by Karen Kay
She nodded. “Very well. I understand. Go! And, Black Lion, don’t you dare take chances, and don’t you dare forget I love you.”
Placing a hand alongside her face, he bent down for a quick kiss. “How could I ever forget?”
He didn’t give her time to answer. Instead, straightening away, he was gone.
Black Lion whipped the horse into a full run over the prairie. There were people everywhere, as well as smoke and noise. Indeed, so much commotion was spinning out of control before him that no one took any special notice of him.
Glancing desperately into the arena and around it, Black Lion at last found Two Bears in the middle of that circle. His friend was caught up on the roof of one of the burning buildings. Worse, he was trapped from all sides.
Where were the rest of the men? Were they concentrating on the fires to the buildings, letting this one burn out of control?
Sprinting into the center of the action, Black Lion urged his horse up close to the settler’s cabin. Out of the corner of his eye, he saw a whirlwind descending and touching down within the arena. That the cloud was gray and blue was not a good sign. He had to work fast.
“Kola!” Black Lion called out to Two Bears. There were screams everywhere, from the players as well as the audience, and Black Lion feared his friend might not hear him above the din. “Ito, come,” he called out again. “I am here at the side of this cabin. Kola, ito! Leap through the flames and jump down onto my pony. Now! Do it now! Hurry, before the roof collapses and kills you.”
Rising, Two Bears ran in the direction of Black Lion’s voice.
“Easy, girl,” Black Lion coaxed his pony. “It is almost done.”
On the edge of the roof now, Two Bears took a flying leap through the fire and vaulted down, and except for catching his ankle, it was a perfect jump.
Two Bears was panting as he said, “Kola! My friend, when did you return?”
“There is no time to explain.” Swinging his leg over the horse, Black Lion jumped to the ground. “Take this pony. On the plains to the north, I left my wife to fend for herself. Go to her now and see to her. Stay with her. Defend her if you must.”
“Hokake! Kola!” Saluting with a quick, fast grip on each other’s arms, the two men straightened up, and while Two Bears kicked the horse in its flanks, Black Lion watched him speed out of the arena.
But only for a moment. He turned back at once to see what had become of that cloud. His worst fear was realized. It was, indeed, the Thunderer. But the god had spun away from him, and Black Lion could only watch helplessly as the Thunderer flicked his wrist and shot lightning toward the log cabin. The whole structure turned to a blaze.
Were there people within?
“Hokake!” Rushing toward the cabin, Black Lion kicked open the door. Indeed, there was a white woman in that small, little room, one of the show’s actresses, who, instead of fleeing the cabin like she should have done, was cowering inside. Black Lion motioned her to come out, but she seemed to lack the courage. She appeared to be frozen in place. Black Lion darted inside, picked her up and dashed outside with her.
“Go! Leave here at once,” he said, setting her back on her feet.
She needed no further urging, and with a quick “Thank you,” she charged out of the arena as fast as she could.
Again, Black Lion turned to confront the Thunderer, but the god had turned his attention to the canvas-covered bleachers.
There were thousands of people there unable to leave fast enough.
It occurred to Black Lion that he might show this half man, half god kindness, understanding. Even as the thought took hold of him, he watched as the Thunderer struck one of the Indians on the sidelines. The man fell dead.
That was enough.
Shouting out his battle cry, Black Lion leaped forward, hurling himself into the blue-and-gray mass that was the Thunderer. Lightning crashed and thunder bellowed above them.
Man and god rolled over and over in the dirt and grass, first one on top, then the other. The Thunderer produced a knife. Black Lion followed suit.
Neither was supposed to kill the other, or so the Creator had decreed so long ago. But there were some things a man had to do.
The Thunderer threw a jab with his knife. Black Lion ducked, grabbed hold of his enemy around the waist and pulled with all of his strength.
The mighty Thunderer toppled, but only for a moment. Gaining his feet, the Thunderer lunged forward and thrust out again with his knife, and it would have been a fatal stab had it met its mark, but Black Lion parried it by hitting out at the Thunderer’s arm. The Thunderer went down again.
He was vulnerable and exposed. Now was Black Lion’s time to strike, and he very well might have plunged his knife into his enemy’s chest, when…
“No!”
Black Lion recognized that voice. It was his wife.
What was she doing here? Distracted, he dropped his concentration. It was a fatal mistake.
The Thunderer seized advantage, coming up over Black Lion, and taking hold of his own knife, he plunged it deep into Black Lion’s body.
Chapter Twenty-Four
As she stood alone on the prairie, Suzette’s intuition would not be ignored. Watching Black Lion ride away, she knew she couldn’t stay here. She was needed there, with him. Somehow, in some way, she had to be there.
Since access to a horse was all but impossible, she picked up the edge of her skirt and stepped quickly toward the show.
Smoke filled the already cloudy and gray sky. It pervaded her lungs, and she could only imagine that those souls breathing the filth of it down there were likely to choke. Voices, screams, shouts echoed through the air, and the urgency filling the heavens prompted her to hurry.
In the distance, a rider broke free from the complex, and even as she watched, he was speeding toward her. Was it Black Lion, who had come back for her? Did he realize he needed her after all?
Her spirits rose.
As the rider sped in closer to view, she discovered it was not Black Lion.
A man pulled in rein as he drew near her. “I am Two Bears. Your husband has asked me to see to you and defend you if necessary.”
She nodded. “Good. Could you give me a ride? I need to be down there.”
Two Bears appeared doubtful. “I do not believe my friend asked me to bring you to him.”
“And yet I must go there. If you will not take me, then I’ll go on my own.”
He looked uncertain and hesitated. She said, “He would have taken me with him had he not needed to rush.”
At last Two Bears nodded. “Hau. Waste. I will do it. Come closer.”
She did so, and Two Bears, reaching down, brought her up behind him onto the pony.
“What is happening down there?” she asked, as they set out over the prairie. “I have heard screams and shouting, I can see the fires, and there is so much smoke in the air.”
“It is the Thunderer, my kola’s enemy. He has come here in the flesh, and he is angry. He tried to kill me. My friend, your husband, saved me. But that is all I know with certainty. Your husband, my kola, asked me to ride out to you and take care of you.”
“Yes.” She bobbed her head.
It seemed to take forever to get there, and when they did at last arrive, the air was so heavy with debris and smoke it was hard to see, let alone breathe and know what to do.
“Where is he?” she asked.
“He is in the arena with the Thunderer.”
“Please take me there, quickly.”
Two Bears did as asked, and heading through the entrance, he delivered her into the arena. As he helped her down from the horse, he said, “You should know that Rabbit Leggings is my wife. She is not married to your husband.”
Suzette smiled at the man. “I know.”
And that’s when she saw him. Her
stomach turned and twisted, and she grabbed hold of her belly as though in protection. Could this be true? Were her eyes really seeing her husband engaged in a struggle with a man who appeared to be a god? She pinched herself.
Indeed, she was awake.
Had her husband lost his mind?
She had to do something, but what? The men slashed out at each other, both waving knives. If she did nothing, she would lose Black Lion.
“No!” she cried out. Unfortunately, it was the exact wrong thing to do.
Black Lion hesitated. It gave the Thunderer the chance he had been waiting for. As though looking at a play in slow motion, Suzette watched in horror as the Thunderer plunged his knife deeply into Black Lion’s body.
“No!” she cried again. “No!”
But Black Lion wasn’t dead. He sat up, desperately motioning for her to run away, but the Thunderer knocked him down again and drew back his arm, lifting that knife high into the air. He was ready to strike.
She had to do something to help, but what?
That’s when she knew what she was perhaps destined to do.
Without thinking further, she began to sing, shyly, tentatively at first, treading ever so slowly forward toward the two enemies.
“O mio babbino caro,
mi piace è bello, bello;
vo’andare in Porta Rossa
a comperar l’anello!
Sì, sì, ci voglio andare!
e se l’amassi indarno,
andrei sul Ponte Vecchio,
ma per buttarmi in Arno!
Mi struggo e mi tormento!
O Dio, vorrei, morir!”
It was a well-known aria, written by the composer Puccini. In the opera, a rich man’s daughter pleads with her father to allow her to marry the man of her choice. Though Suzette doubted this was the song her husband sought, what difference did it make? At least her actions were having an effect, for the Thunderer had stopped and was listening to her, though he still held the knife high in the air.
So she continued to sing in the three-four time of the aria:
“O mio babbino caro,
mi piace è bello, bello;
vo’andare in Porta Rossa
a comperar l’anello!
Sì, sì, ci voglio andare!
e se l’amassi indarno,
andrei sul Ponte Vecchio,
ma per buttarmi in Arno!
Mi struggo e mi tormento!
O Dio, vorrei, morir!”
Somewhere amid the song, another voice had started to harmonize along with hers. Could it be? Yes, it was Irena. Irena was here, raising her voice along with Suzette, as though to give Suzette confidence. Glancing quickly behind her, Suzette met her grandmother’s gaze, and for a moment, her spirits lifted. Looking forward again, Suzette saw that the two men seemed to be held in suspension.
The aria had only the one verse, and she began to repeat it, only this time Cody’s Wild West band had arranged themselves back in the arena. Though slow to start, they began to play along with her. Stepping right up to the two men, Suzette came down onto her knees beside Black Lion. He was bleeding from the hip, but he sat up in recognition of her. So she sang, the pleading in the song perfect, for it fit the pleading in her heart:
“O mio babbino care,
mi piace è bello, bello;
vo andare in Porta Rossa
a comperar l’anello!
Sì, sì, ci voglio andare!
e se l’amassi indarno,
andrei sul Ponte Vecchio,
ma per buttarmi in Arno!
Mi struggo e mi tormento!
O Dio, vorrei, morir!”
Midway through the song, another voice joined hers. It was low, it was male. Black Lion sang every word along with her as though he had been born Italian.
She touched Black Lion’s face, running her fingers slowly down his cheek to his breast. It was the only way she knew to demonstrate her love for him. How she loved this man, and if it were destined that she were to lose him, she would have him know of her devotion.
Glancing up at the Thunderer, she saw the hatred still etched within his gaze. But still, he did nothing, and it gave her hope. With full accompaniment now, she sang the song once again:
“O mio babbino caro,
mi piace è bello, bello;
vo’andare in Porta Rossa
a comperar l’anello!
Sì, sì, ci voglio andare!
e se l’amassi indarno,
andrei sul Ponte Vecchio,
ma per buttarmi in Arno!
Mi struggo e mi tormento!
O Dio, vorrei, morir!”
Suzette stumbled toward the god, falling to her knees and grabbing hold of his hand. Placing her face against that hand, she sang out the song’s last refrain, pleading:
“Babbo, pietà, pietà!” Daddy, have pity, have pity! “Babbo, pietà, pietà!” Daddy, have pity, have pity!
The music ended. Suzette by this time was unable to hold back the tears, and not another sound could be heard within the arena.
The Thunderer’s arm, which had been holding the knife, came down, as though now that the music had stopped, he was at liberty to kill her. It was obvious he would do it.
“No!” cried Black Lion, throwing himself in front of his wife. “No! She is with child.”
It was difficult to know what went through the Thunderer’s mind. But as he gazed first at one of them, and then at the other, his features changed. He glanced at her stomach, then into her eyes. As she stared back at him, she watched as the hatred seemed to drift away.
His arm dropped to hang limply at his side, and shaking his head so very slightly, the Thunderer let the knife fall to the ground.
He said in his booming voice, “Go! Both of you! I grant him his life. I grant you life. And I will not do to you as has been done to me. I will not kill your child. Go!”
Suzette gasped aloud, and sitting back, she at last let the tears fall freely.
The spectacle wasn’t over. The clouds above them parted, and a single beam of light fell directly into the arena. Within that light were four figures, all of them half bird, half human. Suzette didn’t need to be told it was the Thunderer’s children. Moreover, they were laughing and singing as though all these thousands of years had never happened.
“Father!” they cried out one after another. “Father!”
Suzette, gazing up into the Thunderer’s face, thought she had never seen a man more on the verge of tears.
He called out, “My children! You are alive! You are alive!”
That was when the impossible happened: The Thunderer did, indeed, cry.
Meanwhile, the audience, who had witnessed the entire affair, at last came alive, as though they, too, had been held in suspended animation. Amid the bravos and the applause, as though this had been a performance like none other, they came to their feet in a standing ovation.
But there was to be no repeat performance this day. Instead, a better thing had happened. Because of a song and a child, there was now less hatred in the world.
Chapter Twenty-Five
Suzette looked up. A crowd of people, all of them American Indian, surrounded them. But she recognized none of these people. Who were they?
“It is done. These are my people,” said Black Lion, as though he read her thoughts. Though his injury did not permit him freedom of movement, he pulled Suzette into his arms. There were tears in his eyes. “The curse is gone. I can hardly believe it. My people are free at last.”
He was crying. She was crying, and they embraced as White Claw and Irena joined them. Irena took Suzette’s hand in her own, while White Claw said, “Grandson, you are injured. Come, I will attend to you.”
“Aa, yes,” said Black Lion. “And I will welcome your attention, Grandfa
ther, but first let me cast my eyes upon my people, for I have not seen them in many years. My father, my mother…” He held out his arms toward them.
Two people stepped forward to join them. But though the American Indian might have disdained a public show of affection, they, too, joined the embrace.
“We are proud of you, my son,” said a man Suzette thought must be Black Lion’s father.
“My son…” Black Lion’s mother spoke simply.
“It is time,” urged White Claw. “Let us take you to your lodge where I can attend to your wound.”
The two men helped Black Lion to his feet, and Suzette realized there was blood staining the front of her bicycling suit. Her tears spilled down upon it to join his blood.
Blood and tears, and yet so much happiness.
As they trailed behind the men, Irena hugged Suzette and didn’t let go, even when they entered the Indian encampment. Buffalo Bill detained them for a moment along the way.
“Welcome back, ladies. I am happy to see you, though I do admit you both gave us quite a chase. However, I hear you also furnished us with a show unlike any other this afternoon.”
Irena grinned up at him. “Yes, indeed, we did, although I am afraid the show was a one-time-only performance.”
“Then you are not back to stay?” asked Cody.
“I will honor my contract with you,” said Irena, “but then I must follow my heart. Indeed, the reason I came here was to find the love of my life. And at last I have found him.”
Cody nodded, and for a moment he looked sad. “Nice to have you back as well, Miss Joselyn,” he said, his glance taking in Suzette’s ragged appearance.
She smiled. “My pleasure, Mr. Cody, though actually, my name is Mrs. Black Lion.”
“Mrs.? Mrs.? Black Lion?”
“Yes, indeed,” said Suzette. “When you have a moment, ask your chaplain about it.”