Savage Tempest

She could not help wondering what had brought him into the forest.

“I have come to help,” Sleeping Wolf said, taking the hatchet from her. “I watched. I saw how hard it was for you to remove the bark. Let me do it for you. My mother need never know.”

“I . . . I . . . don’t want to be deceitful,” Joylynn murmured. She stepped away from the tree as he came closer, but the first time he tried to cut a strip of bark from the tree, he dropped the hatchet and fell to the ground, groaning with pain as he grabbed at his back.

“Oh, no,” Joylynn said, bending quickly beside him to help him up.

But before she had the chance, he managed to get to his feet and hurried away as fast as his crippled body would take him. Obviously, he was embarrassed at his failure to help her.

Too stunned at first to do anything but watch him, Joylynn then ran after him, hoping to soothe him. She was stopped when Blanket Woman stepped from behind a tree, blocking her way. Her eyes were filled with venomous anger.

“I saw what happened,” Blanket Woman said, leaning into Joylynn’s face. “I had come to check how you were doing, and what do I find? My crippled son trying to help you, then falling and embarrassing himself in front of you, a white woman.”

“You look at me as though it is my fault,” Joylynn said, taking slow steps away from Blanket Woman. “I didn’t ask him to help me. He just came and took my hatchet, and before I knew it, he . . . he . . . was on the ground.”

“Did you not hear me say I saw how it happened?” Blanket Woman said tightly. “I do not fault you for what he did, but I would fault you if you went to him and made him feel even more foolish.”

“I would never do that,” Joylynn said softly.

“Then turn around and go back to what you were doing before my son interfered,” Blanket Woman said, taking Joylynn by the arm and turning her back toward the cottonwood forest.

“I have to admit that I did not peel even one strip of bark from the tree with the hatchet,” Joylynn said reluctantly. “I just couldn’t do it. How on earth do the other women manage it?”

“It takes practice,” Blanket Woman said, releasing her hold on Joylynn as they stepped up to the tree where Joylynn had done only a small bit of damage.

It did not take long for the older woman to cut several strips of bark, and she did not stop until she had many piled up on the ground.

“Shouldn’t I be doing that?” Joylynn asked, her voice drawn.

Blanket Woman turned a glare Joylynn’s way, then continued her work.

“Place the bark in the basket,” Blanket Woman said, laying the hatchet at the bottom of the basket before Joylynn put the bark in it.

Blanket Woman placed her hands at the small of her back, stretched and groaned. “I have done enough of your labor today,” she said.

Joylynn wanted to say that she hadn’t asked Blanket Woman to do it for her, but she held her tongue. She was grateful for whatever help she could get.

Joylynn started placing the bark in stacks in the basket but stopped when Blanket Woman placed a sudden hand on her wrist.

Joylynn looked questioningly into the older woman’s faded brown eyes.

“I have something more to say about Sleeping Wolf,” she said tightly. “Stay away from him. Never give him cause to believe a woman can look past his twisted back. I don’t want him to be hurt by rejection in the end.”

“I . . . would . . . never do anything to hurt your son,” Joylynn said, yanking her wrist away from Blanket Woman. “I like him as a friend. Surely he realizes that.”

“Just listen to what I say,” Blanket Woman said heatedly. “Heed my words, white woman. You must not talk to Sleeping Wolf, or encourage him, or you will pay dearly for it.”

Joylynn had never done or said anything to this man that might make him believe she cared for him as anything but just a friend. Stunned by the warning, she stared into Blanket Woman’s eyes.

When she saw fiery determination there, she knew better than to try to explain anything else about her feelings for Sleeping Wolf. The older woman was so blinded by her need to keep her son safe from a “woman’s clutches,” she did not know the truth when it was right in front of her.

Sighing, Joylynn resumed placing the bark in the basket, surprised when Blanket Woman began helping her.

“It is done,” Blanket Woman said, placing her hands at her waist. She was obviously uncomfortable from the bending and stooping. “You carry the basket back to the village. There is no need to tell the other women that it was I who peeled the bark, not you.”

Joylynn looked in amazement at Blanket Woman. Was the woman perhaps trying to make up for her earlier harsh words?

“The basket,” Blanket Woman said softly, nodding toward it. “Get the basket. The other women should be home by now, finished with their chores for the day.”