by Karen Kay
“Yes. It is Black Lion, as well as…well, I have not had the acquaintance of the older gentleman who is with him. However, having seen the costumes the Indians wear, I would say that those two are probably dressed in their finest.”
“Oh? Where are they?”
“Over there, in a corner, near the entrance.” Suzette nodded toward them. “Do you see them?”
Irena turned to stare at the place Suzette indicated. Oddly, she went suddenly silent, though Irena did grab hold of Suzette’s hand and squeeze it.
“He’s quite handsome, isn’t he?” Though Suzette was at odds with Black Lion, she could not deny he cut an exotic and incredible figure. He was dressed in a white buckskin shirt that hung well below his knees. Fringe as well as blue and silver beads decorated both sleeves, while a beaded circle of blue and silver hung over his chest and the lower part of his shirt. White fringed leggings hugged his legs, and on his feet were white beaded moccasins. His hair was left long, flowing over his face, like a lion’s mane. It fell over his shoulders and down his back, while two strands of his front locks had been pulled together and tied there with beads. He carried a lance in his hands that was decorated with feathers and ermine fur.
He was magnificent, exotic, and though she still harbored a less than kindly attitude toward him, she stared at him, agape.
He looked to be exactly what he was—a proud warrior.
“It is he,” said Irena at her side, her voice a little breathless.
“Yes, I know. He cuts a good figure, does he not?”
“He does, indeed. Suzette.” Irena turned toward her, though her gaze remained on the two Indians who lingered in the entryway. “I must go speak to him. Do not be upset with me.”
“Why would I be upset with you?”
“Just remember to not be. You will do that, will you not?”
“Of course.”
Irena kissed Suzette on the cheek and then hugged her. “I love you, Suzie. I always have, I always will.”
“And I love you too, but, Irena—”
“I have to go to him.”
“Yes, I understand. I know the two of you are friends. Do tell him not to wait up for me tonight, though. I plan to be here until the party ends.”
Irena nodded, she smiled, and then she was gone, weaving her way through the crowd, toward the two gentlemen of the Plains.
Looking pleased, Suzette drew her glance away from the entrance and the men, and decided to mingle with the rest of the show people and cowboys. In a far corner of the room was Annie Oakley. Who would believe that such a small, delicate woman could be a professional sharpshooter? That she was also a woman of sympathy toward the Indians was well-known, for Sitting Bull was her fast friend.
Suzette made a move toward Annie, when a deep baritone voice sounded from behind her. “I have heard many people say tonight that you made a good captive.”
She grimaced. Even if he hadn’t spoken, the scent of rawhide and mint was enough to announce that Black Lion had found her.
She said, without turning to greet him, “I am no man’s captive, and I never will be. I am afraid that slavery, Mr. Lion, is dead in our world today.”
“Hau, that is a good thing, and yet too bad, for I would enjoy seeing you decorate my lodge.”
“I am also not decoration, and I would like to remind you that I have by no means changed my mind about you.” She was afraid to spin around and look at him, apprehensive that he was simply too good-looking for her peace of mind. “By the way,” she said over her shoulder, “who is your friend? I have not seen him before tonight.”
“He is an old medicine man from my tribe. He has come here to give me advice.”
“Advice?”
“Hau.” Black Lion stepped around to face her, making it all but impossible to ignore him. “Advice. My mission, as well as another matter…” This last was said against her ear, which stirred to life tingles of excitement all along her nerve endings.
She reminded herself she was upset with this man. “Oh, yes. Your mission.” Here was yet another justification for her to doubt this man. His mission, which was an esoteric task that, though steeped in legend and mystery, was impossible.
Yet she had promised him she would not pass judgment on him because of it, and she would keep her word. It didn’t necessarily follow, however, that she believed him. Indeed, not.
“Well, then,” she said, without glancing behind her to look at the man, “I assume you and he have much to discuss. It would be ill of me to detain you in such a circumstance as this. Pray, feel free to leave me that you might humor him.”
“We have already had our talk.”
“Oh?”
“And so you see, I have much time…time to plead my circumstance to you in the hopes you will listen to me.”
“Mr. Lion, let it not be said that I will not listen to you. However, at the moment, I am awaiting the engagement of—”
“Miss Joselyn?”
Suzette turned her head to watch Nate Salsbury, Buffalo Bill’s partner, approach them. He said, “Miss Joselyn, the musicians are ready for Irena’s performance. Do you know where she is?”
“Why, yes, I do. She is by the entrance…” Suzette hesitated as she glanced in that direction now, but there was no sign of Irena. “Hmmm… She was there only a moment ago. Perhaps she has stepped outside.”
“Thank you, I am sure she has. I shall look for her there.” Salsbury tipped his hat and departed immediately.
“This is stunning regalia, Black Lion.” Annie Oakley and her husband, Frank Butler, joined Suzette and Black Lion, leaving Suzette no choice but to acknowledge Black Lion. Annie continued, “It looks to be ancient, and I have not seen anything like it in the show.”
Frank smiled and raised his glass in greeting, but remained silent. It was up to Black Lion to answer. “It belonged to my father. It is his ceremonial shirt.”
“Ceremonial?”
“It is the tradition of my people that, when one is to attend a celebration with others, one dresses in his ceremonial best.”
Annie nodded. “Yes, and, Miss Joselyn…”
“Pray, please call me Suzette.”
Annie grinned. “Suzette, that was a spectacular performance this afternoon. It was a stroke of genius.”
Suzette returned Annie’s smile. “Thank you, but I’m afraid the congratulations should go to Mr. Lion, here, whose idea it was. Like many in the crew, I was as stunned as they were when he departed from the script.”
“Indeed?” Annie gave Black Lion a considering glance.
“Miss Joselyn…” It was Nate Salsbury speaking again, as he rejoined their party. “I cannot find Irena anywhere, and we are ready for the entertainment to begin. The dignitaries from Denver are waiting. Please forgive me, but I know that you, too, have operatic experience. I do not suppose I could impose upon you to…”
“Oh, yes. Of course. I would be honored to sing in Irena’s stead, if that is what you mean to ask. But tell me, did you check her quarters? She might have retired there, perhaps to change clothes.”
“She is not there.”
“Indeed?” Suzette frowned. Where could Irena have gone? She glanced at Black Lion to ask for his favor in seeking out Irena. But he took the moment upon himself.
“While you prepare your song, I will look for her.”
“That would be most appreciated,” Suzette acknowledged, slanting him a grudging yet genuine smile. Then, turning toward Salsbury, she said, “Would you escort me to the musicians?”
“I would be most happy to do so.” Salsbury presented her with his arm. “Shall we go?”
“Yes,” agreed Suzette, and murmuring a quiet, “Would you excuse me?” to Annie and Frank Butler, Suzette went in search of the lead musician.
“Ah, I see,” said Jacques Marcelle, the leader of th
e trio of musicians, as well as its flautist. Besides himself, there was a clarinet player and a harpist. “You are to sing in your grandmother’s place?”
“Yes,” agreed Suzette. “I fear we cannot locate Irena at present, and since I have little knowledge of what she was to sing tonight, I would ask if you and your company know ‘The Last Rose of Summer’?”
“Oui, mademoiselle. In what key would you like it?”
“B-flat, please.”
Mr. Marcelle nodded, and Suzette took her place on the very small stage.
“Are you ready?” asked Nate Salsbury.
“Yes.” Suzette nodded.
“Good, then I will introduce you.” With hardly a pause, he began his introduction, “Ladies and gentlemen. It is my pleasure to introduce you tonight to Miss Suzette Joselyn, a lyric soprano from the London Opera House. She has kindly agreed to entertain us with a song. Let us welcome her. Miss Joselyn.”
He gestured toward her, and Suzette, amid applause, smiled her thanks at Salsbury.
“Ladies and gentlemen,” she started, “the song I am about to sing is an aria entitled ‘The Last Rose of Summer’, from Friedrich von Flotow’s opera Martha. Originally a poem by Thomas Moore, it was set to music by John Stevenson. In the opera, the main character, Harriet Durham, sings this beautiful Irish melody to her lover.” After she nodded to the other musicians, the first strains of the intro flowed around her.
She sang:
“’Tis the last rose of summer
Left blooming alone;
All her lovely companions
Are faded and gone;
No flower of her kindred,
No rosebud is nigh,
To reflect back her blushes,
Or give sigh for sigh.”
Not a sigh was to be heard from the spellbound audience. Suzette awaited the interlude, then continued…
Black Lion had taken a place toward the rear of the room, and with arms folded over his chest, he listened to Little Blue Eye’s high, musical voice:
“I’ll not leave thee, thou lone one!
To pine on the stem;
Since the lovely are sleeping,
Go sleep thou with them.
Thus kindly I’ll scatter,
Thy leaves o’er the bed,
Where thy mates of the garden
Lie scentless and dead.”
Watching her, listening to her, Black Lion felt as though some mythical force had borne him to another place and time, such was the power of her voice. Though she sang a melody with unfamiliar words, he stood enchanted.
It was the next verse of the song, when he at last caught her eye. Was it his imagination or, from that moment onward, did she sing only to him?
“So soon may I follow
When friendships decay,
And from Love’s shining circle
The gems drop away.
When true hearts lie wither’d
And fond ones are flown,
Oh! who would inhabit
This bleak world alone?”
The final note was high, drawn out, and when the music faded into nothing, it took the assembled crowd a moment to recover. At last, brilliant waves of applause greeted her, and the “Brava! Brava!” was shouted out amid further praise.
Suzette nodded, smiling and bowing, accepting her due gracefully. Before she left the platform completely, she lifted her gaze to glance out at him. The others around him faded. She didn’t smile at him, but she didn’t have to. He recognized the hunger that echoed deeply within her gaze.
He sincerely hoped it was for him. Having once known the sultry wonder of her affection, these last few days without her had been unbearable. Despite their troubles and the differences between them, Black Lion now harbored a knowledge deep in his soul.
He loved this woman. It was the wrong time for love, the wrong place, for he could not afford to give her the attention that a wife so thoroughly deserved.
Yet, there it was. He had found his life’s partner. As they stared at one another, he knew that their hearts were one. In time her anger at him would cool, and she would come to realize he would never love another as he loved her. For now, this realization was enough.
When she averted her gaze, Black Lion quietly left Buffalo Bill’s welcome tent to keep his promise to his wife and go in search of the Song Bird, Irena.
Suzette accepted the praise from an admirer graciously, beaming her pleasure. Yet when she glanced back to the spot where Black Lion had been, he was gone.
Disappointment flooded her. She had been looking forward to speaking with him. True, she was certain her words to him would have been sarcastic, perhaps even antagonistic, for he still had much explaining to do before she would give him quarter.
Nevertheless, she had welcomed the opportunity to spar with him.
“Miss Joselyn.” It was Buffalo Bill who had come up behind her. “This is the first time I have heard you sing. Does Irena know she has a rival in you?”
Suzette laughed. “I could never compete with Irena, nor would I want to. She is an act all to herself.”
“That she is. That she is, and the Wild West is grateful to have her.” Cody leaned down close to her, and the scent of whiskey was heavy on his breath. “It would be my pleasure, Miss Joselyn, if you are willing, to show you exactly how wild our Western country can be.” He grinned inanely.
If it weren’t for the fact that Cody was completely serious, Suzette might have greeted his offer with a short laugh. The suggestion did seem outrageous. Even more so because, since she had arrived here, Cody had paid her little heed, catering instead to his opera star, Irena.
However, she kept her own counsel, realizing that Cody was earnest, as well as drunk, and she chose her words carefully. “It is a fine offer, and I thank you.”
“Fine, fine.” He beamed at her and laid his hand on her shoulder.
“But,” Suzette said, sidling out of his reach, “I already have a secret life with…someone else…and it is wild enough.”
“You do? With who?”
She looked delightedly at Cody, remained silent and offered her hand to him. “Mr. Cody, I thank you.” Her voice and her intent were firm. She turned away from him to stroll to the other side of the tent.
“Splendid, dear, splendid,” came a compliment from one of the cowgirls.
“Thank you very much.” Suzette smiled.
“That was beautiful, very beautiful,” said Annie Oakley, as they met in passing. “I hope you will sing for us often.”
“Thank you, I hope that I shall as well,” agreed Suzette as she stepped out into the night.
The cold air felt marvelous in her lungs; it was clean and invigorating. Wistfully, she wished that Black Lion might find her standing here, if only so they could continue their argument.
What did that say about her? That she enjoyed being with him, even if they did nothing more than spit at each other. For a moment tonight, she had felt as if the two of them had connected, being to being. There had been no other people, no environment. Just him. Just her.
And she had found him…magnificent.
Magnificent? She pulled up her thoughts at once. Indeed, until she determined if the man were married to another or not, she would avoid all thought of him…if that were possible.
The prospect of avoidance was unreal, however, since she had promised a rendezvous with the man later this evening. Would she discover him to be truthful after all?
Only time would tell. Until Irena reappeared, Suzette would have to take upon herself her grandmother’s duties, here at the party. Hopefully Irena would return soon.
Chapter Nineteen
The celebration party was still in full swing in the wee hours of the morning. Suzette had already sung three songs with one more planned, and at present she was slowly
drifting outside in order to escape the stuffy atmosphere. She had barely arrived outside when Black Lion discovered her and announced that Irena was nowhere to be found.
“Once you leave the party,” he said, “we will talk some more of this.”
“Later? No, please, tell me now. What have you found out?”
“Hiya! I think it best that I not speak of it yet.”
“Why?”
“Because what I have to say will be upsetting to you, I believe, and you still have duties before you this night.”
Suzette frowned. “Is it that bad, then?”
He didn’t answer.
She looked at him sullenly. He had changed his clothes. Though still wearing buckskin, his leggings, his shirt and his moccasins were tanned, scarcely decorated and appeared to be purely functional. His hair was parted in the middle and tied in back, as though he couldn’t bother having it in his way. Over one shoulder was a blanket, and strapped around the other shoulder was a rawhide bag that looked to hold many things. Indeed, he appeared as though he might have stepped straight out of the past.
However, she kept the observation to herself, and continued speaking. “If it is bad news that you have, you really must tell me.”
Again, he didn’t comment. Rather, he crossed his arms over his chest, and so serious, so staunch an expression did he present her, he reminded her of an unmovable boulder.
Her frown deepened. “How can you do this? How can you seek me out and tell me that something has happened to her, and then not disclose what it is?”
All that met her question, however, was silence.
“Is she all right?”
“I believe she is well. I can say no more now. I will wait for you here until you can leave the party. At that time, we will talk. But not until then.” His look at her was firm, strict, and unfortunately for her, it was becoming evident that on this matter, he was quite prepared to hold his ground.
Frustrated, she spun away from him. “Please stay here, for I will return shortly.” She stepped back into the crowded room.
Winding a path through several groups of people, she at last approached the musicians, where she sought out the lead flautist, Marcelle. “Monsieur, pray, is it too early for me to leave? I fear that Irena will not be in attendance at all tonight, and I am afraid I am not used to these late hours.”
