Native Gold (46 page)

Just as suddenly, the vision splintered. With a great roar, he plunged into Mati, shuddering as desire crashed over him like the cascades of the waterfall, draining him of all strength, all will.

When he rolled to Mati’s side, she curled up around him, as content as a well-fed squirrel. But he still shook. Not only from what they’d done, but from what he’d seen.

"Mati," he whispered, "what did the big man mean when he said I put a...a papoose in your belly?"

She told him.

He was sure that in his village, a world away, they could hear his great whoop of joy.

Hintsuli didn’t understand all the excitement. Mati wasn’t the first woman to make a baby. Even the animals could do it. But watching the anxious white men outside Mati’s cabin from his hiding place in the manzanita, it looked like they waited for the creation of Onkoito, the son of Wonomi himself.

Sakote was inside the cabin with her. She hadn’t wanted to have the baby outside like the rest of the Konkows did. And instead of having an old woman assist her, she was aided by the healer of the mining camp, the white man with the hat. How strange their ways were, he thought.

A branch poked him as he shifted on his haunches, and he grunted. Since
ko-meni
, winter, had stripped the leaves from the bushes, it wasn’t as easy to hide in the woods. But the miners were too distracted to notice him, doing their strange ritual dance before the cabin—marching back and forth, puffing on pipes, and pulling out the toys Noa called pocketwatches. Even the man who came on the
lyktakymsy
, riding-dog, the man who brought the supplies from far away, stayed to see what would happen.

Hintsuli wondered if the man would notice if he sneaked over to that
lyktakymsy
and looked in his pack. Sometimes the man brought toys. He came more often now, and Mati always gave him bundles of her sketches. She said the man sold them to the whites who lived far away. She said the pictures of Hintsuli had traveled across the sea on a ship. He’d tried to brag of it to his friends from Nemsewi, but they hadn’t understood.

He spent more time with them now, his big Konkow brothers from the other village, Win-uti and Omi. They didn’t speak any more about their little brother, the one Mati’s husband-to-be had killed, and they no longer wished to fight Sakote. Hintsuli liked them. They spoke to him as a man. Win-uti had shown him how to smoke the dream pipe, and Omi let him shoot a rabbit with his
punda
, bow. Not like Sakote, who ruffled his hair like he was still a little boy.

Hintsuli squinted his eyes and picked a curl of bark from the manzanita trunk. Sakote had no time for him now anyway. He was too busy talking to the elders about something the whites called a treaty, too busy with his woman and the important baby everyone was so excited about. He’d even forgotten about Hintsuli’s upcoming rites of
yeponi
.

The
lyktakymsy
stamped its back hoof, and Hintsuli counted in his mind how many steps it would take to get to the animal. He was almost ready to steal forward when the cabin door burst open.

He couldn’t understand the excited words of the man with the hat who carried a bundle in his arms. But the white men suddenly crowed like warriors successful in the hunt, tossing their hats into the air and slapping each other on the back. Hintsuli scowled in disgust. The miners hadn’t done anything. Why did they make the cry of victory?

Besides, their shouting frightened the baby. It began to whimper. And then Hintsuli noticed a strange thing. There were
two
voices. He parted the branches to peer closer. It couldn’t be. He’d never seen such a thing. But it was so. The man held
two
bundles. Mati had made two babies.

Sakote stepped from the cabin then, and the expression on his face made Hintsuli freeze on the spot. The miners, too, fell silent, until the only sound was the thin crying of the two babies. Hintsuli felt his heart thump against his ribs. His older brother looked pale, as white as the men around him, not like Sakote at all, but like the
kokoni
of Sakote. There was no happiness in his face like the healer had, only an expression Hintsuli didn’t understand—anger or sadness or fear. But whatever it was, it made Hintsuli’s heart beat faster in dread. What if Sakote saw him and was angry with him for coming to the
willa
camp?

He was afraid. He didn’t like to see his brother looking that way.

Breathing rapidly, he waited until Sakote hung his head and turned away. Then Hintsuli tore off, racing through the woods toward Nemsewi, to Win-uti and Omi, who would have time to listen to his story about the two babies and who never got angry with him.

Mattie bit back tears as she tucked the two babies into the double-sized cradle Swede had made for them. It was only fatigue, she told herself, buttoning up her dress. After all, it had been just five days since she’d given birth. A milky film of moonlight filtered in through the linen curtain, just enough to make out the dark heads of her beautiful sons, sleeping now that their bellies were full.

Sakote had gone home to his village. He’d said it was tradition. A new Konkow mother was supposed to be left undisturbed by her husband for several days after childbirth. But Mattie missed him terribly, especially late at night like this, when the floor felt cold upon her bare feet and even the moon’s light was eerie.

Too restless to sleep, she lit a candle and pulled out her sketchbook. Carefully scooting the cradle to take advantage of the candle’s glow, she began to pencil in with a delicate hand the features of her slumbering twins.

They had no names. Though Sakote had bent to her will regarding the delivery of their children, he stood firmer when it came to naming them. Of course, Mattie intended to change his mind. She refused to have her little boys running around nameless for two or three years.

Still, she thought, penciling in the feather-fine dark hair atop baby number one’s sweet head, she’d agree to anything if Sakote would only return to her.

It wasn’t just his physical distance that left her melancholy. It was his emotional distance as well. Something had happened when the babies were born. Sakote had been with her, holding her hand, giving her strength, praying to his god. But after she’d delivered the twins, he’d grown silent, solemn. He’d
left
her. At the time, she’d thought it might be some Konkow custom of respect.

But even when he returned to her side, touching her flushed cheek, brushing the damp hair back from her forehead, his smile of joy was tinged with something else, something almost tragic.

And now she couldn’t even ask him about it. The point of her pencil broke as she scrawled her name at the bottom of the drawing, and she sighed. She supposed some of her frustration was caused by what Tom Cooligan liked to refer to as feminine humors. Her breasts were sore from suckling, she was exhausted from wakeful nights, and her composure seemed to slip along the surface of her emotions like a graceless skater on thin ice.

One of the babies stretched in his sleep, and Mattie smiled as his tiny fist poked at his brother’s chin, making the boy’s lip pout. How could she be unhappy, she decided, when such a miracle slumbered before her? They were her sons, hers and Sakote’s, beautiful and whole and healthy, and they were going to grow into strong warriors as handsome as their father.

She glanced one last time at the sketch before setting it aside, then blew out the candle and burrowed under the blankets of her bed. Sakote might not be with her now, but he
would
return. And then they’d have years and years together to grow into a real family, she and Sakote and their sons.

Mattie sensed something was wrong the moment she awoke. The sunlight etched patterns of branches across the curtain, and her breasts felt heavy and full. She frowned. The twins had never let her sleep past dawn before. She was usually awakened by their lusty cries several hours before the sun peeped over the horizon.

Sitting up drowsily on her elbows, she peered into the cradle.

The babies were gone.

The breath froze in her lungs, and she blinked her eyes, disbelieving. A scream built in the back of her throat.

There was a reason, she told herself, trying to calm down, willing her heart to stop its panicked pounding. Surely there was a good reason. Sakote had come and taken them. Or Tom. Or Swede. Whichever man it was, she’d beat him soundly for putting such a scare into her. Still, a frisson of doubt shivered up her spine.

Quaking with fright, she shoved her arms into the men’s coat she’d ordered from Marysville for the winter and exploded out the front door of her cabin. The sun blinded her for a moment.

"Why, Miss Mattie, whatever’s wrong?"

Swede’s pick was slung over his shoulder, and beside him, Tom, Zeke, and the Campbell boys, their gold pans hung from their belts, were on their way to the creek.

The sharp throbbing of her heart returned with a vengeance, dizzying her, and through the rapid plumes of fog her breath made in the chill air, she saw Sakote was finally returning to her, emerging through the trees. But his arms, too, were empty.

Sudden pain stung her nipples. A slow gasp of agony grated against her throat. When she finally found the strength to speak, her voice sounded as hollow as the north wind.

"Where are my babies?"

Sakote hadn’t known such anger existed, but the rage of the bear filled him now. His blood burned with the fire of vengeance, his eyes sparked like shards of obsidian, and his arms trembled with the need to kill.

If it weren’t for Mati, who quivered like the last leaf on a winter branch, he would have torn the path to Nemsewi with his bare hands. That was how furious he was.

He was sure the babies were there. While he was in the village, his mother had told him that Hintsuli had befriended the sons of the headman, Win-uti and Omi, the sons who had challenged Sakote at the Kaminehaitsen. Why had his little brother made peace with them? Did he believe they’d forget their grudge so soon? No doubt they’d been using Hintsuli to spy on Mati.

Sakote’s mouth grew bitter, and he spit into the dirt. It was
his
fault. He should have watched Hintsuli closer. He’d been so preoccupied with the negotiations for peace between the Konkows and the whites, and so busy with his child to come, that he’d forgotten about his little brother.

He was startled from his thoughts by the sound of bullets being loaded into rifle chambers all around him. The miners gathered, their faces grim.

"We’re comin’ with you," Zeke said.

"No," he told them. "I know where to find my sons. They’re in Konkow territory. They’re with...my brothers. You stay here. Protect Mati."

"I’m going with you," Mati said.

He shook his head. He suspected Mati would collapse if she took three steps. "No. This is my battle. I’m to blame. I will find them."

"You’re not to blame," she insisted, clutching at his arm.

"I left you alone."

"They stole my babies from me while I slept beside them." Shadows darkened her eyes. "No one could have prevented..."