"They're just pictures, Cadi," Sim said quietly, holding back. "Nothing to be afeared of."

"Pictures?" Fagan said. Pictures of what?"

"People."

"I want to see."

"We ought to get Cadi out of here, Fagan."

"Just for a minute. Stay here, Cadi. We'll be right back."

382"No! I ain't staying here!"

"There's only one torch, and we'll be wasting it takingye back. Now, buck up and don't be such a coward."

His words stung, for I wanted Fagan to think well of me. "What about the bats? They was coming down on me by the hundreds, maybe thousands."

"Not so many as that," he said, glancing at Sim.

"There's plenty of the beasties, but I reckon they're back in the other chamber by now. They keep to it unless something startles them."

"Like Cadi screaming her head off."

"I 'd like to see what you'd do without a torch in that cave!"

"They go out by another way, farther along," Sim said. "There's a narrow cut in the mountainside that opens to the sky. I t's far back from here."

"How far back have you gone?"

"About as far as a man can go, I reckon." I was in awe of his courage. Who would be brave enough to go deeper into this dreadful place, the home of bats and who knew what else?"I 've had twenty years to explore this cavern. I know near every inch of it. Even the places only big enough for a man to 383crawl into. Some places are better left alone.

That big chamber back and east of us is one. I t's where the bats live. Thousands of 'em landing upside down on the ceiling. I stay clean out of that place."

Fagan looked intrigued. "What's it like?"

"Has scat knee-deep on the floor and a stench so bad ye can hardly breathe. I reckon the bats laid claim to that place more than a few lifetimes ago."

Fagan took the torch from Sim and went on ahead.

He was going right on in just like I knew he would.

"Fagan!" I whispered after him.

"I 'm going to see the pictures ye was talking about is all. Y e can come on along or wait there. Y our choice."

"I t's all right, Cadi," Sim said. "Y e can wait right here and be fine."

Filled with consternation, I followed them, hopingFagan hadn't set his mind on seeing that bat cave as well. The cold air hit me again, sending a chill up my spine as we stood in the center of the chamber.

Fagan moved closer, holding the torch high. "Did you paint 'em, Sim?"

"No. They was here long before I was. I spent a few weeks in this chamber the first winter I was the sin eater. Couldn't sleep much for looking at 'em."

384The people were stick figures, simple to draw.

Even I could've painted them, and maybe done a better job. "Y e think a child painted 'em?"

"T oo high up," Sim said.

"What are those humps supposed to be?" I said.

"Hills or something?"

"Indian hogans, I think," Fagan said, studying them.

"That's what I reckon they are," Sim said, moving no closer.

"Men, women, and children playing." Fagan moved on to the next. "Look at that one. They're dancing and playing. And the next one, there's a man wearing aplaying. And the next one, there's a man wearing a hat."

"A white man," Sim said, his voice soft and grim.

"They're shaking hands, ain't they? The white man and the chief."

"I think so."

"More whites, two women with them. What's this one?"

I stood beside him. "Looks like fire."

"Y ou're right. The hogans are burning," Fagan said.

"That's what's happening, isn't it, Sim?"

"Reckon so."

Moving closer, I looked up at the painted stick-like figures scattered about. The man wearing the hat held a stick pointing toward 385another line of figures. A line of black went from neck to neck, linking them one to another. Some of the stick figures were bent over. Were they wounded or old? Some stood straight, but were smaller. Women?Three held babies. The next picture showed the people standing in a linked line above six thick black lines straight up and down and two wavy lines beneath. The man in the hat stood behind them pointing his stick.

I looked to the next. Then small lines came out in all directions from the stick the man held, and the people tumbled, arms and legs out, down into the wavy lines.

The last picture scene showed stick figures lying still beneath three vertical lines ending in swirling circles.

The only sound around us was thedrip, drip, dripof the water.

None of us moved. We just stood staring at those pictures. I looked behind me. Sim Gillivray looked grim and sad. Fagan stared up at the cave wall, his eyes filled with horror. I looked from them to the last scene.

All those people, old men and women and babies.

Their bodies seemed to float in the swirls. I wasn't sure I understood what the pictures were telling me.

Shaking, I knew in the heart of me but didn't want to face it.

"He shot the first one in line, and the rest 386fell with him," Fagan said. "The man in the hatmurdered 'em."

"I t's the Narrows, ain't it?" I said. "They fell into the Narrows and went over the falls."

"Not all," Sim said, stepping forward and pointing to one stick figure hiding in the woods in the third picture.

"He escaped and lived long enough to come up here and hide. He's the one who painted these pictures."

"What happened to him?" Fagan said. "He died. I found his bones over there behind those two pillars."

"Is he still there?" Fagan said, heading for them.

I 'd seen Granny laid out for burying, but I 'd never seen human bones before. The skeleton, still clad in decaying leather leggings and shirt, was stretched out flat, one leg bent up to the side. The skull was tipped toward us, jaws open. I could imagine the eyes of his soul staring up at me from those black empty sockets and drew back behind Fagan.

"He can't hurt ye, Cadi," Fagan said.

"What's that beside him?" I asked.

Fagan leaned down and picked up a small woodenFagan leaned down and picked up a small wooden bowl while I drew back, moving closer to Sim Gillivray.

387"His paint bowl," Sim said. "There's still some encrusted in it."

"Put it back where ye found it," Sim said gently. "I t tells the end of the story."

"The end?" Fagan put the bowl down. "What happened to him?"

"Near as I can figure, he was wounded and dying when he come in here. What I know for sure is he was determined to leave the truth behind."

I looked up at the pictures on the cave wall. "That's why he painted those pictures."

"Aye, that's so."

"How do you know he was wounded and dying?"

Fagan leaned over the skeleton and studied it.

"Either that or he killed himself."

"But how do you know?"

"Because he didn't use clay or soot and ash to paintthose pictures. He used his own blood."

"I 'd like to know when it happened and who done it,"

Fagan said when Sim had gone out to check his traps.

I wasn't sure I believed it. "I ain't never seen an Indian in all my born days, Fagan. Only heard of them."

"That may be so, but as far back as I can 388remember, I 've heard people talking about 'em like they was a terrible threat. Pa's said more than once they'd as like to kill ye as look at ye. And now, I reckon I can see why they'd feel that way."

"We didn't do 'em ill. We wasn't even thought about when all that was happening, Fagan. I t ain't our fault."

"Don't matter. Don't ye understand, Cadi? We're blood kin to whoever done it."

"No kin of mine would do such a thing as murder women and children. I won't believe it!"

His mouth tightened as he looked at me. "But ye can believe it of mine, can't ye?" The heat came up into my face and lingered there. I t was terrible true. Having seen Fagan's own da beating on him with the face ofseen Fagan's own da beating on him with the face of the devil and swearing to kill him, I could imagine 'em all capable of anything. The Kais were a bloodthirsty lot, except for Iona and Fagan. "I 'm sorry," I said, eyes downcast. I was sorry to believe as I did and even sorrier Fagan was born a Kai.

"I know my kin have a lot to answer for," he said, grim faced, "but there were others in the third picture.

Remember? The man in the hat wasn't alone."

"I don't want to think about those pictures anymore."

And I didn't want to think 389about the man who'd used his own blood to paint them. I didn't want to think about who else might have been with the man who'd fired the gun and sent all those people to their deaths. "Can't we talk about summat else?"

"No. I 've got to know."

"Why? What good'll come of knowing?"

"I can't just forget what I saw back there! I t's like a knot in my chest. I have to find out when it happened and who did it.""Why?"

"Because I think the Holy Spirit's telling me to go looking for the answers."

"God already knows who done it, don't ye think, Fagan? He don't need us to find out for him."

"Course God knows, Cadi. That ain't the point."

"What is?"

"God wants us to know."

I chewed on my lip, wondering what path God was sending us down this time. Would it be one with more heartache for Fagan and more disillusionment for me?

"What do ye say, Cadi?"

I was not eager to seek the answers, but felt it was the stirring of the Holy Spirit that was urging Fagan ahead. I wasn't going to be the one to tell him to rebel against the 390leading of the Lord, even though I felt safe insideSim Gillivray's cave. Long as we stayed where we was, Brogan Kai wouldn't come after us. I 'd seen the look on his face and knew it was fear kept him away.

But it was dead certain that man had nothing to fear in the valley. He was waiting down there for us. I 'd had scares enough for one day being caught in darkness, surrounded by bats and seeing a dead man's bones. I didn't feel brave enough to face the living.

"I t's all right," Fagan said gently. "Y e don't have to come. I can take care of myself." Blinking back tears, I saw Lilybet through the blur of them, sitting across the fire from me, beside Fagan. She smiled at me tenderly. "Remember the night by the river, Katrina Anice. Remember when Brogan Kai was beating Fagan. Who threw the stone?"

"I did."

"Y ou did?" Fagan said, cocking his head slightly, bemused. "Did what?"

"I threw the stone."