Tykota's Woman(17)

Tykota's gaze slid away from hers. "You would not know of them."

She smiled. "Perhaps you come from the mysterious tribe Mr. Rumford was talking about on the coach-the one that no white man has ever seen and lived to tell about."

Makinna had spoken whimsically, but the memory of Mr. Rumford made her close her eyes against the sudden pressure of tears. When she opened them again, she saw the tightening of Tykota's jaw. When he did not answer her question, she tried to move on to less painful thoughts.

"It is so hot," she said. "I have never known such heat."

"Is not New Orleans hot? What is your city like?"

So he had been listening to her conversation with Mr. Rumford and Mr. Carruthers in the coach. She sighed. "Louisiana is as different from this desert as two places can be. It is green and teeming with life. Rivers and streams meander through dense swamps, and the Mississippi River dominates everything around it."

Tykota watched her carefully. "Why did you leave New Orleans? Surely you set out on a journey difficult for a woman alone."

"I am certain you heard much of my conversation on the stage, even though you pretended to be asleep. You probably know that my mother and brother both recently died."

"Tell me more about them."

"Mother had been an invalid for many years, but she was so sweet-natured and uncomplaining that it was a joy to be with her. I wanted to make her life comfortable and ease her suffering as much as I could. It was hard to watch her become weaker and weaker over time. My brother was, I imagine, like most big brothers: protective, kind, and loving."

Tykota looked suddenly thoughtful but did not speak, so she concluded, "William died in a horseback riding accident."

"What about your husband?"

She averted her eyes. "I have allowed you and the others to form a misconception about me. I have never been married. I just thought it was safer to pretend to be a married woman while traveling alone."

"I see." Tykota found that that revelation brought him an odd satisfaction. "So, did your family do business in New Orleans?"

She studied her hands, noticing the nails were chipped and dirty. "Yes. At one time, my family owned storage warehouses and shipping barges. But the war came, and we lost everything, as many of our friends did. My father died soon thereafter. My sister married and moved out West."

"And then you lost your mother and brother?"

The thought of what she had suffered touched him. But then again, perhaps she was on her way west to join not only her sister but the man she would marry. "I suppose you had a full social life in New Orleans."

"No. None at all. My mother needed constant care."

He could hear the loneliness in her voice. "There is a man now, perhaps, who wants you for his wife?"

She shook her head. "No one."

He smiled, and it transformed his face. "Then the men in New Orleans are either blind or fools."

She looked at him, stunned. "Was that a compliment?"

"You do not know you are pleasing to look at?"

She smiled ruefully. "I am too tall for a woman, and I have a terrible temper, besides. But I thank you all the same."

So, she did not know she was a beauty. How unlike many other women, who were forever fishing for compliments. "Makinna is your first name, is it not? How did you come by it?"

"It was my mother's maiden name." She clasped her hands and looked at him intently. "Now I have told you about myself. So what about you? I want to know why you speak English like an Englishman, not an American."

A veil seemed to descend over his face, and he leaned back against the cliff. "When I was very young, my father sent me to live with an Englishman who was his trusted friend. I came to know George Silverhom better than I knew my own father. He took me to England with him, and I lived with him and his wife, Hannah, on a country estate. Since he had no children, he raised me like his own. In my eleventh year, he bought a ranch in Texas, so I could be nearer my own land and people."

"You grew up in Texas?"

"I grew up in many places, but Biquera Ranch is the home I remember the most fondly. It is very near the Mexican border."

"You must have missed your real family."

"Yes. But I saw much of the world I would otherwise never have known. And I was sent back to England to be fully educated."

"That explains the accent, among other things. And now you are going home to your family? But which one-your Indian or your English family?"

He closed his eyes and let out a long, slow breath. "You should sleep if you can, Miss Hillyard. We will be walking most of the night."