lieutenant who always struts like a rooster after he wins a race.”
Serena’s eyes twinkled. “Oh, he is the one my husband calls ‘Stringy-Ass.’ “
Elizabeth laughed out loud. “He doesn’t really fill out his trousers behind very well, does he?”
“Not like that Sergeant Burke,” said the Navajo woman appreciatively. Elizabeth had managed to banish the memory of Michael Burke’s muscled bottom from her mind, but Serena’s humorous comment brought it back and she blushed.
“We are both married, Serena,” she said, “Surely we shouldn’t be thinking of any other men’s bottoms, skinny or firm!”
“Surely being married does not make us blind!” Serena joked. “A man who fills his breeches is something to appreciate. My husband has nothing to fear, for he fills his leggings, both front and rear very well!”
Elizabeth blushed again. Her Thomas had a good round behind. But he also had a good round belly. And the rest of him—well, she didn’t spend any time looking when they made love.
She put the puppy down on the straw and watched him make his way on trembling legs to his mother. Watching him nurse brought a smile to her face and took her mind off older males of her own species.
“You do not have any children,” said Serena. It was not a question.
“Why, no. We have been married almost seven years and I have never conceived.”
Serena heard the pain in Elizabeth’s voice. “Sometimes with an older man it can happen that way,” said the Navajo woman sympathetically.
“Thomas has been a wonderful husband to me,” responded Elizabeth. “He would have made a good father.”
“I am sure. Perhaps it is why you married him?”
The question carried a double meaning, Elizabeth realized. Serena could have been saying, “You married him because he would be a good father to your children.” Or perhaps she was suggesting that Thomas was somewhat fatherly to her, Elizabeth? “I married Thomas because I couldn’t live without him. He saved my life,” she said simply.
Serena looked at her questioningly and Elizabeth haltingly continued her story. “I…my family…we were traveling alone, just out of Colorado. We were attacked by Comancheros. My father was shot and my mother…set upon while I watched. My little brother was taken for a slave.”
Serena was silent, but the sympathy emanating from her was almost palpable.
“Thomas found me and took me to his sister in Santa Fe. He would visit whenever he got leave. I could never have married anyone else.”
“How old were you?”
“When he married me? Almost eighteen.”
“No, when you lost your family.”
“Fourteen.”
Serena was horrified, though she didn’t let her face show it. A girl just about to become a woman and her introduction to womanhood was watching her mother brutalized? She knew of the Comancheros and could imagine the scene very well. No wonder Elizabeth, although a married woman, felt so much like a girl to her. Her own coming to womanhood had been so different. How rich her life had been, despite her own great loss, compared to this bilagaana woman. She did not offer words of comfort, however. They would be poor things, under the circumstances.
“My coming of age was very different.” It was not the words, but the feeling behind them that made Elizabeth feel enfolded in a sympathy even greater than Serena’s, as though there were a feminine presence in them.
“We have a ceremony for it,” Serena continued. “ Kinaalda .”
“ Kinaalda ,” Elizabeth repeated carefully.
“The young woman who is Kinaalda becomes Changing Woman for the Diné. It’s a great gift for the people.”
“Changing Woman?”
“I will tell you about her someday. But now I think it must be time for the racing. I want to watch my husband’s bay beat that Stringy-Ass Cooper!”
Elizabeth laughed and they both hurried out.
When they reached the crowds, Serena nodded a goodbye and made her way to the group of Navajo women
Serena’s eyes twinkled. “Oh, he is the one my husband calls ‘Stringy-Ass.’ “
Elizabeth laughed out loud. “He doesn’t really fill out his trousers behind very well, does he?”
“Not like that Sergeant Burke,” said the Navajo woman appreciatively. Elizabeth had managed to banish the memory of Michael Burke’s muscled bottom from her mind, but Serena’s humorous comment brought it back and she blushed.
“We are both married, Serena,” she said, “Surely we shouldn’t be thinking of any other men’s bottoms, skinny or firm!”
“Surely being married does not make us blind!” Serena joked. “A man who fills his breeches is something to appreciate. My husband has nothing to fear, for he fills his leggings, both front and rear very well!”
Elizabeth blushed again. Her Thomas had a good round behind. But he also had a good round belly. And the rest of him—well, she didn’t spend any time looking when they made love.
She put the puppy down on the straw and watched him make his way on trembling legs to his mother. Watching him nurse brought a smile to her face and took her mind off older males of her own species.
“You do not have any children,” said Serena. It was not a question.
“Why, no. We have been married almost seven years and I have never conceived.”
Serena heard the pain in Elizabeth’s voice. “Sometimes with an older man it can happen that way,” said the Navajo woman sympathetically.
“Thomas has been a wonderful husband to me,” responded Elizabeth. “He would have made a good father.”
“I am sure. Perhaps it is why you married him?”
The question carried a double meaning, Elizabeth realized. Serena could have been saying, “You married him because he would be a good father to your children.” Or perhaps she was suggesting that Thomas was somewhat fatherly to her, Elizabeth? “I married Thomas because I couldn’t live without him. He saved my life,” she said simply.
Serena looked at her questioningly and Elizabeth haltingly continued her story. “I…my family…we were traveling alone, just out of Colorado. We were attacked by Comancheros. My father was shot and my mother…set upon while I watched. My little brother was taken for a slave.”
Serena was silent, but the sympathy emanating from her was almost palpable.
“Thomas found me and took me to his sister in Santa Fe. He would visit whenever he got leave. I could never have married anyone else.”
“How old were you?”
“When he married me? Almost eighteen.”
“No, when you lost your family.”
“Fourteen.”
Serena was horrified, though she didn’t let her face show it. A girl just about to become a woman and her introduction to womanhood was watching her mother brutalized? She knew of the Comancheros and could imagine the scene very well. No wonder Elizabeth, although a married woman, felt so much like a girl to her. Her own coming to womanhood had been so different. How rich her life had been, despite her own great loss, compared to this bilagaana woman. She did not offer words of comfort, however. They would be poor things, under the circumstances.
“My coming of age was very different.” It was not the words, but the feeling behind them that made Elizabeth feel enfolded in a sympathy even greater than Serena’s, as though there were a feminine presence in them.
“We have a ceremony for it,” Serena continued. “ Kinaalda .”
“ Kinaalda ,” Elizabeth repeated carefully.
“The young woman who is Kinaalda becomes Changing Woman for the Diné. It’s a great gift for the people.”
“Changing Woman?”
“I will tell you about her someday. But now I think it must be time for the racing. I want to watch my husband’s bay beat that Stringy-Ass Cooper!”
Elizabeth laughed and they both hurried out.
When they reached the crowds, Serena nodded a goodbye and made her way to the group of Navajo women
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