With a bright smile on her face and a hand on her hip, the five-year-old surveyed the fruits of her labor while smoothing a corner of the calico quilt her grandfather had helped her place under her favorite oak tree. Unbeknownst to her brothers, Vivienne had planned an afternoon tea party. She'd made finger sandwiches and tea cakes with Sadie's assistance, and Delia had insisted on carrying the tray with the hand painted floral tea set. Now, the little girl only needed to find her brothers.

"Flopsy," Vivienne mumbled under her breath, righting her four-foot-tall stuffed bunny against the base of the sturdy oak. She squinted in the rays of sunlight streaming through the branches as she heard her brothers before they rounded the corner of the two-story plantation house. "Alexandre et Luc venez ici s'il vous plaît!"

The boys ran full speed to the oak closest to the house. Alexandre grunted as Luc collided into him. He held out his hand, pulling his little brother off the ground. "You okay, Luc?"

Luc nodded his dark head, pushing his thick hair off his forehead. "Oui," he answered, plopping onto the blanket next to Flopsy.

"Would you like tea, Luc?" Vivienne asked, sitting down, adjusting the skirt of her pink dress as her brother stuffed a tea cake into his mouth. She frowned at his lack of manners as she reached for a tea cup.

"Vivi…a tea party," Alexandre groaned in disgust while briefly hooking his thumbs into the belt loops of his pants. He rocked back on his heels, frowning at how girly the setting appeared. He grabbed onto Luc's arm, pulling him up to stand. "C'mon, Luc."

Luc whined with a mouthful of cookie. "Non," he shook his head, eyeing the plate of tea cakes. The toddler reached for another as his brother unrelentingly tugged on his arm.

"Luc, c'mon. Tea parties are for girls."

"Are not!" Vivienne protested, standing up.

"Are to."

Vivienne pursed her lips, putting her hands on her hips, heatedly glaring at her twin. "Are not! Luc wants to stay," she gripped the two-and-a-half-year-old's arm. "Right, Luc?"

The toddler glanced at his siblings, swallowing his last bite of tea cake and chewing his lip. He didn't know what to do. He loved his sister and tea cakes, but he also worshipped the ground his brother walked on.

Alexandre leaned down to whisper into Luc's ear, "Tell her no. You don't want to be like a girl."

Luc's lips curled in revulsion as he set his cocoa brown eyes on his sister, quickly shaking his head. "Yuck. No, Vivi. I'm a boy," he puffed out his chest, trying to stand as tall as Alexandre, even though his older brother was nearly a foot taller.

"But…"

"Flopsy'll drink tea with you," Alexandre reassured her.

She balled her fists at her sides until her anger rapidly dissolved into hurt. Her bottom lip quivered as she watched her brothers dash off.

Luc looked back at his sister; his tender spirit couldn't take the wounded look on her face. He jogged back to her, throwing his arms around her. He pecked her on the cheek, running off just as quickly as he'd returned.

Vivienne sniffled while marching towards the house. She made a beeline for her father's office, knowing he'd have a tea party with her. She knocked once before opening the door.

Without looking up from his work, Henri sighed at the sound of his daughter's footsteps approaching the desk. "Vivi, I'm busy. Go play with your brothers, s'il vous plaît."

"Papa," she murmured, "J'ai besoin de te parler."

"Pas maintenant, Vivienne."

The girl turned, shuffling out of the office with her shoulders slumped and head down as tears trickled down her freckled cheeks. She wiped at her nose with the back of her hand, drifting into the sitting room. Vivienne climbed onto the sofa and buried her face into a pillow.

Kitty passed by the sitting room, immediately stopping in her tracks at the sound of her daughter crying. She sat on the sofa, putting her hand on her girl's back. "Vivi, Honey," she murmured, gently rubbing her back. "What's the matter?"

Vivienne lifted her head from the pillow. "Maman," she croaked.

Her daughter's tear-soaked face made her heart ache. Vivienne was happy and carefree most of the time, but a melancholy Vivi was a very sad thing to behold. Kitty held out her arms. "Baby, c'mere, tell me what's the matter."

Vivienne launched herself into her mother's comforting embrace, unreservedly crying into her shoulder.

"Baby, what happened with the party?" Kitty asked, pressing her lips to her daughter's copper tresses. She deciphered the broken mix of French and English that Vivienne sputtered through her tears. Her irritation increased with each word tumbling out of the five-year-old's mouth.

The loving mother soothed and calmed her heavy-hearted little girl. She was pleased that Vivienne's sniffles were fewer, and her tears had stopped after several minutes. She kissed her daughter's head, smoothing her palm in circles on Vivi's back. "I'll talk to Alexandre." Kitty knew exactly how she'd handle her son and her husband. "What else will make you feel better? You want me and Pépère to have a tea party with you?"

The little redhead shook her head as she settled completely into her mother's lap, facing her. She traced her finger along the edge of her mother's carnation brooch. "Maman, Je veux une soeur," she confessed, meeting her identical sapphire eyes.

"Je veux une soeur," Kitty repeated in a low voice, tilting her head to gauge her daughter's sincerity. She knew by the look in Vivienne's eyes that she'd meant it.

"S'il vous plaît, Maman. If I had a sister, then I'd have someone to do girl things with."

"Maybe soon, Vivi," she placated, fixing the cream-colored bow in her hair.

"Maman, s'il vous plaît. Petite soeur," she begged, clasping her hands together while batting her long lashes.

"Vivi," Kitty warned, subtly rolling her eyes as her daughter dramatically fell back onto the leather cushions. She sighed, wishing she could ask her own mother if she'd been that dramatic when she was five-years-old. "Vivienne, sit up and fix your dress, young lady."

She gasped, realizing she'd exposed her ruffled bloomers. Vivienne pushed herself up, quickly tugging her skirt down.

"Now, we'll show Alexandre. I'll get Papa to have tea with you," she winked at her daughter as she slipped off the sofa.

"Maman, non," Vivienne gently tugged on her mother's skirt. "Papa's too busy for me. Don't ask him."

"Sweetheart, stay right there," Kitty advised, striding to her husband's office. Vivienne's renewed sadness had reignited her ire.

"Henri, what's the matter with you?" she rumbled, slamming the door behind her.

Henri stared at his wife with wide eyes. He gulped, wondering what he'd done to anger her as she rounded on his chair. He hadn't been around her since lunch. "Nothing, mon amour."

"Oh, yes, there is. You are part of the reason our daughter has cried her eyes out."

His brow furrowed. "Kathleen, I simply told Vivi that I was busy, and I am. We're close to," he winced at the flash of anger in her eyes. He realized she didn't care if he was close to finalizing the building purchase.

"I don't care! Vivi spent all morning plannin' a tea party to surprise her brothers. They rejected her because tea parties are for girls," Kitty rolled her blue eyes, "so she came to you thinking you'd save the day, but you did the same damn thing to her," she paused, seeing his guilt-ridden expression as she sat on the edge of his desk.

He blew out a breath, tossing the pen on the organized stack of documents. He raked his hand through his hair while sinking deeper into his chair. "I didn't realize."

"No, you didn't give her a chance to talk. Henri, work can wait."

"Kathleen…"

She cut her eyes at him. "It was your idea to stay here longer because you wanted to spend time with the twins before they start kindergarten in October," she reminded. She'd understood the handful of trips he'd taken to New Orleans to finalize the plans for the candy company, but she wanted him to be completely present while at The Oaks. Her husband hadn't been carving out intentional one-on-one time with the children like he used to. "Henri, summer's almost over, and you won't be able to have tea parties with your little girl forever."

He rose out of the chair, squeezing his wife's upper arms as he stood in front of her. "You're right as usual, Chérie," he sighed. "I'll make it up to Vivi. Where is she?"

"In the sitting room."

Henri nodded. "I'll be there in a little while." He rambled to the kitchen, asking Sadie to make a fresh pot of tea. He put the remaining finger sandwiches and tea cakes in a picnic basket. Henri waited patiently for the tea pot and went to the sitting room, staring at his daughter and wife. The Frenchman was in awe of how much Vivienne resembled her mother. She looked more and more like Kitty with each passing year. He placed the basket onto the coffee table, crouching in front of his daughter. "Mon petit amour, Je suis désolé. Forgive me?"

She demurely dipped her head, slipping her arms around his neck to hug him. "Oui, Papa."

He kissed her cheek. "Buvons du thé, Vivi."

Vivienne peeked in the basket, arching a ginger brow. "But Papa…Alexandre said that tea parties are for girls."

"Well, mon petit amour, you know what? Your brother is wrong. Tea parties are for ladies and gentlemen."

Her sapphire eyes lit up as he lifted her into his arms.

A smile tugged at the corners of Henri's mouth as Vivienne kissed him on the cheek. He rubbed her back, glancing at her. "Should we ask Pépère to join us?"

"Non."

"Juste toi et moi?"

"Mmhmm," she crooned, resting her head on his shoulder. "Toi et moi."

Henri kissed her temple, winking at his wife.

Kitty beamed at her husband and daughter. There wasn't anyone in the world who could put a smile on Vivienne's face like her Papa. "Enjoy your tea party with your Papa, Honey. I want to hear all about it." Kitty rose to her feet, lifting the basket off the table and following behind Henri until Sadie asked her a question about supper.

Henri pushed open the screen door, arching a brow at the sight of the Cajun caretaker carrying Luc. "Silas, bon après-midi," he greeted, speculating on the actions of his youngest child. Luc was sweet and pleasant, but the boy was a born adventurer. The simplest outings always turned into an exploration with Luc, especially if he had Alexandre at his side.

"Monsieur," Silas returned, adjusting the toddler in his arms.

As the older man came closer, Henri took in his son's flushed face and red rimmed eyes. Hay was stuck in Luc's hair and all over his clothes. He finally saw Alexandre sluggishly walking behind Silas. "Silas, what happened?"

"The boys were in the barn. Alexandre and Luc got into the hayloft. Luc had trouble coming down the ladder. He jumped," the caretaker explained.

"We were being pirates, Papa. I told him to jump," Alexandre faintly admitted.

"Alexandre Matthieu, I've told you not to be in the hayloft. It's no place to play," he scolded, glancing behind him at the sound of his wife's footsteps.

"Yes, Sir," he mumbled, worrying about his punishment.

Vivienne narrowed her blue eyes onto Alexandre. "Stone-headed bully," she muttered.

"Vivienne Serena," Kitty lightly admonished, stepping toward Silas to take Luc from him. She'd overheard enough to know the rest of her afternoon would be filled with cuddling Luc and reminding Alexandre that his little brother wasn't old enough to do the things he could.

"Madame," Silas brushed the boy's dark hair off his forehead as he reached for his mother. "He's got a cut and a bump on his head, but it's not bad at all. He did more cryin' than anything. I think the fall scared him."

"Thank you for taking care of him, Silas," Kitty took the toddler, situating Luc onto her hip. She comforted the child as he whimpered with a fresh set of tears filling his eyes. "Luc, don't touch it," she pulled his hand away from the knot on his temple. Kitty stared at Alexandre until the caretaker was out of sight.

Henri looked at his son, standing with his head down, nervously shuffling his feet on the grass. "Chérie, I'll handle Alexandre. You have tea with Vivi," he suggested, ignoring his daughter's complaints.

"No, you spend time with Vivi. I can handle little boys," Kitty assured, yanking Luc's hand away again. "Alexandre Matthieu Broussard, go into the house right now. Straight to your room."

"Yes, ma'am," Alexandre murmured, passing by her. "Maman, I made the jump. I thought Luc could do it, too."

"Alexandre, I'll speak with you after Pépère makes sure Luc is alright. Go to your room, please," she squeezed his shoulder. She realized her son's remorse over the incident would cause him to never do it again, but she'd still lecture Alexandre. Kitty also believed it would be good for him to assist Delia with her work for a week or two to change his ideas on what was masculine and feminine. The redhead didn't want her sons believing cooking and cleaning were strictly meant to be done by women. She brushed her lips against Luc's forehead and watched Henri and Vivienne for a few minutes before heading into the house. At least one of her children would have a pleasant afternoon.

Under a blanket of stars, the U.S. Marshal heard the lonesome howl of a timber wolf in the distance. He folded his hands over his stomach, wishing he had a bottle of that fine sipping whiskey to cut the dust of the hunting trip. A weighty breath escaped from his lungs as he realized he hadn't found a bottle like that in his saddlebag for six years.

Matt licked his chapped lips, adjusting the saddle blanket behind his head. He pulled the brim of his Stetson over his eyes and hoped sleep would find him. Unfortunately, it seemed as if the wide-open prairie always prompted his thoughts to drift to her. Memories would claim him, keep him awake. His imagination would run wild, thinking about his children.

Festus whistled a tune and dropped the load of firewood in his arms. He plopped onto his bedroll and rested against his saddle, glancing at the lawman while picking prairie chicken out of his teeth. "Matthew, you asleep?"

"No."

"I was thinkin' 'bout that time me and old Doc went fishin' up on the Pawnee."

Matt pushed his hat back and sat up, realizing the prairie seemed to have the same influence on the hillman as it did him. "That sure was some wedding party," he chuckled, recalling the feast after Doc had been unlawfully wedded to Addie Moonercan.

"I miss that ornery old scudder."

Matt sighed, tossing a branch into the fire. "I miss Doc, too."

"I miss her, too," Festus added, eyeing his friend. He wasn't fond of how Matt had taken an old flame, Sarah, to Delmonico's a time or two. He knew that another woman wouldn't ever replace Miss Kitty in Matt's heart, and he hoped Sarah understood.

"Yeah," Matt drawled, staring at the flames, watching them dance.

"Alexandre's five-years-old…ain't he?"

The big man nodded his head. "He and Vivi turned five in January."

"I reckon we coulda brung him along with us…iffin' he was here."

"Festus, we wouldn't get much hunting done with a little boy," he declared, but he knew the excursion would've been memorable with his son.

"When I was a five-year-old, a deer didn't stand a chance. Hog Haggen made sure I could track and shoot. I could track a prairie wolf clear to Colorado by the time I was six, Matthew."

Matt shook his head with an amused smirk fixed on his lips, absentmindedly sketching a house in the dirt with his index finger while he listened to Festus' exaggerations of his youth.

"I wonder what they're doin' now," Festus wondered, hoping the tightlipped lawman would talk about Vivienne and Alexandre.

"I don't know, Festus," Matt murmured, drawing the roof of the house while assuming the Broussards were at home in New Orleans since it was September. He envisioned the redhead putting the twins to bed. He imagined Vivienne objecting to bedtime while Alexandre was most likely soundly sleeping.

Festus dug out a whiskey bottle from his saddlebag, uncorking the top. He took a slow sip and passed the bottle to his companion, settling comfortably as Matt reflected on when he and the twins picked blueberries.

The exhausted redhead roused from her sleep as his arms enveloped her, pulling her against him until her back was flush against his chest. "What time is it?" Kitty drowsily inquired, rubbing her cheek against the pillow.

"Almost nine," her husband answered.

"Oh," she murmured. Kitty hadn't meant to fall asleep so early, but she had been drained from the day after her bath.

"The children are asleep," he whispered, undoing the sash of her lounging robe. Henri grinned as his fingertips touched her ivory skin. His task would be easier since she had nothing on underneath. He pressed his lips to her neck, breathing in the delicate scent of her shampoo. "Chérie," he hummed, nudging the silky fabric away from her body. "Guess what Vivienne told me she wants."

"Another pony?"

He shook his head, noticing her shiver as the cool air hit her skin. "Try again."

"Another poodle?"

"No. Care to guess again?"

"Tell me," Kitty bit into her lip as his hand curved around her hip, squeezing softly.

"Une petite soeur," he proclaimed, letting his hands slowly roam over her curves.

Kitty winced as his large hands cupped her tender breasts. She sucked in a breath while turning over, facing her husband. "Henri, I know she wants a little sister."

"What did you say?" He slowly traced her jawline, admiring how beautiful she was in the moonlight. His eyes raked over her bare skin, drinking in the sight of her.

"Maybe soon," she answered, coyly grinning.

Henri gripped her to him. "Let's make a baby, Kathleen," he whispered, gently pushing her back on the mattress as he put his lips on hers, settling on top of her while her tongue swept along his bottom lip. She matched his every move until she abruptly broke the kiss. Henri's brow wrinkled, drawing back far enough to see eye to eye with her.

"Wait a minute," she implored, smoothing her palms up his strong arms until she touched the scar on his shoulder.

"It's time, mon amour," he nuzzled his nose against her cheek. "Don't you think so?"

"Henri, I've missed two courses."

His eyes widened as he stared into her stunning blue eyes. "Chérie, you're…" the Frenchman gasped, glimpsing between their bodies, focusing on her middle.

"Mmhmm. We already made a baby."

"Oh, mon amour," he tenderly murmured, slinking down her body, resting his head on her abdomen. "Bonjour, Josephine."

"Excusez-moi, Monsieur."

Henri lifted his head, propping himself up on an elbow while caressing her abdomen. "Quelle Madame Broussard?"

"Josephine…after your mother?"

He nodded his head. "If you agree. If you don't, we can call her 'Quatre' until we decide on her name," he suggested with a wry grin.

"We are not calling her 'Four', Henri."

"Then we agree on Josephine. I'll let you choose her middle name. Perhaps your mother's name. Lillian…Josephine Lillian est un beau nom."

Kitty ran her fingers through his hair as soon as he rested his head upon her belly. She listened to him speak to their unborn child, unable to contain the smile tugging at her rosy lips.

A curling mist hung over the dripping trees with black trunks and rotting vegetation. The light of the full moon couldn't penetrate the darkness of the swamp surrounding Angola. An alligator slid off the muddy bank, slinking into the murky water.

She swore under her breath, slapping a mosquito on her arm. The brunette wished the parasite would drain all the life from her some nights. She longed to breath fresh, clean air, but the scents of decay and briny algae was all she could inhale. She listened to the screech of animals hunting and being hunted. She licked the sweat from her lips, resolving that she would gain her freedom somehow.

"If the dogs don't get you, the gators will."

She was sick of hearing that adage every night when she looked out the tiny window of her cell.

In an instant, her hands were firmly around the neck of the old woman with whom she'd shared the six-foot by three-foot space. Her thumbs pressed harder on the woman's windpipe as she struggled. She ignored the pain as the shrew's nails clawed at her face. A wicked smile graced her peach-colored lips as the hag's life faded away. She wondered if the redhead's blue eyes would look as dull when it would be her turn to die at the hands of Manon Durand.