“It’s clear to me your people are being framed.”
“Bad men have good… scheme. Soldiers and others blame Red Hearts. They attack and destroy for evil man. See tracks,” she said, and pointed to them. “Some shod and some not. They use Lakota moccasins. Nations have different moccasins and tracks. They steal, use to fool. See broken armband? It Red Heart.” Her eyes enlarged as she retrieved it and looked closer. There was no mistaking its meaning, and she was angry.
“What’s wrong?” He questioned her reaction.
“It have marks, symbols, of Man-Who-Rides-Wild-Horses; he put on wicagnakapi wiconti, death scaffold, in sacred hills in past winter. Warriors buried with possessions. That where enemies get weapons and possession to use in…frame. It bad, evil, to steal from death scaffold. Crow would not do. It work of evil whitemen. I check tracks and trail.”
Joe followed as the woman moved from place to place, bending here and there to study signs upon the ground. She tested the dryness of broken blades of grass and horse droppings. She checked to make certain the depth of the tracks revealed that all horses had heavy riders and none were pack animals or hauling raid booty. That and other clues, which she explained to him as she did her examination, told her how long the attackers had stayed in this location and when they had departed. He was impressed by her many talents.
“Seven men. Three on shod horses. Four not. Crow killed on last sun. Men ride that way,” she remarked, pointing north. “They leave before sun sink into chest of Mother Earth to sleep. They not go far before camp; it soon dark. They less than one sun ahead. We follow. Must get Red Heart possessions and return to wicag— scaffolds. They must die.”
Joe observed Morning Star’s expression during her last two statements. Her eyes were squinted and her lips drawn tight. Her aura seemed as chilled as her dark gaze. “If we can capture one, Morning Star,” he reasoned, “we can take him to the fort to be questioned. We need to convince others of what we’ve learned. If we kill all of them, we have no proof for the Army.”
She protested his plan. “We get other proof. Morning Star know guilty. They must die for bad deed; Red Heart law say this. Must obey.”
Joe studied her expression which exuded determination to see justice meted out under her laws. “Under white law, we arrest and jail thieves,” he explained. “If the crime— deed— is very bad, the law punishes them by taking their lives. We can’t gun down men just for stealing Indian possessions. That would make us as cold-blooded and wicked as they are.”
“Not just Indian possessions! Sacred possessions. They dishonor dead and insult my people with this very bad deed. Warrior must have things on Ghost Trail, or he be naked and helpless. Evil spirits can attack before he reach Grandfather. It more…crime than just stealing.”
Joe wasn’t certain how to argue against her religious beliefs without offending her, so he took a soft path. “The whites believe,” he clarified, “when a man dies, he goes straight to our God. It is an insult to desecrate a grave and body, but the spirit is safe from all harm. Perhaps your Great Spirit saw the evil and He protected the warriors on the Ghost Trail. If He’s kind and powerful, He won’t let evil spirits attack His people. I promise we’ll try to get their possessions back and return them.”
Morning Star realized that part of his words were meant to appease her, and to obtain her agreement to his capture plan. “They murder Crow, and Crow friends of whites. That very bad crime. No white law here to…arrest and punish. We law here. We must punish.”
“The Army’s nearby, and they’re white law.”
“They far away, many suns’ ride. How we carry evil men that far without trouble? If we seen or they talk, others learn our scheme and it over. They become too careful to find and punish. To do white man’s law is not good trade to expose sacred vision task. It bad strategy.”
Joe admitted she had a good point, a disturbing one. To take men in for questioning might expose their actions to Snake-Man. The only crimes the men had committed that he could prove were to wear moccasins, to steal burial treasures, and to kill Crow with stolen arrows. Those didn’t tie them to Snake-Man, and they surely wouldn’t confess to being his hirelings. Men on the payroll of such a clever and powerful villain would be more afraid of their boss than the law. Still, Joe was too civilized to gun men down without valid reason. He must find a way to capture one of the men, make him talk, then turn him over to Captain Jim Thomas without exposing his mission. “We have to do this the legal way, the right way under white man’s law, Morning Star, or we’ll be in as much trouble as Snake-Men and his boys when they’re captured.”
“If we make mistake, Joseph Lawrence be in big trouble. If Snake-Man learn of us, he try to kill to stop task. If he no can find and kill Joe, he kill men who sent Joe. If they slay soldier, agent, and Tanner’s father— they can say you side with Indians against whites. You be framed. If they killed and Snake-Man leave Red Heart clues, Army say my people guilty and they attack. If we exposed, they frame Joe. Big trouble.”
Joe comprehended that her main concern was for him. “I’m safe, Morning Star. The President knows about me and this mission.”
“What if they tell President lies like false words they tell soldiers? What if they say Joe killed and buried, and Tanner lives and sides with us?”
He smiled and caressed her cheek. “You worry too much.”
“What is worry?” she asked, locking her gaze to his.
“To feel uneasy, shaky inside, tormented by bad thoughts and feelings, a troubled spirit. Too much worry steals your peace of mind. It makes you think the worst will happen.”
Her dark-brown eyes roamed his face, and she felt herself warm. “Morning Star have reasons to worry. If we defeated, big war come. Many of my people slain. Worry keeps tracker on alert. Some worry is same as instincts. If worry, not get reckless, make mistakes. Stay alive.”
To ease her tension, Joe chuckled and said, “You’re right. I’ll stay a little worried, too. Right now, woman, let’s get rid of these Red Heart arrows and moccasin tracks. This is one crime your people won’t get blamed for. Let’s see how we’ll do this,” he murmured.
“I teach you. Come, do with me.”
Morning Star and Joe pulled the falsely incriminating arrows from the Crow bodies. Together they dragged the dead men to a spot, where she cut a sturdy branch from a tree, then roughly brushed the area clear of moccasin tracks. She checked to make certain no other clues were visible to the trained eye of an Indian or Army scout.
“You walk here to make boot tracks,” she instructed, motioning for him to stomp around the area. When he finished, she told him, “Do same with horse with shoes. White men do; white men take blame.”
When everything was arranged to her satisfaction, they mounted and rode northward. Morning Star kept a little ahead of him to read the trail signs. Joe stayed on alert, apprehensive about catching up with seven dangerous men. They tracked until it was too dark to continue.
As they made camp, Morning Star said, “We safe. Signs say they half sun more than us. We ride fast on new sun and catch.”
“We are safe. The signs say they are a half day ahead of us. We will ride fast tomorrow and catch up with them,” he corrected with a smile.
“That is best English?” she queried as she worked on their meal.
“Yes. Or, you can say: We’re safe. The signs say they’re a half day ahead of us. We’ll ride fast tomorrow and catch up with them.”
“How do you know when to use best English?”
“In an important situation, in company with many people, in a formal setting.”
“What is formal?” she asked.
Joe stroked his stubbled jawline and knit his brow. “That’s a hard one. Let me think a minute.” He did so. “Mercy, it means to be proper, and that means to be right at the right time.”
Her expression was quizzical. She grasped all but one point. “How do you know when… it is the right time?”
Joe stretched o
ut his legs and leaned against the tree behind him. “That’s something you learn while you’re growing up and going to school. Your teachers and parents tell you the right things to do.”
“I did not go to school. Joe will me teach such things?”
“I’ll try my best, Morning Star. It sounds easier than it is.”
“It sounds… simple,” she jested with a cheerful smile.
Joe laughed and nodded. “See, you have learned some good words. I’m not such a bad teacher after all.”
She lowered her gaze to her task. “You are not bad in all ways. I change to. You are good in all ways. Is that right?”
“The English is right, and I’m grateful, but I’m not perfect.” He laughed and quickly said, “Perfect means there’s nothing wrong with me.”
“Why is Joe not perfect? What is wrong with you?”
Joe couldn’t take his eyes from Morning Star. Her allure was potent, nearly overpowering. To break the hold she was gaining over him, he jested, “Plenty, but I’ll let you discover the truth for yourself.” Joe was unaccustomed to any female other than his mother and sister being so honest. He liked that trait in Morning Star, but sometimes it caught him off-guard. He knew Annabelle Lawrence and Sarah Beth Lawrence Readon would like his Morning Star, and the Indian maiden would like his family. Joseph Sr. would take to this female easily and quickly. If—
“If Joe is not perfect, tell me one bad thing,” she challenged as she broke into his reverie.
He said the first thing that came to mind, “I think like a white man.”
Puzzled, she said, “You are white man. You must think white.”
Joe crossed his legs at the ankles and drew them close to his buttocks. He leaned forward to rest his elbows on his thighs, letting his hands dangle toward the ground. “To you that’s bad, because I have to do things the way I was raised, the way I believe. The same for you, Morning Star; you’ll want to do things the way you were raised and believe. At times, we’ll think the other is wrong or stubborn. We’ll have to compromise; that’s do it your way sometimes, and do it my way sometimes.”
“Compromise,” she echoed. “That is fair.”
“Another thing— I lied to your father; that was wrong.”
She shook her head. “It was…”
When she faltered in search of the right word, Joe said, “Necessary.”
“Neces-sa-sary. Yes, it was necessary to get help.”
“But it was still wrong, and I feel badly about it.”
“Grandfather understand and forgive us. He knows all things.”
“But I made you lie to them, too. I’m sorry.”
“How is true?” she asked, looking dismayed.
“You knew the truth and you didn’t expose me. By holding silent, you lied, too. We’re in this together, partners. Until this danger is conquered, we can be honest only with each other, no one else. Understand?”
In a serious tone, she replied, “I understand and will obey.”
He abruptly changed the subject, “When we’re in your camp, be careful of Hawk Eyes and Knife-Slayer. I don’t like them cheating— doing wrong— at something that’s supposed to be sacred to them. If a man can betray himself, his people, and especially his God, he’s dangerous.”
Morning Star handed Joe his evening meal. As if revealing a crucial secret, her voice was a near whisper as she related, “Hawk Eyes may not be shaman long. Running Water went on vision-quest and saw elk. He member of Elk Dreamers. Payaba teaches him. Payaba say his vision powerful medicine. Big bird ride wind, then land on elk’s head. They speak; they tell Running Water he to become Wind Bird and shaman. It good, yes?”
Joe realized she was excited by that possibility because of the change in her speech. “Yes, that will be very good.”
Her food waited as she rushed on. “Night Stalker sides with his friend, Knife-Slayer. When truth comes soon, his eyes will clear. It make me happy. Brother cannot become chief until he is better man. He make Father sad with bad ways. I will make Father happy and proud with victory.”
Darkness had closed in on them. Flickers from the fire danced wild and seductive patterns on their faces. They finished their meal in silence, as each felt the strong currents pulling them closer and tighter together. The area they were in was secluded, intimate, and intimidating. Each was thinking too much about the other, and trying to discourage such forbidden emotions.
Reacting to the strain and wanting it to lessen, Joe suggested, “Why don’t we get to sleep? We had a long day, and it’s late.”
“That is best,” she murmured in agreement.
The dishes were washed hurriedly and put away. Their sleeping mats were unrolled and placed at a safe distance apart. The fire was doused. They lay down, both breathing deeply in an attempt to relax.
“Good night, Morning Star.”
“Good night, Joseph Lawrence.”
Fatigued and well fed, they finally drifted off to sleep.
It was nearing dusk when the Oglala maiden lifted her hand to halt their progress. “Not far ahead. We leave horses and walk.”
They dismounted and secured their animals’ reins to bushes. Sneaking from tree to tree, they made their way forward to the enemy camp. Only three men were present, all palefaces, who were drinking, talking, and playing cards. Their horses were tethered by a stream.
Joe cupped his mouth to her ear and whispered, “Where are the others? We’ve been trailing seven. See or hear anything of them?”
Morning Star leaned close and replied, “Tracks of seven enter camp. If four leave another way, I not see from here.”
Joe strained his eyes and ears to pick up any clues as to the location of the other men. He didn’t like this. He prayed they hadn’t been exposed and they weren’t walking into a trap. “They could be farther ahead in another clearing. Maybe they’re Indians, and they don’t camp together. If we make too much noise, they’ll come running to help. I wish I knew how to use a bow for silence. I can’t risk using my guns. We’ll have to wait until dark to attack. What is it?” Joe asked as he saw Morning Star’s eyes suddenly widen, then just as suddenly narrow.
Morning Star glared at the sight of a white man laughing and holding up on Oglala religious object. She watched him pour whiskey into one opening while drunkenly asking if the buffalo wanted a drink of firewater. The more the man laughed and jested, the angrier she became. When the men began playing toss with the sacred item, she was consumed by ire. They had no respect or understanding of her people and their ways. It was the same as if an Indian dishonored one of their holy Bibles! “They have sacred buffalo skull whose spirit guards burial ground. Spirits angry, restless. Must get it back. That very bad sign. They much evil.”
Joe knew they were in for another disagreement as to the men’s fates. He could read it in her grave expression and deadly tone. If there were only three left in the area, they had a good chance of capturing at least one to question. “Don’t worry; we’ll get everything back. Just stay calm until dark. Two against three aren’t bad odds. I just hope those others are gone permanently. They could be off hunting or scouting. No risks, Morning Star; I promised your father.”
She looked him in the eye and said, “They must die. Die this moon.”
Chapter Nine
Dusk closed in on them at a slow pace, but time for action would arrive soon. Morning Star’s words to Joe kept echoing through her head. She realized she had sounded cold and hostile. When she had battled Clem, she had not tried to slay him, despite the white men’s wicked treatment of her. Presently, she was facing another test of her ways and beliefs: foes were to be killed for such evil deeds. But, she asked herself, could she obey the laws of her people?
Morning Star had been given time to settle down and to think. Unless their lives were threatened, could she slay those scaffold robbers in cold blood? she fretted. The Indians those men had killed were enemies of her people, so their murders should not trouble her, yet they did. Added to that, the men ha
d tried to blame her tribe and get them massacred. The most important tasks to her were to retrieve the sacred objects and falsely incriminating clues and to prevent the men from doing such a thing again. Did they have to die? Could they be frightened into not repeating that foul deed or into leaving Oglala territory? She doubted her last thought.
Together she and Joe had battled three-to-two odds in Zeke’s camp. They could do the same here. These men were not on guard and might be weakened by whiskey. Perhaps it was best not to sneak up and slay them as animals during a hunt. Too, she didn’t want to appear a bloodthirsty, wild savage to Joseph Lawrence. As his past words traveled through her mind, she knew it was compromise time.
Morning Star glanced at her handsome companion from the corners of her eyes. His azure gaze was locked on the enemy camp, and his expression was one of intense concentration. The events of the last few weeks filled her mind. Joe was so unlike any man she had known. He was kind and gentle, yet so strong and self-assured. He possessed a fox’s cunning, a wolf’s daring, and a hawk’s speed during a strike at its prey. The color of heaven lived in his eyes; the golden sun reflected on his head; the shade of a tanned doe hide spread over his muscled body. He had all the traits and skills of a highly trained warrior, ones that would require a great force to defeat. His voice could be as soothing to a troubled spirit as rippling water in a stream or as powerful as a strong wind that blew where it willed. It was as if many forces of nature touched, honed, and controlled him. As one who lived in a world of nature, that pulled her closer to him.
So why, Morning Star mused, was it so terrible to desire such a special man, a man chosen and sent to them by the Great Spirit? Her wits responded that desire wasn’t the main problem; yielding to it was. They warned her she must retain the strength to avoid dishonoring her family by surrendering to a forbidden situation. They demanded she be true to her parents, traditions, and people. If only, she worried, that task didn’t become harder by the day! Resisting Joe was difficult, particularly when she didn’t view it as wrong, as her people and laws did. Her grandfather and uncle had met, loved, and joined white women. If warriors could capture and bond with female enemies, why was it so wicked and shameful for an Indian maiden to do the same with a white man? It was unfair! With more and more whites entering their territory, the two cultures could not remain separate long.
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