Forever Ecstasy (26 page)

“Does your father wish to return to our tribe?”

Joe grasped the unspoken meaning behind his question. “Only to visit. When peace is won, we’ll return to our homes far away. Stede believes the Red Hearts have their rightful and best chief: you. His father believed the same thing about Gray Eagle.”

“When the time comes, I’ll meet with the son of my uncle. Long ago, Powchutu was a close friend when he lived and rode as Eagle’s Arm with my father. He lives in my memory and in our legends.”

“Your family gave him the peace of mind he needed before he died. It was good he returned to his father’s land to seek it. His heart was troubled by all the problems he made for your parents. It’s good they all made peace before they died.”

“As it is good his son and grandson return to help us.”

Joe realized he had been saying “Stede” and “Powchutu” rather than my “father” and “grandfather.” If Sun Cloud had
noticed that curious slip, he didn’t seem suspicious. Joe surmised that the chief must assume he was using their names for clarity. “I’ll do my best for peace, Sun Cloud. So will my father,” he added as a safety measure, and prayed the foul taste of that lie in his mouth didn’t show in his expression. “That is all any man can do, Tanner— his best.”

After the men left the secluded area, Morning Star relaxed her strained body. She had stayed motionless behind the large boulder so their keen senses would not detect her presence. She had not intended to eavesdrop, but they had arrived just as she finished excusing herself and she hadn’t wanted to be caught at such a private moment. She had assumed they would talk of the impending task, then leave. The conversation had frozen her in place.

Its implication shot through her keen mind. Her grandmother was not half Indian, or any Indian! She herself, her father, her uncle, and her brother were more white than she had been told! She knew of the Blackfoot custom of a father using a sharp bone to scratch his symbol—
akito
— into the buttock flesh of his children. Ash was rubbed into it to make the mark permanent. It was used to identify children stolen during raids by enemies, especially if it was many years before their rescue and their faces had changed. Perhaps Snake-Man had used such a practice to make the symbols on his body— those Joe had called tattoos— but had rubbed colors into his scratches instead of black ash. But Snake-Man left her thoughts quickly.

This news was astonishing, but not distressing. Why should she be upset to discover she had a little more white blood than she had known, particularly when it came from an exceptional female? Alisha Williams, who had lived as Shalee, had been a strong, proud, and brave woman who had gone from white captive to wife of Gray Eagle, a chief whose legendary exploits had never been matched. Alisha had saved Gray Eagle’s life when he was captured and tortured by whites. She had led her husband to a past villainous enemy so Jeffrey Gordon could be defeated. She had made Black Cloud’s last days happy ones. She had saved Running Wolf’s life. She had saved their tribe from a cavalry attack. She had given Gray Eagle and the Red Hearts two
great leaders in Sun Cloud and Bright Arrow, and had raised them to be superior men. She had taught her sons English and white ways to help them with peace and understanding.

Alisha/Shalee had become Indian in heart and spirit. She had been a lesson in courage and strength to everyone. She had earned the love, respect, and acceptance of Gray Eagle, the Red Hearts, and other tribes; something she could not have done as a white captive. Becoming Shalee, even by deception, had given her that chance and all had learned from it. She had lived a full and rewarding life. The love she had shared with Gray Eagle was so powerful that they had even died the same day. The Great Spirit had blessed and honored the loving couple. They would never be forgotten by her band or the Dakota Nation. It would be wrong and cruel to stain their golden memories.

Morning Star understood why her father and the others had kept the truth concealed, and why it must remain buried in the past. She knew Joe would keep his word to Sun Cloud. Without their knowledge, she would help protect the truth. Yet the Great Spirit had led her to this spot tonight to discover it, so He must have a good reason for enlightening her.

Just as Buckskin Girl must have a good reason for her curious actions, which she had not revealed during their short visit. Buckskin Girl had promised to tell her everything soon. Whatever distressed the other female, it could not— must not— destroy their friendship.

Morning Star pushed what she had learned tonight into a special corner of her memory, then headed for her tepee for much needed rest. She would deal with both matters another time.

The exciting moment arrived, and many gathered around Sun Cloud’s tepee. Morning Star embraced her mother, father, Payaba, and Buckskin Girl. She comprehended how anxious her parents were, how excited the old medicine man was, and how depressed her friend was not to be going. She spoke to other friends and tribe members, all of whom wished them well.

Morning Star noticed how her brother stayed in the background. His wife, Touched-A-Crow, did not approach the genial
group either. The woman’s action did not surprise her, as the Brule female kept mostly to herself. Touched-A-Crow was uncommonly quiet and not very smart. She had shown no interest in the stirring contest and had not visited Morning Star and Singing Wind when they were ill. Sun Cloud’s daughter wondered why Night Stalker did not take a second wife, unless he didn’t want a crowded tepee or to assume responsibility for another person.

As Joe conversed with others, Morning Star’s gaze settled on her nephew in Touched-a-Crow’s arms. Blood Arrow’s lips protruded in an angry pout, as usual, and the defiant gleam in his eyes was visible at that short distance. The two-year-old squirmed to get down, but Touched-a-Crow refused to release him. When the moody boy began to whine and to slap at his mother, Night Stalker apparently ordered his wife to take their son home, no doubt to spare the warrior embarrassment at Bloody Arrow’s misbehavior. Morning Star hated to imagine what kind of man her nephew would become if not disciplined soon.

Morning Star looked at her older cousin, Little Feet, who was near the age of her father. The eldest daughter of her slain uncle had well behaved and happy children, and a loving husband in Thunder Spirit. The maiden decided that was how she wanted her own family to be someday.

Joe clasped wrists with the chief and said, “I’ll guard her life with my own, Sun Cloud. After we gather enough information, we’ll report to you in the new camp. You won’t be disappointed by your decision to make peace.”

“I will trust you to do what is best for all, Tanner, nothing more.”

Whether or not the chief intended to make a dual point with his words, Joe took it that way. He smiled and nodded.

The white man and maiden mounted, and Sun Cloud handed Joe the reins to the pack horse. Farewells and waves followed them from the scene. Neither Joe nor Morning Star failed to notice the icy stares of Knife-Slayer, Hawk Eyes, and Night Stalker.

As both Morning Star and Joe wondered what would happen during their trek together, they rode for a long time without
talking or glancing at each other. Though their trust had not vanished, nor any uneasiness settled in, each realized the most difficult part of their task was controling their emotions. Neither wanted to tempt or be tempted beyond their strength to refuse what both knew existed between them.

When they halted to rest themselves and the horses, Morning Star told Joe, “I worked on English while you gone. I practiced with Father, Mother, and others who speak white tongue. You teach me more.”

Joe asked, “Can you read any English?”

Morning Star surprised him by replying, “Little,” as she held up her hand with her index finger and thumb about an inch apart. “Grandfather, Gray Eagle, have learning book from white captive who schoolmarm. Grandmother teach him more; she teach sons, Bright Arrow and Sun Cloud. Father teach Mother more after they joined. Father teach Night Stalker and Morning Star. Many white words hard. Indians not have as many for same thing. Even same color have many white names. Words put together and confuse; whites say ‘it’s’ and ‘you’ll’ for it is and you will.”

“Those are called contractions. Whites use them in speaking, but they aren’t— are not— in formal English, best English.” Joe had noticed how she glowed when she spoke of Alisha/Shalee. “Your grandmother was a special woman. I’ve heard many wonderful stories about her. It’s a shame you never knew her. From what I’ve seen, you have many of her good traits.” His mind wandered back in history. Sarah/Shalee had taken after her white mother, so she had been “rescued” by soldiers, then sent to New Orleans as a small child, where she was adopted by Dr. Devane. As fate would have it, Powchutu had met and married her as Tanner Gaston, then discovered Black Cloud’s
akito
that revealed her true identity.

Morning Star saw Joe’s attention escape for a moment, and she knew where it had fled. She felt it was best to relate the story she had been told of her heritage. “I not know what Powchutu tell Stede and Stede tell Tanner and Joe. I tell you about Grandmother. She part white. Her father Blackfoot chief Black Cloud. He take Brave Bear, Singing Wind’s father, as son after
his father killed. Shalee stolen when two winters. Many summers later, Gray Eagle capture white girl. He come to love, but cannot join; she enemy blood. Soldiers steal Grandmother from camp; he attack fort and take back. She ill, and he tend. He find mark of Black Cloud on her body. He happy. It fine to join chief’s daughter with white blood. She great woman; all loved her. Morning Star have little white blood,” she finished, making the same motion with her fingers as before.

“It not trouble me, but Brother would make many cuts on his body if they let white blood flow out. He not know Grandmother; he born next winter. If so, he not hate all whites so much. She legend. She… lady,” the maiden finished with a bright smile. “He not remember
Wahea
— it mean Red Flower, ‘cause she have red hair. He nine winters old when she killed. She uncle’s wife, white woman. She do many good deeds. Whole tribe love and accept. She lady, too. When captured by Bright Arrow, she have bad time; he have bad time. He banished many years. They do good deeds; tribe forgive and take back, but no can become chief. It good for all.”

Joe couldn’t blame Gray Eagle for allowing the misconception about his love to stand so he could have her. He couldn’t blame Sun Cloud for letting it continue to protect his parents’ lives or for both chiefs to prevent disrupting the unity of the tribe. The Red Hearts had accepted a white woman into the life of their beloved chief only because they hadn’t known the truth about Alisha. His lie about being Tanner Gaston, was an example of how sometimes deception was necessary for the good of all. What if, Joe mused, he never exposed the truth about his identity? As part Indian, could he claim Morning Star as— No, his mind shouted; staying Tanner made them kin! He could pursue her only by exposing his identity. By doing so, he made a match between them just as impossible. Besides, why was he thinking this way?

“What trouble you, Joe?” she asked the quiet man.

“1 was planning our strategy,” he said, hating to deceive her.

Morning Star sensed he was taking a different trail to mislead her, but didn’t contradict or challenge him. “What is stra— te—

gy?”

“A cunning plan to surprise and trick the enemy,” he
explained.

“What strategy we use?”

“After your rescue, I can’t join up with Zeke and his men. Maybe we can find them, trail ’em, and spy on them. First, we need to locate clues to see where to begin. We’ll ride and look for tracks to follow.”

“Ride to place where Zekemet Crow to see if they do so again. See if pick up trail or signs to follow,” she suggested.

“That’s a good idea; it could be a regular rendezvous point. Meeting place,” he clarified. “That’ll give us time to get to know each other before we enter any white or Crow areas. If you’re my squaw, we don’t want to seem like strangers to each other. That’ll create suspicions.”

“You right. We ride and become friends before see whites and Crow.”

“We
are
friends, aren’t we?”

Morning Star gazed into his hopeful eyes. She smiled and said, “Yes, we friends. Morning Star and Joe friends not same as white man and squaw friends. Is not so?”

He grinned and nodded. “That’s true. We’ll have to pretend…”

“What is pretend?” she inquired when he halted and looked uneasy.

“Like playing a game, a trick, behaving in a way that isn’t true to fool others. Pretend we’re… married, man and wife.”

“Like disguise.” She used one of her new words. When he grinned and nodded again, she added, “Not all squaws join to men who buy. Some join in Indian way, but not in white eyes and laws.”

“Which do you want? Joined or not?” he asked.

She considered her two choices for a moment. “We pretend joined; that more fun, bigger challenge. Good disguise. Others we meet respect squaw more who claimed by white man. Not so with squaw not joined.”

He grasped her meaning; she didn’t want anyone— friend or foe— to view her as an unchaste mistress, or captive property. “You’re right; wife it is. To make it seem real to us, well have a pretend joining ceremony.”

“Taku?”
she asked, astonished by his suggestion.

What?
his mind echoed. Feeling mischievous, Joe asked, “Why not? If we pretend to join, it’ll make it seem more real when we claim we are.”

“We not have ceremonial chief to say words. Joe have no gifts for Father. We not shared the blanket. How can seem real?”

Joe untied a blanket from his saddle, grinned, and tossed it over their heads. “One rule covered,” he jested in the dimness. “Your Great Spirit and my God are watching over us. Aren’t They the highest chiefs of all before whom to say words?”

“It…is so,” she faltered in confusion and suspense.

“My gifts to your father are my blood, friendship, and peace. Surely they’re as valuable as horses. The whites say, Before God, I, Joseph Lawrence, Jr., take you, Morning Star, as my wedded wife.” Her expression of pleased astonishment yanked Joe back to reality. He asked himself what in blazes he was thinking and doing! She was so close, so entrancing. To halt or to say it was a joke could offend her, so he needed to carry out the pretense he had begun. Yet he didn’t think it wise to use the remaining words that leapt into his head. “Your turn.”