Chapter 11
Chapter
Eleven
It was too cold for the clouds to be making thunder.
Yet thunder loomed above him, its grumbling so vigorous that were it not the dead of winter, one might have been fooled into thinking it was the prelude to a summer shower.
Above him, black and gray clouds raced across the midday sky, as though they were chased by some unforeseen element of nature.
However, there was little if any wind this day to cause their speed.
Small hailstones spit around Black Lion from those clouds, some hitting him full in the face. Ofttimes they hurt, for Black Lion had come before the Great Spirit as naked as a young babe.
He was cold. He was discouraged, but Black Lion would not be swayed from his task. He had come to this place, high in the mountains, to pray and to seek counsel with his spirit protector. He would have this counsel with his Creator.
With smoldering sage in hand, he sang out:
“Mountain lioness, spirit protector
Hear my plea.
I have been gone from here, my country, it is true,
But I am home now, and I need seek your advice.
I did as you asked, and I sought the song
Across the seas.
I did not find it.
I did as you asked again,
I searched for it while traveling here and there.
I did not find it. I still have not found it.
But, spirit protector, something new has happened.
I have married, and the voice that sings the sacred
Song to me each night is she who is my wife.
Is she the one who has it?
May I sing it to her? Or if I sing it,
And she does not know it,
Will I forever have failed the Clan?
Mountain lioness, spirit protector, hear me.
I have not forgotten my people;
I have not laid their plight to rest.
Mountain lioness, protector I would ask your help.”
“Ha! Ha!”
Had the sound come from above him? What was it?
“Ha!”
There it was again. Hau! It was above him, in the clouds.
“Ha! Ha, ha!”
“Who is there?” Black Lion addressed his words to the low-ranging and ever-moving black puffs of vapor.
“Ha! You dare to come this close to me? You, who are no more than a human being?” It was the Thunderer, his enemy. There could be no mistaking the identity of the voice.
“Human being I may be,” called out Black Lion, “but I would best you if you would dare to come to earth to fight me. Because of you, my people are enslaved. Because of you, my people weep. Because of you, my heart is filled with the desire for revenge, so do not taunt me, Thunder Being. Either meet me in a hand-to-hand fight, or leave this place.”
“Ha! Ha, ha, ha!”
The dark clouds rolled, gathering force, and Black Lion thought that at any moment a lightning bolt might strike him down. Still, he did not retreat. Instead, he bared his breast to the god of thunder, physically issuing a challenge.
But there was to be no fight this day. Still laughing, the Thunderer moved along in the sky, forcing the clouds to speed elsewhere, perhaps to torment some other unfortunate soul. Gradually, the Thunderer’s laughter faded into the distance. But not so Black Lion’s resentment.
In protest, Black Lion raised his arms to the sky and shouted, “Come back again and challenge me, if you dare, Thunderer. I will best you!” Lowering his arms, he repeated, this time more softly, “I will best you.”
But the Thunderer was gone, taking the blackened clouds with him.
Black Lion paused, if only to clear his heart, for it would do no good to address the Great Spirit and his protector with anger. At last he was ready to continue his prayer, and he sang:
“Mountain lioness, spirit protector
Can you tell me if my wife is the one who owns the song?
May I sing to her?
Help me discover the truth of this,
For I am lost in this land of the whites.
Protector, I would give my life in service to my people,
For I am not afraid.
But to wait when she, who may know the song, is close,
Is torture.
Help me, Spirit Protector. For if you do, I promise
That I and my people will sing songs of your praise so
Long as we exist.”
Again, Black Lion raised his arms to the heavens. This time, his exposed face was lifted toward the sky. Hope burned deep within him, and he waited for a reply.
But it seemed his spirit protector was not here this day. Lowering his arms, Black Lion squatted next to the fire, warming himself but a moment. Though the fire’s heat called to him, he could not linger here. Need drove him to find the mountain lioness, for time was growing short.
Standing, Black Lion made a decision. He would leave the safety of his camp to go in search of his namesake, his protector. Though Black Lion was naked, he would endure the cold, the sleet and the snow. Somehow, in some way, he would find the guidance he desperately sought.
After damping down the fire, he set out upon his journey. He traipsed in a circle around the mountain, and all the while he called out, “Mountain lioness, protector, come. I have need of counsel.”
But there was nothing.
Almost delirious from hunger, cold and disappointment, Black Lion trod back toward his camp.
Reaching it, he noticed that the fire was still alive but almost out.
Quickly he rekindled it. He would remain here one more night, but he feared he could devote no more time than this.
Already he had been on this mountain two days and nights, and the white man’s show would not allow him more than this.
One more night.
“Human!”
Black Lion came fully awake.
“Human, you have called my name the day through. I have watched you. I have seen how you suffer. I have taken pity on you, and I will help you if I can. What is it you seek from me?”
Black Lion sat up, his buffalo robe falling from around his shoulders and onto his lap. At last, he had come face-to-face with his protector, the mountain lioness, for the animal sat close to him, the lion’s hind legs folded beneath her, her front legs and paws stretched out in front of her.
Black Lion tried to speak, but his voice took leave of him. He coughed and sputtered in his attempt, but at last he was able to say, “I seek counsel.”
“I am here.”
“Thank you. Mountain lioness, I would seek to know if I am on the right path. I have found the voice of the woman who sings the sacred song to me each night in my dreams. I long to sing the song to her, to see if I can break the spell for my people, but I fear to do it, in case she is not the one. Will you not tell me, mountain lioness, is she the one who will proclaim the song?”
“Human, you must discover this yourself.”
“Hau, hau. But, protector, are you saying that I may sing it to her?”
“Human, do not misunderstand. Listen well to me. You have one chance and only one chance to chant this song without missing a word. If you sing it to your wife and she does not know it, then you will have failed, for you will not have found the song. Know if this happens, you will have lost the opportunity to save your people…forever…”
At these words, Black Lion sank inward on himself, bringing up his hands to cover his face.
He must have appeared utterly dejected, for his spirit protector continued to speak.
“But come, it is not hopeless. I will cleanse you in the right way, and afterward, I will give you my own song, the song of the lion. While it is not the sacred song, it is one you may sing freely to anyone you choose. Perhaps the one who knows the sacred melody may recognize this, a lion’s song, and then perhaps this very same person might help you. ”
As she spoke, the mountain lioness had come up onto all fours, so that the two of them, human being and lion, stared at one another, face-to-face.
Black Lion said, “I thank you for your wisdom, protector. It is, indeed, a great gift you offer me. For this I will honor you, and I will sing your song with a glad heart.”
The mountain lioness seemed well satisfied with this and turned to walk a few steps away.
Black Lion commenced to follow, but the mountain lioness hadn’t gone far before she leaped onto a ledge and spun around toward Black Lion.
“It is good, human being. I am honored by your words.
Know this in warning. Nothing in this life is certain; nothing, no man, no animal, is perfect.
But there are those who help others more than they harm.
Seek to be he who helps, not he who harms, and if you do this, your pure heart will guide you straight.
“But beware. The white man’s ways are tempting. I will do what I can to help you, but you must keep to your purpose. Do not become distracted by ways of the flesh. Though you are married, you, your people, must be willing to sacrifice pleasures of the flesh.
“Now come, and I will lead you to a stream where you may cleanse yourself. Then I will sing my song to you.”
“Hau, you speak wisely, my friend, and I will honor your words. If you will guide me, I will follow.” Gaining his feet, Black Lion adhered well to his promise, chasing after the mountain lioness as they sped over the rocky terrain of the high mountains.
The Deadwood stagecoach was a piece of history, and was in fact the same coach that years earlier had been held up by Indians. Pulled by six mules, the coach sped into and around the large open-air arena as if pursued by Indians.
And it was.
The stunt was meant to be a reenactment, not simply a show. As a matter of fact, Suzette had come to learn that Bill Cody did not consider the Wild West a show at all. Rather, the Wild West was a depiction of the history of the West, as Cody had known and lived it.
In the reenactment, the coach was driven by Tom Duffey, a man who had been one of the original drivers of the Deadwood coach years earlier.
Seated atop the rear of the coach was John Nelson, another colorful frontiersman who was rumored to have wed several Indian maids during his career—and at the same time.
At present, Nelson and family were among several authentic characters in the show.