USDA Love

By Karen Shotley

While looking at books in WalMart in a futile attempt to find something worthwhile to read in that literary wasteland, I saw a "white woman loves indian man" paperback. The woman on the cover had flowing and blowing long blond hair and huge eyes, the guy had a six-pack (no, not beer muscles), and he had long flowing, blowing black hair and deep black eyes.

I read the cover right away, extremely pleased at the unexcpected treat. Sure enough,
the woman's father had been killed by a renegade Injun and she took it upon herself to avenge his death. BUT, she falls in love with the savage killer's twin brother and is thrown into a quandry. How did she fall in love with a red man ?? Does she love him enough to chew hides? Will she get along with his other wives? Can't they just be her

maids?

Well, I laughed out loud, big gasping, guffaws. People around me stared, but I didn't care. I considered buying the thing for a joke, but then I had a better idea. I'll write one myself. Yep don't see why not. I can burn wagons around that author and others like her. I have a distinct advantage because I dont have to look far for raw material. All around me are stories of passion, betrayal, and obsession. The people the stories would be based on would not dare object lest they be exposed. Ahhhh hahahahaha.

That was my wicked laugh, thinking of all the loot I'll make. At long last, I have figured out my true niche, my calling so to speak. Indian Country and beyond will be desperately reading and then discussing who's who, wondering if they are the hero, seductress, villian or fool in this chapter or that one. And, I'm betting on the rest of the world's fascination with Indians. They will purchase my as yet unpublished books by the millions. So you better be nice to me. I'm go!nna be rich!

Here's a sneak peek at my new book: USDA Love, Chapter One

Moosie looked magnificent stacking the commodities. His body glistened in the dim light of the warehouse, his veins were popping and his arms rippled around the box of vegetarian beans.

He saw me then, and eyed me up and down.

Moosie smiled and the front tooth he was missing wasn't so bad, after all, he could always get a new one at the clinic.

I shook my hair a bit and approached him with a message. "Your counselor called, she wants you to pick her up at seven tonight."

Moosie took his dark glasses off, revealing his narrow golden eyes and said, "Do me a favor, Call her back and say I can't make it. Why don't you pick me up instead?"

 I took a deep breath and enlarged my chest. "And" I said, "Your wife called and asked why you have to work so late."

He responded to this by looking at my rack. "Where did you shoot that deer again?"

I breathlessly mumbled a reply. My 10-point buck's head was a permanent resident of the warehouse because my old man didn't like hunting. His disdain had alot to do with the fact that a former lover took me hunting.

"Well?" asked Moosie. He looked extrememly sexy in a faded red T-shirt with ripped off sleeves and tight Wrangler jeans.

Close to him I inhaled the compelling combination of sweat, aqua velva, frybread, and
the deep dark forest. "Can't, it's my bingo night."

"Can't or won't?" he asked. Moosie's nickel stained fingers gripped my arm and we moved in unison to the walk in the cooler.

Inside the cooler Moosie pulled me into his arms and locked his lips and teeth in my neck, all the while pressing me against the butter. He was a georgous Native vampire and I his unresisting victim. It was us two as embraced in a vortex of time. Surely, some of my grandmothers had been so ravished by an awesome warrior such as Moosie.

The temperature in the cooler was rising and quickly. Soon the butter was in danger of melting. I was limp, like soft dough, in Moosie's caloused and knowing hands. He kneaded me and his starchy sweat felt like hot grease on my skin. He was my past, my present. and my future.

I knew now what I had been missing all that time. No wonder these women fight over our men! If any more compared to Moosie, I could, so, like,
totally understand. Here I was, locked in a sizzling embrace with the reservation Romeo. All prior resistance had been futile, because I was where I had sworn I would never be.

At this thought, I pulled away and beat my fists on his hairless chest. And why, was his shirt off anyway? Stop! Stop! Don't Stop!

He laughed and grabbed on to the belt loops of my Chic jeans. I could not withstand his pure animal magnetism for long: he was all soft hair, probeing lips and hard muscle. I hated myself but my body had a will of its own and it wanted Moosie.

Then, the thought of his wife and his sisters put the skids on. I had just grown back the curly pouf above my forehead and didn't want to scrap my way out of church ever again! Geez was that ever embarassing.

"Quit! Now! For reals!" I pulled away, turned on the light and inspected my neck in a mirror. I had a ring of hickeys that looked like a freakish disease, but that wasnt the worst of it. They all had a distinctive tooth missing that I had seen on other women

and laughed about. I started to cry, knowing I would be on the hit list.

Moosie took me gently in his arms and said, "Don't worry little pumpkin, I know an old indian trick to get rid of hickeys, but it has to be done by the light of the moon. I'll pick you up."

I didn't say no again. It ain't easy bein a savage. But dang, someones gotta do it.

Whatever!!.....