churches had no attraction for him.

He knew that Christians, for the most part, saw his beliefs about the
spirit world as rubbish sprung out of ignorance--or, worse, inspired by
the Evil One. Pere Isaac's efforts to persuade him to walk in the way of
Jesus had prepared him for that. At school he did not speak of things
sacred to him, so as not to expose them to white scorn. When teachers
and fellow students tried to persuade him to take instruction in
Christianity, he was polite and evasive.

And when he felt he was smothering in the noise and crowding and dirt of
the huge city of New York, he would borrow a pony from the lady he
called Aunt Emilie--his father's cousin, actually--and ride out of New
York along a trail that led to the north end of the island of
Manhattan. There in a forest cave he had found, he would chew a bit of
the sacred mushroom Owl Carver had given him and restore his link with
the spirit world by journeying with the White Bear. All through these
six years, _his_ faith had remained strong.

Nicole broke in on his thoughts. "You're still studying medicine?"

"Just a beginning: I've read some books, attended some lectures. I
assisted a surgeon--Dr. Martin Bernard--at New York Hospital. I bought
myself a surgeon's box of instruments--got it in the trunk, there. But
if anybody came down with anything worse than an ingrown toenail, I'd be
scared to do anything about it."

Elysee said, "You can pull teeth, I hope, like any proper surgeon?"

Auguste shrugged. "I do have a turnkey for that. But I've never actually
used it."

"The only person in town who knows anything about treating the sick is
Gram Medill, the midwife," Nicole said. "Tom Slattery, the blacksmith,
pulls teeth. We need a real doctor."

Auguste felt a fluttering in his stomach as he wondered when he should
tell this white family of his that he wanted to leave them. Nicole was
thinking, he realized, that he would stay here at Victoire.

The steel-reinforced wooden wheels of the carriage bumped mercilessly
over the rutted road, and Auguste hoped Nicole wasn't pregnant at the
moment. The fact that his shaman's sense did not tell him reminded him
that he had been too long away from the Sauk. As they began to climb the
road that ran up the bluff, Nicole pointed out to Auguste that the newer
houses were made of boards rather than logs, because Frank had set up a
sawmill and workshop on the Peach River. Frank was now a master
carpenter,