Bound by Honor

by Donna Clayton

  Great Spirit above! She presented her plan as if it were a completely logical course of action.

  "You're asking me to deceive the Elders of my tribe." He bunched the handkerchief in his palm. "If they discover that I'm helping you trick them, they could force me to leave Broken Bow."

  Such drastic action hadn't been taken for generations, as far as he knew; however, the possibility remained.

  Surprise momentarily slackened her jaw. "I hadn't realized that." Instantly, her resolve sparked anew. "But I won't let that happen, Gage. I promise you, I won't."

  Although he'd had his share of run-ins with the Council, he felt the need to speak up for his leaders now. "They're not looking to torture you, Jenna. Their number one priority is your niece's best interest. You have to understand that. Priority number two is the tribe. David Collins's daughter is considered by the Elders to be Delaware. It doesn't matter that her mother was white. The child is Indian. She is an important part of the tribal clan. Think of it as an extended family. The Delaware family. The child —"

  "The child's name —" ire tightened her facial muscles is Lily. And she's got Butler blood running through her, too. She might be an important part of your tribe, but she's the only family I have left."

  Anger evidently got the better of her, and with her fists balled, she dug her toe into the dirt. A tiny tuft of dust billowed and then settled over her white canvas sneaker.

  "You're spouting off the same hogwash that the Council has been giving me for weeks."

  The woman's steel was to be admired, but she was also beginning to annoy him. "You have no idea just how serious the Elders are about their responsibilities to this tribe."

  Defeat rounded her shoulders. "I'm terribly sorry, Gage," she said. "I never meant to . . ."

  She didn't finish her sentence. Tilting her chin sharply, she looked at the sky, exhaled and then swallowed. Gage couldn't help but notice the elegant length of her throat. Again, he dragged his attention to her face, but found himself enthralled with the ripeness of her mouth — full, moist lips that promised passion. Her kiss would taste as sweet as wild honey, he was sure.

  Irritation churned in his gut as he remembered being assaulted with the exact same thought the day of the storm. The first time they'd met. That day, rainwater had streamed down her face, making her coral-colored lips glisten with tantalizing wetness. How many nights since then had he dreamed about suckling the moisture from them? Like an elusive wraith, she had haunted his sleep for weeks. He never knew when she would appear in his dreams, and when she did, he always awakened in a sweat, yearning and need pulsing through his body.

  His indignation smoldered. However, his anger wasn't directed at her, but at himself. Why wasn't he able to control his own mind? His own flesh? These damnable carnal thoughts?

  He'd concluded that his anxiety was the cause, that he was being plagued by the dreams because he was worrying about repaying the woman what he owed. However, why the night fantasies would take on such an erotic tone continued to confuse him.

  "Losing Amy and David has been so hard," she whispered. "And not being able to have Lily with me has been . . . well, it's been like losing my entire family."

  Moisture made her brown eyes shine, and a tear rolled down her milky cheek. He experienced the most peculiar reaction. He wanted to comfort her. To reach out and wipe away that tear. To offer the solution she so desperately searched for.

  What the hell? Had he lost his mind? Was he honestly contemplating her crazy scheme?

  No! a voice in his head shouted. A union such as the one this woman was suggesting would make a mockery of the marriage he'd had — and lost. A loving union that had ended much too soon.

  Marrying Jenna Butler would denigrate the memory of the woman he'd loved. The woman he continued to mourn.

  Taking sacred vows that would tie him to a complete stranger in order that she might obtain custody of a baby would disrespect the infant daughter he'd lost so tragically ... a child for whom Gage grieved every day of his miserable life.

  "I'm sorry." Emotion swam in the pit of his gut, hazed his thinking. But he fought to remain resolute. "Jenna, I understand your pain. More than you realize." The lump that had swelled in his throat made it difficult to breathe. "But I cannot help you."

  Her chin trembled, and Gage had to force himself not to look away from the heartbreak expressed on her angelic face. He couldn't let her tears affect him. He braced himself by gritting his teeth so tightly that a dull ache began to pulsate in the joints of his jaw.

  "You can't? Or you won't?"

  "What does it matter? I refuse to participate in your foolish plan. You cannot dupe the Council into handing over your niece. You try, and they'll forbid you from having any contact with her."

  Jenna's eyes went wide. "They can't do that."

  "They can. And they will, if they come to the conclusion that that's what's best for your niece. They are the law on Broken Bow."

  Suddenly, her resolve crumbled. She buried her face in her hands, her shoulders shaking with soft sobs. Discomfited, Gage stuffed his hands deep into the pockets of his jeans. He sympathized with her, but there was nothing he could do.

  "You owe me!" she exclaimed, jerking up her head to glare at him as she dashed at her tears. "You told me so yourself. You owe me for saving your life that day the storm washed out Reservation Road. You called it something. A present. Wasn't it? A life present?"

  Of course, he hadn't forgotten. The debt he owed had weighed heavy on his mind over the past weeks. But since she'd presented her ludicrous proposal, he'd hoped like hell she wouldn't remember. He had every intention of returning the favor. Somehow. Someway. If he did not, he would suffer for all eternity, for his soul would not be permitted to cross over to the other side. However, he refused to believe that the gift would take the form of a wedding band. It wouldn't if there was any chance he could avoid it.

  "Life Gift," he corrected her. "I owe you a Life Gift." He pulled his hands free from his pockets and lifted them, palms up. "Before you left me there on the road, you asked me to pray for your sister. I did that."

  "But your prayer didn't keep Amy alive, now did it?"

  They stared at each other in silence. Finally, he said, "You can't expect me to marry you."

  "Why?" True concern creased her forehead. "Do your beliefs dictate against such a union? Marrying out of need rather than love?"

  "No." He shook his head. Were he not an honorable man, he'd lie his way out of this. "But you have to agree, you're asking an awful lot of me here. Even if I would consider it, the Elders aren't going to be fooled, Jenna. They won't trust a marriage that's coming at them out of the blue. They'd be suspicious. Surely, they'd require that you live here. On the rez. With me. Your husband."

  "I'm prepared to do that," she told him. Her face was still damp, but hope shone in her still-moist eyes and eagerness brightened her tone. "A couple of months should do it, don't you think? Surely not more than three."

  "But I don't even know you." He planted his hands on his hips, baffled by the fact that she was truly serious about this outrageous idea.

  "Within three months," she continued in a rush, "I'm certain I can win them over. I can prove to the Elders that I'm worthy to raise Lily. They'll see me everywhere with her. I'll attend all of the community functions. I'll even participate. You have gatherings and special celebrations, right? I read about them in the paper all the time."

  She didn't wait for an answer. "And anytime we're away from the ranch, I'll play the part of a loving and devoted wife so no one will ever know of our marriage pact. I promise you that the truth will never come out. I'll need to learn all I can about your culture if I'm to teach Lily. I can't start too soon with something so important, right? The Council will love my attitude on that subject, don't you —"

  "Jenna! Stop!" She went quiet.

  "I can't do this." He let the words sink in, and then he firmly repeated, "I can't."

  He braced himself for
more tears, but what he hadn't prepared himself for was the tenacity that firmed her jaw.

  "So your life isn't worth three measly months of your time?"

  Accusation made her question uncomfortably sharp. Without breaking eye contact with him, she sniffed and reached up to rub the tip of her nose with the back of her hand.

  Shame fell on his shoulders like a load of cinder blocks. He tried to shrug the feeling off, but it only grew heavier. He frowned.

  He would not allow her to humiliate him into doing something —

  "Do you owe me, Gage Dalton? The day of the storm, you made this Life Gift sound like a very serious thing."

  She had no idea just how serious.

  Chagrin shot through him like white-hot lightning, and she clearly sensed it. He knew she could tell what her allegations were doing to him. And it only made her doggedness all the stronger.

  She folded her arms across her chest. "So . . . are you going to pay your debt, or aren't you?"

  Jenna Butler had him backed into a corner, and there wasn't a damned thing he could do about it.

  "And you have proof that this marriage is actually going to take place?"

  Disapproval tightened the shaman's wrinkled face. Of all the Elders sitting at the long oak table, Chee'pai had presented Jenna with the most vehement resistance. A contrary man, he'd been adamant from day one that Lily not leave the reservation.

  "Of course," Jenna told him. Nerves writhed in her stomach, turned her knees jelly-weak, but she made every effort to keep her hand from trembling when she offered the marriage license to him. He took it from her. Although he hadn't ever been blatantly disrespectful, Jenna never failed to feel the mighty weight of his condemnation during the many Council meetings she'd attended. The man was simply and clearly opposed to her gaining custody of Lily.

  He didn't bother to look at the legal document but demanded, "Why did you not tell us of your plans to marry before today?"

  Jenna squared her shoulders. "You didn't ask."

  Chee'pai scowled at what he obviously perceived as impertinence.

  "I have answered all your questions," she reminded him. She let her gaze trail down the row of men and women. "I have held nothing back. Not one of you can say differently. How could I have answered questions that haven't been asked?"

  No one offered an argument.

  "And this man is Indian?" another council member asked.

  "He is Delaware," Jenna said. "He lives on Broken Bow. And Lily and I will live here, too . . . with him. We'll be married at the courthouse in Forsyth just as soon as the blood test results are in."

  Montana's required test for rubella was all that stood between Jenna and Lily.

  "It shouldn't take long. The lab tech promised to rush things for me." She clamped her lips shut. She was talking too fast, submitting too much information.

  Gage had offered to come with her to this meeting, but Jenna had felt the need to face die group alone, to see this fight to the end on her own.

  Chee'pai almost shoved her license at the Elder sitting to his left, a man who actually scrutinized the paper. Something in the document made the man grow still, but Jenna didn't have time to wonder what it might be before Chee'pai addressed the group.

  "For me," the shaman announced, "this changes nothing."

  Disappointment assailed her. She must keep a positive attitude. This man was one voice among eight. Surely, someone in the group would see reason. If no one did, she was going to have to think fast.

  Gage had warned her against lying to the Elders. To do so would forever jeopardize her integrity in the eyes of the Council. Jenna had planned to speak nothing but the truth; however, desperation often made people do things they wouldn't normally do, say things they wouldn't normally say, act in ways that were alien. Hopefully, the Elders wouldn't push her to those extremes.

  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 Mashed 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 com
plied 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."

  Chapter Three

  "Are you upset about the civil service?" Jenna had finally garnered enough courage to ask the question that had been rolling in her mind since they'd left the courthouse. She glanced at Gage tentatively.

  "Why would I be upset?" His attention never wavered from the road ahead as he drove his pickup on 1-94 toward Broken Bow. "Other than the fact that I hadn't planned on repaying a Life Gift with wedding vows."

  She ignored his murmured aside. She couldn't regret having pledged herself to Gage in front of a Rosebud County clerk of the court. The marriage certificate in her possession was mandatory in gaining custody of Lily. To Jenna, it hadn't mattered that the ceremony was short and quite dispassionate. Even with the requested rush on i he tests, the wait for results had meant another excruciating week without Lily. The truth be known, Jenna was relieved to have the formalities over so quickly.

  She had her doubts about Gage.

  "Well," she began, "my guess is that you're, um, a very spiritual person. I thought that you might have felt peculiar about going to the courthouse to get married as opposed to . . ." She faltered for a moment. "Well, as opposed to having a religious ceremony."