Joe’s eyes brightened as he gazed at the lovely sight. He noticed that Morning Star had released her braids and brushed her ebony hair to shiny free-flowing tresses. Her dark eyes glowed with excitement. Joe thanked the sutler’s beaming wife and paid the man. He lifted the three packages, wrapped in brown paper, and guided his love toward the door.
Before they could depart to look for Clay, their friend rushed to them and urged, “You two have to get moving pronto! The ship leaves in less than an hour. Here are your tickets. Your gear is already loaded.”
“We have to see the chaplain first,” Joe reminded. He hoped there was enough time to locate the man and persuade him to marry them.
“I just saw him leaving the jail. Guess he’s been ministering to those prisoners we sent here. Lot of good it’ll do them now!” Clay scoffed.
“I need a long bath and a shave before I see a preacher, but I’ll have to do in this mess,” Joe remarked with a wry grin as he rubbed the rough stubble on his face. “Let’s find him.”
They located the post chaplain in the small structure, the front of which was used for services, the rear, for his personal quarters. Joe explained his request and the rush for the ceremony.
The sympathetic man eyed both, then asked, “You two sure you know what you’re doing? A mixed marriage has lots of problems. You love each other enough to confront whatever comes your way?”
“Yes, sir, we love each other, and we’ve given our future together a lot of serious thought. We know what we’re doing. We’ll be fine.”
“What about you, young lady?” the chaplain inquired.
Morning Star glanced at Joe, then looked at the other man. “Yes, sir,” she responded in her best English, “I love him and will be a good wife. If trouble rides after us, we will flee it or defeat it.”
The chaplain studied their pleading gazes, glanced at their clasped hands, and nodded. “I believe you. I just like to make sure couples don’t rush into something as serious as marriage without lots of thinking. You two stand here,” he instructed, placing them in front of him and opening his Bible. He found the place he wanted, then read two scriptural passages on love and marriage. He knew they didn’t have much time, but a religious service had to be done proper even in a rush.
“Do you Joseph Lawrence, Junior, take this woman to be your lawful wife in the eyes of God and man?” the chaplain asked Joe.
Joe gazed into Morning Star’s lovely eyes and replied, “I do.”
“Do you Marie Morning Star take this man to be your lawful husband in the eyes of God and man?”
“I do,” she responded, following Joe’s lead.
“Do you both promise to love, help, protect, and keep only unto each other all the days of your lives?” he asked.
“I do,” the couple answered at the same time.
“God being our witness in this holy place, I pronounce you man and wife. Let no man, other God, or trouble come between you or part you,” he advised in a grave tone. “I’ll fill out a paper to say you’re legally wed. You’ll both have to sign it, and your witness there, Mr. Thorne.”
Everyone remained silent as the chaplain wrote out a makeshift license, but Joe’s mind raced with thoughts. He wished his parents, sister and her family, Tanner, Stede, Sun Cloud, and Singing Wind could be present. He wished the ceremony hadn’t needed to be performed so quickly and with such a lack of romance. He wished he had a ring to slip on his love’s finger. He vowed again to himself to protect, love, and make this woman happy, as he had sworn to her parents a few days ago.
Morning Star’s mind roamed, too. She was bidding one life farewell and greeting a new one. She wished some things could be different, but she had no regrets. She loved Joe and wanted to spend her life with him. It was as it should be.
The religious man turned the page toward Joe for his signature first, then to Morning Star, and finally to Clay Thorne. When all three had marked their names on the paper, the chaplain signed and dated it. He recorded the ceremony in his Bible, then passed the binding page to Joe.
It was obvious the couple loved each other. He smiled and said, “Good luck, Mr. and Mrs. Lawrence. God go with you and protect you.”
“Thank you, sir.” Joe shook the man’s hand. He clutched the license in one of his hands and held his wife’s hand with the other. “Let’s go, Mrs. Lawrence.”
Morning Star smiled, and her fingers tightened around his. She thanked the chaplain and left with her husband and Clay.
At the ship, they bade farewell to Clay Thorne. Both knew they would miss their half-Cheyenne friend. Clay shook hands with Joe and embraced Morning Star, knowing, too, how much he would miss them. She and Joe sent messages to her family and friends.
The horse Joe had borrowed from the scout had been left with an officer at Tabor, who promised to return it to its owner at Laramie.
Joe asked Clay to take his roan and her Appaloosa back to Sun Cloud as gifts to Morning Star’s father, a small exchange for the treasure at his side. They waved good-bye and boarded the vessel. They watched Clay mount, gather the reins of their horses, the ones to the pack animal, then ride toward the Red Heart winter camp to claim Buckskin Girl as his wife.
A crew member showed the newly wed couple to their cabin, then left them alone. Their saddles and gear were stored beside the bed, as were their other possessions, including the new clothes Joe had purchased for her from the sutler at Tabor.
The cabin was small, so there was little room for settling in comfortably. But the voyage wouldn’t take long. Their eyes met as a whistle blasted the time for departure had arrived. When the ship moved into the swift current of the Missouri River their new life would be underway.
Joe left his bride to rest and adjust to the new experience before her while he went on deck to calm himself and to view the beginning of their voyage.
After many questions to passing crewmen and the revelation that he was an ex-sea captain, Joe was invited to join the Lucy Mae’s captain in the pilot house. He learned that the first steamship, the Yellowstone, had been brought up the river to this area in the early thirties by Pierre Chouteau.
The captain of the Lucy Mae chatted about how buying and trading had increased over the years until steamboats worked this area frequently when the climate allowed. He told Joe that most captains quickly learned how difficult the “Big Muddy” was to navigate with her shifting, changing, and twisting channels and with her perils of snags, logs, sandbars, and mercurial currents. Even in the best boat and with the most skilled captain, it was a hazardous journey.
Joe smiled, observed, and complimented the genial captain on his skills, courage, and wits.
An hour later, Joe headed for his cabin, to be with his new bride.
Most of the day, Joe remained in the cabin, cramped and barren though it was. He didn’t want his love to become frightened by this sometimes scary voyage. The swirling water around the steamer was as dark as the coffee he had transported to his country from tropical ones far away. The winter thaw and summer rains were long gone, so the water level was lower than Joe or the pilot wanted for a safe and easy voyage. Joe knew there was plenty of time during the trip for Morning Star to witness the passing sites and learn about boats.
Joe could hardly wait to reach home where his mother would help Morning Star buy pretty clothes or have a skilled seamstress make them. He envisioned her begowned and bejeweled, and him the envy of every man present. The first thing he wanted to purchase was a wedding band to slide on her finger. He used such thoughts to keep his mind off what awaited him there: his dying father.
Joe was ecstatic about a few things. His dreams were coming true: they were married, man and wife, thanks to the chaplain at Tabor. They were sailing—steaming—toward their bright future.
They ate their evening meal in a small dining area, part of the ticket price. The other three passengers—trappers going downriver who were accustomed to seeing men with Indian wives—paid little attention them. Twice during the
day, Joe had gone outside to catch a breath of fresh air when they halted to take on more wood for fuel. At last it was night, and they felt relaxed enough in the strange surroundings to share intimacy.
Joe bolted the cabin door and turned to gaze at his wife. He didn’t know he felt a little shy about being alone and getting ready for bed. They had made love many times and had shared a sleeping mat even more times. They were married now, committed to each other for life.
Morning Star experienced the same curious feelings and thoughts. She could not understand why it seemed so different with him tonight. She was happy and excited, and she knew he was, too. Yet…
“Maybe it’s because we know we aren’t alone in this place,” Joe suggested. “Out on the Plains or in the forest, we were away from other people. It was quiet and romantic. This room is small and ugly. We had fresh air and stars around us, we weren’t closed in by brown walls. We’ll be on this boat for a while, so I guess we’ll get used to it.”
“You read my mind as I read trail signs,” she teased. “I miss the open places. But if we did not have this bed, the room would be like a tepee. I will get… used to walls and beds.”
Joe sat on the bed and removed his boots. “At our plantation, the rooms are big. We have plenty of doors and windows to let in fresh air and sunshine. The walls are painted pretty colors, light colors. The floors have rugs with flowers, as do the chairs and couches. Nice pictures are on the walls and the furniture is comfortable. It’s nothing like this drab cabin, Morning Star.”
“I am sure it is beautiful,” she said, working with difficulty on the small buttons of her new dress.
“Let me help you,” Joe offered. “These can be devils until you get used to them. I never understood why women have such little buttons on their garments. Men’s are bigger and easier to manage.”
As her husband did the task for her, Morning Star reminded, “You must call me Marie, my love. You must… get used to my new name.”
“Marie Lawrence… Mrs. Joseph Lawrence, Junior…. Very nice.”
“I have two new names?” she asked.
Joe explained the custom of a wife taking a husband’s name and told her when she should use each of them.
“It is like the custom of marking spotted buffaloes, cattle,” Morning Star teased. “You white men brand your women with your name.”
“Yep,” he replied, grinning as he slipped the dress off her shoulders. He placed a kiss on each one. “That’s so other men will know they’re private property. I wouldn’t take kindly to any man trying to steal my woman. I want everybody to know you’re mine: Joe’s wife, Joe’s love.”
Both began to relax as their tensions melted and their surroundings were forgotten or ignored. They had been through a harrowing time, but now at last their future had begun.
“We’re safe now, my love, and together forever,” Joe said gently. “No more standing guard at night, at least not on this boat. No more dangers and hardships. I hope we reach my father in time, but if we don’t, we did our best to get to him. He understands what I’m doing out here, and he must know I’m on my way home as fast as possible. I’m proud of what we’ve accomplished, and we should never be ashamed of falling in love. In a week, the peace council will begin. When Stede returns home, he’ll tell us all about it. But until we reach St. Louis and take off on horseback, we can rest and enjoy ourselves. For a while, Marie Lawrence, we will think only of us.”
“I like our words and plans, my husband. It has been a long and lonely time since we joined.” Morning Star lifted her hand to caress his strong jawline, hairless after his shave. Her fingertips rubbed over his full lips and she could not resist the impulse to stroke his powerful torso and to feel his sleek flesh. She gazed into his eyes, a summer sky of inviting blue, and toyed with his sunny hair. She adored its texture and how it framed his face, how its color made his eyes look bluer and his skin darker. “I love you so much it causes me to feel strange inside,” she said passionately. “I see and hear nothing except you. I want nothing but you.”
“That’s how I feel, too, Morning Star. It used to be scary to want you so much, to your effect on me. Not any more. I love you.”
Morning Star unfastened the buttons on his shirt and peeled it off his muscled torso. She dropped it to the floor. His body was as sleek and toned as the best trained warrior’s. He was a splendid man, and he was hers. With Joe nearby and touching her, nothing mattered except him and their love. There was no shame and no regrets. Their bond was pure and right. She was ready to face the challenges before her. As she unlaced the ribbons on her chemise, she remarked, “White garments are strange.”
“But they’re fun to remove,” he teased, slipping it over her head. He pulled her back into his arms, their bare skin making blissful contact. Her nearness caused his heart to race with desire. He captured her hands and lifted them to his mouth to place kisses on her fingers, her knuckles, and her wrists. He turned one over and let his tongue play in its palm, which evoked soft laughter from her. Slowly, his lips journeyed up one arm to her shoulder, her throat, and then her face. His hands drifted up and down her back a few times, then sent his fingers into her cascading hair. He loved the way the ebony mane felt wound around them. His lips went to hers.
Their tongues played a seductive game of seek and find, then mated in a heady ritual. Their bodies trembled with passion, building to a frenzied level. Their flesh clung together, sharing warmth and pleasure. Their hands and lips teased and tempted. They were spellbound in a world of love and magic, and nothing could destroy it or break it.
Morning Star quivered and tingled. Her legs felt weak and her body heavy. It had been weeks since they had come together at Spearfish Canyon. Her heart was filled with longing. Her breath came in shallow, quick gasps; then it was stolen by his kiss. Her entire body experienced a rush of heat and tingling, a blend of wild sensations.
Joe’s hands slipped around her sides and closed over her firm breasts. With gentleness, he kneaded them. His mouth roved her face and his nose inhaled her sweet fragrance. His manhood ached to be within her; it burned with a need only she could satisfy. Her tongue danced with his, and he savored the taste of her. He moaned in bittersweet need.
Joe paused to remove the rest of their constricting garments. He pushed the dress over her hips and followed it with her bloomers. He lifted Morning Star in his arms and placed her on the bed. Without delay, he was out of his clothes, naked, aroused, and lying beside his wife.
For a while, he made love to her with his eyes, caressing, tantalizing. To him, she was exquisite, perfect, beautiful, irresistible. He nibbled at her ears, and caused her to laugh once more. His mouth claimed hers again to explore and to heighten their desires. His hands were bold, determined, skilled.
Joe’s hot breath on her made Morning Star’s yearning for him flame brighter. She trailed her fingers over his honed frame, savored his manly scent. His body was hard, smooth, and golden. Her fingers wanted to trace every inch. She stroked the injuries he had received at Bear Butte and she felt the scar he had gotten from her rescue. Yet, nothing detracted from his beauty. She felt aglow with love, afire with passion, and fortunate to have him. No man could compare with Joe, in appearance or in character. He was more important to her than her life and honor, something she had proven with more than words. She was alive, elated, and fulfilled in his arms. For once she did not care if a man, but only this man, took control of her will and her body, of her entire being. She surrendered with eagerness. She responded and reacted to every touch, every kiss, every action, then she mutely begged for more. She had known great rapture in his arms, but tonight she found ecstasy.
Joe’s hands trekked over her silky skin. She was so close, so intoxicating, so responsive. Her lithe body evoked him to stimulate it. As lightly as a butterfly, his lips brushed over her breasts. His tongue swirled round and round one bud to sample its nectar. His teeth teased at the taut nubs that revealed the intensity of her desire and his effect upon
her. Their contact and her reactions played havoc with his mastery over his raging loins. He had never felt more alive or inflamed than he did now. He was almost mindless with hunger for her.
Morning Star trembled when his hand drifted down her flat stomach. Her entire being was enthralled by him. Reality had fled long ago. He and his actions were her only awareness. She wanted to relax and enjoy the sweet pleasures, but she was too ravenous with need. Each kiss and touch pleased her, but they whet her appetite for much more. She seemed swept away in a flood of bliss. Her hands grasped his shoulders and clutched them tightly. She wanted, she needed, she must have Joseph Lawrence or be dazed with starvation. Soon, there was no place upon her that did not cry out for his attention. As with him, muffled moans escaped her lips between feverish kisses.
Joe fingered the petal-soft flesh between her thighs until she urged him to end the sweet madness. He entered her body with a groan of delight. His breathing became labored and swift with his excitement and the strain of his self-control. He kissed her over and over as he murmured words of love and pleasure. “You’re like a fierce desire burning within me. I need you and love you, woman.” He felt her work with him, matching his rhythm.
Morning Star’s legs wrapped around his and her arms clung to him. Her mouth meshed with his as her heart pounded and her blood raced hot and fast. She saw and felt the muscles of his arms and back as they rippled with his movements. “You are my air, my heart, my life. I want no one but you.”
Joe tossed restraint aside and hurried after her. Higher and higher Sky Warrior soared with her on his wings. He grasped the star in his heaven and let it shine on him.
Forever Ecstasy Page 50
