Savage Tempest (7 page)

She looked quickly at him as he stopped before one of the larger lodges of the village, while his warriors took the stolen horses to one of his corrals.

It was now only herself and High Hawk, and she could not help being afraid, even though he had been nothing but gentle toward her up until now.

She flinched when a small boy came from a nearby tepee and hurried to High Hawk. When he dismounted he gave his reins to the young brave.

High Hawk came to Joylynn and gently lifted her from her horse, then handed her reins to the young brave as well. The boy hurried around the tepee, to a small corral that Joylynn had seen earlier.

She wondered how many horses High Hawk owned. Was he one of the richest men in this village?

Wondering about his riches and power made her give him a sideways glance as he took her elbow and led her into the huge tepee.

It was obvious tonight that he had been in charge of the warriors who rode with him, for it was he who had given the commands.

But surely he was not their chief, for no one had addressed him as such, nor had he told her that he was a chief.

So she assumed that his riches made him a leader of sorts, and tonight he had become a richer man by the number of horses he had captured.

Had he gained even more wealth in the eyes of the Pawnee people because he had captured a white woman? She didn't see how capturing a woman could make any man look rich, or any way at all except cowardly!

“This is my home,” High Hawk said, dropping his hand from her elbow. He leaned his rifle against the outside cover of his lodge, close to the door, then turned to Joylynn. “Do not be afraid. I mean you no harm.”

“You mean me no harm, yet . . . yet . . . you take me from my home?”

She placed her fists on her hips. “Let me tell you something. I have come face to face with more danger in my life than you could imagine, and I
have survived it all just fine. I shall survive your abduction, too.”

Of course she knew she had just told him a lie, for she had not come out of the rape just fine. But she had to look strong and courageous in the eyes of this red man; perhaps then he would respect her.

But when she glanced up at him, she was uncertain how he had reacted to her statement.

It was hard to read this man. He seemed practiced at keeping his feelings to himself.

Her clenched jaw softened and her eyes wavered when he turned away from her and made no reply. Instead, he gestured toward soft pelts that were spread beside a slowly burning fire in the center of the tepee.

“Sit,” High Hawk said, smiling to himself at the way this woman continually proved that she was not just any woman. Her fiery spirit fascinated High Hawk.

Ho
, his mother was filled with much fire. She was in control of herself and all things around her.

But this white woman was different from his mother in ways that he liked.

He was going to enjoy having her with him!

Knowing she had no other choice but to do as he said, at least until she found a way to escape his clutches, Joylynn sat down on the pelts while he added wood to the fire.

He removed the binoculars from around his neck and set them aside, then sat down beside her.

Between them lay a beautiful rush mat with a variety of food in bowls and platters spread upon it. No doubt it had been brought there by someone when the approach of the horses was heard.

He offered Joylynn a wooden bowl and a spoon made of horn.

He nodded toward an earthen vessel shaped like a bread tray, filled with pieces of what she believed was more
wasna
, as well as ribs that looked delicious. In other bowls were foods that she did not recognize.

It was all tempting, yet not knowing what most of the dishes were, Joylynn hesitated, even though her belly was aching from hunger.

“Eat and then you can rest while I go and attend to some personal duties,” High Hawk said, noticing that she hesitated to take anything in her bowl.

He thought it might be because she was afraid to eat food his people cooked. He hoped she was not so prejudiced that she believed his people's food was too dirty for her.

She
had
eaten the
wasna
he had given her.

As she continued to stare at the food, High Hawk pointed to one thing and then another.

“There you have pemmican, which is dried meat pounded into paste with fat and berries,” he said. He pointed to something else. “There you have a brace of buffalo ribs, delightfully roasted.”

Again he pointed to another bowl. “And here is something my mother made this morning,” he said.

“This bowl contains a kind of pudding made of a delicious turnip of the prairie, finely flavored with buffalo berries, which resemble dried currants.”

She started to nod and reach for some of the food, but stopped when he cut a piece of meat from the ribs and threw it into the fire.

He didn't explain his action, but she guessed that it was some sort of sacrifice he felt he must perform before eating.

As he seemed to be waiting for her to place food in her bowl, she hurriedly took small pieces of everything, then dipped some of the pudding into her bowl beside the other food.

She glanced up at him and saw that her behavior seemed to have pleased him, for he was smiling.

But his smile faded when an elderly woman came into the lodge, her look anything but friendly. She gazed down at Joylynn with contempt in her faded old brown eyes.

Joylynn was glad when the woman turned to High Hawk as he rose to embrace her. Joylynn could only conclude this was High Hawk's mother.

The woman wore an elaborately beaded ankle-length dress; her graying hair fell in one long braid down her back. Her face was lined with wrinkles, yet still beautiful.

But in her eyes a look of anger and utter contempt made Joylynn uncomfortable. Did she disapprove of her son bringing a captive home, or was it his kind treatment of his captive that angered her?

“Your father left right after you departed to check on a buffalo herd that had been sighted, and he has not yet returned,” Blanket Woman said tightly. “I am getting concerned.”

“
Ina
, Father has done this before,” he said calmly. “He may be gone for many days.”

“Your
ahte
is no longer a young man,” Blanket Woman said. “His body is not as strong as it once was.”

“Do not worry,” High Hawk said. Then, just as he started to introduce Joylynn to his mother, Blanket Woman took him by an arm and led him to the entrance flap.

“Come outside with me,” she said, yanking on his arm.

Trying not to be embarrassed by his mother's antics, High Hawk hurried outside, leaving Joylynn alone, her eyes wide at the confrontation between mother and son.

Joylynn was put off by the older woman. She was abrasive. She was someone who did not care whether or not she was humiliating her proud son in the presence of . . . of . . . a captive.

Joylynn listened as the woman scolded High Hawk. Her angry tone was evident, even though Joylynn knew that his mother was trying to keep her voice down.

But Joylynn could tell from all that the old woman was saying to High Hawk that she did not approve of his having brought her home with him.

Joylynn heard the woman tell High Hawk that he should not have a white woman in his lodge. He, who would one day be chief, should be keeping his lodge pure, for soon he would be choosing a wife to bear him children . . . to carry on their family bloodline because his crippled brother could not do so.

Joylynn realized from what she had just heard that High Hawk had no wife. Of course that should mean nothing to her, but strangely enough, somewhere deep down, where her desires were formed, she did care.

Feeling foolish for allowing herself to think such thoughts, she focused again on what the elderly woman was saying to High Hawk, and then anxiously awaited his response. But all that she now heard was silence. A moment later High Hawk came back inside the tepee and sat down beside Joylynn again, where he proceeded to eat without saying a word.

She knew that he had taken a scolding from his mother, but out of respect, had said nothing back to her.

The more time Joylynn spent with High Hawk, the less she saw him as someone who would enjoy taking a woman captive, yet . . . yet . . . he had!

Joylynn had also learned something else about her captor. She was in the presence of a powerful man who would one day be chief of his people. His mother had said as much.

Joylynn wasn't sure if this knowledge should
alarm her, or make her feel less threatened. It was surely up to him what her future would be now.

And what was this about a brother?

No sooner was the thought formed than the very person she was wondering about came into the tepee.

He seemed painfully shy in her presence; his eyes would not linger long with hers.

She could not help looking at his twisted body, for it was like nothing she had ever seen before. But she soon realized that he knew she was looking at his deformity, and, not wanting to embarrass him, she looked quickly away.

“This is my brother, Sleeping Wolf,” High Hawk said, rising and placing a gentle arm around his brother's twisted shoulders.

High Hawk then stepped away from him and gestured with a hand toward Joylynn. “Brother, this woman is my captive,” he said tersely. “Her name is Joylynn.”

“You have brought a captive into your home?” Sleeping Wolf gasped, his eyes wide as he stared at Joylynn. When her eyes met his again, he saw in them compassion, not pity.

He could not help liking her immediately.

But not being used to kind treatment from strangers, and unsure how he should react to this captive, he turned and limped away, leaving the tepee almost as quickly as he had come.

High Hawk gazed down at Joylynn. “My brother
was born with an affliction that keeps him from doing as others do,” he said sadly. “He cannot ride a horse. He cannot shoot arrows. He cannot do the things that he would like to do, the things that normally make parents proud. But we could not be any more proud of Sleeping Wolf if his back were straight and he could do as others do. He is someone well loved by our people. He is a man who never wants to be pitied.”

Joylynn wanted to tell him that she did not pity his brother, but he suddenly turned and left before she could speak.

She watched for him to return, and when he didn't, she shoved the bowl of half-eaten food away and stared into the flames of the fire. She was feeling less and less threatened, except . . . for High Hawk's mother, who seemed to detest her mere presence. She knew she must be watchful of this elderly woman.

And how would High Hawk's father, a powerful Pawnee chief, behave toward her when he arrived home from his search for buffalo? Would he approve of her being there, or disapprove?

She looked slowly around her, at High Hawk's personal belongings. On a pole at the far back of the lodge was hung a shield painted with scenes of fallen buffalo, with arrows lodged in their bellies.

Beside this was another pole on which hung a quiver of many arrows; the quiver seemed to be made from the hide of a cougar.

Close beside these was a huge bow, with its string loosened.

Elsewhere around the inner circle of the room lay travel bags and other items for daily life. Rolled-up blankets and pelts were stored against the wall, ready to be used for bedding.

She wondered if she would remain in High Hawk's lodge while she was there as his captive.

If so, where . . . would . . . she sleep?

And . . . would he want to bed her?

She could only watch and wait . . . and hope that he wouldn't try to force her. One other man had, and she was living with the results . . . the child she was carrying!

She placed her hand on her belly, wondering what High Hawk would think, or do, when he discovered that he had stolen away a pregnant woman?

More importantly, what would his mother do? She already seemed to loathe Joylynn's presence. How would she react when she learned that her son's captive was carrying a white child in her belly?

Joylynn gazed again at the arrows in the quiver, then at the bow. She knew not the first thing about bows and arrows, but she wondered if she could use an arrow as a weapon against High Hawk if he were to threaten her.

The thought made her cringe. She realized that she did not want to kill him.

She waited and waited for his return, but he did not come back. Finally, she eased down on the blankets spread out beside the fire and fell into a restful sleep. She was awakened sometime later by the sound of a voice angrily calling her name.

Joylynn grimaced as she recognized the voice. It belonged to High Hawk's mother. Although it was obvious that the woman despised her son's captive, for some reason she had come for Joylynn.

She took Joylynn roughly by the hand and pulled her outside. “I am Blanket Woman,” she announced as she took Joylynn behind a nearby tepee and gestured at a hole that had been dug there. “This is my personal cache pit. You will help me finish digging it.”

Joylynn had no idea what a cache pit was, and when she asked Blanket Woman, the elderly woman tightly explained that it was the storage pit where her family's crops were piled after they were harvested.

It did not take long for Joylynn to understand why the older woman had asked for her help. It
was grueling work, especially with the sun beating down on them as they worked.

Although Joylynn was angry at the older woman because of the way she'd been treated, she could not help being concerned about Blanket Woman's health as she labored to get the cache pit ready for the coming harvest.

Under the copper color of Blanket Woman's face, Joylynn saw a pronounced redness. Clearly the older woman was having trouble with the heat.

Sympathetic to all elderly people, Joylynn wanted to tell Blanket Woman to go and stand in the shade for a while. She could rest while Joylynn continued to prepare the storage pit.