Slipping her gown off her shoulders, Madison let his tongue trace warm, wet circles on her breast. The feel of her nearness, the heat of her desire, caused the blood in his veins to reach the boiling point. Throwing caution to the winds, he pulled the gown down her body, slipped it under her hips, and cast it from him.

He gazed in wonder at the perfection of her beauty. Reaching out with eager fingertips, he touched her skin, trailed his fingers over her abdomen, reveling in the softness of her body, the warmth of her skin. Fern's hands explored his body, nipping, pinching, caressing, teasing until his control evaporated.

Madison wrapped her in a crushing embrace. She wrapped herself around him, drawing him closer and closer until they seemed to merge into one body, become one soul. It was as though their corporeal bodies dissolved and they coalesced into a single spiritual whole.

But even as they achieved this perfect union, Madison felt himself drift away, borne aloft, floating alone, watching Fern wrapped in the embrace of someone else.

Her face no longer mirrored ecstasy. Anger and fear distorted the features he held so dear. Instead of clinging to his embrace, she fought against it. The man wasn't Madison, and he wasn't making love to her.

A stranger was raping Fern.

Madison tried to reach out, to tear them apart, but he floated away, helpless, as Fern silently screamed his name.

With a gulping breath and a convulsive shudder, Madison came awake. His whole body shook. The single sheet clung to his damp body. The dream had been terrifyingly real. He threw the sheet aside and got out of bed.

He couldn't get this man out of his mind!

Somewhere out there was the man who had attacked Fern. He might be a killer, he might be a model citizen, but he had paid no penalty for the life he'd nearly ruined. Madison could no longer be satisfied with just proving Hen's innocence. He had to find this man and make certain he never attacked a woman again.

Madison also vowed he would never give up Fern. Some day he would make her his wife. She would come to him in her own time, when she wanted to, when she could no longer resist the need that drew her to him, or she wouldn't come at all.

Fern didn't see Madison the next day since she left early for the farm. But that evening he brought Samantha and Freddy to meet Rose and George. If he'd been trying to convince Fern she was wrong about Samantha, he made a big mistake. Miss Bruce was too much of a lady to wear her heart on her sleeve, but Fern saw that Rose knew Samantha was in love with Madison inside of fifteen minutes. Even Mrs. Abbott could see it.

"I never thought I'd be saying such a thing about Mr. Madison," Mrs. Abbott said after Madison and George had left to escort the young Bruces back to the hotel, "but he and that Miss Bruce do make the prettiest couple. Do you think they're going to get married? It's for certain she's just waiting for him to ask her."

"I can't say," Rose responded with a covert glance at Fern. I haven't known Madison any longer than you have."

"I know, but you being his sister-in-law and all"

"He doesn't confide in me. According to George, he doesn't confide in anyone."

"It's a pity she's not going to the dance," Mrs. Abbott said. "n.o.body in Abilene has ever seen the likes of her."

"Mrs. McCoy has sent a special invitation to Miss Bruce and her brother," Rose informed her.

"I didn't think Mr. Madison would let her sit home, not when he could be dancing with the prettiest woman I've ever seen."

"I'm certain Madison will dance with Miss Bruce, but she's going with her brother. Madison will be escorting Fern."

"Fern!" Mrs. Abbott exclaimed, spinning to face the blushing Fern. "I'm sure she doesn't even own a dress, much less a party gown."

"Nevertheless, Madison a.s.sures me he will be escorting Fern to the dance."

"I never said I'd go," Fern told the two women. "Madison just a.s.sumed I'd do what he wanted."

"That may be, but surely you don't mean to tell him no at this point?" Mrs. Abbott exclaimed.

Fern wondered what Madison had done to graduate from a man suspected of trying to sneak into her bedroom to a gentleman even a female like Fern couldn't refuse. She wished she could enjoy the same elevation in people's eyes.

She couldn't see how going to the party would help. If she had been concerned before about how she would look compared to the local belles, she would have been foolhardy to even dream of appearing at the same party as Samantha Bruce.

Yet she did dream of going. She dreamed of it every night. Dreamed of appearing in a gown more beautiful than anything Samantha could buy in Boston or New York. Dreamed of being more beautiful than any woman Madison had ever seen. Dreamed of dancing the night through, of being held in his arms, of seeing his eyes so filled with love he wasn't aware there were other women in the room. Dreamed of him whispering words of love and eternal devotion in her ear. Dreamed of the kisses that would set her soul on fire, the desire she would ignite in his body.

But each morning, the light of day, and cold reason, scattered her dreams with ruthless regularity.

She had no dress. And she felt certain Samantha Bruce had dozens that were prettier than anything she could buy in Kansas City or St. Louis. Even Chicago.

And there was no way she could dazzle anyone with her beauty. Her hair was a mess, and her skin was unfashionably brown. Besides, she wasn't pretty.

And as much as she longed to be held and kissed, she knew that the old panic would make her drive Madison away. It always did, even though she sometimes ached so much for Madison that she cried.

But she couldn't give up. No matter what argument she offered, no matter what happened, a part of her continued to believe she would find a way. That part of her was never more insistent than right now.

"I'd probably go if I had a dress," Fern told Mrs. Abbott. "But there's no place to buy one in Abilene, at least not one suitable for Mrs. McCoy's party."

"That's for sure," Mrs. Abbott agreed. "I've been telling Sarah Wells for years she ought to get her husband to stock some decent fancy clothes. There's lots of people in Abilene that's tired of calico."

Fern had expected Rose to pepper her with suggestions, but she said nothing. Instead she studied Fern in a manner that made her uncomfortable. Fern didn't understand it, and she didn't trust it. She had grown very fond of Roseshe was the closest friend Fern had ever hadbut Fern reminded herself that Rose's first loyalty was to her husband and his family.

"I had thought about going to Kansas City, but with Papa's death I just forgot about it."

"I'm sure Madison will understand that," Mrs. Abbott a.s.sured her, "but I don't expect he'll be too understanding about the party. Men never do understand when things go contrary to what they want."

Still Rose made no comment.

"He'll expect it of me," Fern said. "I've done little more than make him mad since he got here."

She wondered how long he would keep thinking he loved her, how long he would want to hold her in his arms, how many more weeks before her image began to fade from his memory. How long before he forgot what it was that made him fall in love with her in the first place, forgot all the little things that made her much more than just a woman in pants.

She would never forget him, not a single detail. No one else walked into a room the way he didas if he owned it. His mere presence made her temperature climb ten degrees. It made colors brighter. It made the words in every sentence ring with more meaning. She felt a sense of expectation, as though something wonderful were about to happen. Seeing Samantha Bruce, and realizing that he would inevitably return to Boston, drained the life out of her. She felt deflated and spiritless. Expectation and antic.i.p.ation were gone. In their place was a certainty that Madison would marry Samantha. She wanted to be with him as much as she could before he left, but it hurt more each time.

She longed to go to the dance. Deep down inside she wanted to know if she could compete with Samantha. It was a stupid thoughtthere was no comparison between thembut Fern couldn't banish the hope that if she could just get to the party, somehow Madison would see she loved him as much as Samantha ever would.

''I just may have a dress that will fit you," Rose said finally.

Fern felt her body tense. She had made her statement in the certain knowledge there wasn't a suitable dress in all of Abilene. She had never really considered facing all those scowling, censorious people. She didn't know what would make her more uncomfortable, their looks or the dress itself. She couldn't remember what it felt like to wear a dress. How to walk, how to sit. She had no idea what to do with her callused, chapped hands. Not even gloves had been able to protect them from the rough work of roping cows.

Then there was Samantha. No woman in her right mind would wish to be compared to her. Fern would be stepping out of her element and right into the world in which Samantha was at home, the world she had been born to rule.

If they were having a rodeo, it would be different.

But Fern couldn't give up the chance to be with Madison. Hen's hearing in Topeka was coming up in three days. Hen would be released and all charges dropped. He would be free. There would be no reason for Madison to stay in Abilene any longer.

It hurt to think of his leaving. She couldn't turn down a chance to spend a few more hours with him.

"You're much smaller than I am," Fern said. "I couldn't fit into one of your dresses if you split every seam."

"You could fit in this one." Rose laughed, a little self-consciously Fern thought. "I got so depressed at looking like a buffalo cow I ordered two dresses in St. Louis. I ordered another in Kansas City. The shop in St. Louis sent me the wrong ones. If they fit you, it'll save me having to send them back."

Fern relaxed. There was no way that anyone could misjudge a dress for Rose so badly it would be large enough for her. But even as she felt relief that she wouldn't be going to the party, she felt regret as well.

For once in her life she'd like to have some fun, a chance to be herself, not to have to worry about convincing everyone she was as much of a man as anyone else. And to be honest with herself, she'd like to have a man want to dance with her. She didn't know how to dance, but she'd sure love to try.

But most of all, she'd like to have someone think she was pretty. She knew she wasn't. She had known that since she was ten and a boy had told her she was uglier than a bulldog calf. She'd knocked him down and bloodied his nose. She'd done it more to keep from crying than to hurt him. But it had hurt so much she'd never forgotten it.

She'd never thought about being pretty until Madison started spending all his time with her, telling her she was pretty, telling her he loved her. It was all Madison's fault. Everything was his fault.

"We've done enough talking for one night," Rose said when she heard George's footsteps on the front porch. "Tomorrow well have to see if we can turn our thoughts into substance. Meanwhile, you'll have to stay away from the farm," she told Fern. "Working with pigs is no way to get ready for a party."

Madison couldn't find Rose. After working up his courage to talk to her about Fern, it irritated him that she shouldn't be at the house. He decided to wait but quickly grew tired of his own company. He moved from the parlor to the front porch, then to the back yard where he found William Henry playing in the shade of a cottonwood tree. Ed was nowhere to be seen.

William Henry had put together a log cabin of real logs. He had also put up a corral made of tiny posts notched to hold the rails. The corral contained about a dozen carved horses and cows. Three cowboys on horseback patrolled the perimeter, presumably to ward Off rustlers.

"That's a handsome set," Madison, commented as William Henry galloped one of the riders about the conrral. "Did your father order it for you?"

"Nope," William Henry answered, not looking up from his play. 'Uncle Salty made it for me. And he's going to make me some mom while I'm gone.'

The first rider completed the circle of the corral. William Henry chose a second rider and began a second circuit.

"Does the rider have a namer?" Madison asked.

"This is Uncle Monty." He held the figure up so Madison could get a good look.

"See, he's. making a face."

"Why? Did someone rustle one of his cows?"

"No. That girl has been bothering him again. Uncle Monty doesn't like girls. He says they cause too much trouble." Madison thought he and his brother might agree on something after all. Fern had certainly turned his life upside down.

"Who's your other rider?" Madison asked.

"This one's Daddy," William Henry said, showing him the largest figure. "And this one is Uncle Hen. He doesn't like girls either."

"It's a good thing your daddy likes girls."

"Daddy doesn't like girls," William Henry declared emphatically. "He likes Mommy."

"I like your mommy, too," Madison said, trying to hide his smile.

"Everybody likes Mommy," William Henry declared. "She never causes trouble. She fixes things."

There, in a nutsh.e.l.l, was a description of the girl Madison had hoped to many. It was a description of Samantha. But he had fallen in love with Fern, the greatest natural disaster west of the Mississippi.

"I guess not every girl can be like your mommy."

"Uncle Monty says tangling with Iris is worse than going after a mossy back steer in a thicket of cat's claw. Uncle Monty says Iris ought to be de-ported."

Madison laughed. "Where does she come from?"

William Henry looked around. Then coming over to Madison, he whispered in his ear. "Uncle Monty says she comes from h.e.l.l." William Henry giggled delightedly. "Mommy says I ought not say h.e.l.l, but Uncle Monty says it all the time. Mommy says lightning will strike Uncle Monty, but Daddy says lightning wouldn't waste its time."

Madison knew he shouldn't encourage the child, but for the first time he had a feeling of fondness for his nephew. He'd never had any interest in children, but William Henry was different. Maybe because he was George's son, part of his own flesh and blood. Maybe because he saw in him the child he had been before his father's brutality destroyed his innocent faith in the world.

Maybe he saw in him the son he might have with Fern.

Whatever touched him, he no longer needed to talk to Rose. He knew what he wanted, and he knew how to get it. But he had added a new item to his list. He wanted a son just like William Henry. He wanted to help bring a generation of Randolphs into the world for whom being part of a family was at once the most important and the most rewarding part of their lives.

Chapter Twenty.

A knock on the door broke Madison's concentration. Muttering a curse, he pushed the papers aside. He opened the door to find the Pinkerton investigator he had hired standing in the hall.

"Come in," he said.

The invitation didn't sound genuine, but the man entered as readily as if it were.

"How's Eddie's family?" Madison asked.

"Doing fine. Better with the money you sent them. The wife's a good manager."

"And their ranch?"

"Your brother's men have done more work in one week than her husband has done since he bought the place. I don't think his wife would mind if you kept him."

"She's welcome to him the minute the hearing's over. Have you gotten any response to your inquiries?" "A little. There's only one man who fits the description you've worked out, but so far I can't turn up anything to connect him to the killing."

"Do you have any ideas?"

"No. Do you?"

"One."

"Tell me," the man said, and sat down.

The day of the party Rose got up from the breakfast table, announcing briskly, "It's time to try on that dress. Let's go to my room."

Fern had thought all night long of the moment she would put on the dress, but she was unprepared for her reaction to the two dresses that lay across Rose's bed. One was a day dress with a solid blue skirt and a white top decorated with alternating thin blue stripes and tiny blue flowers. A very handsome dress, but insignificant next to the other, a party dress of brilliant sunflower yellow. Fern had denied the desire to wear a dress for so long she had forgotten she ever felt it, but she knew in a flash that she wanted to wear this golden dress more than anything else in the world.

"What do you think of them?"

She thought the yellow dress was absolutely beautiful. She would have traded her favorite cutting pony just to be able to wear it for Madison, but she knew it wouldn't fit.

"I don't know anything about dresses," Fern replied. She felt embarra.s.sed, as though she were confessing a guilty secret. "What do you think?"