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Tykota's Woman(28)

By:Constance O'Banyon


"Tell me more about your early treks into the desert." She wrinkled her nose. "I can't imagine anyone doing it for fun."

"It was for me. I always looked forward to those months when the three of us would go into the desert and live off the land with only our knives."

"That is why you know this area so well."

"Yes." He glanced at the trickling waterfall. "But I never brought either of them here. This was a private place I had shared only with my father and brother."

"Yet you brought me."

Tykota turned to look at her. "I had little choice in the matter. If I had not brought you here, you would have died."

Makinna smiled. "Your secret is safe with me. Anyway, I could never find this place again if my life depended on it."

Tykota's gaze roamed the ceiling. "Within this cavern live boyhood memories, nothing more."

"When I came in a moment ago, you were trying to recapture something you'd lost," she stated softly.

Tykota was surprised that she was so perceptive. "That is so. But one cannot step back into the shoes of a child."

"Did you never see your father again?"

"No. But I received messages from him through Mangas and Santo."

"Were you... was there a time when you became contented with your life with the Silverhorns?"

"It is strange that you should choose the word contented, because that is what it was-never complete acceptance or happiness, but a restless contentment. George Silverhorn adopted me and gave me his last name. He taught me many things, and after my father, he was the most important influence in my life."

"You walked a hard road, Tykota-not white, not Indian. It must have been difficult."

Again he was surprised by how perceptive she was. "Less and less as time passed. When George told me that I was to go to school in England, I rebelled against the idea. But word came from my own father that I must go, so I had to obey. I learned later, from Santo, the reason my father wanted me out of this country."

«Why?

"There had been a few mishaps when I was small-one nearly fatal. My father believed someone still wanted me dead."

Makinna gasped. "Do you believe that?"

"Yes, I do."

"But you were just a child. Why would anyone want to harm a child? Perhaps that was why your father sent you to Mr. Silverhom in the first place."

"Yes." He stood up. "Have I answered all your questions?"

"One more? Were they kind to you in England-I mean, the others at the school?"

"Not at first. But once I proved myself, they were more accepting, and I made many lasting friendships there. But know this about me, Makinna. Though I have a very fine educationI speak French, Spanish, and Italian-inside I am an Indian, and no amount of education will change that. It's what I am."

She stood. "Now I understand you a little better."

He towered over her.

"Do not deceive yourself, Makinna. When you scratch my skin, I may bleed like a white man, but underneath, I am still an Indian. I have the heart of a warrior. No white woman can understand that. So do not think that you know me."

She was startled by the change in his demeanor. "I am trying to understand, if only you would help me. Do you now go back to your tribe and turn away from the life you have known with the Silverhorns?"

"George Silverhorn is dead. I had just come from burying him in England."

"So now you go back to your real father?"

"I go back to my people. My real father is dead."

How much he must have suffered! "I am so sorry. What of the rest of your family?"

"I have a sister, Inea." He paused, as if pondering something. "And I have two half brothers by my father's second wife."

"And you have no wife?"

His gaze touched her face. "There has been little room for a woman in my life. He smiled. "At least none that left a lasting impression." He could have added, until now, but he didn't. "It would not be wise for a woman to love me, Makinna," he warned, as if he knew her heart was turning to his. "I have something to do that may-" He broke off and looked into her eyes. "I have no time for a woman."

She suddenly wanted to put her arms about him and comfort him. She wondered how many women in El Paso and England had felt the same way about Tykota. No woman would be able to ignore him, he had such a strong presence, capable of drawing others to him.

"I feel there is much more to your story than you are willing to share with me. You are going home for some purpose. I believe that you are in danger, from the Apache but maybe also from someone in your own tribe?"