Savage Tempest

by Cassie Edwards

  “Surely it is the drug my shaman gave you that causes you to say such things to me,” he said. His heart was pounding hard at the possibility that she truly had meant her words.

  “No,” she murmured. “It is not the drug. I have spoken from my heart. I am oh, so very weary of living alone . . . of hiding, which I was doing because of the child I was carrying.”

  “You do not ever have to hide again from anyone. Nor do you have to live alone,” he said. “If you truly wish to stay among my people, they will welcome you here.”

  “It is not your people who make me want to stay,” she said, smiling slowly at him. “It is you. Do you not believe me when I say I love you?”

  Suddenly she couldn’t fight off sleep any longer.

  She wasn’t even aware of him placing his arms beneath her and taking her from the blankets to hold her on his lap.

  He wrapped his arms around her and gazed down at her loveliness.

  He prayed it was not the medicine she had been given that had caused her confession of love.

  He would wait until she was herself again and then see if she still wanted him as much as he wanted her.

  CHAPTER SIXTEEN

  Joylynn was sitting beside the lodge fire, slowly brushing her hair. She gazed into the dancing flames, smiling, for she had finally regained her full strength after losing the child.

  She had thought she would bounce back quickly, because she had never had trouble regaining her strength after being ill.

  But it was now four weeks since the miscarriage and only now was she feeling like her old self again. In fact, she wanted to join the search parties that went out almost daily as the hunt for Mole continued.

  During her recuperation, Joylynn had not been able to help the women as they harvested the crops, picking everything in the huge garden and storing the crops in cache pits.

  She felt guilty about not having helped when she knew how hard a task it had been, especially for someone of Blanket Woman’s age.

  The guilt came because Joylynn now felt she was a part of these people’s lives. She hoped to be the wife of their chief, and soon would be using the stored food herself, once she began cooking for High Hawk.

  That thought made her grimace a little, for she had only recently learned how to cook after hiding herself from humanity.

  She doubted that she was even close to being the sort of cook a powerful chief would want as his wife.

  But she did not doubt for a minute that Blanket Woman would take it upon herself to be sure her younger son had healthy meals, for she coddled both her children.

  And now Blanket Woman would have more time for coddling them since she no longer had a husband to feed and clothe.

  Chief Rising Moon was missed by everyone but Joylynn. She had never known him. But she knew both his sons, loving one herself, and she had thought of Sleeping Wolf often during her recuperation. She knew he was fighting his own battle to regain what strength and pride he’d had before his fall.

  Thus far, he had not left his tepee. His mother had joined the women harvesting crops by day, and then sat vigil at her older son’s bedside each night. Two Stars sat with him through the day.

  Joylynn believed that such continued attention from his mother and the shaman only made Sleeping Wolf feel less a man. She truly believed that the more everyone coddled him, the more he felt the despair of his condition.

  Joylynn had wanted to go and talk with him, but when she even hinted at doing this, Blanket Woman scolded her and told her to stay away from her older son. Was it not enough that she had put a spell on her other son? she demanded.

  Her hair finally brushed, Joylynn began twisting it in one long braid down her back. She had noticed that many Pawnee women wore their hair in that style. Wanting to be accepted by them, she wore her hair in the same way and continued to wear the lovely soft doeskin dresses that several women had been kind enough to give to her. Joylynn knew that their young chief had hinted that they help her however they could. And because they admired and loved Chief High Hawk so much, it had not taken much encouragement to prompt them to do as he asked.

  Hearing someone entering the tepee, Joylynn turned her head.

  When she saw Blanket Woman carrying in a tray of food, she had mixed feelings.

  Sometimes Blanket Woman was kind to her, even sweet, while at other times she was tight-lipped and reserved. Some days she came and went without even a word being spoken between Joylynn and the mother of the man Joylynn would forever love.

  “How is Sleeping Wolf today?” Joylynn asked, even though she knew that Blanket Woman resented Joylynn’s mere mention of her elder son.

  Blanket Woman placed the wooden platter of assorted foods beside Joylynn, then sat down next to her. She nodded toward the food. “Eat,” she said, plucking up a handful of berries herself and eating them quietly, one at a time.

  Accustomed to this woman’s uneven temperament, Joylynn shrugged. “All right, don’t tell me,” she murmured. “But thank you anyway for bringing me breakfast.”

  Blanket Woman picked up a tiny slice of venison, nodded and continued to eat in silence.

  “My son Sleeping Wolf is well enough in one way,” she said suddenly. Joylynn was so surprised, she almost choked on a berry as it slid suddenly down her throat without her chewing it.

  Blanket Woman glanced at Joylynn. “But weaker in the other,” she murmured.

  “What do you mean?” Joylynn asked.

  “It is in Sleeping Wolf’s head and heart that his weakness lies,” Blanket Woman said, her faded old eyes revealing the grief she still felt at the loss of her husband. “He cannot forget his humiliation. He desperately wanted to find the criminal who killed his father.”

  “I’m so sorry,” Joylynn said, understanding now what Blanket Woman meant about Sleeping Wolf. Joylynn had seen so much in Sleeping Wolf’s eyes the few times she met him. There was such despair in their depths.

  “I fear so for him,” Blanket Woman said, her voice breaking with emotion. “For he seems to carry such a weight on his shoulders. He seems to carry a greater burden than his brother, who is now responsible for our people’s welfare.”

  “I so wish that things could be different for Sleeping Wolf. From the little I know of him, I can tell what a loving person he is,” Joylynn said, fearing that she was treading on shaky ground, saying so much about the son Blanket Woman protected with her very being.

  When Blanket Woman only gave her a sideways glance, then continued to eat from Joylynn’s plate, Joylynn knew it was time to talk of something else.

  She felt safe enough mentioning the other brother, for by now Blanket Woman knew that there was nothing she could do to come between Joylynn and High Hawk.

  Nothing!

  “When do you expect High Hawk to return home?” Joylynn asked softly. “I am anxious to tell him I feel strong enough to ride again. I want to go with him on the next search, if he hasn’t found Mole’s hideout yet.”

  “High Hawk left at daybreak,” Blanket Woman said, her voice drawn. “He will search again today as long as there is light to see. He cannot seem to rest until he finds and stops that man who killed not only his father, but many beloved warriors of our band.”

  Blanket Woman then turned to Joylynn. “And you are not strong enough to ride a horse. Must you always be reminded that you are a woman, not a man?” she said gruffly. “You must do as women do, not men, and no woman accompanies the warriors on search parties.”

  “I might be a woman, but I have the same hate and need for vengeance as does your son,” Joylynn said, trying to control her irritation at the woman who still tried to make her feel useless. “I know now, though, that today I have no choice but to wait. I have no idea where High Hawk has gone.”

  Blanket Woman gave her an annoyed stare, then emitted a low “Harrumph,” rose, and left without another word.

  The day turned out to be a long and boring one for Joylynn. The women did not yet include her in any of their dai
ly activities; they still did not think she was strong enough to help them.

  Joylynn had taken a walk down by the river, stopping to run her fingers through the sand as she watched fish jumping from the water, then falling into it again.

  She was reminded of those times she had fished with her father, how at first she was squeamish about putting a worm on the hook.

  But once she got past that, she had caught as many fish as her father, never forgetting the perplexed look on his face the first time she pulled an eight-pound bass from their pond.

  Ah, that fish had tasted good that night along with corn on the cob, her mother’s canned green beans, and sliced tomatoes fresh from their garden.

  “That was so long ago,” Joylynn whispered as she sat beside the lodge fire. She gazed up through the smoke hole and saw the orange glow of sunset as the day waned.

  The sound of horses arriving outside made Joylynn’s heart skip a beat. “High Hawk,” she whispered, relieved that he had returned home.

  “I hope it is he,” she whispered, jumping to her feet.

  Breathing hard, her hair loose and long down her back, she ran outside barefoot just as High Hawk came into sight with several of his warriors.

  When he saw her standing there, the sunset casting dancing shadows on her, he smiled and waved, then rode up to her and dismounted.

  The smile had given her some hope that perhaps he had found the scoundrel, but soon she knew that the smile was meant only for her and conveyed how happy he was to see her.

  High Hawk swept Joylynn into his arms and hugged her as a young brave came and took his horse’s reins, then led it to the corral.

  “Did you . . . ?” she asked, not finishing the question, for he was already answering it.

  “He still eludes our search,” High Hawk said, his smile fading. “But he cannot hide forever. One day, ho, one day he will be mine!”

  “And mine,” Joylynn said, reminding him that she wanted a role in Mole’s comeuppance.

  “Ho, and yours,” High Hawk said, sliding an arm around her waist and walking with her into the tepee.

  Joylynn stepped away from him and gazed into his eyes. “High Hawk, I am strong enough now to ride my horse,” she said. “I want to ride with you the next time you leave to continue your search. Please let me go with you. Please?”

  “No woman should do this,” he said, placing a gentle hand on her cheek. “And I have never seen anyone more womanly than you.”

  Joylynn found herself blushing, a rarity for her.

  She smiled, then spoke with determination. “Must I remind you how I made my living before Mole interfered with it?” she said softly. “I did the work of a man, not a mere woman. I rode many miles a day on my steed to deliver the mail. Doesn’t that prove that I am strong enough to go with you?”

  High Hawk saw her determination, and he knew she was stronger than most women, not only in body, but also in mind. He had never met such a strong-willed woman as Joylynn. She even surpassed his mother in that capacity!

  But his mother could not even saddle a horse, much less ride one.

  “All right,” he said, nodding. “I will let you ride with me tomorrow. I have returned home to rest and to pray. I must leave you for now, to tend to something, but I will return later. By then you should be asleep.”

  He brushed a kiss across her brow, gave her a lengthy hug, then left, leaving Joylynn as alone as before.

  Remembering the hug, and the feel of his lips as he brushed kisses across her brow, Joylynn hungered to have his lips elsewhere, on hers. She sat down beside the fire.

  She wanted more now than ever to be his wife.

  She had never thought she would find a man who would make her want to give up her life of freedom, but High Hawk did.

  A part of her still hankered to return to the world of the Pony Express rider. Yet a bigger part wanted to act like a woman now . . . a woman who wanted a man, not dust on her face and mud on her clothes after riding all day on her horse.

  She wished that Mole could be found, for while he was out there, wreaking havoc on other innocent people, High Hawk’s thoughts were mainly centered on him. And Joylynn wanted to talk with him about something besides Mole.

  She wanted to talk to High Hawk about their feelings—hers and High Hawk’s—for one another!

  “And I will,” she whispered to herself. “Soon.”

  In fact, she was determined to wait up for him tonight, even if she was awake into the wee hours of the morning, to finally tell him her truest, deepest feelings about life, about him.

  CHAPTER SEVENTEEN

  Joylynn decided to take a swim in the river to pass away some time while waiting for High Hawk to return.

  Swimming in the river reminded her so much of swimming in the pond on her father’s farm years ago.

  To be assured of privacy, she planned to go farther along the bank than the place where the women bathed.

  She would not allow herself to think of the danger, namely Mole.

  If he had an ounce of sense inside that grotesque head, he wouldn’t come anywhere near the Pawnee village.

  After grabbing up a soft buckskin towel, she paused at the entrance flap, having second thoughts about what she was planning. Was it truly wise to go so far from the village alone?

  She set her jaw firmly. Yes, she would go and have that swim; she was no longer a captive. She could come and go as she pleased.

  She hoped that by the time she returned to the tepee, High Hawk would be there. She wanted to smell clean and sweet when he arrived, for she was hoping for something more than kisses tonight from the man she loved.

  She wanted his lips.

  She wanted his arms.

  She blushed as she thought of what else she wanted from him, for never in her entire life had she had such sensual thoughts about a man.

  And after the rape, she had wondered if she would ever want a man to hold her in his arms, to press his naked flesh against hers.

  But High Hawk’s gentleness, his utter handsomeness, his muscles, his long and flowing raven-black hair, had made her forget her doubts about wanting to be with a man. In truth, she actually ached for him.

  She shook her head. “What am I thinking?” she whispered to herself as she opened the entrance flap, holding it aside long enough to take a look outside. No one was aware of her scrutiny. They were too busy doing what they did each evening before the moon replaced the sun in the sky.

  She was glad to hear the laughter of the children again. It had been hushed for too long after their chief’s death.

  He was buried now.

  Slowly everything in the village was getting back to normal. Yet on some faces, she still saw the pain of recent loss . . . a husband, a brother, a cousin. . . .

  Not wanting to think any more about gloomy things, longing to find joy in her life, not sadness, she stepped out of the tepee. When she began walking in the direction of the river, she noticed some women gazing at her with various expressions on their faces.

  Some showed resentment that she was still among them. Those who had befriended her smiled and nodded.

  The warriors seemed not to care one way or the other that she was there. They did not even seem to notice the direction in which she was walking.

  Their attitude demonstrated that she was a free woman and could do anything she pleased.

  High Hawk had told her that she was no longer his captive. She could leave if she wished. But High Hawk now knew that Joylynn had no desire to leave. He knew that she loved him.

  She had hoped they could express their love for each other with more than mere words tonight. Perhaps that might still be possible. But first she had to be patient. He had been adamant that there was something else he had to do.

  She thought it was to spend time in prayer, for he had said he needed to pray before leaving again to search for Mole.

  The shine of the river was visible now as she made a left turn away from the village. She searched for any sign
of High Hawk. She had no idea where he went to pray. She hoped that one day she would know everything about him.

  She walked onward beside the pristine river. In the clear water she could see the shadows of brook trout, and dragonflies sometimes dipped down close to the water. She smiled when she saw a wood turtle meandering along the embankment toward the brush a few feet away.

  She was reminded of the pet turtle she had kept in a fish bowl when she was twelve years old. She had loved watching it, but she had begun to feel sorry for the turtle being imprisoned in such a way, so she had taken it to the pond and freed it.

  She would never forget how quickly it went into the water and was lost to sight. She had understood then that it was wrong to keep anything captive, not even something whose companionship gave her such joy.

  As the sun lowered farther in the sky, warning that Joylynn did not have long to enjoy her time in the water, she stopped. She looked over her shoulder to see if anyone was about, but spotted no one.

  She looked to her left, at the thick brush that grew up to the forest’s edge. She saw no movement there either.

  She looked straight ahead again and saw nothing but the banks of the river. At last, she felt secure enough to undress.

  She pulled her dress over her head and shook her moccasins from her feet. Only then was she aware how cool it had grown now that the sun was only a vague, purplish shadow along the horizon.

  She hugged herself as she ran into the water, glad that it still held the warmth of a long day of being bathed in sunlight.

  Joylynn dove into the water and began swimming. It gave her such a free feeling, something she had so enjoyed as a teenager. The water felt delicious on her body. She giggled when a tiny fish came up and nibbled on her leg.

  She watched it swim away, probably disappointed that it had not found something to eat.

  Joylynn resumed swimming, then suddenly realized how far she had traveled. She was far away from where she had left her clothes, and the sky would soon lose its light altogether.

  She started to turn around and swim back to where she had entered the water, then stopped when she caught the scent of smoke. A thin spiral rose from a spot up ahead where there was a bend in the river.