Morning Star continued her revelations with a detailed description of the destruction of the wagons with guns, ammunition, and whiskey.
Once more, Knife-Slayer interrupted. “Why did you destroy the supplies? We need them to protect our lives and camp.”
Her patience was tried and strained, but she replied calmly. “I brought some to Father and Night Stalker and others, but it was all I could carry. We could not steal the wagons and reach camp before the evil ones caught up and slayed us; heavy wagons travel slow and leave a big track. We destroyed them so Black Moon’s band could not use them against us.”
“It was a brave and wise decision,” Sun Cloud remarked. He hoped his words would quiet the intrusive and belligerent warrior before he was compelled to scold him in front of the council. He was relieved when others concurred and Knife-Slayer silenced himself.
“Tanner goes to the fort to speak with our helper there. He carries proof of where the crates came from. He tells the soldier of the treachery of Black Moon and Talking Wolf. He goes to retrieve a message from Stede Gaston who gathered answers elsewhere for us. He will return in nine suns to ride the trail again. There is other trouble,” she alluded and withdrew the wanapin charm and headband from a parfleche. She told them about the payroll theft, massacre, and clues found.
“It is not mine!” Knife-Slayer shouted.
Morning Star smiled knowingly, “That is true,” she replied. “We told the soldier these are not Red Heart possessions; he believes what we tell him. But things like these and the false attacks on Crow and whites point to our band. We told the soldier how possessions are stolen from burial grounds and slain warriors, or made by others like these I hold. We do not know who leads the bad whites, but we are tracking him. We defeat many of their evil deeds. We have the Crow doubting them. We have the Army alert and suspicious.”
Proud and impressed, Sun Cloud asked, “What do you do now?”
“We will see what the messages say and what the soldier has learned since our visit there. That will tell us what trail to take.”
“The Crow do not raid yet. All are busy hunting for winter food. When it is done, they will come with guns from the men you track to defeat.”
“The soldier will warn them and prevent war. Soon we will have the proof needed to bring Stede and the agent here to make treaty.”
Sun Cloud looked forward to the visit of Powchutu’s son and said so.
“Knife-Slayer,” Morning Star asked, “will you tell me what you saw when you spied on the one called Snake-Man? Did you see his hair and hands? Was his voice strange from other whites?”
The warrior liked the way she spoke to him this time. He smiled as he responded, “He is tall like Tanner. Hair is like night. I could not see his hands and eyes. His voice was the same as other whites. Why do you ask?”
“A man we suspect has a strange voice, but his hair blazes as a fire. It cannot be Orin McMichael. Another we suspect has black hair, is tall, and has a mark on his hand the color of a buffalo hide. He is Simon Adams. He works and lives in the post called Pratte’s at Pierre. Many clues point to him, but something tells us he is not Snake-Man. The one called Harvey Meade is at Lookout; he gave us no reason to doubt him. The soldier has our trust, but there could be another in the fort we have not seen.”
“You have worked hard and done much, Daughter.”
“Thank you, Father. Is there more you wish to hear?” she inquired, glancing around the many faces who nodded agreement with Sun Cloud.
As no one had more questions at that moment, the council ended.
“The journey has been long,” Morning Star told her father. “I will bathe and rest. Tomorrow I will help the women with their chores.”
Buckskin Girl joined her at a stream near camp. It was almost dark with the moon waning to half, so they had to hurry their task and talk.
As she washed away trail dust and perspiration from her body, Morning Star coaxed, “Tell me more about your love.”
Flaming Star had related news of the council meeting to his daughter, so she said first, “They did not vote who was Sky Warrior in the vision. Father says both men could be the vision helper; that would be good.”
Morning Star smiled and agreed, glad her friend was happy.
“My heart is filled with joy at his return. He has not found another mate. His looks say his past feelings for me still live. I let him see I love him and want him. I do not care about his bloodline and white looks. If I must be dishonored and banished to join a half-breed, I do not care. Great love is rare. Some Life-Circles are small. I must win him this time.”
“I hope he loves and wants you, too, my friend. It is smart to show your feelings. Men cannot read women’s heads and hearts as they read tracks. I do not believe his bloodline matters. It is the man who matters. You would not be shamed and sent away for joining to your true love. I will pray for Grandfather to help you win him.” “I must hurry before he returns to his tribe.” “Why that, when he was dishonored and banished?” “The shaman’s daughter bore his son. She killed it, for he favored his father. She became ill. Her head burned with fever; she revealed many things. Before she died, the truth was learned: my love was innocent. But he was gone and did not know they wanted his return. I have told him that news from Tashina, but he is not ready to return home. He wishes to help us because we did not scorn and reject him. We did not think him guilty. He wants to be a great warrior again, to ride home in honor and victory. He must be a part of the vision-quest to do this.” “What does he say and think of the vision? Of you?” “He says he will help with the task, but he is not the vision warrior,” the older woman admitted. “I do not know how he feels for me.”
Before Morning Star could begin her chores with the other women, the stranger approached her near her father’s tepee. She watched his self-assured gate and looked straight into his secretive eyes. He was attired as an Indian, with a leather band around his sunny head of shoulder-grazing hair. His features were strong, his hairless chest broad, and his abdomen flat.
“I figured we should get something settled up front, Morning Star. I know about the vision, the contest, and your work with Tanner Gaston. I told them I wasn’t the man in Payaba’s words, but I do want to help you two. I think I can; and you do, too. Let me explain why I’m here.”
Morning Star didn’t halt him as she listened to him.
“I’ve been all over the place since I left here years ago. I already knew English from my mother, so it wasn’t hard fitting in with my white looks. Stop me if I talk too fast or say something you don’t understand. Buckskin Girl told me you speak English.” After she nodded, he went on. “I use the name Clay Thorne, after my mother. My last job was in St. Louis, loading and unloading boats. I kept hearing bad tales of what was happening here and what was expected to happen soon. I saw Red Heart and other Lakota possessions sold as souvenirs. I realized crates were bringing too many guns and too much ammunition to these parts. I knew the charges I was hearing about had to be wrong. When one trapper joked that the Army was going to ‘whip Sun Cloud and his redskins all over the place,’ I knew I had to come help.”
Morning Star watched the play of emotions in those secretive eyes. His tone and conduct were under his control, a result of his Indian upbringing and years of practice in the white world. He was strong and healthy, hard and sleek. He had a habit of stroking the scar on his jawline every so often, as if reminding himself it was there and why.
Aware of her gaze, Thorne/Sky Warrior disclosed, “Got it in that fight before I was banished. He was going for my throat, but I wasn’t ready to die.”
“I am sorry you knew such pain for many years. Buckskin Girl told me your story; I had not heard it before. You are welcome here always.”
“You speak excellent English,” he noted with undisguised surprise. To win her confidence, he sent her a lopsided grin and softened his gaze.
Morning Star was intentionally careful with her speech. She grinned before expla
ining, “My parents taught me. Tanner taught me more on the trail. We practice much. I teach him skills and things I know. It is a good trade. Where do the crates of weapons come from? Who sends them?”
He shrugged powerful shoulders as he replied, “I don’t know. They ship to Lookout, Pratte’s, and McMichael’s in this area. A few go farther upriver, but not enough to draw suspicion. I do know the man’s name on the slip to pick up the suspicious crates is always Zeke Randall. From what Buckskin Girl told me, you’ve already had run-ins with him.”
Morning Star went over those episodes quickly. She liked this man and felt he could be trusted. “You are much like your father and brother,” she observed. “They are good men, great warriors.”
Clay thumbed his scar. “You’re right. I’ve missed them.”
“Will you go home after you help us with the mission?”
“At least for a long visit, probably stay the winter. After that, I don’t know. I’ll have to see how much I’ve changed, and them, too. It was a bad time for everyone before I left home. When you’ve been done wrong by your own people, sometimes it’s hard to switch from resentment to forgiveness and understanding,” he confessed with a wry smile. “I didn’t know what happened in my camp after I left until Buckskin Girl told me. That was sixteen years ago to them, but only a few days for me to deal with it.”
“Buckskin Girl will be happy if you live with your grandmother’s band.”
The blue-eyed blond looked uneasy with that subject. Obviously, Morning Star deduced, he was one of those men who had trouble expressing feelings, or had trouble trusting women. She was glad it was not that way between her and Joe.
Finally, Clay replied, “She’s a fine woman. We were close before I left. I guess I’ll have to wait and see what changes there are in that area, too.”
“I will not speak of it again.” She changed the topic back to the vision. “Tanner will return in nine suns. He will like you; you will like him. We will speak and make plans for your help.” Morning Star realized that meant she would no longer be alone with Joe, and prayed that coupled with Clay’s arrival were not signs from the great Spirit about their forbidden relationship. Yet she grasped that she could learn more about white existence from this half-Indian who had spent sixteen years among Joe’s kind. With Clay’s help, they could finish this task sooner, then work on their personal challenge.
Morning Star had to get to her chores. “We will talk more later,” she said. “I want to hear about your life in the white world.”
“We’ll have plenty of talking time on the trail.”
“Do you wish to be called by your white or Cheyenne name?”
“Here, by my Indian name. Out there, by my white name.”
“On the trail I am called Little Flower, Arapaho squaw.”
“That’s smart. The Crow would die to get their hands on Morning Star, daughter of Sun Cloud. Tanner’s protected you well so far.”
“He is a good man. I must go.”
As she worked, Morning Star knew she could not expose her true feelings for Joe or drop any hints he was not Tanner Gaston. That shocking discovery would give Knife-Slayer and others the right to challenge her love as Sky Warrior. They would say it proved the Cheyenne warrior was the vision man. She prayed Joe would return fast so they could depart soon.
She watched Clay leave to join the hunters miles beyond and above camp on the prairie land. The tepees were situated in a safe canyon with no fear of frightened buffalo racing headlong over people and dwellings. Most whites thought the area wild and forbidding, but it was beautiful to her. It was a location of oddly shaped and colored rocks, ridges, ravines, spires, buttes, gorges, lush grass, and streams.
As Morning Star scraped a hide to remove fat and bits of flesh, she recalled past hunts she had witnessed and worked. Brave and skilled men rode around and into a large herd and shot the number that could be handled that day. Women in the small group skinned and gutted the animals where they fell and loaded meat onto a travois. After the needed number was brought down, the men traveled back and forth to the site as they hauled their kill to camp to be divided and prepared by all families. Beneath the hot summer sun it was a long, hard, and bloody task. Exhausted workers returned near dusk, to be replaced the next day.
In camp, countless wooden meat racks held strips while they dried beneath the sun: pa-pa to the Oglalas, and jerky to the whites. Some meat was packed in parfleches, to be eaten as was. Other portions were pounded almost to a powder, mixed with berries and hot fat and sometimes nuts, allowed to cool, then formed into rolls of wakapanpi: pemmican. The rolls did not spoil for years, and they could be transported easily.
Other women labored on preparing hides, as Morning Star and her mother did today. Once they were free of all unwanted specks, they were stretched on a frame to dry. Their final use determined the remaining treatment. Some would remain furry, while others would be stripped of all hair. The ones Morning Star and Singing Wind prepared were for warm winter robes.
When the seasonal hunt was completed, tribes met for a great feast and to observe the Sun Dance before heading for their winter camps in the sheltered valleys, canyons, and meadows of the Black Hills. Morning Star wondered if this would be her last buffalo hunt and Sun Dance.
As they worked in silence, Singing Wind wondered almost the same. Though her daughter had said nothing alarming about Tanner, she suspected the girl’s feelings. At least, the worried mother concluded, her daughter was being virtuous, as her woman’s flow revealed this morning. For that much, the wife of Sun Cloud was grateful, as she recalled how hot and dangerous desires could burn for the man you loved and wanted.
When the women took a break to eat and chat, Morning Star showed them the kaleidoscope Joe had given to her. The gift passed from one eager hand to the other for the tube to be turned and enjoyed.
While she strolled about camp to loosen her back and neck muscles, Morning Star visited Waterlily. The young woman felt the older one was too good and kind to be the wife and mother of two men as awful as Hawk Eyes and Knife-Slayer. She noticed what the woman was working on and questioned, “Where did you get this hide?”
Waterlily looked up. “Knife-Slayer and Night Stalker found a herd of spotted buffaloes. They brought one to me. They wished me to see how it cures and the meat tastes. If it it good, they will slaughter the others.”
Morning Star was alarmed. “They are white man’s cattle. We will be accused of stealing them. Kill no more, Waterlily. They must be returned.”
The woman was upset by those remarks, but she nodded in compliance.
Morning Star knew she must discuss this discovery with her father. How, she scoffed, could a herd of steers get lost from its paleface owner? Doubts about the two men shot through her panicked mind. If they could steal cattle, could they steal an Army payroll and massacre soldiers? Could they be doing other things without her father and the council’s knowing? If so, they could bring down the Army’s and white man’s wrath.
The July days in camp seemed hotter and longer for Morning Star. She busied herself with preserving meat, scraping hides, gathering buffalo chips and scrubwood for the fire, cooking, sewing garments, and washing clothes in the stream. She missed Joe and worried over his safety. The markers were out for him to find his way along the White River to their second seasonal camp. She was eager to share news of the events here. Her brother and his untrustworthy friend had sworn to the chief and council they had found the herd on the Plains, but the cattle had not been returned yet. She fretted over the steers being found in the Red Heart camp, but she had said and done all she could to warn them.
The time she spent with Clay Thorne was enjoyable and enlightening. He had revealed many exciting things about his years far away, and she related details of the sacred mission and recent council meeting. If he suspected the reason behind her many questions, he said nothing. She was happy to see him taking up time with a glowing Buckskin Girl who had blossomed like a spring flower under
his gaze and attention. She also noticed the longer Clay stayed, the more he relaxed. But as with her, he was waiting for Joe’s arrival and the continuation of the great task.
Soon, Joe would return and their search for peace would resume. If all was fine, he had reached the message tree and retrieved helpful clues. Surely he was on his way back to her this very sun. Also by now, Zeke and the Crow had found their destruction. She wondered, though she had used all her skills and knowledge to conceal their tracks, could those villains be heading for her people’s camp, and some be trailing Joe? Her love was to leave a note telling Jim where he had hidden the gun/board evidence nearby. She must not doubt that proof would aid their cause. She prayed for his protection and a painless solution to their personal predicament.
On the afternoon Clay calculated the white man’s return, he suggested to Morning Star that they ride to intercept Joe to chat privately. As her chores were done, she eagerly accepted. A few miles away, they halted to wait for him. They would remain there until dusk left only enough light for returning to camp.
When “Tanner Gaston” was sighted, Clay said, “I’ll wait here. You ride to meet him. You’d probably want to speak with him alone first.”
“Does it show?” she asked, dismayed.
“You hid it well, but I know the truth now,” he responded.
To win his confidence, she said, “You are of two bloods and worlds. You understand why I must say nothing to others until the task is done.”
“I understand, but waiting won’t make any difference. If you were of my tribe or not of the chief’s bloodline, it wouldn’t matter. It will, Morning Star. Be ready to face dishonor and banishment. It’s your law.”
“It is not fair or right, Clay. I did not choose to love him.”
Forever Ecstasy Page 38
