Forever Ecstasy (65 page)

Joe also said his mental farewell to Tanner Gaston, and prayed that his best friend knew he hadn’t lost his life in vain. He prayed for Stede’s success at the treaty council and for the man’s safe return home. He prayed for his father’s survival until he reached him, and for strength to help his mother through the difficult days after her husband’s death. He prayed for a future reconciliation between his love and her parents and people.

He realized how much he had learned about himself, about whites and Indians, and about life. He had changed and matured by coming here, by meeting Morning Star and the Red Hearts, and by giving so much of himself to others. Yet he had received far more in return. He had made friends, such as Sun Cloud and Clay Thorne. He had helped prevent a bloody conflict. He had helped establish a vital treaty.

Joe heard his wife sigh dreamily as she cuddled more snugly against him. He caressed her cheek and murmured,
“We have each other, my love, so we’ll be all right. More than all right, absolutely wonderful.”

Morning Star lifted her head to look deeply into her love’s blue eyes. “Yes,” the daughter of Sun Cloud replied, “I know we will.”

Virginia, 1856

Marie Lawrence gazed at her sleeping children. She bent over to straighten the covers and to kiss their cheeks. They were beautiful girls, born two years ago. One had golden curls and sky-blue eyes like her father; the other had dark-brown hair and eyes like her. It seemed as if they proclaimed how the Indian and white cultures had fused into a lovely and precious reality.

Joe tiptoed into the nursery and joined his wife. He wrapped his arms around her from behind and looked over her shoulder at their twin daughters, who favored each other heavily but were not identical. He was proud of them, and of his wife and her numerous accomplishments.

After a moment, Joe released Marie, grasped her hand, and led her into their bedroom. He closed the door, then turned to smile at her. Her gown was stunning. The V neckline was trimmed in overlapping rows of narrow lace. The snug midriff exposed Marie’s small waist before it, too, dipped into a V onto a full skirt with three tiers. Each layer was edged in delicate embroidery and wide lace. Marie’s hair was dressed in a large bun near the back crown of her head, and several ringlets dangled near her ears. His love was a vision of genteel beauty. “You looked beautiful tonight. Every man present envied me,” he said proudly.

“Thank you, my adoring husband. But you looked too handsome tonight and too many women tried to steal your eye from me.”

He knew she was jesting, but he responded, “No woman could ever entice me away from you. They’re only friends and wives of friends. I’m fortunate to have so many of them. They’re yours, too.”

“Yes, I have made many good friends here. I had a wonderful time at your sister’s; Sarah Beth knows how to give a marvelous party.” She removed his bowtie and placed it on the dresser. She helped him off with his frock coat with its contrasting revers and hung it in his wardrobe. She did the same with his vest.

As she worked, Joe grinned and said, “That’s because everyone adores and enjoys my exquisite and intelligent wife.”

Marie turned to him and he unfastened the diamond-andemerald necklace and undid the buttons of her green satin gown. She slipped out of the rustling garment and hung it in her armoire as she responded to her husband’s last remark. “That is because most whites are good people, my love. I wish—” Marie halted and took a deep breath. She removed her petticoat, chemise, and bloomers, all trimmed in ribbons and lace.

When his wife did not finish her statement, Joe ventured, “Your family and tribe could make that same discovery?”

Marie nodded, then listened to him as she continued her tasks. She took off her slippers and stockings, and put them away in their places.

“The problem is, too many whites who go west are evil and greedy, then soldiers have to play devils cleaning up their sorry messes. It sets bad examples and makes the Indians think all whites are that way. If your tribe and others could live around people such as the ones we know, they would learn the same truth you have. They will someday, my love; I’m sure of it. We made truce first with the British and other past enemies, then lasting peace and friendship resulted. It’ll be the same between Indians and whites.”

Marie recalled Payaba’s vision about no lasting peace, but
she said, “I hope so, my husband. The treaty is still in effect, and we have heard of nothing terrible happening in that area. I pray it is not broken soon.”

“Both sides worked too hard to establish peace and truce, my love, to let minor differences destroy the treaty,” he comforted. “Both sides will be slow to instigate another war. Everybody realizes how destructive war is.”

She prayed he was right. “I hope my family and friends are safe and happy. I only wish Father and Mother could see our girls.”

“They will someday, Marie, even if we have to sneak them there and meet in secret to avoid trouble with your band. What grandparents could refuse to see their grandchildren when they’re nearby? I’ve tried to keep an ear in their direction, but accurate news is hard to come by.” Joe hoped that wasn’t because the government wanted to keep bad news quiet. He was so settled and contented that he didn’t want to receive alarming news, and he knew what his wife would want to do if it came. “When it seems the right time, I’ll send someone to check on things for us. Stede’s seventy now, so he can’t make such a hard journey again. I’ll find the right man.”

“Thank you, my love.” Marie mentally packed up her past once more and stored it in the back of her mind. She did not want to spoil this romantic evening. She put away her undergarments. White clothing no longer felt strange and uncomfortable to her. Over the past years, she had become accustomed to expensive jewels and splendid gowns. She had become accustomed to living in a house and had adapted to his culture with skill and enjoyment, thanks to her husband and Joe’s mother and the tutors they had hired to assist her. “I miss Stede’s visits,” she remarked. “He took such trouble to bring us news of the peace council long ago, then checked on us several times. When the girls are a little older, we must go to see him in New Orleans. Perhaps next spring.”

“I’m not sure that’ll be possible; he’s not in good health. You remember how quickly my father went—only a week after Mother wrote me to hurry home.” To think of Stede’s
short time left on earth and of his deceased parents made Joe mournful for a moment. He placed the heel of his dress boot against a jack and wiggled it off his foot, then did the same with the other one. As he removed his shirt and evening trousers, he murmured, “At least Father left that special letter for me.”

“Do not be sad, my love. Joseph loved you and was proud of you. He told you he understood why you left. He was no longer angry with you.”

Joe finished undressing as he admitted, “That made it easier to get over not seeing him again. I just wish they weren’t both gone. I wish Mother were here to help raise the girls.”

“Father said long ago, ‘It is good when mates leave the land at the same time or not long after the other. It is hard to live without your heart.’ Annabelle was strong and brave. She hid her pain well, but it never went away. She was ready and eager to join her lost love. They were not young when you were born, and their Life-Circles were large and full. Be happy she was with us for several years. She taught me much. I shall never forget Annabelle and her kindness. Our pasts are gone; they must not trouble us.”

Joe gazed at the nude beauty before him. Yes, his mother had helped him help Morning Star become a fine lady. Few would guess she hadn’t been born and reared in her current social position. Her mind was quick and responsive. She never stopped learning and trying new things. She was a constant amazement, a rare treasure. In spite of all the forces against their marriage and their many cultural differences, their union had worked. Their love for each other was so strong that it had made it easy to brush aside problems and to compromise on important points. Love had conquered all.

Joe lifted her left hand and kissed the gold ring upon her third finger. “As soon as I finish my business here in town, we’ll go to the plantation to relax. The girls enjoy the animals, open space, and fresh air. Especially Miranda. She’s a bundle of energy.” Joe removed the pins from Marie’s hair, loosened the bun, and spread the ebony mane around her
bare shoulders. He gazed into her eyes, which sparkled with seductive mischief.

“Amanda is quiet and calm like you, my love, but Miranda’s heart and body burn from the fires of nature as mine. She will be more of a challenge to raise.”

“What you mean is, it looks as if she’s inherited her mother’s wild and willful streak,” he teased, then nibbled at her chin.

“If you do not behave and be kind, my husband, I will send Captain Joseph Lawrence off on one of his ships until he learns how,” she quipped.

Joe scooped up the laughing female in his arms, chuckled, and carried her to their bed. “You know I don’t go to sea anymore, wife. I’m content to run the shipping business from shore, with Andrew’s help.” His voice lowered to a husky tone when he hinted, “What I’d like to do is spend time trying to get Lucas a boy cousin to play with; he loves those two girls, but he needs a Tanner like I had.”

Marie rubbed her nude body against his naked frame. She caressed his cheek and trailed fingers over his lips. “If you do not remember how to make babies, my husband, I will refresh your memory tonight.”

Joe laughed. He captured her wandering hands, brought them to his mouth, and kissed them. “From many nights shared with you, my beautiful wife, I know we’ve learned those delightful lessons well.”

“Then, we must practice them,” she murmured against his lips.

As Marie and Joseph Lawrence sailed away on an intimate sea of rapture, Morning Star and Sky Warrior soared the heavens in each other’s arms and flew to the land of wild, sweet ecstasy—this time, forever…

For those of you who want to know what happens to the characters in this book, their story continues in
Savage Conquest,
which is available from your local bookstore or Zebra Books. For those of you who missed any of the previous seven sagas in this series—
Savage Ecstasy, Defiant Ecstasy, Forbidden Ecstasy, Brazen Ecstasy, Tender Ecstasy, Stolen Ecstasy, and Bittersweet Ecstasy
— they will be available in the coming months from your local bookstore or from Zebra Books, with beautiful new covers.

Each book in the “Ecstasy Saga” features a story based on the lives and loves of Lakota warrior Gray Eagle, his white wife Alisha Williams, or their heirs. The series covers a time span from 1776 to 1873. Although
Savage Conquest
was not written originally as part of this series it fits in perfectly as Saga #9. It continues the story of Joseph and Marie Lawrence, their twin daughters, Sun Cloud, Bloody Arrow, and Blazing Star and it’s one of the most suspenseful books of the series.

As
Savage Conquest
was published in February 1985 and was written before the intervening books, certain people and events do not appear in
Savage Conquest
or its genealogy chart; and that book controls part of the plot of this one. It is for this reason that the sacred vision, the adventures of Joe and Morning Star, the peace treaty, Stede and Tanner Gaston, Clay Thorne, and a few other events and
characters are not mentioned in
Savage Conquest. Savage Conquest
reveals only that Morning Star was banished and Joe was called home because of his father’s death, so I had to include those painful episodes here, and I tried to write them as sensitively as possible.

I hope you will enjoy the last book on these special characters. Having “lived” on pages with the Oglalas for thirteen years, I cannot bring myself to write another, as
Savage Conquest
takes my loved ones up to Custer’s arrival and intrusion. I want to say good-bye to my people while they are free and happy, not carry them through agony and near annihilation. But if I do think of a spin-off story, you’ll be sure to see it one day in the bookstores.

For those of you interested in what happened historically after this novel, the first of two Fort Laramie peace councils began with talks on September eighth of 1851 and ended on September seventeenth with the tribes signing to pledge eternal peace among themselves and with the whites. It was called the Treaty of Fort Laramie. At the invitation of the United States government, Thomas Fitzpatrick, and Colonel David Mitchell, more than ten thousand Plains Indians from many nations and tribes gathered at Horse Creek near Fort Laramie to parley. The terms and payments mentioned earlier in this novel are factual. The problem with the treaty was that many Indians did not grasp what they were signing away and initiating. Whites were granted permission to build roads and to travel through their territories and the Army was given the right to build forts to protect settlers and immigrants. These two provisions created a disastrously permanent and larger white presence in the territory.

Oglala Chief Red Cloud attended the powwow, signed the joint treaty, and tried to keep his word. Tragically, the whites did not keep theirs. Annuities were needed to replace the growing shortage of game and other supplies, but the American government reneged on the reparation terms of the treaty. What few supplies and cattle were delivered were
of low quality or unusable. Added to the growing list of complaints or wrongdoings were corrupt Indian agents who carried out criminal and immoral deeds. As whites flooded the territory, buffalo, beaver, and other animals were hunted to near extinction or driven far from agreed upon intertribal boundaries. These problems led to conflicts between Indian nations and between greedy whites and near-starving Indians, who depended upon nature— particularly the buffalo—for survival. As hunters were compelled to forage other tribes’ assigned grounds, the invasions provoked new outbreaks of intertribal wars.

In 1853, Thomas Fitzpatrick wrote that the Indians “are in abject want of food half the year…. Their women are pinched with want, and their children are constantly crying with hunger.” His letters had no effect.