"I did not have to live with you to know that you were a dutiful daughter to this father," Spotted Eagle said, his eyes filled with a quiet understanding. "So you see, you have repaid him time and again for his kindness. You owe him nothing else."
Spotted Eagle ran his hands along the soft flesh of her skin, then cupped her breasts. "Would he not want you to do what makes you happy?" he said huskily.
"Yes," Jolena whispered, closing her eyes to the ecstasy as he once again began moving within her, filling her with his manly strength, awakening her to renewed heights of bliss. "And, darling, somehow he must be made to understand that you are what makes me happy."
"He will question it and then accept it," Spotted Eagle said. He placed a finger over her lips. "Shh. Let us not talk anymore. Let us make sunshine fill this tepee."
"I already feel its warmth," Jolena said, her pulse racing as warm surges of pleasure flooded her body. She closed her eyes. "It is such a delicious placeyour arms. Hold me, darling, and never let me go."
Her whole universe seemed to start spinning as she felt herself going over the edge into ecstasy…
The purple shadows seemed to have a life of their own as something moved midst them beneath the thick umbrella of trees. A throaty cough and then a groan broke the silence of the night. The lone figure stumbled blind from tree to tree, the man only half coherent after being alone in the forest for too many hours with nothing to eat but berries. Without a weapon, Kirk had not been able to make a good kill for a meal. His gun had been thrown aside as he had been thrown from the wagon and knocked unconscious just before it had tumbled over the cliff, joining those below, where death had come to so many.
"Jolena," Kirk whispered, swatting mosquitoes away from his face as a swarm began buzz- ing around him. "Where are you, Jolena?"
When Kirk had awakened behind a cover of bushes, he had seen no one except those who lay broken and bloody at the bottom of the cliff. He thought that he had succeeded at grabbing Jolena from the wagon. But it was hard now for him to sort through his scrambled memory as to what was real and what was imagined, perhaps during hallucinations as he clung somewhere between a conscious and unconscious state right after his fall.
He remembered very vividly how he had run desperately down the steep hillside, blinded with tears, fearing recognizing Jolena among those who had died from the fall. When he found nothing that even vaguely resembled his sister, he had searched high and low for her, finding no signs of her except for her strewn journals and destroyed butterfly collection.
After giving up on her, he had searched for his pistol. When he did not find it, he felt naked traveling through the Montana wilderness. He had lost count now of how many days and nights he had been wandering aimlessly about.
But he did know for certain that he had not come upon any civilization. He had even prayed to find the Blackfoot village. There he would have found food and lodging and perhaps those who sympathized with his plight and would go and search for his sister.
As Kirk stumbled out of the forest and into a moon-drenched meadow, he sighed and moved relentlessly onward. Brief dizzy spells caused him to weave, then he would snap out of it and be lucid again for a while.
Then he stopped with a start when he saw movement ahead of him, only a short distance away. He blinked his eyes and wiped them with the back of his hands, wondering if it were possible to see a mirage at night.
"Is it real?" he whispered, his knees wobbling as he tried to stand steady enough to gaze again into the distance.
"It is," he whispered, the discovery causing his heart to begin pounding. There were several riders approaching.
He squinted his eyes, trying to see if they were Indians or soldiers. His insides seemed to curl up into a tight knot when he recognized the riders as Indians, but he had no way of knowing which tribe! The Blackfoot were known to be friendly in these parts.
There were also known to be several Cree renegades who terrorized everyone that had two legs, no matter the color of their skin.
Kirk gazed up at the star-speckled heavens. "Lord, oh, please, Lord, let it be the Blackfoot," he whispered.
Then, knowing that he had no choice, he stood his ground and waited. When the Indians spotted him, they came riding harder, their shrieks piercing the air. This was enough for Kirk to know that they were not friendly Indians. He turned and tried to run from them, but his legs were too weak to carry him any farther. They gave way, and he crumpled to the ground.
As he lay helpless on his stomach, Kirk covered his ears with his hands to keep from hearing the pounding of the horses' hooves as they came closer and closer. He closed his eyes and held his breath as the horses made a wide circle around him, then stopped.
Kirk's heart pounded wildly as he waited for arrows to pierce his back.
When this did not happen, he slowly opened his eyes and turned over onto his back, then screamed when he found one of the gaudily painted Indians leaning over him, a knife in his hand.
When the Indian placed the knife at his throat, so close that the tip pierced his flesh and caused blood to curl from the wound, Kirk almost fainted from fright.
The Indian began speaking in a language unfamiliar to Kirk, and when Kirk talked back to him, he could tell that these Indians were unlike Spotted Eagle, who knew the art of speaking English quite well.
''You… are… Cree?" Kirk managed to say, saying the word Cree slowly.
The Indian who still knelt over Kirk nodded, and with his free hand doubled over his heart, pounded his chest over and over again with it. "Cree," the Indian snarled. "Cree!"
"Kirk," Kirk murmured, flashing his eyes from Indian to Indian, scarcely breathing. "I am called Kirk." This seemed not to matter at all to the Indians. They ignored him as the one Indian grabbed his wrist and jerked him to his feet. Kirk looked wildly from Indian to Indian as his captor handed out orders to the others.
Soon Kirk's hands were tied behind him and a rope was placed around his neck. When the Indians mounted their horses again and began riding along in a slow lope, back in the direction whence they had just come, they laughed and mocked Kirk as they watched him stumble along behind the last horse of the group. Kirk gurgled strangely when the Indian who had command of his rope gave a strong tug, causing the rope to tighten around his neck.
Again the Indians laughed.
After so many tugs and near blackouts, Kirk fell senseless to the ground. He was only vaguely aware of someone poking at his side with a moccasined toe. He was only half aware of being lifted onto the back of a horse. He drifted in and out of consciousness as the Cree rode on into the night until the sky began lightening along the horizon.
Unable to stay awake any longer, Kirk drifted off into a restless sleep. When he awakened, he found him�
�self tied to a stake in the center of a village, the object of much scrutiny as women and children edged in closer to him, touching him and ripping his clothes from him. After he was completely naked, his private parts became the object of attention.
Sticks probed at him. Hands fondled.
Fingers pinched and hurt him.
Humiliated, Kirk closed his eyes and allowed his thoughts to wander elsewhere, to a more pleasant time, when he and Jolena were children and played hide and seek in the garden at the back of their Saint Louis mansion. He had known then that she was much different than he, but never had he allowed her to become acquainted with other Indians, for most were looked upon as savage.
Today, he was discovering just how savage some of the Indians could be.
She would never belong to this way of life, he thought.
Never!
Should she be alive, and he able to speak his mind, he would not allow it!
He screamed throatily and begged for mercy when someone placed the sharp tip of a knife at his throat…
Chapter Twenty-Five
Jolena awakened with a start and gazed up at the smoke hole. She cringed when she discovered that it was morning and dreaded what was expected of her. It was her duty as the sister of Two Ridges to prepare him for burial!
Shuddering at the thought of not only having to look down at his corpse, but also having to touch him, Jolena knew that, of all of the Blackfoot customs that she knew she must learn, surely this would be the hardest for her to bear… or accept.
She closed her eyes and snuggled against Spotted Eagle's back, finding solace with him for just a short while longer. Through the night her dreams had been most unpleasant! In one of her dreams, as she had been preparing Two Ridges' body for burial, his eyes had suddenly opened. His hands had gripped her shoulders tightly and had made her trade places with him on his bed of thick, handsome bear pelts. In her dream, Two Ridges was preparing her for burial! Her throat had been as though frozen, and she was unable to cry out as Two Ridges stripped her of her clothing and had then began spreading black paint all over her body. The touch of the paint had burned her, as though it were acid.
She had awakened in a cold sweat, fearing any dream that was not pleasant. Too often her dreams had been an omen of something that had truly happened. She had dreamed of Spotted Eagle's death by a deadly arrow, and it would have come to pass had not Two Ridges been suddenly there in the path of the arrow!
She tremored at the thought of what this most recent dream might mean…
"Jolena?"
A tiny woman's voice speaking her name outside the lodge caused Jolena's thoughts to return to the present, and to remember that her time had come to join others on this day of Two Ridges' burial. Late last night, before she had fallen into her restless sleep, Spotted Eagle had told her that she would not be totally alone in preparing Two Ridges' for his burial. Moon Flower would assist her.
Spotted Eagle had also told Jolena that Moon Flower had professed her love for Two Ridges more than once to their village. It was presumed by everyone that they would soon be married. Even Spotted Eagle had for a while believed that it might come to pass, until he had witnessed his friend taking woman after woman to his blankets.
"Spotted Eagle," Jolena whispered, slightly shaking him. "Please wake up. It's time for me to go with Moon Flower."
Spotted Eagle yawned and stretched his arms above his head, then turned and faced Jolena. He placed his hands to her shoulders and brought her lips to his and kissed her. But when he found no willing response, he eased his hands from her and looked into her eyes.
"Spotted Eagle, how can I be expected to behave as though I think that Moon Flower is helping me prepare Two Ridges for burial because she was his woman when both you and I know different?" Jolena whispered. She cast the closed entrance flap another brief glance when Moon Flower persisted calling Jolena's name outside the dwelling. "Surely Moon Flower heard the rumors of Two Ridges' professed prowess."
"Moon Flower hears what she wants to hear and believes what she wants to believe," Spotted Eagle said softly. "Today she believes she belongs next to you while preparing Two Ridges' body for burial. Allow it. It will make the chore easier for you, will it not?"
"I will feel I am taking part in Two Ridges' betrayal of Moon Flower if I do this," Jolena said.
When Moon Flower said her name again, this time sounding desperate, Jolena knew that she had no choice but to go ahead and do as Spotted Eagle suggested. She gave him a lingering, loving stare, then left their bed of blankets and furs and dressed.
Smelling the aroma of food being cooked in the other dwellings of the village, she only halfheartedly realized that she was hungry. Surely if she tried to eat anything before this terrible ordeal that lay ahead of her, she would not be able to hold it down.
Warm arms encircling her waist momentarily washed away Jolena's troubled thoughts, and when Spotted Eagle turned her around to face him, she was once again made aware of what was most important to her in life.
Spotted Eagle.
She knew that nothing would cause her to leave himnot even customs that were foreign and ugly to her!
"It will soon be tomorrow and all of this will be behind you," Spotted Eagle said softly. He lifted her chin with a finger, directing her eyes to his. "Tomorrow you will focus thoughts on the brother you have known as a brother all the winters and summers of your life. Not a brother who is buried today."
Tears of gratitude flooded Jolena's eyes to know that Spotted Eagle was so conscious of her feelings.
She leaned into his embrace and hugged him tightly, then turned and fled from the tepee, her knee-high moccasins warm against her flesh as the early morning's dampness enveloped her in a cold embrace.
With that first step outside the tepee, Jolena stopped and stared in disbelief at Moon Flower. Her eyes widened and she gasped as her gaze moved slowly over Moon Flower, seeing the lengths to which she had gone in her mourning for Two Ridges. Late last night, Moon Flower had left the camp and gone to a rise of ground near the village on which to release her sorrows for Two Ridges. There she had cried and lamented, calling Two Ridges' name over and over again.
Jolena had lain stiffly at Spotted Eagle's side, listening, unable to distinguish whether or not the way in which Moon Flower had spoken Two Ridges' name was a chant or a song. There was a certain tune to it, sung in a minor key and very doleful.
Jolena had soon surmised that this was a mourning song, the utterance of one in deep distress. It had been the sound of someone whose heart was broken.
Today Jolena saw just how much Moon Flower was distressed over Two Ridges' death! Her beautiful hair had been cut quite short, and she wore no moccasins today, standing barefoot and exposing the terribly scarred calves of her
legs, on which blood had dried to the wounds.
"Let us go now, Jolena, and ready my beloved for his travels alone on the road to the Sand Hills," Moon Flower said, her voice breaking. "We must give Two Ridges up to the Sun today."
Jolena wanted to cry out to Moon Flower that Two Ridges was not worthy of her undying devotion and love! To herself, she was cursing Two Ridges, thinking he deserved not a warrior's burial but that of a coward!
It was going to be harder than she had earlier thought to get through this day, for she was going to find it hard to stand by and watch Two Ridges being praised instead of condemned!
She knew one thing for certain. Even though they were of blood kin, she would never look on him as a brother!
She would not mourn him as a sister would mourn a dead brother!
She would proudly present herself to her Blackfoot people with her hair long and flowing, instead of cut off short, as one who mourns cuts one's hair.
Savage Illusions Page 26
