Page 45 of Savage Illusions

His he­art po­un­ding, Two Rid­ges felt bles­sed that soft moss cus­hi­oned the so­und of his hor­se's ho­oves as they mo­ved on­ward. Two Rid­ges knew whe­re he wo­uld go. The­re was a sec­ret ca­ve that he knew. Ne­ver had he sha­red the lo­ca­ti­on of this ca­ve with Spot­ted Eag­le or any of his ot­her fri­ends. It had be­en Two Rid­ges' sec­ret pla­ce to play as a child and pray as an adult.

Jolena wo­uld be the only one to sha­re his sec­ret.

Moving in­to the sha­dows of the fo­rest, Two Rid­ges sig­hed with re­li­ef. Sin­king his kne­es in­to the si­des of his hor­se, he sent it qu­ickly on­ward. When Jole­na mo­aned and mo­ved slightly in his arms, his in­si­des mel­ted as he glan­ced down at her. He stu­di­ed her fe­atu­res, fin­ding them be­a­uti­ful and al­lu­ring, yet now that he was this clo­se, the­re se­emed so­met­hing dif­fe­rent abo­ut her from the be­a­uty he had ad­mi­red in her at arm's length.

It was only a slight re­sem­b­lan­ce that he was se­e­ing, yet it was the­rea lo­ok in her sle­ep that he had se­en of­ten when his very own fat­her lay sle­eping.

There was so­met­hing abo­ut the way she held her lips, the way she se­emed to be smi­ling even whi­le as­le­ep…

He had ad­mi­red that tra­it in his fat­her, who­se he­art was al­ways so kind to ever­yo­ne, even stran­gers, that his kin­d­ness had al­ways fol­lo­wed him as he fell as­le­ep.

This ga­ve Two Rid­ges a stran­ge fo­re­bo­ding in­si­de his he­art, yet he scof­fed and cast the­se fe­elings asi­de, kno­wing that al­t­ho­ugh this wo­man was In­di­an in all of her fe­atu­res, she was not re­la­ted to an­yo­ne that Two Rid­ges knew!

Most cer­ta­inly Jole­na was not the da­ug­h­ter of his fat­her! A sud­den tho­ught grip­ped Two Rid­ges' in­si­des then, and he re­cal­led the story of his fat­her's first wi­fe and how a child had be­en ta­ken from her. No one had ever se­en the child aga­in, nor had it be­en known if it was a boy or a girl.

No one even knew if the child was still ali­

ve!

''This is not my fat­her's da­ug­h­ter," Two Rid­ges sa­id, con­vin­cing him­self that she wasn't.

The re­ason this wo­man smi­led in her sle­ep was only be­ca­use she was kind and swe­et in all ways pos­sib­le!

She was what he wan­ted in a wi­fe, even if he won her lo­ve at the sa­me ti­me that he bet­ra­yed his fri­end!

Clutching her to him, as tho­ugh his own li­fe de­pen­ded on it, Two Rid­ges ro­de re­len­t­les­sly on­ward, ho­ping to re­ach the ca­ve be­fo­re Spot­ted Eag­le dis­co­ve­red him go­ne.

Spotted Eag­le's eyes scan­ned the land be­low him, his he­art ble­eding as he saw the bro­ken, twis­ted bo­di­es and deb­ris scat­te­red ever­y­w­he­re. The­re was no way to iden­tify tho­se who we­re de­ad wit­ho­ut se­e­ing them up clo­se.

His he­ad bent low, he mo­ved slowly to his fe­et and wit­ho­ut much tho­ught, too fil­led with re­mor­se to think abo­ut an­y­t­hing but his be­lo­ved wo­man, he swung him­self in­to his sad­dle and whe­eled his hor­se aro­und to se­ek a path that wo­uld ta­ke him to the bot­tom of the cliff.

Between him and Two Rid­ges, a way wo­uld be fo­und!

Raising his he­ad to tell Two Rid­ges to help him at this ti­me of his de­ep des­pa­ir, Spot­ted Eag­le's lips par­ted in a sur­p­ri­sed gasp when he dis­co­ve­red that his yo­ung fri­end was no lon­ger the­re.

"What wo­uld ma­ke him le­ave?" he whis­pe­red to him­self, pe­ering ahe­ad, ho­ping to see his fri­end wa­iting far­t­her up the path, yet he saw no sign of him an­y­w­he­re.

Puzzled and di­sap­po­in­ted, yet not wan­ting to ta­ke any mo­re ti­me won­de­ring abo­ut a fri­end who wo­uld aban­don him at such a ti­me as this, Spot­ted Eag­le set his jaw hard and se­ar­c­hed un­til he fo­und the sa­fest way to tra­vel down the ste­ep in­c­li­ne.

Holding his re­ins tightly, and loc­king his kne­es to the si­des of his hor­se to ste­ady him­self as his stal­li­on's ho­oves be­gan slip­ping and sli­ding on the lo­ose rock be­ne­ath them, Spot­ted Eag­le de­ter­mi­nedly mo­ved lo­wer and lo­wer un­til he re­ac­hed the pla­ce whe­re bro­ken bo­di­es, scat­te­red jo­ur­nals, and pi­eces and whe­els of wa­gons we­re strewn abo­ut.

There was not a so­und to be he­ard as Spot­ted Eag­le dis­mo­un­ted. The birds in the tre­es had even ce­ased to sing as the fi­res of the sun po­ured down from the he­avens on the de­ath sce­ne spre­ad aro­und be­fo­re Spot­ted Eag­le's te­ar-fil­led eyes.

Stiffly he went from body to body, gas­ping at the sight of tho­se who we­re so blo­odi­ed and smas­hed it was im­pos­sib­le to iden­tify them.

The clot­hes on each vic­tim we­re so rip­ped and torn and co­ve­red with blo­od that Spot­ted Eag­le co­uld not even use that me­ans to iden­tify his wo­man.

He sho­uted to the he­avens a cry of des­pa­ir, de­vas­ta­ted to know that Jole­na was go­ne from him so qu­ickly!

After se­ar­c­hing for a whi­le lon­ger, des­pe­ra­te for any clu­es as to which one might be Jole­na, Spot­ted Eag­le fi­nal­ly ga­ve up, fe­eling that he had no ot­her re­co­ur­se but to le­ave the de­ath sce­ne.

Jolena and Kirk's bo­di­es we­re uni­den­ti­fi­ab­le.

There was no way to se­pa­ra­te them from the ot­hers, to gi­ve them a pro­per bu­ri­al.

All that he wan­ted now was to es­ca­pe, to put this hor­ror from his mind, yet he knew he ne­ver wo­uld be ab­le to for­get!

It was the­re fo­re­ver, li­ke le­aves car­ved in­to sto­ne as they be­co­me fos­si­li­zed with age!

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