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 w
ant 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.”
“He’s not a spirit, Morning Star, Just an evil white man using tricks to scare and fool the Indians. Why do you think he’s a spirit?”
“Knife-Slayer and raid band see him with Crow. They hide to watch; they not have enough men to attack enemies. Wakansica have snakes on arms. They crawl up arms, with heads here,” she said, gesturing toward her breasts, showing him how the “snakes” curled around the man’s arms, over his shoulder, and downward to his breasts. “Spirit Snakes big and many colors. They have bad eyes, sharp fangs, long tongues. They no see Spirit Snakes move or strike; they sleep on Wakansica’s body. Hawk Eyes say they powerful and evil medicine. Band see Wakansica do magic. He throw little balls into fire; make much noise and smoke. Make little suns glow and dance in wind. When suns and smoke gone, Snake-Man gone. His men ride away in wagons. Band no attack Crow in evil place where Bad Spirit hiding. Might return and slay Red Hearts.”
Joe realized this clever Snake-Man was using Indian superstition and their lack of knowledge to frighten and delude them. “Those were only cunning tricks, Morning Star. I’ve seen such things before during my travels far away. The snakes are painted into his skin, they’re called tattoos. They’re much like the pictures painted on tepees and shields. Across the big waters, there’s a place called the Orient. Wise men live there. They make the balls that shine and give off smoke. That’s where Snake-Man gets his magic tricks from. I’ve seen how men can sneak away when the air is filled with heavy smoke; it blinds the eyes for a short time. He probably slipped to the wagon and hid there while the Indians couldn’t see. He wants the Crow to believe he’s a powerful shaman so they’ll work for him to destroy your people. If I traveled in my ship to that land, I could buy balls like those and do the same tricks. It’s not real magic. It has no power, except to fool people who don’t know about them. When we reach your camp, I’ll ask Knife-Slayer how Snake-Man looked. That will help find him.”
“No good. His face behind ceremony mask, head of big snake.”
Joe was disappointed. “Because he didn’t want anyone to recognize him,” he murmured. “He chose a good disguise and scheme. He’s clever.”
“What is disguise and scheme?”
“Disguise is when you use things like masks to hide who you are. A scheme is a wicked plan to fool people. I wonder if Zeke, the man who captured you, is smart enough to be Snake-Man.”
“He no have snakes on arms. I claw and bite when captured.”
It didn’t surprise Joe that Zeke wasn’t his man. “How did he capture you, Morning Star?”
“Small party go to Mato Paha, Bear Mountain. It sacred place where go to pray and give gifts to Great Spirit. Men go to seek visions and to think much. Holy mountain where we given Sun Dance and our beliefs by Great Spirit after he create Dakotas. We hang prayer cloths and tokens on trees that grow on sleeping bear hill. Sometimes white men steal; that bad medicine. Not even Crow steal sacred gifts from trees. Grandfather punish.”
She sat down near him and crossed her legs. “Morning Star go there with brother, Night Stalker. He take wife and son. He go to pray for safety of our people when we ride for summer camp and for good hunt when we seek buffalo. Others go with us. Hawk Eyes go to seek vision, take his wife. Flaming Star and Thunder Spirit go to give thanks and to pray. They sons of White Arrow. They have many winters on their bodies; may never go to sacred mountain again. Mates go to tend chores. Buckskin Girl travel with parents, Flaming Star and Morning Light. Little Feet is wife of Thunder Spirit; she daughter of Bright Arrow, brother to Father. Bright Arrow walks Mother Earth no more. Crow war party kill before Morning Star born. Summer Rain and son go with Lone Horn; he war chief. He give thanks and seek vision to lead warriors if attack come soon.”
Morning Star sighed heavily at that distressing thought. “We stay at Mato Paha five suns, days. We ride for village. Stop at Elk Creek for men to hunt game for journey in Paha Sapa, means Black Hills. This sacred place, where we make winter camps, where old ones rest on wicagnakapi wiconte, death scaffolds. Spirits and Thunderbirds live in black mountains. Much game here. This Oglala land and must defend to death,” she said with deep feeling, then returned to her story. “Women stay in camp and make ready to ride when hunters return after Wi passes overhead. Morning Star finish chores and go seek medicine plants for Payaba. Touched-A-Crow, she brother’s wife, go with Morning Star. She gather roots and plants. She take son. He two winters; he bad boy many moons. He bad on trail; she must return to camp. Morning Star ride on to do Payaba chore. Stay near edge of forest. Morning Star think, walk too far, hear noise and hide.”
Her dark eyes grew wide and she spoke faster with excitement. “See two white men scout. Get bad feeling. Follow them on Hanmani. They go to Mato Paha. They take prayer tokens! Morning Star angry, but have only knife as weapon. Cannot attack. While thinking, man— big one— sneak up and capture. Morning Star fight. He strong, mean. He take to others. They put on horse with big man. They take Hanmani to make false trail to Crow land. They drop Crow arrows and cloth t
o fool Red Heart band. They know small band cannot ride into camp of many Crow. They know others must return home, cannot challenge Bird People. We ride to river. We travel water far to wagon camp. Morning Star bound and given no food, no water, no blanket. Wait all sun. Moon and Joe come. Joe help escape.”
“We are a lot alike,” Joe said, grinning. “We were both trailing them to gather clues. That was smart and brave.”
“Not smart; got captured,” she refuted, then frowned.
“That happens sometimes even to the best warriors,” Joe reassured her. “I came along to help you, and you returned to help me. We’re both good fighters and we make a good pair. After I see your father, if he’ll work with me, we’ll put a stop to this trouble before it leads to war.”
“Joe’s voice and eyes say much. You seek men who kill friend. More to Joe’s ride and task. Is not so? What more you seek?”
Joe decided if he told her the truth he might win her help and trust. If so, it would be easier to obtain her father’s. “Ever hear of a white man named Thomas Fitzpatrick? The Indians call him Broken-Hand.” She eyed him strangely, but nodded. “He trapped in this territory for twenty years, and later worked as a wilderness guide. He became the Indian agent five years ago at Fort Laramie. Know where that is?”
Again, Morning Star nodded.
“Tom’s honest and fair and smart. He knows this territory and the people here, white and Indian. He’s working on a big treaty between all tribes, and between Indians and whites. Tom suspects that somebody doesn’t want the Indians to make peace among themselves and keeps stirring tribes up one against the other. He knows that if intertribal warfare breaks out, whites will be caught in the middle. Besides, it’s against the law to sell weapons and whiskey to Indians. There are many clues that point to the Red Hearts and other Lakota tribes as the troublemakers. Tom thinks this Snake-Man may be behind the problems. He’s talked to Crow, but they won’t tell him anything. He’s talked to Lakotas, too, but they claim they don’t know anything. Tom wants me to find out who Snake-Man is, what he’s trying to do here, if he’s the guilty one, and how he can be stopped. The United States government and our chief don’t want a war with your people or any other Indian tribe.”
Forever Ecstasy Page 5