Read Nakoa's Woman for Free Online

been touched before. His rape would be not just the destruction of her innocence and her virginity but the destruction again of the wagon train, dying in its own horrible and bloody sunset. Ana fled from her again; her mother died in the dismal rain; the Maria and Anson of just yesterday burned under orange pillars of smoke. Edith Holmes lay white and ashen and blood seeped and seeped from beneath her thighs.
    “God! God!” screamed Maria.
    He struck as if he had come in a nightmare from the dark and lustful core of her own being. But he stopped with her. At the beginning of his penetration he stopped, and suddenly the pressure of his whole body was gone. She turned on her stomach, hiding as much as she could from him, not able to bear looking into his face. She wept in hysteria.
    When she was drained and could cry no more, she felt a cool little breeze ruffle her hair and pass over her naked body. Her dress had been brought from the rocks and placed beside her. Numbly she reached for it, and after she had put it on and fastened every button of her bodice, she looked up at him. He stood towering and mute, almost blocking the whole sky. Here was the shadow that had come to make her die.
    He touched her arm, indicating that she return with him to the others. She started to walk with him, hiding her face from his own. Before they moved, he cupped her face in his hands and kissed her lips. He could not have been more tender. His black eyes were filled with a new light, and she noticed the sweetness and sensitivity of his lips. He yearned to speak with her but did not know how to convey his thoughts. He closed her eyes and kissed her lashes, and then searched her face to see if she understood: in his new gentlemanliness, she was to close her eyes to what he had done. She understood and looked at him mutely. He moved away from her, indicating the distance between them, and she read this to mean that he would never again attempt to rape her.
    As they left the river, Maria glanced back at her torn and ragged chemise. Its white lace was soiled with the mud of the riverbank, and for a moment she felt as if she was walking away from herself, the girl who had been a virgin to life. In his gentleness, the Indian had penetrated her as deeply as if he had succeeded in raping her.
    When they returned to the others not a one gave any sign of noticing them. Her captor gestured for her to lie down, and when she did, he lay down beside her. Her face became crimson with humiliation at having to lie beside him upon the ground. He fell almost immediately into an easy sleep, and when the others slept too, Maria studied them all.
    They wore shirts, breechcloths, and leggings, and across their shirts and leggings ran strange black bands. Their clothing was tanned more darkly than any skins she had seen on Indians, and because of their dark clothing, the dyed hair that fringed their shirts and leggings showed up brilliantly. Every one of them carried a knife sheathed in his belt, but Maria noticed some difference in the dress of her captor and the others. He alone wore an ornate pattern of quill bands that ran the breadth of his shoulders and down the length of his sleeves and leggings, and he wore his hair in one queue rather than two braids as the others did. He was clearly the leader of the band and Maria took him to be a chief, but of what tribe she did not know.
    The sun moved its slow course across the bright sky. Maria lay upon her back and watched it, and watched the slow moving of the shadows upon the ground. In time she became drowsy and slept deeply. When she awakened, it was with a start of horror. She had dreamed of drifting down into the depths of an endless sea, and she became crazy in its darkening shadow and wanted to embrace it, forever become a part of it, and never see the sunlight again. She shuddered, gasping for air, savoring its sweetness in large gulps. She lived. She yet lived, and swift and terrible tears came for Ana and