The Last Warrior

by Karen Kay

  “Hau, hau,” responded Black Lion. “Let us away to our beds. But first, there is one matter I feel we should discuss.”

  Two Bears nodded.

  “The Long-haired Show Man often comes into our camp to visit,” continued Black Lion. “And he believes that not only am I you, he thinks I am married. I have done nothing to make him suspect this is not true, since it would be a disfavor to you. There could be a problem, though, since it will be easier to hide you than your wife, if only because she has many duties outside the lodge. What I ask is this: If the Long-haired Show Man or any of the other white men should call on my lodge while I am not here, Rabbit Leggings should pretend to be my wife. In truth, there would be much trouble for me and eventually for you, too, if it is discovered that a woman who is living with me is not my wife.”

  Two Bears nodded.

  “There have been some difficulties with this in the past,” continued Black Lion, “especially when the show was performing over the great water, in England, and young women would come brazenly to our lodges. I fear that some of our men, who were not strong of heart, took advantage of the girls. The pretense should only last until you are well. I know it is an inconvenience, yet I think it should be done.” Black Lion glanced toward Rabbit Leggings. “I know it is a demanding thing I ask of her, for a woman, even more than a man, must always be truthful. But if your wife could manage it, it would avoid much trouble.”

  “I see no difficulty with this, but then I am not the one who would have to do it. What say you, my wife?”

  Rabbit Leggings smiled but kept her gaze averted downward. “I will do it. We already pretending…you”—she gestured toward Black Lion—“…my husband. You honor us with help. If this avoid trouble, I do it. For you.”

  “Waste.” Black Lion smiled at Rabbit Leggings. “I thank you.”

  Rabbit Leggings grinned back.

  “Waste. Now that this is settled, let us do as you suggested and retire at once.”

  Without further conversation, they did exactly that.

  Chapter Sixteen

  After several tears and a full night’s rest, Suzette awoke with the realization that she owed Black Lion an apology. Somehow, as these things often do, sleeping on it had set her mind to correcting itself.

  She had awakened with the understanding that Black Lion was not rejecting her, he was simply being true to what he believed. Whether she thought his adherence to the particulars of his vision was trivial or not, the fact he deemed it to be important showed she should at least respect his conviction.

  For whatever reason that she could not quite understand, his rejection last night had brought back to mind William’s betrayal. However, putting some distance between herself and it had allowed her to look at the situation more realistically. William had been a dishonorable coward. Black Lion was nothing of the sort.

  Bearing this in mind, it appeared now that she had behaved badly. Therefore, Suzette had decided to go visiting. And of course she would look her best.

  Dressing carefully, she donned one of her outing gowns of white hopsack, and since it was trimmed on the bias with folds of pink, she was the picture of the nineties’ modern woman. Her white jacket had the familiar large sleeves so popular in this day and age, and her hat was fashioned of a light, rough straw. She felt well-dressed and ready for the meeting ahead of her. After grabbing her cloak, she slipped quietly out of Irena’s tent and was greeted by a cold, sun-drenched morning.

  Few people were about at this hour of morning, most likely because of the lateness of the party last night. But this was good, if only because Suzette was alone, and lack of an escort was still considered scandalous, regardless of the more modern influences of the day.

  Besides, it was only a short walk across the small medium that separated the Indian encampment from her quarters. Luckily she made the trek in a timely manner.

  “Excuse me,” she said to the first woman she found in the Indian camp. “Do you speak English?”

  The woman nodded.

  “Could you direct me, please, toward Black Lion’s tepee?”

  “I can. I take you there.”

  “I would so greatly appreciate that. What are you called?”

  “My name…Little Star, wife of Running Fox, a Hunkpapa Lakota.”

  “Ah, Little Star. That’s a beautiful name.” Suzette smiled at the woman, who could not have been more than twenty-odd years in age. “Do you mind if I follow along behind you?”

  “Waste. Good. You come,” said the Little Star. “Follow. Him may not be awake. But maybe he awake since many people…have sought him last few days.”

  “Truly? There are others who have been looking for him?”

  “I…not lie. This way.” She led Suzette into a wooded area, where the Indians had pitched their canvas-tepee camp.

  As Suzette lifted her skirts to keep up with the other woman, the smell of smoke, cooked meat and brewed coffee had Suzette’s stomach growling, and she felt slightly nauseated. She really should have had something to settle her stomach before coming here. Hopefully, this meeting wouldn’t take long. She would simply apologize to Black Lion, explain a little of what had made her respond as she had, and be on her way.

  “This…his lodge,” said Little Star.

  “Thank you,” replied Suzette. “Hmmm…how do I knock?”

  “Knock?”

  “How do I let him know I am here?”

  “Scratch at tepee…flap, like this.” She scraped at the canvas of the entrance flap.

  “Han u ye, yes, please come?” came a feminine voice from within the lodge.

  “Leciyotan u wo!”

  Suzette laid her hand over the young woman’s arm. “That was a woman’s voice. We must have the wrong lodge.”

  “This…right lodge,” replied Little Star, then, “Leciyotan u wo!”

  “Han, han!”

  A young woman stuck her face outside the tepee and frowned at the sight of Suzette.

  “No,” insisted Suzette, “this cannot be right.”

  Timidly, the young woman crawled out of the lodge, squinting under the glare of the sun. She looked briefly at Little Star and then at Suzette, before lowering her gaze. After a moment, she said, “You want…Black Lion?”

  Suzette nodded.

  “Then…this right tepee.”

  “But, it cannot be…unless…” Suzette frowned. “Who are you?”

  “This one?” The woman pointed to herself.

  “Yes, who are you?”

  The young woman swallowed and glanced around, as though searching for another to help her with what she was about to confess. “I…Rabbit Leggings.”

  “Yes, Rabbit Leggings.” Suzette rolled the name off her tongue. “How do you do. But what are you doing here?”

  Again, the woman swallowed hard. “I here because…I…his…” She gulped twice. “I his wife.”

  “Wife?” Suzette repeated. “Black Lion’s wife?”

  “I say wrong word? Wikte?”

  “It right word,” affirmed Little Star. “This wife of…Two Bears, him the…white man knows…as Black Lion.”

  Suzette didn’t respond. In truth, she was uncertain if she could have spoken a word. With her stomach twisting within her abdomen, her nausea became even more pronounced, and she felt as though something she had eaten last night was disagreeing with her horribly. Alas, she could barely think, let alone speak.

  “Little Blue Eyes?” Black Lion at last peeked out from the lodge’s entrance flap. His eyes were sleepy, his hair tangled and his chest bare.

  Suzette, however, hardly took notice. She heard his voice as though she were far away from herself.

  “Little Blue Eyes, what are you doing here?”

  What in the name of the good Lord did she say to this man?

  She stared at him as if she
had never seen him until this moment, and perhaps she never really had. This time, she took in his mussed, though thoroughly masculine appearance. He looked good. Much too good, and she steeled herself against the sexy look of him. She had to.

  “I…” She tried to speak, but nothing, absolutely nothing came to mind to say.

  “Little Blue Eyes? What is this? What has happened? Wait, let me pull on my jeans.”

  He was gone but a second, and feeling like her feet had grown roots, she was still there in the same position when he appeared out of the lodge. She couldn’t think, it seemed, and her thoughts were pure reaction. Still, it couldn’t have been more obvious that he had just awakened from sleep. Not only was his hair in disarray, but he was shirtless, and she was certain there was nothing but pure man between himself and those jeans.

  The thought was erotic. He was erotic, and silently, she cursed his handsome image, as well as herself, for her lack of resistance to him.

  She could think of nothing to say—not with an audience. So she took the only action that came readily to her. With as much dignity as possible, she turned to leave.

  But he moved with the speed of a panther and blocked her way. “My wife?” He leaned in toward her and whispered for her ear alone. “What has happened?”

  “Wife? Yes. Pray ask your wife what has happened.” Turning at an angle away from him, she took another step away.

  He caught hold of her arm and said, still in a whisper, “Am I not looking at her?”

  Suzette wasn’t about to argue with him. Perhaps she might do so later. At this moment, she felt too vulnerable. She needed to get away. Twisting her arm out of his grasp, she turned from him. “Pray, do not insult me further.” She picked up the edge of her skirt and began running away from him.

  The ground, however, was still frozen from the evening hours, and her feet slipped over its icy patches, making her departure far from graceful.

  “Little Blue Eyes, wait!” He came up behind her as she stumbled and grasped hold of her, steadying her. “Now I know what is wrong. There has been a misunderstanding.”

  “There certainly has been.” Since she couldn’t outrun him, she turned on him. “How could you do this to me? How could you lie? You, who speak of honor and integrity. And look at you. You! You have lied to me, and I…I trusted you. I was coming here to apologize to you.”

  “But you have the wrong idea about this. She is not my—”

  “No wonder you were able to walk away from me last night. Was she waiting for you when you returned?”

  “It’s not like that. You are putting things here that are not there.”

  “And you are a liar…worse…you are worse than a liar, and I want no more to do with you.”

  “Listen to me. She is not my wife.”

  “And you expect me to believe you? When two women, not one, but two, say that she is?”

  “I can explain.”

  “Pray, I do not wish to hear it. No more lies. You must think me an extraordinary fool to believe you can talk your way out of this. And I would indeed be witless if I were to listen to you.” Shaking herself out of his hold, she scooted around him.

  “I am not a liar.” He took step right beside her. “And you are not stupid, although seeking to leave when we have not talked this through is not wise.”

  “I? Not wise?”

  But he ignored her words and went on to say, “I will tell you once again. She is not my wife. There is a misunderstanding. What I am saying to you now is the truth.”

  Briefly, Suzette glanced toward him, since he was at her side. “I am uncertain you understand the definition of that word. But let me explain it to you. Truth means something that is the way it is—no lies, no pretense. If you had been honest with me from the start—”

  “I have been honest with you, and I understand what the word means.” He practically shouted the words at her, and his face, beneath his tanned skin, had turned red, though his voice was once again calm when he said, “I have not lied to you. She is the wife of—”

  “Two Bears. You! I know. She told me. Now, please let me go before we attract more attention than what we already have.”

  Black Lion glanced around him, looking almost sheepish to see that they had attracted much attention, both Indian and white. His pause was all she needed, and picking up her skirts, she turned and fled across the medium that separated his camp from hers.

  “Little Blue Eyes!”

  But she was beyond listening to him. She ran through her own encampment, heading straight for Irena’s tent. Several interested heads turned to watch her, but she ignored them all.

  At this moment, all she could think of was a clean getaway. Thank goodness he would not be able to follow her here. Not easily anyway.

  Though their encampments were situated side by side, rarely did the people from one camp enter that of the other. But then again, she had first met him in Irena’s tent.

  Maybe she would simply walk through Mr. Cody’s campground instead of returning home at once. She would keep moving, perhaps talking to several of the cowboys in the show. But she would not settle in one spot, not when Black Lion might find her. It wasn’t much to savor, but at this moment, all she wanted was a little peace.

  Luckily, Black Lion didn’t appear to desire following her this day, either. Or was it lucky?

  Chapter Seventeen

  Suzette would have liked nothing better than to never see Black Lion again. Most certainly it would have been preferable if this could have been accomplished. Alas, such was all but impossible with a show like this. Though the Wild West Show employed over three hundred people, and there were more than enough women to act out the various parts required, Suzette had somehow found herself being pulled into the show. Perhaps it was because she was accustomed to the stage, and Buffalo Bill, recognizing her ease in it, had put it to work for him.

  Or maybe it was simply fate.

  Whatever it was, only two days after her argument with Black Lion, Suzette found herself acting out the role of the wife in the “Attack upon the Settler’s Cabin” scene. It was a Saturday afternoon, the sun was shining, the air was cool, and this was the first show of the day.

  Standing before the log cabin, which was fashioned exactly as the settler’s homes used to be, Suzette was dressed in an old-fashioned blue-and-white plaid gingham wrapper, complete with a white bonnet on her head.

  According to script, her character was to exit the cabin, as though she were to attend to her washing. She was to hear something, glance up at the roof and see the Indian, who was crawling into a shooting position. This was her cue to scream a warning to her “husband” who was working in the fields, run back into the cabin and emerge from it again, this time holding a shotgun.

  All this she did according to script, but upon reappearing at the door of the cabin with her rifle, she discovered that something was wrong. The Indian on her roof, who was supposed to be a man by the name of Flies Over, wasn’t there. Instead, the Indian atop her cabin was the spitting image of Black Lion.

  Drat! She glanced upward again. It was Black Lion.

  Unfortunately for her heart, he looked uncannily handsome, dressed as he was in only breechcloth, leggings and moccasins. Setting her lips into a frown, she braced herself against the sight, wondering sarcastically how many horses he’d had to trade with Flies Over in order to take his place. Oh, to have some real ammunition.

  At this point in the script she was supposed to run to the cornfield to try to help her settler husband who was battling with another Indian. Except before she took her cue, she aimed her gun carefully at Black Lion and pulled the trigger.

  Of course there were no bullets in the shotgun, but there was a wad of paper that hit him square in the cheek nonetheless. Obviously, it startled him, as he probably hadn’t expected Suzette to vary from the script. Glancing down at her, he r
etaliated and trained a rubber-tipped arrow on her.

  “You’re dead,” she shouted at him. “I got you fair and square. Fall over.” She waved her arm at him.

  Luckily, there was so much commotion and so many other dramas going on around them, no one seemed to pay the two of them the least attention. That this made it very likely that no one else saw him wink at her was not the point. She’d gotten him.

  “You realize, of course,” she said, “that if this were real life, you would never be able to tie me up later because I got you. You’re supposed to be dead now.”

  Remaining silent, Black Lion shook his head at her. Then, instead of keeping to the script himself, he climbed down to the cabin’s edge, where, with a carefully aimed jump down, he landed behind her.

  Grabbing hold of her from her backside, he dragged her to the ground and began to gently tie her hands above her head. She struggled with him, fighting like a she-cat defending her territory. In truth, she almost won the fight, for he seemed leery about overly handling her.

  Still he held her. “Why are you not following the script?” she shouted at him.

  “Because you are not, and because I have come to take my wife home.”

  “I am not your wife,” she yelled.

  “You are. If I have to tie you up and steal you in front of these thousands of people and take you with me out of this arena, I will, for I would have Rabbit Leggings tell you why she said what she did that day.”

  “After you have paid her and told her what to say?”

  “Eya, do you think so little of me?”

  “Oh, much less. Much less.”

  “Then you give me no choice. I will tie you up, set you on my horse and ride with you out of the arena.”

  “And you’ll find yourself in a lot of trouble, Mr. Lion.”

  “Perhaps I will, but I think it is worth the chance.”

  “Very well, do it,” she challenged, even as she fought with him. But he had already finished the task of tying her hands. “I warn you,” she screamed above the commotion, “there will be consequences.”