Forever Ecstasy (25 page)

Morning Star asked herself if her brother’s explanation was right, or even partly right. She did not know how either Stede or the real Tanner looked, and she told herself to ask Joe when they had privacy. Yet every child of a mixed union that she knew looked Indian or revealed only a tiny mark of their white heritage. Except Alisha/Shalee, she reminded herself. “Does that mean the Great Spirit did not intrude on the mating of Black Cloud and Jenny Pilcher?” she questioned. “All say Shalee had hair of fire and eyes like grass when Mother Earth renews her
face. Why would the Great Spirit let a white captive’s seed be stronger than a Blackfoot chief’s?”

“Perhaps the Great Spirit was angered when Black Cloud took his white captive as wife.”

“If so, was the Great Spirit not more angered when Gray Eagle— the greatest warrior to ever live— took his white captive as wife?”

“It is not the same, Sister! Our grandmother was half Indian. That is why the Great Spirit did not mark our father and uncle as half-breeds or whites; He made them Indian to show He was not displeased.”

“Perhaps the Great Spirit gave grandmother a white face to show all that some whites are good. How can you hate the son and grandson of Powchutu when our grandmother and her mother also carried white blood? The Great Spirit chose Tanner as our helper; He does not hate or reject all white blood. If you battle him, you will be punished,” she warned.

To silence her, he accused, “You speak too strong for him, Sister.”

“I trust him and believe he can help us. A sacred vision does not lie.”

“I fear I see more than trust in your eyes.”

“Do not be foolish, Brother. We are of the same bloodline: Running Wolf’s. We cannot mate. Is that what troubles you about my leaving?”

“I have not seen this strange glow in your eyes before. He touches your heart, Sister, but be certain he does not touch your body.”

“Your warning is not needed, for I know and accept such things.”

“Do you, my sister? Remember, if you turn to him and we are betrayed, you and your family will be shamed. You will be banished.”

Morning Star fretted as she watched her brother leave. He and Knife-Slayer suspected her feelings for Joe; her mother had hinted at them, and her father was too quiet and watchful. That could only mean she was not doing a good task of concealing her forbidden emotions! She cautioned herself to be more careful. She did not want anything, especially her weakness for Joe,
to hinder the sacred mission before them. The fact that Joseph Lawrence was a man of pure white blood made him as taboo as if he were her blood cousin. She was vexed by the contradiction that an Indian male could take a white female but that it was a disgrace for an Indian woman to take a white man!

Morning Star scolded herself for worrying about such an impossible situation. Joe was not like Knife-Slayer, a man who would take a female he desired even if he couldn’t join her! Joe had pride, honor, and goodness. Joe knew they were unmatched, and would not pursue her. Yet a curious sensation washed over her. She prayed it was too late for anything or anyone to prevent her from leaving with him in the morning.

After the evening meal in Sun Cloud’s tepee, Joe, the chief, his wife, and Morning Star joined the Red Hearts who gathered in a clearing near the water for the unusual ritual to make a white man a blood brother.

Green spruces and pines, obsidian hills, and a blue lake surrounded the people with colorful beauty. A half moon floated across an indigo sky with countless silvery stars which reminded all of an artistic piece of Indian beadwork. The water’s surface was as tranquil as a lazy southern evening; it reflected the partial moon rising above it as if the moon held a narcisisstic spirit who wanted to view its image in nature’s mirror. Frogs, crickets, and noctural birds sang loudly and merrily as if joining in on the special event, their tunes competing at one time and blending at another. Tepees were outlined against the firmament, their protruding poles like skinny fingers pointing to the heaven. The wind was calm, so no limb or grass blade moved. It was a pleasant night.

In the center of the large gathering was a bonfire with leaping flames of red, orange, and yellow. Soon it would die down to an almost intimate glow. The fire was a signal to draw close to share something special with the tribe; it was a unifying spirit. Near it, there was a post with the sacred Medicine Wheel and Wolf Eyes’ Ceremonial Skull: vital symbols of the culture and beliefs of the Lakotas. The four eagle feathers suspended from the wheel’s bottom and representing the Lakota virtues— wisdom, bravery, constancy, and generosity— did not flutter in the still air. Morning Star had told Joe they were the first coup feathers earned by the last four Red Heart chiefs. When Night Stalker, or another, became chief, his first coup feather would replace Red Hawk’s, as only four could dangle there. The four intersecting bars of shiny metal glittered in the firelight. The center of life was represented
at the place where they met in the middle: harmony with the Great Spirit, with oneself, and with nature. It depicted a never-ending circle, the continuity of Indian life.

In the forefront of the circle of bodies, the Big Bellies sat on furry mats in the location of importance and control. Next came the cult members of proven warriors, hunters who had not been taken into a society yet, and male elders who were not members of the ruling society. The circle of Indians was completed with the women and children.

The first step of the occasion was to give thanks for past blessings and to summon the Great Spirit to witness this solemnity. Wolf Eyes then continued. “We take
Mahpiya Wicasta,
Your helper, into our hearts and band, Grandfather. You called him home from where
Wi
rises to bring peace and enlightenment to Your children. Tanner seeks harmony with himself, with his grandfather’s people, and with Mother Nature. We ask You to give him these things. Tanner has shown the four virtures we honor, as with the eagle feathers on our sacred Medicine Wheel. You have joined his Life-Circle to ours once more. As we share Your breath, prepare our hearts and minds to become as one in purpose and feeling.”

The second step in the ritual was pipe smoking, to share the breath of the Great Spirit and to inspire solidarity between the men. Normally the ceremonial chief was first, followed by the tribal chief, the war chief, the shaman, and other Big Bellies. Afterward, all warriors of high rank took their turns. Tonight, their honored guest was third to smoke.

Joe sat on one side of Sun Cloud, Morning Star on the other. Though she was a part of the sacred vision and mission ahead, she did not share the smoking rite. Women were never allowed to touch men’s sacred objects or weapons, for it was believed they would steal their magic and strength.

Wolf Eyes packed the red stone bowl, lit the tobacco, drew deeply and reverently from its long stem, and handed it to their leader. Sun Cloud inhaled smoke, then released it. He passed the pipe to Joe, who repeated their actions while Morning Star observed.

When the pipe was passed four times, Wolf Eyes stood to pray for the safety, survival, and success of Tanner
Gaston and Morning Star.

As the maiden listened to the words being sent to her god, she knew He would not punish her and Joe for their necessary deception. If the Great Spirit was angered by it, He would have exposed them or even slain them by now. She believed that Stede and Joe— not Tanner— were the vision helpers. It could not be bad or wrong to do the will of her god, even if she had to lie to her loved ones for a while. Once peace was won and the villains defeated, surely her family and tribe would understand and forgive her trickery.

The ceremonial and medicine chiefs performed a special dance and chant to the timing of stone-filled gord rattles, eagle-bone whistles, and a kettle drum that was beat upon by eight men using sturdy sticks with ends wrapped in buffalo hide. As the almost hypnotic music played and the two men moved around the fire with matching steps and words, Sun Cloud withdrew his knife and made a slice across the palm of his right hand.

Joe did as the chief had instructed earlier, and took the firesterilized blade and sliced across his hand. Sun Cloud had told him of his mother’s warnings about cuts made with dirty weapons and left untended. Morning Star had told Joe how refusing to inflict “mourning cuts” upon his body after his parents’ deaths had angered many tribe members and almost cost her father their votes for him as chief over Bright Arrow. Joe held up his bleeding hand and, when Sun Cloud lifted his, he grasped it and mingled their blood. As the red liquid eased down his arm, Joe knew he had done the right thing by claiming to be his murdered friend. Their gazess met, each exposing friendship and belief in this ceremony. “I will always be your friend and blood brother, Sun Cloud.”

“Your eyes and voice say your words are true, friend and brother.”

Morning Star was touched by the scene of uplifted clasped hands and stirring words between her father and the man who was stealing her heart. She couldn’t help but think of the physical differences in the two men, and between Joe and Knife-Slayer whose glare exposed his ill feelings. From their positions with Sun Cloud between them, she could barely see Joe, and she
dared not lean aside to peer around her father’s body. As she waited, she envisioned how he must look in the sienna breechcloth, fringed leggings, and beaded moccasins that her father had loaned to him. She could almost see the adoring flames dancing on his handsome face.

With his face shaved and his chest hairless, Joe almost stole her breath! For a few wild moments, she imagined him riding across the Plains as a band leader or a hunter, dancing around a campfire in only a breechcloth with sweat glistening on his taut body, and battling their foes in warpaint. Of course he would mark his face with blue, white, and yellow to represent his new name: Mahpiya Wicasta, Sky Warrior.

The daydreaming maiden pictured how the blue paint would enhance Joe’s azure eyes, and how all three colors would look against his sunbronzed flesh with a golden mane flowing past his strong neck. That sunny hair grazed the top of powerful shoulders that tapered into a sleek middle. In Indian clothing, with his sparse body hair, strong bone structure, and darkly tanned skin, if it were not for his blond hair and sky eyes, he wouldn’t look so different from her people. Yet it would always be those eyes and hair which reminded her of the impassable canyon between them.

Morning Star felt proud and honored to be a special part of this period in her people’s history. She was ready to challenge dangers, confront the unknown, and to learn more about Joseph Lawrence and herself. She was the only one who knew the truth about him, and that trust warmed her. He could have fooled her too, but he hadn’t. He had confided in her from the start, proving her faith in him was justified. As soon as his cut was tended and night passed, they would leave. But before her departure, there was something important she had to do: make peace with Buckskin Girl. She would do so when the ceremony ended.

After the ritual, the men’s cuts were tended and they chatted with others and enjoyed refreshments. When things quieted down, Sun Cloud asked “Tanner” to join him for a walk to speak privately.

The chief did not want his daughter to return home and overhear
the matter that troubled him tonight. He guided his blood brother beyond the last tepee and settled himself on a large rock near even larger boulders. Sun Cloud motioned for the man to sit. “We must talk before you ride, Tanner. There is a promise you must make to me.”

Joe sat down near the Indian. “What is it?” he asked warily.

“After you left nine suns ago, I remembered what you said when you first entered our camp. You know the truth of my mother and your grandmother,” he ventured, more as a statement than a question.

“Yes, Sun Cloud, I know Sarah Gaston was the real Shalee, not your mother. I know Alisha Williams was a white woman, not the abducted daughter of Chief Black Cloud. Powchutu told Stede the truth about his mother, and he told me before we came here.”

The Red Heart Chief exhaled audibly. “For many years I have believed all who knew that dangerous secret were dead, except for me and Singing Wind. My parents, White Arrow, Powchutu, my brother, and the old woman who placed the
akito
of Black Cloud on my mother’s body when she lay near death are gone. I did not think of Powchutu telling his son. Matu meant no harm when she placed the mark of her chief on my mother; she wished to return home to die with her people. When Black Cloud came to claim my father’s captive as his long-lost daughter, my parents did not know of Matu’s trick. If Father had revealed his suspicion, Alisha and Matu would have been slain. Father believed it was the Great Spirit’s way of giving him the woman he loved and needed, so he held silent and took her as wife. When Matu died, only Father, White Arrow— his best friend since birth— Mother, and Powchutu knew she was not the real Shalee. All held silent to save Mother’s life, to protect my father’s honor, and to prevent disharmony. In a time of war— unity, friendship, and trust are important. To reveal such a trick then or now would destroy them.”

“You’re telling me that only you, Singing Wind, Stede, and myself know the truth? Night Stalker and Morning Star don’t know this secret?”

“They do not, and the secret must never leave the mouths of the four of us. Swear as my blood brother and friend you will
not betray my trust. If we must war with the whites, my people must be as one in spirit and action. They cannot follow a leader whose honor and face are stained by lies. Night Stalker hates whites, and his spirit is troubled. If my son learns the truth, he will become bitter and dangerous. He will do terrible things to prove he is more Oglala than white. It must not be. If Morning Star learns the truth of her grandmother, I fear she will be pulled toward the white world; and that will destroy her. My daughter was raised Oglala and looks Oglala. You know how Indian women are treated in the white lands. It must not be.”

“You have my word of honor I won’t tell anyone this secret. Stede Gaston will hold silent, too. I understand why everyone who knew the truth kept quiet, and I agree with what they did. So does Stede. Powchutu only wanted his son to know who his mother was, which makes him who
he
is. Stede knows his father loved Alisha Williams, and he wouldn’t do anything to stain her memory. Neither would I. We’ve heard the glorious legends about Gray Eagle and Shalee. They were remarkable people who let love overcome the differences between them and their cultures. That rarely happens. When it does, it’s too beautiful and special and powerful to destroy. I won’t ever do that, Sun Cloud. I promise.”