Savage Tempest

Still stunned by what his father asked of him, High Hawk was not sure what to say. He had always obeyed his father’s wishes.

But . . . this?

No. It seemed neither right nor logical.

“Ahte, horse stealing is a simple enough challenge, for I am well known for my skills and cunning,” High Hawk said. “I agree to add more horses to my corral. But . . . I . . . cannot agree to abduct a woman. It does not seem an honorable thing to do. A mere woman taken by such a strong man as I? What challenge is there in that?”

Rising Moon’s eyes narrowed angrily. He leaned closer again to High Hawk and again gazed into his eyes. “Is this son of mine challenging his ahte, and worse, challenging his chief?” he growled out. “Would you truly rather choose to disobey your chief than abduct the woman?

High Hawk had rarely seen his father so angry with him. For a moment, he was again at a loss for words. But to show that he would stand up for what he believed, High Hawk held his chin high as he challenged his father with his eyes.

“And after she is abducted?” he asked, not allowing his father to win this battle.

“What do you mean?” Rising Moon demanded. He leaned slowly away from his son. He was taken aback that he had actually shown anger toward High Hawk for the first time in their lives.

This, too, proved that it was time for Rising Moon to step down as chief, for it was not normal for him to get angry at High Hawk for any reason. They had always talked through any disagreement with civil tongues and love in their hearts.

Yet despite his dismay at the turn the discussion had taken, Rising Moon would not change his command.

“Our Pawnee women will resent a white woman’s presence,” High Hawk said, hating to seem disobedient to the father he had admired and loved since he was a small child. “You know that if a white woman is here, she will have to work alongside our women, for the more hands there are to plant and harvest and bring in wood and water, the better it will be for all our people.”

“My son, do not concern yourself about what our women might think or do,” Rising Moon said tightly. “Only worry about what your chieftain asks of you tonight. Abduct a white woman and steal more horses. Then you will have passed the final test . . . you will have proven yourself worthy of being chief after your ahte.”

Realizing that nothing he might say would change his father’s mind about this particular challenge, High Hawk knew he had no choice but to abduct a white woman. If he did not, he might lose his father’s respect, possibly even his love.

“And . . . where am I to find this woman?” High Hawk asked softly, relieved when he saw his father’s eyes soften.

“This woman I speak of will be directly in your path on a night of the full moon. Tonight is such a night,” Rising Moon said, glancing upward toward the smoke hole.

He smiled when he saw how the sky had darkened while they had been in council. His smile deepened when he saw the light of a full moon bathing his face.

He turned his eyes back to High Hawk. He reached a hand out and rested it on his son’s bare shoulder. “Go, my son,” he said thickly. “Seek and you will find her.”

High Hawk nodded, then fell into his father’s embrace when Rising Moon opened his arms.

“My son, my son,” Rising Moon said, his voice breaking.

Their embrace continued for a moment, then High Hawk rose to his feet and left the tepee without another word.

Just as he emerged from the tepee, his ina, Blanket Woman, blocked his way.

It was obvious to him she had heard all that had transpired between father and son. And he could tell by the way she was gazing up at him with flashing black eyes, she did not approve of something that had been said, or perhaps all of it.

As he waited to hear what she had to say, he could not help admiring her. For a woman of her age, she still held beauty in her face, with only a few wrinkles crossing her copper brow.

She was named Blanket Woman because of her ability to make the prettiest blankets of all the women in their Wolf band.

She also made lovely dresses such as the one she wore tonight. By the glow of the huge outdoor fire behind them, he saw that she wore an exquisitely beaded and fringed doeskin dress and heavily beaded moccasins.

She wore her raven-black hair in one long braid down her back.

“I heard what your ahte asked of you,” Blanket Woman said, her eyes flashing in the moonlight. “I disagree with him. It is wrong to abduct a woman, no matter what the reason. My son, stealing any woman, white-skinned or not, is a dishonorable act.”

She framed his face between her hands. “My son, you must stand up against your ahte about this,” she said softly. “Refuse him. And if you do this for your ina, I will see that you are named chief after your father no longer holds that position.”

She slid her hands away and smiled softly. “As you know, my son, your ahte’s weakness is your ina,” she murmured, her eyes twinkling. “He never goes against my wishes. Go. Hunt and bring back many beautiful horses, but not a white woman.”

Torn now between the differing wishes of his parents, High Hawk embraced his mother, then went around and informed his favored warriors about his plan to steal horses. He purposely did not tell them about the other challenge of the night . . . the white woman.