They knocked on the door of the spacious prefabricated 1980s demi-mansion on this cool May morning. What sounded like a pack of yipping lapdogs ignited into a chorus of greeting on the other side of the steel security door, painted pearl white with a careful feminine hand that had made certain to swirl the strokes in an arrangement of colorless flowers.
I hate lapdogs. I like big dogs, like Dad’s golden retriever.
“Lana, you are on dog detail.”
The young woman, nearly as tall as Joan but barely a hundred pounds, snickered, “Yes Aunt Joan. The safety of your ankles is my first priority.”
The door was soon opened and they stood there on the small concrete porch, towering above a little old lady and the petite Indian beauty from the video, now well into her sixth month of pregnancy.
God it looks like she swallowed a basketball!
How will I get around?
Krav Maga sessions are going to be a bitch.
Pocahontas had a stern territorial look on her face as the sweet old lady piped up, “Oh look at you nice girls; so tall and pretty. Come in. How might I help you young ladies?”
“I am Joan Henderson and this is my niece Lana Smoot. I have come looking for Jay.”
The lady stepped back and grinned as the dogs began cavorting around Smoot, who leaned down to pet them. Pocahontas had a fierce look in her eye and would not step aside for Joan. Joan looked down into her stunning brown eyes and the woman—no more than 21-years-old—did not flinch. Instead she addressed the old lady in a stern loving tone, “Grandmother, I have a reckoning with this woman. Please take the young one into the kitchen.”
Pocahontas then looked over at Smoot, attempting to disengage from the three yipping dogs. “You are welcome into my grandmother’s house. Please assist her with the drinking cups she keeps in the high cabinets.”
Before complying the old lady kissed the girl on the cheek in a consoling fashion. “Oh my honey, I’m sure it was just a fling—she’s not his type; old besides. He will be back for you!”
Pocahontas was trying not to let her resolve weaken before this show of affection, “Grandmother some coffee for this she-chief’s cousin-daughter please!”
The woman began to turn and shuffle as Smoot finally disengaged from the frantic pack of lapdogs. Granny was a little more feisty then she appeared though, based on the hushed words of advice she whispered over her shoulder loud enough for all to hear, “Don’t do anything stupid Sweet Girl. She looks like a goddamn East German shot-puter! Miss Ann doesn’t need her Sweet Girl being tossed around by some big monster bitch.”
Smoot shot Joan a comic ‘oh-my-God’ look before heading to the kitchen with Granny.
The tiny pregnant woman then motioned Joan through the door, closed it, and turned squarely beneath her with her hands on the hips of the pink terrycloth bathrobe. “I knew this day would come, Sunset Woman. He denied having a tall corn-haired woman. But he is a man and cannot control his lust. You are as beautiful as sunrise and come to me in the Flower Moon. I do not fear you though. You are much older than I would have thought and will soon dry up. I should remain his principal wife I think.”
Am I being punked by this little snot?
No, you have been punked by this little snot! Get over it.
The sassy little Indian girl then softened her tone, “I am White Ash, and I welcome you. We shall have our audience above in my private chamber, come.”
Her dialect and wordage is cryptic and stilted.
Joan began to follow the much smaller and much younger woman upstairs and was momentarily halted by a curly haired little black beast that was all of a sudden humping her right ankle just above her pumps. White Ash turned like a striking panther, snapped her fingers, and hissed, “Ojay!”
The dog jumped back and sat at attention with his little bonor dragging on the white carpet, whining but compliant. When White Ash turned to continue up the stairs the dog eyed Joan hungrily and began to advance on her only to be paralyzed by the snapping of the little fingers. He then whined and went off to the kitchen where Smoot and Granny could be heard rustling up some coffee and discussing the weather.
Have fun Smoot.
Moore importantly, who is this oddball pureblooded pregnant Indian chick?
Modern Amerindians are not this red and exotic looking, especially in the Eastern U.S.
She once again began to follow White Ash upstairs, who waited at the door to the master bedroom and held it open before entering behind her. “Please sit upon the bed Joan, otherwise my neck will kink from tilting my head back. You are so tall it takes my breath away.”
Joan sat and smiled. “Thank you, this is a very nice room. I lived in a house like this once. I like what you’ve done with your corner of it.”
White Ash was losing some of the tension in her voice, “Grandmother only requires the mornings of me to tend to the house and crazed town dogs.”
Town dogs?
“We spend the noon hours and evenings witnessing the trials of insight on Gameshow Network and the crimes of your wretched Sunset men on Investigation Discovery. During this long story time I devote myself to beadwork” she said with a sweep of her hand indicating the many beaded quilts hanging on the walls.
“This is only four moons’ work—my personal hangings. My memories shall be completely recorded by the Cherry Moon—in case I die in childbirth—and then I might devote my time to beadwork that can be traded to provide food and clothing for my children.”
Joan nodded as the woman put her hands to her own swollen belly. “You are due in August, twins?”
“Yes, a woman-to-be and a warrior-come. Shall you bring a woman or a warrior into this world Joan?”
Am I showing that much? I can’t be.
“Excuse me?”
“I did not mean to be rude. It is so very obvious that you are with child.”
The woman came to stand before her, and placed her right hand on her pooch. “You Sunset women do not dress in the manner of your Grandmothers unless you are marrying or with child. Besides, you come looking for my husband, to me, his principal wife in this world. You must be lonely and uncertain of his return. You, also, appear to be a chief-over-men with a warrior’s bearing. You do not believe that my husband shall return to your people, so hence seek him out.”
White Ash then stepped back and leveled an accusatory finger, “I therefore suspect you to be a lady chief of the Sunset Masters who fell in love with my husband for that brief time when he saw fit to permit your pathetic men to hold him captive! You can be forgiven for going to him, with the sorry men you have to choose from in this place. It is no crime to seek the seed of such a warrior, I did. How else are we to bear sons worthy of protecting our daughters?”
This chick is a whack-job!
They were now holding hands above Joan’s knees, looking eye-to-eye, one seated one standing. Joan’s voice cracked slightly, “A warrior, my son will be a fighting man.”
White Ash then reached for the nightstand and picked up a hairbrush, which she gave to Joan before turning her back on her.
This little bitch expects me to brush her hair?
Within seconds Joan was brushing the girl’s sleek hair. “Joan, I understand but am jealous. DeathSong—he called himself that just before we kissed—only took me at Grandmother’s insistence. He did not choose me as he did you. I had been defiled by rape. Seeing you I sense that he likes to breed upon big strong women, I suppose for bigger stronger sons. I am new to mating, had been sworn to celibacy before my rape by the Mahicans…”
The girl began to sob.
That is why she turned away. Look at that beaded mural; she is the girl in white being raped by the bloody-handed warriors.
Where does she come from? Did you raid a whorehouse in Columbia Jay Bracken?
White Ash composed herself and continued, “Grandmother has not been with a man in a lifetime and your mating customs change like the wind here on Sunset. I have for advice only the example of the desirable trade maidens of the Price is Right. I try to walk and smile in a like manner to the night-haired one when he comes. I know not even the love secrets of the women of Mother Earth let alone the lurid mysteries of you debouched Sunset women.”
Joan brushed on and caressed the girl’s little back through the thick silky strands of her hair as she cleared her voice and continued, “Chief Joan teach me the secrets of man-seducing so that I can be sure that DeathSong desires me when he appears once again out of the night. I don’t want to grow old alone like Grandmother. I want daughters to sit with and sons to welcome home…and my husband shall not visit often. He fights wars on many worlds and must contend with your wicked masters when here. Teach me these things Joan and I shall set you on his trail.”
