"It's the kind of a deal," Charlie drawled, "where you get what you want, an' th' other feller gets to keep 'is fingers."

With the whole of the new nation's capital already a boiling stew of political intrigue and influence, the "Townsend effort" didn't seem such a major ingredient. But in certain quarters its effects were quickly noted. The influence they conjured was indeed exerted, through legal channels and through less traceable avenues of personal contact. The subtle nature of the campaign diffused the identity of its source and, indeed, everyone from Secretary of State Randolph to Pennsylvania legislator and distiller spokesman Albert Callatin was considered suspect.

Daily, the prosecutors assigned to Black Daniels's trial felt the trickling flow of pressure. And in the way political pressure has of rubbing some men wrong, the mounting push of influence entrenched their determination to deal harshly with the frontier rabble-rouser.

With only a few days until the trial, they sent for Garner Townsend. He arrived, under military escort, to find Oliver Gaspar closeted with the chief prosecutor, Mr. Everhart. The pretentious colonel wore his spotless military uniform and an oily smile that raised the temperature of Garner's blood on sight.

"Good to see you again, Major Townsend," Gaspar crooned, flicking a conspiratorial glance at the long-faced prosecutor. "Much has happened since our last meeting in Pittsburgh. I believe you are to be congratulated on a Special Commendation for your exemplary work."

"As are you, Colonel Gaspar." The Prosecutor Everhart managed a stiff, humorless smile. "It is a privilege indeed to be able to enlist the testimony of two such accomplished men in this difficult case."

"The testimony of two?" Garner's brow raised.

"I shall be testifying at the trial," Gaspar announced.

Garner stared at him, absorbing the fact of his "Special Commendation." Gaspar had craved a commendation as much as Garner had, and had apparently invented himself a part in Black Daniels's capture to secure it. The warty little toad. When the prosecutor offered him a seat, Garner fought an overwhelming urge to stalk out, and made himself settle into a stuffed leather chair before the prosecutor's desk, beside Gaspar. He had to learn all he could.

"I am surprised to hear you will testify, Colonel, as surprised as I was to hear that Black Daniels was charged with treason. I recall distinctly arresting him on charges of distilling illegally and non-payment of tax," Garner observed calmly. He watched the way Gaspar and Everhart looked at each other.

"This case has been beset from the start," Everhart explained. "The whiskey collected as evidence was somehow... lost. And your written deposition and other documents met a similar fate before they left Pittsburgh. Thus, we were vastly relieved when Colonel Gaspar came forward offering testimony to the fellow's treason."

Garner stiffened, his mind racing. The evidence against Black and Charlie Dunbar had been lost? So that was what prompted Charlie's release! Then, lacking lawful evidence, they'd been desperate enough for a scapegoat to accept Gaspar's greedy offer to fabricate a charge of treason!

"You may have seen recent articles in the papers," Everhart continued. "It is my duty to warn you, there has been other pressure, from numerous quarters. There are strong forces at work, attempting to block this trial. I don't doubt they might try to dissuade you."

Garner's shoulders squared as he looked the prosecutor in the eye. "I doubt they would concern themselves with me. I have nothing to tell. I arrested Black Daniels for distilling and possessing untaxed spirits, no more. I know nothing that would contribute to his conviction as a traitor."

It was a small pleasure, watching the long-featured Everhart turn waxen, and seeing Gaspar redden like a turnip.

"Flaunting the law, speaking openly against the taxing authority of the lawful government, encouraging others to resist lawful authority by non-payment of tax-" froglike Gaspar came to the edge of his seat, glaring. "He's guilty, all right, and it's your duty to dispose of this vile threat to the nation's security!"

"It's my duty to speak the truth," Garner met Gaspar's ire with steely determination. "If I speak at all."

"If you sp-" Everhart pushed to his feet, draining of his last bit of color. He shot Gaspar a horrified look and the little colonel shoved to his feet. "You'll speak alright! You're subpoenaed to testify. It's your duty!"

"He's my father-in-law." Garner rose with full Townsend grace and leveled an icy stare at first one, then the other. "Surely you can't have forgotten, Colonel, you were present at my wedding. Black Daniels is my wife's father, and I'll not speak a word against him."

Gaspar puffed with sudden fury. "Dammit, Townsend, you will testify! We'll not be made out to be fools! They wanted a rebellion leader and we found them one! Daniels is guilty as hell, and we intend to see him dance a gibbet for it-"

"And wrangle another empty commendation, Gaspar?! Go to hell." Garner turned to the door and found his way blocked by Everhart.

"Oh, you'll testify, Townsend," Gaspar came after him, hissing. "Because if you don't, you'll find yourself on the docket. On the same charge, treason. And what jury wouldn't believe that you deliberately withheld testimony to save your wife's father from hanging?! You'll be an officer who betrayed his duty and his country, for personal reasons." Every word drilled into Garner's mind. "And you'll dance the gibbet beside your wife's traitorous father."

Garner quivered with rage. They'd do it-they'd charge him, too, to secure their fortunes with the faceless, but almighty "they" in the corridors of power. Whitney's father and husband, both hanged.

Gaspar's beady brown eyes raked Garner's handsome, gentlemanly form. They had him, Gaspar crowed privately; they had the almighty Major Townsend exactly where they wanted him . "On the other hand, Townsend, if you were to prove cooperative, who knows what rewards could lay in store for the courageous officer who brings to justice the mastermind of the whiskey insurrection?"

Garner's eyes became chips of flint, but he remained silent.

"You'll testify, Major." Gaspar smiled coldly and spoke to Everhart, "Ever the dutiful aristocrat, Major Townsend. Perhaps we ought to insure his safety. Perhaps provide him with a military escort until after the trial." Everhart nodded.

Whitney knew something was wrong the minute Garner walked through the parlor door, and she went immediately to his side. But he steadfastly refused to talk about it and withdrew to the small sitting room on the second floor to be alone awhile. It wasn't until she and Kate left to visit Black in prison, some minutes later, that she saw the soldiers posted by their front door and realized something terrible had occurred.

When she and Kate returned and the soldiers were still there, Whitney paused on the steps, reading in their presence an onimous new force in their lives. She found Garner pacing the sitting room, his face and mood dark.

"What's happened?" she asked, turning the special look on him that always pierced his Townsend armor. And he knew in the end, she'd have it from him.

"I was called to the prosecutor's office this morning. They intend to see Black hang." Something in the bleak way he said it weakened Whitney's knees.

"Well, we expected that, didn't we?" She tried to allay her own mounting fears, but his next words overwhelmed her determined bravery.

"They expect to do it with the help of my testimony."

"Your-" Whitney swayed under the impact of his words. "But you said you wouldn't testify if you could help it. You said..." The blood began to drain from her head, leaving her reeling. "The soldiers outside..." She began to understand.

"For my... protection." Garner's muffled sneer had a bitter edge that stopped her heart momentarily. They finally faced the reality both had denied these last weeks; Garner would take the stand to give word against her father's very life.

"Garner..." she grasped his sleeves and looked up into his face. Twice she swallowed back a plea as she searched his tight features. The third time it escaped her in a choked whisper. "Garner, please... please don't testify against my pa."

"God, Whitney-" The desperation, the beleaguered trust in her voice and face sent a burning slash of pain through his chest. "Do you think I would if there were any other way? It's my damnable duty as a soldier; I've taken an oath, I have to testify. But I swear to you, I have nothing to say that can incriminate him for treason."

"Then why are they forcing you to testify?" She gasped a breath. "The soldiers- they are forcing you, aren't they?"

Garner's eyes became lidded as he clasped her shoulders with quaking hands. "I have to testify, Whitney. I've promised you I won't do anything to hurt Black. Please, Whitney, please trust me."

The traces of anguish in his voice were real, the darkness in his face compelling. Whitney trembled in his grasp, trying to withstand the maelstrom of pain and confusion that assailed her. What could she do to keep him from testifying? What did he want enough to keep him from testifying against her father?!

She searched the dark centers of his gray-blue eyes, and found in the turmoil of his soul a desperate need for her to believe and trust in him. He wanted her, she realized, wanted her love, wanted her to live with him as his wife. But did he want it enough to turn his back on his precious duty? Desperation spurred her savagely. He'd done it before, he'd said. Perhaps if the stakes were high enough, or dire enough, she could bargain...

But in those moments of decision, as she delved into the vulnerable depths of his Townsend eyes, she encountered his fathomless love, his unwavering trust in her, and the tender man who had saved her breeches and a button she'd bitten because he couldn't bring himself to destroy anything of hers. The sight stopped her breath, her heart, as his love spiraled through her, dragging across the strings of her soul, stirring the awarenesses and responses of the woman she'd become. She was a Delilah, but she always had a choice. Some things, she had come to realize, should never be bargained. To bargain with love was to lose it, no matter what else was gained.

"Oh, Garner-what can we do?" Tears burned down her cheeks and rose to fill her throat. She clamped her arms around his waist and buried her face in his chest.

"Trust me." Garner's eyes filled as he tightened protectively around her, feeling like his life had just been given back to him. "I love you, my sweet Whiskey. Please trust me."

Late that night, when Whitney had finally fallen asleep, Garner rose to walk the upstairs sitting room like a tortured ghost. Byron heard the rustling and the rhythmic creak of the floor and went to investigate. By nightfall, the whole household had heard the outcome of Garner's visit with the prosecutors, and witnessed the soldiers' ominous watch at both front and rear doors.

"You needn't worry," Garner felt his father's searching eyes on his back and assured him bitterly, "I'll do my duty... like a proper Townsend."

Byron shuddered privately as it struck. Garner still had little trust in him, even after the last two weeks. "And I'll do mine," Byron countered in a subdued voice. "There are still a few days. I'll see to what we started."

When Garner turned, their eyes met, testing and hesitant. But in that brief contact a promise was born. Garner eased and nodded mute gratitude and Byron turned with heavy steps back to his bed.

The Federal Courthouse was packed, lobby, corridors, and courtroom, when they arrived that first day. They threaded their way through the noise and bustle in the marble-floored halls, and only a combination of Byron's imperial indignation and Garner's name on the list of witnesses secured them entry to the courtroom itself. Garner, resplendent in a newer version of his military uniform, ushered Whitney to a seat, while Byron escorted Kate and Madeline. Charlie, understandably court-shy, chose to remain standing in the crowd just outside the open doors.

The huge, paneled room was ringed on three sides with a gallery of seats on stepped levels. A large judicial bench and witness's platform sat on a raised dais on the main floor, and before it huddled tables that were stacked with books and documents. Black-robed lawyers were clumped in consultative knots, here and there, including Prosecutor Everhart, who spotted him and cast a knowing smile in his direction. Garner tore his eyes away and sought out Lawyer Bartholomew Hayes, the friend of Henredon Parker's that he'd engaged to see to Black's defense. Hayes nodded to him and smiled reassuringly at Whitney.

Black was ushered in, wearing the sober brown woolen coat and breeches Garner had provided, and he searched the gallery for sight of Whitney and Kate. Kate whispered to Byron and he whispered to Garner that Kate had something to give Black, something she wanted him to wear. Kate opened her hand under Garner's frown and in it was an aged bit of ribbon and a worn badge of purple fabric, made in the shape of a heart and embroidered with worn golden thread. Byron's jaw loosened as the shape and style and age registered in his mind.

"The Badge of Military Merit?" he managed, looking up at Kate and Whitney, who nodded soberly. "Good Lord."

Garner stared at it; the legendary badge, created by General George Washington himself to acknowledge extraordinary bravery amongst his men during the War of Independence. It was the one and only decoration ever awarded by the United States. And Black Daniels had earned it.

"You take it to him." Kate thrust it into Whitney's hand, dabbing at her eyes, and Garner helped Whitney down the stepped aisle to the railing that separated the gallery from the courtroom floor. As she embraced Black, Kate's hand tightened fiercely on Byron's arm. They watched as Whitney pinned it on Black's chest and saw the way he drew himself up a bit straighter under its weight. Kate could scarcely see them as they made their way back up the steps to their seats.

The prosecution opened its case first thing the next morning, calling as its first witness, a fellow named Horace Nevin, a collector of revenue from western Maryland. Under pointed questioning, the fellow described the horrors perpetrated upon himself and his family by mobs of excise-maddened farmer-distillers; the tarring and feathering of his person, the burning of his barn, the terror of night riders trampling his crops. Lawyer Hayes objected to the man's pitiful, rambling account as having nothing to do with the charges against Black Daniels, and was summarily silenced by Judge Peterson. Apparently Justice Peterson didn't feel that a little thing like a two-hundred-mile distance between the man's home and Black's known whereabouts had any bearing on the case.

Tax-man Nevin was but the first of several witnesses with similar tales of woe caused by the lawless disregard of distillers for the sacred authority of government. It became clear, as Counselor Hayes frequently objected, that the whiskey insurrection itself, not Black Daniels, was on trial. And it became all the clearer that Judge Peterson was content to let it be so, for he consistently hammered down Hayes's objections and once threatened to have him removed from the courtroom if he continued the unthinkable disruptions of the due legal process.

On the morning of the third day Major Garner Townsend of the Ninth Maryland Militia was called to the stand. He rose in the charged, air-starved courtroom and made his way down the crowded aisle to the front to be sworn. When he placed his hand on the Bible and swore to tell the truth, the whole truth, Whitney's eyes blurred with tears.

Everhart came straight to the point; how did the major learn of Black Daniels's traitorous distilling operations and how did he apprehend the wretched "enemy of order"? Another Hayes objection was pounded down and the jury drank it in with widening eyes.

"As to how I learned he distilled untaxed spirits, I simply pieced together information gleaned from the locals. And after searching the settlement and surrounding farmsteads, I led and sent out nightly patrols looking for the cache of whiskey. One night I found it."

"The whole truth, Major," Everhart prodded. "Who informed you that Black Daniels was the leader of the ring of distillers? Which of the 'locals'?"

Garner's eyes found Whitney's across the courtroom and the unflinching support in her gaze was his salvation. "I learned it from Whitney Daniels... his daughter."

"Then Black Daniels's own daughter informed you of his treasonous activities!" Everhart concluded with a badgering air of triumph. "You are to be congratulated on your powers of persuasion, Major. I understand that shortly afterward you married that same Miss Daniels." Everhart pointed straight at Whitney. "Is that not so?" A shocked murmur passed through the court as necks craned and people stood to get a glimpse of her.

Garner bronzed with ire, but he fought to contain it. He had known his relationship with Whitney was likely to be exploited here, and had determined to deal with it factually. But the prosecutor's insinuating smirks and Gaspar's taunting leer from the gallery almost undermined his control. "It is true, I married her."

"She was shamed by her father's treasonous activities and determined to join the side of order. She came to you with evidence of his treasonous activities!" Everhart delivered the quick, savage conclusion straight into the jury's surprised faces.

"Why you miserable wre-" Garner thrust, lurching partway over the railing at Everhart. Only a loud and opportune outburst of objections from Lawyer Hayes saved him from being censured from the bench. The judge's harangue against the counsel for the defense permitted Garner a moment to recompose himself before Everhart turned to him again.

"Black Daniels is indeed your father-in-law. An incontrovertible fact. And did you arrest him before or after the nuptials?" Everhart strutted toward the jury, readying his final volley. "Answer please."

Garner's jaw twitched. "After."

"You arrested Black Daniels after you married his daughter! Remarkable, Major." He turned to the jury with a nastily jovial glint in his eye. "How many of us wish we might rid ourselves of troublesome in-laws so handily?!" It pulled a muffled titter of amusement from the entire courtroom. Then he turned on Garner with his last gambit. "Why did you continue to pursue and arrest Black Daniels even after you had married his daughter?!"

There it was, the question that Garner had wrestled with in his soul these last weeks. He glanced at Whitney, at Black, and at his father, then stared hard at Everhart's covert glare of warning. And he gave the only answer possible.

"It was my duty... to uphold and enforce the law."

Everhart eased, and an unpleasant smile sliced his pasty countenance. "You found him with his gang of rebels-transporting kegs of untaxed whiskey, did you not? And you arrested him because it was clear to you he was guilty!"

"Of distilling whiskey without paying-" Garner tried to clarify, but his disclaimer was drowned out in Everhart's assault on the jury's senses.

"He arrested Black Daniels because he knew he was guilty! He knew Black Daniels for the vile, treasonous anarchist he is! And despite his shocking familial connection to the man, he did his duty to see this threat to order and decency removed from our nation's frontier. Now you must do your duty-" he lectured the jurors. "Declare Blackstone Daniels guilty as well, and see him duly punished!" He wheeled toward his table, declaring, "No more questions."

Counselor Hayes was permitted to cross-examine Garner, though he suffered numerous interruptions and objections that were always upheld by the judge. Garner's charged testimony was halted just prior to its emotional peak by an adjournment for dinner.

When they returned to court, the jury was lidded with wine and stuffed with food and disinclined to listen to anything seriously. The jurors perked up when Garner described the battle that netted Black Daniels, but quickly settled back into torpor. Garner's vehement assertions that he'd not arrested Black Daniels on a charge of treason, only for his distilling activities, were met with a dangerous lack of interest. And he was dismissed.

Colonel Oliver Gaspar took the stand next, detailing his trip to Rapture and his "attendance" at the nuptials of Major Townsend and Black Daniels's daughter. The jurors perked up a bit at that, and he began to speak directly to them, detailing his pride in the major's achievement, and his own encounters with the treacherous Black Daniels. He detailed incidents that occurred while Black Daniels was held in Pittsburgh. Carefully crafted, artfully related stories of how Black spoke out furiously against the government and tried to get his fellow prisoners to revolt against the soldiers. And by the end of the day, when the court was adjourned, it was Gaspar's dramatic renditions of Black's reputed statements about "bringing that whoring federal Babylon to its knees," that rang in the jury's ears.

Two witnesses to treason were all that was required under the law. The prosecution rested its case. Judge Peterson hammered the courtroom quiet and asked Counselor Hayes if he had anything to say before the jury retired to deliberate. Hayes was stunned; he had an entire defense to present, he stammered. The judge declared it was a waste of time, since the evidence already presented proved Black Daniels overwhelmingly guilty.

The packed courtroom broke into open chaos, newswriters shouting and shoving for the doors and howls of protest from the divided gallery. Hayes argued himself hoarse and threw himself into a nose-to-nose shouting match with Prosecutor Everhart. The explosion of outrage convinced Peterson to reverse his opinion, and when order was restored, he grudgingly permitted Hayes time for two witnesses... no more.

A hush settled over the courtroom as Counselor Hayes reclaimed his composure and, in a move of pure desperation, called Mrs. Garner Townsend to the stand. Garner startled and stared at her. Then, seeing the anguish in her eyes, he rose to allow her passage. It was so quiet, the rustle of Whitney's petticoats could be heard all through the room. She swore to tell the truth and was helped up the steps to the witness stand.

After verifying her identity as Garner's wife and Black's daughter, Counselor Hayes came straight to the point. "It has been alleged that you were responsible for informing Major Townsend of your father's illegal distilling operations. Did you tell him?"

"Yes."

A rash of murmuring swept the court and Peterson pounded it down so they might continue. "And why," Hayes asked, "did you tell him about your father's illegal activity?"

Whitney fixed her eyes on Garner's face and bit her quivering lip. "I told him because... I was coming to love him... and I thought he should know." Her appealing face and guileless answer produced another current of emotion through the gallery.

"Did you tell him because you were ashamed of your father's so-called treasonous actions?"

"No!" she gripped the railing, her eyes shining with tears. "I'm not ashamed of my pa, or of anything he's done. It's true he didn't pay the tax, because he believed it was wrong. But lots of people believe it's wrong-and you don't charge them with treason. My pa believes in the liberty he fought for in the War of Independence. He fought to help rid us of unfair English taxes, and to secure our God-given rights and liberties. He feught by George Washington's side in that war, and got the Badge of Merit for it. He loves this country and our people." Her voice clogged and as she paused, tears rolled down her fair cheeks. It was the most important bargain of her life, and she wept in earnest. "Blackstone Daniels would never betray the country that he shed his own blood to help build."

Hayes lent her his arm as she stepped down from the box, and she went straight to Black Daniels's arms, carrying the somber eyes of the courtroom with her. There was a long silence as they embraced, then Black pried her loose and sent her on to Garner, who stood by the gate in the railing. And the court watched as he embraced her wobbly form and held her tightly, oblivious to everything but his powerful need to comfort and protect her. The scope of the personal tragedy enacted before their eyes left no heart in the courtroom untouched.

Whitney's tears bore fruit; for the first time, the jury looked on Black Daniels with a bit of sympathy. And when he took the witness stand in his own behalf, every eye was riveted on his striking, weathered face and vibrant eyes... that were so like his daughter's. He answered Counselor Hayes's questions and used every opportunity to declare his loyalty to the young United States of America. And when asked about the decoration he wore, he told the story of how it had been earned, of comrades' lives saved in battle, of the double wound that almost took his life. Not a veteran there failed to understand the meaning of the small purple badge of cloth. And when he spoke of the Tax, he spoke of the hard, often perilous life of the frontier and how unfairly the excise extorted funds from those least able to pay. It was a stunning defense of the principles of the whiskey revolt, combined with a humble admission of resistance to the Tax itself. And it left the jury in a sober mood indeed, as they were adjourned for the evening.

The summation came the next morning, the fourth day of the trial. And again Judge Peterson astounded Counselor Hayes and most of the spectators by dispensing with the defense's arguments altogether. He summed up the case in his own words, and charged the jury to bring back the only verdict possible in the face of such overwhelming evidence of guilt. The jury retired and the court settled in to wait.

Garner and Byron assured Whitney that all was not lost, but they exchanged worried glances over her head. Kate and Whitney and Madeline spoke in hushed tones, and when Whitney's eyes filled with tears, it was Madeline's arms that went around her, and Madeline's handkerchief that dried them.

The wait was tedious, as hour upon hour dragged by, but no one abandoned the high drama of the landmark trial for treason. Garner and Byron paced the aisle, stopping occasionally to speak with Black and Counselor Hayes. Midafternoon, they left the heated courtroom to fetch something to drink, and while they were gone, the jury began to file back in with the verdict.

Shock galvanized Whitney. She rose with her heart beating erratically, gripping the seat before her with icy hands. Madeline squeezed through the crowd surging forward in the aisle to find Garner and Byron. It was all happening in a slow blur: the judge's return and his hammering for order, the question to the jury and the order to the defendant to rise and face his peers. And then it came.

Guilty, The verdict pierced Whitney like a knife.

Pandemonium broke loose as people shoved against the front railing. Boos and cries of protest rang out, shoving and near violence erupted in some quarters between opponents and upholders of the federal machine that had wrought the verdict. Garner and Byron had to fight their way down the aisle toward the prisoner's docket, where Black stood, trembling with pain and anger, hearing a sentence of death by hanging pronounced upon him.

Garner wheeled and pushed through the teeming crowd, catching sight of Whitney's ashen face and eyes that were now dark with pain and betrayal. Guilty. Her eyes poured into him. They would hang Whitney's beloved father, and it was his fault. She ripped her anguished gaze from him and began to move, quickly lost in the press and mayhem caused by other spectators. Garner was frantic to find her. He began to shove and push his way back up the crowded aisle.

Byron had seen it all, the desolation in her face, the pain in Garner's as they faced each other. And for some reason, he'd felt the clashing forces of their fates and the desperate intensity of their love in the depths of his own being. They were hurting... they might not survive... unless... He shot into motion, jostling to intercept Garner.

"I have to find her-" Garner groaned, trying to shove his father aside. But Byron grabbed his arms fiercely and held him.

"No! Listen to me Garner-there won't be much time! We've got to do something, now!"

"She needs me-"

"No-dammit-Black needs you!" He shook the urgency into Garner's straining form. "You'll find her later-think of Black-we have to find a way to save him! Come with me, now!"

Something in Byron's tone reached Garner, and he eased in his father's grip. "Come where?"

"The President-he's the only chance Daniels has now."