A blow to Billy's shoulder sent him staggering backward.

"Come on, Kirby," called one of the Camerons in a long whine. "You can do better than that."

"Me Grannie Meg could do better than that, and her dead these ten years!" Archie Cunningham shouted.

Axel let out a great bray of laughter, and the rest of the crowd joined him, tentatively at first and then with abandon. In response, Kirby roused himself, leading with his right in a long, sloppy roundhouse that gave Bonner more than enough time to step out of the way. Stumbling like a baby, Billy barely caught himself before plowing into the horse trough.

Bonner wasn't even breathing hard. He had taken only one real punch, and a graze on his cheekbone glistened raw in the torchlight.

"Ja, you look ready to call it quits, Kirby. Had enough?" Axel called.

Billy shook his head, slinging ropes of blood and spit. He started toward Bonner growling, only to be dealt a vicious uppercut to the gut. Kirby crossed his arms over himself and collapsed forward onto his knees, his head hanging down to the ground. Blood and vomit dripped into the dirt.

"That's it, then!" Axel held up one arm.

Liam Kirby, his face a study in misery and shame, crouched down next to his brother, who now sat on the ground. With a push and a roar, Billy sent the boy sprawling into the dirt. Then he hauled himself to his feet and stood glaring at Bonner, swaying crookedly. Bonner stared back, one brow cocked like the leg of the bigger dog.

Claude Dubonnet came and whispered something into Kirby's ear. Billy finally nodded, and followed him off in the direction of his cabin.

Men were heading back into the tavern, more sober now than they wanted to be, and not looking forward to paying off hasty bets. The pockets of Anna's morning coat were sagging with her profit.

"I see you slinking away, Isaac Cameron," she called out. "Never mind. If I don't get my coin from you I'll just drop by your place in the morning, see if it's any easier to part with it when your head's fit to burst."

Isaac came trudging back into the torchlight, fishing deep in his money pouch and muttering loudly. "You trained that daughter of yours poorly, Axel. What's she doing out here in the middle of the night, sticking her nose in men's business?"

"Collectin' your money, looks like." Axel laughed. "Don't go blaming her for the liquor in your belly." He grinned at Julian as he handed over his musket.

"Ain't that so, Middleton?"

Wiping the barrel with his handkerchief, Julian merely smiled.

Bonner still stood where the fight had stopped, his face set and impassive as ever. He was flexing his right hand, opening and closing the fist like the mouth of a trap, slowly rolling his shoulders and testing his elbows. No damage to speak of beyond a split knuckle or two. Anna was talking to him, gesturing broadly. One or two of the men stopped to congratulate him.

Watching a fight was thirsty work. Julian wondered if his brother—in—law might be persuaded to buy him a drink, in celebration of the triumph of good over evil. Then he remembered that Hawkeye was sitting over in the trading post behind a locked door, and he thought of a better plan. Just earlier in the day he had seen a stray bottle of schnapps on the counter over there.

Axel had come up to talk to Nathaniel; Julian took that opportunity to slip away.

* * *

Drenched with sweat, her heart beating hard in her throat, Elizabeth closed the rear door of the trading post behind her and took a moment to lean against the wall in order to catch her breath. She shut her eyes, willing the shaking in her hands and legs to cease. It was a mean trick she had played on poor Jed; he would be hard—pressed to explain himself tomorrow morning. He had offered to play her a tune, even as he fell onto the cot and instantly to sleep, never noticing the sound of the door locking behind him. Elizabeth hoped he would forgive her, in time. If it bought Hawkeye the chance to be with his father before it was too late, she would take on Jed McGarrity's anger, and gladly.

The noise of the fight had stopped, and the tavern was filling up again. Nathaniel would be looking for her down by the schoolhouse; she needed to be on her way.

She opened her eyes, and her brother was standing in front of her.

"Mrs. Bonner," he said, sweeping his arm in front of himself in an expansive gesture that had nothing to do with the leering grin on his face. "Whatever in the world are you doing here? Or is that a question you cannot answer?"

"I am waiting for my husband," Elizabeth said. Behind her back, she still held the key to Anna's pantry. She gripped it harder. "And what is your business here?"

He shook his head. "Not nearly as interesting as yours, I'll wager. Been in to pay your father—in—law a goodnight visit, have you? Find him well?"

Elizabeth fixed him with her sternest gaze. "I hope you are not so very short of cash that you're resorting to petty thievery again."

"I see that marriage hasn't mellowed you!" He laughed softly. "If you are so concerned for my financial well—being, my wealthy sister, why then perhaps you would be so good—”

“Nothing changes, Julian, does it? You are still trying to get others to pay your way for you."

"And you will still try to change me. These games of yours are very tiresome, Lizzie. Why don't you just come back home, and put an end to this silliness?"

Her anxiety abruptly replaced by anger, Elizabeth felt the knot in her stomach tighten and break. She stepped toward her brother, and he stepped back in surprise.