Forever Ecstasy (37 page)

“Lordy, Morning Star, she’s worse than fleas. I’m sorry she came over,” he apologized.

Joe’s interaction with the white woman had not caused any jealousy in Sun Cloud’s daughter, but she was angry with the wanton creature who lusted for her man. She would never suggest he act receptive to her just to glean clues for their mission! As a distraction, she asked, “What are fleas?”

Joe grinned and explained, “Those little blood-sucking bugs on dogs.”

Morning Star laughed and nodded agreement, then added, “She is bad. I do not like her.”

“I don’t, either, but I was trying not to cause trouble here.”

“I understand.”

“I’m going to get us something to eat so we won’t have to make a fire and cook. I’m uneasy about that scout leaving before dawn. After breakfast, I’ll buy our supplies, and we’ll ride soon.”

“Scout wake me when leave,” Morning Star revealed. “He ride west.”

Her manner of speech told Joe she was anxious. “The same direction Zeke is in. Don’t look in a hurry, but let’s get moving as fast as possible.”

“I work while you get food. To hurry, I eat white man’s this day.”

He chuckled at her amusing frown. “It isn’t bad, I promise.”

When Joe returned with two filled plates, they sat down and ate the tasty meal. Morning Star smiled and licked her lips in enjoyment.

“Good, right?”

“Plenty good. I surprised,” she admitted.

They finished in silence, then, Joe returned the plates to Lucy.

Morning Star packed their belongings while Joe was gone. Having enjoyed the paleface meal, she didn’t dread future ones during their journey. She realized she had much to learn about his ways.

Inside the trading post, Joe selected their trail supplies: flour, meal, sugar, salt, cured meat, canned goods, and ammunition. As he and Orin gathered his choices, Joe told the three men, “I’m not much on gambling and drinking, and we rode in slow and easy, so we don’t need to laze around or catch up on rest. I like to stay on the move. I’m eager to check out this area before any trouble starts.”

“Keep your eyes and ears open, Joe,” the trapper cautioned. “Them redskins are on the move. They can be sneaky devils.”

“Thanks, Ephraim, I will,” he replied as he paid the owner.

“I’ll be leavin’ in a few days meself. Maybe I’ll see you on the trail.”

“That would be nice, Ben; I’ll watch for you. I plan to head west today. I’ll stop at those homesteads and farms you mentioned, Orin, to see if they’re interested in my plan. I’ll probably camp near one of them tonight. If things look promising, I’ll be back for trade goods soon.”

“Ride along tha Cheyenne and ye’ll find them easy.”

Joe and Morning Star mounted and headed west from the post. As he turned and waved, he saw Orin and Mattie Lou observing their departure from the porch. Ephraim and Ben weren’t in sight.

The couple rode for miles until they were out of sight and were certain they weren’t being followed. They did not talk
until they halted for their first water and rest break.

Morning Star listened as Joe explained the new plan.

“Well ride about fifteen miles toward the setting sun before we turn southeast to Pierre. We’ll make a few stops at homesteads and farms, just in case Orin checks on us. Once I’m sure he— or anyone— will be fooled, we’ll enter the water and set a false trail. That’ll give us about sixty miles to Pratte’s. I want us to travel easy, Morning Star, so we and the animals won’t get there too tired to make an escape if necessary. With this terrain and taking time to establish our cover, it’ll take three days.”

“Plan is good. I am glad we ride from Orin’s. I do not like him.”

“Tell me what happened while we were there,” he coaxed.

“When you gone, he put furs in big tepee, building. He put mules in fence. He look at me many times. When task finished, he stand at post and watch me. I worry. Afraid I not being good squaw. Other times, he stand in door and watch our camp. I not like to be afraid. I see Pawnee squaw take food from house to post many times. She not visit me. That strange.”

Joe noticed how her English suffered during the retelling of her uneasiness at McMichael’s post. “Orin called her Lucy. She didn’t speak any, but she’s a great cook. Maybe he told her to leave you alone.”

“Lucy strange. She walk as if not see me. Maybe she afraid of man with fiery hair. He come to camp and bring me food. I not like his eyes. I not speak to him. Take food and nod thank you. He ask questions, but I no answer. He look at our supplies. He go inside where you are.”

Joe was displeased to learn of Orin’s visit. “What kind of questions did he ask you, Morning Star?”

“If I speak English. If I be happy with you. Where I come from? How you buy me? Where we going? If I need help or goods. When I no talk and no look at him, he go. I think he mad at Morning Star. I no like, no trust.”

Joe assumed Orin was annoyed because she refused to talk with him while he was practically wooing her. Now he understood why Orin wanted Mattie Lou to enchant him— to help
effectuate a sale of his woman! Such transactions were common out here, and he understood Orin’s lust for this beauty. “You’re a beautiful woman, Morning Star. He asked about buying you. He said to help Lucy with cooking and cleaning, but I doubt that’s why he wanted you. I can’t blame him for craving you. His desire was what you sensed and made you nervous. He seemed all right to me.”

“When he go home at night, I feel eyes watching our camp. Strange.”

“He was wishing he was in my place with you. I didn’t see or hear anything to make me suspicious of him. We can’t let his lust confuse us.”

“What is lust?”

“Strong desire, a big craving, usually the bad kind. It’s when you see someone you want badly, even without knowing or wanting to know her. All you want to do is take her or him to your mat and join your bodies. You don’t care about having more than sex. Understand?”

Morning Star knew it was not like that between her and Joe. They shared desire. “I understand; lust can be good or bad, but most times bad.”

Joe grinned and nodded. He wanted to pull her into his arms, kiss her, and sink to the grass with her beneath him. He dared not make a single move toward the enchanting creature or his control would vanish.

He knew this was not a safe time and place to make love. “Let’s ride.”

When dusk arrived, Joe and Morning Star halted their journey. As a precaution, they had stopped at two homesteads where Joe talked with the husband and wife. They had eaten a noon meal at one, with Joe inside and her— a squaw— outside. They had traveled fifteen miles westward along the wide and muddy Cheyenne. They had weaved around cottonwoods, bushes, and underbrush, and had crossed many creek and stream offshoots. Tomorrow, after setting a fake trail, they would head southeast for Pierre.

As they prepared the evening meal together, Joe said, “We need to take turns sleeping while the other stands guard. We don’t know who’s in this area, Indians or whites. We can’t take any risks of being surprised.”

“That is good.” She glanced at him and asked, “What about big guns at post? Will Orin fire against my people?”

“Don’t worry; he can’t risk using those cannons against any tribe. The Army would know where they came from; they’d be furious.”

Recalling their power as Joe had explained it, she was relieved.

They completed their meal and ate it. Both knew they could not make love in this area, so neither made romantic overtures to the other.

It was dark; the tiny sliver of moon gave off only dim light. “We’ll let the fire die so we can’t be seen,” Joe said, “I’ll put the safety matches and a torch here. If any noise sounds threatening, it can be lit fast.”

Morning Star liked his keen wits. She smiled.

Joe took the first guard shift. He watched Morning Star settle herself on her sleeping mat. He did not get to observe her long before the firelight was gone, and darkness soon engulfed them like an impenetrable black fog at sea. He listened to various sounds and guessed what made them. He remembered what Morning Star had told him about being friends with the night. He practiced that skill until it was time to awaken her.

Morning Star awoke quickly. She and Joe exchanged places by using their hands to feel their way. His touch was warm and encouraging. She wanted to kiss him and to talk with him, but did neither. She wished she could see him, watch him sleep. The moment she imagined his tanned and chiseled features, she scolded herself for her lack of attention to her task. She returned to full alert, listened to noises and absorbing scents. She detected nothing unusual, but she kept herself on guard against another lapse. Hours passed, and she awoke Joe for his turn.

They followed the same routine for two days and nights. As they traveled, they continued their lessons. Morning Star’s English improved, as did Joe’s use of the bow. She did not practice firing his weapons, as they didn’t know who was within hearing range. At one location, they had to journey close to a wide bend in the river to avoid adding numerous extra miles. As they rode, they skirted homesteads, farms, Indian camps, and “woodhawks”— men, Indian, white or mixed— who cut and sold wood along the bank to passing boats. A perilous and hard job, the men charged high prices and received them. When they did approach the Missouri River to water their animals, they were careful. Once they saw a keelboat heading northward. Another time they almost rode into a woodhawk camp where two men were resting, their axes silent.

Tuesday, following Joe’s advice about entering Pierre in a rested state, they halted early. They camped behind a cluster of dirt-topped hills between them and the post. Many trees near the river also helped obscure their presence.

Morning Star was nervous about visiting another white area, but she promised herself she would remain brave and helpful.

Joe was anxious, too, for other reasons. Tanner had been murdered in Pierre, and was buried in the graveyard there. It was where his best suspect to date worked and lived: Simon Adams. On the last visit, Simon had been too busy to talk and reveal much. Joe knew he would have to work harder this time to withdraw information.

Pierre was a large and busy settlement, one of the oldest posts in the territory. It was situated at the mouth of the Bad River where steamboats and keel boats docked and traded. Joe recalled a large stable, small boardinghouse that served meals, several cabins, the trading post, and a house used as a saloon for drinking and gambling, with rooms in the back for prostitutes to ply their trade. Unlike Fort Laramie and other western posts, none of the three posts along “The Misery” had Indian tepees around them.

The only good thing Joe could think of was that there had not been enough time for Zeke to reach Pierre, if Ephraim had his timing right…

Morning Star stayed close to Joe as they entered the settlement. She longed to hold his hand, as she needed his comforting touch. If she were alone or still Zeke’s captive, she would be terrified surrounded by so many whites who mostly hated her kind. With head lowered in a servile manner, she glanced at the setting from the corners of her dark brown eyes. She realized that Joe had described it with accuracy and had prepared her well for this intimidating adventure. She recalled that he had admitted he was tense about this place where her cousin had been slain. She wished she could have met Tanner, and presumed he had been like Joe, as most best friends were a great deal alike. That belief was one thing that alarmed her about her brother’s close and long friendship with Knife-Slayer.

They reached the stable and dismounted. Both tried to behave naturally. Without being obvious, both studied the busy area. Each noticed that Zeke’s wagons were not in sight and were relieved.

Joe asked the liveryman if he could leave his horses tethered at the corral while he took care of business. If he decided to stay longer than a few hours, he said, he would return later to make arrangements for the feed and care of the animals. Joe wanted them ready to depart if they had to move fast. He didn’t hesitate to leave the three horses and supplies there, as
few robberies occurred in daylight and in an occupied area.

Morning Star followed Joe inside the trading post in a meek manner. She was glad Joe wore his pistol and was skilled with the weapon. They had arranged two signals—
danger
and
move fast
— before entering Pierre, as they could use neither English nor Lakota as a warning if a perilous situation arose. Her heart pounded, her mouth was dry, and her hands were cold and damp. A strange sensation gripped her stomach. She wondered if her apprehension showed, as she seemed aquiver all over. If anyone guessed she was the daughter of Sun Cloud and granddaughter of Gray Eagle, she would be in deep trouble. So would Joe! She worried over his safety more than her own. Coming here was a big risk, but one that must be taken. The lives of her band and other tribes were at stake, as was peace with the whites. She was relieved Joe had been more afraid of hiding her somewhere to wait rather than of bringing her along. She wanted to be here to help him if the bold plan failed.

Morning Star felt eyes on her, many eyes. She dared not lift hers to look around or to return gazes, as that was considered brazen and offensive conduct for a lowly squaw. Joe had told her not to worry about stares, that her beauty was the reason for them. She knew she was pretty, and knew it was not vain to admit it. Denying the truth, even about oneself, was the same as lying or being a coward.

Morning Star waited nearby while Joe chatted with the men and picked up a few items. She was careful not to get caught studying the man who worked for Bernard Pratte, the post’s owner. Simon Adams was tall, the same height as Joe. His hair was as dark as a moonless night, and his eyes were as green as spring leaves. He looked strong, and appeared about ten years older than Joe. Her companion had told her this man hated Indians, especially her nation. She tried to envision him in the costume Knife-Slayer had described. She paid close attention to details so she could question the warrior about them when she returned home. She saw Simon leave by the back door.