Free Silent Girl by Tricia Dower Page A

hero.”
    â€œMy grandfather knows of those days,” Jyrgal says to her.
    â€œDid you meet him?” Dimira asks Usen.
    Usen thrusts out his broad, flat chest and says, “I did.” Stands and slaps Jyrgal’s back. “Imagine! The milk of your clan and ours, flowing into the same chanach. Ama, where is the vodka? We must toast to Jyrgal’s and Kyal’s happiness. May they have many children running in front and many horses behind.”
    â€œI have neither received nor accepted a proposal,” Kyal says.
    Jyrgal sits beside her on the women’s side of the table and leans into his words. “My brother is eager to wed and I am eager to help him.”
    â€œDo you exist only to serve your brother’s whims?”
    He straightens his back. “Helping a brother or sister is not a choice.”
    She matches his posture. “It is not yet your place to lecture me.”
    He narrows his eyes and says, “I’m reminded of hissing swans at Issyk Kul.” He stands, extends his hands to Usen and nods toward Dimira. “Thank you for your hospitality. I won’t keep you longer.” Picking up his shoes at the entrance, he leaves.
    Surprised at Jyrgal’s sudden departure, Kyal doesn’t notice Usen striding angrily toward her until his hand connects with her head.
    â€œHe has left the matter with me,” Dimira says later after Usen packs his saddlebags and rides into the mountains. “He’ll be gone a while. He wants a decision from you when he returns.” She whispers because Aigul rests nearby. The reports of Kyal’s recalcitrance have made her faint and nauseous.
    â€œI have a say?”
    â€œHe was wrong to hit you. Anger and bitterness are gobbling him like cancer. But you don’t appreciate what your ancestors endured to give you the luxury of speaking your mind.” She grabs a bucket with one hand and beckons Kyal with the other. “Come with me to the river.”
    Outside, she says, “Before he left, your father told me you must agree to this match. He said he will not force you.”
    She must agree . Kyal mouths the words, imagining Ata’s face as he spoke them. She takes the bucket from her grandmother and swings it wildly. Relief rises up through her body and erupts in laughter. She will not have to sacrifice herself for Aigul. Then she remembers that her father wants to spend her university money on tourists. She walks to the river with her head down, loathing the way her toes turn in.
    Jyrgal shows up the next afternoon dressed for ulak tartysh in tank cap, high leather boots, and cushioned jacket. A sheepskin blanket protects his horse.
    â€œHeaven bless you, you didn’t scare him away,” Aigul says.
    He looks different to Kyal in the sun’s heat. Almost attractive. But she’d rather make love to his horse. Ha! She is buoyant with audacity. When there wasn’t the opportunity to decide, Jyrgal seemed as undesirable as any other villager. Now, she sees a tolerable possibility: marriage in exchange for a degree. She will convince Usen to forego any other bride price. He will persuade Jyrgal’s family she’ll be much more valuable property, later, when she commands a good salary and brings them prestige. “Our daughter-in-law, the ambassador.” She’ll need to stay in Bishkek during the school year, so there’s her room and meals to cover as well as tuition. If Jyrgal insists, she will visit him weekends provided he doesn’t disturb her study times. She can suffer his body two nights a week.
    She watches him wrestle her uncles and cousins for the sheep’s torso. Usen should be there to see it. Jyrgal brings the others’ play to a new level. She rides past him as she heads out with Almaz for kesh kumay. Soon he’ll know that no woman rides as well as she. He’ll appreciate it, too, as the scornful American student never could.
    An uncle officiates at