Pamela's hand. "His plan is like a painting that's so big
we can only see dark spots or bright spots without knowing what it all
means. But I think one day he'll take us up with him, where we can see
the whole picture and understand it."

"Nicole," Frank called. She gave Pamela's hand a squeeze and went to see
what Frank was looking at through the rifle port.

Even at this distance she could hear the roaring of the flames. Sparks
shot up past the palisade, and a red glow filled the sky.

"They're burning the town," he said. "Our home is gone. Our shop."

She turned back to see Pamela, sitting on the bench, a lost look on her
pale face. She thought of the people who had not managed to reach the
shelter of the trading post. She put her arm around Frank's waist and
pressed herself against him.

"You and I are alive and all of our children are alive," she said. "God
has blessed us."

16

Yellow Hair

"Wolf Paw has come back!"

White Bear felt a hollow in his stomach as the cry ran through the camp.
Wolf Paw had vowed to bring death and destruction to the pale eyes such
as they had never known before.

Before he left, Wolf Paw had held a ritual dog feast to insure success.
He had hung one of his own dogs from a painted pole by its hind legs and
disemboweled it alive, asking Earthmaker's blessing on the war party.
Then his wives, Running Deer and Burning Pine, had cooked the dog and
served bits of the meat to the braves and warriors who would follow Wolf
Paw on this raid. If he would choose one of his cherished dogs to be
sacrificed, what would he do to the people of Victor?

For days White Bear had held himself rigid, hardly able to eat, lying
awake at night, waiting for Wolf Paw's war party to come back. What
horrors would he have to face now?

Women and children ran to surround the returning braves and warriors.
White Bear saw Iron Knife on horseback towering above the crowd, his
huge arms lifted triumphantly. From each fist dangled a scalp. Beside
him was Wolf Paw, a blue cloth, stained red with blood, wrapped around
his left shoulder. Wolf Paw's right hand was raised high, gripping three
long hanks of hair with disks of white flesh hanging from them. More
braves rode behind them, also holding up scalps. Scalps, scalps, scalps.

White Bear staggered. He could not take his eyes from them. The hair was
of many different colors--light brown, gray, dark brown, black. Some of
the locks were very long,