Forever Ecstasy (43 page)

Joe realized what he was asking her to give up, or thought he
did. In his culture, women always left their homes and families to go with their husbands. He would keep her safe in his world. She was too intelligent not to learn everything necessary in order to fit in perfectly. He would find a way to persuade Sun Cloud and the Red Hearts that he loved her and would treasure her always. Both the sacred vision putting them together and his success at earning peace should work in his favor. He would make certain she got to visit her people and lands. Love wasn’t something that caused anguish and shame; fighting it was. Joe explained his thoughts to Morning Star. “We can make it work, love.”

“No, it not possible. Whites hate Indians. They insult and push away. Whites laugh at Morning Star, laugh at Joe. You not stay here. My people not accept you. Joe family need him. Work there. Friends there. When time come, you go, Morning Star stay. We be one until that moon.”

Joe used the Colonial and British wars as another argument. “We battled long and hard two times, but we’re friends and allies now. One day, it’ll be that way between your people and mine. My grandparents were from different sides, but they found love and happiness. So did Gray Eagle and Alisha. So did Bright Arrow and Rebecca. It can be the same for us, Morning Star. Let it happen. You know how we’ll feel when we’re separated. We’ll both be miserable. I need you in my life. I love you. Why do we have to suffer because our peoples can’t accept each other?”

Morning Star could not endure any more pressure tonight. She told him, “If it meant to be, it happen. Must not force it to happen. You like breath to me, beating of my heart, food for my body. I pray you be my destiny. If Grandfather say you not, Morning Star cannot have you.”

“How will you know his answer?” Joe inquired. He was thrilled by some of her words but disappointed that he could not convince her entirely.

“When it come, I will know,” she replied with careful words.

Joe studied her for a while. He hoped he had time to weaken her will, time to convince her they were matched by fate, time to teach her so much about his world that she would be eager
for them to face it together. The challenge confronting him was exciting and hopefully would be rewarding. “That doesn’t mean I can’t do my best to convince Him to say yes. I’ll prove I’m worthy of you, woman. I’m going to fight for your love and acceptance.”

Morning Star comprehended how hard this rejection was for both of them. In tonight’s dreamy shadows, he was snared by love’s magic. Tomorrow’s bright sun would dispel it and he would realize she was right. There was no need to sting him more, so she attempted to soothe his emotional wounds. “You have my love,” she said softly. “You have acceptance in my heart.”

“I know. That’s why not winning you because of other people’s feelings makes me angry. Love like ours is too rare and precious to lose. It’s meant to grow, to create happiness, to birth children. If Alisha and Rebecca could live with Oglalas, why can’t you live with whites? It worked for them; it can work for us. It wasn’t any harder for those white women to join your Indian world than it will be for you to join my white one.”

Morning Star concurred with most of what he said, but that didn’t change their predicament. “Women do as men say,” she murmured. “Father is boss until marry. Husband is boss after joining. That much is same in both worlds. Grandfather and uncle take captive white women they want; is way of raids and wars. Whites have slaves, too. Whites steal, trade, and sell people with brown skin. I am Indian woman and must obey Father. It different for warrior to take white captive than for Indian woman to reject people and go with paleface enemy. It bad, forbidden. Hurt many. You must understand and accept our ways and laws.”

Joe caressed her cheek and whispered a mischievous threat. “Then I’ll just have to steal you as my captive when I’m ready to leave.”

She didn’t realize he was trying to joke to lighten the situation. Her gaze widened with distress. “That worse than bad! Father and warriors come after me to rescue. They slay you!”

Joe was enthralled for a time by the idea. Why not do as the Indians— as her legendary grandfather and uncle— and seize
the woman he wanted? “We’ll be too far away. They’ll never find us.”

“Gray Eagle tracked Shalee to place called St. Louis and take her back after Powchutu steal her,” Morning Star refuted. “He follow trail many weeks old. We cannot escape Oglala warrior skills. They best trackers.”

“You’re as skilled as they are,” Joe pointed out. “If you hide our tracks, they’d never find us.”

In a sad tone, she responded, “If I betray, I never return to family and lands again. Do not ask me to choose between you and my people.”

“But you are choosing, Morning Star— them over me. Why can’t you share the rest of your life with me? Think of all you’ve done for your people and what you’re doing now for them. How could they dishonor and be cruel to She-Who-Rode-With-The-Sky-Warrior? How could they refuse to let you follow your heart and seek your true destiny?”

“Joe part right, but what can Morning Star do but duty teached her since birth? You not know how hard it was for Alisha and Rebecca, even if worked in time. You forget they not have families in white world to return to. Grandmother and Wahea not have to worry over dishonor and rejection by their people. Wahea not chief’s daughter. I yield little; perhaps love strong enough to conquer enemies. We must wait, see if that powerful.”

“That’s the best thing I’ve heard you say. It gives me hope.”

“I want hope. It hard. You not lived in my land long enough to know how big is the battle we face. We must pray for strength and courage.”

“We will, because the battle for you is as important to me as our task.”

“Sacred mission must come first. If we do good—”

“Our prayers may be answered,” he finished for her.

They gazed at each other a long time, then exchanged smiles.

After breaking camp on Tuesday at the White Clay River,
Morning Star gazed beyond them at the seemingly endless Great Plains. The rangy land they crossed was almost treeless and scrubless, except for a few cottonwoods and chokecherries near a water source. The ground was covered with a mixture of thick grasses in shades of green: short, tall, sweet, tender. Cactus and wildflowers were sighted at some points. Antelope, deer, and buffalo were abundant, so, too, jackrabbits and prairie dogs. Every now and then, gusts of strong wind yanked at their clothes and hair.

A few times, at a distance, she noticed what whites called sod houses, or rock homes, or dugouts. She knew sod helped defeat the summer’s heat and keep out the winter’s chill and winds. They were strong dwellings, with most having a combination raid-root cellar nearby. Soon, only grassland stretched before them once more; white encroachment was left behind.

Morning Star guided Joe and the animals at a steady pace. It seemed as if the land went on forever, then vanished into the blue sky far beyond any distance they could ever ride. She led Joe across a few streams and creeks and past the Bad River that flowed toward where Simon Adams’s lived in Pierre.

As the day moved on, so did the hot sun across the sky. Any clouds above them were small and white. Morning Star kept on constant alert, as did Joe. She was amused by his astonishment at the number of buffalo in her territory and the size of their gatherings.

He was amazed by the size of the herds which often traveled for miles in several directions. At some points, the earth was covered by a dark blanket as far as he could see even with his fieldglasses. Antelope and deer intermingled with the buffalo. Though the huge beasts grazed contentedly and appeared sluggish, Joe knew they were dangerous and unpredictable, and anything but slow. The sizes of their horns and bodies exposed an accurate warning of how deadly the animal could be.

Joe scanned their surroundings. He had not imagined the Plains to be so immense. After a while, he realized the scenery was repetitious, with every five miles repeating the last five and the many miles before it. At least, he thought, they didn’t have to use a tiring jog trot as much today.

Before dusk, she pointed to an Indian camp at the end of Plum Creek. She took Joe’s fieldglasses, as he had taught her how to use them, and focused them on an area outside the encampment of numerous tepees. She checked symbols on the lance and markings on a large buffalo skull surrounded by a circle of smaller skulls.
“Mahpialuta wicoti.”

“What?” Joe asked, staring at the nomadic village of countless tepees outlined against the gradually darkening horizon.

“Red Cloud camp,” she translated. “His father Brule; that one of Lakota tribes. His mother Oglala. He become Oglala. Lead mother’s people; they called Old Smoke Band. He plenty smart and brave. He tell Father he want peace, but he hate white takeover of lands. If whites push, Red Cloud fight. It important he speak and vote for new treaty. Come.”

Morning Star perceived the many stares given to she and Joe. From years of celebrations, Sun Dances, trading, joint raids, and talks, she knew the Oglalas recognized the daughter of Sun Cloud. She halted at the largest, most beautiful tepee in camp. A rainbow was painted on each side. She remembered red circles on the back that represented
Wi,
the sun, and the figure of a buffalo. Yellow rings encircled the tepee with a black top for the night sky and a green bottom for the earth. The colors and markings symbolized Red Cloud’s medicine and vision signs and were evocations to the Great Spirit. Morning Star related those meanings to Joe and told him the chief was a member of the White-Marked Society.

Joe comprehended how important this chief was to his mission and to Tom Fitzpatrick’s new treaty. He observed the man who left the artistic home and greeted Morning Star with a smile and obvious affection. He listened to them talk a while in their tongue, but he hadn’t worked on his grasp of Lakota as much as they had on hers of English.

Morning Star told Joe to dismount, then introduced him to the chief. She was relieved when her love was offered friendship and hospitality. Red Cloud invited them inside his home to eat and to spend the night.

Joe quickly learned from the sage Indian that he wanted peace, but doubted it was possible. Joe explained the treaty, his mission, and his problems so far. He told Red Cloud of his plans to spy on the Crow, and promised to warn the Oglalas of any threatening intents. He sensed that the chief believed him, even liked him.

Morning Star drew the same conclusions. She related Payaba’s sacred vision, the contest, Joe’s alleged identity, and their task to him.

“It is good. Sun Cloud will know great honor and pride.”

After a restful night and a successful visit, Morning Star guided Joe from Red Cloud’s encampment on a journey across more prairie land to the lovely location of Sinte Geleska and his band on the tree-lined Cheyenne River.

Spotted Tail greeted them with a genial and courteous manner. He said it was good to see Mahpiya Wicasta and the daughter of Sun Cloud again.

Joe liked being accepted as Sky Warrior, and the Indian name, with all it represented, made him feel proud.

Morning Star was elated by their reception and honored treatment. She was glad Joe was learning that the Lakotas wanted peace. She listened as the two men talked, and was impressed by both.

The evening passed in a pleasant way with Chief Spotted Tail and his friendly band. Then the couple enjoyed another restful and safe night.

At dawn, they mounted, bid the Brules good-bye, and rode for their next camp on an offshoot of the murky Cheyenne River.

As they traveled, even sounds— what few they heard— were repetitious: the hooffalls and breathing of the three horses, the sound of their own breathing, the squeaking of leather saddles and reins, the movement of canteens and rifle sheaths, and the shifting of trade goods on the pack animal. They couldn’t talk all the time to divert their attention from the almost eerie quietness, for that dried their throats and encouraged
drinking too much water that had to last from water source to water source.

Joe came to look forward to the areas where hawks soared overhead, their shrill cries renting the silence. He missed the music of songbirds, singing of crickets, and croakings of frogs. The rocking pace and unvaried scenery made it hard to stay alert. He couldn’t imagine any white man choosing to spend a lifetime homesteading in a barren and lonely place like this when there was so much good land elsewhere for farming.

“I wish you could see where I live,” he told Morning Star. “It’s so different here. We have lots of trees. They change colors between summer and winter. Some years it looks as if the forest is on fire with reds, purples, oranges, and yellows. And in the spring after winter, flowers grow everywhere in every size, color, and shape you can imagine. We don’t have places like this that are so barren. Empty,” he clarified. “Our winter isn’t as cold and long as yours. Our summer isn’t as hot and dry. Friends live around us, not miles and days away like here. We don’t have people separated into bands who attack and kill each other. It’s peaceful and beautiful.”

She was so attentive and interested that he went on. “During the day, men do their tasks, then spend the evening with their families. Life isn’t as hard there. Men work for money, then hire others to do certain chores for them. Women don’t have to work as hard, either; they have easier ways to cook and do dishes in stoves and sinks in big kitchens. They don’t have to sew clothes if they don’t want to or don’t know how; they can buy them ready-made or hire a seamstress. Anybody who doesn’t want to grow food or have the ground to grow it on can buy it in stores or at open markets. It’s safe there. It’s…I’m rambling,” he said with a chuckle.

“What is rambling?”

He grinned. “To talk on and on about anything, everything, nothing.”

“I like to hear you talk on and on. I learn much about you and your land. Rambling more,” she coaxed. Before she let him begin again, she queried unknown words he had used during his talk, such as kitchens, seamstresses, and markets.
She listened and learned.