me, then you never loved either one of
us."

Pierre felt a sudden surge of anger. "Raoul, I forbid you to speak that
way to our father. You are cruel and unjust."

"You owe _me_ justice, Pierre, you and Papa. Where was he when you
abandoned me to the Indians? Where were you?"

Pierre's legs shook. He could feel the rage radiating from Raoul; it was
like standing too close to a red-hot stove.

Auguste said, "Father."

Pierre turned and looked into the dark young eyes.

Auguste spoke in Sauk. "Father, I am the cause of this man's anger."

"There is much to explain, son," said Pierre. "Be patient and quiet, and
all will be well."

Pierre saw fear struggling with resolution in his son's face. A pallor
in the fine olive skin showed that Auguste had not yet gotten over being
sick. Auguste squared his shoulders and took a step toward Raoul. He
raised his right hand in greeting.

"I greet uncle," he said solemnly in English.

"Keep this mongrel away from me, Pierre," Raoul said.

"Frank," said Nicole, "take the children out of here."

Frank picked Abigail up and carried her, with Tom and Benjamin trailing.
He walked off toward the kitchen, looking back over his shoulder at
Nicole.

Elysee said, "Remember, Raoul, this is my grandson."

"Your grandson!" Raoul spat.

Auguste held out his right hand to Raoul. "I sorry you angry. Want be
friend."

In a moment, Pierre thought, he would have to get between them. But his
stomach hurt so badly that he could hardly move.

"If you want to be my friend, you mongrel bastard, get as far away from
this house and from me as you can," Raoul said.

Auguste took another step toward Raoul, still holding out his hand. He'd
learned about shaking hands from Frank Hopkins just a little while ago,
Pierre remembered.

"Auguste, no!" Pierre cried.

"Don't you try to touch me, redskin."

Raoul thrust out his own hand and struck at Auguste's. He grabbed
Auguste's shirt, twisting the buckskin in his big hand.

Raoul had lost all control. The fury was upon him. Pierre forgot about
his own pain and tried to throw himself between Raoul and Auguste. His
chest hit Raoul's arm, hard as an iron bar.

"Let go of him, Raoul," Pierre said.

"Raoul, stop it!" Elysee shouted.

"All right." Raoul punched his fist into Auguste's chest and released
him, sending the boy staggering backward to fall to the floor.

Rage blazed up inside Pierre. The sight of his son knocked to the floor
swept