The first step of the occasion was to give thanks for past blessings and to summon the Great Spirit to witness this solemnity. Wolf Eyes then continued. “We take Mahpiya Wicasta, Your helper, into our hearts and band, Grandfather. You called him home from where Wi rises to bring peace and enlightenment to Your children. Tanner seeks harmony with himself, with his grandfather’s people, and with Mother Nature. We ask You to give him these things. Tanner has shown the four virtures we honor, as with the eagle feathers on our sacred Medicine Wheel. You have joined his Life-Circle to ours once more. As we share Your breath, prepare our hearts and minds to become as one in purpose and feeling.”
The second step in the ritual was pipe smoking, to share the breath of the Great Spirit and to inspire solidarity between the men. Normally the ceremonial chief was first, followed by the tribal chief, the war chief, the shaman, and other Big Bellies. Afterward, all warriors of high rank took their turns. Tonight, their honored guest was third to smoke.
Joe sat on one side of Sun Cloud, Morning Star on the other. Though she was a part of the sacred vision and mission ahead, she did not share the smoking rite. Women were never allowed to touch men’s sacred objects or weapons, for it was believed they would steal their magic and strength.
Wolf Eyes packed the red stone bowl, lit the tobacco, drew deeply and reverently from its long stem, and handed it to their leader. Sun Cloud inhaled smoke, then released it. He passed the pipe to Joe, who repeated their actions while Morning Star observed.
When the pipe was passed four times, Wolf Eyes stood to pray for the safety, survival, and success of Tanner Gaston and Morning Star.
As the maiden listened to the words being sent to her god, she knew He would not punish her and Joe for their necessary deception. If the Great Spirit was angered by it, He would have exposed them or even slain them by now. She believed that Stede and Joe— not Tanner— were the vision helpers. It could not be bad or wrong to do the will of her god, even if she had to lie to her loved ones for a while. Once peace was won and the villains defeated, surely her family and tribe would understand and forgive her trickery.
The ceremonial and medicine chiefs performed a special dance and chant to the timing of stone-filled gord rattles, eagle-bone whistles, and a kettle drum that was beat upon by eight men using sturdy sticks with ends wrapped in buffalo hide. As the almost hypnotic music played and the two men moved around the fire with matching steps and words, Sun Cloud withdrew his knife and made a slice across the palm of his right hand.
Joe did as the chief had instructed earlier, and took the firesterilized blade and sliced across his hand. Sun Cloud had told him of his mother’s warnings about cuts made with dirty weapons and left untended. Morning Star had told Joe how refusing to inflict “mourning cuts” upon his body after his parents’ deaths had angered many tribe members and almost cost her father their votes for him as chief over Bright Arrow. Joe held up his bleeding hand and, when Sun Cloud lifted his, he grasped it and mingled their blood. As the red liquid eased down his arm, Joe knew he had done the right thing by claiming to be his murdered friend. Their gazess met, each exposing friendship and belief in this ceremony. “I will always be your friend and blood brother, Sun Cloud.”
“Your eyes and voice say your words are true, friend and brother.”
Morning Star was touched by the scene of uplifted clasped hands and stirring words between her father and the man who was stealing her heart. She couldn’t help but think of the physical differences in the two men, and between Joe and Knife-Slayer whose glare exposed his ill feelings. From their positions with Sun Cloud between them, she could barely see Joe, and she dared not lean aside to peer around her father’s body. As she waited, she envisioned how he must look in the sienna breechcloth, fringed leggings, and beaded moccasins that her father had loaned to him. She could almost see the adoring flames dancing on his handsome face.
With his face shaved and his chest hairless, Joe almost stole her breath! For a few wild moments, she imagined him riding across the Plains as a band leader or a hunter, dancing around a campfire in only a breechcloth with sweat glistening on his taut body, and battling their foes in warpaint. Of course he would mark his face with blue, white, and yellow to represent his new name: Mahpiya Wicasta, Sky Warrior.
The daydreaming maiden pictured how the blue paint would enhance Joe’s azure eyes, and how all three colors would look against his sunbronzed flesh with a golden mane flowing past his strong neck. That sunny hair grazed the top of powerful shoulders that tapered into a sleek middle. In Indian clothing, with his sparse body hair, strong bone structure, and darkly tanned skin, if it were not for his blond hair and sky eyes, he wouldn’t look so different from her people. Yet it would always be those eyes and hair which reminded her of the impassable canyon between them.
Morning Star felt proud and honored to be a special part of this period in her people’s history. She was ready to challenge dangers, confront the unknown, and to learn more about Joseph Lawrence and herself. She was the only one who knew the truth about him, and that trust warmed her. He could have fooled her too, but he hadn’t. He had confided in her from the start, proving her faith in him was justified. As soon as his cut was tended and night passed, they would leave. But before her departure, there was something important she had to do: make peace with Buckskin Girl. She would do so when the ceremony ended.
After the ritual, the men’s cuts were tended and they chatted with others and enjoyed refreshments. When things quieted down, Sun Cloud asked “Tanner” to join him for a walk to speak privately.
The chief did not want his daughter to return home and overhear the matter that troubled him tonight. He guided his blood brother beyond the last tepee and settled himself on a large rock near even larger boulders. Sun Cloud motioned for the man to sit. “We must talk before you ride, Tanner. There is a promise you must make to me.”
Joe sat down near the Indian. “What is it?” he asked warily.
“After you left nine suns ago, I remembered what you said when you first entered our camp. You know the truth of my mother and your grandmother,” he ventured, more as a statement than a question.
“Yes, Sun Cloud, I know Sarah Gaston was the real Shalee, not your mother. I know Alisha Williams was a white woman, not the abducted daughter of Chief Black Cloud. Powchutu told Stede the truth about his mother, and he told me before we came here.”
The Red Heart Chief exhaled audibly. “For many years I have believed all who knew that dangerous secret were dead, except for me and Singing Wind. My parents, White Arrow, Powchutu, my brother, and the old woman who placed the akito of Black Cloud on my mother’s body when she lay near death are gone. I did not think of Powchutu telling his son. Matu meant no harm when she placed the mark of her chief on my mother; she wished to return home to die with her people. When Black Cloud came to claim my father’s captive as his long-lost daughter, my parents did not know of Matu’s trick. If Father had revealed his suspicion, Alisha and Matu would have been slain. Father believed it was the Great Spirit’s way of giving him the woman he loved and needed, so he held silent and took her as wife. When Matu died, only Father, White Arrow— his best friend since birth— Mother, and Powchutu knew she was not the real Shalee. All held silent to save Mother’s life, to protect my father’s honor, and to prevent disharmony. In a time of war— unity, friendship, and trust are important. To reveal such a trick then or now would destroy them.”
“You’re telling me that only you, Singing Wind, Stede, and myself know the truth? Night Stalker and Morning Star don’t know this secret?”
“They do not, and the secret must never leave the mouths of the four of us. Swear as my blood brother and friend you will not betray my trust. If we must war with the whites, my people must be as one in spirit and action. They cannot follow a leader whose honor and face are stained by lies. Night Stalker hates whites, and his spirit is troubled. If my son learns the truth, he will become bitter and dangerous. He will do terrib
le things to prove he is more Oglala than white. It must not be. If Morning Star learns the truth of her grandmother, I fear she will be pulled toward the white world; and that will destroy her. My daughter was raised Oglala and looks Oglala. You know how Indian women are treated in the white lands. It must not be.”
“You have my word of honor I won’t tell anyone this secret. Stede Gaston will hold silent, too. I understand why everyone who knew the truth kept quiet, and I agree with what they did. So does Stede. Powchutu only wanted his son to know who his mother was, which makes him who he is. Stede knows his father loved Alisha Williams, and he wouldn’t do anything to stain her memory. Neither would I. We’ve heard the glorious legends about Gray Eagle and Shalee. They were remarkable people who let love overcome the differences between them and their cultures. That rarely happens. When it does, it’s too beautiful and special and powerful to destroy. I won’t ever do that, Sun Cloud. I promise.”
“Does your father wish to return to our tribe?”
Joe grasped the unspoken meaning behind his question. “Only to visit. When peace is won, we’ll return to our homes far away. Stede believes the Red Hearts have their rightful and best chief: you. His father believed the same thing about Gray Eagle.”
“When the time comes, I’ll meet with the son of my uncle. Long ago, Powchutu was a close friend when he lived and rode as Eagle’s Arm with my father. He lives in my memory and in our legends.”
“Your family gave him the peace of mind he needed before he died. It was good he returned to his father’s land to seek it. His heart was troubled by all the problems he made for your parents. It’s good they all made peace before they died.”
“As it is good his son and grandson return to help us.”
Joe realized he had been saying “Stede” and “Powchutu” rather than my “father” and “grandfather.” If Sun Cloud had noticed that curious slip, he didn’t seem suspicious. Joe surmised that the chief must assume he was using their names for clarity. “I’ll do my best for peace, Sun Cloud. So will my father,” he added as a safety measure, and prayed the foul taste of that lie in his mouth didn’t show in his expression. “That is all any man can do, Tanner— his best.”
After the men left the secluded area, Morning Star relaxed her strained body. She had stayed motionless behind the large boulder so their keen senses would not detect her presence. She had not intended to eavesdrop, but they had arrived just as she finished excusing herself and she hadn’t wanted to be caught at such a private moment. She had assumed they would talk of the impending task, then leave. The conversation had frozen her in place.
Its implication shot through her keen mind. Her grandmother was not half Indian, or any Indian! She herself, her father, her uncle, and her brother were more white than she had been told! She knew of the Blackfoot custom of a father using a sharp bone to scratch his symbol— akito— into the buttock flesh of his children. Ash was rubbed into it to make the mark permanent. It was used to identify children stolen during raids by enemies, especially if it was many years before their rescue and their faces had changed. Perhaps Snake-Man had used such a practice to make the symbols on his body— those Joe had called tattoos— but had rubbed colors into his scratches instead of black ash. But Snake-Man left her thoughts quickly.
This news was astonishing, but not distressing. Why should she be upset to discover she had a little more white blood than she had known, particularly when it came from an exceptional female? Alisha Williams, who had lived as Shalee, had been a strong, proud, and brave woman who had gone from white captive to wife of Gray Eagle, a chief whose legendary exploits had never been matched. Alisha had saved Gray Eagle’s life when he was captured and tortured by whites. She had led her husband to a past villainous enemy so Jeffrey Gordon could be defeated. She had made Black Cloud’s last days happy ones. She had saved Running Wolf’s life. She had saved their tribe from a cavalry attack. She had given Gray Eagle and the Red Hearts two great leaders in Sun Cloud and Bright Arrow, and had raised them to be superior men. She had taught her sons English and white ways to help them with peace and understanding.
Alisha/Shalee had become Indian in heart and spirit. She had been a lesson in courage and strength to everyone. She had earned the love, respect, and acceptance of Gray Eagle, the Red Hearts, and other tribes; something she could not have done as a white captive. Becoming Shalee, even by deception, had given her that chance and all had learned from it. She had lived a full and rewarding life. The love she had shared with Gray Eagle was so powerful that they had even died the same day. The Great Spirit had blessed and honored the loving couple. They would never be forgotten by her band or the Dakota Nation. It would be wrong and cruel to stain their golden memories.
Morning Star understood why her father and the others had kept the truth concealed, and why it must remain buried in the past. She knew Joe would keep his word to Sun Cloud. Without their knowledge, she would help protect the truth. Yet the Great Spirit had led her to this spot tonight to discover it, so He must have a good reason for enlightening her.
Just as Buckskin Girl must have a good reason for her curious actions, which she had not revealed during their short visit. Buckskin Girl had promised to tell her everything soon. Whatever distressed the other female, it could not— must not— destroy their friendship.
Morning Star pushed what she had learned tonight into a special corner of her memory, then headed for her tepee for much needed rest. She would deal with both matters another time.
The exciting moment arrived, and many gathered around Sun Cloud’s tepee. Morning Star embraced her mother, father, Payaba, and Buckskin Girl. She comprehended how anxious her parents were, how excited the old medicine man was, and how depressed her friend was not to be going. She spoke to other friends and tribe members, all of whom wished them well.
Morning Star noticed how her brother stayed in the background. His wife, Touched-A-Crow, did not approach the genial group either. The woman’s action did not surprise her, as the Brule female kept mostly to herself. Touched-A-Crow was uncommonly quiet and not very smart. She had shown no interest in the stirring contest and had not visited Morning Star and Singing Wind when they were ill. Sun Cloud’s daughter wondered why Night Stalker did not take a second wife, unless he didn’t want a crowded tepee or to assume responsibility for another person.
As Joe conversed with others, Morning Star’s gaze settled on her nephew in Touched-a-Crow’s arms. Blood Arrow’s lips protruded in an angry pout, as usual, and the defiant gleam in his eyes was visible at that short distance. The two-year-old squirmed to get down, but Touched-a-Crow refused to release him. When the moody boy began to whine and to slap at his mother, Night Stalker apparently ordered his wife to take their son home, no doubt to spare the warrior embarrassment at Bloody Arrow’s misbehavior. Morning Star hated to imagine what kind of man her nephew would become if not disciplined soon.
Morning Star looked at her older cousin, Little Feet, who was near the age of her father. The eldest daughter of her slain uncle had well behaved and happy children, and a loving husband in Thunder Spirit. The maiden decided that was how she wanted her own family to be someday.
Joe clasped wrists with the chief and said, “I’ll guard her life with my own, Sun Cloud. After we gather enough information, we’ll report to you in the new camp. You won’t be disappointed by your decision to make peace.”
“I will trust you to do what is best for all, Tanner, nothing more.”
Whether or not the chief intended to make a dual point with his words, Joe took it that way. He smiled and nodded.
The white man and maiden mounted, and Sun Cloud handed Joe the reins to the pack horse. Farewells and waves followed them from the scene. Neither Joe nor Morning Star failed to notice the icy stares of Knife-Slayer, Hawk Eyes, and Night Stalker.
As both Morning Star and Joe wondered what would happen during their trek together, they rode for a long time without talking or glancing at each other. Though thei
r trust had not vanished, nor any uneasiness settled in, each realized the most difficult part of their task was controling their emotions. Neither wanted to tempt or be tempted beyond their strength to refuse what both knew existed between them.
When they halted to rest themselves and the horses, Morning Star told Joe, “I worked on English while you gone. I practiced with Father, Mother, and others who speak white tongue. You teach me more.”
Joe asked, “Can you read any English?”
Morning Star surprised him by replying, “Little,” as she held up her hand with her index finger and thumb about an inch apart. “Grandfather, Gray Eagle, have learning book from white captive who schoolmarm. Grandmother teach him more; she teach sons, Bright Arrow and Sun Cloud. Father teach Mother more after they joined. Father teach Night Stalker and Morning Star. Many white words hard. Indians not have as many for same thing. Even same color have many white names. Words put together and confuse; whites say ‘it’s’ and ‘you’ll’ for it is and you will.”
“Those are called contractions. Whites use them in speaking, but they aren’t— are not— in formal English, best English.” Joe had noticed how she glowed when she spoke of Alisha/Shalee. “Your grandmother was a special woman. I’ve heard many wonderful stories about her. It’s a shame you never knew her. From what I’ve seen, you have many of her good traits.” His mind wandered back in history. Sarah/Shalee had taken after her white mother, so she had been “rescued” by soldiers, then sent to New Orleans as a small child, where she was adopted by Dr. Devane. As fate would have it, Powchutu had met and married her as Tanner Gaston, then discovered Black Cloud’s akito that revealed her true identity.
Forever Ecstasy Page 20