* * *

The first person she saw at Lake in the Clouds was one person she did not wish to see, did not care to see ever again: her father. The judge stood on the porch of Hawkeye's cabin in the twilight, staring into the waterfall. He did not seem to hear them coming, although the exhausted horses lifted their heads to whinny with excitement at the idea of fresh hay and rest. He simply stood there. Her father, usually so meticulous about his person, was unshaven. His clothes, rumpled and splashed with mud. When he finally turned his head toward her, she saw that his eyes were sunken and red—rimmed.

"Daughter." The muscles in his neck moved beneath the soft folds of flesh. His voice was hoarse with disuse, or liquor. Or perhaps both, she thought.

"Father." Elizabeth climbed the porch and reached for the door.

"Wait."

She obeyed; and chided herself for it.

"It was an accident," he said."I admire Chingachgook above all men, I was trying to save his life. You must believe me." And then, in response to her silence, as deep as the dusk: "I wouldn't have thought you so cruel."

She drew in a ragged breath, all anger and frustration. "If you need forgiveness, then it is not from me. Where is Hawkeye?"

The judge turned his face from her. "He has three days left on his sentence.

"But Nathaniel—he paid the fine, did he not? Was not your sentence hundred dollars or seven days?"

"The sentence was a hundred dollars and seven days. As set out by law."

"Well, then, if you truly want to be forgiven, you must commute his sentence."

The judge's face contorted. "I would, daughter. If I could."

"No, Father. You could, if you would. But you will not risk the anger of the villagers. Is that right?"

"I am bound by the law," he said, two patches of red rising on his cheeks.

"How convenient. Now if you will excuse me."

Many-Doves came around the corner from the barn just as the door opened. Runs-from-Bears held out one hand toward her and she ran up the porch steps and into his arms. Elizabeth slipped past them with her head averted, but she could not help but hear his soft murmuring.

Curiosity stood on the far side of the main room, working a pestle and mortar. Falling—Day was at the hearth with a ladle in her hand. In the middle of the room was a cot, on which Chingachgook lay, his hands folded on his stomach. His face was turned from her, but his chest rose and fell fitfully.

On the edge of his cot, Hannah perched with a book in her hands.  Her voice broke off in mid—sentence when she looked up.

She was just tall enough to rest her head in the hollow spot between Elizabeth's breasts. She smelled of wood smoke and growing things, and she trembled slightly, in fear or relief, Elizabeth could not tell. She only knew that her throat was tight with joy at this greeting, in spite of the news written clearly on Curiosity's face.

Falling—Day murmured words of welcome to Elizabeth and to her daughter, who had come farther into the room to kneel next to the cot. Hannah pulled away, gently, and joined Many-Doves , picking up her book to find her place. Poor Richard's Almanac, Elizabeth saw now.

Curiosity laid a hand on Elizabeth's arm.

"How much longer?"

She lifted a shoulder, inclined her head. "Tonight, I'd say."

"Where is Nathaniel?"

"He went to fetch Hawkeye."

"But I thought—”

“Maybe you can stop him," said Curiosity, "if you hurry."

* * *

Headed down the path from Lake in the Clouds at a fast clip and lost in her worries, Elizabeth was taken by surprise at the arm that shot out of the dark behind the church and caught her up. Even knowing it was Nathaniel, a small cry of alarm escaped her, to be stifled immediately against his shirt.

He set her firmly on her feet and then pinned her up against the wall of the church. She was breathing hard; he kissed her, harder.

"Nathaniel!" she hissed, breaking away.

"I'm glad to see you home safe, Boots. Although I have to say your timing ain't optimal." He touched the corner of her mouth with his thumb and she caught his hand, held it there.

"Nathaniel, tell me you're not here to break Hawkeye out of Anna's pantry."

He hushed her, pulling her farther away from the path. There were voices, coming closer. Men on their way to Axel's tavern, where the noise indicated some party well under way. Elizabeth waited until the pressure of his fingers on her arm relaxed. Then she took his face between her hands and made him look at her.

"It will do us no good if they lock you up, too," she said, keeping her eyes fixed on his. "Come back home with me. Your grandfather will be asking for you."

Nathaniel caught her hands and pushed them down, firmly. "He'll be asking for my father, too, and I aim to make sure he's there."

"Please, be reasonable. There is no window big enough for him to climb through. Anna sleeps in the next room, and the tavern is right there—it's impossible. They must have posted a guard."

"Aye," Nathaniel agreed with a grim smile. "Liam Kirby, asleep on stool with his hat pulled over his eyes."

Elizabeth tried to calm her voice, seeking frantically for that logic which would reach him. "Nathaniel, it sounds as though every man in the village is in the tavern."

Bursts of singing came to them on the warm evening breeze, interrupted by raised voices and an occasional shouted laugh.