Authors: Janelle Taylor
Morning Star and Joe entered the Black Hills by late afternoon. The path that she took was not an arduous one, so their ride was easy and steady. Joe had no problem keeping up with his beautiful guide. As they traveled to the area she sought, his gaze took in the wonder of the setting, as hers had done many times in the past. They journeyed through color-splashed meadows, between towering pinnacles of obsidian rocks in many shapes and sizes, into and out of cool forests of spruce and pine and hardwoods, and beside running streams whose water played around stones and twigs. Everything was green and alive and fragrant. A refreshing breeze and frequent shade prevented the sun’s heat from affecting them too severely. Though the sky was a deep blue, snowy clouds were turning gray in the distance. Several times they spooked deer, elk, antelope, and smaller creatures and a few times they encountered small herds of buffalo who were grazing on lush grass or lazing upon the verdant surface.
Joe understood why this area was so valued. Timber was abundant and sturdy, when much of the adjoining territory lacked a wood supply. Water was fresh and plentiful, as was lush grass for grazing. Lovely valleys offered sheltered surroundings from the harsh northern winters. The Plains could feed numerous cattle or other stock, and no clearing was needed for farms. It was perfect for civilization and exploitation.
They reached a clearing that was enclosed on three sides by tall rock formations. Bushes and trees grew at the edges and the center was filled with scaffolds that looked like beds of wood on lofty stilts. The flow of wind and tightly wrapped bodies prevented
heavy odor of death that Joe had expected to find there; that was also the reason why no scavengers were drawn to the sacred site to feast.
Joe experienced a sensation of awe, as if he were in a holy place or church. He heard and saw no animal or bird to rend the tranquility, but it did not give him an eerie feeling. It almost felt as if be were on hallowed ground, as the Indians believed of their burial sites. If the Great Spirit existed, or was God in another form and He did watch over a special location, this had to be one. It sent home the Indian’s belief in the sacred Circle of Life, from Great Spirit and Mother Earth at birth to their return in death. Morning Star had told him the bodies and possessions remained on the scaffolds until the forces of nature reclaimed them. Sturdy and built with love, the eternal sleeping beds lasted as long as they were needed.
Joe and Morning Star dismounted and secured the reins of the three horses to bushes at the natural entrance of the clearing. A tall cottonwood post was in the middle of the path. Eagle feathers and rawhide pouches were attached to the top. A large stub at head height caught his attention, and he watched the maiden slip the weather-bleached buffalo skull onto it, then he saw her retrieve items from the ground and replace them: religious tokens and special grasses and herbs that the white thieves had snatched out and discarded.
Morning Star glanced at her companion and said, “Natahu Wakan guards fallen warriors until journey to Grandfather is done. It warns enemies not to enter this sacred place. Most do not. Grandfather guided us to evil whites to take back Natahu Wakan. It is good. Come, I return warriors’ possessions. Their spirits will be happy with our great deed.”
As Joe followed her around the area, he carried the bundle and helped her replace the stolen property. Morning Star was tall, but many of the scaffolds were beyond her easy reach. He watched her to use markings on the eastern posts to identify from which ones the items had been taken, as the belongings were also marked with ownership. While they worked, he kept glancing at the signs of a storm heading their way.
Morning Star noticed nature’s warnings, too. The sky displayed puffy white clouds whose faces were quickly turning a
dark gray, as if anger were building inside them. The rapid change in colors told her the weather’s temper would explode soon in a violent storm. The wind’s force increased steadily, tugging at feathers on lances, shields, and bows. It teased across her flesh, and it raced through leaves and grass. Her skin detected moisture in the air; her keen nose smelled it.
The maiden studied the heaven once more and said, “Must hurry. Bad storm come soon.
Wakinyan,
Thunder Birds, live inside
tipi
clouds. When Grandfather say Mother Earth need water, He tell
Wakinyan
to leave
tipi,
to flap wings and make thunder, to open and close eyes to make lightning, to spill water from big lakes on backs. Eyes not see Thunder Birds. They fly fast and high, and hide in sky mist. Thunder warn people to seek shelter.”
Joe was amused by her explanation of thunder, rain, and lightning, yet, he did not smile or chuckle and offend her for those erroneous beliefs and superstitions. It was the way she had been reared. Even if he explained science and weather to her, she might not understand it or believe him. He could not tell her she was mistaken or ignorant about so many things. But, as time passed, he would educate her with respect. For now, he continued his task.
As they moved through the burial site, they collected Crow beads, bits of red trade cloth that the Bird People favored, a tribal exposing arrow here and there, and a few other falsely incriminating clues dropped around to inflame the Oglala against the Crow. Just as the slain Crow party would appear the work of the Red Heart Band, this “evidence” was meant to frame the Oglalas’ foes. Since Joe and Morning Star knew who was responsible for both incidents, both comprehended they were right in presuming someone wanted to provoke an intertribal war.
“We need to make certain the Crow and your people learn about these two tricks, Morning Star. There’s no telling how many frames we won’t find and halt, or how many old ones weren’t genuine. I know they’re enemies of your people and have been for generations, but these tricks can cause a bloody war. I hate to think of how many innocent people have died in retalitory raids for crimes their tribe didn’t commit. When warriors
go into battle, they aren’t the only ones at risk. Their camps and families are in danger of attacks -children, women, and old people who can’t defend themselves. If we don’t open everyone’s eyes to the truth, this entire area will become a bloodsoaked battlefield.” His mind wouldn’t let him forget that Morning Star and her family— Tanner’s kin - would be trapped in the middle, as would blameless white settlers and soldiers.
“Grandfather will guide us and help us, Joe,” she encouraged. “He works with us for peace. Can you not see this truth in all that has been?”
“We’ll keep talking to our gods, and pray they listen.”
She tugged at his arm. “Come, I know place to hide from storm.”
Joe lifted the bundle, this time filled with enemy items, and followed her to the horses. At the burial site entrance, he waited for her to pray to her god, then mount. Joe closed his eyes and sent a prayer to his, then pulled himself into his saddle. “You’re the leader, Morning Star; guide on.”
The maiden returned his smile and kneed her Appaloosa. Joe’s gaze sent warm tingles over her body. She pushed that thought and the desecrated burial ground out of her mind. She must reach cover before bad weather overtook them.
The storm was approaching fast, but Morning Star knew her way around these hills. She headed for a place she remembered where the lower part of a black cliffside suddenly jutted outward near the base. The outthrust was sufficient to create an overhang with enough height, depth, and width for them to obtain protection from rain and lightning. It wasn’t large enough for the horses, too, but animals were used to being out in the weather and would be safe in a copse of hardwoods.
Joe eyed the spot she chose. Beneath the ledge was a space of five feet by five feet, with a ceiling of four feet. The smooth rock seemed to form a slate roof to cover the inviting location. By then, thunder rumbled and lightning slashed overhead. “Let’s get our supplies and bedrolls under cover,” Joe shouted. “You grab some wood and I’ll tend the horses. That rain’ll be coming down in barrels soon.”
They worked with haste, and had everything prepared within a short time. A small campfire heated the beans that Joe had
taken from the dead men’s supplies. Along with the dried meat and bread pones from Singing Wind, the couple ate a quick and satisfying meal. Joe set their empty dishes on a ring of inky stones around a cheery blaze. Drops of water struck his body and the surroundings, then rapidly became larger and heavier.
“Hurry, it’s here. Leave the dishes. The rain will wash ’em.”
Sounds of wind and thunder were joined by a noisy deluge of water. The campfire just beyond the rock overhang was doused within seconds. Joe and Morning Star laughed as they wriggled to the back of the snug area to keep dry and warm. They sat on Joe’s bedroll to watch nature’s drama unfold. Supplies, stored at one side and covered by his slicker, compelled them to sit close in the gradually darkening hideout.
Brilliant flashes of lightning frequently illuminated the cozy area. A few times, both jumped as startling thunderbolts boomed nearby. After each reaction, they exchanged glances and shared laughter. Heavy rain flowed down the cliff face that rose upward to a towering spire with a rounded top. It poured over the extended ledge, but there was enough of an incline to send the flood of liquid the other way. Except for earth-dampening splatters, their area stayed dry. They kept their feet tucked close to their bodies so they wouldn’t get wet. They leaned their heads against an inky wall and gazed at the partition of water that obscured the outside world.
Trapped between the downpour and rocks, they were enclosed in a setting that reeked of intimacy. When vivid streaks of lightning blazed across the sky, it sparkled on the watery flap to their romantic tepee. During one lengthy bout of lightning that split into many branches and seemed to hang in the sky a long time, Joe looked over at his companion. She was so beautiful and desirable, so close, so out of reach.
Morning Star returned Joe’s lingering gaze. The whiskers on his face had grown during their days together, and, for a man with golden hair, the short beard looked dark against his tanned face. In the dimness with only nature’s flashes of light, she saw how blue his eyes were. Her shoulder touched his, and the contact was pleasing and arousing. She was glad the space was tight and forced them to sit close. The shadows of their present world and the sounds from beyond it created an aura of mystery and
anticipation. She realized she was apprehensive about their impending journey into the white settlement, but felt safe and strong knowing Joe would be at her side. With him, she felt as if she could do almost anything. She watched him remove his boots and set them aside; she did the same with her moccasins. They shared a sleeping roll, keeping their weapons within reach. When a burst of dazzling light came again, Joe was still watching her with that bittersweet look.
Joe observed Morning Star as she unbraided her ebony hair and withdrew a brush to work on it. Soon, it lay silky and sensual around her shoulders. When she started to replait it, his hand stayed hers and he coaxed, “Don’t. Leave it free. It’s as shiny and black as a raven’s wing. It’s beautiful, like you are, Morning Star.”
When she trembled at his stirring words, he assumed she was chilled, as the temperature had dropped. He retrieved a blanket and tossed it over their legs, then drew it up to their shoulders. He put his arm around her to settle the cover into place on her distant shoulder, then left his arm there. It felt warm and strong to Morning Star and she could not resist snuggling against him. Joe responded by moving his arm across her chest, near her throat, and clasping her nearest shoulder with his fingers. Morning Star leaned her head back to rest it against his cheek and neck. Her hand lifted to cover his. She felt Joe lean his head into hers. It was delightful to be snuggled together in the serene setting.
Joe told himself to enjoy this brief moment of weakness and contact but to go no further with his yearnings. Yet a fierce longing to kiss her galloped through his body at breakneck speed. He seemed unable to restrain that runaway sensation. “I’ve never met a woman like you, Morning Star,” he murmured. “You make me feel so good inside. I missed you when I rode to the fort. I couldn’t get back fast enough. I was afraid you’d become my helper— but more afraid you wouldn’t. I want to be with you all the time. I want to hold you and kiss you. I’m sorry you think I’m stronger and more trustworthy than I deserve.”
Sun Cloud’s daughter rashly turned her head and body until their faces were within inches of each other. She raised her hand and stroked his cheek. As dusk had dimmed the light inside
their rock dwelling, she could barely see him. She wished each burst of brightness was longer, as she couldn’t look at him enough. “It is same with me, Joe. I am weak and cannot be trusted. What we do?”
The desire in her voice was evident to him. He seemed to tremble with yearning as much as she did; that was unusual for him, as he had learned self-control. He had to kiss her, he had to! Joe’s head bent downward and his mouth sought hers. With her assistance, he had no difficulty finding her sweet lips.
Morning Star was staggered by the potency of the lengthy kiss. She thrilled to the way his mouth explored hers, and was surprised by the instinctive way hers responded. She heard him moan at the same time she did. She felt him tense and shudder at the same time she did. Her heart told her that a little kissing and hugging wouldn’t do any harm. If her mind argued, she didn’t hear it. She twisted her body until she was lying in his arms and facing the back of the shelter. She nestled closer. She felt his embrace tighten and his kisses deepen. Her arms clung to his body, wanting no space between them for a short time.
Joe had the same good intentions of only enjoying a few kisses, hugs, and caresses. His fingers wandered into her silky hair, then trailed over her satiny skin. She was so soft and sleek. He ached to have her completely, just once. It would give him a beautiful memory that he would never forget and probably never find again. His body burned with flames of desire. His spirit hungered to feast on her.