He met her gaze. "I talk when there is something important to say." He smiled at her. "While you, Makinna, chatter like a magpie."
She knew it was rather forward to use each other's given names, but dire circumstances had taken them past conventional etiquette. "That's true." She settled on the ground and spread her tattered gown about her. "I do. So it's your turn. Tell me more about yourself, Tykota. I know so little about you."
He sliced off a chunk of meat and handed it to her. "I told you before. I left my family, to spend most of my life in England."
She was intrigued. "But why did you leave your family? Have you got a mother and father, brothers or sisters?"
"I thought you said you were hungry."
"I am, but-"
"Then eat."
She looked pensive. "Tell me more about the ranch near the Mexican border."
His strong white teeth tore into the meat. He said nothing.
"You don't want to talk about it?"
"I do not feel so inclined, no."
She took a bite of the meat and lowered her head. "I'm sorry. I know it's none of my affair."
He stood up abruptly, and before she could say anything further, he walked away, swallowed up by the darkness.
Makinna was becoming accustomed to his moody silences, his abrupt departures, and his unwillingness to talk about himself. But she wanted to know more about him.
She finished eating and went back to the spring to wash her hands. She tried to work the tangles out of her hair, but it was useless. Tomorrow maybe, she would give in and ask Tykota to cut her hair.
She lay back on the soft grass that grew beside the spring and closed her eyes. It was so peaceful there after traveling across the harsh desert. Weariness overtook her and drew her into sleep.
When Makinna awoke the next morning, she found Tykota hollowing out three gourds with his knife. She pushed her hair out of her face and watched him. "What are you doing?"
"We can carry extra water with these. It is a long way until the next water."
Dread settled over her. "If we get out of this alive, I never want to see the desert again."
He glanced up at her. "You were meant for the easy life, sitting in parlors gossiping with the ladies, talking about the latest fashion or what so-and-so had on at the dance the night before."
That was the longest speech she'd ever known him to give, and instead of being angry with his unflattering suppositions about her character, she was amused. "You do not know me at all if you believe that."
"But I have met women like you."
She hid a smile. "Have you? Yet you so often point out that I am a bit unusual. But do tell me about these woman you now compare me to."
He glanced at her. "You tell me. You have lived among society ladies, who wear silly undergarments and do not swim."
"I refuse to say anything more about myself." She watched him deftly thread cloth strips through holes he'd made in the top of a gourd. "Not until you tell me about yourself."
He dipped the gourds in the water, filled them, and stood, slipping them over his shoulder. "After you have eaten, fill the canteen and bring it with you. We should be leaving very soon."
She stood up and placed a hand on his arm. He looked down at her hand and then into her face questioningly.
"I have a favor to ask, Tykota."
He silently waited for her to go on.
"I have decided to let you cut my hair."
She could tell nothing from his expression, but he laid the gourds on the ground and unsheathed his knife. Then he looked from her hair to the knife and back. To Makinna's surprise, he begun to prowl back and forth with the grace of a mountain lion and the intensity of a man with a heavy decision to make.
"Why do you worry so? It's my hair, not yours. And it was your idea to cut it."
At last he stopped in front of her and grasped her shoulders, turning her back to him.
Makinna squeezed her eyes tightly shut.
Tykota lifted some strands of her golden hair and raised his knife, but when the tendril curled around his finger, he hesitated. The texture was like silk. Something within him resisted the thought of cutting off anything so beautiful. He raised the strand to his lips and closed his eyes.
"Do it quickly," she said, her eyes still squeezed shut.
His hand actually trembled as he sliced through the curls. Then he sliced another and another, cutting it to the top of her shoulders. When the ground about them was littered with gold, he retrieved one of the curls and slipped it into his pocket.
Makinna turned slowly to face him. "Do I look awful?"
Tykota's gaze went from her hair to her startlingly blue eyes, which held an almost childlike expression.
"Do I?"