“We must hurry and pack our things,” Papa said. “It will be a long trip on poor roads and the winter comes early there.” We could see his heart had stayed in the north.
Mama bit her lip as she does when she isunhappy. “Rob, we came all the way from Virginia to Michigan. Now, just as Saginaw is becoming settled, you want to take us away.”
“Vinnie, I’m tired of living in a bundle, like squirrels packed into a hollow tree.”
“But, Rob, our cabin is so comfortable.”
“Wait until you hear about our new home. It was built for an American Fur Company trader. It has a kitchen and a parlor. Upstairs, there are two bedrooms.” At that Mama looked happier. Our log cabin had only two small rooms.
“Papa,” I asked, “would I have my own room?”
“Yes, Libby,” said Papa, smiling, “but that is not the best of it. The house is on a bluff overlooking Lake Michigan. The lake is as big as a sea. And the lake is not like land that someone can buy and sell. It will always be there.”
I was happy at the thought of a room of my own. I was even more excited to think that I would soon be seeing Fawn. When weparted, she had given me the silver eagle that she wore around her neck. “It will be as if you are one of our Eagle clan,” she said. I had given her my bracelet with the tiny gold heart that had belonged to my grandmother.
Mama turned up her sleeves and I put on my oldest apron. Papa nailed together boxes to hold our possessions. We began to pack our things for the trip north.
Last to go in the wagon was William’s cradle. It had been woven for him by Fawn’s mother, Menisikwe. Around the top of the cradle was a border of sweet grass that made our whole wagon fragrant.
Eagerly, Papa coaxed our horses, Ned and Dan, onto the trail leading north. I could not help looking back. The sun was shining on our cabin. Geese and ducks were swimming on our pond. This year we would not watch them fly away as winter came. Instead, we were the ones to leave.
I began to understand how Fawn and the Potawatomi tribe had felt when they wereforced to leave their village. I remembered how the women had cried out and the men had shouted angry words.
I had been there when it happened. I was visiting Fawn when the soldiers had come. Because I was wearing Fawn’s clothes, the soldiers believed that I was an Indian, too. They meant to take all of the Potawatomi Indians to the empty country of the west. Sanatua and his family risked their lives to bring me back to Mama and Papa. Then they fled north to join the Ottawa. Now we were following in their footsteps.
There seemed to be no end to the trip. Each day, as dusk came, Papa would unhitch the wagon next to some small stream or lake. He would walk off into the woods with his musket in search of rabbits or squirrels for our dinner. I would gather firewood and Mama would put on a kettle of potatoes, carrots, and turnips.
At night Mama and I would make ourselves snug in the wagon. Papa would throw a quilt over a bed of pine branches and sleep under the sky. I tried it, but only for one night. The hooting of the owls and the criesof the wolves sounded much closer than they did in the wagon.
We spent hours in forests dark as the inside of a pocket. Then, suddenly Ned and Dan would pull our wagon into a meadow that was filled with sun. We traveled through forests of pine trees so tall I could not see to the top of them. We came upon golden-leafed birch and sugar maples with leaves in every shade of red from scarlet to rust.
We forded streams and crossed rivers on log bridges. On wet days Ned and Dan struggled through mud. On dry days dust as fine as flour sifted onto everything. William fussed and cried because the wagon bumped so. Mama grew more and more silent. Papa tried to be cheerful for all of us. I could see, though, that he wished we would hurry and get there.
The closer we came to our new village of La Croix, the more Indians we saw. The men wore breechcloths and
Mama bit her lip as she does when she isunhappy. “Rob, we came all the way from Virginia to Michigan. Now, just as Saginaw is becoming settled, you want to take us away.”
“Vinnie, I’m tired of living in a bundle, like squirrels packed into a hollow tree.”
“But, Rob, our cabin is so comfortable.”
“Wait until you hear about our new home. It was built for an American Fur Company trader. It has a kitchen and a parlor. Upstairs, there are two bedrooms.” At that Mama looked happier. Our log cabin had only two small rooms.
“Papa,” I asked, “would I have my own room?”
“Yes, Libby,” said Papa, smiling, “but that is not the best of it. The house is on a bluff overlooking Lake Michigan. The lake is as big as a sea. And the lake is not like land that someone can buy and sell. It will always be there.”
I was happy at the thought of a room of my own. I was even more excited to think that I would soon be seeing Fawn. When weparted, she had given me the silver eagle that she wore around her neck. “It will be as if you are one of our Eagle clan,” she said. I had given her my bracelet with the tiny gold heart that had belonged to my grandmother.
Mama turned up her sleeves and I put on my oldest apron. Papa nailed together boxes to hold our possessions. We began to pack our things for the trip north.
Last to go in the wagon was William’s cradle. It had been woven for him by Fawn’s mother, Menisikwe. Around the top of the cradle was a border of sweet grass that made our whole wagon fragrant.
Eagerly, Papa coaxed our horses, Ned and Dan, onto the trail leading north. I could not help looking back. The sun was shining on our cabin. Geese and ducks were swimming on our pond. This year we would not watch them fly away as winter came. Instead, we were the ones to leave.
I began to understand how Fawn and the Potawatomi tribe had felt when they wereforced to leave their village. I remembered how the women had cried out and the men had shouted angry words.
I had been there when it happened. I was visiting Fawn when the soldiers had come. Because I was wearing Fawn’s clothes, the soldiers believed that I was an Indian, too. They meant to take all of the Potawatomi Indians to the empty country of the west. Sanatua and his family risked their lives to bring me back to Mama and Papa. Then they fled north to join the Ottawa. Now we were following in their footsteps.
There seemed to be no end to the trip. Each day, as dusk came, Papa would unhitch the wagon next to some small stream or lake. He would walk off into the woods with his musket in search of rabbits or squirrels for our dinner. I would gather firewood and Mama would put on a kettle of potatoes, carrots, and turnips.
At night Mama and I would make ourselves snug in the wagon. Papa would throw a quilt over a bed of pine branches and sleep under the sky. I tried it, but only for one night. The hooting of the owls and the criesof the wolves sounded much closer than they did in the wagon.
We spent hours in forests dark as the inside of a pocket. Then, suddenly Ned and Dan would pull our wagon into a meadow that was filled with sun. We traveled through forests of pine trees so tall I could not see to the top of them. We came upon golden-leafed birch and sugar maples with leaves in every shade of red from scarlet to rust.
We forded streams and crossed rivers on log bridges. On wet days Ned and Dan struggled through mud. On dry days dust as fine as flour sifted onto everything. William fussed and cried because the wagon bumped so. Mama grew more and more silent. Papa tried to be cheerful for all of us. I could see, though, that he wished we would hurry and get there.
The closer we came to our new village of La Croix, the more Indians we saw. The men wore breechcloths and
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