Creative Writing: A Humorous Wedding

Alma sat on the bank of the river, the moonlight reflecting off the calm surface a comfort to her. She had dried off with the dirty clothes, quickly pulled on her other clean change. It had taken a lot of work to get the tangles combed out of her hair, but now it lay down her back as smooth as she could make it.
Beside her, hung on some low branches of a bush, were the clothes she’d washed out. Her wedding day things and the torn and dirty ones from their hurried trek over Cumberland Mountain.
In the silent night, it was hard to believe forty to fifty other people were sleeping by dying campfires. There were nearly as many horses as people in this village and now they were grazing on the lush meadow with a herd of deer. For a minute, she thought

But she hadn’t been raised to be a cry baby. Ma and Pa had taught her better than that. If Gabe had changed his mind and wanted that little Indian for a wife, then he would just have to get over the notion. This hillbilly bride wasn’t moving over for anyone.
All right, she knew the girl wasn’t a tramp like the Widow Boggs. But she knew more than Gabe if he thought she was some innocent girl who only wanted to renew their friendship. She’d set him straight about that, when his leg healed, and they were back on the trail.
Even if he’d been ready to walk, she wasn’t ready to leave. She could argue all day that she was raised to hate and distrust Indians, even though she’d never dealt with them before. That didn’t cut any soap with her and she knew it wouldn’t with Gabe. Somehow she had to apologize to these people, make up for the way she had behaved. Decided, she gathered her damp things and the rest of her poke and went back to the

“No more play, people may walk in any time now.” Quickly he divided her hair and began to braid as he talked.
“In the fall, we harvest grapes, and press them to make wine. Papa ages it, then takes some down to the store. What he can’t sell at home, he packs and takes to trade. Papa makes the trip each spring with the wine on Amos’s back. We always waited, so his people would be here, and we could visit with them several days.”
He finished the braid, continuing to talk as he turned and let her comb out his thick hair and braid it. “Louisville is a big betting and drinking town and pays the best price for it. On one of our trips, we passed by a cabin and the family invited us in for supper. They seemed kind.” Alma stood and searched for a loose dark hair, ended up using one of her own to secure his braid.
She turned, quickly pulling into the clothes they had shed last night. Gabe was able to dress himself without her assistance, merely using his arms to support himself as he tugged the pants on, then held his body up with one hand while he finished pulling them straight.
“Go on, finish the story. They were nice to you and gave you shelter for the night, but you called them