Tykota's Woman (Historical Romance) (17 page)

She stared at him. "Do you think I care
about that? I am proud of what we did, proud
to know you." She fought against the tears that
were gathering in her eyes, but one trailed
down her cheek anyway. "I... I will miss
you.

His throat tightened. "You knew the day
would come when we would have to part."

She closed her eyes, trying to regain control
over her emotions. "There were times, Tykota,
when I didn't think we would live from one day
to the next." Finally she was able to smile. "Yet
you never gave up. You pushed me on when I
wanted to quit. If you hadn't, I would have died.
I want you to know that I will always be grateful
to you. Always be proud to have known you."

"To speak truthfully to you, Makinna, I
wrongly supposed that, being a woman, you
would hinder our chances of survival. But I was
wrong. I underestimated your strength and
determination. I have been proud of you, too,
Makinna. You did better in a dangerous situation
than most men would have."

She beamed under his praise. "Even Mangas?"
she teased.

He smiled. "Mangas, I believe, has special
powers from the Great Spirit. No one could best
him."

"Admit, Tykota, there were times you wished
me back in New Orleans, or anywhere but at
your side."

Again he smiled. "And there were times when
you wanted to push me off a cliff."

"True," she said with a laugh. Then she
sobered. "When will you leave to join your tribe,
Tykota?"

"There are a number of things that need my
attention here before I can leave. I would say at
the beginning of next week."

Her heart felt shredded. "And when do I
leave?"

He took a deep breath. "As soon as you feel
up to it. Though I know my mother would love
your company and would like to keep you here
as long as possible."

She almost shook her head, almost said she
would stay forever, if only he would not leave
her. Instead she said, "Thank you but I must
resume my journey to California."

He stood, suddenly distant and aloof, and
Makinna realized that she, was being dismissed.

"If you would care to, I can have one of the
hands show you the ranch. That is, as soon as
you are ready to ride again."

She smiled slightly, although her heart was
breaking. "I'm ready now, if I can use a real
saddle."

"We don't have a sidesaddle. Mother does not
ride."

"Well, then, just give me any kind of cushion
between me and the horse, and I'll welcome it.
It'll be a while before I want to get quite so close
to a horse again."

He answered her in an austere tone. "I will see
you at dinner, Makinna."

She held her back straight as she walked to the door. She tried repeating to herself, This too
shall pass, but she doubted that her broken heart
would ever mend. Tykota must never know she
loved him.

After Makinna closed the door, Tykota wanted
to go after her. But he didn't. He sat pensively,
reliving the time they had spent together: their
closeness, their kiss, touching her body, his spirit
blending with hers. Makinna had broken the
reins he'd always kept on his emotions, and he
wanted to hold and cares her until she submitted
to him.

Makinna was in his heart, and he doubted he
would ever get her out.

He glanced upward, wondering in agony
why he must give up the only woman for him.
The woman who would always be in his heart,
in his blood.

He did not want to think about what her life
would be like once she was gone. With her
beauty and sweetness, she would be surrounded
by gentlemen ready to lay their hearts and their
fortunes at her feet.

"Damn!" he swore, going to the window and
jerking the curtain aside. Perhaps he should
leave sooner than he had planned. Maybe it
would be easier to ride away now than to stay
and watch her go from his life forever.

He lowered his head. His father had placed a
heavy burden on him. But he was bound by honor to fulfill that promise he had made as a
boy. A promise that was calling him back to the
Perdenelas. And he would have to make the
ultimate sacrifice to fulfill that promisethe woman he loved.

Tykota rode beside Mangas, his heart growing lighter as he surveyed his beloved Biquera
Ranch. They rode to the top of a mesa, and
Tykota looked down upon a fertile valley where
a thousand head of cattle grazed. He had almost
forgotten just how beautiful and tranquil this
part of Texas could be. It was fed by two
rivers-the Rio Concho, flowing from Mexico,
and the Rio Grande, which formed the border
between Texas and Mexico.

This ranch had been his home for so long. But
once he returned to his people, he would never
return.

"Tykota," Mangas said, "I can see that your heart is troubled, and I wish I could offer words
to comfort you."

Tykota's hand tightened on the reins. "What I
must do, no one can help me with, old friend."

"But the burden weighs heavily on you. You
love this land, and yet you return to a way of life
you can hardly remember. It is true that the
Perdenelas need guidance, because evil walks
among them. Many of the young men have been
stirred up by Sinica, and some of them have
joined him in raids."

"How is it that Sinica's influence can reach
inside the valley?" Tykota asked angrily.

"When Chief Valatar died, and the Old Ones
waited for you, many of our young warriors lost
direction, and they answered Sinica's call to join
his renegade Apaches. Sinica is still so eaten up
with hate that I fear only your death will satisfy
him."

"You know what he did at Adobe Springs. I
will always have to live with the thought that
people died there that night because of me."

"I heard the drums talking, and I know what
happened. Sinica shows mercy to no man, red or
white. You cannot blame yourself for his
ruthlessness."

"What about Coloradous? Does he hate me
also?"

"I believe that Coloradous is a good man, but
he has been unable to curtail his brother's raids. And he lives alone in the mountains since
your father sent him from the village. Leaderless,
the Perdenelas do not attempt to stop Sinica. It
will be up to you to put an end to his
marauding."

Tykota looked into the faded brown eyes that
were still alive with intelligence. "It is a sad
thing, Mangas, when a man must spill the blood
of his brother."

"It is. But if you do not stop Sinica, he will
slay you. There is no knife sharp enough to cut
the poison from his heart."

"I know. Perhaps I have always known,
though Ihave wished it otherwise."

The old man waved a hand, gesturing across
the land. "You grieve to leave this which has
been your life for so long."

"It will be difficult to turn away and never
look back. But I know that I must. I cannot fail
my father."

"I will walk with you wherever you go. I will
stand beside you, and you will not be alone."

The young chief's brow furrowed, and he
glanced at the ranch house, where Makinna was.
"I must leave tomorrow."

"You do not want to leave the woman."

Tykota looked into his mentor's face. Denying
his feelings would not fool the old man. "You
see too much, Mangas."

"Your feelings for her are in your eyes. I see
pain in them when you look at her."

"My father told me to always put the good of
the people before my own needs. And in my new
life, there is no place for Makinna."

Makinna found her situation strange. She had
shared hunger and thirst and danger with Tykota,
and they had barely managed to stay one step
ahead of the Apaches pursuing them. Now they
sat at table laden with food and drink, she wore a
lovely blue silk gown Mrs. Silverhorn had given
her, and Tykota was dressed in a black dress coat
and tailored white shirt.

He was seated at the head of the long dining
table, his mother on his right, Makinna on his
left. She met his glance and judged from his
pensive expression that he was also remembering
the past.

"This is an occasion," Hannah Silverhorn
announced, filling two glasses with wine and
handing one to Makinna. "I toast the safe return
of my son."

Makinna noticed that Tykota's glass was filled
with water. Her inquiring gaze met his.

"I am an Indian, Makinna. I do not partake of
spirits."

"What has being an Indian to do with drinking
a glass of wine?"

He looked amused. "Let us just say that, as an
Indian, I do not handle wine as well as you do."

Makinna took a sip and started coughing, red
with embarrassment. "It seems I can't drink wine
either. That was my first taste, and clearly I
wasn't very successful with it."

"Well, perhaps the wine was a mistake since
this is both a happy and a sad occasion," Mrs.
Silverhorn said. "My son has returned safely, but
he will be leaving tomorrow." She turned to
Tykota. "I will miss you my son."

Makinna looked at Tykota. "You are leaving
so soon? I thought that you would..."

Tykota took a moment before answering. "I
must. My people need me."

Makinna lapsed into silence. It was torture for
her to be so near Tykota and pretend they were
mere acquaintances. When his bronzed hand
rested on the white tablecloth, she remembered
the strength and the gentleness in those hands.

She wanted to cry. She wanted to go down on
her knees and beg him to take her with him. But
she would do neither. She held her back straight
and tried to make polite conversation.
"Everything is delicious, Mrs. Silverhorn. I
especially like the soup. It's not unlike the
gumbo my mother used to make."

Hannah thanked her and began chatting to
cover her sadness that her son would be leaving
the next day.

After a while, Makinna withdrew from the
conversation, concentrating on her misery. To
never see Tykota again-how would she bear it?

"What do you think, Makinna?" she dimly
heard him say. Belatedly, she realized that Mrs.
Silverhorn had been speaking to her.

"I beg your pardon, I didn't hear what you
said."

"My mother asked if you would consider
remaining here on the ranch with her for a few
weeks. She would love to have you. It is seldom
she has another woman to talk to, apart from
Frances, the cook."

Makinna would like nothing better than to stay
at Biquera Ranch, where she could at least be
near Tykota. But her mother's long illness had
taught her to face painful truths, and she did so
now: impossible as it seemed, she had to move
on, resume her journey to California without
Tykota.

"You are most kind, Mrs. Silverhorn, but my
sister will worry if I do not arrive soon. Even
now she must be wondering what has happened
to me."

"You could write to her and explain that you
are going to remain with us for a time," Hannah
said hopefully.

"I'm sorry, but I must decline. My sister has
surely made plans for us."

Somehow, Makinna managed to get through the meal, although she scarcely tasted the food
that had been carefully prepared for the
occasion. She was about to excuse herself and go
to her room, when Tykota stood and spoke to
Mrs. Silverhorn.

"Mother, will you excuse us? I wish to speak
to Makinna."

"But I should help your mother clear away the
dishes."

"Nonsense," Hannah said. "Frances has
returned, and she will not welcome help from
either of us. Go along with Ty."

Tykota indicated that Makinna should precede
him, and when they were out of the dining room,
he escorted her out the front door. They stood on
the veranda, both with so much to say, yet
neither willing to speak.

Makinna moved to the porch railing and gazed
out at the ranch. The full moon was so bright, it
looked almost like daytime. "It's so peaceful
here," she said at last.

He came up beside her, resting one hand on
the ornate post. "Yes. Yes, it is."

They were so close and yet not touching, but
Makinna could feel his presence as strongly as if
he were pressed against her. "So," she said,
hoping her voice did not tremble, "you are going
away tomorrow."

"I must."

"Your mother will miss you."

He seemed to be struggling to say something. At last he said in a harsh tone, "My life does not
belong to me, Makinna."

He broke off and moved away from her. He
gripped the railing with both hands, fearing he
would take her in his arms if he didn't hold on to
something. "My life was ordained for me the day
I was born. The path I must follow leads away
from here."

"Your mother told me that you are the new
chief of the Perdenelas." She turned to him.
"Why didn't you tell me? Didn't you trust me to
keep your secret?"

"I do trust you, Makinna." He gazed toward
the corral where the pintos, not accustomed to
being fenced in, were trotting about restlessly. "I
would trust you with my life. But I have never
told anyone about my people."