Page 63 of The Last Warrior

“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 wrong images here on me and on you, and it’s simply not true.”

“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 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 a 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 this white man’s word, truth. But let me explain it to you. Truth means an action or a happening which is what 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 we already have.”

Black Lion glanced around him, looking almost sheepish to see they had, indeed, 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 which 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 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 a noise of some kind, 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 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.