Margo landed between his knees in a parody of his early pins. She said, "Your turn!" and raked his face with one gloved hand, then popped him in the Adam's apple with the other.

"Gak!" Malcolm's eyes bulged and crossed, simultaneously.

Margo jumped up, grinning impishly, then actually curtsied to Kit. Laughter erupted across the gym, along with sporadic applause. Margo curtsied again to the audience, drawing greater applause. Malcolm rolled over onto his hands and knees, coughed, and wheezed in Kit's general direction, "Stuff it, Kit. Mamma always taught me never fight with girls. Mamma was usually right."

Kit managed to return Margo's triumphant grin with a bored expression. "Thought you were trained in Tai Kwan Do," he observed dryly. "What was that little flip at the end of Malcolms second fall?"

Margo's grin widened. "Well, my freshman year in high school, I took judo until I found out they weren't going to let us roll around on the floor like that with ..."

"Don't be nasty, little girl," he said mildly.

Margo just laughed. "Next?" she challenged.

He privately conceded her the right to be pleased with herself, but cocky was dangerous. Time for a reality check. He stepped out onto the mat.

Malcolm wheezed, "Wait a sec. Lemme get out of the way"

All across the gym, spectators pressed a little closer. Someone gave Malcolm a cup of water, which he gulped down. He took the ribbing surprisingly well, grinning and unfastening the gloves, pulling off the helmet and rubbing at the base of his skull.

Margo watched him with a glow of satisfaction warming her all the way through. She'd scored big time and she knew it. She saw grudging respect in Malcolm's eyes and open interest in several faces as they appraised her. Finally, she thought, finally, I do something right around here! Maybe now Kenneth "Kit" Carson would start showing her a little respect!

Flying high, Margo playfully lunged straight toward him.

Afterward; she wasn't sure what he'd done, except that he turned and raised one hand while the other came down. She was never sure if she touched him or he touched her, but she was abruptly sitting on her butt clear off the edge of the mat on a cold, hard floor. The ache jolted all the way up her spine.

When Margo recovered from shock, all she could find to say was a wailing, "Ow!" Then she turned to glare at Kit. "You threw me off the mat!"

"No," he disagreed with a tiny smile, "you threw you off the mat."

HUH?

"Okay," he said kindly, "ready to do a little serious sparring now?"

That was more than Margo's bruised ego could bear: She charged in, launching another nice high front snap kick-only Kit's head wasn't there. It was down around her belt level and the left foot she was using for support was suddenly up a little higher than her left ankle used to be, and at least a foot forward, while her backside traveled rapidly straight toward the floor.

This time, Margo was the one who blinked involuntary tears. Owww...Malcolm was in her line of sight, grinning insufferably.

Kit Carson, damn him, said, "Well, don't just sit there, kid. Come on, I thought you wanted to fight."

She scrambled up and launched herself forward with a flurry of fists, as fast and furious as the punches Malcolm had thrown at her. Margo saw his open palms come up between her blows, but her fists never hit quite where she expected Then, quite suddenly-due to a light pressure on her right wrist and elbow-she found it necessary to throw herself at top speed straight toward the floor. She landed hard, face-first. At least this time she'd landed on the mat. Margo saw red. She regained all fours while he just stood there, smiling down at her. She lunged straight for his crotch, determined to grab whatever she could.

He grasped her wrist Lightly. With nothing but his thumb and center finger. Adding insult to injury, he even left his index finger lightly extended. Before she could recover, he backed up enough to straiten her arm, then turned slightly. Her elbow straightened painfully across the front of his knee. He continued his turn, in slow motion to emphasize the point. Margo gasped--then gasped again as that lazy turn forced her to attempt crawling around him in a circle, just to prevent her elbow firm being popped out of joint. Howls of amusement erupted throughout the. Oh, God, they're laughing at me ....

she continued crawling around in a state of growing panic and embarrassment, Kit told her, "That's enough for today, I think. Get showered and we'll talk about this."

He finally let her go. Margo stuffed a wail back inside before it could burst loose, but she couldn't stop the impulse to rub her wrist. All around men were chuckling and returning to their own workouts. She bit back a scathing comment, realizing even through a haze of humiliation that she had a lot to learn. He set me up, dammit, he set me up ....

Well, she'd asked for it, hadn't she?

That thought got Margo through a long, miserable shower. Hot water pounded against bruises and relaxed knots of muscle from her neck to her toes. When she emerged, wrapped in a towel, she found the locker room attendant and tried to reclaim her clothes. The woman smiled and handed her another set of clean workout clothes.

Margo groaned. "Oh, God, not another torture session?"

"No," the attendant smiled, "just something a little less, um, I think Kit said scandalous than your dress." She handed that over, too, along with the stilt heels, bedraggled hat, and corset. "Keep the gym shoes, too."

"Thanks," Margo muttered, earning a sympathetic laugh.

Margo considered putting her own clothes back on, Kit Carson be damned, but she was so muscle-sore, even the thought of cinching herself into that corset was unendurable. Besides, shed had enough humiliation for one day. She didn't want any reminders of her own poor judgment where Skeeter Jackson was concerned. She hoped that rat made himself scarce. She never wanted to see him again, let alone talk to him. Margo wadded the dress, corset, and shoes into a ball and balanced the hat on top.

"Well," she sighed, chalk one up to experience; Margo. It's going to be a longer day than you thought."

She lifted her chin, refusing to acknowledge utter defeat. She'd bested Malcolm Moore and convinced Kit to train her. That was worth a great deal. With those moderately cheering thoughts, Margo headed toward her next confrontation with the maddening man she'd chosen as teacher. Surely, she told herself by way of a pep talk, it'll get better soon. And if it didn't? Or if he decided she I didn't have what it took?

Well, he could toss her out, but she wasn't by God going to quit!

While Margo showered and changed, Kit sent Malcolm off with enough pocket change for a good, solid meal, then phoned to transfer funds into Malcolm's account to cover the sparring session and damages sustained He had further plans for the guide concerning his granddaughter's training, which meant he didn't want Malcolm quitting for good before Margo's lessons had even begun. Malcolm didn't know it yet, but he was about to become substantially richer-and probably a little bit greyer. Kit shook his head. Who'd have guessed the kid would work him over so thoroughly?

He took advantage of Margo's tardiness in the shower to hunt up the next of Margo's instructors. The weapons ranges were nearly empty. Ann Vinh Mulhaney was seated cross-legged on the floor next to an empty shooting bench, cleaning several break-action revolvers.

"Hi, Kit," she smiled. "I hear Margo gave Malcolm a working over."

"News travels fast," he chuckled. `Poor Malcolm. He'll get over it, though. Especially when I offer him the chance to get even."

Ann laughed "Poor Margo. Where is the Wunderkind, by the way?"

Showering. I think she's in there sulking, actually. She, er, didn't do so well against Aikido."