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The young colonel, all spruced up in full uniform, his pant legs creased neatly, rode up to Strong Wolf on a beautiful white stallion. “And what is the meaning of this?” he asked, his hand resting on his sheathed saber.
“I am Chief Strong Wolf,” Strong Wolf said, his voice void of emotion. “I have recently returned from a long journey from Wisconsin. When I arrived home, I found settlers squatting on land of the Potawatomis. These people were even bold enough to harvest Potawatomis corn, to be used in the pots of the white people.”
Strong Wolf nodded over his shoulder at the smoke in the distance. “Strong Wolf sent the people away, set fire to the lodges that were illegally on Potawatomis land that is ours by treaty, and have come now to set things right with you,” he said in a dignified yet threatening tone. “I was told that Colonel Deshong is no longer in charge here.”
“That is so,” Colonel Mooney said, nodding stiffly. “And I regret having to make your acquaintance under such uncomfortable conditions.” He reached a cautious handshake out for Strong Wolf. “I am Colonel Mooney.”
“Is it true that you refused to send the whites from our land when my warriors came and asked your assistance in my absence?” Strong Wolf said blandly, ignoring the proffered hand.
“Yes, I was not quite sure about this land that you claim as yours.” Colonel Mooney said, swallowing back a fear that was creeping up his spine, a fear he had always had of Indians. He slowly eased his hand down to his side.
“Why did it have to be proven to you in such a harsh way?” Strong Wolf said, sidling his horse closer to the colonel’s. “Surely you were instructed by Colonel Deshong about this land that is ours by treaty. Did you not listen, or did you not care to? Are you a man of prejudice?”
“Why, no, certainly not,” the young colonel uttered. He looked past Strong Wolf and saw just how many Indians had accompanied him to the fort. He cursed his orders from Washington, lessening the number of soldiers at Fort Leavenworth since there was peace between the white and red man. Now he wished that he had refused this post! He was being forced to allow the Indians to have the upper hand, for their number was twice that of the fort’s.
“Then I can return to my people and tell them that there will be no more intrusions on our land?” Strong Wolf said, smiling to himself when he saw the young colonel’s frustration.
“Yes, I will see that nothing like this happens again,” Colonel Mooney said, nervously raking a forefinger between his tight collar and scrawny neck. “No more settlers will take land that is yours. And there will be no retaliation over you having burned the settlers’ cabins.”
“You are a wise man,” Strong Wolf said, then reached a hand of friendship toward the young colonel. “Come soon and make council with Strong Wolf.”
The young colonel hesitated, then his hand shook as he clasped it around Strong Wolf’s. “I would be delighted to have council with you,” he said evenly.
Strong Wolf clasped Colonel Mooney’s hand for a moment longer, then released it, wheeled his horse around and rode from the fort, his warriors following close behind. Strong Wolf sank his heels into the flanks of his horse and sent his steed into a hard gallop, anxious to resume what had been sidetracked by the news of the whites having settled on his land.
The inky black of night hung over the land like a dark shroud when he rode into his village.
Hannah heard the approach of the horses. She ran from the cabin, and tears splashed from her eyes when she saw Strong Wolf in the lead of the warriors who had come home victoriously.
Strong Wolf saw her standing there. He reined in quickly and slid from his saddle, then went to Hannah and grabbed her up into his arms and swung her around, laughing.
“We showed them!” he shouted. “There will be no more trouble from the whites! They know better than to trespass on our land again!”
Hannah held her head back and laughed, so happy, so relieved!
Chapter 40
Her neck is like the swan,
Her face it is the fairest
That e’er the sun shone on.
—WILLIAM DOUGLAS
A chill wind blew across the river. The trees were bare of leaves. Autumn was gone. Winter was quickly taking a firm grip on the countryside.
A large crowd of Potawatomis were assembled, their eyes wide as they watched the final stages of the children’s schoolhouse being completed.
The children were not as frisky as usual. They stood as quietly and poised as the elders. They had something now that usually only belonged to the children of white people. They were eager to learn, especially since they adored Clara, their teacher. They admired and respected her.
She was so kind and generous to them all; to them she was almost like a second mother.
Clutching a warm shawl around her shoulders, a bonnet protecting her head from the wind, Hannah stood back with her sister Clara as the last shingle was hammered into place on the roof of the new Potawatomis schoolhouse.
Hannah reached for Clara’s hand and clung to it as she so proudly watched Strong Wolf climb onto the roof.
Struggling and groaning as he lifted a bell one inch at a time up the ladder, White Beaver climbed up after Strong Wolf.
