“Are more ways,” Joe gently corrected, then asked, “Like what?”
“Trail signs. I see, read. Marks everywhere if you know how to find and read. Black Moon, he come to same place; easy to find him. I use where Wi in sky for that season, where stars glow and how they move.”
Ex-Captain Joseph Lawrence knew about using the sun, moon, and stars for charting courses, and he knew they were in different positions in the sky during each season.
Weeks ago, he had shown her his compass and explained how it worked. He had laughed and told her it was useful only when you knew which direction to follow, and it was particularly helpful on a cloudy day and moonless night. He had made notes, measurements, and drawn a map. He had told her it would be informative later about their journey for the authorities, but both knew it was also for a time when or if he had to travel alone.
When they neared the Belle Fourche River on Thursday, Joe sighted two men heading north. Using his fieldglasses to watch for approaching peril, he made out Zeke and Farley. At that distance, he knew they had not been seen. The couple hid themselves behind the nearest knoll. They rested and chatted until the villains were gone.
“Why he not take guns to Black Moon camp?” Morning Star asked.
“He’s too clever and cautious. He doesn’t want to get caught near an Indian camp with illegal goods. He has to go fetch them because he’s six days early, and I doubt he wants to hang around here longer than need be. His little trip should give us about five days to do our task and be far away when he and those Crow return and find the damage we’ll inflict. This time, we’ll get some undeniable proof to unmask him and to protect us.”
At over four thousand feet, Bear Butte— Mato Paha to the Lakotas— was highly visible long before they reached the sacred mountain as it rose in majestic splendor from the surrounding plains. Fortunate for the couple, treelines, ravines, and the Bear River were nearby to help with concealment and stealth.
With hopes Zeke had chosen the same spot, they left their horses near the water, at a distance where their noises couldn’t be heard by the wrong ears. They discarded anything that might make sounds, and carried only knives for weapons. Morning Star took the initiative to check the wind direction to make certain their scents would not be detected by a guard’s keen nose. They stepped with caution to avoid crunching twigs or anything that might create a telltale noise. They kept watch for animals and birds that could give away their approach and location if disturbed. They heard the “to whitcha, whitcha, whitcha” cry of one bird and the sound of another that reminded Joe of a gosling. They halted to let a deer move along so they wouldn’t spook it. Another time, they stopped to allow a skunk to amble on during his forage for food.
Joe was wearing moccasins to aid his silence on the ground and to avoid boot tracks that would cut or break grass blades rather than bend them as the soft leather shoe did.
More acquainted with the signs of her land, Morning Star led the way. Abruptly she halted Joe once more. When he leaned close, she pointed to a bear trap someone had attempted to conceal. Joe smiled, impressed with her sharp eyes. After they came upon the third one, she warned Joe the traps were set to snare anyone coming close to Zeke’s campsite. Joe realized he may have missed the deadly traps if he was alone or leading them, so he was even happier she was present and in control. As dusk was nearing, she told him they should slip into the river and spy on the area from it. She told him to remove his moccasins, as bare feet were quieter in water.
They neared a place where they could see and smell smoke from a campfire. Morning Star warned Joe about swatting at insects, about mastering control over his breathing, and about jerking his bare foot if a fish, weed, or rock made contact with him. In the fading light, Joe nodded understanding.
Suddenly, a trap sprang and a snared creature thrashed wildly to obtain freedom. Morning Star grabbed Joe’s wrist and yanked him toward the bank, having already planned this strategy if trouble struck. She covered her mouth and nose with one hand to indicate for him to hold his breath. The wet beauty pushed Joe’s head underwater, ducked, and pulled him beneath tangled debris. She pushed his face to the surface where there was only enough space in the bunched branches for catching air.
Joe was careful not to gulp air or to move a muscle. She did the same. They heard two men rush over and talk.
“What is it, Billy?”
“Justa muskrat or otta. We’ll git him out in the morning.”
“Zeke put out them traps along the bank to catch two nosey people. Think we best reset it?”
“I ain’t sticking my hand in that water. He’ll bite it off. Ain’t nobody coming around herebouts tonight. If fen they do, it’ll be in the woods. Zeke’s got traps all over. Come on, Murray, let’s go take a drink and play cards.”
The two men left, but the couple remained motionless for a time.
When they believed it was safe, they returned to their camp downriver.
“We can’t make another move until daylight, woman,” Joe said worriedly. “I don’t want either of us stumbling into a trap in the dark. We’ve got time; it’ll take Zeke five to six days to get back with the Crow. Let’s get dried off and change clothes, then eat and rest. We’re safe for now. The men won’t come looking around in the dark with those traps everywhere. At least we know we have two guards to defeat. We want to capture witnesses and take evidence this time.”
Morning Star concurred, even knowing that action would bring them closer to the end of their task— and separation from each other.
After they had changed their clothes and eaten, they lay on the same bedroll and snuggled together to sleep. The meal had been eaten cold, as they couldn’t risk a campfire. Both savored the warm contact with each other, but knew this wasn’t the time or place to make love.
As she lay curled in Joe’s embrace, Morning Star’s mind roamed for a time. The longer she was with him, the harder it was to imagine a life without him. She had watched him with Indians and whites. Each day her respect, trust, and admiration increased, and she had come to love and want him even more. Everything he had told her that night at Medicine River seemed right and possible. How could she give him up for any reason?
Joe’s white world, from how he had described it, was different, much better than the one here that conflicted with the Indian’s. Her grandmother and aunt had adapted to the Indian way and, with the help of Joe and his family, surely she could adjust to theirs. She had proven she was not a coward. Surely she possessed enough courage and wits to conquer his world to live at his side. Didn’t she? her heart asked.
Qualms troubled her. Maybe she had been with Joe so long that she was blinded by love and desire, and was sleeping in the Dream World. Could she risk her family’s love and respect by choosing a white man over them?
As soon as enough light permitted inspection of the ground for perils, they left camp. Morning Star had a knife in her sheath and a nocked bow in her hands. Joe had a rifle cocked, a knife at his waist, and two holstered pistols. They sneaked to the small clearing where the wagons were located. Two men sat near a cozy fire, eating and talking.
Joe had hoped the villain would sleep late so his attack party could get the drop on them without endangering anyone’s life. This morning, he was attired in unbeaded Indian garments: moccasins, breechcloth, leggings, and vest. An unmarked leather band was around his head to keep his long blond hair from interfering with his vision. He asked God to help and protect them.
Morning Star implored her Great Spirit to do the same. And she implored herself to keep her eyes and thoughts off Joe. Her heart had raced with love and her body had burned with desire as she watched him dress earlier. He was indeed a well-honed and skilled warrior, the most tempting and irresistible one she had met.
Joe gave the signal to attack, bringing both of them to full alert. He focused on the man to the left, she on the one to the right. They stepped into the edge of the clearing. “Put up your hands and don’t move, or we’ll shoot!�
�� Joe shouted.
The men, with cocked rifles at hand, seized them as they jumped up and turned to defend themselves against what they feared was certain death.
Joe wounded his target in the shoulder; Morning Star placed her arrow in almost the same place on hers. They dodged simultaneous fire, but the injured men, as hoped, didn’t surrender after being spared. The hirelings yelped in pain and surprise, but drew pistols to save their lives.
“Give it up! You don’t have a chance to escape!” Joe shouted.
They were the ones with no chance to survive if they didn’t take the culprits’ lives. The reluctant couple did what they must.
Afterward, they approached the campfire and dead men. “Damn,” Joe swore under his breath. “I wanted a witness. To protect our cover with Jim, we could have taken him to Fort Laramie.”
“They fear capture more than dying,” she remarked.
He exhaled audibly, then suggested, “Let’s get our work done and get out of here. We can’t do anything for them.”
Joe collected weapons and ammunition as gifts to Sun Cloud for hunting. He yanked off a board with PRATTE AND COMPANY stamped on it. “Here’s proof this load either came from or through Simon Adams. One way or another, this will help trace it. When Zeke and the Crow find this mess, all they’ll see are moccasin tracks. Hopefully that’ll confuse them for a while.”
“I have Crow possessions in pack. We put some here to fool them?”
“That won’t work, love. If Crow attacked, they’d take the supplies, not destroy them as we’re going to do.” “But we take some,” she reminded, “many as small band
can carry. They will think others destroyed so Lakotas and
Army not find and take.” “You’re right. As usual,” he amended with a broad grin. “It’s worth trying. I’ll start here while you fetch them. Be careful of those traps.”
By early afternoon, Joe and Morning Star had used hatchet butts to ruin the rifles. With broken or bent hammers, breechloading covers, or crushed barrels, the weapons were useless. Gunpowder was spread over a wide area and kicked into dirt and grass; it was too perilous to fish and animals to dump it into the water. It was also too hazardous to set aflame and risk igniting the forest and prairie with an explosive blaze. The whiskey was poured out for the earth to drink. Identifying boards for company and contents were taken from the ammunition and whiskey barrels. Everything possible was completed, including the false clues.
At twilight, Morning Star and Joe made camp miles away from the site of their daring ploy. After the horses were tended and they had eaten a hot meal, they settled down to talk before bedtime.
“I can’t figure why Simon would incriminate himself by not removing the marked boards before giving Zeke those shipments,” Joe wondered aloud. “I keep thinking that he might be Snake-Man or that he’s working for him. Then I get a gut feeling that says he isn’t involved.”
“He is a bad man, but I do not think he is the man we seek.”
Joe glanced at her and smiled, noticing how good her English was these days. “I’m proud of you, Morning Star; your parents and band will be, too. I couldn’t have done all I have without your help and friendship. I hate putting you in danger, but you’ve proven over and over how much I need you with me.”
Her expression revealed her joy at those words. “Thank you.”
Just looking at her aroused Joe, but he knew they were both too tired to enjoy lovemaking to the fullest. He didn’t want a fast joining only to release his pent-up tension. It was best to wait until tomorrow night when they were rested and farther away from Zeke’s camp. “I think I’ll shave. I don’t need this beard anymore, and it scratches like wool on a summer day.”
Morning Star observed as Joe heated water in a shallow basin and placed soap nearby. She watched him sit near the fire with a mirror resting on his knees and a sharp razor in his grasp. “I will help,” she offered, knowing the job would be difficult at night. “I cut shorter first,” she suggested, then used the scissors he gave to her. When she finished, she held the mirror up for him to take over the chore.
Cognizant of her tender gaze witnessing his every expression and stroke, Joe felt lucky not to have cut himself.
“Shaving is like small Sun Dance,” Morning Star remarked. “All a man owns is his body to offer pieces to the Great Spirit. You grow and cut off hair for sacred mission; that is part of Joe’s body. Great Spirit is happy.” She didn’t include that a clear face made his appearance seem more Indian. He was shirtless, and she looked at the scar on his arm where Zeke’s bullet had passed through it when he rescued her. Yes, that night had been destined between them.
Morning Star prayed there was also a bright future destined for them. She hated to think of their imminent separation. She had agreed to part with Joe for a short time for three reasons: first, two tasks needed tending before they could journey again together, and she wanted to accomplish them soon. Second, she wanted to see her parents and friends. Third, she wanted to have her “woman’s flow” in the privacy of her tepee. She had completed one just before her capture by Zeke, another just before reaching Orin McMichael’s, and the next was due in three or four suns. She thought she had been able to conceal her female condition from Joe last time, but a man reared around a sister knew about such things. When he had purchased supplies at Lookout, he had bought her a length of white cloth and only said, “This is for you when you need it.” His expression had made his meaning clear.
Joe finished and put away his things. “Better?” he hinted.
“It is bad to hide face like yours” was her merry response. She wanted to caress the hairless surface, but something halted her. She suddenly realized what it was, that the skin was white against the rest of a face that had been darkly tanned by the prairie sun. It was as if the recently concealed flesh beside the dark flesh pointed out the differences in them.
“Something wrong?” he queried her altered expression.
“No, just tired,” she had to reply.
Joe didn’t question her. “Me, too. Let’s get to sleep.”
After a steady ride, they halted on Elk Creek. They tended their chores and ate, then bathed in the refreshing water.
While Joe made more notes and marked his map, Morning Star did some serious thinking. Tomorrow they would separate, and she dreaded not being with him. She was so confused and tormented, and she feared that visiting her people would increase her dilemma. She knew what she wanted, but deciding to take that path would cost her much. Yet, by nightfall on the next sun or at any time, either or both of them could be dead, out of the other’s reach forever. Life was often short and dangerous. It should not be spent in misery. Was there a way for them to remain together after this sacred task? Could she convince the Great Spirit, her parents, and her people that she belonged with Sky Warrior? And if she did, what would it be like for her, for them, in Joe’s world?
Surely there are many whites like Joe, she reasoned— Alisha Williams, Rebecca Kenny and her parents, Bonnie Thorne, wife of the past Cheyenne chief Windrider— Stede and Tanner Gaston, and the friends her ancestors and band had made in the past. As with the other women from her bloodline, to have her man surely she could adjust to another type of life. There must be so many wonders she didn’t know about, added to the ones her lover had related during their long journey. There were so many things to experience with him. More, she admitted, than she could do here where her life was simple and often hard, where death stalked with each new and closer encroachment by whites or raids by Crow. To live in a place surrounded by safety sounded wonderful. Could she— dare she— choose Joe and his world over hers?
The sunny-haired man wrapped his arms around the beauty with such a serious expression on her face. “Stop worrying, woman; I’m not going to chase you down and carry you off like I teased. I’ll let you make your decision about us when you’re ready. I realize how hard it is for you, and a future for us might indeed not be possible. From now on, we live and
love day to day. We’ll expect nothing more than that from each other. Agreed?”
Morning Star tensed in Joe’s embrace and wished she could see the expression in his eyes. He had been so loving and tender, so compassionate and understanding of her feelings. She prayed her last rejection had not stung him so deeply that he had lost hope for them, had changed his mind about pursuing her. Perhaps she should discuss the matter with him this moment. Yet she did not want to give him false hopes they could overcome all the obstacles between them. He could be wrong about his family and friends. His father had not wanted him to come here. They might not be happy about him taking an Indian as wife.
Joe knew, as well as she, there were good and bad whites and good and bad Indians. Surely he understood her trapped position by now. Surely he had been telling her so much about his world and teaching her so many things to persuade her she could fit in there. Every day he whet her appetite for what was beyond her territory— that had to be an intentional ploy. She had witnessed how quickly and easily the Dakotas accepted and believed Joe. His arguments held much truth not long ago. Once this great mission succeeded and he was honored by her people, the Red Hearts couldn’t think too badly of her for wanting to remain with the glorious Sky Warrior. Surely they would realize the Great Spirit had put them together and wanted them to remain together. Joe had worked for peace in her world; perhaps she was destined to work for peace and understanding in his.
Morning Star asked herself how Sun Cloud could say it was wrong to marry a white-eye when his father and brother had done so and had been very happy with their choice of mates. She wondered if her people could resist this union when the Red Hearts knew what Alisha/Shalee and Rebecca/Wahea had done for their band. When peace was within their grasps, how could anyone call Joe an enemy? How could her family and people not want her to return for visits to relate all she learned about the whites? Even if she left in banishment and dishonor, how long could it last? Surely time would bring understanding and forgiveness.
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