Captive Trail (20 page)

A man and a woman emerged from the stagecoach, followed by two girls perhaps a couple of years older than Quinta. She could hear Ned’s introductions to Sister Natalie and the other nuns. They would come in soon, and Sister Natalie would bring the parents into this room.

Taabe scurried out to the kitchen. Sister Marie had a kettle of water steaming on the stove and a tray laid out with cups,
saucers, and spoons. Taabe filled the small pitcher they used for milk when guests came and put it on the tray.

Sister Marie hurried in. “Thank you, dear. I’ll fix the tea, and we’ll be ready. Did you see the new girls?”

Taabe nodded.

“The one girl’s parents brought her and her friend. The two new girls are already acquainted. I hope they won’t shut out our Quinta and only want each other for friends.”

Taabe frowned, working out the gist of that. “Quinta is … young.”

“Yes, you’re right. She’s younger than either of them.” Sister Marie shook her head. “If all goes well, we will soon have a girl the same age as Quinta. And how I’ll keep up with the cooking, I don’t know.”

“Girls help?”

“Some, but not too much or they’ll complain to their parents. But Sister Natalie is telling the parents each pupil will have daily chores, to help teach them diligence and discipline.”

Taabe shook her head. To her, most of this was incomprehensible chatter.

Sister Marie smiled at her. “I’ll take the tray in. I don’t think Sister Natalie is ready to let the visitors see you. Of course, you’ll meet the new girls later.”

Taabe stayed in the kitchen feeling a bit forsaken. She understood why she was excluded from the gathering. She wished to meet as few people as possible. But she would also enjoy being included.

Footsteps drew her attention to the kitchen door. It swung open, and Ned stood in the doorway, smiling. Her loneliness vanished. This was what she’d really wished for—contact with the handsome stagecoach driver.

“Taabe!”

He reached out to her, and she placed her hands in his. Her
friendship with Ned was different from that with Sister Adele and the others.

“Ned.”

“It’s so good to see you.”

She gazed up at him, her heart full. This man had become the focus of her new life. What did it mean that she lived from one stagecoach day to the next, thinking of Ned? And what would happen when they found her family and she had to leave the mission?

For Ned, the five miles from the mission to Fort Chadbourne flew by. Brownie stayed quiet, chewing tobacco and thinking his own thoughts. Ned’s heart was full of thoughts of Taabe. He’d followed Sister Adele’s whispered directions and found her in the kitchen. Her bright eyes and unrestrained smile when he took her hands would stay with him among his memory treasures.

Delivering the new pupils from Fort Belknap to the mission seemed a fitting event. Now the nuns’ school would grow and progress rapidly. Sister Natalie said three more girls would join them within a month, and she had several additional inquiries from parents across Texas. They might even have to hire men to add on to the mission house. Ned hoped they did—it would allow them to extend the garden wall around the compound. If they built new rooms around a courtyard in the Spanish pattern, they would gain a layer of security. Sister Natalie had said she hoped they could also have larger windows facing the courtyard, lightening the interiors of the new schoolrooms she was planning.

“We picking those folks up on our way back tomorrow?” Brownie asked.

“Yup. Sister Natalie asked them to stay overnight at the mission.”

The couple accompanying the new students had accepted the invitation, eager to see more of the girls’ new environment rather than journey on to rough-and-tumble Fort Chadbourne.

When Ned and Brownie pulled in to the home station beside the fort, the tenders were waiting with the fresh team harnessed. Herr Stein hurried to the stagecoach before Ned could gather his things from the driver’s boot.

“The captain wants to see you.”

“All right.” Ned jumped down and took the mail sacks out of the stagecoach. Captain Tapley’s summons must pertain to Taabe. He and Herr Stein carried the mail inside, and Ned left his personal gear in the drivers’ room. He scrubbed the dust off his face and hands, whacked his hat against his thigh a couple of times, and brushed off his clothes. Then he walked over to the fort.

“Bright, come right in.” Tapley didn’t wait for the sergeant to greet him, but stood as Ned came through the door. “There’s a fellow here who may be able to help you. Cat Thompson. Ever hear of him?”

“Don’t think so.”

“He’s half Apache, does some scouting for the army. I’ve worked with him before, and we use him quite a bit. He’s considered trustworthy, and he’s no friend of the Comanche, though he speaks their lingo pretty well.”

“Sounds worth looking into. Think he’d go to the mission with me?”

“Yes. I mentioned I might have a small job for him to do today and sent him over to the mess hall to get some dinner. I’ll stand for his day’s wages if you want to take him out there. He has a horse. You can take one from our remuda. I’ll give the order, if you want to do it.”

“Thank you. I’d appreciate it.”

“There’s one other thing,” Tapley said. “I’ve received a letter from the Indian agent at Fort Smith. He’s sent the names of several children who were captured in Texas. Of course, it’s possible the young woman at the mission was seized someplace else, but this is a start.” He picked up a closely written sheet of paper. “In addition to the ones we already knew about, he mentions two boys—brothers—taken about three years ago, and another who disappeared last year and is assumed captured.”

“No girls?”

“There was one down Victoria way, but that’s a long ways from here, and it was twelve years ago.” Ned whistled softly. “That’s a long time.”

“Yes. I hardly think … but you never know.”

“How do we contact them?”

“The agent sent along her older brother’s name and address. Seems the father’s deceased and the brother has handled the correspondence regarding the girl. He’s written to the governor and the Bureau of Indian Affairs in Washington, and anyone else he hoped could help. I thought I’d write him and ask for a description and tell him about the young woman you found. It would be nice, though, if we had more information from her.”

“Maybe we’ll learn something today.”

“I hope so. I’ve written out the names of the known captives for you, and those about whom we’ve received inquiries from the families. Ten in all so far. I’m sure there are more. You can ask her if she recognizes any of the names. Cat can ask her, that is.”

“You’re sure he’s safe?” Ned asked.

The captain grimaced. “As sure as I can be of anyone out here.”

“All right, I’ll go find him.”

Thompson wasn’t hard to locate in the troopers’ mess hall.
He was the only man not in uniform, but his complexion and long, black hair would have given him away anyway. Ned got a cup of coffee and ambled over to the table where the scout was eating.

“Cat Thompson?” Ned sat down opposite him. Thompson eyed him as he chewed and swallowed. “You the stage driver?”

“Yes.”

Thompson nodded. “The cap’n told me you might have business with me.” The man looked to be about Ned’s age. He studied Ned in return, his dark eyes guarded. “What’s it about?”

“Can you translate for a former captive?”

“Maybe. Probably, if he was with the Comanch or the Apache.”

Ned glanced around, but none of the other men were close enough to hear over the chatter of conversation around them. “It’s a she. You’ll have to keep quiet about it. Where she is, where she’s been, all of that.”

“I can keep my mouth shut.”

Ned nodded.

“She might not want to talk to me,” Thompson said. “Depends on how her people feel about the Apache right now and how they treated her. Depends on a lot of things.”

Ned started to reassure him but held back, remembering Taabe’s reaction when she saw Trainer. “You’re right. But if she’s convinced you won’t send her back to the tribe, I think she’ll cooperate. She wants to find her real family.”

“I’m willing to try.”

“Good. I’ll get something to eat over at Steins’ and get me a saddle horse. Say half an hour?”

“I’ll come over to the stage stop after a bit.”

“Thanks.” Ned stood and left, nodding to a couple of the soldiers he recognized.

Thompson kept his word and showed up at Steins’ a short while later riding a broomtail dun mustang. The horse looked as wiry and trail savvy as his rider.

They rode swiftly to the mission with barely a word spoken. When they loped into the yard, Ned heard the incongruous call of an owl and saw the front door close on a diminutive figure in swirling green skirts. What was Quinta up to?

They dismounted, and Thompson reached for Ned’s reins. “Maybe you go in first?”

“Good idea. They’re a little gun-shy.”

T
aabe scrubbed the potatoes for Sister Marie, removing every bit of dirt and cutting out bad spots. Fluffy, the orange kitten, tumbled about the floor with her sister, batting at the hem of her skirt and each other. Tonight’s dinner was very important. If the new pupil’s parents didn’t like the meal, they might think their daughter would not be fed well and take her away—or so Sister Marie said.

The sister was hard at work nearby, cutting up the chickens she would fry, when Quinta galloped in, pigtails flying.

“Taabe! Ned Bright is here again, but nobody heard my bird call.”

“Ned?” Taabe stared at her. Why would Ned return after only a few hours?

“He has another man with him,” Quinta said. Taabe looked at Sister Marie.

“Quickly!” Sister Marie ran to the hiding place and yanked the table aside.

Taabe threw back the mat.

“Take Sister Riva out to speak to him,” Sister Marie told Quinta. “Go!”

Taabe scrambled down the ladder and reached up to help fit the trapdoor in place. Her heart pounded.

“Wait!” Sister Marie snatched up the orange kitten and all but flung Fluffy into Taabe’s hands.

“You will be safe,” Sister Marie promised.

The sister’s anxious face was the last thing Taabe saw as the trapdoor settled in place.

She groped around the wall to where the blankets were neatly folded and sat down. She clutched the kitten to her chest, inhaled deeply, and held her breath, listening. She could hear nothing but the kitten’s tiny mew.

“You must be quiet.” She stroked Fluffy and made herself relax. Gradually, the kitten settled on her lap and began to purr.

Now would be a time to pray. Taabe took several deep breaths before she formed the words. “Father God, let me be safe. Let man be good.” She stopped, frustrated that she didn’t have the words to speak to the Creator in English. Sister Adele said sometimes she spoke to God in French. Would He hear her if she spoke to Him in the Numinu language?

That didn’t seem right. The God of the sisters didn’t seem to belong in the Numinu world. But she was certain she’d known about Him before she was captured. Her family had prayed. She knew that now. They had read from God’s book. When had she stopped knowing that—and when had she stopped talking to God the Father? Perhaps it was when she’d started to forget English.

Her Comanche mother had forbidden her to speak English. She had soon learned that the rule came with consequences. On several occasions, Taabe had gone without food
for an entire day because she’d uttered a few words in the banned language.

With the perspective of years and distance, had she really been well treated? She hadn’t been beaten much after the first few weeks, but deprivation and frequent humiliations had forced her to conform. She remembered many times she’d cowered in the shadows, whispering English words to herself—poems? verses of Scripture?—and hoping none of the Numinu would notice her and call for her to do more work for them.

Tears ran down her cheeks. She wiped them away with her sleeve and cuddled Fluffy close. The kitten meowed and licked her hand. She hoped the calico kitten wasn’t sniffing about the trapdoor, trying to find her sister.

Light footsteps moved across the kitchen overhead. Sister Marie. All was well.