"This is damn fo­olish," Kirk ar­gu­ed, yet he knew that he had no cho­ice but to jo­in her or lo­ok the fo­ol aga­in in his sis­ter's eyes.

He re­ac­hed be­ne­ath the se­at and grab­bed the bot­tle that al­re­ady had a pi­ece of cot­ton so­aked with al­co­hol in it. Grum­b­ling, he left the wa­gon.

When Jole­na ca­me to him, he be­gan fol­lo­wing her, cat­c­hing glim­p­ses over his sho­ul­der of the ot­her le­pi­dop­te­rists busy swin­ging the­ir nets, cat­c­hing ever­y­t­hing but the two that Jole­na was so de­ter­mi­ned to sna­re.

"Up the­re!" Jole­na sho­uted, po­in­ting up the ste­ep si­de of the bluff as it lo­omed over­he­ad. "I've got to climb up the­re and get it!"

Spotted Eag­le had be­en wat­c­hing ever­y­t­hing with ca­uti­on, kno­wing that if he sho­uld show too much con­cern for her, Kirk co­uld ca­use much tro­ub­le for them.

To sa­ve Jole­na un­due em­bar­ras­sment, Spot­ted Eag­le had sto­od by, si­lent un­til now. But when he he­ard Jole­na say that she was go­ing to climb the si­de of the cliff, that was all the fu­el he ne­eded to go af­ter her.

"Care for my hor­se," he sa­id, gi­ving his re­ins over to Two Rid­ges.

Two Rid­ges had be­en wat­c­hing Jole­na with con­cern al­so and did not li­ke the idea that Spot­ted Eag­le was go­ing to on­ce aga­in get the glory for sa­ving her from what might be a clo­se brush with de­ath. If she at­tem­p­ted clim­bing the si­de of the cliff and lost her ba­lan­ce, she might not just fall to the nar­row path. She might miss it and plum­met to her de­ath be­low, whe­re rocks jut­ted out in co­ne-sha­ped pe­aks, wa­iting to pi­er­ce her body li­ke shar­pe­ned lan­ces.

Spotted Eag­le went to Jole­na and grab­bed her by one wrist, stop­ping her as she wal­ked de­ter­mi­nedly away from Kirk. "I can­not al­low you to do that," he sa­id, ig­no­ring the lo­oks and frowns of ever­yo­ne who now sto­od by wat­c­hing. "It is too dan­ge­ro­us."

Jolena ga­zed up at him, her lips par­ted with sur­p­ri­se that he wo­uld co­me to her in such a way, kno­wing how it must lo­ok to ever­yo­ne el­se.

Yet he was the­ir gu­ide, lo­oking out for the­ir in­te­rest. She ho­ped that ever­yo­ne wo­uld see that as the re­ason he had co­me to her with the com­mands of a lo­ver!

Frustrated and angry, Kirk frow­ned at Spot­ted Eag­le, then lo­oked slowly over at Jole­na. The­re was cle­arly so­met­hing bet­we­en his sis­ter and this Blac­k­fo­ot gu­ide, and it to­re at his he­art. This dro­ve him in­to do­ing so­met­hing which un­der ot­her con­di­ti­ons he wo­uld ne­ver ha­ve at­tem­p­ted.

He set his jar asi­de and went to Jole­na, grab­bing her net away from her.

"I'll get both but­ter­f­li­es for you," he sa­id, his vo­ice tight.

Jolena re­ac­hed a hand out to Kirk in an ef­fort to stop him, but Spot­ted Eag­le wo­uld not al­low her to.

As the nympha­lid flut­te­red hig­her and hig­her along the si­des of the ste­ep slo­pe of rock, Jole­na held her bre­ath, her he­art po­un­ding as fe­ar sud­denly grip­ped her. The dam­nab­le but­terfly was be­ha­ving in a te­asing fas­hi­on aga­in, but this ti­me it was Kirk who was the re­ci­pi­ent of its sultry charm.

Perhaps the­re was so­met­hing to the myth that the but­terfly ca­used bad luck. The tho­ught sent icy shi­vers up and down Jole­na's flesh.

"Kirk, don't!" she cri­ed, but it was al­re­ady too la­te. Kirk was fit­ting his fe­et in tiny ho­les along the si­de of the rock wall. As one hand se­ar­c­hed for so­met­hing so­lid to grab, the ot­her firmly grip­ped the han­d­le of the net.

Scarcely bre­at­hing, Jole­na wat­c­hed as Kirk clim­bed hig­her, his eyes wat­c­hing the nympha­lid flut­te­ring clo­ser and clo­ser to his fa­ce. "The damn thing!" he sho­uted, tur­ning to gi­ve Jole­na a lo­ok of frus­t­ra­ti­on. "How can I catch it if it con­ti­nu­es trying to land on my no­se!"

Just as he ma­de eye con­tact with Jole­na, the but­terfly be­gan flap­ping its wings aga­inst Kirk's fa­ce, over and over aga­in. Jole­na's he­art sank as she wat­c­hed Kirk mo­men­ta­rily for­get that he was hol­ding on to the she­et of rock to ke­ep him­self from fal­ling. In­s­tinct led him to slap at the but­terfly, and when he did, his body fell bac­k­ward away from the wall, plum­me­ting qu­ickly to­ward the rock path be­low.

"Oh, Lord," Jole­na whis­pe­red, her eyes wi­de and ter­ri­fi­ed as she wat­c­hed Kirk land clum­sily on the rock, his he­ad ma­king a stran­ge thud as it hit.

Wrenching her wrist out of Spot­ted Eag­le's firm grip, she ran to Kirk and fell to her kne­es be­si­de him. She co­ve­red her mo­uth with her hands as she wat­c­hed blo­od tric­k­le from the cor­ner of her brot­her's mo­uth, con­cer­ned over how qu­i­etly he lay­had he only be­en ren­de­red un­con­s­ci­o­us by the fall? Wo­uld he wa­ke so­on?

Tears rus­hed down Jole­na's che­eks, and she was fil­led with gu­ilt for ha­ving neg­lec­ted Kirk's at­ten­ti­ons of la­te and ac­tu­al­ly ke­eping her dis­tan­ce from him when they had ma­de camp so he wo­uld not pre­ach to her aga­inst the In­di­ans.

"Oh, Kirk," Jole­na sob­bed. She star­ted to re­ach out to crad­le his he­ad on her lap, but stop­ped when Spot­ted Eag­le knelt down be­si­de her, a can­te­en in his hand.

Wide- eyed, Jole­na wat­c­hed as Spot­ted Eag­le em­p­ti­ed the wa­ter from the can­te­en on­to Kirk's fa­ce, then gas­ped with hap­pi­ness as Kirk's eyes be­gan to flut­ter open, his hand re

­ac­hing for the throb­bing knot that was for­ming on the back of his he­ad.

"What hap­pe­ned?" Kirk as­ked, ga­zing qu­es­ti­oningly up in­to Jole­na's eyes, then past her at Spot­ted Eag­le, who was scre­wing the top back on­to his can­te­en.

Jolena did not ta­ke the ti­me to an­s­wer him. She le­aned down and ga­ve him a big hug. "Thank God you're all right," she sa­id, sob­bing as she crad­led his he­ad clo­se to her bo­som. "That damn but­terfly. I ne­ver want to see it aga­in, much less try and catch it. Kirk, I'm su­re it me­ant for you to die!"

Kirk eased from her com­for­ting arms and mo­ved to a sit­ting po­si­ti­on. "Hog­wash," he sa­id, yet his in­si­des we­re cold with the me­mory of the but­terfly at­tac­king him, as tho­ugh pur­po­sely. "But­ter­f­li­es ha­ve no sen­se of lo­gic. So­met­hing frig­h­te­ned it in­to thras­hing it­self aga­inst me. That's all."

Jolena pla­ced a gen­t­le hand to his el­bow and hel­ped him up from the gro­und. "Are you truly all right?" she mur­mu­red. "You had qu­ite a fall."

Tags: Cassie Edwards Romance
Source: readsnovelonline.net