“Why bluecoats attack hunters if this be so?” she argued.
“To keep them from killing white settlers who come here and from killing white immigrants passing through your territory heading west. Many wagon trains are attacked. Boats on rivers and soldiers on patrol have been attacked. Settlers and farmers have been burned out. Trading posts have been robbed. Almost every time, Lakota arrows have been found.”
“It not Oglalas, not Red Hearts. Inkpaduta and Little Thunder raid wagons on trails; they not Oglalas; they Santee and Brule. They part of Seven Council Fires, but not same tribe. Whites have land and game where Wi awakens. Must not come and steal Lakota land and creatures. They stay in their land, they be safe; we be safe. No trouble, no battle.”
“That sounds simple, Morning Star, but it isn’t.”
“What is… simple?”
“Easy, not hard… what’s right. The smart and good thing to do.”
“It be simple, if whites honor truce and not come to our land.”
“More settlers, trappers, traders, and others will come. This area is beautiful and exciting,” he said, then thought, like you are. “Many whites want new or better lives, Morning Star. Things are bad for them back East, where the sun awakens. Some don’t have money to buy land, and they want to make a good place for their families. They can do that here. This land is big. There’s plenty of room for everyone. Sometimes I’ve ridden all day without seeing one Indian. If we can stop the troublemakers and become friends, everybody can live in peace in the same territory. Some of the people on the wagon trains have to stop here because they can’t make it all the way to Oregon or California. They get sick, or tired, or discouraged; or they run out of money. Some just fall in love with this territory.”
“They try to take land, claim it, not use it, not share it,” Morning Star argued. “Grandfather owns the land. They kill His creatures for furs and hides; they waste meat. When game killed, all of creature must be used. They bring strange sickness. They scare game. They build across animal trails and confuse creatures. They want best hunting grounds. They want trees in sacred hills. They not travel as we do. They camp in one place; they destroy it. They bring whiskey to dull warriors’ wits. Traders and trappers speak false; they cheat Indians. They bring trouble; they blame Indians. They use false words to get more forts and bluecoats. When whites come and we let stay, it tell more whites to come. Soon, no land and game for Indians. Crow are fools; they no see whites trick and how much hate Crow. If agent Tom want peace, he keep whites away. Simple.” She used her new word.
Joe changed his position and faced her fully. “Lordy, I wish it were. I don’t want to see your people or other tribes destroyed. If war comes, Morning Star, that could happen. The whites have many more people than the Indians; they have more and better weapons. To challenge them is a mistake. I hope your father will work for peace.”
She did not like that scary information, but said with confidence and courage, “If peace means lose land, honor, and lives— he no make peace.”
“I hope I can help him obtain peace with honor and without losses,” Joe said. “That’s hard when each side wants the same thing, and each side thinks they’re right. The man I came here with feels and thinks the same way I do: Tanner’s father. He’s an observer and adviser on the situation for President Fillmore,” he said, then explained the situation, after deciding how much and what to tell her about Stede Gaston.
“Tanner’s father is like a scout and speaker for the Great White Chief Fillmore. He learns what’s happening, then tells our chief what he thinks must be done to prevent problems and war. Our chief trusts him and will listen to him. Many of the white man’s problems have been halted, so more white-eyes are on these lands. We had many enemies, like you have the Crow, Pawnee, and the Shoshone. We made peace with them. War ended with the Mexicans, people who live south. Our border conflict with the British was settled. We traded money for a large track of land that includes this territory. Indians say land can’t be owned, but the French claimed this territory and sold it to us years ago. Whites do believe land can be owned and claimed. The United States now claims this territory. The path wagon trains use is called the Oregon Trail; the one near it is called the Mormon Trail. Many whites use the trails to travel west.
“There’s another problem about a yellow rock called gold that white men desire. A lot of it was discovered west of here in a place called California. Many of the men passing through this territory went there and are still going there to search for gold. Trying to stop passage through your lands can’t be done.”
Joe stretched out his legs again. “With more whites coming here and through here, Morning Star, they demand more forts, trading posts, and roads. Roads are cleared trails for easy and fast travel.” He knew she would not understand what the Topographical Bureau was and he didn’t know how to explain it, so he skipped over the survey they had done near Laramie in ’49. “You can’t stop settlers any more than you can stop the rain. But rain and soil work together to give life and beauty to the land and people. Whites and Indians can do the same. First, peace is needed, but that can’t come until evil men are caught and punished. Those working in your territory don’t attack where they can be seen and caught. They trick the Crow into fighting for them. They don’t do their own dirty work because they don’t want the Army involved. Tanner and I were to travel around and be his father’s eyes and ears. Tanner saw or heard something dangerous; he was killed so he couldn’t tell others. If I’d been with him, he’d be alive. I was getting a new shoe for Star. He’d thrown one on the way to Pratte’s Post.”
When Joe became silent, Morning Star grasped his grief and guilt. “If you be with him, you be dead like Tanner dead.”
“Maybe,” he half agreed. “I’m going to find who killed him, then get justice. After I buried him, I went to Fort Laramie to tell his father. Lordy, that was hard. He would have come back with me to find the killer, but his leg is broken and he can’t ride. I was returning to Pratte’s Post to search for clues when I found Zeke’s wagon trail. A gut instinct told me to follow it. I’m glad I did. Meeting you was fate, Morning Star.”
“What is fate?” she asked, intrigued by his tone.
“Destiny, something meant to happen, part of my Life-Circle that must cross another person’s at a certain time and place.”
She liked his explanation. “It so. You want peace much as you want Tanner’s killer. This be good. Morning Star help you find both.”
He felt there wasn’t anything she could do other than help him with her father and people, but he didn’t refute her words or refuse her offer. “If anything happens to me, tell your father to send word to Captain James Thomas at Fort Tabor. Make certain the soldiers know you want peace so they won’t be tricked by Snake-Man and the Crow into attacking your camp.”
“Captain James Thomas,” she repeated. “Morning Star remember.”
Joe was feeling stiff and restless. She was too close to ignore. “Are you sure your band would head for home without you? If not, we should warn them of the Crow coming today. If they stayed, they’re in danger.”
“They gone. When Morning Star not return to camp, Night Stalker search. He good hunter and tracker. When he see trail to Crow land, he not follow. He leave to protect others. It our way. It wrong to risk many lives to save one. If Night Stalker foolish and stay, must not lead Crow and evil whites to their camp. Most are old ones, women, and little ones.”
He noticed something in her tone that told him she wasn’t convinced her party was gone. “You think your brother might stay here and search for you?”
“Morning Star pray he do not trail to try rescue. Not sure,” she added, being honest with him. “Night Stalker have much to learn from Father before he be chief. He hunger to drive whites from land and slay all Crow. He hunger to earn many coups and much honor. He not want to think and talk. He want to use wits and skills to defend hunting grounds, sacred lands, and people. When winter quiet, he gro
w restless. He not trust whites. He thirty winters, years, old. Father fifty-four years. More trouble comes. It not Night Stalker’s time to be chief. Father must teach more. Morning Star pray brother listens. Knife-Slayer whispers words into ear Morning Star not think good. Morning Star pray Great Spirit opens all Oglala hearts and ears to Joe’s words for peace.”
“So do I, Morning Star. If a strong truce isn’t made soon and your people attack the whites, the Army will retaliate.” Joe fretted over the interference and resistance he suspected he would get from Knife-Slayer, Hawk Eyes, and Night Stalker. He would have to do some fast and clever talking to convince Sun Cloud, Red Hearts, and other Oglalas to cooperate with him and his cohorts, Stede Gaston and Tom Fitzpatrick. “If I only had some evidence against Snake-Man to show your people to prove I’m… That’s it! In the morning, you ride home and I’ll track Zeke to spy on his meeting with the Crow. Maybe I can get some proof. I’ll come to your camp as soon as—”
“Hiya! Go with you. It too dangerous alone and wounded. Men bad.”
Joe gazed into her defiant face. He knew it was bravery speaking, not impulsiveness. “No, Morning Star. They could capture you again. Then the Oglalas would attack the Crow, and war would surely follow.”
She was touched by his concern for her safety and his desire to help Lakotas. Yet it was more her problem than Joe’s, so she must assist him. “We be careful. Morning Star know land and tracks. Go with you, help.”
Joe saw how determined and confident she was. He knew arguing was a waste of time and energy, and she was right. “You can come, but we won’t get too close. We’re not taking any risks.”
“Good. Simple,” she added and grinned, her eyes sparkling. Morning Star was glad he yielded. Riding together against foes sounded exciting. Her body quivered with anticipation. The chief, tribal council, and warrior societies controlled everything in Indian camps. It was thrilling to be half in charge for a change. Until they reached her village, she could use her skills and wits on something besides female chores. It was delightful not be refused and scolded because she was “only a woman.” She could not help but be impressed by Joe’s generosity where her help was involved.
They had talked in their hideout for hours. Dusk approached and dimmed the cave’s interior. Both decided their foes must be gone by now.
Morning Star got to her feet. She was hungry, and needed privacy. “Joe stay. Morning Star hunt, track and kill with knife. It silent. Gun loud. You make fire to cook. Morning Star return soon.”
Joe reasoned that any threat to them had ended, but still he protested her plan. “What if they’re still looking for us? I can’t let you go alone.”
“Morning Star know hills, and one hunter best. Morning Star be alert, not be foolish. Be safe.”
Once more, Joseph Lawrence realized he couldn’t change her mind. After seeing her in action he believed she could take care of herself. She was on guard now; it was dusk; and she was familiar with the area. “Don’t stay long. I’ll worry until I see your face again.”
After the Indian maiden left, Joe used a safety match to light a fire. As he worried over her safety, he drifted into serious thought. He knew this mission was going to be difficult. He would have foes, resisters, and dangers on both sides. Yet his tasks seemed challenging and stimulating ones. He tried to keep the loss of Tanner Gaston off his mind, as it could distract him. At a time when he was surrounded by perils, distractions could cost him his life and success. If everything worked out, he would avenge the death of his best friend, help establish peace for Stede’s people and for innocent whites, and spend time with Morning Star. Once his tasks here were done, he would return to Virginia and never see her again. That thought evoked a curious ache within him.
Tanner’s cousin was enchanting and unique. She stirred feelings in him that he had experienced before, but never this strong and deep. He warned himself that he could not act on those desires. She was Sun Cloud’s daughter; and they were a world apart in upbringings and beliefs. If only she and her people weren’t in such peril…
What he had told her about needing a strong treaty and no attacks or else the Army would retaliate was true. There were eight forts within a week’s ride of the Dakotas’ enormous territory: Atkinson and Kearny II to the south; Dodge, Ripley, and Snelling to the east; Benton to the northwest; Laramie fringed it to the southwest and within it was Fort Tabor on the Missouri River. From what Tom Fitzpatrick had told him, it wouldn’t be long before Bridger, Union, Lookout, and Pratte’s posts would have forts. The Oglala’s lands were almost surrounded by military sites, most of which were well armed with men and weapons.
The forts had been constructed to battle outlaws, hostile tribes, and renegades, to act as supply depots for wagon trains and other forts, to guard the immigrant trails west, and to encourage white settlement. Fort Laramie was the largest and strongest nearby, and that was where Stede Gaston, Tom Fitzpatrick, and Colonel David Twiggs were posted. Twiggs, commander of the western division of the Army, controlled the 2nd United States Dragoons, two companies of Mounted Riflemen, one company of 6th United States Infantry, and various other soldiers. The Oregon, Mormon, and California trails passed near Laramie, a major stop for wagon trains and gold seekers and an area that had become like an enormous kettle of assorted types of people.
Into a large pot were tossed disdainful soldiers, scared recruits, passing immigrants, determined settlers, prospectors, countless traders, and reckless hunters. Added to it were a batch of rival fur companies and trappers, then mistrustful Indians, warring tribes, and defiant renegades were included. Tossed in were a pinch of surveyors, scouts and explorers. That mixture had stewed for years— especially since ’46— and was beginning to simmer after being spiced with greed, guile, fear, and misconceptions. To have those people and emotions provoked to the boiling point by a blackheart like Snake-Man made for a lethal meal. Worse, hotheads on both sides added new fuel weekly to the cookfire.
If the evildoers were halted and both sides made an honest attempt at getting to understand and respect each other, real peace was possible. If a southern shipper like himself could come here and grasp so much in less than a year, Joe rea soned, so could others. He had learned a great deal about the Indian. A warrior’s world was his tepee, his family, his tribe, his ancestors, his hunting grounds, his enemies, his coups, and his culture. A woman’s was tending to the needs of her family.
The Dakotas were a strong, proud, independent nation, born to a way of life that had existed for centuries with few changes. Their lives were simple, nomadic, and in harmony with their god and the land. They valued their allies, and they battled their foes. Intertribal feuds were passed from father to son, then kept alive with continual aggression and retaliation. They saw wars and raids as the path to glory, high rank, and livelihood. They battled to retain their ancestral, sacred, and hunting grounds. Yet most coups were earned for touching a foe or stealing his goods, not by slaying him. Scalping— taking a small lock of hair, not the whole head— was a symbol of courage, prowess, and cunning. Joe concluded that the Indians were not as he had imagined, even though Stede Gaston had told Joe many things before his arrival here.
After Stede’s father—Powchutu—had been slain during the same ambush that had taken the life of Gray Eagle and made Sun Cloud the Red Heart chief, peace had ruled this area until ’46, except for a few conflicts. Many events since that time had compelled more whites and soldiers into this area, which they had promised to leave in peace and privacy. The Canadian border dispute had been settled in ’46. Oregon had opened up and beckoned pioneers. The Mexican War had ended in ’48, giving the Union more territory to explore and settle. The gold rush to California had come in ’48. More forts and posts had been constructed in ’49 and ’50, and more troops had come to Laramie. Some territories had become states, California just last year, making thirty-one in the Union. The whites and their states had advanced steadily: Missouri, Illinois, Iowa, and Texas. Word was Minnesota would
follow suit within a year or so.
Plans for more encroachment and progress were ongoing back East. Asa Whitney had spoken to Congress in ’49 about extending roads and railroads from the Great Lakes through this territory to Oregon and the Pacific. The Department of Interior, headed by Secretary Stuart, had been established in ’49 to handle settlement. President Fillmore was having a difficult time over the slavery issue— which he hated but endured until he could abolish it safely— so he wanted eyes and ears on another matter. Expansion in the West offered him that solution, that reprieve. For these reasons Fillmore had sent Stede Gaston to this area to prevent any bloody confrontations borne of fear of settlement.
Joe was apprehensive over rapid advancement. He doubted the Indians realized the strength and number of whites or how impossible it would be to keep this territory to themselves. Did they, Joe mused, know how many other Indian nations and tribes— mainly eastern— had been destroyed, conquered, or moved aside for white habitation? True, he had come to be with Tanner and to share adventures with his best friend, but he had witnessed and learned enough to get him as deeply involved in this cause as was Tanner’s father.
Tanner Gaston… Stede Gaston… Joe wondered if Sun Cloud and his people recalled those names from the distant past. He had not spoken them to Morning Star, for a good reason. What would happen when he mentioned Gaston to her people? By Oglala blood and tradition, Stede had more of a right to the Red Heart chief’s bonnet than Sun Cloud did…
Morning Star’s father and grandfather were legends in the worlds of the Indian and White men who had signed treaties in the past. But after each treaty, new trouble had arisen, and promises were forgotten or disregarded by the whites. Perhaps Sun Cloud and the Oglala had lost all faith in the whites. Joe couldn’t blame them and he could not help but worry about what would happen if he failed in this awesome task. What if fierce war broke out between the Oglala and Crow, between the Oglala and whites? What if Sun Cloud was slain in an ambush as his father had been in 1820? From what Fitzpatrick, Stede, and others had told him—as with Gray Eagle—Sun Cloud could control and lead; he could cool hot heads or inflame restless hearts. He was loved by his people and allies but feared and hated by his enemies. He was the epitome of the perfect warrior and leader. Joe was eager to meet this great legend— son of a past legend, father of the woman with him now— to learn the truth for himself.
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