“It’s wonderful that so many people are helping us,” Sister Natalie said. “Even those who are not Catholic treat us with kindness. I confess I was prepared for some opposition when we came.”
Patrillo also took coffee. “Thank you, Sister. You should know there are new stories reaching us of Indian raids to the north. You must be very cautious.”
“Thank you for telling me. We are always careful, but we’ll keep the students and Taabe—Billie—even closer now. You mustn’t worry. God will protect us.”
Ned glanced at Tree. He looked as uneasy as Ned felt. Whenever the Comanche or the Apache started marauding, the settlers looked to their arms.
“We could get you some guns,” he said.
Sister Natalie shook her head. “That is not our way.”
“What is your way?” Tree asked. “I know you believe God will watch over you, but please reassure me so far as my daughter is concerned.”
Sister Natalie bowed her head for a moment, then met his gaze. “This house is strong. We are prepared to barricade it for a siege if need be. We keep enough water for several days in the house, and we have a good food supply.”
“Increase your water,” Tree said. “I will give you two more barrels. Do you have a place inside the house for them?”
“Yes, we could do that.” Sister Natalie smiled. “No matter how much we prepare for catastrophe, Señor Garza, things happen that we do not expect.”
Tree nodded. “That is so.”
“We will take each day as it comes to us from the Lord.”
“Be that as it may, you must go to Fort Chadbourne if the raiding comes closer. Please. I want my daughter to be safe.”
Quinta wriggled back onto her father’s lap, holding one of the little cakes. “Papa, you mustn’t worry so.”
He wrapped an arm around her. “Are you sure you don’t want to come home for a while, chica?”
She gazed into his eyes. “In some ways, yes. In others, no. Those new girls—Kate and Minnie and Laura—they need me.”
“They do?” Tree’s eyes widened.
“Yes. I drill them in arithmetic, and I let them think they are teaching me the catechism, but really I am teaching it to them by repeating it so often.”
Tree laughed.
“And Billie and I are teaching them beadwork.” Quinta popped the little cake into her mouth.
“Yes, Taabe—that is, Billie—is very popular with the girls,” Sister Natalie said. “They were a bit awed by her at first, but now they’ve begun to converse with her.” She smiled at Billie, and Billie returned the smile.
“At first they were rude,” Quinta said.
Tree stared at her then looked at Sister Natalie. “How is this?”
“She is correct,” the sister said. “I had to admonish them a few times for their remarks about the Indians and … and whites who sympathize with them. I explained to the girls that Billie never intentionally aided the Comanche, and that it certainly wasn’t her choice to live with them for so long. Sometimes young people don’t realize how hurtful their remarks can be.”
“They were jealous when they saw my beadwork.” Quinta held up her cuff and smiled as she surveyed the red, black, and white design.
Billie touched Ned’s sleeve. “Sisters get more beads.”
“Really?” Ned asked.
Sister Natalie nodded. “I asked Mr. Stein if he could get us more, so Billie could teach all of the students this skill. Sister Adele and Sister Riva are becoming quite adept at it as well.”
“Yes, and I’m going to make beaded moccasins like Billie’s if I can get the leather,” Quinta said. “Papa, can you get me a hide?”
Tree laughed. “Yes, I will get you some nice, soft leather.”
“Not too soft,” Quinta said. “It needs to be tough for the soles.”
They continued their visit for another half hour, but after they took their leave, Patrillo brooded. During the long ride back to the ranch, he recounted again to Ned the dangers of leaving the women and girls alone at the mission.
“You could have told Quinta she had to come home,” Ned said.
“No, she is happy with the sisters now. It is good for her. You saw how much calmer she is. And I think she loves the captive girl now.”
“Yes, she’s become quite attached to Billie, hasn’t she?”
Tree nodded. “It is best. I think.”
Ned smiled. “Then we’d better do as the nuns are doing—trust God more.”
He tried to remember his own advice over the next few days. The stagecoach had passengers on his next run to Fort Chadbourne, so he and Brownie stopped at the mission only long enough to make sure the sisters and their students were all right and tell Billie no word had come yet from the Morgans. On the way home the next day, they delivered several letters, a large can of milk, and two crates of supplies to Sister Natalie and again reported there was no news.
One of the lead mules strained a tendon on the final stretch of their route, and Ned had to walk the team the last mile. By the time they drove into the barnyard, he and Brownie were both tired and grumpy.
“You shoulda let me take the other leader and ride ahead,” Brownie muttered.
“That would leave two wheelers and a lame leader to pull the stage,” Ned said. “I couldn’t do that.”
When he could see the ridgepole of the barn, he blew the horn. Everyone must be worried—he’d never before brought the stage in this late. As he drove the weary team into the yard of the home station, Tree’s third son, Esteban, ran out to meet them.
“You all right?” Esteban called.
Ned nodded. “Got a lame mule.”
Esteban eyed the leaders. “Want us to bring the new team out here?”
“We’re almost in now,” Ned said. “There’s a man here.”
“A passenger?”
“No. He’s here to see you. Says he’s been riding for days and days. He wants to see the captive girl. We gave him some dinner.”
“What man?” Ned asked. Anyone who wanted to see Billie should have gone to Captain Tapley.
Esteban switched his gaze to Ned. “His name is Morgan.”
CHAPTER EIGHTEEN
Mr. Morgan. I didn’t expect you for another week.” Ned shook the tall, sandy-haired man’s hand and looked him over. “I was going to go to the fort,” Morgan said, “but it was quicker to come straight here. The things you told us in your letter—well, my mother and sister and I all felt it was conclusive. I didn’t see any reason to wait longer.”
“Did you even get my second letter?”
“I guess not. Have things changed? She’s still here, isn’t she?”
“Yes, but she’s not here at the ranch—she’s about fifty miles away. In fact, I just came from there.”
“I see.”
He looked disappointed, and Ned didn’t blame him. But he didn’t feel like turning around and riding back to the mission.
“It’s only an hour until sundown,” Ned said. “Stay here with us tonight. I don’t drive the stagecoach again for a couple of days. In the morning, I’ll take you to the mission to see her.”
“Thank you,” Morgan said. “I brought an extra horse for Billie. The boys turned them out in one of the corrals.”
Ned nodded. “She will be very pleased. But we’d better make sure they’re put inside the barn tonight. We’ve heard rumors of raids, and I’d hate to have you lose your horses while you’re our guest.”
“The Comanche are at it again?”
“They never stop,” Ned said. “Come in and sit down, Mr. Morgan. Let’s talk about your sister. I’ve learned a little more today, and I know she’ll have much to tell you.”
Morgan paced the length of the dining room and peered out a window. Ned pushed the kitchen door open. Marcos was cutting up a piece of beef.
“Making supper?” Ned asked.
“Si. Beef stew. I’m a little late getting started. Is he staying?”
“Yes. I’ll take
him in the morning. You got any coffee?”
Ned wasn’t sure what it was about coffee, but men always seemed to calm down when they had some in front of them. Morgan was no exception. He sank into a chair at the long table where the family took its meals and accepted the mug Marcos brought him. Ned took a piece of cornbread from the mounded plate Marcos set down and reached for the butter dish.
“The boys make good johnnycake. Have some. It’ll be an hour or so until supper’s ready.”
“Thanks.” Morgan took a slab and used the knife Ned passed him to smear it with butter.
Ned studied him as he sipped the brew. Morgan was a hardworking rancher with a weather-hardened face. Lines etched the corners of his watchful hazel eyes.
“You said your mother is still alive,” Ned said.
“Yes. You can imagine her excitement. She wanted to make the journey with me, but I told her I could travel much faster if she waited at home. I imagine she and my wife are sewing and baking up a storm.”
“You must be exhausted, sir,” Ned said.
“Please, call me Jud. And yes, I admit I’m tired. But I was ready to keep riding. To be so close to her—well, it’s hard to wait even one more night, but I’ll probably sleep hard.”
Ned smiled. “She’s eager to meet you.”
“Tell me about her. What is she like now? I know you said she’d forgotten most of her English and her old life, but she seems to have come up with some details. The cat, of all things.” Morgan shook his head.
“Yes, that was God’s doing, I think.” Ned chuckled. “A couple of months ago, I’d have said it was luck, but the nuns keep reminding me that everything comes from God. And I certainly think He placed those kittens in the store at Fort Chadbourne that day. She saw the little orange one and yelled, ‘Fluffy!’ I couldn’t have been more stunned if lightning had struck me.”
“She loved that kitten. It disappeared a few months after Billie did. We still have one of the litter mates, though. She thought the world of Fluffy.” Jud sighed. “These nuns …”
“They’ve cared for her selflessly. I would go so far as to say they’ve saved her life.”
“But you found her.”
“Yes, I believe I saw her first.” Ned leaned back in his chair, remembering the day. “Brownie and I didn’t know what it was at first, lying in the road, so I stopped the team. Didn’t want to run into an ambush. Sister Natalie and Sister Adele were passengers. Sister Natalie hopped out and walked right up to your sister, heedless of the danger.” Ned smiled at the memory of the nun’s courage and bossiness. “She’s fearless, that one. Wouldn’t let me take your sister to the fort. At first I thought that was a mistake, but living at the mission has done wonders for Billie.
Of course, her own attitude accounts for much of her adjustment. She wanted to come back to the white world. They don’t always. But Billie did. Through the years, she kept alive some seed of hope and memory.”
“I just hope she can trust me. I want her to know how much we love her. It must have seemed as though we’d forgotten her and didn’t try to get her back. But we did.” The pain in Jud’s voice spoke to Ned more than his words—of dozens of letters written, hundreds of miles ridden, and thousands of prayers that seemed to bring no result.
“I just want to caution you that it’s possible you’ll be disappointed when you meet her.”
“You still think there’s a possibility she’s not my sister?”
“Well …” Ned stared off toward the window. “My heart says no, but my head says be prepared.”
“Let’s just get there,” Jud said.
Ned nodded. “We will. First thing in the morning.”
Jud Morgan’s eyes had taken on a wistful determination that mirrored what Ned had seen in Billie’s. “I can’t believe we can finally bring her home. We’ve prayed for so long. There were times when I just about gave up. But Ma wouldn’t let me. She refused to think that Billie was dead, or that she wouldn’t want to come back. And she wouldn’t abide with anyone saying it, either. And now it’s true. We owe you a great debt.”
“Not me. Billie got herself away from the Comanche.” Ned shrugged. “I wish I knew more about what she endured in her captivity and could give you all the details, but I can’t. We’re still putting it together piece by piece. But I can tell you this: it was her determination that brought her back.”
They ate breakfast in the gray light before dawn and saddled their horses. Tree had decided to leave the boys in charge and go with them. It wasn’t a stagecoach day, and none of his freight trains were due in. He listed off a string of chores for his sons to accomplish and warned Benito several times to stay alert.
As Ned led his saddle horse, Champ, out of the barn, Reece Jones galloped into the yard on his old pinto.
“Ned! The station this side of Phantom Hill was hit last night. Where’s Tree?”
Brownie, Tree, and Jud Morgan came from the barn, and two of Tree’s boys joined them.
“What happened?” Tree demanded.
“Injuns hit the swing station up the line,” Reece said. “Drove off a dozen head of mules and horses.”
“Anybody hurt?”
“No. The tenders all got in the house in time and barricaded it. A couple of people from the town got in, too, and forted up with them. The Injuns did some yelling and shot a few arrows at the windows, but they didn’t waste much effort on that. They just wanted the horses. And they set fire to the barn where all the feed was.”
Brownie swore.
“Should we bring in all the stock?” Diego asked. “We put the extra mules out to pasture this morning, Papa.”
“Bring them in closer,” Tree said.
“Better watch out tonight.” Reece shot a stream of tobacco juice to one side. “They might head home for a while, since they got a pretty good haul. But you never know.”
Tree nodded grimly. “Does the station agent have a team left for the next stage up there?”
“Had two mules left. Sam Tunney told me they’d check around and see if they could borrow two more.”
“I can send a couple up there tonight if they need them.” Tree looked at Ned. “You still want to go to the mission?”
“I sure do. But you don’t have to go, Tree. If you want to stay here with the boys …”
“Go, Papa,” Esteban said. “We need to know Quinta is safe.”
Tree turned to Ned. “I think we should take the sisters and the girls to Fort Chadbourne.”
“Maybe. Let’s see how things look between here and there. If the Indians didn’t raid any farther west than Phantom Hill, they may be all right.”
“I hate to leave the boys.” Tree glanced around. Benito had come from the house and heard much of the conversation.
“I’ll stay with ’em,” Brownie said.
“Me too.” Reece pulled his rifle from its scabbard and swung down from his horse.
“All right.” Tree nodded at Benito. “Bring all the stock in now. But stay together. Don’t any of you ride out alone to get stragglers.”
“Si, Papa.”
“Give Reece some grub when you’re done,” Ned said. He checked his cinch strap. “It takes the stage about five hours to get to the mission, but we should be able to make it in three. Jud, you ready?”
“Sure am.”
Brownie stared at Jud’s horse and the one he led on a long cotton rope. “They sure are purty,” he said. “So, those are Morgan horses?”
“That’s right. Our family has always raised them. I’m not a direct descendant of Justin Morgan, but there is a connection if you go way back.”
“He looks stout,” Reece said, eyeing Jud’s gelding.
“He’s a terrific stock horse. I brought the other one for Billie to ride home if she wants. It’s not the same horse she loved to ride as a girl—that one disappeared with her. But he’s a lot like that one.”
“She’ll be tickled,” Ned said. “And so will Quinta—Tree’s little girl.”
“You know, Morgan,” Brownie said, “some captives have trouble learning their own culture again when they return. Now, this one’s made great progress, living with the nuns, but she’ll still need some time to adjust.”
Jud swallowed hard and nodded. “I appreciate that, and what you were saying before, Ned. I also know there have been some captured children recovered who didn’t want to return to their families.”
“You won’t have that problem,” Ned said. “Billie nearly died trying to get home. She craves her family. And she made an effort all this time to preserve her identity. She … she grieved when she knew she was forgetting, if you take my meaning.”
Jud nodded. “I think I do.”
Tree hit the saddle and gathered his reins. “Let’s go.”
Ned raised a hand in farewell to the boys, Brownie, and Reece, and trotted Champ out to the road. Tree caught up to him and pushed his black into a gallop. Ned let Champ run too and looked back. Jud Morgan rode along behind, his jaw set. Ned had no doubt he would keep up, even with the extra horse in tow.
Billie helped Sister Marie in the kitchen most of the morning while the four students had their lessons with Sisters Adele and Natalie. She washed the breakfast dishes and swept the floor, after which she made a large pan of cornbread. Sister Marie had shown her several times how to do it just right, the way the sisters liked it, and Billie now felt competent to make this dish by herself.
Sister Riva brought in an armload of firewood from the woodshed behind the kitchen.
“It looks as though your water reservoir is low,” she said to Sister Marie.
Billie kept stirring her batter as Sister Riva hefted a pail and poured it into the tank on the side of the stove. When they kept the reservoir full, they had plenty of warm water for washing.
“I’d better refill the barrels too. Mr. Garza will ask if we’ve kept them full.” Sister Riva took the empty bucket and picked up another near the back door.
Billie longed to be outside—to go even so far as the well with Sister Riva. Perhaps later, when the cooking was finished, one of the sisters or Quinta could go out with her for a short while. She would have to put on the long black robe, but it was worth the inconvenience. Her times outside seemed to come less frequently now. She hoped that when she went to the Morgans’ home she wouldn’t be kept inside all day.
Captive Trail Page 18