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But no matter how they whirled or sang or leaped, Elizabeth’s eyes constantly went back to Strong Heart. For her, there was no man more fascinating or more worthy of her attention.
Soon enough, it was time to serve up the feast. The women had been busy attending large cooking kettles set over open fires and broiling salmon over the coals.
She smiled at Many Stars as she stood with the other women as food was steamed in large, shallow pits filled with hot stones. Elizabeth had helped place the food on the stones earlier in the evening. The whole affair had then been covered with leaves and mats, with hot water poured through to the stones. Soon after that, the wonderful fragrances had wafted upward, proving to Elizabeth that this strange method of cooking proved most effective.
She turned her eyes around quickly as the dancers stepped aside and one of them stepped close to the fire. When he poured large amounts of olachen oil on the fire, it blazed up fiercely, drawing sighs from the crowd who watched, their eyes wide.
And the dancers continued to dance, this time more wildly, more athletically, as their bodies turned and twisted, and their heads bobbed.
Elizabeth smiled to herself, deciding that, yes, night was a feast of sights, sounds, and smells—a night that she would never forget. Earlier, before the sun had set, there had been many contests—wrestling, shooting arrows and throwing lances at marks, foot and canoe races, and tugs-of-war. Strong Heart and Four Winds had participated in them all, the competition growing fierce between them. But in the end, they had fallen to the ground laughing, more amused than angered by whoever had won the most matches.
Elizabeth now turned her eyes to Strong Heart as he sat so proudly beside her. Like his father, who sat on a high platform with his wife presiding over the celebration, Strong Heart wore a headdress bearing carved figures, painted and inlaid with iridescent shells, spiked with sea lion whiskers, and hung with ermine tails.
His cloak was of costly sea otter fur and flakes of mica had been dusted on his face, glittering in the soft light of the fire.
To Elizabeth, he looked like some mythical god, so breathtakingly noble in appearance, a man of inscrutable self-poise and dignity. It was at this moment hard to believe that she had ever had the opportunity to meet him, let alone be loved by him.
And to think that soon she would become his wife was even more unbelievable, for he was not an ordinary man, by any means.
He was special. So very, very special.
Strong Heart felt Elizabeth’s eyes on him. He reached over and took her hand in· his, squeezing it lovingly. “My la-daila, you look beautiful tonight,” he whispered, his eyes admiring her. Many Stars had made the dress specially for Elizabeth out of white doeskin, fringed at the hem and at the ends of the long sleeves. Colorful beads and porcupine quills had been embroidered in intricate designs onto it.
His gaze moved to Elizabeth’s hair, admiring the wreath of roses that Many Stars had also made for her, another token of her undying friendship for this woman whom Strong Heart had chosen to be his wife.
Elizabeth lowered her eyes, blushing as she felt herself being scrutinized with such admiration by the man she loved. She never wanted to disappoint him, and did not feel as if she had tonight. She felt especially lovely wearing the gifts made by Many Stars’s delicate fingers. In time, when she learned the art of making these beautifully designed clothes, she would pay her friend back in kind.
Many Stars was suddenly before her, offering her a large, elaborately carved dish, decorated with the crest of Strong Heart’s family, piled high with fish and cooked salmon on skewers.
Elizabeth accepted the offering of food, as other maidens offered the same to Strong Heart and Four Winds.
Long feast mats were unrolled before them to serve as a tablecloth, and for napkins, bundles of softly shredded cedar bark were distributed.
Having not eaten since breakfast, Elizabeth joined Strong Heart and Four Winds as they enjoyed the feast, washing down the assortment of fish with clam juice.
There was more dancing and merriment until the ghostly hour of midnight, delighting those who sat there. Then an elder of the village stepped forth, and began entertaining them with long, often humorous tales of the adventures or misadventures of such picturesque characters as the raven and mink, and of his own childhood, when he had been young, agile, and mischievous.
When he was done, everyone walked to him and gave him warm hugs, then went their separate ways to their longhouses.
Four Winds reached out and clapped a hand onto Strong Heart’s shoulder. “It is time for my return to Seattle,” he said. “My woman awaits me.”
At this mention of Maysie, Elizabeth lowered her eyes, and thought of her mother. She would never understand how her mother could have chosen to be a prostitute. Yet who was Elizabeth to cast blame on anyone?
Everyone was driven by something—and her mother had been forced to find a way to survive away from a man she had grown to loathe.
“And so you plan to marry her soon?” Strong Heart said, rising with Four Winds. Elizabeth rose slowly to stand beside Strong Heart, locking an arm through his, as a way of proving to herself that she had gained more in life than she had lost when she had fallen in love with Strong Heart.
“This is my intention, ah-hah,” Four Winds said, nodding. He glanced over at Elizabeth and smiled, then looked into Strong Heart’s eyes again. “And you? You will soon marry this woman whose hair is the color of flames?”
Strong Heart turned his eyes to Elizabeth. He smiled warmly at her. “Ah-hah, soon,” he said, nodding. “Now that the salmon harvest is behind us, and my people are content with what life offers them, ah-hah, soon we will be celebrating a potlatch in our village. You will join the celebration? You will bring your woman so that she will celebrate, also, with us?”
“Mah-sie, thank you for the invitation, but I do not think so,” Four Winds said, his face turning solemn. “You see, I must return to my people. I must prove to them that I am worthy of being called Suquamish again. They will sit in council and decide my fate, whether I live it as Suquamish among them, or whether I am destined to live as a white man, yet hidden away from the gang that I no longer belong to.”
Strong Heart placed his hands on Four Winds’s shoulders. “My friend, should you be turned away by those in your village, come to mine, he said passionately. “You will be welcome.” He dropped a hand from Four Winds’s shoulder and clenched it into a fist, placing it over his heart. “My tum-tum, heart, is warm toward you, forever.”
Four Winds glanced over at Strong Heart’s father, whose eyes seemed to be boring holes through him, then looked uncomfortably back at Strong Heart. “I do not believe your father shares the same sentiments as you about Four Winds,” he said, his voice breaking. “Four Winds has made his past, so Four Winds will make his future. But, again thank you, my friend, for your offering to Four Winds. Never will your kindness be forgotten.”
“That is good,” Strong Heart said, nodding. “That is how it should be.”
