by Karen Kay
“You would have me give her to Wart? I said that the woman, Julia, is my friend.”
“He would make a good husband.” It was his young nephew at his side who spoke, and Neeheeowee, rising up onto his knees, glanced down at the boy.
“Eaaa!” Neeheeowee spoke at last to everyone present. “Have you all lost your sense?”
No one said a word as all within the tepee, save one, grinned.
“Come, come, my brother.” Mahoohe was the first to take pity on his northern relative. “If you must purchase the slave, then you must. But I hope you are ready to make a hard trade; for my brother, the Kiowa warrior who owns her, treasures his slave, I think.”
Neeheeowee didn’t respond—at first. Then, “What do you mean?”
Mahoohe smiled before he spoke. At last, he said, “My good brother-in-law, what would you trade for the slave?”
Neeheeowee shrugged, sitting back down into position. “I will have to part with one of my ponies since they are my wealth. But come now, you avoid my question.”
Mahoohe paused, seemed to reflect for a moment, then said, “I am afraid, my brother, that it might take more than one pony to buy your friend away from her captor.”
“Why do you say this?”
“Her Kiowa master refuses to part with her.”
Neeheeowee took this message with a great deal more nonchalance than he felt, and he wondered why the matter affected him so. At last he spoke, again to his brother-in-law. “What do you mean,” he asked, “refuses to part with her?”
Mahoohe raised an eyebrow, looking away, before saying, “Just as I said. We arrived here at the trading fair before the others. We saw the war party as it came in and settled into camp. We saw the white woman and we thought her Kiowa captor might have brought her here to trade. But we soon learned it was not to be. Her captor tells a story of killing the woman’s husband in a fight with the blue-coated soldiers. He says because of her, he now has much medicine. He says she was braver than her husband.”
Neeheeowee nodded, and, at length, he said, “That is a good story, but you evade my question, brother. How can a man refuse to part with a slave? It seems strange to me. Can you tell me what you know about these Kiowa people who own her?”
Mahoohe sat in silence as was Indian custom, the rule being, one should think before speech. At last, Mahoohe glanced up, saying to his brother-in-law, “I know little about them save that the Kiowa mistress is cruel, though it may be that the woman is only jealous. After all, would it not be appropriate for a woman to feel suspicion when her husband suddenly brings home a beautiful captive and refuses to sell her for offers worth a great deal more than her value?”
“Others have tried to purchase her? Is that what you have been trying to tell me?”
“So it is said.”
“And who are these people?” Neeheeowee stared at his southern relative, drawing back within himself. He didn’t like the sudden feeling of something gnawing in his gut. He didn’t like it, he did not understand it, nor would he acknowledge it.
“Oh,” Mahoohe said, a sly humor in his voice, “several of our young men have offered ponies for her. This is why I said it may take more than one of your ponies to purchase her.”
“How many ponies have been offered?”
Mahoohe again took a long moment to reflect upon his answer, the action keeping Neeheeowee in suspense until at last he looked up. Then, still smiling, Mahoohe said, “I think I heard that one of our young men offered as many as two ponies for her, as well as two buffalo robes.”
“And this Kiowa warrior who owns her turned down such an offer?”
Mahoohe nodded.
Something twisted inside Neeheeowee’s stomach. A thought took hold, a terrible image Neeheeowee would rather not conjure up, his belly reacting adversely to the mere idea of it. This thing he saw, it wasn’t something he wanted to think about, much less visualize. And though he didn’t want to know it, didn’t want to ask it, he still found himself forming the words, knowing he must ask. “Does her captor sell her out at night, then?”
Both Mahoohe and his wife, plus Voesee looked up to Neeheeowee; all teasing gone, all humor put aside, each one in the lodge appeared to feel their brother-in-law’s hurt as though it was their own, although only Mahoohe answered, “No, my brother. He does not sell her out at night. Now do you understand why his wife acts as she does? I would not wish these things on my own wife. I know how she would feel.”
Neeheeowee nodded, easing back against the willow backrest behind him. He drew a deep, unsteady breath, unaware that all within the tepee closely observed him. At last, he said, “This man, he will take my ponies as soon as he sees them, even though I may have to part with two or perhaps three of them. I have spent the last year accumulating this wealth. I have trained these ponies myself. There are none better. He will know it. Rest assured, I will easily buy the slave.”
And with this note of assurance, all within the tepee relaxed.
Chapter Four
Neeheeowee did nothing to show his irritation, neither by word, nor manner. However, the sweat upon his brow must have indicated his mood to his opponent. The Kiowa warrior, seeing it, struck advantage.
“No trade,” the Kiowa’s hand motions said. “No trade. I keep woman.”
Neeheeowee was dismayed. This couldn’t be happening. He had just offered the Kiowa five—five of his best horses. There were no ponies better than these. Five ponies…for a woman. What did the Kiowa warrior want?
Neeheeowee gestured toward the pony herd at a distance, toward the woman, then in a flurry of sign motions, he asked, “Do you not see what you are turning down?”
The Kiowa hesitated. He seemed to think deeply before he replied in slower, more deliberate hand motions, “Yes, I do.” He rubbed his chest before continuing. “And my fine Cheyenne warrior,” he said, “do you not see what I own?” He smiled, looking back toward Julia. He licked his lips. “She is worth it, is she not?”
Neeheeowee almost spit; courtesy, however, forbade him such an action. And though he felt like wrestling the Kiowa right there, right as they bargained, he could not. This was a trading fair—a peaceful trading fair and Neeheeowee would do his relatives no favor by breaking that peace either by stealing the white captive or by fighting the Kiowa warrior.
Neeheeowee looked over to his opponent, measuring him, searching for strengths, for weaknesses. He could find little, except one…Neeheeowee turned briefly away, walking a few steps and gesturing to his brother-in-law, who stood a small distance away.
“Summon your wife,” Neeheeowee said as Mahoohe came within speaking distance. “I have need of her to bring out the Kiowa woman who is wife to this man. If this woman is truly jealous, it may be the only weapon I will have to strike a bargain here today. And you know that if I do not do it today, it will be all the harder tomorrow. Hurry, now. I will keep bickering with this warrior until you return.”
And Mahoohe, nodding, rushed away.
Neeheeowee retraced his steps, remembering the week which had passed, a week while he and his southern relatives had awaited the Kiowa warrior’s return to camp, a week during which both he and others from Mahoohe’s family had watched over Julia. And though none of them were obtrusive, always watching Julia from a distance, the Kiowa mistress had known of their presence, and had continued her uneasy peace with the captive. At least, there had been no more physical punishment, no more whippings. And if the Kiowa woman’s words were a little strained because of this, if she were a little resentful, it was to be understood.
And Julia? Neeheeowee frowned. He realized Julia’s lot was not an easy one, still he could not understand her avoidance of him. He had once or twice been within speaking distance of her, and she had ignored him as if she hadn’t seen him. Why?
He wondered, as he had often done this past week, if she noticed the assistance he gave to her. If so, she did not show it, her head always held high, her gaze unseeing. And Neeheeowee began to wonder if s
he were one of those sorts of women who expected much and gave back little. Or to be fair, perhaps she did not recognize him.
Mentally he shrugged. It made little difference to him. He had once called her friend. He did so now, which meant he was honor-bound to rescue her, whether she remembered him or not.
The sun beat down an unbearable heat, and Neeheeowee strove to keep his composure, even though it meant letting sweat trickle down his face. He would not wipe the perspiration away, nor would he otherwise show his distress. To do so would be to display weakness. And Neeheeowee knew he needed every bit of strength he could muster.
It was not the right part of the day for bargaining. He knew it, but he’d had little choice. The Kiowa warrior had only returned to camp late last evening, giving Neeheeowee no chance to settle this matter in the evening, Neeheeowee’s favorite hour to barter. Because the heat of the day did not always allow for clear thinking, he usually manipulated things so that he conducted business at night, such being the point in a long day when others reclined around the fire, relaxing. These were also the moments when Neeheeowee remained on guard the most, always alert. This he preferred; this gave him advantage. He did not have that favor now.
It had been his own fault. Anxious after a full week of waiting, Neeheeowee had approached the Kiowa captor in the early morning, intending only to set up the evening as a time for trade.
But the two men had bickered, their argument continuing way past the sun’s zenith, and now Neeheeowee stood in the heat of the afternoon, himself to blame, his final bargaining to begin.
He narrowed his eyes at his opponent. “Have you examined the ponies you decline?” he asked of the man in sign.
“No,” the warrior answered back. “I have not, and I do not intend to. I have what I want. The captive has great medicine. I saw it during the fight with the blue-coat soldiers. Because of her, I have extra scalp in my lodge, extra pony. No, I keep her with me now.”
Neeheeowee didn’t change his expression; he didn’t even move. He did, however, narrow his eyes. At length, he signed, “It is a foolish man who will not even view what he is offered, just as it is a foolish man who will not see. And I say that the man who will not look is no more than a coward.”
The Kiowa warrior threw back his shoulders. He screwed up his face in the wake of the well-spoken challenge and glared at Neeheeowee. At last, he said, “I am no coward.”
Neeheeowee nodded. “I am glad to see it.” He glanced toward the pony herd. “Come, then, and have a look at these ponies I offer you, if you truly are no weakling.”
“I will look,” the man signed, his right finger snapping down to indicate his willingness. “I will see. It will do your cause no good.”
Neeheeowee shrugged, his look saying, We shall see…
As Neeheeowee led the Kiowa warrior away to the pony herd, he congratulated himself, knowing there would soon be a bargain. There were no finer horses on the plains than these.
“No?” Neeheeowee asked, his hand motions harsh. “How can you turn down six of the finest horses?”
The two men, having just examined the ponies in question, stood back at the Kiowa lodge.
The Kiowa warrior shook his head. “I do not wish to trade the white slave away for these. I already have enough ponies. Besides, the white slave keeps my wife company.”
Neeheeowee took a moment before responding. He might have despaired, but upon looking up, he saw a gathering which gave him hope. It was probably the only weapon that could give Neeheeowee the power to win in this bargaining. The Kiowa’s wife had appeared behind her husband, with Neeheeowee’s two sisters-in-law, Aamehee and Voesee, in close attendance. And Neeheeowee, aware this might be his only opportunity to succeed in the negotiations, offered his best argument. “You say the white slave keeps your wife company. I say you speak only half-truths.” His hand motions were slow so that all might easily understand them. “I say,” he continued, “that you have other purpose. I say you keep the white captive here because you like to look at her beauty. I say you intend to take her for second wife.”
The Kiowa man sneered. “And what business is it of yours if I do?”
Neeheeowee raised his chin. “I will give you six of my finest ponies.”
“No.”
“EEEEEEEE!”
The Kiowa warrior spun around to confront his wife. A moment passed, two. The wife screamed, her trilling voice causing others in the camp to run toward the sound. Frowning, the man turned back toward his opponent.
Neeheeowee, without so much as a flicker of emotion, pressed his only advantage as he motioned, “I will give you seven of my ponies. It is my final offer.”
“You cheated. You knew my wife stood at my back.”
Neeheeowee’s expression didn’t even change. “No, my fine opponent. I told the truth. It is too bad for you that she was here to witness it.”
“EEEEEEEE!” The man’s scream added to his wife’s.
Neeheeowee waited.
Finally the warrior wailed at him, his hand motions quick, “I will have them all.” The warrior paused. “Give me all your ponies, all your wealth, including your buffalo robes, all to me and then, only then, can you have the woman captive.”
All? Neeheeowee, ready to accept, faltered. He looked to the heavens, he looked to the ground. All his wealth? All he had? For a woman?
“Well, my smart Cheyenne ally,” the Kiowa sneered. “What do you say to me now?”
And Neeheeowee, barely daring to think of what he did, raised his right hand forward, in front of his breast. And extending his index finger upward, he moved his whole hand slightly to the left, the index finger closing over his thumb.
It was done.
He had agreed.
Where was he?
“Pave-voona’o! E-peve-eseeva.”
“Ne-haeana-he?”
Julia stared at the two women who stood before her, each one smiling and talking to her, both trying to shove multicolored, decorated, buffalo hide bags at her.
“No, no, I can’t take them,” Julia tried to explain, unable to return the women’s friendly gestures and certainly unable to take what they offered. She held her head high, hoping they would believe she felt no emotion toward her situation, toward them.
She didn’t know these two Indian women, she didn’t understand what they did, nor what they said, and she did not want to trust them, despite the fact that they had shown her only the best in courtesy.
It was early morning, the sun not yet arisen over the darkened plains, yet the camp was alive with the sounds of quiet voices, whining dogs, and the ever present echo of the wind. The scent of smoke and the unmistakable smell of simmering breakfast permeated the air.
She and the two other women stood in front of the tepee where Julia had spent the night. Inside the lodge, a fire remained lit from the night before, casting an air of comfort over all those inside, while outside, the entire tepee glowed from the light within, illuminating the buffalo hide lodge in a multitude of colors, as though the whole structure were translucent.
Julia gazed around the camp, seeing other tepees alight from inside as well. She could just make out the figures of women and children moving about within those lodges. The absence of warriors this time of day was to be expected, most of the men having arisen long ago, already out on the hunt.
The air felt dry, though slightly cool, the lack of humidity in it making the atmosphere feel light to her…light and fluffy.
Julia took a deep breath of the fragrant, desert air and sighed. Why did they wait? For…what? She couldn’t be certain.
No one had spoken to her in words she could understand, making her unsure as to exactly what had taken place. All she knew was that she had been removed from her enslavement yesterday to be rushed into the tender ministrations of these two women, who had fussed over her as though she were a newborn babe.
Julia recalled how these two had taken her to the women’s section of the community stream last evening, th
ere washing her clean with sand; the two women had then dressed Julia in a fine, elk-skin gown, beaded with intricate designs and heavily fringed; they had brushed Julia’s dark hair until the glossy waves had tamed, the whole mane of it falling down her back in a cascade of curls.
The pair had seemed to delight in Julia’s hair, running their hands down the long locks much after the knots and snarls were gone. They had even left the mane of her hair free, openly defying the Indian fashion of tying the hair into two braids at the side of the head.
Julia felt pampered though she feared it no more than an illusion.
Where was he?
She understood that Neeheeowee had bargained for her, had bought her away from her Kiowa captor. And though she knew she should be grateful to Neeheeowee for her release, she couldn’t help feeling resentful toward him: firstly because he had bought her and lastly because he’d had no choice but to buy her. It made her feel as though she were a commodity of exchange, not a woman of human flesh and feeling. It made her feel degraded.
He’d not said a word to her, either, not once. He’d not even seen her since the bargaining. And she wondered if he had given her over to these two women to use as their own, for they were all she had known since her “liberation” yesterday afternoon. Had Neeheeowee freed her from one form of enslavement only to rush her into another?
Where was he?
Suddenly, as if in answer to her unspoken question, Neeheeowee appeared at her side, silently, his footsteps making no sound. He did not even glance at her.
“Na-me’esta.”
She quickly came to realize he did not speak to her, but rather to someone else, and it took her a moment to determine to whom he spoke. There appeared another man at Neeheeowee’s side, who materialized as if by magic. And though Julia felt certain the two men were friends, it looked as though they were arguing.
