She realized he did not want to say any more about himself, so she closed her eyes and did indeed feel tiredness enveloped her. She was hot, hungry, and thirsty, but she had a feeling that with Tykota as her guide, she would live through this terrible ordeal.
Makinna turned her head to look at him. He appeared to be sleeping, but she knew that at the slightest sign of danger, he would be alert. And she knew that no matter where she went after this, or what turn her life took, she would never forget this tall, beautiful Indian so shrouded in mystery.
Makinna awoke with a start, and at first she could not remember where she was. It was almost dark, and she could smell meat cooking.
She came to her feet and followed the wonderful aroma to where Tykota was cooking something over a campfire.
"Have you ever eaten rabbit?" he asked, watching her carefully.
Makinna dropped down beside him. "No," she replied, hungrily watching the drippings from the meat splatter into the fire. "But it smells wonderful, and I'm willing to eat anything at the moment."
Tykota removed the meat from the skewer he'd fashioned from a mesquite branch. On a flat stone he carved the meat with expertise.
He offered her the first piece. "Be careful. It's very hot. Don't burn your fingers."
Makinna handled the meat gingerly and blew on it until it cooled. She closed her eyes with the first bite. "Mmm, this is delicious." She opened her eyes. "But I would have thought a rabbit would be meatier and have bones."
Tykota bent his head so she did not see him smile. "Oh, that isn't rabbit. It's rattlesnake."
She paused with a piece of meat halfway to her mouth. She knew he was waiting for her to reject it, but she would not give him the satisfaction. She hoped her voice sounded casual. "Oh, really? You said it was rabbit."
"That is not what I said, Miss Hillyard. I merely asked you if you had ever eaten rabbit."
"Well, it's delicious, anyway."
He gave her another rare look of approval. "You are a most unusual woman, Miss Hillyard."
"So you've implied, though not always in the most flattering terms."
He handed her the canteen, knowing she was having sudden trouble swallowing the remaining snake meat. "Here, wash it down." He watched her take a drink before he spoke again. "You are also a brave woman. I wonder if there are many more like you back in New Orleans."
"Of course. We women of Louisiana spring from hearty stock." She glanced out at the desert, watching the sun splash gold across the land. "I thought it was too dangerous to have a campfire."
"At this time of day, anyone who might be tracking us would not see the fire in the sunset, and the smoke will blend with the twilight."
"Tykota, will you not tell me something about your life before you went to England? I have told you about my youth."
"I left my people when I was very young. Nothing happened that would be of interest to you."
She turned away, realizing he still refused to talk about himself. She dropped the subject for the time being.
Absently running her fingers through her hair, she came across endless tangles. Finally, in moment of brazenness, she lifted her skirt hem, ripped the bottom ruffle from her petticoat, and tied her hair away from her face. "There," she said, pleased. My hair won't get in my way now."
"I could cut it for you. It would be cooler. Besides, you will never get those tangles out now."
She glanced down at his knife. "I don't think so. I'll manage the way it is."
He shrugged. "If you should change your mind..." He flashed the knife.
"I won't." She rose to walk away from him. No, she would not allow him to cut her hair.
"Miss Hillyard?"
"I said no," she replied, without breaking her stride.
"It's not that. You are walking in the wrong direction. If you keep going, you will soon fall off a cliff."
She stopped and turned back to him. "How can you expect me to know that? I wasn't born here."
"All I expect from you is that you obey me, that you do what I tell you to. That way you will come to no harm."
She raised her chin in proud defiance, looking almost comical with the streaked mud on her face. "I will do what you say as long as it's what I want to do. I already warned you that I have a temper. And you are testing its limits."
"Ah, yes, your temper. Still, what is important is that you do not test mine."
She wisely made no reply.
He put out the fire and scattered the ashes, and she watched as he wiped away all traces that they had been there. Then he glanced up at her.
"Walk to that higher ledge and wait for me."
She nodded, and when she reached the spot, she watched him brush away their footprints with a spiny branch of a scrub bush. He was leaving nothing behind for the Apache to find.