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Feeling as if she had lost the world, Joylynn crumpled to the rush mats, held her face in her hands and cried.
CHAPTER TWELVE
Joylynn now felt more uncomfortable with High Hawk than when he had first abducted her. He hadn’t spoken one word to her since she refused to answer him about the baby. Awkward silence reigned between them.
Even now, as they ate their morning meal, she could hardly swallow the pieces of fruit. She ignored the meat altogether since her stomach was so tense.
She was frightened to learn what her fate would be. High Hawk had full control of her future, whether she and her unborn child lived or died.
Still, she couldn’t believe he would harm her in any way. Perhaps his silence meant that he was making plans to release her.
“High Hawk!”
A voice outside broke through Joylynn’s troubled thoughts.
She looked over at High Hawk. He had scarcely touched the food on his plate. Instead, he sat staring into the flames of the early morning fire.
The alarm in the voice of the warrior shouting High Hawk’s name brought him quickly to his feet.
Joylynn watched him rush from the lodge.
She followed.
She stood back and watched as he talked with a mounted warrior. The rider was gazing with a troubled, sad expression down at High Hawk as he spoke.
When High Hawk turned from the warrior, his face was filled with pain and his eyes and hands reached toward the heavens, as though he was crying out to his Great Spirit. Joylynn knew that the news was not good.
She watched him hurry to his horse, then ride from the village with the warrior who had come for him.
Joylynn feared the worst . . . that his father had been found, and was perhaps dead.
CHAPTER THIRTEEN
His heart heavy, High Hawk rode alongside Three Bears to meet the warriors who were bringing his father home on a travois.
His ahte and those who rode with him had been found, and the news was not good.
Chief Rising Moon was badly injured and the others were dead.
Although terribly injured, Rising Moon had managed to stay alive until he was found this morning, hiding in the thick brush.
His wounds were too severe for him to last much longer. It was a miracle that he had survived this long.
Three Bears had told High Hawk that those who were slain now lay side by side in the shade of a tree, awaiting transport back to the village for burial.
High Hawk rode his horse at a hard gallop away from Three Bears when he caught sight of the warriors who had found his father. They were coming slowly toward him, dragging the travois that carried his father.
When High Hawk reached them, they stopped.
High Hawk wheeled his horse to a stop, then leapt from the saddle and fell to his knees beside the travois. The sight that met his eyes was so terrible, his heart felt as though it was being squeezed inside his chest.
“Ahte,” High Hawk said, trying to keep his emotions in check as he leaned down and placed a gentle hand on his father’s cheek.
His father was covered up to his chin with a blanket, preventing High Hawk from seeing his wounds.
He focused on his father’s eyes. As Rising Moon looked up at him, the light and energy seemed to have left his gaze.
“My son,” Rising Moon said only loud enough for High Hawk to hear. He reached a trembling hand from beneath the blanket and gripped High Hawk’s fingers. “I . . . will . . . soon be gone . . . from you. Mole. It was Mole who did this.”
