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the slave catchers knew many of them as well. At this hour of the night, the only people out and about were the underground and the pursuing slave catchers.

    They played an elaborate cat-and-mouse game, which, considering the stakes, really wasn't a game at all. Jacob paused at the sound of a window opening. The buildings on this block were all shops with living accommodations on the second floor. Apparently someone's bedroom window faced the alley directly above them. The window was being opened, perhaps to capture a stray breeze. Considering the lingering heat and humidity of the day, it wasn't unusual to sleep with the windows open, but Jacob wasn't taking any chances. He stopped, flattening his body in a doorway. Ben and Sarah did likewise. As they stood there, his mind wandered to the subject on which it spent almost all his waking hours.

    Sweet Kate . He hadn't planned to kiss her the other night. He'd had a hard enough time resisting her when she was in her usual prim-and-proper, high-necked dresses. But there she was in her bedclothes and with her hair hanging loose down her back, and he'd succumbed like a drowning man. He hadn't been able to think of anything else but that she was warm and soft with sleep and that she'd just got out of bed. It should have been his bed. Shaking his head, he forced his thoughts away from Mary Katherine before his physical response embarrassed him in front of Ben and Sarah. He listened closely for a few more moments, but hearing no sound, he gestured for them to follow him.

    They hadn't gone very far when he was forced to pause again as someone strolled down the street that ran perpendicular to the alley. Their presence was more than a bit suspicious at this hour, but before long he recognized the staggering gait and tuneless whistling of the town drunk. He waved for the couple to continue following as he moved stealthily from shadow to shadow. He'd perfected the technique of melting into the darkness long ago, but it was usually very difficult to do when he had cargo. This couple, though, was obviously skilled in subterfuge, and they had no problem keeping up with him. More quickly than he had expected, they made it to the old, abandoned barn on the outskirts of town, where he'd concealed his wagon. Ben and Sarah climbed into the back of the wagon, and he covered them with a tarpaulin he kept for that purpose. Ideally he wouldn't be stopped and searched, though his cover story that he was out to see a woman of the adventuress sort should hold.

    His horse was an old hand at this type of work, and it easily kept the wagon at a slow, steady pace until they were well out into the countryside. Then he sped up, but only marginally. All too aware that this trip was in all likelihood a trap, he kept his shotgun at the ready. He listened and watched closely but couldn't detect anyone following him. Either they were very good—and there was really no reason for a slave catcher to bother, when they could simply pull him over and search his wagon at any time—or they weren't run-of-the-mill slave catchers. The greatest risk to him, of course, was the distinct possibility that he might be taken to the South as a slave himself. That had been happening more and more to free blacks, even when they weren't part of the underground.

    Jacob urged his horse to greater speed. He now sensed that he was being pursued. And there was a strange smell floating through the air. He'd catch brief hints of it, but then, just as suddenly as it had come, it would disappear again. He flicked the reins once more, wanting the horse to move even faster. He felt a panic he'd never felt before on the line, or anywhere else for that matter, and it took all his willpower not to Become and attack. What he would attack, he didn't know, but the urge was there, and it grew increasingly stronger every time that unidentified scent wafted close. Was it coming from the slave catchers?

    His hands tightened on the reins, and his