girls back at Isabella's.

"Where did you come from anyway?"

"The captain found me, on the ship of my Spanish master. He thought I

would suit for you.""The captain? You mean Stone?""Si! He is making ready for your journey home."Though she'd imagined all sorts of reasons for him to stay away, underneath her brave resolutions she'd really feared that he was back in Heaven with Isabella. Of course he still might be. All she knew for certain was that he had turned to piracy again.

"That rogue, that lying, rotten outlaw. He's out robbing the Spanish,

risking his life while I'm left here alone."

Catherine, in a rare display of temper, threw the girl's sewing basket through the window and sent her scurrying out the door.

"He'll be killed, or caught, or" -- "Miz Cat!" Pharaoh poked his head in the door cautiously.

"What you doing, throwing things out the window?"

"I'm practicing, Pharaoh. If Patrick McLendon ever sticks his head in that door, I'm going to bash it in."

Pharaoh backed out and closed the door. He allowed himself a smile.Miss Catherine was a fine lady, a real firecracker, just what Mr.Patrick needed. Word had come, just this morning, by the man who'd brought Consuelo, that Stone would be making the payment on his land

and returning to Rainbow's End by the next week.

He'd be pleased when he learned about the child. And they'd be together just like Miss Catherine wanted.

Pharaoh allowed himself a sentimental sigh of contentment.

There was nothing sentimental about the tears streaming down

Catherine's face. They were tears of frustration and anger, mixed withfear.Making ready for your journey home!Stone had no intention of coming back. He was doing just what he'd said he would, making arrangements to send her back to Petersburg.

Nothing that had happened between them had changed his mind. The angerinside her swelled, choking her, slowly squeezing her heart like agiant hand.

What was she going to do?

How could she make him see that this was where she belonged, where theyboth belonged? Like her, the cotton was splitting the seams of its cover. Patrick would have a fine crop. A slave who'd escaped thesugar plantation on the Caribbean island was busy overseeing theconstruction of a shack where the cane juice could be turned into sugarcrystals. He'd done it there, and he was convinced that it could bedone here, if not with this crop, then with the next.

In this lush new country, life was taking on form and order. Were it not for Patrick's refusal to marry her, their lives would be perfect.

The morning passed as Catherine paced the tiny room where she'd spenttoo many long sleepless nights considering the problem. Through herwindow she watched Pharaoh oversee the unloading of the supplies thathad just arrived by flatboat. On the return trip the boat would carrypelts and the portion of the indigo crop that they'd managed to salvageafter the fire.

As she watched the workers loading the indigo she was suddenly struckwith the answer. This boat was going to New Orleans. Charles was in New Orleans. If anybody could help Patrick clear his name, it wasCharles. She'd suggested that to Patrick before, but he'd refused togo to Charles, even if he was President Washington's representative.

But Catherine could go. And she would. She'd explain to Charles thatSimicco had killed the planter. Charles would meet with the governorand have the charges dismissed. Then there would be no barrier to Catherine and Patrick's marriage.

Quickly she plowed through the trunks of clothing that Patrick storedin the sleeping loft. She'd disguised herself as a man before. She could do it again. Then she'd hide herself somewhere on the boat until they reached New Orleans. Once there, she'd find Charles's office. It couldn't be too difficult. If she'd got from Petersburg to theMississippi, she could get to New Orleans.

First, Catherine tied her disguise inside a sheet of muslin and droppedit out the window, watching it fall harmlessly to the ground by theback of the house. After her throwing the sewing basket out the windowseveral days ago, the workers would dismiss this as her latest fit offury.

Telling Pharaoh that she was going for a walk, Catherine then left thehouse by the front door, circled around to the side and claimed herbundle. Moments later, her feminine clothing left behind, she wasdressed once more in men's shirt and trousers, with an old felt hatpulled down over her hair and obscuring her face.

Boarding the flatboat was less difficult than she'd expected. She simply lifted a keg, shielding her face, and followed the deckhandahead of her. Once she'd deposited the keg, she found a tiny spacebetween the drums and crouched down. She hadn't counted on being so hot, nor on the delay being so long. But finally the boat moved awayfrom shore and left Rainbow's End behind.

The shadowy figure watching from the swamp frowned. He'd been watchingfor days, trying to find an opportunity to get to the fire-haired woman. But there was always someone around, either that old black manor a number of younger ones who seemed always to be busy somewherenearby.

But now the fates had smiled on him. She'd left the protection of theblacks, fled into the swamp, and if he were any judge, nobody knew she was gone.

But he knew. The Sun King knew. The White Woman had put herselfwithin his reach. And more, he could tell that she was with child.

With a smile of satisfaction he slipped away, reaching his boat andsliding it into the water. The medicine woman was dead. He regrettedthat, for her magic had been powerful and she warmed his loins, butmore than that, she'd brought the White Woman. And until he'd made certain that she delivered her child, he couldn't rest.

His father had used black magic to impress Simicco with his duty. The planter who released the boy to be trained as one of the islandentertainers had used force to keep him in line. Between the two, theNatchez had become half man and half god, held controlled through fear.There had been times, as he'd watched the woman who called herselfCatherine walking in the woods, that he'd lost touch with who he really was.

Legend and mysticism had carried him to this land of his people andgiven him a heavy burden to carry. His first attempt at rule had endedin disaster. He'd lost Mona, and only now that she was gone, did heunderstand how much he'd come to rely on her judgment and hercomfort.

Resolutely now, he put those thoughts behind him, chastising himselffor the weakness that made him lust after this woman. She was not the important one. The legend had foretold her coming, and it had shownthe child with bursting fire behind, with the sky lit by light and theripple of colors in the wind. This child was his immortality. This child was the key to the future.

"What do you mean she's gone?"

Patrick held on to his rage by a thread. He'd worked the river for weeks, making certain that there'd been no report of Lopaz, adding tohis purse until the sickness was over and he had enough money to makethe payment on his debt for the plantation. He'd sent Jillico to New Orleans with the payment and was making ready to return to Rainbow'sEnd and accompany Catherine back to Petersburg.

Then the messenger had caught up with him. Catherine had disappeared.

She'd been missing one day then. This made two days she'd been gone.

"I thought you had people watching her. Where did she go, Pharaoh?"

The old man answered, his voice laced with guilt.

"She said she was going for a walk, like she often does of late. There was men about. She couldn't have wandered off without passing one ofthem."

"But she did."

"When she didn't return, I sent out a search party. They found herclothes in the forest."

"Clothes? Were they torn? Was it some wild animal?"

"No, suh. Dey folded up nice, like she always do."

"A swim. Maybe she went for a swim."

"Yes, suh, but she walked down the bayou where the crocs lie in the sun. And she knew dat boat was gonna be leaving and pass right whereshe was. I don't think she would've done that, cause they'd have seenher."

"What boat?"

"The flatboat what brought the supplies. It loaded up with skins andde indigo and it headed to New Orleans."

"And Catherine went with them." Patrick knew it. Catherine had no fear. She'd already stolen a boat and come in search of him. She'd have no compunction about taking off down river on a trading boat. But why? He'd thought she was happy, here on the plantation.

Then he remembered.

President Washington's representative. She'd gone to New Orleans, tohim, to ask for help, and she had a two-day head start.

"Pharaoh, I'm going to New Orleans. When Jillico returns, tell him tocome after me."

Arming himself with both money and weapons, Patrick poled his one-manpirogue back to the Mississippi where he traded it for a flatboat and a crew. He didn't want to take any chance of capsizing this trip, and heneeded the safety of numbers.

By the next afternoon he was again poling a pirogue down a bayou thatjoined the Mississippi just beyond the check point outside New Orleanswhere the flatboat would be boarded by Spanish officials and assessed atariff. He couldn't take a chance on being discovered. Instead, he'dcross the river in the pirogue and travel the rest of the way onfoot.

It shouldn't be too hard to find President Washington's representative.He only hoped that Catherine hadn't found him first.

Catherine got off the flatboat the same way she'd gotten on, byunloading one of the kegs. The levee was remarkable. It seemed to stretch forever, a broad, flat plain piled high with cargo, left in the sun. The warehouses were yards away, across an open area of new siltbeing washed down the waterway.

She'd understood enough of the conversation on the way down river thatif she were asked, she'd say her destination was the French Market.

But no one asked. On reaching the first warehouse, she managed tomingle with others inside and disappear into the bustle of the commercetaking place in the street beyond.

Once out of the warehouse she started toward the congested area ofbusinesses. It made sense to her that Charles would have an office in town. Around her, a cacophony of sounds assaulted her ears. Street vendors and hawkers called out their wares on the street corner.

"Ah got banana, lay-dee!" was the melodious cry from onecoffee-colored man, who carried a stalk of bananas over one shoulder.

A mule-drawn cart carried vegetables down the muddy street, its driversinging the praises of his goods in an odd dialect that Catherinecouldn't understand.

Catherine passed one black woman, whose head "was tied in a colorfulbandanna. She was selling rice cakes. Food.

Catherine thought about how long it had been since she'd eaten andwished she had coins to buy something. But she'd had no money of herown since hers had sunk in the Mississippi.

She passed a print shop with a newspaper tacked to the wall beside theopen doorway. Catherine wished she'd paid more attention to the Frenchlessons her father had provided for her so that she could read thecomposition.

All eyes and ears, Catherine came to a stop before a building thatproclaimed itself to be a theater. The advertisement posted suggesteda musical review. In fact she heard the sound of drum music inside.

Sooner or later she'd have to ask someone for directions. Perhaps oneof the entertainers spoke English.

Inside the building was a stage, lined with candles to be lit for theproduction. Now two men and a woman were dancing. For a moment Catherine was caught up in the rhythm. She'd heard it before. Theywere dancing in that same sensual way that the Sun King has danced thatnight in the clearing.

The Sun King!

For a moment she was back in the bayou, in the village called GreenMounds of Earth, reliving that horrible moment when the Spanish hadinvaded the clearing. No, that couldn't be. The sound of the drums was doing it to her.

The man she was watching was tall, very tall, with the same commandingbearing as Simicco. His back was to her, but she couldn't shake thefeeling that he knew she was there, or that as she was watching thedancers, someone was watching her.

Her heart began to pound. Imagined or otherwise, she had to get out ofthere--now. Whirling around, she led into the midday sun, jostling awell-dressed busilessman who'd just crossed the street and stopped tolean the caked mud from the bottom of his boots. Fheir impact was such that she knocked him back into he mud, bottom first.

"Oh, my goodness! I'm so sorry. Here, let me help you."

"Mon Dieu!" He stood up, took a good look at Catherine and frowned.

"J'ai etc agresse par un T'amin."

"Sorry, I don't understand you. I'm looking for Charles Forrest. Mr.

Charles Forrest. "

Her victim finally realized that she was a woman and egan eyeing hercuriously.

"Oui, Monsieur Forrest!"

He knew Charles. He would take her to him. At least hat was what she thought until he pointed to his ruined rousers and caught her by theneck of her jacket. From then on, as she scrambled to keep up with hisrapid pace, Catherine was just as glad that she didn't speak helanguage.

She'd been dragged like a rag doll just about as far is she intended togo when he stopped at a red brick mil ding that opened directly ontothe walkway beside he street. The Frenchman knocked rapidly on theouter door.

Almost immediately it opened, admitting them to a "oyer that was a partof, yet not open to, the house. After a brief exchange between the manwhose pants the'd ruined and the black woman who'd answered the doorthey were directed to go back to the street and come to the rear of thehouse. When the back gate was ipened they stepped into a beautifullittle courtyard and garden. Catherine was relieved.

Until she heard the voice.

Charles's voice.

"What is the meaning of this, sir? What makes you think I owe you anew pair of trousers?"

Catherine would have explained, but the Frenchman let go of a torrentof words and gestures that blocked out her voice, all while he wasstill holding on to her. Finally, just as Charles was ordering himejected by a tall black man who was coming from what appeared to be astable, she managed to interrupt.

"Charles, tell this man to let go of me or he'll need a new pair oflegs to fit into those trousers!"

Charles hushed, his eyes opening wide in disbelief.

"Catherine?"

"Yes, it's me and I'm very tired and very hungry. Please pay this manand send him away."