She dismounted, lay her head against the horse's neck, and closed her eyes. "This is the finest horseflesh I've ever seen. He carried me through the night without once faltering."
Tykota patted his horse. "The Indian's pinto has to be of sturdy stock, for reasons you can well imagine."
"I certainly can. A lesser breed would never survive in this desert." She laughed and tossed her head back. "Perhaps I'm a bit like them. After all, a lesser breed could not have made it this far."
Tykota looked at her for a moment, then took the reins and led both horses back to a patch of dried grass, where they began to graze.
He turned his gaze westward as Makinna joined him. "What happens now?" she asked.
He stared into the distance as if he'd forgotten her.
"Where are we going, Tykota?"
Finally he looked down at her. "We are but a few days from my home."
Pushing a tumbled curl behind her ear, she asked, "Aren't we going to El Paso?"
He looked into her eyes. "There is something important I must do."
"Something that concerns your tribe?"
"Yes."
"Will you... will... I... continue my journey to California?"
He appeared startled by her question. "Of course. You are not now, nor have you ever been, my prisoner. As soon as I can arrange it, you will board the Butterfield Stage in El Paso. Then, before you know it, you will reach your destination in California."
Makinna glanced back the way they'd come. The trek had been hard and dangerous. It was a miracle that they had made it this far. But somehow she could not imagine it ending. What would she do when she could no longer hear the sound of Tykota's voice, feel him by her side? "Thank you. I would appreciate that," was all she said.
"Soon this will all seem like a bad dream," Tykota said.
Makinna knew their time together would be something she would always cherish. She tried to keep her voice from trembling. "Do you think the Apaches are still trailing us?"
"Doubtless, more fiercely than ever, because they know that I am getting close to my people and destination. During the night we crossed the Rio Grande into Mexico. I hoped by going the long way to confuse them and slow their search."
"We are not in the United States?" she asked in amazement.
"Indians recognize no boundaries and owe no allegiance to any country other than their own tribe."
"I understand."
He looked doubtful. "Do you?"
He walked away from her. "The horses have rested and fed, so we must ride on. Are you up to it?"
"I can ride as far as we have to."
She approached her horse, then turned back to him. "But without stirrups, I can't mount by myself."
Tykota's hands spanned her waist, and he lifted her onto the animal's back. Makinna rode up the ravine and waited for him there. He frowned down at the tracks left in the mud. He could do nothing to cover them. He would double back into Texas in the hope of throwing the Apaches off their trail. Perhaps gain them a little time.
The sun was at its hottest when the weary travelers stopped again to rest the horses. Makinna dropped down to the ground in the thin strip of shade cast by a yucca tree. She uncapped her canteen and took small sips as Tykota had taught her. Through drooping eyelids she watched while he tended to the horses. Then she slumped over and drifted off to sleep, dreaming of a soft bed and a cool breeze.
Makinna came awake quickly when Tykota called her name. "Come," he said, offering her a hand. "We must ride hard. That dust cloud to the south is the Apaches."
That was the only prodding Makinna needed. They hurried to the horses and rode at a full gallop, the sturdy pintos giving their all. Tykota slowed them to an easier gait when he was sure that they had left their pursuers behind.
"Will they not follow?" she asked.
"Perhaps, but they will not catch us today, and tomorrow we will be out of their reach."
Night had fallen when Tykota drew his mount to a halt and motioned for Makinna to do the same. On the edge of a mesa, together they gazed down at twinkling lights below.
"Are those campfires, Tykota?"
"No. It is a ranch."
"It must be huge. There are so many lights."
"It covers over a hundred square miles." He nudged his horse forward. "You will find a warm welcome there."
Makinna felt relief spread through her. They had made it out of the desert and eluded the Apaches. They were going to live!
But when they rode past a corral, a man stepped out in front of them, his rifle cocked and aimed at Tykota. Makinna's heart stopped. The man was an Indian.
"If you have weapons, throw them down and then dismount," he commanded.
Tykota's laughter stunned Makinna, who remained frozen in fear.
"Have I been away so long that your keen eyes do not know me, Mangas?" Tykota said.
The old man stepped beyond the light spilling from the barn. "Tykota?"
"It is I, my friend." He slid off his horse, and the two men embraced one another. "Do you shoot me or welcome me?"
After that, Makinna did not know what they said, because they lapsed into another language.
Finally Tykota turned to lift Makinna from her horse, and the old Indian gazed at the white woman.
"Makinna, this old warrior who tried to shoot us is my teacher and friend, Mangas."
The Indian's gray-streaked hair hung to his shoulders, and he stood tall and straight. Makinna did not know quite what to say to the man who stared at her with open curiosity. "I have heard of you from Tykota."
The old man suddenly grinned. "I have heard of you, as well. The Apache drums spoke of a white woman traveling with Tykota, and their talk reached my ears."
Tykota spoke at length to Mangas in their language, then led Makinna toward the huge ranch house.
"What did you say to him?" she asked.
"I told him to be alert because the Apaches may track us here. And I asked him to take our horses into the barn for a good rubdown and extra feed."
As they walked toward the ranch house, the clouds moved away from the moon, bathing the dwelling in light. "This house could easily be in New Orleans, Tykota," Makinna exclaimed. "It's so lovely." The house had wide galleries on both the upper and lower floors. There were wide pillars on the veranda, and wrought-iron railings on the balcony. "I never thought to see anything so grand in this rustic setting."
"The house was modeled after a French chateau," Tykota explained. He led her up the steps to the front door. "You will find many things here that might surprise you."
"Do you know the people who live here well?"
"Yes. Very well."
Without knocking, he opened the door and ushered Makinna inside. A small, white-haired woman was bent over her sewing. She glanced up, and her face brightened with joy. In her excitement, she dropped her needlework, propelled herself out of the chair, and met Tykota in the middle of the room. "Ty, my son, you are safe! I was so afraid when Mangas told me that the Apache drums talked of you."
She spoke with a soft English accent, and Makinna realized she must be Mrs. Silverhorn, Tykota's adoptive mother. And this was Biquera Ranch.
"I've been so worried about you, Ty!"
His arms engulfed the tiny woman, and he kissed her cheek. "Mother, it has been too long since I saw your face. But Father now rests in peace in his native land."
She placed a trembling hand lovingly against his cheek. "You have been away so long, Ty."
"I had to see that everything was done properly, and there were much I had to settle for you."
Remembering her manners, Mrs. Silverhorn turned her attention to Makinna. "And this is?" she asked, smiling.
"Mother, meet Makinna Hillyard. She was with me when the Apaches attacked Adobe Spring. She was on her way to her sister's home in San Francisco."
The woman took Makinna's hand. "My dear, I can only imagine what hardships you have suffered! But you are here now. Your ordeal is over."
Makinna smiled, almost forgetting her exhaustion and bedraggled state in the face of Mrs. Silverhorn's warmth. "I am happy to meet you, Mrs. Silverhorn, and glad to be here. And please accept my condolences on the loss of your husband. Tykota has spoken so highly of him."
"Thank you, dear."
"I am sure Makinna would welcome a bath and a soft bed, Mother."
"And so she shall have them. Immediately. Come with me, my dear." She began to lead Makinna away but glanced back at her son. "And you could do with a bath and a change of clothing, too." The smile on her lips softened her words. "You seemed to have misplaced your shirt. Do hurry to put yourself to right. I want to hear all about your awful adventure."
It was quiet except for the squeaking of the rocking chair that Hannah Silverhorn kept in motion. Seeing her son now safe and sitting in her husband's chair filled her with happiness. She knew that even though he seemed to be resting, he was aware of every sound around him.
"Will you stay this time, Ty?" she asked with hope in her voice.
"Mother, you know I cannot. I have duties that call to me."
"But this is your ranch, your home. Your father wanted you to have it when he died. I am old, Ty, and I cannot run a ranch as big as Biquera for long."
He leaned forward and put a hand on hers. "Mother, you know an Indian cannot own land in the state of Texas."
"I know that, but there are ways around it."
"Please understand that I must go to my peo ple. I am obliged to do so by my promise to my Indian father. And the tribe has been without leadership since Valatar died."
She nodded, knowing he would attend to his duty as he had been raised to do. "It will be difficult for you, Ty. You have lived so long away from the tribe. And Mangas told me that you still have enemies, those who have been pursuing you and Makinna."
"Yes, I know." His eyes grew hard. "My brother will live long enough to regret his actions. I do not know why he still hates me after all these years."
"Mangan says it is because of the shame. And his ambition."
"That is so. I always thought that Valatar was too harsh with my half brothers. I had hoped to see Sinica and Coloradous back with the tribe and their honor restored."
"Ty, you know I could not love you more if I had given you life, and that is why I feel I must say this to you." She grasped his hand in both of hers, and her eyes sought his. "You have called two fine men Father."
"And I loved and honored them both."
"I know you did, Ty. But both of them asked too much of you while they were alive. When you were but a child and uncertain of your own goals, Valatar made you feel responsible for the Perdenelas. And George brought you into his world with all its expectations and had you walk a path that was both rigorous and unfamiliar to you. Neither afforded you many choices." Her eyes filled with tears. "Ty, I love you, and I would rather see you walk away from this ranch and the Perdenelas if it meant you would find happiness and peace for your restless soul."
His gaze softened with affection. "No one could have had a better, more loving mother than you. But you must understand my life is not mine. It never has been. As Valatar taught me, I was born to lead my tribe, to walk in his shoes."
She shook her head, touching his cheek softly. "I suspected you would, still feel that way. But I want you to know that if your path gets too hard, and you find you cannot go on, Biquera Ranch will be here waiting for you."
"Thank you, Mother."
She leaned back and watched his face. "Tell me about the woman."
"There is nothing to tell."
"I see the way your eyes follow her, Ty. She is a very beautiful woman, and it would be difficult to... be with her as long as you have and not feel something for her. You care for her, don't you?"
He drew in a deep breath. "It would not matter what my feelings were, Mother. She has her life, and I have mine."
"How does she feel about you?"
"I believe she may fancy herself in love with me. But when she returns to her world she will realize it was not love...."
Hannah looked into Tykota's eyes. "The two of you were alone together for a long, difficult time."
He met her gaze. "I did not act dishonorably with her, Mother. She is still chaste."
Hannah shook her head. "I was not questioning your honor, son. I was asking how you feel about Makinna."
He was thoughtful for a moment before he answered. "I never knew love could be so deep or hurt so much."
Hannah felt tears bum behind her eyes, and her heart went out to her son. "Because you think you must let her go?"
"We cannot have a life together. I am chief of the Perdenelas, and the law says that the chief cannot marry outside his tribe."
"Your father made that law because of the betrayal by his Apache wife. You are a chief now. You can change the law."
"It is law meant to protect the tribe. I cannot change the law to suit my own needs. The tribe's welfare is what matters."
Hannah knew Tykota would always deny his needs and desires if he thought it was for the good of the Perdenelas. "When the time comes, can you walk away from her?"
Tykota stood and begin to pace. "I must. What choice have I?"
She placed a hand on his arm. "Oh, my dear son, with all our good intentions, what have we done to you?"
Tykota went to the door. "I must speak to Mangas."
Hannah nodded. "That dear man has waited patiently for your return. But he is old, Ty, so see that he gets his rest."
Tykota moved out of the house, reflecting that within its walls he had known much happiness. But he would soon need to leave this part of his life behind forever.
Makinna sank into the soft mattress and sighed contentedly. She had bathed and eaten and now wore one of Mrs. Silverhorn's soft cotton nightgowns. A cool breeze filtered through the open window, and she closed her eyes, welcoming sleep. She dreamed that she and Tykota walked together; she belonged to him, and he belonged to her. Then she fell into a deeper sleep and did not dream at all.
Makinna awoke to the sound of voices filtering into her room. She nestled deeper into the soft pillow and smiled. No more running from danger or going thirsty. The long ordeal was over. She and Tykota were safe.
She stretched her arms over her head and watched a warm breeze stir the lace curtains at the window. It felt good just to rest her tired body.
Suddenly she sat up, her heart pounding. Suppose Tykota had left her there without saying good-bye?
Makinna shook her head. Tykota would not leave without telling her.
She slid quickly out of bed and looked around for her tattered dress. It was gone, and so were her shoes. Draped across a chair was a pink gown and soft leather shoes to match. At the foot of her bed, she found undergarments, and she smiled with delight when she saw a comb and brush on the bedside table.
After fastening the corset, she slipped the dress over her head and found to her delight that it fit. She brushed her hair until it crackled, then ventured out of the room.
As she descended the shiny wooden stairs, she met Mrs. Silverhorn coming in the front door, a basket of wildflowers hooked over her arm.
"I hope you slept well, my dear."
"Yes, I did. Thank you very much." She smoothed her dress and smiled. "Thank you for the gown. It fits perfectly."
"It's not new, but I thought the color would suit you nicely. I took it in a bit at the waist and let out the hem. You're taller and slimmer than I am."
"How very kind of you. But how did you guess my size?"
Makinna watched Mrs. Silverhorn's eyes crinkle into a smile. "I used your old gown as a pattern. Are you hungry, Miss Hillyard?"
"Starved. And, please call me Makinna."
"Makinna it is." She ushered Makinna into the kitchen and seated her at the table. "It's cozier here than in the formal dining room," she said, placing the basket of flowers in the center of the table.
Everything was neat and clean, just like the woman Tykota c
alled mother. "It must be lonely for you out here, Mrs. Silverhorn." Makinna said as her hostess scooped scrambled eggs onto a blue china plate.
Mrs. Silverhorn turned to remove biscuits from the oven and placed them on the table before she answered. "There's never enough time to be lonesome on a ranch, Makinna. There's so much to do; the work is never done."
Makinna spread honey on a steaming biscuit and bit into it. "Have you ever thought about going back to England?"
Mrs. Silverhorn poured coffee for herself and Makinna and sat down across from her. "This is my home now. Tykota just got back from England, where he took my husband's body to be buried in his family crypt in Cumberland."
"He didn't want to be buried here?"
"Although George learned to love this land, he only settled here for Tykota's sake. It was his wish that his body be returned to England. I shall be buried beside him when my time comes."
"So that was the reason Tykota was traveling on the stage."
"Yes. He sailed to Galvenstan where he took the stage. My son... Well, I keep hoping that Ty will one day decide to make Biquera his home."
"Do you think he will?"
Mrs. Silverhorn shook her head. "I don't know what will happen in the future. If onlyI wish-" She made a helpless gesture and changed the subject. "My son told me you were on your way to live with your sister in California when Adobe Springs was attacked."
"Have you ever been to California Mrs. Silverhorn?"
"No, I haven't. When my husband bought this ranch and we moved here, we talked about traveling, but we never seemed to have the time." She took a sip of coffee. "Now I don't really care to leave. I only go to El Paso when we need supplies."
"I suppose Tykota was up early this morning."
"That's right. Ty's always been an early riser. He went to the Kincaid ranch to see his old friend, John. They were once very close."
"I recall Tykota's mentioning John Kincaid. They went to school together in England, didn't they?"
"That's right. We were glad Ty could have an American friend with him there. John is a very fine young man, and I know he misses Ty"
Tykota's Woman (Historical Romance) Page 10