The hateful, foppishly handsome sixth lieutenant, Hamilton Stovall, who had tried to make him a party to shameful male degeneracy.

He saw Stovall aim a pistol in the smoke that hung over the frigate after its battle with Guerriere, saw the defensive slash of his own cutlass sever a cannon's breeching ropes.

He saw the cannon rolling free, and Stovall falling against it; he heard Stovall's shriek as his hands, then his right cheek struck the searing metal of the still-hot gun- And he saw the morning when Hamilton Stovall, swinging a cane, had strolled into Kent's with his general manager to announce that he'd won the firm by cheating Aunt Harriet's husband at cards and dice- He didn't want to ask the question that fairly screamed in his mind. But he did. "Who's operating the printing house now? Stovall?"

"His employees."

"You're sure?"

"Positive."

A long silence. He covered his eyes again.

"I must say, Jared, I expected a stronger reaction."

"What kind of reaction?"

"Interest. Anger."

He shook his head. "Indulging my anger made a shambles of everything. I knew I had to begin a new life or I'd always be a prisoner of the old one." He drew a breath. "Forget Stovall. I have."

"How could you? He took what belonged to us!"

"In another life-another world. I'll never see Boston again."

She whispered, "I will."

"Is-is that the real reason you're working so hard out here?"

"Yes. Ever since I found the Headley book, I've worked for nothing else. Jared-"

She turned and walked slowly toward the piano bench. As she sat, her hand brushed the treble keys. A wild, jangling burst of notes filled the lamplit room, then slowly died away.

"Hamilton Stovall is still alive. Living in New York City-controlling the company from there-I've had Captain McGill make inquiries. He's ruined the firm. It publishes outdated reprints and scurrilous books that run counter to everything our family stood for. I've got to bring Kent and Son back into the hands of its rightful owners!"

"Not for my sake. I don't care anymore."

Her mouth thinned. "You don't care that Stovall's let you believe you were a murderer all these years?"

"Let me believe? What do you mean?"

"Do you remember the man you shot at the printing house?"

"The man I killed? Walpole? Yes-"

"You didn't kill him."

"What?"

She rushed to him, kneeling and gripping his arms. "He didn't die. He's alive today-just as Stovall is! Stovall probably laughs about it. Jared, believe me. Captain McGill confirmed it-Walpole is alive. Isn't that reason enough to fight for the company? And hurt Stovall if he gets in the way?"

His emotional defenses broke. Hate seethed through him-fully the match of the hate he saw in his cousin's eyes.

iv

At last, terrified of where the discussion could lead, he fought back his rage. "No, Amanda-no. I'm done with Stovall. I buried the past-"

"You can't bury the fact that you're a member of the Kent family!"

His mouth wrenched. "Hardly an outstanding one-"

"If that's how you feel, now's your chance to change things!"

"I don't think you and I are talking about the same kind of accomplishment-"

"What the hell does that mean?"

Jared drew the medal from his pocket, held the obverse toward the light. "I remember your father speaking to me before I went out on the Constitution the second time. He talked about the Kents always taking the high road. The road of cause. Contribution. Commitment-I think those were the words he used. If so, I haven't lived up to them. But at least I've lived so I'm not ashamed of myself-"

"By God, I don't see any shame in taking what's ours!"

"But you talk about hurting Stovall at the same time-"

"He deserves it! If he tries to block us, let him suffer!"

Jared shook his head. "I don't want anything like that on my conscience. I'm satisfied with what I finally made of my life. I married a good woman. I earned a living honestly. I fathered a boy who angered and disappointed me when he went his own way-then I finally realized it was a worthy way. In Boston I was-I was headstrong-vindictive-"

The medal disappeared as he clenched his hand. "I've tried to live differently as a grown man. I don't want to go back to the past! As if we ever could-"

"We can. And it's our duty."

"Not mine. I'm an old man. Fifty-one-"

"An old man? Or a weak one?"

Stunned, he stared at her as she knelt beside him. "I don't think I know you anymore, Amanda."

She pounded a fist on his knee, not realizing the pain it caused. "I only want what's rightfully ours! We've both lived too long with too little-"

"What is it you're really after? Stovall's money? Stovall's life?"

"I want justice, goddamn it! I want Kent and Son! For myself-and my boy."

"And you don't care what you do to get it?"

A brief silence. Then: "No, I don't."

In the crucible of memory, Jared saw the face of Hamilton Stovall on the day the printing house burned. He saw the white silk bandana hiding Stovall's scarred flesh, and remembered his own intense rage- But trying to undo a wrong more than thirty years old was futile. Futile and destructive. He saw the latter very clearly-on Amanda's own face.

His anger left him again. Gently, he touched his cousin's forehead. "Don't do it. Trying to hurt Stovall, you'll only hurt yourself. And your son. Do you notice how he looks at you when you talk about Boston? He's afraid of you-just as I was afraid of my father before he disappeared-"

He pressed her cheeks with both hands. "Amanda, I beg you-don't go back."

She jumped up, whirling away. "God, you've turned spineless!"

Grieved, he shook his head. He stood up and took a step toward her. Darkness seemed to close in from the corners of the room. He thought he heard a footfall outside, probably Billy Beadle walking in the yard.

"Not spineless. Sensible. The more you hate, the more it poisons y-"

"Oh, yes," she broke in. "I've heard that pious little sentiment before. From Captain McGill, among others. Spare me!"

"Amanda"-his shoulders lifted; some of the age seemed to drop from him; his blue eyes grew nearly as fierce as hers-"I'm afraid this is going to be a short reunion."

That finally gave her pause. "Short? Why?"

"Because I don't want any part of rebuilding the Kent family in the way you propose to do it."

"Jared, Jared!" She came to him, speaking more calmly. "I only want to see the family live again!"

"There's nothing wrong with that-except the price you intend to pay."

"I had hoped you'd pay your share."

His eyes narrowed. "With what I'm taking from the claim?"

"Yes. In a year or two we could rent a decent house in the east. Find that law firm whose name I can nev-"

She stopped, her eyes flicking to the glass beyond the lamp.

"There's someone out th-Jared, move away from the window-"

Her rush to push him came too late. Two pistols exploded in the backyard. He heard glass shatter an instant before he was slammed forward against the piano, struck in the back.

v

Amanda screamed. Louis burst from the alcove-"You stay in there, Louis!"-and Jared dropped to his knees, trying to grip the leg of the piano. He was short of breath. His spine hurt. The skin beneath his flannel shirt was warm and sticky- "Sneaky, murdering bastards-!"

He heard Amanda's voice from afar; she'd run outside. Her revolver boomed once, then again. In the dormitory upstairs, men shouted questions at one another. Billy Beadle yelled in the yard, but the words made no sense.

He lost his grip on the piano leg, struck the carpet, his beard twisted under one cheek. His eyes filled with tears of pain. Peculiar, disconnected thoughts tumbled in his mind.

Too much cold water gets every trapper one day- I'm old- Oh, God, I hurt- "Cousin Jared?"

That was Louis. He tried to answer. The pain was too consuming. He fainted.

vi

Voices. Faces. Indistinct. Hard to identify.

"-some of Felker's cronies, I don't doubt. Bloody scum! They got clean away in the dark-"

Who was that? He struggled to focus his eyes. He was lying in the shadow of the walnut table. Above him, a blurred figure in the lamplight, he finally recognized Billy Beadle.

Amanda spoke. "Billy, you run for the doctor. Run like hell!"

The Australian vanished. In his place Jared saw his cousin. But he was only marginally aware of her. His mind distracted him. So this is how it ends. Unexpectedly-at the wrong time-with too many words unsaid-too many things undone- He cried his son's name, fought to sit up- Amanda knelt. Her cool palm pressed him down. He thought he detected tears in her eyes. An inner voice spoke with bitterness: At least she has enough heart left to weep.

Then he thought of the claim-the Ophir Mineralogical Com- Com- The last word eluded him.

What would become of his share?

He knew. The knowledge only sharpened his fear. I've given her exactly what she shouldn't have- "Don't," he said in a barely audible voice.

Amanda shook her head so hard, tears flew from her eyes. He wasn't speaking loud enough.

She rested her cheek against his. How warm her lips felt through the tangle of his beard- "What did you say to me, Jared?"

"Said-don't take-the Ophir gold-"

"No, that belongs to your son."

"But he's-not worldly. He probably-won't want-" He had no strength to say more.

"I'd never take it-you know that, Jared," she said, grief jumbling the words together. "But if Jephtha will permit me, I-I'll be the-the steward-of it-"