Alone in the house, Swallow Song with Strong Wolf outside enjoying a walk through the thin layer of snow that had fallen through the night, Hannah stopped and looked around at her creations. Evergreen sprigs clipped from the forest framed her fireplace mantel. Candles that Hannah had made of rolled cotton and the silky down from milkweeds flamed and danced on the mantel, shedding soft white light across the room. A tree as tall as the ceiling, displayed glass balls dangling from the limbs, as well as stoneware ornaments, crisp blue on white, that Hannah had hand painted and sponged with native designs. A Christmas angel stood at the top of the tree, glistening white. Gold-braided garland adorned the tree.
Above the door hung a handmade wreath of preserved leaves and flowers in winter white, gold, and cream, with a muslin bow a generous twenty inches wide. And beside the door stood Chuck’s organ. He had sent cowhands to Hannah’s house only this morning with the organ, so that everyone could sing Christmas carols.
Her mother had always had a romance with the holidays. She had spent the full week before Christmas decorating the house and baking breads, cakes, and cookies.
Some of Hannah’s fondest memories were of family holidays when she was young. She was going to carry on the tradition, anxious to be the one who had a house full of friends and relatives, laughing, and singing Christmas songs together.
The room exuded a warmth that came naturally from being loved, for Hannah did adore her home. And she couldn’t be happier.
She placed her hand over the tight ball of her stomach. “Come spring, child, you will also join the fun,” she whispered proudly.
The sound of sleigh bells drew her quick attention. “They’re here!” she whispered, yanking her apron off.
With a pounding heart she gazed around her again. Her gaze stopped at the wrapped packages beneath the tree. She had had such fun choosing the gifts from the trading post for everyone.
“And Strong Wolf is learning how we white people celebrate Christmas,” she whispered, smiling as she recalled how he questioned her about everything that she did in preparations for this special day: The tree, the ornaments, the holly and sprigs of evergreens, her insistence of baking everything that she could think of these past several days on the new woodburning stove that Strong Wolf had surprised her with one day.
It even had a portable oven, that which made baking cookies and plum pudding great fun. There was also a sheet-iron heat stove in the corner of the room, glowing cherry red from the flaming fire inside.
“Hannah?”
Hannah’s face flushed a soft pink with anxiousness when she heard the soft voice of her mother outside the door. She grabbed a shawl from a peg on the wall.
She then flew to the door and opened it widely, not even noticing the rush of cold air on her cheeks as she ran on outside and flung herself into her mother’s outstretched arms.
“Mother, it’s been so long,” Hannah murmured, relishing the feel of her mother in her arms. She inhaled the expensive French perfume on her mother’s black velveteen cape. “I wish I could have come to Saint Louis before now, but Strong Wolf doesn’t allow me to travel very far now. I’ve only been as far as the trading post and Fort Leavenworth.”
Over her shoulder Hannah saw her father walking toward Strong Wolf who was coming back from the river with his mother. It made her heart sing and swell with joy when the two men embraced.
She then watched Strong Wolf introduce Swallow Song to her father, and smiled to herself when she saw the look of appreciation in her father’s eyes as he gazed upon Swallow Song’s earthy loveliness.
“Where on earth is your father?” Grace said, stepping away from Hannah. She turned and gazed around her, then smiled when she caught sight of Howard now walking with Strong Wolf and Swallow Song toward the house.
Grace turned toward Hannah. “And is that Swallow Song?” she asked, brushing flakes of snow from Hannah’s hair as it began snowing again.
“Yes, that’s Strong Wolf’s mother,” Hannah said, hugging herself with her arms.
“Why, she doesn’t look a day older than thirty,” Grace said, gazing at Swallow Song again.
Then she turned to Hannah, frowning. “We must get you back inside the house before you take a death of cold.”
Hannah hurried back inside. “Yes, Strong Wolf’s mother is quite beautiful, and she has aged gracefully,” she said, slipping the shawl from around her shoulders.
She hung it on the peg again, then helped her mother with her cape. She swung it around a chair so that it could dry.
“How lovely!” Grace said, lifting the hem of her silk dress into her arms as she stepped farther into the room. “Oh, Hannah, it reminds me so much of the earlier homes that your father and I lived in, and the way I decorated them for Christmas.”
She stopped and fingered the decorations on the tree, then turned and took a slow look around her. When she spied the stove in the kitchen, her eyes widened. “And you have two new stoves? One for cooking? One for the living room?” she marveled. She inhaled the aroma of the baked goods. “Do I even smell plum pudding?”
“Yes, plum pudding, apple pie, and sorghum cookies,” Hannah said, hurrying into her kitchen. “Come, Mother. See how your daughter has changed from a tomboy into a cook. I am so proud of all that I prepared for today’s celebration.”
“Oh, I forgot to tell you, Hannah, Chuck will be along shortly,” Grace said. “He is coming by way of Clara and White Beaver’s house. He will bring them in his sleigh.”
“Isn’t it grand, Mother, that Clara found herself such a wonderful man such as I?” Hannah said, setting a teakettle of water on the stove, for tea.
“It’s not something I would have expected from Clara,” Grace said, laughing softly. “She always had her nose pressed in books, men seemingly the last thing on her mind.”
“And now she is not only married, but with child,” Hannah said, beaming with the news that had only been brought to her yesterday.
“With . . . child . . . ?” Grace said, her jaw going slack with surprise.
“I shouldn’t have said anything, Mother,” Hannah said, reaching up inside her cupboard to take a stack of coffee cups from the shelf. “I should’ve waited and let Clara tell you the news.” She placed the cups on the table, and then reached for the saucers and placed them on the table beside the cups.
She went to her mother and took her hands. “But, Mother, I am so excited about Clara’s news, I can hardly contain myself,” she said. “I will be an aunt.” She laughed softly. “Aunt Hannah. How do you like the sound of that, Mother?”
“I shall be a grandmother twice in so short a time,” Grace said, sighing. “I wonder if it will make me feel so much older? Always in my mind’s eye, when I hear a reference to a grandmother, I see someone much older.”
Hannah stepped back from her mother and looked her slowly up and down. Her pale blue silk dress, with its embroidered decorations of iris on the skirt, nipped in delicately at her tiny waist, and her face had only a trace of wrinkles. “Mother, you do not look your age at all,” she said. “Why, you look hardly older than twenty.”
Grace laughed softly. “Now, that is stretching it just a mite, wouldn’t you say, Hannah?” she said, then turned as everyone started coming into the cabin.
Strong Wolf stepped aside as his mother entered, and then Hannah’s father.
And while Hannah and Grace had been talking, they had not heard the arrival of two other horse-drawn sleighs.
Chuck came into the room, his cane out before him searching each step. Clara was at his right side, gingerly holding his arm, and White Beaver was at his left, also helping him along.
But who came in after them made Hannah almost faint with surprise. “White Wolf!” she cried, “Dawnmarie?”
“Finally we made it from Wisconsin on our way to Mexico,” Dawnmarie said, her laughter ringing in the air with its soft sweetness. “My heart is strong, my face is calm, my eyes are eager for new land—the land of my true people, th
e Kickapoo.”
Hannah hurried to everyone and gave each of them hugs, then when she came to White Wolf, she hesitated long enough to gaze up at him, still in awe of his noble presence and utter handsomeness at his age of sixty.
“It is good to see you again, Hannah,” White Wolf said, himself doing the honors of taking her into his arms. He gave her a hearty hug, then stepped away from her as Strong Wolf came to Hannah and took her by the hand.
“It is good that you are here,” Strong Wolf said, reaching his free hand to White Wolf’s shoulder. “We had thought you had changed your mind about traveling to Mexico. When winter set in, we gave up looking for you.”
“We had missed our son Proud Heart for so long, we decided to stay awhile to enjoy being with him since we will not see him again for many moons,” White Wolf said, helping Dawnmarie with her white rabbit fur cape.
Hannah quickly took the cape and laid it across another chair for drying, then took White Wolf’s white doeskin jacket and laid it beside his wife’s cape.
“Did you run into much bad weather on your journey?” Strong Wolf said, stepping between White Wolf and Dawnmarie. He placed gentle hands to their elbows and led them to the fire.
“We are foolish, ay-uh, for taking out in such weather, but we are prepared well enough for even the deepest snows with the sleigh,” White Wolf said. “When we reach the warmer climates down south, we shall then travel by horse. My wife is a skilled horsewoman.”
“You traveled without escorts,” Strong Wolf said, easing an arm around Hannah’s waist. White Wolf and Dawnmarie eased down into upholstered chairs.
“I am capable enough to care for my wife on the lengthy journey,” White Wolf said, smiling warmly over at Dawnmarie, who was dressed in a brilliant-white doeskin dress resplendent in beads. Her hair was long and loose over her shoulders, almost as white now as the dress. “And traveling with many would draw too much attention. We wish to arrive at Mexico without any interferences.”
“And how is Proud Heart and his wife?” Hannah asked, remembering that his wife should be quite heavy with child by now.
“They are faring well,” White Wolf said, nodding. “My son carries the title of chief well on his broad shoulders.”
“Yes, I am sure that he does,” Strong Wolf said, filled with melancholia over missing his friend so much.
Soft Christmas music began wafting across the room as Chuck sat playing the organ. Everyone went and stood around the organ. Hannah and her parents began singing the carols as the others, who were not familiar with the songs, listened.
“The spirit of Christmas lives in the soul of the people,” Strong Wolf had told her when they had discussed Christmas.
Hannah smiled over at him now, feeling so lucky to be with the man she loved on their first shared Christmas. They were learning each other’s customs well.
She was glad that Strong Wolf had entered into this holiday with such zest and understanding. And it thrilled her to know that next Christmas they would have one more person with whom to share the holiday. Beneath their tree would lie presents for their child!
She lifted her voice above the others in song, never having felt so at peace with herself and the world. She laughed softly as Clara gave her a soft nudge in her side.
“Hannah, you are drowning out even the organ music,” Clara teased.
“Yes, I guess I am,” Hannah said, reaching for her sister’s hand, gently squeezing. “But don’t you see? We have so much to be happy for. I want to sing and sing and sing!”
Clara gave Hannah a hug, then began singing just as loud, feeling the happiness and gaiety of it all.
Hannah’s eyes widened when she heard someone else enter the singing. Strong Wolf had listened close enough to learn the words as the most special Christmas carols had been repeated.
Hannah twined an arm around his waist and leaned against him. She joined him in song and joy.
Chapter 44
He holds thy hands,
He claspeth mine,
And keeps us near.
—JULIA BAKER
Sparkling moon, The month of March. . . .
As Hannah walked to the far edge of the village beside Strong Wolf, she noticed the leaves on the oak trees were now the size of a squirrel’s ear, a sign that it was time for the Potawatomis people to plant their crops.
She looked at the fields spread before them, where the men had burned tree branches the previous fall to enrich the soil. Neat rows of planting hills stretched into the distance, ready for the new crop.
Soon she would be among the women who would be placing seeds together carefully in the top of each hill. They would plant two rows in one field, then move on to plant two rows in another field. The work would go quickly as the women would talk and joke among themselves. Only when each field had some rows planted would they return to the first field. Thus no one would feel that her field had been favored.
“You are so quiet,” Strong Wolf said, snuggling her closer to his side. “What are you in such serious thought about? Our children? We checked on them before we went for our walk. Their stomachs content with their mother’s milk, they went fast asleep.”
“No, I’m not thinking about our children,” Hannah murmured. “I look forward to being a part of the planting season this year. That was what I was thinking about.”
“I have other things on my mind,” Strong Wolf said huskily, giving her a playful nudge closer.
“Then, let us return to our cabin and pursue those thoughts,” Hannah teased back as she smiled seductively up at him. “Show me, darling, what’s on your mind, don’t just tell me.”
Laughing softly, they ran through the village, almost breathless when they reached their cabin and hurried inside, closing the door behind them.
Spring was in the air, soft and warm. The night scents abounded in fragrances of wild roses and lilacs. The moon was wafting its silver light through the window and across the bed when Hannah and Strong Wolf stretched across it, their hands gently touching and caressing each other’s bodies.
“Your stomach is flat and smooth again,” Strong Wolf said, running his fingers over its flatness. He straddled her and bent low, to flick his tongue in and out of her navel. “But it tastes the same, like honey.”
“That tickles,” Hannah giggled, the flesh of her stomach rippling beneath his teasing tongue. The ache of need blossomed between her thighs when his tongue dipped lower and he found her sweet place nestled between her thighs. She closed her eyes and slowly tossed her head back and forth, the ecstasy building within her.
“Does that tickle, or does it do something more for you?” Strong Wolf asked, his eyes dark pits of passion as he gazed up at her.
Hannah twined her fingers through his glossy black hair and smiled down at him. “You know how it feels,” she murmured. “Wonderful.”
“Then shall I continue, or would you rather I . . . ?” He didn’t get the chance to finish. She had her hands gently at his neck, urging him fully over her.
“I’d rather,” she murmured, her fingers in his hair again as she urged his lips to hers. She melted inside as he kissed her and plunged his thick shaft inside her, half lifting her off the bed with the thrust of entering her.
His lips drugging her, Hannah’s body hardened and tightened. When he cupped her breasts, she groaned with pleasure against his lips. She arched her hips and pressed her pelvis against him. He showered her face, ears, throat, and breasts with loving kisses.
Hannah was swirling in a storm of passion that shook her innermost senses. For too long they couldn’t share these special moments. She had made love with him only in her warm pink dreams.
But now, as the babies lay in matching cribs not that far from Hannah and Strong Wolf’s bed, she was able to be everything to Strong Wolf again, and he to her.
Their bodies strained together hungrily.
They could not hold back the ecstasy any longer.
Their kisses became frenzied,
Their moans of pleasure mingled.
Their bodies shook and quaked.
When they came down from the clouds, panting and satisfied, Hannah leaned up on an elbow and gazed at the cribs. “Mother never told me that there were twins in our family,” she whispered. “Can you imagine, Strong Wolf? We have a daughter and a son. I think it’s a miracle.”
She sucked in a wild breath of rapture as Strong Wolf came up behind her and pulled her back against his hard body. She reached behind him and stroked his muscled buttocks.
“You are the true miracle,” Strong Wolf whispered in her ear. “That you came to me and filled my life with so much more meaning, and that you have given me a son and daughter. How could a man ask for more?”
Hannah sighed as he leaned over, lifted her hair, and brushed a soft kiss across her neck. She laughed softly, when through the silence she could hear her children breathing, so sweet, so soft, so precious.
Hannah sat suddenly up and wrapped her arms around her knees. “Listen, Strong Wolf,” she said, scarcely breathing herself so that she could enjoy listening to her children breathing. “Hear them? Hear them breathing? Sweet Snow Princess, Sweet Wolf Fire, our precious children.”
He scooted himself into a sitting position beside her. “Yes, is it not a sound to be treasured?” he said, drawing Hannah next to him.
“Darling, when I was with child, and was not aware that I was carrying two children in my womb, I had so looked forward to the time when we would be listening to our child breathing in the same room with us at night,” she murmured. “I never in all of my wildest dreams thought that I would be listening to two sets of breaths. I still can’t get over knowing that we have two children in our lives so quickly!”
He placed his hands at her waist and gently urged her onto her back. He knelt over her, a knee parting her thighs. “Let us make a third child,” Strong Wolf whispered huskily.
Her eyes dancing, her heart pounding, Hannah nodded. She twined her arms around his neck and drew his mouth to hers.
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