The Winter Thief

78

Taniel ignored Vera for the entire afternoon it took to ride to the northern end of the valley, leading a string of mules laden with rifles, pistols, and ammunition. Taniel’s father, Levon, had taken half the guns to the south. He had ordered a reluctant Taniel to take Vera along and allow her to teach the village women how to use a firearm, but he hadn’t ordered Taniel to talk to her. This hadn’t bothered Vera or stopped her from talking, whether he answered or not. Astride her horse in woolen trousers, Marta’s hand-knit sweater, and boots, wrapped in a fur coat and hat, a rifle and a bag of ammunition across her saddle, she felt almost lighthearted, absolutely certain that this was where she ought to be.

In the first village they came to, the bearded headman categorically refused to allow Vera to teach the village women to use guns.

“Just leave the guns here and we’ll take care of it,” he told Taniel, eyeing the boxes and bulging sacks strapped to the donkeys.

But to Vera’s surprise, Taniel stood his ground. “My father, Levon, requires this of you,” he said firmly.

“Our men will never agree to it,” the headman insisted, glancing at the line of men squatting at a respectful distance. “It’s out of my hands.”

“Not if your wife is the first to volunteer,” Vera told him, ignoring Taniel’s irritated frown.

The clearing was so still that she could hear the wind soughing in the pine branches above her. Without another word, the headman walked away. Taniel threw her a disgusted look and went back to the mules. “We’re leaving,” he told his men. Seeing their incredulous faces, he snapped, “My father’s wishes are law to me. It’s not required that I agree.”

Ashamed of having interfered and, in her ignorance of local culture, wrecked this village’s chance to arm itself, Vera mounted and turned her horse back toward the forest. Thankful to Taniel for keeping his word, she vowed she would say nothing more.

The headman came rushing across the clearing, yelling for them to stop. A heavyset woman in tow was so thoroughly wrapped in a woolen shawl that Vera could barely see her eyes. The headman thrust the woman toward Vera and hurried over to Taniel.

Vera dismounted. “I want to teach you to use a gun to protect yourself,” she told her. “Will you bring the other women?”

The woman didn’t respond. In frustration, Vera wanted to pull the shawl away from her face but instead told her, “My name is Vera. Do you know Siranoush Ana?”

The woman nodded and let her shawl fall open, revealing a face leached of beauty by age and hardship but strong and resolute. Her eyes met Vera’s.

“Does Siranoush Ana desire that we do this?”

When Vera nodded yes, the woman told her to wait. Before long, she returned with twenty other women, some as young as fifteen.

While the men were unloading, Vera took the women into a meadow and showed them how to clean, load, and reload a rifle and a pistol. The women were shy and hesitant at first, but Vera found them to be physically strong, hardened from carrying water and baskets of firewood on their backs up and down the steep hills. The recoil of a rifle hardly budged them, and once they decided to learn, they put their backs into it. Some of them turned out to be very good shots.

Taniel and his men slept in the headman’s guest room and stable, and his wife took Vera into the women’s quarters that night. They fed her and gave her the warmest quilt, but despite sharing a room with a dozen women and children, Vera felt lonely. She was dressed in dun-colored man’s trousers, while these women wore brightly patterned gowns, torn and stained, but attractive nonetheless. One woman reached out and squeezed Vera’s breast, making her hot with embarrassment. “Just like us,” the woman called out approvingly.

The following day, Vera, Taniel, and his men moved on to another village. The mountains flung great columns of water from their flanks and breathed the valley full of mist. As they rode along the trail, Vera caught glimpses of flowers-magenta pinks, deep purple grape hyacinths, primulas, and others she couldn’t name. Her mood lifted at the prospect of spring and her own feeling of accomplishment. At each village, they repeated their transaction-the women learned to shoot, and the villagers received rifles and ammunition. A messenger had come from Levon telling them that the Kurds hadn’t attacked again, although their scouts had been seen near the monastery. They began to think that perhaps the danger was over. A week passed quickly. Taniel remained taciturn, but Vera began to think that he and his men respected her. He assigned one of his men to escort Vera back to New Concord. Before she was out of earshot, she thought she heard Taniel say, “Go with God.”