French doors opened to a wide and spacious balcony that hung out over the high cliff that overlooked the winding, muddy water of the Mississippi. On a foggy day, the sound of foghorns wafted upward, mysterious and beautiful.
Today, Jolena would be a part of the mystery, her heart thrilling anew at the thought of traveling so far on the steamboat, her destination one of intrigue and expectations that she could not deny made her heart begin thumping, as though drums inside her were beating out a steady rhythm.
Drums.
Indians.
The thought of finally finding at least a part of her heritage by being near Indians caused her to feel a strange sort of headiness.
If only…
Her thoughts were interrupted by her father's voice. "Go and lay more wood on the fire, Kirk," he said, sounding shallow as he held his emotions deeply guarded within him, those same emotions that were there in his eyes every time Jolena looked at him.
He now sat at the table and was spreading a napkin across his lap. Torn with emotions herselfemotions that battled inside her over this decision she had made to leave the life she had always known to step into the unknownJolena silently pulled her chair out from the table and sat down. She gingerly spread her napkin across her lap as Kirk laid two more split walnut chunks against the backlog of the fireplace.
Avoiding her father's steady stare, which made Jolena feel guilty again for leaving him, she watched Kirk as he came to the table. She felt blessed to have such a brother. He was a highly intelligent young man, who was setting aside his future for her, to be her escort. Today he was ever so handsome in his blue corduroy trousers and white linen shirt.
The one thing that was distracting and somewhat threatening was the holstered pearl-handled pistol belted at his waist. It had been a gift from their father, for Kirk to carry with him during the journey to and from the Montana Territory.
It gave Jolena a dried-throat feeling to believe that her brother would ever have need of the pistol, yet she knew that the chances were greater than not that he would be forced to use it.
There were reports of Indian attacks and massacres in the Montana Territory.
Not even realizing that she had picked up her fork and was toying with her platter of scrambled eggs, her father was a sudden, loud reminder.
"Stop playing with your food and eat, damn it," Bryce said, frowning at Jolena, practicing his duties as a father for as long as he was allowed to.
Jolena smiled weakly over at him and nodded. "Yes, father," she murmured. "I… I was just lost in thought. Within the next hour I shall be boarding the steamer. I can't help but be excited."
Bryce gave her another lingering, unnerving stare, then swallowed hard and looked down at his untouched eggs. He so feared losing Jolena once she entered the land of her ancestors. If she came face to face with her true father and people, she might want to stay with them and become one of themone with them.
Bryce slowly shifted his eyes to Kirk. He had taken his son aside more than once and had begged him to keep Jolena from the truth of who her true tribe of people were, at all cost.
But he understood too well that Kirk was the less willful of his two children.
If Jolena set her mind on something, nothing on God's earth would change it. Not even her devoted brother.
He threw his fork down and slapped at his legs angrily. "Damn these legs," he said, his voice breaking with emotion. It was his place to watch after his daughter and he was no longer able. "Damn them all to hell and back."
Tears came to Jolena's eyes as she witnessed her father's frustration. She felt utterly helpless and for a brief instant thought she should change her plans.
Then the dream of the handsome Blackfoot warrior came to her again in her mind's eye and she knew that nothingnot even a grieving, sad fathercould sway her decision from seeking out her destiny.
Chapter Four
Three Months Later
The Montana Territory
Montana. A wilderness of steep, wooded slopes and flowery mountain meadows, where streams tumbled over the waterfalls and blue lakes lay in peaceful valleys.
The leaves of the cottonwoods rustled and whispered in the wind, seemingly answering the soft sounds of the brook as its crystal-clear water rippled and splashed over the rocks.
The glow of the moon reached down from the velvety black sky of night, caressing the grassy mound upon which lay a fresh spray of wild flowers, the daisies with their gold and brown faces the most prominent of them all.
Spotted Eagle rested on his haunches beside the grave, something like a silent bidding that he did not understand having drawn him to Sweet Dove's burial spot. He had been there this time since the sun had begun its descent behind the distant mountains, praying and offering his gift of flowers to a woman who was long gone from him, yet who still remained within his thoughts and heart as vividly as when he had looked upon her lovely face as a youth enamored with an older woman.
When she died, a part of him had gone to the grave with her.
And because of his infatuation, even still at his age of twenty-eight, he had not yet found a woman who compared with Sweet Dove, and so his blankets were only warmed at night by his loneliness.
"Spotted Eagle, ok-yi, come. Wo-ka-hit, listen, my friend. If we are to make Fort Chance by morning, we must leave now," Two Ridges said, chancing disturbing his friend's private moment.
Two Ridges did not understand his friend's feelings for Sweet Dove, for he himself enjoyed the company of women his own age, having at sixteen taken many beautiful maidens to his blankets with him, enjoying the sensual moments shared with them. Although he knew that Spotted Eagle was not practicing celibacy, he still had not chosen a particular woman to sweeten his dwelling.
Two Ridges planned to make a choice soon, so that he would look older and more virile in the eyes of his more mature, special friend. Now it sometimes seemed to him that he was only an annoyance to Spotted Eagle.
Two Ridges felt his friend's annoyance even now, as Spotted Eagle turned angry eyes up at him for having disturbed his silent vigil at the grave site.
Yet Two Ridges did not allow this anger to reach inside him and make him lower his eyes in shame, for he knew that he was right to remind Spotted Eagle that time was quickly passingtime that should be spent in their saddles instead of beside the grave of a woman whose heart and soul had belonged to another man.
Spotted Eagle gazed up at Two Ridges. He had long ago welcomed this youth as a friend, at first amused by the young lad's way of shadowing him from the time he could walk. The bond of friendship had strengthened through the years and had matured into something special. Spotted Eagle could not help but admire Two Ridges' ability to shoot, ride, and hunt.
He smi
led to himself, even admiring his young friend's prowess with women. Spotted Eagle at times thought that he might learn from his friend's behavior with women, yet still could not allow himself to be that free with his heart and feelings.
He was one day to be a powerful chief.
He must present himself as a man of great pride and restraint!
Spotted Eagle took a last, lingering look at the grave, leaned a hand upon the grass still warmed by the sun, then turned his eyes up at Two Ridges. ''You are right," he said, rising to his full height, which was not much over his friend's height, Two Ridges standing at least six feet without moccasins. "We must leave for Fort Chance. It is an interesting time for us, would you not agree? Who of our people have ever seenhow do you say the wordlep-i-dop-ter-ist? I have to wonder if these white people will be as strange looking as the title they bear?"
Spotted Eagle chuckled as he swung an arm around Two Ridges' shoulder and then walked together toward their grazing horses.
"My heart is happy that you chose this Indian to join you in being a guide this time, to help protect the white people from the Cree renegades while they search for the rare butterfly that you, my friend, spotted in this area," Two Ridges said, casting Spotted Eagle a quick glance. He admired, yet envied more, this man who would be chief after the passing of his chieftain father. "I will learn much from you during this trip. Already you have taught me much that makes me look good to the women."
"There will come a time when you will find life as good without women as with them," Spotted Eagle said, offering a soft, amused laugh to his friend. "When you find that special woman and join hands with her, then perhaps you can find other purposes in life. She will tend to your nightly needs, and during the daytime hours you will not be as busy shifting your eyes from woman to woman, hungering for each of them. You will become a man whose wife is envied for the feats you will perform as a proud warrior of our people."
"Yes, soon I will choose that perfect woman to warm my bed at night and sweeten my tepee with her smile," Two Ridges said, nodding. "I have been thinking that Moon Flower might be the right one." He shifted his gaze once again his friend's way. "You, also, must find that certain woman. Is it not important that you soon bring a son into your life, to teach him all that you have taught this boy who is fast growing into ways of a man? To have a son, you must first have a nit-o-ke-mana wife."
"You need not tell me the ways of the world and what is required of me to make sons," Spotted Eagle said, his voice no longer light and carefree, but annoyed at the impertinence of this young man at his side. "In time, a woman will fill my arms and warm my blankets. Until now, none has interested me."
"Except for my father's first wife," Two Ridges dared to say, giving his friend a guarded glance after he said it.
"Watch your words with me," Spotted Eagle snapped back. He paused, then added, "I was a mere boy then, yet I felt, I am sure, the feelings of a man for your father's first wife. But I rightfully and respectfully kept those feelings to myself. Still, I feel them and mourn her I believe even more than your father has ever mourned her."
"My father did mourn Sweet Dove and married soon after her death because he could not bear the loneliness and pain of his first wife's absence," Two Ridges said in defense of his father, Brown Elk. "And should he not have married my mother then, you would not have a best friend to shadow your every move now. Would that not sadden you?"
"It would not be something that would make me sad, because you would not have entered my thoughts had you not been born," Spotted Eagle said matter-of-factly.
"That is so," Two Ridges said thoughtfully. Then he cast a big smile toward Spotted Eagle. "You are glad that Father remarried and had a son, are you not?"
"Yes, it makes my heart happy," Spotted Eagle said. Speaking of Brown Elk having a son catapulted his mind back eighteen years, when Brown Elk had also had another child born to hima child that had been stolen from its dead mother and never seen or heard from again.
Spotted Eagle had wondered often about that child, whether or not it was a boy or girl, for that child would be a half-brother or -sister to Two Ridges.
Spotted Eagle had wondered if Two Ridges had ever been told of the child. It was not a question he had ever tested by asking.
It was for Brown Elk to make such confessions to a son!
Having reached their horses, Spotted Eagle stroked the mane of his mounta black stallion, a very fast horse with a white spot on its sidethen swung himself into his saddle.
Two Ridges followed his lead, soon sitting tall and square-shouldered on his strawberry roan.
"Let us be on our way!" Spotted Eagle shouted, sinking his moccasined heels into the muscled flanks of his horse. The fringes of his buckskin shirt and breeches blew and fluttered in the wind as he rode off at a fast gallop into the moonlight-drenched night, his friend close beside him.
When Fort Chance came into sight at the break of dawn, it was not the fort and the tall fence surrounding it that drew their attention. It was the sight of a huge paddle-wheeler moving down the Missouri River, its tall smokestacks blackened with smoke, many people lining the rails on the top deck, waiting for the boat to stop and deliver them to the Montana Territory.
Two Ridges drew a tight rein and stopped. He forked an eyebrow and gestured toward the steamboat with a wide swing of his arm. "Is not that a strange floating canoe?" he marveled. "It is so large! It carries many people in its bowels!"
Spotted Eagle drew rein beside his friend, yet offered no conversation. His insides were tight with more thoughts of Sweet Dove. It had been said that perhaps her child had been taken by those who rode the large river vessel those many years ago.
He tried not to be angered by this possibility.
Long ago his father had made peace with the white people. He had dug a hole in the ground and in it the Blackfoot had placed their anger and covered it up, so that there was no more war. His father still being chief, dealings were peaceful with the white people. The rival Indian tribes of this region were now more their enemy than anyone else.
The friendship of his Blackfoot people toward the whites had been fostered by decades of commerce with beaver hunters who roamed their mountain homeland. Spotted Eagle himself had chosen to walk the white man's road in peace, having felt that it was important to win favor with those who seemed destined to inherit the future.
Many Blackfoot warriors had even gone as far as saving many emigrants' lives by guiding and protecting them against the hostile Indians of the territory, as Spotted Eagle, in the capacity of a guide, had agreed to protect these people arriving on the river vessel from the Cree.
This would be easily done, for Spotted Eagle now spoke the English language well, from ha
ving become so closely associated with those at the fort and at the many trading posts in the area.
Feeling that enough time had been spent watching the large river vessel, Spotted Eagle sank his heels into the flanks of his horse and thundered onward toward the fort, Two Ridges soon beside him.
"There are many beautiful white women," Two Ridges said, smiling devilishly at Spotted Eagle. "Your business is scouting, not women-watching," Spotted Eagle said, giving his friend another annoyed glance. Two Ridges' love for women would one day get him in a barrel of trouble.
Silence fell between them as they grew closer and closer to the river boat that was inching its way closer to land for docking.
Jolena leaned her full weight against the rail as she combed her fingers through her wind-tousled hair, absorbing everything as the steamboat moved closer to shore.
Savage Illusions Page 4
