Forever Ecstasy (6 page)

“Are you sure we shouldn’t leave right now? They might travel fast with such bad news. We could catch up to them before they tell your father.”

“No. Will ride fast; be close behind in two… days. If not stay hidden, evil whites and Crow find. Must not guide to friends; they be slain.”

“You’re right. We’ll wait until tomorrow. Tell me about yourself and your people,” Joe coaxed. “I didn’t know Sun Cloud had a daughter. The more I learn before I reach your camp, the better we can all work together. First, I want to hear about your capture, and what you heard those men say.”

“You strange white man. Morning Star speak, but Joe must…” She halted and looked toward the entrance. She touched a finger to her lips for silence, then cupped an ear with her hand: sign language for
listen.

Joe remained quiet and alert. He heard what had captured her attention. Slowly and carefully he reached for his Sharp’s ’48 rifle. He must not allow anything to happen to this valuable woman, even if it cost him his life.

With caution, Joseph Lawrence and Morning Star crept toward the entrance of the cave. They heard the roan’s shoes and the Appaloosa’s hooves striking against rocks as the two
horses shifted about in rising anxiety. Their ears caught a whinny several times as someone or something frightened their mounts. Joe motioned for his companion to stay back, but she continued to follow him. His rifle was ready for use, as was the knife in her grasp.

Joe peered outside to the right of the opening. He gave a sigh of relief and relaxed his taut body. “Look,” he said, pointing to the seep where a porcupine was drinking.

The horses knew it was wise to give the prickly creature all the space it wanted. When the animal had drunk its fill, it waddled through the bushes and vanished. The horses settled down the moment the porcupine was gone and returned to their grazing.

Morning Star laughed and dismissed her own tension. “It wise not to challenge
pahin
when he thirsty.”

Joe chuckled. “Or any other time. Those spines give a nasty bite.”

“Hawk Eyes say quills have poison; Payaba say it not so. It hard to work with them. Pricks sting; they… become sore; they not kill. Hawk Eyes say they no kill Red Heart women because we bathe hands in
ska utahu can
when we done; medicine bark heal pricks.”

He noticed the tone of her voice and the look on her face. He knew they held unintentional clues he might need later in camp. “You don’t like or trust Hawk Eyes, do you?”

Morning Star glanced at Joe and frowned, but at herself, not him. “It wrong to think, speak bad of shaman. Hawk Eyes not always this way. His son, Knife-Slayer, desires great rank and power for his father and for Knife-Slayer. He places… mischief in Hawk Eyes’ head. Many times wish they not Oglalas. Morning Star fear their hunger for war against bluecoats and whites will bring much suffering to our people. Think others not see bad in them.”

Morning Star’s dark-brown eyes scanned their green-andblack enclosure before she continued. “Hawk Eyes want Buckskin Girl as mate. He have two; one die. She say no; Morning Star tell her say no. Buckskin Girl Morning Star’s friend. She granddaughter of White Arrow; before he join Great Spirit, he great warrior and friend to Gray Eagle,
Morning Star’s grandfather. They live, hunt, raid as brothers from birth until leave Mother Earth. Morning Star not know Gray Eagle; he killed long before she born. Bad bluecoats slay in trap. Father become chief when Grandfather ride Ghost Trail. Bad bluecoats punished. Father make treaty with white leader to have peace. For past two summers, whites forget truce. More trouble coming.”

The Indian maiden realized she was rambling to take her mind off the white man. She did not understand his potent effect on her. She wanted to caress the bruises on his face from the battle to rescue her. She longed to tease her fingers over the dark stubble that was growing along his strong jawline, cleft chin, and above his lips. She liked the way his sunny hair, slightly mussed from sleep, journeyed like low, rolling hills from his head to his collar. She could stare into his azure eyes forever. She liked the size and shape— not too large or too thin—of his nose, and the appealing fullness of his mouth. His shoulders were broad, his muscles well defined and toned to sleek hardness. She enjoyed his calming smile, his soothing voice, and his nearness. She felt at ease with him, yet tense in his presence. When his gaze met hers, her body warmed and trembled without warning. It was confusing, alarming… and forbidden under her tribal laws.

Joe saw how she looked at him. It was as if strong currents were pulling them into the same whirlpool and spinning them around together, drawing them closer and deeper by the hour. She was beautiful and tempting—irresistible. The sides of her lustrous black hair were braided near a flawless face; the rest flowed down her back like a silky and shiny river. He was surprised it wasn’t tangled or mussed this morning. Perhaps she had a brush in the parfleche from which she had taken her knife and sheath, after she had returned his blade he had lent her during her rescue.

Entranced, he studied her from head to toe. Morning Star’s eyes were wide in the center, then tapered to fetching points at the outer edges. Her lashes were thick, and her brows were thin. They traveled above her eyes in perfect harmony. A straight nose that attempted to tilt upward was above full lips that evoked a desire to kiss them many times.
Her oval face had bone structure any female would delight in having, and it was the same with her figure. Without a doubt, many warriors craved this beauty.

The tawny dress she wore was a different shade than her golden-brown flesh, and it was stained in several places, probably from struggling with her captors. The sleeves and tail displayed short fringes that swayed with her movements. She wore low-cut moccasins with lovely beadwork, which he surmised she had made.

As they gazed at each other, both forgot their peril and her last words. A hawk’s shrill cry overhead startled them back to reality.

Morning Star was bewildered by her lapse of attention and wayward thoughts. She could not comprehend how their spirits could touch so soon and so powerfully after meeting less than a sun ago. “We go in, be near escape hole if danger come,” she suggested, suddenly feeling apprehensive.

“I’ll join you in a minute. I need to… have privacy,” he hinted.

Morning Star grasped his meaning and left him alone. After Joe relieved himself nearby, he joined her in the cave.

Morning Star had listened intently to Joe’s use of English and she called to mind her past lessons. She spoke slowly in an attempt to be correct. “We must put out fire. We must not let smoke or smell show hiding place. We will hunt and eat when dark come and danger gone. Yes?”

“Yes.” Joe set aside his rifle, retrieved his saddlebag, and withdrew a pouch of dried venison strips he had purchased at Fort Laramie. “We can chew on these and have water until later. You must be hungry. I didn’t see Zeke give you anything to eat, and there were only three dirty dishes in the pile.”

Morning Star was impressed by how little escaped his senses. She
was
hungry. She hadn’t eaten since leaving her people’s camp yesterday morning, and, accepting the meat, she said,
“Pilamaya.”

“You’re welcome,” he responded to her thanks, but neither noticed that and other slips. He used his cup to fetch
water from the nature-formed basin, then shared it with her. Joe chewed off a bite of the jerky. “Not too good, but not too bad,” he jested.

The sun’s angle cast a bright glow into the cave’s entrance and prevented them from being in total darkness, though its power diminished the farther it drifted into the interior. It was a pleasant spring afternoon that Joe decided must be the fourteenth of May. The night’s chill was gone; the odor of a fire lingered in the air. Water trickled down rocks and flowed into the small pool that must have an opening beneath, because it did not pour over the sides into the cave. A hawk signaled to its mate and warned an intruder away from his domain. Crickets chirped in the darkness behind them. Birds sang in the bushes and trees and beyond the cave. The dirt floor gave off its own unique odor of earth. The strong but not offensive smell of jerky filled their noses as it was consumed. It was harder to eat than fresh game, but it removed any hunger pangs. The cool and refreshing water they shared was the best part of their meager meal.

Morning Star toyed with one braid as she reflected on their past conversations and the one she had overheard in the white men’s camp. She looked at her companion and remarked, “You spoke lies to white men. Why you come to Oglala land with friend? Who is Murphy and Old Joe? To trust and help, must know more, must know truth.”

Joe swallowed the water in his mouth, then coughed to clear his throat. Her first statement had caught him off guard. She had keen wits, so he needed to be as honest as possible. He didn’t want her to mistrust or fear him. “I was trying to trick them with words so I could join them, but they were too nervous around a stranger and they were hiding something. I was hoping they’d lead me to Snake-Man. That seemed like the only way to track down Tanner’s killer. It wasn’t all lies, Morning Star. I did come here for excitement and challenges with Tanner and his father; a man needs those kinds of things sometime in his life.”

Joe slid off his rock seat and moved to the ground where he could stretch out his long legs. He propped his back against the rock, then continued. “What I told them about
Ben Murphy was true, except the part about him coming out here to trap for a fur company. Ben still lives back South. It seemed a good way to explain my presence in this secluded area. The other man is my father, Joseph Benjamin Lawrence, Sr. I was named after him: When you have the same name, the father is called senior and the son is called junior. He’s a good man, Morning Star, but I wasn’t ready to get deeper into the shipping business yet.”

“What is… the shipping business?” she inquired.

Joe contemplated a way to clarify it for her. “Large boats are called ships. When you use them to carry supplies to other places, it’s called shipping. Business is the work you do. We own many ships and we get paid money to deliver goods for other men. Some of those places can only be reached by water. To other places, it’s faster, easier, and cheaper by ship.”

“What is ‘cheaper’?” she queried another word she did not know.

“It’s like when a man asks for two horses to take your supplies to another camp to sell or trade, but a second man only asks for one horse to take them. You hire the man who asks for one because he’s cheaper. A ship is very big; it can carry a lot of supplies, not a few as in a wagon. A ship can hold more supplies than six trading posts; it could hold an entire Indian village. Ships can move faster and easier over water than wagons can over land. One day, I’ll go home and work with my father. But…”

When he halted, she pressed. “But?”

“My father forgets I’m no longer a boy. He wants me to follow orders like a hired man. I need to prove my worth to him and to myself. I want to experience more than water and ships. I want to face challenges. I want to see this wild land. So much is happening out here; the country’s growing. I want to be a part of it before I settle down. My father didn’t understand these hungers in me. He was disappointed when I left home.”

“Morning Star understand. Father and people see only a woman. Morning Star can battle, hunt, and track as warrior. Can shoot bow with skill. Morning Star arrows, lance, and
knife not miss targets. Morning Star hunger to see and do many things before… settle down. Others say no. Say woman must cook, fetch water and wood, wash, make garments, join, and bear children: do only woman’s chores. Such work must be done, but it give no… excitement. We much alike.”

“Yes, we are.” He noticed how she worked to improve her English, and he was impressed by her quick intelligence. He moved to a topic of great interest to him. “Those men who held you prisoner, what did they say? Why do your people let them roam your lands freely?”

“Father sign truce many winters before daughter born not to kill whites or make war with bluecoats. Whites not honor their part of treaty. If they attack, we must defend lives and lands. If they not attack, we let travel on and beyond our land. They must not come and steal Oglala land. They must not slay buffalo and many creatures for hides. Buffalo give life to Oglalas and our brothers. Bad whites raid sleeping places; steal warriors’ weapons, garments, all their possessions. They kill hunters; they take scalps to sell and trade. White law say no give guns and whiskey to Indians, but greedy whites trade to Crow to kill Oglalas. Whites steal horses, burn mark on hide, put shoes on feet, and claim. Warriors know all ponies in herds. Tell soldiers to make return. Soldiers say brand make Oglala ponies white man’s horses. They not to build more forts if Father and tribe say no. They not to steal trees from face of Mother Earth and makes cuts in her body for… farms. They not to graze spotted buffaloes on grasslands.”

Joe knew the Indians called cattle by that peculiar name. He listened with interest to her list of grievances against his people.

“White men not know Morning Star speak English. They not know much Oglala. They not talk much where Morning Star can hear many words. Big man say they… deliver supplies to Crow. They go back to man called Boss. They speak no name and no call him Snake-Man, so not know if Boss is same man. He say Crow be mad soon and attack Oglalas. Not know why. He say, when Sioux gone, all be
fine, Boss can do his plans. They hope Crow slay us, so we can no return to battle another su— another day,” she corrected herself. “You must ride far. They search for you to slay for saving Morning Star. If you ride here to look for friend’s killer, you be killed. Morning Star not want Joe Lawrence killed. You good man.”

Joe was moved by her concern. “I have to stay and avenge Tanner. I promised myself and his father. Tanner was like a brother to me.”

“Task of
watokicon
dangerous,” she warned.

“What is that?” he asked.

“Avenger. Snake-Man is
wakansica,
a Bad Spirit. Cannot slay spirits.”