"Why yoh no trus' Ramon? Sure, I gets padre! W'at yoh theenk for speak lies,
me? Sure, I gets padre, foolish one! Me, I not like for yoh no trus' Ramon.
Looks like not moch yoh lov' Ramon."
"I good girl," Annie-Many-Ponies stated simply. "I love my husband when priest
says that's right thing to do. You no gets priest, I no go with you. I think
mens not much cares for marry all time. Womens not care, they go to hell.
That's what priest tells. Girls got to care. That's truth." Simple as
two-plus-two was the rule of life as Annie-Many-Ponies laid it down in words
before him. No fine distinctions between virtue and superwomanhood there, if
you please! No slurring of wrong so that it may look like an exalted right.
"Womens got to care," said Annie-Many-Ponies with a calm certainty that would
brook no argument.
"Sure theeng," Ramon agreed easily. "Yoh theenk I lov' yoh so moch if yoh not
good?"
"You gets priest?" Annie-Many-Ponies persisted.
"Sure, I gets padre. You theenk Ramon lies for soch theeng?"
"You swear, then, all same white mans in picture makes oath." There was a new
quality of inflexibility under the soft music of her voice. "You lift up hand
and says, 'Help me by God I makes you for-sure my wife!'" She had pondered
long upon this oath, and she spoke it now with an easy certainty that it was
absolutely binding, and that no man would dare break it.
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