by Karen Kay
Suzette nodded. “Good choice.”
“Yes. I think the Denver officials might enjoy the performance.”
“I am sure they will.”
Irena eyed her granddaughter. “Would you like to sing after I do? It would be easy to arrange.”
“Oh, no,” said Suzette at once. “I am unprepared for it, and I think I am attached to the idea that no one here knows I am a prima donna in my real life.”
“In your real life…” Irena’s expression took on a dreamlike appeal. “How strange those words sound. We have not been here in Colorado that long, and yet England seems so far away.”
“But it is far away.”
“I was not speaking about the distance in miles.”
“I knew you weren’t. It is different here, I will admit. Do you miss England, then?”
“No. Do you?”
Suzette thought for a moment. “No,” she said carefully. “When I first set out to join you, I believed I would miss my home, but oddly, I do not. There is something about this place. One is allowed to…breathe, and not be expected to rush through one’s life with little attention to anything but the need for wealth, power and position. One is simply let to…well, to live. I think the people here call it freedom. And I, too, seem to favor it. Very much, I should say.”
“Yes.” Irena nodded. “Quite. Ah, look there, dear. Mr. Cody approaches, and I do have a need to speak to him alone. Would you mind?”
“Of course not.”
“Hello, Mr. Cody,” cooed Irena, as soon as the man came within hearing distance. She smiled and offered him her gloved hand.
“Lady Irena,” he responded in his deep voice, as he took hold of her hand. Bowing low over it, he pressed a kiss to it. He turned to Suzette. “And here’s the pretty little miss who decorated the Deadwood stagecoach so beautifully today.”
Suzette smiled. “Mr. Cody,” she acknowledged, offering him her white-gloved hand as well, which he accepted at once. “How much I enjoyed being rescued.”
“My pleasure, ma’am. My pleasure. I hear that you might have had trouble today when—”
“Mr. Cody,” interrupted Irena. “Do you have a moment?”
Cody grinned at her. “I have many of them that I should like to spend with you, if that is what you are suggesting.”
Irena’s smile deepened. “That would be very agreeable, indeed. Suzette, will you excuse us?”
“By all means.” Suzette beamed at them both. “And, Mr. Cody? There was no trouble. None at all.”
“Glad to hear it, ma’am. Glad to hear it.” With a parting smile at her, Cody guided Irena away.
Sighing, Suzette glanced around the room, taking in the assembled company. There were few here she recognized, fewer yet she wished to speak to, though she supposed it would be to her advantage to mingle with the cowboys and cowgirls. However, the brisk cold of the evening outside Cody’s welcome tent seemed inviting to her.
In England, one would not dare to venture into the night alone for fear of ruining one’s reputation. But here in the American West, considerations were not so inflexible. Besides, it wasn’t as though she would be alone. It seemed to her that the people who populated the Wild West Show never slept, that someone was always nearby regardless of the hour of the day.
She drifted toward the entryway as inconspicuously as possible. She might have stepped outside as well, but directly across the short midway between the two areas was the Indian encampment, and now that the orchestra music was distant from her, the Indian drums from that camp rang out their distinctive beat.
Something drew her irresistibly toward those tepees. She could not explain the attraction to that camp, for she had never been there. Unless the allure was because of him.
Was it? She supposed it could be.
Whatever the reason, Suzette determined to ignore the enticement and take a walk instead. The air was fresh, though cold in this place, and it invited a person to partake of it. Placing her cloak around her shoulders, she stepped out into the darkened black of the night.
As she strolled over the lush, wet grass cushioning her feet, the familiar sound of gunshots rang out in the distance. Perhaps Annie Oakley or some other sharpshooter was practicing. A sprinkling of frosty moisture touched the night air, its humidity enveloping her like a mantle. It felt good, and with pleasure, she inhaled.
The scent of smoke from the Indian encampment wafted to her on a gentle breeze, carrying with it the smell of roasting meat. Suzette’s stomach churned in response.
“Are you hungry?” she asked the little one she carried, and she patted her stomach.
“Are you?” came a baritone voice, one she recognized all too well.
She started, then turned to confront Black Lion. “I wish you would take more care when you approach me. You seem to creep up on me without my awareness and then… Well, have you been here all this time? Following me?”
“No. When I saw you step away from the tent, I decided to take a moment to talk to you. I do not mean to creep up on you. Perhaps you would benefit by being more aware of your environment.”
“I am aware of my environment,” she defended. “But you…you move with the stealth of a cat.”
“Perhaps I am named aptly, then.”
They both fell silent, and Suzette took a few steps forward on a path that would lead them into a treed grove, the same one they had visited on the night of their marriage. She advanced a few more steps, for she had to move. To stand still, with him watching her so closely, was somehow dangerous. Black Lion followed her.
She said, “Was there trouble for you because of today?”
“Hiya.”
“And again, that word means?”
“No.”
“Then no one saw you kiss me?”
“People saw. They believed it was part of the performance.”
“Oh.” Suzette nodded. “I am glad.” Again, she fell into an uncomfortable silence with him. After a time, she said, “Where was Red Shirt?”
“He is enjoying his new pony, I believe.”
“New pony?”
“It is what I traded with him to take his place today.”
Suzette stopped and turned to face Black Lion. “You traded a pony with Red Shirt so that you might take his place?”
“I did. My best pony too.”
“But why?”
Black Lion shrugged. “I would be with my wife.”
She shook her head. “You do recall that we are not really married.”
He raised an eyebrow. “Did we not say our vows in front of your Black Robe? Did we not also say them in front of the Great Spirit?”
“Yes, but… But I thought you understood that our marriage is…even still…in name only.”
“And so I do. It does not follow, however, that I do not desire to be close to the woman who bears my name, and my child.”
“He or she is not your child.”
“Not by blood. Yet he is mine, nonetheless, for I have given you my name, that he will be protected. This makes him mine.”
“Very well. You are right. But you do remember that you promised me you would not try to take him from me.”
“I do. And perhaps you should know that I would sooner die than break any one of them.”
She nodded.
“Are you?” He smoothed a lock of her hair back from her face.
“Am I what?” Suzette turned her face in toward his touch and resisted the temptation to lean in farther. Why was she so affected by this man?
His hand slipped down to her neck, and Suzette caught her breath. His fingers upon her were light, barely more than a simple caress.
“Are you aware of your promises to me?”
“I made none.”
He smiled slightly as his hand came to rest on her shoulder. “A
nd yet I remember the white man’s minister asking you to obey me and to give yourself to no one but me. What of those promises?”
“I… I…”
“And what of the vows that we took together, here in this glen? Do you think the Creator is so easily fooled?”
“I am unaware that I made any vows here. I thanked you for your help. That is all.”
“I choose thee, Black Lion,” he repeated, reminding her. “Do you think the Great Spirit would agree with you? Do you think He would think that what is between us is not real?”
She jerked up her head. “Are you insinuating you want this marriage to be real?” It was strange that with that thought a rush of sensation exploded within her.
“No, not completely. At the time, I agreed you would have only my name, so long as that is all you wish. I only make the point that we did seek His will, and we did make vows between us, before Him. With my body, I thee worship,” he uttered. “And how easy it would be, I think, to worship thee.”
Suzette frowned up at him. He barely touched her, for his fingers lay gently atop her shoulder. But she might as well have been branded, for his touch invoked excitement all through her. “Please understand and remember that I…I am not ready to be romantically involved with anyone.”
“Are you not?” He leaned forward, and she stared up at him as though mesmerized.
“No. I already told you that nothing like that would happen unless…”
“…you agree to it,” he added. “I remember.”
“And I…I…” She jerked away from his touch, which seemed to be the cause of her problem, and took a few steps back, putting more distance between them.
With a slight grimace, as well as a smile, he said, “A man can always hope.”
She ignored his words and turned her back on him, pacing farther into the forest. She stopped beneath the same large pine where they had said their vows to the Great Spirit.
He did not follow her, but remained a few yards away.
“You have been gone for several days, have you not?” she said.
“I have.”
“Where did you go?”
“I went to the mountains, there to seek guidance from my spirit protector.”
“Spirit protector? What is that?”
“It is an animal, or a plant, or a spirit that has heard your plea for assistance, and has expressed its desire to help you. Taking pity on you, a spirit protector gives you its power.”
“Oh,” she said as though she understood him perfectly. “Help you to do what?”
“To ease a situation that plagues me.”
“You are plagued?”
“I am troubled,” he admitted.
“I am sorry to hear that. And this spirit protector…does what?”
He frowned at her. “It is not an easy matter to explain, and a man should not talk about such things. But I see that you do not truly understand. Therefore, I will try to help. In the past, before the white man came to this country, a man would seek out a spiritual helper to aid him in war or because of some other matter of importance.”
“Ah, does this mean that you worship this animal or spirit?”
“Hiya, no. It is well known that in a war, the Creator will not choose sides, for He is neutral, and loves all His creatures. Besides, one’s enemies could very well speak to the Creator, as well as you. And so, to compensate for this, a man will endeavor to find a helper from the animal or spirit world. Someone or something that will give a man the secret of its power, thus giving that man medicine.”
“Medicine?”
“Medicine to the Indian heart means the great mystery of all things. It is a mystical strength.”
“Oh, I think I understand. Mystical. Is your need to seek out this medicine because of me? Have I upset you so greatly?”
“Hiya, it is not because of you, and you have not upset me.”
“Are you going to war, then?”
He moved forward an inch. “I am already at war.”
“But you are with the show, and so you surely are not still fighting the white man, are you?”
“I do not fight the white man.” He sighed. “It is a long story.”
“Well…” She shrugged. “I seem to have time at present to listen.”
“And yet,” he responded, hesitating, “even if I bare my soul to you, you will not believe me, I think.”
“And it is necessary for you to believe that I will believe before you tell me?”
“Hiya, no.”
“Then come.” She sank gracefully onto the ground, which was made soft by pine needles and only a little snow, and patted the earth beside her. “Sit beside me. Tell me what it is that you fight.”
Chapter Thirteen
He didn’t move to join her. However, he did say, “I do not know if I can speak to you of it, for I have never told another living soul about the full burden I carry.”
“But you will tell me?”
“Hau, yes. And this is odd, for men and women are often antagonistic to each other, even in marriage. It is often so that a man amongst the Lakota might try to count coup on a woman and steal her virtue, and a woman might often feel put-upon by men. But with you, I feel…it is different.”
“Yes, I too feel this. But, let us go back to something you said only a moment ago, for I do not understand it. What do you mean by counting coup?”
“It is what we call a deed that is either hard to do or involves danger,” he explained. “It is a deed of honor against an enemy.”
“So by counting coup on a woman, you mean that the men look upon a woman—any woman—as an enemy?”
“It is often so.”
She shook her head. “This is a very strange viewpoint to me.”
He didn’t say a word to defend the practice; he merely shrugged.
“So tell me what it is that plagues you.”
“I hesitate, for you will think that the sun has gotten into my mind. I have never confided the full extent of this to anyone.”
“Then let it be to me that you trust to tell. After all, I am your wife.”
He smiled. “So you are, when it suits you.”
She overlooked this last statement. “Very well. I do not mean to pry, and if you are not at your ease, do not feel obligated to tell me. But I promise that if you do, I will listen.”
“And will you promise me, as well, that you will not think I am mad?”
“I promise. Besides, in my society, husbands and wives share their hopes and desires, and their plights. Because we are husband and wife, it is only fitting that I should be the one you tell.”
Even in the dark, she could see he eyed her suspiciously, as though he would like to read her mind. She could feel the intensity of his scrutiny, and she lifted her chin a little because of it.
At length, he said, “Very well. The truth is that I am at war with he who has ruined my life and the lives of my people. It is he who I fight, he who is the Thunderer.”
For a moment, Suzette felt as though she had left this world for another more mystical place, so strange were the images his words invoked. But she had promised not to think ill of him, so she merely said, “You do battle with the Thunderer? Who is the Thunderer?”
Black Lion was silent for so long that Suzette began to wonder if he would ever answer. In due time, he paced toward her and came to stand above her. It seemed again as though he debated with himself, and it was a long moment, indeed, before Black Lion sank onto the ground beside her. “It is hard for me to tell you these things, even though you are my wife, for they are dear to my heart. But if I do share them with you, which you say is often the way of married people, I would ask that you not tell another soul what it is I relate to you.”
She didn’t answer. Her throat had become suddenly tight, for it did appear she might h
ave earned his trust.
“Do you think you can do this? That, with this secret I am about to tell you, you will keep it forever in your heart?”
She swallowed. “Yes. I promise.”
“And do you, like the real wife you speak of, seek to relieve my spirit and share my troubles?”
Suzette nodded. “I do. Though I may never lie with you in the marriage bed, I will try to be a wife to you in other ways. In truth, it seems the least I can do. You are, after all, sharing my troubles, and you have relieved my burden. If I could do the same for you, I would try.”
He paused. “Waste, good. Give me your hand, then, for it is dark here, and if I am to tell you the secrets of my soul, I would know the touch of she with whom I have entrusted my heart.”
Suzette hesitated barely a second, then dutifully held out her gloved hand to him, which he took within his own. His hand was bare, and the knowledge that it was so, as well as his warmth against her, sent her pulse into an erratic beat.
He said, “May I slip off your glove so my skin may touch yours?”
It was no more than one hand against another, nothing to excite her. Except that it did. She nodded and whispered, “Yes.”
One finger at a time, he pulled the glove completely from her hand. The action was seductive, whether he meant it to be or not. He offered the thing back to her, which she accepted immediately. As soon as her bare palm touched his, she knew she was in trouble, for a cascade of lightning-fast charges surged up and down her nervous system.
And that place most private to her, there between her legs, answered in the age-old feminine way. She ached there.
Holding her hand with both of his, he said, “Very well, I will tell you of my people and of the Thunderer. I warn you again that you will not believe me. You will say that I lie. Yet, every word from my mouth will be the truth.”
She nodded. For the moment, her voice failed her.
He continued, “It happened long ago, many thousands of years ago.”
“Thousands?”
“Shhh. I have already said you will not believe me. Let me tell you the story without interruption, for there will be many times you will wish to do so.”
