Read Tykota's Woman (Historical Romance) Online

Authors: Constance O'Banyon

Tags: #Historical, #Romance, #Fiction, #19th Century, #American West, #Native Americans, #Indian, #Western, #Adult, #Multicultural, #White Man, #Paleface, #Destiny, #Tribal Chieftain, #Stagecoach, #Apaches, #Travelers, #Adventure, #Action, #Rescue, #Teacher, #Savage, #Wilderness, #Legend, #His Woman, #TYKOTA'S WOMAN

Tykota's Woman (Historical Romance) (7 page)

BOOK: Tykota's Woman (Historical Romance)
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Makinna raised the canteen to her lips and
took a sip, wishing she could drink the whole
thing. She felt as if she'd swallowed half the
sand in the desert. She handed him back the
canteen and leaned against a boulder, cradling
her head on her arms. "Suppose the Apache
come upon us in our sleep?"

"I will be watching for them. Now no more
questions."

She closed her eyes. She was so weary. Why
were the Apache after him? Why had they slain
the people at Adobe Springs? Could she trust
this Indian?

Her eyes popped open. "Just one more
question," she insisted.

"What is it now, Mrs. Hillyard?" he asked
wearily.

"Mr. Rumford said your name was some-

thing like Silverhorn. Is that correct?"

He sighed. "That's one of my names."

"Oh," she said. "What's the other?"

"Tykota. My name is Tykota."

 

Tykota sat with his back braced against a
boulder, his gaze sweeping the darkened
countryside, his ears attuned to the night sounds.
If the Apache had known he had returned, who
else knew?

He glanced to where the woman lay sleeping.
She was going to slow him down. He should
have left her behind. Why hadn't he? Because
of her kindness to him? Something in her spirit
that called out to him? Whatever it was, he'd
had time to save only one person, and she'd
been his choice.

Tykota hadn't even seen her face yet. She'd
been swaddled in a black veil on the coach,
and when she had brought him the food, it
had been too dark to make out her features. He wasn't even sure of her age. Maybe midthirties? She had told Mr. Rumford that she
would be living with her sister in San Francisco.
Odd, she'd made no mention of her husband. And somehow she seemed very alone
in the world.

He stared back into the darkness. He knew
about aloneness. Both of his fathers, Indian and
white, had died within a year of each other,
leaving an enormous void in his life. He thought
about the letter he'd received from his white
mother just before he'd left England, after
burying George Silverhorn. It had carried a
warning from Mangas, his long-time mentor and
aide to his Indian father, Valatar. His old teacher
had wanted him to know that his half brother,
Sinica, had become the leader of a renegade
band of Apaches and had boasted that Tykota
would never return to Valle de la Luna alive.
Tykota breathed deeply, hoping Mangas was
wrong. He hadn't seen any of his Indian family
since the night George Silverhorn had spirited
him away. But would Sinica truly turn against
him in violence? Perhaps he was still bitter
because his mother had been shamed by their
father, and their father had not named him the
future chief of the Perdenelas.

Tykota sighed wearily. He had never wanted
to be chief. He was sure he was unworthy of the
honor. He was not ready to make all the
decisions for the tribe.

Perhaps the Apache attack on Adobe Springs
had been random, he mused. But if it had been
Sinica, he'd come for Tykota. And he would
keep coming.

Tykota had thought often of that night when
his father had renounced Sinica and Coloradous
and placed shame on them and their mother. And
as he'd grown older he'd still thought that his
father had been too harsh with his other two
sons. They were of his blood, yet he had
banished them from his life. And Sinica,
hot-blooded as he was, would probably settle
for nothing less than Tykota's death to settle
the wrong.

Tykota glanced back at the woman. It might
have been kinder to her if he'd let her die with
the others back at the way station. If Sinica
did catch them, she would meet a much worse
fate.

He closed his eyes, feeling tired and heartsick. He would just have to outwit Sinica, and
that was not going to be easy. Although
Tykota knew this desert well, Sinica knew it
better. His half brother had been living with
the Apache, and they were the ultimate rulers
of the Guadalupe mountains and surrounding
countryside. If it was Sinica that was following them, it wouldn't be long until he picked
up their trail.

Tykota had to get the woman to safety and then go as quickly as possible to the Mountain
of the Moon. Unrest must be stirring among
his people. They would expect him to be a
strong leader, and he could only pray he was
equal to the task his father had entrusted to
him.

The sun was no more than a golden glow in the
east when Tykota bent over the woman. In the
dawn light he was startled to see how young she
was. Probably somewhere in her twenties. He
stared at the golden hair curling around her
shoulders, her long lashes lying softly against
her rosy cheeks. Her lips were full, her face
very lovely. He was so overwhelmed by her
delicate beauty that a lump formed in his throat.
At last he touched her shoulder gently to
awaken her.

Her eyes opened, and they were bluer than
the desert sky. Tykota watched as the confusion in those eyes was replaced with fear. She
sat up quickly and moved away from his
touch.

"Here," he said, holding food out to her. "Eat
quickly. We must leave right away."

Makinna stared at the concoction he'd handed
her. "It looks like... like raw plants. I can't
eat this."

"Then you will go hungry, Mrs. Hillyard,
because there is nothing else to eat."

She brushed her hair from her face. "What
is it?"

"The beans are from the mesquite tree and
do not taste so bad. The other is from the
mescal cactus. It would taste better roasted,
but I dare not light a fire, even if we did have
the time."

She shook her head. "I am not hungry enough
to eat this."

"As you wish. But you will be," he warned.
"And, as I told you last night, I will not wait for
you if you lag behind."

She glared at him. "No one asked you to." She
stood slowly, stretching to relieve muscles
cramped from sleeping on the hard ground.

Her movement was inadvertently provocative,
making her breasts bulge against her gown, and
Tykota quickly glanced away. A primitive
stirring inside him heated his blood. This
stubborn, spirited, outspoken woman was
different from other females he had known. And
he didn't want to feel this way about her. He
didn't even want to like her.

"You are not in a genteel Southern town out
here, Mrs. Hillyard. At the height of the noon
sun it will be so hot that you could cook meat
without a campfire. We may encounter
rattlesnakes and scorpions and, at the higher
elevations, bears, wolves, or pumas. Can you
face all that, Mrs. Hillyard?"

She eyed the canteen slung over his shoulder.
"Ask me again after I have a sip of water."

His mouth curved into a small smile. "You
may have two sips. But no more."

When he handed her the canteen, she raised
it to her lips, savoring the two sips he allowed
her. Then, wiping her hand across her mouth,
she handed it back. "Can you tell me where
we're going?"

She watched him, puzzled, as he bent down,
and poured some of their precious water into the
dirt, mixing it into mud. "If I told you, you still
would not know. But, I will say this much: after
today, we will rest in the heat of the day and
travel only by night. It will not be easy."

"Because of the heat?"

"Mostly, yes."

She watched him as he cupped his hands
and scooped up the mud. "What are you
doing?"

"You will need this on your face so your skin
will not blister."

"What! Oh, no! You aren't putting mud on my
face."

"Close your eyes," he commanded.

She wanted to defy him, but she could see by
his hard expression that to do so would be
futile. She reluctantly closed her eyes in submission. After all, he did know about the
desert, and she didn't. When he finished daub ing her face, she asked, "Does it look as awful as
it feels?"

Tykota nearly chuckled but quickly became
serious. "If your face baked in the sun, you
would feel much worse." He looked her over
carefully to make sure he'd covered all the
exposed skin. "We will be moving fast, and you
must keep up."

"You didn't put mud on your face," she
objected.

"I do not need it."

"May I ask you one more question, Mr.
Silverhorn?" she persisted.

He cast her a look of impatience and turned
and walked away.

She hurried to catch up with him. "Will you
explain to me about your names?" she asked,
practically running to keep pace with him.

"Ty Silverhorn is what I am called in your
white world."

"And Tykota?" she pronounced carefully,
thinking the name suited him because it
sounded powerful and masculine. "What does
it mean?"

He glanced sideways at her. "Do you always
talk this much?"

"No, Mr. Silverhorn. But I have been very
much on my own lately, with no one to talk to."

He was quiet for a time, and just when she
thought he wasn't going to answer her, he said
softly, "Tykota means `the chosen one.'"

Since he didn't seem inclined to talk, she
lapsed into silence. Besides, it took all her
strength just to keep up with him. After a while,
she lagged behind, and she found herself
observing the way his white shirt was plastered
to his skin with sweat. She could see the muscles
ripple across his back, and the black hair falling
over his shoulders fascinated her. Her gaze
dropped to the gun belt strapped about his
narrow waist. No bow and arrow for this Indian,
she mused.

As the morning wore on, Makinna found
herself falling farther and farther behind. At last,
she could not take another step, and the sun was
so hot, she could hardly draw a breath. She was
hungry and wished she had eaten the plants
Tykota had offered her that morning.

She was grateful when he stopped and turned
back toward her, waiting for her to catch up with
him.

"I told you I would not wait for you. I mean
it." His dark eyes were stormy.

"I know," she gasped. "I am trying my best to
keep up."

His gaze seemed to soften, and he slowed his
pace a bit to allow her to catch her breath. She
did not complain, but the day was young and she
was already struggling just to breathe.

Tykota halted again. "Take off those
contraptions that hold you in."

Her eyes rounded in horror at the very thought of removing her undergarments.
"Surely you aren't suggesting that I-" She
shook her head, utterly shocked. "Sir, that I
will not do."

Tykota glared at her. "You will either take
them off, or l will do it for you."

She spun away from him and took several
hurried steps away. "You wouldn't dare!"

The look he gave her implied that he would.

"I... will do it," she said, giving in with ill
grace. "But you will have to turn your back."

"I am going to scout ahead. When I return, I
will expect you to be ready."

She watched him leave, wishing she could hit
him with one of the many stones that littered the
ground. He was insufferable.

Waiting until he was out of sight, she
unhooked her gown and struggled out of her
corset. Holding the device in front of her, she
wondered what to do with it. Finally she
refastened her gown and and carefully hid the
offending garment under some rocks and
shrubbery, mindful of Tykota's warnings that
they might be followed. She had to admit that
she could breathe easier, but she felt positively
indecent.

When Tykota returned later, he asked what
she had done with the discarded undergarment. When she showed him, he nodded in
approval and began walking. She fell into step
beside him, and after a while she smiled to her self, feeling far freer without the tight corset,
although she would not admit it to him.

He glanced down at her, and she thought for
a moment that he, too, was smiling. But his
jaw tightened, and she realized she must be
mistaken.

Then he said, "Admit you feel better."

She was glad for the mud on her face, or he
would have seen her blush. She lowered her
gaze so he couldn't read her eyes. "My mother
would have been horrified to see me abandon
my... MY..."

"Undergarment," he finished for her.

"A gentleman would never make mention of
anything so delicate in front of a lady, sir."

"You may be a lady, Mrs. Hillyard, but if I
were a gentleman, we'd both be dead back at
Adobe Springs," he reminded her. "You might
want to think about that."

Insufferable man, she thought heatedly,
wishing he'd fall off a cliff.

 
BOOK: Tykota's Woman (Historical Romance)
12.37Mb size Format: txt, pdf, ePub
ads

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