Savage Tempest (4 page)

High Hawk placed a hand on his friend's shoulder. “All but you and I will stay behind,” he said, smiling. “Come, Three Bears. Let us go and see who makes their home so far from other people.”

He and Three Bears mounted their steeds and rode off while the others stayed behind, keeping an eye out for any Sioux or outlaw who might happen along.

Lately the countryside had been plagued by a particularly vicious outlaw.

His name was Mole.

He was the worst of all outlaws the Pawnee had ever heard tell of. If High Hawk, or any of his
Pawnee friends, could find that man and stop his reign of terror, everyone would rest more easily.

Having now entered the forest that he had observed from on high, High Hawk and Three Bears rode onward for a little while, with only the continued sound of the loon disturbing the silence.

When High Hawk and Three Bears got the scent of smoke, they gave each other looks and nods, then stopped and dismounted.

“We should leave our horses tethered here and go the rest of the way on foot,” High Hawk said, already securing his reins to the low limb of a huge oak tree. “Three Bears, follow a short distance behind me, and stay hidden. When we arrive at the cleared piece of land, stop and keep an eye out for anyone who might come upon us. Also, if you see my life threatened, act quickly. You are a crack shot with your rifle. Shoot to disarm the one who threatens me. Kill only if it becomes absolutely necessary.”

Three Bears nodded. “Go with care, my friend,” he said, gripping his rifle.

High Hawk nodded, then, clutching his own rifle, he ran on ahead of Three Bears.

Noiselessly High Hawk's moccasined feet fell like the velvet paws of a cat on the thick covering of fallen, browned and rotted leaves, his glittering black eyes scanning every object that appeared within their view as he searched for anything that might be a threat to his and Three Bears's safety.

Nothing escaped his piercing glance, and before long, he could see the cabin and corral through a break in the trees ahead of him.

The person he had seen outside the cabin seemed to have gone back inside.

Lamplight glowed through the window that faced toward High Hawk. He came to a stop to observe the cabin before deciding what to do.

Being of a curious nature, he could not just turn around and return to the others.

He did not plan to accost those who lived in this cabin, but he had to at least see who made their home so far from others.

The moon again revealed to him the small corral near the cabin. In it stood one of the most beautiful horses he had ever seen.

The moonlight was bright enough for High Hawk to see that the horse was a magnificently muscled chestnut stallion, its eyes bright and alert. It seemed to sense someone was near.

Its right hoof pawed nervously at the earth beneath it. It shook its thick mane, then softly whinnied.

Seeing such a beautiful horse sent shivers of excitement down High Hawk's spine. How could he see such an animal as this and ignore it?

He could picture himself on this horse, riding into the wind, fast and free. Never had he been as intrigued by a horse as he was now.

And it was obvious to him that whoever owned
this steed cared a lot for it. The stallion was impeccably groomed, its coat shiny and sleek, its mane brushed so that surely there was not even one small knot in it.

Longing to stroke his hands down the horse's withers, and forgetting everything but the thrill of doing so, High Hawk stepped out into the clearing and slipped past one of the cabin windows. He started toward the corral, but his throat constricted when the click of a rifle being readied for firing caused him to stop in mid-step.

Joylynn stood there, her insides trembling, yet her aim accurate as she leveled the rifle directly at the red man's gut.

She had seen a shadow pass across the window a moment ago.

She had crept to the window and peered from it, fear gripping her when she saw that she was no longer alone. An Indian stood just outside, a rifle in his right hand.

Praying that there was only one Indian, she had grabbed her rifle and stepped outside.

“Throw down your rifle or I will shoot you dead,” Joylynn said, fighting to keep her voice steady.

The loon's cry from somewhere close by continued as High Hawk's breathing came rapidly and shallowly. He gazed back at the woman, and then at the rifle.

She seemed to know enough about firearms to
shoot him, especially since she had been courageous enough to come outside her home with the rifle and face him, a red man, straight on.

It was humiliating for him, a man who would be chief, to have been stopped by a woman, when usually he was so careful. No man had ever cornered him in such a way.

He thought quickly about the situation.

Since there was only one horse, surely she was alone.

But would her husband arrive soon? If so, he would not hesitate to shoot High Hawk at first sight.

He wanted to look over his shoulder to see what was delaying Three Bears.

Surely he saw the rifle aimed directly at High Hawk's belly!

Then a thought came to him that made his heart sink. If Three Bears had been discovered lurking in the forest by the woman's husband, the man would have silenced Three Bears quietly, perhaps with a knife.

Suddenly a gun blast rang out, silencing the loon's cry, and causing the stallion behind High Hawk to buck with fright.

Joylynn screamed, and pain rushed from her fingers up the full length of her arms at the impact of the bullet hitting her rifle. The gun had been knocked from her hands.

Her heart thudded hard in her chest as she rubbed her hands together. Her eyes never left the Indian who still stood before her . . . until another Indian stepped out from the cover of the trees, the moon's brightness showing smoke spiraling from the barrel of his rifle.

She was now at the mercy of two Indians, not one. What if there were many more lurking amid the shadows of the trees, waiting to take their turn with her?

Oh, surely her cabin was surrounded by them.

She knew now that she should have stayed inside. She would have had a better chance of surviving.
Inside, she could have picked off the Indians one at a time.

As it was, she was at their mercy. She realized that her knees were trembling so much, she wasn't sure how much longer they would hold her up.

All of those months she had worked for the pony express, she had not had one incident with Indians.

Now, when she was trying to live a peaceful, isolated life, she was surrounded by them.

High Hawk stepped closer to Joylynn. Up this close, with the lamplight coming through the door of the cabin, and the full moon above bathing her in bright light, he saw much defiance and courage in her eyes. There was a unique beauty about this woman; her every facial feature was beautifully, perfectly sculpted.

As they stood there facing one another, challenging each other with their eyes, High Hawk remembered his
ahte
's words: “Abduct a white woman and steal more horses. Then you will have passed the final test . . . you will have proven yourself truly worthy of being chief after your
ahte
.”

High Hawk also remembered his
ahte
saying, “This woman I speak of will be directly in your path on a night of the full moon.”

Surely destiny had placed her in his path tonight.

Surely destiny had brought them together for a purpose.

He grabbed Joylynn by one wrist. “Go into your
lodge,” he commanded. “I will accompany you there.”

Terror struck at Joylynn's heart.

Was she going to be the victim of a second rape?

Could life be that cruel?

“No,” Joylynn spat out, trying hard to keep her voice from trembling. She was desperately afraid of what lay ahead of her in the next moments. Stubbornly she stood her ground. “I absolutely refuse to do anything you tell me to do. I won't . . . go inside my cabin with . . . with . . . the likes of you . . . you . . . savage.”

High Hawk was stung that she should call him a savage. No other word was hated as much as that word . . . savage . . . by people of red skin. It was a word too loosely thrown around by white people, a word that was ugly and despised by those who were wrongly labeled with it.

Yet he could not help being impressed by her courage as she stood up to a red man.

Ho
, he admired her, but he would not allow her to realize it.

Continuing to hold her wrist tightly, he forced her inside the cabin.

Once there, High Hawk quickly scanned everything, his eyebrows rising when he saw no sign of a man's presence.

He gazed directly into her eyes again. “Do you live alone?” he asked, for he had to be certain
about whether or not a man might show up at any moment.

Joylynn was afraid to speak, afraid to keep silent.

While he was slowly looking around her cabin, she studied him. What she saw was someone so handsome that, had they met under different circumstances, she would have been attracted to him. He was uniquely handsome, with sculpted facial features, penetrating coal-black eyes, and long, raven-black, unbraided hair held back from his face by a beaded headband.

His hair hung down past his waist, and she could envision how it would blow in the wind when he rode across the land.

He was dressed in only a breechclout and moccasins, and she admired his muscled, bronzed body. She wondered how it might feel to be held by those muscled arms if he were not someone who had come upon her in the night, threatening her very existence.

“Answer me,” High Hawk said, seeing that she seemed too frozen with fear to respond to his questions. He regretted causing that fear, for he had not come here to harm her.

He had not come here with her on his mind at all.

“Tell me,” he said, his eyes gazing deeply into hers. “Do . . . you . . . live alone?”

She knew now that he would insist on an answer. Hoping that if she responded, he would leave her in peace, she cleared her throat, then blurted
out, “My husband will be home anytime now. He'll kill you if you violate me.”

That word “violate” disturbed him, for he was a man of honor, who would never take advantage of a woman.

But of course this woman had no way of knowing this, and he did not feel now was the time to tell her. He needed to know, first, whether or not she had a man to protect her.

“I see nothing to show that a man lives here with you,” he said, still holding her wrist, yet not as tightly.

Joylynn felt trapped, for she knew that there
was
nothing in the cabin except her own possessions.

But she refused to admit the truth, so she said nothing.

“You do live alone,” High Hawk said, releasing his hold on her wrist. “Why? I have never seen a white woman live without a man to provide food for her and look after her safety.”

His eyes moved to a shelf that held dishes, as well as the cooking utensils that white women used to prepare food; then he gazed into her eyes again. “If you have no man who hunts for you,
who
puts food on your table?” he asked.

Joylynn still remained silent, feeling it was best not to confirm his belief that she had no husband. She must wait and see what his intentions were. She had no other choice. She was truly at this man's mercy.

High Hawk sighed heavily when the woman still would not respond to his questions.

Then he thought of someone else: his father, and his father's premonition about finding a white woman on the night of the full moon. High Hawk realized that somehow his father had known that he would find this woman tonight. Not for the first time, he was awed by the powers of his father; Rising Moon truly could see things that no one else saw.

And then High Hawk remembered his mother's words . . . that he should not take any white woman as his captive.

Considering how the events of the night had played out, the mystical way he had found the woman his father had predicted he would find, he chose without further thought to follow his father's bidding, ignoring his mother's.

And seeing how alone this woman was in a world where women amounted to only one thing to most men, seeing how vulnerable she was for any man's taking, he made his decision. He felt that he was saving her from a future that might include being raped by any man who might pass by; he felt that he was not truly taking her as his captive, but that he might actually be saving her life. It was true that no woman lived for long, alone. If he were to leave her there, her days were surely numbered.

He thought ahead, to her life in his village and realized that she was accustomed to a vastly different
existence from the one the Pawnee women lived. To prove to her that what he was doing was not all bad, he would see that she would take some comforts from her home, which would make her life with him and his people more tolerable.

He searched for a travel bag, and when he saw a large leather satchel, he grabbed it and shoved it into her arms.

“You are coming with me,” High Hawk said tightly. “Take what clothes and provisions you wish to bring with you and place them in this bag, for you will not be returning.”

Joylynn's heart skipped a beat.

Her throat went suddenly dry.

She searched his eyes as tears threatened to spill from her own. “Please, oh, please don't make me go with you,” she said, her voice trembling. “I'm no threat to you or your people. I . . . I . . . am only one small speck on this earth. Why can't you forget that you found me here and go on your way? Surely there are those who are waiting for your return home. And . . . surely they wouldn't want to see you bring a white woman among them.”

“Curiosity brought me here when I saw this lone cabin from a high butte,” High Hawk said. “When I decided to come and see who lived so isolated from everyone else, at first it was only to observe. But when I heard your horse whinnying, I knew I would not leave without it. It was my intention to come only for the horse. Not you.”