Brave Beginnings Page 2

  The sound of footsteps along the dirt floor made him look up from the rug where he sat. “Achai? Did you come to gloat?”

  His good friend gave a slight grin but shrugged. “Don’t tell me a simple game of chunkey has you hiding in here like a woman.”

  Chogan rolled his eyes but refrained from answering. As he leaned to retrieve another bone, his black hair fell over his shoulder. He sat up and threw the bone at his friend. “I don’t run off and hide. I’m making fish hooks. We need them.”

  Achai sat across from him and selected a knife so that he could cut into his bone. “You’re hiding.”

  “No, I’m not.”

  “Maybe not from me, but you’re avoiding Citlali, aren’t you?”

  Chogan glanced at his grandmother who seemed oblivious to their conversation. It was only her ability to keep quiet about all matters that allowed Chogan to give his admission. “Citlali knows nothing of love. Your sister was right when she said that love matters more than blood lines.”

  “Woape said that because she didn’t want to marry Citlali, and even knowing she didn’t love him, he was still willing to marry her. It dishonored him when she ran away,” Achai softly admitted.

  “He wasn’t dishonored. A man who can’t feel can’t be dishonored.”

  “Regardless, you’re thirty. You’re still young enough to marry and have children. I think it’s been long enough since your wife died. It’s time to seek another one, and Citlali made a good suggestion.”

  Chogan cringed. “I will not marry Sarita. I don’t care what Citlali says.” Citlali might have a prominent place in the tribe, but he wasn’t going to dictate who Chogan married. “Not marrying is better than marrying the wrong woman.”

  Achai shook his head, and Chogan couldn’t tell if his friend was frustrated or amused.

  “You will have to have more children to make up for those I will not have,” Chogan finally said.

  “Is there no woman who appeals to you?”

  “No.”

  “You’ve changed,” Achai commented, finishing the sharp end of his hook. “You used to think that having children was the most important thing we could do.”

  Chogan shrugged and placed his fish hook in the basket next to him. He picked up another bone and worked on it.

  Achai stood and placed his hook in the basket. “Citlali wants an answer about Sarita by the end of next month.”

  Without looking up at his friend, Chogan said, “Tell him the answer is no.”

  “He’ll say to go on a fast and seek guidance on it.”

  “I don’t need anyone or anything to tell me what is best for me.”

  Achai shrugged and left the lodge.

  Chogan formed the hook of the bone, noting his frustrated movements would make him break this one too if he wasn’t careful. He took a deep breath to settle his nerves.

  “Citlali means well, but his age works against him.”

  Surprised, Chogan looked over at his grandmother who painted the pot in her lap. “He’ll be the next chief.”

  “Perhaps” she said. “But he has much growing up to do. When he marries, he’ll learn.”

  Chogan’s immediate thought was to remind her that Citlali was perfect and didn’t have anything to learn, but he decided against the joke, though a smile tugged at his lips.

  “Our ways will not last forever, Chogan.”

  His smile departed at her somber words.

  She sighed and turned her gaze to him. “The white man takes our land, and no matter how much we give, he is not happy. Some are friendly; others not. But peace is our way, so we’ve mingled with them and have brought some into our tribe.”

  “Like Gary.”

  She nodded. “Citlali is fighting a losing battle. Our numbers are too low and the white man’s too great. When I was younger, I was hopeful. Now that I’m older, I can see how things are going.”

  “I’m afraid you’re right.”

  He stared at the half-completed fish hook in his hand and thought about the smallpox epidemic that struck their tribe a little over sixty years ago. It wiped out so much of their population, and they had yet to recover. Sadly, he was beginning to believe they never would. His grandmother lost her parents during that outbreak. This time when he cut into the hook, he was slow and deliberate. His grandmother was right, and he supposed it was time he started listening to her.

  While she retired to her room, he sighed. It wasn’t like he hadn’t tried to have children with his wife, but after two miscarriages and a stillbirth, they gave up. There were some things no one could control, and maybe his grandmother was right: it would take Citlali time to learn that simple lesson. He hoped Citlali would learn it sooner rather than later.

  But if Citlali thought Chogan was going to confine himself to another mediocre marriage, he had another thing coming. Yes, he’d loved his first wife well enough, but she didn’t have that fire in her eyes like Julia did. No, he thought as he finished the fish hook. If he couldn’t have Julia, he didn’t want anyone. And since Julia wasn’t here, that meant he’d spend the rest of his life alone.

  ***

  Julia set her brush down and leaned back in the chair in front of her small dresser. It was already Friday, and Ernest would show up in an hour. She wished she had somewhere to disappear to for the next three hours. Turning her blue eyes to the mirror above her dresser, she wondered if her apprehension showed.

  Relax, Julia. Just because he’s coming to supper, it doesn’t mean anything more will come of it.

  The reminder eased the knots in her stomach...but only a little bit. She tapped her fingers along the warm brush handle before she brought it back to her long hair. She’d already brushed it enough, so she forced herself to put the brush back down and grabbed the pins. She twisted her hair into her usual style, a loose bun at the nape of her neck, and inserted the first pin. She had no reason to dress up. This wasn’t a romantic event.

  The door from downstairs opened and shut. “Julia?”

  “Upstairs,” Julia called out, noting the excitement in her aunt’s steps. Apparently, the trip to the post office yielded good results.

  For a fifty-two-year-old woman, her aunt moved with amazing grace up the steps. Erin’s face was flushed and her smile couldn’t be wider. “Gary sent a response.”

  Julia stood up, forgetting the pins in her hand or the bun she was making. She went over to her aunt and looked at the missive in her hands. “What did he say?”

  Her aunt chuckled. “See for yourself.”

  Julia accepted the paper and read through the brief note. In his familiar sloppy script, he wrote that he was due to come into Bismarck to sell more crops on Wednesday and would stop by to arrange for them to see his family.

  “Do you think they’ll want to come here?” Julia asked, wishing her brother had specified that detail.

  Erin shrugged. “I don’t know. We’ll find out on Wednesday.”

  “Do you think he’ll come alone?”

  “I don’t know. He didn’t say.”

  She groaned. Ever since she could remember, her brother was annoyingly vague on everything.

  Erin clucked her tongue. “After all we’ve been through, you’re not going to give Gary a hard time, are you?”

  “Of course not.” She handed the letter to her aunt. “I wish he was more specific, that’s all.”

  Her aunt gave her a sympathetic smile. “I don’t suppose he’ll ever ramble on with details, though I wish he said what time he’d come by.”

  Julia returned to the dresser and pulled her hair back up. “Oh well. That’s scatterbrained Gary for you. He doesn’t think we have anything more important to do than wait for him to show up.” Though she gave the admonition, her voice was laced with humor.

  “Even so, it’ll be good to see him again.” Erin folded the letter. “I’m going to check on the roast.”

  Julia slipped a couple of pins into her hair. “I set out the pie and salad while you were out.”


  By the time she finished putting the broach on her dress, her hands trembled. Irritated, she shook them. Just because Ernest was coming, it didn’t mean she had to be nervous. He’d come for supper, they’d probably sit and talk for a good half hour in the parlor, and then he’d go home. Erin would be satisfied that she caught up on old times and that would be it. Minus the occasional seeing him in town, Julia didn’t have anything to worry about.

  She repeated these things to herself as she helped her aunt get ready for their guest, but when the doorbell chimed, the butterflies in her stomach began their crazy fluttering all over again.

  It’s just Ernest. It’s just Ernest.

  It wasn’t like Chogan was coming. That would have been worse.

  “I’ll get it,” Erin called out as she left the kitchen. She took off her apron and draped it over the chair in the corner of the room. “You finish setting the table.”

  Julia nodded and resumed her task, glad she’d already placed the china down. Utensils were a safer bet at this stage in the game. She couldn’t break those if she got clumsy. As she placed the last fork by the plate that was designated for him, she took a deep breath.

  It’s just Ernest. It’s just Ernest.

  Her aunt called out a greeting to Ernest, and Julia knew she had to go join her. Her steps were surprisingly steady as she made her way forward. She entered the entryway in time to see her aunt place his coat and hat in the closet by the door.

  “By the feel of it, we’ll have our first snowfall soon,” Erin commented.

  “Yes,” Ernest agreed.

  Julia waited in silence and watched them. Neither one had noticed her standing in the parlor doorway. She took the brief reprieve to take a deep breath and slowly exhale. Her muscles relaxed, but only slightly.

  They turned and saw her at the same time, so she said, “Hello, Ernest. How was your day?”

  His smile grew wide. “Very well. And yours?”

  “Good. My brother sent a letter. We’ll see him on Wednesday.”

  “Let him know he’s welcome to stop by the bank and say hello if he has the time. I’d like to see how he turned out.”

  “I doubt you’d recognize him.”

  Her aunt chuckled. “That’s the truth of it. He’s changed. But then, so have you.”

  They stood there for a moment, each one glancing at the other.

  After a good thirty seconds, Erin clapped her hands. “We should eat.”

  “Yes,” Julia quickly added. “The roast is done and will get cold if we linger here for too long.” She turned, glad for the reprieve from Ernest’s intense stare.

  While her aunt made sure Ernest was comfortable in the dining room, Julia grabbed the salad bowl and brought it out to the table. The next few minutes were filled with the activity of setting the food and drinks out. When they were seated, more pleasantries were exchanged as Ernest complimented their cooking and they replied with the expected ‘thank you’.

  Then the topics ranged from what the people back in their old town were up to, how his parents were doing, and how he liked working at the bank. It was mildly entertaining at best, which was why Julia had a hard time focusing on it. Her aunt, more of the talker, rambled in her usual fashion and seemed unaware that, had it not been for her, the entire dinner might have continued on in an uncomfortable silence.

  Since Ernest sat across from her aunt and Julia sat between them, she was spared any direct eye contact with him. She still didn’t know what she was supposed to say or how to act. For the most part, she focused on her food and kept her mouth full because as long as she did that, she wasn’t expected to jump into the conversation.

  But then the meal was over and they adjourned to the parlor, so she knew the time to participate in the discussion had come. She sat in a chair by the window. Her aunt sat in the other chair, leaving Ernest directly across from Julia on the small couch.

  He offered her a smile, so she returned it before she glanced at the dark street where a lone rider on a horse trotted by. “Night’s getting longer,” she stated, aware the observation was unnecessary.

  “Soon it’ll be time to celebrate Christmas,” her aunt replied. “I do hope Gary brings Woape and Penelope over for a visit.” She looked at Ernest. “Penelope is their daughter.”

  “So Gary lives with the Indians? What tribe did you say he married into?” He directed the question to Julia.

  “Mandan.” Julia shifted in her seat.

  “Does he enjoy it there?”

  She shrugged. “I suppose. He hasn’t left. Once he became an adult, he was running all over the place trying to find out where he fit into this world. It looks like he found it.”

  Her aunt let out a contented sigh. “Yes. He’s settled down, and it’s done him a lot of good. A man needs a good woman to make a home with.”

  “I won’t argue with that statement,” Ernest said, turning his gaze to Julia.

  Heat rose up to Julia’s neck and face. There seemed to be a silent message for her in his eyes, and she didn’t know if it pleased her or not. When he directed his gaze back to her aunt, Julia took a good look at him. From what she could tell, he was very much the same man she knew in Sykeston. His outward appearance seemed to be the only thing that changed. She couldn’t find a single offensive thing about him, and this time she had no brother to care for. Perhaps there was a second chance possible for them. She should at least consider it if he brought it up.

  After all, did she want to spend the rest of her life living with her aunt when she could have a husband and children? When she last saw Chogan, she assumed that her course had been set, and she’d settled into a peace about being an old maid. But what if she didn’t have to settle for it? What if childhood dreams could be resurrected?

  She considered the future she would share with Ernest. It would be a pleasant one, she was sure. He’d be a kind and considerate husband. She could live very well off his salary. He was established and would provide their children a good home. When Ernest glanced back at her, she lowered her eyes. She knew she was blushing, but she hoped he didn’t notice.

  After a good twenty minutes of listening to her aunt explain the time she and Julia had spent at the Mandan tribe, the clocked chimed.

  “It sounds like you had quite the adventure,” Ernest told her aunt as he straightened. “I hate to end a wonderful evening, but I must get up early tomorrow for a meeting.”

  “I didn’t realize I rambled for so long,” her aunt replied with a chuckle. “Well, you know me. Get me started and I don’t stop.”

  “I enjoyed listening to you,” Ernest assured her. “I might live near the Mandans, but I admit my knowledge of them is limited.”

  “They are a lovely people, aren’t they, Julia?”

  Surprised that she was suddenly the focus of the conversation, Julia cleared her throat and said, “Yes, they are.”

  Her aunt stood and went to retrieve Ernest’s hat and coat by the doorway. “I hope you won’t be a stranger.”

  He waited for Julia to stand and walked beside her as she approached her aunt. Being near him felt as comfortable as she remembered. It’d always been nice to be around him. So much was the same that she found it hard to believe there had been any passage of time. The only thing different was that they were older.

  Ernest slipped his coat and hat on and smiled at them. “I hope to see you again.”

  Even as he looked at Erin and Julia, Julia wondered if he directed the statement to her. “I’m sure we’ll cross paths again,” Julia replied.

  “I look forward to it.” He tipped his hat and left.

  Erin shut the door behind her and gave her a knowing grin. “That boy never stopped loving you.”

  Julia didn’t know how many times in one night she could feel her face flush, but she was sure this was a new record. “He was being polite.”

  Even as Julia said it, she suspected her aunt was right. But nothing had to be decided tonight. She had time to think through her swirling e
motions. Giving the matter no more thought for the night, she joined her aunt in washing the dishes.

  ~~********~~

  Chapter 3

  For the hundredth time, Chogan wondered if he was making a mistake. He’d opted to go into Bismarck to trade the furs even though he wasn’t needed. This time Citlali wanted guns.

  “They’re more efficient than bows and arrows,” Citlali had said before they left the tribe that Wednesday morning.

  It was on the tip of Chogan’s tongue to ask why Citlali felt the need to take so much of the white man’s world when he still insisted that Chogan marry Sarita in order to produce more full-blooded Mandans. Either they were going to remain authentic to their heritage or blend fully into the white man’s world. Citlali seemed to think a compromise would be reached, but the more Chogan listened to the younger man, the larger the blur between their world and the white man’s world grew. The gradual progression pointed to the inevitable. The day would come when the last full-blooded Mandan would die, and though that day wasn’t soon, Chogan couldn’t deny the reality of it.

  Chogan wrapped the robe of buffalo fur tighter around himself. He didn’t care to enter the store. Instead, he stood outside with his friend and watched Gary and Citlali talk to the owner.

  Achai shook his head. “Before we know it, Citlali will want us to wear the white man’s clothes,” he said in their native language.

  “If he likes this place so much, why doesn’t he move here?” Chogan muttered.

  “If you hate this place so much, why did you insist on coming?”

  He shot his friend a stern look. “I’m not amused.”

  Achai grinned. “You need to go to her. I’m tired of watching you spend all your days brooding.”

  “I haven’t been brooding.”

  “No? I can’t remember the last time you smiled, and God forbid you should laugh.”

  “I’m not that bad,” Chogan argued, realizing that even as he denied it, the way he crossed his arms and glowered at his friend proved otherwise.