Page 27 of Savage Illusions

"I wasn't moc­king it," Kirk sa­id ir­ri­tably. "In fact, if you want to know, I don't ca­re a damn abo­ut it." He ga­ve Two Rid­ges a lo­ok of an­no­yan­ce. "Can my sis­ter and I ha­ve a lit­tle pri­vacy he­re? Or do you fe­el you ha­ve the right to in­ter­fe­re in an­yo­ne's con­ver­sa­ti­on just be­ca­use you are the only gu­ide left to ta­ke us thro­ugh this go­daw­ful land?"

Two Rid­ges gla­red at Kirk, then jum­ped to his fe­et and stam­ped away. He squ­at­ted down on­to his ha­un­c­hes in the thic­ke­ning sha­dows of dusk and wat­c­hed Kirk un­til Kirk left to find re­fu­ge be­hind bus­hes to re­li­eve him­self be­fo­re re­ti­ring for the night in his tent.

Two Rid­ges saw this as his chan­ce to ma­ke his first ad­van­ces to Jole­na. He jum­ped to his fe­et and to­ok a few steps, then stop­ped and sta­red as Jole­na qu­ickly went to her tent af­ter se­e­ing him wal­king to­ward her.

Knowing that she was pur­po­sely eva­ding him, Two Rid­ges do­ub­led his hands in­to tight fists at his si­des. Lo­oking slowly aro­und him and no­ting how clo­se ever­yo­ne el­se's tent had be­en pit­c­hed to Jole­na's, he knew that this night he wo­uld not ap­pro­ach her with his skills of dra­wing a wo­man in­to wan­ting him. He wo­uld ha­ve to wa­it anot­her full night and day be­fo­re the op­por­tu­nity wo­uld ari­se aga­in.

And that wo­uld be the last chan­ce he wo­uld get, for Spot­ted Eag­le wo­uld ha­ve had ti­me by then to re­ach his vil­la­ge and re­turn to the ex­pe­di­ti­on af­ter dis­co­ve­ring that his fat­her's he­alth was no wor­se than the last ti­me he had se­en him.

Disappointment lay he­avily on his he­art. Two Rid­ges had tho­ught en­d­les­sly of Jole­na the who­le day, his ima­ges of be­ing with her bu­il­ding at each be­at of his he­art. He had be­li­eved that his de­si­res wo­uld be qu­en­c­hed to­night whi­le hol­ding her in his arms and ma­king lo­ve to her.

Grumbling to him­self, Two Rid­ges tur­ned and mar­c­hed away from the camp.

Hoping to find es­ca­pe from her lo­ne­li­ness and des­pa­ir, Jole­na set­tled her­self down on a blan­ket, stret­c­hing out on her right si­de as she drew anot­her blan­ket atop her. Clut­c­hing the buf­fa­lo rock, Jole­na sig­hed and drif­ted off in­to a res­t­less sle­ep.

Suddenly her sle­ep was fil­led with ima­ges. It was the sa­me dre­am that had vi­si­ted her most nights in Sa­int Lo­u­is. She was dres­sed in a soft frin­ged do­es­kin dress, be­aded moc­ca­sins, and a he­ad­band abo­ut her he­ad to hold her long and flo­wing dark ha­ir in pla­ce as the wind blew briskly aro­und her.

On each si­de of her we­re co­lor­ful­ly pa­in­ted te­pe­es, yet out­si­de the dwel­lings she saw no pe­op­le un­til sud­denly be­fo­re her was the hand- so­me war­ri­or whom she now knew as Spot­ted Eag­le!

Her in­si­des mel­ted as he ap­pro­ac­hed her, for ne­ver had she se­en such a han­d­so­me, pro­ud man, and as his eyes loc­ked with hers, she co­uld fe­el him si­lently bid­ding her to co­me to him.

Following this bid­ding, Jole­na be­gan wal­king slowly to­ward him, then bro­ke in­to a mad run. Yet she ne­ver se­emed to get clo­ser.

The fas­ter she ran, the mo­re dis­tant he be­ca­me.

She re­ac­hed her hands out to him, crying his na­me as she tos­sed, tur­ned, and swe­ated in her sle­ep.

Then, fi­nal­ly, she re­ac­hed him.

Sobbing with joy, she flung her­self in­to his arms, and when his lips bo­re down upon hers, te­ars flo­wed from her eyes from the than­k­ful bliss of the mo­ment.

A stran­ge so­und drew Jole­na qu­ickly away from Spot­ted Eag­le. She step­ped asi­de and tur­ned to see what was ma­king the stran­ge swis­hing no­ise.

Wild- eyed, she re­ali­zed that it was an ar­row!

Her he­art sank as she tur­ned and wat­c­hed this ar­row pi­er­ce her lo­ver's he­art!

A scre­am lod­ged in her thro­at, awa­ke­ning her in a cold swe­at. Her pul­se ra­cing, Jole­na sat up qu­ickly and sta­red wild-eyed aro­und her.

Oh, Lord, the dre­am had se­emed so re­al!

She pla­ced her fin­ger­tips to her mo­uth, still fe­eling Spot­ted Eag­le's lips war­ming hers. She put her hands over her ears and clo­sed her eyes, still ab­le to he­ar the eerie so­und of the ar­row as it whiz­zed thro­ugh the air.

She gro­aned and mo­ved her he­ad back and forth, trying not to re­mem­ber how it had so­un­ded when the ar­row had pi­er­ced her lo­ver's body.

''Jolena?" Kirk sa­id, from out­si­de her tent. "Sis? Are you all right? Mo­ments ago it so­un­ded as tho­ugh you we­re cho­king. Tell me. Are you all right?"

Trying to com­po­se her­self so that her vo­ice wo­uld ha­ve its na­tu­ral so­und, Jole­na swal­lo­wed over and over aga­in and wil­led her he­art to stop its po­un­ding. Then she craw­led to the tent en­t­ran­ce and drew the flap asi­de.

"I'm fi­ne," she mur­mu­red. "I… I just had a nig­h­t­ma­re, that's all."

"It must've be­en so­me nig­h­t­ma­re," Kirk sa­id, frow­ning at her, se­e­ing the per­s­pi­ra­ti­on-dam­p­ness of her ha­ir as it clung to her brow.

Then he re­ac­hed a hand in­si­de and to­uc­hed her co­ol, clammy che­ek. "Are you go­ing to be all right?" he as­ked with brot­herly af­fec­ti­on.

"Yes, I'll be fi­ne," Jole­na sa­id, then le­aned out and ga­ve him a soft kiss on his che­ek. "Sorry I awa­ke­ned you."

"You didn't awa­ken me," Kirk sa­id, ta­king her hand. "So far this ex­pe­di­ti­on has be­en not­hing but tro­ub­le. I'll be glad when it's over and we can r

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