Read Bound by Honor Bound by Love Online

Authors: Ruth Ann Nordin

Tags: #romance, #sex, #native american, #bride, #north dakota, #tribe, #arranged marriage, #mandan, #virgin hero

Bound by Honor Bound by Love (2 page)

Her face warm from her aunt’s meaning,
Onawa nodded. Yes, she understood, but she didn’t know how she
could dare voice such a thing to Citlali. She could hardly manage
more than a couple sentences whenever they were together. To speak
on more intimate matters didn’t seem like something that was
feasible, but she told her aunt she would do as instructed and rose
to her feet when she realized that the older woman was done. After
her aunt hugged her, she looked at the pouch. Well, at the very
least, she could take the herbs. She was nervous enough and knew it
would be wise to heed the one piece of advice she didn’t have to
talk to Citlali about.

After she took the herbs, her father
entered the lodge with the white buffalo robe. It was time for the
ceremony. Her heartbeat picked up. Taking a deep breath, she added
the pouch to her belongings and approached her father.


Are you ready?” her father
asked her.


Yes, I’m
ready.”


Good. I’ll tell Citlali
it’s time,” he replied and headed out of the lodge.

Gulping, she took a deep breath. This
was it. Her aunts whispered their congratulations to her while
Woape wished her good luck in a tone that indicated her
uncertainty, but Onawa didn’t give it much thought. She wiped her
clammy hands on her dress and waited by the fire pit as Citlali’s
family entered the lodge.

Her father and Citlali came in last.
Though her father was holding the white robe, her gaze fell to
Citlali who followed close behind. Would she ever get over the
initial thrill of seeing him? He removed his brown buffalo robe and
set it to the side of the fire pit. She took in his silky black
hair that fell down his back and his slender frame which was
covered with a deerskin tunic shirt and leggings. He wasn’t a
hunter, so he lacked the muscles of some tribal members—a thing
some women preferred. But she liked him just the way he
was.

Her father set aside the white buffalo
robe so he could lay out a brown robe on the ground. After he
welcomed Citlali and Onawa to sit, he took the white robe and
draped it over their shoulders, giving Onawa’s shoulder a squeeze
to let her know he was proud of her. She would have enjoyed her
father’s praise had she not been preoccupied with Citlali. They sat
so close to each other that their legs touched, and her body
flushed with pleasure at the physical contact.

Her brother entered the lodge with
four horses, and Onawa noted the strength in the stallion and three
mares. They were good horses, some of the best she’d ever seen, and
they were a gift from Citlali to her family. The others watching
the ceremony murmured their approval at the fine gift before they
sat around her and Citlali to share a meal with them.

All around her, their families were
enjoying the food. She managed to eat some of it, but her thoughts
kept going back to Citlali who seemed intent on listening to the
chief who sat on his other side. She didn’t pay much attention to
what the chief was saying until he said her name. Startled, she
looked up from the corn she was eating and looked over at
him.

The chief smiled. “It is a good day
when two of our people who appreciate our traditions join their
lives together. May you and Citlali have good health and many
children.”


It is a good day,” Citlali
told her, his lips turning up ever so slightly.

Knowing the hint of his smile was for
her made her heart beat with excitement. She returned the sentiment
and turned her attention back to the corn. He must care for her to
some degree. Even if they didn’t really know each other, they were
forming a foundation for a solid marriage. She was sure of
it.

When the meal ended, Citlali took the
white robe and carried it to the top of her lodge. Onawa’s aunts
excitedly surrounded her while Citlali addressed her father’s
sacred bundle, announcing that the white robe was her father’s gift
to the gods. As expected, one of Citlali’s aunts went to greet
Citlali who, in turn, gave her the white robe.

Citlali returned to Onawa so they
could collect robes and other gifts from their friends and
families. Her brother, the members of their age-grade societies,
and the younger people of the WaxikEna clan joined them for this
task. Once they were done, they went to the Okipa lodge where they
hung all the items they collected. The white robe hung in the
center of the items, proudly on display for all to admire, and this
was where Onawa and Citlali stood. Nearby, the members of the tribe
who held the singing rites sang the first sacred song.

During the music, she dared a glance
at Citlali. When he turned his gaze to her, she noted the
gentleness in his eyes and offered a nervous smile. His fingers
brushed hers before he held her hand. Her heart sped up as a thrill
shot straight through her. Everything would be alright. This
marriage would be a good one. Reassured, she relaxed and turned her
attention back to the singers as they finished the first
song.

Citlali let go of her hand so he could
retrieve one of the items hanging in the lodge. He picked one of
the glass-beaded necklaces and gave it as a gift to his mother. His
mother accepted it and squeezed Onawa’s hand. “Thank you for
agreeing to live in our lodge so Citlali can continue to provide
for us,” his mother whispered.


I’m happy to leave my
lodge to come to yours,” Onawa softly replied.

His mother nodded her thanks and went
to the white buffalo robe to pray for success in all of Citlali and
Onawa’s endeavors.

The singers sang the next song, and
afterwards, they gave more gifts to the wedding guests. The process
continued in an orderly fashion. The singers would present one of
the sacred songs and more people would receive gifts. In return,
the people would offer them an item from their sacred
bundles.

Afterwards, the guests who had rights
to the corn ceremonies took turns painting the white robe, some
choosing simple pictures and others employing more elaborate
decorations. For each thing they added to the robe, they received a
gift for their contribution.

When the robe was finished, Citlali
turned to Onawa and said, “I’d like to dedicate this ceremony to
the Lone Man.”

She expected as much since he was
second to the chief, so she nodded her agreement, not that he
needed it but she was pleased he thought to get her opinion on the
matter.

Citlali carried the robe out of the
lodge, and the others followed him so they could watch as he draped
it over the sacred cedar which stood in the center of the tribe.
“The white robe now belongs to the WaxikEna Clan,” he told the
group.

With that announcement, the ceremony
was complete, and Citlali was now her husband. Onawa couldn’t stop
the smile that lit up her face. She turned back to her aunts and
friends who congratulated her. When her sister hugged her, she
whispered, “I hope he’s good to you.”

Onawa studied her sister’s worried
expression and asked, “Why wouldn’t he be?”

Woape shrugged. “I don’t know, Onawa.
When it comes to Citlali, I never know what he’s thinking or
feeling. I hope it won’t be the same for you.”

As Julia came over to hug Onawa, Onawa
refused to let Woape’s apprehension affect her. Citlali was a good
man. He’d be good to her. She was certain of it.

Chapter Two


Citlali, I need to speak
to you.”

Citlali turned from the wedding guests
to face the chief who was smiling at him. “Our people have a new
hope. May the Lone Man bless your marriage with many
children.”


Thank you, Mahkah,”
Citlali replied, pleased the man chose to bless his
marriage.


Once you consummate the
union, I want you to see me.”


You mean that I should
come to your lodge tomorrow morning?”


No. Tonight.”

Citlali glanced at Onawa. He’d been
looking forward to being alone with her. She was beautiful, much
more so than Woape. Better yet, unlike Woape, she seemed to
genuinely care for him, if her smiles were an indication of how she
felt. And he was eager to take her to his bed and discover what was
under her clothes. If she intrigued him with her wedding dress on,
he could only imagine how much better she’d look without
it.


We have an important
matter to discuss,” the chief said, taking Citlali’s mind off of
kissing and holding Onawa. “Three white men wish to speak to the
people in our tribe. They want to learn about our sacred objects,
our way of life, and our beliefs so they can record
them.”


Why would they want to do
that?”


They say they want to put
what they learn into a book. It’s a sacrilege. Our people earn the
right to such knowledge. The white man has earned nothing. We’ve
become too friendly with them. This constant mingling with the
white man is hurting us because some of our people are already
marrying a white man or woman. The last thing we need to do is
share our most intimate beliefs with them.”

Citlali couldn’t argue the chief’s
point. Woape ran off and married a white man, and Chogan chose to
marry a white woman. And those were just two examples. The white
man had come and restricted their land, pushing them and other
Indian tribes further west so they could get the best of the
Earth’s bounty. The Mandans preferred peace instead of war. In
fact, they’d made many concessions with the white man, working with
them whenever possible. But the Mandan numbers were getting
smaller, and those who knew the traditions of the people—their
songs, their myths, their ceremonies—were becoming less and
less.


I’ll come to your lodge
later tonight,” Citlali finally said, careful to conceal his
disappointment since he’d have to leave Onawa sooner than he
wished. It was for the good of the tribe. He was the second chief,
and he had a responsibility to their people.


Good,” the chief replied
before he sauntered away.

The group who attended the wedding
slowly dispersed as he made his way to Onawa who was looking far
lovelier than he ever recalled seeing her. They had spent enough
time with their family and friends. Now, they could turn their
attention to more intimate matters.

His heartbeat picked up when he
reached her side, but he kept his expression void of the excitement
strumming through his veins. “Are you ready to go to my lodge? I
can carry your things over.”

Her face turned a pretty shade of
pink, something he thought was utterly charming. “Yes, I’m
ready.”

He was tempted to hold her hand as he
joined her in walking to her family’s lodge, but he wasn’t sure if
he had her permission to do that. Marriages were made out of
necessity or for sacred bundles. He knew this was an arrangement
between their families, so his clan would acquire a sacred bundle.
Woape had to give up her right to the sacred bundle when she didn’t
marry him. So his marriage to Onawa wasn’t a love match, but he
suspected she cared for him. The question was, did she care for him
enough to want him to hold her hand?

Undecided, he settled for walking
close to her. He tried to think of something he could say that
would be of interest to her, but at the moment all he could think
of was being in bed with her. Often in the past, he struggled to
suppress the knowledge that being married to Onawa meant he’d
finally enjoy the pleasures of the flesh. But now he was married.
And soon, he’d be able to be intimate with her, something he’d
anticipated ever since he learned of their betrothal.

When they reached her lodge, her
family gathered around to offer more congratulations. As anxious as
he was to be alone with her, he waited while she accepted their
hugs, making sure he didn’t show his impatience.

He collected her things, glad she
agreed to move into his family’s lodge. It wasn’t the way things
were done. Women owned the lodges, so the groom was expected to
move into his wife’s lodge, but since there was no longer a male
relative who was old enough to provide food, he wished to stay in
his lodge. He knew the myths and traditions of his people and often
exchanged these for game the hunters brought to him. On occasion,
he hunted, but his skill with the bow was lacking. He had used a
gun in the past, but his ability to shoot the animal on the first
try wasn’t as good as it could be. Perhaps he’d have Gary, who was
now his brother-in-law, teach him.

But mostly, he was relieved Onawa
would be moving into his lodge because he wouldn’t have to see
Woape all the time. While he and Woape hadn’t said much to each
other, he’d been looking forward to their marriage. Granted, it
wasn’t love, but he thought she was pleasant and determined he’d do
what he could to be a good husband for her. But she found the idea
of marriage to him so abhorrent that she ran away, and it took him
a good year before the reminder no longer bothered him.

And even though it stung to have
Gary—the man Woape chose over him—go with him to Bismarck to trade
with the white man, Citlali did it for the benefit of the tribe.
The trades provided his people with things that made farming and
hunting easier. In due time, even the sting of having Gary around
subsided, especially since he was a kind man. So the ache of the
past had eased, but there was still an uncomfortable feeling
between him and Woape that he didn’t wish to deal with on a daily
basis. For some reason, she didn’t like him, and he did what he
could to keep his distance.

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