"This is a strange coincidence," she said. "I was about to ask you the very same question, little brother."

* * *

Nathaniel had never thought much of the Reverend Mr. Witherspoon, but he found reason this morning to revise his opinion. Kitty had flatly refused to accompany him to the trading post; only her father's intercession had worked to change her mind. Word of Richard's whereabouts and health—which she demanded immediately, but which Nathaniel would not supply—were only to be had if she came along with him. Mr. Witherspoon helped her wrap herself in a light cloak that could not conceal a six— or seven—month pregnancy, and the three of them made their way to the village in the rain.

Kitty was silent, after she found that Nathaniel would not answer questions. This left Mr. Witherspoon to inquire after Elizabeth in manner which managed to be both polite and severe.

"She has broken her father's heart."

"She has settled all of her father's considerable debts," amended Nathaniel.

"I hope she does not already regret her hasty actions."

"You can ask her yourself." Nathaniel pointed out. "She's waiting for us." From the corner of his eye he saw Kitty start. Her face took on a set look, as if this news were unexpected, but quite welcome.

"If she would only apologize for the injury she has inflicted, I am sure the judge would forgive her and take her back into his home. The man is all kindness, when he is well treated."

Nathaniel almost laughed out loud. He looked at the clergyman at some length, the smudged spectacles sitting crooked on the long, reddened nose, the hollow cheeks and pale mouth. Watery blue eyes met his own, and in them he saw that it was hopeless: the man wore blinders and would never even know it.

"My wife has a home," he said simply. "She don't need the judge's charity."

"Father," said Kitty sharply. "Can't you see that your arguments are wasted on him? Sue a beggar and you will profit nothing but fleas, after all."

Now Nathaniel did laugh, as he was sorely tempted to ask her what kind of fleas she had profited from Julian Middleton. His laughter hit her hard; he saw her color up, her eyes flashing anger and tears.

He had grown up with Kitty Witherspoon and it was not the first time he had made her cry, in the normal rough way older boys had with little girls. But Kitty in tears made Nathaniel feel thirteen again, which in turn made him think of his mother.

Cora had taken Kitty on when Mrs. Witherspoon died. Her father had not known what to do with a little girl, and so it was Cora who had taught Kitty how to sew and cook, and who had listened patiently to her stories, answered her questions. Nathaniel could hardly remember a time in those years when she had not spent all or part of every day on Hidden Wolf.

Then Richard had come back to Paradise. It was Kitty who had brought him up to Lake in the Clouds the first time, understanding that Cora would make room for him. Stray cats found their way to the kindest heart in the village, his father had commented on coming home from a long hunt to find three children at his table instead of one. But he hadn't minded, not if it pleased Cora to have them around her. My mother could have taught you something about charity, Nathaniel thought, as Witherspoon carried on about the duties of children.

Nathaniel should have been angry with Kitty; she had caused trouble and was willing to cause more. But he had his mother at his elbow now, and he saw Kitty as she would have: still a girl at heart and mind, her slender back bent with the weight of a child who brought her no joy, fathered by a man who would never claim it, or her. Suddenly Kitty was once again the almost—sister she had been, and Nathaniel was overwhelmed with anger at Julian Middleton, and at Richard Todd as well, who had offered her a home and his name as he would make any business deal. She deserved better and he was tempted to tell her so. But he also knew that her own anger was as deep and unfathomable as her sorrow, and that words—his words—would not help right now. Having learned not only charity but the value of a well—timed silence from his mother, Nathaniel kept his thoughts to himself.

* * *

Alfred Middleton, onetime trapper and hunter, adventurer, land speculator and property holder, presently judge in the township of Paradise in the state of New—York, understood above all things how to play to an audience. This particular audience was well disposed toward his plight and would come completely over to his side with very little work at all, if only his son would hold his tongue. If only it weren't for Hawkeye, who stood watching with that infernal smirk; always knowing too much and guessing the rest. Standing there like an angel of God, ready to do battle for Elizabeth.

He hadn't seen his daughter for three good months, and hadn't expected to see her, either. Julian's plan, again. She would be easier to persuade that way, or so his reasoning went. But Elizabeth stood before him now with her eyes flashing and her cheeks flushed with color, and he realized with some surprise that she was pretty, if you could overlook the impudent way she had of meeting a man's eye. There were other men in the room who appreciated what they saw, too: the younger ones showed it plainly, the older ones with swift, guarded glances. The judge wondered for the first time if Bonner might have married her for something other than the mountain. The fact that Nathaniel wasn't here hadn't escaped the judge. All at once he didn't feel quite so comfortable with the door at his back, and he moved slightly forward.

The truth was, if it weren't for the land, he would almost be glad to see her wed to Nathaniel Bonner. She was as strong willed as her mother, but smarter: a bad combination in any woman, but impossible in a daughter. Maybe Nathaniel could handle her. God knew Todd hadn't been up to the job.