Tykota's Woman (Historical Romance)

by Constance O'Banyon

  Tense moments passed as the Indians continued to talk. Then, Makinna's fear seemed to melt away as she felt Tykota's body soften into hers. She felt his every intake of breath against her breasts, and somehow she felt he was breathing for them both. She had such faith in Tykota's power that she believed the two warriors would not have a chance against him. Tykota would keep her safe.

  Silently, she waited, knowing he could not move off her or the sound would attract the Apaches' attention. She could still feel the touch of his lips on hers. The sweetness of it was almost unendurable. It was as though he had kissed her good-bye.-

  Tykota raised his head when one of the Apaches moved closer. He tightened his grip on his knife. With a look of profound sorrow, he placed the tip of the knife to Makinna's breast. Her eyes widened as she realized the signifi cance of his action. If the Apache found them, he would plunge the knife into her heart to spare her an even more hideous fate.

  His lips silently shaped the words, "Do not move."

  She licked her dry lips and nodded, wanting him to know that he must not hesitate to kill her if their hiding place was discovered.

  Tykota gazed deeply into Makinna's sky-blue eyes. She seemed to understand and trust him to do what he must. He dipped his head, pressing his lips once more against hers. Her lips trembled beneath his, but she did not pull away. He wanted to save her, wanted to have her with him until the day he closed his eyes in death, but if they were found by the Apache, this moment was all they would ever have. He would never know the sweetness of her body.

  He laid the knife at his side where he could grab it if he had to. Afraid he would never have the chance again, he moved his hand across the breasts straining against her bodice. Silently, he opened the neck of her gown and lowered his head, his mouth touching one rosy tip gently, almost reverently.

  Her arms slid around him, and she bit her lips to keep from crying out as a flood of feelings rocked her body. She realized that he was distracting her from the danger and taking her mind off the knife he might have to use.

  His tongue aroused her nipple, and her hands clenched in his dark hair. The sensation that moved through her was liquid and hot, and she arched her body to fit snugly against his.

  Even while Tykota was tasting the sweetness of Makinna's breasts, he was aware of every movement the Apaches made. He knew when one warrior knelt down to examine the ground, and he also knew that the sun had dropped behind the mountain by now, casting the land in shadows.

  The Apache called to his companion, and Tykota raised his head, pulling Makinna's gown together. What was he doing? He had to keep a clear mind if they were to escape detection. He gripped the knife anew. If the Apache discovered their hiding place, he must not let them take Makinna alive.

  Makinna felt the breath of death brush her. Strangely, she was no longer afraid, only deeply sad because Tykota's death at the hand of his enemy would be much worse than hers at his hand.

  The Indian poked at the bush with the butt of his rifle, and Tykota gripped the knife and placed the point against her breast once more.

  Minutes passed with the slowness of hours. Then, to Makinna's surprise, the two Apaches walked away and climbed back up the hill, where they joined their companions. But Tykota did not move the knife until he heard them riding away.

  Makinna closed her eyes as relief washed over her. "Have they really gone, Tykota?"

  "Come," he said, rising and taking her hand. "It is safe to return to the cave. It is too dark for them to search further tonight."

  He led her up the steep hill and into the cavern. There in the darkness he turned her to him. She hoped he would take her into his arms and kiss her as he had earlier, but his voice was cold and distant when-he-spoke.

  "You know I would have killed you if they had found us?"

  "I know that."

  "We were fortunate this time-next time we may not be."

  She felt like crying, because he had stepped away from her. "I know that, too."

  "You should not have come out of the cave without me. You were aware of the dangers."

  She nodded, even, knowing he could not see her in this darkness. Or could he?

  Makinna slid down to her knees and leaned back against the rock wall. It was clear to her that Tykota had only kissed her to keep her from being so frightened of the Apache. He had used his sensuality, and it had worked only too well,

  Makinna silently waited for him to continue. She didn't have to wait long.

  "We have to talk," he said, moving away from her and standing at the entrance to the cave.

  She stood up and walked over to him. "I know."

  "First, I will ask you to forgive me for what happened between us."

  She came up beside him. "There is nothing to forgive. I know why you..-. kissed me."

  He turned around and took her hands. "I should never have touched you with such intimacy. No one should be that familiar with your body but the man you will one day marry."

  She pulled her hands free of his, feeling cold and empty in the depths of her heart. "I know you were only trying to distract me from the danger. It worked as well as when you goaded me to anger to get me across the desert. You are very good at ruling people, Tykota."

  "I am sorry." His voice sounded devoid of emotion.

  A lump formed in her throat. "As I said, there is nothing to apologize for."

  Makinna just wanted him to leave before the tears that were in her heart reached her eyes. He must not know that she loved him, that if he wanted her, she would go anywhere with him, brave any hardship, just to be with him.

  "Please," she said, turning away. "I am weary. I want to be alone now."

  She heard him walk away, and she held her back straight until the sound of his footsteps disappeared.

  It was a long time before Makinna fell asleep, and when she did, it was with the memory of his lips on hers.

  Tykota paced the floor of the inner cavern, paused to splash water over his face, and fought against going to Makinna and finishing what he had started earlier. But he mustn't. Their lives were never meant to join. She had family waiting for her in California, and he had to honor the promise he'd made to his father.

  He had watched the proud tilt of Makinna's head and knew that he'd hurt her tonight. But it was better to hurt her a little now than to hurt her much more later on. In the ravine, he had awakened emotions in her that should have been left for her husband. She was young and inexperienced and had mistaken desire for love. When she returned to her world, she would meet a man who would-

  He stopped himself, unwilling to think about another man touching her as he'd done. In his heart, she would always be his. But in the real world, she could never belong to him.

  He did not sleep, and when the sunlight filtered through cave's ceiling, he was still awake. But he knew what he must do.

  Makinna stood on the ledge, looking out at the desert. She didn't hear Tykota came up beside her, and she jumped when he spoke to her.

  "Makinna, I have to leave you here for a day or two. You will have plenty of food and water." He had his gun belt slung over his shoulder, and he placed it beside her. "I am leaving this with you. You will be safe if you do not wander out of the cave as you did yesterday. Will you promise me that you will remain here until I return?"

  Unable to find her voice, she nodded.

  He stared into her eyes for a moment, as if there was something he wanted to say, but finally he turned away. She watched him descend the mountain and disappear below the ridge. Frantically, she searched for him, but he had already melted into the landscape.

  Never had she felt such an emptiness. Not even with the death of her mother and brother had she felt so alone.

  She walked to the inner chamber, stripped off her gown, and waded into the pool. She remained there for over an hour, allowing the cool water to soothe her aching body.

  But nothing could soothe her aching heart.

  The hunted had now become the hunter. Tyk
ota knew that he had to have horses if he was going to get Makinna out of this desert alive. The Apache would know by now that he was traveling with a woman, and that that made him even more vulnerable to them.

  It didn't take him long to come upon their trail. They were making no effort to cover their tracks, since they had no fear of just one man and a female. He slipped behind a boulder and watched as they set up camp. All he had to do now was wait to catch one of them alone.

  There was an urgency within him. He would need two horses if he was going to outrun and outsmart his enemy.

  The dying sun cast jagged shadows across the desert as Makinna watched for Tykota. He had been gone for three days, and she was certain that something had happened to him. He was dead, or he'd be back by now.

  Apprehensively, she looked at a bank of clouds forming in the west: heavy, dark, ominous clouds that arched above the horizon like black smoke. Thunderstorms had terrified Makinna ever since she'd gotten lost in the woods when she was five years old. She could still remember the terror she'd felt as she had huddled beneath a tree while thunder boomed and lightning struck all around her. She had been panic-stricken when lightning had hit a nearby tree, splintering it and causing it to burst into flames. With the dark terror known only to a child, she had been certain she would be struck by those jagged spears and burn just like the tree.

  Somehow her father had found her, cold and wet and huddled in the darkness. That night she had trembled beneath a warm blanket and basked in the affection of her family, but she never recovered from her fear of thunderstorms.

  She rushed back into the cave and went to the inner cavern, thinking it would be safe there and perhaps she wouldn't be able to hear the thunder. She stared through the opening at the top, watching as the sky grew darker and darker. Soon the blackness became so deep, so frightening, that she welcomed the intermittent flashes of lightning that gave her a moment's reprieve from the black void.

  Makinna clung to the walls of the cave, her fear becoming like a living thing that could pounce on her at any moment. She was sobbing as she dropped to her knees, so frightened that she couldn't stop shaking. Just when she thought she could stand it no longer, strong arms came around her, and she was pulled against a hard chest.

  "Makinna, it's all right," Tykota said, holding her tightly. Her fear struck at his very soul. "The storm will not harm you. You are safe in here."

  She buried her face against his chest, trembling. "I have... always feared storms," she gasped between sobs.

  Tykota had never seen her cry, so he knew her fear must be unspeakable. "It will not harm you in this cave. The lightning cannot penetrate solid rock."

  That thought calmed her. Or was it being in Tykota's arms that made her feel safe? She drew on his strength and was comforted by it.

  "I thought you weren't ever coming back."

  He brushed tumbled hair out of her face and spoke as a father might to a frightened child. "I would never desert you, Makinna."

  She looked up at him just as a flash of lightning illuminated his face. She was stunned by the softness she saw in his expression. Or was it a trick of the shadows?

  The emotions between them were as electri fying as the lightning that tore the sky. But now, instead of fear, desire rippled through her in waves. "Hold me. Hold me tight," she pleaded.

  Tykota's arms tightened about Makinna, and he felt her melt against him. She trusted him, and he was waging a war within himself, trying not to think of her softness, her curves, her lips pressed against his neck.

  He took her hand and pulled her to her feet. Gently, he guided her through the narrow opening to the outer cave. "Do you trust me?"

  "Yes."

  "Then let me show you and tell you about the storm you are frightened of. An Indian learns at an early age that if he understands his enemy's strength, it diminishes his fear."

  He led her out into the rain and turned her toward the valley. Her heart was still pounding furiously.

  "Take a deep breath, Makinna. Feel the rain. Smell the rain. Become part of the storm. Feel its power. Respect its strength, and do not try to ignore it or take it lightly. Become as one with the storm. Then there is nothing in the storm that will harm you."

  She did smell the rain being absorbed by the dry earth, and that scent somehow reminded her of home. It was the same cleansing smell that came right after an April shower.

  Tykota gazed down at her. "Do you feel the force of the storm bringing the earth renewal, Makinna? Listen. Listen to the song of the earth as it responds to the storm. Where there was desolation, the rain brings life."

  She felt the heat of his body, and it was definitely bringing hers to life. "Yes," she whispered through trembling lips. "I feel it."

  His gaze went beyond her to the rumbling sky. "Think of the storm like a man giving life into the body of a woman. The land would die without the storm." His gaze fastened on her lips, and he felt as if his soul was on fire. "And a man will die inside without the love of his woman."

  Rain pelted against her, plastering her hair to her face and her gown to her body. "I don't believe I shall ever fear a storm again," she said, as he turned and led them back into the cave. "I don't know if it is because you are with me, or because of what you said, but the fear is gone now."

  He wanted to pull her against him. He wanted to ask her to be his woman and to walk through life with him. But where he must go, she could not follow. Where he went, she did not belong.

  "Fear, like every other emotion, can be conquered, Makinna. It takes only the will and the need."

  "Can love be conquered as easily, Tykota?" Tears began mixing with the wetness already on her cheeks. "Can love be cast aside like something unwelcome and unwanted?"

  He stared at her for a long moment and then said harshly, "Love is the easiest of all emotions to conquer." He glanced away, since he couldn't look into her eyes, knowing he was wounding her, wounding himself. "Make ready to leave. We ride out tonight."

  "Ride?"

  "That is right. We ride."

  Her eyes widened. It occurred to her that the only way he could have acquired horses in this desert was to take them from the Apache warriors. "They are Apache horses, aren't they?"

  "Not anymore." He shoved the dried meat into a leather pouch and handed it to her. "It will be better to leave while it is storming so the rain will wash away any tracks we might leave behind."

  "Yes, I can see the sense of that. Can I also assume that the Apaches whose horses you took will want them back?"

  He looked at her. "No," he replied. "They will not be needing them anymore."

  The significance of his words hit her hard. She shivered at the knowledge that Tykota could be as ruthless as the Apaches tracking them. He would do whatever it took to survive. "You killed them, didn't you, Tykota?"

  "Makinna," he said impatiently, "when your enemy is riding and you are on foot, you have little chance of evading him."

  She felt little sorrow for the men he'd killed. After all, they had attacked Adobe Springs and killed everyone. Would have killed Tykota and her, had they remained. She nodded. "I will be glad for the horses."

  "Can you ride?"

  "Of course."

  "Sidesaddle, I assume."

  "Yes, I-"

  "You will be riding bareback." His gaze was hard. "All I ask of you is that you stay on the horse and keep up with me." He moved away from her and through the narrow passage to the crystal cavern, where he would fill the water skins he'd taken from the dead Apaches.

  When he rejoined her, his tone was abrupt, and he didn't even look at her. "We must leave now."

  She shouldered the leather pouch and walked out of the cavern. She tried to shake off the sadness she felt at leaving this magical place. But she knew they could not stay here forever.

  His voice cut through her musings. "You will have to be careful as we make our way down to the ravine where I tied the horses. The slopes are slick in places."

  It was a d
ifficult descent, and when they finally reached the bottom, Makinna was trembling with fatigue, drenched, and muddy. But she told herself this was not as hard to endure as the scorching sun and the thirst that had plagued them on the first part of their journey.

  Makinna approached the horses with trepidation, glad, at least, that the lightning had moved farther to the east.

  Tykota took the food bag from her and secured it to his horse. He then gripped Makinna's waist and lifted her onto her horse.

  At first riding bareback felt awkward, but in time she adjusted to it. She tried not to think about the man who had died so that she could ride.

  It was raining harder now, and although she was soaked to the skin, she was grateful for the coolness. When the sun rose and the rain stopped, it would be sweltering, and they would once again have to contend with the Apaches tracking them, likely angrier and more determined than ever.

  Tykota urged his horse into a gallop, and Makinna gripped the sides of her mount with her legs, praying that she would not be unseated. The Indian pinto was smaller than the horses she was accustomed to, but after they had been riding for over an hour, she gained a new respect for the sturdy animal. It was responsive and surefooted as it raced across the rugged terrain with tireless energy.

  They rode through the night to put as much distance as they could between themselves and the Apaches.

  Makinna led her weary mount down a muddy gully as she watched the sun rise over the distant mountains. She was enchanted by the transformation that had come to the land washed clean by the storm. The desert had sprung to life overnight, the flowering cacti exuding a sweet perfume.

  She was observing the brilliant crimson blooms on a prickly pear when Tykota slowed beside her. "This is as good a place as any to rest the horses. We can see for miles in any direction."

  To Makinna, he looked like he belonged on the back of the sturdy Indian pony. His dark hair rippled in the wind, and his eyes were fierce and unfathomable.