Forever Ecstasy

by Janelle Taylor

  Tanner had not been robbed, but Joe didn’t correct him. “Didn’t think it would do much good. Anything like that happen here again?”

  Simon lazed against the wall with his back to the Indian woman. He took another drag on his cigar before replying, “Not that I know of. If anyone’s been attacked, no body was left behind to alert us. Such things rarely happen in Pierre. Pratte doesn’t like trouble and a bad reputation.”

  Joe watched the man flick ashes off his long sleeve. He noticed the sizable brown birthmark on his right hand. “That’s good news for everybody except Tanner! If we’d arrived a day later, he’d still be alive. I was the one in a stupid hurry to get off the trail,” he invented with hopes Simon would respond to a guilt-riddled man. “We were like family, like brothers. We always took care of each other. I should have been more alert in a strange place. I figured we’d be safe here and get some needed rest; I was fatigued from keeping on alert day and night for renegades. I’m alone now, and I miss him. All our dreams were slain with Tanner. It twists my gut for him to die like that and for me to be powerless to avenge his death. That’s no way for a man to die; it’s as bad as Indian slaughter. If you’ve ever lost a best friend and nobody was punished for it, you know how I feel.”

  Simon stood straight and stiff, with a scowl on his face. “I do. I’ve lost people to those infernal Sioux who got away with murder. Riles me. They sneak around doing their dirty business without getting caught and punished, but they leave enough behind to show who’s guilty. I’m surprised the Army hasn’t shoved them into hell where they belong. They won’t have much choice soon but to retaliate.”

  Joe witnessed the coldness in Simon’s voice and eyes and how the man’s body was now taut with pent-up rage and hate. “What do you mean?”

  Simon leaned back once more. “The soldiers know who’s to blame; they’ll have to chase them down— and soon, with more incidents happening all the time. I don’t understand what’s taking them so long to react. They’re supposed to be here to protect us.”

  “And to keep the peace,” Joe amended, keeping his tone genial.

  Simon tensed and straightened. He shot back, “Peace, hell! Whites can’t have peace with bloodthirsty savages. Truces, either. They forget we own this territory. Our government purchased it, with our taxes. We have a right to settle and work here, and to be protected while we do. Let those savages fight. We’ll wipe them out and conquer this area like we did the eastern half.” He settled back again, drawing deep on a cigar. “The Crow ain’t no better, but at least they know their place and don’t attack their betters. I wish they’d wipe out those Sioux for us. Then the Army could get rid of them. Indians are nothing but a pack of wild animals. All they know is raiding and killing. White or red targets, it doesn’t matter to them. This territory would be a wonderful place without them.”

  Joe also leaned against the wall to appear relaxed. He didn’t refute Simon’s opinions of Indians or argue over who had a rightful claim to this territory. “I haven’t been here long enough to know much about either tribe,” he alleged. “They were still holed up in winter camps when Tanner and I rode through. They as bad as you say?”

  “Worse. I wish we could sell them rot-gut whiskey to eat up their minds and spirits. They love firewater, but the law stops us. A man could make a fortune in a territory like this if those Sioux were pushed out or cowered. Never trust an Indian, Joe; they’ll turn on you in a minute and slit your throat without feeling a thing.”

  Joe saw Simon glance at Morning Star and frown. He headed off trouble by explaining, “She’s Arapaho. I bought her off a trapper heading south. He said he couldn’t take his squaw home because his wife wouldn’t like that at all. Little Flower’s shy, but she’s been a good worker.”

  “Bedding and doing chores are all they’re good for, if you don’t mind Injun smell on you.”

  “I make sure she bathes every day and doesn’t use any fat on her skin. I’m inclined to cleanliness myself. That trapper told me lots of men in these parts have Indian servants. She was real cheap, and he was in a hurry. Gave me a good deal, so I figured, what the heck? Let her take care of me and my chores.” He chuckled, then continued. “I didn’t realize my having her would offend some folks. Maybe I shouldn’t keep her. What do you think, Simon?” he asked. Joe knew how powerful giving advice made some people feel. He knew he’d guessed right about Simon when the man grinned and leaned close to respond.

  “Most men around here don’t care if you have a squaw, Joe. I’d keep her and use her good, unless she’s trouble. Those savages have certainly stolen and used plenty of white women. It drives bucks crazy when we take their woman, particularly the pretty ones.” He glanced at the raven-haired woman again. “She is a good looker, and seems to know her place. Since those bastards are greedy and cruel enough to sell or trade us their females, why should they care what we do with them? If I had the money, I’d build fancy brothels along the river and stuff them full of young beauties like her. I’d be rich in a month, because I’d train the little creatures myself on how to please a white man.” He chewed the cigar butt a minute while his eyes glittered strangely. His attention returned and he asked, “Where you been since your last visit? Where you heading from here?”

  Joe used the same traveling trader story he had told Orin McMichael. He noticed that Simon’s interest was captured by it. “Since my friend is dead and I want to stay here a while longer, it seems a good way to earn money and see this territory. Of course, I didn’t know the Indians would be acting up soon. That could mess up my plan.”

  “Don’t worry; the Army will slap them down before summer’s over.”

  “This territory has promise, Simon, if trouble can be averted. A man could carve out a nice ranch here. Plenty of water and grass. I’m sure more forts will be coming soon to provide more protection. All I need is some money for building and for buying stock. I think I can earn it by selling goods on the trail— if those hostiles don’t start a war and interfere,” he muttered, trying to sound as if his opinion of the Indians matched Simon’s.

  “It’ll come to a fight, Joe, but we’ll win. The Army will be like a boa constrictor; it’ll wrap around those Sioux and squeeze the life from them. Nobody will be happier than me to witness that glorious day.” Simon grinned as if envisioning the heartless massacre he admitted he craved. “Those Crow are like coyotes; they run when wolves appear. I’d like to see their nasty dens cleaned out, too. It’s a shame we can’t put them all in cages and train them like the wild beasts they are. We’d make a fortune displaying such intriguing specimens around the world. Yes, sir, Joe, we’d make a fortune if this territory was conquered and real settlement began.”

  “Speaking of displays, I saw a war shield and headdress on the wall inside. They for sale? I’d love to mount a souvenir collection in my ranch. I was almost hoping for a run-in with a highly decorated warrior so I could snatch a few treasures when the Army and his band weren’t watching. No such luck yet. Haven’t caught or see one alone in his finery.”

  Simon’s eyes gleamed. “Those were gifts to Pratte,” he whispered, “but I can get you some, for a good price. You can’t say how or where you bought them, though. Pratte would have my scalp for sure if he heard about it.”

  Joe feigned a look of delight and complicity. “Don’t worry, Simon; I’ll stay quiet. I’ll be back through in a few weeks. I’ll see what you have then and ship them to my family back South to hold for me until I get that ranch house built.” Joe grinned as an idea came to mind. “I bet Papa would like a set, too. We’d want Sioux artifacts, fierce warriors, with plenty of symbols exposing their prowess. As you said, Crow aren’t that brave. That makes Sioux souvenirs more valuable.”

  “I know the different colors and markings of tribes, so don’t worry about getting the wrong ones. I buy them off a man who comes across plenty. He roams all over this area. Isn’t scared of anything or anyone.”

  “Sounds like Zeke,” Joe remarked.


  Simon looked at him. “You know Zeke Randall?”

  Joe shook his head as he replied, “No, but I’ve heard plenty of tales about him. Seems he’s becoming quite a legend.”

  Simon laughed heartily. “Zeke will love hearing that news. He deals with Indians, mostly Crow, but he hates all of them.”

  “Why?”

  “Like me, he has his reasons. Nothing a man likes to discuss.”

  When Simon didn’t explain, Joe let it pass. “I’m sure he does. I’d like to meet him one day. I bet he could teach me plenty about Indians and this territory. He probably knows the perfect spot to place a ranch. I might hire him to help me claim it.”

  “Zeke’s here every month. Maybe he’ll be around when you return.” Simon stretched his tall frame. “I’d better get to the privy and back inside. We’re busier than a lion in mating season. Too many orders to hump.”

  Joe shared laughter with the other man, and made a mental note to remember Simon’s constant references to animals. Simon dropped his cigar and mashed it beneath his boot, but Joe had already registered that he was right-handed; that and the birthmark could be valuable identification clues.

  “You guard your hide out there, Joe. I’ll mention you to Zeke. Maybe he can use a partner and help you with your idea. It’s a clever one. Could make a lot of money if handled right. Wish I’d thought of it. If I had the money to finance it, I would be tempted to steal it from you, or even join you.”

  “I bet we’d make good partners if we could afford to join up.”

  “You might consider hauling around a wagonload of delicious white whores. You’d tempt starving white men to empty their pockets faster than they could drop their pants. And some of those Injuns would love a little taste of creamy white meat. If you do, better get blondes and redheads; braves hunger for women different from theirs.”

  Joe was astonished by the man’s suggestion. He wondered how a man who hated Indians so much could want to have sex with any white woman. “Thanks, Simon. I’ll—”

  Morning Star caught Joe’s eye and gave both the signals they had arranged. She looked frightened. His hesitation caused Simon to turn and look her way. Quick-witted, his love lowered her head.

  “Something wrong, Joe?”

  “For a minute I thought she was about to run off. Must have been a bug bite. I haven’t had her long, but she might not like me or being a piece of property. Or maybe she needs to use the privy, too. I’m a stranger to traveling with a female, so I don’t know their curious ways.”

  Simon chuckled. “There’s a public privy behind the boardinghouse,” he said, implying she was not to use his.

  “Thanks. I’ll be going now, but we’ll talk again soon.”

  Simon went into the outhouse, and Joe joined Morning Star. She was peeking around the wall she had jumped behind moments ago.

  “What’s up?”

  “Zeke and other man come!” she reported. “They go in that building! They no see me.”

  Joe looked around the corner and saw a wagon in front of the structure used as a saloon. “Let’s get out of here before he spots us or our horses. Hurry, before Simon finishes and stalls us.”

  They walked around the other way, careful not to use a suspicious run. He casually checked for safety, then they went to their horses. They mounted and rode out of the settlement in the other direction— north.

  Later, they skirted Pierre and headed south. They didn’t talk, as their pace was fast to put distance between them and peril. They crossed rising and falling slopes, avoided gulches, and galloped over grassland.

  When they finally halted to rest, Joe gave a loud exhalation of air and said, “Damn, I didn’t expect to run into Zeke this soon. I was hoping he was still a long way from here. Once Simon tells him about us, that will get him to thinking. He’ll know I’m not anxious to meet him and that you’re still with me. Simon will realize I lied to him, so that’ll put Pratte’s post off bounds. Worse, when Zeke goes to Orin’s and they talk, Orin will know I tricked him, too. That makes another visit to his post risky. Damn!” he swore again in frustration, as it was evident Zeke’s return would lock them out of much of this area that held clues to the mystery.

  Morning Star touched Joe’s arm and smiled to calm him. “Not worry so much. What if Zeke think you ask questions to …avoid him?” she asked. “What if he think he captured your woman and you tricked him to rescue me? He learn by now we here, so he must wonder if we cannot be ones who killed friends far away. Maybe he believe Oglala warriors attack friends to punish, to take back stolen possessions. Why he think, on many moons later, we do that deed? What if he believe you trapper and believe clever story you tell Orin? What if Zeke think you travel here only to seek friend’s killer? Why he think you think he…villain and you seek to defeat him with only a woman helper? He think he smart and careful, so give others no reason to be… suspicious.” She finished her reasoning with, “Why he worry over one man and his squaw?”

  Joe was impressed. She was perceptive and intelligent. He didn’t point out the loopholes in her speculations, such as his being here earlier with Tanner, without her, and not as a trapper, but he sent her a broad smile and caressed her cheek. He fused his gaze to hers and wanted to fuse their lips. Her expression exposed matching emotions. But danger was too close for them to halt for loving play. He sailed to another island of concern. “I wish we hadn’t had to leave so suddenly. I wanted to get a look inside Simon’s place for evidence, and maybe get a look at his arms for tattoos. He raises my suspicions; I’d like to know if I’m riding the wrong trail and wasting time.” He drew in a deep breath, then added, “I wish we’d had time to visit Tanner’s grave. I don’t like leaving his body there.”

  Morning Star knew his friend— her cousin— had been on Joe’s mind since yesterday. “Do not worry; he is safe,” she comforted.

  He knew she was right. “You have a kind heart and gentle spirit. You and Tanner would have liked each other.” To prevent renewed grief from distracting him, Joe returned to their task.

  They went over what they had learned from and about Simon Adams.

  “Smart… villain would not say so many bad words to stranger. He talked much. Is not smart enough to be Snake-Man,” she concluded.

  “Maybe that’s a trick, a disguise, a cunning scheme. He might figure no one would suspect a man like him who’s so open about his ill feelings.”

  “He… pretend to hate Indians?” she asked, misunderstanding him.

  “No, he hates them all right, especially the Dakota Nation. What I meant was, he could be making sure everybody— especially strangers - knows he hates Indians, and he could be assuming nobody would become a loudmouth and make himself a suspect. If I were Snake-Man, would I pretend to like or hate Indians?” he reasoned aloud. “I think leaning too far in either direction isn’t smart. Whatever, that villain is very smart and very dangerous.”

  “It confusing, Joe. If I have enemy, I not hide it. But I not trying to start war between sides. I say, smart man not hide it or show it.”

  “I agree, but sometimes desperate or greedy men don’t act smart. They make mistakes, and that’s what finally defeats them.”

  Morning Star thought of how her brother and Knife-Slayer behaved sometimes. Soon, they would make mistakes and be entrapped by them.

  “With Zeke around, we can’t do much in this area,” Joe said. “By the time he learns we’ve been to Pierre and Orin’s, he’ll be searching for us, probably with more hired men. If his boss doesn’t suspect us by now, he will as soon as he and Zeke add up the facts, then suspect we’re up to something. They’ll be out to stop us any way they can.”

  Morning Star grasped that he didn’t accept her speculations and still believed they were in great peril. She had to concede to his thoughts, because Joe knew whites better than she did. “We be careful and alert.”

  “Since we don’t know who or where this boss is,” Joe decided aloud, “we should get out of sight and reach for a while.
Let’s try to get information from the Indians, the Crow. We’ll need trade goods. Let’s risk going on to Lookout to buy them.”

  “Zeke come from Lookout,” she reminded.

  His blue gaze locked with her brown one. “I know, but we have no choice. We can’t go back to Pratte or Orin’s and we need trade goods. We can’t give up, Morning Star. But we have to get out of this boiling kettle for a while; I just hope we aren’t jumping out of it into a roaring fire out there.” He caressed her cheek and urged, “Don’t worry, love, we’ll be careful.” His tone altered as he said, “I want you to lead me to the first Crow camp, then hide until I finish my business and return to you.”

  Her sunny smile vanished. “I go with you!”

  Joe shook his blond head. “Crow won’t harm a white trader with gifts. I’ve put you in too much danger already.”

  Determination filled her eyes. “I go, too, or I not lead you there.”

  Joe eyed her raven hair spilling over her shoulders and how it swayed when she tossed her head in defiance. He had to keep her safe! He decided there would be time on the trail to persuade her to stay behind at the last minute, so he didn’t argue. “Let’s ride, woman.”

  “I see fox sneak into Joe’s body. Eyes expose you. You not fool me or leave me behind. I part of sacred vision, too. Must go and help.”

  “You know me too well, Morning Star. I yield, but I don’t like it. I couldn’t stand for anything to happen to you. We take no risks, woman.”

  Sun Cloud’s daughter smiled. She was happy Joe possessed the self-confidence to concede when necessary. She loved looking at him. His hair grazed his broad shoulders like a golden mane. It waved like rolling hills and gleamed when the sun kissed it. And she could lose sight of reality when she stared into his blue gaze, as beautiful as the sky above them. The sienna buckskin garments enhanced his dark tan and clung to his muscled frame. His features were bold, perfect. Joe was irresistible in looks and character, though she did not care for the white man’s beard that grew thicker and darker each day. She adored being with him; she loved him beyond control.