Wedding Belles

One strong woman's views on family.

Something like incest; first time; cuckold; serial-fucking; wedding night.

Author's note:

This story concerns a family bound loosely by the culture of the Choctaw of the American Southwest. It by no means purports to describe current Choctaw attitudes and beliefs! The characters in this story are individuals, each with their own take on culture and family, each a unique American living in the context of their upbringing and personal idiosyncrasies.

It can be frustrating to represent different cultures in fiction. On one hand, the only authentic voices are from members of those cultures, describing themselves. But some groups become under-represented, effectively erased from the landscape of fiction through a dearth of voices.

Here I took the stance, Choctaw are ordinary humans who can occur in a story like any other, like a king or an inner-city youth or a privileged aristocrat or a flawed heroine. To be treated as real people and not the usual 'wooden Indian', not a pale blank person used as a prop, rather as humans with all the urges and fears and strengths present in many of us.

All errors and omissions are my own (and there will surely be some). I did what research I could from the available resources and present it in the most favorable light I can, intending to communicate respect and admiration.

Of course, in a story with this audience, licenses were taken to advance the plot. The usual personal excesses and casual attitudes toward interpersonal relationships (sex) are here as in most stories of this nature. By no means is this intended as any kind of critique of a people or community. It reflects my personal attitudes about healthy human interactions, laid onto a story featuring a fascinating, breathtakingly durable and admirable social system.

No person in this story is intended to represent any real person, living or dead. The family history is entirely fictitious, borrowed from other instances in Oklahoma.

Weddings make people feel things, like love and loss and loyalty and nostalgia. And horniness, lots of that.

Bitty Stonehaven is having her wedding on a hilltop ranch east of Albuquerque, and her entire extended family is invited. From seven states and five foreign countries, Bitty means to make that six today.

From a moneyed branch of the Stonehavens, she's splashing out for the cousins who aren't. So very like Bitty, taking care of her own. Like Papa used to do. That thought always brings a catch to her throat! If only Papa could be here, today, seeing how she'd grown, and how she'd taken up his work.

Gathering today at Blame-Him Ranch, south of Santa Fe and ninety miles east of Sandia Park. The little Santa Fe airport didn't have flights from all the myriad locations the Clan was scattered to, so she told them all Albuquerque! and hired busses, bringing them down highway 40 and up 3 to the venue, a hundred at a time. Three hundred cousins! And their families. The diaspora of six Choctaw women two hundred years ago, all they could find anyway, all who still claimed kinship.

Preparations here had been going on for days. Bottles of fine wine by the case, beer by the keg, food by the truckload. Sixteen tents set up across the broad lawns! A thousand chairs! A big to-do.

Sitting with her mom in the lodge, taking a moment. Out a window they could see the swimming pool, occupied by raucous children. They were both smiling, her mother from memories and Bitty, because her fiancé wanted children. Hers would be part of that gang some day soon!

"So the caterers have everything in hand. The ice issue is resolved, a refrigerated truck coming down from Santa Fe with another half ton."

Bitty nodded, paying attention but her thoughts were drifting to other matters.

"The Velasquez's got here in good shape, the connection was iffy but Donny called somebody, got that sorted."

Uncle Don knew folks in important places. Not captains of industry; rather foremen and shift bosses, stewards and shop managers, the people that got things done. He'd called a buddy who called a buddy, and somehow it took an extra forty minutes for that connecting flight to get all the baggage loaded. Have to give him a hug and a kiss later, the dear! And do something for those baggage handlers. Had to show proper gratitude, balance one kindness with another. A case of beer? Not enough, maybe a donation to the union widow's fund.

"The Idaho gang had to divert, wildfires and with Sasha expecting nobody wanted to take any risks so they went west, caught a commuter south, anyway they'll be on a helicopter, land at the Gozales' and a limo waiting. Should make it by two thirty."

That was Mom's own doing, she knew how to get things done too. A lifetime with Papa, arranging and soothing feathers, he'd make the deals and she'd make the deals work. A perfect couple! Until the damned aneurysm. Papa! Oh she missed him.

On the outside Bitty seemed misplaced in a family of high rollers, movers and shakers. Gentle, inoffensive, a quiet musical voice and graceful manners. New Mexico royalty, pampered and educated, never wanted for a thing. Riding lessons and music, tutors and languages. Everything a southwestern lass could want, for a life of leisure.

Folks that didn't know her, underestimated her routinely. She had what Papa had, a sense of people and situations. She could read a room and know who was on board, who needed persuading, how to do the persuading. Who should bail right now before things got rough. And Bitty never bailed. Papa taught her all that.

In fact, she was arguably stronger than anyone in the entire extended family, Nevada mining barons included. They had money and connections, but they needed somebody convinced, needed the right pressure applied to the right artery, they called Bitty and asked very politely. She would do it, her and Momma, she always said Yes Darling! Of course! for family but then they owed her. And she never forgot. A kindness for a kindness. How the family got strong. And Bitty, the strongest.

Well, except for cousin Truly. Her strength came from within.

Bitty had Papa's money, daughters inherited everything in her clan, it was her money now that took care of Mom and the rest, Mom had insisted when Papa died. All that money made it easy for her. Well, easier.

Truly came from nothing. A shack on a cattle station in the middle of nowhere, cattle that somebody else owned. Brought up on squirrels and pine nuts, trout and deer. Educated at a wood fire in the cold months, she'd left all that and struck out for herself at sixteen. Come visiting Papa back then, just drifting through on her motorcycle and remembered her pokni had once said Go see the Stonehaven clan! We are kin!

Stayed all summer, Papa had recognized something in her. Paid Truly to babysit her cousin Bitty, he understood that she needed to earn what she got, no handouts. Only a year older but so much more mature, Bitty had worshipped her from the start.

As Bitty learned from her tutors and lessons, Truly absorbed some of that. Learned to read well, learned something of their tumultuous family history, Choctaw history from another point of view. Taught Bitty to ride the Choctaw way, hold a bow the right way, how to set a snare and how to carry herself like an ohoyo ile fehnʋchi, a woman of arrogant bearing, inspire respect or fear or jealousy as required.

This all struck a spark in Truly, she was of the Stonehaven clan, she was somebody too. Had something to learn from family, and something to offer as well. Gave her some roots over here, grounded in two places now, stronger for it.

And Truly was intended to be here today! Only a couple hours remaining and Bitty would promise the love of her life to honor and cherish. Truly had to be here, hear it said, hear her say it, it was really why Bitty arranged all this, so the family would all meet Truly and love her like Bitty did.

Sometimes she felt overwhelmed by it, by everyone here to watch her. I'm really just an actor in a play! Bitty found herself relaxing, thinking that. I'm just playing a part in a set-piece, a little show put on for family. A ceremony to bring everyone together, to help rebind our scattered people into one. Good to do that every couple of years, so nobody forgets.

Mama saw her unwinding, smiled.

"It's an emotional day! Enjoy yourself, you can do no wrong today honey. Everyone will laugh and cry with you, however it goes, it will be right."

Mom said the right things, part of the reason Bitty was so strong. Never doubted herself, Mother couldn't even conceive of such a thing in her only child, never let her doubt. It helped so much, once Papa left them and the money came, she had to make decisions every day and not second-guess herself. Had to show them all, she knew what she wanted and knew how to get it.

Not just the oil business, Papa had that running like a clock before he left, Bitty never had to lift a finger again and the money would keep piling up. No, it was family that needed constant tending.

Like Francine. Six teens and their father put away, some stock trading deal fell through and he was left the fall guy. Always had been too trusting and got in with the wrong crew.

A fatherless family with nothing, no future for the children. Until Bitty looked up some old languishing scholarship at the regional college, intended for Choctaw descendants, funded it to the max on condition these six would be taken care of. It helped that Papa had built three buildings on campus. The girls would never know, though Francine suspected. Got teary every time she hugged me.

Then there's little Donnie Junior. His Mom died and he spiraled down, nothing Uncle Don did seemed to make any difference. Put away for ten years after a botched armed robbery. Out on parole now, sponsored by Father Pito, a great guy and he'd have done it anyway but his alcohol support program getting a rent-free facility helped seal the deal.

Now Donnie was doing community service with the Tribal Police, translator for his dialect. Working out there on the res helped, seeing the pain, others suffering like he had suffered. Helped him understand his people, built empathy. He'll be at the Green Corn ceremony this summer, Bitty thought he'd be centered and whole after that. Would finally forgive himself, that was the last step in healing.

On duty today! Nominally guarding gifts, getting paid for that, though there was absolutely no possibility of any problem. He looked transformed now, hugged his dad when Don arrived, that was good to see. Glad-handing aunties and uncles and helping carry gifts for the old ones. Chi hollo li! to every little cousin, smiling to see how they'd grown, what he'd missed those two years a guest of Corrections.

That was another great family gathering! Green Corn! The town families used to be embarrassed about that, the old Ceremonies made them uneasy, they'd gotten too far from their center. Bitty worked on that too. Paid for entertainers, food demonstrations, paved the parking lot and contracted out marketing. Made it a festival, everybody welcome to celebrate Choctaw culture.

If they pretend they don't actually believe in it they can come, gets them over that emotional hurdle. Then the Ceremony begins, they get drawn in, it's in their makeup. The fire, the feast, fasting and forgiveness. Drinking! That part everybody can get behind. Though they ask more often than they should, Why no corn? Bitty smiled at that, what are the schools teaching these days.

Old Mr. Gourman had made it out today! Just arrived! Since he moved into assisted living he didn't go many places. After his wife passed, he got neglectful of his diet, quit taking his meds, got depressed. Thousands a month to keep him in that place but three meals a day and the company of his peers and what is money for. A private car brought him here today, along with his aid, a hattak himitta, a young man from the facility pushing him around in his wheelchair. There was a place reserved for him in the reception tent, off to one side so he could see everyone but not too busy, he couldn't hear that well, people would come to him.

Can't let elders go hurting; what kind of people would we be? Papa taught me that. And the tears started, Papa was always near the surface of her thoughts, today.

Mama saw and understood.

"He's standing in the sky with the sun! Looking down at you. If we get a little shower, well, that's just Papa being proud."

Silly stuff: not Choctaw but Bitty loved Mama so she smiled and hugged her, let some tears go, Papa's little shower.

"I'm gonna walk around, say hi to a few folks. It'll be so busy after!" and Momma reminded her of the schedule, where her changing room was, don't nibble so much you don't fit! and she left Mom with another auntie just arrived from Missouri.

She spied her groom under a pavilion with the groomsmen, greeting visitors and drinking something her cousin Trent had in a jacket pocket. Whiskey, of course. Not concerned, her Tófi was a Viking hunk, and they could sure handle their liquor.

Of the original Norse line, her man was a thing of beauty. Sculpted body, flowing hair, those biceps! Abs like a box of turnips. He played parts in commercials, on public television doing extreme sports. The Bridesmaids had been all over him at the dinner.

The groomsmen were her cousins too, Tófi had no family but his mother. The last of the line as the Kanes were nearly gone, nobody back in the old country but doddering Uncles and dowager Aunties. His Mom was here today, the Dame Kane, a true Viking beauty with that dramatic face, those tits like no tomorrow! Runner's legs, she took care of herself, and 'breeding hips', he should have a dozen siblings, but Dad died after Toffy was born. An only child as she'd never remarried.

Toffy, that's what Bitty called him, her sweet flexible candy man!

There were rumors of family money, the wealth of an ancient line but Bitty knew all he had was his TV money, and he sent that home to his Ma. Bitty let folks speculate, after they married it would no longer matter, let them talk.

Just the one real groomsman, her cousin Trent, then three young cousins filling in, 15, 16, 18, their hair slicked back and wearing new suits they'd grow out of in a few months. Pestering Toffy now, hero worship. It was adorable. Toffy took it well, bantering with them, just now he was lifting the two young ones from one arm, showing off! It made Bitty wet.

Trent had been a rock, had supported Bitty through this whole ordeal. Done all the diplomacy involving the groom's family, collected the gifts and made sure Tófi's family knew what was happening, what was expected. Received the traditional gift of jewelry for Bitty, Danish jewelry is very similar to Choctaw, leather and silver, enameled beads and minerals, woven wire, Dame Kane had offered the necklace she'd received from the Kane Dowager upon her own wedding, of old coins and Viking weave, on a leather thong, ancient beyond knowing. Tófi had put it on Bitty, taken the turkey feather fan Bitty had made in return and brought it to his mother, pleasing her immensely so that got done right.

Tófi was kind, sensible, strong. And the sex was mind-blowing. What more could she want in a husband? Money, that quit mattering long ago, Bitty was paying for all this and glad to do it, to make her mother-in-law happy too. A wedding fit for an Earl of Norway, on a hilltop with open vistas for a hundred miles in every direction.

"Bitta! My sweetheart!" and Tófi disengaged, came to greet her, using his pet name today, a quick kiss and an arm around her, all chaste and correct for the public. No hiding from each other on their wedding day! Not our way. But no sex, not until tonight! Abstinence, just for fun, made the whole day exciting, wanting each other and having to wait.

Tófi walked her to the pavilion, leaned to whisper in her ear.

"Soon I put my lem in your skade! To stir your passions, and make you weep! Come away with me now, my tongue will make your waters flow." Bitty shivered, gave him a saucy look, playing along.

"Remember what we talked about!" and Toffy remembers; be nice to all the cousins, spread the love today, be generous with his attentions, make connections that will last a lifetime. This day was for family.

He smiled, kissed her cheek, held her hand and spoke to Trent.

"Brother! She thinks I can tame this crowd, make them love me! A brutal Viking among feral wolves, traditional rivals! Never to be reconciled!"

Their crowd did look a little feral, many furry and ragged around the edges, browned by the sun, hard-muscled. Wolves? Perhaps. Coyote more likely, but Toffy didn't know coyote.

Trent shook his head. "Just be charming, Tófi! Everybody will love you."

"Me? The outsider? Taking their precious Bitty from them? They will curse me!"

Bitty had to disagree.

"Not an outsider; not today, today you become Stonehaven. Our children will be Lawokla! No one will resent you! By tradition we marry outside our clan, nobody is surprised by that. New blood! To strengthen the family line!"

He knew something about it but hadn't learned the whole story.

"Just look at us all! Family! We were all once strangers, this kinship constructed from fragments, diaspora of six Choctaw women two centuries ago!

"There you see Ash, with the flaming red hair?" and who couldn't, in a sea of black and grey she was tall, Irish, fair and graceful.

"Ash's Mom met her Da when he was visiting Ireland, he'd visited the memorial from 1847, impoverished Choctaw had sent famine relief to starving Ireland. An act of charity that sounded like a bell around the world. Saoirse was on the reception committee; they fell in love and Ash came less than a year later. The favorite of most of the cousins."

Toffy looked, perhaps a little too long, as fair Ash swung her hair, took a glass from a groomsman, laughed at his joke. Not yet married, no man could keep up, not so far. Bitty jabbed him in the ribs, like elbowing a side of beef but he pretended to be hurt, laughed.

"I am no Irish lass! Just a brutal Norse man of base desires."

Bitty smiled at that; his desires were indeed primitive, his passion fierce. Her bruises were faded today, mostly because Trent had taken him away two days before for a stag celebration. First bowling with the young groomsmen, then once the youngsters went home, he and Toffy hit the titty bars. Toffy got a private lap dance, new for him, and Trent was pretty sure he came in her though that was against the rules, he'd come out red-faced and half-lidded eyes. The dancer had taken her break after that, to recover, limping and smiling.

"There, you see? Diva with her partner Georgia, the plump Mexican lass? With the flashing eyes and padded hips? They'll have one soon, to add to the posse, Georgia will bear their child. Diva cannot risk pregnancy, her bull-riding doesn't admit such a delicate condition."

And Georgia was hard to see, shorter than even this crew by half a head but once you saw, hard to look away. Brilliantly Hispanic, of some old Castilian line but deliciously mixed with perhaps Aztec and more, she was vivacious and vital, a dynamo of charisma that arrested the attention. She was a favorite of all the men, working the crowd, Diva can be abrasive but everybody loved Georgia, she was everyone's buddy. Best thing to happen to Diva. Clearly Dive adores her. When are they gonna get hitched?

Bitty saw Toffy wanting her and put one hand to his crotch, felt his bulge.

"Keep it holstered my love, she is off limits." Diva was proud of her better half and let everyone know she was taken. Diva could likely take even Toffy, if provoked. Bull riding made you tough.

There were half a dozen more, folks adding Asian, English, French, even Latvian to the mix.