Tykota's Woman(14)

"Tykota. My name is Tykota."





Tykota sat with his back braced against a boulder, his gaze sweeping the darkened countryside, his ears attuned to the night sounds. If the Apache had known he had returned, who else knew?

He glanced to where the woman lay sleeping. She was going to slow him down. He should have left her behind. Why hadn't he? Because of her kindness to him? Something in her spirit that called out to him? Whatever it was, he'd had time to save only one person, and she'd been his choice.

Tykota hadn't even seen her face yet. She'd been swaddled in a black veil on the coach, and when she had brought him the food, it had been too dark to make out her features. He wasn't even sure of her age. Maybe midthirties? She had told Mr. Rumford that she would be living with her sister in San Francisco. Odd, she'd made no mention of her husband. And somehow she seemed very alone in the world.

He stared back into the darkness. He knew about aloneness. Both of his fathers, Indian and white, had died within a year of each other, leaving an enormous void in his life. He thought about the letter he'd received from his white mother just before he'd left England, after burying George Silverhorn. It had carried a warning from Mangas, his long-time mentor and aide to his Indian father, Valatar. His old teacher had wanted him to know that his half brother, Sinica, had become the leader of a renegade band of Apaches and had boasted that Tykota would never return to Valle de la Luna alive. Tykota breathed deeply, hoping Mangas was wrong. He hadn't seen any of his Indian family since the night George Silverhorn had spirited him away. But would Sinica truly turn against him in violence? Perhaps he was still bitter because his mother had been shamed by their father, and their father had not named him the future chief of the Perdenelas.

Tykota sighed wearily. He had never wanted to be chief. He was sure he was unworthy of the honor. He was not ready to make all the decisions for the tribe.

Perhaps the Apache attack on Adobe Springs had been random, he mused. But if it had been Sinica, he'd come for Tykota. And he would keep coming.

Tykota had thought often of that night when his father had renounced Sinica and Coloradous and placed shame on them and their mother. And as he'd grown older he'd still thought that his father had been too harsh with his other two sons. They were of his blood, yet he had banished them from his life. And Sinica, hot-blooded as he was, would probably settle for nothing less than Tykota's death to settle the wrong.

Tykota glanced back at the woman. It might have been kinder to her if he'd let her die with the others back at the way station. If Sinica did catch them, she would meet a much worse fate.

He closed his eyes, feeling tired and heartsick. He would just have to outwit Sinica, and that was not going to be easy. Although Tykota knew this desert well, Sinica knew it better. His half brother had been living with the Apache, and they were the ultimate rulers of the Guadalupe mountains and surrounding countryside. If it was Sinica that was following them, it wouldn't be long until he picked up their trail.

Tykota had to get the woman to safety and then go as quickly as possible to the Mountain of the Moon. Unrest must be stirring among his people. They would expect him to be a strong leader, and he could only pray he was equal to the task his father had entrusted to him.

The sun was no more than a golden glow in the east when Tykota bent over the woman. In the dawn light he was startled to see how young she was. Probably somewhere in her twenties. He stared at the golden hair curling around her shoulders, her long lashes lying softly against her rosy cheeks. Her lips were full, her face very lovely. He was so overwhelmed by her delicate beauty that a lump formed in his throat. At last he touched her shoulder gently to awaken her.

Her eyes opened, and they were bluer than the desert sky. Tykota watched as the confusion in those eyes was replaced with fear. She sat up quickly and moved away from his touch.

"Here," he said, holding food out to her. "Eat quickly. We must leave right away."

Makinna stared at the concoction he'd handed her. "It looks like... like raw plants. I can't eat this."

"Then you will go hungry, Mrs. Hillyard, because there is nothing else to eat."

She brushed her hair from her face. "What is it?"

"The beans are from the mesquite tree and do not taste so bad. The other is from the mescal cactus. It would taste better roasted, but I dare not light a fire, even if we did have the time."

She shook her head. "I am not hungry enough to eat this."

"As you wish. But you will be," he warned. "And, as I told you last night, I will not wait for you if you lag behind."

She glared at him. "No one asked you to." She stood slowly, stretching to relieve muscles cramped from sleeping on the hard ground.