Savage Illusions

He do­ub­ted it.

"You… knew my mot­her…?" Jole­na as­ked, her vo­ice trem­b­ling at the tho­ught. Per­haps Spot­ted Eag­le had even spo­ken to her mot­her from ti­me to ti­me when he was a yo­ung boy.

For a mo­ment, Spot­ted Eag­le felt trap­ped bet­we­en me­mo­ri­es and re­ality.

To de­lay res­pon­ding to Jole­na's an­s­wer, he re­ac­hed for his clot­hes and be­gan dres­sing. "Spot­ted Eag­le, ple­ase tell me," Jole­na ple­aded, frus­t­ra­ti­on grip­ping her. "I want to know ever­y­t­hing. I ha­ve wan­ted to know the­se things sin­ce I first dis­co­ve­red that my chil­d­ho­od play­ma­tes' skin co­lo­ring dif­fe­red from mi­ne and I for­ced an­s­wers from my pa­ren­t­san­s­wers that re­ve­aled to me that I am In­di­an, not whi­te!"

Nervously run­ning his long, le­an fin­gers thro­ugh his ha­ir, Spot­ted Eag­le ga­zed down at Jole­na. "You tur­ned from me ear­li­er when I was re­ady to re­ve­al all truths to you," he sa­id. "Now you are ple­ading with me for the­se an­s­wers? Why is that?"

"It is only be­ca­use I co­uld not un­der­s­tand why you didn't tell me the mo­ment you dis­co­ve­red who my true pa­rents we­re," Jole­na res­pon­ded. "I… tho­ught you we­re pla­ying so­me sort of ga­me with me. Now I can tell it is mo­re than that. Un­til now, so­met­hing has kept you from re­ve­aling the truth to me. What has chan­ged yo­ur mind?"

"The com­mit­ment that is bu­il­ding bet­we­en us," Spot­ted Eag­le sa­id, re­ac­hing for her hands and hol­ding them lo­vingly with his. "The­re sho­uld be no sec­rets bet­we­en a man and wo­man who are con­tem­p­la­ting mar­ri­age."

"Are we?" Jole­na sa­id, her vo­ice soft. "Are we truly con­tem­p­la­ting mar­ri­age?"

"It is my de­ep de­si­re to ha­ve you as my nit-o-ke­manmy wi­fe," Spot­ted Eag­le sa­id, dra­wing her in­to his em­b­ra­ce. "Let me ca­re for you. Let us sha­re in ever­y­t­hing we do, and it is my so­lemn pro­mi­se to you that the­re will be no mo­re sec­rets bet­we­en us." "The­re is only one mo­re thing in li­fe that I want as badly as I want to marry you," Jole­na sa­id, swal­lo­wing hard as she le­aned back eno­ugh to be ab­le to lo­ok in­to his dark eyes. "Spot­ted Eag­le, you men­ti­oned my pa­rents' na­mes. You ha­ve known them. I know my mot­her is de­ad. But what of my true fat­her?"

"Your true fat­her, Brown Elk, is well and so­on I will ta­ke you to him," Spot­ted Eag­le sa­id. "I will do it to­mor­row at the early sun's ri­sing, if you so wish."

Jolena eased from his arms and be­gan a slow pa­cing, her eyes tro­ub­led. She was eager to see her true fat­her and fe­el the em­b­ra­ce of her true pe­op­le, yet… yet she had anot­her fat­her, one with whom her li­fe had be­en sha­red!

Already she had cho­sen, by ac­cep­ting Spot­ted Eag­le's pro­po­sal of mar­ri­age, not to li­ve with him an­y­mo­re.

How wo­uld be un­der­s­tand any of this, es­pe­ci­al­ly that she wo­uld for­get her lo­yal­ti­es to him af­ter he had gi­ven her ever­y­t­hing in li­fe that was go­od?

She stop­ped and tur­ned to­ward Spot­ted Eag­le, kno­wing what she must do, even tho­ugh de­la­ying me­eting with her true fat­her was eating away at her. "No," she sa­id, her vo­ice al­most fa­iling her be­ca­use her emo­ti­ons we­re run­ning so sharply thro­ugh her. "I must con­ti­nue se­ar­c­hing for the elu­si­ve, ra­re but­terfly. On­ce I find it and can send it back to my fat­her in Sa­int Lo­u­is with Kirk, along with the ot­her spe­ci­mens that I ha­ve ca­ught for my fat­her's col­lec­ti­on, then I will fe­el that I ha­ve in part re­pa­id my whi­te fat­her for be­ing so go­od to me."

She pa­used and her eyes be­amed up in­to Spot­ted Eag­le's. "Then I will fe­el free to go to my true fat­her and re­ve­al my iden­tity to him," she mur­mu­red. "It will be a day of mi­rac­les, Spot­ted Eag­le, that af­ter all the­se ye­ars, I will fi­nal­ly be ab­le to em­b­ra­ce my true fat­her and my true pe­op­le."

Then she be­ca­me so­lemn aga­in. "You ha­ve not yet told me how you knew who I was," she sa­id softly. "Do­es so­me­one el­se know? Did they po­int me out to you, sa­ying that I was the da­ug­h­ter of Brown Elk?"

Then her eyes wi­de­ned and she spo­ke aga­in be­fo­re Spot­ted Eag­le had the chan­ce to an­s­wer. "Am I Blac­k­fo­ot li­ke you?" she as­ked, her vo­ice an­xi­o­us.

"Very much so," Spot­ted Eag­le sa­id, dra­wing her clo­se and hug­ging her tightly.

"That is won­der­ful," Jole­na sig­hed, clin­ging to him. "Now, dar­ling, tell me how you knew who I was?"

She co­uld fe­el Spot­ted Eag­le stif­fen so­mew­hat and co­uld fe­el the sud­den ham­me­ring of his he­art aga­inst her che­ek.

She now fe­ared the an­s­wer, mo­re than wan­ting to he­ar it!

"How?" Spot­ted Eag­le eased her from his arms and to­ok her hands, le­ading her down on­to the sof­t­ness of a la­yer of moss that li­ned the ri­ver­bank. "As I sa­id, the­re will be no mo­re sec­rets bet­we­en us. I will tell you ever­y­t­hing." He be­gan his ta­le, be­gin­ning when he was ni­ne and his in­fa­tu­ati­on for an ol­der wo­man had be­gun. Ex­cept for ha­ving sha­red this with Two Rid­ges, he had kept his sec­ret hid­den wit­hin the depths of his he­art. He told Jole­na of his fe­elings for Swe­et Do­ve and how he had felt when word had be­en re­ce­ived of her de­ath and that her child had be­en ta­ken from her by an un­k­nown per­son.

He told Jole­na abo­ut ha­ving go­ne to his fa­vo­ri­te pri­va­te spot whe­re he had pra­yed to fi­res of the sun for Swe­et Do­ve's child, pra­ying that tho­se who to­ok the child wo­uld gi­ve her much lo­ve.

He told Jole­na how long he had mo­ur­ned the loss of Swe­et Do­ve, how in the past he had ex­pe­ri­en­ced a stran­ge sort of sin­king fe­eling when he saw her in his mind's eye, so be­a­uti­ful and ali­ve, so swe­et.

"You no lon­ger get that sin­king fe­eling when you think of my mot­her?" Jole­na as­ked softly. "Why, Spot­ted Eag­le?"

Spotted Eag­le lo­oked away from her, then ga­zed in­to her eyes aga­in. "Why?" he re­pe­ated, pla­cing a gen­t­le hand on her che­ek. "Be­ca­use of you. When you en­te­red my li­fe, many things chan­ged for me."

"Oh, I see, II to­ok the pla­ce of my mot­her in yo­ur he­art," Jole­na sa­id, blin­king her eyes up at him.

"More than that," Spot­ted Eag­le sa­id, his eyes aga­in shif­ting away from her.

"Oh, Lord," Jole­na sa­id softly, her vo­ice drawn. "Now I think I know why you knew who I was. When you lo­ok at me, you see my mot­her! That's it, isn't it, Spot­ted Eag­le? In yo­ur eyes and he­art I am my mot­her!"

"That is not so," Spot­ted Eag­le sa­id qu­ickly as he tur­ned aro­und to fa­ce her. "My fe­elings for you are dif­fe­rent in every way. My fe­elings for yo­ur mot­her we­re tho­se of an ado­les­cent. It was me­rely an in­fa­tu­ati­on. My fe­elings for you are tho­se of a man, true and de­ep."