Savage Tempest
Everyone watched, then silently turned and walked back toward their village, while High Hawk and Joylynn stayed behind with Andrew and Rose.
“Andrew, come now with us,” High Hawk said, laying a hand on the young man’s shoulders. “I believe you and Rose have a lot to tell one another. I will take my wife home. We will leave this evil man lying here, food for wild animals and the hatchlings in the eagles’ nests.”
“Thank you for believing me,” Andrew said, standing, then flinging himself into High Hawk’s arms.
Joylynn noticed that he still had his Bible. It was torn and frayed at the edges, but it was still being carried in his rear pocket.
When she got back to her tepee with High Hawk, Joylynn sat down beside the lodge fire as High Hawk added wood to it.
“Did you believe all of Andrew’s story?” she blurted out.
He didn’t reply, only gave her a look that she could not decipher.
CHAPTER THIRTY-ONE
A soft breeze blew through the waterfall, sending a spray over Joylynn and High Hawk as she knelt down beside a fresh grave in the Wolf band’s new burial grounds. High Hawk stood tall over her, holding their two-year-old son in his arms.
Joylynn spread beautiful autumn flowers over the grave, said a silent prayer, then rose up and stood beside High Hawk. “I miss her so much,” she murmured. “Your ina and I had become so close. It was as though she were my own mother.”
“She grew to love you as much,” High Hawk said, a deep sadness in his eyes. “But she just could not go on. I believe her body began to fail her when my ahte was murdered. I believe she only managed to hold on this long because of her grandson. She dearly loved holding him and playing with him.”
Joylynn turned and gazed at her son, who was the exact image of his father, with long black hair, midnight-dark eyes and lovely smooth copper skin.
Their three-month-old baby daughter, Moonbeam, who remained at their tepee with Rose watching her, had much of Joylynn’s looks except for her hair. It was as black as her father’s and brother’s, which made her grass-green eyes stand out, beautiful and entrancing.
“I’m so glad that we named our firstborn after your brother,” Joylynn murmured. “That brought such joy to your mother’s heart. I had thought that she was doing much better, because she was so happy. But her heart was just too tired to go on.”
“Ho, when you suggested our son be named in the memory of my brother Sleeping Wolf, my ina’s eyes lit up as I had never seen them before,” High Hawk said, his voice breaking. “She marveled over our son’s straight back and handsomeness the very moment she saw him, and when you suggested the name, it was a wonder to behold how my ina rejoiced. You are a good woman, my wife. Through and through.”
“As you are such a good man,” Joylynn said, sliding an arm through his.
In the morning sunlight, her husband looked so handsome and noble. He wore his fringed buckskin attire, with the lone eagle feather hanging from a loop of his hair at the side of his head.
It seemed that as he aged, he grew even more handsome.
She knew now that even when he was old and gray, he would still be someone who would take her breath away.
He had proven himself to be just as wonderful a father as he was a husband. He treated his children with such gentle care and love.
She remembered her own father’s love and saw the same caring in her husband.
She had been twice blessed, with two men to love her and care for her so much.
At times like this, she so missed her father and his smiling eyes and gentle hands.
But now was not the time to think about sadness, for the spring had arrived with its blessings. The crops had been planted and were now tiny sprouts shooting up through the rich black earth.
The eagles had given birth to new hatchlings that were just now learning how to perch on the edge of their nests, soon to join their parents in the sky.
Joylynn turned and gazed at the waterfall, seeing many rainbows in it as the water splashed down. It reminded her of another waterfall, another grave. Sleeping Wolf lay there, eagles his companions, just as the eagles at this waterfall would always be Blanket Woman’s.
How had her husband described it? Ho, his brother would always be flying with the eagles. So now would his mother. She could just see Blanket Woman and Sleeping Wolf meeting in the hea
vens, joined again, this time forever.
She gazed down at the blanket around her shoulders. It was one that Blanket Woman had made for Joylynn just before she died. It proved how Blanket Woman had been given her name, for Joylynn had never seen such a beautiful blanket. It was made of fine blue cloth, heavily and tastefully adorned with silk ribbons of various colors. It had a band of embroidered work made from beautiful tiny beads, a foot wide, running around the bottom.
Back at her tepee, her daughter lay on a blanket that was also made by Blanket Woman’s old but deft fingers. It was the same as Joylynn’s but much tinier so that it could be wrapped comfortably around Moonbeam when Joylynn took her from her cradle to nurse her.