Tykota's Woman(6)

Makinna had had to sell her mother's jewelry to have money for the trip, but she couldn't part with the wedding ring that her father had given her mother. She gazed down at the wide gold band on her finger. At the last moment, she'd decided to wear it. If people thought she was a widow it might make her traveling alone more acceptable.

Would she find a life for herself in California? she wondered for the hundredth time. Her sister's last letter had been filled with plans. Pretty, with their father's brown hair and gray eyes, Adelaide was older than she by six years, and Makinna tried to imagine what her sister would look like now.

Makinna sighed. Whatever promise California did or did not hold for her future, she'd had nothing to keep her in New Orleans, except sadness and memories. She hadn't had a social life in years. Even though her mother had pressed her to attend parties, she had been reluctant to leave her helpless and alone and had refused every invitation until the invitations had stopped coming. Maybe her venture into the unknown would prove exciting.

She stared out at the swirling dust and frowned, remembering something. As a young girl, she had dreamed of adventure and of sharing it with the perfect man who would love her as passionately as she loved him. She was older now, twenty, and so tired that she no longer dreamed of adventure or the perfect man. Or any man, for that matter. At her age it was highly unlikely that she would find a suitable mate.

Makinna was jerked out of her musing by the sound of Mr. Rumford's voice. "If you're interested in the history of this area, it's really quite colorful. There are legends of hidden gold and Indian curses and a tribe no white man has ever met and lived to tell about."

"Now, there you have me intrigued," Mr. Carruthers admitted, leaning forward, his eyes aglow with interest. "I need a few fierce stories to tell the missus when I get back to St. Louis. She envisioned dangers lurking all along the way, with outlaws and Indians waiting in ambush behind every cactus to hold up the stage."

"Well, the Indian tribe I was speaking of is called the Perdenelas, and it is said that they are fiercer even than the Apache. It isn't that they come looking to do you harm, like the Apache, but that if you invade their sacred land or try to tamper with their hidden treasure, you will simply disappear, never to be heard of again."

Mr. Carruthers blinked excitedly. "Tell me more about the Perdenelas and the treasure."

Mr. Rumford knew he'd found an avid audience as he usually did when he spoke of the gold of the Perdenelas. "No one knows exactly where their land is located. A few misguided souls with gold fever have ventured into the desert, seeking their treasure. Most of them never returned, and those who did were halfstarved and ranting about evil spirits. Don't know what they encountered out there, but evidently something drives them out of their minds."

Alvin Carruthers laughed nervously. "You're trying to lead me down a fool's path, aren't you?"

"Judge for yourself. The word lately is that the old chief of the Perdenelas has died and that his chosen son will be taking his place. No one seems to know much about the son, but they say he may be far more ruthless than his father."

The man across from Makinna shifted his position, and his knee bumped hers. She drew back, tucking her legs away from him.

She didn't want to believe there was a tribe in these parts that was even more ruthless than the Apache. But what if Mr. Rumford spoke the truth? She shivered and glanced out the window at the vast desert, thinking few could survive in that wasteland.

What kind of man would it take to live out there?





Makinna relaxed a bit when Mr. Carruthers smiled and said, "I believe you're trying to pull a ruse on me, Mr. Rumford. I've heard about some of the tales you Westerners spin to ensnare us city folk."

"I won't deny that I've been guilty of weaving a little trickery with tenderfoots in the past, but what I tell you now is not a sham. At least, I believe there's some validity to the story, since it's spoken of among the other Indian tribes."

Mr. Carruthers still looked skeptical. "Very well, then. Why don't you tell me more about your mysterious Indian tribe and their hidden gold? Who knows? I may decide to take up a shovel and go looking myself."

"This is as much as I know," Mr. Rumford continued. "The legend says that the Perdenelas live in a secret oasis in the desert called Valle de la Luna, which means Moon Valley. Their sacred mountain is called the Mountain of the Moon. Hidden somewhere in that mountain is a vast treasure, its exact location known only to the chief. The secret is supposedly passed down only from father to son."

Excitement flashed in Mr. Carruthers's eyes. "Where'd the treasure come from?"