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black stallion into the shadows as quickly as it could move. In the distance, he heard the crack of the musket.
    He held his breath, but didn't feel the painful thud of a ball finding its mark.
    He turned and saw her in the moonlight with what looked to be a powder horn swinging from her shoulder. Apparently she had quickly loaded the weapon.
    Damn, but she was one piece of goods , he thought.
    The night air carried his laughter back to her, and Rachel swore roundly. Then, with as much dignity as she could summon, she turned and walked back into the house, bemoaning the fact that the night had hidden her target from her.

Chapter Four

    The wee hours of the night were beginning to take their toll as patrons either staggered or were carried, in the company of friends, or singularly, into the darkness beyond Sam's Tavern. A handful of hangers-on with nowhere to go-- or someplace they had rather not go to-- were still sitting at the scattered, uneven tables.
    With a heavy sigh, Sam wished they'd go home. He needed sleep. But money was money and in these hard times, a man did not turn his back on a ha'penny, much less two.
    When the scarred door was pushed opened in admittance rather than in exit, Sam raised a black, heavy eyebrow. He watched Sin-Jin cross the floor in silence until the latter was at the bar once again, leaning both elbows on the counter.
    Sam slung his dirty towel on his shoulder and inclined his head toward Sin-Jin. "Change your mind about spending the night alone, my friend?"
    The girls were all upstairs, occupied for the night. But the right amount could free them quickly enough to see to Sin-Jin's pleasure. Sam knew of one or two who would have gladly attended to it for nothing.
    Sam's question conjured up an image of Rachel, and blood shot through Sin-Jin like the volley fired by a line of the finest trained British soldiers, their aim true. His expression kept his thoughts a secret.
    Instead, he smiled easily. "Your whiskey's finally done the trick. If I ride home tonight, they'll find me in a briar patch somewhere, sleeping off the effects. I'd rather sleep it off in a room."
    He looked up toward the open stairway. A row of rooms were on the second floor, crammed next to one another like uneven buttonholes punched by a novice tailor journeyman. "Do you have any free?"
    Sam smiled knowingly. Sin-Jin's wife had been gone lo, these two years, if not more. A man had needs. Needs that could be simply attended to. "Will that be with or without company?"
    Even if he were not tired to the bone, Sin-Jin wanted nothing to mar the effects of what had just transpired less than a mile away. Rachel's mouth still burned hot on his. He loosened his waistcoat. "Without."
    These young men were a strange lot, Sam mused. He shrugged his wide shoulders, straining the seams of his shirt. "Cost you more."
    Sin-Jin leaned forward, beckoning Sam to him. When Sam complied, he asked, "And why is that?"
    Sam made a profit on everything that went on under his roof, whether it was the sale of ale, gambling, food for the body or food for the soul, as it were, which was what he liked to think of what his girls offered his customers.
    "You're a businessman. You understand." He saw that Sin-Jin was still waiting for an explanation. "It's because you won't be paying for services rendered and someone else using the room might avail himself of one of the girls, thereby mounting my profit." He chuckled at the word and his unconscious wit. "I've bills to pay and mouths to feed, you know."
    Sam's only daughter had run off with a young rebel soldier a year ago. He had no family left to speak of. Sin-Jin laughed and shook his head. "And your own belly to fill."
    Taking no offense, Sam patted the object under discussion fondly. He'd been this size, boy and man, now for fifty-five years. There was no sense in changing things. "Someone has to do it."
    Sin-Jin dug into his purse and slapped a coin on the counter. If he didn't get to a bed soon, he'd