Tykota's Woman (Historical Romance)

by Constance O'Banyon

  They were so close and yet not touching, but Makinna could feel his presence as strongly as if he were pressed against her. "So," she said, hoping her voice did not tremble, "you are going away tomorrow."

  "I must."

  "Your mother will miss you."

  He seemed to be struggling to say something. At last he said in a harsh tone, "My life does not belong to me, Makinna."

  He broke off and moved away from her. He gripped the railing with both hands, fearing he would take her in his arms if he didn't hold on to something. "My life was ordained for me the day I was born. The path I must follow leads away from here."

  "Your mother told me that you are the new chief of the Perdenelas." She turned to him. "Why didn't you tell me? Didn't you trust me to keep your secret?"

  "I do trust you, Makinna." He gazed toward the corral where the pintos, not accustomed to being fenced in, were trotting about restlessly. "I would trust you with my life. But I have never told anyone about my people."

  "You must have heard what Mr. Rumford said about the Perdenelas that day in the stagecoach."

  "I did."

  "When he asked you if you knew anything about the tribe, you told him you didn't."

  He let out a breath. "That is not what I said, Makinna. I told him I could tell him nothing. Which is not the same thing...."

  "Yes, I see."

  A long silence followed until Tykota turned to her.

  "I just wanted to say that it has been an honor to know you, Makinna." He swallowed quickly before he continued. "I want to wish you happiness. I want... I want..."

  She had never known him to be this uncertain. She stepped closer to him. "What do you want, Tykota?"

  The words seemed ripped from his throat. "When you leave, you will take my... best wishes with you."

  "Is that all?"

  He reached out to her, pulling her against him. He rested his chin on top of her head. "Take my heart with you, Makinna, because no other woman will ever have it. But understand this: there is no place in my life or heart for a woman-any woman."

  She was afraid she might cry. He had just admitted he cared for her, but not enough to take her with him. Her heart yearned for so much more. She could not speak.

  He held her in silence. "I will never love a woman as I-" He broke off. "I do not want to hurt you, Makinna."

  She raised her head and looked into his dark eyes. "Tykota." She touched his face. Her lips quivered, and pain she could hardly bear tore at her heart. "How can I endure it when you go?"

  His arms tightened around her, and he held her without saying a word. At last he raised her chin and bent his head, touching his lips to hers.

  Makinna surrendered to him, her eager lips opening to his. He deepened the kiss, expressing his emotions in the only way he could. His hands slid down her back, pressing her tightly against his swelling hardness, needing this small intimacy between them, yet hating himself for the weakness.

  Makinna pressed her hips against him, feeling almost faint. She wanted... she wanted more from him than a kiss. She wanted to feel his heart beat against her aching breasts, and

  Tykota broke off the kiss and quickly stepped away from her. How could he have given in to his desire? He turned away from the confusion in her eyes. "I didn't mean for that to happen, Makinna. But when I am with you, I cannot seem to stop myself. Will you forgive me?"

  She wanted to scream at him that she would never forgive him for throwing her love away. If he didn't love her, at least he desired her. How could he walk away from what they had? "I want to be with you, Tykota."

  His voice was husky, and he still did not look at her. "What do you mean, Makinna?"

  She went to him, slid her arms around his waist, and rested her head against his back, listening to the drumming of his heart. "I don't know what I mean, Tykota. How could I, since I have never known a man? I want you to teach me, because I don't want anyone else."

  She felt him tense. "One day your husband will teach you." She felt him tremble. "Some day a man will touch you." He dislodged her hands and turned to face her, touching her lips with one finger. "He will kiss those lips until they swell with longing." One trembling hand went up to her breasts. "He will know the sweetness of these and make you moan with pleasure." He lowered his head and kissed her through the material of her gown, and she could feel that kiss burn through her.

  Then he pressed her back against the house, deep in the shadows, and his hand went between her thighs, and his breath came out in a groan. "One day, a man will know the joy of deflowering you, Makinna." He caressed her until she threw back her head and bit her Up to keep from crying out.

  "Tykota. Oh, Tykota," she whispered, her body quaking with desire.

  Tykota wrestled with his own desire and felt himself losing the battle. He hadn't meant things to go this far, but he could not seem to stop himself. He dropped to one knee and kissed her between her thighs through the skirt of her gown. He felt her tremble, and tears blinded him as he too, quaked with desire. "One day a man will enter that paradise and know the sweetness of your soul."

  Makinna wanted to rip off her gown so there would be nothing between her and the wonderful hands playing such havoc with her body. "Tykota, please," she begged, her virginal body on fire for him.

  He stood to his full height and moved away from her, pausing on the steps to gain control over his emotions. "I could take you right now, have all of you, Makinna. But I am not willing to sacrifice your future to satisfy my desires." Her eyes were shining with passion, and he wanted her so badly it hurt. "I cannot. You would always suffer for it if I did."

  Her lips parted. "But I want you to."

  He groaned. "You do not know what you ask."

  When she moved forward and pressed her lips to his, his resolve almost snapped.

  "I know what I ask. I want to be with you." She must make him understand how she felt, that she would never want any man to touch her but him.

  His voice was deep and trembled when he spoke. "Someday you will be loved by a man, Makinna. But that man will not be me."

  Shattered, she turned away and ran into the house. She hurried up the stairs and into her bedroom. Throwing herself onto the bed, she sobbed with the pain of loving a man who was utterly unobtainable.

  Why had he made her want him? He had awakened her to desire, then left her feverish and unfulfilled. She would never again be the same innocent girl who had begun her journey from New Orleans. And she would never forget the tall, dark-eyed Indian who had stolen her heart.

  When Makinna finally stopped crying, the house was dark and quiet. Needing a breath of air, and seeking release, she made her way carefully down the stairs and out the front door. Shards of moonlight struck the landscape, making it seem almost enchanted. She headed for the corral and put a bit between the pinto's teeth, then hoisted herself onto its back and she raced away from the ranch, into the darkness.

  Lost in her misery, she did not see the dark angry eyes that watched her gallop away. She did not know she was being followed.

  When Makinna heard the sound of a rider behind her, she urged the surefooted pinto into a faster gallop across the flat land, scattering cattle as she rode past. She was afraid it was Tykota chasing her, and she couldn't face him yet. If she did, she might crumble into a thousand pieces.

  Suddenly, the river loomed in front of Makinna, blocking her path. She reined in her mount with such force that the animal reared up on its hind legs, and she tightened her grip to keep from sliding off.

  She whirled her horse around to face the inevitable. In the bright moonlight she saw not one rider but six bearing down on her. She gasped in horror. Indians!

  She wheeled the pinto, ready to risk being drowned rather than taken by the Apache. But it was too late. Already two Indians were beside her, one grabbing the reins from her hands, the other blocking her path.

  Dear God, help me, she prayed.

  Tykota arose before sunup. He wanted to ride the ranch on
e last time, to say good-bye to the home of his youth and to a way of life that would soon be ending for him. He also wanted to leave before Makinna awoke; he didn't trust himself to see her again.

  After walking around the barn and pausing to glance toward the distant mountains, he walked purposefully toward the corral. The black and white pinto cantered up to him and brushed against his outstretched hand. Tykota glanced around the corral. Where was the second pinto, the one Makinna had ridden?

  He climbed over the fence and jumped to the ground. Bending down, he examined the footprints he found in the soft sand. Makinna had been there. He traced her steps until they disappeared, where she had mounted the second pinto.

  Uneasiness settled on him, and he quickly headed for Mangas's cabin. Without knocking, he burst inside. The old man was having breakfast, and he looked up at Tykota quizzically. "Have you come to eat the morning meal with me as you did as a boy?"

  "One of the Apache pintos is missing," Tykota announced.

  "Why does this concern you?"

  "A woman's footprints, made hours ago, probably sometime last night, show that Makinna mounted it and rode out and did not return."

  Mangas listened carefully. "I will saddle two horses."

  Makinna struggled against the rough hands pulling at her. She spun her pinto around, but she was no match for the Indians. One of them struck her with the butt of his rifle, and she fell forward, unconscious.

  When Makinna regained consciousness, her head was aching, and she couldn't move. She remembered being surrounded by Apaches, and then exploding pain. She tried to move her arms and her legs, but they were tied.

  Glancing around frantically, she saw that she was lying on the ground. The only light came from a small campfire. After evading them for so long, she had fallen into the hands of the Apache because of her own carelessness.

  Stark terror ruled her mind. What were they going to do with her?

  Makinna counted six Apaches speaking excitedly, and she wished she knew what they were saying. Or maybe she didn't want to know. She cringed when one of them rose to walk toward her and stared at her with dark, menacing eyes. She lowered her gaze, waiting for death. But he merely bent to make certain her ropes were tight enough, then rejoined his companions.

  After a while, two of the Indians took up their rifles and left camp-she supposed to stand guard-while one of the others put out the fire.

  Hope flared to life within her. If they sent guards out, they expected Tykota to come after her. Then her hope faded, and she felt a sob building up deep inside. Of course Tykota would come for her. That was what they wanted him to do. And she was the bait to draw him in.

  Tears ran down her cheeks. Tykota was going to die, and it was all her fault.

  Tykota and Mangas dismounted and crouched by the river, examining the unshod horses' tracks.

  With a grim expression, Mangas said, "Apache. At least six of them." The old man, traced one of the hoofprints with a bony finger, he could read them like a white man could read the pages of a book. "Chiricahua Apache, but not the warriors of Cochise."

  "I know who they are, Mangas," Tykota said grimly. "It could be no one but Sinica or some of his warriors."

  The old man nodded. "He will use the woman to trap you."

  "I know this."

  "He turned renegade and makes war wherever he goes. He has set the white man's hand against all Chiricahua Apache. But he does not care. He thinks only of your death. He has broken the lance and sworn to kill you."

  Tykota gazed into the distance. "There should not be such hate between brothers."

  "Hear this, Tykota. Sinica would kill the woman to get at you, but more likely he will keep her alive long enough to entrap you and to make you watch her die."

  Tykota raised his head to the sky and remembered to keep from yelling out his rage. The last traces of civilization stripped away from him. Then he took a deep breath, and his eyes narrowed. "Sinica's days to walk this earth are small in number. And if he has harmed my woman, I will make sure he begs for death before it welcomes him."

  Mangas stood up and looked around, his eyes seeing that which few people could. He pointed to the muddy riverbank. "That is where the woman went into the river, and that is where her horse left with the others. But it was lighter. She was carried away."

  "Are you certain?"

  "I am."

  Tykota knew Mangas was never wrong when it came to tracking. "I must go after her."

  "That is what Sinica wants you to do."

  "Yes."

  "He will be expecting you."

  Tykota nodded.

  "They will be ready for you."

  Tykota swung onto his horse. "I want you to go back to the house and tell my mother what has happened, then see if you can find Cochise. He might be our only hope. He must want Sinica as much as I do."

  Mangas's gaze settled on Tykota. "You send me away because you fear we will not come back alive."

  "This is my fight. I go alone."

  "I am an old man. If I die today, I have lived many years. I have no fear of death."

  "I go alone," Tykota said in a tone that brooked no dissent. "They will be expecting me to bring many men with me. I will have a better chance to surprise them ifI am alone. Go, Mangas."

  Mangas looked with sad pride upon the warrior he had once taught. Tykota was now chief of the Perdenelas tribe, a man who must be obeyed. "I will do as you say."

  "I will need your horse. Can you make it back to the house within the hour?"

  Mangas nodded and handed over his reins. "Remember all I taught you. Do not rush foolishly into danger."

  When Mangas turned to head back toward the ranch house, Tykota glanced down at the tracks of the Apaches. He knew they would be expecting him. The thought of Sinica touching Makinna chilled his blood and stirred his rage.

  How would he live if they harmed her?

  After riding all day and most of the night, Makinna barely had the strength to stay on her horse. The Apaches stopped only for brief periods to rest the horses, then ride on again. She remembered Tykota telling her that an Apache could ride seventy-five miles a day, and she believed it.

  The sun was coming up on the second day when they finally halted to make camp. They chose a high mesa that offered a panoramic view of the countryside.

  Makinna had not been given food or water, and she was so thirsty that her tongue stuck to the roof of her mouth, and her lips were cracked and bleeding. There was a gash on her forehead where the Indian had struck her, and it throbbed painfully.

  Suddenly, she heard horses approaching, and ten more Indians rode into camp. One of the newcomers dismounted and walked toward her, his dark gaze sweeping over her menacingly.

  Makinna shrank away from him, but he grabbed the rope that bound her hands and yanked her up from the ground. He was different than the other Indians. He had more of a presence. She knew he was the leader.

  "You are Tykota's woman?" he asked in stilted English.

  She said nothing.

  He rammed a knee into her stomach, making her double over in pain. "You will answer me."

  "No," she whispered, her eyes on the knife in his hand. "I am not Tykota's woman."

  "You lie, white woman. You are my brother's woman."

  Brother. She shook her head. This man was nothing like Tykota. He did, however, resemble the other Apaches. But she was almost too weary to think or care. Why didn't he just plunge the knife into her and get it over with?

  He dragged her to where two other Indians had been hacking away branches from a slender mesquite tree, leaving only the trunk. She cried out in pain when the Apache slammed her against the rough bark and looped a rope around her several times to secure her to the stake.

  The sun beat down on her, and Makinna licked her dry lips. "Water, please," she begged. But her plea went unanswered, and her head fell forward, her chin resting against her chest.

  The Indian grabbed a handful of hair and jerked her head u
p. "You will die, white woman," he said, peering steadily into her eyes. "And Tykota will cry out in agony when he sees what I do to his woman."

  She stared back at him. "I am not his woman."

  He smiled with malice. "You were with my brother-you are his woman."

  "He will not come after me," she said defiantly. "You can kill me, and he will not care."

  He ran a hand down her cheek. "You are good to look at, for a white woman." He ran his hand over her breasts, and when she shuddered, he laughed. "My brother, I think, will grieve much for you, as I have grieved for my shame and that of my mother."

  "Do what you will," Makinna challenged weakly.

  He motioned one of his men forward and took his canteen. "But you will not die yet. Tykota must see you breathe your-last."-

  Makinna wished she had the willpower to refuse the water, but she drank thirstily, and when he released his grip on her hair, her head fell forward again. She prayed Tykota would not come. The Apaches were armed and waiting for him. Surely he must know that.

  Tykota had already ridden one horse to death, but Mangas's riderless horse was still fresh. He had no trouble following the Apaches' trail, even by moonlight, but that was because Sinica wanted him to find them. His one advantage was that with the fresh horse, he could make better time than they did. Sinica would expect him to be at least a day behind them, while he was now within an hour of them.

  A short time later, Tykota reined in his mount and gazed at the distant mesa that stood like a dark shadow against the sky. That was where Sinica would be waiting, with Makinna as his hostage. Sinica hadn't killed her yet, or he would have left her body behind for Tykota to find. Mangas was probably right. Part of Sinica's revenge would be to make him watch Makinna die.

  A muscle in Tykota's jaw tightened. He pitied Sinica if he harmed Makinna in any way.

  Makinna was barely conscious when the sun rose. She sagged against the stake, and she couldn't feel her arms, which were tied tightly behind her. She tried to clear her mind, but everything was fuzzy. She was dimly aware of men feeding horses, laughing among themselves, and standing guard.