Tykota's Woman (Historical Romance)

by Constance O'Banyon

  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.

  The heat was so intense that Makinna could actually see waves rising from the desert floor. She tried not to think of the lush greenery of New Orleans or the coolness of the evenings when she had sat on the porch with her mother. At the moment, she wished for a downpour, anything but this infernal heat. She was glad now of the mud on her face; otherwise, she'd be in anguish.

  "We will stop here until the cool of the evening," Tykota told her.

  An overhanging cliff created a narrow stretch of shade, and Makinna sought refuge there. But she found no relief from the heat that burned through her clothing when she leaned back against the rock.

  Tykota stood so still, peering out over the valley, that he could have passed for a statue. But his eyes were alive, and his gaze moved keenly over the countryside. Makinna could feel the tension in him until he was satisfied that they were not being followed.

  Makinna began emptying the sand from her slippers. When she glanced back at Tykota, she saw him remove his shirt and tear a long strip from it. Blushing at the sight of his broad bronze chest bared to her gaze, she watched him twist the strip of cloth and tie it about his brow, like a headband to match the leather bands circling both of his muscled arms. Even from her vantage point she saw what looked like gleaming golden eagles set into each armband. Surely the carvings couldn't be real gold, could -they?

  Makinna quickly slipped into her shoes. Tykota now looked even more like the Indian he was. She had never seen a man in such a state of undress, not even her brother. She meant to lower her gaze, but she could not keep from looking at him. She realized that the farther they got from her world, the more any semblance of civilization was stripped away from Tykota. Layer by layer he became more primitive, untamed, with a dangerous, tightly leashed aura about him. Despite his tall boots and tailored black trousers, he was every inch an Indian.

  Clearly Tykota was a complex man, but Makinna was slowly beginning to trust him. She sensed in her heart that he would never willfully harm her. Although he might very well leave her behind as he'd threatened if she didn't keep up with his pace.

  "I am hungry now," she said nervously. "May I have some of those plants you offered me this morning?"

  He turned to her with a fierce expression. But the fierceness evaporated when he looked into her sincere blue eyes and saw that she had moved aside to allow him room to sit in the shade.

  He reached into his pouch and walked toward her, then held the food out to her.

  "Tell me about this plant," she said before taking a bite of the softened mescal. The taste was not offensive, but neither could she say it was good.

  "The mescal is excellent food for traveling because it keeps well dried. The blossoms taste quite good, but the sap can be an intoxicating drink. The root can be used for soap. The mescal plant is as essential to the survival of the Apache as the buffalo is to the Comanche."

  "And to your people?"

  "No. Not my people. Although we will eat the plant when forced to, we have other resources."

  She finished another bite of the mescal. "Who are your people? From what tribe do you come?"

  Tykota's gaze slid away from hers. "You would not know of them."

  She smiled. "Perhaps you come from the mysterious tribe Mr. Rumford was talking about on the coach-the one that no white man has ever seen and lived to tell about."

  Makinna had spoken whimsically, but the memory of Mr. Rumford made her close her eyes against the sudden pressure of tears. When she opened them again, she saw the tightening of Tykota's jaw. When he did not answer her question, she tried to move on to less painful thoughts.

  "It is so hot," she said. "I have never known such heat."

  "Is not New Orleans hot? What is your city like?"

  So he had been listening to her conversation with Mr. Rumford and Mr. Carruthers in the coach. She sighed. "Louisiana is as different from this desert as two places can be. It is green and teeming with life. Rivers and streams meander through dense swamps, and the Mississippi River dominates everything around it."

  Tykota watched her carefully. "Why did you leave New Orleans? Surely you set out on a journey difficult for a woman alone."

  "I am certain you heard much of my conversation on the stage, even though you pretended to be asleep. You probably know that my mother and brother both recently died."

  "Tell me more about them."

  "Mother had been an invalid for many years, but she was so sweet-natured and uncomplaining that it was a joy to be with her. I wanted to make her life comfortable and ease her suffering as much as I could. It was hard to watch her become weaker and weaker over time. My brother was, I imagine, like most big brothers: protective, kind, and loving."

  Tykota looked suddenly thoughtful but did not speak, so she concluded, "William died in a horseback riding accident."

  "What about your husband?"

  She averted her eyes. "I have allowed you and the others to form a misconception about me. I have never been married. I just thought it was safer to pretend to be a married woman while traveling alone."

  "
I see." Tykota found that that revelation brought him an odd satisfaction. "So, did your family do business in New Orleans?"

  She studied her hands, noticing the nails were chipped and dirty. "Yes. At one time, my family owned storage warehouses and shipping barges. But the war came, and we lost everything, as many of our friends did. My father died soon thereafter. My sister married and moved out West."

  "And then you lost your mother and brother?"

  The thought of what she had suffered touched him. But then again, perhaps she was on her way west to join not only her sister but the man she would marry. "I suppose you had a full social life in New Orleans."

  "No. None at all. My mother needed constant care."

  He could hear the loneliness in her voice. "There is a man now, perhaps, who wants you for his wife?"

  She shook her head. "No one."

  He smiled, and it transformed his face. "Then the men in New Orleans are either blind or fools."

  She looked at him, stunned. "Was that a compliment?"

  "You do not know you are pleasing to look at?"

  She smiled ruefully. "I am too tall for a woman, and I have a terrible temper, besides. But I thank you all the same."

  So, she did not know she was a beauty. How unlike many other women, who were forever fishing for compliments. "Makinna is your first name, is it not? How did you come by it?"

  "It was my mother's maiden name." She clasped her hands and looked at him intently. "Now I have told you about myself. So what about you? I want to know why you speak English like an Englishman, not an American."

  A veil seemed to descend over his face, and he leaned back against the cliff. "When I was very young, my father sent me to live with an Englishman who was his trusted friend. I came to know George Silverhom better than I knew my own father. He took me to England with him, and I lived with him and his wife, Hannah, on a country estate. Since he had no children, he raised me like his own. In my eleventh year, he bought a ranch in Texas, so I could be nearer my own land and people."

  "You grew up in Texas?"

  "I grew up in many places, but Biquera Ranch is the home I remember the most fondly. It is very near the Mexican border."

  "You must have missed your real family."

  "Yes. But I saw much of the world I would otherwise never have known. And I was sent back to England to be fully educated."

  "That explains the accent, among other things. And now you are going home to your family? But which one-your Indian or your English family?"

  He closed his eyes and let out a long, slow breath. "You should sleep if you can, Miss Hillyard. We will be walking most of the night."

  She realized he did not want to say any more about himself, so she closed her eyes and did indeed feel tiredness enveloped her. She was hot, hungry, and thirsty, but she had a feeling that with Tykota as her guide, she would live through this terrible ordeal.

  Makinna turned her head to look at him. He appeared to be sleeping, but she knew that at the slightest sign of danger, he would be alert. And she knew that no matter where she went after this, or what turn her life took, she would never forget this tall, beautiful Indian so shrouded in mystery.

  Makinna awoke with a start, and at first she could not remember where she was. It was almost dark, and she could smell meat cooking.

  She came to her feet and followed the wonderful aroma to where Tykota was cooking something over a campfire.

  "Have you ever eaten rabbit?" he asked, watching her carefully.

  Makinna dropped down beside him. "No," she replied, hungrily watching the drippings from the meat splatter into the fire. "But it smells wonderful, and I'm willing to eat anything at the moment."

  Tykota removed the meat from the skewer he'd fashioned from a mesquite branch. On a flat stone he carved the meat with expertise.

  He offered her the first piece. "Be careful. It's very hot. Don't burn your fingers."

  Makinna handled the meat gingerly and blew on it until it cooled. She closed her eyes with the first bite. "Mmm, this is delicious." She opened her eyes. "But I would have thought a rabbit would be meatier and have bones."

  Tykota bent his head so she did not see him smile. "Oh, that isn't rabbit. It's rattlesnake."

  She paused with a piece of meat halfway to her mouth. She knew he was waiting for her to reject it, but she would not give him the satisfaction. She hoped her voice sounded casual. "Oh, really? You said it was rabbit."

  "That is not what I said, Miss Hillyard. I merely asked you if you had ever eaten rabbit."

  "Well, it's delicious, anyway."

  He gave her another rare look of approval. "You are a most unusual woman, Miss Hillyard."

  "So you've implied, though not always in the most flattering terms."

  He handed her the canteen, knowing she was having sudden trouble swallowing the remaining snake meat. "Here, wash it down." He watched her take a drink before he spoke again. "You are also a brave woman. I wonder if there are many more like you back in New Orleans."

  "Of course. We women of Louisiana spring from hearty stock." She glanced out at the desert, watching the sun splash gold across the land. "I thought it was too dangerous to have a campfire."

  "At this time of day, anyone who might be tracking us would not see the fire in the sunset, and the smoke will blend with the twilight."

  "Tykota, will you not tell me something about your life before you went to England? I have told you about my youth."

  "I left my people when I was very young. Nothing happened that would be of interest to you."

  She turned away, realizing he still refused to talk about himself. She dropped the subject for the time being.

  Absently running her fingers through her hair, she came across endless tangles. Finally, in moment of brazenness, she lifted her skirt hem, ripped the bottom ruffle from her petticoat, and tied her hair away from her face. "There," she said, pleased. My hair won't get in my way now."

  "I could cut it for you. It would be cooler. Besides, you will never get those tangles out now."

  She glanced down at his knife. "I don't think so. I'll manage the way it is."

  He shrugged. "If you should change your mind..." He flashed the knife.

  "I won't." She rose to walk away from him. No, she would not allow him to cut her hair.

  "Miss Hillyard?"

  "I said no," she replied, without breaking her stride.

  "It's not that. You are walking in the wrong direction. If you keep going, you will soon fall off a cliff."

  She stopped and turned back to him. "How can you expect me to know that? I wasn't born here."

  "All I expect from you is that you obey me, that you do what I tell you to. That way you will come to no harm."

  She raised her chin in proud defiance, looking almost comical with the streaked mud on her face. "I will do what you say as long as it's what I want to do. I already warned you that I have a temper. And you are testing its limits."

  "Ah, yes, your temper. Still, what is important is that you do not test mine."

  She wisely made no reply.

  He put out the fire and scattered the ashes, and she watched as he wiped away all traces that they had been there. Then he glanced up at her.

  "Walk to that higher ledge and wait for me."

  She nodded, and when she reached the spot, she watched him brush away their footprints with a spiny branch of a scrub bush. He was leaving nothing behind for the Apache to find.

  Tykota joined Makinna and guided her up a steep slope. She gritted her teeth, hoping she wouldn't fall and break her neck. Through her thin-soled shoes she could feel every pebble and stone. It had been bad earlier; now it was agony. Once she tripped and almost lost her footing, managing to stay upright only by grabbing a scraggly bush.

  Tykota turned back to her with a scowl on his face. "Try to step where I step."

  "I can't. Your strides are too long for me."

  He put his hands on his hips and glanced upward, as if seek
ing patience. "Then walk in front of me so I can cover our trail."

  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.