Savage Illusions

Spotted Eag­le's eyes lit with fi­re at the men­ti­on of the Cree, and his jaw tig­h­te­ned. He cho­se not to res­pond.

Jolena tur­ned her eyes to­ward the ap­pro­ac­hing hor­se­men aga­in. When she re­cog­ni­zed the le­ad ri­der, she grew cold in­si­de and swa­yed from diz­zi­ness.

Kirk!

It was Kirk!

She had not se­en or he­ard from him sin­ce his de­par­tu­re tho­se fi­ve long ye­ars ago. Even when she had sent a mes­sa­ge from Fort Chan­ce to her fat­her and brot­her, she had be­en ig­no­red.

A fe­eling of fo­re­bo­ding swept over Jole­na at the sight of her brot­her.

She had mis­sed him, but she did not want him to com­p­li­ca­te her li­fe aga­in with talk of li­fe back in Sa­int Lo­u­is and the fri­ends and fa­mily she had tur­ned her back on.

If he spo­ke of that li­fe aga­in, she wo­uld ab­so­lu­tely re­fu­se to lis­ten. She ne­ver co­uld ha­ve be­en as happy an­y­w­he­re as she had be­en the­se past ye­ars in the vil­la­ge of her true pe­op­le, mar­ri­ed to her be­lo­ved Spot­ted Eag­le.

When Yel­low Eag­le ca­me in a rush from the te­pee and clung to the skirt of her buc­k­s­kin dress, Jole­na's fat­her fol­lo­wed him to stand at Spot­ted Eag­le's right si­de. Jole­na squ­ared her sho­ul­ders. Not­hing wo­uld ta­ke them away from her. But she co­uld not deny her an­xi­ety as Kirk swung him­self out of his sad­dle and wal­ked to­ward her. She had lo­ved him for so long, long be­fo­re she had ever tho­ught it pos­sib­le to li­ve with her true pe­op­le. She co­uld not deny the cla­im he had on her.

"Kirk?" Jole­na mur­mu­red, then ran to him and flung her­self in­to his arms and hug­ged him. "Oh, Kirk, why ha­ve you ig­no­red my mes­sa­ges? Why? And what of fat­her? How is he?"

"Father is the re­ason I ha­ve co­me," Kirk sa­id, easing her from his arms. "Jole­na, he las­ted un­til only a few months ago. Then… then he just went to sle­ep. He di­ed wit­ho­ut pa­in."

Jolena's he­art se­emed to stop be­ating for a mo­ment. In her mind's eye she saw her whi­te fat­her as she had lo­ved and known him as a child. She had sha­red her sec­rets with him. She had la­ug­hed and joked with him. Tho­se things she had mis­sed the­se past fi­ve ye­ars.

"Kirk, did he die ha­ting me?" she as­ked, te­ars stre­aming down her che­eks.

"No, sis," Kirk sa­id softly. "He knew from the mo­ment he to­ok you from yo­ur mot­her that you wo­uld one day le­ave him. It hurt, but he ac­cep­ted it. The­se past ye­ars he was happy, wri­ting his jo­ur­nals, and enj­oying yo­ur con­t­ri­bu­ti­ons to his but­terfly col­lec­ti­on."

" My con­t­ri­bu­ti­ons?" Jole­na sa­id, her vo­ice drawn.

"Yes, sis," Kirk sa­id, smi­ling down at her. "After I re­ac­hed Fort Chan­ce, I led a de­tac­h­ment of sol­di­ers back to the si­te of the ac­ci­dent. Whi­le they we­re bur­ying the de­ad, I fo­und se­ve­ral of yo­ur jo­ur­nals, as well as the but­terfly col­lec­ti­on that you had be­gun. The­re we­re eno­ugh cards left un­har­med to gi­ve our fat­her much ple­asu­re."

He nod­ded to­ward his hor­se. "Sis, fat­her fi­nal­ly wro­te a bo­ok," he sa­id. "It's abo­ut but­ter­f­li­esand his li­fe. I've bro­ught you a copy."

Jolena's pul­se ra­ced as she wa­ited for Kirk to go to his hor­se and lift the bo­ok from his sad­dle­bag. She to­ok the bo­ok and held it ten­derly wit­hin her hands as she ga­zed down at it. Se­e­ing her fat­her's na­me on the co­ver ma­de her very pro­ud.

"Thank you, Kirk," Jole­na mur­mu­red, hug­ging the bo­ok to her chest. "You went to a lot of tro­ub­le brin­ging it to me. I shall al­ways che­rish it."

Kirk lo­oked aro­und at the pe­op­le who we­re co­ming from the­ir dwel­lings to see who the la­te night vi­si­tor was. "Sis, I've co­me for mo­re re­asons than I've con­fes­sed," he ad­mit­ted, his ga­ze mo­ving from fa­ce to fa­ce, se­ar­c­hing for one in

par­ti­cu­lar.

"And that is?" Jole­na as­ked, se­e­ing that he was stud­ying ever­yo­ne and sud­denly gu­es­sing why. She glan­ced over at Mo­on Flo­wer's te­pee, then he­ard his gasp as his for­mer lo­ve wal­ked slowly to­ward him, Do­ub­le Run­ner at her si­de, one child in his arms and anot­her in Mo­on Flo­wer's.

Kirk pa­led and qu­ickly lo­oked away from Mo­on Flo­wer. "I sho­uld ha­ve known that she wo­uld be mar­ri­ed," he sa­id, ra­king his fin­gers thro­ugh his ha­ir. "I sho­uld've co­me so­oner."

"If you lo­ved her, you sho­uldn't ever ha­ve let her go," Jole­na sa­id, re­mem­be­ring the day that Mo­on Flo­wer had re­tur­ned to the vil­la­ge, he­ar­t­b­ro­ken. "Do­ub­le Run­ner is a go­od hus­band. Mo­on Flo­wer lo­ves him very much. The­ir chil­d­ren are be­a­uti­ful, are they not?"

Kirk glan­ced aga­in Mo­on Flo­wer's way, the­ir eyes mo­men­ta­rily loc­king. Then he shif­ted his ga­ze to the chil­d­ren. "They are lo­vely chil­d­ren," he mur­mu­red, bo­wing his he­ad.

"Even Two Rid­ges' son," Jole­na sa­id stiffly. "He plays with my son of­ten."

Kirk lo­oked down at the child at Jole­na's si­de. "Yo­ur son?" he sa­id, his eyes wa­ve­ring when he saw the li­ke­ness of the child to Spot­ted Eag­le.

"He's a han­d­so­me boy," Kirk for­ced him­self to say, his re­sen­t­ment to­ward Spot­ted Eag­le no less to­day than fi­ve ye­ars be­fo­re. He still tho­ught that had it not be­en for Spot­ted Eag­le, Jole­na wo­uld not ha­ve felt such a strong ne­ed to stay with the Blac­k­fo­ot.

"His na­me is Yel­low Eag­le," Jole­na sa­id, pus­hing her son to­ward Kirk. "Yel­low Eag­le, This is yo­ur Un­c­le Kirk."

Yellow Eag­le sta­red up at Kirk for a mo­ment, then smi­led. "I al­re­ady know you," he sa­id. "My mot­her has tal­ked of you of­ten."