Payacita. Jeanne Follett
she said as she abruptly caught herself flying around the pole in full swing then stopping, holding on still with her little hands, balancing on the roadside steps on her tip toes. “Little, little, soldier,” she exclaimed, raising her voice. “Do I look like a little soldier? Do you see yellow stripes on my soft, clothed sleeves? Do you see yellow painted stripes running down the sides of my nizhoni, beautiful new skirt that my grandmother, the Shanasani, has made for me? You see”—she pulled her skirt forwarded in a swing—“that I am wearing here today? No, I think not. I am the daughter of a brave warrior. His father was a great medicine man.”
“It’s just a term of endearment when I call you li’l soldier!” stated the man.
“A what?” spoke up Payacita, dragging out the sound of the A. “Hmm, this is something to think about,” she slowly stated to him as she now in a slower pace moved toward the soldier, swaying her whole body, with her hands on her hips. She went on to ask, “What does this mean?”
The soldier then replied, “Why, term of endearment,” pausing for a moment, not sure he really wanted to engage this conversation any further. Oh well, he thought, I have a few minutes yet. What would it hurt to take time to talk to this mischievous child? “It means I like you!”
“You like me, you don’t even know me!” said Payacita now, looking up, square into the soldier’s eyes, at the same time grabbing on to his shining US military-issued belt buckle. Then she pulled herself upward so she could continue to speak. By now she had also made her way onto the top of his boots with her tiny feet, and the soldier was now looking downward at her.
“My, you have such beautiful brown-button-colored eyes. Do you know they twinkle when you speak?” commented the soldier.
“Yes, they are, aren’t they? My father says that they are the same as the beauty of the brown cubs that are born in the spring.”
Somehow, with a daring tone in her voice, that might differ with the soldier’s belief.
“I believe he is right.” But he didn’t accept the dare in her voice; he took time to think. At that moment he knew that she was a handful at best.
Payacita, her energy once again rising, also had taken a moment to think.
“Well, Mister, what is it that you said, a term of endearment?”
“Term of endearment,” the soldier repeated. “It means I like you!”
“You like me,” Payacita said. “You don’t even know me,” she declared with a huff in her voice.
“No, I don’t know you, but when I saw your twinkling eyes and that smile on your face, and you were in such a hurry, you reminded me of my puppy I have tied up at the other side of the fort.” The soldier pointed toward the gates. “I staked him out so that he wouldn’t run away. He is so cute I can’t help but like him. Why shouldn’t I like you?”
“You mean to say I look like a dog, Commissary Master?” Payacita, raising her voice, exclaimed.
“Why, no, I don’t mean you look like a dog, and how did you know that I was the commissary master?” Now he was looking down at her, raising his bushy eyebrows.
Payacita said, “Because I saw you at the storefront when we came through the gate, and you were handing out what looked to me like something good to eat. How do I remind you of that puppy?” she insisted on knowing.
“Well, he’s a swell lil’ guy, lil’ soldier. He thinks for himself, has a lot of energy, and likes to play. It seems to me that you’re the same kind of little girl, rushing down this sidewalk, in such a hurry with that big smile on your face.”
By now Payacita was putting together her own thoughts about this man and his puppy. After all, she was on the way down to see that pup, anyways.
“Mister,” she was hesitating to say, “why is it that you have that puppy staked, especially if you say you have that term of endearment for him?”
The soldier responded, “Because like you, he’s full of energy, and if I am working and he goes off and gets into some trouble, I’d have to get rid of him probably. I sure would miss him!”
“You would?” asked Payacita.
“Why, sure, I would. I brought him here all the way from Albuquerque!”
Payacita had longed for a puppy of her own for some time now. The dogs that were back at home were used to help work: rounding up the sheep and watching over them when needed. Her father had told her that perhaps in the spring he would bring her one, the father being hopeful that a puppy would keep Payacita out of trouble. Many times she was known to be found at quite a distance from the hogan. Sometimes she would be seen far out in the canyons, and at the red rock cliffs you could hear her singing to the ravens, or just seeing how far she could throw a stick into the cliffs. “Perhaps a dog could alarm us if she ever did get into trouble,” the father would tell Bah, Payacita’s mom.
The commissary master was a tall, lanky man. His hair was kept tucked under his blue military hat, but it was a little longer in the back. As the years would pass, what Payacita would remember was the color of his hair; it was red. Also that he talked with a funny accent. It turned out he was Irish. But most of all, she would remember he made her feel special.
Payacita became quiet. Her mind began to drift off from what the soldier was speaking. She was daydreaming about having her own puppy. She then remembered her mother saying, “Be careful who you speak to at the fort because there are good spirit beings and bad.” So she decided to ask him his name.
“Commissary Master, what is your name?”
“My name is Sidney,” with a chuckle he said.
“Sidney, what kind of a name is that?”
“It’s an old family name. I am named after my father. His was the same.”
“Sure is a funny name,” she whispered to herself.
Sidney said, “I told you my name. Now what is yours?”
“My name is Payacita,” she said, looking him square in the eye, waiting for him to laugh.
“What does that mean?” he wanted to know.
He thought it was a beautiful name.
“It means, little clown.”
“Well, that suits you. You are a little clown.”
She went on to explain that it was just a nickname, that one day she and her sisters were at the old mission school; and what was to become in later times known as the Franciscan friars, came out to see them, and all she could do was laugh and roll around on the ground at them. The shoes with straps on them were funny for her to see. Also, it was almost unbearable to see men dressed in dressed like outfits, with ropes tied around their waists.
Payacita became more comfortable about talking to the stranger. Now they knew each other’s names. She began talking about her grandmother, the Shininsani, the family dogs and sheep, about the night sky and how she loved to lay out under the stars and count them. Whenever she saw a falling star, she loved to pretend that the ravens were making their way from the heavens special for her to see.
Sidney knew that she wanted his attention, but it was time to move on to do other things. He was trying to think of a way in which they could go their own ways without hurting her sweet feelings. He then remembered that the conversation started with her letting him know that she had seen him coming out of the commissary store.
“Payacita, I have to get going now, but how about an apple that I happened to just have here in my bag?” He opened up his pouch and pulled out a beautiful green apple.
Handing it to her, he said, “Enjoy the apple. Maybe I’ll see you later.”
Payacita opened up her small hand, and he placed it gently into it.
She looked at it and said, “What is that?”