ly thinking, his voice had regained its strength. "Sure,
I'll let the Indian live. He's nothing to me."

He noticed that his hand still shook a little as he gave Bennett's
pistol back to him. He took his own, reloaded, from Armand and holstered
it, hoping no one could see his tremor.

"My hand on it," he said, holding out his right hand, willing it to be
steady.

The grip that met his was crushing. Even though he'd seen the bony young
man immobilize Little Foot, Raoul was surprised.

He felt the men would expect him to do more to show his gratitude.

"Come and have a drink with me, Abe."

"My pleasure, sir."

Armand had finished putting Raoul's tent up. In the tent Armand uncorked
a jug and handed it to Raoul, who offered it to Lincoln. The young man
hooked his finger in the ring at the neck of the jug and raised it to
his mouth. Raoul watched the prominent Adam's apple rise and fall as he
took a long swallow.

"I normally don't touch whiskey, sir," Lincoln said, handing the jug
back to Raoul. "I've seen it ruin too many good men. But I do appreciate
this. It's not every day I grab a pistol as it goes off, wrestle an
Indian and disobey a colonel."

"Well, that's the best whiskey there is. Old Kaintuck--O.K."

"Three things Kentucky makes better than anyplace else," said Lincoln.
"Quilts, rifles and whiskey. I should know. That's where I hail from."

It was because of men like this, Raoul thought with some disdain, that
Illinoisians got their nickname, "Suckers." The weak shoots of the
tobacco plant that had to be stripped off and thrown away were called
suckers, and Illinois was said to be largely populated by ne'er-do-well
emigrants from tobacco-growing states like Kentucky.

"Then here's to Kentucky," said Raoul, loathing the tall, ugly man for
spoiling his revenge.

He lifted the jug to his lips and let the burning liquid roll over his
tongue and slide down his throat, grateful to it for the warmth that
would melt away the chill of death he still felt around his heart.

A few more swigs and Raoul found himself wanting to bring Lincoln around
to his way of thinking. The man, after all, _had_ saved his life.

"You know, you went to a whole lot of bother over that Indian now," he
said. "It's a waste of time. We're only going to have to kill them all
later anyway."

Lincoln winced, as if Raoul's words had hurt him. "Why do you say that,
sir?"

"I've got a big estate in Smith County, beside the Missis