“It is agreed, Sun Cloud.” Joe smiled in relief.
“It is good, Father,” Morning Star concurred in excitement. Now that her father had related the events of the meeting, she wouldn’t have to fear unmasking herself with careless slips.
“We shall see, Daughter.”
“I will gather supplies to be ready to ride when… Tanner returns.”
“No, Morning Star.”
“I am best trained,” she argued as dismay filled her.
“Your father’s right, Morning Star,” Joe concurred prematurely.
“There will be a contest while he is gone. All women who wish to enter may do so. The winner will ride with Tanner Gaston. It will be the female with the most skills and courage who wins. All must have the chance to become She-Who-Rode-With-The-Sky-Warrior. Grandfather did not reveal her face and name to Payaba, but he will choose her in the test.”
Joe didn’t like that idea, as he somehow knew Morning Star had spoken the truth when she told him she was the best trained. Still, it was a fair way to make a choice. If Sun Cloud’s daughter won, it wouldn’t be the same as him selecting her above the others, so it shouldn’t cause jealousy and trouble. He was elated and alarmed by the prospect of being alone with her.
Morning Star beamed with joy and anticipation. She was eager for the contest to begin, as she felt confident about winning it. What other girl in their tribe could shoot, ride, hunt, and fight as she could? None.
“We must sleep. Have you tended his wound?” Sun Cloud asked.
“Han, Ata,” she replied.
“You sleep there,” he told Joe, pointing to a mat away from the other three which were positioned close tonight on the other side.
“Pilamaya, Mahpiya Wi,” Joe thanked him.
“It is good you learn our tongue and ways. Knowing them, you will not offend with mistakes that can bring shame and death.” Sun Cloud glanced at his radiant daughter, then returned his meaningful gaze to the newcomer.
Joe captured the hint in the chief’s words and nodded understanding and acceptance, though he knew how hard it would be to keep his word.
They took their places to pass an unusual night. The small, rock-enclosed fire had died. For a time, an unoffensive odor of smoke lingered in the conical dwelling. The top flap was adjusted for the flow of fresh air, but the entry flap was closed for privacy. Except for distant sounds of nocturnal birds, insects, and frogs, it was quiet in this secluded area.
The clean, neat tepee told Joseph Lawrence that Singing Wind was an organized woman. He knew that she and Morning Star had tanned these hides, gathered these poles, and constructed this cozy surrounding. Even though it was too dim to see much, his keen eyes and alert senses had taken in many details during the evening. Six large poles— tall, straight, and debarked— made a sturdy framework, then many slender ones leaned against them to provide strength, support, and shaping. The fifteen-foot pointed cluster was covered by buffalo skins that were laced together by deft hands to stay in place, especially during brisk winds and storms.
A colorfully painted dew-cloth, an added layer of brain-tanned hides stitched together to form a lengthy roll, was suspended from a height of five feet to the ground; this strip discouraged drafts at the base and provided added warmth and beauty for the simple home. It also diverted the rain that could run down the poles to the outside, and created an air flow that forced smoke upward and out the top flap. The numerous lining ties were secured to a rope that went from post to post and was attached to each. Possessions hung from the strong rope: medicine bag, parfleches— the equal of white man’s drawers and chests for clothing and such— sewing pouch, weapons— which women never handled— backrests, larger pouches for holding dishes and cookware. When not in use, sitting and sleeping mats were rolled and kept near the tepee base. Joe was amazed that all their worldly possessions could be contained in such a small abode.
Yet Joe knew that Lakotas were nomadic, and that they lived a simple and routine existence. Other than horses, acquired by trade or theft, they cared little for collecting “worldly” riches. He mused on the number and variety of items in his home and in his father’s office in Virginia, when this family could hold almost all of their goods inside one Lawrence closet. He thought of the amount of clothing and jewels most women of his acquaintance owned, when Morning Star had only a few garments and modest beadwork. He reflected on the foods and treats that whites loved and demanded during a meal, particularly when dining out, when these people had a simple diet that they themselves gathered or killed.
As Joe’s mind drifted before slumber claimed him, he realized again how many differences there were between himself and the daughter of the Red Heart chief. Whites worshipped in churches and learned in schools, while Indians used nature’s surroundings or their tepees. Whites executed or jailed criminals, whereas Indians slew or banished theirs. Lakotas met other tribes for exchange fairs or, on a rare occasion, dealt with a post or traveling trader; there were no stores, specialty shops, and busy towns in this territory. There were no trains, ships, or coaches here— only horses and travois for travel and transport. There were no theaters for plays and orchestras to offer enjoyment, or casinos for gambling, or businessmen to obtain wanted items, or workers to hire for laborious tasks, or seamtresses to make clothing, or large homes for parties and dances, or servants for doing daily chores.
He had been reared by a wealthy and educated family. But he had Stede, Molly, and Tanner Gaston to thank for teaching him about down-to-earth living. He had learned much from them over the years since meeting Tanner at school. He had spent many holidays in their home and shared many trips with the family. Not that his parents had allowed him to become spoiled, self-indulgent, or lazy— but the Gastons had honed his best traits and had inspired others. To him, Stede and Molly had been like a special uncle and aunt; Tanner had been like his brother.
Tanner— his loss was terrible. Joe couldn’t imagine never seeing his best friend again or sharing good times with him. It was painful to think of never hearing Tanner’s voice and laughter, of never viewing his lopsided smile, of never hunting and riding side by side, of all the things they would never get to do together, of him missing this soul-stirring adventure. Anger and bitterness gnawed at Joe, and he knew he must find Tanner’s murderer.
Tanner would have liked Morning Star and his other Indian relatives. He was liked by nearly everyone he met. He had possessed an instinct about people and he’d known how to deal with all types. Many times Tanner’s wits and skills had gotten Joe out of a bad situation or prevented one. Tanner had been easygoing and unique.
Unique, as was his beautiful Indian cousin. Joe was aware of Morning Star’s close proximity. Her essence was in the still air and it seemed to engulf him, as if her spirit was touching his flesh from head to toe. He admired and respected her and her parents. He was pleased and proud of his success today. When he left in the morning, he would miss the young woman nearby. He would hurry to return from his trip to Fort Tabor to see Captain James “Jim” Thomas. At least he was grateful that Zeke and his boys were heading in the opposite direction, unless they had used another false trail to mislead him!
Joe was fatigued from riding and worrying, but he was relaxed over the council vote and his acceptance by Sun Cloud. His heavy lids drooped and closed. Soon, he was asleep.
Morning Star was not a captive of slumber but an emotional prisoner of the white man in her home. His pattern of breathing told her his restive spirit had found release. It was wrong, but she wished she were lying on the mat with him. She had felt safe but stimulated at his side. Any distance between them now seemed to evoke a feeling of denial. Yet she must conceal those emotions, must halt and prevent such forbidden desires. Her father believed in avoiding temptations to prevent yielding to them.
Morning Star was tired, but elated. She was eager for Joe to return, and hated for him to leave even for a short period. Soon, they would share so many adventures and confront so many challen
ges on the trail. She glanced at the shaft of light coming through the ventilation opening at the tepee point. The full moon could not pierce the heavy hides, so the enclosed area was nearly dark. If only they were alone in this cozy… Morning Star warned herself again to cease such hopeless yearnings and dreams. She forced her eyes shut and told herself to go to sleep.
Neither was Singing Wind asleep. She hoped that Sun Cloud hadn’t noticed the strong pull between their daughter and the grandson of her husband’s uncle. She knew that her love, her chief, had enough to worry over without including their youngest child. When Sun Cloud gathered her closer to his body, Singing Wind relaxed and eased into slumber.
Sun Cloud wished he could do the same. He perceived the restlessness in everyone in his tepee. He sensed the attraction between his daughter and new-found cousin. He trusted Morning Star, but love was powerful, often irresistible, as it had been be tween himself and his wife long ago. He remembered the risks and chances they had taken to be together. He didn’t want his child to be hurt by craving a food she must never taste. If only he could keep them apart, their temptation would be easier to control. Maybe she would not win the contest to become Tanner’s helper. He would do all he could to make certain she lost. If she won, it would mean it was the will of the Great Spirit. He had made many sacrifices in the past for his people. Surely Wakantanka would not make his daughter another one…
As Joe saddled Star, Sun Cloud gave him directions to the fort. The chief tied a beaded band around his forearm with markings that revealed Joe as a friend of the Red Hearts. “If other Dakotas approach, point to the isto wikan and say, Mahpiya Wi, mitakola, mita tahansi. It means, Sun Cloud, my friend, my cousin. They will let you go in peace. If Crow or Whites approach, remove from your arm and hide.”
“Pilamaya.” He thanked the chief, then secured his bedroll and rain slicker behind the cantle, and positioned his saddlebags. He suspended a canteen and supply sack over the horn and slid his Sharp’s rifle into an oblong leather holster. He was wearing a Colt pistol at his waist, and a knife sheath above his ankle. Tanner had trained him to be a near expert with guns and knives. Joe turned to Sun Cloud. “I’ll tell the Army your people aren’t responsible for those raids on boats, wagons, homes, and soldiers,” he said.
“We raided Crow camps to look for Red Heart arrows to learn if they seek to make us look guilty,” Sun Cloud said. “We found none. Many times we find tracks of shod horses, white man’s shoes, but we do not know who rides them. They travel too far to follow. We will wait to learn if you can stop the war breeding this season. If you cannot, leave our land and do not get trapped between us.”
Joe asked a troubling question. “One thing I don’t understand, Sun Cloud; why did you allow a small party to journey to Bear Mountain when there are Crow and bad whites in the area?”
“No Crow or other enemy band will attack a sacred party at a holy place. We did not think the evil whites would be in that area this soon. We believed they would wait for us to move our camps to the plains to hunt buffalo before they cause trouble. Whites do not honor sacred lands and times. Others went because they felt the Great Spirit’s call; it is our way.”
Singing Wind joined them and handed supplies to Joe: papa, dried strips of meat-similar to the white man’s jerky, aguyapi, pones of bread of which half were plain and half were speckled with dried nuts and fruit, and wakapanpi, prepared meat and berries— what the white man called pemmican. Still unadjusted to speaking English at this time, she told Joe, “Ake ecana wancinyankin kte. Wakantanka nici un.”
Morning Star smiled and said, “Mother says, Good-bye, I see you again soon. May Great Spirit go with you and guide you.”
Joe smiled and responded, “I’ll return as soon as possible. Good-bye, Sun Cloud, Morning Star, Singing Wind. Thanks for everything. I’ll do my best to win peace for your people.”
Joe mounted his roan, glanced at the three upturned faces, smiled again, and left the camp. As he rode away, he recalled what the chief had told him was the council’s orders: the vote was to spare his life, to let him seek an honorable treaty, to allow him to defeat Snake-Man, and to distract their foes during the buffalo hunt. If Joe failed, there would be another council meeting and vote for war. This morning he had noticed Knife-Slayer, Hawk Eyes, and Night Stalker watching his every move and listening to his every word. He prayed that Sun Cloud could control them while he was gone. He kneed Star into a gallop.
Morning Star stood with her father for a time, but she was careful not to stare after Joe as he departed or to expose her warring emotions. It was the first time they had been alone since her return with the white man.
Sun Cloud said in his language, “I am happy you returned home safely, Daughter. It was rash to stray so far from the others.”
Morning Star accepted the gentle reprimand with love and respect. “I was distracted while gathering herbs for Payaba, Father. When I saw the two white men, I had to follow them and spy to decide if a warning to our people was needed. They could have been scouts for an attack. My father did not raise a coward, and my mother did not birth a reckless fool. I knew the risks, but chose to take them. A chief’s people and his duty come first to him; I am a chiefs daughter, so I feel the same. Would you have me do less than I am able because I am a female? I believe my capture was the Great Spirit’s plan to allow a meeting with… Tanner.”
“I believe it is so,” he concurred. “You were wise and brave to trust him and to bring him to us, Daughter. Pride lives in my heart for your deed. You have much of your mother’s wits, skills, and daring. At your age, she was this same way. But her emotions often ran too deep, like a stream hidden beneath the face of Mother Earth. When heavy rains come, the stream can burst forth from its secret place and do much damage. Too often her love of adventure made her impulsive and willful. The first time I realized how strong my feelings were for Singing Wind, she was trailing white men to spy on them. Many times she rode alone and ignored dangers.”
Morning Star laughed and replied, “Those things made her a strong and brave woman, Father, a special one who captured your eye and heart. Only such a woman can be the best wife for a chief.”
Sun Cloud grinned and agreed. Then he warned, “If you are to ride with Sky Warrior, Morning Star, always remember you are Oglala, daughter of the chief. Do not let his white ways enter your head and heart.”
“I will remember your words and obey them, Father,” she responded, then prayed she could keep that promise.
After they parted and she headed to begin her daily chores, Night Stalker approached her. “It is a good day, Brother,” she greeted him.
“A good day,” he scoffed, “when a white man rides from our camp to expose our strength to the soldiers so they can return and attack?”
Morning Star was dismayed by his distrust and bitterness, by his dangerous need to battle the whites at any cost. “He goes to help us, Brother,” she argued, “not to betray us. He and his task were revealed to us in a sacred vision. How can you not believe, accept, and obey that?”
“I am not convinced the vision is real. If it is true, how do we know he is Sky Warrior? Even so, he is but one wolf attacking a herd of strong buffalo. He cannot slay or halt its stampede. He will cease to try and will join them. We have vowed to battle the whites to victory or our deaths. There is no white man’s peace without defeat and dishonor. Every treaty has been broken or used against Indians. The whites invade our lands and seek to steal them. They challenge us, spit upon us, curse us. They desire all we have and will slay us to get it. If this is not so, why do more soldiers come and why do they build more forts? They do so to prepare to attack and take. The white man cannot be trusted. He is evil and greedy. He must be pushed back to his lands or destroyed. We wait for Tanner to seek truce while our foes get stronger. It is foolish and deadly.”
“No, Brother. If we challenge the whites, we will die. If we do not seek truce with the Bird People, the wars with them will continue forever and will e
ndanger all children to follow us. I will help Tanner seek peace.”
Night Stalker’s long black mane moved about as he shook his head. “It is not our way for a woman to be a warrior!”
“Our way will die if our foes are not defeated. Tanner is the one to lead us to victory. And I am best trained to become his helper.”
“Prove it, Sister,” he challenged. “What will you say when you lose the contest Father plans? Will you shame your family with a pride too big? The warrior who boasts loudest is usually the weakest. When the time comes for him to prove his words, his skills fail and dishonor him.”
“What will Night Stalker say when his sister wins the contest, and when, at Tanner’s side,” she retorted, “she obtains peace for our people? You will be chief one day, Brother. The time must come when you think and seek more for survival of our people than for personal coups and honors.”
As she stalked away, he murmured to himself, “The granddaughter of Chief Gray Eagle, the child of Chief Sun Cloud, and the sister of future Chief Night Stalker must not shame us or help the whites destroy us. I will make certain you do not, my sister.”
Morning Star and Buckskin Girl knelt at the lake’s edge and talked as they washed clothing. The chief’s daughter told her best friend of her capture, treatment by the white men, and her time with Joe. Yet she withheld the secret of Joe’s true identity and her mixed feelings about him.
The lovely and gentle Buckskin Girl remarked, “I was so worried when you vanished. When scouts found clues to your capture, fear shot into my heart as a flaming arrow. Night Stalker wished to track them and rescue you. If the others had not reasoned with him and changed his mind, he would have done so.”
“My brother is blind to the wrongs in his heart, Buckskin Girl. I pray the Great Spirit will clear his eyes and uncloud his mind. When Tanner wins peace for us, Night Stalker will be forced to accept the truth. It will be so exciting. She-Who-Rode-With-The-Sky-Warrior is my destiny.”
Forever Ecstasy Page 13