This fictional account is dedicated to Valerie Ann Roeske and to all women who 

                                     have walked the path of domestic abuse and known its pain and suffering and who now 

                                     have come to know in their hearts and souls that all we have in life is love.

                                      CROOKED WOMAN FOOL                                                                

                                   I am Little Beaver. I take you by the hand with all my heart.   I am but a woman, yet you must listen for I am 

                                   speaking truth so you will know how it was and why I do not cry out my grief.

                                   I was the wife of a Winnebago warrior.  I served him faithfully.  Who was so well served as him?  Whose lodge 

                                   was so well provided or kept so clean?  I brought wood in the morning and placed water always at hand.  I 

                                   watched for his coming, and he found his food cooked and waiting.  If he rose to go forth, there was nothing 

                                    to delay him.  I searched the thought that was in his heart to save him the trouble of speaking.

                                   When I went about on errands for him, chiefs and warriors smiled upon me, and braves spoke soft things to me 

                                   in secret.  But my feet were on the straight path, and my eyes saw nothing but him.

                                   When he went out to hunt or to war, who aided to equip him but me?  When he returned, I met him at the door, 

                                    and he entered without further thought.  While he sat and smoked, I unloaded his horses, tied them to stakes, 

                                     brought in their loads and was quick at his feet.  If his moccasins were wet, I took them off and put on others 

                                    which were warm and dry.I dressed all the skins that were taken in the chase.  He never said to me, “Why is 

                                    it not done?”  

                                    He hunted the deer and the buffalo and watched for the enemy.  Everything else was done by me.

                                    When our people moved their camp, it was me who packed the horses and led them on their journey.  He 

                                    mounted his horse and rode away as free as though he had fallen from the skies. 

                                    He had nothing to do with the labor of the camp.  When we halted in the evening, he sat with the other braves 

                                   and smoked while I pitched his lodge.  When he came to eat and sleep, his supper and bed were ready.

                                   I served him faithfully.  And what was my reward?  A cloud was always on his brow and sharp lightning 

                                   on his tongue.  I was his woman to use without affection.  I was his dog not his wife.  

                                   Who scarred me and bruised me?  It was my Winnebago warrior. When his enemy killed him, he did not 

                                    return to his lodge.  I do not cry out my grief for what I have lost is but a warrior’s body, not a husband 

                                    that showed respect and recognized value.  

                                   

                                    Hear my truth. I will walk a new path and never walk the old path again.  

                                   When the handsome braves smile at me, now, again, I will choose 

                                   more wisely.  The Great Spirit has given me experience and wisdom. I would be a crooked 

                                   woman fool not to learn.

                                   Now you know how it was and how it will be.

                                                 Authors note:  See, also,  my poetry:  Begin Again, Ab Initio