Bittersweet Ecstasy

by Taylor, Janelle

  As they mounted, others came forward to speak their well-wishes. They rode away to the sound of the shaman’s prayer. Gray Eagle and Shalee stood before their tepee, arm in arm, until they vanished.

  All morning as the hunting party moved through the forest and meadows, Sun Cloud found himself straining for a sight or sound of Singing Wind. Twice he spooked deer while his concentration was low. He chided himself for his reckless lapses, for it easily could have been white or Indian foes he had flushed from hiding. Perhaps he should ride to the Cheyenne camp to visit with his friend Soul-of-Thunder. No, that was not wise with his brother gone and no one to see to their parents if there was a problem. Despite how strong and vital they appeared, Sun Cloud knew they were not. He had seen both grimace and battle the aches which chewed at aging bones. He had seen them tire more quickly and easily than the winter before this one. He knew that his parents sometimes forgot things and could no longer see with keen eyes. Living with them, he witnessed and grasped these changes more often than Bright Arrow who had his own tepee. It tugged at his heart to know their days on Mother Earth were numbered, but it gave him peace to know their perils and pains would end when they joined the Great Spirit. Perhaps he should find ways to do more of the hunting and the making of weapons, and perhaps he should capture a slave to help his mother with her chores. Yes, he must find ways to ease the burdens of daily existence upon his cherished parents.

  The hunting party returned to camp during the rest period. Sun Cloud found the tepee flap closed, which indicated “do not disturb.” A smile traveled across his handsome face as he wondered if his parents needed more than rest during this short time of privacy. He had never ceased to be amazed by their great passion for each other and for the sharing of a mat together. He saw the way they still looked at and touched each other. Their love was powerful and endless; their union had taught him what true love and fiery passion were, and it had caused him to long for the same with a woman. If he confessed the truth, perhaps he unwisely and unfairly judged females by his mother’s pattern and found them lacking her mixture of strength and gentleness, of pride and humility, of giving and taking.

  He scowled at the thought of a major flaw in his character and thinking. Then he headed for Bright Arrow’s tepee to see if Tashina was awake. If so, they could work on their gifts for Gray Eagle and Shalee: a new quiver for his arrows and new moccasins for her. Tashina was skilled with her sewing and beading. It gave him great pleasure to give her pictorial suggestions, to collect special items to include, and to mark the patterns upon the leather for her; for he was talented with his hands and paints, and had done most of the colorful designs and depictions of coups on his father’s tepee. He was also responsible for the paintings on the buffalo robe which revealed the pictographic history of their family. When time allowed, he must include the description of the return and existence of his father’s brother. As instructed, he would record Powchutu as Eagle’s Arm, half-Oglala and halfCheyenne son of Running Wolf and Tamarra. Sun Cloud realized, for a tribe and chief who were alleged to reject all foes, the Oglalas and Gray Eagle had accepted two whites and a half-Crow into their tribe. Of course, few Oglalas were aware of the enemy bloods that lived in their camp.

  Sun Cloud found Tashina beading in her tepee with the flap tossed aside, so he ducked and joined her for the afternoon.

  In the tepee of Gray Eagle, the chief was lying upon his mat with his wife. His lips and hands had been teasing over her flesh with appreciation and stimulation. He smiled into her eyes as his mouth covered hers. She clasped him to her naked body and ran her fingers over his shoulders and back as she savored their contact and impending union. She knew his desire matched hers, for his manhood had grown larger as he tantalized her to quivering anticipation.

  As her lips teased over his face, she murmured, “How is it possible to love you more and more each day when my heart has been filled with love for you for so many winters? I shall love you forever.”

  He looked down into her face, treasuring her expression and words. “No matter how full a heart, there is always space for more love. No power or man has existed who could take you from my side. You have been my air, my water, the force of my heart. Without your possession, I would not have been complete. If I had lost you, I could not have lived without you. I have even challenged the Bird of Death to keep you. You are mine forever, even beyond Mother Earth. I never grow weary of having you in my life or upon my mat. You captured my heart and inflamed my body the moment I saw you long ago. No matter how many times my lips and body claim yours, each new time is sweeter than the one before. I love you with all I am and will ever be.”

  Tears of joy dampened her lashes. “Only a man of great strength and honor can confess to such feelings, my love. I am what I am for knowing you. Make our bodies one as our hearts are one.”

  Gray Eagle gently lay upon her and sealed their lips as he entered her. Slowly he carried her to sensual heights in the Eagle’s domain. They soared in the magic wonder of their never-ending passion. Soon, they clung tightly as they were rewarded blissfully for their mutual efforts. Then leisurely their spirits descended to reality, and they lay nestled together as sleep overtook them.

  It was midmorning of the following day when Powchutu and Bright Arrow arrived at the fort. Neither was surprised to find the gates open, for the soldiers were cocky this time of year, knowing the Indians were busy obtaining supplies, making weapons, and preparing for their moves to their summer encampments. The guard eyed them nonchalantly as they rode inside and dismounted near the sutler’s post.

  The sutler was a husky man in his early forties, eager to meet new faces, especially those who needed supplies. “What can I do for you, fellers?” he inquired genially.

  “Me and my friend’s son need a few supplies. We’re camping over there on Chucker’s Creek. We’ll be heading farther west as soon as we take a few days to catch our breaths. It’s been a long journey from St. Louis. We heard it’s good trapping a week’s ride upriver,” Powchutu chatted amiably as he collected an item here and there.

  Bright Arrow had lazed against a wooden support post, having reminded himself not to stand straight and alert. Last night, he had wet his hair and secured rags around the edges to make it wave slightly as his mother had shown him. A flintlock musket was thrown over his shoulder and a bag of cartridges hung from his belt, as did a hunting knife. He seemed content to let his friend make their purchases.

  Powchutu was also carrying a breechloader which used a cartridge containing powder and ball that fired from the impact of the hammer on a percussion cap which was held by a nipple. He wished he had brought along the “Brown Bess” flintlock musket he had gotten in England. Although it required twelve steps to prime and load the awkward weapon, a trained man could fire five balls a minute, which favorably compared to the number of arrows a hostile Indian could fire, and certainly could beat the skills and speed of the common American soldier.

  “You two chose a bad time to take up in this area. I suppose you’ve never heard of them Sioux who still think this whole goldarn area is theirs. Now that we own her, the Army should stop taking their crap and kick their asses as far west as possible, right into that ocean Clark and Lewis found.”

  Powchutu smiled, then asked jokingly, “Sure we’ve heard of the Sioux, and Cheyenne, and Crow. I guess nobody asked them if they cared if we bought all this land from the French. From what we’ve been told, they didn’t recognize Spanish or French ownership, so why should they think the Americans could buy what wasn’t the French’s to sell? I think we’ll be plenty safe with so many forts and soldiers out here. We’re thinking about setting up a permanent camp along the Missouri, and it’s best to get the jump on other trappers before the new season starts. From the hides and pelts we’ve seen from this area, hunting and trapping’s got to be mighty rewarding.”

  “Yep, it’s that alright. What’s your name, stranger?”

  “I’m Tanner Gaston, and that there is Clay Rivera
. Me and his pa’s been partners for nigh unto forty years.”

  The man extended his hand and responded, “Good to meet you. I’m Edward Jackson, but most call me Jacks.”

  “Who’s in command here, Jacks?” Powchutu inquired.

  “Right now, Major Gerald Butler, but we’re expecting a big general next month, Phillip Cooper. Won’t be none too soon if you asked me,” he remarked, then glanced around to make sure they were alone before confiding, “When the colonel took sick and died, Butler only outranked Major Ames by two months, and Bill thinks he’s better qualified than Gerald. They been fussing for months over how to whip those Sioux into line before General Cooper arrives. The other officers are split down the middle on loyalty. Wouldn’t surprise me none if Major Ames met with an accident, if you know what I mean. If it’s up to Captain Smith and Captain Rochelle, he won’t live to meet General Cooper to complain. If I was Major William Ames, I would watch my back real careful like. Which is what you fellers better do when Butler goes charging after them Sioux and stirrin’ ‘em up again.”

  “Why doesn’t Major Butler wait for this General Cooper’s arrival to see how he wants to handle the problem, if there is one? We haven’t noticed any trouble since we got here.”

  “That’s because they just got spring stirrings in their guts. They’ll be heading out of them hills soon, then you’ll know they’re around, mark my words. Once that Gray Eagle riles ‘em up, you won’t see no peace around these parts till next winter.”

  “I thought Gray Eagle was only a legend. Is he for real?”

  “For real?” the man echoed incredulously. “Are you joshing? There ain’t a man, red or white, who wouldn’t turn tail and run from him. He’s a real devil, and them Indians would follow him through the flames of hell and back. If we could get rid of him, we could tame the rest of ‘em. Lordy, Tanner, you and Clay don’t won’t to tangle with him.”

  “Seems to me like you have plenty of men and supplies here. I doubt those redskins will give the U.S. Army much hassle. We saw so many soldiers, the fort can’t hold them all; they’re camped all around this place. And we passed lots of supply wagons on our way here.”

  “You’re right about us having more men and supplies than we’ve had since we got here, but I won’t feel good until General Cooper arrives with his troops and wagons. Once they get here, every Injun in this territory could ride against us and it won’t make no never mind.”

  Two men entered the sutler’s post. “What’ll it be Capt’n Smith?” Edward Jackson inquired, alerting his guests to the man’s identity and hoping they would hold his previous comments a secret. It wouldn’t do to get thrown out of this fort! He warned himself it was best to learn to keep his mouth shut, especially around strangers.

  Clarence Smith studied the two unknown men as he responded, “Give me a plug of your best chew. Haven’t seen you two around before,” he remarked evocatively.

  Bright Arrow could feel the keen eyes of the Crow scout Red Band on him. He remained loose and calm, as if nothing and no one troubled him on this lovely day. He smiled and nodded affably when Captain Smith glanced his way.

  Powchutu introduced them and repeated his tale; this time, he added, “I was about to ask Mr. Jackson if there is a place on the fort where I can post some letters home to my children.”

  “Where’s home?” Smith asked boldly.

  “New Orleans for my family, but me and my partner, Clay’s pa, travel a lot looking for new trapping grounds and setting them up for our men. I’m getting too old for this kind of work and worry. This’ll be my last year in the wilds. I plan to settle down and play with my grandchildren.”

  “If I was you two, I would head that way at sunrise. This area ain’t gonna be safe for anyone come next month.”

  “What do you mean?” Powchutu questioned in mock surprise, as if Jackson had told him nothing. “You expecting trouble?”

  “Yep, big trouble, with them Sioux,” Smith stated; then he sneered.

  “America bought this land fair and square, Captain Smith. Why shouldn’t we be safe? The Army is here to protect us, isn’t it?”

  “The only place you would be safe is inside this fort, Gaston, and it’s brimming with men and horses now.”

  “We were told the Army has a treaty with the Indians.”

  “Injuns can’t read and they don’t honor treaties. They’re stupid savages who don’t know nothing but fighting and killing.”

  Without even looking his way, Bright Arrow knew the scout’s gaze had not left his face since their arrival. Surely the despicable Crow could not recognize him…Surely he could not “smell a foe a meadow away” as the Crow boasted? Bright Arrow knew Red Band was trying to use the force of his stare to compel his attention, but he simply kept watching and listening to the others. He was careful to keep an interested look on his face and to hold his body lax. He had noticed that Captain Clarence Smith had not introduced the scout.

  “That’s probably true, Captain Smith, but a man is still just as dead from their arrows. We’ll keep guards posted at our camp.”

  “You do that, Gaston,” Smith scoffed, then turned to leave. To Bright Arrow he advised, “If I were you, Rivera, I would get your old friend out of this area so he’ll live to play with those grandchildren.”

  Bright Arrow sent the surly man a lopsided smile and then replied, “My pa hasn’t been able to talk any sense into Tanner’s head for forty years, Captain Smith, so I doubt he’ll be able to at this age. He’s a feisty old coot, tougher than he looks and talks. We’ll be real careful.”

  “Be a shame for this good ole’ coot to lose his hair. How long you two staying around?” the captain asked a final question.

  “Soon as we get our supplies, we’ll be returning to camp. Course, we would like to meet the commanding officer if that’s possible.”

  “Afraid it ain’t. He’s out scouting the area and making plans to surprise them Sioux.” A cold, evil burst of laughter came from the man as he reflected on the “surprise” in store for Gray Eagle’s band. “Come on, Red Band, let’s get moving. We’ve got something to handle.”

  Powchutu and Bright Arrow glanced at the scout for the first time. He was wearing a bright yellow bandana around his head which had been rolled into a two-inch headband, a faded cavalry jacket—beneath which he wore the top to a pair of red Longjohns from which the arms had been removed to battle the heat—buckskin pants, and knee-high moccasins. The scout’s expression was stoic, but his eyes were cold and shiny like dark icicles. There were numerous lines around his eyes from squinting in the harsh sunlight and from studying his surroundings. On his head, he placed a black felt hat from which dangled several scalplocks, no doubt Sioux. He stared at both men as they studied him. His eyes narrowed as he took one last look at each, then he left.

  “That fort scout isn’t talkative or friendly, is he?” Powchutu joked.

  “Red Band don’t like nobody, but he’s a damn good scout, the best. He can smell a Sioux a mile away. Hates ‘em. Crow and Sioux been enemies longer than whites been in this area. You said you wanted to send some letters out?” the sutler reminded Powchutu.

  “Can you handle it for me?”

  “No trouble at all. I handle all the mail for regular folk in this area. My man will take it to St. Louis, then it’ll be put on a riverboat to New Orleans. Cost you a dollar to send mail that far.”

  “It’s worth it for my family not to worry about me. They think I’ve been too old for traveling for years.” He pulled the two letters from his pocket, then handed the man two dollars.

  Edward Jackson looked at the names and addresses. He smiled and said, “I can tie ‘em together and charge you only one dollar since they’re going to the same place.”

  “It might be best if you leave them separated, just in case one gets lost,” Powchutu suggested.

  The man smiled and nodded. “Ain’t lost a letter yet, but it’s bound to happen one day.”

  “We’d best be on our way be
fore dark, Clay. Been nice meeting you and doing business with you, Jacks. Maybe we’ll see you again soon.”

  “Been my pleasure, Tanner, Clay. You fellers take care.”

  Bright Arrow and Powchutu gathered their purchases and left, to find the Crow scout Red Band near their horses. Bright Arrow dared not glance around to see if any soldiers were approaching or watching them, for that would give away his feeling of suspicion and alarm. Without appearing to do so, he called his body and mind to full alert. He saw Powchutu’s hand tighten ever so slightly on the cotton sack he was holding, which revealed that his uncle also sensed danger and was preparing himself, unnoticeably, to confront it.

  They looked at the Crow Indian, but did not smile or speak, as scouts were considered beneath whites and treated as invisible unless there was a reason for acknowledging them or their presence. Powchutu tied his bundle to his horse, as did Bright Arrow. Both secured their muskets in place. Before they could mount, the Indian spoke.

  “Your horses not shod. They strong and alert.”

  Powchutu halted his movements and turned. He looked at the scout indignantly and asked, “Are you addressing me?” It was not a good sign that the scout felt confident enough to approach them.

  “I speak to you. Your horses wear no shoes. They Indian trained.”

  “What business is it of yours, scout?” Powchutu asked angrily.

  “Horses are Indian; they Sioux,” the scout persisted boldly.

  “You have a problem here, Red Band?” an officer inquired.

  The scout repeated his words, then the officer looked from Bright Arrow to Powchutu as he reasoned out the scout’s insinuation. Before he could ask for an explanation, the sutler joined them and asked, “You got a problem, Tanner? ‘Morning, Major.”