“We shall have the adoption ceremonies when the clans gather early in the fall,” the chief said. “I just wanted to tell you of this honor which awaits you.” Chief Minnemung nodded his head in dismissal. “That is all.”
Jim stumbled back; Wahbunou and his mother were still working with the squirrel skins.
“What’s the matter, Jim?” Wahbunou asked, when he caught sight of Jim’s stricken face. “Was Chief Minnemung angry with you? And for what?”
Jim shook his head. “No, he wasn’t angry. He wanted to tell me that he is going to adopt me as his son in the fall.”
Wahbunou dropped the skin he was cleaning. “Chief Minnemung is going to adopt you!” Wahbunou clapped Jim on the back. “Why, that means you’ll be the son of a chief.”
Jim hung his head and said in a low voice, “Wahbunou, I don’t want to be adopted by Chief Minnemung. And I don’t want to be a member of your tribe.”
Wahbunou stared at Jim, thinking he had not heard him correctly. “You don’t want to be Chief Minnemung’s son?”
Now Jim’s blue eyes were misty with tears. “No, Wahbunou. You and your people have been very kind to me, but I want my own people. I hope to find my father and mother. Don’t you remember that you didn’t want to live with us?”
Wahbunou nodded slowly. “But, Jim, you don’t know where your father and mother are. Nor do I. I only know they were prisoners of the Shawnees. And they live far to the east. We Potawatomis do not mingle with them.”
Jim’s lips trembled as he said, “If they’re still alive, I’ll find them some day, Wahbunou. I wouldn’t be happy being a real Potawatomi.”