Suddenly, the river loomed in front of Makinna, blocking her path. She reined in her mount with such force that the animal reared up on its hind legs, and she tightened her grip to keep from sliding off.
She whirled her horse around to face the inevitable. In the bright moonlight she saw not one rider but six bearing down on her. She gasped in horror. Indians!
She wheeled the pinto, ready to risk being drowned rather than taken by the Apache. But it was too late. Already two Indians were beside her, one grabbing the reins from her hands, the other blocking her path.
Dear God, help me, she prayed.
Tykota arose before sunup. He wanted to ride the ranch one last time, to say good-bye to the home of his youth and to a way of life that would soon be ending for him. He also wanted to leave before Makinna awoke; he didn't trust himself to see her again.
After walking around the barn and pausing to glance toward the distant mountains, he walked purposefully toward the corral. The black and white pinto cantered up to him and brushed against his outstretched hand. Tykota glanced around the corral. Where was the second pinto, the one Makinna had ridden?
He climbed over the fence and jumped to the ground. Bending down, he examined the footprints he found in the soft sand. Makinna had been there. He traced her steps until they disappeared, where she had mounted the second pinto.
Uneasiness settled on him, and he quickly headed for Mangas's cabin. Without knocking, he burst inside. The old man was having breakfast, and he looked up at Tykota quizzically. "Have you come to eat the morning meal with me as you did as a boy?"
"One of the Apache pintos is missing," Tykota announced.
"Why does this concern you?"
"A woman's footprints, made hours ago, probably sometime last night, show that Makinna mounted it and rode out and did not return."
Mangas listened carefully. "I will saddle two horses."
Makinna struggled against the rough hands pulling at her. She spun her pinto around, but she was no match for the Indians. One of them struck her with the butt of his rifle, and she fell forward, unconscious.
When Makinna regained consciousness, her head was aching, and she couldn't move. She remembered being surrounded by Apaches, and then exploding pain. She tried to move her arms and her legs, but they were tied.
Glancing around frantically, she saw that she was lying on the ground. The only light came from a small campfire. After evading them for so long, she had fallen into the hands of the Apache because of her own carelessness.
Stark terror ruled her mind. What were they going to do with her?
Makinna counted six Apaches speaking excitedly, and she wished she knew what they were saying. Or maybe she didn't want to know. She cringed when one of them rose to walk toward her and stared at her with dark, menacing eyes. She lowered her gaze, waiting for death. But he merely bent to make certain her ropes were tight enough, then rejoined his companions.
After a while, two of the Indians took up their rifles and left camp-she supposed to stand guard-while one of the others put out the fire.
Hope flared to life within her. If they sent guards out, they expected Tykota to come after her. Then her hope faded, and she felt a sob building up deep inside. Of course Tykota would come for her. That was what they wanted him to do. And she was the bait to draw him in.
Tears ran down her cheeks. Tykota was going to die, and it was all her fault.
Tykota and Mangas dismounted and crouched by the river, examining the unshod horses' tracks.
With a grim expression, Mangas said, "Apache. At least six of them." The old man, traced one of the hoofprints with a bony finger, he could read them like a white man could read the pages of a book. "Chiricahua Apache, but not the warriors of Cochise."
"I know who they are, Mangas," Tykota said grimly. "It could be no one but Sinica or some of his warriors."
The old man nodded. "He will use the woman to trap you."
"I know this."
"He turned renegade and makes war wherever he goes. He has set the white man's hand against all Chiricahua Apache. But he does not care. He thinks only of your death. He has broken the lance and sworn to kill you."
Tykota gazed into the distance. "There should not be such hate between brothers."
"Hear this, Tykota. Sinica would kill the woman to get at you, but more likely he will keep her alive long enough to entrap you and to make you watch her die."
Tykota raised his head to the sky and remembered to keep from yelling out his rage. The last traces of civilization stripped away from him. Then he took a deep breath, and his eyes narrowed. "Sinica's days to walk this earth are small in number. And if he has harmed my woman, I will make sure he begs for death before it welcomes him."