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In her studies of the Indians of that region, she had learned that the Blackfoot Indians always wore black moccasins.
It gave her a strange sort of thrill to know that she would soon be mingling among the Indians of the Montana Territory. The guides for this expedition were, in fact, supposed to be Indians… perhaps one of the guides might be as handsome as the warrior in her dreams!
And perhaps she might even discover her true heritage. Yet she doubted she would. She was now eighteen years old. Her Indian mother had died long ago, and her Indian father had probably forgotten the child that had been born the day he had lost his wife.
And the Montana Territory was a wide and spacious land.
It did not seem at all possible, or logical, to Jolena that her true heritage would be revealed to her all that easily, if ever at all.
Sighing, Jolena hugged her nightgown around her and went to the window. Outside, she could see willowy branches of purple spirea drooping over the white picket fence separating the front lawn from the street. Daisies flourished inside the fence, and redbud, dogwood, and azaleas spangled the landscape with their pastel glory. If her window were open, she knew that the air would be thick with the scent of flowers.
Saint Louis was a lo
vely city, a city that had been good to her.
But it was June, the beginning of summer, the season that stirred the side of Jolena's personality that yearned for adventure.
She was going to bid Saint Louis a fond farewell, looking forward to the land that awaited herand perhaps her precious discoveries!
Eager to get her day on its way, Jolena hurriedly dressed in a floor-length demure gray dress. It was void of any frills or fanciness of any sort for this, her first day of travel on the steamboat Yellowstone up the Missouri River.
After she was dressed and her long, black hair was spilling down her back, she went to her desk and began sorting through papers and books, deciding which ones to take that would be the most valuable in her search for the rare butterfly.
Choosing one and then another, she soon had more than one valise stuffed with journals and books. Smiling, she grabbed them up into her arms and left her bedroom.
Her arms too full even to see her feet, Jolena made her way slowly down the steep staircase. ''That's a sure-fire way to break your neck, sis," Kirk said, coming quickly up the stairs to rescue her. He took her heaviest books and tucked them beneath his own arms. "Lord, Jolena, are you taking your whole library with you? You know it's only going to make the journey more cumbersome for you. I don't see that as wise."
Jolena did not have time to comment before a loud, commanding voice spoke from the foot of the stairs.
"I think this whole foolishness about going after that elusive butterfly isn't wise," Bryce Edmonds said firmly. "I'd hoped you'd reconsider, but by the looks of those trunks by the door and those stuffed valises, I see that I was foolish to think that you might decide against this venture at the last minute."
Jolena gave her brother a nervous grin as he glanced at her, then smiled more gently at her father. She was always saddened to see how he was wasting away with a strange sort of paralysis, now confined to a wheelchair for the rest of his life. There was only a trace of his former handsomeness in his smile and eyes. His hair was gray and thinning. His face was all lines and shadow. His shoulders were bent and lean.
She could hardly bear to look at his legs as they rested limply in the wheelchair. They were mere bones, his muscles having atrophied almost to nothing.
She scarcely remembered how he had once looked, except that when she looked at her brother, she knew that she was seeing the mirror- image of their father with his boyish freckles, blond hair, and a face that made girls take a second look at him.
She could envision her beautiful mother having been enamored by her young husband all of those years ago, and it saddened her that her mother was no longer there to share life with her husband and children. Charlotte had died trying to give birth to a second child.
Jolena thought that if her mother were still there to look after her father, he would not have that lonely, haunted look in his eyes as often as he did now.
She felt guilty for being so eager to leave him. Without her and Kirk there to keep him company, what might his days and evenings be like? Though there were many servants at his beck and call in this great mansion perched on a high cliff that overlooked the Mississippi River, they might not be enough.
But nothing was going to stop Jolena from going to the Montana Territory.
She was being drawn there for more than one reason.
She raced on down the stairs and gave her father a warm hug and a kiss on his cheek. "Please be happy for me," she whispered to him. "I so badly want to go. Say that you understand?"
Bryce placed his bony fingers to Jolena's shoulders and leaned her away from him, his eyes meeting hers as he gripped her shoulders. "Daughter, I don't think I've ever been able to talk you out of anything," he said thickly. "You've been willful and adventurous for as long as you've been able to walk and talk. As for going to search for that damnable butterflyI understand. I was driven to search wide and far for it myself. But damn it, Jolena, Montana Territory is so far away. Anything can happen."
"Yes, I know," Jolena said, easing from his grasp. She took her valises and set them on top of her trunks, then turned and faced her father again as he wheeled his wheelchair around to meet her sad stare. "But I do so badly want to go, father."
"And I do give you my permission and blessing," Bryce said, hanging on to how she called him father todayfor next week, even next year, she might be saying that to someone else. If she should manage to somehow discover her true heritage and find her true father, he would lose everything that was most precious.
His daughterhis beloved daughter!
He wasn't sure if he could bear it.
