Page 61 of The Last Warrior

After several tears and a full night’s rest, Suzette awoke with the realization of her own wrongdoing. Indeed, she now felt she owed Black Lion an apology. Somehow, as troubles 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 that he deemed it to be important showed she should at least respect his conviction.

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

Bearing this in mind, it appeared to her 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 it. What are you called?”

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

“Ah, Little Star. What 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 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 shouldn’t have had a cup of tea 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. “This is a woman’s voice who answered you. 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.”