Tykota's Woman (Historical Romance)

by Constance O'Banyon

  "He said he never had, that he had married me to show off to his friends. He told me that when we had been married less than a year."

  Makinna held her close, feeling her heartache. "This pain will pass with time, Adelaide. We will go through this together." She brushed the hair from her sister's face and wiped her eyes with her handkerchief.

  "I don't want to stay in San Francisco. It is a town where I have been humiliated, and if I remain there, I will only be reminded of that humiliation."

  "What do you want to do? Should we go back to New Orleans?"

  "I want to move to Texas."

  "What? Here?"

  "I loved it here the moment I stepped off the stage. I want to sell everything Tom had in California. He was wealthy. I can do anything I want to do."

  "But what would you do here in Texas?"

  "I don't know. Make a new start. I have always wanted children, but Tom didn't. Maybe I will even find a new husband and start a family."

  Makinna was troubled. "Let's go on to San Francisco and take it one day at a time. You may feel differently once you have had time to think."

  Adelaide shook her head. "I will never feel differently about San Francisco. I was never happy there, and if I remain, I will always remember that unhappiness."

  "You know I will do whatever it takes to help you.

  Adelaide touched her sister's cheek. "I want you to be happy, too, Makinna. You deserve happiness. I know how many years you tended to Mother when she was ill. She wrote me letters telling me how you were always so cheerful and never complained."

  "You should get some rest now," Makinna said, standing and fluffing up the pillow. "We have three hours before dinner."

  Adelaide agreed with a weary nod, and she fell asleep the moment her head rested on the pillow.

  Makinna stood at the window. She hadn't known what her sister's life had been like, and neither had their mother. Adelaide had suffered rejection and humiliation, but Makinna was determined to help her put her past behind her and start anew.

  But, as far as Adelaide's wanting to come back to Texas, Makinna had every hope that she would forget that notion once they reached San Francisco.

  San Francisco was bustling with activity. The noise from the crowded streets was a welcome sound to Makinna's ears.

  When the stage stopped at the Butterfield office, both sisters were helped to the ground by an attendant. "Mrs. Johnson, I believe your carriage is waiting for you at the Golden Horn," the man informed her. "Accept my sympathy, and know that we all feel the loss of your husband."

  "Thank you," she said, taking Makinna's hand and rushing across the street, dodging a heavy freight wagon.

  Adelaide set such a fast pace that Makinna had to catch her breath when they finally stopped at the Golden Horn Hotel. Makinna thought they would go inside, but instead Adelaide approached an elderly Oriental man, who bowed respectfully to her.

  "Hong Lee, see to our luggage. We want to leave right away."

  "It shall be as you say, mistress." He bowed again and hurried across the street.

  In no time at all, the two sisters were seated in a carriage lined in red velvet. Two matching black horses took them on the journey up to Knob Hill.

  The house was imposing, massive, almost Gothic, with gables, arched windows, and ornate overhanging eaves.

  Adelaide shuddered. "Isn't it hideous? I detested this house from the moment I first set foot in it. It never was a home."

  Makinna tried to find something positive to say about the monstrosity. "It bespeaks wealth."

  "It does that. It was exactly right for Tom. He loved the garish house and grounds. I can't wait to sell it."

  Makinna stepped down from the carriage and helped her sister. Seven servants stood lined by the door waiting for them.

  "Don't you feel like royalty?" Adelaide asked almost hysterically, tears brimming in her eyes. "Tom always insisted that we be greeted by all the servants whenever we returned from a journey."

  Makinna gripped her sister's arm. "What you need to do is lie down. You are exhausted."

  Adelaide stopped before one woman who stood apart from the other servants, her arms folded front of her, her demeanor somehow arrogant. "Caroline, now that my husband is dead, there will be no further need for your services."

  The woman's lips curled in a smirk. "I expected it."

  "I'm sure you did. Be out of my house before sundown."

  "I can help you," the housekeeper said in a slightly softer manner. "You don't know how to manage such a large household."

  Years of frustration poured angrily out of Adelaide's mouth. "The house will be sold, Caroline. My husband no longer needs you in his bed, so leave!"

  The other servants bowed their heads as their mistress spoke. "Paula, you will take on the duties of housekeeper, and stay with Caroline while she packs. Make certain none of the family silver finds its way into her hands." She raised her head proudly. "Paula will choose three of you to remain to close up the house. The rest of you will be given six month's pay and references." Her eyes hardened as she glanced at Caroline, who looked as if she'd like to strike her mistress. "You, of course, will be given only the wages coming to you."

  Makinna gripped her sister's arm and led her up the steep steps to the front door. "What was that all about?" she asked when they were out of earshot.

  "That woman was one of my husband's mis tresses. He made her the so-called housekeeper and flaunted her in my face every day. I had to suffer the indignity of her presence in my home, where she did little but be surly and disrespectful."

  Makinna smiled brightly. "Well done, then. Bravo! I like your spunk. Who knew you had it in you?"

  Adelaide's eyes suddenly twinkled. "I admit, what I just said to Caroline gave me a great deal of satisfaction." When they entered the formal sitting room, Adelaide smiled and wiped angry tears away. "I was good, wasn't I?"

  "You were magnificent!"

  Three weeks had passed since Makinna and Adelaide arrived in San Francisco, and Makinna was amazed at how strong her sister had become.

  Adelaide had hired a young lawyer, Robert Darwood, newly graduated from law school back East and settled in San Francisco only three months. In fact, Adelaide was Mr. Darwood's first client. As it turned out, the young attorney was very idealistic and took on Adelaide's affairs with a vengeance.

  Between the two of them, the stream of businessmen who had associated with her late husband went away with a new respect for the young widow. Some of them had thought they could take advantage of a mere woman. Mr. Darwood soon set them straight, and Adelaide not only sold Tom's house, mines, and other businesses in short order, but she also made a tidy profit.

  Makinna and Adelaide stood on the balcony of the upstairs sitting room gazing out over the blue Pacific. It was a cool, crisp evening, and it appeared that the sun was dropping into the ocean.

  Makinna walked back inside, where most of the furniture was draped with dustcovers. The new owners would soon be taking possession of the house and furnishings. She found a chair without a covering and sat down, watching her sister with concern. Everything had happened so quickly, she wondered if Adelaide had truly done the right thing.

  When her sister stepped from the balcony onto the thick Persian rug, she was smiling. "Soon this will only be a bad dream that I can put behind me."

  "Have you thought what you really want to do, Adelaide? You are a very wealthy woman now. You can do anything you want to."

  "I still have not changed my mind about moving to Texas."

  "Then that is what you should do if you feel that strongly about it."

  "You will come with me, won't you?"

  "No. I can't."

  Adelaide dropped down in a chair beside her sister, looking distressed. "I can't go without you. I want us to be together."

  "I have to keep distance between myself and Tykota. For more reasons than one." She averted her eyes. "You don't know what I did."

  "I think I
do. I can only imagine how it would feel to love a man and know he loves you, then face the realization that you could never be together. You don't have to tell me what happened between the two of you."

  "I love him so much. I will always love him. But there can never be a happy ending for the two of us."

  "Mrs. Silverhorn told me about the law preventing Tykota from taking a bride outside the tribe."

  "I know he will eventually have to marry. He will want a son."

  "Makinna, nothing was ever solved by running away. What may look impossible today maybe reality tomorrow."

  "Not this, Adelaide. Nothing can change the fact that Tykota is chief of his tribe, and the Perdenelas' law says he can't marry me."

  "What do you want to do, Makinna?"

  Makinna shook her head. "I don't know. It seemed that my life stopped the night I sent Tykota away, knowing I would never see him again."

  Adelaide went on her knees and raised her sister's chin. "There is always hope. That's what you've been telling me."

  "Not in this." Makinna shook her head. "I should be comforting you."

  "I don't need comforting, Makinna. You may think me coldhearted, but I don't miss Tom, and I no longer feel guilty for not being the kind of wife he wanted. I even have hope that I may find the kind of love I always needed."

  "John Kincaid," Makinna said softly.

  "How did you guess?"

  "I saw the way he looked at you, and I knew he was developing strong feelings for you. But you must be sure that you love him."

  "The feeling is new for me, and it's too early to call it love, but I have never felt such softness toward a man, this need to be closer to him and learn all about his life."

  Makinna stood and pulled her sister up with her. "Then by all means you should return to Texas."

  "Not without you."

  "No, you don't, Adelaide. You are not going to trick me into returning to Texas."

  "Sometimes I believe you are too smart for your own good, Makinna. But I do like John more than any man I know."

  Makinna kissed her cheek. "Then go back."

  "How would you like to sail around the world, visit exotic places, and stay as long as we want to?"

  "I wouldn't want to any more than you do."

  "Then what will we do? We have to be out of this house within two days."

  "I don't know. I wish I did."

  Tykota stared at his mother long and hard. "What are you saying-that Makinna is not coming back?"

  "I don't think she will, Ty." She wanted to hold him and comfort him as she had when he was small, but he was a man now, and he would not welcome such a display from his mother. "She left this letter for you."

  He ignored the letter. "Just what did she say?"

  "Makinna wanted me to make you understand that she loved you enough to let you go."

  "What is that supposed to mean? I know that if I loved someone, I would not let her go."

  "But you did, Tykota. Right from the first, you let her know that there could be nothing between the two of you," Mrs. Silverhorn reminded him.

  "I later learned that I could not live without her. Everything else became meaningless." There was desperation in his voice. "I want Makinna with me for the rest of our lives."

  "Make me understand, Ty. What were your plans for the two of you? Were you going to take her back to your valley and shut her away from the only world she knew?"

  "No. I was going to live in her world. I was going to live here at Biquera."

  Hannah Silverhorn blinked back tears. "That's what I wanted for you. But Makinna was wise enough to realize that too many people made demands on you, even I, with the best of intentions. She did not want her love for you to interfere with your duty or your own choices. She was afraid that if you walked away from your people, you would one day resent her for it."

  "Interfere with my life? She has done that since the first day I met her! If I had known that she was leaving me forever the night she asked me to go, I would have taken her away with me."

  "And what would the two of you have done, Ty?"

  He glanced at the ceiling. "I have found it difficult to live among my people. No matter how well Mangas taught me our ways and laws, I have lived too long apart from them, and I feel a restlessness stirring within me."

  "Is there no woman of the Perdenelas that you could, if not love, at least respect, and who could one day bear you fine sons?"

  "There are too many women at Valle de la Luna who would be only too willing to do just that. But none of them touch my heart. None ever will."

  Hannah Silverhorn nodded sadly, feeling his pain deep in her own heart. "I will leave you alone to read your letter. Later, if you feel like it, we will talk." She pressed Makinna's letter into his hand and quietly left the room.

  Tykota stared at the letter. At last he went to the chair by the lamp, opened it, and began to read.

  My dearest Tykota,

  When you read this, I shall be gone. Do not be angry with me, and try to understand why I do this. Never doubt that I love you with all my heart and always will. But, loving you as I do, I could never be the one who stood between you and your people. What happened between us was beautiful and rare. I will always remember our last night together and put it in a secret place in my heart to be cherished always. As you go through life, I know you will realize that my leaving was best for you. Just know that there will always be someone somewhere who loves you with all her heart and wishes you only happiness.

  The letter was unsigned. Tykota crushed it in his fist and hung his head. She did not love him as much as he loved her, or she never would have left him. And he felt hopeless and bereft that he would never see her again.

  How would he live without her?

  He smoothed the letter out and read it again. Then he sat motionless until the lamp grew lower and the night grew darker.

  Then he got on his horse and rode away.

  It was after midnight when Tykota returned to the ranch house. He found his mother waiting for him in the parlor.

  "Are you all right?" she asked, going to him and slipping her arms about his waist.

  "I have been trying to think what to do."

  "And what have you decided?"

  "I do not have the answers. But I do know that I am no longer capable of leading the Perdenelas. My father's spirit must cry out that I have failed him."

  "And what do you think of this?"

  "I think my father did not understand that when he sent me away from our valley, he placed me in a world so different that I can never truly feel a part of my people. I think and love and act and feel differently than they do. They come to me with their problems, and I have no solutions for them."

  "What do you do?"

  "I have Coloradous stand beside me as an adviser. He seems to know just what the people need. He has already begun building a dam to irrigate the crops. He is the one who should stand in my place. He is the one who knows how the people feel."

  "So Coloradous is a good and wise man?"

  Tykota looked at his mother for a long moment. "Yes. Yes, he is."

  "You changed your father's law and brought him back into the tribe?"

  Tykota felt his heart lighten. "Yes, I did that."

  "Then what is your answer?"

  Tykota looked thoughtful. "I know what I must do." He hurried to the door and called over his shoulder. "And I know what will be best for the Perdenelas!"

  Tykota faced the council. "I have two reasons I called you here today. One concerns my brother, Coloradous, and the other concerns Santo. First, bring in Santo, and I will put his deeds before you."

  By now, everyone in the village had heard about how Santo had brought shame on his family. The Old Ones nodded.

  Santo wore a surly expression as he was led before Tykota.

  Tykota spoke. "You know why you are here?"

  "I know that we were friends." Santo's rage was simmering below the surface. "I know that you have turn
ed away from that friendship."

  "While I was away, you took it upon yourself to make my sister, Inea, your intended wife. She was afraid of you, and yet, since she had no protector, you treated her as if she did belong to you.

  "I was only taking care of her until you, her brother, returned to see to her well-being. She was a maiden alone and needed someone to keep other men away from her."

  "Enough!" Tykota said, standing so he would be eye-level with the man he had once loved like a brother. "We both know you kept the other braves away because you wanted her for yourself." Tykota's voice was hard, his tone menacing. "You are fortunate that I do not kill you for what you did. But I do demand that you leave this valley in shame and never return."

  "You will be sorry for this," Santo hissed. "You will regret this day!"

  Tykota grabbed the bear-claw necklace around Santo's neck and jerked him forward. "You dare to threaten the chief in this council room? Men have been put to death for less."

  Santo lowered his eyes so none could see the hatred and defiance there. "I was wrong. It is right that I should be expelled from the tribe. I brought dishonor upon myself and my family."

  Tykota flung him backward, and he landed hard on the stone floor. "Get out of my sight. Never let me see your face again."

  Santo was helped up and escorted to the door by two warriors. He did not look back, but hatred burned in his heart, and he would know no peace until Tykota was dead.

  Tykota took a steadying breath. "Now, before I bring my brother in, I have something I want to say to all of you. Hear me out before any of you speak."

  The room grew quiet, and all eyes were on Tykota.

  "I love this valley, and the Perdenelas will always be my people. My father taught me that my wants and needs must come after those of my people, and I believe this."

  Heads angled in puzzlement.

  "I have come to know in my heart that I cannot give the people all they need from their chief. The fact is painful but true. I have walked too long in the white world to recognize the wants and needs of each of you."

  There was a long silence.

  "I have come to see that my father was misguided when he sent my brother, Coloradous, away. Coloradous was my father's oldest son, and he has remained true to the tribe even when he could not be a part of it. All of you know of the irrigation ditches he has dug for our fields. He is strong of spirit and honor. It is he who should stand in our father's shoes."