Hale's thick gray brows drew together as he nodded sourly. "Trying to bring the Word to that wilderness you call a town."
Here was an unhappy man, thought Auguste, whose life was dedicated to persuading those around him to be equally unhappy.
"Ah, yes," said Elysée with a broad smile. "Quite a population of sheep gone astray in Victor."
"In all of Smith County," said Hale.
It must scandalize him to think that my mother is an Indian woman and that my father, by the lights of this man, isn't even married to her.
Auguste suddenly wanted to defy the disapproval he felt from the reverend. He jumped out of the carriage and in an instant was standing on the road beside the minister's buggy. He swept off his high-crowned hat with the flourish he'd seen in New York and bowed deeply.
"Miss Hale," he said. "Auguste de Marion. At your service."
The blood rose to Nancy Hale's cheeks.
"My pleasure, Mr. de Marion," she murmured. Her large blue eyes looked frightened and her flush deepened, but she did not take her eyes away, and his gaze was locked to hers. His heart beat as hard as it had the first time he saw the White Bear.
"The Lord's work awaits us in Victor," said the Reverend Hale loudly. "You really must excuse us." And without waiting for a reply he snapped the reins of his buggy, and the old horse ambled off.