Page 68 of The Last Warrior

“This is to be expected, Issohka. It may be likely that the Great Spirit in His wisdom, though he gives you an additional burden, counters it with a freedom. So do ponder your spirit protector’s words, by all means, but also take pleasure in being a husband.”

No sooner had this been said than the two men shared a glance, and at last they both smiled. Though the council was formally ended, the two of them continued to talk at length of Black Lion’s vision and of more general tidings. But interestingly, White Claw was very intent on one detail: they would attend the white man’s party this night. Though Black Lion tried to convince the medicine man about how the Indian was rarely, if ever, invited to these gatherings, his words had no effect on the old medicine man.

And so, donning their very best clothes for the occasion, the two men set out to crash the Long-haired Show Man’s celebration.

Chapter

Eighteen

Buffalo Bill was known for his spectacular and well-attended after-performance parties. The affairs were usually held in his own lavish tents, of which there were several. Such were attended by the famous and well-known, as well as by the entire Wild West cast. An orchestra was always in attendance, and champagne flowed like water at such occasions. This one was no different.

At present, Irena and Suzette stood together amongst the crowd. In the background were the hum of the orchestra and the murmur of many voices, all speaking at once. Perhaps it was this feeling of security which lent to them the notion that they could speak freely to one another.

“You and your husband were spectacular,” said Irena quietly as she sipped a glass full of champagne. “And so real to life.”

“Yes, well, it was real to life. I was truly fighting him. You know I am upset with him, and with good reason.”

Above the champagne glass, Irena blinked at her granddaughter. “So you say. However, it was an extraordinary idea of Bill’s to rescue you later from the Indian village, setting you free. Pray, I have rarely seen so enthusiastic a crowd. I began to think they might jump over the barrier and into the arena with you. Indeed, I would have to agree with Mr. Cody in this regard. It was an absolutely brilliant maneuver on Black Lion’s part to steal you, and you were stunning as a captive, my dear.”

Suzette didn’t answer. She couldn’t, not at this particular moment. In sweeping her gaze around the room, her glance caught on a familiar face.

“What is he doing here?” she asked no one in particular. “Indians don’t usually attend these parties given for the dignitaries, do they?”

“Is someone here, dear?”

“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 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 squeezed 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. Over each of his shoulders, he had positioned what looked to be white buckskin strips, heavily beaded in blue and silver beads. White leggings with long fringe 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 on each side of his face had been pulled together and tied there with beads. He carried a lance in his hands which 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 forgive me, 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.”