Tykota's Woman (Historical Romance)

by Constance O'Banyon

  She lay back on the soft grass that grew beside the spring and closed her eyes. It was so peaceful there after traveling across the harsh desert. Weariness overtook her and drew her into sleep.

  When Makinna awoke the next morning, she found Tykota hollowing out three gourds with his knife. She pushed her hair out of her face and watched him. "What are you doing?"

  "We can carry extra water with these. It is a long way until the next water."

  Dread settled over her. "If we get out of this alive, I never want to see the desert again."

  He glanced up at her. "You were meant for the easy life, sitting in parlors gossiping with the ladies, talking about the latest fashion or what so-and-so had on at the dance the night before."

  That was the longest speech she'd ever known him to give, and instead of being angry with his unflattering suppositions about her character, she was amused. "You do not know me at all if you believe that."

  "But I have met women like you."

  She hid a smile. "Have you? Yet you so often point out that I am a bit unusual. But do tell me about these woman you now compare me to."

  He glanced at her. "You tell me. You have lived among society ladies, who wear silly undergarments and do not swim."

  "I refuse to say anything more about myself." She watched him deftly thread cloth strips through holes he'd made in the top of a gourd. "Not until you tell me about yourself."

  He dipped the gourds in the water, filled them, and stood, slipping them over his shoulder. "After you have eaten, fill the canteen and bring it with you. We should be leaving very soon."

  She stood up and placed a hand on his arm. He looked down at her hand and then into her face questioningly.

  "I have a favor to ask, Tykota."

  He silently waited for her to go on.

  "I have decided to let you cut my hair."

  She could tell nothing from his expression, but he laid the gourds on the ground and unsheathed his knife. Then he looked from her hair to the knife and back. To Makinna's surprise, he begun to prowl back and forth with the grace of a mountain lion and the intensity of a man with a heavy decision to make.

  "Why do you worry so? It's my hair, not yours. And it was your idea to cut it."

  At last he stopped in front of her and grasped her shoulders, turning her back to him.

  Makinna squeezed her eyes tightly shut.

  Tykota lifted some strands of her golden hair and raised his knife, but when the tendril curled around his finger, he hesitated. The texture was like silk. Something within him resisted the thought of cutting off anything so beautiful. He raised the strand to his lips and closed his eyes.

  "Do it quickly," she said, her eyes still squeezed shut.

  His hand actually trembled as he sliced through the curls. Then he sliced another and another, cutting it to the top of her shoulders. When the ground about them was littered with gold, he retrieved one of the curls and slipped it into his pocket.

  Makinna turned slowly to face him. "Do I look awful?"

  Tykota's gaze went from her hair to her startlingly blue eyes, which held an almost childlike expression.

  "Do I?"

  She must know she was beautiful; she did not need him to tell her. "You will be more comfortable this way. The tangles can now be easily worked out with your fingers."

  Makinna looked worried, and her bottom lip trembled a bit. "And in time it will grow back," she reassured herself.

  Tykota swept away the cut hair to leave no evidence of their passage. Then he lifted the water gourds and moved away. "You will want to eat quickly and make yourself ready for a long trek. Tomorrow night we cross the worst of the desert."

  She began working the worst tangles out of her hair. "I wish we could stay here."

  He didn't answer.

  Makinna bent to gathering the pouch of meat and the canteen. She sighed heavily. Tykota was the most complicated man she'd ever known. It must be because he was an Indian. They came from different worlds, and she didn't understand him any more than he understood her.

  But what did it matter? When this was over, if it ever was, their paths would never cross again.

  So why did that thought bring such a pain to her heart that tears sprang to her eyes? What was happening to her?

  As Makinna stumbled forward, the scorching wind that blistered her face seemed to be borne on the wings of hell. Only the hardiest plants clung to life here in this wasteland, and they were dry and brittle, creeping through the baked cracks of the hardened earth.

  Makinna shaded her eyes against the intense afternoon sun. She squinted toward the sky and counted five buzzards circling above them, waiting for them to die so they could feast on their flesh. She shivered, thinking the birds might just get their meal. The earth burned through the thin soles of her shoes, which now had countless holes in them. But she trudged onward, her eyes on Tykota's back as she wondered again where his strength came from.

  At last she fell to her knees. She felt water on her parched lips and knew that Tykota had lifted her head and was offering her a drink. She drank deeply of the life-giving nectar, but it did little to ease her torment. She felt something cool against her face, and she realized that he had used some of their precious water to make mud to protect her from the sun.

  "You must go on, Makinna. If you do not, you will die."

  She barely had the strength to shake her head. "I can't..-You-must go on without me."

  He lifted her to her feet and supported her weight. "I will not go on without you. If you insist on staying here, we will both die."

  She pressed her head against his shoulder and knew he was supporting most of her weight. "I know what you are trying to do." she said weakly.

  "And that is?"

  "You are trying to give me energy by making me feel responsible for your life."

  She heard him laugh. "At the moment, it feels as if I am responsible for yours."

  "How much farther?"

  "Do you see those mountains?"

  With effort, she raised her head and stared across the waves of heat to the high mountains more than a mile away. "Please, not those in the far distance?"

  "We will stop when we reach their base."

  If she hadn't been too proud, she would have cried. Each step was agony as the hot ground seared the soles of her feet. She was beyond the limits of her strength and she just wanted to he down and sleep. "I can't, Tykota. I can't go on."

  "I never expected you to make it this far." His voice sounded suddenly harsh. "An Indian maiden would not complain when the going was rough. But you are a weakling, a white woman who wants to give up at the least hardship."

  His words cut into her soul. She knew that she had slowed him down, that she'd been a burden to him, but he was the one who'd brought her with him. "I did not ask to come with you."

  He closed his eyes; his harsh words had wounded his own heart. She had been braver and had endured more than most men he knew, but he could not let her lose her courage now, or she would perish. He had long watched her struggling with her stubborn pride, and he'd hoped that if he challenged that pride, he might just might keep her alive.

  He'd judged her correctly. He saw her spine straighten, and she rose to her feet. He felt pride in her courage, and he felt humbled by her power to endure when most women would have quit.

  In defiance, Makinna pushed away his arm and stood on her own. "Just don't you lag behind, or I'll leave you to the buzzards." She glared up at him. "I may even personally feed you to them." And she began to walk.

  Behind her back, Tykota smiled. Oh, yes. No woman he'd ever met could stand toe-to-toe with this one. She might look fragile, but she had strength of heart and mind.

  After they had walked for over an hour, Tykota stopped and glanced back the way they'd come. Their footprints were clearly visible if the Apache were still searching for him, and he knew they would be.

  "Are you sure we aren't lost and you just don't want to tell me, Tykota?" Makinn
a asked, bending over to catch her breath. "No one could find their way across this desert with nothing to guide them."

  He glanced down at her. "This land speaks to me. It is in my blood and in every fiber of my being. It would speak to you if you would listen."

  "Well, it does speaks to me," she said, drawing in a scorched breath. "It shouts that if thirst, heat, or the Apache don't get us, those buzzards surely will."

  "You are not in good cheer today."

  She moved across the crusted ground. "So you noticed. I would be perfectly happy," she answered bitingly, nodding upward, "if I could personally feed you to one of those circling devils."

  She heard him laugh aloud. "I probably deserve that. I will bargain with you, Makinna."

  She gave him a suspicious glance. "What?"

  "If you will conserve your strength by remaining quiet until we reach the foothills, I will allow you to ask me some questions, and I will answer them."

  She was silent.

  "Do we have a bargain?"

  Still she said nothing.

  "Makinna?"

  "You asked me not to speak, so I'm not."

  He laughed deeply. "You are quite a woman, Makinna Hillyard."

  She mumbled to herself. Earlier, he'd implied that she was a weakling. Now he offered praise. Still, she was endlessly curious about him. There were so many things she wanted to know that she spent the next hour thinking about just what to ask him.

  She did not see his smile grow wider or the softening of his dark eyes.

  It was almost sundown when the mountain loomed before them. Tykota was exhausted, and he could only wonder how Makinna had made it this far. Today had been the worst. The desert had claimed many lives in the past, and he'd had to make her angry to force her to keep going.

  When they reached the foothills, he dared to hold out another challenge to her, although he wouldn't blame her if she refused. "Makinna, if you can climb up past that rock face, there is a cave. No one knows about it but myself, my father, and one of my brothers. We will be safe there tonight."

  She glanced at the steep mountain as if it were the enemy. "I can make it."

  He handed her the gourd of water. "You can have as much water as you want. You earned it today, and we are almost within reach of a stream."

  She raised the water to her lips. It was so hot it burned a trail down her throat, but she didn't care. It revived her, and she set her foot forward. "Do you climb, Tykota, or linger to rest?"

  He was just about to take a sip of water, and he paused to look at her. "I climb," he said hurriedly, because she'd already started to ascend the mountain.

  The cave didn't seem deep, but it was cool inside. Makinna leaned her face against the stone and dragged air into her lungs. That's when she noticed the ceiling. Crystal prisms formed strange formations. "This is beautiful," she said, allowing her gaze to roam the cavern.

  "I was just a boy when my father brought me here," Tykota told her, looking around reflec tively. "I had the same reaction as you that day. 11

  "Where is your father now? And the brothers you mentioned?"

  His lips curved into smile. "Do the questions start already?"

  "No." She shook her head. "I will choose a time when there is nothing to distract us." Her gaze locked with his. "I can ask as many questions as I choose, can't I?"

  He nodded. "That was the bargain." He moved across the cave to a dark corner and rolled away a huge stone. "Follow me."

  Makinna scrambled after him through a narrow passage and then a tiny opening to another chamber. She could see a light ahead, and speechlessly, she stepped into a huge, domeshaped room with a tiny opening at the top that let in sunlight. She gasped at the beauty of what she was seeing. There were more magnificent crystals, but these reflected the sunlight and sent rainbows dancing across the walls. Some of the crystals were shaped like palaces, while others were lacy, and still others looked like huge icicles. A small stream splashed over the rocks and emptied into an emerald-colored pool that had been carved into the stone over hundreds of years.

  Her gaze met Tykota's. "Surely this is the treasure mountain Mr. Rumford spoke of." She reached out and laid her cheek against one of the prisms. "Do you suppose this could be the sacred mountain of the legendary Perdenelas Indians?"

  He stared up at the opening and was quiet for a moment. Finally he spoke. "You will find nothing of earthly value here. No gold, no treasure. If you carried away everything in this particular cavern, it would not be worth your trouble. And, yet, some would consider this cavern itself more valuable than treasure, for in its beauty is food for the soul."

  Her eyes grew misty. "Yes, I understand what you mean. I could spend the rest of my days here and be happy."

  He shook his head. "I do not think so, Makinna. You were not meant to be hidden away in a cave."

  "Perhaps not. But I am so glad you showed this to me. I will never forget it."

  Makinna knelt down beside the pool and drank. The water was sweet and cool and revived her spirits. How could such a place as this exist in the burning desert? God must have placed it here as a heaven for the weary traveler.

  Tykota drank, too, and then moved away from her. "I will leave you alone. If you would like to bathe, you will not be disturbed. When you are ready, come back to the outer cavern."

  Once Tykota had gone, Makinna began to unhook her gown. Soon she waded naked into the pool. It was deep enough for her to submerge her whole body, which she did, allowing the water to cleanse away her exhaustion.

  She washed her tattered black gown, and when she climbed out of the pool and was fastening the hooks, she suddenly found herself wishing Tykota Silverhom could see her in a silk creation, wearing flowers in her hair. She paused, feeling uneasy, and chided herself for being foolish. Tykota would not care what she looked like in rags or silk. And, besides, why should she want him to think she was pretty?

  Makinna finally went back through the narrow passage to find Tykota. He had built a fire and was roasting meat. She sat down near him and ran her hands through her hair to untangle it-a task that was indeed much easier since she'd allowed Tykota to cut it.

  "What do we dine on tonight?" she asked, smiling. "Is it snake, scorpion, wolf, or bear?

  "Rabbit."

  "I like rabbit," she said, frowning at a stubborn tangle.

  Tykota held out something to her. "Here. Use this. I carved it for you after I hunted, while you were still bathing."

  Her face lit up happily when she saw the crude wooden comb. "How wonderful!" she said, taking it from him and running it through her hair. "Thank you so much!"

  Tykota watched her, and her happiness with his simple gift gladdened his heart. This was not a woman who would idle away her days at parties and dances as he'd once thought. She was young and innocent, kind and generous, and very genuine. And he hoped nothing would ever change her.

  He stood, smiling down at her. "You may eat when you wish. It is my turn to bathe."

  Makinna watched him walk toward the narrow passage, wanting to call him back. She wanted to tell him so many things. She wanted to thank him for all he'd done for her. She knew now why he'd goaded her that afternoon-it had been to keep her going, to keep her alive.

  She drew her knees up and rested her head on them. For the first time, she wondered if Tykota had a wife somewhere. Or even several wives. She'd heard that some Indians took more than one. Or perhaps there was a girl he loved, one he was coming home to.

  She felt a heaviness in her heart, and she didn't know why. Reaching for the meat, she tore off a leg and ate hungrily.

  Where would she be now if Tykota Silverhorn hadn't come into her life? She'd be charred bones back at Adobe Springs with the others who had died there. As it was, she would probably die here, with no burial and only those buzzards to pick her bones clean.

  Makinna was tired. With the half-eaten rabbit leg in her hand, she leaned back against the cave wall and fell asleep.

  When Makinna awok
e, the campfire was cold, and the only light in the cave came from the moon filtering through the entrance. She sat up, searching for Tykota, but he wasn't there. She always felt uneasy when he wasn't with her.

  She slipped into her shoes and found, to her surprise, that Tykota had sewn thick leather strips across the worn soles. It seemed nothing escaped his notice, not even holes on the bottom of her shoes.

  "Tykota?"

  Silence.

  Standing up, Makinna hurried outside and stood on the overhanging ledge, her gaze roaming over the valley below, but she couldn't see him anywhere.

  She went back inside and made her way through the narrow passage to the crystal room.

  He was standing so still that she didn't see him at first. His head was raised to the opening, and silver moonlight streamed around him. When she saw that he wore nothing but his breechcloth, she started to leave.

  "You don't have to go, Makinna. I was merely remembering the last time I was here, with my father and my brother, Coloradous. Then there was the time my father brought me here alone. That was many years ago."

  She ventured a step closer to him. "You were very young at the time?"

  "Yes, I was." He glanced down at her and saw that she appeared uncomfortable. He'd forgotten that he wore only his breechcloth. "Very young."

  "And you have not been here since then?"

  He smiled. "Have the questions begun?"

  She didn't know whether to appease her curiosity or leave because he was not properly dressed. "I am not-I don't-"

  He addressed her apprehension. "Makinna, this is the way my people dress. We are a desert tribe. But if it makes you uncomfortable, I will put something on."

  She moved forward several steps to show him that she respected and accepted his cus tom. "Please, don't trouble yourself on my account. It is as you say, the way your people dress."

  He indicated that she should be seated. "Why not make yourself comfortable?"

  Tykota watched as Makinna sat down and commenced to nervously smooth impossible wrinkles out of her tattered gown. He moved out of the stream of moonlight and sat down some distance from her to ease her nerves.