l stay at Victoire!"

Nicole touched Frank's arm, and they stopped and drew back a little,
standing beside the long black barrel of the six-pounder naval cannon
Raoul had set up in the blockhouse. It would be best not to intrude on
Raoul when he was in the midst of a quarrel.

"But none of them French people there like me," a woman answered, high,
nasal, with a Missouri twang. "It's downright lonesome." Nicole
recognized Clarissa Greenglove's voice.

"I'm going to be gone and your father's coming with me. Where the hell
else would you stay?"

"With my Aunt Melinda in St. Louis. That'd be a perfect place. You could
send me down on the _Victory_.'"

"Of course I could." Raoul's voice was creamy with sarcasm. "And then do
you know what would happen? Half those men who are out in the courtyard
now volunteering for my militia company would quit. Because if I send
you and Phil and Andy away, it means _their_ families aren't safe. And
so they'd insist on staying home to protect them."

His voice rose to a shout. "Do you understand now, goddamn it? Then get
the hell out of here."

A moment later Clarissa scurried out past the iron-reinforced door of
Raoul's counting room. The two small boys she'd borne to Raoul ran
beside her floor-length calico skirt. She'd gotten to be
round-shouldered, Nicole saw.

Clarissa nodded. "Mister, Miz Hopkins."

"Morning, Clarissa," said Nicole. To call her by her first name felt not
quite respectful, but to call her "Miss Greenglove," especially with her
two sons right there with her, seemed cruel.

Clarissa gave Nicole a woebegone look that seemed to be asking for
something--Nicole wasn't quite sure what. Then she ducked her head, and
her bonnet hid her eyes.

Phil, the five-year-old, looked up at Nicole. He had very light blond
hair, almost silver, and large eyes that seemed set deep in his pale,
thin face. A little ghost.

"My dad's gonna fight Injuns."

"That's fine." Nicole didn't know what else to say. Clarissa, who had
taken a few steps ahead, reached back and jerked Phil's arm so hard that
he hollered.

Raoul, when they entered his office, seemed unperturbed by his argument
with Clarissa. But his eyes widened and flashed with momentary anger
when he saw Nicole. Then he grinned, teeth white under his black
mustache.

"Well, Nicole and Frank. Come to lay your hatchets to rest? Now that the
Indians are waving theirs around?"

"That's why we're here, Raoul," said Frank.