Late night Jan. 3, 1864 Sweetfern Farm Kirkwood, MS

Harm awoke in an empty room that night. His shoulder was stiff and to make matters worse he needed to get to the washroom. He slid out of bed and pulled on his drawstring trousers and the sling Mac had made for his arm. As he shuffled across the landing he thought he heard voices coming from downstairs. He stepped softly down the stairs until he stood at the top of the back staircase, directly above the kitchen, and then he was certain there were people talking below him.

"Welcome," he heard Mac's voice; "You'll be safe here. There's bread and soup ready for you. Please, help yourselves."

"Thanks, mem," said a deep male voice that Harm didn't recognize. Then, he heard the clinking of bowls and then another strange male voice spoke.

"Mem, my name is Claudius Thatcher, and my brother is Henry Travis," it said.

And Mac replied hurriedly, "It's a pleasure. Hannah will show you where you can rest. I have to see to this cut. Bobbi will you help us please?"

Harm didn't even bother to conceal the fact that he was eves dropping, when Mac came up the back stairs holding a cloth to Sturgis's forehead.

"What are you doing down here?" Mac asked Harm incredulously.

"Looking for the washroom," he replied innocently.

Mac shot him an exasperated look before pushing past him. As she passed, Harm noticed that there was blood on the cloth she was holding. Bobbi hurried on past him, and he followed her back up to the West room, where Mac had already seated Sturgis.

"How did this happen, Sturgis?" Bobbi fussed, "I thought you said you would be fine."

Sturgis shrugged lightly. "Bobbi, really I'm fine."

Mac was collecting bandages from her kit, and Harm ruefully noticed that she wasn't going to use the needle. Mac caught him looking.

"You should be in bed, Harm," she scolded.

"I'm sorry, I had to get up for a while," he said, and then he continued, "Who were those men downstairs?"

Mac stared at him for a moment, but she didn't have time to explain because Bobbi was fussing so much. Mac turned back to Sturgis as she heard him trying to tell Bobbi he was okay.

"Bobbi," Mac assured her, "He's going to be fine. It doesn't need stitches."

Bobbi was visibly more comfortable after that. She calmly helped Mac wrap the bandage around Sturgis's head, and then she helped Sturgis to stand. He swayed once, but she caught his arm. Together they left the room, leaving Harm and Mac alone.

Mac was beginning to pick up the rest of the bandages when Harm asked again, "Who are the men in the kitchen?"

She stopped, and turned to face him. He stood before her, his powerful chest and arms exposed, his injured shoulder supported with his arm in sling. She knew that she couldn't lie to him, but something inside her wouldn't let her. "They're fugitive slaves," she said finally.

Harm seemed to stand taller and more rigid. "And why are they here?" he asked suspiciously.

"I'm not a bounty hunter is that's what you're thinking," Mac said frostily, "I'm a stationmaster. Do you know what that means?"

Harm looked confused, and then he understood. "You're part of the Underground Railroad," he said in awe, "How did you fall into it?"

Mac gave him a half-grin and shrugged her shoulders. She finished rolling the extra bandages and then she faced him again. "Get back into bed, and then I'll tell you."

He smiled broadly, a smile Mac had come to love and hate, but he sat down on the bed and rested back on the pillows. "Your move, madam," he smirked.

She smirked back, but then she told him of how she met Sturgis, and how he had asked her to become a stationmaster. She left out most of the scene from Jackson, but Harm seemed to see through her omission. Sarah Mackenzie became more and more. Harm didn't know a word to describe her.

"So," she said, coming to the end of the tale, "I've been working at it for a little over two years now."

Harm shook his head in disbelief. "I've heard of how it works, how have you not been caught?"

"It helps that my unc. my guardian is a powerful and respected man in the community," she said, not knowing why she stumbled over calling AJ her uncle. He wasn't technically her uncle, just her guardian, but everyone called him her uncle for the sake of propriety.

Harm caught the change in mid-title. "He's not your uncle, then?"

"No, but before he died, my father made him my guardian," she told him, "Not many people know that, so I'd appreciate it if you kept it to yourself."

Harm smiled and nodded, and then his face turned serious. "How did your father die?" he asked softly.

Mac swallowed, and then she said, "I think you need to rest." She rose from her chair and went to his bedside to tuck the blankets around him.

Mac couldn't help but smile at his choice of words, given his own wound and the number of times it had been reopened. "Maybe some other time," she said, and left the room.

Harm shook his head, knowing that he had just uncovered something Mac wanted to leave undisturbed.