Savage Tempest

She slowly rocked it back and forth in her arms, seeing that this pleased Singing In Water. The child smiled even more broadly than before.

“Sometimes our dolls are made of rushes; oftentimes they are made by our grandmothers in

the summer from mud,” Singing In Water said. She shrugged. “I like all dolls. I love to think of when I will have a real baby of my own.”

Singing In Water lifted an eyebrow. “Why do you not have a baby of your own?” she asked matter-of-factly. “You are of the age when you should, are you not? Do not white women have babies very often?”

That question took Joylynn aback. She could feel the heat of a blush rush to her cheeks, for how could she answer such a question? Here she was, holding a fake baby, while inside her belly lay a true one!

“Joylynn, where are you?”

The familiar, dreaded voice of High Hawk’s mother penetrated the small tepee, but this time it was welcome. Joylynn was finding the little girl’s questions uncomfortable.

“Oh, no,” Singing In Water said, sighing. “High Hawk’s ina is wanting you. She will probably put you to work again today. Do you mind working alongside the other women?”

“Joylynn!”

Blanket Woman’s voice was more insistent, more shrill.

“I must go,” Joylynn said, placing the doll in Singing In Water’s arms. She leaned over and brushed a kiss across the child’s brow. “Thank you. I’ve had fun.”

“Me, too,” Singing In Water said, crawling outside with Joylynn.

“There you are,” Blanket Woman huffed. In her arms was a lovely white doeskin dress. Between her fingers she held a pair of beautiful moccasins. “Come back to my son’s lodge. I have clothes for you.”

Joylynn gazed at the clothes and then into Blanket Woman’s eyes. “I have enough of my own dresses to wear, thank you,” she said tightly.

“You will wear them no more,” Blanket Woman said, going to Joylynn and thrusting the dress into her arms. “Come. I will bring the moccasins in for you. You will wear them, too, instead of your sort of shoes, which are ugly.”

Joylynn gave Blanket Woman an angry stare, then, feeling the eyes of other women on her, she sighed and hurried to High Hawk’s tepee with Blanket Woman on her heels.

Once inside, Joylynn turned and faced Blanket Woman. She shoved the dress back into the older woman’s arms. “I refuse to wear this,” she said tightly. “Why should I? I am not Pawnee.”

“It is better that you wear something that makes you blend in with us Pawnee women,” Blanket Woman snorted out. She shoved the dress back into Joylynn’s arms. “Now. You . . . change . . . now!”

Understanding that she had no choice but to do as Blanket Woman said, and seeing that the older woman was back to her normal hateful self, Joylynn kept the dress in her arms, but she stood stiffly glaring at Blanket Woman. “Leave, and then I will change,” she said tightly.

“I do not believe you will, so I shall stay until you are wearing the dress of my people and what you are wearing has been thrown into the fire,” Blanket Woman said, angrily placing her fists on her hips. “Now, white woman. Change now!”

Joylynn felt cornered. She did not want this woman to see her belly, because when Joylynn was nude, there was no hiding that she carried a child within her womb. She lifted her chin angrily. “I . . . absolutely . . . refuse,” she said. “You leave, and then I will change into this . . . this thing that you call a dress.”

“And now you even insult what I have sewn?” Blanket Woman huffed. She stepped closer to Joylynn. “You take off that ugly white woman’s dress or I will do it for you.”

Truly believing that the older woman would carry out her threat, Joylynn realized that she had no choice but to risk Blanket Woman learning her secret. She laid the doeskin dress aside, then slowly pulled her own gown over her head.

Before she had it totally removed, she heard a gasp. She felt weak in the knees to know what had caused Blanket Woman’s surprised reaction.

“You . . . are . . . with child?” Blanket Woman said, then rushed from the tepee, leaving Joylynn alone with her fears.

“Now what?” she murmured, slipping into the doeskin dress. Actually, she thought it soft and absolutely beautiful, not ugly.

She slid her feet into the buttery soft moccasins, then sank down on a blanket before the fire.

Oh, how she dreaded High Hawk’s reaction to her pregnancy. If he had loved her at all, as she now hoped he did, surely that love would turn to hate, for had she not deceived him by disguising the truth about her condition?

CHAPTER ELEVEN

Blanket Woman could hardly get to the council house quickly enough. She was so eager to tell High Hawk the news, she barged inside and interrupted the council.