Forever Ecstasy

by Janelle Taylor

  Joe summarized the information as he read Jim’s words. “Says Stede and Tom are checking on Orin McMichael, Simon Adams, and Harvey Meade. They’ve sent men to question the local authorities. I hadn’t thought of suggesting that kind of investigation; it could be helpful,” Joe commented, then went back to reading. “Jim’s happy about that last message I left two weeks ago telling him about Red Cloud, Spotted Tail, and Two-Bulls’ agreement for truce. He’s upset that Black Moon and Talking Wolf have had illegal dealings with Zeke. Says he won’t investigate that part yet and risk endangering us. He doesn’t want the Crow coming after us, too. Says he hasn’t seen Zeke since his last message. He’s visited Simon and Harvey, but nothing new there. He is keeping a tight eye on Sergeant Bartholomew Carnes. He’s real pleased with the evidence I left for him and with our destruction of those weapons and whiskey. What’s this?” Joe murmured, rereading the last few lines.

  “Damn,” he muttered. “It says Stede warned us that Corporal George Hollis shot a soldier and fled when he was questioned about being here. Says for us to be on alert for the deserter. They chased him northwest, but he got away. Stede and Tom think he’ll make his way here to his boss.”

  “At least we know he’s guilty,” Clay surmised for all three. “If we could get our hands on him, we could persuade him to talk.”

  “Or get our grips on Zeke or Farley. We know they’re in on this mess. We can’t beat information out of Simon or Bart since we haven’t fully connected them to the case.” He related Jim’s warnings concerning the necessity of acting within the legal framework.

  “Tell me, Joe, if there are as many attacks and they’re as bad as this Jim says, why isn’t the Army over here doing more to check them out? With Red Heart and Oglala clues left at the scenes, why haven’t white men banded together and retaliated? How is this Jim keeping the homesteaders and his soldiers under control?”

  “I don’t doubt the raids, Clay, but nobody can prove who did them. Even if they’re tempted, I don’t think there are enough men to mount an attack on a strong Indian camp. As for the Army, besides hanging back to let us work on this trouble, they don’t usually intrude on Indian conflicts with each other unless it gets big and nasty. From the way it looks, those boys at Fort Tabor are happy not to ride out and challenge the mighty Lakotas. If it’s Jim you don’t trust, see what you think about him when you two meet. You’ll need to return that evidence from the payroll massacre that I borrowed, explain again how it was faked. Give him Knife-Slayer’s scanty description of Snake-Man, be sure to tell him what you learned in St. Louis, and let him know you’re joining us. The return of the cattle should convince any hotheads there the Red Hearts don’t want any trouble.”

  “What are you planning to do?”

  “Morning Star and I will ride back to Bear Butte and see if we can pick up Zeke’s trail. With luck, he’s so mad that he’ll head straight for his boss and leave us clear tracks to follow. While we’re gone, you nose around those posts. If you see any of our suspects, watch them closely. We should be back near Pierre in…” He calculated the distance and timing. “Ten to twelve days. Meet us two miles upriver and two miles westward.”

  The couple and Clay Thorne parted at dawn. The half-breed herded the steers toward the fort and to meet with Captain Thomas. Morning Star and Joe headed northwest toward the site of their last victory.

  Clay would reach his destination by noon. Morning Star and Joe would reach theirs after four days of long and hard riding across relatively flat prairieland.

  Joe and Morning Star scouted the location, found it unoccupied, and camped in the trees near the sacred mountain. They planned to follow the wagon ruts tomorrow. They tended the horses, ate, and bathed.

  The full moon and a glowing campfire brightened the clearing where the couple shared a bedroll and snuggled in each other’s arms. As they kissed and caressed, the blankets around their bodies slipped away. Their love was so pure and real, that neither was embarrassed by their nakedness.

  “You’re so beautiful, and I love you so much,” he murmured.

  “We are mates in our hearts. One day we will join under your law. If my people do not battle us, we will become mates under my law before we leave. I love you. I must remain with you.”

  Joe stroked the raven hair that flowed like a river of ebony silk around her shoulders and spilled forth upon his bedroll. It framed the most exquisite face he had seen anywhere. He gazed into the warm chocolate eyes that expressed her deep feelings. Besides his mother and sister, she was the most gentle and loving person he had known. If he made love to her every day, it would not be enough to feed his insatiable craving for her. She intoxicated him more than any liquor, and bewitched him as no other could. She was a part of him, a part he must not live without. He could not voyage through the rest of his existence without her as the gentle wind behind his sails, caressing him and being the source of his power. The months with her had proven he had made a wise choice in loving her and proposing to her.

  Morning Star trailed her fingers over Joe’s face. She enjoyed any contact with him, whether it was emotional or physical. She traced the strong jawline where two tiny nicks exposed his haste while shaving earlier. There was such joy in touching him and watching him. She guided her fingers down his throat, aware of the rapid pulse there. One hand halted for a time to feel the pounding of his heart, knowing she and their contact were the reasons for it. This was what Singing Wind felt with Sun Cloud, what Alisha Williams had experienced with Gray Eagle long ago. It was real, special, rare. It was the tight bond and true love that all couples should find and keep. It was wrong and cruel to deny such emotions, for others to prevent them. Yes, her heart concurred with what Joe was thinking, she had made a wise choice in loving him and agreeing to marry him, no matter what that decision demanded of her.

  Joe’s hands savored the tautness of her breasts, the flatness of her abdomen, the ridges of her rounded hips, the lithe length of her sleek legs, and those secret places only he had visited. For a time he wanted and needed only Morning Star to be his reality, to control his feelings, to engulf his heart.

  Their bare flesh met and clung as they explored each other’s body with leisure and skill. They had learned from experience what pleased the other, but found it difficult to prolong this wondrous foreplay. Their lips met and traveled on for a while to sample other delights. Their fingers roamed every area within reach until both writhed with heightened need. Each knew when the time came to join their bodies.

  At first, they moved slowly, seductively. As their hungers increased and they embraced fiercely, tightly, possessively, seizing rapturous ecstasy, reveling in every moment it consumed them. Even when contentment and relaxation came, they did not separate. They held on to the satisfaction of this long-awaited joining. They never knew when another total sharing was possible, so they must drink every drop of nourishment from this one to sustain them to the next.

  The couple examined the wagon ruts and horse droppings at the site. Joe arrived at the same conclusion as Morning Star. The Crow rode north; Zeke rode east; and one man on an unshod horse followed their trail.

  “A big storm came. Zeke could not leave for two suns,” she deduced from the amount of manure and ashes. “Mother Earth will not let him travel easy. She will pull at the wagon to slow him for us. Streams will slow and fight him. He left ake zaptan days ago.” She held up that number of fingers.

  “Fifteen,” Joe reminded her.

  She smiled and continued. “He travels… east. Much rain on Mother Earth does not hide his trail; it becomes deep.”

  “Deeper,” he grinned as he corrected, knowing that’s what she wanted him to do. “Let’s ride to see how fast he’s going and to where.”

  Before nightfall, Morning Star said, “More rain came. Hard. Zeke camped… one day. I cannot tell what day. Horse chips are wet and—”

  “Scattered,” he filled in as they looked at the disintegrating clue.

  “I read how dry they
are and how they fall apart to learn time.”

  “That’s all right, love. At least we know he was slowed a little. Wherever he was heading, he should be there by now. We’ll stay on his trail. We don’t have to worry about that warrior; he rode southeast.”

  “It is Grizzly Bear,” she speculated with instinctive accuracy.

  Tuesday afternoon, Morning Star halted to study the ground and concluded, “Zeke moved faster, but he lost time. Streams were full, they were hard to cross in wagon. He is only… six days ahead.”

  “Yep, and riding straight for Pierre and Simon Adams.”

  “Or to get more guns and whiskey. Crow must be plenty mad.”

  “I suppose his direction doesn’t tell us much, does it?”

  “Yep,” she said with a laugh. “If he is not gone, we can see what he does and where he goes. We can follow and spy, perhaps capture.”

  “If we get near him, we will. Clay and I can make him talk.”

  At six, they halted on the Cheyenne River. Before camping, they split up to scout the area and arranged to meet back there when done. Leaving their packhorse concealed in the cottonwoods, Joe headed to check north and east while Morning Star rode south.

  She completed her part in thirty minutes, finding nothing and no one in that direction. While she awaited Joe’s return, she made camp. She gathered scrubwood and arranged it, but would not light a fire until he said it was safe. She readied the supplies to cook their meal, filled canteens, and spread out their bedrolls. If he arrived and said the location wasn’t a good spot, she could quickly repack everything. He would make certain that he would not let whatever threat he saw follow him here.

  More time passed. The waning full moon appeared low in the eastern sky, a pale white ball against a still-blue backdrop. Morning Star scanned the horizon, straining her eyes and ears for Joe’s approach. She paced as she waited and watched, and became anxious. She knew something was wrong; Joe should have returned by now. With dusk now blanketing the land, she realized daylight would be gone in half an hour, and tracking would be difficult by moonglow. It was vital to begin a prompt search for him and see what the problem was. She worried that he had been injured or had encountered enemies. As he was to ride only a few miles in both directions, she leapt on Hanmani’s bare back with her weapons and fieldglasses. With wariness and vigilance, she trailed Star’s hoofprints to find Joe.

  It did not take long to locate the alarming spot where two men on unshod horses had apparently intercepted him: Crow, she fretted. It appeared they had been concealed in trees at the riverbank, then sprung upon her love. The condition of the attackers’ tracks exposed the fast movement of a surprise attack, as did Star’s prints indicating an abrupt halt and nervous prancing.

  Morning Star sighed in relief at not sighting Joe’s body or blood, which indicated he had been captured. She dismounted and walked to where the Bird People had recovered hidden horses, also unshod and probably stolen. She knew the other animals carried no riders, as their tracks were not deep enough to be bearing weight. Using her fieldglasses in the fading light, she moved with caution. As darkness arrived, she saw smoke rising from trees along the river. She left her Appaloosa and sneaked closer. When she could study the enemy camp without continuing farther, she halted, as she must not allow her scent or sounds to reach her foes. She had to prevent her capture in order to rescue Joe.

  Two enemy warriors sat at a small campfire close to the water. They laughed, talked, drank whiskey, and went through Joe’s saddlebags. Her love was bound to a tree, twenty feet from the men and blaze, edging the grassland. There were no other trees or bushes close to him to provide concealing assistance to carry out her rescue. He did not appear to be harmed. His horse was with the other five, to the right of the villains.

  Morning Star studied the site. She couldn’t approach from the water; with the river wide and the bank low and beneath a full moon, she would be seen swimming across or surfacing for air or coming ashore. She could not sneak in on the right, as the horses would catch her smell and expose her. To the left, there was nothing close enough to use for cover to begin a successful attack. Around Joe, there was nothing to use for freeing him, and his tree was too slender to hide her forward movement. She needed more feet to obtain an accurate shot at the warriors with either bow or gun. Under a bright full moon, she could not even crawl closer in the open on her belly. The braves had selected this location and Joe’s confining post with great skill and caution.

  She tensed as one man stood on liquor-shaky legs and staggered to Joe. The warrior looked the prisoner up and down. He laughed and pointed and poked while he made insults for his friend’s enjoyment. She moved two trees closer to the scene, unable to get nearer without risking being noticed and captured or slain. She could hear one villain’s words.

  “You bad white man. You in big trouble. We capture for Zeke. He want you plenty bad. He give many horses, goods for trade. Zeke talk, kill.”

  Morning Star realized they were holding Joe for Zeke Randall to question - and inevitably, slay. But that meant he was safe for now. She could leave to prepare herself for his rescue, using the only desperate plan that came to mind. She retraced the path to her camp.

  Morning Star lay on her stomach under a blanket covered with grass. She had captured several fireflies and secured them with blades to the disguise over her. Their flickers of light would imply to her foes that any movement they glimpsed was only grass swaying in the breeze; those brief flashes would say nothing could be near or under the insects, or they would take flight. Every few minutes, she inched herself and her weapons closer to Joe. The Crow were at their campfire, drinking and snooping through her love’s possessions. It took a long time and great patience to cover the open distance from where she began the belly trek to her destination.

  Finally she reached the confining tree. Using Joe’s larger body as a shield, she eased from beneath the blanket and stood behind him. “I am here,” she whispered to prevent startling him, then touched his bound hands. “Do not move or speak. It is like my rescue long ago.” She sliced through the rope, careful not to cut him, then placed his pistol in his freed grasp. “When I say now, kill the one on the right. I will shoot the one on the left,” she instructed, glad she recalled the direction words.

  After he cocked the hammer and she placed her arrow, she saw the warriors stand to be excused before taking to their sleeping mats. “Now!” She gave the signal, stepped from behind her love, and fired at her target.

  Joe swung his armed hand around and fired at his. Both braves were slain. He whirled to sweep her into his embrace, kiss her, and praise her courage and wits. He listened to her explanation of how she had planned and carried out the rescue. “Thanks, love. I was so worried about you. I was afraid they’d retrace my trail and take you by surprise, too.”

  “Come, we must hurry. We will take your possessions and return to our camp. It is ready. We must eat and sleep, and go from here fast.”

  “It’s almost like Zeke expected us to track him, so he planted these men here to stop us. He doesn’t want us to know where he’s going. That could mean it’s straight to his boss, and he’s riding for Pierre.”

  “We will know soon. We must stay alert. More Crow may be chasing us.” Morning Star realized that caution meant no more nights of sharing a bedroll, of nights spent separated by guard duty. She dreaded the perilous suns and moons ahead. She craved a quick and successful victory that would allow them to be together again as lovers.

  Thursday, they neared Pierre. Zeke’s wagon ruts continued on into the settlement. They hadn’t encountered any more Crow ambushers, nor had they found Red Cloud still camped on Plum Creek. They rode for the location where Clay was to meet them, but they were a day early from their swift pace and sunrise-to-sunset schedule. Two miles upriver and two miles west of water from Pierre, they reached the meeting spot.

  Clay Thorne was waiting for them. “You’re back early,” he said.

  As they dism
ounted, Joe remarked, “You, too. Learn anything?”

  “I reported to Jim like you said. We got along fine. No trouble over returning those cattle. We told everybody I found them grazing on the river and herded them in. He’s sending another report to Fort Laramie. Jim was worried about you two going back to Bear Butte and tracking Zeke. I told him you two would be fine.”

  “We almost didn’t make it,” Joe revealed, then related the events and findings of their journey.

  Clay was amazed by Morning Star’s skills and courage, and he praised her for them. “You’re right about him coming to Pierre. Before I get to that part, I’ll tell you about Farley. He was at Fort Tabor when I arrived.”

  “What was he doing there? Spying? Reporting to Bart?”

  Clay shrugged as he replied, “Don’t know. I followed him to Lookout. He talked with Meade, then left.”

  Joe was surprised by that news. “He visited Harvey Meade? Why?”

  “Don’t know, couldn’t get close enough to hear anything. Looked to be just a friendly conversation and rest stop.”

  Joe didn’t like this unexpected twist, as he trusted Harvey. “But Meade is out of the way between Fort Tabor and Pierre.”

  “Yep, but that’s all I saw. I trailed him to Pierre. He met Zeke there.”

  Joe caught what he thought was a contradiction. “Wait a minute, Clay. Farley was with Zeke at Bear Butte. It must have been someone else.”

  “That was four weeks past, Joe,” the half-breed pointed out. “He had plenty of time to get to Fort Tabor after he split up with Zeke. It was him.”

  “Zeke must have sent him ahead to report the trouble with us,” Joe surmised. “But why would Farley ride to Bart instead of to Snake-Man? Unless Zeke’s the only one who knows who their boss is.” The blond argued against his own speculation. “But if that were true, Zeke wouldn’t need to report our mischief so fast to Bart. That’s real strange. I didn’t get to meet Sergeant Carnes and size him up. Did you see Farley talk with anyone else?” Clay shook his head, and Joe added, “Did you meet Bart Carnes?”