"And you know this Archimedes?"

"I do. He's my Galileo's brother. When Richard's uncle come back through Paradise to see the judge, Archimedes sat in my kitchen. That was the year Manny was born, and Archimedes dandled the boy on his knee the whole time."

Curiosity's smile was different now, turned inward. But she shook herself and sighed.

"So you see, some of what I'm telling you, don't no other white folks know. Except Richard his self

"I don't understand," Elizabeth said slowly. "Mr. Bennett told me that Richard was eventually redeemed by his uncle."

"It's true enough that Samuel stayed and Richard left," Curiosity agreed. "But not because the uncle paid a ransom. Although I guess that's the story people tell. No, Richard run off the fall he was eleven. Slipped away from a hunting party and made his way back to Paradise."

"But that was in Canada—" Elizabeth stopped. "He made his way through the endless forest by himself?"

"He did. With no more than a knife and a bag of ho cake on him, he walked the length of the bush down to Paradise. Took him the winter."

"He was eleven years old," Elizabeth repeated to herself."

"Yasm," Curiosity agreed. "He surely was. But he kept himself fed, eating mostly rabbit, I guess, and squirrel, whatever he could snare. He ran to keep warm and found his way by the stars. So I guess you could say it was the eight years he spent with the Mohawk that kept him alive. Richard Todd is as white a man as you will ever see on the outside with his velvet and brocade, but the boy inside him was raised a Mohawk. And a warrior."

Elizabeth was thinking hard.

"What made him change his mind and leave his brother behind?"

"That I cain't answer. Guess nobody could, but Richard. And Samuel, but he's dead. Died fighting with the British in the revolution."

"Do folks around here know about Richard's escape and the winter he spent in the woods?"

"A' course they do," Curiosity said. "He come back here, after all. It was Chingachgook who found him, brought him into the trading post that February. Thin as a whipsaw, telling his story in half English and half Mohawk. Hawkeye and Cora wanted to take him in, but he wouldn't go near Hidden Wolf at first. Later he couldn't stay away," she said, sighing. "But at first an' Reverend Witherspoon took him and kept him until the spring, when his uncle came to fetch him to Albany."

"Richard lived with the Witherspoons?"

"He did. Let's see, Kitty would have been about five. Mrs. Witherspoon had died that winter, and I guess the reverend thought it would do her good to have the boy in the house for a while. It was Kitty that taught him English again. I remember the way she tagged along behind him, hanging on to his coattails, chattering the whole day long." Curiosity smiled a little. "She would do it to this day, if only she could."

"So she would," Elizabeth agreed.

They were silent for a while. There was an unreal quality to the clear spring air, filled with birdsong and the rustling of the woods coming to life again. It was early afternoon, but to Elizabeth it felt as if a week had passed since Curiosity had brought her morning tea. She could smell Nathaniel on her skin. The feel of his hands on her hips came to her, and she drew in a sharp breath. There was a sudden urge in her just to turn on her heel and go back to him, to hide there under the waterfall and never come out again. She felt vulnerable without him as she had never before felt in her life.

"Nathaniel's training must have been much like Richard's," Elizabeth said after a long time.

"Uh—huh," Curiosity agreed. "Ain't many men as good as Nathaniel—in the bush or out of it. I would trust him with my life, no question. But there's a difference between Richard and Nathaniel, and it's one you don't want to forget about." She stopped, and she took Elizabeth's hand, palm up, in her own. It was a strangely personal gesture, and it moved Elizabeth.

"Some men get an idea in their head and they cain't let go. It festers, and turns into a kind of poison. Richard's got the Wolf in him, you see, Elizabeth, and if you take it away from him, there's no telling what might happen."

She said, "I don't have any choice."

"Yes you do," Curiosity said softly. "Right now you do."

"It's not right, what Richard wants to do to them," Elizabeth said.

Curiosity was looking at her with a kind of understanding that made it clear that there was nothing to hide, and Elizabeth met this look with thankfulness.

"It's not Richard I love," she said, willing her voice strong and sure, but hearing the tremor that betrayed her.

"I can see that, child," Curiosity said, and dropped Elizabeth's hand. "Just you two make sure you don't forget about Richard. Because he surely won't forget about you."

When they had walked another ten minutes or so in silence, Elizabethcleared her throat.

"There's more to the story that you're not telling me," she said quietly.

"That so?" asked Curiosity.

"There's Sarah," Elizabeth said, the familiar name feeling strange in her mouth.

"Why, yes, now that you mention it." Curiosity seemed to be considering. "Weren't clear to me how much you was told about her. Or how much you was wanting to know."

For the first time since Curiosity began telling her story, Elizabeth laughed, but it wasn't a joyful sound. "That's a question I can't answer," she said. "Except to say that I have a feeling I need to know more than I want to know."