Savage Tempest

Ah, what a wonderful moment that would be!

As he walked from the tepee, she tried not to think of anything negative at this moment. They had just shared such wonderful lovemaking and had talked of their child so happily.

That darn Andrew! He might spoil everything!

And then there was always the haunting fear that Mole might somehow discover where she and the Pawnee were. If so, she knew to expect the worst.

“Andrew or Mole,” she whispered.

If either of them showed up on this mountain with the cavalry, everything could change in a heartbeat.

She shivered at the thought.

CHAPTER THIRTY

April, the Sunflower-Planting Moon

Joylynn, big and pregnant, too large to help the women prepare the land for planting, stood just outside the entranceway of her tepee, her eyes on the sky.

The previous autumn, the waterfowl had flown south to the Old Woman Who Never Dies, carrying gifts to ensure a good harvest for another year.

Since the Old Woman Who Never Dies caused the plants to grow, and sent the goose to signify corn, the duck to stand for beans, and the swan to represent the gourd, the arrival of the waterfowl was a good signal that she gave her blessing and the planting season could begin.

Joylynn’s hands rested on the great swell of her belly; her doeskin dress was much too tight now.

But knowing that the child would come at any time now, she had not sewn a larger dress for herself. She did not want to waste good doeskin. If she could bear the weight of the child, she could bear the tightness of the dress for a few more sunrises.

Her feet were swollen, but she would not allow such a simple thing as that to stop her from getting where she wanted to go. Joylynn walked to the edge of the village and gazed toward the valley, where the crops would be planted near the river bottom. Many women were there this early morn.

In preparation for the time of the birds’ arrival, the women had hung large amounts of dried meat and other offerings on drying racks that had been set up in the valley.

Joylynn was told that, usually, when the women were preparing an old plot for planting, they would rake it and carry the dead grass and stalks beyond the fields.

But this was a new field, and they were cutting the brush and spreading it out on the ground; the standing trees had been ringed, ready to be felled.

The women would lay the trunks and branches of these fallen trees on the ground to be burned over the field in order to make the soil soft and pliable.

The women were very excited and filled with hope over what had happened yesterday. They had seen geese winging their way from the south, then noticed one group circle a moment over their offerings on the drying racks, only eyeing them, and then settling on the opposite shore of the river.

Elated, not caring that the birds had ignored their offerings, the women had counted again and again the number of birds.

To their great joy, there had been exactly eleven.

They had shared this joy with Joylynn, running to her and telling her that the number eleven was a sign that the corn crop would be very good.

However, it was April, too early to plant corn, but just the right time to set sunflower seeds in the borders around the corn and vegetable patches.

To the Pawnee, April was known as the Sunflower-Planting Moon. The sunflowers added color to their gardens, protected the other crops and provided meal and oil for eating.

Sunflowers were the first to be planted and the last to be harvested.

Hearing a distant sound of thunder, Joylynn glanced at the sky. She saw no signs of clouds, which meant that the storm was far away and probably would not interrupt the women’s work.

Joylynn had been told that the first thunder heard in the new year was the sign of the reawakening of the earth and the beginning of the natural cycle of growth.

She had been taught by Blanket Woman that Tirawahut talked to the people in the thunder, and they were glad to see the lightning flashes and hear the low rumblings of his voice. This was the time of quiet prayer within the lodges and of renewal of certain Sacred Bundles whose powers helped sustain life.

That first thunder’s roar had come six sunrises ago, bringing with it the fresh, clean smell of rain and hope.