Page 59 of The Last Warrior

“You? You would? When most men would not?”

“I would not have taken you for a wife had I another. What I say to you is the truth.”

“Is it? Very well then. I will consider it. When I go home tonight, I will think much over what you have said, and I will decide then if I trust what you say or not. But at this moment, it stretches credulity.” Bending down, she picked up her cloak and swung it over her shoulders. “And now I must leave.”

She turned and started to go, whereupon he reached out to detain her. “I will see you back.”

“No, I will see myself back to the party, Mr. Lion, thank you very much.” She turned away from him and paced several more steps forward.

He followed her, and as he did so, his frown deepened. He placed a hand on her shoulder. “Do not leave yet, let us talk about this more…and tonight.”

“No, I need to think clearly, without the influence of you being beside me.” With this said, she shook off his hold, picked up the front of her dress and ran from their sheltered glen as though pursued by the white man’s devil.

He watched the place where she had been for a long, long time, and eventually he followed her, if only to ensure she returned to the party safely. He understood her upset. He could only hope that upon further thought, she would come to believe him.

In the meantime, he would wait. But not for long. Whether he made love to this woman or not, she was still his wife, and the voice of the sacred song. Before too much time had elapsed, he needed to discover if she, indeed, could help him or not.

Unfortunately, more than his people’s freedom seemed to depend upon his discovery.

In the end, he took a bath before going to his bed, for the icy water often helped to chase away the shadows in his mind. Though the bath had been freezing cold, it had been invigorating and had accomplished what he had hoped. Treading back toward his lodge in the Indian encampment, Black Lion was curious to see the image of a fire blazing merrily within his lodge. So, too, did he observe the shadows of two people who were sitting around it.

All the better, for he would welcome visitors. As Black Lion pushed back the tepee flap and stepped into his lodge, he was greeted by the sight of two friendly and familiar faces.

It was Two Bears and his wife, Rabbit Leggings, who welcomed him. Immediately, the two men greeted each other as was the Lakota way, with solemn appreciation. However, toward Two Bears’s wife, Black Lion was permitted a more appreciative nature, and he said, “Hau, kola, hello, friends, my heart is filled with gladness to see you.” Coming around to the left of the lodge circle, Black Lion squatted next to his friend, placing his hand over Two Bears’s shoulder. Two Bears returned the gesture.

It is probably safe to say that to an American onlooker, little joy would have been observed in the reunion, and such could have been confusing, for the two men were close friends. But such was the Lakota way of expressing the warmth of a deep friendship, since to the Lakota, an overly excited greeting was considered bad manners.

“Lel unkunpi kin he waste. It is good for us to be here,” said Two Bears.

“Hau, and my heart is happy to see you,” Black Lion responded. “However, let us speak in English so you may practice it. The Long-haired Show Man demands we of the Lakota Nation speak it and only it, while we are here with his show. It is a burden, I admit, but I fear we must.”

“Hau, hau,” agreed Two Bears. “I wish to thank you for the money you have been sending me and my wife with the coming of each new moon. It has helped us through a hard winter.”

“My heart is glad to hear this,” said Black Lion. “And I am filled with happiness, for you are both a much welcome sight. I hope you will make my lodge your home.”

“Waste, it is good to come visiting,” thanked Two Bears, with a hand motion out away from his chest—it was the sign language for “good.”

Black Lion nodded. Meanwhile, Rabbit Leggings served the two men a late supper of prairie soup. Metal bowls were used, bowls she and her husband must have obtained from trade, for they were white-man made. Accompanying the soup was pemmican and bone marrow.

Ah, here at last was a meal Black Lion could fully appreciate, and he accepted the food gladly.

After appeasing his appetite, Black Lion nodded toward Rabbit Leggings. “It is good to know you still make the best soup in all the Lakota Nation.”

Rabbit Leggings smiled and cast her head down. But etiquette allowed her to tease her husband’s friend. “I see…you…more handsome than does you…good. But, friend of my husband, you are…hmm…thin. It…good I am here. I feed you well.”

“Hau, hau. I will appreciate it too. They give us plenty of food here, but I find the white man’s offerings disagreeable, in the main. There is little meat in it and much grain and milk from a cow, and a food they call bacon. It is not suited well, I think, to an Indian’s disposition.”

“Then it is good we made journey here.”

He smiled at Rabbit Leggings. “Tell me.” He spoke the words between mouthfuls, addressing Two Bears. “How do you come to be off the reservation? Are they not watching the Indians closely, to ensure we are all kept there?”

Two Bears didn’t answer at once. Instead, he looked at his wife, who then cast her gaze down.

After a time, Two Bears said, “As you know, I am supposed to be here, not on the reservation. But our agent did not notice I had remained there, so for many moons there was no difficulty.”

“The agent is a fool.”

“No doubt, he is. But I think a trader must have alerted him that I was not with the show, for the agent came poking his nose at our house, asking my wife questions she could not answer. I hid from him, of course, and I hope he did not discover I was, indeed, there. It was enough of a scare for both of us, however, that we decided to leave our home there and journey here, since this is where I am supposed to be. We sneaked away in the middle of the night. Do you think the Long-haired Show Man will notice the difference between you and me if I take your place, as I am supposed to do?”