"You mean kerosene? " "Yes, kerosene, " she answered. "I put my hand on the windowsill and it was covered with oil. It was as though someone had only just poured it there." l s "And then what happened?

" "Tilly had placed a basket of apples on the kitchen table after supper.

One of her daughters had given them to her."

"What do apples have to do with the fire? " "I could smell apples. I know it sounds crazy, but I think someone was eating one. I wanted to run upstairs and wake Jessica and Tilly, but I was suddenly afraid to move. I could feel the breeze on my arms from the swinging door that connects the kitchen with the dining room, and I heard the squeak the hinges make. I knew someone was rushing toward me.

I could feel him coming. I turned and started to scream, but I don't know if I made a sound or not."

"That's when you were struck, wasn't it? " "I don't remember being hit. I just remember turning, and then you were leaning over me, Daniel, and I was outside . . . in the grass. If Jessica hadn't found me and dragged me out, I would have died in the fire.

"I'm your witness, " she whispered once again. "I don't want them to hurt Jessica or Rebecca. They're innocent." Daniel couldn't resist touching her. He reached out to wipe away a tear from her cheek.

"You're also innocent, Grace." They stared into one another's eyes for a long minute. Daniel was overwhelmed with the desire to keep her safe. He had failed with his wife and his daughter because he hadn't been there to protect them. He decided then and there that he wouldn't let Grace out of his sight.

Any one who tried to harm her would have to go through him first.

"Daniel, are you all right? " "Yeah, I am."

"You look terribly . .

. angry."

"I don't want anything to happen to you, Grace." He was gripping her shoulders, his hold fierce, protective. He was hurting her, but she knew if she told him so, he'd feel terrible. She gently pulled his hands away and held on to them. "Nothing's going to happen to me."

"I'm going to protect you."

"Yes, you are, " she agreed.

"And I must protect Jessica and Caleb." He raised an eyebrow. "Why?

" he asked.

"She risked her life for me, " she answered.

"What about Rebecca? Do you feel responsible for her too? " "In a sense I do. She's been so kind and thoughtful." He put his arm around her shoulders. "Come on. I'm taking you home, Miss Winthrop.

No, that isn't right, " he teased. "It's Lady Winthrop, isn't it? "

"No, Daniel, it's Grace. Just plain old Grace."

"Ah, Grace. There's nothing plain about you. Nothing at all. "q v he baby was in his line of fire. He wanted to kill the boy first, but he wouldn't give in to the inclination because the mother would have time to run for cover, and she was his primary target. It was imperative that she die. There was a deputy walking by her side who was fully armed, watchful, and who just might get off a lucky shot of his own if he was given the chance.

Mr. Johnson shifted his position on his belly, determined to wait until all three of them were crossing the street. From his perch on the roof above the general store, he had a nice clear view of the road below, and with his Winchester, he wouldn't miss. Patience, he told himself as he felt the surge of excitement rush through him. The guard first, then the woman, then the boy. One, two, three, as easy as can be.

Anticipation made him giddy. The thrill he felt before a kill was as good as being with a woman. No, it was better than that, he thought.

Much better.

They were taking their time, strolling along the boardwalk, stupidly ignorant and blissfully unaware that they had only seconds left to live. Their executioner giggled like a young boy while he waited to seize the opportunity.

Jessica argued with the guard about their destination. She wanted to walk over to the jail, but York was determined to take her back to the hotel. The dour-faced deputy Sloan had hired was a rather plain man with only one vanity, his handlebar mustache. The long black hairs on his upper lip curled out and up over the sides of his nose. The pomade he'd used stiffened and starched each hair, so that when he talked, his mustache didn't move at all.

Jessica took hold of Caleb's hand as she stepped off the boardwalk.

York had hold of her elbow and was trying to guide her across. There wasn't any traffic on the road behind the physician's house, for it dead-ended at the stable around the curve. When Caleb wanted to run ahead, she made certain it was safe for him to do so and then let go of him.

Cole had just turned the corner and was striding down the center of the street toward them when Caleb spotted him. The baby started running.

He stumbled twice as he tripped along but quickly regained his feet and continued on. Jessica and York increased their pace to catch up with him. Caleb was chattering away, and Jessica was smiling like a proud mother while she watched her baby's antics. When Caleb was about thirty feet away from Cole, he raised his arms and demanded, "Up, " in a roar that echoed down the street.

Mr. Johnson edged up to his knees, swung his Winchester into position, and fired. The guard dropped. Like a pigeon in a shooting gallery, York was moving forward one second and dead on the ground the next.

Jessica screamed. York was facedown in the dirt. The bullet had sliced through his heart, just as Mr. Johnson intended. He never ever missed.

Jessica fell to her knees and struggled to turn the guard over so that she could help him. There was blood everywhere. "Mr. York, " she whimpered. "No . . . no . . . Mr. York . . . " She reached for the gun in his holster and had just pulled it out when a shot spit the dirt up next to her side. She screamed again, dropped the weapon, and then grabbed hold once again.

"Get down, " Cole roared to her as he raced forward. The shots were coming from the roof above the general store, but he couldn't see the gunman's exact position. He kept shouting at Jessica to get the hell out of the street, to duck, but she wasn't listening to him.

She squinted up at the roof as she lifted the gun with both hands and tried to fire. She was shaking so much she almost dropped the gun again, and when she finally fired, the bullet shattered the glass of the second-story window.

The sound of gunfire had frightened Caleb, and he was running back to his mother. "No, " Jessica cried out.

Mr. Johnson watched as she ran to intercept her baby. He was toying with her. He was having such a fine time, he couldn't resist playing cat with his little mouse. Because he so enjoyed the look of stark terror on the woman's face, he wanted to prolong the thrill. The boy had quickly come back into range. That was nice. Mr. Johnson smiled as he once again considered killing the boy before the mother so that he could watch her expression. It was bound to be priceless.

She was moving too quickly to suit him. we canpt have that, he thought with a chuckle as he fired at the ground in front of her. She came to a dead stop. "That's better, " he whispered, but then she was moving again, and he had to fire at the ground to get her to stop. Dust sprayed up into her face.

Damned if she didn't start running yet again. God love her and He would soon have that opportunity, Mr. Johnson thought, if she went right to heaven. Was she as pure as she looked? Mr. Johnson sincerely doubted that. There was no such thing as a pure woman, and he wasn't going to dispatch this woman to heaven or hell quite yet.

She had to suffer first. His rules, not God's, but in his mind he was just as omniscient because he too had the power to determine who lived and who died.

"Time's up, " he whispered as he aimed the barrel of the rifle at her heart. Only a few precious seconds had passed since the first shot was fired, but it seemed a lifetime before Cole could reach Jessica. He dove, knocking her to the ground. He rolled onto his back on top of her, his guns drawn and ready as he squinted against the sunlight to find the target.

There . . . in the corner of the roof . . . a flash of metal. "Got you, " he muttered a scant second before he opened fire.

His second shot struck his target. The gunman lurched up and back, stumbled forward on his knees, and then plummeted to the ground. Cole shot him three more times as he was falling to his death.

His attention stayed on the outlaw as he slowly rolled to his feet and moved forward. His anger was beyond control. Caleb's screams echoed in his ears. The baby was sitting in the dirt, crying for his mama.

Staggering to her feet, Jessica ran to him. She was too weak to pick Caleb up and fell to her knees beside him. He clawed at her skirt and threw himself against her. She wrapped him in her arms and began to rock back and forth, her sobs overpowering her.

Daniel had heard the shots from the jail and ran the three blocks to Lawrence's house. He saw Jessica and Caleb in the street, slowed down to make sure they were all right, and then continued on to Cole, who was standing over the dead gunman. Panting, Daniel watched as Cole kicked the man over onto his back. Every bone in the man's face had been crushed by the fall. The damage was so severe his own mother wouldn't have recognized him now.

"Do you know who he is? " Daniel asked.

Cole shook his head. "Maybe Rebecca can tell us . . . if she can recognize him. He was probably one of the gang."

"Yeah, well, Grace just told me she was in the bank. She swears she's the witness." Cole was taken aback by the announcement. "Which one's telling the truth? " "Damned if I know, " Daniel muttered. He squatted down next to the body and began to search the pockets, looking for identification.

Cole waited for another minute or two until he was certain he'd gotten his anger under control. Then he slowly crossed the street to Jessica, who was doubled over, hugging her son. Cole put his arms around her and lifted her up. She tried to jerk away from him. He noticed the six-shooter in her hand and quickly grabbed it, tossing it on the ground behind him.