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Hannah paled and stared at her mother. “But, Mother, I will be living among his people,” she murmured. “I must not stand out like a sore thumb by wearing clothes that differ from theirs.”
Hannah ran her hand down the front of her dress again, admiring it anew as she gazed down at it. “And I truly feel special in this dress,” she said, its softness like a caress against her fingertips. “It is as though I am someone else.”
Hannah looked over at the bed. All across it lay an assortment of buckskin dresses. They were gifts from Strong Wolf’s people during a celebration only yesterday. She had also received various cooking utensils, freshly baked bread, and assortments of jewelry, some of which she wore today.
Several days passed since she had come to Strong Wolf, exhausted from her long, weary days in the riverboat.
Being among those who were dying had made each day more precious to Hannah.
Now her brother played his organ, drums beat in a steady rhythm, and people chatted and laughed outside by the large outdoor fire; everything was perfect.
“My precious, sweet darling,” Grace said as she went and drew Hannah into her gentle embrace. “I am happy for you.”
“But not entirely, are you?” Hannah said, giving back the hug. Then she eased from her mother’s arms. “I wish you could just feel half what I am feeling, then you would know that what I am doing is right.”
“Yes, I know that you feel this is right for you, or you wouldn’t do it,” Grace said, swallowing hard. “But life here is different than that to which you are accustomed.”
Grace gestured with a hand as she looked around her, at the way Hannah would be living, in Strong Wolf’s cabin. “This will be a miserable life for you, Hannah,” she said solemnly. “In Saint Louis you had a luxurious bed in which to sleep. You had plush carpets in which you could sink your bare toes. You had maids and servants who looked after you. You never wanted for anything. You lived in the lap of luxury. How can you possibly expect to get accustomed to . . . to . . . this?”
“Mother, all that you described, and all that you cannot live without, has nothing at all to do with me,” Hannah said, gently taking her mother’s hands. “Yes, I loved my bedroom with its satin draperies and bedspread. It was wonderful to be able to curl my toes into the carpets on those long, cold days of winter. But I have never needed those things to be happy. Please remember how I sought the outdoors every chance I had. I preferred it over the richness of our house. And, Mother, you were so strict I sometimes was afraid to walk on that carpet, or sleep in my very own bed. If I mussed up anything, you scolded me.”
“Was I that terrible of a mother?” Grace gasped, slipping her hands from Hannah’s.
“Mother, I never said you were terrible,” Hannah said, sighing heavily. “I said you were strict. And I understand. When you and Father were first married, you had nothing. And then when you did, you felt as though you had to protect it with your life. It was instilled in you from being poor so long.”
“Thank God you understand,” Grace murmured. She placed a gentle hand to Hannah’s cheek. “And you understand more than I ever knew you did. I had no idea you realized the grief I experienced at the first of my marriage. At times, I wished I had . . . not . . . married your father. When I saw women with more than I, I so envied them!”
“Mother, I didn’t know that,” Hannah uttered. “You never seemed the sort to be envious of anyone.”
“That’s only because you have known me since I have had everything a woman would ever want,” Grace said. She reached for Hannah and hugged her again. “I am so glad that you did not inherit the ugly side of your mother.”
Strong Wolf came into the cabin. He stood in the shadows, watching Hannah and her mother, and listened. He smiled to himself when he heard Hannah tell her mother how she felt about living among his people and in his house. More and more he saw ho
w he had chosen the right woman. She was at home with his people, as though she had been born into their world, blood kin to them.
“My woman, it is time for us to speak our vows,” he said, stepping out of the shadows.
Hannah paled. “Strong Wolf, it’s bad luck for the groom to see the bride before the marriage on the wedding day,” she said, yet she could not take her eyes off him and how wonderfully handsome he was today. His hair was long and flowing down his back. His face shone with a quiet pride.
He was dressed in a fringed white doeskin outfit, colorful beads in designs of forest animals on the shirt. His moccasins were fashioned out of the same doeskin material and beads.
Their eyes locked, and Hannah then realized how foolish it was to think that seeing each other was bad luck.
Today was theirs!
“Come,” Strong Wolf said, reaching a hand out for Hannah. “Everyone waits to see my lovely woman.” As she stepped timidly toward him, his gaze swept slowly up and down her.
“Like I am sure my mother was on her wedding day in that same dress, you are a vision,” he said huskily as she went and took his hand.
He drew her into his embrace. “I never told you, did I, how beautiful my mother is?” he said, his eyes warming her insides as he smiled into them. “She is taller than most Potawatomis women. And some say her loveliness outshines the stars in the heavens.” He brushed a soft kiss across her lips. “But now I would say she has keen competition in you.”
“How can you say that,” Hannah said, their eyes locking. “You know how I feel about myself. I have never seen myself as beautiful. I almost fear meeting your mother. If she is so pretty, I will feel even uglier.”
“My woman, still you have not looked long enough in a mirror, or you would see how wrong you are to say that you are not pretty,” Strong Wolf said. “You are even lovelier than my mother.”
“I certainly hope not,” Hannah said, laughing softly. “I would hate to think that your mother might resent me the moment she sees me.”
Someone clearing their throat made Hannah suddenly remember they were not alone. Blushing, Hannah turned to her mother.
