There's Always Tomorrow (Immortal Series)

by Alice Addy

  “All right, darling. Put your arms around my neck and I’ll lift you down.”

  Sophie did as she was told, and gently slid to the ground, where she swiftly kicked her husband in the shins.

  “Ow! What was that for?” Tony asked, while rubbing his damaged leg.

  “You did that on purpose, you hateful man. Two can play at that game. Wait until tonight. You’ll want me to love you, and ride you like a bronc, but I think I feel a headache coming on.” She dramatically placed the back of her hand against her forehead and grimaced. “Yeah, it’s definitely a headache.”

  “Now don’t be like that, sugar,” he drawled. “How did I know you’d be looking at the rear end of a horse going north?” Tony had no idea what that meant, but he’d read it once, in an old Zane Grey western. It sounded funny. “Let me take care of the horses and we’ll go for a pleasant walk. Okay?”

  “Humpf!” was her only response.

  That evening, after they had dined on roasted rabbit, baked potatoes, and fried corn bread; Tony led Sophie up a path to the highpoint on the rocks. From there, they could see onto the floor of the entire valley. It was breathtaking. Overhead, were the lights of a million stars.

  “Look down there,” Tony said, as he pointed to a faint light flickering on the prairie floor. “It’s a campsite. Back in the day, the cowboy and the Indian had to be careful about letting someone see his fire. Its glow can be seen and smelled for miles. An Indian’s nose is as important as his eyes. Many meals had to be eaten cold or raw.”

  “Raw? Ick! I couldn’t have lived that way, Tony. Surely, you didn’t live like that? You were from England. You were civilized.” As soon as the words passed her lips, Sophie knew she had made a dreadful error. She could tell by the closed look on Tony’s handsome face, that she had hurt him, more than she’d angered him.

  “I’m sorry. I shouldn’t have said that. Please tell me about your time with the Lakota people, so I will understand.”

  Tony kneeled in front of Sophie and coaxed her onto his lap. He loved her with all his heart, and it was important to him that she learn to appreciate his prior experiences and the people that were important to him. He had, after all, loved them, dearly.

  Looking up at the starry, South Dakota sky, Tony began to speak of a time, long gone by.

  “Penelope had been gone for more than thirty years, and yet my heart still felt the terrible loss. Eli and Hannah had grown, and had children of their own. I never looked for them, as it would be too painful, and the little ones wouldn’t understand.

  “I went to New Orleans for a while. There, I met a woman. You wouldn’t have approved of her. She had quite the reputation. For a few dollars and a bottle of rum, she could numb my heartache. When I was with her, I forgot about the past, and I no longer dreaded the future. Night after night, Renee and I slept above a gambling house, in the French Quarter. She was French, and could do things in the bedroom…ooh la la!”

  Tony was amused by the jealousy he saw lurking in the depths of his wife’s brilliant eyes. He had to laugh.

  “Don’t worry, sweetheart. You have already mastered those skills. No one can compare to your innate talent in the boudoir.”

  Placing his jacket on the soft grass, Tony allowed his wife to stretch out and look up at the night sky. He cradled her head in his lap and allowed his fingers to twirl her soft curls.

  “Thank you,” Sophie said, blushing. “I try to please. Did this woman look like me or Penelope?” she asked, intrigued by the French woman.

  Tony laughed, heartily. “Not hardly,” he said, trying to squelch his laughter. “Renee had wild hair, the color of a marigold, and she piled it high upon her head. She outlined her dark eyes with kohl, giving them a decidedly exotic look. She fashioned herself to look like Cleopatra.” He laughed again. “Her lips were always bright scarlet and her cheeks heavily rouged.”

  “She sounds positively ghastly. Or maybe she was punk before her time. She doesn’t sound like your type at all.”

  “Sophie, you must try to understand. I was in a bad place. I didn’t have a particular type. My ‘type’ was buried in the ground, back in New Hampshire. Renee was definitely different, but she had a big heart, almost as big as her tits. She’d lean over the wrought iron railing and give all the boys a peek. I put a stop to that, soon enough. I don’t like to share.” He ran his hand, wickedly, over his wife’s lush bosom, making her sigh with pleasure. “Still don’t.”

  While he fondled her erect nipple, Tony continued his story. “We soon became exclusive. I taught her proper English, and she kept me from tossing myself into the fiery depths of hell. With her being in the profession …”

  “What profession was that?” Sophie interrupted, in her inimitable style.

  “The world’s oldest, darling. She was a whore.”

  “Oh, that’s all,” she shrugged. Sophie sounded disappointed.

  Tony thought about her reaction for a moment, and he realized that in the times they currently lived in, being a prostitute was almost respectable work. “I’ve lived too long,” he mumbled.

  “Anyway, I was surprised when she became ill. I wanted to call a doctor, but she wouldn’t allow it. As the weeks passed by, I began to notice a softening in her appearance. She became more domestic and serene. She was emotional and gave in to bouts of tears, followed by periods of extreme happiness.”

  “She was going to have your baby, wasn’t she?” Sophie said, nodding her head in affirmation. She was quite proud of herself for having figured it all out.

  “As a matter of fact, she was. On the Fourth of July, 1852, I had another son.” Tony’s eyes sparkled with pride. “What a kid. He was as lusty as his mother. She took to mothering like she’d been doing it all her life. Later, she told me that it was a lifelong dream of hers, to have a man of her own and a child to love. I immediately took her and the baby down to the Saint Louis Cathedral and we made it legal.”

  Sophie yawned and stretched out across Tony’s lap. She stared up at the stars that filled the indigo sky and whispered, “Go on. I do hope this has a happy ending for your wife and son.”

  “The yellow fever had been around Louisiana for a long time, but the worst of the epidemic was that following year. That’s when one in fifteen died. Both my wife and baby son perished. I didn’t get ill, naturally, so I kept busy with the sick. I didn’t give myself time to grieve.

  “I met an interesting woman. Her name was Marie Laveau. You may have heard of her.”

  Sophie sat up, excited. “Oh yes! I saw this movie all about Voodoo and zombies. She was the high priestess or something. After she died, she came back to life and killed people. She haunted them to their grave. What a terrible woman. Did she hurt you?”

  Tony closed his eyes in dismay. “That’s really a shame. I think someday I’ll make a movie of my own, telling the true story of Marie Laveau.

  “Marie was a healer and she worked tirelessly trying to save the poor fever victims. She had a lot of success. I found her to be extremely smart and courageous. She was also very intuitive. I could not fool her. One night, she took me aside and said she prayed for me. She gave me this tattoo.” Tony exposed his inner left wrist, revealing a very small symbol.

  “I wondered what that was,” Sophie pondered. “It’s very unusual. Could I have one?”

  Tony shook his head. “I don’t think that would be a good idea, darling. It’s Haitian Juju, and it’s there to help me accept all that, which I cannot change.

  “The oddest thing happens, when I’m under extreme stress. The damn thing itches almost to the point of burning. I rub it, and I feel an energy surge through my body. It has come to my aid more than once.

  “Oh, you might be interested to know that she predicted I’d meet you.”

  That, immediately, got Sophie’s attention. She about choked on her spit. “What? Me?” she shrieked. “She knew me?”

  “Calm down, sweetie. Marie said she could sense the sadness in my heart, but it would be te
mporary. In the distant future, I’d meet a woman that would wash away my tears and set my feet on the path I should have walked, many years earlier. The child-like woman with yellow curls, would bring me true happiness, she said.”

  “No shit.” Sophie was stunned. “Well, what about the Lakota Indians? That is why we’re here, isn’t it?” She swung her arm in a wide circle, taking in the entire valley below.

  “We’re here because I want to be alone with my new wife. We’re here because I wanted you to see this beautiful and rich land through my eyes, and yes…we are here for me to say goodbye and let go of the past.”

  “I thought it was something like that. Everywhere we’ve stopped, you’ve lived there, before, and you’ve said goodbye to a special memory.”

  Tony nodded; his heart ached for this woman. She was tender and so understanding of his needs. Sophie was also very intuitive. Marie had been correct. Sophie would heal his soul.

  “It’s getting late, and since I’m not getting any sex tonight, I’ll make it brief.” He gave Sophie his forlorn look. It was meant to warm her cold, cold heart, but all it did was cause her to giggle.

  “Go on, Tony. I’ll think about the sex, later.”

  “You’re a hard woman, Mrs. Barton.”

  “Not as hard as you, Mr. Barton,” she purred, as she stroked his swollen groin.

  “Yes. Well, like I said, I’ll make this quick.

  “I wandered around, after leaving New Orleans. Once again, I was totally alone. It was the Civil War that introduced me to a Yankee soldier, by the name of Paul Grant. We met at Gettysburg. I was on the losing side, naturally. He shot me, I bayoneted him, and then we left the battlefield, together. He was the first immortal I’d met since Thomas and I were turned. He taught me many things, and has become a true brother to me.

  “Throughout the history of the world, many of the major characters have been aided by our kind. There was one particular colonel, in the Third Reich, that I wished I’d gotten my hands on. Unfortunately, Grant got to him first.” Tony smirked.

  “After Grant and I went our separate ways—he to look for the bad guys and me to continue my search for an end to my curse—I decided to investigate an old Lakota shaman, I’d once heard about. It was rumored that he had magical powers, the power over life and death. I needed to speak with him. My search brought me here, to the Paha Sapa. It was first, home to the Cheyenne, and then to the Sioux.

  “I met with Soaring Eagle. I told him my story and how I longed for a cure, or at least an end to the curse. The old shaman sat and listened patiently, without showing any sign of disbelief. He finally shook his head. He was very old and extremely wise, but he said he could not help me.

  “In his lodge, he had many strange and wonderful things. I remember bundles of herbs and sweet grass, filled baskets sitting on the floor. Hanging from the lodge poles, were various pipes and eagle feathers, even a few scalps could be found. There were jars of salves and poultices to heal wounds and cure infections.

  “The old man stood and gathered a few herbs. He crushed them, mixed them with a yellow powder, and passed the mixture through the smoke of burning sage. He prayed over it, and then he pressed it into a small leather pouch.” Tony lovingly fondled the small pouch hanging around his neck by a rawhide cord. “He strung it on a rawhide cord and tied it around my neck. I’ve never removed it. It is to see me safely through to the Place of Souls.

  “He told me to live each life I had, as if it were my last. He told me much happiness could be found, if only I would open my eyes. He was right. He saw a dark headed angel waiting for me. I would know her when I saw her. She would save me from the gates of hell.” Tony winked at Sophie, and kissed her forehead.

  Sophie was mesmerized by his tale of the old shaman. “Did you find this dark angel?”

  “I did. I met her in Chicago, and she absolutely saved my soul from destruction.”

  “I’d like to thank her,” Sophie said, earnestly.

  “I’m sorry, darling, but she’s been gone a long, long time. That is the painful truth of living forever.” His eyes filled unexpectedly with unshed tears. “However, I know her great-granddaughter still lives there. Maybe one day, the two of you will meet. Stranger things have happened.”

  Getting back to his story, Tony kissed his wife’s sweet lips and continued on. “I soon met the old man’s granddaughter, Silver Leaf. She was the gentlest of all of God’s creatures, and so very beautiful that she made the angels weep with envy.” Tony’s eyes clouded over, as if he could see her still, standing before him. “I offered three ponies for her. She was worth many more, but I was poor, and it was all I had. Luckily for me, I played a wicked courting flute. It was my music that won her hand.” He chuckled. “We were married in the Lakota tradition. Her father taught me all that a brave must know, to become a warrior. I was prepared to live many years with the people. But it wasn’t to be.”

  Tony got up and stood looking out over the dark valley. The campfire had burned itself out. No doubt, the cowboy had called it a day.

  He rubbed his hands over his face. It was painful to recall the details. He had suffered much, and for many years he had tried to suppress the memories. Only in nightmares, had he relived the incidents, and sometimes, in vivid detail.

  Tony took a deep breath and let it out. “The following summer was dry, and the buffalo were growing fewer in number. The only thing that could be found in abundance was the white man. He gobbled up everything. If he couldn’t use it, he destroyed it for others. I hated him. I was ashamed to be white.

  “But I also found joy that summer. Silver Leaf gave birth to my twins…one boy and one girl. They were born on my birthday, in fact.”

  “What day is that, Tony? You’ve never said.”

  “You’ve never asked,” he replied, rather pointedly.

  “Sorry.”

  “Our birthday is June first. They were the cutest little mites. Both, resembled their mama, thank heavens. They were copper-skinned, with hair as black as a raven’s wing. I remember it stuck straight out, all over their little round heads.” Tony smiled. “They were Sioux, through and through, except for their bright green eyes. It was the damnedest thing. Soaring Eagle was pleased with them and said they walked in two worlds.

  “We were very happy. It was the summer of 1864. Life with the people was hard, but very satisfying. In fact, I had never been happier. Silver Leaf and I took great pleasure in our children. I recall her sewing small items of clothing for our babies, and lining the cradleboards with soft rabbit fur. She sang Lakota lullabies, in her soft voice. My soul finally felt at peace.

  “Then, we heard bad news. It was cold. November, to be exact. An entire Cheyenne village had been massacred in Colorado. It was inhuman in its savagery. Two thirds of the village was women and children. Soon, the story of Sand Creek reached every Cheyenne, Arapaho, and Lakota village. The atrocities were told around the fires. Every member, of every tribe, knew what the white man had done to the red man. We no longer trusted the Grandfather in Washington, nor his blue-coated soldiers. Vengeance would be taken, and we prepared for war.

  “It did not come soon. Thankfully, for several years, our lives continued without too much disruption, but the threat of war was always there. It was getting more difficult for the braves to find enough buffalo to feed the village, and we stayed out longer on our hunts.” Tony paused and breathed in the cool night air, as if to clear his head.

  “It was during one of the hunts, that great tragedy came to us. Soldiers rode through our village, and finding no braves, they rounded up the women and children. It was thought that they were hiding their men. Only the very old men had remained in camp. When Soaring Eagle protested the treatment of the women and children, the soldiers set fire to his lodge. He tried to put it out and they beat him for it.”

  Tony swallowed and looked down at Sophie. When he again spoke, she noticed his voice had grown thick and hoarse with emotion. “My wife, Silver Leaf …” He paused agai
n, taking his time.

  “Silver Leaf could not bear to see her grandfather struck, over and over again. She ran into our teepee and picked up my pistol. She had never fired it. I no longer used it, but kept it for old time’s sake, I guess. Brave beyond all reason, Silver Leaf fired the pistol, hitting the officer square in the chest. Before his body hit the dirt, the soldiers had cut my wife down with a dozen bullets. Our young son saw his mother fall. He was ten summers, and thought himself a brave. Armed with a small knife, I had given him, clutched tightly in his hand, he launched himself at the nearest soldier.” Tears rolled down Tony cheeks. “My son never had a chance. After they killed him, they set fire to all the teepees. They stole what they didn’t manage to burn.

  “It was the single worse day of my life, when I road back into the village and saw what the soldiers had done. We had seen the smoke, but were not prepared for what awaited us. Only a few, of our tribe, were spared. They told us what happened.”

  Tony looked up at the black sky, the stars now partially hidden behind a cloudbank, and stiffened his spine. “I was proud, Sophie. My son, Swift Pony, had become a brave. His small knife found a home in the soldier’s neck. He collapsed before remounting his horse, and was dead before they left camp. He had been an officer. I was glad.”

  Sophie was crying with her husband. “What about your little girl? What became of her? Who took care of her?”

  “Spotted Fawn was trampled by the soldier’s outgoing horses. They were in a hurry to make their escape.”

  Tony’s whole body was shaking with emotion. All these years, he had carried this anger and this overwhelming grief. He hadn’t fully dealt with the senseless slaughter of his family. Now was the time to let it go.

  Tony removed his shirt and walked to the edge of the ridge. He raised his arms to the sky and began to pray to Wankan Tanka, in a language, strange and foreign to Sophie. He unsheathed his knife, a gift from Silver Leaf, and dragged it across his chest, leaving a thin, red line in his flesh. He continued to speak in the Lakota language, then he lowered his arms.