her firmly behind him. Then he clenched his fists and stepped forward.
Black man against white. All Sophronia's nightmares had come true. Fear shot through her. 'No!' She clutched Magnus's shirt. 'Don't hit him! You hit a white man, you'll be hanging from a rope before morning.'
'Get out of my way, Sophronia.'
'The white man's got all the power, Magnus. You leave this be!'
He set her aside, but the gesture of protecting her cost him. Behind his back, Spence lifted his walking stick and, as Magnus turned, slammed it into his chest.
'Stay out of things that don't concern you, boy,' Spence growled.
In one swift movement, Magnus snatched the cane and broke it across his knee.
Sophronia gave an outcry.
Magnus tossed the cane aside and landed a hard blow to Spence's jaw that sent the mine owner sprawling onto the road.
Kit had reached the line of trees just in lime to see what was happening. She rushed out, raised her rifle, and leveled the barrel. 'Get out of here, Mr. Spence. Doesn't seem you're wanted.'
Sophronia had never been more grateful to see anyone, but Magnus's face grew rigid. Spence slowly rose, glaring at Kit. Just then a deep, drawling voice intruded.
'Looks like things are getting a little out of hand here.'
Four sets of eyes turned as Cain climbed down off Vandal. He walked toward Kit with the loose, easy swagger that was so much a part of him and extended his hand. 'Give me the rifle, Kit.' He spoke so calmly he might have been asking her to pass bread across the dinner table.
Giving him the rifle was exactly what Kit wanted to do. As she'd discovered once before, she had no stomach for holding a gun on anyone. Cain would see to it that Magnus came to no harm, and she gave him the rifle.
To her astonishment, he didn't turn it on Spence. Instead, he took Kit's arm and pulled her, none too gently, toward Vandal. 'Accept my apologies, Mr. Spence. My wife has an excitable temperament.' He shoved the rifle into the scabbard that hung from his saddle.
She saw Spence's eyes grow shrewd. The cotton mill made Cain an important man in the community, and she could see his mind working as he decided it was to his advantage to have Cain as a friend. 'Don't mention it, Mr. Cain.' He reached down to dust off his trousers. 'I'm sure none of us can predict the ways of our little womenfolk.'
'Truer words have never been spoken,' Cain replied, oblivious to Kit's glare.
Spence picked up his black bowler and jerked his head toward Magnus. 'Do you value this boy of yours, Major?'
'Why do you ask?'
He gave Cain a man-to-man smile. 'If you was to tell me you valued him, I'd assume you wouldn't be too happy to see him dangling from the end of a rope. And seeing as how we're both businessmen. I'd be more than willing to forget what just happened here.'
Relief made Kit's knees wobble. Cain's eyes locked with Magnus's.
They stayed that way for several long, hard seconds before Cain looked away and shrugged. 'What Magnus does is his own business. It doesn't have anything to do with me, one way or the other.'
Kit gave a hiss of outrage as he scooped her up onto Vandal, mounted himself, and spurred the horse back up the drive.
Sophronia stared after them, bile rising in her throat. The major was supposed to be Magnus's friend, but he wasn't a friend at all. White stood together against black. That was the way it always had been, the way it always would be.
Despair overwhelmed her. She darted her eyes toward Magnus, but Cain's betrayal didn't seem to bother him. He stood with his legs slightly apart, one hand lightly balanced on his hip, and a strange light shining in his eyes.
The love she'd refused to admit burst free inside her, breaking all the invisible shackles of the past and sweeping away the rubble in a great cleansing rush. How could she have denied her feelings for so long? He was everything a man should be-strong, good, kind. He was a man of compassion and pride. But now, through her actions, she'd put him in peril.
There was only one thing she could do. She turned her back on Magnus and forced herself toward James Spence.
'Mr. Spence, it's my fault what's happened here today.' She couldn't make herself touch his arm. 'I been flirtin' with Magnus. Makin' him believe he meant somethin' to me. You got to forget all this. I'll go with you, but you got to promise you won't let any harm come to him. He's a good man, and all this is my fault.'
Magnus's voice came from behind her, as soft and mellow as an old hymn. 'It's no good, Sophronia. I won't let you go with him.' He moved up beside her. 'Mr. Spence, Sophronia is goin' to be my wife. You try to take her with you, I'll stop you. Today, tomorrow, a year from now. Doesn't make any difference. I'll stop you.'
Sophronia's fingers turned icy.
Spence licked his lips and shot a nervous glance in the direction Cain had disappeared. Magnus was the bigger man, taller and more muscular, and Spence would be the loser in a physical match. But Spence didn't need that kind of fight to win.
With a sense of dread, Sophronia watched the play of emotions on his face. No black man could get away with hitting a white man in South Carolina. If Spence didn't get the sheriff to do something about it, he'd go to the Ku Klux Klan, those monsters who'd begun terrorizing the state two years ago. Images of whippings and lynchings filled her mind as he walked confidently over to his buggy and climbed up onto the seat.
He picked up the reins and turned back to Magnus. 'You've made a big mistake, boy.' And then he regarded Sophronia with a hostility he didn't try to hide. 'I'll be back for you tomorrow.'
'Just a minute, Mr. Spence.' Magnus bent over to pick up the broken halves of the walking stick. As he made his way to the buggy, he walked with a confidence he had no right to feel. 'I consider myself a fair man, so I think it's only right I tell you what kind of risk you'd be taking if you got any ideas about coming after me. Or maybe you might decide to send your acquaintances in bedsheets here. But that wouldn't be a good idea, Mr. Spence. Matter of fact, it'd be a real bad idea.'
'What's that supposed to mean?' Spence sneered.
'It means I've got a talent, Mr. Spence, that you should know about. And I've got three or four friends with the same talent. Now, they're only black men like me, you understand, so you might not think their talent is worth your notice. But you'd be wrong, Mr. Spence. You'd be dead wrong.'
'What're you talking about?'
'I'm talking about dynamite, Mr. Spence. Nasty stuff, but real useful. I learned to use it myself when we had to blast some rock to build the mill. Most people don't know too much about dynamite, since it's so new, but you strike me as a man who keeps up with new inventions, so I'll bet you know a lot about it. I'll bet you know, for example, just how much damage dynamite could cause if somebody set it off in the wrong place in a phosphate bed.'
Spence regarded Magnus incredulously. 'Are you threatening me?'
'I guess you might say I'm just trying to make a point, Mr. Spence. I've got good friends. Real good friends. And if anything was to happen to me, they'd be mighty unhappy about it. They'd be so unhappy they might set off a load of dynamite in the wrong place. Now, we wouldn't want that to happen, would we, Mr. Spence?'
'Damn you!'
Magnus put his foot up on the step of the buggy and rested the broken pieces of the stick on his knee. 'Every man deserves his happiness, Mr. Spence, and Sophronia's mine. I intend to live a good, long life so we can enjoy each other, and I'm willing to do whatever's necessary to make sure we have that. Now whenever I see you in town, I'm going to take off my hat and say, 'Howdy, Mr. Spence,' real polite. And as long as you hear that 'Howdy, Mr. Spence,' you'll know I'm a happy man wishing you and your phosphate mine all the best.' Drilling his eyes directly into Spence's, he extended the broken halves of the walking stick.
Taut with anger, Spence snatched them away and grabbed the reins.
Sophronia could barely take it in. What she'd just witnessed ran contrary to everything she believed, and yet it had happened. She'd just seen Magnus stand up against a white man and win. He'd fought for her. He'd kept her safe… even from herself.
She threw herself across the border of dry, wintry grass that separated them and tumbled into his arms,
