"Might be dangerous, miss," the man answered from the depths of his mufflers and wraps."The judge don't have a feel for that musket yet."

"What!" Elizabeth laughed out loud."Do you think he would shoot us?"

"Not on purpose, no, miss." Galileo sat down again on the box. "But I don't put much faith in that smooth—bore of his."

When it was clear that the man meant what he said and did not intend to move into firing range, Elizabeth began to gather her skirts together."Well, then, I'll go on foot," she said firmly. Balanced on the side of the sleigh for the jump down, she paused as a double gunshot burst and then echoed over the valley, chased by the baying of the dogs.

"Did they get the deer?"

Galileo was standing again to calm the horses and he squinted in the direction of the shots. "Somebody got something," he said slowly.

Elizabeth set off as quickly as she was able, but the deep snow reached over the tops of her boots, and her skirts were heavy. By the time she came within a few feet of the men she was flushed and overheated; pushing her hood of flannel and silk back onto her shoulders to feel the cold air on her scalp, she distinguished her brother's voice over the rush of the waterfall. She recognized the tone he reserved for servants and she groaned inwardly. At the same time, although she did not know exactly why, she feared for his well—being.

The men fell silent as she approached. Even the dogs settled down immediately beside the hunters.

"Elizabeth, my dear," said the judge."I believe you would be more comfortable in the sleigh."

Elizabeth glanced uneasily from her father's friendly but distracted expression to her brother's angry one, and then at the hunters, who did not turn to greet her. This discourtesy she took as a sign of their disapproval, but Elizabeth was determined not to be sent off like a child.

"Did you get the deer, Father?"

The judge shook his head. "No, I'm afraid I didn't. Hawkeye—Mr. Bonner—got the doe, and I—well, I should have listened to Galileo. Most of my shot went wild but I'm afraid one ball did find a target—"

At that the two strangers turned toward Elizabeth. Surprised, she saw that neither of them—although dressed like natives, and wearing feathers in their unbound hair—were Indian. Then, with a wave of distress that left her unsteady, Elizabeth saw what her father had done.

A flower of blood blossomed freely on the younger man's right shoulder.

Elizabeth stepped toward him, but he stepped back just as quickly, to avoid her; surprised, she looked from his wound to his face. She saw lines and planes so strong that she was reminded of a stone sculpture, straight dark brows over hazel eyes, and a high forehead creased in—pain? Anger?

And Elizabeth took in the fact that this stranger, this man, was both furious and in complete control, and that his attention was focused, exclusively, absolutely, on her.

* * *

A half hour later, once again on their way, Elizabeth found herself seated across from two men to whom she had just been introduced in the briefest and most unusual manner. Dan'l Bonner—the one the judge called Hawkeye—was the focus of her brother's attention. His son, Nathaniel, was utterly silent.

At the back of the sleigh, strapped quickly across the piles of luggage, was the deer; Nathaniel Bonner had only agreed to come into the village for medical treatment once the judge—over Julian's protests—had acknowledged the Bonners' rightful claim to the animal. Now Julian fumed, arguing in turns with Hawkeye and his own father. Nathaniel took no part in the argument, but neither did he miss a word; Elizabeth was sure of it.

Elizabeth found herself glancing up at Nathaniel far more often than she knew she should, and without fail she found him looking at her. Each time this happened, Elizabeth looked away and vowed not to look up again, but she could not curb her curiosity: this was a white man, dressed like an Indian, with a long earring of beaten silver dangling from one ear; she had heard him speaking to his father in a language which must be native; he was tall and lean and as menacing as a whipcord; one broad hand held the barrel of the long rifle in a manner which was both casual and deliberate. There was a serious wound in his shoulder which had been hastily stanched with her father's handkerchief and Elizabeth's own scarf, but it seemed to concern him not at all; and he was determined to look at her, and only her, without pause. This behavior—impertinent, and distinctly unseemly—so unnerved her that Elizabeth could not think of anything suitable to say to him in reproach.

"Father, I simply do not understand. The land on which the animal fell belongs to you," Julian was saying.

The judge nodded. "It does. Right now we are just about in the middle of the original patent, which was about a thousand acres. Backs right onto the wilderness on the other side of HiddenWolfMountain."

Elizabeth, who at that moment was glancing up at Nathaniel, saw a slight tremor in his face.

"Are you in pain, Mr. Bonner?"

Her brother turned toward her irritably."My God, Elizabeth. It's a minor wound. He won't die of it."

"No one has ever died of good manners, either, Julian," Elizabeth said dryly. "You might try some for yourself and find out."

This brought out a surprised grunt of amusement from Hawkeye, who shifted his attention from Julian for a moment to appraise Elizabeth.

"Then give him the doe as payment for his pain and suffering," Julian continued. "But do not call it his. You cannot countenance poaching."