Tykota's Woman (Historical Romance) (9 page)

She swept past him without meeting his eyes.
He could be the most insufferable man.

Makinna's chest tightened as she stood on the
cliff, the evening breeze stirring her hair. She
could smell the sweet perfume of the desert in
bloom. Why had she not seen the beauty before?

She was probably as guilty as everyone else
on seeing the desert for the first time and looking past a beauty so subtle that it was woven
into the tapestry of this land. Could there be
more brilliant sunrises and sunsets anywhere
in the world? The land was certainly not colorless, as she had thought at first. The colors
were of the earth and sky, with blooming cacti
and brilliantly hued birds that soared on the
breath of the wind. Also, the desert was teeming with life if one took the time to look. Just then, she watched a hawk dive toward the
ground, probably in pursuit of some unfortunate prey that had caught its keen eye.

There was life and death here. And renewal.

Makinna hadn't heard Tykota approach her
until he spoke. "Do you find beauty in the
desert?" he asked.

"Yes, I do. It's unlike anywhere else in the
world." She turned her head and looked up at
him. "I admit I didn't see it at first, and had I
gone on with my journey on the stage, I would
probably have been left with the impression that
this land was utterly desolate."

He looked pleased for a moment. "Most
people do not see with the eye but with the mind.
This land offers constant contrasts, a heaven for
some and harsh, as well. If a man lets down his
guard, the land can easily claim him for its
victim."

"You never let your guard down, do you?"

Tykota looked past her at the glowing sunset,
knowing he dare not let his guard down
around Makinna. Even standing near her was
painful. He had never felt this way about a
woman before, so he could not put a name to
what he was feeling. She was brave and spirited and rarely complained about how hard he
was pushing her. It seemed to be in her nature
to see the good in any situation. And though
she did have a temper, he found he liked that
about her as well.

"No," he said at last. "I never let my guard
down."

"Why not? Surely sometimes it is safe to do
so."

He chose to ignore her question. "Do you
think you can continue until the sun reaches its
zenith?"

Makinna was bone weary. They had walked
and climbed hills most of the night, stopping
only occasionally to rest. She wanted to cry out
that she could not go another step, but she
wouldn't let him see that weakness in her. He
expected her to complain, maybe even wanted
her to. She stiffened her spine. "I can walk as
long as you can."

His lips thinned. "Then let us go on."

She stumbled twice, fell once, and was slow to
get to her feet. She glowered at Tykota's back as
he walked effortlessly ahead of her.

He wasn't human! Didn't he ever get tired?
She looked over the steep edge of the cliff, half
wanting to shove him off.

He drove on mercilessly, until at last he
halted, pointing at a high ridge. "We will spend
the day there."

She drew in an exhausted breath, wondering
how she would gather the strength to climb to
the top.

He motioned for her to go ahead of him. "I
will come behind and cover our tracks."

She set her eyes on the summit and her feet in motion. "This can be endured," she mumbled
to herself. "This can be endured." How many
times had she spoken those words to keep up her
courage in the months her mother had been
slowly dying? If she had endured the pain of
losing her beloved mother and brother, she could
surely get through this.

Makinna sat with her back pressed against a
boulder, trying to shade her face against the sun.
The mud had long since worn off, and they
couldn't use their precious water to make more.
Her skin felt as if it were on fire, and she wanted
to cry from the pain of it. Her throat was so
parched that she could hardly swallow. Her hair
was hopelessly tangled, and she was hungry.

But, thanks to Tykota, she was still alive.

Makinna glanced about, searching for him.
He'd gone back down the hill some time ago and
hadn't returned. Where was he? What if he'd
deserted her? What if he'd left her here to die?

She scrambled to her feet and glanced about
frantically. She could think of nothing worse
than to be left out here to die alone.

She didn't even hear him come up behind her,
and she screamed when he placed a hand on her
shoulder.

He pulled her to the ground with such a force
that the rocks cut painfully into her skin. "Do not
make a sound," he warned.

"But what-"

He clamped a hand over her mouth and
whispered next to her ear. "Unless you want to
meet Apaches face-to-face, remain silent."

She nodded, and he removed his hand but kept
his arm about her, holding her still. She heard
the sound of horses below and turned a fearful
gaze on Tykota. He looked into her eyes, as
though willing her to be strong.

The sun was hot on her face, her black gown
was plastered to her body with perspiration, and
the sharp stones were cutting into her, but she
didn't move or make a sound.

It was quiet now, and she feared that the
Apaches had dismounted and were making their
way up the hill. Tense moments passed, but soon
she heard voices and then the sound of them
riding away.

Still Tykota held her there, and she wanted to
lay her head against his shoulder and have him
tell her that everything would be all right. But
she knew he would not welcome such womanly
weakness from her.

"Are they really gone?" she whispered,
fearing their departure might be a trick. "Will
they come back?"

"They are gone," he assured her. "They do not
know we are here. They will search elsewhere."

Tykota felt himself responding to the softness of Makinna's body against his. He wanted
to crush her tightly to him so that he could feel
her every breath. Knowing what her reaction would be if she could read his thoughts, he
rolled to his feet, trying not to think of how
desirable she was. He had wanted women
before, had been with many, but none had ever
stirred his blood as she did. He wanted to press
his lips to hers and feel her arms go around his
shoulders. He wanted her body to become a
part of his-

"Will they stop pursuing us now, Tykota?"
There was fear in her blue eyes.

"They will not come back here," he said,
extending a hand to her. "But they have not
given up their search."

"What do we do?" she asked wearily.

"We outthink them," he answered, turning
away.

She flipped a tangled curl from her face and
said softly, "I am so tired. And I feel sure that I
could drink a river dry."

"If we can make our water last through this
day and tomorrow, you can have all the water
you want by tomorrow night."

She brushed gravel from her hands and
noticed that her palms were bleeding. "I can do
it," she replied with staunch determination.

Makinna did not see the softness in Tykota's
dark eyes or his hand reach out to her, then drop
to his side. "You must get out of this sun.
Already your face is burned."

She glanced about. "I see no shade."

"Remove your petticoat and give it to me."

She was shocked by his suggestion. Taking a
hasty step backward, she exclaimed, "I will do
no such thing!"

"Remove it, or I will do it for you, Miss
Hillyard."

She saw the look in his eyes and knew he
meant what he said. She moved away from him a
few paces. "Turn your back."

He did as she asked, a small smile on his lips.
How could she worry about modesty when she
faced death from hunger, thirst, and the Apache?
But that was Makinna.

She blushed as she stepped out of her petticoat
and held it out to him. "You can turn around
now."

Tykota took it and ripped out a seam. "I
wonder who decided that a white woman should
wear so many undergarments."

She watched as he erected a shelter by
stretching the petticoat across two branches that
he'd buried in the sand, securing the other end
with stones.

"Now I advise you to get out of the sun."

"What about you?"

He reached out and touched her face that was
still smudged with faint traces of mud. "I told
you, I do not burn."

She was transfixed by his gentle touch and
the expression in his dark eyes. In that
moment, something primitive called to her
that this was the man she had been waiting for all her life. Something about him kept pulling at
her, and she wanted to give in to the feeling. She
wanted to be in his arms, to feel him hold her
close, to never let her go. And that frightened her
more than anything else.

Tykota abruptly looked away and dropped his
hand, ending the moment of closeness.

Makinna scrambled beneath the shelter,
wondering why her heart was drumming against
her ribs and why she felt as if she might faint at
any moment. Probably the heat, she convinced
herself. Hadn't Mr. Carruthers implied that the
desert sun could play tricks with a person's
mind? Yes, that was probably it.

She watched Tykota walk away and disappear
over the rise. She wanted to know where they
were going. She would demand an answer from
him as soon as the moment presented itself. She
had to get away from him, because something
was happening to her that she didn't understand.
Something powerful and unexpected and
frightening.

She closed her eyes and could almost feel his
fingers on her face.

"No," she cried, burying her face in her
hands. Oh, if only she had remained in New
Orleans. If only she had never started out on
this ill-fated journey.

Makinna jerked awake, disoriented, her eyes
wide with fear, her heart pounding. As she got
her bearings, she crawled from beneath the
shelter Tykota had cunningly erected to protect
her from the punishing sun, then stood,
stretching her cramped muscles. It was almost
sundown, and there was no sign of Tykota.

Again, she feared he'd left her there to die.
She turned in every direction, searching for any
sign of him. But he had not left even a footprint
for her to follow.

"It is time for us to leave."

At the sound of his voice Makinna whirled
around to find him standing right behind her. Her
stomach tightened in a knot of fear.

Beneath the dying sun, Tykota gazed into Makinna's eyes and saw more than he wanted
to see. He saw pain, uncertainty, and fear. She
didn't trust him. It was him she feared.

She stepped quickly away from him, hiding
her trembling hands behind her back. "I thought
you had left me."

He glowered at her, then turned away to gaze
at the sky. "Why would I bring you this far, only
to leave you?"

She had no answer. "I'm thirsty."

"I am sorry, Makinna, but you drank the last
of the water this morning. There is a water hole
nearby, but it is unfit for drinking. You will have
to wait until we reach the springs." He gauged
the position of the sun and then turned his gaze
to the distant hills. "We should reach the springs
by full sunrise."

Makinna's footsteps lagged as she rounded a
huge sandstone rock and glanced out over the
endless dry desert plains. She could not go on.
The sun was barely up, but already the heat
was as punishing as the inside of an oven. She
stumbled and fell and simply didn't have
enough strength to regain her footing. She
stayed there, with a sob building in her
parched throat.

"What kind of a man are you?" she cried out.
"You aren't even human. Don't you ever falter
or suffer any kind of weakness? Don't you ever
get tired, hungry, or thirsty?"

She raised her head and watched him
disappear. Would he leave her here to die? She
was just too exhausted to go any farther.