Tykota's Woman (Historical Romance) (6 page)

It was the Indian's voice! What did he want with
her?

"Do exactly as I say, and you might stay alive.
Now, I am going to remove my hand from your
mouth, but first you must promise that you will
not make a sound. Can you do that?" he
insisted.

Hearing the threat in his voice, she nodded. It
was doubtful that she could make a sound
anyway, because fear had closed her throat. Was
he there because he wanted to ravish her? Oh,
why had she attempted to be kind to him? The
others had been right about him all along. Why
hadn't she listened to them?

The Indian gripped her arm and led her to the
window. He quietly lifted her through, then quickly joined her before she could react or call
for help. He again clasped her arm and stood still
for a moment, listening.

Makinna knew that the others were asleep, so
no one would come to her immediate rescue.
"Why are you-"

His clamped a hand over her mouth, cutting
off both her speech and her breathing. He dipped
his head and whispered harshly in her ear. "Do
not make a sound, woman. If you do, it may be
your last."

Before she realized what was happening, he
was tugging her deeper into the night shadows,
silently, ominously.

Makinna closed her eyes, trying to gather her
courage so she could contend with the terror that
was paralyzing her reasoning.

Was he taking her to the barn to ravish her
there?

No. He moved around the barn and away
from the way station, toward the desert. He
dragged her up the side of a sand dune and
glanced back briefly as if he feared being
followed.

Dear God, he was taking her farther away
from the station and any help.

He walked with an easy stride while she
struggled along beside him. He was a powerful
man, and she knew she had no chance of fighting
him off.

After they had been walking for some time, he paused and glanced back in the direction of
the way station. Then he pushed her to the
ground with such force that her face went into
the sand. When he dropped down beside her, a
scream built in her throat, but she dared not let
it pass her lips.

For a long, tense moment she waited, fearing
what he would do. His hand was on her
shoulder, keeping her in place, but so far he
seemed more interested in the way station than
in her. Maybe he was making sure that no one
was following them before he ripped her
clothing off.

At last she found her voice, and it trembled
with fear when she pleaded, "Please don't hurt
me."

"Do not speak," he said, angrily pushing her
face back down. "Be silent!"

Suddenly a bloodcurdling yell broke the
stillness, and Makinna raised her head to follow
the Indian's gaze. The night was so black that it
was difficult to see anything, but her eyes
widened when she spotted what appeared to be
torches. She felt hope flare in her heart.
Someone must have discovered that she was
missing, and they were searching for her!

But her hope died when another bloodcurdling
yell split the night, and she saw men mounted on
horses. Dear God, Indians were attacking the
station!

"We have to go help the others!" she cried, scrambling to get to her feet, but the Indian
pushed her down again.

"Do not speak, and do not move," he commanded. "There is nothing we can do to help."

"But-"

"I will not tell you again to be quiet," he said
ominously.

She clamped her lips together, forced to watch
helplessly while the Indians intensified their
attack. She heard sporadic gunfire, and again
hope flamed within her. Someone was firing at
the Indians; perhaps they would chase away the
attackers.

But again her hope died hard when she saw
more Indians joining those already circling the
way station.

"You should have warned the others," she
whimpered. "Why can't we go back and help
them now?"

He gripped her arm and pulled her to her feet.
"Silence! We must get away from here at once."

She jerked her arm out of his grasp and said
angrily, "You aren't even going to try to help
them, are you?"

He said nothing as he grasped her hand and
pulled her forward. She tried to free herself,
but his grip only tightened, and in one swift
move, he swung her in his arms and carried
her down the other side of the sand dune.
Makinna had never seen a night so dark, with
only the pale moon's feeble light.

The Indian carried her for some time before
he roughly set her on her feet. She stumbled
and fell, and he did not attempt to help her up.

She dusted sand from her arms and face. "You
are a monster."

He either didn't hear her or chose to ignore
her, his attention focused on the way they had
come.

"Did you hear me?" she asked, wanting to
pound her fists against his chest. "I said you are
a monster. You wanted the others dead because
of the way they treated you. For all I know, those
Indians might be from your tribe, and you might
have put them up to attacking the Adobe Springs
station."

She cringed when he reached for her. But he
merely grabbed her hand and pulled her along.
"We must leave."

She drew back, reluctant to be led still farther
away from potential help. "What will the Indians
do to them?"

"They will all be killed," he said with no
emotion in his voice. "And if they find you, they
will do far worse than that."

"Are they your tribe members? Can't you stop
them?"

"They are Apache," he informed her, pulling
her forward so swiftly that she was forced to run
to keep up with him.

"Apache! Dear God, we must do something!"

"We cannot help them." His powerful grip pulled her along with such a force that she
almost lost her footing. She had no choice but to
go where he led.

The Indian set a punishing pace for what
seemed like hours, and Makinna, tired and
gasping for breath, was sure she could not take
another step. Her soft leather slippers had
filled with sand that cut into her skin with each
step. But the Indian urged her forward
mercilessly.

Finally Makinna could not move another
inch. She fell to her knees. "Leave me here,"
she said between gasps of breath. "I can't go
any farther."

He yanked her up and turned her to face the
direction from which they'd come. "The
Apache has a keen eye. If the sun comes up
before they have finished at the station, they
will discover our tracks leading into the desert,
and they will follow. Look for yourself what
they are capable of."

In the distance she saw crimson flames leap
toward the sky. The station buildings were all on
fire. She felt sick and clamped a hand over her
mouth. "What did they do to-"

"Do not ask," he broke in. "You would not
like the answer."

"You are just like those savages, heartless and
unfeeling. Why would they kill people they
don't even know?"

He pulled her forward. "We must reach the
lava hills before daylight."

She kept glancing back until Adobe Springs
was no more than a dim red glow against the
darkened sky. Tormented by the thought that
everyone was dead, she gradually realized that if
the Indian hadn't spirited her away, she would be
dead, too. She should feel grateful to him, but
she still didn't know his intentions for her, and
that fear still tightened her throat.

But her fear that the Apache were pursuing
them even now gave her the strength to keep
moving.

Over and over she forced one aching foot in
front of the other, repeating silently to herself,
This, too, shall pass. The desert was a huge
wasteland that seemed to go on forever. When
would this night end, and what would happen to
her when it did?

She was overcome with relief when they
finally reached the lava hills. But the ground
was hard and uneven, and the jagged lava
rocks cut into the flimsy soles of her shoes.
When they reached the top, the Indian released
her arm, and she collapsed, exhausted. She
lowered her head, gasping for every breath she
could drag into her lungs. The hot wind
seemed to scorch her throat and felt like a blast
of fire against her skin.

Tears blurred her vision as she watched the Indian, standing in a narrow patch of moonlight,
turn to stare back the way they'd come.

"Do you know where we are?" she asked
weakly between gulps of air.

"Yes."

"Are we going to die out here?"

He returned to loom over her, silent for a
moment. When he finally spoke, it was a grim
whisper. "Do you want the truth?"

"Yes."

He knelt down beside her, and she pulled
back, frightened. "We have little chance of
coming out of the desert alive, unless you listen
to me and do everything I tell you to.

Makinna sat up straight, wondering if he
might ravish her now that he had turned his
attention to her. As exhausted as she was, she
wished they hadn't stopped. She had felt safer
while they had been moving.

"No," she protested. "I certainly will not do
everything you ask of me. You can't expect me
to-to submit to you. Never!"

An agitated breath hissed through his teeth.
"You seen to prize yourself very highly, Mrs.
Hillyard. I can assure you that, as a female, you
hold no interest for me. In truth, you are an
encumbrance I can ill afford. While I have no
desire to touch you, if you fall behind, I will
leave you to die."

She was glad for the darkness so he would
not see her blushing in shame. She had assumed the worst of him when she should have
been thanking him for saving her life. But why
had he not warned the others about the Apache
attack? She abruptly remembered him listening
attentively to the animal howls when she'd taken
him a plate of food. "You knew that those
animal calls earlier this evening were Apache,
didn't you?"

"I suspected it. But I was not certain."

"Yet you did nothing to warn the others. Did
you happily leave them to die? Do you hate the
white race so much?"

"Do you suppose those fine gentlefolk would
have heeded the suspicions of a `savage'?" he
challenged. Then he seemed to grow weary. "In
truth, Mrs. Hillyard, lately I give very little
thought to your race."

But she would not let the subject go. "You
could have saved the others, too."

"If I had tried to, you would now be dead."

A sob caught in her throat, but she did not
give it voice. Instead she ventured a frail hope.
"Perhaps they were able to fight the Apache off."

"There were too many. Fifty, maybe more."

She fought back tears. Mr. Rumford and
Mr. Carruthers, massacred? Even the Brownings didn't deserve to die that way. Then there
was the stage driver, and the men who'd ridden shotgun, and several Mexicans who
worked for the station. Surely they were not
all dead.

She glanced at the Indian, wishing there was
light so she could see his face. She still wasn't
sure she could trust him. For all she knew, he
might be an Apache and had known about the
raid.

"What are you going to do with me?" she
finally asked.

He let out a breath. "God only knows. It was
never my intention to be saddled with a difficult,
stubbornly inquisitive female."

"I am not your responsibility. You can just
leave, and I'll make my way back to Adobe
Springs when it's light enough."

He stood up, laughing sardonically. "You
would not even know in which direction to start
out. You would be hopelessly lost within
minutes."

Makinna opened her mouth to deny his
accusations but clamped her lips together. After
all, he was right. "When the sun rises, you can
point me in the right direction, and I'll just walk
back."

His hand dropped to her shoulder. "You don't
understand, Miss Hillyard. There is nothing for
you to go back to. The station has been burned,
and everyone is dead."

"But-"

"They're dead," he said harshly, his grip
tightening on her shoulder. "You have to accept
the truth of that. And if you go back, the Apache
will find and kill you. Do I make myself understood? You had better pray that they don't
come looking for us as it is."

She shrugged off his hand and lowered her
head as sadness enveloped her. She knew he was
right, but it hurt to think about Mr. Rumford and
Mr. Carruthers being senselessly slaughtered.
Still, she knew the Indian was right again. The
truth was, she could do nothing to change what
had already happened, no matter how tragic, and
pretending otherwise only muddled her thinking.
She sent up a silent prayer for their souls and
tried to focus on what she could do. "What do
we do now?"

He turned away, grumbling, "We stay alive.
Avoid the Apache if we can."

"But you are an Indian. What have you to fear
from them?"

"The Apache have no love for me or my kind.
Indeed, they may have attacked Adobe Springs
because they had heard I would be there."

"You! But why?"

"Get some sleep if you can, Mrs. Hillyard."

"How can I possibly sleep with so many
questions left unanswered?"

"You had better sleep. Tomorrow will test
your strength far beyond its limits. We will be
traveling fast, and we cannot leave any footprints
behind. When the Apache discover I was not
among the dead, they will probably come
looking for me. And make no mistake, Mrs. Hillyard, the Chiricahua Apache are among the
fiercest warriors of any tribe. They can cover
forty miles a day on foot and seventy-five miles
on horseback. Can you?"

"No human can do that!"

"I assure you, the Apache can."

"Why do they hate you so much that they
would commit such atrocities against innocent
people?"

He thrust a canteen at her. "Take only one
swallow. We have a lot of desert to cross before
we reach water."