Savage Tempest (19 page)

Today as the journey contined, once again the Pawnee were traveling along a narrow mountain pass. Everyone was quiet and alert, for one wrong slip of a horse's hoof and someone's life could be lost as he or she went tumbling down the mountain.

Sleeping Wolf knew that the warrior who rode the horse to which Sleeping Wolf's travois was attached held his reins firm and steady. His eyes were kept straight ahead as he watched the trail for dangerous spots.

As always since the journey to their new home had begun, Sleeping Wolf was on a travois pulled by the very last horse in the procession. He had requested this position, saying he enjoyed the scenery
better if he didn't have to be between other travois and packhorses.

But he was not enjoying anything except the eagles that occasionally soared in wide circles above him. He felt more and more in the way, especially knowing that he was slowing his people down since he could not ride a horse.

The long days on the travois gave him too much time to think about the worthlessness of his life. There was nothing positive he could add to the lives of his people.

Instead, he needed someone to look after him all the time. His mother, upon whom most of the burden fell, had surely grown tired of her nuisance of a son, but worked hard to cover up those feelings by overprotecting him.

No, he could not hunt to supply meat for his mother's cook pots. . . .

He suddenly saw a soaring gathering of bald eagles above him, their huge, widespread wings casting massive shadows onto him. One by one the mammoth birds came close, then circled back.

Suddenly he had a strong desire to join them!

They seemed to be beckoning him!

“I am coming,” he whispered as he watched them soar now below him, beside the mountain, instead of high in the sky.

They would sweep up close to the side of the mountain, then fly again further away from it. He could feel their eyes on him when they came closer.

He knew that they wanted him to be a part of their flight today!

His heart pounding, he gazed up at the warrior on his horse before Sleeping Wolf's travois. He was ignoring the eagles, instead still carefully watching where he was traveling.

Ho
, everyone was too intent on navigating this narrow pass to notice Sleeping Wolf. He gazed at the birds again as they soared above him, and then again swept down lower to fly alongside the mountain.

With a peaceful, serene smile on his face, feeling triumphant for the first time in his life, Sleeping Wolf threw off his blankets. At last, he was actually doing something that he wanted to do, and without the help of his mother, shaman or chieftain brother. As quietly as possible, he rolled gently off the travois and immediately found himself tumbling down a steep incline, then falling free, like the eagles he had been watching. They were flying and soaring above and then beside him, their eyes ever watching him.

He was an eagle . . . flying!

He could not walk without much effort, but he could fly effortlessly!

He smiled as he continued to fall, his long black hair blowing away from his shoulders, his face feeling the soft sweetness of the air, his heart filled with joy, for he was now free . . . free . . . free!

When he finally came to an outcropping of rock, he hit it with a hard thud, dying immediately with a smile on his lips.

Having finally cleared the dangerous path he and his people had been riding on, High Hawk sighed deeply. He was relieved that there had been no mishaps. Now there was more earth than rock on their right side, and they could travel more safely. High Hawk's first thoughts were of his brother. He had not been able to check on him for some time because everyone had to ride in single file. High Hawk was at the head of the procession, Sleeping Wolf at the tail.

He felt that his brother needed some reassurance, for this morning, before they had set out on another day's grueling journey, he had seen something in Sleeping Wolf's eyes that he had never seen before. Total defeat.

And High Hawk understood. Sleeping Wolf was the only one besides the elderly and ill who traveled
on a travois to their new home. If he had felt useless before, he must feel doubly so now.

High Hawk no longer knew what to say to his brother to lift his spirits. Sleeping Wolf seemed to have retreated to his own little world, one of stark loneliness.

And the way their mother constantly coddled him, treating him more like he was a baby than a grown man, had made Sleeping Wolf feel even more helpless. He had grown tired of not only her, but also her voice, Sleeping Wolf had confided to High Hawk. He craved to be alone. To him, that was better than being treated like a child.

High Hawk nodded a quiet hello to those he rode past as he moved down the line to see how his brother fared. Surely it had frightened him to be riding on a travois so close to the steep drop-off.

Perhaps now that their path was not so treacherous, Sleeping Wolf would feel less anxious. Perhaps he would even smile when he saw his brother High Hawk.

High Hawk looked over his shoulder and saw Joylynn glance back at him, as though she had known he was going to look at her.

Last night, beneath the stars, he had wanted her ever so badly.

But everyone lay in close proximity of each other. Their blankets were arranged as close as possible to the campfire, in order to make certain no mountain
lion could come upon them as they slept and drag them away.

A fire always kept the night's animals away, for a fire was something unknown to them, and the unknown was feared by all beings; not only animals.

He gave Joylynn a smile, then turned and made his way again down the line of people. He was almost at the end of the procession, where he hoped his brother lay as comfortably as possible on the travois.

High Hawk had seen to it that he would rest on many blankets and pelts, in order to cushion his twisted back.

His mother had placed one of her more beautiful blankets on him, taking the time to lovingly tuck in the sides before they headed out this morning.

High Hawk nudged his steed with his heels and rode onward, nodding a hello to the warrior whose horse pulled Sleeping Wolf's travois.

Then High Hawk's heart went cold as he saw that the travois was empty, the blanket that had covered his brother dragging on the ground beside it.

“Sleeping Wolf!” High Hawk cried. He shouted at the warrior. “Stop! My brother. He is gone!”

The horse that was transporting the travois stopped, as did all the others ahead of him.

The horror in High Hawk's voice had caused everyone to stop and gaze at him, alarm on their faces.

Having heard, Joylynn rode quickly back to join High Hawk.

When she reached him, she dismounted and stood with him as he looked back in the direction they had traveled.

“He must have fallen off,” Joylynn said, pale at the thought of what might have happened.

She looked quickly at Blanket Woman as two warriors escorted her there, one on each side of her, steadying her as they gripped her elbows.

“My son!” Blanket Woman cried as she stared at the empty travois, then looked in desperation at High Hawk. “He . . . is . . . gone. Where, High Hawk? Where is he?”

High Hawk went to his mother and embraced her as the two warriors stepped away from her. “Somewhere behind us,” he said thickly. “He must have rolled off. We shall go and find him and bring him back.”

“But if he fell off, why did he not cry out and alert someone?” Blanket Woman said, kneeling down beside the travois and running a hand across the indention of her son's body in the blankets.

Then she looked quickly up at High Hawk again. “He must have been injured by his fall from the travois,” she said, tears spilling from her eyes. “He must have been knocked unconscious, or he would have alerted us that something had happened to him.”

“
Ina
, the fall off the travois would not be far
enough to knock my brother unconscious,” he said gently. “Probably, he did not want to cause any more problems after he slipped from the travois, so he decided to just lie there until someone discovered he was gone.”

“But why?” Blanket Woman asked, pleading with her eyes. “Why would he feel he could not let anyone know he'd fallen off the travois?”

“
Ina
, I do not have any answers, and as long as we stand here talking about it, he is still back there, alone,” High Hawk said. “
Ina
, I will go now. I will find and bring my brother back.”

He shouted at several of his warriors, then mounted his steed as Joylynn mounted her own. They rode off down the trail, back over the land they had just traveled, but no matter how far they rode, they did not find any trace of Sleeping Wolf.

Joylynn sidled her steed over closer to High Hawk's. “I'm afraid to say what might have happened,” she said, her voice drawn.

“Say it,” High Hawk said, looking intently into her eyes.

“Back where the path was so narrow, where we rode beside a steep drop-off, he might have fallen to his death far below,” Joylynn said, her voice breaking. “I fear that is what happened, High Hawk.”

“But he surely would have cried out as he fell,” High Hawk said, kneading his brow in frustration. “Someone, especially the warrior who was transporting him, would have heard.”

Joylynn swallowed hard. “Do you think he did not want to be heard?” she asked guardedly. “He has been so despondent of late. Could he have . . . ?”

“Suicide is a sin unforgiven by
Tirawahut
, so I do not believe my brother would risk that,” High Hawk said softly.

They rode onward, to where the land dropped off steeply at their right.

But this part of the journey had been long; they would have to travel a full day to retrace their steps beside the drop-off.

High Hawk decided to turn back and carry the news of his brother to his mother. He was almost certain Sleeping Wolf had perished by falling over the cliff.

He rode silently beside Joylynn, followed by the other warriors, and when they reached those who awaited news of Sleeping Wolf, his eyes went straight to his mother. He knew that she must have guessed the news was not good, or he would have had Sleeping Wolf with him.

Seeing the absence of her elder son, Blanket Woman began wailing and pulling at her hair, while others joined her in crying and praying aloud.

High Hawk dismounted and went to his mother, gathering her gently into his arms. “We could not find him,” he said thickly, only now thinking about
the mountain lions who might have been the cause of his brother's disappearance.

He would not speak of that possibility to his mother.

He would keep that thought to himself. He prayed that his brother had not been killed by a hungry mountain lion.

“Why can you not find him?” Blanket Woman cried, pulling away from High Hawk's arms. She glared at him. “You did not look hard enough. He is alive, High Hawk. He . . . has . . . to be alive!”

He gently gripped her shoulders. “
Ina
, we searched everywhere and found no traces of him,” he said. “Please try not to let this make you ill. We have a distance to go before we reach our new home. You must be strong in order to endure the days and nights ahead.”

“How can I feel anything but this terrible emptiness?” Blanket Woman said, again pulling free of her son's grip.

She glared at Joylynn, who was dismounting from Swiftie. She went to Joylynn and spoke into her face. “All the sadness that has entered my life in recent weeks is your fault,” she said through clenched teeth. She doubled her fists at her sides. “Until you came into our lives, all was well. I believe that the very night my son brought you among the Pawnee people was the night my husband died. You are a jinx . . . taboo! You are responsible for
uprooting my people from their homes . . . and also now for my elder son's death.” She opened one fist and gestured toward Joylynn. “Go away! Leave us be! You are bad for the Pawnee, especially for my family. One by one, my family has been taken from me since you arrived at our village. You are bewitched. Leave! Go back where you belong, and that is not among people with red skin.”

Joylynn's face drained of color under the assault from High Hawk's mother. For a while, back at the village, she had thought she had finally made peace with the woman.

But now she seemed to hate her more than ever. It was evident that Blanket Woman blamed all her people's recent misfortunes on Joylynn.

High Hawk stood stunned by his mother's fury. Not one word of it was truth. Joylynn had been stolen away in the night and taken to his village. She most certainly had not gone there of her own choosing.

What happened after that had had nothing to do with her. She was innocent of all the things Blanket Woman was accusing her of. He hoped that his people understood that, and realized that his mother was speaking out of grief.

He turned from his mother and reached out for Joylynn. She went to him and, sobbing, flung herself into his embrace. “I'm so sorry about everything,” she said between wrenching sobs. “But I am not to blame. Please make your mother . . . your
people . . . know that I am not to blame for any of it. Oh, please make them understand.”

High Hawk held Joylynn tenderly close in his arms. He fixed his mother with a firm stare as he looked over Joylynn's shoulder at her. “
Ina
, you have said much today that should not have been said,” he chided. “I understand your grieving, but I cannot understand why you seem intent on blaming everything on my woman.”

Blanket Woman grabbed at her throat as she gasped and took a shaky step away from High Hawk. “Your woman?” she demanded in an almost strangled voice. “After all of this, you . . . still . . . plan to take her as your wife?”

“She will be my wife as soon as we arrive at our new home,” High Hawk said, challenging his mother with his eyes for the first time ever. He had always showed her full respect. But her time to be respected seemed to be running out.