Josie stepped out of the room first, and Amanda followed.

Walking by her father's side on wooden feet, Meg closed her eyes. I love Tommy, I do. Everything will be all right, and I'll be the best wife I can possibly be-just like Mama.

If it kills me!

Papa led Meg out of the anteroom and walked her to the chapel. Her legs threatened to buckle, and she felt sick to her stomach. Worse, her lungs battled with her corset for nearly every breath she took.

The organ music swelled as they drew closer to the open doors of the sanctuary. Never had the church been so packed. The trial and all the publicity that followed had made Meg's second wedding a not-to-be-missed event. Even people who wouldn't normally be caught dead in a house of worship were on hand, sitting on the edge of their seats as if the pews were made of nettle.

In contrast, Sallie-May looked perfectly at ease, batting eyelashes and all, having planted herself next to one of the richest cattlemen in Two-Time.

The organ played the "Wedding March," and rising, the guests turned to face the back of the church. Meg entered by her father's side.

Reverend Wellmaker and Tommy stood in front of the altar. Tommy made a handsome groom in his black suit, even with his crooked bow tie.

"Here we go," Papa said, patting the arm clinging to his. They started down the aisle, and the slippers on Meg's feet felt like they were cast in steel.

Halfway to the altar, she pulled her arm away. "Stop, Papa," she whispered.

He froze in his tracks. "What's wrong? What's the matter?"

"I need to talk to Tommy."

"Now?" Her father stared at her. "You need to talk to him now?"

"It's important." She needed Tommy's assurances that this was the right thing to do. Was he having similar feelings of hopelessness? The same growing panic? Was this how he'd felt when he left her at the altar that first time?

"Great thunder, can't it wait until after you're man and wife?"

"No, Papa, it can't wait. That would be too late."

"What could possibly be so important?"

"I can't tell you. I just need to talk to Tommy." Maybe she just had cold feet. Perhaps every bride felt this way walking down the aisle. Maybe nervousness was a good thing, like her mother said, but she had to make certain.

"For the love of..."

While Meg and Papa stood arguing, the organist played louder, as if trying to drown out their escalating voices. Wedding guests craned their necks, and a buzz of whispers rippled from the front of the chapel to the back.

What is it? What could be wrong?

Josie and Amanda, standing on either side of Tommy, glanced at each other and shrugged. Seated in a front pew, Mama whispered something to Ralph. Finally, the minister hurried up the aisle to see what was causing the delay.

Reverend Wellmaker's eyes looked grave behind his spectacles. "Is there a problem?"

"My daughter wishes to speak to her fiance," Papa explained, his tone edged in exasperation.

The minister's eyebrows knitted. "Now?"

"Yes, now," Papa said, forgetting to lower his voice.

The preacher looked a bit startled but nodded. "Very well." He motioned for the anxious-looking bridegroom to join them.

Tommy hurried up the aisle. "What's the matter? What's wrong?"

Meg resisted the urge to straighten his crooked bow tie. "I'm not sure we're doing the right thing," she said, keeping her voice low so the guests couldn't hear.

He grimaced as if in pain. "You know I have to marry you. The judge-"

"I don't want your money."

"I know, but it's not just the money. You know everyone is dependin' on us to end that stupid feud. If we don't get married, the town will always be divided by time, and you know what a mess that is."

Meg curled her hands by her side. He'd only confirmed what she already knew; there was no way out. "It's just that...you want to do other things, and so do I."

"Are you saying you don't want to marry me?" he asked, forgetting to whisper.

His shocked reaction surprised her. Apparently, he'd forgotten that the whole mess started because he didn't want to wed her.

"Is that what you mean?" he asked when she failed to answer.

Meg reminded him to keep his voice down with a quick glance at the curious onlookers.

Oh God, she mustn't think of Grant. Not now. Not ever. "But of course I'll marry you," she said too quickly and looked away.

He hesitated. "Meg, I know this has been really hard on you. I'll make it up to you, I swear-"

Tommy's father shot up from the front pew. "What's going on?" he demanded, storming up the aisle toward them.

The organist stopped playing, and all eyes were fixed on the little knot of people in the center aisle.

Papa glared at Farrell. "My daughter has something she wants to say to Tommy."

Farrell glowered back. "This better not be one of your tricks, Lockwood. You made a deal, and I expect you to stick to it."

Papa's face flushed furiously. "This is between the bride and groom, so don't go dragging your lariat where it don't belong."

Mr. Farrell's nose was practically on Papa's chin, his balding head shaking with righteous indignation. "I'll put my lariat any danged place I please. And furthermore-"

Tempers rose along with heated voices. Meg tugged on her father's coat. "Papa, please!"

Oh dear goodness! What had she done?

Mama raced up the aisle, followed by Josie and Amanda.

"Henry!"

With Josie's help, Amanda tried pulling Papa away. Refusing to budge, Papa and Farrell continued to spew insults as if competing in a one-upmanship contest.

"You're nothing but a dang-"

"Why, you-"

Mr. Farrell advanced. Tommy grabbed his father's arm, but it was too late. Mr. Farrell's fist shot out, missing Papa by a mile and Reverend Wellmaker by mere inches.

Papa staggered backward, a surprised look on his face.

Meg covered her mouth in horror and turned to her brother-in-law. "Please make them stop."

Affording her a sympathetic look, Ralph laid a firm hand on Papa's shoulder. "Let's all go outside and discuss this calmly..."

His unruffled manner and reasonable voice was no match for the years of pent-up emotions that had suddenly come unleashed. Paying him no heed, Papa pulled away and barreled toward Farrell headfirst.

The moment Papa made contact, the wind whooshed out of Farrell. "Oomph!" The two of them fell to the floor in a hopeless tangle.

"Oh no!" Meg cried. She grabbed hold of Tommy's arm. "Do something. Make them stop!"

Before Tommy had a chance to act, a loud boom shook the building to its foundation. The explosive sound rattled the stained glass windows, and a gas light fixture crashed to the floor.

Panic filled the church. Women screamed, and some guests fell to their knees in prayer. Others scrambled to climb over pews and each other.

Ralph whirled around to face the double doors in back, along with several other men. "Sounds like it came from the train depot."

Meg's heart flew to her throat. Oh no! Grant...

Dropping her bouquet, she ripped off her veil and joined the throng racing out of the church.

Twenty-nine.

Unbelievable chaos greeted Meg and the others at the train depot. People ran in every direction, doctors carrying black bags converging on the center of the mess.

Eyes burning from the smoke, Meg stared at the tangled mass of steel in horror. Two trains had collided, one rear-ending the other. The first locomotive remained upright, but several carriages tilted at sharp angles. The back of the train, including the caboose, coiled around itself like a snake about to strike.

The second train had fared worse. The engine lay completely on its side, and the rest of the train fanned into a tangled heap parallel to the twisted tracks. Smoke poured out of its collapsed smokestack, and men rushed by with buckets of water.

"Grant!" Meg picked her way through the confusion, stepping over pieces of steel and broken glass. Steam blasted out of a toppled black dome. Already, dazed passengers were being pulled out of the wreckage. Some victims were able to walk; others had to be carried out. Many had head injuries, while several had bloody arms and other wounds. One poor man's leg was bent into an L shape.

Shouts rang out. "Over here! Over here."

Children's cries mingled with the excited voices of rescuers and the hollow groans of the injured.

"The train came too early," someone shouted.

"No, the other one left too late."

Seeing Grant sitting on the side holding his head, Meg let out a cry of relief and ran to him, calling his name.

But the man looking up at her wasn't Grant. Didn't even look like him. He was much older and had a full beard. He clutched at her satin skirt, leaving a smear of blood behind. A wide gash gaped open across his forehead.

Meg looked for someone to help him, but the rescuers were all occupied elsewhere. Forcing herself to remain calm, she glanced around for something to stem the flow of blood. Unable to find anything, she tried tearing a piece of fabric from her wedding gown, but it wouldn't give. She had better luck tearing a square of cotton off her petticoat.

Ever so gently, she pressed it against the man's head. "Hold this," she said.

Eyes glazed, he lifted his hand to the soft fabric.

After making him as comfortable as possible, Meg stared at the horror around her. It was a nightmare, like a war zone.

"Help me, miss," someone called. It was an elderly man with blood-soaked trousers.

Meg dropped to her knees by his side. "Do you have a knife?"

He gave a weak nod of the head. "Boot."

His knife was what was commonly called an Arkansas toothpick. Gripping it in her hand, she carefully cut away his trouser leg, revealing a deep gash. He was losing a lot of blood, so she cut a thin strip of fabric from her petticoat and tied it high around his leg as a tourniquet.

Spotting a doctor, she waved him over. "We need you over here."

One by one, she helped make dazed and wounded passengers as comfortable as possible. She calmed small children and their traumatized parents. She cut bandages and tourniquets from her petticoat with the knife and, when she ran out of fabric, started on her wedding dress. Soon her skirt hung about her in tatters, the bodice smeared with blood. Still, she kept going while she searched the crowd for Grant. But there were too many people and too much confusion to see beyond a few feet.

Somewhere she'd lost a satin slipper and didn't even know it until she stubbed her toe.

"Meg, over here!" Amanda called, waving both hands above her head. She and Josie were frantically helping a young woman heavy with child.

"I think the baby is coming," Amanda cried. The woman's anguished face confirmed it.

Meg felt a moment of panic. She knew nothing about birthing, and neither did her sisters. "I'll fetch a doctor."

She hastened away. The entire town seemed to have turned out to help. Friends, neighbors, and enemies worked side by side. She caught a glimpse of Tommy and his pa atop a carriage car lying on its side, struggling to pull an injured man out of a train window.

The doctors were all occupied with the injured and too busy to respond to her pleas for help. Finally, Meg spotted Mrs. Connor, the town midwife, rocking a crying baby.

Jostling through the crowd, she reached the woman's side. "Please," she shouted to be heard above the infant's wails. "There's a woman about to give birth. Over there by the baggage room."

Mrs. Connor shoved the baby into Meg's arms and hurried away.

Meg looked down at the tiny red face. Girl or boy? She couldn't tell. "Where's your mama, eh?" She placed the infant on her shoulder. Rocking the child back and forth, she talked in a soothing voice. The infant stopped crying and fell asleep.

Sometime later, a woman's shouts reached Meg's ears. "Where's my baby! Anyone seen my baby?"