Tykota's Woman (Historical Romance)

by Constance O'Banyon

  "When... when will Tykota return?"

  Mrs. Silverhorn laughed. "Oh, he's already back. He's in the office going over the ledgers for me. I'm hopeless when it comes to tallying figures." Hannah gazed at Makinna for a moment. "Do you mind if I ask you what happened to your hair?"

  Makinna's hand went to her shorn curls. "It got so tangled, Tykota cut it with his knife."

  "Say no more. If you want me to, I'll straighten it out for you later on. I cut my own hair." She patted the neat bun at the back of her head. "And I'm pretty good at it."

  "I'd appreciate that."

  She patted Makinna's hand. "You have beautiful hair. It just needs a snip here and there."

  Makinna took another bite of the mouthwatering biscuit and honey. "Perhaps Tykota will decide to remain on the ranch and help you out now that you are alone."

  The little Englishwoman shook her head. "He has too many people depending on him. Always has. I will not add to that burden." She propped her elbows on the table and studied the petal of a delicate primrose thoughtfully. "As the new chief of the Perdenelas tribe, Tykota feels his first obligation is to his people."

  Makinna gasped and paled, and Mrs. Silverhorn patted her hand again.

  "I see that my son didn't tell you about the Perdenelas. He can be very secretive at times."

  "I... I wasn't sure the Perdenelas really existed. One of the men on the stage spoke of them, but even he wasn't sure if they were real or just a legend."

  "Oh, they exist all right. But I will trust you to keep their secret."

  "I will say nothing about them. But I am amazed that an entire culture can exist in secret."

  "As far as I know, my husband was the only white men ever invited to their hidden village." She leaned back, remembering what her husband had told her about his first meeting with the chief of the Perdenelas. "My George once saved Chief Valatar's life. Many years ago my husband came to Texas with some of his friends on a hunting expedition. On their third day out, he became separated from the rest of his party, and that was when he encountered a man being attacked by several Apaches. Later, my husband learned that the man was chief of the Perdenelas. When George came upon him, all of Valatar's braves had been killed, and the chief was pinned down in a gully, gravely wounded. My husband came at the Apaches with both guns firing. The Indians must have thought George crazed, because they promptly rode away."

  "How amazing!"

  Hannah's eyes softened. "My husband was an amazing man. He bandaged Valatar as best he could and made camp for the night.

  Hannah took a sip of her coffee, wrinkled her nose at the taste, and added more cream before she spoke. "George remained with the chief for several days, tending to his wounds and nursing him back to health. When Valatar was well enough, he rode away during the night without a word to George."

  "That seems a bit ungrateful. Did Valatar ever come back?"

  "No. But when George finally made his way back to his friends, who had given him up for dead, and told them about his adventure, they were a bit skeptical until, one day, an Indian came riding into their base camp. He was tall like Valatar, and George knew he was from the same tribe."

  "What did the Indian say?"

  "With sign language and arm motions, he indicated that George was to go with him. He took him to the hidden village of the Perdenelas, in the sacred Valley of the Moon. Valatar wanted to reward him, and he also wanted George to teach him English."

  "And did he?"

  "Indeed. George remained with the tribe for over a year, learning the Perdenelas language as well, and when he was ready to leave, Valatar loaded him down with gold."

  "It must have come from the legendary treasure!"

  "You will not tell this to anyone?"

  "Never." Makinna shook her head.

  "George didn't want to take the gold, but Valatar insisted. And as it happened it allowed us to take even better care of Ty-buying this ranch and educating him in England. Valatar was a stubborn man. His son has that same trait."

  "I know all too well about that side of Tykota," Makinna admitted. Then she hesitated. "He told me that you and your husband took him into your home because someone was trying to kill him."

  Mrs. Silverhorn lowered her gaze. "And I fear there are those who still want him dead."

  "Do you know who?"

  "I have always suspected his half brothers and his stepmother."

  Saber could better understand why Tykota was so secretive about his life. "I can only imagine how pained Tykota must feel, wanting to be your son and care for you, yet knowing he owes his loyalty to his tribe."

  "My son walks in two worlds, belonging to neither. I pray every day that he will find peace within himself." Mrs. Silverhorn stood and began clearing the table. "Ty wanted to see you after you had eaten. He's in the study off the entry."

  "May I help you with the dishes?"

  Mrs. Silverhorn smiled. "You have not met our cook, Frances, since she has gone to El Paso for supplies. She barely allows me in her kitchen. But let's go into my sewing room first, and I will straighten you hair, and then you can go to my son."

  As Makinna walked beside Hannah, the older woman placed a hand on her arm. "You won't tell anyone what we talked about this morning, will you?"

  Makinna shook her head. "I would never betray your trust. Or Tykota's."

  Tykota had just closed the ledger when a soft rap came on the door. He stood. "Come in, Makinna."

  She opened the door and stepped inside. His long hair neatly tied back, Tykota was dressed in buff-colored trousers, highly polished boots, and a snow-white shirt that provided a sharp contrast to his bronzed skin. He was so handsome her heart raced at the sight of him. "Your mother said you wanted to see me."

  He pulled out a chair for her. "Please be seated."

  Tykota seemed so different in this setting, somehow at peace with himself.

  "I like your mother, Tykota," was all she could think to say."

  "Thank you. Everyone does."

  He seated himself and studied her for a long moment. The pink gown made her skin glow and enhanced her delicate beauty. "Your skin is nicely tanned, Makinna."

  She winced. "My sister will probably be horrified. It will take months to get rid of it."

  "I forget that your race favors light skin." He rearranged some papers on his desk, and if Makinna hadn't known better, she would have thought he was nervous.

  "You had something to tell me?" Sensing what it was, she dreaded hearing it. He was going to send her away.

  Tykota met her gaze. "After you have rested and recovered completely from your ordeal, I will have some of the ranch hands escort you to El Paso where you can board a stage for California." He hesitated. "No one need ever know what happened, Makinna. I know your reputation would suffer if anyone found out that you spent days in the desert alone with an Indian."

  She stared at him. "Do you think I care about that? I am proud of what we did, proud to know you." She fought against the tears that were gathering in her eyes, but one trailed down her cheek anyway. "I... I will miss you.

  His throat tightened. "You knew the day would come when we would have to part."

  She closed her eyes, trying to regain control over her emotions. "There were times, Tykota, when I didn't think we would live from one day to the next." Finally she was able to smile. "Yet you never gave up. You pushed me on when I wanted to quit. If you hadn't, I would have died. I want you to know that I will always be grateful to you. Always be proud to have known you."

  "To speak truthfully to you, Makinna, I wrongly supposed that, being a woman, you would hinder our chances of survival. But I was wrong. I underestimated your strength and determination. I have been proud of you, too, Makinna. You did better in a dangerous situation than most men would have."

  She beamed under his praise. "Even Mangas?" she teased.

  He smiled. "Mangas, I believe, has special powers from the Great Spirit. No one could best him."

  "Admit,
Tykota, there were times you wished me back in New Orleans, or anywhere but at your side."

  Again he smiled. "And there were times when you wanted to push me off a cliff."

  "True," she said with a laugh. Then she sobered. "When will you leave to join your tribe, Tykota?"

  "There are a number of things that need my attention here before I can leave. I would say at the beginning of next week."

  Her heart felt shredded. "And when do I leave?"

  He took a deep breath. "As soon as you feel up to it. Though I know my mother would love your company and would like to keep you here as long as possible."

  She almost shook her head, almost said she would stay forever, if only he would not leave her. Instead she said, "Thank you but I must resume my journey to California."

  He stood, suddenly distant and aloof, and Makinna realized that she, was being dismissed.

  "If you would care to, I can have one of the hands show you the ranch. That is, as soon as you are ready to ride again."

  She smiled slightly, although her heart was breaking. "I'm ready now, if I can use a real saddle."

  "We don't have a sidesaddle. Mother does not ride."

  "Well, then, just give me any kind of cushion between me and the horse, and I'll welcome it. It'll be a while before I want to get quite so close to a horse again."

  He answered her in an austere tone. "I will see you at dinner, Makinna."

  She held her back straight as she walked to the door. She tried repeating to herself, This too shall pass, but she doubted that her broken heart would ever mend. Tykota must never know she loved him.

  After Makinna closed the door, Tykota wanted to go after her. But he didn't. He sat pensively, reliving the time they had spent together: their closeness, their kiss, touching her body, his spirit blending with hers. Makinna had broken the reins he'd always kept on his emotions, and he wanted to hold and cares her until she submitted to him.

  Makinna was in his heart, and he doubted he would ever get her out.

  He glanced upward, wondering in agony why he must give up the only woman for him. The woman who would always be in his heart, in his blood.

  He did not want to think about what her life would be like once she was gone. With her beauty and sweetness, she would be surrounded by gentlemen ready to lay their hearts and their fortunes at her feet.

  "Damn!" he swore, going to the window and jerking the curtain aside. Perhaps he should leave sooner than he had planned. Maybe it would be easier to ride away now than to stay and watch her go from his life forever.

  He lowered his head. His father had placed a heavy burden on him. But he was bound by honor to fulfill that promise he had made as a boy. A promise that was calling him back to the Perdenelas. And he would have to make the ultimate sacrifice to fulfill that promisethe woman he loved.

  Tykota rode beside Mangas, his heart growing lighter as he surveyed his beloved Biquera Ranch. They rode to the top of a mesa, and Tykota looked down upon a fertile valley where a thousand head of cattle grazed. He had almost forgotten just how beautiful and tranquil this part of Texas could be. It was fed by two rivers-the Rio Concho, flowing from Mexico, and the Rio Grande, which formed the border between Texas and Mexico.

  This ranch had been his home for so long. But once he returned to his people, he would never return.

  "Tykota," Mangas said, "I can see that your heart is troubled, and I wish I could offer words to comfort you."

  Tykota's hand tightened on the reins. "What I must do, no one can help me with, old friend."

  "But the burden weighs heavily on you. You love this land, and yet you return to a way of life you can hardly remember. It is true that the Perdenelas need guidance, because evil walks among them. Many of the young men have been stirred up by Sinica, and some of them have joined him in raids."

  "How is it that Sinica's influence can reach inside the valley?" Tykota asked angrily.

  "When Chief Valatar died, and the Old Ones waited for you, many of our young warriors lost direction, and they answered Sinica's call to join his renegade Apaches. Sinica is still so eaten up with hate that I fear only your death will satisfy him."

  "You know what he did at Adobe Springs. I will always have to live with the thought that people died there that night because of me."

  "I heard the drums talking, and I know what happened. Sinica shows mercy to no man, red or white. You cannot blame yourself for his ruthlessness."

  "What about Coloradous? Does he hate me also?"

  "I believe that Coloradous is a good man, but he has been unable to curtail his brother's raids. And he lives alone in the mountains since your father sent him from the village. Leaderless, the Perdenelas do not attempt to stop Sinica. It will be up to you to put an end to his marauding."

  Tykota looked into the faded brown eyes that were still alive with intelligence. "It is a sad thing, Mangas, when a man must spill the blood of his brother."

  "It is. But if you do not stop Sinica, he will slay you. There is no knife sharp enough to cut the poison from his heart."

  "I know. Perhaps I have always known, though Ihave wished it otherwise."

  The old man waved a hand, gesturing across the land. "You grieve to leave this which has been your life for so long."

  "It will be difficult to turn away and never look back. But I know that I must. I cannot fail my father."

  "I will walk with you wherever you go. I will stand beside you, and you will not be alone."

  The young chief's brow furrowed, and he glanced at the ranch house, where Makinna was. "I must leave tomorrow."

  "You do not want to leave the woman."

  Tykota looked into his mentor's face. Denying his feelings would not fool the old man. "You see too much, Mangas."

  "Your feelings for her are in your eyes. I see pain in them when you look at her."

  "My father told me to always put the good of the people before my own needs. And in my new life, there is no place for Makinna."

  Makinna found her situation strange. She had shared hunger and thirst and danger with Tykota, and they had barely managed to stay one step ahead of the Apaches pursuing them. Now they sat at table laden with food and drink, she wore a lovely blue silk gown Mrs. Silverhorn had given her, and Tykota was dressed in a black dress coat and tailored white shirt.

  He was seated at the head of the long dining table, his mother on his right, Makinna on his left. She met his glance and judged from his pensive expression that he was also remembering the past.

  "This is an occasion," Hannah Silverhorn announced, filling two glasses with wine and handing one to Makinna. "I toast the safe return of my son."

  Makinna noticed that Tykota's glass was filled with water. Her inquiring gaze met his.

  "I am an Indian, Makinna. I do not partake of spirits."

  "What has being an Indian to do with drinking a glass of wine?"

  He looked amused. "Let us just say that, as an Indian, I do not handle wine as well as you do."

  Makinna took a sip and started coughing, red with embarrassment. "It seems I can't drink wine either. That was my first taste, and clearly I wasn't very successful with it."

  "Well, perhaps the wine was a mistake since this is both a happy and a sad occasion," Mrs. Silverhorn said. "My son has returned safely, but he will be leaving tomorrow." She turned to Tykota. "I will miss you my son."

  Makinna looked at Tykota. "You are leaving so soon? I thought that you would..."

  Tykota took a moment before answering. "I must. My people need me."

  Makinna lapsed into silence. It was torture for her to be so near Tykota and pretend they were mere acquaintances. When his bronzed hand rested on the white tablecloth, she remembered the strength and the gentleness in those hands.

  She wanted to cry. She wanted to go down on her knees and beg him to take her with him. But she would do neither. She held her back straight and tried to make polite conversation. "Everything is delicious, Mrs. Silverhorn. I especially like th
e soup. It's not unlike the gumbo my mother used to make."

  Hannah thanked her and began chatting to cover her sadness that her son would be leaving the next day.

  After a while, Makinna withdrew from the conversation, concentrating on her misery. To never see Tykota again-how would she bear it?

  "What do you think, Makinna?" she dimly heard him say. Belatedly, she realized that Mrs. Silverhorn had been speaking to her.

  "I beg your pardon, I didn't hear what you said."

  "My mother asked if you would consider remaining here on the ranch with her for a few weeks. She would love to have you. It is seldom she has another woman to talk to, apart from Frances, the cook."

  Makinna would like nothing better than to stay at Biquera Ranch, where she could at least be near Tykota. But her mother's long illness had taught her to face painful truths, and she did so now: impossible as it seemed, she had to move on, resume her journey to California without Tykota.

  "You are most kind, Mrs. Silverhorn, but my sister will worry if I do not arrive soon. Even now she must be wondering what has happened to me."

  "You could write to her and explain that you are going to remain with us for a time," Hannah said hopefully.

  "I'm sorry, but I must decline. My sister has surely made plans for us."

  Somehow, Makinna managed to get through the meal, although she scarcely tasted the food that had been carefully prepared for the occasion. She was about to excuse herself and go to her room, when Tykota stood and spoke to Mrs. Silverhorn.

  "Mother, will you excuse us? I wish to speak to Makinna."

  "But I should help your mother clear away the dishes."

  "Nonsense," Hannah said. "Frances has returned, and she will not welcome help from either of us. Go along with Ty."

  Tykota indicated that Makinna should precede him, and when they were out of the dining room, he escorted her out the front door. They stood on the veranda, both with so much to say, yet neither willing to speak.

  Makinna moved to the porch railing and gazed out at the ranch. The full moon was so bright, it looked almost like daytime. "It's so peaceful here," she said at last.

  He came up beside her, resting one hand on the ornate post. "Yes. Yes, it is."