Stolen Ecstasy

by Janelle Taylor

  “Why Bright Arrow come Cheyenne camp? Where Bright Arrow, Windrider go? Why Cheyenne say you bring sickness?” he probed. He sat down cross-legged at a safe distance. He lay the freshly slain game on a hide, planning to leave it for her to take after he left, with some answers.

  “Bright Arrow no happy in white land. He hunger to go home. He warrior. He no trapper. Whites bad. He lose spirit and prowess. He lose manhood. He come here to become man again before he go home. Tell no one he here. He go home when Great Spirit say time good. He man again. He seek way to help Oglala and all Indians. He seek coups to earn his path home. Bad whites come to Indian land. He go to defeat them. Must tell no one. He follow vision from Great Spirit. Cheyenne blame Rebecca and white captive Bonnie for sickness and death. We white; trader was white. We have no evil spells or bad magic. We no cure sickness; we tend it, to stop it. They no let us. If you tell others, they come to help Cheyenne brothers. They take sickness home to attack Oglalas. They no believe white females. Hold tongue, or many Oglalas die,” she urged him gravely.

  “I go. No talk sickness. I give elk Rebecca. I pull to river. You take meat home. Last many days. Six moons, I bring more deer; I give Rebecca. No come near camp,” he informed her.

  “Why are you being so kind? Don’t you know your people hate me? They rejected me. They banished Bright Arrow for taking me as his woman. I don’t understand,” she murmured, utterly bewildered.

  “I know such things. I no agree council’s vote. Bright Arrow Oglala warrior; he belong home. I tell no one he here; he come. I speak for him that sun. I no hate Rebecca. You brave; you smart. You need food, rest. I bring food six moons. You stay camp; safe.”

  He stood and retrieved the dead animal. Rebecca realized he was very strong, for he draped the slain elk over his shoulders as if it weighed very little. Then he headed toward the river. Rebecca lifted the rifle and the hide containing the hunk of meat. Staying within sight of the generous and puzzling warrior, she followed him to the river. He walked on until her small camp came into view. Placing the elk on her side of the riverbank, he turned, smiled, and waved a farewell to her.

  Suddenly she realized she didn’t even know his name. She whirled around and called out, “Who are you?”

  He halted, then chuckled. “Flaming Star, son of White Arrow and Wandering Doe, adopted parents of Bright Arrow. I wish his return. Tell no one I came. No tell my friend and brother,” he instructed. “I have vision: he return home; you live at his side. Be happy.” With that startling statement, he vanished into the woods.

  Rebecca hurried over to the tepee to ask Sucoora to come help her with the elk. Between the two of them, they skinned, gutted, and carved the animal into hunks. They hauled the meat to the tepee where they would cook some and dry the rest for use during the next week. Rebecca didn’t mention her meeting with or assistance from Flaming Star. Yet she couldn’t get his words and kindness out of her mind. She prayed this was one vision that would come true.

  That following day was worse for everyone. The girls were not getting better. Even from a distance, Rebecca could read the lines of worry and exhaustion on Bonnie’s face. How she longed to help the unselfish woman and the sick children! Surely there was more she could do.

  Bonnie didn’t conceal the fact that the girls’ rashes had changed to blisters, blisters that were rapidly filling with poisonous pus. The suppurative, pimplelike areas would soon mature and form the pustules that had covered the trader’s body. This would be a dangerous stage of the disease, for infection could also attack the weakened body as those inflamed sores burst and secreted their vile fluid. Bonnie was deeply concerned over the too swift progress of the disease in Tansia and Moon Eyes, and she feared she could not save them.

  By the next afternoon, Tansia was dead, as were many Cheyenne in the camp. Death scaffolds appeared against the fall horizon. Bonnie knew the disease was spreading rapidly in the camp, for the Indians still refused to burn infectious bodies and possessions. Bonnie labored hard to dig a grave for Tansia, for Sucoora couldn’t bring herself to do it. It was Bonnie who wrapped the child in her sleeping mat and buried her with all of her belongings. It required all of Rebecca’s strength and wits to prevent Sucoora from going to the dead child and holding her. When Bonnie’s task was complete, she returned to care for the other girls.

  Rebecca prayed as she had never prayed in her life. Tansia’s death stirred new fears and panic to life. She could not imagine her own children dying over there without her comfort. Little Feet had a mild case; she did not understand why her friend had been placed in the earth and covered with dirt. She did not understand why her sister was so ill and full of pain. She did not understand her mother’s distance.

  Rebecca fought tears as Bonnie tried to explain the dread disease. The child wanted to go to her mother, and Rebecca pleaded with Little Feet to stay in Bonnie’s area. Both feared the child might sneak over while Rebecca was away gathering wood or fetching water and Bonnie was distracted by the other girls. It was just as hard to protect Silent Thunder and Tashina, for they were too young to comprehend this evil. Bonnie was relieved that both were well-behaved children and had obeyed the orders of Rebecca and Sucoora to this point. She prayed they would not become overly curious or disobedient or forgetful. Rebecca prayed that Sucoora’s grief would not blind her to her watchful guard over the two healthy children when she was out of camp.

  It was cool that night. Two small fires lit the area of their camp. Little Feet, Silent Thunder, and Tashiná were asleep. Moon Eyes and Pretty Rabbit struggled to hold on to life. The mentally and physically fatigued Bonnie worked automatically as she tended the three remaining girls in her care. All three women shuddered in consternation at the sounds of the death drums, which seemed to have been beating constantly since the sixth day of the insidious assault. The drums were a haunting reminder that they were helplessly caught in this vicious and lethal trap.

  After two more days had passed, Moon Eyes was no longer able to resist the powerful illness. When Rebecca returned from gathering wood, she found that her daughter had been buried beside Tansia. In shock, she watched Bonnie as she burned the dead grass over the two graves, hoping to kill any infection that lived on the surface of those two mounds of dirt. Rebecca couldn’t cry or pray or move or think. She was paralyzed with disbelief.

  Bonnie called over to her, “I’m sorry, Rebecca. I did all I could. Please stay over there. You have two other children to protect.”

  There was nothing she could do for Moon Eyes. Rebecca had to defend the others from this malicious enemy who could strike down innocent children. She sank to the ground on her knees, but she did not pray. She raged at the heavens and the cruelty that had taken her child’s life. It wasn’t fair. Fury had replaced her shock, but there was no one near to strike down in revenge. She didn’t know who to blame first—herself, Bright Arrow, his parents, his people, the careless trader, the Cheyenne who had dropped the stolen beads, the chief and council who had refused to heed her warnings, nature, the Indians, the whites, their endless hostilities, God…

  Tashina came and snuggled into her mother’s arms, as if sensing Rebecca’s anguish and need. Rebecca hugged her so tightly that Tashina squealed. As she covered her daughter’s face with kisses, terror raced through her mind. What if Tashina took ill? What if Little Feet didn’t conquer her illness? What if they all died? It was a horror too immense to ponder.

  In the Cheyenne camp, during the next two days, the pustules of the first victims burst and crusted, and others joined the malevolent circle, either burning with fever, discovering a rash, or suffering from the purulent pus sacs that formed or grew. As the graveyard of death scaffolds increased its awesome size each day, the ominous murmurings against Rebecca and Bonnie mounted.

  White Antelope left his mat to warn them to flee for their lives and safety. He was worried over the anger and accusations aimed at the white women. He could hardly walk on his sore feet, and he was covered in scabbed or oozing sores.
Rebecca implored him not to approach their safe area. He halted and wavered as he stated his warning and the news from the camp.

  The chief had died that morning. His son had died two days before. Shooting Star, White Bird, and Prairie Flower had died, wiping out his entire family. Medicine Girl was dying. His beloved wife, Yellow Buckskin Girl, had died. His daughter, Little Turtle, was very ill.

  “Wanunhicum,” Rebecca apologized for his agonies. She begged him to bring Little Turtle to their own camp for Bonnie to tend. She explained how important it was for the sick to have nourishing soup and water forced into them. She told him Bonnie had medicines to treat the sores and fevers. Then she told him of the deaths of Tansia and Moon Eyes, and that Pretty Rabbit was sinking but Little Feet was recovering. She showed him how they had remained safe by staying away from the ill and their belongings. She urged him to do the same in his camp. She urged him to at least bury those who had died and to burn their possessions.

  White Antelope was intelligent. He realized the two white women were right. He went to speak with Bonnie, telling her he would try to force his people to follow her instructions. She asked him to return with his daughter so she could help them. Walking painfully, the warrior returned home.

  Another day passed, and with it the life of Pretty Rabbit. After burying the child, Bonnie wept in anger and frustration. She was about to burn the infected area when White Antelope arrived with his daughter. She determined she would save these two people who had such faith in her. They were fortunate, for their cases were lighter, and they quickly responded to her treatments, as did Little Feet.

  By late afternoon of the next day, hope and joy began to fill Rebecca’s little camp. No others had taken ill. Little Feet, White Antelope, and Little Turtle were stronger. Their sores had crusted; the oozing had ceased. The touch-me-not relieved their itching; the water avens was drying out the healing tissues. Their suffering had lessened; they had no fever. Bonnie’s mood lightened and her confidence returned. She knew she would save three lives. By following her advice, the others in their small camp had remained well and safe. She wasn’t a total failure. To save eight out of eleven lives must be viewed as a large victory! If only the Cheyenne would allow her to save others!

  She told White Antelope that when he recovered he must go to the village and show others there was hope if they were treated properly. She told him he could not get the illness again for those who survived were safe. The survivors had to tend others and provide food. When they accepted the truth, they would bury the dead and destroy all things that carried the illness. White Antelope agreed to help her.

  Those in the little camp slept better that night, never suspecting Windrider’s impending arrival. Just after dawn, he frantically rode into the Cheyenne camp without warning. His astonished gaze took in the numerous death scaffolds, but not his tepee set far away from the camp. When he could not find it, he rushed to question the chief, only to learn he and his family were dead. He ran to another tepee, to learn Shooting Star and his family were gone forever. He could find no one in White Antelope’s tepee. Fear such as he had never experienced tormented him. He sought answers from the ailing medicine chief, Running Elk, unaware of the terrible tales about to unfold, unaware of the lethal disease he was challenging…

  Chapter Eighteen

  In the Two Kettle camp, Bright Arrow decided he would cease this useless quest and head back to the Cheyenne camp. In the last ten days, he had learned of little, if anything, that would be perilous to his tribe. The group had traveled along the big river and halted at many Teton camps. He had keenly observed the two leaders and their actions and had seen the maps that the two captains marked. They did show the camps and numbers of Indians in each, but camp locations varied from season to season. By the time they returned to their lands, the maps would be of no use to white soldiers. Rivers and mountains could be seen with the eye, so it did not matter if they were marked on the captains’ papers. Besides, Bright Arrow had become convinced that the maps were to be used for friendly purposes. And he was also convinced of the integrity and honor of the two captains. He truly believed he was wasting valuable time and energy.

  Using Murray’s influence, Bright Arrow had hired on as a guide, hunter, and translator. He had grudgingly come to admire the skills and courage of the two leaders. Their purpose here appeared honest and friendly. What did it matter if they falsely believed the whites owned this territory? There were enough warriors to defend it against a heavy white intrusion. In fact, he had learned much from the white men and had been able to teach them much about the Indians and their customs. The men had seemed eager to learn, in the name of peace. Soon they would leave the Sioux territory and enter the lands of the Arikara and Mandan. He had no desire to continue the trek with them.

  If this quest was the will of Grandfather, its purpose was to prove that the expedition offered no harm to his people or their lands. It was late September, time to head home; his next quest was there, and he had to begin it before winter touched his lands. He would ride the Bad River past the Oglala camp without being seen. He would seek to trade with the Sans Arc for a horse, then ride for Windrider’s tepee. There he would make his final plans.

  After he spoke with Chief Turkey Head and Murray, he bid the group farewell. Now aware of his true identity, Murray chuckled when “Clay” stated humorously, “I’d rather not set eyes on my Arikara friends just now. Last time I was up that way, I lifted a few supplies and horses. I’d best head home and prepare my cabin and family for winter.”

  Lewis and Clark seemed reluctant to lose his help and company. They gave him many gifts, then thanked him and shook his hand. Clark stated, “We hate to lose a good man, Clay. Perhaps you can join us again when we pass this way. You have been most helpful in this region. I never forget a good friend. Godspeed.” They clasped arms once more. Those on the expedition would head out the next morning, unaware that they would encounter and hire a female guide and interpreter named Sacajawea, who would become a legend and friend on their trip. The meeting would occur in mid-October, when the expedition arrived at Fort Mandan; there Lewis and Clark would meet a Frenchman named Charbonneau and his brave Shoshone wife.

  In the Cheyenne camp, Windrider mounted and rode toward his solitary tepee. Sucoora saw him leave the camp and move in their way. She hurried out to meet him, warning him to stay clear of them. “You must not enter our little camp, husband. Black death rides with you. It has touched many here. Our warriors fall as dried leaves before this powerful evil. Our hearts grow heavier each sun.” She revealed the horrors and ordeal that they had confronted and endured.

  He listened to her words, then dismissed them. Bonnie shouted at him, telling him of the danger of his approach. “She speaks truthfully, Windrider! You must not enter this camp! Think of your children’s lives,” she urged him. “You have been in the camp and you carry the sickness. Come, and I will explain such matters to you.”

  He stared at the white captive who dared to raise her voice to him and issue orders. His keen eyes quickly scanned the small camp and observed both women. He was about to admonish Bonnie sternly when a soft voice touched his ears, and he whirled in the direction from which it had come.

  Rebecca stepped from the forest calling his name, drawing his attention to her. “Windrider! If you’ve been to the camp, you must not go near the children in the tepee.” She moved forward, maintaining a safe distance, then explained the dire situation to him. “We share a great sadness. Tansia, Pretty Rabbit, and Moon Eyes were attacked by the sickness. The Great Spirit freed them from their suffering and called them to walk at his side. We and the other children live only because Grandfather sent Bonnie to help us in this dark time.” Then she related how Bonnie had helped them all. She told him he should speak with White Antelope and Bonnie, for he had been near the disease and more than likely carried it. She smiled encouragingly. “Bonnie is the only one who can save your life. She knows much powerful medicine, Windrider. Go to her. Let he
r help you, as she’s done with others.”

  Unprepared for this crisis, Windrider argued her claims. “What foe can battle Windrider and the Cheyenne and win? Have I not slain countless enemies and stand alive to chant coup? I must hunt for my tribe and family and protect them while they are weak. I must look upon my children and the woman I love. I have great need to touch you and speak with you. We must return to camp and help others.”

  Rebecca shook her head and sighed wearily. “We have lost three children; we can lose no more. There are some forces more powerful than the great Windrider and his Cheyenne warriors. This is one. Even the Great Spirit has not found a way to defeat this foe and send him running from your camp. Many have died, Windrider. We must follow Bonnie’s words so the tepee of Windrider loses no more family. Please do this for me and our children. I would not ask such a thing if I did not believe with all my heart that it was vital. Do not allow your pride to endanger your life and ours,” she pleaded. Observing his face, she knew he believed her, although he didn’t want to do so. She could sense his pain, his frustration, his helplessness. Like a child, at this grim time Windrider needed comfort and encouragement. Rebecca smiled and murmured very softly for his ears alone, “If I could enter the circle of your arms, I would do so, for I need to feel your strength and love. While you were gone, the days were as dark as the nights. We must accept our losses, for we cannot change them.”

  She had finally convinced him of the threat he posed to her, Sucoora, and the other two children. He agreed to follow her wishes and instructions. “I will challenge all devils who try to steal you and Silent Thunder from me. I do not understand, but I will obey your words.”

  Sucoora joined Rebecca. She extolled the flaming-haired woman’s bravery and daring since the time this sickness took control of their lives. “Becca has more courage than the bear, my husband. She has hunted as the best brave. She has guarded your tepee and family as if they were her own. It is a shame women do not earn coup feathers, for Becca’s would make a bonnet flowing to the face of Mother Earth.” She went on to reveal many of the incidents involving Rebecca’s skill and ingenuity.