Suddenly, the door opened, letting in a stream of light, and Grace looked up, startled, thinking that one of her students had left something behind.

Rawlins smiled, sauntering down the aisle.

"Hel o, Miss Teacher," he drawled, sitting down in a pew. "Got some time to give me a few lessons?"

Grace struggled to remain composed. Fear and revulsion swept through her. She remembered him viciously hitting Al en while another man held him. She remembered the feel of his hands on her-of his mouth. "Good day, Mr. Rawlins," she said, barely managing to contain a shudder. "I'm afraid classes are over."

He stretched. "That's okay. I wouldn't ever sit in the same schoolroom with niggers."

Grace had nothing to say to that hostile comment. "Let's go, Geoffrey," she said quietly, urgently.

As they started up the aisle Rawlins rose to fol ow them out. Grace's heart was in her mouth. Perspiration trickled from her temple down her jaw.

Outside, Grace bent down to take her books and whisper in Geoff's ear. "Go get Mr. Rathe, now."

Geoff took off at a run.

Grace straightened, turning slightly. "If you'l excuse me, Mr. Rawlins?"

He blocked her. "An' if I don't?"

She tried to look cool and poised. "It's getting late," she said. She heard the quaver in her voice.

He grinned. "Mmm." He was staring at her intently. He reached out to toy with a strand of hair that had escaped her tight bun. "You are pretty, Miss Grace O'Rourke, do you know that? Especial y with your hair down." His grin widened.

"Excuse me," she said stiffly, repulsed by his touch. She started away.

He caught her arm easily, swinging her around and pul ing her very close to him, gazing down into her face. "I'm surprised that boyfriend of yours let you take this job," he said. "Real surprised."

"Al en wil not be coerced," she exclaimed.

His brows raised in puzzlement. "Al en? Al en Kennedy?" He laughed. "I meant that no-good Texas sidewinder, Bragg."

She blanched.

"Miss O'Rourke, I've got to warn you; this heah is no place for a nice schoolmarm like you. We don't want no public schools down heah. We don't want them darkies thinkin' they can do more then they even can. They're not equal to white men no matter what the damn Republicans are sayin'. People down heah aren't takin' kindly to you Yanks, no sir, not at al . An' we don't like being taxed to send no niggers to school, to pay your salary. You think on al that, Miss O'Rourke, you think on it good."

She inhaled.

Before releasing her, he said, "'Cause I don't want to have to come down here and do some teachin' of my own." With that he strode to his horse, mounted, gave her a perfect bow, and cantered off.

Grace sank down on the steps of the church, trembling. She rubbed her arms, hard. Then, breathing in deeply to regain some measure of calm, she stood, picked up her books, and started resolutely down the road to town.

A few minutes later she saw a horse gal oping toward her and she froze up inside. Then she realized the horse was black, and that Rawlins rode a chestnut. As Rathe pul ed up beside her, Grace gave a cry of relief. He slid down. "Grace? What is it? Geoff said you were in trouble. He was crying."

Before he'd finished, Grace hurled herself into his arms, seeking sanctuary in his powerful embrace. She felt him tighten his hold, and she burrowed deeper. He rocked her. She felt his mouth on her jaw, the firm, soothing caress of his lips. For a long moment she clung and he held her. Then he set her gently away, cupping her face. "What in hel happened?"

"Nothing," she managed. "Thank heavens, nothing!" Tears glistened on her lashes.

He cursed audibly.

Feeling considerably braver now, Grace sniffed. "I don't think he would have done anything. I think it was just an empty threat."

"Who?"

"Rawlins."

This time she went scarlet as he paced around her furiously. "What exactly happened?"

Grace told him.

Rathe grabbed her shoulders, and his fingers dug in, hurting her. "This was your last day."

"Rathe, I can't quit now!"

"Dammit!" he exploded, whirling away. He twisted back. "Damn you, Grace!"

She clutched her hands to her breast.

"You're not going to see the light of day here, are you?"

She shook her head no.

"Nothing I can do wil change your mind, short of beating some sense into you?"

"Not even that."

"Al right," he burst out. "I'm going to be here every day after school to pick you up. And don't even think of trying to talk me out of it!"

"I wouldn't dare," she said meekly. Secretly she was relieved.

That night, the more Grace thought about it, the more certain she was that Rawlins would never actual y hurt her. After al , she was a woman, and Southern men prided themselves on their respect for the fair sex. Al en, however, disagreed.

Rathe had, unfortunately, gone directly to him to inform him of her unwelcome visitor. Needless to say, Grace was furious with him.

Al en half-sat, gasping from exertion. "Grace, you're getting on the next train back to New York."

"I am not," she responded with pursed lips. "Al en, Rathe was exaggerating; he wasn't even there!"

"Don't underestimate Rathe," Al en warned. "He can be a dangerous man, Grace, and dangerous men recognize dangerous situations. You-"

"I'm a woman, Al en," Grace interrupted. "Rawlins is too much a Southern boy to ever harm a woman."

"Grace, I've never asked you for anything. But now I am. For me, please, go back to New York. I should never have arranged your employment down here in the first place, knowing you."

"I'm not running away."

Al en cursed, completely startling Grace, who had never heard him do so before. Instantly he apologized.

But Grace wasn't paying attention. "Besides, I have no money. None. I need to stay and get paid on the fifteenth of next month. As it is, I won't have enough for Mother's bil s." At that grim thought, her lips thinned. Time was running out. She had to do something about supplementing her income. Yet she knew there wasn't a single job to be had in Natchez-not a respectable one, anyway.

"I have twenty dol ars, Grace. I want you to take it. It's al I have. Teaching doesn't pay wel , you know that. Besides, I've spent some of my own money on extra books. But what I have is yours."

"I'm not going to New York," she said calmly, while inside she felt dread, wondering if maybe she should borrow the twenty dol ars from Al en; at least then she could pay most of her mother's bil s. But she knew she couldn't. "Al en, you need your savings to tide you over until you're working again, and that won't be for a few more weeks. And what about Dr. Lang?"

Al en flushed. "He told me not to worry, that I can take my time paying him."

Grace managed a smile, though she felt sunk in the morass of her thoughts. So far, there had been no response to her seamstress's sign. And even if a position became available, she had already acquired a reputation in this town. Now, what with her teaching the Negro children, it had to be worse. The situation seemed out of control. It was like New York, where no one would hire her because of al the notoriety she had attained. And she promised herself that she would be discreet!

Maybe she could beg Louisa to let her tutor the girls part-time. She imagined herself groveling, and Louisa's spite at the power she would be wielding over her. Grace didn't care; if she thought she had a single chance of getting some extra income she would prostrate herself at that woman's feet. But she knew Louisa would never rehire her.

Just like she knew there wasn't a single respectable job in town.

As she closed her eyes, a horrifying thought occurred to her. There's always work on Silver Street.

Chapter 15.

It was this worry that kept Grace awake past her bedtime.

There was a simple solution...Rathe.

She was instantly appal ed.

She knew she would die before accepting Rathe's indecent, arrogant proposition. Unbidden, warm recol ections rose to her mind, memories of his hard body pressed intimately against hers, his lips soft and gentle and utterly seductive on hers. Grace buried her face in her hands. It wasn't fair! To have al of life conspiring against her, even her own traitorous body, pushing her into Rathe's arms. She felt trapped.

She was not going to become his mistress. She folded her arms across her breasts. Her mind conjured up Silver Street, with its row of saloons facing the broad, slowly moving Mississippi.

She tried to imagine herself in one of those short skirts, like the blonde had been wearing at the Black Heel on Saturday, and failed. She blushed.

Before she would sink so low and compromise the beliefs she held so dear, she would check the hotels on the cliff again for a waitressing position. Even waitressing, as disrespectable as it was, was better than working on Silver Street.

She shut off her thoughts, her heart tightening uncontrol ably as she heard someone coming up the stairs. Al the ladies who lived on this floor with her had retired, so who could it possibly be? She sat up, listening.

There was a soft rapping on her door. Immediately, Grace rose to answer it.

"Clarissa! she gasped.

Relief swept Geoffrey's sister's distraught features when she saw Grace. "Miz Grace, I don't know what to do!"

"What's wrong? Are you al right?"

"The night riders are riding tonight," Clarissa cried frantical y. "I don't know what to do, an' I thought of you, bein' the teacher an' al an' so smart!

Last time they almost kil ed my brother Jim!"

"Oh my God," Grace said, momentarily stunned. Then she snapped to. "Are you sure of this?"

"Yes ma'am."

"Do you know where they're riding?"

"On Shantytown. A Republican government man was down there today, spoutin' off, tryin' to make sure we al vote this fal , tel in' us not to be afraid -that there ain't no more Klan." Clarissa was clinging to her sleeve. "What are we gonna do?"

"We have to find Rathe," Grace said instantly. "He'l help." She was already yanking a skirt up over her nightgown and flinging a shawl around her shoulders. "Come on, Clarissa," she said grimly, running for the stairs. "His room is on the second floor."

He wasn't there. "Damn! He's probably at one of those saloons or brothels," Grace said. "Come on!"

Clarissa was on her heels, choking on a sob. "Now what are we gonna do?"

"Stop them," Grace retorted briskly. "We are going to stop them!"

In Harriet's study she paused in front of the beautiful mahogany gun case. Grace hesitated, thinking about how she abhorred violence-but only for a second. Lives were at stake. She tried to pul open the door. Clarissa gasped. "You can't stop 'em, Miz Grace. Not you."

"I sure as hel intend to try," Grace said, rattling the lock. "Damn, it's locked."

Clarissa grabbed her sleeve. "Miz-"

Grace picked up a paperweight and tapped the glass, shattering it. She grabbed the most modern-looking rifle she saw. "Let's go, Clarissa. Do you have a horse?"

"Jest Mary-a mule."

Outside, Grace looked at the big, skinny mule and shuddered. Sternly, she reminded herself that now was not the time to let her fear of horses interfere. Clarissa gave her a boost, then jumped up behind her. Mary laid her ears back at the double load, but with two pairs of heels kicking at her, she final y broke into a recalcitrant trot. Grace bounced wildly, clutching both the reins and the rifle, desperately trying not to fal off.

"I think we should go into town an' find Mistah Rathe," Clarissa said worriedly. "We's jest gonna get ourselves kil ed." Then she added, "Relax yore spine, Miz Grace. It'l be a lot easier on your hinny."

"I've always disliked horses," Grace said through clenched teeth, "but I've just discovered that I hate mules!"

A few minutes later, she asked, "Clarissa, just how do you know the night riders are riding tonight?"

She felt the young girl stiffen. "I heard it," Clarissa final y said.

"How?"

"When I was leavin' Treelawn."

Grace had been in Natchez long enough to know Treelawn was al that was left of the old Rawlins plantation, a big white clapboard house not far from Melrose. Her guts shrank. "What were you doing at Treelawn?"

Clarissa hesitated. "We needs the money, Miz Grace."

"Clarissa! You don't mean-you don't mean you gave yourself to that Rawlins boy?"

"I ain't got no choice."