Becky sat in the cabin sewing. The children were both already in bed, and the lamp was much less full than it had been when she started waiting, but she wasn't at all sleepy. Her mind was with Dan and the others, out there after the panther.

The night was nearly as murky as last night, the moon fighting against fog and mist. She had tied the white handkerchief around his neck herself as a marker. She knew that they would all be careful, but she wished that she had the confidence in the skill and nerve of all of his companions that she had in her husband. They would need it tonight. Of course, the panther himself was a danger. One man already killed and Daniel badly cut. This cat wasn't likely just to move on. Unlike most of his kind, he was actively seeking out humans rather than trying to avoid them.

She shivered and stood to put another log on the fire, refusing to let it die down yet. Water was being kept hot for tea. He'd need warming up when he finally got in.

The door rattled. He'd insisted that she lock it when he left, leaving the fact unspoken but mutually acknowledged between them that she wouldn't go to bed herself until he was back. She was over now to open it in a flash before the echo of his knock died down.

Dan entered the cabin and pulled her into a tight hug even before he put his gun aside. When she drew back after a moment and looked at his face, Becky knew that tonight's hunt had gone horribly wrong. Beneath the tiredness and physical pain, he had that expression.

"Come warm yourself by the fire," she urged him. "I've kept water hot for tea." He pulled off his jacket and moved over, holding his hands out to the flames. He still hadn't spoken. She fixed tea and poured them each a cup. She couldn't help a few glances at his left arm. He was rubbing it absentmindedly again as he looked into the fire, but at least the bandages were still white.

Becky finished pouring and handed him his cup. He took a sip, and the hot liquid seemed to thaw him a little. With a sigh, he moved over abruptly to sit down at the table, and she dropped into the chair next to him and scooted it a little closer.

Finally, he spoke. "Devon was killed tonight."

"By the panther?" She hoped none of the party had snapped off a too-hasty shot in the fog. That would be a hard burden to live with.

He nodded. "Preston wasn't 50 feet away. All of us within earshot. It was that fast."

He had heard it, then. Every snarl of the cat, every scream of the doomed man. She scooted closer still and put a hand on his uninjured arm. "Did anyone get a good shot at the cat?"

"No." He sighed again. "I'm the one who set up this hunting party tonight. I led them out there."

"Dan, it wasn't your fault."

"Cincinnatus said he wouldn't have wanted to live ripped up that bad anyway." He took another gulp of tea. "He was right."

She thought again of last night, the panther jumping Daniel. For the first time, she agreed with his remark then that he had come off lightly.

"All of these people came out here because I told them about the land," he went on softly. "I brought them here."

She tightened up her grip. He so rarely got discouraged, and when he did, there wasn't anyone except her that he could show it in front of. Too many people at the settlement looked up to him as a source of strength. It was a hard burden at times. "Dan, you did tell them about the land, and you were honest. You've never tried to hide the dangers of this life from any of us. Not from them, not even from me. It can be a wild country. They know that. Devon knew that."

"And I brought you and Mima and Israel out to it. Not just them. We could be living safe and sound in a city somewhere."

She leaned against his shoulder. "You'd go crazy in a month flat in a city. And I doubt I'd be too far behind you. Besides, look at the court records in Salem. Cities aren't totally safe either." She slid her arm around his body and pulled him against her. "I wouldn't want to be anywhere else, Daniel. I love this country. Yes, it's wild, but it's beautiful. They know that. Anyone who wants to leave now that they've seen all the sides of it can. Some have. The ones who have stayed did it with their eyes wide open. That's their choice now, not yours. And especially tonight, on that hunting trip, there wasn't a single man with you who didn't know it was dangerous before you started. They all accepted that risk."

He tilted his head, leaning it against hers. "If you ever want to head back yourself, Becky, we could. You don't have to stay here."

"Yes, I do. Because I want to, and because I believe in you and what you're building here. And you are going to get that cat. I'm sure of it, Dan." He gave her a squeeze himself, finally starting to listen to her more than his strain and worry. "Now finish your tea, and we'll go to bed. You need to get some rest."

He pulled away enough to face her and give her a kiss, and then he picked up his cup obediently.

DBDBDB

Becky lowered her rifle, the echoes of the shot still ringing. She looked around the clearing, hoping the men weren't hunting too far away. Dan had thought the cat was close tonight. He would hear the signal shot and would come back home; she was certain of it.

A minute later, the cabin door opened behind her, and both children spilled out. "What's wrong?" Jemima demanded.

"Did you get him, Ma?" Israel asked hopefully.

"I wasn't firing at the cat. That was just a signal shot to tell your Pa that something's gone wrong."

"What's wrong?" Jemima repeated.

"Marie managed to slip out of the cabin when I wasn't looking. I'm just worried about her wandering around the woods at night. Your father will find her; don't worry. I'm sorry I woke you. Get back to bed, both of you. It's too cold for you to be out here in your nightclothes."

Israel tossed his blond locks in frustration. "Criminently! Nobody ever lets me know anything."

Jemima was watching her mother, but after a moment, she turned away. "Come on, Israel. Ma's right. It's too cold out here."

Her son was grumbling a little, but he let his sister guide him back inside. Becky stood in the clearing, waiting. Dan would be coming back at full speed, no doubt outrunning his companions on his long legs, worried about her. He shouldn't be much longer.

The spine-chilling roar of the panther filled the night, and Becky shivered and took a tighter grip on her rifle, then reloaded it carefully. Yes, he was close. That sounded like it was only a hill or two over from their place through the woods. In the next moment, the sharp sound of a rifle split the air. Was that Dan? It was followed by a brief shout - definitely Dan there, but she was too far away to hear his words clearly. The sounds of the cat and the gun had carried farther; human voices were more muffled by the trees.

What happened next sounded like all the panthers of hell had been let loose. Snarling, spitting, apparently a rolling full-on cat fight. The pitched battle continued for several seconds, but there was no accompanying scream, no sounds of human pain. She'd heard one of the men at the funeral talking about how Devon had screamed in utter agony when he had been attacked, and clearly not a man there had blamed him. But now, the cat alone was making noise. Whatever he fought against was silent.

The battle seemed to go on forever, impossibly long. No other shots came. What was happening out there? Finally, the furious snarl stilled. The woods were utterly silent at first, as if in shock themselves.

A few seconds later, another human voice finally was heard, a woman wailing in complete hysterics. Not in pain but in shocked horror at the scene in front of her.

That did it. With her rifle gripped tightly, Becky ran toward the apparent site of the battle as quickly as she could in her skirts. The uncontrolled crying had died down after a few minutes. Slowly, the regular night sounds of the woods and the nocturnal animals began to creep back in.

Running along through the fog, dodging trees and branches, Becky saw the Bouviers first, father and daughter. Marie looked no longer hysterical but near collapse, leaning heavily against her father. He was supporting her, talking to her soothingly. Becky paused as she met them and scanned Marie quickly for wounds. The moonlight wasn't as good as a lamp, but she saw no blood. "Are you all right?" she asked urgently.

Marie didn't answer, silent tears still streaming down her face. Her father did. "She's fine," he assured Becky. "Your husband . . ."

Becky's eyes picked out Dan and Mingo at that moment, coming on through the woods themselves, several feet behind the Bouviers. She took one look at his slow approach and ran. She didn't need moonlight to read that body language.

"Dan!" Mingo, who had been sticking quite close to him, moved away a few feet, and she pulled her husband on into a little clearing, giving herself the best look she could. He had scratches on his left cheek, scratches on one hand, scratches in several other places she spotted. Not bleeding badly anywhere, but he had many little wounds, and the bad cuts on his left arm had apparently been pulled, hopefully not fully reopened. A spot had seeped through the new sleeve on his jacket, but it wasn't growing quickly, at least.

"I'm fine, Becky," he assured her predictably. "And it's all over now."

"Yes, yes, it's all over now," Bouvier repeated, as much to Marie as to Becky. "Everything is all over now, and the devil cat will never bother us again. Mr. Boone, I will never forget what you did for Marie tonight." He reached out to touch Daniel on an arm but carefully. "Thank you, thank you. We will go on to bed now, but thank you."

"What did he do?" Becky asked. She was getting an idea from the looks of him and the number of wounds, but surely not even Dan would do something like . . .

"He jumped on the cat," Bouvier said. "Jumped right on top of him and fought him. We couldn't shoot when we caught up; too much chance of hitting your husband. But he killed him. With his hands and his knife. He did it for Marie."

Becky stared at him. "You jumped on him?"

"Yes, yes. Good night, Mr. Boone, Mrs. Boone, and again, thank you. From the bottom of my heart, thank you." Bouvier started back toward the settlement, still supporting his daughter, who still seemed in shock.

"I did try shooting him first, but he shifted just then, and I missed," Dan explained.

"You jumped on him?" she repeated.

Mingo looked from Becky to Daniel. "I think I'll be leaving myself now. Good night, Daniel, Rebecca." Neither of them even looked at him, and he melted away into the fog.

"I'm all right, Becky," Dan said.

Becky fought down her Irish temper. She loved him more than anything, but he was absolutely maddening at times. "The other men still had their guns loaded," she countered.

"They were a little bit behind me, and the panther was already eyeing Marie. Besides, it was only fair to do it that way."

"What did you say?" He had lost her with that line.

He looked down at her with that smile that made him look like a little boy, all six and a half feet of him. "He jumped on me, after all. I was just evening the score between us. Fair's fair."

Becky gave a furious sputter, not even words but carrying clear meaning. She turned her back and stalked off in the direction of their cabin, but after only a few steps, she paused, letting him catch up, and they walked together back to their home in exasperated, understanding silence.