This ranch had been his home for so long. But once he returned to his people, he would never return.
"Tykota," Mangas said, "I can see that your heart is troubled, and I wish I could offer words to comfort you."
Tykota's hand tightened on the reins. "What I must do, no one can help me with, old friend."
"But the burden weighs heavily on you. You love this land, and yet you return to a way of life you can hardly remember. It is true that the Perdenelas need guidance, because evil walks among them. Many of the young men have been stirred up by Sinica, and some of them have joined him in raids."
"How is it that Sinica's influence can reach inside the valley?" Tykota asked angrily.
"When Chief Valatar died, and the Old Ones waited for you, many of our young warriors lost direction, and they answered Sinica's call to join his renegade Apaches. Sinica is still so eaten up with hate that I fear only your death will satisfy him."
"You know what he did at Adobe Springs. I will always have to live with the thought that people died there that night because of me."
"I heard the drums talking, and I know what happened. Sinica shows mercy to no man, red or white. You cannot blame yourself for his ruthlessness."
"What about Coloradous? Does he hate me also?"
"I believe that Coloradous is a good man, but he has been unable to curtail his brother's raids. And he lives alone in the mountains since your father sent him from the village. Leaderless, the Perdenelas do not attempt to stop Sinica. It will be up to you to put an end to his marauding."
Tykota looked into the faded brown eyes that were still alive with intelligence. "It is a sad thing, Mangas, when a man must spill the blood of his brother."
"It is. But if you do not stop Sinica, he will slay you. There is no knife sharp enough to cut the poison from his heart."
"I know. Perhaps I have always known, though Ihave wished it otherwise."
The old man waved a hand, gesturing across the land. "You grieve to leave this which has been your life for so long."
"It will be difficult to turn away and never look back. But I know that I must. I cannot fail my father."
"I will walk with you wherever you go. I will stand beside you, and you will not be alone."
The young chief's brow furrowed, and he glanced at the ranch house, where Makinna was. "I must leave tomorrow."
"You do not want to leave the woman."
Tykota looked into his mentor's face. Denying his feelings would not fool the old man. "You see too much, Mangas."
"Your feelings for her are in your eyes. I see pain in them when you look at her."
"My father told me to always put the good of the people before my own needs. And in my new life, there is no place for Makinna."
Makinna found her situation strange. She had shared hunger and thirst and danger with Tykota, and they had barely managed to stay one step ahead of the Apaches pursuing them. Now they sat at table laden with food and drink, she wore a lovely blue silk gown Mrs. Silverhorn had given her, and Tykota was dressed in a black dress coat and tailored white shirt.
He was seated at the head of the long dining table, his mother on his right, Makinna on his left. She met his glance and judged from his pensive expression that he was also remembering the past.
"This is an occasion," Hannah Silverhorn announced, filling two glasses with wine and handing one to Makinna. "I toast the safe return of my son."
Makinna noticed that Tykota's glass was filled with water. Her inquiring gaze met his.
"I am an Indian, Makinna. I do not partake of spirits."
"What has being an Indian to do with drinking a glass of wine?"
He looked amused. "Let us just say that, as an Indian, I do not handle wine as well as you do."
Makinna took a sip and started coughing, red with embarrassment. "It seems I can't drink wine either. That was my first taste, and clearly I wasn't very successful with it."
"Well, perhaps the wine was a mistake since this is both a happy and a sad occasion," Mrs. Silverhorn said. "My son has returned safely, but he will be leaving tomorrow." She turned to Tykota. "I will miss you my son."
Makinna looked at Tykota. "You are leaving so soon? I thought that you would..."
Tykota took a moment before answering. "I must. My people need me."
Makinna lapsed into silence. It was torture for her to be so near Tykota and pretend they were mere acquaintances. When his bronzed hand rested on the white tablecloth, she remembered the strength and the gentleness in those hands.
She wanted to cry. She wanted to go down on her knees and beg him to take her with him. But she would do neither. She held her back straight and tried to make polite conversation. "Everything is delicious, Mrs. Silverhorn. I especially like the soup. It's not unlike the gumbo my mother used to make."