STORY: MAN OF THE HOUSE

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My husband was a man of honor. His presence demanded respect and his actions showed that he deserved it. When my father gave me to him for marriage, I was happy to be with such a man. My father was almost too old to hunt any longer. He married me to him so that we could all survive the winter months. When we needed meat, my husband ventured out into the woods to hunt. He would always, without fail, bring back more than we could eat in a week. He was skillful at what he did and enjoyed it very much. He was the greatest provider for me and my parents.

It was some time ago that he started to change. He would no longer bring home extra game for my poor parents. Many nights, they have gone hungry because of it. I tried to bring scraps and small pieces of meat too them when I could, but it was never enough. They were starving and would soon die. When I tried to tell my husband this, he would not listen to my reasoning. He discounts my logic because I am a woman.

“You think you know what it is like to hunt and to provide?” He would say, jabbing a finger in my face. “Ha! You are a silly woman without sense. These people have nothing, are nothing. They should die for their laziness and stupidity.” He lectured like this any time that I suggested giving scraps of meat to my starving parents. He would hear nothing of it.



***



I woke up suddenly, plagued by the same nightmare I have almost every night. In the dream, I walk into my parent’s lodge. Smoke hangs in the air like fog, blurring my vision. I walk a few paces, squinting to see. I trip suddenly and fall to the floor. I look back at what I tripped on to be frozen with fear. It was a body that I tripped on. Crawling on all fours, I inch closer to the hazy outline. As I get closer I realize, it isn’t just one body, but two. I cry out when I see that the bodies are those of my parents. Their bodies pale and lifeless on the cold ground. Their cheeks hollow from starvation. Hand in hand, they embraced death together.

Tears streamed down my cheeks from the empty feeling in my chest. I couldn’t help them. I couldn’t save them. My heart ached for the loss I knew was coming. 

Breathing deeply, I tried to relieve myself of some of the sadness. There was work to be done. My husband was gone hunting and would not be back for another night. I went out back to start tanning the cow skins my husband brought me before he left. I was lost in my work for what could have been minutes or hours, I could not tell. But when I looked up, there was a strange man staring at me, not twenty paces from where I sat.

“Who are you and why are you staring at me?” I said, loud enough for him to hear. He looked at me and slowly rose. He did not answer at first. He approached me with cation, as if not to startle me or scare me off.

When he was less than two steps away, he finally spoke. “I am a visitor. I have traveled a long way and I am tired.” Close as he was, I could tell by his eyes that he was not lying. He must have not slept in days. “If you would be so kind as to let me stay the night, I will be eternally in your debt.” He bowed his head in respect.

“Of course you may stay. My husband is gone hunting but will return tomorrow.” I said, knowing that I would be punished for letting a strange man stay the night. I had a feeling about this man. Maybe he could help me save my parents.

The time came and my husband arrived home with the meat from his hunt.

“Who are you? Why are you in my lodge?” My husband roared, his face bright red.

The visitor stood very fast and stared at my husband’s with a force you could almost feel.

“I am a visitor. Your wife was so gracious as to offer me a place to rest for the night. I have come very—“

“You think a woman has the authority to allow you to stay in my house?” He said, body vibrating in anger. He then turned to me and raised a hand to hit me.

“Touch her and I will kill you.” The stranger’s voice was calm and quiet. My husband lowered his hand an inch but did not let it fall completely.

“Ha! You will not tell me what I can or cannot do to my own wife!” He raised his hand again and brought it down hard on the side of my face. The sound rattled in my ears and my cheek stung as I fell to the floor from the blow. I blinked fast trying to clear my eyes of tears. I heard something cut through the air like butter and hit its target. My eyes cleared enough to see my husband fall to the ground, arrow through his heart. I knew at once that my husband was dead.

“I could not stand by while he laid hands on you. I was indebted to you, now even more so for I have killed your husband. I will protect you and provide for you and your family if you will let me.” He said with an air of solidity. His voice was soothing and his words even more so. I could not respond, I was sobbing from the relief that my parents would live and the grief from the death of the person my husband used to be. Instead I nodded and let him hold me as I cried.

 
Author's Note:

In the original story, there were three sisters who were married to the guy. Only one of them, the youngest, would bring their parents meat. The man used the dad to scare the buffalo so he could shoot it. Even though the dad would help hunt, he would not give the dad any meat. One day they find a baby and use magic so that it grew up into a man. He then kills the husband and continues on in other stories to kill other evil things. I changed it so that there was only one wife and the man who kills the husband is a stranger. I didn’t want to bring magic into the picture so that the story seemed more realistic. This story was hard to end but I had to end but I feel it gives the reader more choice over what comes next. I hope you enjoyed reading it!

Bibliography: Blackfeet Indian Stories by George Bird Grinnell (1915).