Tykota's Woman(15)

Her movement was inadvertently provocative, making her breasts bulge against her gown, and Tykota quickly glanced away. A primitive stirring inside him heated his blood. This stubborn, spirited, outspoken woman was different from other females he had known. And he didn't want to feel this way about her. He didn't even want to like her.

"You are not in a genteel Southern town out here, Mrs. Hillyard. At the height of the noon sun it will be so hot that you could cook meat without a campfire. We may encounter rattlesnakes and scorpions and, at the higher elevations, bears, wolves, or pumas. Can you face all that, Mrs. Hillyard?"

She eyed the canteen slung over his shoulder. "Ask me again after I have a sip of water."

His mouth curved into a small smile. "You may have two sips. But no more."

When he handed her the canteen, she raised it to her lips, savoring the two sips he allowed her. Then, wiping her hand across her mouth, she handed it back. "Can you tell me where we're going?"

She watched him, puzzled, as he bent down, and poured some of their precious water into the dirt, mixing it into mud. "If I told you, you still would not know. But, I will say this much: after today, we will rest in the heat of the day and travel only by night. It will not be easy."

"Because of the heat?"

"Mostly, yes."

She watched him as he cupped his hands and scooped up the mud. "What are you doing?"

"You will need this on your face so your skin will not blister."

"What! Oh, no! You aren't putting mud on my face."

"Close your eyes," he commanded.

She wanted to defy him, but she could see by his hard expression that to do so would be futile. She reluctantly closed her eyes in submission. After all, he did know about the desert, and she didn't. When he finished daub ing her face, she asked, "Does it look as awful as it feels?"

Tykota nearly chuckled but quickly became serious. "If your face baked in the sun, you would feel much worse." He looked her over carefully to make sure he'd covered all the exposed skin. "We will be moving fast, and you must keep up."

"You didn't put mud on your face," she objected.

"I do not need it."

"May I ask you one more question, Mr. Silverhorn?" she persisted.

He cast her a look of impatience and turned and walked away.

She hurried to catch up with him. "Will you explain to me about your names?" she asked, practically running to keep pace with him.

"Ty Silverhorn is what I am called in your white world."

"And Tykota?" she pronounced carefully, thinking the name suited him because it sounded powerful and masculine. "What does it mean?"

He glanced sideways at her. "Do you always talk this much?"

"No, Mr. Silverhorn. But I have been very much on my own lately, with no one to talk to."

He was quiet for a time, and just when she thought he wasn't going to answer her, he said softly, "Tykota means `the chosen one.'"

Since he didn't seem inclined to talk, she lapsed into silence. Besides, it took all her strength just to keep up with him. After a while, she lagged behind, and she found herself observing the way his white shirt was plastered to his skin with sweat. She could see the muscles ripple across his back, and the black hair falling over his shoulders fascinated her. Her gaze dropped to the gun belt strapped about his narrow waist. No bow and arrow for this Indian, she mused.

As the morning wore on, Makinna found herself falling farther and farther behind. At last, she could not take another step, and the sun was so hot, she could hardly draw a breath. She was hungry and wished she had eaten the plants Tykota had offered her that morning.

She was grateful when he stopped and turned back toward her, waiting for her to catch up with him.

"I told you I would not wait for you. I mean it." His dark eyes were stormy.

"I know," she gasped. "I am trying my best to keep up."

His gaze seemed to soften, and he slowed his pace a bit to allow her to catch her breath. She did not complain, but the day was young and she was already struggling just to breathe.

Tykota halted again. "Take off those contraptions that hold you in."

Her eyes rounded in horror at the very thought of removing her undergarments. "Surely you aren't suggesting that I-" She shook her head, utterly shocked. "Sir, that I will not do."

Tykota glared at her. "You will either take them off, or l will do it for you."

She spun away from him and took several hurried steps away. "You wouldn't dare!"

The look he gave her implied that he would.

"I... will do it," she said, giving in with ill grace. "But you will have to turn your back."