[EDS: THE FOLLOWING DESCRIPTORS MAY BE USED WITH THIS SUBMISSION: Mf, ped, nc?, interr] Barter Economy? Native Housekeeper Offers Child Daughter in Trade My wife Lillian never really got used to ranch life, although she seemed happy enough with me and with the life we'd built. I -- or <I>we</I> -- had done pretty well. I'd hired a Mexican, Esteban, to help with the heavy work with the cattle, and he'd hired a couple other fellows who he'd assured me were straight and honest. Lillian, meanwhile, had hired a housekeeper, a Navajo woman, Yanaha, to help with the house and garden. Yanaha worked hard, and although her English wasn't real good, Lillian enjoyed having another woman around. Yanana had a daughter, Nizhohni, who, I'm guessing, was 10 or 11 years old. She'd bring the little girl with her maybe a day a week, sometimes two days, and Lillian then had the added benefit of a bright little girl around the house, one almost young enough to be a daughter. The whole home seemed to run smoother. Lillian was happier with with Yanaha around, and Yanaha would get me breakfast in the morning, allowing Lily to sleep in. Dinner was on the table on time -- Yanaha was very strict about time, about everything being on schedule. But that gave Lily a chance to at least pretend that the ranch was a civilized place, rather than a noisy dust bowl overrun with cattle and rough, dirty men. As strict as Yanaha was about time, she was tight about money. I recall our first interview. Lillian had drawn me in as consultant to finalize the pay -- she'd already made up her mind that she wanted Yanaha, so I didn't really have a whole lot of choice. We got to the nuts and bolts of the conversation, and Yanaha looked at me with level eyes. "You have money?" she said to me, her voice subdued. "Yes, I have money," I said. "I have enough money." She looked at me a long time, her hands on the table, showing nothing, not giving anything away. "You will pay me in American coin, not in paper? Metal money. Silver coin." "If I have silver, I'll pay you in silver," I said. "If I have to pay you greenbacks, I'll buy them back from you in silver as I get it." Another long pause, and then . . . "No," she said firmly. "Not good. That will not do sir. Thank you, I will go now." She seemed to know she had me cornered, and perhaps she and Lily had conspired beforehand. Finally, I agreed to pay her in silver, but only if she'd accept $7 a month instead of the $8 which had been our starting figure. Yanaha's eyes brightened. "That will do," she said. "You will pay me the last day of every month. I mark on your calendar." "That will be fair," I agreed. "And since I will work for less, I will ask for advance on pay up to amount agreed in a month." I shook my head slowly and smiled. "Lily, are you taking all this down? Is all this acceptible? And I <I>don't</I> want you slipping her half-dollars on the side." Lily laughed. "I agree, Carl," she said. "Don't you like this lady?" "One more thing," Yanaha spoke up. I can use the water tank outside for washing." she declared. "I see you have shower. I see Missus Lillian clean in shower. I will use also." I looked at Lillian. "You may use it once a week," Lily said. Yanaha would not let up. "And I see you have a room with bed. On the day I work very late and it is dark, I will stay in that room. If not, I will have to leave before sundown, and no dinner." Holy smoke. I took Lily into the kitchen to talk this over. We decided to head her off before she asked for anything else. "You may stay in the room, but no more than one night a week," Lillian said. "Otherwise, we will have to deduct a day's wage from your pay." I think Yanaha realized she'd done about as well as she could. Hell, she'd already negotiated a royal wage, at least for a Navajo woman, one which made her probably the richest women in the tribal village nearby. And I'd stopped her before she neived up to ask me for a horse to get to and from. Lily and I talked about it on the way to bed. We agreed we'd worked out a deal just south of what we could afford, and we hadn't given away the homestead to do it. Lily liked Yanaha, and if she'd had to give away a shower and a room a week, well, that wasn't so bad. Lillian was 32, and I was 33, and we hadn't lost our spunk. We hadn't any children yet, and neither of us was sure why -- it sure wasn't for want of trying. We tried again that night. Well, it wasn't exactly for <I>that</I> reason. We started undressing, and when she got her linen dress off, that was all i needed to see. I stopped her before she could reach for her nightdress, and commenced kissing her, and she kissed me back, hard and almost grateful. So I pressed on, undoing her breasts from the wrap and working down her underpants. She got her hands between my legs and found out I was ready -- really ready. As usual, it was good. It was <I>always</I> good with Lily. She was a fine, big girl, strong and well-built. When we got into each other, I always knew I'd met my match, and it was a wild, bucking ride. Not every time, but most times. We'd do this, oh, say two or three times a week. The first night Yanaha stayed the night, I'd wanted to do it, but Lily's modesty stood her down. "No," she said as I began to work her over. "Yanaha's in the next room. She could hear us." That was the least of my worries. I stayed at it ardently, and Lily finally gave in, and we beat the wooden headboard against the wall with much crying and crashing, and that was that. If Yanaha had heard, or had paid any note, she didn't let on the next day. Well, as I say, Lily seemed to be getting along well, but about every three or four months, it struck her that she wanted to go back to Arkansas to visit with her folks and to be, well, civilized. So it was that about mid-July, I put her on the train for the long ride east through New Mexico and Texas to Little Rock. She decided she'd stay about two weeks. It wasn't but the next day after I'd kissed Lily on the A&P platform, that Yanaha started negotiating again. "Missus Lillian is not here," she said the next morning at breakfast, stating the obvious. "I will work more hours, is that not so? I will stay here in the bed while she is gone." That caught me a little by surprise. "In the bed?" She looked at me, as though anyone else would have understood. "In the bed where I have slept," she said, nodding slightly. "I will stay there until Missus Lillian return." Now <I>this</I> was a new twist. I'd never looked at Yanaha at all as a woman of that sort, and I wasn't sure she was offering anyway. She was, I'm guessing, about 45, with the weathered red skin of the plains Indian. And she'd never given even the slightest hint of interest in me, either. "Well, of course you know, Yanaha," I said, regaining my bearing. "If you stay here, I would have to deduct from your pay." "You would not," she said decisively. "I, one woman, will be doing the work of two women. Then you can not take away from my pay." Why was it that this woman was so persuasive? I argued some with her and attempted to find a way to wear her down. But short of firing her, which hardly seemed justified, nothing was going to change her mind, and I finally agreed. I should have been more vigilant, of course. My life was about to get very complicated. Esteban and the hands and I went out on a two-day round-up. We finally counted 90 big beeves and drove them to the stockyard by the A&P depot, where the train was loaded for Fort Worth, even Kansas City. We made a good haul, and I paid the boys on the spot. The yard boss said, "I'll take all you can get at this price, and the rate is going up, so you oughta cash in while you can." Truly, I had now a real nice account, and I was wore out, and short of hiring more men, I doubt I could have gotten any more cattle to market. Tell the truth, I had almost enough money for a buggy and a pony, which would be <I>fine</I> for picking up Lillian when she came home. But right that moment, it was all I could do to drag my weary ass home. I got in late, 8 o'clock or so, and was about ready to drop. I went in the house, and Yanaha had saved dinner. I was hungry, but too weary to eat. Yanaha sat across from me and offered me a glass of cold water, which I took. Out the window, I could see distant lightning, but heard no thunder. "You miss Missus Lillian," Yanaha said, out of nowhere. "Why yes, of course I do," I said, so tired. "You miss Missus Lillian in the bed," she continued. "I hear you at night. You have much power for her." "Yanaha," I said sharply. "That will be enough." She paused, but not for long. "I will come to you in your bed," she said. "You will pay me one dollar silver, and I stay with you for one night. You will pay me." "<I>Yanaha</I>" I shouted. "That will be enough of that. Enough. Now clean up in this kitchen and get yourself ready for bed, and I will get ready for bed, <I>my</I> bed. You will not speak to me this way." She gave me a queer look and shook her head. I went in the bedroom and disrobed, then went outside to the water tank, stood underneath it, and pulled the rope. The water from the cistern was cool, not cold, and I washed, scrubbing off the dust and the cattle smell. I dried off, pulled on my nightshirt, went to bed, and slept 10 hours. The next day, Yanaha and I spoke not a word about what had been said. She went about her work, and I spent most of the day with the books. But after dinner, Yanaha continued her inquiry. "You do not want me, Mister Carl," she said, giving a sign of sensitivity to the situation. "I am old. My man does not want me so much." Then she brightened. "But I am not so old, Mister Carl. My body is young. My legs are strong. I have big breasts." I had noticed. "I can satisfy my man. I can satisfy any man. And I tell you, only one dollar. One silver dollar." I began to see it now. Yanaha was making me a <I>business</I> proposition. She had no idea of seducing me. This was strictly a way for her to do business, until Lillian came home. Then it was all over. Business done. I thought again about firing her. I thought I should alert Lillian, perhaps by telegraph, and then just <I>fire</I> this woman, and I told Yanaha exactly that. "No," she said quietly. "You will not do that. You go to bed, I will go to my bed. I am old. You do not care any more about what I have said. I will not trouble you." Things began to move very fast. About noon the next day, Yanaha begged the rest of the day off, saying she had business to tend to in the village. I gave in. She made me a sandwich of brisket and sliced bread, told me that the water tank was low and needed water from the well, and walked down the lane toward her home. That night, she returned, and she brought with her her daughter Nizhohni. Skeptical, i tried putting two and two together, but the numbers did not add up. The little girl looked hot and tired from the long walk, and I told Yanaha to sit her in the cool by the window and to get her some ice and water. Yanaha did so. While she was out, I tried to make the little girl feel at ease, but Nizhohni was shy and seemed almost afraid. I wondered if she spoke English, so I said, "You are Nizhohni." She looked at me, almost as if ready to cry. "Yes. I am Nizhohni," she answered. I put my hand to my chest and said, "I am Carl. Your mother, Yanaha, works for me. She is very much help." She looked at me. "Carl," she said. Yanaha came back in the house with a box of ice. She pulled a chair and sat next to Nizhohni. She took some ice and held it gently to her daughter's face and neck. "Nizhohni, will help me work tomorrow," the mother said. "I have too much work. She must help me." She put some more of the ice in a metal cup and poured it full of water from a pitcher. Nizhoni drank it and asked her mother for more. They spoke in Navajo for a little while. Needless to say, there was no proper dinner that night, as Yanaha had been gone most of the day. She made more sandwiches and dipped out some sauerkraut Lillian had pressed. Neither she nor Nizhohni would eat the sauerkraut. After "dinner", Yanaha had Nizhohni clean the dishes and put things away. She showed her daughter where things were and walked her around the house, giving her the general organization. "And," the mother said, "she will stay with me, in my room. She will sleep in my bed with me." Well, I was about past where I was willing to argue every point with Yanaha -- I was too busy to quarrel, and as long as Yanaha did not get in the way and got the work done as directed, well, so be it. Hearing no protest from me, Yanaha continued. "Now, she will take a shower and go to bed." "That's fine," I said wearily, already trying to set up a day's work for tomorrow. "Clean her up and get her some rest." A few minutes later, I heard the splashing of the water from the tank. Yanaha tended to her daughter. They came in after just a while, and I was surprised to see Nizhohni completely naked and still wet. "Do you not have a cloth I can dry her with, Mister Carl?" Yanaha said. "Yanaha, damn it," I said. "You <I>know</I> where the washclothes are. Get that girl a towel and cover her up." Yanaha walked to the bedroom to fetch a towel, leaving Nizhohni naked and dripping by the back door. The little girl made no attempt to cover up. My god, I thought. Well, maybe they do things this way in the tribe. But the girl, maybe 11 years old, was beginning to show signs of womanhood -- the slight swellings on her chest, she shape of her legs, hips and waist. I looked away, and Yanaha came back with a towel and dried her daughter's copper skin, and I scolded her. "Yanaha, the girl needs a nightshirt, please," I said, raising my voice. "Did you not bring a shirt for her to sleep in?" "Mister Carl, she does not sleep in a shirt at our home," she scolded back. "We do not wear clothing at night when it is hot in the summer. This is wrong? I think this is not wrong. "She will sleep with me," she said, finally. She took Nizhohni into her bedroom and put her to bed. She came back out and sat at the table across from me. "You now are angry?" she said. "You should not be angry. Nizhohni is going to sleep. She has a cover over her on the bed. She will work with me tomorrow." She persisted."Do you think Nizhohni is pretty? She is young and pretty?" I could see where Yanaha was going, and the idea appalled me. "Girls should not be without clothes when men are around, Yanaha," I said, angrily. And if you have some idea of selling your daughter to me for money, you can forget it right <I>now.f</I> I am this close to discharging you, <I>firing</I> you, telling you to go away and never return. This is <I>wrongf</I> -- you understand wrong? -- and will not be tolerated. Yanaha gave me a straightforward look. She sat there for a long time, as if weighing her chances. Finally, she got up and went to bed without another word. I got a glass of water, then went to bed myself. I stirred in the middle of the night. Again there was lightning, and this time thunder, and I heard the wind begin to rise. Good, I thought, the cistern needs filling and the stock need water. Good. I rolled over to go back to sleep and realized I was not alone, and I was startled. I reached slightly and felt a female body, smooth and warm, and then I felt a hand on my shoulder. "Nizhohni?" I said. "Mister Carl," she said quietly. "I am frightened." "Nizhohni, What are you . . . you must go back to bed. No. Nizhohni, there is nothing to be frightened of. Go back to your bed." She put her arms around my neck and, uncertain and truly frightened, pressed her body against mine. She felt small, as would any young girl. She had only the beginnings of breasts, but she had nipples sprouting from her chest. She held me close, and I could sense her fright, but from what? Rain began to pour, and Nizhohni flinched and shivered. I put my arms around her and held her, as I would any scared little girl. She moved her hands slowly down my back and stayed close to me, and against my will and better nature, my cock begam to swell. All I dared to do was hold her, hold her and protect her. Perhaps this was the way of the Navajo, I thought. Or perhaps her mother had told her something of what to do -- I wouldn't have put anything past Yanaha. But Nizhohni stayed pressed tight against me and continued to run her hands from my shoulders to my ass, up and down, slowly, and I became excited, so I began to do the same to her, and at that she pressed against me full-front. "You have the thing," Nizhohni murmured quietly. "I feel it." She reached down between where our legs met and placed her warm hand tentatively on my cock, which by now was growing hard, very hard. She squeezed it and wiggled to adjust so as not to be poked with it. It never took me long, and I was a goner. "Nizhohni . . . " I began. "Please, Mister Carl," the girl said quietly, to no purpose or meaning I could figure. "I am frightened. She rolled onto her back and continued to hold my cock. Then she began to rub it up and down, and it was completely hard, and I felt sin and lust overtake me. I placed a hand on her belly and began to move it up and down. When I reached her nipples, I touched them lightly and felt them stiffen and grow. Her body felt beautiful, soft and warm and smooth and pure. She smelled clean and flowery, with a darker hint of smoke. I moved my hand down to her thighs, which were thin and hairless. And then, as I would with Lillian and had with every other woman I'd known, I leaned to take one of her nipples in my mouth. I kissed it and drew it out with my lips, and she moaned slightly, as if surprised at the pleasure this gave her. I moved upward to kiss her mouth, and she responded, again accepting a pleasure. I ran my hands through her coarse hair, and the lightning flashed and the rain fell. She enjoyed the feelings, but like a young girl was more curious than passionate. She wanted to feel what was <I>there,</I> and she put her other hand down among my parts and explored my balls and the hair around my pubes. She seemed fascinated by my cock and continued to stroke it with her little hand, up and down, as I kissed her and smoothed her young legs and hips. Finally, I gave in to my impulse and moved my hand to her maiden cunt. She felt my hand there and immediately let her legs fall aside, opening herself. I touched her, and I felt the beginnings of puberty, a covering of down, forecasting her coming of age. I pressed my fingers against the lips of it and began to part them with my finger, moving my hand slowly up and down. I felt a bit of wet, and she moaned louder, and she began to stroke my cock harder. I couldn't take much more of this, and I was torn between lust and the wrongness of what we were doing. I'm sure she felt the same. I felt my climax building, and I told Nizhohni to stop. She did not. My cock erupted, spraying jism onto her hand, her wrist, and up her arm, and onto her hip and belly. Nizhohni did not seem to realize anything had happened, and she continued to stroke, as if that was the totality of the act and she had no idea that it was done. I slowly recovered my sense, then moved my hand to hers to stop her. "You do not like that?" she said to me. "Oh, Nizhohni," I groaned, wondering whether to explain things to her. I'd have thought -- and I had no idea of how the Navajo handled education in sex -- that someone, particularly her mother, would have taught this girl a few of the facts of life, or that she would have learned them on her own, the way most people do. I decided to give her a little primer, with the whole penis-in-vagina and male ejaculation and male and female pleasure and love and closeness, and the making of babies. Nizhohni seemed to know more than she let on. "Yes, Mister Carl," she said, now pressed tight against me again. "And now you are to put yourself in me?" "Nizhohni, I . . . " "You do not want to put yourself in me?" "I . . . " "A boy I know, he wanted to put his thing in me," she said. "We kiss some, and he wants to put his thing in me. But then all the sudden, he go . . . he go all over me, the way you did. He did not put himself inside me." I tried to roll away from her, onto my back, but she stayed tight to me, more from instinct than from passion. So there I was, on my back, with Nizhohni's warm, child's body sprawled across me. I could feel her adjusting her hips and legs, and my cock hardened again. I could feel the jism on her arm and body smearing between us. She did not raise herself but tilted her head to kiss me on my face, my beard, my neck. She reached down my belly and found my cock and gripped it in her hand, just holding it tight. "You say the man puts his thing inside the woman," Nizhohni said with childlike seriousness. "If you are a man, you will make me a woman." She did not wait for a response. She continued to hold my cock and began to rub it against the cleft of her cunt, as if trying to put it inside her. I was dying inside, but never felt more alive. I thought of Lily -- my God, what would she think if she learned about this? And I thought about Lily's wonderful cunt, and I was torn apart with desires. I began to move my hips, my cock straining toward Nizhohni's precious parts. I could feel her wet, and my cock slipped easily up and down the cleft of her cunt, separating the lips. She moaned quietly and released her grip on my cock, moving her hand around behind my ass as if to pull me upward. For such a young child, she seemed very certain about what to do and what she wanted. Her breathing came faster, and she turned onto her back and parted her legs. "Make me a woman, Mister Carl," she whispered. I tried to voice something stern and fatherly to her, but I was too far gone. That was my last notion of will. I rolled on top of her young, budding body, raised myself on my elbows, and looked down at her face. The storm began to subside, but the rain fell steadily. She looked back at me, her look clear and level, expecting the biggest moment of her young life. I kissed her, holding her head with both hands. A flash of lightning illuminated her face briefly; her hair was dark and long, her features fine and round, and her neck and shoulders thin. I kissed her and moved upward, putting the head of my cock against her opening. Her eyes widened, and she looked at me, waiting. I pushed in farther, caught her wet, and pushed harder. Reaching her virgin maiden, I moved my hips in small circles, easing my way inside. Her hands moved suddenly to grip my upper arms, she gave a slight exclamation, and I was in. I moved slowly and gently up into her, as if trying to open a ripe fruit without crushing it. She gave out a long, quiet groan, and moaned in rhythm as I pushed a little deeper with each stroke. My cock seemed to find the limit of her cunt, not all the way in, but all I could <I>get</I> in. I held it there, feeling her tight hole adjust to the exciting new feelings. I felt a strange relief at having done it, and my mood lightened. "Is that good?" I said to her. "Is this what you want?" Nizhohni said nothing. Her breathing increased, and she grabbed my hips, holding me inside her. I began to move, in and out, slowly, and she wriggled her hips and thighs as if trying to accept the invasion. I began to fuck her faster, and I felt her cunt give and relax, locking tight around my cock. I pushed harder and deeper, trying to get it all inside her, and she began to cry out -- short, breathy cries. And then we were fucking. Nizhohni began to participate, pushing her cunt up to seek more of me, kissing me, and moaning as pleasure washed over her in waves. Her cunt radiated, the center of all things. On we went, and I fucked her as hard as I dared, and she began to cry for more. Her body stiffened and she gripped my arms tightly, and her cunt tightened in heaven. I drew back and gave her all I had, fucking her as I would a woman, and she fucked me back, not as a woman, but as a child grown up. Her cries now were audible and rose in tone as I drove into her. I felt it building again, and I had enough sense to know to get out. At the last possible stroke, I pulled my cock out of her. She reached down and caught it as if to put it back in, and that set off the explosion. I shot spoon after spoon of juice onto her belly and cunt and hand, and I groaned like an animal, and she cried "No, no, no, no." I slipped to the side and lay next to her, catching my breath. I put my hand on her chest and felt her heart beat. I thought I heard her sniffle, and I said, "What's wrong, Nizhohni? Did I hurt you?" The girl was quiet a long time. "No Mister Carl, you did not hurt me. You were supposed to put it in me." When that sank in, I cautioned her again about making babies, about planting the seed, but that did not placate her. "I am not yet a woman," she said, like a girl denied her ice cream. "You must have me again. Please," she whispered. I wanted to. Oh God, I really wanted to take this pure young creature fully, giving her every inch, every ounce. I felt that brief wave of love that follows a coupling, and I wanted more. I wanted her all night.: And then it struck me: Lily, Yanaha, and now Nizhohni. I was boss of the ranch, but I'd given away the home front. And at right that moment, I realized I'd made a terrible mistake with this young girl, in more ways than one. Just suppose Yanaha had put her up to this? I recalled the mother's schemes to get more money. And if so, Lily would certainly hear the truth, and there was no hiding it. "Nizhohni," I said firmly. "Did your mother tell you to come in here tonight?" The girl began to weep quietly. She finally confessed that, yes, her mother had told her to visit me and had told her how to touch me. Beyond that, though, "pleasure overtook me, and then love. I will have you inside me, Mister Carl." "No, my sweet dear. We've done far more than we should have. Now, I want you to go immediately back to your bed and go to sleep." I threw in a shred of lost hope. "And not a word to her about what we have done." Poor Nizhohni was caught between forces she little understood, but she obeyed. She tried to kiss me once more, but I pulled away, and she walked off to her mother's bed, pulling my door behind her. I felt sad, remorseful, angry, and still yet had some growing affection for the little girl. I did not sleep. At daybreak, I went in for breakfast, and Yanaha and Nizhohni were busy in the kitchen. I made a show of heartiness and sat down to wait for my plate. Yanaha sent Nizhohni out to bring water. "My Nizhohni," she said with what sounded like maternal pride. "She is young and pretty, no?" I said nothing. "She came to you last night, no?" Yanaha continued. "You took her, did you not? If I were a man, I would have taken her." She got right down to business. "That will be two dollars, silver," the woman said. "I will take the money now." I rose up from my chair, placed my hands on the table, and looked her in the eye, my anger rising. "I will pay you nothing," I said. "This was all <I>your</I> doing." Yanaha glanced casually at the calendar on the wall, on which she had marked her days worked toward the next payday. Month of July, 1896. She also had marked the days until Lily's return -- six days to go. She spoke airily. "Missus Lillian will be back soon. You will pay, sir. You will pay. And every night Nizhohni comes to you, you will pay two dollars more. She is young and pretty." I drew up. "You, woman, will not send that child to me again. In fact, you are fired, as of now. Gone. Be out of my home before sundown, you snake. Go back to your village and take Nizhohni as well. And, damn you, please see that as she grows, she is treated like a woman of respect. Yanaha just smiled and said, "You will pay. One way or other, you will pay." "No ma'am," I said emphatically. "I will stay in the house all day and will watch you closely. If you do not leave before sundown, I will shoot you dead. You should begin now collecting what is yours. I stepped to the calendar and counted the days she had marked as on-duty. There were 20. I ciphered the figures quickly, and the pay came to $4.50. I went to the back, opened my small safe, and pulled out four silver dollars and one silver half-dollar. Then I went back to the kitchen and counted out the money for Yanaha. "This is your final pay," I said. "Now go." Already I was dreaming up a story to explain Yanaha's discharge to Lily. Yanaha counted the money and put it in a small purse she carried. The purse was already full of silver. She realized the game was up, that she'd forced my hand to the limit, and that was that. She rose and walked toward the small bedroom to gather her things. I followed her. Nizhohni came back from the pump with a bucket of water and set it down. "Come, Nizhohni," her mother said, then continued speaking to the child in Navajo. Nizhohni began to cry, real tears. An hour later, under my watch, they had all their possessions, and I led them to the front porch. "Run on down the lane, Nizhohni," I said. "I have to tell your mother something." The girl walked out a few paces. I turned to Yanaha and said, "Not only are you gone, but you will not return. If I or my overseer catch sight of you on this land again, we will shoot to kill. You are not to return. Do you understand that." Yanaha said nothing. She turned and walked after her daughter, catching up. They went on down the lane and, I hoped, out of my life. It was late morning. Yes, I still had some regret, even some desire, for sweet, loving Nizhohni, but I realized nothing good could come from that. Lily would be home in six days. Until then, I was on my own.