"Let me just make one thing clear," Hawkeye said, in a congenial tone of voice which had no obvious connection to the cold expression in his eyes. "I'll mind my manners for a few more minutes here, out of respect for Martha. She was done a dirty turn by her daddy when he married her off to you—hold it now," he said quietly. "Hear me out. I won't have you talking like that about a woman who's in there trying to save your wife's life. Do it again and I'll feed you your teeth one by one."

"Are you threatening me?" Moses thundered.

Hawkeye blinked at him slowly. "You do catch on, eventual."

"You heard him, didn't you, Middleton? Heard the whoreson threaten me?" Moses had turned toward Julian, who leaned against the woodpile with one shoulder. Then he looked Julian up and down, his mouth curved in disgust. "What am I asking you for? Your sister is as bad as any of them, selling out to that pack of savages and thieves." His laugh was a harsh barking sound. "A few years ago we would have had a way to deal with the likes of her," he said, grinning. "A lesson or two for the teacher that she wouldn't forget. How to stick with her own kind."

Moses seemed to have forgotten about Hawkeye, forgotten about everybody but Julian, who stood listening to the ranting with one brow cocked. The man didn't even take note when Hawkeye came up behind him. He let out a surprised whoosh of air when the rifle butt tapped him on the back of the head, and collapsed in an awkward bundle at Julian's feet.

Hawkeye stood looking down at him.

"The man is a damn nuisance," he said. "I'd rather listen to Martha holler."

"He'll be hollering loud enough tomorrow, wait and see," noted Axel.

"I'm afraid I've had enough of the festivities," Julian said as he stepped over Moses. "Although it's been highly amusing."

"Tell me, Middleton," Hawkeye said, leaning on the barrel of his rifle. "What does it take to rouse you?"

Julian laughed softly. "Rousing is quite outside my sphere of experience since I've been here. Something I don't have in common with my sister, if you'll allow me an observation without taking your rifle to my skull."

"Wouldn't dream of stopping you," said Hawkeye. "Go on and talk about your sister, I'd like to hear what you've got to say."

"Oh, I'm sure you would," Julian agreed. "But you're mistaken if you're looking to me to defend her good name. It is a lost cause, I fear. And beyond that, I haven't the energy or the inclination."

"Your sister don't need your protection anymore."

"For her sake, I hope you are correct in that," Julian agreed, the usual mocking lilt gone from his tone.

Hawkeye said, "Someday, something is going to take you by surprise and wake you up."

Julian shrugged. A picture came to him: Many-Doves bent over a book in his sister's schoolhouse. The sweep of her brows, the color of the skin over her cheekbones.

"I very much doubt that," he said, turning away.

From the open cabin door there was the faint mewling cry of a newborn baby.

"Stay and drink the child's health," called Axel behind him. "His daddy can't.

But Julian waved a hand over his head lazily without bothering to turn back. He was not surprised to see Galileo was waiting in the shadows. They walked on together in silence to the wagon. Julian climbed up without a comment, resting his head on the back of the seat to watch the stars revolving over him.

Later, lying awake in his bed listening to his father's restless turning in the next room, he was amazed at himself. What had come over him, he wondered, to have passed up such a rare opportunity as a free drink?

Chapter 32

For all of her life she had been coddled and spoiled, Elizabeth knew; finally, the time of reckoning was at hand. She drew in a ragged breath, cursed halfheartedly, and tried in vain not to yelp.

"I'll stop whining," she muttered out loud. "I will, I will stop being such a coward."

Nathaniel was sitting cross—legged with her bare foot balanced on one of his knees. He paused in his work to look up at her. "There's not a cowardly bone in you," he said. "And you're doing fine."

Elizabeth was determined to look only at his face and no lower; certainly she had no intention of looking at the needle held so purposefully between his long fingers, but as that was almost impossible she looked away completely.

"Good thing you brought a sewing kit along," he observed, dropping another shard of wood onto the small pile beside her.

"A lady," she said through clenched teeth, "is always prepared for mishaps."

He grinned up at her briefly. "Once Bears opened up his palm with knife, he was that crazy to get a skelf out."

"That sounds perfectly reasonable to me," she said, and then yelped again. "And what is a skelf, if I might ask?"

Nathaniel held up a small shred of wood impaled on his needle. "That's a skelf. What do you call it?"

"Misery." Elizabeth grimaced. "Otherwise I suppose I'd call it a sliver. Skelf must be Scots."

"Hmmm," Nathaniel agreed absently. He had a set to his jaw she didn't like, and so she looked away.

There was an eagle circling over the tops of the pine trees, raw, gliding power. She could hear the way its wings cut the air. Or she could, she was sure, if she just concentrated hard enough. Vaguely she was aware of the sound of running water from the stream just behind them, and the way her own sweat ran down her face into her eyes and stung, stung, stung. She rocked her head back and bit her lip.