Outside, Fawn could hear the sounds of hoofbeats and creaking carts coming up the lane, and calls of greeting, more folks arriving. It felt very peculiar to sit still in this room waiting, instead of being out bustling around doing.

Mama came in, wiping her hands on a towel, to say, “Shep Sower and his wife just got here. They were the last. The sun’s as close to noon as makes no never mind. We could start most any time.”

“Is Dag ready? Is he all right?”

“He’s clean, and dressed neat and plain. He looks very calm and above it all, except that he’s had Whit switch out his wooden hand for his hook and back again twice now.”

Fawn considered this. “Which did he end up with?”

“Hook, last I seen.”

“Hm.” So did that mean he was getting more relaxed, to let himself be seen so by strangers, or less, to have the most useful tool and maybe-weapon ready, as it were, to hand? “Well, it’ll be over soon. I didn’t mean to put him through such an ordeal when I agreed to stop back here.”

Mama nodded to Fawn’s cousins. “You girls give us a minute.”

Nattie rose to her feet, endorsing this. “Come along, chickies, give the bride a breather with her mama.” She shepherded Fawn’s helpers out to her weaving room and closed the door quietly behind them.

Mama said, “In a few minutes, you’ll be a married woman.” Her voice was stretched somewhere between anxious and bewildered. “Sooner than I expected. Well, I never expected anything like this. We always meant to do right by you, for your wedding. This is all so quick. We’ve done more preparing for Fletch.” She frowned at this felt injustice.

“I’m glad it’s no more. This is making me nervous enough.”

“You sure about this, Fawn?”

“Today, no. All my tomorrows, yes.”

“Nattie’s kept your confidences. But, you know, if you want to change your mind, we can stop this right now. Whatever trouble you think you’re in, we could manage it somehow.”

“Mama, we’ve had this conversation. Twice. I’m not pregnant. Really and truly.”

“There are other kinds of troubles.”

“For girls, that’s the only one folks seem to care about.” She sighed. “So how many out there are saying I must be, for you to let this go forward?”

“A few,” Mama admitted.

A bunch, I’ll bet. Fawn growled. “Well, time’ll prove ’em wrong, and I hope you’ll make them eat their words when it does, ’cause I won’t be here to.”

Mama went around behind her and fussed with her hair, which needed nothing. “I admit Dag seems a fine fellow, no, I’ll go farther, a good man, but what about his kin? Even he doesn’t vouch for your welcome where you’re going. What if they treat you bad?”