“This isourhome. Do you like it?”
“Oh, Josiah, it’s wonderful.”
“To answer your earlier question, Mia, I speak fluent Choctaw because my father was Choctaw. I am part Creek and part German on my mother’s side.”
Mia’s gaze flew to his face, her eyes wide. “You are almost full-blood Indian?”
“I am.”
“Oh, my.”
Chapter 4
Mia stared at her handsome husband in wonder. All the years she secretly read the horrible stories in the newspapers about how terrible the Indians were and the constant wagon attacks along the Oregon Trail. Even her secret collection of dime novels were now questionable in her mind. Had anything she’d read been true?
The man sitting beside her was anything but the savage portrayed in all those accounts. He wasn’t naked, wearing only a leather breechclout. No long feather headdress covered his hair, which certainly wasn’t long enough to wear in girly braids.
She shook her head and frowned. “I’m a bit confused. You are nothing like the Indians I’ve read about.”
Josiah smiled. “Probably not. I’ve read some of those same stories.” He leaned his elbow over one knee. “Are all white people the same? Are people from across the ocean the same with the same skin, hair or eye color?”
“Well, no. That’s a bit silly. People living in Scandinavia are very fair with blonde hair and pale skin. Egyptians have very dark skin because they live in the desert while people from the Orient have black hair and fair skin, but it's different from those in Scandinavia, more yellow toned.”
“Do you all dress the same?”
Her eyes narrowed. “I see what you’re doing. Very smart. You are telling me the Indian tribes are no different from people living in countries around the world. Choctaw, Iroquois, Apache, or Ute are like the English, Spanish, German, or Russian. Each have their own culture and way of life.”
“Yes, that is exactly what I’m saying. There are some tribes who have adopted more of the white ways over the decades such as the Cherokee, Choctaw, and Creek as well as a few others. We have built the same style homes, worn basically the same type of clothing, and have the same basic town structure. The Cherokee even has the same form of government. There are many similarities and at the same time, differences that make us still Indian. We are proud of our culture and don’t want to lose that any more than the whites do.
“We see people coming to this country from faraway lands like Russia and Germany. They bring their traditions here, yet expect us to forget ours. We don’t understand that. America has enough land for everyone to have a small portion.”
“That’s the problem, Josiah. With land comes greed. There are always going to be those men who want it all. Are there really tribes who live in teepees and only wear breechclouts?”
Mia couldn’t believe she asked the question burning a hole in her brain, but now that it was out there, she couldn’t take it back. His dark stare unnerved her until she saw the minute twitch of his lips and realized he was trying not to smile. She rolled her eyes and looked back at the house, not quite sure who she was more disgusted with, herself for asking the question in the first place or her new husband for laughing at her.
“Yes. There were tribes like that. Still are to some extent. The plains tribes such as the Apache, Comanche, Kiowa, and Kickapoo men wore nothing more than breechclouts during the hot summer months. Most all tribes, of course, wore what they called war shirts and would always wear many layers during winter, which could be very harsh on the plains.”
“You know a lot about the tribes, don’t you?”
Josiah shrugged. “I was born in the Territory and lived my entire life among the Indians. I am Indian. I listen and learn and am very proud of my heritage—from both tribes.”
She glanced down at her clasped hands. She had always dreamed of walking among the Indians and here she was actually talking to one! Her lungs stilled, and what felt like a thousand tiny bubbles burst inside her as she realized she was married to an Indian. An incredibly handsome, smart, and seemingly polite Indian.
She didn’t know what to say or how to say it. Being too excited growing up had always been her downfall, so she had always just kept her mouth shut and faded into the background. Jessamine and Katriona had always known and stuck up for her. They had realized how hard it had been for her to say anything, especially when she was the center of attention or was expected to respond. Standing up in front of a group of small children, though, was different somehow. In her mind, they needed her. At least that was how her silly brain justified it.
A quick shout pulled her attention away from her white knuckles. She glanced toward the house and saw two small faces staring at her from an upstairs window. She smiled and waved, but the children disappeared.
“Where did they go? Who are they?”
Josiah climbed down from the wagon and walked around to her side and held out this hand. “Would you like to see your new home?”
She nodded and placed her hand in his. She followed him along the narrow path to the house and up the porch steps. Turning, she moved to the front rail and grabbed it with both hands, her gaze on the wide expansive land rolling away from her like the waves on an ocean. It was breathtaking. Along the horizon were what looked like low-lying mountains, which she didn’t know this area had. Somewhere in between were thick clusters of trees zig-zagging through the fields and valleys of golden grasses.
In a few of the valleys were several groups of deer and closer still, she caught a glimpse of two large red dogs loping and jumping their way through the thick grass. “I couldn’t have imagined a better place to live. What an amazing view.”
“I think so. I’m glad Summer talked me into building a larger porch. Drinking coffee out here in the morning and relaxing out here in the evening, listening to the cicadas and other night sounds will be nice. Much better than squatting on a single stair, which was what I had before.”
She glanced at him from the corner of her eye. “A single stair? No porch, just one stair?”