

Drake pulled Granny's chair around to face her, but sat on the edge as if ready to jump up if his answer angered her.

As he leaned forward she caught his scent. She inhaled the blend of soap, sweat, horse, and something uniquely his. With a force of will she kept herself from leaning closer to imprint his fragrance on her mind.

"According to my father's will, I have to be married by the tenth of April or I lose my ranch." He spread his hands wide. "Everything I have. Every single thing."

When she made no move, nor spoke, he eased his hips back in the chair a little but still leaned forward, hands on his knees. "Now, it appears to me you and your family very much need to get away from this place. If you and I get married, we both gain something we need."

Her heart stopped beating. Of course, he didn't want her. He just needed a woman, any woman, to be his wife. No man like him would actually want a gangling giant of a woman to be his bride. Her pride wanted to scream for him to leave, to get out of her house and out of her sight. How she would love to throw something, to wallop that gorgeous head of his.

But she thought of all the marriage would mean, not just to her, but to her brother and sister. They would be part of a respected family, have decent clothes, attend school, have a chance at all she'd missed. They'd be safe.

She refused to think about the other part, about being wife to the princely man who sat before her.

Common sense told her his offer was no more insulting to her than the one she devised. She needed what he offered, and she needed it well before the tenth of next month. Taking a deep breath, she willed herself calm.

"You're sure I can take my family. All my family?"

His eyes widened and he looked back through the open doorway to the kitchen. "How many people are we talking about?"

She also hated lies, but she refused to abandon her helpless new friend. "You've met my brother and sister. Well, there's also my, um, our cousin, Belle Renfro. You haven't met her because she's recovering from, um, from an accident. Yes, that's it. You see, she, um, she fell. Down some stairs in town, and hurt herself real bad. Yes, real bad."

What if he thought Belle would slow them down? She hastened to explain. "Oh, but she's lots better now, getting better every day. She won't be a bother at all on the trip." There, she'd said the lies and half-truths, though she couldn't meet his gaze as she did so.

"That's all? Four of you? You, your brother, sister, and this cousin?" He ticked off on his fingers as he named them.

"Yes. Four of us." She sighed with relief. He didn't seem to mind her family. She smiled. No, he didn't even hesitate. Now his fingers drummed on his thigh, so she plunged ahead.

"We don't have many clothes, but there's my good feather bed, and our rocking chairs, my books, my herbs for doctoring, maybe a few other things. One wagon would do for all of us."

"All right. You, three family members, plus personal belongings and some pieces of furniture." He looked around, and she knew he liked nothing he saw there.

He frowned as his gaze roved across shabby furniture of a style too ornate for its setting. She slid her skirt aside to cover a worn spot on the red plush sofa. At least the dark wood of each piece gleamed with polish. He might fault Granny's taste, but not Sarah's and her housekeeping.

She hurried to reassure him. "None of the furniture in this room has sentimental value. We'd only want a few pieces from the kitchen and bedrooms."

With a nod, he said, "Fair enough."

She breathed a sigh of relief that he seemed willing to accept her family in the package. "When would we marry?"

He exhaled as if he, too, had been holding his breath. "Now, or in the morning on our way out of town. Then, I'll need to wire my grandfather the news right away. Guess there's a telegraph office in town?"

Panic swept over her. She shook her head in disagreement. "No, no. That wouldn't work. We have to be miles from here before anyone in town knows we're leaving." Remembering Evan's warning, she softened her voice to explain.

"What I mean is, if anyone here knew how ill Evan really is or that the children and I are leaving, they'd appoint a new sheriff. Then they'd force Sarah and Storm to live with that awful Billy Joe Higgins and his wife. Please, don't let that happen."

The frown still creased his brow. "But you do agree you'll marry me and move to Texas right away? I have your promise?"

She knew he thought her request strange. He had no idea how important it was they escape the county before the pastor or his cohorts found out. Pearl stood and ran her hands down her dress.

"Yes, I agree, but until we're safely away from Pipers Hollow, it has to be just between the people in this house. Well, except for Sarah's mother and Storm's grandfather." She offered her hand. "Shall we shake on it to seal the bargain before we go back into the kitchen and tell our news?"

He took the hand she presented him and his touch sent tingles racing through her body. After a brief shake, he laced his long fingers with hers as they walked back into the common room. Together they faced Lex, Sarah, and Storm, each of whom looked puzzled.

Drake still held her hand as he pulled her close beside him. His other hand circled her waist, enclosing her in the protection of his arms. Suddenly, she felt relief, more protected than since the death of her mother over eleven years ago. It felt right, somehow, standing next to this man with her hand in his. The protective shell she erected around her heart cracked just a little. A small ray of hope seeped into her soul.

Lex stood when she entered the room. Such a small sign of respect made her hopeful. Already these men treated her with more consideration and respect than she had ever been shown by people in Pipers Hollow. With a sidelong glance at Lex, Storm also stood, though he raised an eyebrow and shrugged.

"We have an announcement." Drake paused and cleared his throat before he continued, "Pearl has consented to be my wife."

She watched Lex's mouth drop open and his eyes widen in surprise. Storm and Sarah waited quietly, thoughtful as always though they, too, widened their eyes in wonder. They had questioned her decision to leave with these men. That she planned now to wed Drake must have confused them. She faced her brother and sister.

"Drake has asked me to marry him and invited all of us to move to Texas with him."

Sarah forgot her timidity in astonishment and concern. "But what about Belle?"

"Cousin Belle is included in his invitation. After we take Evan to live with Mary Alice, we'll all live in Kincaid Springs. It will be a fresh start . . . for all four of us." She looked from Sarah to Storm for an answer, knowing her mind already made up and assured of their consent.

From the door to Sarah's and her bedroom, Belle struggled to support her battered body against the frame. "Hallelujah, Cousin Pearl! Take this good man up on his offer before he changes his mind."

Belle's suggestion broke the tension, and they all laughed. Sarah rushed to help Belle back to bed. After a preliminary discussion, Drake took charge. His quick mind and no-nonsense questions and comments reassured Pearl she had made the right decision.

When it looked as if their arrangements were planned out, Pearl took paper and her ink well from the drop front desk. "Will you two, along with Evan, witness the transfer of this house and our little plot of land to Storm's grandfather?"

Before he spoke, Lex shifted his weight and looked at his cousin. When Drake nodded, Lex volunteered. "Ma'am, I practice law in Texas. I could write that up for you so there's no loop holes."

Pearl relinquished the duty. "If you will, please. It will relieve my mind to know it's all legal-like. Tom Black Bear has helped us a lot over the years."

She paused to think her words out carefully, then gestured to herself and her two siblings. "We want Tom to have the house, land, and all the animals. Because he's Cherokee, we've worried about his being allowed to do so."

In fact, she feared someone might even loot and burn the house once they were gone. Now she could give one copy of the papers to Tom, then get other copies to the mayor and town council. She hated to think of the solid house her great-grandfather built sitting unused or in ruin.

* * *

The two men left the Parker home at dark, headed for the sheriff's house. They passed no one on their way. Once their horses were cared for and the men were inside the Cummins house, Lex vented his anger.

He threw his bags on the kitchen floor and faced his cousin, arms crossed. "Are you serious about this marriage proposal?"

Drake dropped his saddlebags on the floor beside those of his cousin. "I'm dead serious."

"That woman will not fit in with Grandpa's life. He'll be mad as hell if you bring her and those other three into his house. Lord, I shudder to think what Aunt Lily will say."

"That's the idea." Drake smiled at the picture in his mind. "Besides, you saw her bravery when she faced those men in town. And think about how sturdy she looks. She'll breed big, healthy sons. She's cared for those two kids and that so-called cousin. Must be the nurturing sort who'll make a good mother."

"Brave, sturdy, nurturing--oh, and a hell of a cook. Those are good qualities, I admit, but think about this. Dammit, the woman goes barefoot and wears a ragged tent. Who knows when she bathes? Are you ready to consummate a marriage with her?"

Only the thought of his grandfather's reaction to the woman and her family fueled his enthusiasm. "Well, the house looked well kept, and she and the youngsters seemed tidy enough. She must put some value on cleanliness." He shrugged. "Besides, I can concentrate on her eyes. She has real nice eyes."

He recalled her long delicate fingers, the efficiently trimmed nails. The grip of her hand when they sealed their bargain was strong. For a moment he had forgotten to be angry, forgotten how much he hated the idea of a wife.

Unbidden, the memory of her fragrance leapt to his mind. The faint lilac scent lingering around her had tantalized him. He had wanted to touch her hair and cheek, lean close to take in her fragrance. Lilacs, fitting for a woman with her eyes. Thank God he restrained himself. He must have been crazy.

The tension in Lex's voice snapped him from his reverie.

"And what is she supposed to concentrate on?" Easy going Lex seldom showed anger, but looked fit to spit nails tonight. "In spite of your talk about breeding with her, she's a woman, not a brood mare. She may not have been to finishing school back east like the women in our family, but she has feelings, damn it. Have you thought about what she wants out of this?"

Yes, he had wondered. He and Evan discussed it. "Away. Hell, she just wants away from this rotten place." He took a deep breath and reigned in his temper. Quietly, he soothed his cousin. "You've seen this sorry excuse for a town, seen how she's treated here. Can you blame her?"