Hiram had given up. “The boy’s going to be mute. That’s all. He ain’t goin’ to talk. Boy’s normal every other way. Seems like it, anyway. ‘Bout the right size for a two year old, I’d say.” That’s what Hiram had said as he quit trying to get the Indian boy to say anything.
Elizabeth nodded in agreement, but she figured he needed to know the name of everything anyway. So, she continued for a while. She’d say the names of objects in their surroundings, pointing and speaking distinctly, hoping that the boy would respond. Most of the time, he didn’t even take notice. If she tapped him on the chest and got his attention, he might look at the thing to which she was pointing and look at her face as she said the name slowly.
“C H A I R.”
“T A B L E.”
“M A T T I E.”
Mattie was Elizabeth’s daughter – her and Hiram’s only child. Except, Elizabeth was pregnant again. She was hoping the baby she was carrying would be the boy that Hiram wanted – a boy that he could take to the woods when he went hunting, a boy that could help him in the fields, a boy that would become a man who would be known as Hiram’s son.
Hiram’s son. Yeah. She knew that’s what he wanted.
Hiram had found this little Indian boy in a deserted Indian village nearly two months earlier. The village was a disaster. It had the smell of death. Some ailment had swept through the village, wiping out all the inhabitants except for this little boy. Almost, Hiram didn’t see the child. As he was about to skirt the village, the boy had come to the door of one of the huts.
It wasn’t Hiram’s nature to leave a child to starve or be taken by the wildness that was all around. He’d picked him up, held him in front of him on the horse, and brought him home.
Elizabeth had known Hiram was pleased to have this boy when she saw her husband bringing the nearly naked child onto their place. Their daughter was scared of the boy at first. But in a few days and after they had the boy cleaned up, Mattie was used to him. Elizabeth would see the two of them walking together in the yard, or sitting in the sand, or watching tadpoles in the nearby spring. Mattie talked to the boy, but the little boy never made a sound.
At the beginning when they had their meals, the boy wanted to stand by the table instead of sitting in the chair they put at his place. As each meal started, he’d watched as the others ate until he seemed to be satisfied that it was okay. He’d reach with his hands onto the plate that was set before him, pick up food with his fingers, and cram the handful into his mouth as though it might be his last meal. Gradually, he seemed to accept that there was going to be food on that plate when the others ate, and that he would be allowed to eat. He watched how the others held their spoon and their fork.
One morning he began to try to do the same thing with his. And, finally, he sat in a chair at the table.
They had come to accept that the Indian boy would be a silent creature in their household – more than a pet, but less than the son Hiram would have wanted.
And then one evening, it all changed. Hiram was telling Elizabeth about the beehive he had found in a tree and about the prospects for this hive providing some sweetening for the family. Mattie was eating the deer meat and vegetables on her plate, pushing the peas onto her spoon with one hand.
As usual, the Indian boy had sat silently for a few minutes, watching everyone eating. What was unusual was that he made a sound, “Sanota.”
All conversation around the table stopped.
“What?” Hiram spoke first.
“Sanota.”
“He wants you to sew something?” Hiram looked to Elizabeth.
“What did you say, little boy?” Elizabeth reached over to the boy.
“Sanota.” He was quieter this time.
Mattie tried to say what he had said. “Sew not a?”
The boy didn’t smile. He never had. But there was pleasure in his face as he looked to Mattie. “Sanota.”
Mattie said it again. “Sah no tah.”
“Sanota,” he nodded.
“I believe that’s his name,” Elizabeth touched Hiram’s arm. She pointed to Mattie. “Mattie.” And then she pointed to the Indian boy. “Sanota.”
Hiram, Elizabeth, and Mattie laughed with understanding when the boy mimicked what Elizabeth had done. He pointed to Mattie and then to himself, “Mattie. Sanota.”
Hiram’s voice was really too loud. He didn’t need to say it so loudly. “Good boy! Good, Sanota!”
Elizabeth touched Hiram’s arm again when the look on the boy’s face seemed startled at the loud voice. “Eat your dinner, Sanota. You can have more when you finish.”
Elizabeth was sure there was a smile as the boy looked at Mattie and picked up his spoon. Turning back to his plate, he pushed peas onto the wooden spoon. “Peas.”
The three of them laughed. No, four. Sanota laughed, too.
“Peas.” He said it again.