"Thank you for mending my shoes, Tykota." She glanced at him and then quickly averted her eyes. "How ever did you manage it?"
"I am an Indian, remember?" A smile curved his lips. "We are good at making things out of leather."
She nodded.
"What would you like to know about me, Makinna?"
She raised troubled eyes to him. "First of all, I would like to say how ashamed I am for not thanking you for saving my life. There have been times when I am sure you would have liked to abandon me, and I thank you for your forbearance."
"You have not been a burden, Makinna. And there are still troubled times ahead of us. Before this is over, you may very well wish you had stayed behind with the others."
"Do you foresee great danger?"
"Yes, I do. The closer I get to my destination, the more aggressively the Apache will pursue me."
"We have managed to avoided them thus far. You have outsmarted them at every turn, and I believe you will continue to do so." Makinna said loyally.
"I wish that were true. But you see, Makinna, one particular Apache knows exactly where I am going. He is smart, and he can always place himself between me and my destination."
"Do you know him?"
"Yes."
She frowned. "Does he hate you so much?"
"Yes, he does. He has waited a long time for our meeting. He will find me, Makinna."
"You will know what to do if that should happen."
"I wish I was as sure of that as you are."
"What does he mean to do to you?"
His expression seemed pained. "He wants to see me dead."
"Why would anyone hate you that much?"
"There are many customs among the Indian, Makinna, that are difficult for the white world to grasp. This particular Indian and I share a bond that can only be severed if one of us is dead." His gaze met hers, and he saw the puzzlement on her face. "You cannot be expected to understand. Do not try. Now, what else do you what to know, Makinna?"
She leaned forward. "I want to know about your boyhood. Why did you leave your home? Why were you educated in England?"
He nodded. "My father, my Indian father, sent me away because... It was for the good of the people. On that, I can tell you nothing more."
"You were raised by a white man, yet you seem to have little love for our race."
"You are mistaken, Makinna. There are good and bad people in every race. I have found that many white men are not to be trusted, but the same can be said for many Indians."
"I have not found that to be true. I believe most people are honest and care about their fellow man."
"Do you?"
"Yes, I do. Tell me about Mr. Silverhorn."
Tykota raised his head and stared at the dome opening as if he were remembering something from long ago. "I told you before that George Silverhorn became like a second father to me, and his wife, Hannah, was the mother I never had. But in the first two years I was with them, I was very rebellious and ran away three times. Of course, since I was in England, I could not get back to my people without boarding a ship."
"So you stopped running away?"
"My father, George, made me a promise that he would buy land in Texas, so I could be nearer my people, if I would not attempt to run away again."
"And he kept his promise."
"Yes, Makinna, he kept his promise."
"And you loved being here again?"
"I did, yes. When we moved to Biquera Ranch, I was happy because they allowed me to spend summers with my boyhood friend, Santo, and my old teacher, Mangas. Sometimes my white friend, John Kincaid, who lived on the neighboring ranch, would join us. But after a while, there was some kind of trouble between John and Santo-I never learned what it was."
"Are you still friends with John?"
"I would like to be. For a time we were almost like brothers. He went to school in England with me. But I do not see much of him now."
"Tell me more about your early treks into the desert." She wrinkled her nose. "I can't imagine anyone doing it for fun."
"It was for me. I always looked forward to those months when the three of us would go into the desert and live off the land with only our knives."
"That is why you know this area so well."
"Yes." He glanced at the trickling waterfall. "But I never brought either of them here. This was a private place I had shared only with my father and brother."
"Yet you brought me."
Tykota turned to look at her. "I had little choice in the matter. If I had not brought you here, you would have died."
Makinna smiled. "Your secret is safe with me. Anyway, I could never find this place again if my life depended on it."
Tykota's gaze roamed the ceiling. "Within this cavern live boyhood memories, nothing more."
"When I came in a moment ago, you were trying to recapture something you'd lost," she stated softly.
Tykota was surprised that she was so perceptive. "That is so. But one cannot step back into the shoes of a child."
"Did you never see your father again?"
"No. But I received messages from him through Mangas and Santo."
"Were you... was there a time when you became contented with your life with the Silverhorns?"
"It is strange that you should choose the word contented, because that is what it was-never complete acceptance or happiness, but a restless contentment. George Silverhorn adopted me and gave me his last name. He taught me many things, and after my father, he was the most important influence in my life."
"You walked a hard road, Tykota-not white, not Indian. It must have been difficult."
Again he was surprised by how perceptive she was. "Less and less as time passed. When George told me that I was to go to school in England, I rebelled against the idea. But word came from my own father that I must go, so I had to obey. I learned later, from Santo, the reason my father wanted me out of this country."
«Why?
"There had been a few mishaps when I was small-one nearly fatal. My father believed someone still wanted me dead."
Makinna gasped. "Do you believe that?"
"Yes, I do."
"But you were just a child. Why would anyone want to harm a child? Perhaps that was why your father sent you to Mr. Silverhom in the first place."
"Yes." He stood up. "Have I answered all your questions?"
"One more? Were they kind to you in England-I mean, the others at the school?"
"Not at first. But once I proved myself, they were more accepting, and I made many lasting friendships there. But know this about me, Makinna. Though I have a very fine educationI speak French, Spanish, and Italian-inside I am an Indian, and no amount of education will change that. It's what I am."
She stood. "Now I understand you a little better."
He towered over her.
"Do not deceive yourself, Makinna. When you scratch my skin, I may bleed like a white man, but underneath, I am still an Indian. I have the heart of a warrior. No white woman can understand that. So do not think that you know me."
She was startled by the change in his demeanor. "I am trying to understand, if only you would help me. Do you now go back to your tribe and turn away from the life you have known with the Silverhorns?"
"George Silverhorn is dead. I had just come from burying him in England."
"So now you go back to your real father?"
"I go back to my people. My real father is dead."
How much he must have suffered! "I am so sorry. What of the rest of your family?"
"I have a sister, Inea." He paused, as if pondering something. "And I have two half brothers by my father's second wife."
"And you have no wife?"
His gaze touched her face. "There has been little room for a woman in my life. He smiled. "At least none that left a lasting impression." He could have added, until now, but he didn't. "It would not be wise for a woman to love me, Makinna," he warned, as if he knew her heart was turning to his.
"I have something to do that may-" He broke off and looked into her eyes. "I have no time for a woman."
She suddenly wanted to put her arms about him and comfort him. She wondered how many women in El Paso and England had felt the same way about Tykota. No woman would be able to ignore him, he had such a strong presence, capable of drawing others to him.
"I feel there is much more to your story than you are willing to share with me. You are going home for some purpose. I believe that you are in danger, from the Apache but maybe also from someone in your own tribe?"
He nodded slightly but did not respond.
She looked into his dark eyes, touched by the torment she saw in their shimmering depths. There was danger for her, too. Not that Tykota would harm her. The danger was that she was losing her heart to him, and he would not welcome her affection.
"I have decided we should remain here for a time," Tykota said. "We have food and water in abundance, the Apache do not know of this place, and you need the rest. It will give your skin and your feet time to heal."
She frowned. "I can go on if you must get to your destination to be safe."
His eyes glistened. "I knew you would say that. But I want you to rest, Makinna."
"I don't want you to stay here and be in danger because of me."
He smiled. "You have known hunger, thirst, and pain, and it did not break your spirit. I wonder if anything could."
She smiled. "Just think of the adventures I can tell my grandchildren."
"You will tell them how one time an Indian suddenly crossed through your life and left it, just as quickly, Makinna Hillyard."
She felt saddened by his words. That was what would happen. He would soon pass out of her life. But she would never forget him. She sighed deeply. "I would welcome a rest." What she wanted to say was that she would treasure every moment she spent with him. "Perhaps the Apache will give up when they can't find you."
"No. They will not give up. I want you to understand that there is still danger. They could even have tracked us here." He turned away. "Get some rest, Makinna. It is still hours until daylight. I am tired now."
She wanted to stay with him, but he had clearly dismissed her. Already his mind was on other things, and she doubted that he even heard her leave.
Tykota turned his face up to the stars and whisered, "Why did this woman come into my life at this time? Why does my heart want to bind with hers, to live out my days with her at my side?
"Why at this time in my life, when I shall surely die?"
Five days passed, and in that time Tykota hunted and dried meat for the last leg of their journey. Makinna rested, soaking in the healing powers of the inner cavern and its pool, dipping her feet into the cooling water. Sometimes, she simply lay on her back gazing up through the opening in the domed ceiling at the blue sky and wishing they never had to leave. She had never known life could be so magical.
This was her paradise, here in this beautiful place with Tykota.
Tykota had been gone for hours, and Makinna was beginning to worry. He'd left early that morning, and it was now almost sundown. He'd never stayed away this long. A wave of despair hit her as she imagined the Apache finding him, or any number of other hazards he might have fallen prey to. Danger lurked everywhere in this scorching, hostile land.
Moving out of the cave, she stood atop the ledge that gave her a wide view of the countryside. She shaded her eyes against the glaring sun and looked for any movement.
A dust devil danced in the distance, and the ever-present vultures circled in the sky, but beyond that there was nothing-no sign of life, just the brittle heat and the never-ceasing wind.
Where could Tykota be? she wondered. Why had he been gone so long?
She couldn't just stay in the cave waiting for him to return. If he was in some kind of danger, she needed to find him.
She discovered that climbing down the mountain was more difficult than climbing up. Once she lost her footing and slid toward the edge, her feet dangling over the side. She was able to save herself only by grabbing hold of a plant that clung to life in the rock surface. Inch by inch she eased herself away from the edge, then collapsed, trembling. After she'd caught her breath and gathered her courage, she continued her descent.
It took her the better part of an hour to reach the bottom. When she stood on level ground, she still saw no sign of Tykota. Of course, he'd leave no tracks behind, nothing that would attract attention. He was much too intelligent for that. She ripped a scrub bush up by the roots and brushed her own tracks away as she'd seen him do, thinking he'd be proud of her for being so cautious.
Makinna tried to decide which direction he would have taken. She reasoned that he wouldn't head into the desert but might have gone hunting in the foothills to the west. She settled on exploring those. As she, walked along, she paused often to search for any sign of his presence.
She felt every stone under her still tender feet, and she soon grew thirsty and wondered why she hadn't brought the canteen with her. Weary, she tripped and fell.
She rose slowly, glancing toward the west. The sun was low on the horizon. She would never be able to make her way up the mountain in the dark, but she couldn't return without finding Tykota. She studied the ground but saw nothing to indicate that he'd come this way.
Her leg was throbbing; she must have injured it in the fall. Raising her skirt, she saw the cut on her knee. It was bleeding, and she wished she had a strip of her petticoat to tie around it.
Suddenly Makinna saw Tykota leap toward her, and she was shocked when he propelled her backward with such a force that he knocked her to the ground. Gripping her tightly, he fell with her, and they tumbled and rolled down a slight embankment into thick, gnarled foliage.
Thorns jabbed into her, but she was more aware of Tykota's body on top of hers, her fingers clutching his hard, muscled shoulders. When she caught her breath, she asked, "Why did you-"
Tykota clamped a hand over her mouth and nodded toward the top of the embankment. She heard the sound of horses, heard voices speaking a guttural language she did not understand.
It was the Apache!
Makinna lay trembling with fear, hoping they hadn't seen her. She was dimly conscious of sharp rocks digging into her skin, and the weight of Tykota's body cutting off her breathing. But when she shifted the merest bit, and he raised his head to look at her, like lightning striking, like a hammer against an anvil, she became aware of his body in an entirely new way. She felt the formidability of his strength, the swell of him against her thigh, and she was excruciatingly aware of his manliness. She could scarcely breathe when he rested his brow against hers, and his hand went up to tangle in her hair. Raw emotions tore through her body, and she knew he could feel it, too.
He stared at her, his eyes penetrating and fierce, as if she was the one woman he dare not love. Yet they might be mere moments away from death.
Makinna daringly placed a kiss on his bronze cheek.
Tykota's eyes flamed as if the sun was shining through them. His mouth was only a breath away from hers, and Makinna wanted to move that fraction of an inch that would bring their lips together. Even the threat of the Apaches seemed to fade from her mind. All she was aware of were the new feelings splintering through her body, and the man who had aroused those feelings in her.
Tykota's brow furrowed, and he tried to ease himself off her, but the movement tugged up her gown, exposing the smoothness of her thighs.
Makinna gasped, her eyes round with bewilderment, as wave after wave of heat surged through her. And she could tell by the way Tykota suddenly went rigid that he was fighting whatever feelings were stirring inside of him. He trembled with the tight restraint he tried to keep on his emotions.
Tykota gazed down at Makinna, ran a hand through her silken hair, and his heart raced. Like a man in a dream, he could not stop himself, could not control his own actions. He lowered his head, his mouth almost on hers. "Makinna," he whispered, his breath gently touching her lips.
"Makinna."
She reached up, her fingers sliding though his thick hair. "Kiss me," she whispered.
A raw urgency built in the pit of his stomach and spread through his veins, his mind, his whole being. It didn't seem to matter that the Apache were nearby, or that they might die at any time. In that moment, she became his woman, his to protect, to love, to take. Just a kiss was all he wanted, or so he thought. But when his lips touched hers, he knew that would never be enough. His mouth ground against hers. His tongue explored the recesses of her mouth, darting in and out, stirring the heat in his belly. He wanted to know her in every way a man can know a woman. He wanted to explore her hidden beauty and kiss every part of her body. Wild, primitive emotions tore through him, and he was on fire. He needed her more than the air he breathed.
Makinna smothered a groan as Tykota's mouth continued to plunder hers. She felt him harden against her thigh, and she trembled. His body seemed to shelter her, and she thought she would die from his nearness. Oh, what was this weakness she felt, this awakening of her body and spirit? Why did she wish the Apache would stay for a very long time so she could absorb the feel of Tykota Silverhom into her mind and body?
Suddenly, Tykota tore his mouth away from hers and stared at her lips, which were swollen from his kiss. "Makinna, I-"
He suddenly froze. Two of the Apache were moving down the ravine, and they were talking excitedly. Tykota glanced quickly at the ground where he had tackled with Makinna before rolling her into the bushes. He'd had no time to erase their footprints, which would be very apparent to the Apaches' experienced eyes.
Tykota knew that their only hope was the encroaching darkness. The sun had almost dropped behind the mountain, and that would make it more difficult to see the evidence of their presence.
By now, Makinna realized that the Apache were moving in their direction. Her eyes widened when Tykota reached down and clasped the handle of his knife.
She lay quietly, his body pressing against hers, his face only inches away, listening to the Apaches. The two warriors stopped so near them that Makinna could have reached out and touched one of them. She felt the bitter taste of fear in her mouth. She closed her eyes, sure that the Indians had discovered their hiding place.
Tykota's Woman (Historical Romance) Page 8