Chapter 21

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Yvonne
1868?

"My story...little one...is not an easy one." She smiled slightly as she moved an old ladle around in the pot. "My mother was of the people," she gestured around us. "My father...well..he is a harder person." She sighed, "some say he was French, some say English...but my old grandma say he both."

"Both French and English?" I asked.

"Mhm" she shook her head up and down, smiling still,
"Old grandma said he a...t-t-t...he a man who kill stuff for fur."

"A trapper?" I raised an eyebrow. Some early American history came into my mind. The first people to really go into this land were younger men who trapped, hunted, sold good, or preached.

"Yes! That!" She smiled. "I don't remember him a lot...but then again...I don't remember mama a lot either." Her eyes glazed a bit with memory. "I just remember his name was Henry. He said it funny. Mama...name like mine...but Papa never call her this name. He call her Clodie."

"What happened to them?" I asked before I thought.

"My papa, he die. I think he...fall from upper place....mama, she die here. She die after baby." Her voice quieted a bit.

"Did the baby die?" I asked.

"Oh no!" She laughed. "My brother, he is hunter. Like Cheta. He is big and strong; he is called Hanska." She giggled again at his name.

"How'd you learn English?" I wondered outloud.

"My Papa...spoke English with my mama." She turned back to the pot and shifted the ladle. "I remember some."

I felt my heart squeeze as I stared at Kimimela, her eyes were filled with sadness but her lips were twisted in a small smile.

"Are you alright?" I put my hand on her arm.

"Yes," she turned to me slightly, "you don't have to worry about this old lady." She stood up and leaned over the pot. "Oh! This is ready!" She changed the subject.

Kimimela had called herself an old woman, but as I looked at her. I barely saw a trace of age, she could not have been more than 30. Her hair was still very dark, her skin didn't seem marred by the ravages of age, and yet she seemed to have an air about her that screamed she was both an actual adult and youthful.

Come o! I've got food! She called suddenly and some people started walking up.

They all brushed past me without a care in the world. They all had some sort of bowl or plate and within what seemed like seconds the once full pot was down to the very bottom.

"Here Yvonne," she called, passing me a bowl.

She sighed as she claimed the last portion for herself and sat down.

I took a harsh gulp as I stared at the food in the bowl she had given me. I could make out meat, some sort of vegetables, and what seemed like...grass.

Kimimela ate heartily, and even though my stomach churned, I forced myself to eat the food. It had been a while since I'd eaten and she seemed to work so hard on it... a lot of people also wanted her food..which meant for them it had to be good.

As my eyes moved around, I noticed that a lot of those left in the village were women, children, and the elderly. There were some men, but not a lot. I guessed the other men were hunting something. Most people were in little groups, families, couples, etc...but Kimimela was alone...with me.

She cleared her throat, drawing my attention to her and she softly smiled. "You notice, hm?" She looked around us. "You curious why I alone here with you?"

I just shook my head as I forced more food down my throat.

"My man die, some time ago. He hurt in hunt. He come home. Die a few day later." She swallowed hard. "I'm still crying for him."

"Your man...as in...your husband?" I asked slowly, afraid to hurt her feelings by asking.

She only shook her head up and down as she continued to eat. "They wanted to give that Tahcawin girl to me...to make me less cry...but I say give her Maka. Maka cry a lot longer than me for her girl." She shrugged a bit.

I decided not to ask her anymore, lest I make her cry or something for real.

We silently finished our food and I helped her carry the old iron pot to the water that Nawaji had shown me before.

"Slow. Slow." Kimimela called as we went down a sort of embankment. It was not as steep as the ones I had seen before...but it kept the water where it needed to be.

As we stepped into the water, we dropped the pot down between us. Kimimela beckoned me down with her. I cringed as the water once again weighed the bottom of my dress.

She reached in the water and pulled some of the earth from beneath us. She tossed it into the pot and used her hands to scrub it. "This, you do." She gestured to the pot and the water, then sloshed some of the water into the pot. "You too you too." She rushed me with her hand as I bent down and helped her slosh water into the pot. "Rub," she showed me how she rubbed the sides with her hands. "You too you too." She smiled a bit at me as we cleaned the old iron pot.

It took a few minutes, but when she rose and took a heavy breath I knew we were done.

Finally finished! She yawned. "Come, help carry this." She pointed to the pot. I grabbed one end and she grabbed the other as we carried to pot back out of the water and up the sort of embankment.

Just as we got onto the real land, the sound of beating hooves caused our eyes to turn sharply. There was a group of men on horseback riding towards us, and even though they were far away, Kimimela shot her hand up, and waved like a giddy goose.

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