Savage Illusions

by Cassie Edwards

  He knew that he co­uld ne­ver ta­ke her to his vil­la­ge­not as long as Spot­ted Eag­le was ali­ve! Spot­ted Eag­le wo­uld ta­ke her away from him and con­demn Two Rid­ges in the eyes of the­ir pe­op­le!

  There was only one so­lu­ti­on.

  Two Rid­ges wo­uld ha­ve to am­bush Spot­ted Eag­le and kill him, so that Two Rid­ges wo­uld not ha­ve to li­ve the li­fe of a ba­nis­hed Blac­k­fo­ot. He wan­ted to ta­ke his cop­per prin­cess to his pe­op­le and show her off to them. They wo­uld see why she wo­uld ca­use him ne­ver to ta­ke anot­her wo­man to his bed.

  She was the most be­a­uti­ful of all the wo­men he had ever known! He ac­hed to to­uch her cop­per skin. He ac­hed to bury his no­se in the depths of her mid­nig­ht-black ha­ir, to smell its frag­ran­ce. His mo­uth wan­ted to know the swe­et­ness of her lips.

  But he knew that he wo­uld first ha­ve to ga­in her trust to ha­ve the­se ple­asu­res!

  Jolena was stun­ned numb with the news that she and Two Rid­ges we­re the only two of the ex­pe­di­ti­on to co­me out of this tra­gedy ali­ve.

  She clo­sed her eyes and sob­bed out Kirk's na­me, then her be­lo­ved Spot­ted Eag­le's.

  She crum­p­led down on­to the blan­kets and cur­led in­to a ball, still crying, her eyes clo­sed, her he­art shred­ding in­to a mil­li­on pi­eces of des­pa­ir. When a warm hand to­uc­hed her fa­ce, she tho­ught it was Spot­ted Eag­le's, so much did she want it to be so. She le­aned in­to the palm of the hand, sob­bing softly.

  When she ope­ned her eyes, she lur­c­hed back wildly away from Two Rid­ges, jol­ted back to her sen­ses.

  "Allow me to com­fort you," Two Rid­ges sa­id, pla­cing a hand to her wrist, at­tem­p­ting to draw her in­to a sit­ting po­si­ti­on next to him. "For a mo­ment you al­lo­wed it. Ok-yi, co­me. Kyi. Let me hold you. Cry un­til all of yo­ur sad­ness is was­hed from in­si­de you."

  "No," Jole­na sa­id, cho­king back anot­her sob. "I'm fi­ne. I don't ne­ed an­yo­ne. I'm go­ing to be fi­ne."

  "You ne­ed not suf­fer thro­ugh this alo­ne," Two Rid­ges sa­id, dra­wing her clo­ser to him as he still held tightly to her wrist. "I was Spot­ted Eag­le's best fri­end. He wo­uld want you to se­ek com­fort in my arms."

  "Please le­ave me be," Jole­na sa­id, yan­king her wrist free. "I ne­ed no one. No one, do you he­ar?"

  His eyes nar­ro­wing, Two Rid­ges mo­ved away from her and re­su­med his pla­ce be­fo­re the dying em­bers on the op­po­si­te si­de of the fi­re from Jole­na. His eyes ne­ver left her as he pla­ced mo­re wo­od on the co­als of the fi­re, and the fla­mes so­on ate away at the dry tim­ber.

  Jolena sta­red in­to the fla­mes, trem­b­ling from the col­d­ness she felt in­si­de over her los­ses.

  Her brot­her! Her won­der­ful Spot­ted Eag­le! All of the ot­hers of the ex­pe­di­ti­on of whom she had be­co­me so fo­und!

  And her be­lo­ved jo­ur­nals and her pre­ci­o­us but­terfly col­lec­ti­on!

  "Everything is lost to me," she whis­pe­red, te­ars aga­in splas­hing from her eyes. "Ever­y­t­hing."

  Returning to her soft pal­let of blan­kets, she stret­c­hed out on­to them, me­ti­cu­lo­usly co­ve­ring her­self with anot­her one. When she clo­sed her eyes, she fo­und that the­re was too much the­re in her mind's eye that con­ti­nu­ed tro­ub­ling her… the dam­nab­le Nympha­lid but­terfly that was known to por­tend de­ath! And the dam­nab­le dre­am in which Spot­ted Eag­le had di­ed!

  Although Spot­ted Eag­le had not di­ed from an ar­row's wo­und, he was de­ad just the sa­me.

  She now wis­hed that she had lis­te­ned to Kirk and had tur­ned back to­ward Fort Chan­ce, le­aving the but­terfly to te­ase and ca­use de­ath to so­me­one el­se.

  "Oh, why didn't I lis­ten to Kirk?" she cri­ed softly, pum­me­ling her fists in­to the blan­kets. "Why? Why?"

  She had be­en so ca­ught up in her gri­ef that Jole­na had not he­ard Two Rid­ges co­ming to­ward her aga­in, had not be­en awa­re of him lying qu­i­etly down on­to the blan­ket be­si­de her…

  Only when he sco­oted be­ne­ath her blan­ket and pla­ced his body be­hind hers was she awa­re that he was the­re, his bre­ath now hot on the na­pe of her neck as his fin­gers lif­ted her ha­ir so that he co­uld kiss her swe­et, soft flesh.

  Jolena's eyes ope­ned wildly and her he­art skip­ped a be­at when she felt the most iden­ti­fi­ab­le lar­ge­ness of his man­ho­od thro­ugh the ma­te­ri­al of his bre­ec­hes and her skirt as he be­gan gyra­ting him­self aga­inst her from be­hind.

  She was so shoc­ked by his ac­ti­ons that she was mo­men­ta­rily ren­de­red spe­ec­h­less and se­emingly hel­p­less. She lay the­re, scar­cely bre­at­hing, as one of his hands mo­ved aro­und and cup­ped one of her bre­asts thro­ugh the cot­ton fab­ric of her blo­use.

  In a flash, the blan­ket was thrown asi­de and Two Rid­ges was atop her, his mo­uth se­eking her lips, his hands slip­ping qu­ickly up the in­si­de of her skirt.

  ''I will ma­ke you for­get ever­y­t­hing but the ple­asu­re that you will re­ce­ive from my lo­ve­ma­king," Two Rid­ges whis­pe­red hus­kily aga­inst her che­ek, his lips qu­ickly cla­iming hers in a fren­zi­ed kiss.

  With one sho­ve, she pus­hed Two Rid­ges away from her.

  She scram­b­led to her fe­et, and as he jum­ped to his fe­et and to­we­red over her, she star­ted to run. He grab­bed her by the wa­ist and spun her aro­und so that she was held im­mo­bi­le aga­inst his body as he lo­we­red her aga­in to the blan­kets.

  "This is what you wo­uld do whi­le yo­ur best fri­end li­es de­ad?" Jole­na cri­ed, stric­ken with a sud­den fe­ar when she ga­zed up in­to eyes that we­re an­y­t­hing but fri­endly.

  She sho­ved at his chest. "Why are you do­ing this to me?" she cri­ed. "Ple­ase let me go. Ple­ase don't do this!"

  "I can­not stop myself from wan­ting you," Two Rid­ges sa­id, a stran­g­led sob le­aping from his thro­at.

  His ga­ze mo­ved over her fa­ce, sud­denly re­ali­zing aga­in that the­re was so­met­hing abo­ut her that was too fa­mi­li­ar.

  This ma­de him co­me to his sen­ses.

  He mo­ved qu­ickly away from Jole­na, then sha­me­ful­ly hung his fa­ce in his hands.

  Too frig­h­te­ned to trust his sud­den chan­ge of mo­od, Jole­na knew that she must not ta­ke any chan­ce of his chan­ging his mind aga­in and con­ti­nu­ing with his plan of ra­ping her.

  Wildly, she ga­zed aro­und her for so­met­hing with which to pro­tect her­self aga­inst this Blac­k­fo­ot In­di­an se­emingly cra­zed by ru­na­way lusts and de­si­res!

  Breathing hard, her eyes fell upon a rock ne­ar whe­re she sat.

  Without any fur­t­her tho­ught, she grab­bed the rock and bro­ught it down hard upon Two Rid­ges' he­ad.

  When the rock ma­de con­tact with his skull, Jole­na re­co­iled and lo­oked away.

  When she slowly tur­ned her eyes aro­und a mo­ment la­ter, Two Rid­ges lay per­fectly qu­i­et be­si­de the fi­re. Jole­na co­ve­red her mo­uth with her hands, gas­ping as she sta­red at him. His eyes we­re clo­sed. Blo­od was cur­ling down ac­ross his brow from the wo­und she had in­f­lic­ted on his he­ad.

  He was bre­at­hing ras­pily.

  "I've got to get out of he­re," Jole­na sa­id, lo­oking des­pe­ra­tely aro­und her. She ga­zed aga­in at Two Rid­ges, then gul­ped back a fast-for­ming knot in her thro­at. What if he di­ed? She hadn't wan­ted to kill him. Why had he for­ced her to do this ter­rib­le thing to him?

  She mo­ved sha­kily to her fe­et and be­gan in­c­hing bac­k­ward, away from Two Rid­ges, fe­aring mo­re that he might wa­ke up than that he sho­uld not wa­ke up at all.

  He had re­ason now to do mo­re than ra­pe her.

  He might even kill her!

&n
bsp; Remembering the dan­gers that lur­ked in the fo­rest, and re­ali­zing that she co­uld wan­der alo­ne for days be­fo­re fin­ding any sort of ci­vi­li­za­ti­on, Jole­na stop­ped and ga­zed down at Two Rid­ges' kni­fe. She was af­ra­id to try and get it, fe­aring that he might wa­ke up the very mo­ment she was le­aning down over him. She clo­sed her eyes at the tho­ught of him grab­bing her and for­cing him­self on her aga­in!

  Then she ope­ned her eyes aga­in slowly, kno­wing that her li­fe now de­pen­ded on her ta­king many risks.

  Leaning down, she mo­ved her trem­b­ling fin­gers to Two Rid­ges' she­at­hed kni­fe at his right si­de. She wat­c­hed his eyes as she qu­ickly grab­bed the han­d­le and bro­ught the kni­fe out of its she­ath.

  Her he­art thum­ping wildly, Jole­na tur­ned her at­ten­ti­on to the fo­od drip­ping its ju­ices in­to the fi­re. Her mo­uth wa­te­red sud­denly for she had not re­ali­zed un­til this mo­ment just how hungry she was.

  "To sur­vi­ve, I must eat," she whis­pe­red, step­ping up to the brow­ned mor­sel, very de­li­be­ra­te- ly cut­ting se­ve­ral wi­de strips of the me­at away, then thrus­ting them in­to the depths of her skirt poc­ket.

  "And warmth," she whis­pe­red, spying the blan­kets upon which Two Rid­ges still lay. She must ta­ke at le­ast one of tho­se blan­kets.

  With one hand, she po­ised the kni­fe abo­ve Two Rid­ges, re­ady for the de­ath plun­ge sho­uld he awa­ken whi­le she was slowly rol­ling his body off the blan­kets.

  When he was suc­ces­sful­ly mo­ved over on­to his sto­mach, his fa­ce po­in­ting away from Jole­na, she grab­bed the blan­ket, then to­ok off in a mad dash to­ward whe­re she tho­ught the mo­uth of the ca­ve might be.

  The pitch dar­k­ness of the ca­vern slo­wed her es­ca­pe. She fo­und her way by ke­eping her back aga­inst the one si­de of the ca­ve and in­c­hing her­self along. She was glad when she fi­nal­ly saw the light of the mo­on as it ma­de a path of sil­ver just in­si­de the en­t­ran­ce of the ca­ve.

  Jolena bro­ke in­to a run aga­in, te­ars fil­ling her eyes with re­ne­wed tho­ughts of Spot­ted Eag­le and Kirk. She felt empty with lo­ne­li­ness.

  How co­uld she be­ar such los­ses? Her fu­tu­re was ble­ak. Wit­ho­ut Spot­ted Eag­le's arms and strength to gu­ide her in­to the fu­tu­re, how co­uld she exist?

  She felt use­less now, ut­terly use­less.

  Running out in­to the cle­ar, cle­an air of night, Jole­na mo­ved re­len­t­les­sly on­ward, kno­wing she must put much dis­tan­ce bet­we­en her­self and Two Rid­ges. When he ca­me to and fo­und her go­ne, he wo­uld su­rely not le­ave a sto­ne un­tur­ned to find her aga­in.

  And if he fo­und her, what then?

  Would he kill her?

  Or con­ti­nue whe­re he had left of­fand ra­pe her?

  Both tho­ughts sent chills ra­cing up and down her spi­ne.

  "His hor­se!" she cri­ed. "Why didn't I think to get his hor­se?"

  But she had be­en too eager to get as far from him as she co­uld, and sin­ce she had not se­en the hor­se, it had not co­me to her mind to ta­ke it.

  Stopping to draw the blan­ket over her sho­ul­ders, she lo­oked in all di­rec­ti­ons, won­de­ring which ro­ute wo­uld get her to ci­vi­li­za­ti­on the fas­test.

  Fort Chan­ce was many mi­les away, and she knew not whe­re the Blac­k­fo­ot vil­la­ge might be.

  It truly didn't mat­ter which way she went. Spot­ted Eag­le wo­uld not be the­re.

  She ga­zed thro­ugh a bre­ak in the tre­es over­he­ad and sta­red at the flecks of stars blin­king down at her. "Oh, Lord, why did this ha­ve to hap­pen?" she pra­yed. "Why was I al­lo­wed to fall so madly in lo­ve, and then ha­ve to le­arn how to li­ve wit­ho­ut him? Why, Lord? What ha­ve I do­ne to de­ser­ve this?"

  She lo­we­red her eyes and ga­zed ca­uti­o­usly aro­und her. The only so­unds we­re frogs fa­irly crac­king the air with the­ir no­ise. The night was fil­led with a qu­e­er, lu­mi­no­us dar­k­ness. It was li­ke vel­vet, soft yet he­avy, but the mo­on­light enab­led her to dimly see the dif­fe­rent obj­ects all aro­und her.

  The fo­rest, al­ways a thing of mystery at night, sto­od as tho­ugh re­ady to en­fold her wit­hin its dark arms, chil­ling her with ter­ror at the pros­pect of ne­ver be­ing fo­und.

  She shud­de­red at the tho­ught of be­ing at­tac­ked by a pan­t­her, wolf, or be­ar. A co­yo­te's sud­den long howl from so­mew­he­re in the dis­tan­ce star­t­led Jole­na in­to a mad run. She stum­b­led thro­ugh the dar­k­ness, so­on dis­co­ve­ring that all the for­ces of na­tu­re se­emed pit­ted aga­inst her. The bus­hes we­re so clo­se-set that they tan­g­led her prog­ress slo­wed to that of a sna­il. When she step­ped from the fo­rest on­to a stretch of open me­adow, only then co­uld she run aga­in as the mo­on now lig­h­ted the mo­un­ta­ins lo­oming ahe­ad of her.

  Tears stre­amed down her che­eks aga­in at the tho­ught of the she­er drop from the cliff that had ta­ken the li­ves of so many.

  "Spotted Eag­le," she cri­ed mo­ur­n­ful­ly alo­ud, her vo­ice ec­ho­ing back at her, ha­un­tingly over and over aga­in.

  A hor­se whin­nying stir­red Two Rid­ges awa­ke. He blin­ked his eyes ner­vo­usly and re­ac­hed a hand to his throb­bing he­ad, sud­denly re­cal­ling what had hap­pe­ned.

  Angry at him­self for al­lo­wing a me­re wo­man to ta­ke ad­van­ta­ge of him, he mo­ved qu­ickly to his fe­et.

  The fi­re was al­most out. Smol­de­ring as­hes ga­ve off only eno­ugh light for Two Rid­ges to see that he was qu­ite alo­ne.

  He kic­ked at so­me lo­ose rock at his fe­et. "She es­ca­ped!" he his­sed bet­we­en clen­c­hed te­eth. " Hai-yah, she es­ca­ped!"

  Dizzy from a se­ve­re he­adac­he, Two Rid­ges stum­b­led thro­ugh the gray dar­k­ness un­til he fo­und his hor­se, which had be­en se­cu­red in the far­t­her depths of the ca­ve, whe­re a stre­am me­an­de­red in­to the ca­vern thro­ugh cracks and cre­vi­ces.

  Flinging his sad­dle on­to his hor­se, Two Rid­ges tri­ed to de­ci­de what he must do. If he didn't find Jole­na be­fo­re Spot­ted Eag­le fo­und her, she wo­uld tell Spot­ted Eag­le ever­y­t­hing!

  Taking the re­ins, he led his hor­se thro­ugh the dank dar­k­ness of the ca­ve. To ke­ep his ho­nor in­tact, Two Rid­ges knew, eit­her Spot­ted Eag­le or Jole­na must die. Or both.

  Frowning, he led his hor­se out in­to the open spa­ce whe­re day­light was bre­aking along the ho­ri­zon. Swin­ging him­self in­to the sad­dle, he knew that he wo­uld be kil­ling who­me­ver he ca­me ac­ross first, whet­her it was his long-ti­me fri­end or the wo­man who he now knew wo­uld ne­ver be his.

  He sank his he­els in­to the flanks of his hor­se and ro­de in­to the sha­dows of the fo­rest.

  Chapter Twenty

  The loss of her brot­her and Spot­ted Eag­le lying he­avy on her he­art, Jole­na wal­ked aim­les­sly on­ward, re­li­eved that it was now day­light so it wo­uld be easi­er for her to ke­ep watch for dan­ge­ro­us ani­mals. In her mind's eye, she kept re­li­ving the night the pan­t­her had stal­ked her.

  But Spot­ted Eag­le had be­en the­re for her then!

  Now she was so­lely de­pen­dant on her­self. She ho­ped she wo­uld co­me upon tra­ve­lers or per­haps even find her­self in a Blac­k­fo­ot vil­la­ge.

  Bone- tired and sle­epy, Jole­na fo­und it hard to mo­ve one fo­ot ahe­ad of the ot­her. She was tra­ve­ling thro­ugh a wil­der­ness that was not easily tra­ver­sed. If she wasn't go­ing thro­ugh dark fo­rests with clo­se thic­kets and ra­pid stre­ams, she was wal­king along cliffs with she­er drop-of­fs and wildly flung rocks.

  Presently she fo­und her­self in a wi­de, shal­low val­ley that was thickly tim­be­red, whe­re cot­ton­wo­ods and rocks and si­lent stre­ams jo�
�ined to­get­her to cre­ate a tran­qu­il set­ting.

  In the dis­tan­ce, Jole­na co­uld see gre­at num­bers of de­er, elk, and mo­un­ta­in she­ep on the hil­lsi­des.

  Then a jac­k­rab­bit bo­un­ced past her, so clo­se she co­uld ha­ve re­ac­hed out and to­uc­hed it.

  Jolena pa­used, sig­hing. She wi­ped be­ads of per­s­pi­ra­ti­on from her brow as she le­aned aga­inst the trunk of a cot­ton­wo­od. She clo­sed her eyes and lis­te­ned to the whis­per of the le­aves abo­ve her. If she did not know bet­ter, she wo­uld think she was lis­te­ning to the so­und of a pe­ace­ful, slow ra­in fal­ling softly from the sky.