Gail Duiker

mouth toward me. Clanking around the kitchen, she cleaned up.

“How many times [ got to tell you, her name is Janet-Marie?”” scolded
Tom. He was changing the subject.

True, it was my name. I had held out telling for what seemed a long
time. But when Tom told me his spotted pony wanted to know, I told. Weeks
became months. Old Doreen and I, it looked like we was becoming family
to Tom. No more was said about notices or telling the RCMP about me.

Then we came upon hard times. I guess I must have been about five.
Anyway, it was before I started school.

It began by Tom bringing home very little game. We had already eaten
most of the chickens without killing the best egg layers. Tom had already
sold off a horse or two.

One night, they sent me to bed early. Lying there, my ears perked up.

“T guess I’d better leave the reserve for awhile. I heard there’s work
puttin’ up fences south,” Tom stated.

High-pitched, Doreen’s voice accused, “You're not going to leave me
here are you? Those women, they don’t like me. I saw them countin’ the
months I been here, just in church, too!” Her fingers drummed the table ner-
vously.

“Oh, all right,” soothed Tom, “I'll figure somethin’ out. The mare’s
foalin’ Probably, I'll get a good price later. Maybe I could get a down pay-
ment from a guy down south I know.”

Next day, Tom returned from hunting with a few squirrels.

“I’m not eatin’ them gophers!” Doreen says when she sees them.

“What kind of Injun are you anyway?” Tom looked at her in surprise,
“These ain’t no gophers!”

Doreen sniffed haughtily and stomped away. And she stuck to her guns,
too. Not one tooth touched that squirrel meat.

Not even Tom’s concerned looks swayed her. He eyed her ample curves
worriedly. “Say Doreen, you’re not gettin’ skinny are you?”

Now, hunger in the eyes of your loved ones makes you do contrary
things. One night both Tom and Doreen were acting unusually accommo-
dating.

“You can stay up late,” Doreen says to me. “Then we’re goin’ for a nice
truck ride. We’ll see the stars and them nice northern lights!”

That night, Tom was picking out all the special stars.

“See that bunch there, Janet-Marie? That’s the Big Dipper.”

“Is it cloudy enough yet?” Doreen whispered.

“Shh,” shushed Tom.

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