Donna Clayton - Bound by Honor

That was one of the reasons she’d come alone. If she were forced to say or do anything reckless, she didn’t want Gage to be tainted by her wayward behavior.

The marriage license continued down the row of solemn-faced Council members.

“I have a question.”

The woman who spoke had vivid green eyes. Her long gray hair was parted in the middle and trailed over her shoulders in two thick braids. Her bony shoulders were rounded by the years.

“I mean no disrespect,” the woman continued, “but I’d like to know when you met your fiancé. How long have you known each other?”

Anxiety flared like hungry flames, threatening to consume Jenna. Although there hadn’t been any direct accusation in the questions they’d asked, this was as close as any of them had come to suggesting she might be up to something not quite legitimate. Obviously, they’d be suspicious of the marriage. It would be silly for Jenna to think otherwise. However, before this moment, none of them had implied that she might be scheming in order to gain custody of Lily. She’d expected Chee’pai would have been the one who might make blatant charges, but it seemed that doubt had others willing to question her, as well.

Garnering control of her voice, Jenna said, “I met him before this…situation began. Before my sister died.”

It was not a lie. Jenna voiced the words with a clear conscience.

The woman nodded and said nothing more.

Hoo’ma sat at the very end of the table, and she had just finished studying Jenna’s license. The old woman’s nut-brown eyes flashed with astonishment, and Jenna grew curious. What on earth was the woman thinking? Why had many of the Elders reacted to the license with what looked to be surprise?

Hoo’ma radiated calmness, even in her silence.

Over the weeks of this ordeal, Jenna had discovered that Hoo’ma was well respected by the other Council members. It was apparent that she was the oldest member of the Council, and Jenna had inadvertently learned that her name meant grandmother in the language of this tribe. She didn’t speak often, but when she did, everyone paid close attention.

Hoo’ma leaned her frail body forward, and all eyes turned to her.

“I see that you are to marry Gage Dalton,” she said.

Jenna went still. Something had sparked in the wizened woman’s tone when she uttered Gage’s name. It was as if she wanted the others to pay attention, to take special note. The Elders who hadn’t had a chance to see the certificate for themselves did just that; the ones who had read it nodded in silent agreement. But what exactly were they acknowledging? Their reaction was puzzling.

“Gage plans to take this woman as his wife?” Incredulity sharpened Chee’pai’s question.

Hoo’ma ignored him. Lacing her knobby fingers together, she rested her hands on the tabletop and addressed Jenna. “Marriage is a sacred union, my child. The ties that bind men and women may vary. Some are brought together by love. Others by necessity. Even others by—” one of her shoulders lifted a fraction “—who knows what reasons? But the bonds between a husband and wife are the threads that hold together the very universe, and they could not—and would not—happen if the Great One opposed.”

Several aged gazes slid from Hoo’ma’s. The woman’s unspoken chastisement thickened the air. Evidently, Hoo’ma thought the doubtful questions about this impending marriage were inappropriate.

“I would like to take this opportunity to congratulate you,” she continued to address Jenna. “On behalf of the Council, I wish you and Gage every happiness.” She swiveled her head to take in her fellow Council members. “Now, I think the time has come to allow Lily to go to her rightful home.”

“Ma’ta!” Chee’pai stood.

The opposition in the man’s tone couldn’t be missed, and Jenna knew the man said no in his native tongue.

“Our tribe is dwindling by the moment!” The shaman’s face was fury-red. “We send our children off to colleges and they do not return. Our young adults leave Broken Bow for jobs in the city. If we allow this to continue, our clan will be no more!”

Unruffled by Chee’pai’s outburst, Hoo’ma looked past the shaman and directed her attention to the others at the table.

“Jenna has complied with our every demand with patience.” The woman’s wrinkled cheeks bore the hint of a smile as she murmured, “For the most part.” She slid her folded hands into her lap. “She has promised to respect Lily’s Delaware heritage. It is our tradition to give our children roots.” She squared herself to Chee’pai as she added, “It is also our tradition to give them wings. If the roots are deep enough, they will not forget from where they come.”

The shaman seethed, but he did not speak.

“This marriage is a good thing,” Hoo’ma said. “As soon as Jenna and Gage are wed, they should have Lily. They should become a family. I can feel healing and enlightenment approaching. For all concerned. I am surprised, Chee’pai, that you haven’t felt it, too.” After a pause that obviously called for reflection, she pronounced, “Let us vote.”

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