Savage Tempest (6 page)

Joylynn's eyes widened. “Why, it is very good,” she said in a surprised tone. “Thank you.”

High Hawk smiled. “Now come for water,” he said, taking her hand. “Then we will continue onward. Home is not far away now.”

She went with him to the stream, while the warriors led the horses to the water a short distance away. Some of the animals snorted and shied away
from it, while others joyously dipped their noses into the cold liquid and eagerly drank.

“A precaution must be made when stopping to quench one's thirst,” High Hawk said, releasing Joylynn's hand. “As a child, I was taught to kneel on one knee with the right hand cupped to bring water to the mouth. Never lie flat on your stomach with your face to the water.”

He looked past her, at his horse and hers, which were enjoying their drinks, then smiled at her. “Normally, a rider dismounts, holds the reins of his steed in one hand and lets the horse drink first,” he said. “The horse then stands guard while the rider drinks.”

“But this is not a normal night,” Joylynn said, sighing. “You have a captive to keep an eye on.”

“
Ho
, a captive,” he said, then glanced over at his horse, and again into Joylynn's greenish-brown eyes. “Old people say that a horse is a far better watcher and more alert than a dog such as white people use. If it is a gentle horse, the reins can be held in the left hand, and the right hand used to drink more rapidly. If, however, the horse is fractious, the reins should be held with the stronger arm and hand.”

“That is too much for me to remember just now,” Joylynn said, sighing again. “Can I just bend down and take a quick drink?”

He laughed softly. “
Ho
, do as you wish,” he said,
now only watching her. He watched as she held her beautiful long auburn hair back from her face with one hand while bringing the water to her perfectly shaped lips with the other.

She made not a sound as she sucked the water from her hand.

Although she seemed strong in so many ways, she was delicate, too.

He could not help being intrigued by her.

He hoped to learn more about her when they talked once they reached his lodge. There they could be alone together, with the entrance flap securely tied.

He hoped that he could persuade her to accept this new life that he would give her. He hoped that she would accept him as her man, for he felt toward her, a stranger, more than he had ever felt for any other woman. Within his heart he felt a caring he would not have thought possible for a woman of white skin.

He felt torn about having abducted her. A part of him did not want to think of how she must despise him for having taken her from her home, yet a part of him was proud that he had found her and done his father's bidding.

He would not allow himself to think of the bitterness his mother would feel about what he had done tonight.

Her thirst quenched, Joylynn pushed herself to her feet. As she turned toward High Hawk, she
found him gazing at her in a way that made it clear he was attracted to her.

She wasn't sure how to feel about that. Up until now he had treated her gently. She had even begun to trust him.

Yet she must remember that she was not there of her own choosing. She was his captive. And would he not take full advantage of his power over her eventually?

She would not allow herself to think about it, not now, anyway. In time, she would find her way out of this predicament. She always had, except for that one day when she was brought to the ground by a madman who'd left his seed growing in her belly.

She swallowed hard and looked down at the ground, for whenever she thought of that child, she felt many emotions. She was determined not to keep the baby when it was born, but her decision ate away at her heart. It was painful to know that she must give birth, then give the child away to strangers.

“Is your thirst quenched?” High Hawk asked, bringing Joylynn's eyes back to him.

“Yes,” she murmured, swallowing hard.

He looked over his shoulder at his warriors, who were still watering the horses, then nodded at Joylynn. “Sit with me as we wait for the steeds to be fully watered,” he said, already moving toward a thick bed of grass along the embankment.

Joylynn went with him and sat down on the grass, her plan of escaping tonight abandoned, for she knew that there was no possible way to flee this man. He was determined to keep her, and so he would, until she finally found a way to get the best of him.

“You seem to place great value in horses, judging by the way you are taking such time to see that they are watered,” Joylynn said, hoping friendly conversation would cause him to trust her. All she needed was the right opportunity and she would most definitely try to escape, even though he had warned her against it.

She had been a free woman for too long now to let any man hold her captive!

“Do you not place the same sort of value on your steed?” High Hawk said as he glanced over at her chestnut stallion, which was enjoying drinking from the stream along with the others. “It is a magnificent horse, but of course you do not need me to tell you that. How could anyone not see its worth?”

“Especially you, who do not hesitate to take any horse you want,” Joylynn said sarcastically. She leaned closer to him. “Swiftie is mine. He has been mine for many years and will always be, so do not think that I will allow you to place him among your herd. Do not believe he is now yours just because you have me as a captive.”

“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.

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
wasna
.

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.