Less than ten miles away, the shimmering blue mass of Champlain stretched toward the northern horizon. Low, compact ridges unrolled toward the west, pointing toward the slice of glassy blue in the southwest that had been christened Lac du Saint Sacrement by the early French explorers. Duncan’s heart thrilled at the sight of the fertile, untamed landscape, unscarred by the hand of man.
His horse whinnied, and Duncan absently stroked its neck as he gazed toward the southwest at a shadow on the horizon that might have been the Catskills, where Sarah would be settling back into Edentown. He watched a great bird, probably an eagle, climbing into the sky and realized it was studying something below. He stared down the slope and in quick succession saw a stag standing on a ledge, a family of gra
