Follow The Stars Home Page 18

  The wagons wound through the streets and drew up alongside a grassy bank along the river. Lights reflected in the dark waters from a few buildings. The beautiful scene took her breath away. A steam paddleboat made its way downstream, and the calm the scene had instilled abandoned her. Too similar to the boat in which the students had been crammed on their journey to Carlisle, it reminded her of Black Bear. Sleeping beside him made the hot, overcrowded room seem cozy. How she wished he were here with her! Not knowing where he went or if he was safe left an empty space inside her that no one could fill. She prayed to the Great Spirit to protect him, guide him safely wherever he might be.

  ****

  Riding Sunshine at a walk, Black Bear took in the streets of Staten Island. No farms here with outlying barns where he could hide. Since his wound had mostly healed, a white would have less sympathy finding him holed up anywhere. Heading west might be his last option, but to where? Something in his spirit still wandered the ghost world, and until he’d found it again, he couldn’t go back home. For tonight, he’d have to find a hotel. The morning sun might bring a better day tomorrow.

  A four-story brick hotel with a two-door entrance beckoned him. The bedroll had come in handy, but he looked forward to a real bed, and a bath. After tying the horse to the hitching post, Black Bear went inside.

  A gold chandelier hung in the lobby above the white and grey-streaked marble floor.

  Behind the counter, a man in a silk vest and round eyeglasses consulted a ledger. He glanced up with wide eyes. “Yes?”

  “Do you have any rooms available?”

  Smoothing his vest, he said, “You’re in the wrong place.”

  Scowling, Black Bear said, “Not if you have a room open.”

  The man’s hand drifted down, out of sight. Crouching slightly, he said, “I’m afraid I’ll have to ask you to leave.”

  Black Bear realized he was reaching for a gun. Disgust tainted his tongue. “Fine. Sorry to bother you.” He backed away, keeping the man in his sight. Although he’d made no threats, the man probably wouldn’t be punished for shooting a Lakota. Black Bear didn’t want any trouble. He’d had enough of that already.

  Outside in the gathering gloom, a man in a tall black hat and suit holding the arm of a lady wearing a blue silk gown and feather-topped hat sidestepped to avoid Black Bear.

  He ran his hand along the palomino’s neck. “We’re in the wrong part of town, Sunshine.” They rode further on to where the buildings grew smaller, less well-kept. At a two-story wooden hotel, he dismounted and strode inside.

  A counter sat to the side, and Black Bear’s boots thudded on the lobby’s wooden plank floors. Wearing a worn suit, the man behind the counter gave a heavy sigh when he approached, but otherwise appeared bored.

  “Do you have any rooms available?” Black Bear imagined these beds would be less comfortable, but still better than riding all night.

  The man pursed his lips. “For paying customers.”

  “Do you have a barn and feed for my horse?”

  “There’s a paddock out back with a run-in. You can buy feed at the dry goods store down the street.”

  He’d have preferred better shelter for Sunshine. With a wince, he pulled out his money roll. “How much?”

  The man cocked his jaw. “Well… I suppose I could let you have the room in back, where you won’t startle anyone.”

  “Fine.” He hated to use so much of his small savings, but counted out one night’s rent.

  Shoving a key across the counter, the man said, “Down the hall and to the right.”

  “Is there somewhere I can get something to eat?”

  “The saloon across the way.”

  Black Bear took the key, went outside to retrieve the saddle bags and carried them down the hallway. The small bed, pushed against one wall, creaked when he sat down. A table held a small wash basin, and the closet had three hooks. He’d have liked to have extra clothes to hang there. Or to wash the clothes he wore. Until he found some work, he couldn’t afford to buy more.

  Maybe that was his answer. To stay in New York. Perhaps work as an illustrator for a newspaper. To do so, he’d have to reveal his education. In all likelihood, Pratt would never find out, but he grew angry to think the school would follow him like an unwanted shadow the rest of his life.

  The gathering darkness meant the hour grew late, so he locked his room and went outside. Piano music echoed across the street, mixed with laughter and rowdy talk. At the entrance, Black Bear braced himself. After a quick dinner, he’d feed Sunshine and get him settled, then rest–if he could quiet his mind long enough. Since leaving Cody, worry nagged him: stay here and try to find work? To do so meant continuing to live the lie begun at Carlisle, fitting into the wasichu world. Cody’s comment burned like an ember in his heart. Not Indian enough. Nor was he white. He belonged nowhere.

  Customers stared as he strode to the bar, the men’s gazes narrowed and piercing, the women’s sly and inviting. None welcome or enticed him. All he wanted was to fill his belly and leave.

  The bartender wiped his hands on a rag. “Yeah?”

  “Can I get something to eat?”

  “Kitchen’s closed. But the bar’s open.”

  Tired and hungry, Black Bear persisted. “You must have some leftovers. I need something to eat.”

  In the mirror behind the bar, a man weaved through the tables. “Hey, red man. Where’d you get that horse?”

  Black Bear ignored him and asked the bartender again. “Some bread, at least?”

  The drunk tapped his shoulder hard. “I’m talkin’ to you, Injun.”

  Heaving a sigh, Black Bear asked, “Yes?”

  “I said, your palomino looks like the one stolen from me.”

  “I’m sorry your horse is lost, but Sunshine belongs to me.”

  With round eyes, the drunk hooted. “A horse named Sunshine belong to an Injun? You’re a liar.” He shoved Black Bear’s chest.

  While reaching for the bar to steady himself, the man swung his fist. Black Bear ducked.

  Chairs at every table scraped. Men stood, gawking. Some edged closer.

  When his fist missed, the man stumbled and fell across a table. Another man stepped in, swinging. His knuckles slammed into Black Bear’s jaw, and sent him backward.

  Two more men fell atop him. Their fists pounded his head, his chest, his sides. Black Bear flailed to deflect their punches, and they hit harder. Over the yelling of the onlookers, the bartender boomed for them to take it outside. Someone grabbed Black Bear’s jacket and slung him out the door. He landed face down in the dirt. Dazed, he pushed up to his knees. A boot connected with his side, and knocked him down again. A kick to his jaw made the world go black. From inside that darkness, his body still felt the pummeling.

  When he roused later, piano music sounded again. People in the saloon laughed and whooped.

  Pain shot through every muscle when he lifted onto an elbow. His eye swollen and blood trickling from his mouth, he eased his head to look across the street. Sunshine was gone.

  Anger and desperation forced him up, but he fell back to his knees. Crawling, he made his way to the hotel. He pulled himself up on the railing and dragged himself to the door, and hung against the jamb.

  The hotel manager waved. “No you don’t. Get out.”

  “I’m going to my room.” Feeling inside his pocket, he found it empty. His fingers tore through every other pocket but found nothing. They’d stolen his money roll.

  “I don’t want your kind of trouble here. Leave or I’ll call the authorities.”

  “My horse is gone.” Even if he could leave, he had nowhere to go.

  The click of a gun sounded. “I said go.”

  Struggling to balance, Black Bear turned and stumbled back out. “Forgive me, George.” Too weak to rescue the horse, Black Bear lurched toward the direction he’d come, with only one thought: Find Cody.

  For hours, it seemed, he dragged himself forward. When he finally reached
the arena, it sat dark. Panic iced his veins. The troupe may have already left. Desperation drove him to the back where the outbuildings stood. Peering through the window, he saw the outline of a buffalo. Weak with relief, he stumbled to the door and unlatched it.

  “Hey! Get away from there,” called a man.

  Black Bear slid to the ground, and heard nothing else.

  ****

  Yellow burst in the sky like a flower of light. Its tendrils disintegrated before Rose could comprehend it. Another blossomed to take its place in white, then red.

  For once, William stood speechless, watching with an open-mouthed smile.

  The fireworks saddened her. They appeared like stars exploding and dying, leaving only emptiness in their wake. Huge stars, hovering close to earth, booming with the thunder of the Wakinyan Tanka. The Thunder Birds. Beings who helped those in need.

  Rose’s need loomed as large as the fireworks over her head, and weighed on her, forced her to turn away. Stumbling through the crowd, her vision became blurred by tears. The fireworks’ noise blocked out conversation, leaving only snipes of gasps, laughter, a word or two as she passed.

  Until a hand gripped her arm and halted her. “You lost, sweetheart?” asked a voice as gruff as his hold.

  Jerking away did nothing to loosen his grasp.

  “We’ll help you find your way,” one said.

  Leering close, the other said, “We sure will, honey. You come along with us.”

  “No. Leave me alone!” Panic struck. She should never have left William’s side. He had no idea where she was. No one did.

  For a few moments, brilliant light exposed the men’s faces, made ugly by their thoughts.

  “No. William! William!” Rose screamed his name over and over.

  The second man grasped her other arm, and dragged her through the crowd. Some glanced over, but seemed not to register her plight. Or perhaps they didn’t care what happened to a Lakota.

  From somewhere behind them, she thought she heard someone call her name. Glancing back, she screamed, “William! Pratt! Help me!”

  “Shut up!” The two jerked her forward faster.

  Her heart pounded wildly, and leaped when William came into view, shoving through the people, oblivious to anything but the fireworks.

  “Rose!” called someone through the crowd.

  “Help me!” she shrieked.

  None of it seemed real. Especially when Pratt appeared behind William, concern creasing his features. Raising his arm, he yelled for them to let Rose go.

  Like obedient dogs, the two dropped their hold and ran. Dazed, Rose sank to the ground.

  Moments later, William’s hands supported her. “Rose, are you all right? What happened?”

  When she opened her mouth to explain, she wailed instead.

  “I’m so sorry, Rose. I should have stayed with you. This is all my fault.”

  No, her thoughts screamed. It’s Black Bear’s fault. He should have been here. He should have been with her since they arrived at Carlisle. Every moment.

  Pratt stood over them. “Is she all right?”

  “I think so,” William said.

  “I lost the two scallywags in the darkness. Let’s get her back to the others.”

  Anger drove her sobs. William cradled her to him, and she leaned into him. Never could she tell him she cried because he wasn’t Black Bear.

  ****

  Light split Black Bear’s swollen eyes. People stood over him in a small room.

  “He’s comin’ around,” a man said.

  Bracing himself, he flinched with pain and groaned. Every inch of his body hurt. “No more!” If they beat him again, he’d curl up and die. He couldn’t take any more.

  “Relax,” a man said. “If we wanted to kill you, we wouldn’t have bandaged you up, now would we?”

  The outline of a woman beside him on the bed grew less hazy. “Drink this.”

  Her dark hair and dark eyes put him at ease. “You’re here.” Quiet Thunder had come to him.

  “I’ve been here just about all night.” Susannah tilted the cup to his mouth.

  Whatever the liquid was, it stung his lips. Blinking hard, he realized who caressed his cheek.

  Cody peered over her. “At least you look more like a Sioux now.”

  Unable to make sense of how he’d gotten there, Black Bear moaned. “Does this mean I have a job?”

  Cody guffawed. “Well I’ll be. If you’re that set on it, then I can’t refuse now, can I?”

  Black Bear let his head fall back to the pillow. “No.”

  “I expect it might take awhile before you’re up to riding.”

  Riding. Sunshine. “My horse. They stole it.”

  “You’re lucky to be alive,” the woman said.

  Lucky? Black Bear didn’t feel lucky. All he felt was pain.

  As Cody turned to leave, he said, “Once you’re back on your feet, I expect you to measure up. If you don’t, I’ll send you packing. Understood?”

  “Yes.” If Black Bear understood anything anymore, it was expectations. But this time, he intended to live up to Cody’s. Maybe in playacting in these shows, he might remember enough of himself.

  Chapter Eleven

  Miss Ely stood at the front of the classroom. “Does anyone know the answer?”

  Rose hadn’t heard the question. Since arriving back in Carlisle, she’d had trouble concentrating.

  Why was she here? Black Bear had left. Her only reason for coming. She didn’t belong here. She didn’t want to be here.

  It occurred to her, then, that she’d been waiting for him to return.

  She could wait until the stars faded, but he would never come back. She knew that now.

  After Miss Ely dismissed the class, she called, “Rose?”

  Bracing for a reprimand, she went to the teacher’s desk. “Yes, Miss Ely?”

  “I heard what happened in Philadelphia. I understand if you need some extra time to complete your assignments.”

  The woman’s attempt at kindness fell short of what she really needed. “That won’t be necessary. I’ll have my work finished on time.”

  She hurried to the end of the line and marched outside. The midday sun shone strong, but didn’t warm her.

  The harsh realities of the world weren’t only in strangers’ aggressive actions, but in the failings of those she loved best.

  ****

  The fact that Black Bear somehow escaped any broken bones amazed himself, but impressed Buffalo Bill Cody, too, as some sort of sign of Black Bear’s hardiness. On his first day of practice, Black Bear wished he were still recovering. The moment he mounted the horse, his stiff muscles ached in protest. Using George’s saddle had seemed a good idea, but his legs had grown used to the ease of stirrups.

  Shame filled him when he had to get a leg up from another troupe member to mount the horse, a jittery three-year-old paint. Nothing like Black Bear’s own beloved paint, who would wait for his command before moving.

  “It’s the only spare horse we got, so make the best of it,” the man said, twining his hands together as a makeshift step.

  Black Bear had no choice. Placing a foot in the man’s hands, he grabbed the mane.

  Ears pinned, the paint shuffled its hooves in the dirt, its back side swinging from side to side. His first attempt landed Black Bear on the ground.

  A few Cherokee and Arapaho whooped in passing. At the squeeze of a knee, their steeds turned, galloped or halted to a dead stop.

  Sitting on the sidelines, Cody stared intently in Black Bear’s direction.

  With a grunt, Black Bear pushed up to a stand. He would ride today even if he had to tie himself to the horse’s neck. Finally, he sat astride. One kick sent the paint to a gallop. Three riders steered their mounts out of the way, cursing. Never had Black Bear ridden a horse so sensitive. At every touch, it turned or changed pace. Black Bear’s organs nearly dislodged in trying to adjust to its moves.

  “Hell, boy,” Cody said, st
riding toward him. “You got gumption. But I don’t think you’re up to trick riding yet. Why don’t you practice shooting instead? Susannah,” he called to her.

  Waiting to board the stage coach for the holdup act, Susannah flashed a smile. When Cody waved her over, she strode at an unladylike pace. “What can I do for you boys?”

  That she extended her eager friendliness to every man put Black Bear a little more at ease, but her constant watchfulness reminded him of Effie. An experience he had no wish to repeat.

  “Work with Black Bear today on his shooting. You have shot before, haven’t you son?”

  Tempted to say yes, Black Bear knew the lie would come back on him. “Never.”

  With a chuckle, Cody tapped his shoulder. “You’re about to learn. Stray bullets kill sure as aimed ones. Don’t let me down.”

  “Come with me.” After grabbing a rifle and a pistol, Susannah told Black Bear to do the same, and then sashayed outside, her skirts swishing.

  A group of Mexican men twirled lassos in front of them, sending the rope spinning above their heads. In a riding ring, Arabs galloped their black steeds, their white robes flowing behind. Cossacks danced in unison, dropping nearly to the ground before swiftly rising, kicking high. Military men marched in drill, shouldering and re-shouldering their rifles.

  They stopped near a fence, and Susannah set up a line of ten tin cans in two sections of five. With unnerving speed, she opened the pistol chamber, loaded bullets and handed it to him. She repeated the process with her handgun. “We’ll start small. You aim for the ones on the right, I’ll take the left.”

  After instructing him how to sight down the barrel, she shot five times. The five cans flew off the fence rail.

  Taking careful aim, Black Bear squeezed the trigger. The thrust of the bullet leaving the gun surprised him. The cans remaining on the rail embarrassed him. Shifting his stance, he lined up the gun barrel with a can and shot. And shot. With his last bullet, a can wobbled, and then toppled, but all the other targets still stood.