strands.

"We've established that you discussed things," she said curtly. "Give me an example of something specific."

He grimaced. "Can't."

"Why? Because it was so trivial you don't remember anything he told you?"

"I remember it all. It's just that I gave him my word I'd never tell you."

She pounded her small fist into her thigh, but he had a feeling she would have preferred to smash it

against his nose. "He made you promise not to tell me something he told you?"

Nodding, Clay fought to keep his mouth from forming a smile. "Yes, ma'am."

"What was it about?"

Lifting a shoulder, he feigned innocence.

Her blue eyes darkened. "Was it something about me? Did he talk about me?"

"Of course he did. He loved you."

She shook her head vigorously and tilted up her nose. "I don't believe he ever talked to you about me.

You're just trying to make me angry."

"I knew before you did that he was going to marry you."

He didn't know how she managed it, but she looked down on him even though their respective positions on the horse and wagon made their heights even.

"I was fourteen when I knew he was going to marry me," she said haughtily. "I set my sights on him then, and I caught him."

Clay chuckled. "He set his sights on you long before that."

"I don't believe you."

He shrugged. "Believe what you want."

She shoved the hat down over her head, shadowing her face so all he could see was the hard set of her jaw. He supposed that if the woman wanted to believe she was the one responsible for her marriage to Kirk, no harm would come from it. Whereas he suspected that harm might come from her learning the truth.

He and Kirk had been standing on the threshold of adolescence. Girls were no longer the irritants they'd once seemed, but were beginning to have an appeal they were both still too young to understand fully. They based a girl's worth on inconsequential things such as the color of her eyes and the length of her braid.

"I think Meg Crawford has the puniest eyes I ever saw," Clay told Kirk one afternoon as they watched the clouds roll by. "I'm thinkin' I might marry her."

"You can't," Kirk said. "I'm aimin' to marry her."

"I said it first."

Kirk dug a silver coin out of his pocket. "We'll flip. Eagle you marry her, Liberty I marry her, and loser's gotta promise he won't go callin' on her."

Nodding, Clay drew an X over his heart with his finger. Kirk tossed the coin, caught it, and slapped it down on his forearm. From her engraved position on the coin. Lady Liberty sparkled in the sunlight. Kirk swiped the coin away and shoved it into his pocket. "Reckon I won."

In the intervening years, Clay honored the oath he had taken that day. He'd kept his distance, watching from afar as Meg blossomed into the woman who would hold Kirk's heart.

And now he would continue to keep his distance. Her hatred, far greater than any other's, would keep him tethered to the childish oath. Even when he sat on the last pew, he could feel her eyes boring into him. He disliked sitting through the church service every bit as much as Joe did. Maybe he should take Josh's advice and cross his eyes the next time she looked at him.

But when she did finally turn her attention from the road and meet his gaze, he couldn't bring himself to make light of her feelings toward him.

"What did Kirk say about me?" she asked. "He must have said something you can tell me."

He tugged his hat brim low over his brow. He couldn't very well tell her that Kirk had told him about the soft little sounds she made on their wedding night. He wished now he'd just kept his mouth shut and hadn't tried to get her riled, but she was so durn cute when fury flashed through her face and ignited her eyes so they no longer appeared lifeless. "Well, he talked a lot about the farm, of course, and how he wanted you to have a place of your own."

She relaxed her shoulders, and he wondered if she'd had an inkling as to what Kirk might have told him.

"Did he tell you why he wanted us to have our own place?"

He nodded slowly.

"His mother didn't like me," she said, as though he hadn't acknowledged her question.

"I wouldn't take her feelings to heart. She doesn't like anyone."

She rolled her eyes toward the heavens.

"It's true," he went on. "We figured she didn't even like Mr. Warner, which is why your husband never had any brothers or sisters."

She leaned toward him, her eyes wide, her voice barely a whisper even though no one was around to

hear. "You truly talked about her like that?"

"Her sour mood bothered him, and it bothered him more when you got married and she didn't treat you kindly."

"He told you how she treated me?"

"We talked about-"

Impatiently, she waved her hand. "I know. You talked about a lot of things."

He offered her a rueful smile. "Yes, ma'am, we did."

"Did you discuss his idea about us living with his grandmother?"

Actually, the day he figured out how long it would take Kirk to save enough money to set up a

homestead Clay had suggested they move in with Mama Warner. Hesitantly, he nodded. "He wanted you to be happy."

"I was after we moved in with Mama Warner. She made me feel so welcome."

"She makes everyone feel that way. Do you see her much anymore?" Clay asked, knowing she'd moved back to her father's house after Kirk left for the war.

Meg smiled, the first genuine smile he'd seen on her face since the day war began. He wanted to cut it into stone right then and there so he could keep it forever. He was certain she'd given it to him by mistake.

"As a matter of fact, I went by her house this morning. That's why I was late. I told her if anyone asks, she's to say I'm spending a few days with her, but she doesn't know where I am at the moment She'll stretch the truth and never ask me why she needs to."

Clay had wondered how she planned to travel with him without her father coming to lynch him. "So your father thinks you're spending a few days with Mama Warner?"

"Yes, only I'm spending the time with you."

As though just realizing that she'd condemned herself to his company, she stopped smiling, hardened her gaze, and turned her attention to the road ahead.

Sighing deeply, he looked at the narrow ribbon of dirt that wagon wheels had cut from the land over the years. The road seemed to stretch into eternity.

At twilight, Clay drew the wagon off the road and guided the mule to a nearby clearing.

Meg dismounted, pressed her forehead against the saddle, closed her eyes, and sighed heavily. Clay's presence irritated her more than she'd imagined it would, in ways she'd never expected. The soft,

secretive smile that eased onto his face when he found something amusing caused her to ache for all the smiles of the past, to mourn for all the smiles that would never be in her future.

And apparently he'd found her quite amusing this morn-ing when he'd talked about Kirk. What had Kirk

told him?

"Want me to see after your horse?" Clay asked.

Opening one eye, she peered at him. He looked as tired as she felt "No."

He set a bucket of water within the mare's reach. "There's feed in the wagon," he said before walking

away.

She tended her mare, removing the saddle and bridle, and hobbling her for the night. She retrieved the feed from the large sturdy wagon. She supposed the Hollands had built it specifically to haul stone.

Clay unhitched and hobbled the mule, although Meg didn't think the mule would wander away. In her

entire life, she'd never seen an animal move as slowly as that mule. She supposed the army had confiscated the Hollands' horses. Her family had given so many men to the Cause that the army hadn't asked for their livestock, although Meg would have gladly given it.

"I'll fetch some supper," Clay said as he pulled his rifle from beneath the wagon seat.

Meg's first reaction was to say she'd fend for herself, but she felt too weary. She'd compromise slightly

tonight: while he hunted, she'd build the fire. As she walked away from the camp, he fell into step behind her. She stopped abruptly, turned, and glared at him. "Where do you think you're going?" she asked.

"I don't think you ought to be traipsing through these woods alone."

She patted the gun handle visible above the waistband of her trousers. "I'm only going to find some dry