Bound by Honor Bound by Love (11 page)

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.