Savage Tempest (2 page)

Thus far, High Hawk had paid little heed to the maidens of the nearby villages. They had given him special notice with flirting smiles and presents of beautifully beaded moccasins, and other things women made as they sat beside their lodge fires. Perhaps some even dreamed of being the one chosen to be the wife of the young and virile Pawnee chief.

These women, who came with their parents from other bands of Pawnee to have council, would make good wives for him. It was not the custom to marry someone of his own Wolf band.

Yet he had yet to see any woman who fit his idea of an ideal wife.

But he must stop being so particular.

“My son, since your duties as chief await you when I choose to step down, you do not have much
time left to prove to the people of our Wolf band that you are worthy of being chief,” Rising Moon said solemnly. “
Ho
, although I am almost certain that everyone already sees you as our next chief, it is up to you to give them more reasons to want you as leader.”

“And what do you ask of me that will please our people?” High Hawk asked, his spine stiff. “What more can I do beyond what I have already proudly achieved?”

“You
have
proven yourself, time and again. You are worthy of being our people's leader,” Rising Moon said. “But I would feel more confident about the matter if you were to prove it one more time by taking on the challenges I ask of you now. I would prefer that there is no doubt whatsoever in our people's minds and hearts about you when the time comes for you to step into my moccasins as chief.”

Rising Moon leaned closer to High Hawk and gazed into his eyes. “My son, there are two things I ask of you tonight,” he said solemnly.

“And what are these two things?” High Hawk asked. “What would you have me do?”

“Go. Steal horses. Steal enough to impress our people, and . . .” Rising Moon paused.

“And?” High Hawk prompted, lifting an eyebrow at his father's suggestion that he steal more horses. High Hawk already had more than enough from his many raids on their enemy, the Sioux. “What else,
Ahte
, would you have me do?”

His father's gaze wavered, and he took several puffs from his pipe, then rested the bowl again on his knee.

Yet still he seemed uncomfortable about what he wanted to say.

High Hawk scarcely breathed as he continued to wait. If his
ahte
was so hesitant to name this new challenge, then surely it would be something that would make High Hawk even more uncomfortable in the doing.

“My son, the pride of my life, this thing I ask of you is very important,” Rising Moon said, his voice tight. “Although it will be something I know you will not want to do, it must be done.”

He leaned even closer to High Hawk and looked more intently into his eyes. “Do you understand?” he asked.

“
Ahte
, please just say it,” High Hawk replied, trying to hide his mounting frustration from his father. “Then I can make my own decision about the importance of what you want of me.”

“You must abduct a white woman,” Rising Moon said all at once, causing High Hawk to flinch as though he had been shot.

Rising Moon eased slowly away from High Hawk, yet his eyes remained fixed on his son's.

“Abduct . . . a . . . white . . . woman?” High Hawk gasped, the words sounding unreal as they came from his mouth. Never had white captives been brought into this village of Pawnee.

That his
ahte
could even ask such a thing of High Hawk was shocking; he could not envision himself ever carrying out this command.

“
Ho
, a white woman,” Rising Moon said. He laid his pipe on the piece of soft white doeskin that he used as a wrapping for it. “There are two reasons for the abduction. It is not only to show our people that you are capable of meeting any challenge you might face as chief, but also so that this white woman cannot bear sons who will only grow up to kill red men and women. And I remind you, my son, that many of our own women have been abducted by whites. Stealing a white woman will be an act of vengeance against those who do not think twice about the cruelties they visit upon people of red skin.”

Still stunned by what his father asked of him, High Hawk was not sure what to say. He had always obeyed his father's wishes.

But . . . this?

No. It seemed neither right nor logical.

“
Ahte
, horse stealing is a simple enough challenge, for I am well known for my skills and cunning,” High Hawk said. “I agree to add more horses to my corral. But . . . I . . . cannot agree to abduct a woman. It does not seem an honorable thing to do. A mere woman taken by such a strong man as I? What challenge is there in that?”

Rising Moon's eyes narrowed angrily. He leaned closer again to High Hawk and again gazed into his
eyes. “Is this son of mine challenging his
ahte
, and worse, challenging his chief?” he growled out. “Would you truly rather choose to disobey your chief than abduct the woman?

High Hawk had rarely seen his father so angry with him. For a moment, he was again at a loss for words. But to show that he would stand up for what he believed, High Hawk held his chin high as he challenged his father with his eyes.

“And after she is abducted?” he asked, not allowing his father to win this battle.

“What do you mean?” Rising Moon demanded. He leaned slowly away from his son. He was taken aback that he had actually shown anger toward High Hawk for the first time in their lives.

This, too, proved that it was time for Rising Moon to step down as chief, for it was not normal for him to get angry at High Hawk for any reason. They had always talked through any disagreement with civil tongues and love in their hearts.

Yet despite his dismay at the turn the discussion had taken, Rising Moon would not change his command.

“Our Pawnee women will resent a white woman's presence,” High Hawk said, hating to seem disobedient to the father he had admired and loved since he was a small child. “You know that if a white woman is here, she will have to work alongside our women, for the more hands there are to plant and harvest and bring in wood and water,
the better it will be for all our people.”

“My son, do not concern yourself about what our women might think or do,” Rising Moon said tightly. “Only worry about what your chieftain asks of you tonight. Abduct a white woman and steal more horses. Then you will have passed the final test . . . you will have proven yourself worthy of being chief after your
ahte
.”

Realizing that nothing he might say would change his father's mind about this particular challenge, High Hawk knew he had no choice but to abduct a white woman. If he did not, he might lose his father's respect, possibly even his love.

“And . . . where am I to find this woman?” High Hawk asked softly, relieved when he saw his father's eyes soften.

“This woman I speak of will be directly in your path on a night of the full moon. Tonight is such a night,” Rising Moon said, glancing upward toward the smoke hole.

He smiled when he saw how the sky had darkened while they had been in council. His smile deepened when he saw the light of a full moon bathing his face.

He turned his eyes back to High Hawk. He reached a hand out and rested it on his son's bare shoulder. “Go, my son,” he said thickly. “Seek and you will find her.”

High Hawk nodded, then fell into his father's embrace when Rising Moon opened his arms.

“My son, my son,” Rising Moon said, his voice breaking.

Their embrace continued for a moment, then High Hawk rose to his feet and left the tepee without another word.

Just as he emerged from the tepee, his
ina
, Blanket Woman, blocked his way.

It was obvious to him she had heard all that had transpired between father and son. And he could tell by the way she was gazing up at him with flashing black eyes, she did not approve of something that had been said, or perhaps all of it.

As he waited to hear what she had to say, he could not help admiring her. For a woman of her age, she still held beauty in her face, with only a few wrinkles crossing her copper brow.

She was named Blanket Woman because of her ability to make the prettiest blankets of all the women in their Wolf band.

She also made lovely dresses such as the one she wore tonight. By the glow of the huge outdoor fire behind them, he saw that she wore an exquisitely beaded and fringed doeskin dress and heavily beaded moccasins.

She wore her raven-black hair in one long braid down her back.

“I heard what your
ahte
asked of you,” Blanket Woman said, her eyes flashing in the moonlight. “I disagree with him. It is wrong to abduct a woman, no matter what the reason. My son, stealing any
woman, white-skinned or not, is a dishonorable act.”

She framed his face between her hands. “My son, you must stand up against your
ahte
about this,” she said softly. “Refuse him. And if you do this for your
ina
, I will see that you are named chief after your father no longer holds that position.”

She slid her hands away and smiled softly. “As you know, my son, your
ahte
's weakness is your
ina
,” she murmured, her eyes twinkling. “He never goes against my wishes. Go. Hunt and bring back many beautiful horses, but not a white woman.”

Torn now between the differing wishes of his parents, High Hawk embraced his mother, then went around and informed his favored warriors about his plan to steal horses. He purposely did not tell them about the other challenge of the night . . . the white woman.

As they all went to their personal lodges to choose which weapons and horses would fit the night's planned activities, High Hawk entered his own tepee and chose his weapons.

He sheathed his favorite knife at the right side of his waist, grabbed a rifle and the bag that he carried with him on his horse at all times, then hurried to his personal corral at the back of his lodge. This was where he kept the most valuable of his horses.

Elsewhere, he had two other corrals, hidden from anyone who might think of stealing his powerful steeds.

He took his favorite from the corral, a roan with
a black mane and forelegs, and readied him for riding with his Indian saddle. He slid his rifle in the gunboot at one side of his horse, and secured his bag of provisions to the other, but just as he started to mount, he saw his brother, Sleeping Wolf, walking toward him.

His brother's back was so twisted, he could not help dragging one foot as he walked. Although it hurt High Hawk to see what a struggle it was for his brother to walk, High Hawk had grown used to it and never allowed his brother to see pity in his eyes.

He smiled at Sleeping Wolf as his brother stopped beside him.

“Where are you going, my brother?” Sleeping Wolf asked, noting the rifle and the sheathed knife, and the bag of provisions that his brother always carried with him. He was prepared with food and water and weapons for any eventuality.

“On a search for horses,” High Hawk said. He placed a hand on his brother's shoulder, the one that was more level than the other.

“You already have so many,” Sleeping Wolf said. He always took comfort from his brother's touch, even if only for a moment. He did not envy his brother his handsomeness and perfect body. He admired and loved him.

“A proud warrior cannot have too many steeds,” High Hawk said, trying not to think about the other reason he was leaving his village tonight.

“I do not have any,” Sleeping Wolf said, hanging
his head. “But of course I do not need any because of my inability to ride them.”

High Hawk took his hand from his brother's shoulder and placed it beneath his chin. He slowly lifted it so that Sleeping Wolf's eyes met his.

“My brother, you know that my horses are also yours,” High Hawk said. “Even though you cannot ride, they are yours anyhow.”

Sleeping Wolf smiled. “I do ride often, my brother,” he said softly. “In my dreams I am whole and able to ride. It is good to feel the wind against my face and to feel my hair blowing behind me.”

“You do feel those things in your dreams?” High Hawk said, marveling that his brother could imagine such feelings that he had never felt in reality.

“When I am dreaming, I feel no pain, but I experience everything in my dreams that I cannot when I am awake,” Sleeping Wolf said, nodding. “My brother, I have even flown in the sky with eagles!”

“I am glad that you can dream such dreams and experience things even I have not known,” High Hawk said. “I have never dreamed of flying with eagles.”

“The eagles are our brothers,” Sleeping Wolf said, slowly nodding. “You will dream one night that you, too, fly with them.”

“I hope so,” High Hawk said, looking past his brother as his warriors rode up on their steeds, some with bows and quivers of arrows, others with firearms.

He then hugged his brother, feeling a surge of compassion when he touched sleeping Wolf's twisted back and heard him groan as he returned the hug.

“My heart is with you tonight as you ride,” Sleeping Wolf said. “I wish you well, my brother. I wish you a successful hunt.”

“I will bring home horses for us both,” High Hawk said, his mind drifting suddenly to what else he would be hunting tonight.

A white woman.

His
ahte
had said she would be standing in the path of the full moon.

Sleeping Wolf nodded and stepped back as High Hawk mounted his steed.

High Hawk wheeled his horse around, waved at his brother, then rode off with his warriors.

High Hawk gazed heavenward. “
Tirawahut
, Great Spirit, lead me in the direction that I should go tonight,” he whispered. “I cannot please both parents.”

The moon shone down on a small cabin, nestled in the forest far from humanity. Smoke spiraled lazily from the stone chimney, making its way through the tall trees that surrounded Joylynn Anderson's home.