Tykota's Woman (Historical Romance) (12 page)

When Makinna awoke, the campfire was cold,
and the only light in the cave came from the
moon filtering through the entrance. She sat up,
searching for Tykota, but he wasn't there. She
always felt uneasy when he wasn't with her.

She slipped into her shoes and found, to her
surprise, that Tykota had sewn thick leather
strips across the worn soles. It seemed nothing
escaped his notice, not even holes on the bottom
of her shoes.

"Tykota?"

Silence.

Standing up, Makinna hurried outside and
stood on the overhanging ledge, her gaze
roaming over the valley below, but she couldn't
see him anywhere.

She went back inside and made her way
through the narrow passage to the crystal
room.

He was standing so still that she didn't see
him at first. His head was raised to the opening,
and silver moonlight streamed around him.
When she saw that he wore nothing but his
breechcloth, she started to leave.

"You don't have to go, Makinna. I was merely
remembering the last time I was here, with my
father and my brother, Coloradous. Then there
was the time my father brought me here alone.
That was many years ago."

She ventured a step closer to him. "You were
very young at the time?"

"Yes, I was." He glanced down at her and
saw that she appeared uncomfortable. He'd
forgotten that he wore only his breechcloth.
"Very young."

"And you have not been here since then?"

He smiled. "Have the questions begun?"

She didn't know whether to appease her
curiosity or leave because he was not properly
dressed. "I am not-I don't-"

He addressed her apprehension. "Makinna,
this is the way my people dress. We are a desert
tribe. But if it makes you uncomfortable, I will
put something on."

She moved forward several steps to show him
that she respected and accepted his cus tom. "Please, don't trouble yourself on my
account. It is as you say, the way your people
dress."

He indicated that she should be seated. "Why
not make yourself comfortable?"

Tykota watched as Makinna sat down and
commenced to nervously smooth impossible
wrinkles out of her tattered gown. He moved out
of the stream of moonlight and sat down some
distance from her to ease her nerves.

"Thank you for mending my shoes, Tykota."
She glanced at him and then quickly averted her
eyes. "How ever did you manage it?"

"I am an Indian, remember?" A smile curved
his lips. "We are good at making things out of
leather."

She nodded.

"What would you like to know about me,
Makinna?"

She raised troubled eyes to him. "First of all, I
would like to say how ashamed I am for not
thanking you for saving my life. There have been
times when I am sure you would have liked to
abandon me, and I thank you for your
forbearance."

"You have not been a burden, Makinna. And
there are still troubled times ahead of us. Before
this is over, you may very well wish you had
stayed behind with the others."

"Do you foresee great danger?"

"Yes, I do. The closer I get to my destination,
the more aggressively the Apache will
pursue me."

"We have managed to avoided them thus far.
You have outsmarted them at every turn, and I
believe you will continue to do so." Makinna
said loyally.

"I wish that were true. But you see, Makinna,
one particular Apache knows exactly where I am
going. He is smart, and he can always place
himself between me and my destination."

"Do you know him?"

"Yes."

She frowned. "Does he hate you so much?"

"Yes, he does. He has waited a long time for
our meeting. He will find me, Makinna."

"You will know what to do if that should
happen."

"I wish I was as sure of that as you are."

"What does he mean to do to you?"

His expression seemed pained. "He wants to
see me dead."

"Why would anyone hate you that much?"

"There are many customs among the Indian,
Makinna, that are difficult for the white world to
grasp. This particular Indian and I share a bond
that can only be severed if one of us is dead."
His gaze met hers, and he saw the puzzlement on
her face. "You cannot be expected to understand.
Do not try. Now, what else do you what to know,
Makinna?"

She leaned forward. "I want to know about
your boyhood. Why did you leave your home?
Why were you educated in England?"

He nodded. "My father, my Indian father,
sent me away because... It was for the good of
the people. On that, I can tell you nothing
more."

"You were raised by a white man, yet you
seem to have little love for our race."

"You are mistaken, Makinna. There are good
and bad people in every race. I have found that
many white men are not to be trusted, but the
same can be said for many Indians."

"I have not found that to be true. I believe
most people are honest and care about their
fellow man."

"Do you?"

"Yes, I do. Tell me about Mr. Silverhorn."

Tykota raised his head and stared at the
dome opening as if he were remembering
something from long ago. "I told you before
that George Silverhorn became like a second
father to me, and his wife, Hannah, was the
mother I never had. But in the first two years I
was with them, I was very rebellious and ran
away three times. Of course, since I was in
England, I could not get back to my people
without boarding a ship."

"So you stopped running away?"

"My father, George, made me a promise that
he would buy land in Texas, so I could be nearer my people, if I would not attempt to run
away again."

"And he kept his promise."

"Yes, Makinna, he kept his promise."

"And you loved being here again?"

"I did, yes. When we moved to Biquera
Ranch, I was happy because they allowed me
to spend summers with my boyhood friend,
Santo, and my old teacher, Mangas. Sometimes
my white friend, John Kincaid, who lived on
the neighboring ranch, would join us. But after
a while, there was some kind of trouble
between John and Santo-I never learned what
it was."

"Are you still friends with John?"

"I would like to be. For a time we were
almost like brothers. He went to school in
England with me. But I do not see much of him
now."

"Tell me more about your early treks into the
desert." She wrinkled her nose. "I can't imagine
anyone doing it for fun."

"It was for me. I always looked forward to
those months when the three of us would go into
the desert and live off the land with only our
knives."

"That is why you know this area so well."

"Yes." He glanced at the trickling waterfall.
"But I never brought either of them here. This
was a private place I had shared only with my
father and brother."

"Yet you brought me."

Tykota turned to look at her. "I had little
choice in the matter. If I had not brought you
here, you would have died."

Makinna smiled. "Your secret is safe with me.
Anyway, I could never find this place again if
my life depended on it."

Tykota's gaze roamed the ceiling. "Within this
cavern live boyhood memories, nothing more."

"When I came in a moment ago, you were
trying to recapture something you'd lost," she
stated softly.

Tykota was surprised that she was so
perceptive. "That is so. But one cannot step back
into the shoes of a child."

"Did you never see your father again?"

"No. But I received messages from him
through Mangas and Santo."

"Were you... was there a time when you
became contented with your life with the
Silverhorns?"

"It is strange that you should choose the word
contented, because that is what it was-never
complete acceptance or happiness, but a restless
contentment. George Silverhorn adopted me and
gave me his last name. He taught me many
things, and after my father, he was the most
important influence in my life."

"You walked a hard road, Tykota-not white,
not Indian. It must have been difficult."

Again he was surprised by how perceptive she
was. "Less and less as time passed. When
George told me that I was to go to school in
England, I rebelled against the idea. But word
came from my own father that I must go, so I
had to obey. I learned later, from Santo, the
reason my father wanted me out of this country."

«Why?

"There had been a few mishaps when I was
small-one nearly fatal. My father believed
someone still wanted me dead."

Makinna gasped. "Do you believe that?"

"Yes, I do."

"But you were just a child. Why would
anyone want to harm a child? Perhaps that was
why your father sent you to Mr. Silverhom in the
first place."

"Yes." He stood up. "Have I answered all your
questions?"

"One more? Were they kind to you in
England-I mean, the others at the school?"

"Not at first. But once I proved myself, they
were more accepting, and I made many lasting
friendships there. But know this about me,
Makinna. Though I have a very fine educationI speak French, Spanish, and Italian-inside I am
an Indian, and no amount of education will
change that. It's what I am."

She stood. "Now I understand you a little
better."

He towered over her.

"Do not deceive yourself, Makinna. When
you scratch my skin, I may bleed like a white
man, but underneath, I am still an Indian. I
have the heart of a warrior. No white woman
can understand that. So do not think that you
know me."

She was startled by the change in his
demeanor. "I am trying to understand, if only
you would help me. Do you now go back to your
tribe and turn away from the life you have
known with the Silverhorns?"

"George Silverhorn is dead. I had just come
from burying him in England."

"So now you go back to your real father?"

"I go back to my people. My real father is
dead."

How much he must have suffered! "I am so
sorry. What of the rest of your family?"

"I have a sister, Inea." He paused, as if
pondering something. "And I have two half
brothers by my father's second wife."

"And you have no wife?"

His gaze touched her face. "There has been
little room for a woman in my life. He smiled.
"At least none that left a lasting impression." He
could have added, until now, but he didn't. "It
would not be wise for a woman to love me,
Makinna," he warned, as if he knew her heart
was turning to his. "I have something to do that may-" He broke off and looked into her eyes.
"I have no time for a woman."

She suddenly wanted to put her arms
about him and comfort him. She wondered
how many women in El Paso and England
had felt the same way about Tykota. No
woman would be able to ignore him, he had
such a strong presence, capable of drawing
others to him.

"I feel there is much more to your story than
you are willing to share with me. You are going
home for some purpose. I believe that you are in
danger, from the Apache but maybe also from
someone in your own tribe?"

He nodded slightly but did not respond.

She looked into his dark eyes, touched by the
torment she saw in their shimmering depths.
There was danger for her, too. Not that Tykota
would harm her. The danger was that she was
losing her heart to him, and he would not
welcome her affection.

"I have decided we should remain here for a
time," Tykota said. "We have food and water in
abundance, the Apache do not know of this
place, and you need the rest. It will give your
skin and your feet time to heal."

She frowned. "I can go on if you must get to
your destination to be safe."

His eyes glistened. "I knew you would say
that. But I want you to rest, Makinna."

"I don't want you to stay here and be in
danger because of me."

He smiled. "You have known hunger, thirst,
and pain, and it did not break your spirit. I
wonder if anything could."

She smiled. "Just think of the adventures I can
tell my grandchildren."

"You will tell them how one time an Indian
suddenly crossed through your life and left it,
just as quickly, Makinna Hillyard."

She felt saddened by his words. That was
what would happen. He would soon pass out of
her life. But she would never forget him. She
sighed deeply. "I would welcome a rest." What
she wanted to say was that she would treasure
every moment she spent with him. "Perhaps
the Apache will give up when they can't find
you."

"No. They will not give up. I want you to
understand that there is still danger. They could
even have tracked us here." He turned away.
"Get some rest, Makinna. It is still hours until
daylight. I am tired now."

She wanted to stay with him, but he had
clearly dismissed her. Already his mind was on
other things, and she doubted that he even heard
her leave.

Tykota turned his face up to the stars and whisered, "Why did this woman come into my life at this time? Why does my heart want to bind
with hers, to live out my days with her at my
side?

"Why at this time in my life, when I shall
surely die?"

Five days passed, and in that time Tykota
hunted and dried meat for the last leg of their
journey. Makinna rested, soaking in the healing
powers of the inner cavern and its pool, dipping her feet into the cooling water. Sometimes, she simply lay on her back gazing up
through the opening in the domed ceiling at
the blue sky and wishing they never had to
leave. She had never known life could be so
magical.

This was her paradise, here in this beautiful
place with Tykota.