Tykota's Woman (Historical Romance) (11 page)

As Makinna stumbled forward, the scorching
wind that blistered her face seemed to be borne
on the wings of hell. Only the hardiest plants
clung to life here in this wasteland, and they
were dry and brittle, creeping through the baked
cracks of the hardened earth.

Makinna shaded her eyes against the intense
afternoon sun. She squinted toward the sky and
counted five buzzards circling above them,
waiting for them to die so they could feast on
their flesh. She shivered, thinking the birds
might just get their meal. The earth burned
through the thin soles of her shoes, which now
had countless holes in them. But she trudged
onward, her eyes on Tykota's back as she
wondered again where his strength came from.

At last she fell to her knees. She felt water on
her parched lips and knew that Tykota had lifted
her head and was offering her a drink. She drank
deeply of the life-giving nectar, but it did little to
ease her torment. She felt something cool against
her face, and she realized that he had used some
of their precious water to make mud to protect
her from the sun.

"You must go on, Makinna. If you do not, you
will die."

She barely had the strength to shake her head.
"I can't..-You-must go on without me."

He lifted her to her feet and supported her
weight. "I will not go on without you. If you
insist on staying here, we will both die."

She pressed her head against his shoulder and
knew he was supporting most of her weight. "I
know what you are trying to do." she said
weakly.

"And that is?"

"You are trying to give me energy by making
me feel responsible for your life."

She heard him laugh. "At the moment, it feels
as if I am responsible for yours."

"How much farther?"

"Do you see those mountains?"

With effort, she raised her head and stared
across the waves of heat to the high mountains
more than a mile away. "Please, not those in the
far distance?"

"We will stop when we reach their base."

If she hadn't been too proud, she would have
cried. Each step was agony as the hot ground
seared the soles of her feet. She was beyond the
limits of her strength and she just wanted to he
down and sleep. "I can't, Tykota. I can't go on."

"I never expected you to make it this far."
His voice sounded suddenly harsh. "An Indian
maiden would not complain when the going
was rough. But you are a weakling, a white
woman who wants to give up at the least
hardship."

His words cut into her soul. She knew that
she had slowed him down, that she'd been a
burden to him, but he was the one who'd
brought her with him. "I did not ask to come
with you."

He closed his eyes; his harsh words had
wounded his own heart. She had been braver and
had endured more than most men he knew, but
he could not let her lose her courage now, or she
would perish. He had long watched her
struggling with her stubborn pride, and he'd
hoped that if he challenged that pride, he might
just might keep her alive.

He'd judged her correctly. He saw her spine
straighten, and she rose to her feet. He felt pride
in her courage, and he felt humbled by her
power to endure when most women would have
quit.

In defiance, Makinna pushed away his arm
and stood on her own. "Just don't you lag behind, or I'll leave you to the buzzards." She
glared up at him. "I may even personally feed
you to them." And she began to walk.

Behind her back, Tykota smiled. Oh, yes. No
woman he'd ever met could stand toe-to-toe with
this one. She might look fragile, but she had
strength of heart and mind.

After they had walked for over an hour,
Tykota stopped and glanced back the way they'd
come. Their footprints were clearly visible if the
Apache were still searching for him, and he
knew they would be.

"Are you sure we aren't lost and you just
don't want to tell me, Tykota?" Makinna asked,
bending over to catch her breath. "No one could
find their way across this desert with nothing to
guide them."

He glanced down at her. "This land speaks to
me. It is in my blood and in every fiber of my
being. It would speak to you if you would
listen."

"Well, it does speaks to me," she said,
drawing in a scorched breath. "It shouts that if
thirst, heat, or the Apache don't get us, those
buzzards surely will."

"You are not in good cheer today."

She moved across the crusted ground. "So you
noticed. I would be perfectly happy," she
answered bitingly, nodding upward, "if I could
personally feed you to one of those circling
devils."

She heard him laugh aloud. "I probably
deserve that. I will bargain with you,
Makinna."

She gave him a suspicious glance. "What?"

"If you will conserve your strength by
remaining quiet until we reach the foothills, I
will allow you to ask me some questions, and I
will answer them."

She was silent.

"Do we have a bargain?"

Still she said nothing.

"Makinna?"

"You asked me not to speak, so I'm not."

He laughed deeply. "You are quite a woman,
Makinna Hillyard."

She mumbled to herself. Earlier, he'd implied
that she was a weakling. Now he offered praise.
Still, she was endlessly curious about him. There
were so many things she wanted to know that
she spent the next hour thinking about just what
to ask him.

She did not see his smile grow wider or the
softening of his dark eyes.

It was almost sundown when the mountain
loomed before them. Tykota was exhausted, and
he could only wonder how Makinna had made it
this far. Today had been the worst. The desert
had claimed many lives in the past, and he'd
had to make her angry to force her to keep
going.

When they reached the foothills, he dared to
hold out another challenge to her, although he
wouldn't blame her if she refused. "Makinna, if
you can climb up past that rock face, there is a
cave. No one knows about it but myself, my
father, and one of my brothers. We will be safe
there tonight."

She glanced at the steep mountain as if it were
the enemy. "I can make it."

He handed her the gourd of water. "You can
have as much water as you want. You earned it
today, and we are almost within reach of a
stream."

She raised the water to her lips. It was so hot
it burned a trail down her throat, but she didn't
care. It revived her, and she set her foot
forward. "Do you climb, Tykota, or linger to
rest?"

He was just about to take a sip of water, and
he paused to look at her. "I climb," he said
hurriedly, because she'd already started to
ascend the mountain.

The cave didn't seem deep, but it was cool
inside. Makinna leaned her face against the stone
and dragged air into her lungs. That's when she
noticed the ceiling. Crystal prisms formed
strange formations. "This is beautiful," she said,
allowing her gaze to roam the cavern.

"I was just a boy when my father brought me
here," Tykota told her, looking around reflec tively. "I had the same reaction as you that
day. 11

"Where is your father now? And the brothers
you mentioned?"

His lips curved into smile. "Do the questions
start already?"

"No." She shook her head. "I will choose a
time when there is nothing to distract us." Her
gaze locked with his. "I can ask as many
questions as I choose, can't I?"

He nodded. "That was the bargain." He moved
across the cave to a dark corner and rolled away
a huge stone. "Follow me."

Makinna scrambled after him through a narrow passage and then a tiny opening to another
chamber. She could see a light ahead, and
speechlessly, she stepped into a huge, domeshaped room with a tiny opening at the top that
let in sunlight. She gasped at the beauty of what
she was seeing. There were more magnificent
crystals, but these reflected the sunlight and sent
rainbows dancing across the walls. Some of the
crystals were shaped like palaces, while others
were lacy, and still others looked like
huge icicles. A small stream splashed over the
rocks and emptied into an emerald-colored pool
that had been carved into the stone over
hundreds of years.

Her gaze met Tykota's. "Surely this is the
treasure mountain Mr. Rumford spoke of." She reached out and laid her cheek against one of
the prisms. "Do you suppose this could be the
sacred mountain of the legendary Perdenelas
Indians?"

He stared up at the opening and was quiet for
a moment. Finally he spoke. "You will find
nothing of earthly value here. No gold, no
treasure. If you carried away everything in this
particular cavern, it would not be worth your
trouble. And, yet, some would consider this
cavern itself more valuable than treasure, for in
its beauty is food for the soul."

Her eyes grew misty. "Yes, I understand what
you mean. I could spend the rest of my days here
and be happy."

He shook his head. "I do not think so,
Makinna. You were not meant to be hidden away
in a cave."

"Perhaps not. But I am so glad you showed
this to me. I will never forget it."

Makinna knelt down beside the pool and
drank. The water was sweet and cool and
revived her spirits. How could such a place as
this exist in the burning desert? God must have
placed it here as a heaven for the weary
traveler.

Tykota drank, too, and then moved away from
her. "I will leave you alone. If you would like to
bathe, you will not be disturbed. When you are
ready, come back to the outer cavern."

Once Tykota had gone, Makinna began to
unhook her gown. Soon she waded naked into
the pool. It was deep enough for her to submerge
her whole body, which she did, allowing the
water to cleanse away her exhaustion.

She washed her tattered black gown, and when
she climbed out of the pool and was fastening
the hooks, she suddenly found herself wishing
Tykota Silverhom could see her in a silk
creation, wearing flowers in her hair. She
paused, feeling uneasy, and chided herself for
being foolish. Tykota would not care what she
looked like in rags or silk. And, besides, why
should she want him to think she was pretty?

Makinna finally went back through the narrow
passage to find Tykota. He had built a fire and
was roasting meat. She sat down near him and
ran her hands through her hair to untangle it-a
task that was indeed much easier since she'd
allowed Tykota to cut it.

"What do we dine on tonight?" she asked,
smiling. "Is it snake, scorpion, wolf, or bear?

"Rabbit."

"I like rabbit," she said, frowning at a
stubborn tangle.

Tykota held out something to her. "Here. Use
this. I carved it for you after I hunted, while you
were still bathing."

Her face lit up happily when she saw the
crude wooden comb. "How wonderful!" she said, taking it from him and running it through
her hair. "Thank you so much!"

Tykota watched her, and her happiness with
his simple gift gladdened his heart. This was not
a woman who would idle away her days at
parties and dances as he'd once thought. She was
young and innocent, kind and generous, and very
genuine. And he hoped nothing would ever
change her.

He stood, smiling down at her. "You may eat
when you wish. It is my turn to bathe."

Makinna watched him walk toward the narrow passage, wanting to call him back. She
wanted to tell him so many things. She
wanted to thank him for all he'd done for her.
She knew now why he'd goaded her that
afternoon-it had been to keep her going, to
keep her alive.

She drew her knees up and rested her head on
them. For the first time, she wondered if Tykota
had a wife somewhere. Or even several wives.
She'd heard that some Indians took more than
one. Or perhaps there was a girl he loved, one he
was coming home to.

She felt a heaviness in her heart, and she
didn't know why. Reaching for the meat, she
tore off a leg and ate hungrily.

Where would she be now if Tykota Silverhorn hadn't come into her life? She'd be
charred bones back at Adobe Springs with the others who had died there. As it was, she would
probably die here, with no burial and only those
buzzards to pick her bones clean.

Makinna was tired. With the half-eaten rabbit
leg in her hand, she leaned back against the cave
wall and fell asleep.