Bound by Honor Bound by Love

by Ruth Ann Nordin

  When her body relaxed, he shifted so that he was above her. His heart raced with excitement as he entered her. Her flesh welcomed him with slight resistance. He waited for a moment. “Onawa?” he whispered, his body straining with the need to move inside her.

  “Yes,” she murmured and brought her legs around his waist. She shifted until he was deeper inside her. “Citlali,” she added, her voice like a caress, assuring him that she was fine.

  He kissed her as she stroked his back. When his lips left hers, he proceeded to make love to her. Never before had he experienced something so wonderful. Her flesh clasped him and pulled him further into her. He let out a soft moan, trying to move slowly so he could savor the moment.

  She moved with him, her hips working in unison with his as her flesh continued to squeeze him. His body wasn’t as patient as he’d prefer, and soon he was thrusting faster. Then his body grew tense and he knew the end was near. Murmuring her name, he found his release and stilled above her. Waves of pleasure crashed over him and he moaned. After the peak subsided, he collapsed on top of her, fully satisfied and feeling closer to her than he’d ever felt to anyone in his entire life.

  “I love you, Onawa,” he whispered in her ear.

  Before she could respond, someone cleared his throat right outside their room.

  Chapter Three

  Startled, Citlali’s head cleared in an instant, and he rolled off of Onawa. The fact that someone had been right outside their room—probably knowing exactly what was going on—was infuriating. Didn’t the person understand the consummation of his marriage demanded privacy? He threw on his clothes and made sure Onawa was under the blanket. He moved the partition enough so he could see who disturbed them.

  As soon as he realized it was the chief, he bit back a reprimand. It wouldn’t be good to criticize him. The chief, not bothering to lower his voice so the others in the lodge wouldn’t overhear, said, “I have given you sufficient time to begin the process of having children to replenish the tribe. We will go to my lodge to discuss the important matter I told you about earlier.”

  Noting that the statement was a demand rather than a question, Citlali forced aside his agitation and nodded. “I will tell Onawa where I’m going.” The chief indicated his consent, so Citlali pulled the partition back in place and sat on the bed. As he looked down at her in the dim light, it occurred to him how much he revealed his feelings to her. Cold dread washed over him. He told her he needed her. He even said he loved her! While those things were true, they were far too intimate for him to share with anyone, even his wife. Glad it was dark enough so she wouldn’t see the shame on his face, he said, “The chief needs to speak with me. Since I am the second chief, I must obey him.” Why was he even explaining this to her? She grew up in the tribe and understood how it was.

  Her next words confirmed this. “I know. When the chief says he needs to talk to you, you have to do it.”

  Unsure of what else to say to her, he nodded. He was still horrified he told her he loved her. Thankfully, he’d whispered it so the chief hadn’t overheard. That’d be much worse. Determined he wouldn’t reveal his apprehension to her because he wasn’t sure how she’d respond to him now that she knew he was weak, he forced his voice to remain steady and detached as he said, “I will return when I am done talking to him.”

  “Alright.”

  Disappointed that she didn’t express a desire to see him again, he left their small room and pulled his buffalo robe around his body to brace himself for the cold outside. He pretended not to notice his mother’s surprised look as he left with the chief. Before the wedding, his mother made it a point to ask him to be good to Onawa and show her he cared about her or else he’d risk losing her. Citlali had no desire to get a divorce, and he knew he needed to be attentive to his new wife. But he needed to find the right balance. This, apparently, was going to take time.

  “We need to keep to our traditions,” the chief began as they made their way to his lodge in the quiet night. “We’re not adhering to our ceremonies as we once did. Less young people inquire about the Lone Man or care about sacred bundles.”

  “I don’t know how we can stop our people from making their own choices.”

  “What we need to do is get rid of the white people who live among us. We need to go back to our roots.”

  Refraining from wincing, Citlali thought of Onawa’s sister who married a white man. Undoubtedly, Onawa would be hurt if her sister and sister’s children left. There was no way Woape would live in this tribe without Gary. Hoping he wasn’t speaking out of line, he asked, “What if we didn’t allow any more white people to live among us? Surely, those who are already here aren’t going to create problems.”

  “I know you have befriended Gary, even though he married the woman you were betrothed to.”

  “It was her right to choose another man. It is not our way to begrudge a woman this.”

  “No, it isn’t. But it meant you couldn’t marry her and her sister and that reduces our chances of replenishing our people.”

  Citlali didn’t bother saying that after what he experienced with Onawa, he had no desire to be intimate with another woman. It seemed much too personal to be with someone like that. Not only that, but it never would have been as good with Woape. He didn’t have to be with her to know this.

  They reached the chief’s lodge where they could talk in private. The fire warmed Citlali, though he couldn’t help but wish it was Onawa warming him instead. He chastised himself for thinking such a thing. If he wasn’t careful, he’d end up weak.

  After they hung up their robes, the chief sat on a rug in front of the fire and picked up his pipe. Citlali sat on the rug beside him and rested his hands on his knees. The chief inhaled the contents of the pipe and waited for a moment before he blew out the smoke. He handed Citlali the pipe. “You will succeed me one day,” he said, his voice solemn. “When you do, it’s imperative you do everything you can to keep the tribe together. We must survive.”

  Citlali smoked the pipe and handed it back to the chief. “I want our people to stay strong and thrive.” He just didn’t know how it was possible, and he couldn’t bring himself to tell the chief that.

  “Then you must do whatever it takes to make it happen. We’ve been too soft, too willing to compromise with the white man who speaks with a forked tongue. Our Lone Man can’t return if we’re not here. He protected our people long ago from the great flood by building a wall around our village. We owe him much for what he did.”

  It seemed to Citlali that if the Lone Man was so powerful, he would have protected them from the Smallpox outbreak that ravaged their people, but he held his tongue.

  “Perhaps we need to seek guidance from the spirits,” the chief said before he brought the pipe to his lips and inhaled again. He blew out smoke and looked at Citlali. “You must go out on your own for a week and seek a vision.”

  He nodded. “I’m due to seek one in April.”

  “No. We can’t wait that long.”

  “Then in March?”

  The chief shook his head and handed Citlali the pipe. “Tomorrow. You will take your teepee and go outside the tribe. I’ll send a flint knife to your lodge in the morning, so you can take that as well. You will head out to the sacred spot near the trees where I received my first vision. I will fast while you are away so you may receive the spirits’ approval to lead when I am gone.”

  Citlali’s disappointment that he’d have to leave Onawa so soon after they married was replaced with the awareness of what the chief was saying. “Are you ill?”

  “Not yet, but I had a dream that my soul was light brown.”

  “Then you’ll become a meadowlark when your soul leaves your body,” Citlali whispered, recalling the religious knowledge he bought a year earlier.

  “It appears that is my destiny. I hoped to be a lodge spirit so I could stay here and watch over you as you assume my responsibilities, but the spirits have made their choice and it’s for the best.
”

  “Perhaps you will come to us as the meadowlark.”

  “Perhaps…if the spirits will it.”

  Citlali took the pipe back from the chief and swallowed. “I hope the dream you had is a long time in coming.”

  “Now, Citlali, don’t expose your feelings. Your sorrow is apparent, and it’s not good. You must be strong. Any time you reveal your emotions, you become vulnerable. If you do that, you lose the respect of our people, and they will not follow your guidance. I am counting on you to preserve our way of life. You must not fail me in this.”

  Steeling his resolve, Citlali nodded. “I will not.”

  “Good. I don’t know when my time will come, but when it does, I’m ready to go.”

  Not wanting to give away the grief he experienced at the thought of losing the chief, he settled for another nod.

  “Now, we have much to discuss,” the chief said, changing topics. “We must determine the best way to encourage marriages between full-blooded Mandans. One thing we are doing wrong is showing the young that marriage with the white man—or woman—is acceptable by allowing the white people in our tribe. I’m afraid we have to tell them to leave.”

  “What if we forbid anyone else to marry a white person?”

  “They will see the white people here and the marriages they are in. It will give them ideas they don’t need to be having.”

  “I did not desire a white woman because of this.”

  “That’s because you understand how important it is to continue our line, our way of life. Many have lost this desire.”

  No. For him, it was more than that. When he saw Onawa, the fact that she was a full-blooded Mandan like him didn’t even occur to him. But he kept this thought to himself. Perhaps what frightened the chief was the fact that the white man encouraged one mate for life instead of multiple wives. The white man also didn’t regard divorce with the ease the Mandans did. Their ways were different, but based on how happy Gary and Chogan were, maybe different wasn’t bad. Citlali would like the security in knowing Onawa wouldn’t grow tired of him and go back to her lodge, thereby divorcing him and taking their children with her. Gary and Chogan didn’t have to worry about losing their wives or their children.

  The chief handed him the pipe. “This is for the best. One day, when you’re older, you’ll understand.”

  Though Citlali doubted it, he nodded his consent.

  ***

  When Onawa woke up the next morning, she was surprised Citlali hadn’t returned. Had the chief talked to him all night? Citlali’s younger sister, Amata, had warned her that there were nights when Citlali didn’t come back to the lodge. Despite her disappointment, she recalled everything he’d told her while they made love and smiled with excitement. He’d told her he loved her! She sat up in the warm bed. He loved her. She hoped he might like her, but what she most wanted—beyond anything else—had come true. Too bad she didn’t get to tell him she loved him, too. She was about to when the chief interrupted them. Her cheeks flushed at the reminder that he’d been outside the room, waiting for them to finish.

  No. She wouldn’t dwell on that. She’d think on the fact that her husband loved her. She no longer had to envy Woape and Julia for marrying men who loved them. She was now a woman who had a husband who loved her, too. And who better than Citlali?

  After getting out of bed, she got dressed and searched for the gift Amata had given her. She found it and hung it on the wall. It was a piece of deerskin, and on its smooth surface were objects sacred to both Citlali’s and Onawa’s clans.

  On Citlali’s side were two sacred turtles and a bushel of bluish-green flint corn. On her side were bushels of yellow flint and dent corn. Above the items was a sunrise to represent the beginning of her life with Citlali, and under the items were sunset and stars. The sunset represented the completion of their life together while the stars were their children who would carry on their traditions. Around the entire painting was a circle so that she and Citlali would always find joy in each other. It was a beautiful gift. Onawa traced the circle and thought of the years she and Citlali would spend together.

  With a sigh of contentment, she left the small room to join Citlali’s family members. At the moment, his mother and sister were stoking the fire in the middle of the lodge. She walked over to them and waited for them to notice her before she spoke. “Are we the only ones awake?”

  His mother and sister looked her way and smiled. “We are early risers, earlier than most,” his mother whispered. “Is Citlali still asleep? He usually wakes up before we do and sits in the corner over there.”

  Onawa glanced at the vacant area near the wall dedicated to male members of the tribe. “No. He left with the chief last night and never came back.”

  His mother sighed. “He’s been known to do that, so it’s not unusual. I just thought…” With another smile, she said, “It doesn’t matter. Would you like to help us make something to eat?”

  Onawa knew what his mother was going to say, and had it not been for Citlali’s declaration of love, she’d be upset. But she didn’t mind that he had to be with the chief. As long as he loved her, she could accept the demands he faced.

  As she helped prepare the morning meal, she waited for a moment so she could speak with Amata alone and told her the good news. “Citlali said he loves me,” she whispered.

  Amata’s eyes grew wide and she stopped mashing the corn in her bowl. “He actually said it?”

  Blushing, she nodded. “He did.”

  “I had no idea he knew how to feel love.”

  “Oh, that’s silly. Of course, he can feel love. He’s human, isn’t he?”

  With a chuckle, Amata returned her attention to the corn. “Some don’t think so. He never shows any emotion.”

  “He can when he wants to.” Onawa thought he was very passionate in bed, and he certainly had no trouble expressing his feelings. She almost told her friend this, but Amata was three years younger than her. If Amata was her age, it would be easier to tell her things of a more intimate nature. Perhaps when Amata was ready to marry, she might tell her there was more to Citlali than met the eye.

  “I’m glad he loves you,” Amata said. “Thankfully, he’s not holding his feelings back from you.”

  “I’ve loved him ever since I can remember,” Onawa confessed. “He’d been promised to Woape, though.”

  “Yes, but he could have married you, too.”

  “I know.” The notion hadn’t pleased Onawa at the time, and she was relieved when Woape ended up marrying someone else so she wouldn’t have to share Citlali with her. She returned to cutting the squash in front of her and then added some brown sugar to sweeten it. Sure, he might love her, but that didn’t mean he might not take a second wife in order to have more children. Traditionally, it was the sisters the man married, but that didn’t mean they couldn’t take another wife. Clearing her throat, she asked, “You don’t think he’ll seek a second wife since I have no other sisters, do you?”

  Her friend’s eyes widened. “You’re the one who told me he loves you. You know the answer to that better than I do.”

  “But he might have said something to your mother.”

  “He hasn’t said anything about it. At least he hasn’t requested more than one place to sleep.”

  Onawa relaxed.

  A few seconds later, Amata nudged her in the arm. “He’s here.”

  She turned her gaze to the entrance of the lodge and saw Citlali. Her face flushed, and despite the fact that they’d been intimate the night before, she couldn’t bring herself to make eye contact with him.

  He stopped in front of her. “I need to speak with you.”

  Surprised by the formal tone in his voice, she looked up at him. The serious expression on his face and the way he crossed his arms weren’t unusual. She’d come to expect those things from him, but his tone had been more on the pleasant side in the past. Last night, his tone had been incredibly tender. Did she do something to upset him? Hidin
g her uncertainty the best she could, she nodded and washed her hands. Standing up, she waited for him to tell her where he wanted them to talk.

  He glanced around the lodge at his sister, mother and two aunts who’d just woken up, their eyebrows raised in interest. Returning his gaze to Onawa, he said, “We’ll go outside.”

  Nodding, she went to grab her buffalo robe and wrapped herself in it before slipping on her moccasins. Ignoring the way the others stared at them, she followed him out of the lodge. She shivered in the bitter cold and pulled the robe more tightly around her.

  “We can go this way,” he said, indicating to a path that had been cleared of snow and afforded them some privacy.

  Not knowing what to say, she nodded again and walked with him. She wished she felt comfortable enough to talk to him. She didn’t know why she assumed that she would feel at ease with him as soon as they were married. Perhaps if they’d spent the whole night together, she would have, but she was too aware that she still had a long way to go in understanding her husband.

  Citlali cleared his throat, so she looked in his direction. “I spent all night with the chief. He wished to speak to me on matters pertaining to the tribe.”

  “Can I ask what kind of matters?” She knew it wasn’t her place to get too intrusive into his role as the second chief, but she wasn’t sure what her boundaries were, especially since he was coming to her with this information.

  He let out a heavy sigh. “It has to do with making sure our ways survive in future generations.”

  Noting the sorrow in his tone, she nodded. “I worry about that, too.”

  “You do?”

  “Yes.”

  “It is good that we are of one mind.”