He shouted at several of his warriors, then mounted his steed as Joylynn mounted her own. They rode off down the trail, back over the land they had just traveled, but no matter how far they rode, they did not find any trace of Sleeping Wolf.
Joylynn sidled her steed over closer to High Hawk’s. “I’m afraid to say what might have happened,” she said, her voice drawn.
“Say it,” High Hawk said, looking intently into her eyes.
“Back where the path was so narrow, where we rode beside a steep drop-off, he might have fallen to his death far below,” Joylynn said, her voice breaking. “I fear that is what happened, High Hawk.”
“But he surely would have cried out as he fell,” High Hawk said, kneading his brow in frustration. “Someone, especially the warrior who was transporting him, would have heard.”
Joylynn swallowed hard. “Do you think he did not want to be heard?” she asked guardedly. “He has been so despondent of late. Could he have . . . ?”
“Suicide is a sin unforgiven by Tirawahut, so I do not believe my brother would risk that,” High Hawk said softly.
They rode onward, to where the land dropped off steeply at their right.
But this part of the journey had been long; they would have to travel a full day to retrace their steps beside the drop-off.
High Hawk decided to turn back and carry the news of his brother to his mother. He was almost certain Sleeping Wolf had perished by falling over the cliff.
He rode silently beside Joylynn, followed by the other warriors, and when they reached those who awaited news of Sleeping Wolf, his eyes went straight to his mother. He knew that she must have guessed the news was not good, or he would have had Sleeping Wolf with him.
Seeing the absence of her elder son, Blanket Woman began wailing and pulling at her hair, while others joined her in crying and praying aloud.
High Hawk dismounted and went to his mother, gathering her gently into his arms. “We could not find him,” he said thickly, only now thinking about the mountain lions who might have been the cause of his brother’s disappearance.
He would not speak of that possibility to his mother.
He would keep that thought to himself. He prayed that his brother had not been killed by a hungry mountain lion.
“Why can you not find him?” Blanket Woman cried, pulling away from High Hawk’s arms. She glared at him. “You did not look hard enough. He is alive, High Hawk. He . . . has . . . to be alive!”
He gently gripped her shoulders. “Ina, we searched everywhere and found no traces of him,” he said. “Please try not to let this make you ill. We have a distance to go before we reach our new home. You must be strong in order to endure the days and nights ahead.”
“How can I feel anything but this terrible emptiness?” Blanket Woman said, again pulling free of her son’s grip.
She glared at Joylynn, who was dismounting from Swiftie. She went to Joylynn and spoke into her face. “All the sadness that has entered my life in recent weeks is your fault,” she said through clenched teeth. She doubled her fists at her sides. “Until you came into our lives, all was well. I believe that the very night my son brought you among the Pawnee people was the night my husband died. You are a jinx . . . taboo! You are responsible for uprooting my people from their homes . . . and also now for my elder son’s death.” She opened one fist and gestured toward Joylynn. “Go away! Leave us be! You are bad for the Pawnee, especially for my family. One by one, my family has been taken from me since you arrived at our village. You are bewitched. Leave! Go back where you belong, and that is not among people with red skin.”
Joylynn’s face drained of color under the assault from High Hawk’s mother. For a while, back at the village, she had thought she had finally made peace with the woman.
But now she seemed to hate her more than ever. It was evident that Blanket Woman blamed all her people’s recent misfortunes on Joylynn.
High Hawk stood stunned by his mother’s fury. Not one word of it was truth. Joylynn had been stolen away in the night and taken to his village. She most certainly had not gone there of her own choosing.
What happened after that had had nothing to do with her. She was innocent of all the things Blanket Woman was accusing her of. He hoped that his people understood that, and realized that his mother was speaking out of grief.
He turned from his mother and reached out for Joylynn. She went to him and, sobbing, flung herself into his embrace. “I’m so sorry about everything,” she said between wrenching sobs. “But I am not to blame. Please make your mother . . . your people . . . know that I am not to blame for any of it. Oh, please make them understand.”
High Hawk held Joylynn tenderly close in his arms. He fixed his mother with a firm stare as he looked over Joylynn’s shoulder at her. “Ina, you have said much today that should not have been said,” he chided. “I understand your grieving, but I cannot understand why you seem intent on blaming everything on my woman.”
Blanket Woman grabbed at her throat as she gasped and took a shaky step away from High Hawk. “Your woman?” she demanded in an almost strangled voice. “After all of this, you . . . still . . . plan to take her as your wife?”
“She will be my wife as soon as we arrive at our new home,” High Hawk said, challenging his mother with his eyes for the first time ever. He had always showed her full respect. But her time to be respected seemed to be running out.
Blanket Woman covered her mouth with a hand and turned to fall upon Sleeping Wolf’s blankets on the travois. She wrapped herself in the blankets, sobbing out Sleeping Wolf’s name. “Where are you?” she cried. “Why did you leave me? Why?”
Joylynn clung to High Hawk as everyone stood quiet now. The wailing and praying had stopped after everyone saw Blanket Woman’s grief and heard how she felt about the future bride of their chief.
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