Hanging somebody.

He wasn't quite drunk enough to see it as justice. Nor was he sober enough to see it as murder. What he saw was Toby March twitching at the end of a robe-eyes rolling and bulging, face going purple, feet kicking empty air.

He didn't have the stomach to watch, and that was the sad truth. And if he didn't, he'd lose the respect of the men he drank with most every week. There was only one way to solve the problem as he saw it. That was to stop it before it happened.

Wiping his mouth dry, he walked over to Dwayne.

"Dwayne? You gotta listen to me."

"Go on, Will. I told you I'd wait another week on the rent."

"It's not about that. You see those boys that just left?"

Annoyed with the interruption to his drinking, Dwayne scowled into his beer. "I'm making it a point not to see anything."

"They're going out to the March place. They're going out there with a rope."

Slowly, Dwayne lifted his head and focused. "What do they want to do that for?"

"They mean to hang Toby March. They're going to string him right up, Dwayne, for killing all those women."

"Shit, boy. Toby's never killed anything but a possum in his life."

"Maybe, maybe not, but they went off to get their guns. Billy T.'s dead certain Toby done it, and he's fired up for a lynching."

"Shit." Dwayne rubbed his hands hard over his face. "Then I guess we'd better stop them."

"I can't do that." Shaking his head, Will backed up. "They'll ride me from now to next year if they think I chickened out. I've done all I'm going to."

People had come to expect sudden outbursts from Dwayne when a bottle was nearby. That was why no one did more than glance his way when he shoved the table aside and grabbed Will by the throat.

"The fuck you have. Toby gets hurt tonight, I'll see that you pay for it, same as the others do."

"Chrissakes, Dwayne. I can't go against my own kind any more than I have."

"You want to keep that roof over your head, and the job that's paying for it"-Dwayne lifted Will up on his toes and shook-"you get your ass over to the sheriffs office. You don't find Burke or Carl there, you go find them at home, and you tell them what you told me."

"Dwayne, Billy T. finds out I did, he'll kill me."

"Bonny ain't going to be killing anybody." He tossed Will toward the door. "Do it."

Half asleep and limp with pleasure, Caroline snuggled up to Tucker. She roused herself to trail a lazy line of kisses up his chest to his chin.

"I always thought propriety was overrated."

"Stick with me, darlin'." He curved a hand over her hip. "You'll forget there ever was such a thing."

"I think I already have." Her lips curved against his shoulder before she rested her cheek there. "Can we sleep like this?"

"Like babies," he promised, idly rubbing her back. He didn't pay much attention to the roar of the car down the lane, or the slamming of doors, the pounding of feet up the stairs. If Dwayne was drunk, or Josie was peeved at whomever she'd been sleeping with, it could wait until morning.

But Caroline stirred and started to speak even as Dwayne began to shout Tucker's name.

"Shitfire. He does pick his times." He kissed Caroline's shoulder as he rolled over and grabbed up his pants. "Just wait right here and I'll go quiet him down."

Tucker listened to his brother banging on doors and swore. He swung the door open and stepped out into the hall. "Jesus H. Christ, Dwayne, you're going to wake up the whole house."

"Already has," Cousin Lulu said from her doorway. She was wearing a Redskins football jersey and a headful of purple curlers. "I was having a right good dream about Mel Gibson and Frank Sinatra, too."

"Go back to sleep, Cousin Lulu. I'll handle him."

Wild-eyed, Dwayne burst out of Tucker's room. "Doesn't anybody sleep in their own bed anymore? Get your gun, boy. We've got trouble."

"The only trouble here is the beer you've been slopping down in McGreedy's." Delia grabbed his arm and tried to haul him to his own room. "What you need's a face full of ice to cool you off."

Dwayne shook her off and rushed to Tucker. "I don't know how much time we have. They're going to lynch Toby March."

"What the hell are you talking about?"

"I'm talking about the Bonny boys and a bunch of their asshole friends going after Toby right this holy minute with a rope."

"Oh, Christ." Tucker saw Caroline come to the doorway, clutching her robe at her throat. "Wait for me," he said.

"I'm going with you." Delia was halfway down the hall in her red-feathered peignoir before Tucker stopped her.

"You're staying right here. I don't have time to argue with you. Call Burke. Tell him fireworks are starting ahead of schedule."

Delia stood as they clattered down the steps. She bristled until the feathers rustled.

"There are only two of them," Caroline said from behind her. "If Burke doesn't get there with help, it'll be only Tucker and Dwayne."

Cousin Lulu examined her nails. "I can still shoot Lincoln's face off a one-cent piece at five yards."

Delia turned back, nodded. "Get some pants on."

Toby rolled over in bed when their old mutt Custer began to bark. "Damn dog," he muttered.

" 'S your turn," Winnie said sleepily.

"How do you figure?"

"I'm the one who got up every night to nurse two babies." She opened her eyes and smiled at him in the moonlight. "Just like I'm going to get up with this next one in about six more months."

Toby skimmed a hand over her still-flat tummy. "Guess it's only fair I deal with the dog."

"Get me a glass of that orange soda pop while you're up." She patted his bare butt before he pulled on his undershorts. "A pregnant woman's got cravings."

"You sure did have them a couple hours ago."

That earned him a giggle and another slap. Toby stumbled, yawning, out of the room.

He saw the reflection of the fire in the front room window, that glitter of gold and red on the glass that made his heart sink and his blood boil.

He bit back an oath, hoping to get rid of the obscenity on the lawn before any of his family could be hurt by it. He was a man of deep faith and did his best to love his fellow man. But in his heart was a cold hate for whoever had lit the cross on his land.

He pushed open his door, stepped out on his porch. And found a gun poked into his naked belly.

"It's Judgment Day, nigger." Billy T.'s lips spread in a grin. "We just come by to send you to hell." Enjoying the power, he jabbed with the rifle barrel. "Toby March, you've been tried and convicted for the rape and murder of Darleen Talbot, Edda Lou Hatinger, Francie Logan, and Arnette Gantry."

"You're crazy." Toby could barely get the words through his lips. The dog was quiet now, and he could see old Custer crumpled on the grass-dead or stunned. Rage came quickly, then he saw the rope John Thomas Bonny and Wood Palmer were swinging over the branch of a gnarled oak. Fear followed. "I never killed nobody."

"Listen to this, boys." Billy T. gave a cackle while his eyes stayed dark and flat on Toby's. "He says he didn't do it."

Even through terror, Toby recognized that they were all piss-yourself drunk. That only made them more dangerous.

One of the others leaned on his shotgun and brought a pint of Black Velvet to his lips. "Might as well hang him for a liar, too."

"His neck'll stretch just the same. You nigger boys can dance, can't you?" Billy T. grinned until his eyes turned to slits. "You're going to do some dancing tonight. Why, your feet ain't even going to touch the ground. When you finish dancing, we're going to burn your place to the ground."

Fear turned Toby's bowels to ice. They would kill him. He could see that in their eyes. He would fight them, and he would lose. But he couldn't lose his family as well.