Suddenly, she was, in truth, flying. Hurtling through the air by the force of some rock-hard power behind her, and falling facedown into the red dust at her feet. Stunned, she inhaled, and dirt filled her lungs. Dizzy and gasping, she fought against the force now crawling over her, holding her tight. Panic seized her. It was one of the men, one of them…
"Stop it, Shannon!"
No! It was Malachi again. Damn Malachi. He was holding her down, holding her prisoner, when the men were about to ride away, ride away with Kristin…
"Let me go, you fool!"
He was lying over her, the length of his body flat on hers, hard and heavy. His chest lay on her back, and his hands were flat upon hers, pinning them down. She could barely raise her head to see.
She could only feel the tension and heat of his whisper as he leaned low against her in warning.
"You fool! You're not—"
"Damn you! Get off of me! He has my sister!" She couldn't even begin to fight; she couldn't twist away from him.
"Shannon! He has twenty armed men! And you're running after him without so much as a big stick!"
"He has—"
"Shut up!" One of his hands eased from hers, but only to clamp over her mouth. He kept them down, almost flat upon the earth. A trough lay before them. It hid them from view, Shannon realized, while they could still see the men and the house two hundred yards away.
"He has Kristin!" Malachi agreed. "And if you go any closer, he's going to have you, too! And if you don't shut up, he'll be after the two of us. We could try shooting down twenty men between us without killing your sister in the fire, but we'd still need our weapons—those wood and steel things back in the hay—to do it with!"
She went still, ceasing to struggle against him.
"My only hope is to follow them. Carefully," he said hoarsely. He eased his hand from her mouth. He did not lift his weight from hers, but pinned her there with him with a sure pressure.
She hated him for it.
But he was right. She had no weapon. She had panicked, and she had run off with nothing, and she could do nothing to help Kristin.
She would only be abducted, too.
"No!" she whispered bleakly, for the horses were moving. The men were all mounted, and the horses were beginning to move away.
With the same speed and thunder, they were racing away, into the night.
And red Missouri dust rose in an eerie fog against the darkness of the night…
And slowly, slowly settled.
CHAPTER THREE
When the horses were gone, Malachi quickly stood and reached down for Shannon. She would have ignored his hand and risen on her own, but he didn't give her a chance. All the while, he kept his eyes fixed on the house. As soon as she was standing, he dropped her hands to start limping for the porch. He climbed over the paddock fence.
"Where are you going?" Shannon demanded, following him.
He didn't seem to hear her. He kept walking.
"Malachi!" Shannon snapped. He stopped and looked back at her as if she was a momentary distraction—like a buzzing fly. "Malachi! We have to get guns and horses; we have to ride after them. You're wasting time! Where are you going!"
"I'm going to the house," he said flatly. "Excuse me." He started walking again.
She ran after him and caught his elbow, wrenching him around to face her. Stunned, frightened and furious, she accosted him. "What? You're going to the house. Just like that. Sure, we've got all the time in the world! Let's take a rest. Can I get you dinner, maybe? A drink? A cool mint julep, or something stronger? What the hell is the matter with you? Those men are riding away with my sister!"
"I know that, Shannon. I—"
"You son of a bitch! You Rebel…coward! Good God, I wish to hell that you were Cole! He rode in here all alone
and cleaned up a small army on his own! You didn't even fire a shot. You yellow-bellied piece of white trash—"
"That's it!" He stepped back, and his arm snaked out. He caught her wrist and held her in a bruising grip, speaking with biting rage. "I'm damned sorry that Cole isn't here, Miss McCahy. And I'm damned sorry that I didn't have the time to dig through the hay to find my gun or your gun or even my saber. If I had had my gun, I probably could have killed a few of them before they gunned me down. So I'm real, real sorry that I don't feel like dying like a fool just to appease your definition of courage. And, Miss McCahy—" he paused for a breath "—as for Cole, I really, honest to God can't tell you just how much I'd like to see his face. And that, to tell the truth, is what I'm trying to do right now. Those men are riding away with your sister. Well, my brother was in that house, and I—"
He paused again, inhaling deeply. Shannon had gone very pale and very still. She had forgotten Cole in her fear for Kristin. Malachi had not.
He dropped her arm, pushing her from him. "I want to find out if Cole is alive or dead," he said flatly, and he spun on his heels.
It took Shannon a few seconds to follow him, and when she did so, she did in silence. Dread filled her heart. She hoped Cole had left already. But the second that she learned something about her brother-in-law she would be gone. Maybe Malachi could let those men ride away with Kristin— she could not.
He heard her following behind. He spoke without turning around. "I am going after Kristin. If you don't mind, I will arm myself first."
"As soon as we…as soon as we find Cole," Shannon said. "I'll get everything we need. We can leave—"
"We aren't leaving. I'm leaving."
"I'm coming with you."
"You're not coming with me."
"I am coming—"
"You're not!"
Shannon opened her mouth to continue the argument, but she didn't get the chance. The porch door swung open again as Delilah came running out. Tall, black and beautiful, with the aristocratic features of an African princess, she was more family than servant, and no proclamation had made her free. Gabriel McCahy had released both her and her husband, Samson, years before the war had ever begun.
Now her features were wretchedly torn with anguish.
"Shannon!" she cried, throwing out her arms. Shannon raced to Delilah, accepting her embrace, holding her fiercely in return. Delilah spoke again, softly, quickly. "Shannon, child, I was so afraid for you! They dragged Kristin from here so quick—"
"Delilah," Malachi said harshly, interrupting her. His voice was thick. "Where is my brother? What happened? Cole would never—Cole would never have allowed Kristin to be dragged from his side."
Delilah shook her head, trying to get a grip on her emotions. "No, sir, Captain Slater," she said softly, "Cole Slater never would have done that. He—"
"He's dead," Malachi said, swallowing sickly.
"No! No, he isn't dead!" Delilah said with haste.
Relief flooded through Shannon. She couldn't stand any longer. She staggered to the porch and sank down on the lowest step. "Where is Cole, Delilah?"
"He rode out before—"
"When?" Shannon cried. "I didn't see him go!"
"Let's come inside. You both look as if you could use a little libation," Delilah said.
Shannon shook her head and stood with an effort. "I'm going after Kristin—"
"You're not going after anyone," Malachi said. "I'm going, and I'll do so as soon as I'm ready."
"Don't tell me what I can and can't do, Malachi Slater!"
He walked over to her, his eyes narrowed, his irritation as apparent as his limp. "Shannon McCahy, you are a willful little fool, and you will get us both killed, as well as your sister. I will tell you what to do, and if you don't listen to me, I'll lock you in your room. No, that wouldn't do, knowing you, you'd come right through the window. I'll tie you to your bed. Are we understood?"