He thrust the woman away from him. Her eyes were still open, but she

looked at no one and nothing. She fell to the ground like a bundle of

sticks. She lay on her back, the deep wound in her throat spread wide,

her eyes staring up.

He stood over her and saw that something shiny had fallen out of the

front of her dress and lay beside her head. Tied around her neck with a

purple ribbon was an oval metal case splashed with blood.

He had seen the case, or one like it. He reached down with the knife and

slashed the ribbon. He wiped his knife on his jacket and slammed it into

its sheath, then picked up the slippery case and opened it.

A pair of spectacles. Round, gold frames, thick glass lenses.

They looked exactly like Pierre's old spectacles. Was that possible? How

could this Indian woman have gotten them? Stolen from Victoire, when the

Sauk burned it?

Or had the mongrel somehow gotten his father's spectacles, taken them

with him when he fled from Victor? Pierre's watch had disappeared then;

Raoul was sure Auguste had stolen it. And if this woman had Pierre's

glasses now, could she be the Sauk woman Pierre had lived with, the

mother of his bastard son?

Despite the August heat beating down on the clearing, the air around

Raoul suddenly felt winter cold. All day long while he fought the

Indians he'd struggled with his fear of being killed. Now a worse fear

had him in its grip, a fear of something worse than death, of having

called down upon himself a vengeance that would follow him beyond the

grave.

_My God! I've just killed Pierre's squaw._

The spectacles stared up at him like accusing eyes. The flesh of his

back prickled.

He shut the case and dropped it into his pocket. If it was Pierre's he

couldn't just throw it away.

The few remaining Indians, a flock of women and children, huddled

weeping with their backs to a big tree, arms around one another. Some

were already wounded and screaming in pain.

Tiredly Raoul told himself he must reload rifle and pistol and get on

with the killing. But his anger was spent. He felt empty, worn out.

From somewhere behind him came a shout of, "Cease fire!"

It was welcome. He'd done enough.

"Yonder come the bluebellies," said Levi.

"Ah, merde," muttered Armand, standing with red-dripping bayonet above a

pile of bodies.

Raoul looked around. The order to stop the shooting had come from their

rear, from a short, stout officer who, as Dodge had, was advancing with

drawn saber. Colonel Zachary Taylor.

Taylor looked around the smoking glade at the dead, big bodies and

little ones, brown flesh and tan deerskin splashed with bright red, eyes

staring, limbs helter-skelter.

"Jesus Christ." He turned to Raoul, pain in his bright blue eyes.

Raoul felt his face grow hot. "Colonel," he said, "you understand why we

had to--"

Taylor's expression changed from sadness to weariness. "I've been out on

the frontier for over twenty years. I don't see anything here that I

haven't seen before." He turned away before Raoul could answer and

called, "Lieutenant Davis!"

A tall young officer with a handsome, angular face came up to him and

saluted.

Taylor said, "Jeff, run ahead and make sure any Indians left on this

island get a chance to surrender." He turned to Raoul again, shaking his

head.

"Why let them surrender?" Raoul said.

"There's only a few left alive," said Taylor. "And we're not going to

kill them. And if you need a reason, it's because I wouldn't feel right

about it, and I know a lot of the men wouldn't feel right about it."

Taylor turned to one of his men, a red-faced trooper with a thick blond

mustache. "Sergeant Benson, get me that Sauk man we captured. We'll be

needing to talk to the Indians. We want to find out what's happened to

Black Hawk."

Raoul was painfully aware that Taylor's eyes had shifted to his right

hand, covered with blood. He wanted to hide it behind his back.

He looked Raoul up and down. "Good God, man. Do you know you've got

blood all over you?"

"Enemy blood," said Raoul.

"I see you've got a scalp tied to your belt," Taylor said. "General

Atkinson issued an order against mutilating enemy dead."

Raoul felt himself shaking again, not with fear, but with anger. "I saw

one of my best friends shot dead with an arrow through the throat

today."

"And this?" Taylor asked, pointing to the severed head of the big brave

lying a few feet from Raoul's red-spotted boots. "Was this to avenge

your friend too? You'd better get back to your steamship, Mr. de Marion.

I don't think we have any more need of your services here."

It was not so much Taylor's words, but the mingled contempt and pity in

his voice that enraged Raoul. His fist clenched on the handle of his

knife.

Taylor wore a pistol and carried a saber, but he was a far smaller man

than Raoul, and his stout body, dressed today in a blue jacket and

knee-high fringed buckskin boots, seemed to invite attack.

Taylor's calm blue eyes went to Raoul's hand, then back to his face. He

stood motionless, waiting.

_God! What am I thinking? The regulars would shoot me down the minute I

drew this knife._

Raoul silently beckoned to his men and started back through the broken

trees the way they had come.

After walking a short distance, Raoul saw the sergeant Taylor had sent

behind the lines coming toward him with an Indian walking beside him.

Raoul glanced at the Indian and stopped dead.

He felt as if the arrow he'd been expecting and fearing all day had

finally struck him.

_There are no ghosts._

But Auguste couldn't be alive. He'd been shot to death at Old Man's

Creek.

Was this what killing Pierre's squaw had brought on him?

The man before him had gone hungry for a long time. His almost

skull-like face was a chilling reminder of the woman whose throat Raoul

had slashed. But his gauntness also made him look more like Pierre than

ever before. His buckskin leggings, like those of the Indians Raoul had

just killed, were dirty and full of rips and holes. But the pale scar

line running down his cheek, and those five parallel scars on his bare

chest, left Raoul in no doubt who this was. Auguste's dark eyes burned

at Raoul, alight with a fierce hatred.

The sergeant pulled Auguste by the arm. As the mongrel turned, Raoul

suddenly saw that the middle of his ear was missing, the empty space

bordered by partly healed red flesh.

Stunned speechless, Raoul looked at Levi and Armand, who stared back at

him. They couldn't speak either. They were just as shaken.

Still burning at Taylor's high-and-mighty dismissal of him, Raoul was

staggered by the shock of this meeting. But he saw one thing clear. All

right, Auguste was still alive. That meant Raoul's revenge on the Sauk

was not complete. Auguste was a traitor. Auguste was a murderer. And

Raoul was going to work day and night to get him hanged.

21

The Red Blanket

Longing to hear that White Bear was safe, Redbird could not stop

thinking about him. She sat cross-legged on the ground with Floating

Lily bundled in a blanket on her lap. She gazed out at the small lake

where Black Hawk and his few remaining followers had set up camp. This

was a peaceful place, but with White Bear gone and her dread of what

might have happened to her loved ones at the Bad Axe, she could feel no

peace.

"A lovely place, this lake," said Owl Carver, sitting beside her.

_But it is far from White Bear._

The thought of White Bear's having to make his way through Winnebago

country haunted her. She longed to look into the birch forest behind her

lean-to and see him walking toward her through the white tree trunks.

She missed Yellow Hair and Woodrow too. They were to her another sister,

another son. She hoped that by now they were out of danger.

She had left so many people behind at the Bad Axe, people who had always

been part of her life--Sun Woman, Iron Knife, her two sisters. In the

seven days since Black Hawk had led their little group north on the

ridge trail leading to Chippewa country, there had been no word from the

rest of the band.

Redbird's fear for the people she loved was like a ferret eating away at

her insides.

From his medicine bag Owl Carver took the pale eyes time teller White

Bear had given him and opened its gold outer shell. Redbird saw black

markings on its inner surface and two black arrows.

_Could it tell me when White Bear will come back?_

The old shaman dangled the time teller by its gold chain over Floating

Lily's tiny head. The gold disk gave off a regular, clicking sound, like

the beating of a metal heart. Floating Lily's brown eyes opened wide and

her flower-petal lips curved in a wide, toothless smile.

Eagle Feather, sitting beside Redbird, said, "Grandfather? Is it right

to use a sacred thing just to make the baby smile?"

Owl Carver smiled. His face these days seemed to have caved in. All of

his front teeth were gone, and his mouth was as sunken as Floating

Lily's, while his chin and his nose jutted out.

"A baby's smile is also a sacred thing."

Redbird said, "Have you asked the spirits what has become of the rest of

our people?"

From a cord around his waist Owl Carver untied a medicine bag decorated

with a beadwork owl. He opened it, let little gray scraps sift through

his fingers and sighed.

"Last night I chewed bits of sacred mushroom," Owl Carver said. "I saw

pale eyes' things--lodges that travel over the ground on trails made of

metal, smoking boats with bonfires in their bellies, villages as big as

prairies. Crowds of pale eyes seemed to be cheering for me. It made no

sense. It told me nothing about what happened at the Bad Axe. Maybe I

took too much."

Redbird glanced down at Eagle Feather. His mouth was a circle, and his

blue eyes as he stared up at Owl Carver were so wide that she could see

the whites above and below them. He strained toward Owl Carver, his

longing to follow his father and grandfather in the way of the shaman

showing in every line of his body.

She had always felt that same longing.

"Let me try your sacred mushrooms," said Redbird. "Sun Woman says

sometimes women can see into places where men cannot see."

Owl Carver set the medicine bag down between himself and Eagle Feather.

He sliced his hand through the air, palm down, in refusal.

"The magic might get into your milk and be bad for the baby."

Resentment was a bitter taste in Redbird's mouth. But she had to admit

there was no telling what the mushrooms might do to Floating Lily's

unformed spirit. Still, she knew Owl Carver welcomed that excuse because

he did not want to give the mushrooms to a woman.

Eagle Feather shouted, "Look!" He pointed up at the sky.

Owl Carver and Redbird both looked up. Scanning the cloudless midday sky

for a moment, she saw two tiny black shapes high up, circling slowly.

"Eagles!" said the boy. "My guardian spirits."

Redbird squinted. Yes, those were the wide-spreading wings of eagles.

The birds were searching for prey. Like the long knives and their

Winnebago allies. Their remorseless circling frightened her.

Those bright blue eyes of Eagle Feather's saw farther than hers did,

thought Redbird. She looked down at him proudly, as he wiped his hand

across his mouth and smiled up at her. His pointed chin reminded her of

White Bear.

"If the Winnebago find us here, will they kill us?" she asked her

father.

Owl Carver waved his hands. "They are not our enemies, but they will do

what the long knives demand."

In a strange voice Eagle Feather said, "Mother?"

Frightened by his flat tone, she reached for him. But with the baby in

her lap she could not get to him before Eagle Feather fell over on his

side with his eyes shut.

She screamed.

She laid Floating Lily on the ground and picked up Eagle Feather. He lay

limp in her arms, his head lolling, his mouth hanging open.

After all they had been through, this was more than she could bear. She

burst into tears, her heart thudding like a deerskin drum.

"What is it?" She turned to Owl Carver. "Help him."

The shaman crouched over his grandson, looking down into his face,

bending low to sniff his breath.

"Redbird, be very quiet. We must not wake him."

"What happened to him?" she whispered, trembling.

"This." He gestured to the open medicine bag that lay where he and Eagle

Feather had been sitting. "He must have taken some bits of mushroom

while we were looking up at the eagles."

Terror cascaded over her. "What will it do to him?"

Owl Carver emptied the gray scraps into his hand and then poured them

back into the bag. "What a foolish old man I am, leaving that bag open

right next to him."

Eagle Feather had gone on a spirit journey. And her own sensitivity to

the other world told her that he was _meant_ to. She felt for him the

fear she had felt for White Bear in that long-ago Moon of Ice.

"No," said Redbird sadly. "You were not foolish. It was Earthmaker's

way. He sent those eagles to take our eyes away from the medicine bag."

With infinite care, so as not to disturb him, Redbird carried Eagle

Feather into the lean-to, resting his head on the blanket roll that held

everything she had been able to carry.

"I will stay with you until Eagle Feather comes back," said Owl Carver.

Redbird picked up Floating Lily and held her tightly.

As the sun crossed above the lake, they sat watching the small, still

body. Redbird could barely see Eagle Feather's narrow chest rise and

fall in the shadowy lean-to. There were moments when she was sure he was

dead.

Sunset had turned the small lake to a sheet of beaten gold when Eagle

Feather sat up suddenly, his eyes wide.

"The Bad Axe!" he shrieked. It was the voice of a child struggling with

a nightmare.

"Eagle Feather!" Redbird cried.

Owl Carver put his hand on her knee. "Be quiet."

"The Bad Axe!" Eagle Feather called out again, staring at something no

one else could see. "The Great River runs red!" His eyes closed and he

fell back.

Redbird felt as if she were shivering in a blizzard. Eagle Feather's

words seemed to open a doorway of second sight in her own mind,

disclosing a horrifying vision of bodies drifting in red-tinged water.

She heard a sound behind her. Suddenly terrified, she whirled. In the

birch forest she saw a man riding toward them on a gray pony. The beat

of hooves sounded hollow among the trees.

Feeling on the edge of madness, she let out a scream. She had wanted so

much for White Bear to come to her that way, that she thought for a

moment it was he. Like White Bear's, his head was unshaved, his hair

long.

But as he came closer through the white tree trunks, a hand raised in

greeting, she saw he was not White Bear. His full head of hair had a

brave's feathers tied into it. A Winnebago. She saw a second rider

behind him. An attack? But they were approaching slowly, their hands

empty.

The Winnebago dismounted and led his pony till he was standing over

them.

He wore four red and white feathers, one hanging from each silver

earring, two tied into his hair. A leader of warriors. Heart pounding,

she moved protectively closer to the lean-to where Eagle Feather lay.

Owl Carver slowly got to his feet. She glanced at him, and when she saw

how grim his face was, her own terror increased.

Another Winnebago rode out of the woods, dismounted and stood beside his

companion.

The first man turned to take something from his saddle.

Scooping Floating Lily up in her arms, Redbird leaped up to give the

alarm. The brave held out a restraining hand.

"Wait! We are two only, and we come to talk peace." The man spoke Sauk.

He faced her, smiling tentatively, and held up a beautiful calumet, its

red pipestone bowl gleaming in the sunset, its polished hickory stem as

long as a man's arm.

Owl Carver drew himself up in all his white-haired shaman's majesty.

"Who are you?"

"I am called Wave," said the man holding the calumet. "This is He Who

Lights the Water. He does not speak Sauk."

Redbird glanced down into the lean-to, to make sure Eagle Feather was

all right.

"Who is in the lean-to?" Wave asked a little suspiciously as He Who

Lights the Water stepped forward to look in.

"My grandson," said Owl Carver. "He is sick."

"Many of you must be sick. And hungry," said Wave. "Time your leaders

took pity on the women and children and ended this war."

More Sauk men and women were coming over now to see the newcomers. The

two Winnebago were men of courage, Redbird thought, coming alone as they

had into a camp of fifty or more desperate people.

Redbird's mother came to stand beside Owl Carver. She asked what was

wrong with Eagle Feather, and Owl Carver explained in a whisper.

"Children will eat anything they can get their hands on," Wind Bends

Grass scolded. "Now he will probably grow up to be a madman." Redbird

held back a shriek of rage.

Black Hawk and the Winnebago Prophet strode through the gathering crowd

to face the newcomers. Black Hawk carried under one arm one of those

heavy paper bundles captured at Old Man's Creek. He glanced at Redbird,

and she thought she saw reproach in his eyes, even though he had said he

forgave her for her part in Yellow Hair's and Woodrow's escape.

Flying Cloud addressed Wave in a strange tongue.

"This Winnebago brave is the son of my sister," said the Prophet

pompously in Sauk.

_Does he think that means we are saved?_ Redbird wondered, sick of the

Winnebago Prophet forever claiming that victory awaited just a little

farther along the trail, when it was so clear that the trail led only to

death.

Wave said in Sauk, "My father is a Sauk who married into the Winnebago.

So I come to you as one joined with you by blood. We were sent by the

chief of our band, Falcon."

"How did you find us?" Black Hawk asked.

"One of our hunters was passing this way and saw your camp. He was

afraid to come near you, but he told me. I have been looking for you for

many days."

Wolf Paw, his face so deeply lined that he looked as old as his father,

came to stand beside Black Hawk. "Do you have news of our people who

were trying to cross the Great River?" he asked. He touched the silver

coin that hung around his neck, as if for luck.

Dread flowed cold through Redbird's arms and legs.

_Now we will know._

Wave and He Who Lights the Water looked at each other for a long, silent

moment.

"What has happened?" Black Hawk pressed them.

"The long knives caught up with them," said Wave. "Most of the people

were hiding on an island in the Great River. The long knives had a smoke

boat that fired a thunder gun at the island and killed many people. Then

the long knives landed on the island and killed nearly all that were

left."

Redbird reeled, stunned.

_Sun Woman! My second mother! Iron Knife! Oh, no! O Earthmaker, let it

not be so._

Cold crept over her as she remembered Eagle Feather's cry: _The Bad Axe!

The Great River runs red!_

Black Hawk gave a cry of anguish. His paper bundle dropped to the ground

with a thud. He sat down on the ground, picked up a handful of ashes

from Redbird's campfire and threw them on his head. The people around

him screamed and wept and held one another in their grief.

Wind Bends Grass fell against Owl Carver, and both of them sank to the

ground weeping. Redbird saw Wolf Paw standing slumped and motionless,

his arms hanging helpless at his sides, his face gray. He had insisted

that both his wives and his four children try to cross the Great River

at the Bad Axe, thinking they would be safer.

Sobbing and clutching her baby, Redbird watched the orange sun disappear

behind the pointed treetops on the western shore of the little lake. She

thought, Iron Knife, so strong and always there when she needed him,

must be gone. Her two sisters and their new husbands, probably dead.

The people mourned, some sitting on the ground, some walking about

distractedly, some standing, holding each other.

And now Eagle Feather was stricken. She could not get the chill out of

her body.

When it was dark she relit her fire. Floating Lily woke and cried, and

Redbird held her to her breast. Then she crawled under her lean-to to

look at Eagle Feather. His eyes were still shut. He had not moved since

his outcry, and his breathing was shallow.

_I cannot bear this. Eagle Feather lying as if dead, White Bear

vanished, most of my people dead._

_Why have I been spared to suffer so?_

Black Hawk began to mourn aloud for his lost people:

"Hu-hu-hu-u-u-u-u ... Whu-whu-whu-u-u-u-u ..."

The rest of the people joined in the wailing. Redbird noticed that Wave

and He Who Lights the Water cried out, too, and tears ran from their

eyes. She liked them for joining the mourning.

Owl Carver was sitting beside her, holding the hands of weeping Wind

Bends Grass. His own features, as much of them as she could see in the

twilight, were still and drawn, shrunken by sorrow.

Redbird thought, the Sauk were known far and wide as a people who never

shirked the demands of honor. If even one man of Black Hawk's party

smoked the calumet with Wave, that would oblige Black Hawk and his

remaining braves to surrender to the Winnebago and make peace.

Redbird said, "Now, with so many dead, can we have peace? Will you smoke

the pipe with these two men?"

Owl Carver said, "If I were alone, I would smoke the pipe with them. But

I will not go against Black Hawk."

"We are all that is left of the band," she said. "Someone must take the

calumet and smoke it."

And by that odious Sauk custom, she thought, clenching her jaw, it would

have to be a man.

As darkness deepened, the wailing died down. Wave and He Who Lights the

Water made a little fire at the edge of the lake near Redbird's lean-to.

One by one the last people of Black Hawk's band drifted close to Wave's

fire.

The Winnebago brave stood before the fire holding the peace pipe.

Twilight lingered in the sky behind him while the firelight before him

illuminated his heavy features.

Sitting near Eagle Feather, Redbird looked around and saw silent figures

standing in the shadows as the people waited to hear what Wave had to

say. Gravely he took tobacco out of a pouch at his waist and filled the

bowl of the calumet. Then he touched a dry stick to his fire and carried

the flame to the pipe. It flared up bright yellow over the pipe bowl as

he puffed on it.

Wave cleared his throat and spoke in a strong voice. "Earthmaker gave us

the sacred tobacco as a means of making peace among us. No one may break

a promise sealed with tobacco. Our chief, Falcon, asks me to say this to

you:

"Black Hawk, you have frightened the long knives greatly, brought them

much sorrow, and forced them to pursue you over rivers and swamps and

mountains. Black Hawk, your honor has been satisfied. Falcon offers this

tobacco to you and asks that you end this war, for the sake of your

women who are hungry and sick and your children who are without

fathers."

_Yes, let it be done. Let this war be over before all of us are dead._

Redbird's heart leaped with hope as she saw Black Hawk reach toward the

pipe that Wave held out to him. He was about to take it and smoke it!

But his hand, instead of grasping, only pointed at the pipe.

"I will not smoke this pipe. I believe the Sauk should fight on until

they cannot fight anymore."

_Please, Earthmaker, let at least one man be moved to stand for peace._

Wave added more tobacco to the pipe and puffed on it again. He stood

before the Winnebago Prophet.

"Show your wisdom, Uncle. Smoke the sacred tobacco."

Flying Cloud took a step backward and raised both arms. "It is wrong for

the Winnebago to turn against us in our time of need. Go back and tell

your Chief Falcon that if he does not join us in making war on the long

knives, they will take his land from him as they have taken ours from

us." He crossed his arms before his chest.

Despairing, Redbird realized that the Winnebago Prophet could not smoke

the pipe because that would be admitting that all his advice up to now

had been wrong.

"What will you do, Sauk shaman?" Wave said to Owl Carver. "Do not the

spirits tell you to smoke the calumet?"

"Please do it, Father," Redbird whispered.

She wanted to shout it aloud. But she held her tongue. She remembered

with pain the derision of Wolf Paw and the others when she spoke out at

the war council.

She bit her lip. Maybe, by speaking out that time, she had turned people

away from the path she wanted them to take. She would not make that

mistake again.

Owl Carver said, "Black Hawk has always been my chief. I follow where he

leads."

Redbird groaned. Now she wished she had spoken out.

Eagle Feather stirred beside her. Heart frozen, she looked down at him.

But he was motionless again.

Wave turned next to Wolf Paw, who closed his eyes, bowed his head and

made no move to accept the pipe. Redbird saw that the red crest on his

head was faded and limp.

She could only watch as the two Winnebago went from man to man in the

circle of firelight, holding out the pipe, each man refusing.

"Please," Wave pleaded, "is there not a man here wise and strong enough

to smoke the calumet and save the lives of his people? Please--more pain

and death is needless."

In a day or two a war band of Winnebago would come after Black Hawk's

party. They would greatly outnumber these fifty people. They would have

rifles with plenty of powder and shot, given to them by the long knives.

They would slaughter the men and take the women and children into

captivity.

_Earthmaker, I beg you, do not let your children die._

She heard a rustling beside her. She gasped in fright and her hands went

cold.

Eagle Feather was up on his hands and knees.

The boy crawled out from under the lean-to, climbed to his feet and

stood straight.

A half-moon hung over the little lake, and she could see Eagle Feather's

set face, one side red with firelight and the other pale white in

moonlight. His bright blue eyes fixed on Wave, he strode forward, a

small, determined figure.

Astonished, Redbird could only stand and watch. How could this be

happening?

He stood before Wave and held up his hands. For a moment there was

silence in the camp, disturbed only by the crackling of the fire and the

rustling of the birch leaves around them.

"No!" Black Hawk cried, his rasping voice full of anguish. "Do not do

it!"

"Stop!" The Winnebago Prophet reached for Eagle Feather. Owl Carver

quickly blocked his way.

"You must not touch him. He returns from a spirit walk."

Solemnly Wave handed the pipe down to Eagle Feather.

Others took up the cry. "No! No!" But no one laid a hand on Eagle

Feather.

And many were silent, and Redbird knew that she was not the only one in

the camp who wanted Eagle Feather to smoke the pipe.

Awed, Redbird realized that the spirits hovered over Eagle Feather,

guiding him. Her son had been chosen to save the remnant of the band,

though only six summers had passed since his birth. She felt her mouth

trembling.

Eagle Feather put the mouthpiece of the pipe to his lips and drew in. A

deep puff. Though he was but six years old and had never smoked before,

he showed no pain as the hot smoke filled his tender mouth, nor did he

cough. Redbird's heart swelled with pride.

Eagle Feather blew the smoke out again. A single puff, according to

custom.

Wave's thick features were breaking in tearful relief.

Eagle Feather had known just what to do. And there could be no doubt in

anyone's mind that he meant to do what he had done. He held the pipe up

to Wave.

A new cry of pain rose from Black Hawk, and the Winnebago Prophet joined

him as loudly.

But Redbird's heart was happy. She hugged Floating Lily.

Their long agony was over at last.

Eagle Feather turned and walked back to her, straight and steady, as if

he had not been lying all day long unconscious. She quickly handed

Floating Lily to Wind Bends Grass, knelt down and held her arms out to

her son. He ran into them, and they held each other tightly.

"It was good that you smoked the pipe. Very good."

Eagle Feather said, "When the eagles came over the lake, my spirit self

whispered to me to eat from Grandfather's medicine bag. Then I went to

many strange places and saw many very bad things. The long knives killed

many people. At the end of it all, I lay in the lean-to and I heard a

voice say that if someone would smoke the calumet there would be peace.

And my father's spirit self, the White Bear, came to me and told me to

smoke."

_If White Bear had been here he would have smoked the calumet. I know he

would._

Owl Carver put his hand on Eagle Feather's shoulder.

"The boy is the grandson of Owl Carver and of Sun Woman. He is the son

of White Bear. He has had his first vision. It is foreordained that he

should be a Great Shaman."

Redbird felt flames burning under the skin of her face.

"He is the son of Redbird as well," she said, her voice shaking.

Owl Carver put his other hand on Redbird's shoulder. "Yes, he is your

son."

Suddenly his old face crumbled. "And all my other children are gone," he

wept. "Redbird, you are the only one left."

* * * * *

Redbird trembled as she saw Fort Crawford, a great square formed by long

stone lodges connected by log palisade walls. Hard-faced long knives in

blue jackets surrounded the Sauk, pointing rifles at them. Redbird drew

the sling in which she carried Floating Lily around from her back to

hold her tight. With one hand she pulled Eagle Feather, who stumbled

under a heavy blanket roll, close to her.

"You will all camp in the field beside the fort," said Wave. "If anyone

tries to escape, those left behind will be punished."

Redbird heard a wordless cry from behind her. She turned and was

astonished to see a group of gray shadows standing in a meadow outside

the fort. She saw they were Sauk women, some holding babies, some with

small children standing beside them.

Redbird swung Floating Lily around to her back and rushed to the silent

women, praying that among them she would see Sun Woman or her sisters.

She moved more slowly as she realized that the eyes of each silent face

she peered into were lifeless and the mouths slack.

These few, she grasped with horror, were all that was left of the people

who had tried to cross the Great River at the Bad Axe. Just as White

Bear had predicted.

She came to Water Flows Fast, barely able to recognize her. She had

changed terribly, a change that had begun when the long knives killed

her husband, Three Horses, at Old Man's Creek. The older woman's face

had lost its roundness. Her cheeks sagged and her head shook with a

constant tremor.

"Is it really you, Redbird? In the flesh? I am not on the Trail of

Souls?"

Redbird drew Water Flows Fast to her.

"Redbird, they killed everybody. They kept killing and killing. They

would not stop. Even babies. I don't know why I'm still alive. My

children are dead. They tried to swim away, and the long knives shot

them in the water."

Wild Grape, Redbird's younger sister, rushed up to her. They fell into

each other's arms, weeping. Redbird had never loved her sister as much

as she did at this moment.

Wild Grape said, "I saw Robin's Nest die. She stood before a long knife.

She was holding her baby son. She begged for her life. He just smiled

and shot her. She dropped the baby, and the long knife shot him on the

ground. They would have killed me, but a long knife chief came along and

stopped it."

"And Iron Knife?" Redbird asked. "What about Iron Knife?"

Wild Grape drew back and looked at Redbird with huge eyes. "Redbird, one

of them cut off Iron Knife's head."

Redbird screamed as Wild Grape babbled on.

"Yes, with a knife this big." She held her hands wide apart. "And Sun

Woman called down the wrath of Earthmaker upon him, and with the same

knife he cut her throat."

Redbird fell to her knees sobbing. "Oh, no more! No more!" Water Flows

Fast and Wild Grape knelt with her and held her, and they wept together.

Redbird cried until Floating Lily began to wail. Redbird gave her

daughter the breast and a warmth spread from her baby's sucking lips,

blunting the edge of grief and calming her a little.

Wild Grape said, "I have seen White Bear."

Redbird's body went rigid. Floating Lily pulled her mouth away from

Redbird's breast and started to cry again.

"White Bear? Alive?"

Wild Grape nodded. "When the long knives were killing us at the Bad Axe,

he came. He was the long knife war chief's prisoner. He spoke for the

long knife chief, told us not to be afraid. But then he saw Sun Woman

lying on the ground with her throat cut. He fell down beside her and

screamed and tore at his face. The long knives had to hold him. I

thought they might kill him, or he might kill himself. They dragged him

away. I think he is a prisoner right there in that fort."

_Or perhaps he is dead_, Redbird thought bitterly. _Like everyone else._

In miserable silence she made a little tent out of her blanket in the

field by the fort, using sticks Eagle Feather found for her. She and her

children huddled under the blanket, the sorrow in her belly like a wolf

inside her trying to gnaw and claw its way out.

The thought that White Bear might be on the other side of those walls of

white-painted limestone was more than she could stand. She could not

move or speak. Long knives stood around the edges of the field, watching

the remnant of the British Band with their cold pale eyes. Redbird

almost wished one of them would shoot her and end her pain. But then

what would her children do? She did not want Eagle Feather and Floating

Lily to die.

Later that day Owl Carver hobbled over to her, followed by a thin-lipped

long knife with a rifle.

"Good-bye, my daughter." He looked very old and tired. It was a miracle

that he had lived through this war. She noticed that he held in his hand

the owl-decorated medicine bag.

"Where are you going, Father?"

"The Winnebago Prophet, Black Hawk and I must go into the fort to meet

the pale eyes war chiefs. I guess they will shoot us or hang us. I

cannot see the future anymore. Wave tells me that the rest of you are

to walk south to the Rock River. The long knives will keep you at their

fort there till next spring. Then they will let you cross the river to

join He Who Moves Alertly in Ioway country. Take care of your mother and

your sister. You are the strongest and wisest of my children."

He thrust his medicine bag at her.

"If I bring this into the fort it may be lost to our people forever. You

are my child. You must be the spirit walker for the British Band."

A golden glow spread through her body. She took the bag from him--it was

very light in her hands--and held it against her chest. She tried to

speak, but her throat closed up on her.

Owl Carver said, "Remember always, all people, even the pale eyes, are

children of Earthmaker. Whatever power Earthmaker gives you, never use

it against another person. If the long knives hurt you, you can ask for

strength to fight them yourself, but never call on the spirits to attack

them."

"Yes, Father."

_Even if they have killed White Bear, I will not use the power of the

spirits against them._

"Farewell, my child."

Redbird took Owl Carver's hand. "If you meet White Bear there in the

fort, tell him I am alive and Eagle Feather and Floating Lily are alive,

and one day we will all be together."

Wolf Paw stood beside her, watching Black Hawk, the Winnebago Prophet

and Owl Carver walk into the square of buildings. They were followed by

six blue-coated long knives pointing rifles at them and by a delegation

of Winnebago chiefs and braves.

She clutched the medicine bag tightly.

Her eyes clouded over. She saw a crowd of pale eyes with distorted

mouths, shouting. Terror seized her, and she tried to cry aloud, but she

could not. The white faces dissolved, and she saw a mound of earth in a

forest. Atop it was a willow wand with a small strip of red blanket tied

to it. Darkness closed in around her.

She felt strong hands gripping her arms. Her sight cleared, and she

realized that Wolf Paw was holding her.

"You were falling," he said.

"I am afraid," she said. "I have seen death on the trail before us."

Wolf Paw looked down at her with earnest eyes. He had aged so much! He

had untied the red horsehair crest from his head, a wise thing to do,

because there were pale eyes who might recognize him as a leading Sauk

brave and want revenge. He now had only a short, irregular growth of

black hair on the middle of his scalp and stubble growing around it, but

he still wore the silver coin around his neck.

He said, "Whatever we must face, you have more courage than any of us. I

have not forgotten many winters ago when the spirit Bear came to our

camp. I turned and ran while you stood fast."

She waved a hand. "It was only White Bear."

"We did not know that then. From that day when I ran and you stood, I

have always wished that a child of mine might possess your courage and

wisdom."

She remembered how he had pushed her aside the night she stood beside

White Bear and warned the tribe against going to war. She remembered the

woman's dress he had forced on White Bear. But the man she saw before

her was lost and grieving. He had lost his war. He had let his wives and

children be killed. He had failed himself. He had nothing left to

believe in.

So she only said, "Be as a father to the children I do have. Help me

protect them."

* * * * *

The sun beat down on her bare head, and the dust of the trail choked

her. This was the Moon of Dry Rivers, the hottest time of summer. Every

step hurt her heart, because every step took her farther away from that

fort where the long knives might be holding White Bear. Might be. She

had never been able to find out.

By the third day of their trek southward along the Great River, the

soles of Redbird's moccasins had worn through. She stumbled over ruts

dug in the wide trail by pale eyes' wagon wheels. The sun had baked the

packed dirt of the trail till it was hard as stone.

When the long knives let them stop to rest at midday, she took from her

blanket roll White Bear's knife. With the knife she cut strips away from

her doeskin dress and bound them around her feet. She cut up Eagle

Feather's shirt and wrapped his moccasins so they would last longer.

A long knife with a thick blond mustache was standing over her with his

hand out.

"Give me that. No knives."

He spoke the pale eyes' tongue, but she knew enough of it to understand.

But she couldn't give up the knife. It was all she had left of White

Bear. Her grip tightened on the deerhorn handle, and she thought she

would stab the long knife--or herself--before she would let go of it.

She tried to tell him that this was precious, that it belonged to her

husband who was a shaman. But she did not have the American words to say

that.

He just kept saying "No knives," and his face turned a deep red. His

hand rested on the butt of his pistol.

Wolf Paw came over. He took her wrist in a strong grip and took the

knife from her hand and held it out, handle first, to the blue-coat.

She understood why Wolf Paw had forced her to give up the knife, but she

was angry with him.

"That was White Bear's knife from his father," she said.

"The long knife would have killed you," Wolf Paw said. "We cannot fight

them." She saw the hopelessness in his eyes, and she put her hand

reassuringly on his arm. When the long knives ordered them to get up and

start walking, he walked beside her.

She was hungry all day long. A food wagon followed the party. Three

times a day the soldiers got meat and bread from it, but the Sauk got

only corn mash on tin plates, which they washed out in the river and

returned to the food wagon. Several times a day they were allowed to

stop and drink from the river. Redbird prayed that her milk would hold

out for Floating Lily.

She sang a walking song, to try to forget her pain and to help her put

one aching foot in front of the other.

"We walk this trail, following the deer.

Sing as you walk, oh, braves and squaws!

Last night I dreamed my moccasins

Struck fire as they touched the ground."

When she raised her voice others joined in. After a while even Wolf Paw

began to sing in a deep voice.

Five blue-coated long knives rode before the Sauk and another five

behind them. Redbird looked around at her people, a hundred or so,

mostly women and children. The men numbered about twenty. Tired, hungry,

sick, broken in spirit. All of them on foot now, the last of their

horses having been taken away at Fort Crawford.

She remembered Owl Carver's parting words to her. _You must be the

spirit walker for the British Band._ And Wolf Paw had said that she had

the courage and wisdom to face death on the trail.

Whatever this remnant of her people might have to meet now, she promised

herself that she would use all her strength to help them through it.

They came to a smaller river, the Fever, that flowed into the Great

River. A flatboat to take travelers across was drawn up on shore. The

long knives had angry words with the men who would pole the flatboat.

Redbird understood that the boatmen would not carry her people. Let them

swim, their gestures said. But the river was too deep and its current

too swift for these half-starved, exhausted people.

While the long knives argued with the boatmen, more pale eyes came to

watch. They must have a town nearby. Redbird felt a chill of fear at the

hatred she saw in their faces. How frightened of the British Band they

must have been only a moon or two ago. Now they had what was left of the

British Band at their mercy.

The long knife leader shouted and drew his pistol and waved it. Shaking

his head, the chief of the boatmen made an angry gesture toward the

flatboat. The long knife took coins from his saddlebag and handed them

down to the boatman. The long knives began to herd Redbird's people on

board.

It took three trips to carry all of the Sauk across the Fever River. By

this time hundreds of pale eyes men, women and children had gathered at

the riverbank.

Redbird and her children were in the last group to cross. She heard

angry cries. The pale eyes were throwing rotten vegetables, clumps of

dirt and small rocks. She pulled Floating Lily around from her back to

hold her in her arms. A soft tomato hit Redbird in the ear. She heard

laughter. She wanted to keep both hands on the baby, so she did not wipe

away the pulp and seeds that dripped down her neck. She ran on board the

boat.

When she stumbled off on the other side of the river she was panting,

breathless with relief. She felt a hand wiping the tomato pulp from her

neck--Wolf Paw. It was good to know he was nearby.

The next morning when they set out, Wolf Paw picked up Eagle Feather,

whose ragged moccasins had fallen from his feet. He lifted him over his

head and set him on his shoulders. Redbird smiled her thanks, and Wolf

Paw returned a sad look, then sighed and lowered his gaze to the ground.

All that day he trudged beside her with Eagle Feather on his back. That

night he slept near Redbird and her children.

The following day the trail led past flat fields, mostly planted with

corn, stretching to the edge of the Great River. For a moment, reminded

of the cornfields around Saukenuk, Redbird's heart lifted. Then she

recalled that from now on only pale eyes would plant corn in this

country.

On her left bluffs rose up, overlooking the river like the statues of

spirits. Ahead she could see many pale eyes lodges built on the side of

a hill. At the top of the hill was a fort surrounded by a wall of

upright logs. She saw a dark mass of people spread across the trail

ahead.

They were not standing to one side, as those at the last town had. They

were blocking the way.

She felt that she knew this place, though she had never been here

before. After a moment she understood why. White Bear and Yellow Hair

had both talked to her many times about the village where White Bear had

lived with his father, Star Arrow. The great lodge they lived in must be

somewhere beyond that hill. And the walled building at the top of the

hill would be the trading post of White Bear's uncle, the one who had

driven him away from here and who had tried to kill him at Old Man's

Creek.

As she got closer she heard angry voices. Again she took her baby in her

arms. She looked around for Wolf Paw and was grateful to see him at her

side. He set Eagle Feather down, and the boy seized her skirt.

But if this was the town where White Bear had lived, this was where Wolf

Paw's war party had killed many men, women and children. This was where

the big gun had fired into Wolf Paw's body the silver coin that still

hung around his neck. What if these people recognized him? She was glad

again that he had taken off his red crest. The coin, she noticed, had

disappeared, too, inside his buckskin shirt.

But whether they recognized Wolf Paw or not, these people would hate her

people.

Terror seized her as she remembered her vision at Fort Crawford--death

on the trail. She tried to stop walking, but the people behind her

pushed her on. The mounted long knives behind them were driving everyone

forward.

Closer to the pale eyes standing in the trail, she saw that most of

those in front were men, and they were holding clubs and rocks. Her legs

turned to water and she felt that she might fall down. She did not have

the strength to go on, to walk toward the death she had foreseen days

ago. Her own people jostled her. The long knives were calling orders,

trying to make the Sauk move ahead, but nobody wanted to be the first to

come near that angry crowd.

The long knife with the yellow mustache rode ahead and spoke to the

crowd, waving his hand at them to clear the way. They shouted back at

him.

The crowd surged forward.

And the blue-coats rode into the fields on either side of the trail.

She could not see the villagers, because Wolf Paw had stepped in front

of her.

Eagle Feather's frantic grip was hurting her leg. She hugged Floating

Lily tightly in her arms, hoping that if she were felled by a stone, her

body would protect her baby.

_They are going to kill all of us._

The shouts of the pale eyes battered at her ears. Rocks, many bigger

than a man's fist, hurtled through the air. Redbird saw women and

children falling around her.

She heard a thud that made her ears ring, and suddenly Wolf Paw was

slumping to the rutted trail in front of her.

Men charged at the fallen Wolf Paw with rocks and clubs raised. Eagle

Feather suddenly let go of Redbird and plunged into the crowd of Sauk

behind her. She watched him disappear as he burrowed in among the legs

of the women and men.

"Redbird!"

Squeezing Floating Lily against her chest, Redbird looked around

frantically at the sound of her name.

At the edge of the crowd she saw yellow braids and blue eyes and arms

waving. Yellow Hair, her face twisted with anguish, was trying to force

her way through to her.

There were other people with Yellow Hair. A very stout woman was pushing

and pulling at the angry men and women around her, shouting at them to

stop what they were doing. And a man with sandy hair was also fighting

the other villagers.

_White Bear had an aunt and uncle in this village._

But the crowd pushed forward, and she could no longer see those few who

were trying to help her people.

The men were beating Wolf Paw. One powerful-looking man with broad

shoulders and chest and a thick brown beard lifted a club to bring it

down on Wolf Paw's head.

In the pale eyes' tongue Redbird cried out, "No! Please!"

The man turned and stared at her, madness in his eyes.

"You kill my wife!" he roared. His spittle wet her face. He reached for

her.

She screamed and screamed. His hand grabbed at Floating Lily's tiny

body, and the baby shrieked with pain and terror. Redbird tried to bite

and kick him, to squirm away. He swung his club at her and hit the side

of her head. The blow stunned her, weakening her grip on her baby.

The brown-bearded man wrenched Floating Lily from her arms.

Her screams tore her throat. The man whirled away from her, lifted

Floating Lily high over his head. The crowd enveloped him, and the baby

disappeared in their midst. Screaming, punching and kicking, she fought

to get at Floating Lily, but people pushed her back and threw her to the

ground.

Her voice was gone. She crawled through the stones and the dirt. She saw

the legs of pale eyes men and the skirts of pale eyes women, and in

their midst a small unmoving body, wrapped in a blanket soaked with

blood.

The people rushed off in a different direction, and she crawled along

the trail until she could reach out and take her daughter in her arms.

She pulled herself into a sitting position, holding the bundle in her

lap. Her hands were wet with blood. She looked down at the tiny crumpled

face, blood running out of the baby mouth. No movement. Arms and legs

limp. No sound. No breath.

Her mind went blank. A mantle of blackness covered her eyes.

When she came awake, Yellow Hair was sitting beside her, holding her in

her arms and sobbing. The fat pale eyes woman was standing over both of

them, tears streaking her face. She was holding a red blanket in her

hands, offering it to Redbird.

At the sight of the strange white face Redbird screamed and shrank away,

pressing the baby in her arms to her breast. She pulled away from Yellow

Hair, who sat on the ground and buried her face in her hands.

The fat woman put the blanket on the ground and stumbled away from

Redbird. She got a short distance and began to throw up, coughing and

sobbing. The sandy-haired man went to her and held her.

Redbird watched the anguish of Yellow Hair and the fat woman numbly. She

hurt too much to have any feeling for anyone else. She understood that

the woman had given her the blanket to wrap Floating Lily. She hitched

herself over to the blanket and picked it up and wrapped it around the

bloody bundle without looking at it.

The bright red of the blanket, she thought, would keep Floating Lily

warm.

From some distance away the anguished cries of other people reached

Redbird's ears. Others must have been hurt by the pale eyes villagers.

Yellow Hair, still crying so hard she was unable to speak, moved beside

Redbird and put her hand on the blanket.

The crowd that had attacked the Sauk were gathered in a field beside the

trail. The ten long knives on horseback had formed a line and had pushed

them back. Too late.

The fat woman seemed to have forgotten Redbird. She staggered away from

the Sauk, screaming at the people in the field. It was impossible for

Redbird to understand her words, but her voice was full of rage. Some of

the people answered back, but in sullen voices Redbird could hardly

hear.

Redbird could not stand up. She felt no strength at all in her trembling

legs.

"Eagle Feather!" she cried. She called her son again and again.

He came and stood before her. "Is Floating Lily dead? Did they kill

her?"

"Yes," said Redbird.

Eagle Feather began to cry. "Why did they kill my little sister?"

Redbird felt a touch on her shoulder. Wolf Paw's hand. His forehead was

gashed and blood was running down into one eye that was swollen and

shut.

"I thought they killed you," she said.

"It would have been good if they had."

"No," she said, "do not wish that."

Redbird sensed a silence and realized that Yellow Hair was no longer

crying. She and Wolf Paw were staring at each other.

Now, thought Redbird, Yellow Hair could have her revenge for her

father's death, for her own suffering. All she had to do was tell the

villagers who Wolf Paw was, the leader of the war band that had attacked

Victor. The brave who had kidnapped her. The long knives could

not--would not--stop the people from killing him on the spot.

Yellow Hair sighed and put her arm around Redbird's shoulders. Perhaps

she didn't want revenge. Redbird was too sick with grief to wonder much

about it.

Wolf Paw said, "Four others are dead, and many more are hurt. We will

carry our dead away from this place. I think the long knives will let us

bury them farther along this trail."

Holding Floating Lily's body tightly, Redbird let Wolf Paw take her by

the elbows and lift her to her feet. She felt Yellow Hair's arm still

around her shoulders. She began to cry quietly.

Wolf Paw said, "Even though you grieve for your baby, the people who are

wounded need your help. Sun Woman taught you, and you were White Bear's

wife and Owl Carver's daughter. You are the only one who knows what to

do."

"I have hardly any medicines left," she said.

"You can pray for those who are hurt," Wolf Paw said. "And when we bury

the dead, you can speak to their spirits for us."

_You must be the spirit walker for the British Band._

A long knife rode over and spoke to Yellow Hair. Redbird understood that

he was telling her that she could not stay with the Sauk prisoners.

In the way they had learned to talk to each other Yellow Hair told

Redbird that she would have gladly died to save Floating Lily. She

promised to do what she could for the remaining people.

"You, me, sisters," Redbird said.

Yellow Hair put her arms around Redbird, pressing Floating Lily between

them. She bent and kissed Redbird on the cheek, her tears wetting

Redbird's face.

Redbird glanced up at the long knife who had spoken to Yellow Hair. His

mouth under his yellow mustache twisted in scorn.

Yellow Hair began to sob again, and her arms tightened around Redbird.

Redbird felt White Bear's aunt and uncle gently trying to pull Yellow

Hair away from her.

The mounted long knife shouted angrily. Would they shoot Yellow Hair if

she didn't leave?

Frightened for Yellow Hair, Redbird twisted her arms and shoulders and

broke free from her.

The fat woman and the sandy-haired man drew Yellow Hair away. But her

sobs became louder, turned to screams.

"My baby!"

Redbird knew those pale eyes' words. And it was true, she thought. Had

not Yellow Hair been in the birthing wickiup with Redbird? Had she not

been present for every instant of Floating Lily's early life? Was she

not also White Bear's wife?

_She feels the same pain I do._

Yellow Hair's screams died away as White Bear's aunt and uncle half

carried her away from the trail. Her cries were drowned out by the

shouts of the long knives, ordering the Sauk to get to their feet and

start walking again.

As Redbird, holding Floating Lily, stumbled down the trail she looked at

the crowd in the field. They were not shouting or throwing rocks now.

They just stared. Perhaps they were satisfied.

Her eyes met those of the brown-bearded man who had torn Floating Lily

from her arms. He saw her holding her dead daughter, and his face was

still red and rigid with hatred.

She had understood enough of his tongue to understand what he had

shouted at her: _You kill my wife_.

At the sight of him she felt heavy as a stone. There was nothing she

could do that would bring Floating Lily back. Her baby's little feet

were on the Trail of Souls. Only death would free Redbird from pain.

Wolf Paw, once again carrying Eagle Feather, walked beside her. She

sensed someone walking on her other side and turned to look. She saw a

shrunken, wizened woman with a sad face. It took her a moment to realize

that it was her mother, Wind Bends Grass.

Many footsteps later, when their trail passed through woods, the long

knives let them stop. They unstrapped small shovels from their saddles

and gave them to some of the men. The Sauk men dug five deep graves and

placed the bodies--three women, one man, and a baby--sitting upright in

them.

Wolf Paw dug Floating Lily's grave, letting Eagle Feather do part of the

work.

Before covering Floating Lily with earth, Redbird tore a small strip

from the red blanket the fat woman had given her and set it beside the

grave.

When the five were buried Redbird saw the eyes of all the people turned

toward her, and she knew they expected her, in spite of the grief that

was killing her, to complete the rite.

First, she sang.

"In your brown blanket, O Earthmaker,

Wrap your children and carry them away,

Fold them again in your body ..."

When she had finished the song, she spoke to the dead.

"You are innocent of wrongdoing," she said. "You have no debt to pay, no

promise to keep. You have kept faith and walked with honor the path that

led to these graves. Do not linger here in hope of avenging yourselves

on those who killed you. Great happiness awaits you in the West. The Owl

spirit will show you how to set your feet on the Trail of Souls. Go now,

begin your journey."

After she had spoken, the people broke willow wands from trees growing

by the water and set them upright on the mounds of earth. Redbird took

the piece of red blanket and tied it to the end of the wand over

Floating Lily's grave.

_Your path on this earth was a short one, my daughter. But the earth is

not a good place for our people just now. And many, many of your Sauk

brothers and sisters will journey with you on the Trail of Souls. Go now

into the West, and your father and brother and I will one day follow

after, and we will all be together again._

As she stepped back from the grave she remembered how, two days ago, far

to the north, she had seen this grave in her mind and had fainted. With

a sinking heart she understood how terrible were the shaman's gifts she

had longed for all her life.

The long knives had sat silently beside the trail, letting their horses

graze while the people buried their dead. They did not seem worried that

anyone might try to escape. After all, where could a Sauk go in this

country? Once they might have walked freely anywhere this side of the

Great River. Now all who lived in this land hated them.

Redbird could not tell whether the long knives were ashamed that they

let these people in their care be killed. Maybe they were pleased, maybe

it did not matter to them. When the people came out of the woods, the

long knives stood up, silent and expressionless, and mounted their

horses again for the journey south.

Wolf Paw walked beside Redbird and Eagle Feather. Redbird missed the

familiar weight of the baby on her back, and started to weep again. Her

breasts, filling with milk that would not be sucked, began to ache.

After they had walked a long time in silence, Wolf Paw said, "I failed

you, Redbird. You asked me to protect your children. I sent my own wives

and my children to their deaths, and now I did not save your daughter. I

am not a man."

The pale eyes had not killed Wolf Paw, Redbird thought, but they had

killed his spirit. She would try to heal him. Nothing would bring back

Floating Lily, but perhaps she could give new life to this man.

When they stopped to sleep that night she lay on her back on the ground

staring up at the sky, Eagle Feather snuggled close to her, Wolf Paw and

Wind Bends Grass nearby.

A bird appeared on a tree limb overhead.

Even though it was night, she could somehow see that the bird's plumage

was a red as bright as the strip of blanket she had left on Floating

Lily's grave. Around his eyes was a black mask, and on his head a crest

of red feathers.

The bird flew to a more distant tree limb, and she felt that he called

her to follow him. She stood up, and none of the sleeping people noticed

her. She walked past a long knife on guard with a rifle, and he looked

right through her.

The bright bird darted into a black opening in the hillside above the

river, and Redbird followed. In the cave all she could see was the glow

of red wings far ahead of her. There were many twists and turns, and she

went down very far.

She began to see light ahead. It appeared so gradually that her eyes

adjusted to it easily, and when she came to a chamber that was brightly

lit she was neither dazzled nor blinded.

The walls of the chamber rose high above her, hard and smooth and clear

as ice, and they glistened with a light that seemed to be everywhere

behind them. She heard a murmuring and a rustling, and saw in niches cut

into the wall many kinds of creatures, plants and animals and birds. She

looked down at fish swimming restlessly in the dark pool that formed

most of the floor.

In the center of the pool was an island, and on the island a huge

ancient Turtle squatted on four wrinkled, gray-green legs.

_Welcome, daughter_, said the Turtle.

22

Renegade

Raoul sat on the edge of his chair in Fort Crawford's assembly room,

waiting for the guards to bring in Auguste. In a row beside him sat

seven other militia officers, all of whom had been witnesses against the

Indian leaders.

Raoul discovered all at once that he was trembling with anticipation.

_Let today be the day_--it was almost a prayer, but he did not know who

would hear such a prayer--_let them string him up today_.

_Let me see that damned mongrel die._

Today the commanders of the army that had defeated Black Hawk would tell

the Sauk and Fox leaders their fate. The less important Indians were to

be dealt with first, so Auguste would be coming in now.

Raoul watched avidly as Auguste walked in between two privates, his

wrists handcuffed, carrying an iron ball at the end of a chain attached

to his ankles. The sight of the mongrel in chains was more satisfying

than a good swig of Old Kaintuck.

Raoul had not seen Auguste since the day they had faced each other too

briefly on that bloody island off the mouth of the Bad Axe. Again Raoul

saw that Auguste's right ear, partly covered by his long black locks,

was split into upper and lower halves, with a red, partly healed gap

between them.

_Eli's bullet must have gone through his ear instead of his head. And,

knowing Eli, that was no accident. That was why he said I'd find a

surprise up in Michigan Territory._

Raoul's fingers worked in his lap. That gap-toothed old bastard had

deliberately lied to him about killing Auguste. Why? What could he gain

by keeping Auguste alive?

Auguste's dark eyes widened as they met Raoul's, and from across the

room his hatred struck Raoul like a blow. Raoul remembered the woman

whose throat he had cut.

_His mother. But killing her was still not enough to pay me back for

Clarissa and Phil and Andy. For the burning of Victoire._

Auguste turned his back to Raoul and faced the three commanders, who sat

at a long table behind which a big American flag was nailed to the

plaster wall.

In the center was Major General Winfield Scott, finally arrived from the

East to take charge of what was left of the war. Raoul hoped Scott had

come out here with President Jackson's orders to send this pack of

savages to the gallows. The general had listened intently to everything

Raoul had to say against the mongrel. Raoul distrusted Scott's fancy

uniform, his heavy gold-braided epaulets and the white plume on the

cocked hat that lay beside him. But Scott's features were severe, his

brows straight and black, his nose sharp and his mouth tight. Raoul saw

no pity in the look he bent on Auguste.

Flanking Scott were Colonel Zachary Taylor and white-bearded Brigadier

General Henry Atkinson, who had commanded the militia and troops right

up to the battle at the Bad Axe.

Winfield Scott glanced at a paper before him and said, "Auguste de

Marion, by some also called White Bear, you are named in Colonel

Taylor's report as one of the ringleaders of Black Hawk's uprising. We

have heard testimony that you are a renegade and murderer."

Auguste glanced at Raoul and then said, "Have I the right to hear what

has been said against me?"

Scott shook his head. "This is only a hearing, not a court-martial. What

do you have to say for yourself?"

"I advised my people to keep the peace," Auguste said. "And the British

Band did not take my advice. So I am not much of a ringleader. And I

never killed anyone, so I am no murderer. As for being a renegade, I was

born a Sauk. I'm no more a renegade than any other member of my tribe

who followed Black Hawk."

Auguste's voice rang loud and clear. Raoul noticed that his speech

seemed more accented than he remembered it. Probably from living with

Indians and talking only their talk for nearly a year.

_Is it only a year since I drove him from Victoire? Seems a whole

lifetime away._

Scott cast sideways glances at Taylor and Atkinson.

"We are told you are an American citizen," said Zachary Taylor.

Auguste said, "Sir, my father was Pierre de Marion, an American citizen,

and because it was his wish, I lived as a white man for six years. But

my mother was Sun Woman of the Sauk tribe, and I remained a Sauk in my

heart."

Scott said, "Your heart doesn't matter to the law. What was your conduct

during the war?"

Raoul listened, blood hammering in his skull, to Auguste's account of

Old Man's Creek. Auguste named him, turned and pointed to him.

"Then he came toward me to shoot me. I ran into the tall grass. Eli

Greenglove, one of his men, shot me." He touched his mangled ear. "It

was dark and the men were drunk, and I was able to stay alive by

pretending to be dead. When Black Hawk found out that his emissaries had

been shot, he believed he had no choice but to go on fighting. It was

only then that the British Band began to attack whites."

Anger drove Raoul to his feet. "Sir, I must answer that."

Scott turned hard blue eyes on Raoul. "That won't be necessary, Colonel.

I've already had a complete report of what happened at Old Man's Creek."

Raoul heard a faint disdain in Scott's elegant Virginia drawl and felt

his face turn hot.

Scott consulted in a murmur with Taylor and Atkinson. Raoul sat down

slowly and drummed his fingers on his knee. He looked up to see Auguste

staring stonily at him, his manacled hands clenched into fists. Raoul

made himself hold Auguste's gaze.

_Shaman. I wonder if he does have any power to hurt me._

_Nonsense._

_But what is he thinking, what is he planning?_

Scott said, "We've read depositions from Miss Hale and the boy Woodrow

Prewitt stating that Auguste and his squaw protected them and cared for

them while they were captives of the Sauk and that Auguste eventually

led them to safety."

Raoul clenched his jaw and his breath steamed out of his nostrils. He

wished he could give Nancy Hale the back of his hand across her stuck-up

face. The redskins had murdered her father. They'd kidnapped her.

Probably they'd raped her, though she'd never admit it. How in hell

could she defend this mongrel?

Scott said, "It seems to me we have no evidence that this man did any

harm to the United States or to any of our citizens. However, there are

serious accusations against him, such as the charge that he instigated

the Sauk raid on Victor. If he is not legally an Indian, which this

board of inquiry is not competent to determine, then any acts of war he

participated in were crimes against the people of Illinois. His guilt or

innocence must then be a matter for a civilian court to decide. And the

appropriate place would be the county where he lived with his father,

where there would be records and witnesses."

Raoul could hardly hold himself back from jumping up and shouting in

triumph. He forced himself to look anywhere but at Auguste, knowing that

what he felt would be all too easy for the others to read.

"You may as well hang me yourself, General," Auguste said quietly,

pointing at Raoul. "_He_ runs that whole county. No witnesses will dare

to come forward for me, and he's had all my records destroyed."

"Without records, nothing can be proved _against_ you," said Scott.

Raoul felt a hollow open in his stomach. What the hell had Burke Russell

done with Auguste's adoption records and Pierre's will? The damned

Indians had killed Russell. And that pretty wife of his just refused to

speak to Raoul.

Auguste said, "But, sir, I don't believe there's even a court in Smith

County to try me."

Zachary Taylor shuffled some papers. "Yes, there is. Smith County had a

special election a month after that bad Indian raid. Elected county

commissioners, and a man named Cooper is judge of the circuit court. I

think we can guarantee White Bear, or Auguste de Marion, a proper

trial."

Raoul clenched his fists. Things had gone sour in Smith County while he

was off fighting the Sauk.

General Atkinson said, "I don't know about that. Seventeen men, women

and children were killed in that raid. Sending this man to stand trial

there could be simply condemning him to death by Lynch's law."

_I wish it could be that simple._ Remembering the cool reception he'd

gotten in Victor when he went there to outfit the _Victory_ for the war,

Raoul began to have second thoughts about whether things would go his

way.

_I'll have to get my Smith County boys together and make sure Cooper

runs that trial right._

Raoul stole a glance at Auguste and saw that his face was set in that

hard, expressionless mold Indians took on when they didn't want to show

what they were feeling.

Scott said, "Send a good officer and a couple of men to Victor to escort

this man and insure a fair trial."

"Right, sir," said Zachary Taylor, making a note. "Lieutenant Jefferson

Davis and two enlisted men will go along with him."

_Damn!_ Taylor had jumped at the chance to send Lieutenant Davis away

from the fort, Raoul thought with annoyance. The gossip around Fort

Crawford was that Davis was courting Taylor's pretty daughter, and

Taylor didn't approve.

Scott turned his gaze on Raoul. "And you, Colonel de Marion. By all

accounts you're a very prominent citizen in that community. It's obvious

there's bad blood between you and your nephew. I'll hold you responsible

if there's any violence against him."

"Understood, sir," said Raoul, calmly enough, but hating to hear the

mongrel called his nephew. Scott's threat was empty; once the general

was back East he wouldn't care about the fate of one half-breed out on

the frontier.

Scott turned to Auguste with a small smile. "While you are on trial,

I'll be negotiating a treaty with the Sauk. And after that, if they

don't hang you, I think President Jackson would be most interested in

meeting you."

A treaty? A meeting with Jackson? Raoul quivered with anger and could

barely keep himself from letting out a shout. Did that mean Scott wasn't

going to hang Black Hawk and the rest of them? Was he taking the Sauk

leaders to meet the President?

_Well, if he does, the mongrel won't be with them_, Raoul thought,

comforting himself with the picture of a hempen rope around Auguste's

neck.

* * * * *

_My baby!_

Auguste felt as heavy as if he had turned to stone. He sat hunched over

on the plank bed covered with a corn-husk mattress, in his cell in

Victor's village hall, clutching his stomach as tears ran from his eyes.

After what Frank Hopkins had just told him, he no longer cared what

happened to him here in Victor. These people had killed Floating Lily.

Let them kill him too. He did not want to live in a world that had

killed his baby daughter.

He felt a comforting hand on his shoulder. He glanced at it and saw

Frank's ink-blackened fingers pressing into the blue calico shirt his

captors at Fort Crawford had given him.

He looked up to see lawyer Thomas Ford's sad eyes on him, but kindly

gestures and looks meant nothing to him now. How could people tear a

baby girl from her mother's arms and beat her to death?

_But the Sauk war parties killed children too. All people are cruel,

white and red._

"I would be better off on the Trail of Souls," he said in a low voice.

_My mother and my daughter, Sun Woman and Floating Lily, both dead._

"Nancy and Nicole and I tried to stop them," Frank said, his eyes moist,

"but the crowd was too big. We couldn't get through until it was too

late. Nancy told us the baby was your daughter. Nicole and Nancy tried

as best they could to comfort your wife."

For all he knew, Redbird might think him dead. He had asked his guards

at Fort Crawford to pass word to her that he was alive, but he had no

idea whether any of his messages had reached her.

Ford, the lawyer from Vandalia Frank had hired to defend Auguste, said,

"What happened shows how angry the people of Victor still are against

the Sauk. I still think we have to ask for a change of venue." Ford was

a short, slender man with a round face and bright, intelligent eyes.

Leaning against the rough-hewn log wall of Auguste's cell, he wore a

dark brown frock coat with a high collar that came up to his ears.

Frank said, "Many people here feel terribly sorry for Auguste. And a lot

of us decided, after we survived the siege, that we wouldn't put up

anymore with the lawlessness that Raoul and his crew represent."

_But Raoul is back now_, Auguste thought. _He'll start to take control

again._

Ford said, "Well, Auguste ought to tell us what he thinks. It's his

neck."

Auguste took a deep breath. The clean smell of fresh-cut wood filled his

nostrils. A good smell, but it reminded him that this village hall was

only recently rebuilt, that last June Wolf Paw's raiding party had

burned down everything in Victor except Raoul's trading post. How could

he possibly get a fair trial here?

Auguste said, "At least here I have some people who know me and care

about me."

Ford sighed. "So be it. Frank, I want a list of every man who was in the

mob that attacked the Sauk prisoners. We don't want any of them sitting

on the jury."

As Frank and Ford discussed trial tactics, Auguste gazed around at this

dark little chamber on the second floor of the village hall. It might be

his last home on earth. The only window was a square barred hole high up

on the south wall, too small to let much light in--or for a man to climb

out through. This morning a light rain falling outside spattered through

the window, and the cell felt damp and cool.

_When Frank built this cell, he could never have thought his own nephew

would be a prisoner in it._

"We have a power of work to do, Auguste," Ford interrupted his thoughts.

"So far I can't find anyone who confirms your story of what happened at

Old Man's Creek. This Otto Wegner fellow whose life you saved, he and

his family have moved down to the Texas country in Mexico."

Frank said, "We do have two people who'll testify that you protected

them and never went on any war parties while they were prisoners of the

British Band--Miss Hale and the boy Woodrow."

At the mention of Nancy's name Auguste felt a wrench in his heart. He

knew that she had stayed in Victor, teaching in a new schoolhouse Frank

had built for her on the site of her father's church. Her absence in the

week he had been here had hurt him deeply.

"Frank," he said, "why hasn't Nancy come to see me?"

Thomas Ford said, "Miss Hale is a very bright young lady, and instead of

rushing down here to visit you when you arrived, she waited till I got

here and then she asked me what she should do. I told her that there

must not be even a breath of a suggestion that there was anything

between you two. If people believed she had, ah, been intimate with you,

they'd consider her a loose woman--doubly so because you're an

Indian--and they wouldn't listen to a word she said."

"I understand," Auguste said, feeling bitter, but also feeling that the

load of grief he'd borne since arriving at Victor had lightened a

little. Nancy had not forgotten him, as he'd feared she might after she

got back among whites. He felt shame that he had even imagined she might

turn against him. And when the trial started, at least he would see her

again.

* * * * *

The smell of fresh-cut wood pervaded the courtroom on the first floor of

the village hall, as it did Auguste's cell. Frank must have worked seven

days a week since last June, Auguste thought. Even though he'd hired

half a dozen assistants, it was a wonder he'd found time to write and

publish his newspaper.

Judge David Cooper, a man with a square, muscular face and piercing blue

eyes, sat at a long table with the flags of the United States and the

state of Illinois on stands behind him. A carpenter's mallet lay on the

table. Probably borrowed from Frank, Auguste thought. He had a vague

memory of Cooper's being present and saying something to Raoul the day

he'd been driven from Victoire. Auguste stood as Cooper read out the

charge of complicity in the murder of 223 citizens of the state of

Illinois by the British Band of the Sauk and Fox Indian tribes.

Behind Auguste sat three blue-coats, Lieutenant Jefferson Davis and his

two corporals. The prosecutor, Justus Bennett, and his assistant

occupied a third table. The courtroom being not quite finished, the

twelve jurymen sat on one side of the room in two pews carried over from

the Presbyterian church.

Auguste knew only three of the jurors--Robert McAllister, a farmer whose

family had survived Wolf Paw's raid by hiding in their root cellar; Tom

Slattery, the blacksmith; and Jean-Paul Kobell, a stableman from

Victoire. He had no reason to think any of those three bore him any

special ill will, though they might have good reason to hate any Sauk.

The others he knew not at all, which meant they must have moved to

Victor since he left.

Behind the trial participants about fifty citizens of Smith County were

crowded into the courtroom, sitting in chairs or on benches they had

carried into the village hall themselves. More stood along the walls.

During the first hour of the trial Raoul de Marion, the first witness

for the prosecution, testified. He lounged in a chair beside the judge's

table.

Auguste sat in a cold fury as he heard, for the first time, an account

of the war between the British Band and the people of Illinois as many

pale eyes must have seen it. A murdering band of savages had invaded the

state. The brave volunteers had pursued them, endured the loss of

comrades, but eventually had triumphed, administering a righteous

retaliation by exterminating most of the invaders.

Bennett, a lean man whose rounded shoulders gave him a serpentine look,

turned to Thomas Ford. "Your witness, sir."

Ford, very erect in contrast to Bennett, stood up and walked toward

Raoul. "Mr. de Marion, why on the night of September fifteenth, 1831,

did you offer a reward of fifty pieces of eight to anyone who would kill

your nephew, Auguste de Marion?"

"Objection," Bennett called from his seat. "This has nothing to do with

the defendant's conduct in the Black Hawk War."

"On the contrary Your Honor," said Ford. "It explains how my client got

involved in the war."

"I'll allow it," said David Cooper.

After Ford repeated his question, Raoul said, "I don't remember offering

any reward."

"I can produce at least ten witnesses who heard you and saw you hold up

a money bag."

"Well, he provoked me. He'd tried to cheat me out of my inheritance."

"Apparently you'd already got control of the estate. By force of arms.

Was it necessary to go on and incite men to kill him?"

"I figured he might do just what he did--stir up the Sauk against us and

try to use them to take the land away from me."

Ford turned to the jury, and the spectators could see the incredulous

look on his face. Auguste felt a warmth for Ford. He seemed to know what

he was doing. But it still made him uneasy to know that his life was in

the hands of another man, no matter how competent.

"And why were you going to shoot Auguste, when he came to you with a

white flag at Old Man's Creek?"

"He was trying to lead us into an ambush."

Ford sighed, clasped his hands behind his back and took a few paces away

from Raoul. He threw an exasperated look at the jury, as if to say,

_What can I do with this man?_

Then he turned suddenly and said, "Mr. de Marion, in 1812, when you were

just a boy, were you not present at the incident known as the Fort

Dearborn Massacre?"

"Objection," said Bennett. "This certainly has nothing to do with the

man who's on trial."

"Goes to the character of the witness, Your Honor," said Ford.

"I'll let you ask the question," said Cooper. "Please answer, Mr. de

Marion."

Raoul hunched over and his face grew darker. "God knows I was at Fort

Dearborn."

"And did you not see your sister horribly murdered by Indians. Were you

not subjected to two years of captivity and slavery?"

"I did. I was." The words came out in a hoarse whisper.

Ford said, "Mr. de Marion, after those terrible boyhood experiences, to

have your brother attempt to bring an Indian into the family must have

seemed the crowning insult. I put it to you that your accusations

against Auguste stem, not from any misdeeds of his, but from your hatred

for him because he is an Indian."

Justus Bennett was on his feet. "Objection. The honorable defense

attorney isn't asking questions. He's making a speech defaming the

witness."

Cooper nodded. "Sustained." He turned to the jury and said, "The jury

will forget about everything they just heard the defense attorney say."

Auguste shook his head. How could any man forget something he had just

so clearly heard? In all his years of living among the pale eyes, he had

never attended a trial. Now, on trial for his own life, he saw that the

ways of the pale eyes were even stranger than he had ever realized.

The next prosecution witness was Armand Perrault.

At the sight of Armand, Auguste broke out in a cold sweat of fury. This

man, Frank had said, was the one who snatched Floating Lily from

Redbird's arms. Walking up to the witness chair, Armand avoided

Auguste's eyes. Always before he had shot Auguste looks of hatred. Today

he was showing his guilt.

Aching knots spread through all Auguste's muscles. Were he alone with

Armand, he would hurl himself at him and try to kill him, barehanded.

But in this crowded courtroom he was helpless. His hands tightened on

the links of his chain till they hurt.

He felt a firm grip on his forearm; Ford, sitting beside him, letting

him know that he sensed his pain.

Led by Bennett's questions, Armand repeated Raoul's claim that the three

peace messengers were actually the vanguard of a Sauk attack.

"Why do they keep harping on this?" Auguste asked Ford in a whisper.

"Makes you out a murderer," Ford said out of the side of his mouth, "if

you tried to lead the white militiamen into a trap at Old Man's Creek."

When it was Ford's turn to question Armand he said, "You pulled the

trigger on one of Black Hawk's peace messengers, didn't you?"

"Yes," said Armand, his teeth gleaming in his brown beard. "And I did

not miss."

"And you killed an Indian baby on the road going through town about

three weeks ago, didn't you?"

"I don't remember."

Ford raised his hands toward the beamed ceiling. "Come now, Mr.

Perrault. A hundred or more people saw you drag that child from its

mother's arms."

"These were the same Indians who came here and murdered my wife,

Monsieur Legiste."

"That baby probably wasn't even born when your wife was murdered, Mr.

Perrault."

_If I ever get free I'll kill you, Perrault. By the White Bear spirit I

swear it._

A chill came over Auguste at his own thought. He recalled Owl Carver's

warning against trying to turn the power of the spirits against any

other human being. Terrible consequences lay in store for the shaman who

did so.

_I'm probably going to be hanged as it is. What else can happen to me?_

Auguste heard Raoul's voice from somewhere behind him, among the

spectators. "Hey, Bennett! Aren't you going to say anything? What's this

got to do with the mongrel?"

"Order!" Cooper rapped on his table with a carpenter's mallet.

Bennett stood up a little uncertainly. "If it please your honor, I

called Mr. Perrault to testify about what happened at Old Man's Creek. I

don't see why counsel for the defense is bringing up this other

incident."

"All right, Your Honor," said Ford. "I have no more questions for this

baby killer." Auguste saw sudden pallor in the part of Armand's face not

covered by his beard.

"Objection!" shouted Bennett.

Ford looked pained. "What in Heaven's name is wrong with calling a spade

a spade?"

Cooper said, "Well, try to keep your language a little more elevated,

Mr. Ford."

"Certainly, Your Honor. I have no more questions for this infanticide."

As Ford turned away to sit down, Auguste saw a quick little smile crease

Judge Cooper's face, then disappear. He began to feel hope stirring in a

heart that had been heavy ever since he came to Victor. This trial would

not be conducted according to Lynch's law.

But he still burned with hatred for Armand Perrault. He turned to watch

Perrault go back to his seat.

And his skin tingled. Just past the gaunt-faced Lieutenant Davis, Nancy

was sitting, only two rows of chairs away. Her deep blue eyes widened as

she looked at him. Her smile was, as Cooper's had been, just a brief

shadow, but her face flushed, and she shook her head almost

imperceptibly.

Auguste understood. As Ford had said, if Nancy were to testify in his

behalf, people must never know what they had been to each other. All

their hatred for red men would come boiling up, and they would hang him

for having intercourse with a white woman, if for nothing else. He

nodded ever so slightly, tore his eyes away from hers.

Woodrow was sitting beside Nancy, holding her hand. He had no need to

hide his feelings, and gave Auguste a big grin. Auguste smiled back at

him, but at the sight of Woodrow, longing for Eagle Feather was a knife

in his heart.

_I don't even know whether Eagle Feather is alive._

And grief for poor little Floating Lily crushed him.

There were Frank and Nicole sitting together, with one of their smaller

children--Patrick, Auguste thought--squirming on Nicole's lap. The sight

of the baby made him want to weep.

There were Elysee and Guichard, two old men sitting side by side.

Grandpapa had a home of his own now, he'd told Auguste while visiting

him, a small frame house on a hillside north of town, also built by

Frank. And a young doctor named Surrey who had just moved into the

county looked in on Elysee regularly.

_Good that they have a new doctor here._

Too bad, though, Gram Medill had died. Of an infection, Auguste had

heard, that she'd refused to let Dr. Surrey treat.

Auguste saw many more spectators whom he did not recognize, people who

stared back at him with hostility or--at best--curiosity.

A handsome young woman wearing a black bonnet and a black dress caught

his eye. There was a strange intensity in her look, but her mouth was

drawn tight, and he could not tell whether she felt hatred or sympathy

for him. Then he remembered who she was--Pamela Russell, widow of the

town clerk whose brains had been dashed out by a Sauk war club during

the attack on Victor. Nicole, on one of her visits to the village hall,

had described Russell's death to him and told him how Pamela had

insisted on touching off the cannon that broke the war party's attack.

_She will probably want to be the one to put the rope around my neck._

The prosecutor called Levi Pope to the stand. The shambling backwoodsman

held his coonskin cap in his hand as he approached the witness chair.

This was the first time Auguste could remember seeing him without a

rifle. Its absence made him look strange.

Bennett led Levi Pope through an account of Old Man's Creek. Then Thomas

Ford rose to question him.

"All right, Levi. When the three Indians, including Auguste, came into

your camp with the peace flag, how'd you know it was treachery?"

Levi frowned and shook his head. "Well, when we seen that the woods was

full of Injuns."

"Now, we've heard many times during this trial that 'the woods was full

of Injuns.' How many Indians did you see?"

"'Twasn't me that saw them. It was the scouts Colonel Raoul sent out."

"So you didn't see any sign yourself that the Indians were trying to

lead you into some kind of trap?"

"Well--no, sir."

"And when you rode into the forest on the north side of Old Man's Creek,

did you see any Indians?"

"No, sir. They must of all run off by that time."

"When did you first meet up with Indians?"

"Oh, we rode maybe an hour up along the river. It was full dark then,

and they come down off a hill in front of us, a-yelling and screaming."

"A frontal attack, then. If the Indians were planning to ambush you,

what did they gain by sending three men into your camp claiming they

wanted to talk surrender?"

Levi Pope's face seemed to elongate as he contemplated Ford's question.

"I don't rightly know."

"Do you think the Indians are stupid, Mr. Pope?"

"Well, they was stupid to start this war." Levi grinned at Ford, looking

pleased with himself. Auguste heard some appreciative chuckles from the

spectators. He turned and saw Levi Pope's wife, a skinny, pale woman,

frowning at her husband as if his testimony made her angry.

Ford nodded and held off on making his reply while he paced the open

space before the judge's table and let his calm gaze travel over all the

spectators and jurymen. He waited until the hall was quiet.

"Maybe the Indians thought it was a stupid war, too, Mr. Pope. Maybe

that is the real reason Black Hawk sent those three braves to your

camp."

"Objection," called Bennett. "Mr. Ford is just speculating."

Ford said, "Your Honor, the claim by Colonel de Marion and others that

the Indian attempt to make peace, in which Auguste de Marion

participated, was some kind of dastardly trick is, itself, merely

speculation."

Judge Cooper grunted. "Well, let's stick to what people know, not what

they think they know."

"Fine with me, Your Honor," said Ford, "as long as the prosecution is

held to the same standard."

Auguste's belly tightened as he heard Ford speak sharply to the judge.

He'd seen some hope in Cooper. He didn't want him antagonized. Then he

slumped, letting his manacled hands dangle. What difference? He didn't

have a chance anyway.

Ford went back to his seat, smiling grimly at Auguste, and Levi Pope,

looking somewhat puzzled, slouched back to his place among the

spectators. Judge Cooper declared that proceedings were over for the day

and that the defense would call its witnesses tomorrow.

Hopelessly, Auguste stood up and bent over to pick up the iron ball

chained to his leg. Perhaps, he thought, Lynch's law would be better. At

least it would not prolong his suffering, make him relive moment by

moment everything he and those he loved had suffered over the past year.

And sooner or later he was bound to end up in the same place--a grave.

The following day Nicole was sitting in the witness chair, answering

Ford's questions in a soft, melodious voice.

Ford asked, "Do you agree, Mrs. Hopkins, with your brother's charge that

Auguste is a renegade and murderer?"

Nicole's full face reddened with anger. "My God, no! Auguste never

turned against us. He left Smith County because Raoul would have had him

murdered if he'd stayed. Auguste has never harmed anyone."

Ford's next witness was Mrs. Pamela Russell. Hearing the spectators

murmuring questions to one another after Ford called her name, Auguste

wondered anxiously what a woman whose husband had been killed by Wolf

Paw's raid on Victor could possibly say that would help him. Her black

dress and bonnet made her face look even paler. She clutched a black

leather bag in her lap.

Ford said, "Mrs. Russell, did your late husband entrust any papers to

you concerning Auguste de Marion?"

"Not exactly, but he kept such papers in our house and told me about

them. I kept them safe after he died."

"What were they?"

"A certificate of adoption and a will."

"Why did he keep them in your home instead of in the village hall?"

Pamela Russell's dark eyes flashed as she searched the courtroom,

looking, Auguste suspected, for Raoul.

"Raoul de Marion, who never let my husband forget that he owed his job

to him, ordered Burke to destroy both papers."

"That's a lie!" came Raoul's shout from the back of the hall.

Justus Bennett looked toward Raoul and said, "Colonel de Marion, please.

What this woman is saying might even help our case."

"All right," Raoul called. "But you watch what you're doing."

"Now, Mrs. Russell--" Ford began again.

"Burke knew that what he told him to do was wrong. So, instead of

destroying the adoption certificate and the will, he brought them home

and kept them in his strongbox in our cellar. When the Indians burned

our house, the papers survived." She paused, gazing over Ford's head.

"The papers survived."

"Do you have them now, Mrs. Russell?"

She unbuckled the strap that closed the leather bag in her lap and drew

out two folded pieces of paper. She handed them to Ford, who unfolded

them with a flourish and turned to the judge.

Ford asked, "Your Honor, may I read these documents to the court?"

"Go right ahead," said Judge Cooper.

"First, the certificate of adoption," said Ford.

Auguste felt a hard lump rise to block his throat as Ford read the

statement that Pierre de Marion, on the sixteenth day of August, 1825,

did declare his natural son, hereafter to be known as Auguste de Marion,

to be his lawful son, granting him all rights and privileges to which

that status might entitle him.

Auguste covered his burning eyes with his hand.

_I meant so much to him._

"Now," said Ford, "the will: 'I, Pierre de Marion, residing on the

estate called Victoire, in the County of Smith and State of Illinois,

make this my will and revoke all prior wills and codicils.'"

It was the will Auguste had fought against until Pierre had finally

persuaded him to smoke the calumet; the will giving the chateau and the

land to Auguste. There were also monetary gifts to a number of servants,

including one of two hundred dollars to Armand and Marchette Perrault.

Auguste heard an angry-bee buzzing among the spectators. By seizing the

estate, and concealing the will, Raoul had wiped out these gifts. He'd

have to face some angry servants today, Auguste thought with

satisfaction. Including that swine Perrault.

"The prosecution will want to see those papers," said Bennett when Ford

had finished reading.

"Of course," said Cooper. "You may have a look any time. In my

presence."