It was only a few days later when Enyeto approached Angie while she was walking with her friends, their wasp stings still evident.
“Tsomah!” Enyeto chided her, “Tsomah!”
Angie clenched her jaw and responded, “My name is Angie Owens, not Tsomah!”
Enyeto was quiet for a moment as he followed behind them.
“Stop!” Enyeto demanded, “I want a white man’s name. Give me a white man’s name.”
“No,” Angie responded stubbornly.
“Give me a white man’s name!” Enyeto continued, “You have a Shoshone name, I want a white man name, one that all white men will know me by!”
Angie stopped walking and faced Enyeto and stubbornly responded, “I said no!”
“I am boy, you are girl,” Enyeto was just as stubborn. “You must do as I say!”
“Alright,” she said, “let me think of a name.”
Enyeto anxiously watched her face.
“Your new white man name will be… Pearl,” she decided, “Pearl Stinkbody.”
“Is that a good white man name?” Enyeto asked with excitement in his voice.
“The best name ever,” she smiled, feeling as though she’d finally gotten her revenge.
Enyeto repeated his new name with much delight and was excited to tell the other boys in the village. He ran toward the village yelling behind him, “See, I told you, you are not very smart. I made you give me a white man’s name!” And he began to laugh triumphantly to himself.
“I would also like a white name,” Kimana turned to Angie with pleading eyes.
“Me also,” Leotie begged.
Angie named Kimana ‘Honey Bee’ And Leotie ‘Snuggle Bug’. Soon, other children from the village came to Angie asking for white names and she desperately searched her thoughts to come up with names from her past.
When word of the new names reached Chief Nahele’s ears, he became unsettled at the thought and it was decided among the elders to put a stop to it. He called Halona to his tent and informed her that no Shoshone shall be known by a white man’s name. She obediently returned to her teepee, sought out Angie who was in her underclothes, washing her worn pioneer dress in the river and slapped her across the face, saying, “Silly girl, you get me in trouble with Chief Nahele. You are bad girl. Can do nothing right.” She grabbed the wet garment out of Angie’s hands and tossed it aside. “No more white man names, no more white man clothes! You live with Shoshone! You be Shoshone now!”
Halona then turned and walked back to her camp. Angie sat stunned, not knowing whether or not she should pick up her dress lying in the dirt. She touched the side of her face that still stung from the slap and fought back tears. Clad only in her pioneer underclothes, she left her dress where it was and got to her feet.
Chocheta saw what had happened. As she walked up to Angie, she smiled and took Angie by the hand, leading her back to camp. There, Chocheta’s mother went inside their teepee and came out with a Shoshone dress, a little worn, but soft and homemade.
Chocheta’s older sister, Sisika, was anxious for Angie to try it on. It had been hers and she had outgrown it, hoping to give it to Chocheta soon. Now it was more important to give it to Angie. Sisika helped Angie to change clothes and everyone seemed to approve.
Angie and Chocheta ran to show Halona, but all the old woman did was grunt and turn back to her basket weaving. Angie smiled at Chocheta and hugged her and the girls ran to the river to show Kimana and Leotie.
“You are Shoshone now,” Kimana smiled.
Those words bothered Angie.
I don’t feel like a Shoshone girl. she thought, I still feel like a white girl named Angie Owens from Columbia, Missouri. Most of the people here are nice to me, but I don’t really belong here. I belong where my family is, my real family. I need to get to California, to my aunt and uncle.
Her dress was different on the outside, but she was still the same on the inside. The more she thought about Kimana’s words, the more she struggled with her heritage, beginning to cling to it more than ever before.