Forever Ecstasy

by Janelle Taylor

  “You think white soldier help Oglalas?” she asked in a doubtful tone.

  “Some of them will; this one will.”

  “We see. Come, camp in trees. Long ride.”

  They skirted the eastern side of the Black Hills. At times they had to journey slow for rest and because of hilly terrain. That change in pace allowed them to take in the beauty of the rugged peaks and towering spires in midnight black. The dark hills were a striking contrast to a deep-blue background and verdant foreground. The area was alive with green and freshsmelling spring growth: spruce, pine, asp, cottonwood, oak, and sometimes dense underbrush. Almost every hill and meadow displayed a multitude of flowers in vivid shades. Streams were encountered frequently with sparkling water that seemed to dance and swirl around rocks with new moss. It was some of the most peaceful and inspiring scenery Joe had ever seen; he understood why Morning Star’s people loved their territory so much.

  They heard birds singing and calling to others as if they were the freest and happiest of God’s creatures, They spooked shy deer, large elk, graceful antelope, and one coyote who looked sad to be alone. He loped away at a leisurely pace, but glanced back several times with eyes that seemed to say he wished he could join them.

  They saw an enormous herd of buffalo grazing in a valley of sweet and short grasses. The beasts were massive and strong, yet they deceptively appeared to be gentle and slow. About one-third of them were lying down, but all were on alert. They hadn’t shed the lighter-colored winter coats that looked like tangled curls against their dark bodies and heads. Numerous babies played near their mothers. Heavy bulls walked around as if guarding females they had selected as members of their harems. The herd evoked an impression of power, mystery, unity, and wildness. It was a stirring sight.

  Wildflowers gave the valley splashes of blue, yellow, red, and white atop the green covering. Bees worked amidst countless pollen-filled offerings to gather sweet nectar. Jackrabbits, abundant in the area, darted from one hiding place to another as the couple’s passing alarmed the furry creatures.

  They rode until dusk, having stopped at intervals only to rest and water their mounts. They hadn’t seen or heard any other travelers, but Joe had spotted and shot two quail, and the fowl were secured to his saddle. After eating cold rabbit this morning and chewing on jerky at midday, they were eager to camp and cook the birds.

  When Morning Star pointed out a sheltered glen with lush grass and water for the horses and protection for them, Joe smiled and thanked her. “This is perfect. The hills and trees will hide our cooking smoke from enemy eyes. I doubt anyone could sneak up on us here, Morning Star.”

  “Oglala warriors can jump on the enemy before he sees or hears danger. No time to grab bow or knife. You be safe. You with me.”

  Joe noticed how she spoke her first sentence slowly and correctly but how the next few came swiftly and with words missing amidst her laughter and smiles. He realized how much English she knew, and how much she was either learning or remembering while riding with him. He was glad.

  “You smile like cunning fox, Joe Lawrence. Why?”

  “I was just thinking how smart you are. I’d better watch out or you’ll show me up on the trail. Show me up— prove you’re better than I am.”

  “Is bad for woman to show… better skills?”

  “If you know what’s best in something, you should do it and teach me. Mistakes are what’s bad; they can get you killed. It’s worse to hide skills.”

  Morning Star reasoned for a time, then smiled once more. “You teach Morning Star more English and white ways?”

  “Yes, if you won’t be insulted when I correct you. And I won’t get mad or be insulted when you teach me something about your people and land.”

  “Is good trade.”

  He sent her a smile and a gentle correction. “It is a good trade.”

  “It is a good trade,” she repeated. “Morning Star gather wood.”

  “I will gather wood. When you speak of yourself, it’s I or me.” Joe gave her many examples of when to use either word.

  “You… will teach…me when right. No, when it is right to use.”

  “You’re sharp, quick, and smart. I hope I will be, too.”

  “We make good partners.”

  “Good partners. Han. Pilamaya. You’ll teach me more than yes and thank you before we reach your camp, won’t you?”

  “I teach Lakota; you teach English. It is a good trade.”

  Joe yearned to trade more than words and ways with the exquisite woman, but knew he could not. Too much was at stake to think of himself, particularly when a match between them was impossible and could hurt many people. If only—

  “You look sad. What wr— What is wrong?”

  “When my task is over, I’ll have to leave your land. I’ll miss you. We made friends fast and easy. With Tanner gone…”

  “You miss him. It is bad not to have peace in death.”

  “He’ll have peace when I find his killers and punish them.”

  “Revenge will not steal pain in heart. It must leave when ready.”

  “You’re right, but at least they won’t go free after taking his life.”

  “It is our way to punish enemies. Morn— I will help you.”

  Joe smiled and thanked her, but didn’t comment on her offer. “Let’s get wood collected so we can eat. I’m starving.”

  Together they gathered wood, built a fire, cleaned the quail, and put them on a spit to roast. While the fowl cooked, they tended their horses and freshened up in the stream. A full moon journeyed across the eastern sky, and shadows crept over the landscape. Except for nocturnal insects and creatures, it was quiet.

  Morning Star listened to the crickets, frogs, and night birds. Their songs always relaxed her. She watched a mild breeze ruffle leaves. She saw grass and blossoms sway as if lulling themselves to sleep. She heard the distant howl of a coyote, and was glad to hear a mate’s answer to the lonely wail. Water rippled around rocks and twigs in the stream. An owl hooted nearby, then again from farther away. Once in a while, the horses neighed or shifted their stances. Her world was good, safe, and happy. How she hated the thought it could be destroyed or stolen, how she and her people could be pushed out or slain.

  The blond-haired male observed the Indian maiden who sat so serenely graceful as she meditated. He noticed how the moonlight shone on her midnight hair. He longed to stroke it to see if it was as soft and silky as it appeared. He wanted to caress her skin to see if it had the same feel. He had the crazy urge to nibble at her proud chin, her dainty ears, her full lips. She looked more exotic and tempting than any island or Oriental beauty he had seen during his many travels. But something had stolen the glow in her dark eyes and brought a serious expression to her face. “Now, you’re the one who looks sad,” Joe said, intruding on her thoughts.

  Morning Star’s deep-brown gaze fused with Joe’s blue one. Simply hearing his voice and looking at him caused her heart to race and her body to warm. She wondered what strange and powerful magic he possessed to enchant her this way. To conceal her interest in him, she told him what she had been thinking earlier. “Oglalas must remain here forever to tend and save this land for Grandfather. If harmony is broken, the land dies; the creatures die; the people die; all is gone. The white man is not one with the land and nature; he changes and destroys. He would slay all of one creature. When one is gone, nature’s Life-Cycle is broken. It changes those of all other living creatures. It is wrong, dangerous. The white man does not care; he feeds on greed and deceit. If the grass is trampled by wagons and farms, what will feed the buffalo? If the buffalo starves or is slain, what will feed the Oglalas? If trees are stolen, what will give shade and wood? If streams are changed or claimed, what will Oglalas drink? If more land is settled, where will Oglalas live and hunt? Where will Oglala dead rest?”

  Joe understood what she meant. He had learned how the Indians lived, how they used all the parts of a slain animal for food, clothing, utens
ils, pouches, and sewing materials. Wood was gathered for tepee poles, then used in the fire, or enough trees died or shed limbs for burning. Nothing in nature was ever totally destroyed. Each creation had its purpose in nature’s life-circle.

  “What you say is true, Morning Star,” he commented, “but some people don’t understand the harmony of land and nature. Some take what they want or need without thinking about the destruction they’re causing. My family has a plantation back home. It’s like a big farm. We grow things, gather them to eat or to sell, then plant seeds to grow more. As long as we keep seeds, we’ll have those plants. It’s foolish for a man to eat all he has and not save seeds for growing more food and plants for clothing. We don’t kill all of our creatures for meat and hides. We breed them, so the line will continue. We make roads for travel, so grasses won’t be trampled. Many white men are this way. Many are growers, not destroyers.”

  Morning Star spoke slowly and carefully as she tried to explain matters to her companion while she practiced her English. She hoped she would have even more use for it soon as she wanted to become Joe’s guide and translator. “We have seen and heard of such men. Those who come to our land are destroyers, not growers. They steal from our forests, streams, and prairies. They cheat and deceive when they make trade. They bring guns and disease to kill. They bring whiskey to weaken minds and bodies. They say they will be friends, but they work as enemies. They say they wish to share, but they take. They wish us to become as they are. We do not want or need white man’s laws and ways.”

  Joe held silent as she checked the roasting quail; he didn’t want to disturb her line of thought.

  “Some come to say we must accept their… religion; but the white man has many religions. We have one, Wakantanka the Great Spirit. Those called missionaries say it wrong to kill and steal, but whites do not follow the words in their Bible and religion. Father say white men cannot be trusted. They call us savages, hostiles, wild animals. They do not try to understand Oglalas. They put words on papers to sell to others to turn all whites against us. Papers say only good about whites and evil about Indians; big lies. Father say much evil done to other tribes where the whites live. He say many tribes destroyed or driven from their homelands. Many treaties signed by other tribes with white man; they not honored. Many use treaties to say they traded goods for Indian lands. The land cannot be owned or sold. When white man say he bought land, soldiers and white leaders use paper words Indians do not understand to take away their land. My people hear and learn much about whites in past winters. They do not want more here. Your task will be hard, Joe Lawrence.”

  “Not all white men are bad, Morning Star.”

  “It is… different with you. Joe comes in peace, to learn, to help. You do not come to steal and kill, to stay. It is not so with others.”

  “There are other whites like me. They only want a good and safe place to settle and live. They want peace, too, Morning Star.”

  “How can peace come when they take Oglala land and insult us?”

  “Both sides must change and share; they must learn about each other.”

  “We do not go to white lands to take them.”

  “There’s more land here, and too many whites back East. It’s the way things are, Morning Star. To refuse to change is dangerous and unwise.”

  “To defend our land and lives shows courage and honor.”

  “If the Oglalas and other tribes agree to stay in their own territories and let whites settle in lands between them, all can live nearby in peace; that’s what Fitzpatrick wants for everyone. Oglala territory is big, Morning Star; there’s room for others to live in areas they don’t use.”

  “What would Joe do if Crow rode to your… plantation and took it? Would Joe make truce and share parts he does not use?” she asked.

  Joe started to say that was different; but he stopped himself. She had a good point. “My family’s land is small, Morning Star,” he tried to explain. “All of it is used for growing food, plants to make clothing, and for raising animals. Many others live on our land and tend it for us.”

  “They are friends, not enemies. What if enemies settled there?”

  “That’s not the white way. White laws protect our lands from others.”

  “If we accept the whites and their laws, it would be the same here. They would claim land and keep Oglalas away from grass, water, and game.”

  She was right, but Joe hated to agree with her. White advancement and progress were heading to this area. If a compromise wasn’t reached, it would mean bloodshed. It was a scary and costly predicament.

  “Your eyes say you know my words are true, and that troubles you.”

  “Yes, it does. We can’t stop the rain of whites from coming, Morning Star, but we can prevent a destructive flood from washing away your people. If I can get your father’s help and stop these present conflicts, it will hold back the rains for a while. That’s all I can promise you or them.”

  “I will help you in all ways,” she promised in return.

  The daughter of Sun Cloud liked the way Joe did not try to trick or deceive her with clever words or cunning lies. Even when the truth was bad, he spoke it. Her father had made treaty to earn a few years of peace for his people; it had stretched into thirty. Without Joe’s help and victory, that truce would end and war would begin. With them, perhaps another stretch of peaceful years lay ahead. She had heard her father say many times that the white man could not be stopped forever but that he would resist their intrusion for as long as possible, even with his life. Chief Sun Cloud had said that Wakantanka always sent an answer to a problem, and Joseph Lawrence must be the answer this time. She had found him, saved his life, tended his wound, taught him things, and befriended him; it was her right to ride at his side to save her people from his. For now, she would not suggest that idea to him, though, for she surmised he would resist it.

  After they had eaten, they doused the campfire and bedded down for the night with only a few feet separating them. Both lay there thinking for a time, then drifted off to sleep.

  Their schedule was the same the next day. Neither talked much as they made camp. Both privately reflected on their meeting, their time together, and what confronted them soon. Each knew that once they reached Morning Star’s village, things would change between them. Each knew that if something went wrong, tomorrow would be their last day together, and that caused them to share a strange apprehension.

  They ate rabbit stew, this time simmered to tenderness with wild vegetable roots that Morning Star had found. After their meal was consumed and their horses tended, Joe spread his sleeping roll and a heavy blanket on the grass. He stretched out on the bedroll while Morning Star lay down on the thick blanket.

  “We reach my village before next moon. Be strong and brave,” she encouraged. “I will speak for you and peace to my father and people.”

  “Pilamaya,” he said. Joe noticed how uneasy Morning Star was tonight. Though she faced away from him, he could see the tension in her body. Was she afraid her people would harm him, or even kill him? Or, did she dread their parting, as he did? Even if he were given the chance to see her again, he knew it would be reckless and cruel to court the temptation. He couldn’t stay here longer than six months; he had promised his family he’d be home by Christmas, and traveling by horseback required four or five weeks. She couldn’t leave with him, wouldn’t leave with him. Anything between them was hopeless. So, he asked himself, why did that thought hurt so much? It wasn’t just physical desire gnawing at him. Morning Star was fun, witty, dependable, brave, intelligent, strong, and gentle. It was so easy to be with her. He wanted more than friendship!

  Morning Star sensed Joe’s eyes on her, and his thoughts seemed to reach out to her. She knew it was wrong to weaken toward an enemy, but her heart kept telling her he wasn’t a foe. He had not come here to settle and live, and he would leave before the winter snows returned. She didn’t want him to go. But, even if he remained in her land, she could not tu
rn to him. She knew what people— Indians and whites— called Indian women who mated with or married white men: squaw. Worse, a witkowin: whore. Their lives and ways were so different, too different. A relationship between them was the same as one between a deer and a buffalo. It could not come to pass, and she must do nothing to encourage either of them to seek the impossible. Yet…

  Joe dared not question the woman’s restlessness, just as she dared not query his. Both knew that to talk at this moment was perilous and could cost them victories in the battles that were raging inside them. At last, the two weary people fell asleep.

  When Morning Star told him they were nearing her camp, Joe halted their journey to remind her, “Remember I’ll do and say whatever I must to win your people’s trust and help. If nothing more, I need their promise they won’t raid or attack while I’m working on peace.”

  Her gaze roamed his clean-shaven face, and she read urgency in his eyes. “Come. Scouts will see us. We must speak with Father first.”

  It was almost dusk. They had ridden fast to reach her village today. From the trail they had found of the group returning from Bear Butte, they knew they would arrive only a few hours after it. They had not encountered a rescue party yet, and concurred that one must be planning to leave the village at sunrise on Monday morning. They had spoken little today, and both were apprehensive about seeing Sun Cloud.

  As they entered the edge of the large camp, people halted their tasks to stare at the strange sight. Warriors reached for weapons, then followed the riders toward their chief’s tepee. Word of Morning Star’s return and the white man spread rapidly. A curious crowd gathered.

  Morning Star dismounted and called to her parents, “Ata! Ina!”

  Singing Wind rushed outside when she heard her daughter’s voice and the loud commotion. “Anpaowicanhpi! Tokel oniglakin kta he?” She asked what had happened as they embraced with deep love and relief.

  “Ina, he mi ye,” the girl replied, saying she was home safely.