"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 therest 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 moccasinsStruck fire as they touched the ground."
"We walk this trail, following the deer.Sing as you walk, oh, braves and squaws!Last night I dreamed my moccasinsStruck 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 redcrest. 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 eyesand 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, holdingher 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 Lilybetween 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 ..."
"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 theirhorses 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.
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 hisspeech 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. "Heruns 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 provedagainstyou," 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 theVictoryfor 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'tput 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 thosethree 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 incredulouslook 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 Légiste."
"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 spiritsagainst 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 Elysée 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 Elysée 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?"