Forever Ecstasy (15 page)

“Our Indian brothers to the east— the Sauk, Fox, Shawneee, Ottawan, and Chippewa— where are they now?” Hawk Eyes asked. “Indians to the south— Cherokee, Seminole, and others— where are they now? What of the Nez Perce and Yakima to the west? What of the Kiowas, Apaches, and Comanches who fiercely battle the whites for three winters now? What of the Cheyenne and Arapaho whose lands the whites look upon with greed these suns? The whites want us to live and think as they do. They want us to worship their god. They say we must accept their laws. They write words in what they call newspapers to arouse all whites against us. Some chiefs did not understand the meanings of their treaties; they believed the whites gave them supplies to use their lands, not to buy them. The whites used the papers the chiefs signed to get the white government to take Indian lands when the chiefs argued and resisted leaving. Some whites are good, but they are few. The bad whites are strongest and rule all whites.”

“Hocoka
is the center of all things,” Walks Tall said. “All power comes from the Sacred Hoop. As long as it is unbroken, our people will live and flourish. If we let the whites break our Circle of Life, we will die.”

“We did not invade their lands to the east; they must not invade ours. Most come as settlers, not warriors,” Thunder Spirit, brother of Flaming Star, stated. “Their armies are great. We do not want our sons and daughters, our parents and their children slain. We must not challenge until we are certain of victory. The whites do not understand our ways. They believe they purchased Dakota lands. One man cannot sell another’s horses. The Santee cannot sell the Plains. The French cannot sell the Plains. Thunder Spirit can say Walks Tall’s horses are his, but it would not be so. If Thunder Spirit steals Pawnee horses, they are his to claim and sell. The French did not conquer our territory, so they cannot sell it to the whites.”

“We accepted many whites among us,” Night Stalker said. “When my uncle Bright Arrow traveled with the men called Lewis and Clark, he saw and learned many things. He told my people much when he returned. That was long ago, before I was born. Since that season, many whites have followed their trail to the big waters, into the territory called Oregon. They make
homesteads there and push out villages. When Indians resist, whites say they are provoked to war, so they can kill and take all. Other tribes accepted them as friends, but whites did not honor that friendship. It will be the same in our territory. We must stand against them this season.”

Charging Dog, one of the oldest men in the Big Belly Society, asked, “Many have forgotten or do not know of the visit from Tecumseh, the Shawnee chief, before the last white war with the British. Tecumseh called Dakota tribes together to warn us of white danger. Many Teton bands went to the council. Many Oglalas went: Gray Eagle, White Arrow, Plenty Coups, Charging Dog, Payaba when he was Standing Tree, and others. The Shawnee chief told of eastern tribes who were massacred by white settlers. He spoke of camps and villages burned by bluecoats. Each winter, the whites journey closer to our lands, claiming all they pass. Tecumseh came to urge all Indian nations to band together against the whites. He told how they greeted the first whites in peace; whites were given food, blankets, and help. Whites grew strong; they wanted more land, from the rising to the setting suns; they killed all Indians who resisted their desires. He told of how whites hated, cheated, insulted, and abused Indians. We did not join him, and his warnings have come true. The Great Spirit gave the whites lands across the big waters and gave us these lands. The greed of the whites brought them across the big waters and into our lands. I say for Hawk Eyes to read the words spoken by Tecumseh, written on the Tribal Buffalo Record. Those words are as powerful as Payaba’s old vision.”

“A vision must be obeyed, Charging Dog,” the elderly man urged.

“It was long ago, Payaba,” Knife-Slayer said. “You should seek another vision. Perhaps Grandfather no longer wants us to obey the old one.”

Payaba did not display the anger he felt toward the troublemaker. “If such is true, Knife-Slayer, why did he send Sky Warrior to us?”

“Evil is strong these suns, Old One. Perhaps Evil sent the white man to trick us. I have not heard the warnings of Tecumseh. Read them, Father. All must hear them before we vote
which medicine is strongest.”

All of the council members and warriors were silent as the shaman retrieved the tribal record from its place in the meeting lodge.

Hawk Eyes stood to read it, so all could hear the words clearly, as he wanted the vote to go the same way his son did. “Tecumseh told us; ‘Brothers, if you do not unite with us, they will first destroy us, and then you will fall an easy prey to them. They have destroyed many nations of red men because they were not united. The white people send runners amongst us; they wish to make us enemies, that they may sweep like devastating winds. Where today is many other once powerful tribes? They have vanished before the avarice and oppression of the white man, as snow before a summer sun. Think not you can remain indifferent to the common danger. Your people, too, will soon be as fallen leaves driven before the wintry storms. Every year our white intruders become more greedy, oppressive, and overbearing. Let us defend to the last warrior our country, our homes, our liberty, and the graves of our fathers.’ His words have come to be.”

Everyone was silent and thoughtful for a time.

Sun Cloud reflected on words his mother had told him long ago: “You must be strong, Sun Cloud,” she said, “for many dark days are ahead. Being a chief is difficult and painful, but your father has trained you well. Lasting peace is gone forever. You must defend your people; you must guide them wisely. You must seek truce if the whites will allow it; only through peace can the Oglalas survive. You must learn to share our lands, or the whites will take them by force. You must learn to accept them, or they will destroy all you know and love. They are powerful, my son. Know and accept this fact, or you will battle for a victory which can never be won. Seek peace with honor, even if you must taste it as a bitter defeat… Some white leaders and peoples are not evil; it is those you must seek out and work with…. I lived with the whites, and I know them. Truce, however bitter, is better than Mother Earth with no Oglalas. One day, the white man will realize his evil and he will halt it. Until that day, you must make certain the Oglalas survive.” Sun Cloud remembered the last words she had spoken to him: “Life
is often brief and hard, and you must feast on its rewards each day…. Do not allow the white man’s hostilities to harden your heart.” His mother had been a wise and kind woman, a white woman. Yet her words were as hard to accept today as they had been shortly before her death. But he was chief, and he must think of his people before himself.

Sun Cloud rose from his buffalo mat. His fingers clutched the
wanapin
Tanner Gaston had returned to him. His other fingers touched the eagle feather behind his head as if drawing strength and wisdom from the man it represented. He gazed around the circles of men of many ages and ranks. He had fought battles at the sides of most of them. He had watched some grow to manhood. Some reminded him of fathers or brothers lost during raids or wars with whites and with Indian foes.

Sun Cloud glanced at his thirty-year-old son. He knew Night Stalker was not ready to become chief, and he wondered where and how he had failed to make him the man
his
father had made
him.
If only Gray Eagle and Shalee had lived long enough to influence and guide Night Stalker along the right trail, as they had done with him. At his son’s age, he had been chief for seven years. If he believed his son was ready to accept the chief’s bonnet, he would yield it to the skilled warrior. At fifty-four, Sun Cloud felt soul-tired from years of bearing burdens for so many people; he wanted to enjoy the rest of his life. He was willing to complete his Life Circle as a Big Belly. But Night Stalker was too hotheaded, too impulsive, too consumed by hatred for the whites and a hunger for war, too swayed by Knife-Slayer, for him to turn leadership over to his only son. But for now there was the decision to make about Tanner Gaston and his mission. “We must vote,” he said.

Morning Star’s heart drummed with trepidation. After listening to everyone’s words, she could not guess how the decision would go. It was getting late, and she couldn’t remain hidden there much longer. Her mother might become worried and search for her. If her mischief was discovered, everyone would blame Joe for her bad conduct. With reluctance, she started to leave, then more words halted her in mid-step…

“Is there more to say before our sticks are tossed?” Sun Cloud asked?

“There is a glowing ring around the full moon tonight,” Payaba said. “It is an omen to say this time is important. We must vote for peace.”

Knife-Slayer had seen the hazy look that seemed to encircle the moon. “I say it is black magic, evil magic, to warn us to vote for war.”

Hawk Eyes wanted to agree, but held silent.

“Our vote this moon must be only about the white man’s life,” Flaming Star suggested. “I say, let him live. We must give him time to prove his words and learn if he can win us peace with honor.”

Thunder Spirit added to his brother’s words. “What harm can giving him his life for saving Morning Star’s do? What harm can it do to let him seek and destroy the one who sells weapons to our foes? What harm can it do to let him work for an honorable peace? If he fails, we can war later.”

“His task will distract our foes while we hunt buffalo and make more weapons,” Walks Tall said.

“Payaba’s words carry much strong medicine,” Catch the Bear said. “We must test his vision and this white man. Free him to prove himself to us.”

When it was silent for a while, Wolf Eyes assumed everyone had given their feelings and opinions. He explained the voting procedure. “If you wish to free the white man and to allow him to attempt his mission, toss your white stick into the basket. If you do not, vote with your black stick.”

Hawk Eyes spoke again. “If the vote is no, he must die. If he is slain, we will call another council to talk war. It is true he rescued Morning Star, but if we vote we do not trust him, he must die to protect the secrets he has learned in our camp.”

“I say that the white man’s story matches Payaba’s vision,” Sun Cloud told his people, “so we must accept both as truth, as Grandfather’s message. We must let Tanner prove he is unlike other whites and will side with us. If peace lies within his grasp, we must not slay him. It is true his words are hard to accept and obey. Look at our tribal record,” he said, pointing to the pictorial history of the Oglala depicted on a tanned buffalo hide. “Until these past few summers few conflicts were painted on its surface after our treaty. The ‘time of great danger’ Payaba spoke of has arrived, so have two men who match the vision. I speak for peace. The day for a great war will come, but this is not that season. If we do not allow Sky Warrior to defeat Snake-Man and the Crow, our lands will run fast and dark with Oglala blood. That will be Grandfather’s punishment for not obeying the sacred vision he gave to our shaman long ago.”

The men who were wavering in their decisions made them after the chief’s final words. Sun Cloud was loved, awed, and respected. Many older eyes still saw the image of the legendary Gray Eagle in him. Others knew what a wise and brave leader he had been for years. All eyes closed and the basket was passed from man to man. Sticks were dropped inside.

When the basket was dumped before Wolf Eyes, the ceremonial chief, for him to count the votes, all sticks were whiteyes— except for three.

Sun Cloud guessed that two “no’s” were from Night Stalker and Knife-Slayer; he presumed the third was from Hawk Eyes. It disappointed and worried him that his son— the future chief— and the tribe’s shaman were so against peace, if won with honor. The other “no” did not surprise him.

“He is to go free,” Wolf Eyes announced.

Knife-Slayer told the group,
“Puzani ni kte lo. I’ye sica yelo,”
and left.

Morning Star watched the furious man stalk away, having behaved as no honorable warrior should have. Before others left and she was exposed, she hurried to Flaming Star’s tepee and called to her friend.

Buckskin Girl came out and embraced her, then started to ask rapid-fire questions.

Morning Star smiled and silenced her. “I must hurry back to
my tepee. I am fine and will tell you all things tomorrow.” She rushed home.

In the meeting lodge, Sun Cloud did not heed Knife-Slayer’s warning: “You will see you are wrong. He is bad.” He was eager to reach his tepee and speak with Tanner, the grandson of his long-dead friend. He quickly thanked his close friends for their votes, then departed.

When the chief ducked into his tepee, he glanced first at his wife, who was sewing on a new shirt for him, then looked at his daughter, who was beading a new pair of moccasins. Morning Star smiled at him, but her eyes were filled with concern over the fate of her white rescuer. Well trained in their ways and a respectful girl, she did not question him about the council meeting. Sun Cloud thought how like her mother she was in looks and personality. If only she were a son, an older son, she would be worthy of their chief’s bonnet. It was sad that Night Stalker didn’t have more of her good traits. Sun Cloud went to sit beside the dying fire near the man who had entered their lives to change them forever.

Joe met the chief’s probing gaze. It told him nothing of their decision. He was impressed by this great man, and lying to him gnawed at his conscience. One day he would confess the truth. If his mission succeeded, hopefully Sun Cloud would understand and accept the necessity of his deceit. Although anxious, he waited for the older man to speak.

“Many whites have visited our lands and camps,” he began. “The first ones mentioned on our tribal record came in my grandfather’s day, Verendrye brothers who were accepted as friends. Many trappers and traders followed. One called Manuel Lisa created the Missouri Fur Company and had many posts and men. He died the year my father was slain. Pierre Chouteau claimed his territory and called his post American Fur Company. First they came for beaver, muskrat, and otter; later, for any and all hides and pelts. More posts were built: Pratte at Pierre, Columbia at Lookout, McMichael to where the Sahiyela and Mnisose rivers join. Each season, more follow.”