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This had always reminded her of why she was taking this trek to the Montana Territory, yet deep down inside herself, where her dreams and desires were formed, she knew that the true reason was to follow the calling of her dreams.
She could not help but hope to find her destiny.
Soon the riverboat was docked and its large walking plank swung around and positioned securely onto the rocky beach that was only a few feet from the towering palisade that protected Fort Chance, a very substantial fort three hundred feet square which housed an American Fur Company post.
Very quickly, almost before she could catch her breath, Jolena was catapulted into the hubbub of unloading from the riverboat, the several other scientists in her party scrambling to get to shore with her and leave their "sea legs" behind them.
Jolena, her arms piled high with valises stuffed with her research materials and journals, clumsily made her way through the throng of people.
Their horses left behind inside the fort walls, Spotted Eagle and Two Ridges stood a few feet from the riverbank, curiously watching the people unload the boat. Spotted Eagle's attention was drawn to one lady in particular, whose waist-length, flowing black hair made his eyebrows lift, thinking that such hair did not seem appropriate for a white woman. Sweet Dove's hair had been as long and as blackblacker than charcoal. He did not see how a white woman could have the hair of a Blackfoot woman! He continued watching her, his eyes narrowing when a white man stepped to her side and began relieving her of her burden. He thought this man must be her brother, for he looked too young to be anyone's husband.
Yet this young man had hair the color of wheat, nothing like the woman's.
Spotted Eagle's interest peaking, something compelled him to continue watching the woman until finally her face was revealed to him and he saw that she was not a white woman at all, but had the coloring and features of an Indian.
And that was not all!
A choking sensation grabbed at his insides, and he stood in leather-faced silence, struck numb by the resemblance between this woman and Sweet Dove!
Memories rushed over him, remembering anew when he was a boy obsessed with an older woman.
It was as though he was a young boy again, taken by the same lovely faceSweet Dove's!
It was strange to see such an Indian woman mingling with the white people, dressed like them, as though one of them!
He could not help but continue to stare at her, his heart pounding in his ears as the excitement built within him.
This woman radiated such a natural, enchanting beauty. There was a look of keen intelligence in her dark eyes. Her face was expressive of strong passions lying just beneath the surface. Again he could not help but make the comparison with Sweet Doveher eyes browner than the bark of the tallest fir trees, her long and flowing hair down her slim back blacker than charcoal, her exquisite, perfect facial features on a copper skin such as his own.
His palms were sweaty. His throat was dry, as he came to the only possible conclusion.
This must be the long-lost child of his beloved Sweet Dove!
It had to be!
Her every feature spoke to him of Sweet Dove!
Sighing with relief that the burden had been removed from her aching arms, Jolena smiled up at Kirk. "Thank you so much for rescuing me," she said, laughing softly. "I'm not sure I could have moved another inch. I surely would have dropped the valises for everyone else to trip over."
"I've come on this expedition to look after you, sis," Kirk said, "and by damn, I will. Just let some man look at you crosswise and he'll have me to answer to."
Jolena glanced down at his holstered pistol, hoping that didn't give him too much confidence. He was not a man of action. He had been a man of books too long to be able to change into someone who was that skilled in guns to speak out when perhaps he should be listening.
She feared for her brother more than for herself in this strange, even forbidding land.
As she was walking at a fast clip toward the fort, trying to keep up with Kirk, Jolena's foot- steps faltered. She felt almost certain she was being watched. She could feel the heat of someone's eyes branding her.
Pausing for a moment as Kirk kept walking ahead of her, Jolena slowly turned around. Growing pale, her eyes widened and her knees grew weak when her searching gaze stopped on the Indian warrior who was staring back at her from the darkest eyes imaginable.
She covered her mouth with a hand, gasping. The more she stared back at him, the more she was aware that this was not just any Indian.
This was the Blackfoot warrior of her midnight dreams!
This Indian was as tall and straight. His features were as regular, his eyes midnight dark, large, and well set. His nose was moderate in size, straight and thin, his chest splendidly developed. His long black hair hung free of braids and ornaments. His cheeks were well-pronounced, and he was wearing a neat suit of buckskin with fringes on the sleeves, across the shoulders, and down his trouser legs.
The front of his shirt was decorated beautifully with the embroidery of porcupine quills, matching the band at his head that held his hair in place.
Jolena's heart raced, now understanding why some called the noble Indians knights of the prairie, mountains and forests. Never would she find anyone else as handsome and as intriguing as this Indian.
