Forever Ecstasy Read online

  The last man’s words revealed he was new to her land. He seemed different from her cold and mean captors. She sensed that the big foe did not trust the handsome stranger. Morning Star decided that the sunny-haired man would be lucky to get away from the others alive.

  Sun Cloud’s daughter tried to ignore Joe, as she needed to concentrate on the others and their plans. She wished she knew who was the “Boss” they had mentioned several times within her hearing and wished they would reveal more. She knew there were weapons inside the wagons for the Bird People to use against her tribe. She needed to discover why these men wanted to create an inter-tribal war.

  Morning Star watched them drink and talk. She knew the stranger had noticed her but was pretending she did not exist. Even if he were a good man, she could not cry out for his help. He was as outnumbered as she; he was also white, and that probably made him a foe.

  She closed her eyes and leaned her weary head against a spoke of the wagon. She was thirsty and hungry; the men were punishing her with the denial of food and water for battling them, especially the big one. Several times he had shaken her, slapped her, and shouted of horrible things he would do to her if she weren’t a gift for his boss. Then he had laughed—an evil sound—and said she would soon wish he were her owner instead of the other man! Despite her fear, she had pretended not to understand his threats.

  The wind’s coolness and strength increased and blew over her flesh, causing her to tremble. She wished she had been given a blanket to ward off the night’s chill, but told herself that her comfort wasn’t the most important thing at this time, even if she were miserable. Her outstretched arms ached, and her tightly bound wrists caused her fingers to tingle and lose feeling. The hub of the wagon pressed into her back and made it beg for relief. Her buttocks were sore and numb from being confined to the same awkward position for hours. It was a struggle to accept such torments in silence, to resist fatigue, and to quell her fears. She prayed her party had not been misled by the false trail her captors had set for them. If so, her world could be lost forever. Once she was enslaved and used, even if she escaped, how could she return to her tribe without her honor?

  “You can toss down your bedroll and sleep here,” the Oglala maiden heard the big man say to Joe. “Best get an early start tomorrow; you got a ways to ride.” She heard Joe excuse himself and saw him vanish into the denser trees and bushes to the right of the campfire. The other men huddled and whispered. A bad sign, she decided. No doubt they were—

  Morning Star perceived someone’s stealthy approach behind her under the wagon. The scent was unfamiliar. Her heart rate increased and she quivered in suspense.

  Joseph Lawrence, Jr., could not allow an innocent girl to suffer the terrible fate that Clem had mentioned before Zeke had silenced him. If he could free her without getting caught, he would continue his deceitful attempt to join up with the suspicious men. If not…

  Joe had removed his jacket to keep from putting telltale stains on it. He used his elbows and feet to wriggle to the female. He hoped the shadows and her pinioned body would conceal him. He lifted himself to his knees and leaned close to her head. “I hope you understand me, woman, because I don’t have much time,” he whispered. “I’m a friend, but those men over there are real bad. I’m going to cut you free, but keep still and quiet until I get back to the fire and distract them. I’ll leave my knife beside you. When I have their attention, free your legs, then sneak away. If you understand what I’m saying, nod your head.”

  Morning Star did not know all of the words he used, but she grasped his meaning. Though she worried that the man’s strange behavior was a trick to make her expose herself, something within her said to trust him. She gathered her courage and nodded.

  “That’s a relief,” Joe murmured. With caution, he sliced through the rope at one wrist, then the other. As ordered, the female didn’t move from her strained position. He slid his knife to her right side. “Make sure they aren’t looking when you free your legs. Hide until they stop searching for you. I’ll get back to the campfire to spy on them. Good luck.”

  Joe worked his way from beneath the wagon and retrieved his jacket. After brushing the debris from his shirt and trousers, he slipped on the jacket and sneaked into the concealing trees. So far his plan was a success, but he remained guarded. He began to whistle as he walked along the riverbank to camp. He entered the clearing with his shirttail hanging out, as if he had relieved himself and hadn’t straightened his clothing. The other men were bedding down, their weapons nearby. Joe wondered why no guard was being posted, as Zeke had talked about earlier. He wondered if it had been a ruse to keep him rifleless. He came to full alert and decided that perhaps he should get away while he could, as soon as the girl was safe. To stall for time and conceal his wariness, he remarked, “That coffee and whiskey ran through me fast. I’d sure love a bath if that water wasn’t so cold. I’ll fetch my bedroll and join you. I’ll be—”

  Clem looked toward the lovely reason why he was in trouble tonight. His shout cut off Joe’s sentence. “That Injun gal’s escaping, Zeke!”

  All eyes riveted to the wagon and the female, who was leaning forward and cutting the bonds on her ankles. She glanced up, then hurried back to work on the rope. Zeke and Farley tossed aside their covers and leapt to their feet to halt her. The drunken Clem moved slower. The three men hesitated only long enough to glance about for warriors, as somebody had obviously aided her escape attempt. They saw and heard none.

  Morning Star almost panicked when the alarm was given, as she was so close to freedom. Her heart beat as a kettle drum. With haste and shaky fingers, she severed her ankle bonds. Keeping the knife, she jumped to her feet and dashed toward the thick treeline.

  Zeke aimed his rifle in her direction. Instinctively Joe lunged at the big man and thwarted his intention, causing the weapon to discharge upward in a loud roar. “You can’t shoot a woman!” he shouted. “Let her go!”

  As soon as she was concealed by trees and darkness, Morning Star halted to observe the perilous scene left behind. She saw Joe arguing with Zeke and blocking another shot at her. The big man was clearly furious. As Zeke tried to fling Joe aside to fire again, Farley halted his pursuit of her and attacked Joe. With a speed and skill that impressed her, Joe struck him a stunning blow across the jaw that sent him backward.

  “You’ll die for that, Injun lover!” Zeke shouted. “You helped her!”

  The sunny-haired man whirled to meet Zeke’s assault. Zeke’s blow to Joe’s stomach doubled him over for a moment. Morning Star knew her rescuer was in trouble, but how could she help without a weapon? What could a knife do against powerful guns? How she wished she had a bow and arrows or a lance. Her head screamed for her to flee, but her heart and feet refused to obey that cowardly and selfish command. She lingered and watched with wide eyes.

  Joe yanked his head aside before the burly man could bring down his clenched hands on his neck, then Joe rammed Zeke’s stomach, sending him to the ground in a noisy fall.

  Farley recovered enough to rejoin the fight. Joe knew he had to disable the youngest man fast, as Zeke, cursing, was getting to his feet and Clem was fetching his gun. Joe lifted his knee and sent it with force into Farley’s groin. The towhead screamed in pain, dropped to his knees, then rolled on the grass as he cupped the injured area and groaned.

  Morning Star knew she must go back and help Joe. The stranger had risked his life to free her, so she couldn’t leave him to battle three wicked men. Her gentle heart and conscience spurred her into motion.

  From the corner of his eye, Joe saw the Indian maiden using a sturdy limb to club Clem unconscious. He was astonished that she had returned to help him but happy she was repaying his kindness to her. Knowing he had only Zeke to conquer, Joe confronted the large man with renewed energy and resolve. He soon learned that Zeke was hard at best.

  The two men struggled for the upper hand. The girl used her club to land a hard blow on Zeke’s back. The big man then
turned and shoved her to the earth.

  “Run!” Joe yelled to her as he slammed his lowered shoulder into Zeke’s stomach. He was glad to see she obeyed, but, distracted for that instant, Zeke sent him tumbling to the ground with a fisted jab to his chest that claimed his breath for a short time. When he saw the leader stalking toward him with a kill-gleam in his eyes, Joe knew he had to recover and move fast.

  Morning Star raced to the first wagon and retrieved her bundle from where she had seen the large man toss it. She hurried to the men’s horses and freed them. She loosened the reins to her mount, then went for Joe’s.

  The sunny-haired man scrambled to his feet just in time to avoid Zeke’s next attack. The two men circled each other, then Zeke landed a blow to the side of Joe’s head, almost stunning him. Joe fell to the earth, entangled his legs with his opponent’s, and twisted his body. The movement caused Zeke to trip and fall hard.

  “U wo!” The girl on horseback shouted for Joe to come to her.

  While Zeke was down, Joe obeyed without a second thought. He leapt upon his horse and took the reins from her extended hand. Their knees urged the horses to flee, and the animals obeyed. The furious Zeke grabbed for Clem’s rifle, aimed, and fired a shot before they vanished into the darkness. The ball passed through Joe’s upper right arm but missed the bone. Though he grunted from the pain, it didn’t stop or slow his retreat.

  “When I find you, I’ll kill you, you bastard!” they heard Zeke threaten as they rode out of rifle and hearing range. They galloped for over an hour before they halted to rest the horses.

  Joe twisted in his saddle and looked behind them but heard and saw nothing of a pursuit. They had escaped, but what now? he mused.

  “They not coming. I free horses,” she told him. “They be slow to catch and follow. We rest, ride, find secret place till gone.”

  “You speak good English. I’m glad, because…” He couldn’t say he didn’t want to give away the fact he knew a little Lakota from Stede Gaston. He thought it was best to keep that skill a secret for now. “Thanks for what you did back there. I couldn’t have escaped without your help.”

  Morning Star was surprised that the man wasn’t the least embarrassed or angered by a woman’s assistance; most warriors would be both. She liked his warm and grateful smile. She wished she could see him better, but the moon’s early ride across the heavens did not allow a clearer study. “You good white man,” she told him. When rushed or flustered, she often skipped words in sentences, and she didn’t get much practice in using her English these days anyhow.

  “That sounds as if you haven’t met many good ones,” he hinted.

  Her smile faded. “White men sica, bad,” she replied in a grave tone. “They hate, fear Dakotas. They kill, steal from Dakotas.”

  “For no reason?” Joe prodded to learn her feelings. He needed to discover all he could from this maiden about the Indians and quickly, too, before his throbbing wound dulled his wits. He felt warm, sticky moisture easing down his arm and wetting his shirt and jacket.

  Unaware of his wound, as she was positioned to his left, Morning Star mistook the meaning of his question. “They have reason; we Indian.”

  “That’s no reason to kill anyone.” Joe’s voice was serious as he refuted, “I’m white and you’re Indian, but we helped each other. Surely there must be more to any trouble between the two peoples.”

  “You not been here long. If yes, you know I speak truth.”

  “I wasn’t calling you a liar, miss. I was stating a fact.”

  “A fact is truth?” she questioned for clarity.

  “Yes. Who are you? Why were those men holding you captive?”

  “Talk later. Story long. Must find good place to hide. They after us soon.” She needed to hurry in case her group was still nearby and searching for her. She must warn them about the Crow band and, if possible, stop their enemy from receiving the powerful weapons.

  “Wait a minute. I need to tie a strip around my arm to halt this bleeding. Soon I’ll be leaving a trail even a child could follow.”

  “O-o? You wounded, shot?” she asked. Morning Star edged closer to him and peered around his body. She saw his darkened sleeve.

  Joe also eyed the wet area. “I took a ball in my arm back there as we were leaving. I’ll be fine. Just help me tie a bandage around it.”

  As Joe pulled a cloth from his saddlebag, Morning Star guided her mount to his other side. “Si. Makipazo we,” she said in a firm tone. When he looked at her, she translated. “Be still. Show to me.” She eased the jacket off his right shoulder and hand, then pushed up his sleeve.

  Joe handed her the cloth. “Will you just bind it for me?” he asked. “We have to hurry. I don’t want them to catch up with us. We’ll tend it later.”

  Morning Star leaned toward him and bound the wound with gentleness and care, then she pulled down his sleeve and helped him put his jacket back on. “I tend with medicine when camp. Must find place to hide. They search for us soon. Crow party meeting them on new sun.”

  That was a clue Joe had been searching for, but it wouldn’t do him any good now. Rescuing her had severed any chance of using that contact. He was back to the first step in his difficult journey to the truth. Unless this woman knew more …“Why meet a Crow party? What’s in those wagons? Who are those men? What were you doing with them?” he questioned in a rush.

  Morning Star was intrigued by his reaction. “Must go fast. Speak later.” She readjusted the bundle on her lap.

  “Lead the way,” he said. “I don’t know this territory.”

  “Come. You safe if be good white man. Oglalas honor words to others.”

  “Oglala? That’s your tribe?” he asked.

  Morning Star sensed curious pleasure in the man. “Han.”

  “That means yes?” he knowingly inquired with a grin.

  “Yes. Your eyes say you heard of Oglala tribe of Teton Dakotas.”

  “Does anybody come to this territory and not hear of them?”

  “No. This be Teton land. This always remain Teton land.”

  “What Oglala band are you from?” Joe pressed with undisguised eagerness. Maybe his luck hadn’t run out tonight; maybe it had improved.

  Morning Star became wary. She wondered why he was so pleased to learn her tribe, but lacked time to question him. She decided not to ride for her last campsite, as that would give their trackers a point to begin a search. With a Crow band helping the white men, her small party could be overtaken and slain. “Must go. Not be captured again. Come.”

  Joe realized she was nervous about the impending arrival of the Crow, and he knew why: they were fierce enemies of the Dakotas. “I’m ready to ride,” he proclaimed.

  The white man and the Indian maiden galloped for another hour until they entered the Black Hills. He followed her over grassy terrain and into a treeline. They journeyed up a hill and into a rocky section that demanded vigilant riding. By the angle of the moon, it was getting darker by the half hour. When they came to a wide stream, they guided their horses into it, and followed its course. When they reached an area where the bank was trampled into mire by numerous hooves, they left the water.

  “Soon, many buffalo come to drink. They cover tracks. I know place to hide. Men and Crow search hard for me. Come, Joe.”

  “Why do they want you so badly?” he questioned during their slow pace, but she didn’t explain or even speak again. The area was steep, and had been named accurately for the black boulders and towering pinnacles. Roots and rocks jutting from the earth forced the horses to move slowly as they picked their way over the rough terrain. It was a jarring and sluggish pace. Joe was exhausted and weakened by his wound. He had ridden since yesterday morning, and knew it must be Wednesday by now. His tension had not lessened since catching up to those men of whom the Indian woman was so afraid. He wanted to know her identity and why she was such a valuable captive.

  Morning Star led him to a sheltered area that was surrounded by dew-covered
spruce, pine, and ash. Joe inhaled the fresh smells that were enhanced by mountain air. He heard animals moving in the darkness, no doubt spooked by their arrival. He was relieved when she halted.

  “We hide in cave. Must rest. Must tend arm.” She slid off her horse and tied her reins to a bush. “Come. You need help?”

  “I can make it fine,” Joe said, dismounting and securing his reins. He ignored his discomfort to give his loyal steed relief by removing the saddle, then tossed it over a small boulder. He was glad to find a seep there from which the animals could drink and lush grass where they could graze. This female was smart, and familiar with the area. He saw her waiting for him clutching a small bundle against her breasts, and he joined her with his saddlebags.

  “You ride with skill, woman, and fight like a warrior,” he complimented her, and then he remarked on the mottled Appaloosa that she had riden bareback with ease and agility.

  She sent him a smile for his kind words. Love was in her tone as she responded, “His name Hanmani; it mean ‘to walk in the night.’ He clever in darkness, not step wrong. Your horse good; he strong, much wind.”

  Joe glanced at the roan with the white splotch on his forehead. “His name’s Star. I’ve had him a long time, and he’s been a fine mount.” When he saw her grin, he asked, “Why are you smiling like that?”

  “My name Anpaowicanhpi.” She laughed as he tried to repeat it before she could explain her amusement and the meaning of the word. She then told him how to pronounce it. “Ahn’pao’we’con’hpee’. It mean ‘the dawning of the morning star;’ that why I laugh at horse’s name.”

  “Morning Star,” he murmured as he studied her in the remaining moonlight. “It’s beautiful.” He halted himself from adding, just as you are. Her long ebony hair was shiny and soft, her eyes a warm brown. No one could call this goldenfleshed, smooth-complected beauty a “redskin.” He guessed her height at around five feet seven-inches. Her nose was small and dainty, and her lips were full. She was the most exquisite woman he had ever seen. His stare brought a curious gaze to her eyes, so he halted it.