Iris dangled her fingers sensually over the back of Mala-chi's hand while they waited for Matey to come over with the whiskey. When he was gone, Iris lowered her head close to Malachi's. 'Malachi! They've got wanted posters up all over the country! They say you were in on a raid with your brothers, that you went into Kansas and shot some guy named Henry Fitz, and that you're wanted on all kinds of other bushwhacking activities, too. I heard about what Fitz did to your brother, so I wasn't too surprised—'
'Iris, I wasn't with Cole, not that I wouldn't have gone with him if I could. But the war was ending right then. I had a whole contingent of men under me, and I couldn't just go running off to Kansas. Cole was a scout. I was regular cavalry. I went where I was ordered to go.'
'Malachi.' She moved even closer to him. 'I know that none of you has done anything to be hanged for, but you don't know Hayden Fitz.'
'And you do?'
Iris nodded. 'Never met a meaner son of a bitch in my entire life. There's something evil about him. He likes bloodletting, and he likes to watch men die. He's worth money, too, Malachi. Big money. He invested with arms manufacturers during the war and made himself even richer. He owns Sparks—'
'Sparks?'
'The town where he lives. I mean, he owns it.' She smiled, waving a hand around. 'All right, so the Haywoods own Haywood. But this is a two-bit rest stop, Malachi. Sparks is big. The stagecoach goes through. It's always filled with Conestogas. There's a jail and a circuit court, and if he manages to get you into that jail, he'll hang you, too. You fool! You gotta get out of Kansas.'
Malachi shook his head. 'I can't. Hayden Fitz sent men to my sister-in-law's place. Cole wasn't there, so they carried her away. I've got to find her.'
Iris sat back. 'At least you got rid of your Reb uniform,' she said softly. 'You don't look like the poster so much anymore.'
'I still have the uniform,' he said, pouring out shots of the whiskey. 'It's stuffed in my saddlebags. And my hat— well, I left it out in some bushes. It was kind of hard to part with, you know?'
She nodded. 'Old times,' she murmured, then she looked at him. 'Oh, Malachi!'
'What, Iris?'
'Malachi, I did hear something about Fitz holding a woman. Just the other day, some of the boys were talking about Fitz having a blond woman in his jail. Said she was part of a conspiracy to murder Union soldiers.'
His heart sank, but it was what he had been expecting to hear. The Red Legs would have carried Kristin straight to Fitz. And Fitz surely knew that he was holding the key to Cole's whereabouts.
'You think he'll—hurt her?' Malachi asked.
She shook her head strenuously. 'I—uh—I don't think so. He could kill her, Malachi, if he does anything. But hurt her? Not if he's using her for bait.'
'You hear anything about my brothers?' he asked her.
She shook her head. 'Not a word. Sorry, Malachi.' She was silent for a minute. 'But I can help you.'
'What?'
'Like I said,' she told him dryly, 'I know Hayden Fitz. I know his sheriff, Tom Parkins, real well. The town ain't twenty miles from here, Malachi. I can take a trip over and bring you back some information.'
'Iris, that's good of you. That's real good, but I can't stay here—'
'You can stay here if you can stay anyplace on God's good earth. I tell you, Malachi, for Yanks, these are real good people here. Stay. Just give me one or two days. I can ride over tomorrow, spend some time and ride back.
'I can't have you do that—'
'I do it now and then anyway, Malachi.'
He hesitated. If anything happened to Ms, he would never forgive himself. But if she could help him free Kristin and he didn't let her, he'd never forgive himself, either.
'Iris, I can't believe I'm saying this, but all right. You think I'm really safe here?'
'As safe as you're going to be.'
He exhaled slowly.
'I won't let nothing happen to me, Malachi, I swear it,' she insisted. 'It's all right. It really is.'
He still hesitated, then he sighed. 'All right. It's good to see you, Iris. So good. You stayin' on here?'
'Don't look at me like that—I'll feel like I want to stand up and sing 'Dixie,' and that just ain't no good anymore. No. I'm going to California The war is too close here, Malachi. I want to leave it behind. My father fought with Grant, and he's dead. My brother was with General E. Kirby-Smith down south, and now he's dead, too. I want out of this hatred, Malachi. It ain't going to end here. Not in my lifetime.'
He laced his fingers through hers and squeezed them. They were very close and intimate, two friends who had run the same gamut
That's how they were sitting when the saloon doors burst open and Shannon came into the room.
She had a Colt shoved into her belt, and she looked around the saloon carefully, looking for any danger. He saw from the position of her hand that she could have grabbed the gun in a split second, and fired, with great accuracy, in less time than that.
Her eyes fell on his.
'Ma—Sloan!' she said, startled. Her eyes took in the two glasses, the whiskey bottle and his hand, his fingers inter-weaved with Iris's on the table. She took in Iris, from the little flare of her hat to her black petticoats peaking out from beneath her crimson gown. She looked from the poker players to the bar, where Matey was staring at her expectantly.
Her eyes narrowed, dark lashes falling over her brilliant blue eyes. Her hair was loose and beautiful, spilling all
around her shoulders. It was one of those occasions when her masculine apparel made her look all the more feminine, for her slender legs seemed very long, and her derriere was defined by her trousers just as her breasts were full and defined by her cotton shirt.
She was furious. Malachi wondered why. Just because he had left her for so long, hadn't allowed her to take an equal part in this venture? Or was there, maybe, just maybe, more to it than that?
Thinking about it made a pulse beat hard against his throat. He wanted to be with her somewhere alone, then, at that moment.
He swallowed down his desire and fought the tension. She was striding his way. They were going to do battle again. Her claws were bared; he could almost see them. He nearly smiled. A woman didn't get that way unless she was jealous. At least a little bit jealous.
'Darlin', I'm so very sorry to interrupt,' she drawled. Her voice dripped with honey. She smiled sweetly at Iris. Then she knelt close to Malachi. 'You son of a bitch! You left me over there scared to death…never mind. Bastard! Well, darlin', at least the whole town will be expecting a marital dispute. I'm checking into Mrs. Hay wood's. I assume you have other arrangements.' She stood. 'Nice to meet you, Miss—' she said to Iris.
'Iris, honey. Iris Andre. And you're…?'
'I'm—' Shannon paused and shot her very sweet and dazzling smile at Iris once again. 'I'm Mrs. Sloan Gabriel,' she said, and she picked up Iris's shot glass and tossed the whiskey into her face.
Matey inhaled in a massive gasp; even the poker players went dead silent.
Malachi leaped to his feet, reaching for Shannon. Iris was on her feet, too. Malachi knew Iris, and Iris didn't take that kind of thing from anybody. He jerked Shannon around behind him. 'Ms, I do apologize for my wife's manners—'
'Don't you dare apologize for me to any who—'
He spun around, clamping his hand hard over Shannon's mouth. 'Iris, I apologize with all my heart.' He jerked Shannon's wrist and twisted her arm around so that she couldn't possibly fight him without feeling excruciating pain. 'Darlin', please, Iris is an old friend, and we just have a few things to say to one another.' He dropped his voice and whispered against her ear. 'Darlin', you are acting like a brat, and I promise you, if you don't act grown-up real quick here, I'm going to peel those breeches and tan your hide, just to prove that the man wears the real pants in this family. I'll do it, Shannon, because I'll have to.' He hesitated. 'She knows something about Kristin. She can help us, Shannon!'
