“Well? What do you think?” Clover carefully spun around in front of Ballard.

She had altered one of her better gowns, removing some of the expensive lace and silk ribbons for a simpler style. The last thing she wanted was to attend the revel dressed better than anyone else. The men would probably not notice, but the women might resent her if she arrived decked from head to toe in her best finery. It would be the surest way to start her relationship with her neighbors on the wrong foot. After a little over six weeks in Kentucky, she had no intention of ruining her first real chance to make some new friends.

But Ballard, studying her, was suddenly not sure he wanted to take her to the spring revel. Every man there would be after her. Her blue-green gown complemented both her fair coloring and her slim figure, and her breasts swelled gently above the low neckline. Her thick golden hair hung loose down her back, the sides tied with ribbons that matched her gown. She looked beautiful. So beautiful that he had to fight an urge to keep her hidden away at home.

“Ye look lovely, Clover.” He kissed her palm and led her out of the room. “I will be beating the lads off ye all night.”

Clover laughed and grabbed her cloak from the wall hook. “I was thinking much the same about you in your fine courting clothes.”

“That ye will have to beat the lads off me?”

“Wretch.” She gently punched his arm. “The lasses, of course. You will draw them like bees to honey.”

Everyone was waiting on the veranda for them. Even Adam Dunstan was freshly shaved and dressed in his best homespun shirt and pants. Clover realized that such occasions for socializing were probably rare and thus were attended by everyone who could walk, ride, or crawl.

She sat beside Ballard on the wagon seat, with everyone else in back, except for Shelton, who rode his horse beside them. “Are you sure ‘twill be safe to return in the dark?” she asked.

“Aye. ‘Tis a full moon,” Ballard replied. “The road will be lit enough for us. Some folk will spend the night, but the accommodations are rough. Shelton will ride in front of us to lead the way.” He patted her knee, grinning when she blushed and carefully removed his hand. “Dinnae fret over it, lass. Just have a good time.”

“I intend to.”

When Ballard pulled their wagon up in front of the church and Clover saw all the people who had already arrived, she hoped she could stick to her resolve to enjoy herself. Whole families made their way into the church, each dressed in different degrees of finery, from clean homespun to calico with lace trim. Clover was heartily glad she had not worn her finest gown. Her silks and brocades would have been glaringly out of place.

Inside the hall, Clover helped Molly and her mother set out the food they had brought on the large table placed at one end. Molly had made apple cake and scones. Clover had baked two loaves of bread and made a small pot of blackberry jam, the last with Molly’s help.

Agnes sought out Mabel Clemmons in a corner, immediately starting a conversation. Clover was glad her mother had found a companion, but she was a little surprised it was Mabel, whose rough, outspoken ways were so different from Agnes’s refined manners.

The fiddlers struck up a tune and Ballard tugged Clover onto the floor for a rowdy country dance. She was quickly caught up in a dizzying round of lively dancing and unending introductions. She doubted she would ever remember all the names and faces paraded before her. When Ballard became immersed in a discussion on horse breeding with a balding man named Chester Tuttle, Clover slipped away to fill a plate with food and, seeing that Mabel was now alone, went to join the woman. Before she could begin a conversation, however, her mother returned and sat down next to her.

“Where were you?” she asked her mother.

“I needed a moment of privacy,” Agnes replied, blushing faintly.

“Oh. And where can that be found? I might need a little privacy myself before the evening is ended.”

“Out back.”

“Well, I be damned,” said Mabel, looking across the room. “There be Colin Doogan and his brood.”

Clover was just looking toward the group Mabel had pointed out when she heard a thud. She turned to see her mother lying sprawled on the floor. Just as Clover hurried to see what ailed her, several women rushed over to help. Molly pushed her way through the women and knelt on the other side of Agnes. A moment later Ballard, Lambert, Shelton, and the twins huddled around them as well.

“Does she do this often?” asked Mabel, staring down at the unconscious Agnes. “She will be causing herself an injury.”

“I have seen her swoon only once,” said Lambert, “and I have known her for nearly two months. She collapsed when Clover said she was marrying Ballard and they were all coming to Kentucky.”

Mabel laughed and Clover shot her a brief look of mild annoyance. She cushioned her mother’s head in her lap as she and Molly tried to rouse her. Just as Agnes began to stir, a shadow crossed over them, and Clover looked up to see the man whom Mabel had identified as Colin Doogan staring down at them, his face pale and his gaze fixed firmly on Agnes.

Clover saw at once that Colin Doogan was a dangerously attractive man. She heard Molly whisper “Black Irish” and nodded in agreement. His hair was glossy black with a touch of white at the temples, and he had the bluest eyes she had ever seen.

“Agnes McGillicuddy?” he said, his voice soft and hoarse.

“McGillicuddy?” Molly looked at Clover. “You are Irish?”

“Mama’s father was. He died before I was born.” She frowned at Colin Doogan. “Do you know my mother, sir?” Clover’s heart pounded faster as she suddenly recalled the story her mother had told her on the day before her wedding, of a certain man named Colin whom she had known before she married Clayton Sherwood.

“I knew her many years ago when she was newly engaged to some young lad named Sherwood,” Colin Doogan replied.

“My father,” Clover whispered and looked down at her mother, whose eyes fluttered open.

“Oh, heavens above, child,” Agnes muttered, and rubbed her temples. “I thought I saw a ghost.”

“The ghost of Colin Doogan perhaps?” Clover suggested. She glanced at Colin’s three sons and murmured, “You neglected to tell me that the man was married. Or was he still a single gentleman when you knew him?” Looking at the brood of grown Doogans clustered around Colin, Clover knew the man must have been married even then.

Agnes slowly looked up until she met the gaze of the man leaning over her. For a moment she came close to fainting again and felt Molly and Clover each slip an arm around her in support.

“Lord above, Colin, what are you doing here?” Agnes demanded.

“I told you I wanted to move west,” he said as he took her by the hand and helped her to her feet.

“Many men spoke of going into the frontier in those days. ‘Twas a common dream.”

“Well, I acted upon it. I came here fifteen years back, brought my family three years later. You do not look any different than you did the night we shared a dance at the Langleys’ May ball.”

“Nonsense.” Agnes blushed. “I have grown quite plump.”

“No, you have just matured into the fine woman I saw promised in the young girl you were then.”

Clover caught Molly rolling her eyes and had to bite back a chuckle. She stood up and moved to Ballard’s side as the other onlookers gradually drifted away. For a moment they let Colin and Agnes exchange information, each sympathizing with the other’s loss of a spouse. Ballard finally interrupted to perform the introductions, presenting to Clover and Agnes Colin’s eldest sons—Patrick, Michael, and David—who all carried the strong stamp of their father. The other seven children stood still long enough to be introduced as well, and Clover knew she would be hard-pressed to recall their names. When Colin excused himself for a moment, promising to return as soon as he was sure his younger children were all being looked after, Clover turned to her mother, who appeared hale but flushed and a little dazed.

“Well, Mama, I must say I never realized you were such a flirtatious girl in your youth.” Clover winked at a chuckling Ballard. Since almost everyone had drifted away, Clover could not resist the chance to tease her mother just a little bit. “A married man? Tsk, tsk.”

“Oh, hush.” Agnes giggled. “Imagine finding him here. He is right. He did talk of moving west, as many young gentlemen did back then. We ladies all oohed and aahed and declared them such daring heroes. Of course most of them never went anywhere and we ladies politely forgot their boasts.”

Ballard shook his head. “More games.”

“I am afraid so. Flirtation and courtship do contain such mild deceptions and vanities. Oh, and Colin Doogan was a master player.” She grinned when Ballard laughed. “In his defense, I must say that I never heard a whisper that Colin had been unfaithful to his wife.” She frowned. “He had four children even then.”

“Has ten now, ma’am.” Ballard said. “His wife was ready to have some more, but he said enough was enough. He wanted to be able to give the ones he had a good life and enjoy some time with his wife without a bairn at her breast.” He glanced around and caught all three women blushing while Mabel cackled. “Did I say one of those words I shouldnae say?”

“Well, I suspect such indelicacy is acceptable around family and such, but never in the company of others,” Clover replied. She suddenly thought of how long it would take a woman to produce ten children, especially if there had been long separations here and there. “Colin Doogan never got to spend that time with his wife, did he,” she guessed.

“Nay. She got a fever and died. Been dead for three years now.”

“How sad,” murmured Agnes.

Clover nodded and refrained from teasing her mother anymore. The fiddlers struck up a waltz and she gasped with delight. “Oh, Ballard, they know the waltz.”

“Colin taught them,” he murmured, frowning at the small knot of dancers. “Only a few of us have learned it.”

She grasped his hands. “Shall we dance?”

“I fear I am one of those many who have nae learned yet.”

“I shall teach you. Please come along.”

His reluctance was clear as she dragged him out onto the dance floor. At first their movements were stiff and awkward, but Ballard was a quick learner with natural grace. She laughed when he lost the last of his resistance and began to whirl her confidently around the floor. By the time the dance was over she was breathless and giddy and gladly released him to go and talk to friends. She got a glass of punch and one of Molly’s scones and returned to her seat next to Mabel, only to notice that her mother had disappeared again.

“Where is Mama now?” she asked Mabel as she took a sip of the tart punch and set her cup down on the bench.

“Out there swirling about with that rogue Colin.”

“Oh.”

Clover ate the scone as she watched her mother dancing with the tall, handsome Irishman. Agnes was smiling and clearly enjoying herself. Suddenly, all Clover could think about was that her father had been dead for only a few months.

“You ain’t sure you approve of our Colin, are you?” said Mabel.

“I am sure Mr. Doogan is a very nice man.” Clover could see from the look on Mabel’s weathered face that her polite response did not satisfy. “All I want is for my mother to be happy. As my father made her happy.”

“Ah, I see.” Mabel spat, hitting the spitoon with her usual accuracy. “Child, ain’t nothing wrong with your ma wanting to cure her loneliness.”

“Loneliness? How can she be lonely living in a household of nine people?”

“I reckon you know demmed well what kind of loneliness I be talking of. If you don’t, then Ballard MacGregor ain’t the man I think he is.” She cackled when Clover blushed deep red. “Your ma loved your pa. I hear it clear when she talks of him. But your pa done took himself away from her. I suspect she is still grieving, but she has the sense to know that life goes on. So does Colin. Now, those two flirting and laughing like they are might raise a few eyebrows back where you come from, but out here we ain’t bothered by such petty and useless niceties. Agnes and Colin know they are in the autumn of their lives, and neither of them wants to spend those years with just memories.”

“Of course. Then again, they could be acting just like any two friends who have not seen each other in years.”

Mabel snorted. “That sure as hell was no ‘let us be friends’ gleam I saw in old Colin’s eyes.”

Clover caught sight of Molly and Jonathan Clemmons sitting close on a bench, their heads together as they talked. She smiled at Mabel. “And what kind of gleam do you see in your son’s eyes?”

“I demmed well hope it’s a marrying sort of gleam. The fool ain’t getting any younger, and I have a hankering to see a grandchild or two before I die.”

Clover restrained a laugh. “Well, Molly is determined to find a husband.”

“Good. I reckon Jon needs a determined woman to get his backside afore a preacher.” Mabel looked Clover over carefully. “Just when are you and that long-legged Scotsman gonna start a family?”

“You are a rude woman, Mabel Clemmons,” Clover said genially.

“Demmed right, and proud of it. It is one of the few good things about getting old. You can speak your mind and be crotchety and nobody troubles you about it.” She winked at Clover. “I got a soft spot for that Scot of yours, but don’t you go saying nothing to him about it.”

“Of course not. We would not want him to get too puffed up.”

“Exactly. Now, that’s why I’m asking you about starting his family. I know he wants one.”

“Yes. He was very clear on that matter. So do I. If God is willing, there will be a babe started before too long.”

Mabel nodded. “Reckon that boy is doing his best.”

“Definitely his best,” Clover drawled, and they shared grins that turned into hearty laughter.

Mabel had an odd effect on her, Clover mused, then frowned when the old woman scowled at the dancers. Clover looked to see what had caused Mabel’s dark expression, then grunted when she jabbed her in the side with a bony elbow.

“What is wrong? I see nothing but people dancing.”

“Then you ain’t looking hard enough. That hussy, Elizabeth Brown, has dragged your man onto the dance floor.”

Clover could see Ballard’s head, but it was not until the crowd parted a little that she caught sight of Elizabeth. The woman was dressed in a red gown, tight and low-cut, and she was pressing herself scandalously close to Ballard. Clover fought a swell of fury at seeing Elizabeth reap the benefits of the dancing lesson she had just given Ballard. After taking a deep breath to steady herself, Clover tried to see how Ballard felt about Elizabeth’s actions, but there was little expression on his face.

“Well, what are you waiting for? Go after your man, child,” said Mabel.

“He is only dancing,” she murmured, silently cursing the fact that she even cared who was in his arms.

“That slut is clinging to him like a limpet. Go and tear her off him.”

“Perhaps he likes dancing with her.”

“Balderdash! I know that boy. He don’t get that cursed stone face on him when he’s having fun.” She frowned at Clover. “Don’t you care that she’s trying to steal your man right afore your eyes?”

“Mrs. Clemmons, it is not a matter of caring. It is a matter of dignity. I do not wish to act the jealous, interfering wife.”

“Maybe where you come from you sit back and let such nonsense go on, but ‘round here we do something about it. Ain’t you seen how the other women are looking at you to stop the hussy?”

Clover did notice, but that did not change her mind. All her life she had been trained to be dignified, not to cause scenes. Such matters, if mentioned at all, were to be dealt with in the strictest privacy. She ached to go and yank Elizabeth away from her husband and throw the woman to the floor, but everything she had been taught told her not to succumb to that raw emotion.

“Lookee here, girl,” Mabel continued, grasping Clover’s arm and giving her a little shake. “Elizabeth wants your man and you know it. Hellfire, the whole cursed county knows it. That hussy got into his breeches once and liked what she found. Ballard had the wits to button himself up tight after that, but it ain’t stopped her. ‘Tis clear his marriage ain’t gonna deter her neither, especially not if his wife just sits by twiddling her thumbs. Do you think that Scot would sit idly by if some man was lifting your petticoats?”

Clover stood and calmly brushed down her skirts. “No, Ballard would not just sit by. However, Mrs. Clemmons, if I discover that you have advised me poorly in this, I shall find some way to make you regret it.”

“I ain’t got no doubt about that. You be a sprightly one.” She gave Clover a light push toward the dancers. “Go and set that hussy straight, girl. Old Mabel will be watching.”

“I am sure you will.”

As Clover wended her way through the dancers, she thought she saw looks of approval on the women’s faces, but she could not be certain. When she failed to find Ballard and Elizabeth among the dancers, she grew unsure. A woman nudged her and pointed toward open doors leading to the stairs. Clover could think of only one reason that Ballard and Elizabeth would escape the crowd. The last thing she wanted was to catch the pair in a heated rendezvous, but she took a deep breath and started after them. It was best to know the truth, she decided, no matter how painful it might be.

Once outside, she walked around to the rear of the church. She wanted to trust Ballard, but she had to wonder why he would take a moonlight stroll with a woman he claimed he did not want. As she rounded the corner she came upon Elizabeth in Ballard’s arms, and winced at the painful sight.

“Curse it, woman,” Ballard snapped as he yanked Elizabeth’s arms from around his neck and held her at a distance. “I didnae come out here for that.”

“Well, that is a relief,” Clover drawled.

Ballard cursed, pushed Elizabeth away, and stepped closer to Clover. He had allowed Elizabeth to drag him outside because he thought it would be kinder to rebuff her in private. Before he could say a word, however, she had clung to his neck and covered his face with kisses while rubbing her fulsome body against his in blatant invitation. He did not have to see the cold anger in Clover’s expression to know how the scene had looked to her. He heartily cursed his attempt to be considerate of Elizabeth’s feelings. The woman did not deserve such courtesy.

“Lass, I didnae come out here for an adulterous tussle. I swear it,” he told his wife.

“Everyone believes you did. After that tasteless display on the dance floor, most people think you slipped outside to continue your rutting in private. Now you tell me this moonlight stroll was not inspired by a sudden desire for decorum?”

For a moment, Ballard just stared at Clover, somewhat impressed at how she could say such biting, angry words in such a cool, polite voice. Most women he knew would be screaming at him and trying to do him and Elizabeth bodily harm. Since the look in Clover’s eyes told him she longed to do just that he had to admire her restraint.

Elizabeth stepped closer to Ballard and took hold of his arm. “It should be clear, even to you, that Ballard has finally come to his senses,” she told Clover.

“Aye, I have.” He yanked free of her hold. “I have been trying too hard to play the gentlemon and spare your feelings. ‘Tis clear ye misunderstood my kindness. I didnae want to marry ye before I left for Pennsylvania and I sure as hell dinnae want to leave my wife for ye now. Just let me be, woman, before ye make an even greater fool of yourself.”

Elizabeth glared at Clover. “He wasn’t being so coy before you arrived.”

“Was he not? I would have thought you would have more pride than to keep hurling yourself at a man who says he does not want you.”

“He wanted me once—badly.”

“That once is now past.” Clover stepped closer to Elizabeth and said softly, “This had better be the last I see of you, Elizabeth Brown.”

“I live here too!”

“I know, but whether you do so comfortably or not will be up to you.”

Clover was a little surprised when Elizabeth glared at her and strode away. It was clear that the woman blamed her for Ballard’s rebuff. There had been a flash of fear in her eyes, which Clover had rather enjoyed. She hoped that Elizabeth believed her threats and stayed away.

She turned her attention to her husband, who was regarding her as if she were aiming a loaded musket at his head. It amused her that such a strong man could look so afraid of her. That hint of amusement told her that her anger was already fading. She prayed common sense was prompting her trust in him, and not blind loyalty.

“I swear to ye, lass, I wasnae out here to have meself a wee bit on the side.”

“What a crude expression.” She sighed. “I really want to believe you.”

“Good.” He quickly closed the distance between them and tugged her into his arms.

She looked up at him. If he was just not so heartbreakingly handsome, it might be easier to cast aside her doubts and fears. But she still found it a little hard to believe that such a man could be fully satisfied with her as his wife.

“I am not sure you have solved the problem of Elizabeth yet,” she murmured.

“She has to ken that her pursuit of me is already a joke around here.”

“That might make her all the more determined to win you.”

“Then she is an even bigger fool than I thought.” He touched a finger to Clover’s lips when she started to reply. “Someone is coming.”

“It sounds like Mama and someone else.” She gave a little cry of surprise when Ballard dragged her behind a thick tangle of lilacs. “Why are we hiding?”

“I would like a minute or two alone with ye, just to make sure ye dinnae still doubt me.”

Before she could reply, she glimpsed her mother through the foliage, arm in arm with Colin Doogan.

“I was sure Clover and Ballard would be here,” Agnes said. “Elizabeth looked furious when she came back inside.”

Colin took both of Agnes’s hands in his. “They have probably slipped away to make amends. I think we should use this moment of privacy to our own advantage.”

“What do you mean?”

“There is something I have wanted to ask you since I set eyes on you tonight. I want to court you, Agnes.”

“Colin, my husband has been dead for only a few months.”

“And you loved him. I know that. I knew it all those years ago. I loved my wife too, then and until the day she died. But that does not change the fact that there was something special between us, Agnes. It is still there.”

“I should be draped in mourning, but I did not have the money for mourning clothes.”

Colin kissed her forehead. “You will not have a great deal of money if you hitch up with me either, but I can keep you in some comfort.”

“Colin, it is too soon.”

“I do not expect you to stand before the preacher with me tomorrow. I just want to start courting you.”

“I would feel disloyal.”

“Why? I do not ask you to forget him, just as I could never forget my Anne. Hell, I have ten children as living reminders of her. I also do not expect you to set aside that part of you that still loves him and probably always will. But that does not mean we cannot care for someone else. Our loved ones would not expect us to pine for them forever and live alone for the rest of our days.”

“No, of course not.”

“Then why wait for some arbitrary mourning period to pass? The worst of your grief is over. Now is the time to pick up the threads of your life. All those years ago we could have loved each other if we had not already given our hearts and our promises to others. Not many people are fortunate enough to have a second chance. I do not want to spend the rest of my life alone, Agnes.”

“Neither do I, Colin. I am just not sure everyone will understand that.”

“Hey, I was listening,” Clover protested when Ballard started to tug her even farther away from the couple, deep into the thick wood behind the church.

“Would ye eavesdrop on your own mother?” he demanded.

“Yes.” She frowned when, once out of earshot and sight of her mother and Colin Doogan, Ballard pulled her into his arms. “I thought we were going back inside.”

“I want to be sure ye dinnae still think poorly of me.”

“No.” She sighed, then smiled faintly when he gave her a quick, exuberant kiss. “If there is a next time, however, do you think you could give Elizabeth her setdown in a public place? Unfortunately, the first thought that enters people’s heads when a couple tiptoes off into the moonlight is not that the man is going to explain a few moral truths to the lady.”

Ballard laughed, then grew serious. “I was feeling a mite alarmed for a moment. You looked prepared to shoot me.”

“The thought crossed my mind.” When he backed her up against a tree and began to spread soft kisses along the neckline of her gown, she made no effort to push him away. “Should we not be getting back to the revel?” she finally asked.

“In a wee bit. I need reassurance that ye have really forgiven me.”

She welcomed his slow, hungry kiss and returned it in full measure. When he ended the kiss she realized he had reached up under her skirt and untied her drawers, letting them fall to the ground. After a brief hesitation she stepped out of them. She ought to be scandalized by what he planned, but instead she felt a growing excitement. The dark wood sheltered them, and rays of moonlight gave their trysting place an exciting secrecy. Only one thing checked her sudden urge to be daring.

“I cannot return to the revel in a rumpled, grass-stained gown,” she murmured, shivering with delight when he loosened her gown just enough to free her breasts for his kisses.

“Then we shall have to be verra careful that ye dinnae fall on the ground,” he replied, as he freed himself from his breeches.

She gasped in soft surprise when he lifted her up in his arms. Without thinking, she wrapped her legs around his waist. He slowly joined their bodies. She shuddered with delight. Her desire had been strongly stirred by his caresses and the thought of making love outdoors in the primitive privacy of the tall trees, but now it totally engulfed her. As her release swept over her, his mouth on hers smothered their cries of ecstatic fulfillment. He sank to his knees, their bodies still united, and they clung to each other as they tried to regain their senses.

Later, back inside the hall, Clover left Ballard talking with Jonathan and hurried over to Molly, who was perusing the remaining food on the table. “Do I look presentable?” Clover asked.

“Except for this piece of bark in your hair.” Molly fished it out and surreptitiously brushed off the back of Clover’s gown. “Apparently you and Mr. MacGregor sorted out your differences. Although I guessed that when that hussy came stomping back in here alone, looking like she had been sucking on lemons.”

“Did my mother and Mr. Doogan return?” Clover asked, nibbling on a piece of cake.

“Yes, they are sitting over there talking quietly.” Molly frowned. “Here is something interesting. It looks to me as if those men who just walked in are not welcome.”

Clover looked toward the door and nearly gasped. Everyone in the room was falling silent and keeping a close eye on the four men. Big Jim Wallis and his three friends were clearly disliked by nearly everyone. She wished that had been enough to make the man stay away, but realized it had been foolish to hope they would never cross paths in Kentucky. When he fixed his dark gaze on her and started toward her, she resisted an urge to look for Ballard, and struggled to meet Big Jim’s glower calmly.

“I’da thought you’d be hightailing it back to Pennsylvania by now,” he said as he stopped in front of her.

“This is my new home. Why should I leave?” She heartily wished there was more than the food table separating them.

“‘Cause you ain’t built for this life and there ain’t gonna be a husband here for you much longer.”

“Is that a threat, Big Jim?” Ballard asked, stepping up to the man’s side.

Big Jim glared at him. “We got some unfinished business, you and me.”

“I dinnae think so. I believe we settled everything that day at the riverfront in Langleyville. We have no quarrel between us, unless ye are thinking of starting one.” He glanced around. “It would appear that ye and yours are nae exactly welcome here. People have long memories, Big Jim, and ‘tis hard to forget that ye nearly killed William Sutter at last year’s spring revel. Maybe it would be better if ye left. A lot of his kin and friends are here.” He nodded toward a large group of men edging toward Big Jim, their fists clenched and their expressions hard and angry. They outnumbered him and his friends nearly three to one.

Big Jim spat on the floor. “I ain’t here to have fun anyhow. Just came to warn you.”

“Warn me?”

“Enjoy her while you can, MacGregor. The day is coming fast when the enemies you done made are gonna get you. You ain’t gonna be standing so tall and cocky then.” He glared at everyone in the room. “And these fools ain’t always gonna be at hand to save your hide. Or hers.”

Ballard frowned as Big Jim and his friends turned and swaggered out the church door. It would be foolish to ignore the man’s threats, but he did not know what to make of them. Briefly he considered gathering up a few men and going after Big Jim to beat a few facts out of him, but he decided against it. It would not be wise to stumble around in the dark after a man who would have no qualms about stabbing someone in the back.

“What the hell was that all about?” demanded Lambert as he and Shelton hurried over.

“I dinnae ken, but I think it would be wise if we keep a close watch out for trouble,” Ballard answered.

“Big Jim wants revenge for that day at the riverfront?” asked Shelton.

“That is certainly some of it, but there seems to be more.” Ballard shrugged. “I cannae figure it all out yet.” He looked at Clover. “Are ye all right, dearling?”

“Fine. It was just a bit of a shock to see him here. Do you have many enemies, Ballard?”

“A few. I dinnae set out to make them, but that doesnae stop me from collecting them. Dinnae fret over it, lass. We will keep a close watch. I have dealt with tougher foes than that oaf.”

As she watched Ballard walk away, Clover knew he was not making an idle boast. Ballard MacGregor would be a hard man to bring down, but he was not invincible, and that knowledge stirred her fears. She could not shake the feeling that she was the cause of the trouble he now faced, and not simply because he had rescued her from Big Jim that day on the waterfront. But the only person who might want to hurt her was Thomas Dillingsworth, and she could not believe he would come all the way to Kentucky to satisfy some twisted need for revenge. He enjoyed his creature comforts too much, for one thing.

“Heed your man,” Molly advised as she handed Clover a cup of punch. “He can take care of himself.”

“I know.” Clover took a bracing sip of the alcoholic brew. “I feel very confident of Ballard’s ability to protect me. What troubles me is that although we know some threat hangs over us, we do not know when the danger will come or why. Our enemies know a great deal more about us than we do about them, and that is never good.”

“Well, if I be judging it right, those men now talking to Mr. MacGregor are offering their help.”

“That is certainly some comfort.”

“Pssst.”

Clover frowned and looked at Molly. “Yes?”

“I made no noise. Sounded like it came from under the table.” She glanced down and signaled Clover to do the same.

When she looked down, Clover found herself staring into a pair of familiar brown eyes. The little boy’s face was marked by several bruises. He had obviously suffered even more of Morrisey’s brutality since their brief meeting in Clemmons’s store on her first day in Kentucky. Such behavior was beyond her comprehension.

“Hello again,” she said.

“How do, ma’am. Could I be troubling you to hand me down a bit of cake?”

Although she cautiously slipped the child a piece of apple cake, she asked, “Why not just fill up a plate like everyone else?”

“I been bad and they told me I ain’t to have none of this fine food. That be my punishment.” His words were a little garbled as he tried to eat and talk at the same time.

She slipped him a chicken leg, at the same time looking around for his family. The Morriseys were bunched together in a far corner of the hall. A few women stopped to talk to a bone-thin gray-haired woman whom Clover knew must be the beleaguered Bess, but only one man was talking to the brutish Morrisey. Everyone in the family held heavily laden plates of food, which they were wolfing down. Clover suspected the food was what they had mainly come for. There was a gentle tug on her skirts and she slipped the boy some bread, wishing she could do more for him.

“I think that pig Morrisey must be looking for the lad,” Molly whispered as she sneaked a cup of sweet apple cider down to him.

The boy cursed, causing Molly and Clover to exchange amused smiles. “I was hoping they be too busy eating to see that I done crept away,” the boy muttered, then downed the cider and returned the cup to Molly. “Reckon I best creep back.”

“Make sure you brush all those crumbs off,” Clover advised, then looked down to see that he was already gone. “I hope he heeded me. ‘Tis bad enough to know I cannot help him, but ‘tis worse to think I might cause him more pain simply because I gave him some food.”

“A boy kept that hungry does not fret over a beating. He will endure it if it means he can fill his empty belly.”

“That is so sad.”

Molly shrugged. “I fear the world ain’t always a pretty place, Clover MacGregor.”

Clover watched the Morriseys until the boy appeared back in the group. Morrisey swung a fist at the boy but he neatly ducked the blow. The second time Morrisey struck out, the child tumbled to the ground. As he tried to scramble out of reach, Morrisey kicked him in the ribs. Not one sound escaped the child, which further troubled Clover.

The Morriseys had finished what Big Jim had begun. They had taken away the last shred of her enjoyment of the evening.

“Ballard?” Clover leaned against her husband as he drove their wagon home. The rest of their family dozed in the back while Shelton kept a close watch on the road ahead of them. “Are you very certain we can do nothing about that boy of Mr. Morrisey’s?”

“Aye, lass. Sorry. The whole demmed town has been trying to come up with the money Morrisey wants, but I have a strong suspicion that if we ever get it together, he would just demand more and we would be back where we started.”

“You are probably right. And I suppose there is nothing we can do about Big Jim’s threats until he acts on them.”

“Not unless I want to face the circuit judge next time he meanders this way.”

She curled her arm around his and snuggled closer to his warmth. “That is not exactly the news I want to hear. Ballard, do you think the other enemy Big Jim referred to is Thomas?” She yawned and closed her eyes, nuzzling her cheek against his strong arm.

“It could be, lass, but I would be surprised if Thomas bothered to chase us down here. He considers Kentucky uncivilized, the end of the world. I cannae see him inconveniencing himself. I reckon we will just have to wait and see.”

“Wait and see and do nothing. You know, I never would have thought that those two things would be so hard.”

Ballard smiled faintly when Clover barely finished her sentence before falling asleep. He tightened his arm around her shoulders, holding her more securely against him. She was right. It would be hard to wait and watch. Ballard ached to prevent any danger before it got within miles of her, but he had no choice. He must wait until Big Jim, and whatever ally he had, made the first move. And pray that he would be able to thwart them.