Meg eased around him and lifted her gaze. "Oh, my."

He held out his hand. Slipping her hand into his, she stepped onto the stool. With trembling fingers, she touched the stone face.

"What do you think?" he asked quietly.

"It looks just like him," she said in awe. She worked her other hand free of Clay's grasp and touched

both palms to Kirk's cheeks. She ran her fingers over the stone brow, along the eyes, and down the nose. "It's perfect."

"It's hardly perfect."

"You captured so well the man he was before the war. Look at the pride reflected in his face. He has no

doubts. He believes in what he's doing." She sighed wistfully. "I wish Mama Warner could see this."

"Why can't she?"

"She's so weak, she can't even get out of bed, and you certainly can't drag the monument to her."

"I could bring her here."

"She's too frail. I don't think she could travel this far."

"She could if we used the wagon. I'll put a couple of mattresses and several blankets in the back. We'll go slow. I'll carry her to the wagon. Then I'll carry her in here."

"When would we do it?"

'Tomorrow?"

Meg knew it was unlikely that Mama Warner would live long enough to see the monument completed, but Clay had finished carving what she would care about most. "People arc traipsing in and out of her house all day. All we need is for one of them to tell Robert or Mr. Warner, and after you dared Robert to shoot you, what's left of the family would probably come after you with all guns loaded."

"We could do it in the evening."

Meg planted her hands on her hips. "So Robert wouldn't have to come looking for you? He could just

shoot you as you cross the threshold?"

"Not if he doesn't know I'm crossing the threshold. The man's gotta sleep some lime."

"You mean go late at night?"

"Why not? She's never put locks on her doors."

"And if we get caught?"

"I'm willing to risk it."

The following night Meg sat in the wagon, hoping she wouldn't regret what she and Clay were about to

do. Their good intentions could easily bring harm Clay's way if they were discovered.

"Take off your boots," Meg whispered as she worked off her shoes.

"Why?" Clay asked.

"So we don't wake Robert when we're walking through the house."

"Does he wake easily?"

Meg snapped her head around. "I don't know, but Kirk did. I assume since they're cousins..."

"Wish I'd known..." he mumbled as he jerked off his boot.

The lantern resting at Meg's feet in the wagon cast its light on his large toe as it peered through a hole in

his sock. He pulled the bottom of his sock over the hole and wedged it between his toes. Meg bit back

her smile. She'd never in her life known a man as modest as this one.

He jumped off the wagon and walked around the mule. The moon was but a silver sliver in the sky, the stars sparkling like a thousand diamonds. She didn't know if they could have picked a better night for their clandestine adventure.

After helping her climb out of the wagon, he reached for the lantern. She laid her hand on his arm, and he stilled.

"Promise me if we wake Robert that you'll walk out the door."

"And leave you to face his wrath?"

"He won't get angry at me. In all likelihood, he'll shoot you."

He chuckled low. "I won't run, Meg."

"I'm not asking you to run. I'm just asking you to leave if we wake Robert."

"How will you explain what you're doing in the house?"

"I'll say I couldn't sleep and came to look in on Mama Warner."

Bowing his head, he studied the ground. "Do you think I'm a coward?"

"I just don't want you to get shot in the middle of an act of kindness."

He lowered the flame in the lantern until it was little more than a whisper of light in the dark. "All right

Let's try not to wake him."

As they trudged toward the house, Meg realized for the first time in her life how loudly the grass crunched beneath her feet. She feared they'd wake the entire country. Clay walked in long sure strides as

though he'd forgotten that their visit was a secret, as though he wanted to tempt Kirk's father to aim a gun at him.

She hurried to catch him and wrapped her hand around his swinging arm as they neared the house. "Let

me go in first," she whispered.

Clay reluctantly acknowledged the wisdom of her words.

If Robert did wake up, he'd be less alarmed if he saw Meg walking through the house. Clay gave a

brusque nod. Meg took the lantern and slowly eased open the door. She peered into the darkened

kitchen and listened intently.

Slipping the lantern through the opening, she searched the shadows, then tiptoed into the house.

Clay stepped in after her, and Meg could have sworn he stomped the floor. With her finger pressed to her mouth, she spun around and glared at him. He shrugged.

"Walk on your toes," she said in a low voice.

He grimaced.

"Do it or I won't go any farther," she threatened.

She watched his height increase and lowered the lantern for a closer inspection of his feet. His large toe

had escaped through the hole in his sock.

She crept through the kitchen and halted at the hallway. One way led to the room she'd shared with Kirk,

the room where Robert now slept. The main room of the house lay beyond it. In the opposite direction, a few steps down the hall, the door to Mama Warner's room stood ajar.

Taking a deep breath, she cautiously tiptoed down the hall. She peered in through the open door.

Smiling, Mama Warner lay in the bed, her hand lifted slightly, and her fingers wiggling in the air. Meg