Tykota's Woman (Historical Romance) (15 page)

Makinna led her weary mount down a muddy
gully as she watched the sun rise over the distant
mountains. She was enchanted by the
transformation that had come to the land washed
clean by the storm. The desert had sprung to life
overnight, the flowering cacti exuding a sweet
perfume.

She was observing the brilliant crimson
blooms on a prickly pear when Tykota slowed
beside her. "This is as good a place as any to rest
the horses. We can see for miles in any
direction."

To Makinna, he looked like he belonged on
the back of the sturdy Indian pony. His dark hair
rippled in the wind, and his eyes were fierce and
unfathomable.

She dismounted, lay her head against the
horse's neck, and closed her eyes. "This is the
finest horseflesh I've ever seen. He carried me
through the night without once faltering."

Tykota patted his horse. "The Indian's pinto
has to be of sturdy stock, for reasons you can
well imagine."

"I certainly can. A lesser breed would never
survive in this desert." She laughed and tossed
her head back. "Perhaps I'm a bit like them.
After all, a lesser breed could not have made it
this far."

Tykota looked at her for a moment, then
took the reins and led both horses back to a
patch of dried grass, where they began to
graze.

He turned his gaze westward as Makinna
joined him. "What happens now?" she asked.

He stared into the distance as if he'd forgotten her.

"Where are we going, Tykota?"

Finally he looked down at her. "We are but a
few days from my home."

Pushing a tumbled curl behind her ear, she
asked, "Aren't we going to El Paso?"

He looked into her eyes. "There is something
important I must do."

"Something that concerns your tribe?"

"Yes."

"Will you... will... I... continue my journey
to California?"

He appeared startled by her question. "Of
course. You are not now, nor have you ever
been, my prisoner. As soon as I can arrange it,
you will board the Butterfield Stage in El Paso.
Then, before you know it, you will reach your
destination in California."

Makinna glanced back the way they'd come.
The trek had been hard and dangerous. It was a
miracle that they had made it this far. But
somehow she could not imagine it ending. What
would she do when she could no longer hear the
sound of Tykota's voice, feel him by her side?
"Thank you. I would appreciate that," was all
she said.

"Soon this will all seem like a bad dream,"
Tykota said.

Makinna knew their time together would be
something she would always cherish. She tried
to keep her voice from trembling. "Do you think
the Apaches are still trailing us?"

"Doubtless, more fiercely than ever, because
they know that I am getting close to my people
and destination. During the night we crossed the
Rio Grande into Mexico. I hoped by going the
long way to confuse them and slow their search."

"We are not in the United States?" she asked
in amazement.

"Indians recognize no boundaries and owe no
allegiance to any country other than their own
tribe."

"I understand."

He looked doubtful. "Do you?"

He walked away from her. "The horses have
rested and fed, so we must ride on. Are you up
to it?"

"I can ride as far as we have to."

She approached her horse, then turned back to
him. "But without stirrups, I can't mount by
myself."

Tykota's hands spanned her waist, and he
lifted her onto the animal's back. Makinna rode
up the ravine and waited for him there. He
frowned down at the tracks left in the mud. He
could do nothing to cover them. He would
double back into Texas in the hope of throwing
the Apaches off their trail. Perhaps gain them a
little time.

The sun was at its hottest when the weary
travelers stopped again to rest the horses.
Makinna dropped down to the ground in the
thin strip of shade cast by a yucca tree. She
uncapped her canteen and took small sips as
Tykota had taught her. Through drooping eyelids she watched while he tended to the
horses. Then she slumped over and drifted off
to sleep, dreaming of a soft bed and a cool
breeze.

Makinna came awake quickly when Tykota
called her name. "Come," he said, offering her a hand. "We must ride hard. That dust cloud to
the south is the Apaches."

That was the only prodding Makinna needed.
They hurried to the horses and rode at a full
gallop, the sturdy pintos giving their all. Tykota
slowed them to an easier gait when he was sure
that they had left their pursuers behind.

"Will they not follow?" she asked.

"Perhaps, but they will not catch us today, and
tomorrow we will be out of their reach."

Night had fallen when Tykota drew his mount to
a halt and motioned for Makinna to do the same.
On the edge of a mesa, together they gazed down
at twinkling lights below.

"Are those campfires, Tykota?"

"No. It is a ranch."

"It must be huge. There are so many lights."

"It covers over a hundred square miles." He
nudged his horse forward. "You will find a warm
welcome there."

Makinna felt relief spread through her. They
had made it out of the desert and eluded the
Apaches. They were going to live!

But when they rode past a corral, a man
stepped out in front of them, his rifle cocked and
aimed at Tykota. Makinna's heart stopped. The
man was an Indian.

"If you have weapons, throw them down and
then dismount," he commanded.

Tykota's laughter stunned Makinna, who
remained frozen in fear.

"Have I been away so long that your keen
eyes do not know me, Mangas?" Tykota said.

The old man stepped beyond the light spilling
from the barn. "Tykota?"

"It is I, my friend." He slid off his horse, and
the two men embraced one another. "Do you
shoot me or welcome me?"

After that, Makinna did not know what they
said, because they lapsed into another language.

Finally Tykota turned to lift Makinna from
her horse, and the old Indian gazed at the
white woman.

"Makinna, this old warrior who tried to shoot
us is my teacher and friend, Mangas."

The Indian's gray-streaked hair hung to his
shoulders, and he stood tall and straight.
Makinna did not know quite what to say to the
man who stared at her with open curiosity. "I
have heard of you from Tykota."

The old man suddenly grinned. "I have heard
of you, as well. The Apache drums spoke of a
white woman traveling with Tykota, and their
talk reached my ears."

Tykota spoke at length to Mangas in their
language, then led Makinna toward the huge
ranch house.

"What did you say to him?" she asked.

"I told him to be alert because the Apaches may track us here. And I asked him to take our
horses into the barn for a good rubdown and
extra feed."

As they walked toward the ranch house, the
clouds moved away from the moon, bathing the
dwelling in light. "This house could easily be in
New Orleans, Tykota," Makinna exclaimed. "It's
so lovely." The house had wide galleries on both
the upper and lower floors. There were wide
pillars on the veranda, and wrought-iron railings
on the balcony. "I never thought to see anything
so grand in this rustic setting."

"The house was modeled after a French
chateau," Tykota explained. He led her up the
steps to the front door. "You will find many
things here that might surprise you."

"Do you know the people who live here
well?"

"Yes. Very well."

Without knocking, he opened the door and
ushered Makinna inside. A small, white-haired
woman was bent over her sewing. She
glanced up, and her face brightened with joy.
In her excitement, she dropped her needlework, propelled herself out of the chair, and
met Tykota in the middle of the room. "Ty, my
son, you are safe! I was so afraid when Mangas told me that the Apache drums talked of
you."

She spoke with a soft English accent, and
Makinna realized she must be Mrs. Silverhorn, Tykota's adoptive mother. And this was Biquera
Ranch.

"I've been so worried about you, Ty!"

His arms engulfed the tiny woman, and he
kissed her cheek. "Mother, it has been too long
since I saw your face. But Father now rests in
peace in his native land."

She placed a trembling hand lovingly against
his cheek. "You have been away so long, Ty."

"I had to see that everything was done
properly, and there were much I had to settle for
you."

Remembering her manners, Mrs. Silverhorn
turned her attention to Makinna. "And this is?"
she asked, smiling.

"Mother, meet Makinna Hillyard. She was
with me when the Apaches attacked Adobe
Spring. She was on her way to her sister's home
in San Francisco."

The woman took Makinna's hand. "My dear, I
can only imagine what hardships you have
suffered! But you are here now. Your ordeal is
over."

Makinna smiled, almost forgetting her
exhaustion and bedraggled state in the face of
Mrs. Silverhorn's warmth. "I am happy to meet
you, Mrs. Silverhorn, and glad to be here. And
please accept my condolences on the loss of
your husband. Tykota has spoken so highly of
him."

"Thank you, dear."

"I am sure Makinna would welcome a bath
and a soft bed, Mother."

"And so she shall have them. Immediately.
Come with me, my dear." She began to lead
Makinna away but glanced back at her son. "And
you could do with a bath and a change of
clothing, too." The smile on her lips softened her
words. "You seemed to have misplaced your
shirt. Do hurry to put yourself to right. I want to
hear all about your awful adventure."

It was quiet except for the squeaking of the
rocking chair that Hannah Silverhorn kept in
motion. Seeing her son now safe and sitting in
her husband's chair filled her with happiness.
She knew that even though he seemed to be
resting, he was aware of every sound around
him.

"Will you stay this time, Ty?" she asked with
hope in her voice.

"Mother, you know I cannot. I have duties that
call to me."

"But this is your ranch, your home. Your
father wanted you to have it when he died. I am
old, Ty, and I cannot run a ranch as big as
Biquera for long."

He leaned forward and put a hand on hers.
"Mother, you know an Indian cannot own land in
the state of Texas."

"I know that, but there are ways around it."

"Please understand that I must go to my peo ple. I am obliged to do so by my promise to my
Indian father. And the tribe has been without
leadership since Valatar died."

She nodded, knowing he would attend to his
duty as he had been raised to do. "It will be
difficult for you, Ty. You have lived so long
away from the tribe. And Mangas told me that
you still have enemies, those who have been
pursuing you and Makinna."

"Yes, I know." His eyes grew hard. "My
brother will live long enough to regret his
actions. I do not know why he still hates me after
all these years."

"Mangan says it is because of the shame. And
his ambition."

"That is so. I always thought that Valatar was
too harsh with my half brothers. I had hoped to
see Sinica and Coloradous back with the tribe
and their honor restored."

"Ty, you know I could not love you more if I
had given you life, and that is why I feel I must
say this to you." She grasped his hand in both of
hers, and her eyes sought his. "You have called
two fine men Father."

"And I loved and honored them both."

"I know you did, Ty. But both of them asked
too much of you while they were alive. When
you were but a child and uncertain of your own
goals, Valatar made you feel responsible for the
Perdenelas. And George brought you into his
world with all its expectations and had you walk a path that was both rigorous and
unfamiliar to you. Neither afforded you many
choices." Her eyes filled with tears. "Ty, I love
you, and I would rather see you walk away
from this ranch and the Perdenelas if it meant
you would find happiness and peace for your
restless soul."

His gaze softened with affection. "No one
could have had a better, more loving mother
than you. But you must understand my life is
not mine. It never has been. As Valatar taught
me, I was born to lead my tribe, to walk in his
shoes."

She shook her head, touching his cheek softly.
"I suspected you would, still feel that way. But I
want you to know that if your path gets too hard,
and you find you cannot go on, Biquera Ranch
will be here waiting for you."

"Thank you, Mother."

She leaned back and watched his face. "Tell
me about the woman."

"There is nothing to tell."

"I see the way your eyes follow her, Ty. She is
a very beautiful woman, and it would be difficult
to... be with her as long as you have and not
feel something for her. You care for her, don't
you?"

He drew in a deep breath. "It would not matter
what my feelings were, Mother. She has her life,
and I have mine."

"How does she feel about you?"

"I believe she may fancy herself in love with
me. But when she returns to her world she will
realize it was not love...."

Hannah looked into Tykota's eyes. "The two
of you were alone together for a long, difficult
time."

He met her gaze. "I did not act dishonorably
with her, Mother. She is still chaste."

Hannah shook her head. "I was not
questioning your honor, son. I was asking how
you feel about Makinna."

He was thoughtful for a moment before he
answered. "I never knew love could be so deep
or hurt so much."

Hannah felt tears bum behind her eyes, and
her heart went out to her son. "Because you
think you must let her go?"

"We cannot have a life together. I am chief of
the Perdenelas, and the law says that the chief
cannot marry outside his tribe."