legislature, there's a governor."

Raoul made a sound halfway between a laugh and a grunt. "Take your
half-breed friend to the governor. John Reynolds wants the Indians out
of Illinois as bad as anybody does. He was there with the militia on
Rock River last June. Hell, go to the President. I'd like to see what an
old Indian killer like Andy Jackson would say to you."

All too true, Auguste thought sadly. He had learned in New York of
Jackson's "removal" policy, aiming to drive all the red people to the
west side of the Mississippi. The work of the white chiefs was to take
land from Indians, not help them keep it.

Pere Isaac said, "To rob the orphan is a sin that cries out to Heaven
for vengeance. If you came to me in confession I could not give you
absolution."

"My conscience is clear," Raoul said. "Victoire is my rightful heritage.
Do you know that this Indian boy you feel so sorry for isn't even a
Christian? I am, Father. A Catholic."

"A very bad one," said Pere Isaac. "I have known Auguste since he was a
small boy. He behaves more like a Christian than you do."

A woman's voice, Nancy Hale's, rang out over the field. "Raoul de
Marion, if you won't listen to your own priest, you'll still have to
face my father. When he hears what you've done he'll preach against you
and he'll stir people to make you do the right thing."

Raoul's face changed. He looked pained.

"Now, Miss Nancy. It isn't proper for a lady like you to concern herself
with what happens to trash like this. You know well and good that your
father may have a low opinion of me, but he has an even lower opinion of
Indians. He won't side with this Indian bastard."

Suddenly Nicole rushed past Auguste.

"You're the one who's trash, Raoul!" she cried, and ran across the
intervening space and swung her hand to slap her brother. Raoul grabbed
her arm and pushed her away roughly. Frank rushed to her side to hold
her, his ink-stained fingers digging into her sleeves.

"I wouldn't want to fight with you, Nicole," said Raoul with a cruel
grin. "I believe you've got the weight advantage on me."

"You're a murderer and a thief, Raoul," she shot back. "And the day will
come when people will have enough of you and drive you out of this
county."

Waves of heat and cold ran through Auguste's body, and when he clenched
his fists he felt the sweat on his palms. He had to speak out. He owed
it to his father to fight, somehow, for this land. But how could he