Savage Illusions
Words would not be needed between them.
In their eyes would be the excitement of being together again.
Chapter Twelve
In the slight breeze of the day came the scent of blossoms and a hum of bees. After a clear blue sky all morning, during which the crispness of the air was sapped away, the clear calls of birds faded to a deadness in the droning, sticky air. Noon found the forest in which the expedition was traveling shimmering with a layer of hot haze above the dark-green canopy of trees.
But it was a day that Jolena had been waiting for.
It was a day of butterflies!
They seemed everywhereall colors, all sizes, all kinds flitting everywhere!
A thrilling excitement filled Jolena as she ran through the forest with her butterfly net, Kirk following her with jars that were equipped with cotton soaked with alcohol which would quickly numb, then kill the butterflies before they were able to destroy their wings by flapping them against the insides of the jars.
To Jolena it was good to think about something else besides Spotted Eagle and her quest to find her true people. Presently, all that she could think about was collecting butterflies to take back to her father in Saint Louis, hoping that among these hundreds of butterflies that she was seeing today would be that one which was the most elusive of all.
"Slow down, sis," Kirk shouted as Jolena ran around, swinging her net in the air as she spotted another specimen
of butterfly that she had not yet caught. "You've got the rest of the afternoon."
"Perhaps not," Jolena said, breathless. "They will probably disappear as quickly as they appeared."
Casting all thoughts aside now except for catching the butterflies to take back to Saint Louis, not only for her father, but for others to see and study and record in their journals, Jolena continued her hunt. As she worked, her long skirt sometimes threatened to trip her. Her white, long-sleeved blouse became spotted and soiled with dirt and stains from scraping against trees and from the humid moisture dripping from the leaves overhead. Her long hair bounced on her shoulders, her face was flushed with a mixture of heat and excitement, and beads of sweat pearled on her copper brow. "Oh, look and see, Kirk," Jolena said, her eyes wide as she spotted a group of "painted lady" or thistle butterflies. "Follow me. I must catch at least one of them!"
Orange, yellow, and black-spotted, the painted lady butterflies were flying in groups of hundreds. They were known to travel more widely than most insects. Many spent the winters in Mexico, flying northward during the spring and summer.
After Jolena had one painted lady secured in a jar, she walked briskly along beneath the canopy of trees, her eyes darting around. The sunlight filtering through the trees overhead gave sharp definition and intense blackness to the shadows of the thickest, impenetrable part of the forest. She shuddered as she thought of the panther that had threatened her the other night.
She gasped when she discovered another butterfly that she knew would thrill her father. The colotis etrida, whose small, golden-tipped wings changed form according to the season. She could tell that this was the summer butterfly because of its stronger, blacker markings, which later would disappear entirely.
After securing one specimen, she continued the search and soon also had a jezebel butterfly housed in a jar. The day wore on and finally, exhausted from her labors, Jolena returned to the wagon. The calves of her legs and the small of her back were aching. She was soaked with perspiration, and the mist which had accompanied the setting sun was like a cool sponge on her face.
"I hope Two Ridges finds a place for a campsite soon," Kirk grumbled. "I've never seen you as driven as you were today. Lord, sis, I can imagine how tired you are. It seems that every bone in my body is aching."
"That's because of your lack of exercise," Jolena said, wiping her hands across her face, smoothing the fine mist from it. "You spend too much time with your books. You need to be outdoors. Father has spoiled you, Kirk, by hiring someone to do everything, instead of allowing you to do some of the work yourself."
"You are just as spoiled," Kirk said, his voice drawn.
"Perhaps so," Jolena said, shrugging. "But at least I take time to go for long walks. I love the forest that fringes our property in Saint Louis. Always when I've walked through it, I have felt so free, so at peace with myself. Sometimes I feel connected with the forest, as though I was meant to live there, instead of in a large mansion."
She said no more, for Kirk's heavy sigh told her that he wanted to hear no more conversation about her Indian heritage.
Her thoughts returned to Spotted Eagle. With him, surely she would be able to talk about anything, any time.
She frowned as she gazed into the darkening shadows of the forest. Soon night would cover everything with its cloak of darkness, and she could not help but be worried about Spotted Eagle and wonder where he might be, and if he was on his way back from his village.
Her gaze shifted. She stared at Two Ridges' back as he rode a few yards ahead of her wagon. A desolate feeling overcame her, wishing the back she was looking at was Spotted Eagle's.
Oh, when would he return? What if he did not return at all? What if she never ever saw him again?
If he did not return by the time the lepidopterists were finished with their search for the rare butterfly and were ready to board the riverboat back to Saint Louis, what then?
Would she be able to actually board the riverboat without seeing Spotted Eagle again?
She doubted it.
They rode on for a while longer, then Two Ridges drew a tight rein and stopped his horse. "We will make camp here," he said, turning his gaze to Jolena, then shifting it to Kirk.