"Do you think your father would chase them?" Madison asked, grinning.

"Not if he was smart. He'd wait until they came back from their revels too exhausted to run away."

She laughed again, but it hurt so much she stopped.

"You shouldn't have to take care of the herd by yourself."

"We haven't been able to get steady hands since Papa fired Troy. I warned him, but he wouldn't listen."

"Why did your father fire him?"

"They couldn't see eye to eye on anything. Troy was cattle. Papa is a farmer."

"I'm sure George could find you someone."

"Why are you so certain your brother can fix anything?" "Because he can. George is a born fixer."

"Then why didn't you leave Hen's defense to him?"

"That's something else altogether."

Madison lapsed into silence, and Fern tried once again to understand the contradictions of this man. One minute he was ready to say George had the answer to everything, the next he implied there were no answers. One minute he couldn't wait to get her off his hands, the next he was taking her back to Abilene so he could take care of her. One moment he was furious with her, and the next he was willing to fight her father so she didn't have to go back to work before she was well.

He was just as incomprehensible as the change in herself.

She should have been worried about her father, but she wasn't. She ought to have been furious at Madison for knocking him down, but she wasn't. She ought to have been worried about her cattle and the neighbors' crops, but she wasn't. She ought to have been anxious to get back to her old life, but she thought only of going back to Mrs. Abbott's and getting to know more about Madison Randolph.

Most of all, she should have been worried that continual contact with Madison would break down her resistance, would make her vulnerable to everything she had spent years trying to resist.

It scared her to death, and she had no idea what would happen tomorrow, but if this was a ride into the jaws of h.e.l.l, so be it. She couldn't do anything else.

"Do they have many parties in Abilene?" Madison asked.

The question was so unexpected, it took Fern a moment to answer. "I don't know. I never go to parties." "Why not?"

"I never wanted to."

"I'd have thought you'd jump at the chance."

"Some might, but not me."

"Not ever?"

"No."

"Would you go if I invited you?"

No man had ever invited her to a party. No one had ever dared.

"You couldn't take me to a party in this town," Fern said. "n.o.body approves of me."

"I don't approve of all the things you do either, but that doesn't answer my question."

"If you don't approve of me, why should you want me to go with you?"

"I didn't say I didn't approve of you, just of some of the things you do."

"It comes down to the same thing."

"If that's what you think, you don't know much about men."

She didn't, but she wasn't about to admit it to him.

"You're avoiding my question," Fern said. "Why would you ask me to a party?"

"I don't know any other women."

She meant for her laugh to sound skeptical, but it came out more like a snort of disgust.

"You don't have to. They'll fall over themselves to talk to you."

"You sound like you don't approve. Don't you think young women should talk to me?"

"I didn't mean that and you know it. I'm sure Mrs. . . . whoever is giving the party, will invite plenty of unattached young women."

"Maybe I don't want to take the chance of being frozen out by the local swells."

Fern nearly hooted. "With your looks, there'll be a gaggle of females panting after you inside ten minutes."

"Then you do approve of the way I look? That's a relief. I had gotten the definite impression you thought a chunk of river mud had more charm."

"You know you're a nice-looking man," Fern said, hardly able to believe the words that fell from her tongue. "And you know you can turn on the charm when you want. It's just when you're around me you behave like a beast."

"Your reflections on my character are fascinating," Madison said, "but we've wandered far from the original question. Would you go to a party with me?"

"Whose party is it?"

"Mrs. McCoy."

"The mayor's wife!" Fern exclaimed. "She'd never let me in the front door. She gets heartburn every time she sets eyes on me."

"You'd have to wear a dress, but I don't see. anything about you to cause heartburn."

"So I'm not good enough to go as I am?" Fern said, her temper rising like a water spout.

"I didn't say a word about being good enough," Madison replied. "I'm sure Mrs. McCoy's only objection is to your mode of dress."

"Would you take me to the party dressed like I am now?"

"It's an evening party. I wouldn't take myself dressed like I am now."

"Why not?"

"Do you always wheedle out of answering questions?"

"What are you talking about?"

"Fifteen minutes ago I asked you if you'd go to a party with me. Not only have you managed to avoid answering the question, you've put me through the third degree. I'll ask you again. Will you go to Mrs. McCoy's party with me?"

Fern felt something crumple up inside her, as if she were being offered something she wanted so desperately she could taste it but knew she couldn't have it.

It was the party, she told herself. She wanted to go to the party. She didn't understand why. She'd never wanted to go to parties before. Some of the kids used to tease her because she was never invited, but they stopped when they found out she wouldn't have gone anyway.

But this had nothing to do with the party. She wanted to be with Madison. That shocked her even more. She had never wanted to go anywhere with a man.

"Thank you for the invitation, but I can't accept it." She hoped she sounded disinterested. If he guessed how much she wanted to go, he would never give up.

"Surely you're not afraid of wearing a dress? Or are you afraid you don't have anything to wear?"

"Neither."

She didn't own a dress. She had burned every one she had eight years ago.

"Why then?"

"There's n.o.body there I want to see or who wants to see me."

"I'll be there."

She knew he was only teasing, trying to get her to say yes, but she hoped he had no idea how much remarks like that hurt. Her foolish heart wanted to believe him.

"You just said I needed to stay in bed."

"The party's a couple of weeks off. In fact, you ought to be able to go back to your young bulls by then. Hopefully, they will have sown their wild oats.''

"Why are you so concerned with a bunch of yearling bulls?" she asked, hoping he would forget all about the party. "I bet you never saw one."

"Not only saw them. I castrated them. It made me feel positively queasy." Madison gave her a measured glance. I don't like the way you're looking at me."

Fern had to laugh. "Don't worry. You're quite safe. I wouldn't want to disappoint all your lady friends."

"What kind of lothario do you think I am?"

"I'll bet there are hundreds of women counting the hours until you return."

"I'd like to think at least one or two have noticed my absence, but I doubt they're counting the hours. There's an old saying about a bird in the hand being worth two in the bush. It counts for swains as well. The absent suitor might make the sweetheart sigh, but it's the lover in arms, so to speak, that makes her heart beat faster."

"I'm sure you speak from experience."

"Limitless. My conquests litter the Eastern seaboard."

Fern smiled again. "I hope not quite literally. It would be a great hindrance to the bathers."

"All this sympathy for swains, lovers, and bathers, and none for me."

Fern felt her chest tighten as her heart beat faster. He was flirting, just having fun. It would be best if she flirted back, but she didn't have the courage. Each meaningless word penetrated her heart like an arrow.

"You'll do quite well without my sympathy."

"Then accept my invitation just to spite me. You could always refuse to dance with me." "I wouldn't do that."

"Isn't there anything I can say to convince you to go with me?"

"I might go if you'd tell me quite honestly why you asked me."

"It's a deal."

"I said might. I wouldn't put it past you to tell me some great whopper, then take enormous pleasure in debunking it later."

"You think I'd do that?"

His reaction had rattled her. He actually looked upset, as though he really cared what she thought of him. She had seen him angry, furious, livid, determined, even apologetic, but never upset. She had decided he didn't care deeply for anything.

It shocked her to discover she had the power to unsettle him. It also excited her. She had felt so helpless around him, she couldn't help but feel a tiny twinge of pleasure. Maybe she shouldn't, but she did.

"Maybe I shouldn't have said that," she said. "It's just that we've done nothing but see how much trouble we can cause each other. I don't know if you're really like that. I never thought I was, but I can see why you'd think so."

"Then let's start over again. Today can mark a new beginning."

Fern was beginning to think this journey back to town would never end. She realized now she wanted a new beginning. That was really why she had gone to the jail. But she'd had time to think since then, time in which to realize that a new beginning might only bring more hurt. Madison fascinated her, she admitted that, but fascination was a poor reason to continue a relationship that might only go "sour in the end.

And no matter what the outcome of Hen's trial, the relationship would end. Madison would go back to Boston and his wealthy, beautiful, captivating women. He would probably even make jokes about Kansas and the females he'd met there. He would certainly make jokes about her.

No, it had to end, so it might as well end now.

"I don't think it would be a good idea."

"The party or the new beginning?"

"Either of them."

How could she tell him he had awakened a part of her she had tried to forget ever existed? He had made her remember she was a woman. How could she tell him she had run from her femininity for so long, had fought against being a woman for so many years, that she was afraid she didn't know how anymore?

"Will you think about it?"

"No."

"That would be a great pity."