Savage Tempest

Joylynn believed that such continued attention from his mother and the shaman only made Sleeping Wolf feel less a man. She truly believed that the more everyone coddled him, the more he felt the despair of his condition.

Joylynn had wanted to go and talk with him, but when she even hinted at doing this, Blanket Woman scolded her and told her to stay away from her older son. Was it not enough that she had put a spell on her other son? she demanded.

Her hair finally brushed, Joylynn began twisting it in one long braid down her back. She had noticed that many Pawnee women wore their hair in that style. Wanting to be accepted by them, she wore her hair in the same way and continued to wear the lovely soft doeskin dresses that several women had been kind enough to give to her. Joylynn knew that their young chief had hinted that they help her however they could. And because they admired and loved Chief High Hawk so much, it had not taken much encouragement to prompt them to do as he asked.

Hearing someone entering the tepee, Joylynn turned her head.

When she saw Blanket Woman carrying in a tray of food, she had mixed feelings.

Sometimes Blanket Woman was kind to her, even sweet, while at other times she was tight-lipped and reserved. Some days she came and went without even a word being spoken between Joylynn and the mother of the man Joylynn would forever love.

“How is Sleeping Wolf today?” Joylynn asked, even though she knew that Blanket Woman resented Joylynn’s mere mention of her elder son.

Blanket Woman placed the wooden platter of assorted foods beside Joylynn, then sat down next to her. She nodded toward the food. “Eat,” she said, plucking up a handful of berries herself and eating them quietly, one at a time.

Accustomed to this woman’s uneven temperament, Joylynn shrugged. “All right, don’t tell me,” she murmured. “But thank you anyway for bringing me breakfast.”

Blanket Woman picked up a tiny slice of venison, nodded and continued to eat in silence.

“My son Sleeping Wolf is well enough in one way,” she said suddenly. Joylynn was so surprised, she almost choked on a berry as it slid suddenly down her throat without her chewing it.

Blanket Woman glanced at Joylynn. “But weaker in the other,” she murmured.

“What do you mean?” Joylynn asked.

“It is in Sleeping Wolf’s head and heart that his weakness lies,” Blanket Woman said, her faded old eyes revealing the grief she still felt at the loss of her husband. “He cannot forget his humiliation. He desperately wanted to find the criminal who killed his father.”

“I’m so sorry,” Joylynn said, understanding now what Blanket Woman meant about Sleeping Wolf. Joylynn had seen so much in Sleeping Wolf’s eyes the few times she met him. There was such despair in their depths.

“I fear so for him,” Blanket Woman said, her voice breaking with emotion. “For he seems to carry such a weight on his shoulders. He seems to carry a greater burden than his brother, who is now responsible for our people’s welfare.”

“I so wish that things could be different for Sleeping Wolf. From the little I know of him, I can tell what a loving person he is,” Joylynn said, fearing that she was treading on shaky ground, saying so much about the son Blanket Woman protected with her very being.

When Blanket Woman only gave her a sideways glance, then continued to eat from Joylynn’s plate, Joylynn knew it was time to talk of something else.

She felt safe enough mentioning the other brother, for by now Blanket Woman knew that there was nothing she could do to come between Joylynn and High Hawk.

Nothing!

“When do you expect High Hawk to return home?” Joylynn asked softly. “I am anxious to tell him I feel strong enough to ride again. I want to go with him on the next search, if he hasn’t found Mole’s hideout yet.”

“High Hawk left at daybreak,” Blanket Woman said, her voice drawn. “He will search again today as long as there is light to see. He cannot seem to rest until he finds and stops that man who killed not only his father, but many beloved warriors of our band.”

Blanket Woman then turned to Joylynn. “And you are not strong enough to ride a horse. Must you always be reminded that you are a woman, not a man?” she said gruffly. “You must do as women do, not men, and no woman accompanies the warriors on search parties.”

“I might be a woman, but I have the same hate and need for vengeance as does your son,” Joylynn said, trying to control her irritation at the woman who still tried to make her feel useless. “I know now, though, that today I have no choice but to wait. I have no idea where High Hawk has gone.”

Blanket Woman gave her an annoyed stare, then emitted a low “Harrumph,” rose, and left without another word.

The day turned out to be a long and boring one for Joylynn. The women did not yet include her in any of their dai

ly activities; they still did not think she was strong enough to help them.

Joylynn had taken a walk down by the river, stopping to run her fingers through the sand as she watched fish jumping from the water, then falling into it again.

She was reminded of those times she had fished with her father, how at first she was squeamish about putting a worm on the hook.

But once she got past that, she had caught as many fish as her father, never forgetting the perplexed look on his face the first time she pulled an eight-pound bass from their pond.