Bound by Honor Bound by Love Page 8

  He stepped toward her and kissed her. “I wish I could, but I can’t. I really am sorry.”

  Had she not been so startled by his kiss, she would have insisted he leave with her if he truly was as sorry as he claimed. But since she was startled, she didn’t utter a single word as he headed toward the chief’s lodge. She couldn’t remember a time when she felt more defeated. As she turned around to face the lodge, she gave a slight jerk back. How long had Ukiah been watching? Did he hear everything?

  Ukiah offered her a sympathetic smile. “That’s my brother. Always running to do the chief’s bidding. You shouldn’t have to live like this, Onawa.” He made a move toward her, but she took a step back so he stopped. “I don’t wish to frighten you.”

  “Then what do you want? You want me to admit that I’ll always be second to the chief?” She immediately criticized herself for snapping at him. It wasn’t his fault Citlali didn’t love her as much as she thought he did. “I’m sorry, Ukiah. I shouldn’t have said that.”

  “It’s how you feel.” He slowly approached her, and this time the smile he offered her was much too friendly for her liking. “You don’t have to apologize to me. I’ve seen the way my brother treats you, and it hurts to watch you go through that. If you ever need a shoulder to cry on, I’m here.”

  Her face went warm when she realized his meaning. “I have no intention of divorcing your brother, Ukiah.”

  He gave a slight shrug. “Alright. But if you ever change your mind, I’ll be waiting.”

  She waited until he returned to the lodge before she released her breath. She couldn’t go back in there. Not right now, not with the suggestion Ukiah just made to her. Suddenly feeling vulnerable, she crossed her arms and headed for her family’s lodge.

  ***

  Thirty minutes later, the pipe made it halfway to Citlali’s mouth when he paused to look at the chief. “This will devastate them,” he whispered.

  The chief rested his hands on his knees, his gaze still on the fire in front of them. “It’s for the best of the tribe. Those children need to be with their people.”

  “But their parents—”

  “Those white people are not their parents. Their parents died tragic deaths.”

  Citlali lowered the pipe and tried to figure out the best way to speak his mind. After an awkward moment passed, he ventured, “The children are used to Cole and Penelope. They have an attachment to them. They’ve already lost Motega and Takchawee. Why should they lose Cole and Penelope?”

  “Cole and Penelope aren’t their parents,” the chief argued. “They’ve taken care of them and for that we are grateful, but the children must be here with their own kind. They will thrive here. They will learn who they are and be surrounded by people who love them.”

  Citlali stared at the pipe in his lap. He recalled how the children clung to Cole and Penelope. Granted, the boy had nightmares, something that was normal after he witnessed his birth parents’ murders. But he relied on Cole and Penelope to give him comfort and love. When it all came down to it, wasn’t that more important than being in the tribe?

  “Also, it’s necessary to tell the white people to leave. I’ll make the announcement tomorrow.”

  Citlali had feared this moment would come, and he knew it would devastate Onawa to see her sister leave the tribe. And it would be hard on him to see Gary go, especially since Gary had done so much to help the tribe acquire supplies from the white men for a fair price. He closed his eyes for a moment, praying for peace that eluded him. Finally, he opened them. “I don’t think it’s wise to do this.”

  “It’s imperative we do. Our people will die if we don’t. I’ve seen this in a vision. We need to stay together to sustain our way of life.”

  “But we can do that with white people in our tribe.”

  The chief shook his head and took the pipe from Citlali. “No. They must leave the tribe.” He brought the pipe to his lips and smoked from it.

  Citlali turned his attention back to the fire, barely aware of its warmth. Was the chief right? Did something that seemed as harmless as letting the white man live with them mean they couldn’t continue their way of life indefinitely? Would they one day all die out so that no more full-blooded Mandans survived?

  “We have a responsibility to our people,” the chief continued, handing him the pipe.

  He took it and stared at it for a long moment. This pipe, among other things, held so much about their history. It’d been passed from one chief to another and would one day belong to him. One day, it’d be his turn to hand it down to the chief who would come after him, and with any luck, that chief would be his son. He sighed and looked at the chief. “You had a vision?”

  The chief nodded.

  Citlali hated to press the chief further, but he had to, to make sure he understood him right. “And in this vision, our people ceased to exist?”

  “Not right away. We held on for a while, but in less than a hundred years, there were no more full-blooded Mandans.”

  “In less than a hundred years from now?”

  “Yes. Now do you understand why we must keep our people together and why those children need to stay with us? Those children will marry other Mandans and continue on our lineage. You and Onawa will have children who might be the ones who marry them. Our weakness is in our numbers. We must have more children.”

  Citlali couldn’t argue with the chief’s logic. It was true. Year by year, they watched their numbers diminish. Ever since the Smallpox epidemic hit their people, they hadn’t been able to replenish their numbers. “But Onawa…” He stroked the pipe with his thumb and sighed. “Onawa’s sister is married to a white man. Her father seems to be interested in a white woman. Her white friend married Chogan. If we force the white people out-”

  “You can’t let emotion distract you from doing what’s necessary.”

  He was right. Citlali knew he was right, and yet, he could already see the hurt in Onawa’s eyes.

  “I’ll make the announcement at the ceremony lodge tomorrow. Tell the males to assemble there at ten.”

  Smoking the tobacco from the pipe, Citlali gathered up the strength he’d need for the task and handed the pipe to the chief. Without another word to the chief, he left the lodge to deliver the message to all of the men in the tribe.

  Chapter Nine

  Citlali was exhausted by the time he entered Onawa’s family’s lodge. Telling all the males in the tribe to be at the ceremonial lodge the next day proved to be a daunting task since most of them wanted to know what the meeting would be about. He told them they’d find out when they went to the lodge, and a great number of them weren’t satisfied with the answer. But it was all he was prepared to say. Soon enough, they’d find out, and it was likely that quite a few of them would be upset, especially Cole.

  He saw Onawa combing little Penelope’s hair and laughing at something Woape told her. Across from them, he noticed Onawa and Woape’s father who was talking to Erin. His gaze went to the space reserved for a male who wanted to be left alone in the lodge, and there was Gary who was reading a book. Two of Onawa and Woape’s aunts were fussing over Phoebe. This was one lodge where the people had integrated with the white man. And just as bad as that, he’d come to think of Gary as a friend.

  He swallowed the lump in his throat and took a deep breath. He couldn’t let his emotions get in the way of his duty to the chief. Steeling his resolve, he stepped forward and waited for someone to notice him.

  It turned out that Gary was the one who stood up from his spot and called out his name. The others looked over at him, but he only made eye contact with Onawa’s father and Gary.

  “I need to speak to you,” he softly said, trying to ignore the weight of Onawa’s stare.

  Though her father’s eyebrows furrowed, he nodded, told Erin he’d return soon, and stood up. Gary closed his book and joined him and Onawa’s father as they went to the entrance of the lodge for some privacy.

  “What is it, Citlali?” her
father asked.

  Releasing his breath, Citlali spoke in a low voice. “The chief requires your attendance at the ceremonial lodge tomorrow.”

  “What is this matter about?”

  He glanced from Gary to Onawa’s father. “I can’t say. The chief wishes to be the one to make the announcement. Where is Cole?”

  “He and Penelope took their children to their aunts’ lodge.”

  Citlali nodded. Of all people, Cole would be the most upset when the chief told him he wouldn’t be allowed to take Etu and Yepa out of the tribe. “I’ll talk to Cole.”

  “How does this involve Cole?” Gary asked. “He’s just visiting.”

  “The chief’s announcement affects him, too,” he replied. “I’m sorry.” There was more he wanted to say—needed to say—and yet he couldn’t find the words. Before they could ask him why he apologized, he slipped out of the lodge.

  ***

  I have to tell her. Citlali repeated these words to himself as he watched Onawa clean the dishes with his mother after the evening meal that night. He sat at the place designated for the males of the lodge when they wanted to be left alone. At the moment, he was grateful for the reprieve from the women’s questions regarding tomorrow’s announcement from the chief. They either wanted him to give them a hint of what the announcement would be or asked why only the men had been called to it. And he didn’t feel like answering either question.

  But he had to. At least to Onawa. The others in the lodge would be unaffected by the announcement, but she’d be hurt by it. There was no denying how hurt she’d be, and there was nothing he could do to stop it.

  His brother came back into the lodge and glanced over at him. With a shake of his head, Ukiah gathered a basket of flint rocks and sat in front of the fire to sharpen them for the arrows he liked to make. Citlali forced aside his grimace. He knew what his brother thought. He saw Citlali’s habit of sitting in this spot as a way to avoid people, something which his brother mocked him for.

  Not that Citlali cared what his brother thought. He had more important things to tend to, like warning Onawa about tomorrow. He closed his eyes and struggled for how he might word things so she’d accept it. He heard her laugh, so he opened his eyes and saw that his mother was saying something to her that seemed to delight her. With a sigh, he rose to his feet and approached her. The sooner he got this over with, the better.

  “I need to speak to you,” he said, his tone solemn.

  She nodded and quickly washed the last bowl before she stood up.

  “I think it’s best if we take a walk,” he added.

  After Onawa slipped on her moccasins, they left the lodge. Though it was cool, it was warm enough so they didn’t need a robe. It was a good night to be outside, before the insects became a nuisance. He usually enjoyed these quiet moments with her the few times they’d walked, but tonight, he couldn’t. Not fully.

  “What do you wish to tell me?” she asked, breaking the silence.

  “Wait until we get further out of the tribe,” he whispered. The last thing he wanted was for someone to hear how much she detested him. “We’ll go to the river.”

  Though her eyebrows furrowed, she nodded, and they continued on in silence, their footsteps soft on the prairie grass. They reached the edge of the tribe where no one was in hearing distance. Before them was the Missouri River, and further in the distance were the hills. He had the urge to hold her. He wanted nothing more than to block out the rest of the world and love her. Love her the way he desperately wanted to, without fear holding him back. But he couldn’t. Once she found out what he and the chief were going to do to her family, she was bound to be upset. The most he could hope for was that she wouldn’t go back to her family’s lodge and leave the tribe with them.

  He paused to look at the sky. He’d often taken solace in studying the stars, but tonight they seemed to be mocking him. Those stars had been there far longer than him or the chief. They were there when the Mandans prospered, when they were strong and many. They were there when the white man first showed up on their land. They were there when the Mandans, along with other tribes, moved further and further west. They were here now, looking down on what was probably a vanishing people. One day, they might see the final full-blooded Mandan pass away.

  Was the future already set? The stars had been there for centuries as tribes rose and fell. They remained constant while things on Earth changed. In the grand scheme of things, was he fooling himself into thinking he or the chief could do anything to change the course of events? Maybe the whole thing was futile. What was the purpose of it all? If they couldn’t bring the tribe back to a time of increase, then what was there to live for?

  “Citlali?”

  He turned his attention to Onawa who patiently waited for him. He blinked back his tears, unwilling for her—especially her—to know how scared he was. He didn’t know the answers. All he had were questions. Taking a deep breath, he willed his emotions to steady so he could give her the bad news.

  “You might as well tell me,” she softly said.

  “Tell you what?” She couldn’t possibly know what the chief had in mind. He’d been diligent to not give any hints about the matter.

  She shrugged. “Whatever it is you brought me out here to say.”

  Her answer was far too vague for his liking. He picked up on the hint of sorrow in her voice and the way she crossed her arms to emotionally distance herself from him. He didn’t like her reaction to him. It couldn’t be about the chief’s announcement. Was there something else that bothered her? Shifting from one foot to the other, he asked, “Is something upsetting you?”

  He didn’t think she was going to answer, and by the way her jaw clenched, he suspected she didn’t want to. Avoiding eye contact, she turned her attention to the river and didn’t speak for a long moment. When she finally spoke, he barely heard her. “Who did you choose?”

  His eyebrows furrowed. “I don’t know what you mean.”

  “The woman who’ll be your second wife so you can have more children. Who did you choose?”

  It took him a moment to understand what she meant. “No, I will not take another wife.”

  She looked at him then and a part of her relaxed. “You won’t?”

  “No,” he softly replied.

  An emotion he wasn’t comfortable with struggled to come to the surface of his controlled exterior when he realized she was relieved. He wanted to take her in his arms and assure her that he’d never take a second wife. He didn’t want to be with anyone but her, and after knowing how vulnerable he could be during the times they’d been intimate, there was no way he could open himself to someone else the way he’d opened himself to her. It was too frightening and wonderful at the same time.

  “If it’s not that, then what is it?” she asked, lowering her arms in a gesture he understood to mean she wasn’t closing herself off to him anymore…at least not until she found out what he was going to tell her.

  Letting out a weary sigh, he decided he better get to it. Waiting wasn’t going to make things better. “The chief will make an announcement to the men tomorrow, and,” he shook his head, “I’m sorry, Onawa. There’s nothing I can do. He is determined that it must be this way. He had a dream, and you understand how important dreams are.”

  “What is the announcement?”

  He swallowed. “All the white men and women must leave the tribe.”

  “Why?”

  “The chief wants to replenish our numbers, and the white people are coming in and having children with our people. This is making it impossible to bring our tribe back to the way it was before the Smallpox outbreak. What he wants is to preserve our way of life.”

  He paused and waited for her response, wondering if she would hate him or if she would understand and accept what would happen. She didn’t answer him right away. Her gaze went to the Missouri River.

  “Onawa?” he softly asked.

  When she turned to face him, there were tears in
her eyes. “I’m going to lose my family?”

  Her words stung him as if an arrow had found its way into his heart. “Am I and the child you carry not your family?”

  “Of course, you are, but what about my father and my sister? What about my nieces?”

  “Your father can stay—”

  She shook her head. “No, he can’t. He’s going to marry Erin.”

  “Julia’s aunt?”

  “Yes. And she’s white. That means he must leave to be with her. I already know he’ll go because he didn’t love my mother. He cared about my mother, but he never loved her. He married her because she had the sacred bundle. It was an arrangement.”

  “But if he cared about her, isn’t that good?”

  A tear slid down her cheek, and she quickly brushed it away. “Do you think so little of love?”

  “This isn’t about love. It’s about what’s good for the tribe.”

  “No, no it’s not! Making people leave who’ve helped us is not good for the tribe. How is sending Gary away good for the tribe? It’s because of him you were able to bring back supplies we needed to make it through the winter. We didn’t have enough on our own. And how is losing Chogan who provides food for three lodges good for the tribe?”

  “You don’t understand. The chief is trying to protect our identity. Our sacred bundles, our traditions, our ceremonies… They don’t mean what they used to.” He sighed, knowing she could only think of the people she was about to lose and knowing she had every right to be upset.

  “Our sacred bundles, our traditions, our ceremonies? That’s all that matters to you?”

  “No, it’s not,” he whispered, stung by her words. How could she think that when he had refused to take a second wife?

  “Then don’t do it,” she demanded, her voice uncharacteristically sharp.

  “It’s not that easy.”