Shannon sat in the court with Kristin and Matthew and Iris, listening to it all. When the session broke, she was allowed to see Malachi for a few minutes.
"Yankee bastard?" Malachi teased her, his eyes dancing. "Did I hear you say that? You, Shannon McCahy Slater, called that man a Yankee bastard?"
"Malachi!"
"I could die happy, hearing those words upon your lips!"
"Don't you dare talk of dying!"
"I'm sorry."
"Damn your pride!" she told him savagely, tears glisten-ing in her eyes. "You are innocent, and it's as if you're trying to make yourself sound guilty!"
He smiled, tilted her chin and kissed her. "I can only tell the truth, Shannon."
She wanted to say more. She wanted to argue and hit him and make him see reason, but an officer of the court came and took him away, and she wasn't able to say anything more.
The days went on, and the situation began to appear bleaker and bleaker.
It wasn't that it didn't seem to be a fair trial. It was just that Taylor Green seemed to know how to make a simple statement of fact sound like a full confession. And the fact remained that Cole had ridden with Quantrill. No matter how briefly he had done so, it was enough to condemn him in many hearts. Still, she knew that his first speech had also touched the hearts of many. The brutal slaying of a young woman was a heinous act to any ordinary man, be he a Yankee or a Rebel.
On the fourth night of the trial Shannon went to see Mr. Abernathy. He was at dinner, and his housekeeper nearly stopped her from reaching him, but she pushed by. He was just about to start eating his dinner—a lamb chop, peas and a roasted potato.
"What are you doing?" Shannon demanded. She was so distraught that she picked up his plate and tossed it into the corner of the room.
He arched his snowy brows, and cleaned his fingers on the napkin that was tied about his throat and covered his chest He smiled slowly at her and glanced remorsefully toward his lamb. "Mrs. Slater, I could call this assault! At the very least, it's a case of assault against a very fine lamb chop!"
"I'm sorry," Shannon murmured swiftly. She was sorry. She drew up a chair at the table. "I'm just so worried—"
Mr. Abernathy smiled again and took her hand, patting it "Trust me, Mrs. Slater. Trust me."
"They could hang, sir!"
"I'm not going to let them hang. Now you'll see, you'll see."
"When?"
"Why, tomorrow, I do believe. The prosecution seems to have finished. I'll start with my case tomorrow. And I'll wager you two lamb chops that I'll need but a day!"
Shannon couldn't believe that he could possibly undo all the harm that Mr. Green had done. But he gave her a glass of sherry, and shooed her out the door.
Shannon went back to the hotel, where she found Kristin red-eyed and puffy-faced from crying. Shannon hugged her sister and lied through her teeth. "It's going to be all right. Mr. Abernathy has it all well in hand. Why, he says he can have them freed by tomorrow!"
"He can?" Kristin wanted so badly to believe.
In the morning, Mr. Abernathy stood before the court and addressed the judge. "My defense is simple. I will prove that we've no case against any of these men, no foundation for a charge of murder. And, your Honor, I will request that the case be dismissed!"
The judge invited Mr. Abernathy to proceed. Mr. Taylor looked up in protest, and Mr. Abernathy bowed very politely to him. He looked around, opening his arms to the court.
Then Shannon realized that the courtroom was curiously filled with men, officers in blue and gray.
One by one they stood and addressed the judge.
"Sir, I'm Corporal Rad Higgins, U.S. cavalry. I came here to say that I rode with Malachi Slater back in April, against a horde of bushwhackers. I rode with Jamie and Cole Slater, too. I'd like to testify, sir, that I ain't ever rode with better men."
"Sir, I'm Samuel Smith. First Sergeant, Darton's brigade,
Union army. I'd been left for dead when these fellows came riding in. The fought and beat Quantrill's offshoots, and they offered me the finest medical care. Their doc even saved my arm, and it had been shot up mighty bad."
From a man with the stripes of an artillery sergeant on his arms: "I knew Cole Slater in Kansas before the war. I never met a finer officer."
One by one, the men stood. Soldiers in blue, soldiers in gray.
Then a woman stood up, plump, dignified, gray-haired.
"I'm Martha Haywood, and this is my husband, and I come to say that I ain't ever met finer people than Captain Malachi Slater and his bride, and that's a fact. And my husband will testify to that fact, too." Mr. Haywood stood alongside her.
Shannon looked around, incredulous. They were all there. Jamie's Confederate friends from Texas, the people from Haywood, even the professional gamblers from the saloon. And one by one they testified with moving stories to the honesty and honor of the Slater brothers.
When it was over, the judge stood. He slammed his gavel against his desk.
"I dismiss these cases," he told the prosecution. "Lack of evidence," he said flatly.
And he walked away.
Silence reigned for a moment. Then there was a Rebel war whoop as hats were thrown high into the air. The crowd rushed forward to congratulate the Slaters.
Shannon pushed her way through until she reached Malachi. He drew her into his arms, and he kissed her warmly.
"It's over," he said softly. "The war is really over."
"All of our wars are over," she promised him. She slipped her hand into his hands, then turned around, searching for Mr. Abernathy. She hurried over to him and gave him a tremendous kiss on the jowl. "Bless you! And I promise you a dozen lamb chops every year, as long as I live!"
"That would be right nice, Mrs. Slater, mighty nice."
"What's this?" Malachi demanded, shaking hands with his attorney.
"That's a mighty fine little woman you have there, captain." Mr. Abernathy said. "Some temper, though, huh?"
"It's a ghastly temper," Malachi agreed.
"Malachi!" she protested.
"I love it, though," he told Mr. Abernathy. "I wouldn't have her any other way. She's full of fire and sparks."
"Malachi—"
"In fact, I'm going to take her right home and see if we can't get a few sparks a-flying." His eyes fell on her. "Seems like a long, long time since I've been away."
"Scat!" Mr. Abernathy told them.
They still had to fight through the crowd. Malachi had to kiss Kristin, and Shannon had to kiss and hug Jamie and Cole, and the brothers embraced, and then Malachi and his brothers thanked each and every man and woman who had come to their defense. Shannon hugged Martha Haywood fiercely, and Martha told her with shimmering eyes that she should go. "And be happy, love! Be happy."
They came out into the sunshine at last.
Then Malachi kissed her. Slowly, surely, completely. He broke away. "Come on. We can go home. We can really go home."
"And start sparks flying?" she teased him.
"No," he whispered.
"No?"
His eyes danced, as blue and clear as the sky above them. "Sparks are already flying."
She smiled slowly, meeting his eyes, curling her fingers within his while he sun beat down upon them, warm and vibrant.
"Yes, let's go home!" she agreed in a fervent whisper.
Because they could. They could really go home.
Life and love were theirs, and they were only just begin-
The war was more than over. Peace had truly begun.
EPILOGUE
June 18th, 1866 Haywood, Kansas
Martha Haywood had just locked up the house for the night. There were no guests at the hotel, so she thought she might as well lock up early. She wished that someone would come through. It was summer, and it was beautiful, and it would be nice to be busy and have company.