Forever Ecstasy (33 page)

As her feet touched the ground again, Morning Star smiled and said, “We have good disguise now. Joe plenty smart and clever.” Her hands rested on his broad chest and she gazed into his blue eyes.

They talked about the deal Joe had made before he said, “We make a good pair, woman. I’m proud of you. I almost hated to fool him,” he admitted. “He seemed like a good man.”

“Not too good,” she refuted with a grin. “Mules not worth much. You say you pay too much.”

He chuckled and stroked her cheek. “That’s right, but it wasn’t worth arguing over, because we both knew he was
losing money by trading with me. I’ll probably get about ten dollars each for them. I won’t lose any money, and I wasn’t looking to make any off him, but I’ll get twenty more than I spent. I might even do better. I’ve heard some of the posts are paying four dollars a pound this year. In a way, I tricked and cheated him, but it couldn’t be helped. We need those furs, but I only had three hundred dollars. All the supplies I gave him are the ones we took off those grave robbers. I just hope he doesn’t find out about the better price, and come looking for me.”

“If mad, he tell others Joe’s name. He tell about message to Stede.”

“I had to take that risk, Morning Star, to let him know I’m all right.”

“Tanner’s father be happy you safe. If man called John tell him you with squaw, he catch clue and know plan working.”

“I hope so. After what happened to Tanner, I know he’s worried.”

“What Tanner and Stede look like?” she inquired.

Surprised and curious, Joe responded, “Why?”

“They family. Want to know how look.”

Joe sensed there was more to her question. “They both had black hair, brown eyes, and dark skin,” he answered. “They both looked Indian, if that’s what you mean, but everyone thought they were of Spanish blood. Stede’s hair has some white now. I was told he favors Powchutu. Those who knew his father will recognize him as the son.” He wanted to explain that Stede looked Indian because he carried little white blood, but he had promised Sun Cloud to withhold that secret. As for Tanner, his mother had possessed brown eyes and hair, so her coloring hadn’t affected his. Tanner…

“You look sad. What wrong?”

“I was thinking about Tanner. God, I miss him,” he confessed with deep emotion. “How can he be gone forever, Morning Star? He was like a brother to me, and I’ll never see him again. Damn those bastards! I’m going to find
them and kill them,” he swore. “Just like they killed Tanner!”

She caressed his cheek. “I understand and help. I sorry ask about him. Pain still great.” She explained why the answer was important to her and related her confusing conversation with her brother.

“He’s wrong, Morning Star. Babies come from both parents. I do believe that God decides when to give you one, but the child is part of the mother and father. As I said, Stede and Tanner look Indian. Some blood is stronger and affects a child’s looks more, but neither parent is ever totally overpowered. He’s wrong, too, about it not mattering who the father is. If Powchutu and Alisha had married, they would have had their own child, not Bright Arrow and Sun Cloud. The two of them are part of Gray Eagle and Alisha. You and Night Stalker would not come from a child by Powchutu and Alisha. Gray Eagle’s blood flows in you, and you would not be the same without it.”

“It is how I believed, but Brother make good points and confuse.”

“That’s only natural. That’s how people learn and grow. They search for answers and ask questions, then fit all the pieces together to make their own picture of understanding.”

“You plenty smart. You teach me all you know.”

Joe smiled and said, “I’ll do my best, but I’m not very skilled in that area. We’ll do lessons every night in camp. Right now, let’s get those mules packed and head out. It’s adventure time, Little Flower,” he teased.

Together they loaded the bundles of pelts onto the scrawny mules. Joe saddled their horses while she secured their supplies onto their packhorse. The fire was doused, the campsite cleaned. They mounted and rode toward the Missouri and Cheyenne rivers conflux.

At the next campsite, Joe answered her questions about his life and family in Virginia. He related his years growing
up between the plantation near Richmond and a townhouse in Alexandria. He told her about his years at school and about going to work with his father in the shipping business. At first he sailed with his father, and later he sailed alone, unless Joseph Senior had a reason for going along. “I guess I can captain a ship as good as the next man,” he admitted. “Father did business with Stede; that’s how I met him and Tanner. When I took over most of the important runs, Tanner was my first mate, meaning he was my best helper. Stede didn’t mind; he had his brother-inlaw, his sister’s husband, to run his firm. She was named Alisha after your grandmother. When Powchutu came here years ago, Stede ran his firm. When Stede came, he put Wesley, that’s Alisha’s husband-in control of his company. Alisha and Wesley have four children. She hasn’t been told about her nephew’s death yet. Stede won’t do that until we return home. I haven’t sent word about it to my family, either; I don’t want them to worry I’ll get killed, too.”

Joe took a deep breath. He waited a moment, but Morning Star didn’t make any comments. “Tanner and I shared a lot of adventures. We visited many exciting and strange places. Then Wesley got sick, and Tanner had to help his father in their shipping business. Trips weren’t any fun with Tanner gone. It was all work and too much dull time on water. I received a letter from Tanner last July, telling me about his father’s plans to come here. He invited me to ride along. Father was upset, but I had to accept. Before winter arrived, we were at Fort Laramie.”

“You have sister. Tell about her,” she encouraged a happy subject.

“Her name is Sarah Beth. She’s older than I am and is married to Andrew Reardon. He works for Father, and loves the shipping business. They have one child, a son, age four, named Lucas, a boy I’d be proud to have. He’s a wonderful child, Morning Star; you’d love him.”

“What if Great Spirit give Joe girls?”

As Joe envisioned a tiny replica of the woman beside
him, he smiled. “I’d love them and raise them the best I could.”

“When return home, you go back to shipping business?”

“I’d prefer to run our plantation, or the business office. I wouldn’t mind a few trips a year, but I don’t want to be sailing every week.” He gazed into her eyes as the reality of his eventual departure struck him. “I’ll miss you.”

“Morning Star will miss Joe, too.”

He drew her into his arms and pressed his lips to hers. She responded. The kiss was sweet and mellow. Their spirits soared with the pleasurable contact. The ensuing kiss was more ardent. Their emotions were so powerful that they were alarming, and caused them to seize control before it was too late to prevent what would take place if they continued to kiss in this heated manner. Their talk of babies had warned them of the consequences of fusing their fiery bodies once more. They knew they must not allow those feelings to take command and run wild. As if passing an unspoken and necessary message between them, they kissed lightly, then cuddled until self-control returned.

The next morning, Joe set a pattern he would continue daily during their months together. He related facts about America and the world: geography, history, laws, customs, religion, and more. He worked with her English, verbs and pronouns in particular. He helped her practice numbers, times—hours, days, weeks, months, years—and seasons. When he came to training her in the use of his weapons, she was reluctant, telling him it stole their magic and power for a woman to touch them. Joe finally convinced her that was part of her tribal customs and laws, but it didn’t apply to his rifle and pistol, and there might be times when their lives depended upon such knowledge and skill. He was delighted when she learned quickly. Each lesson was enjoyable, yet, somewhere deep inside his mind, he knew what he was trying to prepare her for, even if he couldn’t admit it to himself or suggest it to her.

In return, Morning Star taught Joe how to use a bow and arrows, how to become more skilled at reading tracks and trail signs, how to find his way around the territory in case they became separated, and how to speak more Lakota. She pointed out which plants were edible. Later she planned to teach him use of the lance and more. She daydreamed that perhaps there was a way to keep him here, keep him in her life and arms.

Their work together was challenging and fun. It drew them closer and tighter each hour. Their friendship, respect, and trust increased; and their love became stronger and deeper.

In camp that evening, after he scouted the east and north and she scouted the west, they knew it was safe to practice with his weapons. Aware of how the echo of gunfire traveled across the land, they were assured no one was close enough to hear it.

Having acquainted her earlier with his Colt Walker .44 pistol, Joe felt it was time to educate her about his other powerful weapon. He showed Morning Star how to handle and fire his Sharp’s rifle, a ’48 breech model that used a self-contained paper cartridge. He kept his ammunition in a leather ammo pouch that was faster to get to, rather than in an awkward cartridge box which could cause a man to fumble for bullets in a rush.

As the sunny-haired man helped her hold and aim the rifle, Morning Star remarked, “It easier to use than heavy pistol. I need stronger hand.”

Joe knew the nine-inch barrel and over four-pound weight of his six-shot cylinder Colt was more difficult to control and master than a long rifle that distributed its weight in two hands and was supported by one shoulder. “The thing is, you’ll know how to use either one if trouble arises.”

The white man stood slightly to her left and rear with their bodies touching. One hand steadied her left arm and his other supported her right. Both became overly conscious of the contact and heat between them.

Morning Star turned her head to look at Joe, who was staring at her. “I please Joe with my new skills?” she hinted.

“You please me in every way,” he heard himself respond.

Their gazes met. They gazed at each other as if mesmerized, captive in an enrapt world neither wanted to flee. They felt the emotions rising between and within them. Their hearts pounded.

With Joe’s assistance, Morning Star finished turning to face him. The rifle butt slid to the ground, and she unknowingly released her loosened grasp on the barrel; the weapon fell harmlessly to the grass. They caressed each other’s faces and bodies as their mouths joined in sheer delight. The smoldering embers between them burned brighter and hotter until they felt engulfed by a roaring blaze. Swept away by a surge of hungers, they were helpless to do anything except be carried along in the swift currents.

Soon, the enticement of heady passion prevented any thought of the consequences of their joining. They wanted and needed each other; for the present, nothing else mattered. Their kisses were greedy and stimulating. Their arousing caresses took and gave exquisite delight. Discarding garments and shoes, they sank into the bed of grass beneath their shaky legs. The past and future did not exist, only this moment and themselves.

Their appetites for each other did not need whetting, but nature seemed to guide them in that direction. They embraced and nibbled and savored each other.

Joe’s lips roamed her features, and his hands journeyed her supple flesh. His fingers trekked down her neck and teased over her breasts. As if a lost traveler, they wandered everywhere, searching for hidden treasures instead of a path of escape. They did not worry about finding their way home, only about making this trip a blissful one.

Morning Star adored the feel of Joe’s sleek frame against her skin. She loved the way he held her, touched her, kissed her, and tantalized her beyond resistance. She was thrilled by the way he shuddered with need for her and the way sensuous groans came from deep within his brawny chest. It
seemed as if his feelings came from the depths of his soul, as did hers. The maiden’s hands reveled in the ripplings of his muscles. His body was perfect, hard beneath a surface of soft skin. His hands were strong, but more than gentle. He was so special, so unique, and he was hers,

Joe was drawn to everything about the maiden with him. She possessed so many strengths yet none detracted from her femininity. She was beautiful. She was exciting. She was fulfilling. She was perfect for him. She belonged to him, tonight and forever.

They pressed closer together, their hands roving wild and free. Their mouths met and their tongues danced the ritual of desire. Their bodies worked as one, laboring with joy and eagerness. As they explored each other and their still budding love, passion burst into vivid bloom, unfolding one petal of pleasure after another until a rosy blossom filled their senses with fragrance and beauty. Sweet, fierce ecstasy washed over them, first as powerful waves which they rode urgently, later as ebbing ones which lapped gently at them. Ever so slowly, love’s flower closed its petals like a morning glory going to sleep, to await its next burst into bloom.

Both sighed peacefully and nestled together as their contented bodies returned to normal. Each realized their actions had been unstoppable; their oneness on the trail was fated. It was dishonest to say it meant nothing, or was only physical lust; it was foolish to ignore their emotional attraction; it was futile to resist it. Whatever the future held, they could not change what was between them.

As they lay cuddled together, Joe realized this was only the second time in his life he had made love, not just enjoyed sex. The key part in lovemaking was
love,
and he knew beyond a shadow of doubt that he loved the woman in his embrace.

He had seen many females in the past; he had had fun with most of them. Some had been sweet and nice, some smart and polished, and some pretentious. He had known he would marry one day when the right woman came
along. He had been told that real love grabbed you and never let go; or that was the way it should be. He had taken women to bed around the world, but none compared with Morning Star. She was the woman he had waited for and craved. He wasn’t certain yet if he could win her, or how to do so.