Forever Ecstasy (34 page)

Morning Star nestled closer to Joe. She recalled what her cousin— her uncle’s youngest child— had told her last summer: “When spring arrives, all eyes and hearts think of love and mating; It is the way of nature to inspire hungers to renew old life and to birth new life. Warm and scented nights cause stirrings in young bodies. Such fevers are as old as Wakantanka and will continue forever.” Tashina had been told that by their grandmother long ago, and it was still true today. Alisha/Shalee had also said, “Life is not easy, and neither is love.” That was true during Alisha and Tashina’s battles for true love. It was true of her own situation.

During visits to her father’s band, Tashina had told her many things about their grandmother and about life. Sometimes she wished her cousin were closer for more talks, but Tashina was the Cheyenne chief’s wife. Yet, Morning Star reminded, she had her mother, and they were close. If only this matter was something she could discuss with Singing Wind. But it was not.

Morning Star reflected on their customs. When a girl joined, it was usually arranged by her father, and hopefully she approved of the choice. The man or his family mentioned the subject first, so it was best for a girl to let an interested pursuer learn her feelings before that happened. Even if she didn’t approve of him, a well-raised maiden normally accepted her father’s wishes. Morning Star knew she was lucky her father had not chosen a man for her or shown interest in Knife-Slayer’s pursuit of her. Fortunately the offensive warrior hadn’t made an offer for her. Not that a brave purchased a woman for a wife, but he offered many gifts to the girl’s family to prove his depth of love and his prowess as a hunter and provider.

Thankfully it was rare for a warrior to pursue or ask for a female who made her dislike for him known publicly. It was just as natural for a husband not to hold on to a wife who wanted to leave him. What the white man called divorce was simple in Indian life for a woman: as the tepee was hers, either she tossed out a husband’s belongings or she packed hers and left. No man with any pride would return to her or beg her to take him back. For a man, all he had to do was announce his intentions, then leave the tepee.

One thing of which Morning Star was certain was that her husband would have one mate, not several as was acceptable in her society. Many from her bloodline felt and behaved that way. It was not mocking the white custom of one wife to one husband but
love
that prevented a need for others. She could not accept sharing her love, her husband, with another woman or women.

Among her people, a girl’s purity was guarded carefully by her family and herself and was honored by her tribe. A girl was taught she must not give away her future husband’s treasure.

But was it not hers alone to give to the man of her choice? Morning Star asked. When she was with Joe, she forgot the importance placed on virtue. He stirred feelings to life within her which she knew must be love. Even if it were wicked of her to feel and behave as she had with him, she could not help herself. She could not convince herself such beautiful emotions and actions were wrong. She loved him, and surely that made it all right. In the eyes of their gods, they were mates. True, they had performed the joining ceremony as a pretense, but both accepted it as real and meaningful, as a commitment to each other.

Having been raised with little privacy in a tepee by two parents who were much in love and who shared fiery passion for each other, lovemaking was no secret to her. It was a part of love, the sharing of all you are with your chosen one. It was obvious Joe felt the same. She also knew that a baby did not come from every mating. Joe had said one
came when God said it was the right time. Since the allknowing and generous Great Spirit knew this was not the time to bless them with one, she would not become heavy with child while riding this sacred mission.

Morning Star recalled that three days ago her people broke camp to journey to their first camp on the Great Plains to hunt buffalo. She prayed their hunt would be safe and successful, as would her impending task.

For four days, the terrain was a mixture of flat lands and low, rolling hills. Tall bluestem grass added color to that of gray-green needle and buffalo, as did the purplish hue of scattered bunches of switch. Pasque, the harbinger of spring, decorated areas with blue, lavender, and white faces. A few clumps of prickly pear displayed buds and unripened cactus fruits. Morning Star told Joe that Indians used the red fruits for food, as they did with the bulb of the creamy white segolily. An array of other wildflowers snuggled amidst the mixed grasses to dot the solid blanket of green.

The landscape altered to higher hills with lengthy plateaus— up a steep incline, across a pancake surface, and down into a valley with lumpy waves. The cycle was repeated over and over. Visibility was excellent, and a good safety factor. When they saw trees— usually cottonwoods— that indicated a water source was nearby: a sign any greenhorn had better learn fast, and Joe had done so under Morning Star’s skilled tutorship.

About four o’clock, the couple neared the trading post of Orin McMichael. Noticeable apprehension chewed at both.

“What if Zeke and other man here?” she asked.

Joe didn’t hesitate before replying, “We hit the trail fast. If anything looks or sounds strange, flee. If we get separated, head for our last campsite. I’ll join you there. We can’t take any chances of both of us getting captured. If anything happens to me, get word to Captain Thomas. If you get caught, stay calm and I’ll find a way to rescue you.
Keep your eyes and ears open. Don’t trust anybody. Anybody,” he stressed.

Morning Star did not insist for them to stay together at all times. It might not be possible. Confident that Joe was clever and careful, she would follow his orders, whether or not she agreed with them.

Joe spoke his thoughts aloud. “It’s been three weeks since our run-in with Zeke. He’s had time to get here, if he was heading this way. This is a big territory; he could be anywhere. I don’t see his wagons— that’s a good sign. If he’s been here, I doubt he told anyone about his trouble with us; it would be humiliating to expose his defeat.”

“You right. I try not to… worry much.”

The sunny-haired man reminded, “Remember, we don’t want to do any private talking here. I don’t want us overheard in case somebody decides to spy on us. We will play our parts as if they’re real.”

“I obey, do my best to play good squaw.”

The alert couple studied the settled area as they entered it. Everything faced south, instead of the Missouri River and rising sun as one might expect. The Cheyenne River was behind, its many watery fingers pointing northwest, which created an excellent rear defense to prevent being flanked by attackers. The surging “Big Muddy” did the same eastward. Joe told Morning Star the purpose and power of two cannons— one aimed west and the other south— that asserted this settlement had little vulnerability and that the owner was determined to be safe. The undamaged landscape told them the weapons had not be used.

Orin’s trading post was large, well-constructed, and rustic. A porch ran the full length of the front, with wooden poles supporting the roof. There was a small house to its right, probably the owner’s home. It, too, looked strong and well suited to the wilderness that surrounded it. To the left was an oblong building with a door at each end. Joe suggested to his companion that it was half for storage and half for guest quarters, as he’d seen elsewhere. Between the two structures, they saw a stable and corral and through
one open door, they sighted a flat-bed wagon for hauling goods from the nearby river. The corral held six horses and seven mules. They noticed a worn trail snaking eastward, which indicated in which direction the boat landing was located. There were scattered copses of hardwoods around the clean settlement, and a dense tree line along most of the grassy bank of “The Misery” that joined the Cheyenne not far away.

They rode to the trading post, dismounted, and secured their horses’ reins to hitching poles with metal loops. Joe did the same with the mules’ reins. It was late afternoon on the seventh of June. Sunset would arrive in a few hours. It was time for serious work.

A tall, burly man with red hair and matching burnsides left the post and joined them. His brows were wiry, with hairs growing in all directions over hazel eyes. His complexion was flushed, but from natural coloring rather than results from any kind of exertion. The sparkle in his eyes and the broad smile on his face alleged him to be good-natured and friendly.

“Good tae see ye, friend,” he greeted the stranger, barely glancing at the woman. “I’m Orin McMichael, tha proud proprietor of this fine establishment. I see ye’ve come tae sell ’r trade furs. Ye made ae wise choice.” He rubbed his clean-shaven chin, finger-flicked his whiskered jawline, then stroked his thick mustache.

Joe grasped the large, strong hand extended to him and shook it. He noticed Orin’s voice was deep and mellow with a Scottish burr. “The name’s Joe Lawrence. Glad to meet you. It’s been a long, hard ride.” If Orin recognized his name, it didn’t show. He had seen only one other man with the similar facial haircut, who had said he shaved his chin to keep food bits and grease out of his beard. From his attire and manner, Orin seemed to be a man inclined toward neatness. The redhead was dressed in a dark coat with matching trousers, a white shirt, patterned vest, and a bowtie. Orin looked as if he belonged more in an office in a large city than in a wild area like this one.

The Scotsman smiled. “Time for drinking, talking, and having fun, Joe Lawrence,” Orin said, as if stressing the man’s name to brand it into memory. “I have e’er’thing ye need ’r want here. Ye can set up camp o’er there in tha trees,” he suggested, pointing to a shady area that faced his home. “Ye can stay with yer woman ’r stay in me fine lodgins. Either way, she’ll be safe in Orin’s shadow. She speak English?”

Joe removed his hat and held it by the brim at his left leg. “A little. I bought her last year. She’s been a good helper. She’s Arapaho.”

Orin looked her over as he replied, “I recognized her markings. If ye don’t learn tae do that fast out here, ye don’t survive long.”

“With so many forts within a few days’ or weeks’ ride, this area should be settled soon. That’ll make it safer.”

Orin chuckled. “Not soon enough tae suit most folks. Come inside. Meet tha others. Have ae drink, loosen ye jaws, and rest. Me woman will be serving ae good meal in about an hour. Ye be welcome tae buy ae plateful for twenty-five cent. If she likes white food,” he added, nodding at the woman, “ye can buy her ae plateful, too. I don’t mistreat Indians.”

“Little Flower likes to eat her own cooking, but thanks.” He looked at the Indian beauty, whose head and lashes remained lowered. “Woman, set up camp there,” he ordered in a pleasant tone, motioning to the copse Orin had pointed out. “Tend the horses, then stay there. Don’t leave camp. You eat. Don’t cook for me. I’ll return after dark.”

Without lifting her head, Sun Cloud’s daughter nodded in understanding and obeyed swiftly. She loosened the reins of his roan and her Appaloosa, and guided their animals to the river to drink. When they finished, she led them to the wooded area and tethered them there. She began her chores of setting up camp.

“Will these mules and furs be all right here for a spell?” Joe asked.

Orin pulled his attention from the beautiful maiden back
to Joe. “Naebody bothers anything around here, Joe. She’s ae pretty one. Ye best keep yere eyes on her, ’r she’ll be stolen by some hot-blooded buck. Follow me. I have some friends for ye tae meet.”

Joe hoped his tension didn’t show, but he was nervous about entering the confined space before him. He prayed Zeke and Farley weren’t inside. He had left his rifle on his saddle, but was wearing his pistol. He flexed his fingers to be ready for action, and he summoned all his senses to full alert.

During the previous two days, Morning Star had experienced her woman’s flow. She had come prepared with trade cloth for it. Whenever necessary, she had excused herself behind knolls to tend the task. Now she wanted a cleansing bath.

Watching Joe from a distance, Morning Star whispered the same prayer he had. From their assigned location, she could see the fronts of all structures and she was in plain view of anyone inside of them, so a bath had to wait. Although she looked to be busy with chores, she remained ready to spring into action if Joe needed her help. Her eyes and ears had never been more focused on something than the door through which Joe vanished.

Protect him. Great Spirit,
she prayed again.
I do not like this white man’s world. Help us to find what we seek and to leave here soon.

Joe glanced around the interior of the trading post; it was stocked heavily with anything a man or woman could need in these parts.

“It was rowdy here two days ago,” Orin said, “but it’s quieted down now. Had ae boat stop by tae unload supplies. It was heading upriver tae Union and Benton-American Fur Company posts. Had several company fur buyers along and ae few men seeking thrills in tha wilds. Only have three guests now; I’ll introduce them tae ye soon. They’re in tha back room, drinking and gambling and running their mouths. I sell good aged rye whiskey, not that rot-gut ’r watered-down stuff. I don’t sell it tae Indians because it makes them crazy; that’s why tha boys drink in the back room. If ye tell them ye don’t have any, ye best not show it around and cause trouble. Where’re ye from, Joe?”

“I’ve been trapping northeast of here for the past nine months,” he alleged. “That area wasn’t too good for me, so I decided to try my luck farther west this next season, along the upper Yellowstone and Missouri. If I don’t decide to do something else before then,” he amended with a grin to set his strategy into motion. “I’ve been a sailor and a soldier, and I didn’t like either job. Too many rules and demands. You could say I haven’t found the right opportunity to suit me yet.”

“I doubt ye want tae be heading up that way. I hear trouble is coming this year between tha Crow and Dakotas.”