Taylor's words, now that the near-mutiny was over, lifted Raoul's heart. He had left Victor in April hoping for revenge for Helene and for his own sufferings of years ago. But now there were more slaughtered innocents to avenge—and now he had the army of the United States to help him do it.
"I'll do anything to get those redskins."
"With your ship patrolling the stretch of river where they're likely to cross, we could be sure that Black Hawk won't escape us."
"You want me to go back and get the Victory ready?" He felt himself trembling again.
"For now you'll go along with us into the Michigan Territory," Taylor said. "But if it looks as if Black Hawk is making a run for the Mississippi, you'll see that we cut them off. The Victory, eh? Aptly named."
Raoul's grieving, vengeful heart rejoiced. When the time came, he'd have the cannon from the trading post mounted in the bow of the Victory. Then let any damned Indians try to cross the Mississippi. He'd pay them back for what they did to Victoire.
But he remembered Nicole and Frank coming to him, telling him the militia was needed to guard Victor. He'd laughed at their fears. If he'd listened to them, Clarissa and Andy and Phil and those other people might still be alive. Victoire and Victor would still be standing. Hadn't he had some hand in bringing death and destruction upon his home?
No, it was all the Indians' doing.
I'll get you, Black Hawk. If I have to follow you all the way to Hudson's Bay. There won't be a one of your damned British Band left alive when I'm done.
He would make them suffer. From this moment on, he had only one thing to think of and only one thing to do: kill Indians.