Nakoa's Woman by Gayle Rogers Page B

the horse, and this time mounted behind her. “Neet akkse” he answered, but she had forgotten these words. They rode back to the outer tipis, and he stopped the bay before a lodge that was dark and silent. He went inside and started a fire, and she followed him timidly, standing at the door. Suddenly a huge shadowed bulk emerged from nowhere, and almost knocked her down at the entrance. It was an old woman, shouting at her captor excitedly. She pulled Maria into the tipi, and tried to study her face in the firelight. She smelled of grease and sweat and her stringy gray hair was standing almost on end. “Essummissa?” she asked and belched.
    “Essummissa,” her captor answered. The old woman belched again in wonderment. She squinted her little black eyes into Maria’s face. God, what a smell! Maria thought.
    “By damn!” shouted the old woman. “By damn!”
    “You speak English?” Maria asked her immediately.
    The old woman gave no indication of understanding. She pulled Maria closer to the fire and when she still couldn’t see her well enough, angrily threw more wood on the flames. In the growing light she looked at Maria bug-eyed. “Hai-yah!” she exclaimed, scratching herself, and Maria saw with horror she wasn’t particular where she scratched. “Neek? Neek?” the old woman asked her captor, but without answering her, he left the tipi. Maria looked numbly after him. Why had she been brought to this old hag?
    The old woman put her hands on her hips and then pointed to herself. “Atsitsi,” she said proudly.
    Maria nodded. “You are named Atsitsi,” she said. She saw some water in the lodge and asked for it by cupping her hand to her lips. The old woman handed her the buffalo paunch, and when Maria had finished with it, gave her a cold stew of some kind. It was horrible, but Maria ate it anyway, and all the time she was eating the little black eyes never left her face.
    When she had had enough, Maria went to one of the two couches in the lodge, and without an invitation of any kind, lay down upon it to sleep. “Good night,” she said to her absorbed hostess.
    The next morning the first thing Maria saw was the old woman still watching her. “My goodness,” she said to her, “didn’t you close your eyes all night long?”
    The old woman bared her gums, and began to scratch under her breasts. She offered Maria more of last night’s stew, and Maria forced herself to eat some, and thanked Atsitsi when she had finished.
    The old woman grinned happily.
    Maria looked around her, running her hands through her tangled hair. If only she had a comb and could bathe and put on a clean dress! She went to the water pouch and was preparing to wash with its contents when the old woman almost knocked her down. She led her to the door and away from the outer tipis to a river. She pointed to the water and then looked at Maria as if she were crazy to bathe at all.
    Maria strove for privacy while bathing, but the old woman seemed to be peeping from every bush so Maria tried to resign herself to her staring. Maria called her names, and the old woman nodded in agreement.
    Returning to the village, Maria found crowds waiting for her arrival. Food and fires had been left unattended. Children had abandoned their play to stare at her; dogs left their gnawing on bones to yip and snap at her heels. She was frightened, and she kicked at the dogs savagely. Panting, she felt tears sting her eyes and she ran and hid herself in the old woman’s lodge.
    Maria lay down on her couch and buried her face in shaking hands. “Why didn’t he just kill me?” she moaned to herself. “Why did he save me at all?”
    The old woman had entered, and she sat down upon Maria’s couch. “Ha!” she exclaimed in English. “You not know why you saved?”
    “You speak English!” Maria said, at once astonished and overjoyed.
    “I no say I not.”
    “But last night—”
    “Last night I look.”
    “Are you the only person here who speaks