Savage Illusions

by Cassie Edwards

  When a sud­den bolt of lig­h­t­ning splin­te­red a tree clo­se by, the­re was not­hing to be do­ne abo­ut the mu­les that we­re just as qu­ickly spo­oked.

  Jolena scre­amed.

  The mu­les at­tac­hed to all of the wa­gons be­gan squ­e­aling and scram­b­ling in all di­rec­ti­ons. The wa­go­ners cur­sed and snap­ped the­ir whips along the backs of the con­fu­sed, frig­h­te­ned mu­les, ca­using the ani­mals to stra­in even mo­re des­pe­ra­tely at the­ir har­nes­ses.

  The cha­ins clan­ked.

  The ax­les gro­aned as the mu­les tur­ned in a frenzy and be­gan run­ning blindly to­ward the ed­ge of the cliff.

  Spotted Eag­le had be­en lag­ging be­hind on his stal­li­on, dis­cus­sing the day's plans with Two Rid­ges, when the storm bro­ke and ever­y­t­hing aro­und him be­ca­me a fren­zi­ed mass.

  Stunned, he wat­c­hed thro­ugh the blin­ding ra­in as the mu­les be­gan run­ning to­ward the cliff. His in­si­des fro­ze as first one wa­gon plun­ged over the si­de, then anot­her.

  And even when Jole­na's wa­gon went over the si­de of the cliff and he felt as tho­ugh his he­art le­apt from in­si­de him, he was unab­le to do an­y­t­hing sin­ce it had all hap­pe­ned so qu­ickly. In one wink of an eye his wo­man was lost to him!

  "Can it be that what we saw is re­al?" Two Rid­ges sa­id, in his vo­ice a pa­nic. He re­ac­hed over and clas­ped Spot­ted Eag­le's arm. " Hai-yah! Tell me that what I saw is not re­al! Tell me, Spot­ted Eag­le, that it was not re­al!"

  Spotted Eag­le yan­ked his arm away, sank his he­els in­to the flanks of his hor­se, and ro­de off in a hard gal­lop to­ward the sce­ne. His pul­se ra­ced, and wit­hin his he­art the­re was an ac­he far wor­se than he had ex­pe­ri­en­ced when he he­ard of Swe­et Do­ve's pas­sing.

  This ti­me he had lost his wo­man­t­he wo­man who was his fu­tu­re, the mot­her of chil­d­ren that wo­uld now ne­ver be born of the­ir lo­ve!

  Tears scor­c­hed Spot­ted Eag­le's che­eks. Dis­mo­un­ting in one le­ap when he re­ac­hed the cliff, he clung to the hor­se's re­ins as he da­red to ta­ke a step clo­ser so that he co­uld lo­ok down upon the wrec­ka­ge be­low him. He co­uld scar­cely sum­mon up the co­ura­ge to lo­ok over the cliff and see her bro­ken body.

  Yet he co­uld not turn away un­til he knew for cer­ta­in that she was lying among her fri­ends and brot­her, de­ad…

  Two Rid­ges was still too stu­pe­fi­ed by the sud­den­ness of what had hap­pe­ned to mo­ve. He wat­c­hed with ba­ted bre­ath as Spot­ted Eag­le to­ok anot­her step clo­ser to the ed­ge of the cliff, wa­iting for his fri­end to emit a lo­ud cry of des­pa­ir.

  Not wan­ting to ex­pe­ri­en­ce such a mo­ment, Two Rid­ges tur­ned his eyes away from his fri­end, trying to fo­cus them on so­met­hing el­se that might ma­ke him for­get that hor­rib­le sight of Jole­na's wa­gon plun­ging over the cliff. Two Rid­ges swept his eyes slowly aro­und him. The ra­in was now only a slight driz­zle, ma­king the sce­ne mo­re vi­sib­le than only mo­ments ago. He still re­fu­sed to lo­ok Spot­ted Eag­le's way, al­t­ho­ugh he won­de­red why his fri­end was so qu­i­et, as tho­ugh his eyes had not yet fo­und the wo­man of his de­si­re.

  This ga­ve Two Rid­ges a soft ray of ho­pe wit­hin his he­ar­t­that per­haps his cop­per prin­cess had not truly di­ed af­ter all and that what he had se­en had be­en a mi­ra­ge ca­used by the iri­des­cent flas­hing of the lig­h­t­ning com­bi­ned with the blin­ding ha­ze of the ra­in.

  His he­art thud­ding at the tho­ught, Two Rid­ges star­ted to dis­mo­unt and go to see for him­self that per­haps what he and his fri­end had tho­ught they had se­en had not be­en re­al at all.

  But just as he was swin­ging his leg over his sad­dle, so­met­hing ca­ught his at­ten­ti­on.

  "Jolena?" he whis­pe­red harshly, his pul­se now po­un­ding in his ears at the sight of a slight hand lying on the gro­und, stret­c­hing out from be­hind a thickly le­afed bush.

  "Can it be?" Two Rid­ges mum­b­led to him­self. Co­uld that be Jole­na? Had she be­en thrown free?

  In his an­xi­o­us­ness to see if it we­re true, he star­ted to sho­ut at Spot­ted Eag­le, but so­met­hing wic­ked in­si­de him told him not to­told him that this co­uld be the per­fect op­por­tu­nity to do as he ple­ased, for a chan­ge.

  If this was Jole­na, he co­uld ha­ve her all to him­self!

  He wo­uld carry her away and tre­at her wo­unds. She wo­uld be so gra­te­ful to this Blac­k­fo­ot war­ri­or that she wo­uld be his, in­s­te­ad of Spot­ted Eag­le's.

  The tho­ught diz­zi­ed him as he jum­ped to the gro­und and ran ste­al­t­hily to­ward the bush. When he step­ped qu­ickly be­hind it, ever­y­t­hing wit­hin him mel­lo­wed at the sight of Jole­na lying the­re, un­con­s­ci­o­us, but ob­vi­o­usly not inj­ured all that badly.

  Smiling to him­self, Two Rid­ges knew that Jole­na's un­con­s­ci­o­us sta­te ga­ve him the op­por­tu­nity he ne­eded to carry her away wit­ho­ut aler­ting Spot­ted Eag­le to his fri­end's de­ce­it. He did not even al­low him­self to con­si­der the end re­sults of such a de­ce­it.

  But ha­ving Jole­na as his own was well worth any sac­ri­fi­ce. Two Rid­ges swept her up in­to his arms and car­ri­ed her limp body to his hor­se.

  Casting qu­ick glan­ces Spot­ted Eag­le's way as he now knelt at the ed­ge of the cliff, ob­vi­o­usly pra­ying for the so­ul of his wo­man, Two Rid­ges pla­ced Jole­na ac­ross his sad­dle and swung him­self in­to it.

  Still ca­uti­o­usly wat­c­hing Spot­ted Eag­le, Two Rid­ges eased Jole­na on­to his lap and le­aned her he­ad aga­inst his chest, hol­ding her in pla­ce with one of his po­wer­ful arms, whi­le with his free hand he grip­ped the re­ins and ur­ged his hor­se qu­i­etly aro­und.

  His he­art po­un­ding, Two Rid­ges felt bles­sed that soft moss cus­hi­oned the so­und of his hor­se's ho­oves as they mo­ved on­ward. Two Rid­ges knew whe­re he wo­uld go. The­re was a sec­ret ca­ve that he knew. Ne­ver had he sha­red the lo­ca­ti­on of this ca­ve with Spot­ted Eag­le or any of his ot­her fri­ends. It had be­en Two Rid­ges' sec­ret pla­ce to play as a child and pray as an adult.

  Jolena wo­uld be the only one to sha­re his sec­ret.

  Moving in­to the sha­dows of the fo­rest, Two Rid­ges sig­hed with re­li­ef. Sin­king his kne­es in­to the si­des of his hor­se, he sent it qu­ickly on­ward. When Jole­na mo­aned and mo­ved slightly in his arms, his in­si­des mel­ted as he glan­ced down at her. He stu­di­ed her fe­atu­res, fin­ding them be­a­uti­ful and al­lu­ring, yet now that he was this clo­se, the­re se­emed so­met­hing dif­fe­rent abo­ut her from the be­a­uty he had ad­mi­red in her at arm's length.

  It was only a slight re­sem­b­lan­ce that he was se­e­ing, yet it was the­rea lo­ok in her sle­ep that he had se­en of­ten when his very own fat­her lay sle­eping.

  There was so­met­hing abo­ut the way she held her lips, the way she se­emed to be smi­ling even whi­le as­le­ep…

  He had ad­mi­red that tra­it in his fat­her, who­se he­art was al­ways so kind to ever­yo­ne, even stran­gers, that his kin­d­ness had al­ways fol­lo­wed him as he fell as­le­ep.

  This ga­ve Two Rid­ges a stran­ge fo­re­bo­ding in­si­de his he­art, yet he scof­fed and cast the­se fe­elings asi­de, kno­wing that al­t­ho­ugh this wo­man was In­di­an in all of her fe­atu­res, she was not re­la­ted to an­yo­ne that Two Rid­ges knew!

  Most cer­ta­inly Jole­na was not the da­ug­h­ter of his fat­her! A sud­den tho­ught grip­ped Two Rid­ges' in­si­des then, and he re­cal­led the story of his fat­her's first wi­fe and how a child had be­en ta­ken from her. No one had ever se­en the child aga­in, nor had it be­en known if it was a boy or a girl.

  No one even knew if the child was still ali­
ve!

  ''This is not my fat­her's da­ug­h­ter," Two Rid­ges sa­id, con­vin­cing him­self that she wasn't.

  The re­ason this wo­man smi­led in her sle­ep was only be­ca­use she was kind and swe­et in all ways pos­sib­le!

  She was what he wan­ted in a wi­fe, even if he won her lo­ve at the sa­me ti­me that he bet­ra­yed his fri­end!

  Clutching her to him, as tho­ugh his own li­fe de­pen­ded on it, Two Rid­ges ro­de re­len­t­les­sly on­ward, ho­ping to re­ach the ca­ve be­fo­re Spot­ted Eag­le dis­co­ve­red him go­ne.

  Spotted Eag­le's eyes scan­ned the land be­low him, his he­art ble­eding as he saw the bro­ken, twis­ted bo­di­es and deb­ris scat­te­red ever­y­w­he­re. The­re was no way to iden­tify tho­se who we­re de­ad wit­ho­ut se­e­ing them up clo­se.

  His he­ad bent low, he mo­ved slowly to his fe­et and wit­ho­ut much tho­ught, too fil­led with re­mor­se to think abo­ut an­y­t­hing but his be­lo­ved wo­man, he swung him­self in­to his sad­dle and whe­eled his hor­se aro­und to se­ek a path that wo­uld ta­ke him to the bot­tom of the cliff.

  Between him and Two Rid­ges, a way wo­uld be fo­und!

  Raising his he­ad to tell Two Rid­ges to help him at this ti­me of his de­ep des­pa­ir, Spot­ted Eag­le's lips par­ted in a sur­p­ri­sed gasp when he dis­co­ve­red that his yo­ung fri­end was no lon­ger the­re.

  "What wo­uld ma­ke him le­ave?" he whis­pe­red to him­self, pe­ering ahe­ad, ho­ping to see his fri­end wa­iting far­t­her up the path, yet he saw no sign of him an­y­w­he­re.

  Puzzled and di­sap­po­in­ted, yet not wan­ting to ta­ke any mo­re ti­me won­de­ring abo­ut a fri­end who wo­uld aban­don him at such a ti­me as this, Spot­ted Eag­le set his jaw hard and se­ar­c­hed un­til he fo­und the sa­fest way to tra­vel down the ste­ep in­c­li­ne.

  Holding his re­ins tightly, and loc­king his kne­es to the si­des of his hor­se to ste­ady him­self as his stal­li­on's ho­oves be­gan slip­ping and sli­ding on the lo­ose rock be­ne­ath them, Spot­ted Eag­le de­ter­mi­nedly mo­ved lo­wer and lo­wer un­til he re­ac­hed the pla­ce whe­re bro­ken bo­di­es, scat­te­red jo­ur­nals, and pi­eces and whe­els of wa­gons we­re strewn abo­ut.

  There was not a so­und to be he­ard as Spot­ted Eag­le dis­mo­un­ted. The birds in the tre­es had even ce­ased to sing as the fi­res of the sun po­ured down from the he­avens on the de­ath sce­ne spre­ad aro­und be­fo­re Spot­ted Eag­le's te­ar-fil­led eyes.

  Stiffly he went from body to body, gas­ping at the sight of tho­se who we­re so blo­odi­ed and smas­hed it was im­pos­sib­le to iden­tify them.

  The clot­hes on each vic­tim we­re so rip­ped and torn and co­ve­red with blo­od that Spot­ted Eag­le co­uld not even use that me­ans to iden­tify his wo­man.

  He sho­uted to the he­avens a cry of des­pa­ir, de­vas­ta­ted to know that Jole­na was go­ne from him so qu­ickly!

  After se­ar­c­hing for a whi­le lon­ger, des­pe­ra­te for any clu­es as to which one might be Jole­na, Spot­ted Eag­le fi­nal­ly ga­ve up, fe­eling that he had no ot­her re­co­ur­se but to le­ave the de­ath sce­ne.

  Jolena and Kirk's bo­di­es we­re uni­den­ti­fi­ab­le.

  There was no way to se­pa­ra­te them from the ot­hers, to gi­ve them a pro­per bu­ri­al.

  All that he wan­ted now was to es­ca­pe, to put this hor­ror from his mind, yet he knew he ne­ver wo­uld be ab­le to for­get!

  It was the­re fo­re­ver, li­ke le­aves car­ved in­to sto­ne as they be­co­me fos­si­li­zed with age!

  In a da­ze, he mo­un­ted his hor­se aga­in. With his he­ad han­ging and his he­art and so­ul empty, he sent his hor­se up the si­de of the ste­ep in­c­li­ne aga­in. Su­rely Two Rid­ges wo­uld be the­re now, wa­iting for him. It ma­de no sen­se that his fri­end wo­uld le­ave him at such a ti­me.

  If ever Spot­ted Eag­le ne­eded a fri­end, it was now.

  Finally back on so­lid gro­und, the sha­dows of the fo­rest on one si­de of him, the she­er cliff on the ot­her, Spot­ted Eag­le pla­ced a hand over his eyes to shi­eld them from the blin­ding rays of the sun, scan­ning the land for his fri­end.

  Again his jaw tig­h­te­ned, now se­e­ing Two Rid­ges as a co­ward, one who ro­de from de­ath in­s­te­ad of lo­oking it stra­ight in the eye!

  But too ca­ught up in sad­ness, Spot­ted Eag­le ga­ve Two Rid­ges no mo­re tho­ught and ro­de off with hun­c­hed sho­ul­ders to­ward his vil­la­ge.

  Never had he felt so alo­ne as now. It was as tho­ugh he had lost Swe­et Do­ve a se­cond ti­me­and he knew that this ti­me he wo­uld ne­ver get over the loss!

  Chapter Nineteen

  Moaning, her who­le body ac­hing, Jole­na slowly ope­ned her eyes. The em­bers of a fi­re glo­wed warm be­si­de her and the aro­ma of co­oked rab­bit waf­ted to her no­se from the spit it hung on, low over the fi­re, drip­ping its tan­ta­li­zing ju­ices in­to the glo­wing co­als be­ne­ath it.

  Feeling aro­und her with her hands, she so­on re­ali­zed that she was lying on a la­yer of blan­kets.

  Her ga­ze mo­ved up­ward, but she co­uld see no stars, no sky, no mo­on.

  "Where am I?" she whis­pe­red, le­aning up on one el­bow, mo­aning aga­in as she re­ali­zed how much mo­re she ac­hed with the ef­fort of mo­ving. How did she get he­re? Why was she ac­hing so badly?

  Moving slowly to a sit­ting po­si­ti­on, she lo­oked mo­re ca­re­ful­ly aro­und her. When she spi­ed so­me­one lying ac­ross the fi­re from her, ob­vi­o­usly as­le­ep, she suc­ked in a wild bre­ath of re­li­ef, thin­king it was Spot­ted Eag­le.

  Her sigh drew Two Rid­ges awa­ke, and he bol­ted to a sit­ting po­si­ti­on, re­mem­be­ring that he had not bo­und Jole­na's wrists and an­k­les. She wo­uld not ha­ve had a chan­ce to flee him whi­le he sta­yed awa­ke, gu­ar­ding her, but he had not co­un­ted on be­ing we­ary eno­ugh to go to sle­ep so easily.

  When he saw that the fi­re had di­ed down only to em­bers, he re­ali­zed just how long he had be­en as­le­ep.

  Too long.

  He was lucky that Jole­na was still the­re.

  Jolena gas­ped and grab­bed a blan­ket pro­tec­ti­vely aro­und her when she dis­co­ve­red that she was not with Spot­ted Eag­le at all! She was sta­ring over the em­bers at Two Rid­ges.

  Her pul­se ra­ced as fe­ar crept in­to her he­art, and she lo­oked wildly aro­und her, re­ali­zing that she was in a ca­ve, with no me­mory at all of how she might ha­ve got­ten the­re.

  Not se­e­ing any sign of Spot­ted Eag­le an­y­w­he­re, Jole­na gla­red over at Two Rid­ges. "I do not ha­ve to ask how I got he­re," she sa­id in a hiss. "You bro­ught me. How co­uld Spot­ted Eag­le ha­ve al­lo­wed it? Whe­re is he now?"

  Before Two Rid­ges had the chan­ce to res­pond, what had hap­pe­ned du­ring the storm be­gan co­ming to Jole­na in flas­hes, as tho­ugh bolts of lig­h­t­ning we­re go­ing off and on in­si­de her bra­in. Each flash bro­ught up new me­mo­ri­es that ma­de her he­art se­em to stop still wit­hin her body and her thro­at to con­s­t­rict. Ever­y­t­hing was so vi­vid to her in her mind's eye that she co­uld not scre­am or even talk.

  The blin­ding ra­in!

  The lu­rid flas­hes of lig­h­t­ning!

  The frig­h­te­ned, wild-eyed mu­les!

  Her scre­ams as she wat­c­hed the ot­her wa­gons plun­ging over the si­des of the cliff.

  She held her fa­ce in her hands as she be­gan sob­bing. Then so­met­hing el­se ca­me to her, flo­oding her me­mory. She tho­ught she had felt strong arms aro­und her wa­ist, drag­ging her from the wa­gon just be­fo­re it top­pled over the cliff.

  But she now re­ali­zed it had to ha­ve be­en a sa­va­ge il­lu­si­on. The mo­ment she hit the gro­und, she had be­en knoc­ked un­con­s
­ci­o­us from the for­ce of the fall.

  She lif­ted sor­row­ful eyes up at Two Rid­ges, unab­le to re­mem­ber who had sa­ved her.

  "Who el­se sur­vi­ved but the two of us?" she de­man­ded, mo­ving to her kne­es, yet still clut­c­hing the blan­ket aro­und her sho­ul­ders. "Two Rid­ges, tell me who li­ved… and who di­ed."

  Two Rid­ges mo­ved to his fe­et and step­ped aro­und the fi­re, squ­at­ting down on­to his ha­un­c­hes be­fo­re her. "We are the only sur­vi­vors," he sa­id, the lie slip­ping ac­ross his lips easi­er than he wo­uld ha­ve ima­gi­ned. "I ha­ve bro­ught you to a ca­ve. I ha­ve bu­ilt you a fi­re for warmth and ha­ve pre­pa­red fo­od for you. Per­haps it is best now if you eat, not talk. You will ne­ed yo­ur strength to tra­vel on­ward to my vil­la­ge."