Savage Tempest

by Cassie Edwards

  “Swiftie?” High Hawk said, lifting an eyebrow. “You call your steed by such a name as that?”

  “He deserves the name, for he is faster than any other horse I have ever been on,” Joylynn said. Her voice softened. “And what is wrong with that name? Tell me what you call yours. I’m certain what you chose is laughable to me.”

  “I have many horses, so I do not waste time naming any of them. One is as valuable to me as another,” High Hawk said proudly. He gazed intently into her eyes. “But women need names. What is yours?”

  “Like I said before, my name is none of your business,” she said, yet she was weakening, for this Indian was causing her to feel things in her heart that were new to her. Just his nearness made her feel foreign to herself. And he was her captor!

  She turned her eyes away, for she knew how foolish it was to think anything good about this man; surely he intended nothing good for her. More than likely he would place her among the other women and make her work in the fields, or make her carry his water and firewood.

  To him, she was undoubtedly no more than a slave.

  “If you do not give me your name, then I will give one to you, and that is what you will be called by my people,” High Hawk said, watching her eyes as she brought them up and looked directly into his. “Should I start thinking up names now? Or will you share yours with me?”

  “I would never want an Indian name like Sun Flower or Dancing Snow,” Joylynn said, lifting her chin defiantly. “They are ridiculous.”

  “Then what is the name your mother gave you, which you do not think is . . . ridiculous?” High Hawk said, his eyes dancing. He was enjoying this banter with a woman who had much spirit and pride.

  “Joylynn,” she said softly, realizing that she was being foolish, not telling him her name. She had more important things to be concerned about. “Joylynn Anderson.”

  “Joy is a word our people have used often when giving daughters names,” High Hawk said, searching her eyes. “But Lynn? No. I have not heard such a name as that before.”

  “Joylynn is one name, not two,” she found herself saying more softly than she wanted. She wanted to appear strong in the eyes of this warrior, not appear defenseless. She had looked after her own welfare ever since she had fled her tyrant of a stepfather.

  “Joylynn,” High Hawk said, slowly nodding. “That name will do. I will enjoy calling you that until later. Until you are with my people for a while. Then you will be given a name of my people.”

  “And so you plan to hold me hostage for a long time, do you?” Joylynn said, trying to act as though what he had said did not matter much to her. She now knew what his intentions were. He didn’t plan just to keep her for a while, until she trusted him with her beautiful horse, and then let her return to her own world. He had abducted her to keep as his own.

  “I do not like that word ‘hostage,’ or ‘captive,’” High Hawk said. “It is not my habit to take either. And I do not see you as my captive. You are with me for a specific reason. The moon’s glow showed me to you. Destiny made it so.”

  “A specific reason?” Joylynn gasped out. “Destiny? The moon showed me to you? What sort of nonsense is all of that? You heard my horse and came for it, to steal it, and then could not pass up the opportunity to take a woman to your lodge with you to do . . . to . . . do whatever you plan to do with me.”

  “Plan to do with you?” High Hawk said softly. He reached a hand out to touch her face, only to have her slap it away. “In time you will understand why I had to find you and bring you among my people.”

  “I will never understand why you abducted me,” Joylynn cried. “It is wrong. All of what you have done tonight is wrong.” She gestured with a hand toward the stolen horses. “Not only did you steal someone else’s property, the horses . . . but . . . also me, a human. You are watering the horses, and me, as though we are your true possessions, when in truth, neither I nor the horses are yours.”

  High Hawk glanced over his shoulder at the muscular, handsome horses he had stolen, then turned his eyes back to Joylynn. “No matter how you see it, the horses are now Pawnee steeds, and there is a Pawnee saying that says, ‘Take care of your horse, and he may save your life,’” he replied. “These horses will be better off with my people. We show respect for our steeds by saying, ‘Heru atiku,’ which means, ‘Greetings, horse.’ We spend much time caring for our mounts. After a hard ride, a warrior will walk his horse for a while to allow it to cool down, and he will use a corncob to curry it. Tallow is rubbed on a horse’s groin if it has been ridden for several days on long journeys.”

  Joylynn listened attentively, surprised to find what he was saying truly interesting. Indeed, she was finding everything about this handsome warrior fascinating.

  His voice, his eyes, intrigued her no matter how hard she fought against such feelings.

  Unconsciously, she leaned closer to him as he talked, as though his voice had put her in a trance.

  “Different plant medicines are used to heal or alleviate ailments such as saddle sores and distemper,” High Hawk continued. “It is said that a horse has understanding. If you see a horse put his head down and sidle along when he is ridden, someone is mistreating him. If you take care of him and have compassion for him, when you get on him he is going to want people to know he is proud. Horses are smart. When there are people about, he is going to nicker and hold his head up. That horse is going to try to make you look good to others.”

  He glanced again at Joylynn’s steed, then into Joylynn’s eyes. “Horses are creatures of Tirawahut, and they must be treated with respect,” he said. “But there are always evildoers who will mistreat anything.”

  “Who is Tirawahut?” Joylynn asked.

  “The Pawnee’s Great Spirit, as your God is your Great Spirit,” he said. Then he took her hand and helped her to her feet. “We can spend no more time watering the horses or teaching you the knowledge that you must have now that you are a part of the Pawnee’s lives.”

  Frustrated at his including her as a part of his people, Joylynn went to Swiftie and swung herself into her saddle. She rode beside High Hawk as he led his warriors, with the stolen horses trailing behind them.

  Everyone was quiet as they rode onward until up ahead Joylynn saw the Pawnee village. The moon illuminated many tepees in the shadow of a tall bluff, and glittered on the surface of a river rolling past not far away.

  Fires flared before almost a hundred lodges, smoke spiraling lazily from their smoke holes. The tepees were arranged in a semicircle, with an opening left facing the river.

  Joylynn was frightened at the prospect of facing so many Pawnee. She had become accustomed to High Hawk and his warrior friends, but she knew how whites were resented among Indians. She hoped that this warrior who abducted her was of a high rank and would not be challenged by anyone.

  She rode onward at High Hawk’s side, feeling cold and trembling from fear.

  CHAPTER SIX

  Dawn was breaking along the horizon as Joylynn rode into the village with High Hawk close beside her. Upon arriving at the outskirts, she had noticed huge fields of corn, beans, squash and other plants.

  Close by, where the river ran snakelike over the land, there were clusters of scrub oak with heavier timbers of elm, cottonwood and willow.

  The village itself was clean and neat, hardly a tepee was soiled or yellowed with age.

  People were awake now, women, children and warriors alike, coming to their entranceways, lifting their flaps, to see who was arriving so early.

  Some of their eyes went immediately to Joylynn, studying her, while others, mainly the men, looked intently at the horses that had been captured and brought home.

  The onlookers did not come out to meet High Hawk and his warriors, but went back inside their lodges to prepare for the long day ahead.

  The smell of food cooking over lodge fires made Joylynn’s stomach growl even though she had recently eaten High Hawk’s kind offering of what he had called wasn
a.

  It had been satisfying to the taste, and had eased her hunger. Her belly now seemed always in need of nourishment, and she knew why.

  The child.

  She was now eating for two!

  She sighed heavily because she was not only hungry, but also bone-weary and sleepy. She hoped that she could stay awake and alert long enough to ascertain whether or not she would be safe here with High Hawk.

  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.