Savage Tempest

by Cassie Edwards

  That thought sent a chill up Joylynn’s spine. Although she now believed the young man was a traitor, his death would bring heartache to more than one Pawnee.

  Rose and Two Stars.

  Unless the long months of winter inactivity led them to think about how Andrew had tricked them with his dishonest ways. Perhaps by spring they both would be bitter enough over the betrayal to see that his death was warranted.

  “My husband, I have news today that will help ease the anger in your heart,” Joylynn said, reaching for one of his hands. She brought it over and laid it on her stomach.

  She didn’t even have to speak the words. He knew.

  “You are with child,” he said, his eyes filled with pride.

  “Ho, I am with child,” Joylynn replied, smiling into his eyes. “When the flowers are blooming along the mountain passes and by the river where we spent our first night as man and wife, I will bear you a son.”

  “It will not disappoint me if the child is, instead, a girl,” High Hawk said, slowly sliding his hand over the doeskin dress, knowing that beneath it, inside his wife’s womb, was a child that he would always cherish. “If the child is a girl, I hope she is in your image, for I have never seen anyone as beautiful as you.”

  “Even if she is ugly, you would love her,” Joylynn said, giggling. “Because she will be yours and mine, our firstborn.”

  High Hawk moved to his knees facing Joylynn.

  He slowly removed her dress, revealing her well-rounded breasts and a flat belly that would soon be growing into a round ball.

  He ran his hand over her stomach, then leaned an ear low, scarcely breathing as he listened.

  “It is too soon to hear anything within,” Joylynn said, laughing softly at how excited he was. “But one day you will even be able to feel its movements inside me.”

  He gently laid her down on the soft blankets and pelts beside the fire, then began kissing her body, starting at the nape of her neck.

  Joylynn’s heart pounded as the touch of his lips and tongue brought rapture to her. She closed her eyes and enjoyed each kiss.

  When he flicked his tongue over one of her nipples, she sighed with pleasure.

  And when he slowly kissed his way downward, across the flatness of her belly, her skin tingled with aliveness.

  She raised her fingers to his hair and wove them through his long, thick tresses, then gasped with a new sort of pleasure when he flicked his tongue between her legs, where she had only recently discovered there was so much feeling and life.

  As he kissed and licked that strange little nub of flesh, feelings that Joylynn had never felt before leapt into her heart.

  Although she felt this might be wrong somehow, the pleasure she was feeling caused her to accept what he was doing, not question it.

  The more his tongue and lips caressed her there, the deeper the feelings of pleasure went inside her.

  Moaning as a blaze of desire fired her insides, she slid her hands away from his hair and slowly tossed her head back and forth.

  She was responding to every nuance of this new way of making love. She even spread her legs wider apart so that he could have better access. The sensual throbbing increased.

  Suddenly a bolt of heat spread through her and she realized that she had just experienced the same culmination she always felt when he was inside her, loving her in the usual way.

  This time, her whole body was rocked with sensation and she knew that he had just taught her a new way of making love, and she had yielded, heart and soul, to it.

  Still trembling, still feeling sensations where his tongue and lips had been, Joylynn opened her eyes and gazed questioningly at him.

  “What you just did . . .” she began, but did not know what else to say about what had happened.

  “Was it beautiful for you?” he asked, searching her eyes.

  “So much so, I am still shaken by it,” Joylynn said softly.

  He removed his own clothes and stretched out beside her on his back. When he reached for one of her hands, placing it on his erection, Joylynn’s breath was stolen away. Although he had made love to her with that part of his body, she had never actually . . . touched it.

  Now she was, and she was very aware of the heat of his flesh there, and its tightness.

  She started to ask him what he wanted her to do, but she didn’t have to. He had wrapped his hand around hers and was showing her how to move her hand on him.

  She saw his eyes take on a strange sort of deep darkness as she continued to move her hand on him. His own hand now fell aside to give her full access to his heat.

  She could hear his breathing becoming faster, and he closed his eyes in ecstasy.

  “You are making love to me now as I just made love to you,” he said huskily. Then he stiffened his legs as he felt the pleasure building within him, a pleasure that she was creating by the skill of her hands, even though she was new at this.

  “Am I doing everything right?” Joylynn whispered, not stopping her strokes.

  When he opened his eyes, and she saw how drugged they seemed to be, when he smiled and nodded, she knew that he was feeling the same pleasure he had given her.

  He closed his eyes again, but this time thrusting his hips. His moans and groans told Joylynn just how much pleasure she was giving him.

  She gasped when she saw his body quiver and quake, and something smooth and milky white came from his manhood, spilling endlessly, it seemed, into the palm of her hand.

  And then his body subsided into a strange stillness, and Joylynn watched what had been such a large size slowly shrink in her hands.

  Hearing her silence, and knowing that she would be filled with questions, he opened his eyes and reached for his manhood, sliding it away from her hand.

  Before saying anything, he reached for a soft doeskin cloth and wiped her hand free of his sperm, then tossed it aside, sat up and drew her into his embrace.

  “We will make love again in this way, but the most pleasure comes from our bodies being joined,” he said softly. But before he could say or do anything else, a voice spoke from beyond the closed entrance flap. It was Three Bears requesting admittance.

  “Three Bears and the others have returned from their last search for Andrew,” High Hawk said.

  He quickly dressed, as did Joylynn. Then they went to the entrance flap.

  Outside, Three Bears’s face told it all. There was no smile, only annoyance.

  “Again we found no sign of Andrew,” Three Bears said tightly. “He is probably even now sitting among people of his own kind, warm, comfortably full with white man’s food, and already planning to come with the soldiers up to our new home in the mountain.”

  “I now believe that is so, too,” High Hawk said glumly. “But I had to make this one last search for him. Since you saw no signs of my steed, nor the rifle I lent the young brave, which you would have found if he had been killed by a cougar or bear, I now believe that he has returned to his own world. I only hope that he is not laughing about the foolishness of this Pawnee chief.”

  “Please don’t think that,” Joylynn said, gently taking one of his hands in hers. “You encouraged him to go and hunt for a horse out of the goodness of your heart. No one with such a good heart should be faulted for it.”

  High Hawk smiled softly at her, always amazed at her ability to take away the feelings that he knew were harmful to him.

  Three Bears gazed skyward, and then looked again into his chief’s eyes. “We came home when we saw the thickening clouds,” he said. “I sense they will bring much snow.”

  “Ho, much snow,” High Hawk said, nodding. He clasped his hand on his warrior’s broad shoulder, where a thick bear robe lay. “Thank you for searching this one last time. Go and thank the other warriors for me. Also tell them there will be no more searches for the young man who broke the heart of one of our maidens and the trust of their chief.”

  Joylynn looked past Three Bears and saw Rose standing just outside her lod
ge, tears streaming from her eyes. Rose, too, knew that this was the last time anyone would search for the young man who had betrayed not only her chief and blessed shaman, but also . . . her love.

  Joylynn wanted to go and embrace her and say things that might make what Andrew had done to her more bearable, but she knew that Rose had a mother who would do this for her. Even now the older woman stepped from the lodge and embraced Rose.

  Three Bears nodded, then turned and went back to the others in the search party. High Hawk and Joylynn watched him spread the word of their chief’s wishes; then the two of them went back inside their lodge.

  Silently Joylynn sat down beside the fire and began cutting up vegetables that she had taken from the cache pit she shared with Blanket Woman. She now knew the art of preparing all the foods that her husband enjoyed eating. She was also cooking for Blanket Woman today, who was not feeling well.

  Although there had been many strained moments between them in the past, Joylynn hoped that Blanket Woman did not have an ailment that would take her from this world.

  “I will go and check on Ina,” High Hawk said, throwing a heavy blanket around his shoulders.

  “Tell her that I am preparing food she will enjoy, for it is food she taught me how to cook,” Joylynn said, smiling at High Hawk as he stopped and looked back at her.

  She felt so blessed that he had grown to trust her before he allowed himself to love her.

  There was complete trust between the two of them, and she could hardly wait to hold their baby in her arms, then offer it to him.

  Ah, what a wonderful moment that would be!

  As he walked from the tepee, she tried not to think of anything negative at this moment. They had just shared such wonderful lovemaking and had talked of their child so happily.

  That darn Andrew! He might spoil everything!

  And then there was always the haunting fear that Mole might somehow discover where she and the Pawnee were. If so, she knew to expect the worst.

  “Andrew or Mole,” she whispered.

  If either of them showed up on this mountain with the cavalry, everything could change in a heartbeat.

  She shivered at the thought.

  CHAPTER THIRTY

  April, the Sunflower-Planting Moon

  Joylynn, big and pregnant, too large to help the women prepare the land for planting, stood just outside the entranceway of her tepee, her eyes on the sky.

  The previous autumn, the waterfowl had flown south to the Old Woman Who Never Dies, carrying gifts to ensure a good harvest for another year.

  Since the Old Woman Who Never Dies caused the plants to grow, and sent the goose to signify corn, the duck to stand for beans, and the swan to represent the gourd, the arrival of the waterfowl was a good signal that she gave her blessing and the planting season could begin.

  Joylynn’s hands rested on the great swell of her belly; her doeskin dress was much too tight now.

  But knowing that the child would come at any time now, she had not sewn a larger dress for herself. She did not want to waste good doeskin. If she could bear the weight of the child, she could bear the tightness of the dress for a few more sunrises.

  Her feet were swollen, but she would not allow such a simple thing as that to stop her from getting where she wanted to go. Joylynn walked to the edge of the village and gazed toward the valley, where the crops would be planted near the river bottom. Many women were there this early morn.

  In preparation for the time of the birds’ arrival, the women had hung large amounts of dried meat and other offerings on drying racks that had been set up in the valley.

  Joylynn was told that, usually, when the women were preparing an old plot for planting, they would rake it and carry the dead grass and stalks beyond the fields.

  But this was a new field, and they were cutting the brush and spreading it out on the ground; the standing trees had been ringed, ready to be felled.

  The women would lay the trunks and branches of these fallen trees on the ground to be burned over the field in order to make the soil soft and pliable.

  The women were very excited and filled with hope over what had happened yesterday. They had seen geese winging their way from the south, then noticed one group circle a moment over their offerings on the drying racks, only eyeing them, and then settling on the opposite shore of the river.

  Elated, not caring that the birds had ignored their offerings, the women had counted again and again the number of birds.

  To their great joy, there had been exactly eleven.

  They had shared this joy with Joylynn, running to her and telling her that the number eleven was a sign that the corn crop would be very good.

  However, it was April, too early to plant corn, but just the right time to set sunflower seeds in the borders around the corn and vegetable patches.

  To the Pawnee, April was known as the Sunflower-Planting Moon. The sunflowers added color to their gardens, protected the other crops and provided meal and oil for eating.

  Sunflowers were the first to be planted and the last to be harvested.

  Hearing a distant sound of thunder, Joylynn glanced at the sky. She saw no signs of clouds, which meant that the storm was far away and probably would not interrupt the women’s work.

  Joylynn had been told that the first thunder heard in the new year was the sign of the reawakening of the earth and the beginning of the natural cycle of growth.

  She had been taught by Blanket Woman that Tirawahut talked to the people in the thunder, and they were glad to see the lightning flashes and hear the low rumblings of his voice. This was the time of quiet prayer within the lodges and of renewal of certain Sacred Bundles whose powers helped sustain life.

  That first thunder’s roar had come six sunrises ago, bringing with it the fresh, clean smell of rain and hope.

  Restless, with most of the women away from the village at work in the fields, Joylynn felt somewhat useless today. She knew that she was much too large to be of any help in the valley. She knew that she should not be thinking of doing any hard labor at all. Thus far, she had had no trouble carrying High Hawk’s child safely within her womb. She did not want to do anything that would harm it now.

  She looked over her shoulder at the children at play and at the elderly men sitting around the huge outdoor fire, puffing on their long-stemmed pipes and talking. Then she glanced at the huge council house. Her husband was there with his warriors, except for those who were on guard, watching for the approach of anyone who might be an enemy.

  It seemed that she was the only one who did not have something to do. Her lodge was neat and clean, her day’s meal was cooking in a pot over the flames of her lodge fire, and her fingers were pricked from too much sewing.

  So what else was there to do but take a walk and pluck some fresh spring flowers, to bring their beautiful scent into her lodge?

  Smiling, her decision made, she went back to her tepee and grabbed a small wicker basket, then walked slowly from the village.

  She walked onward until she entered a valley where she could not see the women preparing the fields, or the tepees in the village.

  It was only her, the wind, the sun and an occasional soaring bald eagle. She saw a dark line of trees not far away to her left, and then the tall wall of rock that led into the canyon beyond.

  On those canyon walls were many eagles’ nests, far from where the Pawnee sentries were watching for enemies.

  “I am not here to bother you or your hatchlings,” Joylynn said to one of the eagles, which had swooped low to eye her curiously. “I am here only for flowers. Will you guide me to the loveliest? I shall forever be grateful, for my feet are beginning to throb and I do not want to go home without flowers in my basket.”

  To Joylynn’s astonishment, the eagle soared away, then swept low again, its eyes on Joylynn. It had shown her a wide stretch of wild daisies just over the rise, where the eagle was still hovering.

  And beyond that, she saw a huge variety of wild-
flowers of all colors. The scent wafting toward her was something akin to heaven.

  “Thank you,” Joylynn said to the bird as she walked in a wide circle amid the flowers. The eagle rose higher into the sky, and then was gone as quickly as it had arrived.

  But Joylynn was too busy to notice that the eagle was gone, for she was bending and plucking pretty flowers and laying them in her basket.

  She followed the field of flowers up to where the stand of trees began, their dark shadows suddenly looming over Joylynn. She shuddered at the mysteriousness of the trees and the silence and shadows surrounding them.

  Remembering just how alone she was, Joylynn started to turn to go back home, but stopped when someone stepped from the trees, a rifle aimed directly at her stomach.

  To her horror, she realized it was Mole. The man she loathed with every fiber of her being had come again, to threaten not only her child, but herself!

  She could hardly believe this was happening. But her eyes told her that it was Mole, standing there leering at her, a half-smoked cigarillo hanging limply from the corner of his mouth.

  Although this man was heavily whiskered with a gray beard, she knew that it was he. She would never forget those pale blue, empty eyes. And through the whiskers she could see his ugly moles, like dark eyes, staring back at her.

  “Gotcha,” Mole said, taking the cigarillo from his mouth with his free hand. He flipped it over his shoulder, where it fell upon a thick stand of dead leaves and lay smoldering.

  “How did you know where I was, and how on earth did you survive the attack?” Joylynn said, her voice trembling. “I know I shot you. I just know it wasn’t anyone else, yet . . . yet . . .”

  “The same as you, I’ve got nine lives,” Mole said, laughing wickedly. “I left you for dead that day I raped you. How in tarnation did you walk away from that strangling alive?”

  “I’ll never tell, but how is it that you are alive? I did hit you with my bullet, didn’t I?” Joylynn asked.

  “Naw, don’t believe so,” Mole said, idly shrugging. “Must’ve been your imagination.”

  “How . . . did . . . you find me?” Joylynn asked, shivering when he took one long look at her belly. She had placed both hands on it now, her fingers splayed wide in an effort to protect her child from his filthy eyes, and especially . . . him.