Forever Ecstasy

by Janelle Taylor

  “How will you know his answer?” Joe inquired. He was thrilled by some of her words but disappointed that he could not convince her entirely.

  “When it come, I will know,” she replied with careful words.

  Joe studied her for a while. He hoped he had time to weaken her will, time to convince her they were matched by fate, time to teach her so much about his world that she would be eager for them to face it together. The challenge confronting him was exciting and hopefully would be rewarding. “That doesn’t mean I can’t do my best to convince Him to say yes. I’ll prove I’m worthy of you, woman. I’m going to fight for your love and acceptance.”

  Morning Star comprehended how hard this rejection was for both of them. In tonight’s dreamy shadows, he was snared by love’s magic. Tomorrow’s bright sun would dispel it and he would realize she was right. There was no need to sting him more, so she attempted to soothe his emotional wounds. “You have my love,” she said softly. “You have acceptance in my heart.”

  “I know. That’s why not winning you because of other people’s feelings makes me angry. Love like ours is too rare and precious to lose. It’s meant to grow, to create happiness, to birth children. If Alisha and Rebecca could live with Oglalas, why can’t you live with whites? It worked for them; it can work for us. It wasn’t any harder for those white women to join your Indian world than it will be for you to join my white one.”

  Morning Star concurred with most of what he said, but that didn’t change their predicament. “Women do as men say,” she murmured. “Father is boss until marry. Husband is boss after joining. That much is same in both worlds. Grandfather and uncle take captive white women they want; is way of raids and wars. Whites have slaves, too. Whites steal, trade, and sell people with brown skin. I am Indian woman and must obey Father. It different for warrior to take white captive than for Indian woman to reject people and go with paleface enemy. It bad, forbidden. Hurt many. You must understand and accept our ways and laws.”

  Joe caressed her cheek and whispered a mischievous threat. “Then I’ll just have to steal you as my captive when I’m ready to leave.”

  She didn’t realize he was trying to joke to lighten the situation. Her gaze widened with distress. “That worse than bad! Father and warriors come after me to rescue. They slay you!”

  Joe was enthralled for a time by the idea. Why not do as the Indians— as her legendary grandfather and uncle— and seize the woman he wanted? “We’ll be too far away. They’ll never find us.”

  “Gray Eagle tracked Shalee to place called St. Louis and take her back after Powchutu steal her,” Morning Star refuted. “He follow trail many weeks old. We cannot escape Oglala warrior skills. They best trackers.”

  “You’re as skilled as they are,” Joe pointed out. “If you hide our tracks, they’d never find us.”

  In a sad tone, she responded, “If I betray, I never return to family and lands again. Do not ask me to choose between you and my people.”

  “But you are choosing, Morning Star— them over me. Why can’t you share the rest of your life with me? Think of all you’ve done for your people and what you’re doing now for them. How could they dishonor and be cruel to She-Who-Rode-With-The-Sky-Warrior? How could they refuse to let you follow your heart and seek your true destiny?”

  “Joe part right, but what can Morning Star do but duty teached her since birth? You not know how hard it was for Alisha and Rebecca, even if worked in time. You forget they not have families in white world to return to. Grandmother and Wahea not have to worry over dishonor and rejection by their people. Wahea not chief’s daughter. I yield little; perhaps love strong enough to conquer enemies. We must wait, see if that powerful.”

  “That’s the best thing I’ve heard you say. It gives me hope.”

  “I want hope. It hard. You not lived in my land long enough to know how big is the battle we face. We must pray for strength and courage.”

  “We will, because the battle for you is as important to me as our task.”

  “Sacred mission must come first. If we do good—”

  “Our prayers may be answered,” he finished for her.

  They gazed at each other a long time, then exchanged smiles.

  After breaking camp on Tuesday at the White Clay River, Morning Star gazed beyond them at the seemingly endless Great Plains. The rangy land they crossed was almost treeless and scrubless, except for a few cottonwoods and chokecherries near a water source. The ground was covered with a mixture of thick grasses in shades of green: short, tall, sweet, tender. Cactus and wildflowers were sighted at some points. Antelope, deer, and buffalo were abundant, so, too, jackrabbits and prairie dogs. Every now and then, gusts of strong wind yanked at their clothes and hair.

  A few times, at a distance, she noticed what whites called sod houses, or rock homes, or dugouts. She knew sod helped defeat the summer’s heat and keep out the winter’s chill and winds. They were strong dwellings, with most having a combination raid-root cellar nearby. Soon, only grassland stretched before them once more; white encroachment was left behind.

  Morning Star guided Joe and the animals at a steady pace. It seemed as if the land went on forever, then vanished into the blue sky far beyond any distance they could ever ride. She led Joe across a few streams and creeks and past the Bad River that flowed toward where Simon Adams’s lived in Pierre.

  As the day moved on, so did the hot sun across the sky. Any clouds above them were small and white. Morning Star kept on constant alert, as did Joe. She was amused by his astonishment at the number of buffalo in her territory and the size of their gatherings.

  He was amazed by the size of the herds which often traveled for miles in several directions. At some points, the earth was covered by a dark blanket as far as he could see even with his fieldglasses. Antelope and deer intermingled with the buffalo. Though the huge beasts grazed contentedly and appeared sluggish, Joe knew they were dangerous and unpredictable, and anything but slow. The sizes of their horns and bodies exposed an accurate warning of how deadly the animal could be.

  Joe scanned their surroundings. He had not imagined the Plains to be so immense. After a while, he realized the scenery was repetitious, with every five miles repeating the last five and the many miles before it. At least, he thought, they didn’t have to use a tiring jog trot as much today.

  Before dusk, she pointed to an Indian camp at the end of Plum Creek. She took Joe’s fieldglasses, as he had taught her how to use them, and focused them on an area outside the encampment of numerous tepees. She checked symbols on the lance and markings on a large buffalo skull surrounded by a circle of smaller skulls. “Mahpialuta wicoti.”

  “What?” Joe asked, staring at the nomadic village of countless tepees outlined against the gradually darkening horizon.

  “Red Cloud camp,” she translated. “His father Brule; that one of Lakota tribes. His mother Oglala. He become Oglala. Lead mother’s people; they called Old Smoke Band. He plenty smart and brave. He tell Father he want peace, but he hate white takeover of lands. If whites push, Red Cloud fight. It important he speak and vote for new treaty. Come.”

  Morning Star perceived the many stares given to she and Joe. From years of celebrations, Sun Dances, trading, joint raids, and talks, she knew the Oglalas recognized the daughter of Sun Cloud. She halted at the largest, most beautiful tepee in camp. A rainbow was painted on each side. She remembered red circles on the back that represented Wi, the sun, and the figure of a buffalo. Yellow rings encircled the tepee with a black top for the night sky and a green bottom for the earth. The colors and markings symbolized Red Cloud’s medicine and vision signs and were evocations to the Great Spirit. Morning Star related those meanings to Joe and told him the chief was a member of the White-Marked Society.

  Joe comprehended how important this chief was to his mission and to Tom Fitzpatrick’s new treaty. He observed the man who left the artistic home and greeted Morning Star with a smile and obvious affection. He listened to t
hem talk a while in their tongue, but he hadn’t worked on his grasp of Lakota as much as they had on hers of English.

  Morning Star told Joe to dismount, then introduced him to the chief. She was relieved when her love was offered friendship and hospitality. Red Cloud invited them inside his home to eat and to spend the night.

  Joe quickly learned from the sage Indian that he wanted peace, but doubted it was possible. Joe explained the treaty, his mission, and his problems so far. He told Red Cloud of his plans to spy on the Crow, and promised to warn the Oglalas of any threatening intents. He sensed that the chief believed him, even liked him.

  Morning Star drew the same conclusions. She related Payaba’s sacred vision, the contest, Joe’s alleged identity, and their task to him.

  “It is good. Sun Cloud will know great honor and pride.”

  After a restful night and a successful visit, Morning Star guided Joe from Red Cloud’s encampment on a journey across more prairie land to the lovely location of Sinte Geleska and his band on the tree-lined Cheyenne River.

  Spotted Tail greeted them with a genial and courteous manner. He said it was good to see Mahpiya Wicasta and the daughter of Sun Cloud again.

  Joe liked being accepted as Sky Warrior, and the Indian name, with all it represented, made him feel proud.

  Morning Star was elated by their reception and honored treatment. She was glad Joe was learning that the Lakotas wanted peace. She listened as the two men talked, and was impressed by both.

  The evening passed in a pleasant way with Chief Spotted Tail and his friendly band. Then the couple enjoyed another restful and safe night.

  At dawn, they mounted, bid the Brules good-bye, and rode for their next camp on an offshoot of the murky Cheyenne River.

  As they traveled, even sounds— what few they heard— were repetitious: the hooffalls and breathing of the three horses, the sound of their own breathing, the squeaking of leather saddles and reins, the movement of canteens and rifle sheaths, and the shifting of trade goods on the pack animal. They couldn’t talk all the time to divert their attention from the almost eerie quietness, for that dried their throats and encouraged drinking too much water that had to last from water source to water source.

  Joe came to look forward to the areas where hawks soared overhead, their shrill cries renting the silence. He missed the music of songbirds, singing of crickets, and croakings of frogs. The rocking pace and unvaried scenery made it hard to stay alert. He couldn’t imagine any white man choosing to spend a lifetime homesteading in a barren and lonely place like this when there was so much good land elsewhere for farming.

  “I wish you could see where I live,” he told Morning Star. “It’s so different here. We have lots of trees. They change colors between summer and winter. Some years it looks as if the forest is on fire with reds, purples, oranges, and yellows. And in the spring after winter, flowers grow everywhere in every size, color, and shape you can imagine. We don’t have places like this that are so barren. Empty,” he clarified. “Our winter isn’t as cold and long as yours. Our summer isn’t as hot and dry. Friends live around us, not miles and days away like here. We don’t have people separated into bands who attack and kill each other. It’s peaceful and beautiful.”

  She was so attentive and interested that he went on. “During the day, men do their tasks, then spend the evening with their families. Life isn’t as hard there. Men work for money, then hire others to do certain chores for them. Women don’t have to work as hard, either; they have easier ways to cook and do dishes in stoves and sinks in big kitchens. They don’t have to sew clothes if they don’t want to or don’t know how; they can buy them ready-made or hire a seamstress. Anybody who doesn’t want to grow food or have the ground to grow it on can buy it in stores or at open markets. It’s safe there. It’s…I’m rambling,” he said with a chuckle.

  “What is rambling?”

  He grinned. “To talk on and on about anything, everything, nothing.”

  “I like to hear you talk on and on. I learn much about you and your land. Rambling more,” she coaxed. Before she let him begin again, she queried unknown words he had used during his talk, such as kitchens, seamstresses, and markets. She listened and learned.

  They shared laughter and journeyed onward, chatting frequently.

  Another night of safety passed as they took turns standing guard at Cherry Creek. Both were in good moods following their visits with two Dakota chiefs but fatigued by their long and tiring ride. Yet, each avoided the bittersweet subject of their forbidden love and uncertain destiny.

  The vast range continued to spread before them. It was hotter and drier in this area. The ground covering was now a blend of green and tan. Winds blew in from the west at regular intervals, waving grasses to and fro in a mesmerizing motion. The sky was a mixture of pale blue and white, with few clouds having real definition. Soon, unusual formations intermittently loomed from the earth: buttes, mesas, hillocks, and rocks. Trees called attention to any waterline present. They crossed the shallow Moreau River. Ecru ground showed a pebbly surface more frequently. Then, at last, the familiar terrain returned.

  Joe and Morning Star made their last camp on Rabbit Creek before entering the Grand River area where many Crow bands were doing their seasonal hunts. The couple did their chores in silence as each pondered the great peril they would confront on the next day. Both realized that before the sun was high or set on that day, they could be dead…

  Chapter Fourteen

  “Will you wait here for my return?” Joe asked. “I don’t want to put you into more danger.”

  Morning Star caressed his cheek, smiled, and said, “The danger we face is not following Grandfather’s vision. I am part of it, so I must ride with you. To change it brings trouble. You do not know much sign language.” She reminded Joe of one of the main reasons she was with him.

  He knew it was futile to argue. He’d probably need her assistance, and besides, he couldn’t leave her alone in enemy land. “I’ll hide those things I got from Jim and retrieve them after we leave the Crow camp. They would be hard to explain if we’re searched. I’ll also leave most of our trade goods here, so the chief won’t insist on taking all of them.”

  They covered the last miles at a slow pace to keep themselves and the animals rested in case a speedy flight was necessary. As they looked ahead, it was as if odd formations suddenly leapt from the grasslands and rolling hills to expose the biggest change in landscape they had seen for days. The beautiful terrain had bushes and trees— cedar, spruce, pine, and hardwoods— and water and countless rocks. They almost rode into a distant semicircle of mesas and buttes. Various-colored grasses encompassed the lovely site. Most of the formations looked like castles and pinnacles grouped around an enormous one that reminded Joe of a giant fortress. Animals and birds were abundant.

  The first camp, like an evil spirit in a nightmare, loomed before Joe and Morning Star. She read the markings and told him it was the camp of Black Moon; the once feared leader normally used Slim Buttes for his big camp and had again this season. She explained how small groups of hunters and women went in several directions to shoot and slaughter for days. Then, those weary groups returned with loaded travois to this location where some waited to cure the meat and others to take over the task while they rested.

  Again her apprehension took a toll on her speech. “He sly, mean, and greedy. In moons past, he kill many Oglalas and steal many horses. Men who own many horses best warriors and most honored. They called Bird People because hands and feet small like birds. They have many groups; some for honor and some for battle,” she told him, then explained the social and military societies. “They call best warriors Big Dogs. They not have shirt-wearers to do council’s work; Big Dogs in command. They most important, like Sacred Bows in our tribe. Careful of all words you speak. They… pretend not to listen, but ears open big. They use tricky words to fool. Believe nothing you hear and see.” After those final cautions, Morning Star fell in behind
Joe in a squaw’s humble position and they rode into the camp. She sent up one last prayer for their safety.

  Joe observed the warriors who gathered around them, and was relieved no weapon was brandished. As if by order, the women and children moved out of sight behind or into tepees. Dogs barked, ran forward, and sniffed at the newcomers. This camp did not seem as active as Red Cloud and Spotted Tail’s had been. Of course, the Crow traded with the whites for many goods that the others made.

  Joe took in all the details he could while he reined in and dismounted. The Crow were indeed a people who loved finery. He knew they were hunting buffalo as all Plains Indians did this time of year, because he saw countless meat-drying racks, fresh hides, and unhitched travois. He noticed they favored beading onto red trade cloth or blanket cloth. Morning Star had told him lavender was the most valuable bead color, and he saw few of them in that color. The Crow seemed to lean toward pastels of pale blue, yellow, and green; they rarely used dark shades, particularly blue and red— colors favored by the Lakotas. He noticed tufts of horsehair attached to coup feathers, which she had explained meant added prowess during the earning deed. He also noted how many warriors had coup feathers. Some wore highly decorated cuffs with a fringed side, similar to cavalry gauntlets. He wondered if that had become popular after the Army’s arrival. Headdresses were numerous; several were made from owl feathers that were fanned out like a Tom turkey’s tail. Intricate breastplates were wore by most men, and eagle-bone whistles by a few. They used more elaborate necklaces and armlets than the Dakotas. Their regalia was striking, and Joe wondered if they were clad for a special ceremony or if they did this every day.