She reached up, sliding her fingers through Tykota's long black hair.
A raw urgency built in the pit of his stomach and spread through his veins, his mind, his whole being.
It didn't seem to matter that his mortal enemy, the Apache, were nearby, or that he and this white woman might die at any time. Just one kiss was all he wanted.
But when Tykota's lips touched Makinna's, he knew that would never be enough. His mouth ground against hers. His tongue explored her, stirring the heat in his belly. He wanted to know her in every way a man can know a woman. He wanted to unveil her hidden beauty and kiss every part of her body.
Wild, primitive emotions tore through him, and he was on fire.
And, in that moment, Makinna became his woman.
His to protect. To love. To take...
Other books by Constance O'Banyon:
CONSTANCE O'BANYON
This is for you, Courtney Melton, my delightful granddaughter with the bright blue eyes, infectious smile, and loving heart. I love you, sweet one.
And for my dear friend Helen Owens. Thank you for your cheerfulness and support during difficult days. It's always nice to know that someone understands how reclusive a writer can be when she's on deadline-and still like her when it's over. You are a blessing!
And for Lynsay Sands, who made me realize more than ever that friends are treasures and can cheer you on when you most need it.
And Marisa Yanes, my little friend South of the Border. Thank you for your help with research-your input was invaluable to me and is much appreciated.
The Legend
There is a legend that grew out of the West, carried on the dry, restless winds past the vast deserts of El Paso. It is whispered among the Apache that a mighty tribe, the Perdenelas, dwell in a secret place called Valle de la Luna, a lush, green paradise by the Mountain of the Moon. The Apache speak of untold wealth hidden in a sacred mountain, its secret location passed down from the chief to the son of his choice. The legend warns that anyone attempting to steal the gold will die a horrible death. The Apache sing songs of honor about a great young chief of the Perdenelas who turned his back on the treasure for the love of a white woman. Or so the legend goes...
1849
Valatar, chief of the Perdenelas tribe, stood on the red rock cliff, his gaze sweeping across his vast tribal land. He was no longer a young man; his long hair was laced with gray, and his brow was furrowed with worries. But he carried himself straight and tall and dispatched with honor the obligations of a powerful chief. He wore an unadorned breechcloth, as did the other men of his tribe. But his leather headband, unlike those of the the others, bore a carved golden eagle.
His gaze moved to Mangas, who stood silently beside him. Mangas had been his childhood companion and was now teacher to his youngest son. "Find Tykota and bring him to me. Then tell my other two sons and their mother to come to the council room."
The old man left to do the chief's bidding, and Valatar returned to his thoughts.
Tykota was only in his sixth summer, but he was the son of Valatar's heart and destined to be chief. Tykota had been born to him from his first wife, Llena, long after they had given up hope of ever having a child. Although she had gone to the spirit world four summers ago, Valatar still thought of her daily and missed her deeply.
Again he gazed out over the Valle de la Luna, now bathed in silvery moonlight. The Perdenelas were cliff dwellers, and their homes had been artfully carved into the granite face of the Mountain of the Moon so they would blend in as a part of it. With its harmonious passages and family chambers, Moon Valley and its surrounding mountains had been home to the tribe for as far back as the Old Ones could account, long before the first white man had set foot on the continent. Legend had it that the Perdenelas had once lived many miles away but had long ago been forced to abandon their homeland because the river had run dry. The accounts handed down through the ages recounted that a giant eagle with golden eyes had led their forefathers across the desert to this hidden paradise.
The chief sighed, his heart heavy over what he must do tonight. When any of his tribe went against the laws, the chief had to dispense retribution. Over the years, many had suffered his stern judgment for their transgressions, but never members of his own family. Until now.
His gaze moved westward to the mountain passage that led, between twin peaks, out to the arid track of land his people called the desert of a thousand deaths. But within the valley, in the bright moonlight Valatar could see the swift, clear river that nurtured the fruit and nut trees and the blue moonflowers that dotted the meadow with their brilliance. He loved this land, and he loved his people. He would do what he must to preserve their way of life.
Valatar's footsteps were heavy when he entered the council chamber, where the Old Ones had already gathered. Age and wisdom were revered among his people, and a warrior had to live many winters before he was considered wise enough to counsel the chief. Each man greeted Valatar with respect, and, he thought, sympathy, because they knew he felt tormented for having to judge his own family.
There was also a white man present, an unprecedented event, especially in the council room, which was normally reserved for only the most powerful tribal advisors. Valatar acknowledged George Silverhorn's presence with a nod and seated himself on the white buffalo robe reserved for the chief. He silently motioned George to sit to his left, a position of honor. He would ask much of their friendship tonight.
There was a commotion at the entrance as a woman and two boys noisily entered the hallowed chamber. Petera was the second wife Valatar had reluctantly taken when his beloved Llena had seemed incapable of producing the necessary son. And since Petera was a Chiricahua Apache, Valatar had hoped that the union would end the bad blood between the two tribes. Although she was not as tall as Perdenelas women, nor graced with the high, delicate cheekbones or slender stature typical of the tribe, she was yet a handsome woman. Her forehead was wide, her face round. Her large dark eyes, her finest feature, now held a guarded expression as she cast a haughty look at the gathered men and stopped in front of Valatar.
"Why have you called me and my sons here?" she demanded.
Valatar stared at her, almost hating this woman who had given him two sons. "Woman, you will not speak unless I ask it of you!"
She fell silent, but her mouth pursed, and her brow creased in anger.
Valatar looked at the two boys. The elder, Coloradous, was tall and had the features of the Perdenelas, while the other, Sinica, was shorter and resembled his mother's people. Valatar had never felt close to either of them, although, as his eldest son, Coloradous should have held a place of honor in the tribe and in the chief's heart. Coloradous looked with uncertainly into his father's eyes, while Sinica's brooding expression mirrored the one his mother wore.
All heads turned as Tykota and Mangas appeared at the entrance to the chamber. The chief's youngest boy was intelligent beyond his years and had the look of his mother about him, reminding Valatar of his beloved Llena. The young boy stumbled, almost fell, and leaned heavily on Mangas. And fury raced through the mighty chief when he noticed how weak and shaky Tykota was.
Tykota had been suffering agonizing stomach cramps, and although he was well enough now to leave his chamber, he had not yet regained his strength. He hoped he would not shame himself before his father by showing weakness. He took a deep breath to ease the pain still gnawing inside him. It wasn't often that he was allowed into his father's council room, and he did not know what to expect.
Valatar gave a small smile in encouragement. "Sit beside me, my son. The matters we discuss this night concern you."
Tykota stared at his step
mother and his two half brothers. Why were they standing before the chief when he was allowed to sit? Perhaps it was because he had been so ill.
Valatar turned his attention to the gathered elders. "You all know why I have called you here today. Petera, step forward."
Sullenly, she obeyed.
Valatar continued speaking. "Know you this, Petera-I have judged you to be a criminal, without honor. Therefore, you will be sent from this place to dwell once more among your own people."
She glared at Valatar. "You would shame me so?"
"You have brought shame upon yourself and your sons, who must share in your disgrace. Although they may share your guilt, I shall allow them to remain in Valle de la Luna. But henceforth let no man honor them."
Tykota gasped. He did not know why his two brothers should be shunned by the tribe or why their mother should be sent away.
He met the pale gaze of the white man, who seemed to be studying him intently. George Silverhorn smiled at him and nodded. Tykota was troubled and turned back to his father.
Valatar was now speaking to Tykota's half brothers. "If either of you choose, you may go with your mother. But know this: If you remain, neither of you are to call me Father."
Tears stung Tykota's eyes. Why was his father doing this? He felt pain in his heart because of the humiliation his half brothers were suffering. He met Petera's gaze, and she glared at him with hatred. He did not know his stepmother very well because he had lived mainly with Mangas since his own mother's death. But only a week ago Petera had brought him honey cakes, and, at her urging, he had eaten them all to please her.
His father was speaking again, this time directly to Petera. "You know why I send you away."
Her gaze bore venomously into Tykota. "I know."
"You wanted my son by my first wife to die so that one of your sons would one day be chief. Do you deny this?"
"You have already found the poisonous berries in my bedroll. Why should I deny it?"
Valatar's eyes narrowed, and she actually took a quick step backward.
"If you were a Perdenelas," he said fiercely, "you would have to die for what you did to my son."
"You have three sons," she replied through clenched teeth. "But you have never seen my sons as a father should. You think only of your poor, dead Llena and the son and daughter she gave you. I spit on you all!"
"These two are your sons, woman. I no longer know them." His eyes shifted to Coloradous, then to Sinica. "I do not know if either of you caused the other two accidents that almost took Tykota's life, but I have my suspicions that one of you aided your mother in this effort. If I know for sure who was guilty, he would die." He waved them away. "Leave me now. Go from my sight!"
Tykota's brow furrowed. Before his illness, he had been pushed into the deepest, swiftest part of the river by someone he had not seen, but he had managed to swim ashore. Did his father think his stepmother and half brothers were responsible?
Without thinking, Tykota jumped to his feet. "Please do not send them away, Father. You are wrong about my brothers."
Valatar's expression was fearsome, and his voice held a sharp reprimand. "Do not speak further of this, Tykota! I have made my judgment, and that is how it will be."
His eyes shining earnestly, the young boy said, "I do not believe Sinica or Coloradous would harm me-I am their brother!"
Sinica stared into Tykota's eyes with such a deep, dark hatred that Tykota drew back.
Coloradous hung his head and stepped forward. "Even though I bear shame for what my mother has done, I wish to remain with my people, Fathe-I do not wish to live with the Apache. Valle de la Luna is my home."
For a moment Valatar's eyes seemed to hold pity that he had judged his sons so harshly. Perhaps the guilt belonged to their mother alone.
Then Sinica spoke. "I go with my mother, and I am glad to leave this place. I curse the blood in my body that came from the Perdenelas. If it were possible, I would drain that part away."
Valatar stood, speaking in a decisive voice. "Go from my sight. Petera and Sinica, you will leave tonight and never show your faces here again. Coloradous, you may stay in the Valle de la Luna, if you choose, but my judgment stands."
Coloradous looked sad as he walked to the exit, but the malice etched on Petera's face was echoed in Sinica's expression.
Valatar raised his voice so that the guards standing outside the entrance would hear it. "Escort Petera and her son, Sinica, out of the valley and send them on their way. Coloradous will be allowed food and water and to remain in the valley, but he will not live among us."
Tykota wanted to protest, but Coloradous met his young brother's eyes and shook his head, accepting their father's judgement. He walked, straight and tall, out of the chamber, while his mother and brother were led away by guards.
Sinica stopped near Tykota and said in a voice that only the boy could hear, "One day, you will feel my blade at your throat."
Tykota trembled in shock, but soon after the three had gone, Valatar spoke again. "Is there any here who disagrees with my judgment?"
There was silence; no man opposed him. Tykota opened his mouth to voice his objections on behalf of Coloradous, but the hard look Mangas gave him sealed his lips.
Valatar looked at the revered members of the council. "I have chosen to show Tykota the secret of our sacred mountain."
Tykota's eyes widened in wonder. Of what secret did his father speak?
The elders nodded in approval.
Valatar continued. "I have called you all here tonight because I want every one of you to give Tykota your pledge of faith. I want to watch each man's face as he promises to honor my son, so I shall know if he speaks true."
The chamber remained silent until Mangas stood, bowing his head. "I will honor Tykota and keep faith with your will, my chief."
The others followed, each in turn, while Tykota watched in confusion. Why was his father doing this? Coloradous was his eldest son-he should be chief after their father.
After each member of the council had complied, the chief told them to depart. They filed out in an orderly manner until only Tykota, Mangas, and George Silverhom were left.
When Valatar was satisfied he would not be overheard, he spoke quietly. "Tykota, my son, when George Silverhorn leaves here, you will accompany him. You will dwell in his land and listen to his voice as if it were mine. There may be other enemies among us. I will send for you when I feel it is safe for you to return."
Again Tykota wanted to protest. He did not want to leave his home. He did not want to live with the unfamiliar white man, George Silverhorn. He did not want his brothers to be sent away in shame. And he did not even want to stand in his father's place.
He thought of his young sister, Inea, who depended on him to look after her. "Will Inea go with me?"
"No," Valatar said. "Where you go, she cannot follow." Then his voice softened. "I know you are confused by what happened tonight, Tykota. One day you will understand why I must send you from your home, even though I do not wish it." Valatar laid a hand on Tykota's shoulder. "When my eyes are closed in death, and you stand in my place, I charge you to always put the good of the people ahead of your own wants."
There was an aura of power around Valatar, and Tykota was a little frightened of his commanding presence. He had been taught, as all the Perdenelas were, that the chief's word was law. "I do not understand."
"Understand this. You are the son of my heart, Tykota. You came to me late in life, but I have always known that you would one day have the strength and courage to stand in my place. Listen to my voice, and take heed of my words."
Tykota blinked and stared up at his father, astonished. He was not aware that his father had given any thought to him at all. Sadly, the realization came to him that his father was showing his feelings because he did not believe that they would meet again in this life.
Valatar glanced down at the boy and spoke softly. "My son, your mother was my first wife, and the one who s
till dwells within my heart. She was childless in her younger years, but you, Tykota, came to us as a gift from the Great Spirit. Then your mother also gave me a daughter but she died the night Inea was born. I have long felt your mother's graceful spirit dwelling within you. She was a great princess, and you must always be proud that you are her son." Valatar paused, then spoke with feeling. "You, Tykota, are my choice to stand where I now stand. You will look after our people when I am gone."
Tykota's eyes widened. "But, my father-"
Valatar placed a finger over the boy's lips, silencing his protest. "You must remember that no sacrifice is too great if it is for your people." Valatar sighed. "No sacrifice. For the future good of our people, I am sending you away. You, my one joy." He sighed again.
Tykota glanced at George Silverhorn, who smiled at him. But Tykota hardly knew the white man, and he was afraid of him and his world outside the twin peaks.
"What have you to say, my son?" his father asked.
Tykota began to object, but at Mangas's nudge, he said simply, "I will do as you say, my father. But must I stay away long?" he couldn't help adding.
"If I think it necessary. George Silverhorn lives in a place called England far across the big water to the east. I believe that you will learn much there, and I expect you to respect my friend as if he were your father."
The boy fought back his tears. "Can Mangas go with me?" he blurted, then feared he had offended his father by showing weakness.
The chief nodded. "Mangas will go with you, and he will continue teaching you our ways, but you will also go to the white man's school and learn about their world. There will be hard times ahead for you, my son. But I charge you to always remember what is expected of you-to always remember who you are and who you must become."
Tykota's lips trembled as he looked into his father's eyes. "Must I leave?"
"Yes. You must."
"But who will take care of Inea when I am gone?"
"Your sister will be well taken care of-I will see to that."
Tykota's Woman (Historical Romance) Page 1
