Mac swung into action. "Hannah, I need you to clear out the passage, and make it look like another part of the root cellar," she said, and Hannah went straight to work. "Harriet, Bud, if you could please alert the hands that Brumby will be coming to inspect the farm, I'd really appreciate it."

Harriet pulled a shawl from the pegs near the door and she and Bud set out. Mac then turned to face Harm, the only person left in the room aside from little AJ, who had discovered a pillow and was now dozing.

"Harm," she said, but then she didn't know how to continue. "Um."

"I'll go back up to my room, and if he finds me, then," he paused to think of some excuse, "Then, we'll say I'm a cousin visiting from New York."

Mac nodded. "And your name is O'Hara. That's my uncle's name."

"Your real uncle?" he asked with a slight smile, and was rewarded when Mac smiled in return.

Three hours later, Brumby had arrived and searched the entire farm. He went through all of the workers' cabins, the barn, and the house. He discovered the secret passage in the root cellar, but, thanks to Hannah's excellent work, there wasn't a sign of anyone having lived there. He spoke briefly with the Roberts as he had their belongings strewn about the room under the guise of searching. However, his exchange with Lt. Rabb was certainly the most dangerous.

Brumby pushed open the door to the West room, and at first glance he didn't see anything unusual. Mac had followed him in and was just going to introduce him to 'her cousin' when he spotted Harm sitting in a chair by the fireplace, reading. He looked comfortable in his plain brown trousers and a heavy cotton shirt, though his arm was held up in a sling. He looked up innocently at Brumby and Mac and said in a casual tone, "Sarah, who's your friend?"

"This is Mic Brumby," Mac replied, "He's the Warren County Sheriff."

Harm rose from his seat, walked to the door and extended his hand in greeting. "Sheriff Brumby, it's a pleasure."

Brumby suspiciously shook his hand. "Who are you, sir?"

"O'Hara, Matt," Harm told him. From behind Brumby, Mac looked at him surprised. She'd never told him that her uncle's name was Matt.

"O'Hara," Brumby repeated, "I don't recall ever hearing that name around here before."

"O'Hara was my mother's maiden name," Mac said as cheerily as she could from where she still stood in the door. "Matt's father and my mother were siblings."

"Then, you're cousins," Brumby said, but he remained tense. "You have a northern accent Mr. O'Hara. Where are you from?"

"New York of late," Harm said, "Basically here and there."

"And how long have you been here at Sweetfern?"

"Since the twenty-seventh of December, I believe."

"Are you aware of the activities taking place in this house?" Brumby asked bluntly.

Mac was about to protest, but something in Harm's eyes quieted her. He pulled his eyebrows together in question. "Am I aware that this is a farm?" he rephrased, barely keeping the smile from his lips.

Brumby looked annoyed. "What I meant, Mr. O'Hara, was- are you aware that your cousin has been smuggling fugitive slaves?"

The wrinkle between Harm's eyes deepened. He looked at Mac then back to Brumby. Then he smiled, as though this was some kind of bad joke. "I can assure you, Sheriff, that nothing of the sort is going on here," he said. "Where did you get this information?"

"A concerned citizen witnessed two fugitive slaves eating in your cousins kitchen this morning," Brumby told him, now looking even more annoyed, "She came to me."

"She must have been mistaken," Harm said, "There are many Negro men working here as free-laborers, but certainly no fugitive slaves."

"Whatever you claim to be the case," Brumby said, "I must search the entire house."

Brumby made to push past Harm and further into the room, but Harm didn't move. "One woman's word is cause for you to search an entire estate?" he asked. His tone had ceased to be playful and he had drawn himself to his full height. He seemed to fill the entire room.

For a moment, Brumby looked shaken, but then he stiffened and staring daringly into Harm's eyes said, "If you persist in obstructing this search I can have you removed from the property."

Mac stepped in from the door, and came to stand at Harm's uninjured side. She placed her hand gently on his arm and felt his pulse quick beneath it. She was surprised; outwardly he seemed so calm. He stepped to the side and allowed Brumby to enter the room, but he still stood rigidly tall. Brumby looked in all of the drawers and under the bed, behind the wall hangings and in the closet; he found nothing.

"I'm finished here," he said irately, as he brushed past them on his way out of the room. "Miss Mackenzie, I'll be leaving now."

Mac shot Harm a hasty grateful look, before she followed after Brumby. Harm watched after her.

Mac followed Brumby all the way out onto the porch, where she stopped and he continued to walk. He was just about to mount his horse, when four men appeared at the edge of the yard- two white men roughly shoving two black men.

Mac breath caught in her throat. As the men neared the house, she saw that they were the fugitive slaves, and despite her sadness that they had been caught she sent a prayer heavenward that Sturgis and Bobbi were safe.

"Sheriff," one of the white men called out, "We found these two men in the woods not far from here."

Brumby looked at each of the men, and then ordered, "Take them back to the guard house and shackle them. Then, go to the Blanchard place and tell old Johnny, his slaves will be returned." Then, he looked at Mac and said, "I'll be along in a moment."

Mac squared her shoulders and braced herself for what was coming. As his men march off, pushing the fugitive slaves ahead of them, Brumby grabbed Mac roughly by the arm and led her back into the house. He pulled her along until they were in the parlor.

"You will let go of me, this instant," she spat.

"Sit down, Miss Mackenzie," he said maliciously as he practically dropped her into a chair. "And listen."

Mac rubbed her sore arm and knew there would be bruised there. She looked up at Brumby, her eyes full of fury.

"Miss Mackenzie, assisting fugitive slaves is major offense in this state," he began.

"You have no proof that I have ever done such a thing," she interjected. "Those men were not found on my land, nor in any of my buildings."

"I'm the sheriff, and what I say is proof," he said, leaning toward her chair. Mac was silenced. He continued on in a suggestive voice, "I don't have to say anything, but I do have certain terms you'd have to fulfill for such an arrangement to be possible."

Mac blood boiled at the thought of being bribed by this despicable man. "There will be no arrangement, Brumby. My Uncle will not allow anything of the sort."

"So, you're saying that Mr. Chegwidden knew of your slave smuggling activities," he accused, and again she fell silent, knowing that she had just given him more ammunition to use against her. "You know the punishment for aiding slaves in escaping into the North. I could imprison you and take the land as a fine."

Mac's eyes were now blazing with a hatred she had never felt before. "You wouldn't dare."

"Now, Sarah," he said in his oily tone and Mac flinched as he said her name, "Nothing has to be done. All I'm ask for is, well, not to put too fine a point on it, your hand."

Mac's mouth fell open in shock, but she regained her composure as a new wave of rage washed over her. "Never."

"Think about it, Sarah," he said in the same awful tone, "If you agree, then all this, all of Sweetfern would be saved. Nothing would happen to you uncle's farm, and you and I would, well, we'd live off of your generous dowry."

Mac was breathing quickly, and her heart beat wildly against her ribs in anger. Her hands were in tight fists as she sat, unmoving.

"Think about it," Brumby said, "I'll return tomorrow morning for your answer."

He looked her over one more time, and then he strode out of the parlor. As soon as Mac heard the front door close, she rose so quickly that her chair was knocked backwards onto the floor. She kicked it angrily and then stormed out of the room.

She bounded up the stairs two at a time, energized by intense anger. She reached the second floor landing and turned into the library. She paced around the room, trying to calm herself. She knew that Bud and Harriet were above her in their room with little AJ and waiting to hear news of what Brumby had discovered, but she couldn't bring herself to go up and tell them.

Her mind raced as she thought about what he had offered her. A chance to save everyone she loved, by marrying a man she detested. He could have thought of no worse punishment for her.

She sat alone in the library for the rest of the afternoon. Bud had interrupted her once, and she'd told him what Brumby had offered her. Bud had been furious; he'd paced and fumed for a few minutes, telling Mac over and over again, how she couldn't possibly consider the offer. Eventually, he'd left and Mac was alone again. She sat behind the great oak desk that looked out over the front lawn, contemplating her options. Finally, after Hannah had called her down to dinner, she came to a decision.