Forever Ecstasy (12 page)

“Words come easy from your mouth, White man. Honor
does not come easy from the Crow or your people. Another treaty matters not.”

“The first treaty never reached the hands of the White Chief Monroe,” Joe revealed. “Derek Sturgis, friend to Gray Eagle and Sun Cloud, was injured in a fire that destroyed his dwelling and the paper. He did not live to return to make another one. Our new White Chief is President Fillmore. He desires a treaty. I am here as his helper to make truce.”

“You speak for the new White Chief?” Sun Cloud asked.

“Yes. I speak for him through the man who brought me here.”

“He lies to save his life,” Knife-Slayer charged. “He will betray us.”

“It is true many forts have been built in this vast territory,” Joe revealed, “but they are to protect our Indian allies as well as white settlers. They defend everyone against bad whites, called outlaws, and against bad Indians, called renegades. Such men attack good Indians and good whites. Fort Tabor’s soldiers do not attack the Lakotas. Neither does Fort Laramie where Broken-Hand lives and works for peace. When the soldiers battle, it’s to punish and halt attacks on innocent people. It’s true a trail crosses to the south of your lands. Most whites are riding far to the west to begin new lives. Some halt and settle here; they’re tired and have no money to continue to their destination. They want to live in peace. They—”

“Peace!” Knife-Slayer interrupted in anger. “They—”

Sun Cloud halted the furious warrior and said, “Let him speak, Knife-Slayer. He did not break into my words. You can speak later.”

“The white man who sells weapons to your enemies is bad,” Joe continued. “He must be caught and punished. Your father, Gray Eagle, was a great chief. He wished for peace and survival. Long ago, you did the same. It must be that way again, Sun Cloud. Give me the help I need,” he urged.

“How do we know this warrior would be safe at your side?”

Joe anticipated resistance to the suggestion he was about to make, but his plan was clever enough to work. “What I need and request is a brave and smart woman to lead me to the Crow camps and white settlements. The evil whites would not suspect
a white trader or trapper with an Indian wife of being a spy. We could go anyplace together and search for clues.”

“You speak of my sister, Morning Star?” Night Stalker asked.

“Another trick!” Knife-Slayer charged. “He will hold her prisoner. Think of Morning Star’s value to the bluecoats.”

“If I wished to take her captive, there was plenty of time on the trail,” Joe pointed out.

“You did not so she would lead you to our village!”

“That isn’t true. Besides, I don’t want Morning Star as my helper. It’s too dangerous. I don’t want Sun Cloud’s daughter harmed. That would cause more distrust between us. Select the woman best trained to help me.”

“I best,” Sun Cloud’s daughter stated. “I know Oglala land. I speak English and understand Crow signs. I have warrior skills.”

“No, Morning Star. I can’t risk your life again. It’s too perilous. Sun Cloud has lost too many of his family. It must be another female.”

As Knife-Slayer, Night Stalker, and Morning Star argued amongst themselves, warriors whispered and watched. Those who knew English explained the situation to others nearby who didn’t. Then they passed along the shocking news to Red Hearts distant from the center of activity.

A man with narrow, piercing eyes stepped forward.
“Wicakewala sni. Wowocake sni. Kastaka.”
“Who is he? What did he say?” Joe murmured to the stunned girl at his right. He had a dark suspicion of his words, and dread washed over him.

Morning Star felt her heart race and her mouth go dry. A chill passed over her as if she were standing barefoot and naked in the snow. She had feared this man’s resistance and hatred, and, more so, his power. It was up to Joe to change her people’s mind. “Hawk Eyes, our shaman, father of Knife-Slayer,” she replied. “He says you lie and must be slain.”

Joe knew it was a bad sign for such a powerful man to talk against him. He saw the looks on most faces that said they agreed or would follow any advice given by their medicine chief and holy man. He read mistrust and hostility in some
faces. He read confusion in others. In a few stoic expressions, he could glean no clue to their thoughts and feelings. “I do not lie, Hawk Eyes. All I have said is true. I come as a friend, an ally.”

“I say his mouth must be silenced by death this moon!” was the shaman’s reply, this time in English and spoken as a command.

Two strong warriors seized Joe’s arms. Morning Star panicked. Even if they refused to give Joe help, she could not let him be slain. But what could she say or do to save his life? Nothing came to her terrified mind.

Alarmed and desperate, a bold and cunning idea entered Joe’s head. He prayed Morning Star would understand his motive and keep his secret. If he didn’t attempt it, he was a dead man, and war was a certainty. If he did and she exposed him, he was a dead man. He glanced at her frightened expression and decided his ruse was worth the risk he would take.

Joe shouted over affirmative “yips” of the Kit-Fox cult and murmurings for and against killing him, “Sun Cloud! I’m Tanner Gaston! The son of Stede Gaston! Son of Powchutu, son of Running Wolf, your grandfather! I only use the name Joe Lawrence to trick evil whites! I’m Tanner Gaston!”

As the warriors, who did not understand English, yanked at Joe, Sun Cloud raised his hand and ordered them to halt and release him. The chief stared at the white man as those shocking words struck home like flaming arrows. The braves unhanded Joe and looked at their leader for an explanation.

“He speaks words I must hear,” Sun Cloud related in Lakota.

“Do not listen to more lies!” Knife-Slayer shouted.

Sun Cloud sent the Sacred Bow Carrier a warning glance to be silent, then returned his probing gaze to the stranger.

Joe took that as a sign to finish his startling revelation. “Stede Gaston, my father, is the man who brought me here. He’s waiting for me at Fort Laramie. He works with Broken-Hand and President Fillmore for peace. My father is old and injured. I’m here as his legs, arms, eyes, ears, mouth, and heart. The Great Spirit called him to his father’s lands to make peace.”

While Sun Cloud and others who knew English gaped at the white stranger and Morning Star did not interrupt him, Joe hurried on to save his life and his mission. “My grandfather, Powchutu, was the firstborn son of Running Wolf. If the chiefs bonnet hadn’t been stolen from his head by evil when his mother married a French trapper and denied Running Wolf his son, Powchutu would have been chief in Gray Eagle’s place. When my grandfather was forced from these lands he loved and his rightful rank was stolen from him, my father was
born and raised as white, as was I. When danger came to these lands, the Great Spirit troubled his heart and called him here to help save his people, the Oglalas. We are of the same bloodline, Sun Cloud. Would you slay your cousin? Your friend? Your ally?”

Night Stalker found his voice and shouted a translation to his people. He dared not accuse the stranger of lying until his father decided it was or wasn’t the truth. He didn’t want the white man’s arrival and words to intrude on his life and desires. The Oglala had been given many challenges from the whites and Crow during the last few years, but his father had continued to urge for peace. Night Stalker didn’t believe peace was possible. He believed his warriors should confront their enemies in glorious battles— battles that would drive the whites and Bird People from their lands forever; battles that would bring him many coups, wealth, and prestige as in the olden days. He wanted to prove his wits and prowess, especially after failing to rescue his sister. He wanted to defend his lands and people, and to earn the chief’s bonnet soon. He did not want to lie around and grow lazy and fat. He did not trust the whites, and he was restless from the long, quiet winter in camp.

Payaba made his way through the whispering crowd. Once known as Standing Tree and shaman, he declared in the Lakota tongue in a strong voice that belied his eighty years, “I say he speaks the truth. Has Sun Cloud and the council forgotten my vision of twenty winters past?” For those who didn’t recall it and those who hadn’t heard it, the old man repeated it. “Look at his eyes and hair. Think of his bloodline and words. As my vision warned, a season of bitter conflicts and greed have destroyed truce with the whites. Two men have come to our land to help us defeat this first trouble. He speaks the truth. He is Sky Warrior, the white helper we have awaited for twenty winters. I say we must listen and accept his words. We must help him. To do so obeys Grandfather’s commands in my sacred vision.”

The elderly man had spoken too fast for Joe to catch more than a few words that didn’t make sense to him. All dark eyes had shifted from the past shaman to him. Joe sensed that
something important about him had been revealed. An array of emotions filled the Oglalas’ faces: awe, confusion, trust, anger, and apprehension. When Morning Star translated for him, astonishment, tension, and befuddlement filled Joe. He knew the Indians were believers of what they called visions, but he was amazed by the exactitude of one that had taken place twenty years ago. He wondered how the old man could have foreseen this episode. Yet Payaba had! The past shaman’s insight and prophecy baffled Joe. “What does it mean?” he asked Morning Star.

Morning Star studied him closely. This was the first time she had heard of the
wowanyake,
a vision coming true before her senses. She was stirred by the news of the woman in Payaba’s vision long ago, as Joe had asked for a female helper now! Her actions were justified, foretold! The vision matched Joe and the current situation perfectly! She had done nothing more than be used and guided by the Great Spirit! She was blessed and honored and proud. What did it matter who defeated their foes and won peace? She must prove her mettle to become that vision woman. Yet she replied,
“Slolwaye sni;
I do not know.” She needed to learn more before she could explain things to Joe.

“Morning Star told him such things on the trail,” Night Stalker charged. “He is not Sky Warrior. He does not carry Oglala blood.”

“I did not tell him such things!” Morning Star retorted. “I did not know of them until this moment! I believe the vision and his words. Grandfather crossed our path so I could bring him to our camp to fulfill his destiny and ours. A vision must be obeyed, my brother.”

“How do we know Payaba did not have a dream?” Knife-Slayer asked.

“If it was a sacred vision, why was I not shown it?” Hawk Eyes added.

“How can only a dream match what has come to be?” Morning Star reasoned, then reminded them, “All know Payaba was a great shaman who was taught by Mind-Who-Roams, the powerful medicine chief who led our tribe under Gray Eagle. His powers and insight have not vanished. Grandfather
let Payaba live to speak to our people on this sun about the forgotten vision. Only Grandfather knows why He did not share the truth with Hawk Eyes.”

Sun Cloud was shocked by the man’s claims. Joe had no Indian coloring or bone structure; he bore no resemblance to Powchutu. He remembered his father’s half brother. They had become close friends before Powchutu’s death at the side of Gray Eagle during the white man’s ambush in 1820. Afterward, he had signed a treaty with Derek Sturgis because he wanted to save his people, his family, his ways, and his lands. But troubles over the past few years had stolen his trust in the white man and their great leader. Now he must confront that same decision again: war or peace. “How do we know you are Tanner Gaston, son of Stede, grandson of Powchutu? Why did you not tell Morning Star? Or speak it sooner to me?”

“There are many charges against your band,” Joe replied carefully. “I didn’t want to reveal my identity until I was sure I could trust you. I thought you would speak and act differently to Joe than to Tanner. When the first whites came, you met them in peace. You did not resist settlers until they began to intrude in large numbers and to claim parts of your land. When gold— the yellow rock white man craves-was discovered in California, many prospectors and traders swarmed over your territory as countless bees. When land was purchased or claimed in Oregon Territory, white pioneers had to pass through your lands to reach it. Many stopped and remained. Troops were sent to patrol the area, to protect the whites, and to obtain peace with the Indians.” He saw Sun Cloud nod.

“When the numbers of the settlers, traders, trappers, and soldiers became too large, your people and other tribes, as well, worried that they would steal all lands from you. There are many differences between the two peoples, Sun Cloud. The whites do not understand how bad it is to kill the buffalo that sustains your way of life. They cut timber to build homes, fences, forts, and barns. They don’t realize that their guns scare off game. They don’t understand why they can’t let their stock graze on the same grasslands with buffalo, deer, and elk. They don’t know that you believe they scar the face of Mother
Earth when they clear land to grow food, to raise stock, and to build homes, forts, posts, churches, and schools. They clear land for roads because they’re easier for wagons to travel than trails. They don’t know Indian ways. The same is true of the Oglalas and other tribes; they don’t understand the white man’s ways. Many events in history are beyond the control of a leader and his people. What happens here is not, Sun Cloud. What you decide and do will become history— good or bad— and it will affect the lives of these people and all generations to follow.”

Sun Cloud was impressed and silently concurred, but he responded, “Those are wise and good words, but they do not make you Tanner.”

Joe did not comprehend how Payaba had prophesied his coming, but he could not ignore the strange truth. The mystical holy man had described him— not Tanner Gaston— accurately! Some power greater than all of them was at work and had led him—not Powchutu’s grandson—to this place and problem. Yet he needed that blood connection and his lie to make the remainder of the “vision” come true.