Nakoa's Woman by Gayle Rogers

to him and was riding the swelling crest of her passion when he suddenly tore her free from himself. He held her at arms length and studied her face with a deep compassion.
    Why were his eyes so deeply sad? Did he see her frenzy as not for him at all? “I love you,” she had told him. Ana’s blue eyes gazed sadly and lovingly into her own and vanished. Her father, struck with an Indian arrow, wept openly at the impotence of his coming death. Love—an Indian? Love an Indian with their hands stilled forever upon the prairie? Shuddering, Maria buried her face in her hands. Her thoughts were darting swallows and she reeled after them.
    His lips softly brushed her forehead, and rage suddenly leaped within her. “Indian! Indian!” she screamed, lashing his face as hard as she could. Stunned, he recoiled wordlessly away from her. His face became an expressionless mask.
    He wouldn’t even give her life, as the savage Indians hadn’t given her father and Ana life!
    Silently, he gestured for her to mount the bay. He made no attempt to help her, nor did he mount the horse behind her and shelter her from the bitter mountain wind. Every fire in the world had gone out and she felt as if she would never be warm again.

Natosin

Chapter Five
     
    When the Indian led the bay into the village, it seemed to Maria that all sound stopped. Drums were muted; talking ceased; there was only a dog barking frantically, and then, with a loud yip, he too became silenced. People had gathered where she and the Indian would enter the village, and more and more were quickly coming. Their black eyes were all upon her, as if she were a strange thing apart from themselves. Had they never seen a white woman before? The reflection of the firelight shone upon their unwavering gaze.
    Without a word, the Indian led his horse past them all, and then Maria could hear them quietly following, now not so hushed or awed, and their voices beginning to murmur. Maria began to pick out separate words. “Essummissa! Essummissa!” she heard over and over. Was that their word for white? A child darted up to them, looking up at her closely, and then ran away only to return and search her face again. A crowd was following them now, and more throngs lined the route that they seemed to know the Indian would take. “Makto mahxim!” a man shouted, and then another said, “Ksiksi num-ksiksi num!” and still her captor answered none of the voices.
    Maria felt sick; she concentrated upon holding herself erect and on keeping any fear from her face. Dear God, where was he taking her? Did he have to display her to everyone in the village? She wanted to call out to him, but she did not even know his name, so she looked proudly ahead, and refused to look at any more of the eyes watching her.
    They were now approaching the inner circle of tipis, and here the crowd collecting behind them stopped. “ O wayai — ashtay!” a good-humored voice laughed. “Tsumah tsi tsi? Ninow?” There was laughter in answer from the others, and then the Indian led her away from them.
    The inner circle consisted of only nine tipis, and apart from them stood one of tremendous size. It was over twenty feet in height and was supported by at least thirty lodge poles. It was at this lodge that her captor stopped the bay and gestured for her to dismount. When Maria swung to the ground a pack of dogs came yapping furiously at her feet, and the Indian kicked them away from her. “Piintwike,” he said, telling her to enter the door of the tipi. Maria hung back. “Piintwike,” he repeated impatiently, and slowly Maria entered the door. She had to stoop to enter the lodge, and as she did so, she glanced pleadingly back at the Indian, but he gave no sign of encouragement.
    Inside the lodge Maria straightened, and her captor took her by the arm and led her to eight or nine men who were sitting around the fire. The Indian who had prevented her from escaping on the bay already stood before them. Maria looked