Tykota's Woman (Historical Romance) by Constance O'Banyon Page A

early that
morning, and it was now almost sundown. He'd
never stayed away this long. A wave of despair
hit her as she imagined the Apache finding him,
or any number of other hazards he might have
fallen prey to. Danger lurked everywhere in this
scorching, hostile land.
    Moving out of the cave, she stood atop the
ledge that gave her a wide view of the
countryside. She shaded her eyes against the
glaring sun and looked for any movement.
    A dust devil danced in the distance, and the
ever-present vultures circled in the sky, but
beyond that there was nothing-no sign of life,
just the brittle heat and the never-ceasing wind.

    Where could Tykota be? she wondered. Why
had he been gone so long?
    She couldn't just stay in the cave waiting for
him to return. If he was in some kind of danger,
she needed to find him.
    She discovered that climbing down the
mountain was more difficult than climbing up.
Once she lost her footing and slid toward the
edge, her feet dangling over the side. She was
able to save herself only by grabbing hold of a
plant that clung to life in the rock surface. Inch
by inch she eased herself away from the edge,
then collapsed, trembling. After she'd caught her
breath and gathered her courage, she continued
her descent.
    It took her the better part of an hour to reach
the bottom. When she stood on level ground, she
still saw no sign of Tykota. Of course, he'd leave
no tracks behind, nothing that would attract
attention. He was much too intelligent for that.
She ripped a scrub bush up by the roots and
brushed her own tracks away as she'd seen him
do, thinking he'd be proud of her for being so
cautious.
    Makinna tried to decide which direction he
would have taken. She reasoned that he wouldn't
head into the desert but might have gone hunting
in the foothills to the west. She settled on
exploring those. As she, walked along, she
paused often to search for any sign of his
presence.

    She felt every stone under her still tender feet,
and she soon grew thirsty and wondered why she
hadn't brought the canteen with her. Weary, she
tripped and fell.
    She rose slowly, glancing toward the west.
The sun was low on the horizon. She would
never be able to make her way up the mountain
in the dark, but she couldn't return without
finding Tykota. She studied the ground but saw
nothing to indicate that he'd come this way.
    Her leg was throbbing; she must have
injured it in the fall. Raising her skirt, she saw
the cut on her knee. It was bleeding, and she
wished she had a strip of her petticoat to tie
around it.
    Suddenly Makinna saw Tykota leap toward
her, and she was shocked when he propelled
her backward with such a force that he
knocked her to the ground. Gripping her tightly,
he fell with her, and they tumbled and rolled
down a slight embankment into thick, gnarled
foliage.
    Thorns jabbed into her, but she was more
aware of Tykota's body on top of hers, her
fingers clutching his hard, muscled shoulders.
When she caught her breath, she asked, "Why
did you-"
    Tykota clamped a hand over her mouth and
nodded toward the top of the embankment. She
heard the sound of horses, heard voices speaking
a guttural language she did not understand.

    It was the Apache!
    Makinna lay trembling with fear, hoping they
hadn't seen her. She was dimly conscious of
sharp rocks digging into her skin, and the weight
of Tykota's body cutting off her breathing. But
when she shifted the merest bit, and he raised his
head to look at her, like lightning striking, like a
hammer against an anvil, she became aware of
his body in an entirely new way. She felt the
formidability of his strength, the swell of him
against her thigh, and she was excruciatingly
aware of his manliness. She could scarcely
breathe when he rested his brow against hers,
and his hand went up to tangle in her hair. Raw
emotions tore through her body, and she knew he
could feel it, too.
    He stared at her, his eyes