Savage Illusions

Kirk's eyes lit up. "She has?" he sa­id, then sud­denly swept Yel­low Eag­le in­to his arms.

Yellow Eag­le to­ok to Kirk qu­ickly. He swung an arm aro­und his neck. "How long are you sta­ying?" he sa­id, his eyes wi­de as he ga­zed with sud­den af­fec­ti­on at his only un­c­le. "We can ri­de hor­ses to­get­her. Wo­uld you li­ke that?" "I wo­uld li­ke that very much," Kirk sa­id, gi­ving Jole­na a qu­ick smi­le.

Then his smi­le fa­ded. "But I won't be he­re long," he sa­id, a tin­ge of sad­ness in his vo­ice. "I'm with so­me le­pi­dop­te­rists who ha­ve co­me to find that elu­si­ve but­terfly. This ti­me I damn well plan to find it."

"Elusive?" Yel­low Eag­le sa­id, ra­ising an eyeb­row.

"The but­terfly cal­led the eup­ha­ed­ra," Kirk sa­id, gi­ving Jole­na a kno­wing lo­ok.

"I ha­ve se­en it of­ten," Yel­low Eag­le sa­id in­no­cently, shrug­ging his sho­ul­ders. "Mot­her has al­so se­en it. We ha­ve wat­c­hed it flut­ter among the wild flo­wers of our co­untry. It is be­a­uti­ful with its tur­qu­o­ise, black and oran­ge co­lors. You want to see it, al­so?"

Jolena wat­c­hed Kirk's ex­p­res­si­on, kno­wing that he must be as­to­un­ded that she had not ca­ught the but­terfly. And she was not go­ing to al­low an­yo­ne to catch it, even if it ca­used anot­her fa­mily fe­ud with her brot­her!

"Yes, it's be­en sig­h­ted of­ten," she mur­mu­red. "But it's go­ne aga­in, Kirk. You may as well tell yo­ur fri­ends they ha­ve co­me for na­ught."

She lo­oked an­xi­o­usly at Yel­low Eag­le, who was gi­ving her a puz­zled sta­re. She ho­ped that he wo­uldn't blurt out the truth, that the but­ter­f­li­es we­re just now be­gin­ning to crawl from the­ir co­co­ons in the fo­rest.

"Sis, do you me­an that it has mig­ra­ted back to So­uth Ame­ri­ca?" Kirk sa­id, sig­hing he­avily. "Damn." "Exactly," Jole­na sa­id, her eyes in­no­cently wi­de.

"Well, then, I gu­ess we'll he­ad back for Fort Chan­ce to­mor­row," Kirk sa­id. "At le­ast it's gi­ven us a chan­ce to catch ot­her spe­ci­es of but­ter­f­li­es."

"Yes, at le­ast," Jole­na sa­id, clut­c­hing her fat­her's bo­ok to her bo­som.

"Can you ma­ke ro­om for one mo­re per­son in yo­ur te­pee to­night, Sis?" Kirk sa­id softly.

"We ha­ve plenty of blan­kets," Spot­ted Eag­le sa­id, an­s­we­ring for Jole­na. He pla­ced a hand on Kirk's sho­ul­der. "You are wel­co­me, whi­te brot­her. Al­ways wel­co­me."

Kirk's eyes wa­ve­red as he lo­oked at Spot­ted Eag­le, fe­eling gu­ilty for still re­sen­ting him, yet kno­wing that he wo­uld ne­ver fe­el any dif­fe­rent.

" Ok- yi. Co­me," Spot­ted Eag­le sa­id, mo­ti­oning with a wa­ve of a hand to­ward the en­t­ran­ce flap that Jole­na was ra­ising. "We will sha­re a smo­ke and fo­od to­night. To­mor­row my war­ri­ors will see you sa­fely back to Fort Chan­ce."

Jolena cast a smi­le of thanks at her hus­band. He smi­led back kno­wingly.

Chapter Thirty-Six

Having go­ne to a high but­te with Spot­ted Eag­le to watch Kirk un­til he was lost from sight, Jole­na shi­el­ded her eyes from the bright rays of the sun as she pe­ered in­to the dis­tan­ce. Her brot­her was still in vi­ew, mo­ving ste­adily on­ward thro­ugh a me­adow dot­ted with wild flo­wers of var­ying co­lors and sha­pes. The fo­rest was just be­yond.

Spotted Eag­le sto­od at Jole­na's si­de. She ga­ve him a warm smi­le as he slip­ped his arm aro­und her wa­ist, then on­ce aga­in she ga­zed ahe­ad, di­sap­po­in­ted when Kirk ro­de in­to the sha­dows of the fo­rest and di­sap­pe­ared.

"I wish that he co­uld ha­ve sta­yed lon­ger," Jole­na mur­mu­red, le­aning in­to Spot­ted Eag­le's em­b­ra­ce. "Yo­ur brot­her was he­re long eno­ugh for yo­ur hus­band and brot­her to ma­ke pe­ace," Spot­ted Eag­le sa­id, tur­ning her to fa­ce him. "That is the im­por­tant thing."

"Yes it is," Jole­na sa­id, re­ac­hing a hand to Spot­ted Eag­le's che­ek, re­ve­ling anew in his han­d­so­me­ness. "And was he not ta­ken with his nep­hew? Yel­low Eag­le most cer­ta­inly li­ked his un­c­le. Why, Spot­ted Eag­le, he even cri­ed when Kirk ro­de away. Hardly ever do­es Yel­low Eag­le al­low an­yo­ne to see him cry. He thinks it is so­met­hing only girls do."

Spotted Eag­le chuc­k­led and put his hands on eit­her si­de of her fa­ce, fra­ming it with them. He drew her lips clo­se. "My wi­fe, is not li­fe go­od to us now?" he sa­id as he brus­hed a soft kiss ac­ross her lips. "Are you as happy as this hus­band who holds you in his arms?"

"Yes," Jole­na whis­pe­red, fe­eling glad that cat­c­hing the elu­si­ve but­terfly was no lon­ger im­por­tant to her.

There we­re many mo­re im­por­tant things in her li­fe now­her hus­band, her son, and her be­lo­ved Blac­k­fo­ot fat­her!

Jolena eased her lips from Spot­ted Eag­le's. "Let's go ho­me," she mur­mu­red, wan­ting to be the­re to bask in the­se things that ma­de her hap­pi­er than she had ever be­en in her li­fe.

Arm in arm, they ma­de the­ir way down the ste­ep hil­lsi­de, then wal­ked to­ward the­ir vil­la­ge. Jole­na smi­led to her­self. She had not yet told Spot­ted Eag­le the most won­d­ro­us of new­s­t­hat she tho­ught she might be with child aga­in. She had al­re­ady dre­amed that it wo­uld be a girl child.

Giving Spot­ted Eag­le a half glan­ce, she gently pla­ced a hand over her tummy, en­vi­si­oning a da­ug­h­ter for her to sha­re things that sons wo­uld not sha­re with the­ir mot­hers!

"Spotted Eag­le, I ha­ve so­met­hing to tell you," Jole­na sa­id, thin­king this was a per­fect ti­me to tell her hus­band of the­ir se­cond child.

Spotted Eag­le smi­led down at her. "I too ha­ve had a spe­ci­al dre­am," he sa­id, his eyes twin­k­ling in­to hers. "And, Fawn, it will be a girl child."