Joe studied the area as he recalled how cunningly she had rescued him and all she had done at his side. It was a big risk, but she could do it. Too, it was the only way to get their hands on that bait. If they could pull off his trap, war would be averted and their future could begin. He agreed.
Morning Star tossed a blanket over her head and positioned it around her face and shoulders. With the assistance of the dark moon, she crept toward the site. She lowered her head and casually went to where the chief lay, snoring and sprawled on the ground. She knelt and straightened his limbs, placed another folded blanket beneath his head, and lifted an empty water pouch that reeked of whiskey. As Joe had instructed, she unfastened the musical watch from the cut in Black Moon’s vest where he wore it. She secreted it into her garments, then did the same with his knife as a raid gift for her father. She rose, with lowered head, and left the trees. She was quickly encompassed by dark shadows and ran with skill and caution to Joe’s side. “You did it,” he praised her success, then kissed her. Morning Star allowed herself to relax for the first time since leaving him. She returned the kiss, elated by her daring coup. When they parted, he said, “Let’s make tracks, woman.” “No, we must not. We do not wish them to follow us.” Joe chuckled softly. “That means, let’s leave fast,” he explained.
They rode ten miles in the darkness, traveling at a walk to prevent accidents. They camped on Antelope Creek, too weary to do more than take turns standing guard and sleeping.
Friday around five-thirty, they reached Spearfish Canyon. Morning Star told him the direction to take while she rode to the rear, concealing their trail to the lovely location. The valley near the northern boundary of the Black Hills was lush and green, smelling of spruce and pine and fresh air. It was sheltered from the outside world, but unused this time of year when the Plains beckoned nomadic hunters. Ebony peaks, spires, and rocks loomed beyond their gazes. Timber and grass were abundant. Deer, elk, and birds favored the enclosed area. A towering waterfall cascaded over a line of ivory limestone cliffs, its roar loud. The rush of liquid was so white that almost looked like running ice or snow. The clear blue creek it created journeyed for miles through the area, playing around rocks or twigs in its path.
Joe looked around and smiled. It was the perfect spot to spend what would probably be their last time together until victory was won and their love revealed. They could remain here only tonight and a short time tomorrow. It would require three to four days to reach Sun Cloud’s third camp of the season, which Morning Star said he would be at by now. Their rest in this canyon would provide safety while Clay guided help to Sun Cloud at Buffalo Gap. If all went as planned, they would be in her father’s tepee only one or two days— hopefully not long enough to endanger the Red Hearts.
Joe tended the horses while she unpacked their supplies. As the two animals grazed, he went with her to collect firewood. As they foraged for fuel to feed the fire, Joe felt a thump on his back. He turned as Morning Star tossed another pinecone at him, then giggled as her eyes sparkled.
“A big coup to strike great warrior without slaying him,” she jested.
“Is that so?” he replied with a broad grin. “I thought you had to touch the enemy without slaying him. Let’s see if Sky Warrior can earn a coup.”
When Joe came after her, Morning Star squealed, dropped the wood, and raced behind a spruce. She darted from side to side as Joe attempted to round the tree and capture her. They both laughed as they romped like children in the idyllic location, perils forgotten for a while.
“You’re fast and clever, woman, but I’ll get you,” he playfully warned.
Morning Star dashed for the stream, thinking Joe would halt. She hurried to the waterfall. As she was splattered, she shrieked, “It is cold!”
Joe reached her, grasped her wrist, and pulled her toward him. “Let me warm you,” he murmured as his mouth closed over hers.
They kissed with great need. Soon, the chilly water soaking them went unnoticed in the heat of rising passion. They removed their garments and flung the drenched items to the bank. They splashed and bathed themselves and each other. The water’s temperature enlivened them as their bodies burned hotter with raging desires. They explored each other’s flesh with hands and lips, removing clear drops in their paths.
Soon, Joe scooped her up in his arms and carried her to the lush grass. They rolled upon the soft surface as they tantalized and tempted each other beyond self-control. Grass tickled their skin, as did mischievous fingers and daring lips. Both were enthralled by the other and neither wanted to wait much longer.
Joe entered her body to join them together as one force striving for unity of hearts and spirits. He felt as if everything he was and knew was bound to this moment in time, to the love in his embrace. This woman tempted, sated, and completed him as no other ever could. He was eager for the day when everyone would know that truth, accept it, and abide by it.
Morning Star thrilled to the way Joe made her feel. He loved her fully, honestly, and thoroughly. She enjoyed giving him pleasure, and savored how his responses affected her. Just to touch him brought rapture. To gaze into his adoring eyes warmed her soul. To kiss him drove her wild. To feel his hands and mouth upon her evoked ecstasy. To mate with him was beauty and delight beyond measure and words.
They lay nestled as their bodies returned to normal. The grass made a soft bed. They gazed at the sky above and felt its tranquility within themselves. They listened to the rush of water over the cascade and to birds singing. They smelled clean air, evergreens, wildflowers, and the erotic scent of love. They were at peace in their verdant and romantic haven.
Finally, Joe teased, “If we don’t get moving, love, we’ll both be asleep. I’ll wash off, then help you cook.”
“I will join you, but it will be more cold. The sun goes to sleep. How do you say this?” she asked, knowing she had spoken wrong.
“I will join you, but the water will be colder. The sun is setting, or going down,” he corrected, then he shifted to gaze to her eyes. As his fingers pushed aside stray hair from her lovely face, he murmured, “I love you, Morning Star. You’ve learned so much; I’m proud of you.” His fingers caressed delicate features. “I want you and need you more than I realized. This will be over soon, then we’ll leave to begin our life together. I can’t wait to marry you and know you’re mine forever.”
Morning Star drew his mouth to hers and kissed him. She looked into his serene gaze and cautioned, “When we reach my camp, we must not reveal our feelings. We must wait until the sacred victory is ours.”
A troubled look filled his blue eyes as a streak of panic ran through him. “Promise you won’t change your mind about me,” he urged.
Morning Star smiled and vowed, “I will not. I love you. We must be mates for life. But we must take no risk with victory.”
“I understand and agree. We’re too close to success to endanger it.”
They made love again the following morning before they dressed. It was time to go home, to put their cunning plan into motion. They would camp tonight on Elk Creek; tomorrow night, on the southern branch of the Cheyenne. Late the next day, they would reach Buffalo Gap.
Monday nearing dusk, Joe and Morning Star walked their horses into Sun Cloud’s last camp of the hunting season. Her parents and people halted their shared tasks to greet them. Both smiled and dismounted. Young braves took their mounts to tend them.
“Come, sit, rest,” the chief invited the weary travelers. Sun Cloud’s keen glance scanned both, but nothing seemed amiss. He did detect friendship and closeness, but that was not unusual for cousins and partners. He was glad they seemed to trust, like, and respect each other. The Great Spirit had brought them together and sent them on the sacred quest. Sun Cloud thanked his god for protecting his child and the son of Stede.
As they took places on the buffalo mats that Singing Wind spread for them, Buckskin Girl hurried forward to offer the couple refreshments. Morning Star knew her friend was anxious
to hear news of her missing love, but both women realized that personal talk would have to wait until later.
“Tell us of your adventures,” the chief encouraged.
People gathered around the seated group to hear news of their daring exploits. Elderly Red Heart males threw down mats for relaxation during the talk. Children pressed close to parents’ legs. Warriors were on alert, eager to learn of any impending threat to their band. Women studied the handsome paleface with their leader’s daughter. Night Stalker, his timid wife, and contrary son stood nearby, both parents grasping a hand of the unruly boy.
Joe related the events since their last report. He witnessed the awe and approval for Morning Star’s participation, particularly her daring rescue of him from the Crow. He went over it in detail to give her all the credit she deserved. “She’s out of danger now. Stede and Indian Agent Tom Fitzpatrick will arrive soon with help to finish the task. She will not need to leave camp again. You,” he said to Sun Cloud, “will lead your band of warriors in the final battle, if there is one. I pray we can end the matter without a bloody conflict. We’re certain Orin McMichael is Snake-Man. After we send a brave warrior to him with the watch from Black Moon, he’ll be forced to come and meet with the Crow chief and will be snared.”
When Joe revealed how they had gotten hold of the token to be used in the trap, more praise was spoken for Morning Star. He watched her give her father Black Moon’s knife as a raid prize. Joe saw the chief examine it, smile, then lean over to embrace her with pride.
“You have done as the sacred vision claimed, my daughter. Your coups are many and your legend will be great; they will shine as brightly as those of Gray Eagle. Songs will be sung and stories told of She-Who-Rode-With-The-Sky-Warrior. My heart feels much joy at your victories and safe return. I am glad you are home and your task is finished. Sky Warrior,” he addressed Joe. “You have done well, my brother and friend. Bring me the gift I made for him to carry in the final battle,” he instructed Wind Bird.
Wind Bird fetched the shield he had worked on for days.
Singing Wind was thrilled by her child’s deeds and prowess, but was happy the girl was home to stay, out of peril’s reach and away from the white man’s temptation. Morning Star deserved a matching shield, but that was not their way. Yet, the girl’s daring deeds would be painted on the tribe’s and family’s pictorial histories—buffalo hides that hung in the meeting lodge and their tepee.
Sun Cloud handed the gift to Joe and said, “It is the Shooting Star shield. It has big medicine. Few men have carried one. Only those whose signs are of the heavens—as are Mahpiya Wicasta—and who have earned the right to carry one may do so. My father was the last of our band to earn and carry such a powerful shield; Gray Eagle’s was destroyed after his death to keep it from enemy hands. This one is yours, Tanner, for you have earned it.”
Joe felt a twinge of guilt over deceiving the man who trusted and admired him, who rewarded him with their highest honor. He wished Tanner were here to share this moment, the past months, and the future. He handled and looked upon the object with gratitude and sacred reverence. It symbolized the essence of the powers of nature and their god. The sunburst that filled the center in blue, white, and yellow was of the colors of the heavens, the brown hide representing the earth. It was believed to protect its bearer from all dangers, physical and supernatural. A weasel pelt was suspended from the center, sign of the Great Spirit’s messenger. Coup feathers, one for each of Joe’s previous deeds, and good-luck tokens hung from the lower points between each peak of the sunburst. An eagle feather was attached with the weasel pelt, one from Sun Cloud’s chief’s bonnet. The shield was of tautly stretched buffalo hide on a willow frame. It would withstand arrows, lances, and even bullets.
Joe listened as the chief told him about such meanings and powers. “Thank you, Sun Cloud. I shall treasure it always, my brother and friend.”
The chief noticed an emotional catch in the white man’s throat that controlled his voice, and he was glad to find Joe so moved by the gesture, of which the Red Heart Council—with the exception of Knife-Slayer—approved.
The antagonistic warrior was so vexed by Joe’s acceptance and great honor that he shouted, “We must not wait for bluecoats! We must ride to the post on the Big River and slay the one called Orin, as I killed Grizzly Bear who tracked Sky Warrior and Morning Star from Bear Mountain.”
Night Stalker explained his friend’s words to his confused sister and the white man. “He wears the scalp of Matohota on his war lance. He tracked you from the sacred mountain to slay you. Knife-Slayer found the camp where the Crow waited for you, and he attacked.”
Joe thanked him, as did Morning Star, then praised his skills. But he refuted the brave’s suggestion, “We must ride with the Army and do this last deed by white law to stop the evil men.”
“We cannot trust the whites and the white laws! We must not let soldiers ride into our camp. They will spy, return, and attack.”
“Jim, Captain James Thomas at Fort Tabor, died helping your people, Knife-Slayer. He was a bluecoat, a white, a man of the white laws. If we do not trap Orin and his men with Black Moon’s token, we have no proof he is guilty. Without proof, an attack will appear an act of war against whites. The Army will be forced to come here for retaliation instead of friendship. Surely Indians and whites can work together for truce this time. If Red Hearts lead the way at Bear Butte, all will know they want peace, not war. Everybody will know the charges against them are false, that they were Snake-Man’s work. This is the great day all have awaited; do not spoil it now.”
Sun Cloud and other council members spoke up before the warrior could argue. They agreed with Joe’s clever plan. Blood rushed with excitement and suspense. Hearts pounded with eagerness. Mouths tasted sweet victory in the making. Eyes envisioned it upon the horizon. Hands knew all they had to do was reach out and seize it.
“Crow are sly, but we will fool them,” the chief said with a chuckle. “It is a big laugh. A good victory. It will stop the trouble and prevent danger. We will ride with Sky Warrior and the bluecoats. We will follow the words of my uncle’s son and the agent from Fort Laramie. We will have peace again. Men will hunt in safety. Women will work in safety. Children will play in safety. Old ones will sit beneath a safe sun to rest in their last days. This is what Grandfather promised in Payaba’s vision. It will be so.”
After a day and a half of rest and talk, a lookout galloped into camp to reveal that a unit of bluecoats was approaching. Joe seized his fieldglasses, mounted, and rode out with the warrior to see if it was the Fort Laramie troops or Sergeant Bart Carnes with his men. He breathed easy when he sighted Clay Thorne, Stede Gaston, and Tom Fitzpatrick in the lead. Joe rode to meet them. “Glad you finally made it. Sun Cloud and the Red Hearts are willing to work for peace and help with our trap.” He reiterated what Clay had explained earlier, and the soldiers agreed. “Let’s go work out the details. I want this settled before more incidents occur.”
Sun Cloud and Stede Gaston eyed each other as the latter dismounted with difficulty after the long ride. They shook hands as Stede said, “It’s an honor to finally meet you, Sun Cloud, and to be among my people. My father told me many great stories about his brother and kin. I’m only sorry it took me so long to visit you, particularly under such grim circumstances.”
The chief liked his cousin’s words and the sincerity of Stede’s tone and gaze. He smiled in pleasure. “It is good to meet the son of Powchutu, Eagle’s Arm, half brother to my father. We have many words to speak, many seasons to cover. First, there are other matters to discuss.”
The white man was impressed by the chief’s wits and command of English taught to him by his white mother. Stede liked this man, and he knew they would get along fine. “I’m eager to hear everything,” Stede replied as he massaged his aching leg. “We’ve gotten excellent reports from him,” he said, nodding to Joe. “He and your daughter have done a brave and fine thing for everyone concerned. You
must be proud.”
“I am proud of Morning Star and Tanner. Peace will come from their great deeds. Again, I will ride with a great warrior as I once did with your father. He died a brave man at the side of my father. When the war moon rises next, their sons will ride together and will survive the evil of their enemies. It will be a glorious day. Come, sit, rest, and eat. We will talk of past days and families after we have spoken of traps and peace with others.”
Stede moved on a leg stiff from the past break that had prevented him from accompanying Joe after his son’s murder. He was glad Joe had taken Tanner’s place, but hated deceiving the great leader—his kin. He hoped the truth could be revealed soon, and that Sun Cloud would not feel used and betrayed by the deception. He sat down beside his cousin, awed by the dignity of the chief.
Morning Star and Joe took places nearby, each apprehensive about a slip from Stede Gaston or from one of the others with him. They knew the damage careless words could do, and both prayed to their gods to hold a tight rein on tongues. The moment of final victory and a treaty loomed before them, and nothing must prevent that.
Sun Cloud asked Thomas Fitzpatrick to join them. The exmountain man sat down, crossed his legs at the ankles, and cupped his knees with his hands. One hand—the reason for his Indian name, was missing three fingers from a gun accident. White hair, straight and thin, barely grazed his collar, as he favored a neat appearance. Deep-set eyes beneath protruding brow bones revealed a serious nature. He was still a hearty man at fifty-two.
Sun Cloud had met the past explorer, renowned wilderness guide, and ex-trapper several times in the past. Tom had worked most of the streams in the Dakota Territory, beginning in 1822. Tom was considered smart, brave, skilled, and selfreliant. He got along with most Indians because of his good character and pleasant personality. Sun Cloud believed Tom was an excellent choice for peacemaker between whites and Indians. He said to the agent, “It is good Broken-Hand visits the Red Hearts to prove the words he speaks on paper are wise and true.”
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