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She stepped away from Storm and went to Shoshana. “I do apologize and I vow to you that I will never do anything against you again,” she murmured. She slowly reached her hands for Shoshana’s, hesitating, then took her hands in her own. “Let me prove it to you. Let me finish preparing you for your marriage. I will prepare your hair.” She looked over at Storm. “May I?”
Seeing that his sister was seriously sorry ab
out what she had done, and knowing that it would take something special for Shoshana to forgive her, Storm smiled at his sister. “Yes, it is good that you wish to prepare my woman’s hair for her wedding,” he said softly. “But only if Shoshana feels comfortable about you doing it.” Perhaps this intimate ritual would break down the barrier of misunderstanding and mistrust between his sister and the woman he loved.
Dancing Willow gazed into Shoshana’s eyes. “May I?” she murmured. “May I prepare your hair?”
Shoshana looked over at Storm. She knew how badly he wanted her and Dancing Willow to be friends. She turned to Dancing Willow. “Yes, please do,” she murmured.
She glanced at her mother, who was smiling. She was being very generous to Dancing Willow, for Fawn had wanted the special task of preparing her daughter’s hair for the wedding. But apparently she also saw the importance of Dancing Willow performing the task.
Storm smiled and left the women to make their preparations, as he was going to make his own. He had to ready his face for the first kiss from his bride. He would pluck his whiskers, one at a time, with tweezers made of bent strips of tin.
He would wash his hair and braid strips of white rabbit fur in one lone braid, worn to the side of his head.
He would dress in his best buckskin, and smile as he awaited the moment that he and Shoshana would become husband and wife.
“Do you know that our people’s hairbrush is made from the tail of a porcupine attached to a decorative handle?” Dancing Willow said, nodding a thankyou to Fawn as she handed the brush to her.
“Yes, I am already familiar with that,” Shoshana said, trying not to be so stiff as Dancing Willow fussed over her. She couldn’t get the huge spider off her mind. How disgusting it was.
Shoshana hoped that she was doing the right thing now to trust Dancing Willow.
Dancing Willow brushed Shoshana’s hair until it was glistening, then parted her hair with a slender, pointed stick.
“Fawn, I know you want to do the rest for your daughter,” Dancing Willow said as she stepped aside and made room for Fawn. “Please go ahead. It will mean much not only to you, but also to your daughter.”
“Thank you,” Fawn said, stepping behind Shoshana to braid her hair. As she completed each braid, she tied the ends with strings of painted buckskin. The hair strings were works of art. They were wrapped with brightly colored porcupine quills and tipped with ball tassels of porcupine quills and the fluff of eagle feathers.
Shoshana looked quickly at the closed entrance flap when she heard drums and rattles being played outside as everyone gathered for the ceremony.
Tears came to her eyes to know that finally everything had come together for her and Storm. In a matter of moments she would be his wife!
It all seemed like a dream, one that she hoped never to awaken from because it was so magically wonderful.
She was glad that all of their concerns about the scalp hunter were behind them. Surely by now he had met his fate. She was certain Colonel Hawkins had given him a quick trial and gladly placed the noose around the evil man’s neck.
Chapter Twenty-seven
Come live with me and be my love,
And we will all the pleasure prove!
—Christopher Marlowe
The marriage was not to be celebrated in the village, but beside a lovely waterfall that splashed into the river below.
Drums played in unison with rattles as everyone stood back and awaited Shoshana’s arrival.
The smell of food filled the air, awaiting the moment when the ceremony was over and everyone would share a feast, dancing and singing.
A limited amount of planting was done at the stronghold, mainly of maize, pumpkins, squashes, and beans. They never ate creatures that lived in water.
Their staple food was mescal, the roots of which were collected in quantity and baked in a large hole dug in the ground.
The mescal roots had been deposited there late last night, covered with green leaves and grass, which were overlaid with earth. A steady fire had been kept burning on top for the whole night.
After the ceremony, the mescal would be unearthed, then pared and eaten with great zest. It had a sweetish taste, not unlike beets but not as tender.
