Despite the terrible circumstances that had brought them together, she found herself rejoicing.
Yes, even though High Hawk understood that she was with child, and knew who the father was, he had not turned away from her. She knew now that she was much more to this handsome warrior than his captive. She was not just a woman he had brought home to his people as some sort of trophy.
She knew now that he loved her, as she loved him.
She savored his embrace, for who was to say what tomorrow would bring to either of them?
CHAPTER FOURTEEN
Sleeping Wolf had been up all night mourning his beloved father. Now he sat before his morning fire, his eyes swollen from crying, his heart feeling empty at the loss of his ahte.
He still could not believe that someone had callously murdered Rising Moon. He had been shot more than once in the belly, and when his father had found the strength and willpower to wheel his horse around and ride away from the ambushers, the man called Mole had shot him in the back.
It was incredible that his ahte had lived as long as he had, but being the strong-willed man he was, he had pretended to be dead while Mole and his men kicked his body to see if he was alive.
“I cannot stand thinking about it any longer,” Sleeping Wolf whispered to himself as tears again rushed from his swollen, bloodshot eyes.
No. He could not stand to just sit there any longer, burying himself deeper and deeper in grief. He had to do something to avenge his father!
And although he knew it was practically impossible for him to ride a horse, he knew what he had to do.
For once, he would prove to everyone that he was not the weak man they all thought him.
Ho, he was determined to do something that would make him look strong and vital to his people. He would prove that he was worthy of having been born into a family such as his.
Sleeping Wolf groaned as he pushed himself up from the rush mats upon which he had been sitting. He was already dressed in a fringed buckskin shirt and leggings.
His waist-length black hair was held back with a beaded headband that his mother had made just for him. She had used beads that he had picked out, most of which were bright in color.
He groaned as he dragged himself to his small cache of weapons. All of them had been gifts from his ahte, even though he knew this son could never leave the village on a horse, to use them for the hunt, or for the defense of their people.
They were just symbols. Possessing these weapons made Sleeping Wolf at least look like the warrior he could never be.
His jaw tight, he sheathed his sharp knife to the right side of his waist, where it would be easier to grab once he found that horrible man called Mole. He had never seen the man. But his description was all that Sleeping Wolf needed in order to find and kill him. He was a man with many moles on his face; Sleeping Wolf had heard they were sickening to look at.
“I will find you and kill you. You will regret the day you downed my father and so many valiant Pawnee warriors,” Sleeping Wolf whispered, grabbing up his favorite rifle from those his father had placed there for him.
He struggled as he filled the chamber with bullets, then smiled when he had accomplished the feat. It was hard for him to do anything except eat and sleep.
His right hand gripping the rifle, Sleeping Wolf turned and walked as determinedly as possible toward his entrance flap. It was too early in the morning for anyone to be up and about, especially since the people of the village had mourned their losses long into the night. He had sat by the huge outdoor fire with them, but being so weary and tired, he had returned to his lodge before anyone else.
He had not slept, only listened to the wailing and crying as the drums beat out a steady rhythm into the night. He had never spent such a mournful night as last night. And he would make certain Mole would not be responsible for any more nights like this. By nightfall, he would be dead.
Stepping outside, where the sun was just barely creeping up over the horizon, sending its beautifully colored sprays of pink and orange across the land, Sleeping Wolf stopped to look around him and to listen.
Everything was still.
Even the trees stood with not a leaf stirring.
And then he heard a soft wailing sound coming from Two Stars’s lodge.
His mother was still in the shaman’s tepee, at her husband’s side. Sleeping Wolf was sure she had not slept at all last night either.
He could imagine her there now, preparing her husband for burial. Everything she did would be imbued with the loving care and dedication of a wife.
“Ina, Ina,” he whispered to himself, wishing there was some way for him to go and comfort her.
But he knew there was not one person on this earth who could take away her sorrow.
She was a woman without a husband now. He was sure her heart was feeling even more empty than his own.
He then slid his gaze over to his brother’s tepee. Slow spirals of smoke came from the smoke hole. He was not certain whether that meant his brother was already up, or whether his lodge fire was still burning enough to send off smoke.
His heart went out to High Hawk, for although he was a strong man, he had adored his chieftain father, and in addition to his sorrow he had to shoulder the responsibilities of seeing to the safety and welfare of many people.
“You will do it well, my brother,” Sleeping Wolf said, smiling with pride in High Hawk. His brother had never pitied him, but had made Sleeping Wolf feel as though he was his equal in so many ways.
“You were kind to do that when all who saw me knew it was not so,” Sleeping Wolf said, then turned and walked toward the corral behind his brother’s tepee. Although Sleeping Wolf had never gone on a horse-stealing expedition, he knew that his brother’s steeds were also his.
In all ways his brother had been generous to him. But he needed more than High Hawk had given him now. He needed to know the pride of being the one to avenge his father’s death!
He chose a horse, but not a saddle. A saddle was too heavy for him to lift, so he moaned and groaned and struggled to mount the steed bareback.
Suddenly he slipped and fell hard on his back. He cried out at the pain that shot through him.
He heard footsteps and saw Three Bears running toward him. The warrior knelt down at his side.
“Sleeping Wolf!” Three Bears gasped. He had just stepped from his lodge to stretch his arms and legs before preparing for another day of mourning.
“Sleeping Wolf, what were you trying to do?” Three Bears asked. He was not sure how to help the other man, for it seemed that Sleeping Wolf was in too much pain to be moved.
“Mount . . . the . . . steed,” Sleeping Wolf gulped out, wincing when renewed pain struck his back like a hot poker.
“But why?” Three Bears asked, gently slipping an arm beneath Sleeping Wolf in an effort to help him up from the ground.
But he withdrew his arm quickly when merely touching Sleeping Wolf’s back made him cry out with renewed pain.
“I wanted to avenge my ahte’s death,” Sleeping Wolf said weakly. He was acutely embarrassed that once again he had failed to act like a man.
The fall and the resulting helplessness made Sleeping Wolf feel more useless than ever before.
“But you know . . .” Three Bears began, but he stopped before saying the words that he knew would hurt his best friend’s brother . . . that Sleeping Wolf knew he could not do as most warriors did, even so simple a thing as mounting a horse.
“Ho, I know,” Sleeping Wolf said thickly, knowing what Three Bears had been about to say.
“I will carry you inside your lodge, then go for Two Stars,” Three Bears said. He forced himself to ignore Sleeping Wolf’s cries of pain as he picked him up. Sleeping Wolf seemed no heavier than a feather since he was so slight in build, without an ounce of muscle anywhere on his body.
Sleeping Wolf closed his eyes to the humiliation of being carried like a baby. Soon Three Bears placed him on the bed of blankets in Sleeping Wolf’
s lodge.
“I would rather be by my fire, not in my bed,” Sleeping Wolf said weakly, and Three Bears carefully moved him to a blanket near the fire pit.
“I will return shortly with Two Stars,” Three Bears said, then left the tepee in a hurry.
Sleeping Wolf soon heard voices and recognized his mother’s among them. Three Bears was telling her what had just happened to her older son. Sleeping Wolf hung his head in shame and sobbed. Once again his mother would be reminded that one son was proud and strong, while the other was weak, an object of pity, and so very useless.
He did not even look up when she came into the lodge and sat down beside him. She cradled him in her arms as if he were nothing more than a baby.
“My son, my son,” Blanket Woman said softly. “Why would you do such a thing? You know you are not able.”
Her words made Sleeping Wolf’s embarrassment and shame twofold. He began crying as his mother held and comforted him.
“I only wanted to help,” he sobbed out. “I wanted to be the one to find my ahte’s murderer. But all I succeeded in doing was make myself look a fool. I will never live this down. Never.”
“You will, as you have always done before,” Blanket Woman murmured. “Everyone understands. Do not feel ashamed because of what life has handed you. I am so sorry, my son, for it was surely something I did while carrying you in my womb that caused you to be so different from your brother.”
She continued to hold and rock him. He sobbed and clung to her until Two Stars came.
Blanket Woman moved away from Sleeping Wolf and watched as Two Stars ministered to the few bloody scratches on her son’s face and hands.
She could not help being afraid for this son. She was not certain if he could live with the humiliation of what had happened today.
She knew now that she must keep a much closer eye on him.
She would move him into her lodge after she saw to her husband’s burial.
She dropped her face into her hands and sobbed as she felt the world slipping away from her. She had always been so strong, so courageous.
Today she felt neither!
CHAPTER FIFTEEN
Joylynn sat in High Hawk’s tepee alone. After he had heard about his brother’s fall, he had gone to sit with Sleeping Wolf along with his mother.
Joylynn was feeling lonely and worried. Since early morning she had experienced slight cramping in her lower abdomen.
But then each time the ache would go away again, and she would put it out of her mind.
But now she was suddenly cramping again, and this time it was much worse.
She winced when a sharper pain shot through her belly, and then she felt a damp heat between her legs.
Her heart pounding, she reached her hand up inside her dress and found wetness there. She drew her hand out and gazed at it, panic filling her when she found it covered with blood.
She tried to get up, to go seek help, for she was afraid she might be losing the baby, but her knees buckled. The pains came now at short intervals.
She held on to her stomach, sobbing, screaming when she saw the blood beginning to seep through her clothes.
“Help me!” she screamed, sweat pearling her brow as she felt an intense pressure at the bottom of her abdomen.
When two women came running into the tepee, they didn’t have to be told what was happening.
They saw the blood.
They saw how Joylynn was holding her belly.
“I will go for Two Stars,” one of the women said, leaving the tepee in a rush.
“I am Pure Blossom,” said the other one as she knelt down beside her. “You will be all right. Two Stars will make it so.”
“The child . . .” Joylynn panted. “I am . . . losing . . . the child.”
“Ho, I believe you are, but you will be all right,” Pure Blossom said, trying to reassure her. “Two Stars will make you as comfortable as he can until the child slides from your body.”
Joylynn gripped Pure Blossom’s hand. “I’m afraid,” she said, her voice breaking. “There is so much blood. . . .”
“You will be all right,” Pure Blossom repeated gently.
Two Stars hurried into the tepee, carrying his bag of medicines.
Pure Blossom stood away from Joylynn to make room for the shaman as he knelt down beside her.
He pressed gently on Joylynn’s abdomen, then gave her a look of concern. “The blood and the position of the child tell me it will soon be released from inside you,” he said, taking her hand. “I will keep you safe, but there is nothing I can do for the child. It is being born too soon to live.
“Pure Blossom, go and get water and soft doeskin cloths,” Two Stars said. “Go and tell High Hawk what is happening.”
Pure Blossom nodded and left.
High Hawk had already heard.
He came into the tepee and sat on the opposite side from where Two Stars sat, waiting for the child to be pushed from Joylynn’s body, which happened only a few seconds later.
Two Stars wrapped the fetus in a blanket, while High Hawk held Joylynn’s hand.
Two Stars then handed the aborted fetus to Pure Blossom as she stepped into the tepee with water and cloths.
“Take it away,” Two Stars said softly.
It was then that Blanket Woman came into the tepee, her eyes soft and gentle as she gazed down at Joylynn.
She laid a hand on Two Stars’s shoulder. “I will see to the rest,” she said. She glanced at High Hawk. “You can leave now with our shaman. Joylynn will be all right. I will make certain of it.”
Joylynn was surprised that Blanket Woman was being so kind, but perhaps she shouldn’t have been. Hadn’t Joylynn’s body made certain the white child would not be born to her?
Wasn’t that what Blanket Woman had wanted all along?
“Ina, thank you,” High Hawk said as he gave Joylynn one last loving look, then rose and left the tepee with Two Stars.
“Pure Blossom, help remove the dress so I can wash Joylynn,” Blanket Woman said, already squeezing water from a soft doeskin cloth.
Once her clothes were removed and Blanket Woman was gently washing her, Joylynn closed her eyes and fought back the tears that were stinging the corners of her eyes. She was no longer in pain except inside her heart. Although she had planned to give the baby away, a part of her was overwhelmed by sadness.
She squeezed her eyes tightly shut so that Blanket Woman wouldn’t see the tears and tried not to think about what it would have been like to have kept and raised the child. She had always dreamed of having children. Now . . . would she ever?
Cleansed of all signs of the miscarriage, and now dressed in a soft doeskin gown that one of the women had brought, Joylynn could not help smiling at Blanket Woman as she gently drew a blanket up over her.
“You are so kind . . . to . . . do this for me,” she said softly. “Any other woman of the village could have done it.”
“You are in my son’s lodge. It is my responsibility to care for anyone who shares it with him,” Blanket Woman said, smoothing Joylynn’s perspiration-dampened hair back from her face. “Even you, a woman I had not ever thought to be kind to. But I do not like seeing anyone suffer. I am happy to have helped you.”
Joylynn started to thank Blanket Woman, but was stopped when Two Stars came back inside the lodge, High Hawk with him.
High Hawk knelt on the far side of Joylynn, while his mother and Two Stars knelt on her other.
Two Stars brought a wooden cup of what looked like broth up to Joylynn’s lips. “Drink,” he said. “This will make you rest and sleep.”
Welcoming the very thought of escaping a world that had cheated her of a child she now knew she could never have given up, Joylynn smiled and took the cup. She drank the sweet liquid from it.
She didn’t dare ask what it was made of. She would just welcome the sleep it brought and hope that when she awakened, things would be better for her.
She was glad of one thing . . . th
at Blanket Woman seemed to feel differently about her. She might even be a friend now, not a foe.
“I will leave you alone now,” Blanket Woman said, nodding over at High Hawk as a silent way to say that he should leave, too, but High Hawk ignored her and continued to sit there as Blanket Woman left with Two Stars.
Joylynn was already feeling groggy from whatever had been in the sweet drink. She gazed up at High Hawk, so glad when he bent low and brushed a soft kiss across her lips.
But the words he murmured next puzzled her, and her eyes widened.
“You may leave the village as soon as you feel like traveling,” High Hawk said thickly. “You are no longer anyone’s captive. My father wished your capture, not I. I am now chief, and I am not someone who wants white captives, especially not a woman like you who seems to love her freedom so much.”
He then explained to her why he had abducted her in the first place, that he had done it for his ahte.
Joylynn fought sleep now; she wanted to stay awake a while longer, while High Hawk was there. He was so close she could smell the sweet freshness of his skin.
“Do you understand now why I took you from your home?” High Hawk asked.
“I believe so,” Joylynn said. “And I am so glad that it was not because you hate white women enough to take one captive.”
“I normally do not have any feelings for white women,” High Hawk said, taking her hand and gently holding it. “Not until you.”
“Are you saying that you have . . . special . . . feelings for me?” Joylynn murmured, already knowing that he did.
It was in his every gesture, word and gaze.
“I have from the beginning,” High Hawk said, slowly nodding. “When I first saw you, I knew that destiny had brought me to you, not my father. I have loved you from the moment our eyes met.”
“You love me that much?” she asked, swallowing hard.
“Ho, that much,” he said fervently.
“And I feel the same about you, High Hawk. I do not want to leave you or your village, ever,” Joylynn said. She was feeling so sleepy, she could hardly keep her thoughts straight, yet she knew enough to understand that everything transpiring between them was good.
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