Of course, this wasn't really the right time. There was a dead man at her feet, and though the guns had gone silent outside the house, dead men littered the earth there, too, and — please God — a few living men, too. She had to go back to the barn for the young Yankee who had saved her life, and she had to find her son.
"Kristin —" Cole began, but he was interrupted by an outraged cry.
"Miz Kristin! Mister Cole! Why, thank the Lord," Delilah called. She was at the top of the stairs with Gabe, who was struggling fiercely to free himself from her grasp. Cole stared at his son with the awe of a parent who has not seen his child in a long, long time. Gabe might have been a grown man the way Cole was staring at him.
Kristin's eyes twinkled. "He walks now. And he talks. I taught him how to say papa."
Delilah hurried down the stairs. She saw Zeke's body, but she didn't pause. She spat on it and stepped over it, and then she set Gabriel down. He tottered for a moment. Kristin watched Cole as he went down on his knees and reached out for the boy. Gabe waddled carefully over to inspect the stranger.
"Say papa!" Kristin urged him.
Gabriel wasn't interested in saying anything. He turned away from the stranger who was his father and buried his face in his mother's skirts. He reached out his arms, and Kristin laughed and picked him up. Then, suddenly, she crushed him against her, so hard that he cried out in protest. "Oh, Gabriel!" she murmured, holding him tight.
Cole came to his feet and rescued his screaming son. He lifted Gabriel very high and silver eyes gazed into silver eyes. "I'm your papa, little man!" He laughed. "And you'd best get used to the idea."
Gabriel couldn't possibly have understood what Cole had said to him, of course, but he smiled anyway, as if he had decided to accept the stranger in gold and gray. Cole lowered him at last and set him on his hip, smiling at Kristin.
Suddenly there was an awful commotion at the door.
"Put me down, you piece of trash!" Shannon shrieked.
Malachi — Shannon thrown over his shoulder — came through the doorway, his face dark and thunderous. "I don't mind bushwhackers, and I don't mind the damn Yankees, but Cole, I will be damned if I'll be responsible for this brat!"
"Put me down!" Shannon screamed.
He did. He dumped her in front of Cole, and she was thrashing and flailing, trying to get her balance. She rolled over and came face-to-face with Zeke Moreau's body.
"Oh!" she gasped, and fell silent at last.
Kristin looked at Malachi and arched a brow.
He sighed with great patience. "Kristin, I didn't know what the hell was happening in here. I didn't want her barging in to get shot, or to cause you or Cole to get shot. Mainly. It would be her own damn fault if she did get shot, but since she is your sister, I thought I'd try to save her sweet, darling, precious little life!"
For once Shannon didn't reply. She was still staring at Zeke's face. She began to tremble uncontrollably, and then she burst into tears.
Kristin started toward her sister, but Cole pulled her back. Malachi was kneeling beside Shannon, and he pulled her up and away from the body.
"It's over! It's all over!" he told her roughly, "Don't go falling apart now."
Shannon stiffened momentarily, and then she hiccuped. Malachi gave her his handkerchief, and she dried her face, nodding an acknowledgment. Then she jammed it back into his hand.
"I never fell apart, you backwoods bastard!"
"Well, good. Get your derriere out there and start helping!"
"Helping?"
"There are injured men out there. Unless you're too damned prissy to help the men who were willing to die to save your miserable life."
"Miserable?"
"Go!"
"I am going, Malachi Slater! I'm going because those are fine men out there — even the rebels! I'm going for them, and I'm going because I choose to go, and I'll never, never do anything because you tell me to, do you understand?"
With an elegant toss of her golden curls, she swept past him. It was a splendid exit except for one thing. Malachi smacked her rump soundly as she went past. She yelped in outrage and slapped him hard across the face. He caught her by the elbow and turned her toward him, his face dark with rage.
"Malachi! Please! She is my sister," Kristin reminded him sweetly.
Slowly, his eyes narrowed, he released Shannon. "Why, thank you, kind sir!" she said. Then she kicked him hard in the shin and raced out the door.
Kristin began to smirk, and then Cole laughed, and the baby giggled. Delilah laughed along with them, but then her laughter faded, and she gasped, "Samson! My man! Oh, Mister Slater —"
"The barn," Kristin said quickly, her eyes on Cole. "He was breathing —"
Cole ran out the door, Delilah hard on his heels. Kristin followed but when she stepped out on the porch she stood there stunned, her son in her arms, staring at the scene of destruction.
There were bodies everywhere. Men in gray were collecting them, dragging them away. A weary-looking young man nodded to her in grim acknowledgment as he passed her. She swallowed and caught his arm. "Thank you. Thank you for coming here."
He smiled and tipped his hat. "I'd go anywhere Colonel Slater invited me, ma'am. I'm right glad we got here in time."
He had work to do, and he went back to it. Dazed, Kristin stepped down into the yard.
Then someone called out, asking for water. She hurried over to the trough and found one of Cole's boys behind it, clutching his shoulder and trying to stand.
"Here, here!" she whispered, ladling up some water. Gabe gurgled. He seemed to think they were playing.
"Thank you, ma'am," the soldier said. Then he winced, and she saw that he had a ball lodged in his flesh.
"Help me over here!" she called. Another soldier lifted the wounded man, and within minutes she had him in the house and on the couch and she had Cole's men scurrying around, boiling water, ripping up sheets for bandages, setting up the parlor as a temporary infirmary.
Gabriel refused to sleep, so she set up a little playpen in the parlor and busied herself with the injured. Shannon was at her side and Delilah, too, now that she knew that Samson was all right. He had been knocked cold, and he had a blinding headache, but otherwise he was none the worse for wear.
Samson was out on burial detail now. Zeke Moreau's body had been removed from the house.
There had been a scene when that had happened. Shannon had followed them out. She had stood on the porch and begged the men, "Please… please! Don't bury that man's body anywhere on this property!"
"Miss McCahy —"
"Please! Let the vultures eat him, let the wolves finish him, but I beg you, don't bury him near here!"
And so some of the men had set out with a wagon, and they were taking Zeke and the bodies of the other bushwhackers far, far away. Pete was dead, and he was family, and three of Cole's men had fallen, and there were the Yankees that the bushwhackers had killed. They were being laid to rest with infinite tenderness in the family plot, beside Kristin's mother and father.
By nightfall, most of the traces of the gun battle had been cleared away. Delilah managed to produce a hearty stew in abundance to feed everyone.
At ten they heard the sound of a wagon creaking along. Cole had just finished eating, and he was sipping a brandy on the porch. Gabriel was in bed, and Kristin was sitting at Cole's feet, listening to a sad tune being played on a harmonica somewhere nearby.
She felt Cole stiffen. Then she realized that he had sentries posted, for there was something like a Rebel yell in the darkness, and then the wagon came through.