Forever Ecstasy (54 page)

Wind Bird fetched the shield he had worked on for days.

Singing Wind was thrilled by her child’s deeds and prowess, but was happy the girl was home to stay, out of peril’s reach and away from the white man’s temptation. Morning Star deserved a matching shield, but that was not their way. Yet, the girl’s daring deeds would be painted on the tribe’s and family’s pictorial histories—buffalo hides that hung in the meeting lodge and their tepee.

Sun Cloud handed the gift to Joe and said, “It is the Shooting Star shield. It has big medicine. Few men have carried one. Only those whose signs are of the heavens—as are
Mahpiya Wicasta
—and who have earned the right to carry one may do
so. My father was the last of our band to earn and carry such a powerful shield; Gray Eagle’s was destroyed after his death to keep it from enemy hands. This one is yours, Tanner, for you have earned it.”

Joe felt a twinge of guilt over deceiving the man who trusted and admired him, who rewarded him with their highest honor. He wished Tanner were here to share this moment, the past months, and the future. He handled and looked upon the object with gratitude and sacred reverence. It symbolized the essence of the powers of nature and their god. The sunburst that filled the center in blue, white, and yellow was of the colors of the heavens, the brown hide representing the earth. It was believed to protect its bearer from all dangers, physical and supernatural. A weasel pelt was suspended from the center, sign of the Great Spirit’s messenger. Coup feathers, one for each of Joe’s previous deeds, and good-luck tokens hung from the lower points between each peak of the sunburst. An eagle feather was attached with the weasel pelt, one from Sun Cloud’s chief’s bonnet. The shield was of tautly stretched buffalo hide on a willow frame. It would withstand arrows, lances, and even bullets.

Joe listened as the chief told him about such meanings and powers. “Thank you, Sun Cloud. I shall treasure it always, my brother and friend.”

The chief noticed an emotional catch in the white man’s throat that controlled his voice, and he was glad to find Joe so moved by the gesture, of which the Red Heart Council—with the exception of Knife-Slayer—approved.

The antagonistic warrior was so vexed by Joe’s acceptance and great honor that he shouted, “We must not wait for bluecoats! We must ride to the post on the Big River and slay the one called Orin, as I killed Grizzly Bear who tracked Sky Warrior and Morning Star from Bear Mountain.”

Night Stalker explained his friend’s words to his confused sister and the white man. “He wears the scalp of Matohota on his war lance. He tracked you from the sacred mountain to slay you. Knife-Slayer found the camp where the Crow waited for you, and he attacked.”

Joe thanked him, as did Morning Star, then praised his
skills. But he refuted the brave’s suggestion, “We must ride with the Army and do this last deed by white law to stop the evil men.”

“We cannot trust the whites and the white laws! We must not let soldiers ride into our camp. They will spy, return, and attack.”

“Jim, Captain James Thomas at Fort Tabor, died helping your people, Knife-Slayer. He was a bluecoat, a white, a man of the white laws. If we do not trap Orin and his men with Black Moon’s token, we have no proof he is guilty. Without proof, an attack will appear an act of war against whites. The Army will be forced to come here for retaliation instead of friendship. Surely Indians and whites can work together for truce this time. If Red Hearts lead the way at Bear Butte, all will know they want peace, not war. Everybody will know the charges against them are false, that they were Snake-Man’s work. This is the great day all have awaited; do not spoil it now.”

Sun Cloud and other council members spoke up before the warrior could argue. They agreed with Joe’s clever plan. Blood rushed with excitement and suspense. Hearts pounded with eagerness. Mouths tasted sweet victory in the making. Eyes envisioned it upon the horizon. Hands knew all they had to do was reach out and seize it.

“Crow are sly, but we will fool them,” the chief said with a chuckle. “It is a big laugh. A good victory. It will stop the trouble and prevent danger. We will ride with Sky Warrior and the bluecoats. We will follow the words of my uncle’s son and the agent from Fort Laramie. We will have peace again. Men will hunt in safety. Women will work in safety. Children will play in safety. Old ones will sit beneath a safe sun to rest in their last days. This is what Grandfather promised in Payaba’s vision. It will be so.”

After a day and a half of rest and talk, a lookout galloped into camp to reveal that a unit of bluecoats was approaching. Joe seized his fieldglasses, mounted, and rode out with the warrior to see if it was the Fort Laramie troops or Sergeant
Bart Carnes with his men. He breathed easy when he sighted Clay Thorne, Stede Gaston, and Tom Fitzpatrick in the lead. Joe rode to meet them. “Glad you finally made it. Sun Cloud and the Red Hearts are willing to work for peace and help with our trap.” He reiterated what Clay had explained earlier, and the soldiers agreed. “Let’s go work out the details. I want this settled before more incidents occur.”

Sun Cloud and Stede Gaston eyed each other as the latter dismounted with difficulty after the long ride. They shook hands as Stede said, “It’s an honor to finally meet you, Sun Cloud, and to be among my people. My father told me many great stories about his brother and kin. I’m only sorry it took me so long to visit you, particularly under such grim circumstances.”

The chief liked his cousin’s words and the sincerity of Stede’s tone and gaze. He smiled in pleasure. “It is good to meet the son of Powchutu, Eagle’s Arm, half brother to my father. We have many words to speak, many seasons to cover. First, there are other matters to discuss.”

The white man was impressed by the chief’s wits and command of English taught to him by his white mother. Stede liked this man, and he knew they would get along fine. “I’m eager to hear everything,” Stede replied as he massaged his aching leg. “We’ve gotten excellent reports from him,” he said, nodding to Joe. “He and your daughter have done a brave and fine thing for everyone concerned. You must be proud.”

“I am proud of Morning Star and Tanner. Peace will come from their great deeds. Again, I will ride with a great warrior as I once did with your father. He died a brave man at the side of my father. When the war moon rises next, their sons will ride together and will survive the evil of their enemies. It will be a glorious day. Come, sit, rest, and eat. We will talk of past days and families after we have spoken of traps and peace with others.”

Stede moved on a leg stiff from the past break that had prevented him from accompanying Joe after his son’s murder. He was glad Joe had taken Tanner’s place, but hated deceiving the
great leader—his kin. He hoped the truth could be revealed soon, and that Sun Cloud would not feel used and betrayed by the deception. He sat down beside his cousin, awed by the dignity of the chief.

Morning Star and Joe took places nearby, each apprehensive about a slip from Stede Gaston or from one of the others with him. They knew the damage careless words could do, and both prayed to their gods to hold a tight rein on tongues. The moment of final victory and a treaty loomed before them, and nothing must prevent that.

Sun Cloud asked Thomas Fitzpatrick to join them. The exmountain man sat down, crossed his legs at the ankles, and cupped his knees with his hands. One hand—the reason for his Indian name, was missing three fingers from a gun accident. White hair, straight and thin, barely grazed his collar, as he favored a neat appearance. Deep-set eyes beneath protruding brow bones revealed a serious nature. He was still a hearty man at fifty-two.

Sun Cloud had met the past explorer, renowned wilderness guide, and ex-trapper several times in the past. Tom had worked most of the streams in the Dakota Territory, beginning in 1822. Tom was considered smart, brave, skilled, and selfreliant. He got along with most Indians because of his good character and pleasant personality. Sun Cloud believed Tom was an excellent choice for peacemaker between whites and Indians. He said to the agent, “It is good Broken-Hand visits the Red Hearts to prove the words he speaks on paper are wise and true.”

Tom had talked with Indians many times during his thirty years here, so he knew the most effective words to use. He had sent messages to all the big tribes, but he stressed the important points again. “It is an honor to sit and speak with the noble chief Sun Cloud. I have asked the Great White Father in Washington to reward the Lakotas for allowing his people to cross your lands, to trap your streams, and to take animals for food; he has agreed. He desires all men—Indian and white— to live in peace. If the Great Plains are divided into hunting territories for each Indian nation and the Great White Father gives each many supplies, no tribe will need to invade another’s
land for survival. Your people will be safe from enemy raids and their needs will be filled. The chief of each tribe will sign the joint treaty; he will be responsible for honoring their part of it and for punishing any warrior who breaks it. Many nations are sending their leaders and warriors to Fort Laramie to discuss peace and to sign the big treaty. Some are your allies; some have been your enemies for generations.”

Tom kept his gaze locked with Sun Cloud’s, a sign to show he was being open and honest. “It is time to put aside raids, wars, and bloodshed. It is time to live in truce. Too many warriors, women, children, and old ones have died over huntingground disputes. Too many have died attacking white immigrants who cross your lands heading west, or from conflicts with soldiers over those raids. There have been too many fights between soldiers and warriors because each side feared and misunderstood the other. It is time for peace between Indian nations, time for peace between Indians and whites. It is time for learning, healing, and accepting each other. To obtain these goals, everyone must compromise; everyone must think of the good of their people. I have lived and worked in this territory for many years, so I know many wrongs have been done to Indians out of fear, ignorance, carelessness, or greed. The Great White Father wants them stopped. He wants our Red Brothers compensated for their losses and for their future generosity in allowing whites to travel through your lands and permitting some to settle on them. He wants peace now and forever.”

“Broken-Hand’s words are hard to accept, but they are wise and just. We know you to be a fair and honorable man. We have heard many tales of Broken-Hand’s exploits and daring; your coups and prowess have made you a legend among Indians and whites. After we defeat the evil paleface who provokes the Crow and bluecoats against us, we will ride to Fort Laramie to make treaty. We do this because of Broken-Hand’s promises and because of the sacred vision Grandfather gave to Payaba twenty years ago. The coming of Stede and Tanner Gaston have proved its magic and power. First we war against evil, then, we ride for good. We must share the pipe of friendship to bond our words to our hearts.”

While the smoking ritual was in progress and no one spoke, Tom’s mind drifted over the situation. It was known that whichever way Sun Cloud leaned—so did most Oglalas: the most powerful and largest branch of the Lakota Indians. In addition, most allies followed Sun Cloud’s lead in crucial episodes. Tom was relieved and grateful Joseph Lawrence and Stede Gaston had helped bring about the chief’s receptive mood.

Tom did not betray Joe’s secret identity. His deceit could damage the treaty he and Colonel/Superintendent David Mitchell had worked so hard to achieve. He felt compassion and empathy for the Indians’ plight—one he knew could only worsen in time—but he was not unduly emotional about it. He was not a glory-seeker in this historic mission.

Tom did not believe this truce would last, but it would be a life-saving reprieve for both sides for a few years. He had warned his superiors in Washington of “the consequences should twenty thousand Indians well armed, well mounted, and experts in war turn out in hostile array against all American travelers.” He had suggested the annuity of fifty thousand dollars worth of supplies to be given every year for fifty years, and his government had agreed. In less than a month, redmen from most Plains nations would gather at Horse Creek to establish intertribal peace, and would unknowingly open the door for more whites to walk into the territory. That inevitable reality did not escape Tom’s keen mind, nor did the grim consequences of it. He was certain Sun Cloud knew and felt the same way, and that increased Tom’s respect for the Red Heart chief.

As Morning Star observed her father among the whites, she gained hope that their joint efforts for peace would inspire friendship and acceptance with their new allies. She noticed her father’s rapport with the white agent and with Stede Gaston. Surely a shared pipe and battle and a treaty would mellow his feelings toward palefaces. While he was soaring on the wings of victory and peace and while her and Joe’s great coups were fresh in his mind, surely her father would not stand between her and her love. As her gaze met Stede’s, his gentle brown eyes seemed to read her thoughts. She returned his encouraging
smile. She dared not look at Joe, as her expression could expose her forbidden feelings for him.

Morning Star glanced at Lone Wolf and hoped their war chief’s rank would become only an honorary one. She looked at Hawk Eyes and prayed the deceitful shaman’s influence over her people would rapidly diminish until it ceased. Her gaze sought Payaba, and love filled her heart for him. She studied her silent brother and wondered why Night Stalker did nothing more than watch and listen. Her roaming eyes jumped over the sullen Knife-Slayer, but she refused to worry about him tonight. They returned to her father as pride, love, and respect washed over her body. Her gaze met Singing Wind’s, and they exchanged smiles. Morning Star grasped the meaning of her mother’s nod and rose to help serve food.

Following the meal and a discussion in the meeting lodge where plans were made, Sun Cloud and Stede Gaston entered the chief’s tepee to speak of the past, present, future, and their blood connection. Singing Wind served buffalo berry wine and listened to the genial conversation.