Forever Ecstasy (27 page)

Little space separated their bodies, something she was too aware of beneath the cozy cover. She trembled and warmed. Curious emotions surged through her. Recalling his words, she spoke slowly, “Before Great Spirit, I, Morning Star, take you, Joseph Lawrence, Jr., as my wedded… husband. Is that all? Are we pretend joined?”

Gazing into her dark eyes and having her so near, Joe lost his wits again. “All white weddings end with a kiss. It makes a bond between husband and wife and their vows to each other. If you’d rather not do that part—”

“It fine to do ceremony right,” she interrupted before her courage deserted her. “It hot, hard to breathe; must hurry,” she prompted him.

Joe’s hands lifted and cupped her face. He looked deep into her dark-brown eyes. “You’re my wife now, Morning Star,” he murmured, then covered her lips with his.

Morning Star experienced new sensations of pleasure and heat. Running Badger and Knife-Slayer had stolen kisses before; she had been unwilling, and they hadn’t felt like this one. Joe’s mouth had a nice taste and a gentle pressure that was
pleasing and enticing. His lips guided hers toward the correct response. When his arms banded her body, she did the same with his. The kiss became as powerful and hot as a wildfire racing across dried grasslands. It was wonderful to touch him this way.

Joe’s arms tightened, and he felt his body reacting to her contact and response. He didn’t want to pull away, but knew he should. His breathing altered, as did hers, and he knew she was as affected as he was. He tossed aside the stuffy blanket. The kiss continued.

Hanmani stomped one foot and whickered from a fly bite, causing the two almost to jerk apart. When the pesky insect tried to steal blood from another foreleg, the animal repeated his discouraging action, which gave the couple time to recover their wits.

“We are pretend joined?” she asked once more.

“Yes, you’re my woman,” he responded, and it was how he felt. “Let’s ride.” Joe scooped up the blanket and rolled it.

They mounted and rode on.

It was almost dusk when they halted to make their first camp near a tree-lined stream that offered shade and cover. Joe tended the horses while Morning Star unpacked their supplies and prepared their meal. The ride, skirting the Black Hills, had been an easy one with a pace that hadn’t allowed much chance for talking. The maiden had led the way; Joe had followed close behind and kept his wits on alert for trouble.

Joe sat on the ground and stretched out his long legs. He watched her work with skilled hands. “Tell me about the contest,” he coaxed, as the silence and serenity were sending his mind in a hazardous direction.

Morning Star continued her chores as she related the events. “It was not…simple as Morning Star thought. I win, but it hard. It…fate. It hard because I sick and weak.” She explained her strange illness, her brother’s cruel words, and her suspicions of Knife-Slayer and Hawk Eyes.

Joe was troubled. He ignored his romantic rival for the time being and said, “I can’t blame Night Stalker for being scared of white men’s diseases. We have some bad ones, but they harm Indians more than whites, because we know how to avoid them
and tend them. They’re strangers to Indians and they can wipe out an entire tribe.”

“Long ago, white man’s disease almost destroy Cheyenne camp of our allies. It Windrider’s camp and tribe when he was chief and best friend to Bright Arrow. White wife of Bright Arrow and white captive of Windrider, who powerful medicine woman, save tribe. Disease steal children from both. Windrider take white shaman as wife. Windrider son, Soul of Thunder, now chief. He joined to Tashina, daughter of Bright Arrow.”

“How did Bright Arrow and his wife die?”

“Crow attack camp when warriors and hunters gone. Bright Arrow return and battle. He killed. Wife killed saving children from Crow who capture for slaves. Others return and slay all Crow.”

Morning Star passed Joe his wooden dish. As he devoured the meat that was softened in heated water and flavored with unfamiliar seasonings, he ate the wild vegetable roots she had cooked with it. He washed them down with flesh water from the stream, as did she.

“Agent Fitzpatrick told me how your grandfather was killed in an ambush by wicked soldiers, but when did you lose your grandmother?.”

“She die same day, just go to sleep when Great Spirit call her name to come join Grandfather. Both die before I born. I know from stories and songs about them. I not know Mother’s parents. Brave Bear die in battle. Chela die when Mother enter life. She made daughter of new Blackfoot chief. Father say it best for mates to leave Mother Earth on same sun.”

Joe liked her poignant statement. “I agree. I’m sure it’s hard on the one left behind to face life alone. How did your parents meet?” he inquired to keep up the casual conversation. Still, it was hard to keep his mind off the fetching female. He kept remembering how she had felt in his arms and how her lips had tasted upon his. He kept recalling how she seemed attracted to him, too. The playful ceremony had exposed to him how he wanted her as a wife. But how, even if he could persuade her, could she fit into his world? How could he take her away from all she knew?

When she finished chewing and swallowing the food in her
mouth, she sipped water before answering. “Blackfoot and Oglala been allies many winters. Old chief was my grandmother’s father. He was good friends with Running Wolf, Gray Eagle’s father. When Black Cloud hear daughter returned, he come to camp and take Shalee home. Gray Eagle wish to join. She refuse, been captive and angry. Black Cloud want to join her to Brave Bear. Gray Eagle come and fight challenge for her. He win. He give promised one— Chela— to Brave Bear to join. Make good choice and truce.”

Morning Star saw how intrigued Joe was by her family history, so she continued it. “Bright Arrow was good friend to Singing Wind brother, Silver Hawk. He bad; he side with evil soldiers; he slain after Gray Eagle die, and before parents join. Rebecca, she Bright Arrow mate, missing long time, stolen by white men. Father and uncle both want Singing Wind and chief’s bonnet. Half tribe want one; half tribe want other. Father prove best warrior; he win Mother and chief’s bonnet. Rebecca returned to uncle.”

Joe put aside his empty plate. “I was wondering how the youngest son became chief while his older brother was still alive. Now I understand. I knew about the ambush and Silver Hawk’s treachery from the reports by Colonel Sturgis and Major Ames. The Army let me, Stede, and Tanner read them to learn what happened here thirty-one years ago. You eat while I tell you about my meeting with Captain James Thomas. I’ve kept you talking until your food is probably cold.”

“It fine. Tell of soldier you met,” she coaxed.

Joe had promised to help her with her English, but hadn’t corrected her because he didn’t want to interrupt her interesting revelations. There was plenty of time for lessons along their journey. As she ate and observed him, he related his meeting with Spotted Tail and with Jim.

Finished with her meal, Morning Star set her plate on the ground. “Can Joe and Morning Star trust him?” she asked.

Joe reflected on the meeting. “I hope we can; I think so. I didn’t sense any dishonesty in him.”

“Joe have sharp wits, so must be good man.”

“I’m glad you have so much faith in me, Morning Star. I don’t want to do or say anything to hurt or mislead you. I’ll always tell
you everything… when I can,” he qualified his vow.

She understood. “I think and do same. We keep riding, looking?”

“Yes, but from now on, I don’t cut my hair or shave my face. If I’m going to play a trader or trapper, I have to look like one. You’ll have to excuse my unkempt appearance until we finish this task.”

“Part of disguise?” she used another favorite new word, then laughed.

“Yep,” he concurred, then smiled at her.

“I tend hand before wash things. Not want wound to go bad.”

He grinned. “English lesson time. I will tend your hand before I wash the dishes. I do not want the wound to get infected.”

Morning Star ran the words through her keen mind, then repeated them twice to stress the correct order to herself.

“Good,” he complimented. “You’re smart and fast.”

“Thank you. I…will work hard to be good… partner.”

“You’re more than a good partner, Morning Star.” Catching his lapse, Joe added, “Let’s get these dishes washed and turn in.”

“We will wash these dishes and go to sleep,” she jested.

“Before I know it, you’ll be teaching me a thing or two,” he teased in return. “I’ll help with the chores.” He halted her refusal by saying, “In the white man’s world, sometimes we help with women’s chores. This is one of those times. We’re both tired and we both need sleep. If I help, you’ll be done sooner. There’s no need for you to work harder than I do.”

“You are kind and generous, Joe Lawrence. You do as you want, but it does not hurt your pride as a man. That is good. It pleases me.”

It was dark by the time they finished the task and lay on their sleeping rolls. The fire had burned low, and would be allowed to go out to guard their safety. They didn’t want any flames or smoke showing at a distance to entice trouble. The location was quiet. There were not many frogs or crickets; they heard an occasional owl hoot and the running of the stream. A slight breeze stirred the leaves and grass, but it carried along very few scents from wildflowers.

“Good night, Morning Star,” he murmured.

“Good night, Joe.” She refused to let the bittersweet memory of what had happened between them earlier come to her mind. It would only create a troubled spirit as she reminded herself why it shouldn’t happen again. She remembered she hadn’t tended his hand and started to remind him, but she decided it was best if they didn’t touch again today. He had used Payaba’s medicine and wrapped it in a clean cloth this morning anyhow. Yes, it was best to check on it after the sun chased away the romantic shadows.

As they ate and prepared to break camp, Joe asked, “Why did Night Stalker name his son Bloody Arrow? That seems strange for a baby.”

Morning Star related the custom of her people. “Child is named when born. Most come from nature or something happening when enter life. When Night Stalker born, tribe traveling to summer camp. He called Trail Son. When boy reach flap to manhood and seeks vision, he takes new name, one given to him in vision-quest. Sometimes, but few, names not changed. Sun Cloud and Bright Arrow named by Gray Eagle. In vision-quests, Grandfather not give them new names. Grandfather name sons in Gray Eagle’s visions.”

Her English suffered as she related a terrible raid by their enemies two years ago. “When brother’s son born, camp attacked by Pawnee. They big enemy like Crow and Shoshone. Wife shot by warrior. Bloody arrow removed from her arm as son enter life. Night Stalker use sign to give son name. He say it will be as with Father and Grandfather, and Great Spirit will not change when he become man. That bad; name and sign rule man and life. No place for bloody arrows in peace.” She told Joe how strange was Touched-A-Crow and how bad Bloody Arrow. “I not want mate, child, or tepee like brother have.”

“One last question before we ride out,” Joe said. “Why did Buckskin Girl compete with you in the contest? You told me you girls are best friends.” He had perceived her distress over that episode as she told of the contest.

“I not know. It strange.” She repeated what Buckskin Girl had told her, which wasn’t an explanation, only a promise for a future one.

“I do have one more question. Will you teach me the bow and arrow?” Joe asked.

“You steal surprise. I bring one for you. They silent, not loud like guns. I good with bow. I teach you. I must tend hand before we ride.”

“I took care of it while you were downstream bathing. It’s already healing and doesn’t hurt. But thanks. Let’s go.”

It was late that afternoon when they came upon a Crow hunting or scouting party. Every member was dead. After checking to make sure no enemies were still in the area, they approached the bloody scene and dismounted. The five Bird People had Red Heart arrows protruding from their bodies, the red stripes on the shafts assessing to her people’s guilt.

“See with eyes, we no do! All in camp!” she shouted, angered by the unknown foes who were trying to provoke a war to get her people killed.

“It’s clear to me your people are being framed.”

“Bad men have good… scheme. Soldiers and others blame Red Hearts. They attack and destroy for evil man. See tracks,” she said, and pointed to them. “Some shod and some not. They use Lakota moccasins. Nations have different moccasins and tracks. They steal, use to fool. See broken armband? It Red Heart.” Her eyes enlarged as she retrieved it and looked closer. There was no mistaking its meaning, and she was angry.

“What’s wrong?” He questioned her reaction.

“It have marks, symbols, of Man-Who-Rides-Wild-Horses; he put on
wicagnakapi wiconti,
death scaffold, in sacred hills in past winter. Warriors buried with possessions. That where enemies get weapons and possession to use in…frame. It bad, evil, to steal from death scaffold. Crow would not do. It work of evil whitemen. I check tracks and trail.”

Joe followed as the woman moved from place to place, bending here and there to study signs upon the ground. She tested the dryness of broken blades of grass and horse droppings. She checked to make certain the depth of the tracks revealed that all horses had heavy riders and none were pack animals or hauling raid booty. That and other clues, which she explained to him as she did her examination, told her how long the attackers had
stayed in this location and when they had departed. He was impressed by her many talents.

“Seven men. Three on shod horses. Four not. Crow killed on last sun. Men ride that way,” she remarked, pointing north. “They leave before sun sink into chest of Mother Earth to sleep. They not go far before camp; it soon dark. They less than one sun ahead. We follow. Must get Red Heart possessions and return to
wicag
— scaffolds. They must die.”

Joe observed Morning Star’s expression during her last two statements. Her eyes were squinted and her lips drawn tight. Her aura seemed as chilled as her dark gaze. “If we can capture one, Morning Star,” he reasoned, “we can take him to the fort to be questioned. We need to convince others of what we’ve learned. If we kill all of them, we have no proof for the Army.”