Forever Ecstasy

by Janelle Taylor

  Joe went to his horse and retrieved the knife and small ax, more like a hatchet. He headed for the past medicine chief’s tepee, as he’d seen the elderly man return home earlier. From the custom he had learned, he called out, asking for permission to come inside and visit.

  “U wo.” Payaba granted it.

  Joe held out the knife and hatchet. “I bring you gifts of friendship and thanks, Payaba. I don’t understand visions, but yours was filled with knowledge and truth. Morning Star speaks only good and loving words of you. I’m honored to know you. If there’s a chore I can do for you today, my hands and mind are willing.”

  “Your heart is kind and pure, Tanner Gaston. Payaba thanks you. Many others see me as a grandfather, brother, and uncle; they do chores for Payaba and Winter Woman. They fetch wood and water, and bring food. Morning Star gathers herbs and plants for my medicines. I need nothing more. My heart is warmed by your generosity and friendship.”

  Payaba retrieved something from a medicine pouch and wrapped it in a small piece of hide. “It is medicine to tend the cut you place on your hand in the ceremony this moon,” he explained. “It will halt redness, bad water, and fever. No evil spirit must be allowed to sicken a man who has a great task before him.”

  Joe thanked him for the gift. “Payaba’s medicine is strong. Morning Star used it to tend a bullet wound I got after I helped her escape those white men. It’s almost healed now.”

  “Cover the cut. Let no dirt or insect enter. The evil white-eyes put many bad things into Mother Earth.”

  As the snowy-haired man watched Joe’s departure, he reflected on the dream he had experienced following the contest. He decided it would be damaging to reveal it to his chief. Besides, if it was more than a dream— as he suspected— destinies of those involved could not be changed. There was no need to worry his leader until the time came…

  As Morning Star went through her possessions one last time to make certain she had packed everything she would need on the trail, she lifted her flesher and gazed at it with pride and joy. At a girl’s ritual introduction to womanhood, she was given a special elkhorn upon which her good deeds were recorded by whomever was in charge of an event. The color, shape, and number of dots revealed the reasons for those marks. Some were for tanning hides and making robes, for winning beading or quilling contests, for helping others construct their first tepee before a joining ceremony, and for performing a charitable or brave deed. Possible suitors often asked to view a woman’s flesher before he shared a blanket with her or asked her to become his wife. For a female, counting her dots was comparable to a warrior counting his coups of prowess and generosity.

  Many women had earned a new dot for helping Morning Star prepare for the great task before her. The Lakota beading was removed from all her possessions and replaced with the colors and symbols of the Arapaho, a tribe that was neither ally nor foe of either the Dakotas or the Crow. It would be a safe identity to assume as Joe’s squaw. Even her new necklace and wristlets were Arapaho.

  Morning Star wondered where Joe was and how he was doing in her camp. As soon as the last task was completed, she would look for him.

  Knife-Slayer returned from hunting with a buck across his horse. He sighted the white man near a corral and headed to speak with the paleface before skinning his kill. As he approached, the hated rival heard him.

  Joe noticed the cold glare in the warrior’s narrowed eyes and the hostility in his expression. He perceived hatred and resentment in the Indian’s aura. Hoping to avoid an unpleasant confrontation, he complimented the man. “Your hunt was successful; that’s a fine buck. How many arrows did it take to bring him down?” he attempted to converse in a genial way.

  “A skilled hunter slays his game with one shot, White man. Knife-Slayer is a skilled hunter and a skilled warrior. Can you do the same?”

  Joe tried to make peace by grinning and replying, “Most of the time, but I wouldn’t want to compete in hunting and shooting with a man of your prowess. I’m glad we’re on the same side. You’d make a tough enemy.”

  The Indian avowed, “We are enemies, White-Dog. You do not trick me with your words as you blind others with them. Before many suns and moons pass across the heaven, you will prove to my people you are false, that your skills are few, and your task futile. When the whites and Crow attack us on the plains, war will come. Until my people see the truth, protect Morning Star from danger. And do not touch her,” he added with a coldness that startled Joe.

  “I’m not your enemy, Knife-Slayer,” the blond argued. “I’m here to help your people. How can you doubt and reject a sacred vision?”

  Ebony braids with coup feathers attached near their ends grazed strong shoulders as the warrior shook his head. “You cannot stop a war we have battled with the Crow since Grandfather created us. You cannot stop the whites from attacking. Yes, Half-Breed, we are enemies. Your white blood and ways are strongest. When war comes, you will side with them. On that sun, I will slay you with great joy. If you try to steal Morning Star from me and her people, I will slay you sooner.”

  Knife-Slayer’s insults and warnings angered Joe, but he controlled his temper. Joe knew the warrior was arrogant, as no other one wore his coup feathers in camp. He glanced at two Sun Dance scars on the bronzed chest of the man who craved the same woman he did; they told him the warrior could endure as much pain as he could inflict on foes. He couldn’t imagine Morning Star marrying and yielding to this fierce male. She was too gentle, kind, and smart. Yet, if Knife-Slayer stopped others from wooing Morning Star and made himself her only suitor, and if he offered many possessions to her father for her hand in marriage, would Morning Star feel compelled to accept her only proposal to avoid embarrassing her family by having no mate? The idea of her being entrapped by the wicked warrior vexed Joe. With boldness, he chided, “Your heart is filled with hatred and bitterness. Men like you are the only ones who can prevent peace with the whites and the Crow. It’s wrong, Knife-Slayer, to endanger and destroy your people.”

  “A man fights his own battles, White-Dog.”

  “Your intrusion can create a battle you can’t win, Knife-Slayer.”

  “There is no battle I cannot win! There is no foe I cannot defeat!”

  “Then why didn’t you attack and slay Snake-Man when you located him and spied on him?” Joe challenged, his own blue eyes narrowed now.

  Although only two inches separated their heights, Knife-Slayer drew himself up tall and stiff to level their gazes. “He is an evil spirit,” he responded. “They cannot be slain, except with powerful magic. I am no shaman.”

  “He isn’t a spirit. He’s only a man, a white man, a clever man.”

  “You have not seen him! How do you know such things?”

  “In a land far away, I have seen the kind of magic he does. They’re only tricks to fool Indians who haven’t seen them. I’m going to defeat him. Like you, he craves war, but I’ll find him and stop him.”

  “If he does not find and stop you first.”

  “At least I’m not afraid to go after him,” Joe snapped unwisely.

  “Knife-Slayer fears no man and no task, Piss of the Coyote!”

  Provoked, Joe spoke his mind. “You fear I have the prowess to steal the woman you desire. You fear I have the prowess to gain a treaty to halt another war. You fear my victory will earn me a bigger coup than you’ve won. You fear that victory will put an end to the bloody raids you love. Fear is a strong and wicked power, Knife-Slayer, one you’d better defeat or learn to control for the good of your people and lands. If you change your mind about me and peace, I’ll offer you my hand in friendship,” Joe finished, but only to avoid more hostility. He walked away.

  Morning Star was concealed behind a tree. After she saw Joe depart, she joined the warrior and warned, “Remove such fears and doubts from your mind and heart, Knife-Slayer, or they will bring much trouble and suffering to many. It is wrong to insult a man with Oglala blood, the same blood that lives within your chief and
in my body. When the great task is done and peace rules our lands, I will return to my people and he will return to his. He is not what stands between us. We are too different.”

  “If he tries to steal you, I will challenge him to the death.”

  “He cannot steal from you what you do not own,” she retorted. “If you intrude on the sacred vision, you will be banished or slain. We have known each other since children. I do not want such shame and torment to enter your mother’s tepee. Visit the sweat lodge to purify yourself of such wickedness. Pray to Grandfather to change your heart. Endure a vision-quest to receive His warnings of wisdom. Seek another female to share your love and tepee. Only this way can you survive and be happy.”

  “I do not wish to survive without my love, my lands, and my honor.”

  “You do not love me, Knife-Slayer,” Morning Star corrected, “you desire me and you crave the daughter of your chief as first wife. If you are patient, a true love will come to you. If you are patient, Joe will win truce, and your honor and our lands will not be endangered.”

  “Why do you call him Joe?” He pounced on her slip.

  Thinking fast, she explained, “That is the name he uses to fool the whites. I practice to avoid mistakes when we travel together. No one must know he is the grandson of Powchutu who was first called Tanner Gaston.”

  “You are wrong, Morning Star. My love and need for you are as strong as my doubts of him. Do not shame our chief and people by not returning.”

  “Have you forgotten we are of the same bloodline and cannot mate? Have you forgotten we are different? Morning Star cannot go to the white lands and accept the white ways; I am Oglala; I will always be Oglala. I swear to you, he will return to his home far away when his task is done.”

  “Swear it to Grandfather, for you will not break your word to Him.”

  “Nothing I say or do will change your mind, Knife-Slayer. I am troubled by the feelings I see in you. I pray they are gone when I return.”

  Morning Star encountered her brother before she reached her tepee. She knew that meant another quarrel, and she dreaded it. She smiled and greeted Night Stalker, hoping he would be kind today.

  “I pray you can return safely after the truth is revealed, Sister. Know, if you do not, your brother and Knife-Slayer will avenge any harm to you.”

  “I will be safe with Tanner, my brother.”

  “He was raised white. He is a half-blood. Do not trust him.”

  “His bloodline is as strong and true as ours. Tanner said Powchutu joined a half-white woman. Both bloodlines have Indians and whites.”

  Coldness entered the proud warrior’s dark eyes. “No, our blood is almost pure. His has been weakened and stained many times. Enemy blood came to Tanner from his paleface mother, his half-white grandmother, and a paleface parent before her.”

  Seeing how upset Night Stalker was, she debated in a soft tone, “What of Shalee’s mother? What of Jenny’s parents? All were white, my brother. Much as you despise the truth, you cannot remove it or forget it. If Running Wolf had claimed his firstborn son, Powchutu would have become Red Heart chief, not Gray Eagle, the second born. If Powchutu had been chief, his son— Stede— would now be chief, not our father. If so, Tanner/Sky Warrior would be next in line, not Night Stalker.”

  He glared at her and alleged, “If Powchutu had become chief, he would not have met his half-breed woman in the white world he joined by choice. Do not forget, Powchutu loved our grandmother; if he had become chief, he would have taken Shalee as wife. All would be the same for us. I would still be chief next.”

  “It would not be so, Brother. Different mates bear different children. We would not exist if Gray Eagle had not won and mated with Alisha/Shalee.”

  “You are wrong, Morning Star. The Great Spirit and Whope give a maiden her seeds when she comes to season. No matter which man brings one to life, the child is the same.”

  “If that is true, how does a white captive bear an Indian child, as Alisha did our father and uncle?”

  “Because the Great Spirit makes a warrior’s water of life overpower the white woman’s seed.”

  “If that is true,” she reasoned again, “Powchutu’s flow overpowered his mate’s seed to make Stede an Indian, and Stede’s flow overpowered his mate’s to make Tanner an Indian. As Oglala, you have no fight with him. To you, Tanner must be as Indian as you are, my wise brother.”

  Night Stalker realized she was turning his argument against him, but he vowed to open her mind! “The Great Spirit does not live and work in the white world where Powchutu fled and mated. Stede was raised as a paleface and he joined to one. The Great Spirit did not intrude on their mating, and their son was born of her white seed. Tanner’s face marks him as white, and he carries little Oglala blood.”

  Morning Star asked herself if her brother’s explanation was right, or even partly right. She did not know how either Stede or the real Tanner looked, and she told herself to ask Joe when they had privacy. Yet every child of a mixed union that she knew looked Indian or revealed only a tiny mark of their white heritage. Except Alisha/Shalee, she reminded herself. “Does that mean the Great Spirit did not intrude on the mating of Black Cloud and Jenny Pilcher?” she questioned. “All say Shalee had hair of fire and eyes like grass when Mother Earth renews her face. Why would the Great Spirit let a white captive’s seed be stronger than a Blackfoot chief’s?”

  “Perhaps the Great Spirit was angered when Black Cloud took his white captive as wife.”

  “If so, was the Great Spirit not more angered when Gray Eagle— the greatest warrior to ever live— took his white captive as wife?”

  “It is not the same, Sister! Our grandmother was half Indian. That is why the Great Spirit did not mark our father and uncle as half-breeds or whites; He made them Indian to show He was not displeased.”

  “Perhaps the Great Spirit gave grandmother a white face to show all that some whites are good. How can you hate the son and grandson of Powchutu when our grandmother and her mother also carried white blood? The Great Spirit chose Tanner as our helper; He does not hate or reject all white blood. If you battle him, you will be punished,” she warned.

  To silence her, he accused, “You speak too strong for him, Sister.”

  “I trust him and believe he can help us. A sacred vision does not lie.”

  “I fear I see more than trust in your eyes.”

  “Do not be foolish, Brother. We are of the same bloodline: Running Wolf’s. We cannot mate. Is that what troubles you about my leaving?”

  “I have not seen this strange glow in your eyes before. He touches your heart, Sister, but be certain he does not touch your body.”

  “Your warning is not needed, for I know and accept such things.”

  “Do you, my sister? Remember, if you turn to him and we are betrayed, you and your family will be shamed. You will be banished.”

  Morning Star fretted as she watched her brother leave. He and Knife-Slayer suspected her feelings for Joe; her mother had hinted at them, and her father was too quiet and watchful. That could only mean she was not doing a good task of concealing her forbidden emotions! She cautioned herself to be more careful. She did not want anything, especially her weakness for Joe, to hinder the sacred mission before them. The fact that Joseph Lawrence was a man of pure white blood made him as taboo as if he were her blood cousin. She was vexed by the contradiction that an Indian male could take a white female but that it was a disgrace for an Indian woman to take a white man!

  Morning Star scolded herself for worrying about such an impossible situation. Joe was not like Knife-Slayer, a man who would take a female he desired even if he couldn’t join her! Joe had pride, honor, and goodness. Joe knew they were unmatched, and would not pursue her. Yet a curious sensation washed over her. She prayed it was too late for anything or anyone to prevent her from leaving with him in the morning.

  Chapter Eight

  After the evening meal in Sun Cloud’s tepee, Joe, the chief, his wife,
and Morning Star joined the Red Hearts who gathered in a clearing near the water for the unusual ritual to make a white man a blood brother.

  Green spruces and pines, obsidian hills, and a blue lake surrounded the people with colorful beauty. A half moon floated across an indigo sky with countless silvery stars which reminded all of an artistic piece of Indian beadwork. The water’s surface was as tranquil as a lazy southern evening; it reflected the partial moon rising above it as if the moon held a narcisisstic spirit who wanted to view its image in nature’s mirror. Frogs, crickets, and noctural birds sang loudly and merrily as if joining in on the special event, their tunes competing at one time and blending at another. Tepees were outlined against the firmament, their protruding poles like skinny fingers pointing to the heaven. The wind was calm, so no limb or grass blade moved. It was a pleasant night.

  In the center of the large gathering was a bonfire with leaping flames of red, orange, and yellow. Soon it would die down to an almost intimate glow. The fire was a signal to draw close to share something special with the tribe; it was a unifying spirit. Near it, there was a post with the sacred Medicine Wheel and Wolf Eyes’ Ceremonial Skull: vital symbols of the culture and beliefs of the Lakotas. The four eagle feathers suspended from the wheel’s bottom and representing the Lakota virtues— wisdom, bravery, constancy, and generosity— did not flutter in the still air. Morning Star had told Joe they were the first coup feathers earned by the last four Red Heart chiefs. When Night Stalker, or another, became chief, his first coup feather would replace Red Hawk’s, as only four could dangle there. The four intersecting bars of shiny metal glittered in the firelight. The center of life was represented at the place where they met in the middle: harmony with the Great Spirit, with oneself, and with nature. It depicted a never-ending circle, the continuity of Indian life.

  In the forefront of the circle of bodies, the Big Bellies sat on furry mats in the location of importance and control. Next came the cult members of proven warriors, hunters who had not been taken into a society yet, and male elders who were not members of the ruling society. The circle of Indians was completed with the women and children.