A Different Blue(163)

only thing I could think about was becoming Mrs. Jimmy Echohawk.”

Hearing Jimmy's name on Stella's lips in that context was another jolt. I didn't even ask who

Sarah Winnemucca was. Another day, another story.

“We wrote letters back and forth for almost a year. By then I was working for Larry Shivwa, who

later worked in the Carter Administration in Indian Relations,” Stella rushed on. “Jimmy

wanted to be closer to me. He came out West . . . just to be near me. He was an extremely

talented woodcarver. He had received some national recognition for his work, and had started

selling his carvings. He had been saving to open a shop . . .” Her voice dwindled off, and she

seemed reluctant to continue. But the time for silence was past, and I pushed her forward.

“Stella? I need you to tell me what happened,” I demanded, forcing her to look at me. Her eyes

were filled with regret and her shoulders narrowed with defeat.

“Jimmy took his savings and bought a pickup truck and a camp trailer. And he came here. He knew

my father wouldn't support a marriage at that point. My career was really taking off. And I had

a responsibility to my community. I was the first in my family to graduate from college, and one

of the first Paiute girls ever. I had been groomed for bigger things. So . . . we saw each other

behind my parents' backs. I was angry with them. I was an adult, and Jimmy was a good Native

man. I didn't understand why I couldn't have both. But I proved them right in the end. And,

truthfully, I blamed them because it was easier than blaming myself. I used my parents as an

excuse. The truth was, I was ambitious, and I feared losing my ambition. I feared becoming like

my mother, stuck on a reservation, poor, unnoticed, unremarkable.”

“What happened?” Wilson urged her on.

“Jimmy Carter was elected President in 1976, and I was invited to go back and work in

Washington, DC in the office of Indian affairs as an assistant to Secretary Shivwa. My father

was sure I would be instrumental in getting the Paiute Tribal status reinstated. So I went.

Jimmy never told me not to go. He told me he loved me . . . but he never begged me to stay.

“I found out about six weeks later that I was pregnant. I stayed in Washington DC until my

boss, who was good friends with my parents, called them and ratted me out. By that time, I was

seven months pregnant, and I wasn't able to hide my figure in high-waisted dresses and shawls. I

was too far along to fly home, so I stayed on, even though I was embarrassed and my parents were

ashamed. When Winnie was born, I left Washington DC and came home. But Jimmy was long gone. And

I was too proud to find him.”

“Jimmy never knew?” I whispered, devastated for the man who raised me.

“I never told him.”

“But then . . . how did . . . how did he find me?” I had no other conclusion to draw. Somehow

Jimmy had found me . . . and he had taken me from my mother.

“I don't know,” Stella whispered. “It doesn't make any sense.”

[page]“Winona never knew her father?” Wilson asked gently. He was the only one who seemed

capable of stringing two thoughts together.

“We allowed her to think my parents were her parents. I called them Mom and Dad and that's what

she called them, and we all lived together when I wasn't traveling. My mother raised her while I