A moment later, running footsteps heralded Sister Riva’s return. She charged through the doorway without the buckets, whirled, and threw the bar in place.
“Sister Riva?” said Sister Marie.
Billie stared at Riva’s hands. The sister gave her what she had been clutching—a Comanche arrow with green markings and distinctive feathers—two black and one white.
CHAPTER NINETEEN
Quickly!” Sister Marie said. “Check the front door!” Billie dashed into the corridor and around to the entrance. The door was already barred on the inside, as usual. She hurried back toward the kitchen but paused in the dining room doorway. Sister Marie had interrupted the lessons there.
“She came tearing in with an arrow, Sister. What does it mean? What shall we do?”
The pupils let out some muffled squeals—not Quinta, Billie was sure.
“Girls, silence!” Sister Natalie’s calm voice held the authority they all needed. When they had quieted, she said, “You will go at once to the kitchen with Sister Marie and get into the hiding place.”
“Come.” Sister Marie, her face as white as the band of cloth on her forehead, beckoned to the four pupils. They filed out the door after her, with Sister Adele bringing up the rear. Sister Natalie’s gaze fell on Billie.
“Is Sister Riva all right?”
“Yes.”
“You were not outside with her?”
“No.”
“Where is the arrow?”
“I have it here.”
Sister Natalie held out her hand and Billie placed the arrow in it.
“A Comanche shot this at Sister Riva?”
Billie hesitated. If he’d wanted to hit the sister as she hauled the bucket from the well, he wouldn’t have missed. “He shoot it near her,” she said.
“Where is Sister Riva?”
Billie glanced over her shoulder. “I think still in the kitchen.” Sister Natalie started to walk away, but Billie tugged her sleeve.
“Sister, this not just anyone’s arrow.”
The nun stopped and peered at her. “Can you explain, Billie?”
“This is Peca’s arrow.”
“Peca? The man who wished to marry you?”
Billie nodded, feeling her cheeks flame. She had brought danger to the sisters, and now they had the young girls to consider as well. She should not have stayed here.
“You must get into the hiding place at once,” Sister Natalie said.
“No. Girls go. I help.”
Sister Natalie gazed into her eyes. “All right. We must barricade the doors and cover the windows so they can’t see in. The girls will need their blankets and pillows.”
Sister Riva came from the kitchen.
“Are the girls in the cellar?” Sister Natalie asked.
“They are going down. Sister Marie is giving them some food and water.”
“Good. Are you all right, my dear?”
“Yes, Sister. I was very frightened.”
“Not so frightened that you didn’t have the presence of mind to grab this and bring it with you.” Sister Natalie held out the arrow.
Sister Riva grimaced. “It plunked into the earth beside my foot. I dropped my water buckets and looked all about, but I couldn’t see anyone. So I grabbed it and ran for the door.”
“They let you go,” Billie said. Peca and his friends were probably out there laughing about it.
Sister Riva smiled faintly. “And I thought God protected me.”
“He did,” Sister Natalie said, “though I’m inclined to agree with Billie. He protected you by letting them not want to kill you, rather than by skewing their aim. Go to the girls’ rooms. Take them their blankets and pillows. And try not to stand near the windows. When the hiding place is closed, come to the chapel.”
“Yes, Sister.” Sister Riva hurried toward the bedrooms. “Both doors are barred,” Billie said. “Come. We will drag heavy cupboards in front of them.” Although the adobe walls were thick, Billie wasn’t sure they would stop Peca.
Two miles from the mission, Ned spotted a rancher working on his fence line near the road. He reined in Champ and called to him.
“Hey, Spence, you heard about any Indian trouble around here?”
“Nope.”
“We heard they hit the stage station at Phantom Hill last night.”
“That right?”
Ned nodded. Tree and Jud had halted near him and waited. “You think they’ll come down here?” Spence asked. “I don’t know, but I’d lock my stock up tonight if I were you.”
Spence gritted his teeth. “Can’t do that with all the cattle. Guess I’d better have my boys take a nap today and stay out with ’em tonight. Man, I hate those dirty, raidin’ Injuns.”
“Take care.” Ned tipped his hat. Tree had already resumed riding at a quick trot.
“How far now?” Jud asked.
“Couple of miles. At least no one’s seen any sign of the Comanche down this way.”
“That we know of,” Jud said.
They trotted along, not pushing the horses too hard. Most of the land around them was open range. Most ranchers fenced only their corrals and holding pens. In the distance, bunches of cattle grazed.
They crossed a creek, splashing through the shallow water. Tree had talked to the division agent about building a bridge here—in the spring this creek would be high for a few weeks, and the stage would take a long detour to get across safely. If they put in a bridge this winter, it would save them money and a lot of headaches later.
“Did you see that?” Jud called.
Ned reined in and turned in the saddle. Jud had stopped several yards behind him and was staring off over the rolling grassland.
“What?”
“A flock of blackbirds flew up all of a sudden over there—like something startled them.”
Ned peered in the direction Jud was facing and saw a small flock flying away, almost out of sight.
“Not us?”
“No.”
Ned looked ahead. Tree hadn’t stopped.
“Let’s catch up.”
“Right,” Jud said. They cantered until Champ was on the black’s tail again.
“Everything all right?” Tree called over his shoulder.
“Not sure.”
They kept up their swift trot, all of them scanning the terrain.
“I saw something,” Tree said. “Pretty sure there’s a horse down over that rise.”
“Where?” Ned asked.
“Southwest.”
Ned looked to his left, then back at Jud. “Stay close. We’ll be there soon.”
Jud nodded and urged his horse forward.
While the other nuns went into the chapel to pray, Sister Adele stood with Billie at the window slits in the front sitting room. With one of them at each opening, they could observe most of the yard. So far, they’d seen nothing out of the ordinary.
Sister Adele had brought a length of dark cloth that they hung over the windows. Billie pushed one corner aside and peered out.
“He is out there.”
“I know.” Sister Adele glanced at her. “He must be a patient man.”
“Yes. He has waited a long time to find me. I thought maybe he gave up, but no. That is not like him, to give up.”
The room was dim and cold. They had let all the fires go out, and they didn’t light the lamps.
“Tell me about the arrow,” Sister Adele said.
“It is his … his sign. Each man has his own. Peca has the green and black paint. I don’t know how to say it, but when we draw, we make marks.”
“Yes. A design, you mean.”
Billie shrugged. “Maybe. Always the same.”
“Yes. That would help them to identify their own arrows.”
Billie nodded. “Like they paint their faces and their horses. It means something—how many raids, how many captives. And the feathers—one white, two black. It is him. No one else would have these.”
“What else
can we do to defend ourselves against him?”
Slowly Billie shook her head. If Peca was determined to take her back, they could not stop him. Maybe she should just walk out there—it would be easier for the sisters that way, and for the girls. Much easier. She felt a heavy weight on her heart at the thought of Quinta and the others going through what she had.
Sister Adele let her curtain fall over the window. “Billie, you said this man, Peca, left six horses for your family. Is that a marriage ritual for the Comanche?”
“He want to marry.”
Sister Adele frowned. “I am surprised you hadn’t married earlier. I mean, we believe you are past twenty years old.” She turned back to the window. “I’m sorry. That’s rude of me, but it does seem odd.”
“Not odd,” Billie said. She stood for a long minute, staring outward, wondering what the man who wished to claim her would do next—and whether she should tell Sister Adele the things she hadn’t told anyone else. Would it matter? If she rode off with Peca today, would it help her and the other sisters to understand?
“Taabe have husband.”
Sister Adele stared at her. “Peca?”
“No. Before.” Billie sighed. “Maybe is better you don’t know.”
Adele walked over to stand beside her and touched her shoulder. “Billie, you can tell me anything. But you don’t have to. We are friends.”
She nodded, tears misting her eyes. “Yes. Good friend.” She wiped her eyes and looked out the window. “That happen to Taabe. Now I am not her. I am Billie.”
“Yes. You have a new life now.”
Billie stood in silence, looking out the crack between the curtain and the wall. She could see only a small slice of the dooryard unless she moved. Slowly she leaned toward the other side of the opening.
“When they take me, I am a girl. I have a new mother and a sister, Pia.”
“Your Comanche family?”
“Yes. They are good to me. Not like here, but for the way the people live, very good.”
“I’m glad.”
Billie hauled in a deep breath. “Then a man wants to marry. I say yes. I don’t think I can say no.”
“Oh, my dear Billie.” Adele slipped her arm around her. “I am so sorry.”
Billie let Adele hug her for a moment. Then she pulled away, wiping fresh tears away. “Taabe have little son.”
Sister Adele gasped. “You—you had a baby?”
Billie nodded. “I love him. And … I know I cannot leave him.”
“Of course not. You couldn’t leave your child. But …”
“Husband die on raid,” Billie said. “When was this?”
Billie held up two fingers. “Two years. And now Peca want to marry.”
“But … where is your baby now?”
Billie’s shoulders drooped, and her chin lowered. “Husband die, and we were alone. My mother and sister take me into their lodge. Baby too. I want to come back to white world.”
“Why didn’t you?”
“Numinu not let captives leave.”
“They still thought of you as a captive? Even though you’d been part of a family for years?”
Billie nodded. “Can’t go. And can’t leave baby. I love him.”
“Of course.”
“And mother die.” She sobbed. “Little baby die.” Sister Adele enfolded her in her arms once more. “You poor, poor thing. What happened to them?”
“Sick. Spots and fever.”
“That sounds like smallpox. Or measles.”
“Very sick. Many die. In the spring.”
“Last spring?”
“Yes. I was not sick, but … I try to help, but they die.” Billie wanted to weep until she had no more tears, but she couldn’t. Not now. She straightened and lifted the edge of the curtain. “You look. I cannot see.”
Sister Adele handed her a handkerchief and peeked out while Billie wiped her face. “I don’t see anything. Why doesn’t he just come up to the door and ask to see you?”
Billie shook her head. “I ran away. He would not ask. He comes to take me back.”
“I’m so sorry.”
Billie shrugged. Peca and the other Numinu men saw this as normal—raiding, stealing, killing when it was expedient. She moved to the other window and peeked out. Nothing. Just the same ripple of wind over the grass.
“You were a widow,” Sister Adele said. “They wouldn’t let you stay unmarried if you wanted to?”
“The chiefs … they think …” Billie frowned, struggling for words. “It was time for me to have a new husband. Peca wanted me, so he brought horses to the tepee where I lived. My sister, Pia, and her husband, they were my family.”
“So that’s what the six horses Quinta talked about were for. A bride price.”
Billie nodded.
“And he just tethered them outside?”
“Yes. If you take care of them right away, you want to marry soon. Most women make them wait. But if you wait too long, it means you don’t care.”
“About the horses?”
“And the man.”
“What did you do?”
“I wait until night. Pia’s husband say wait three days, then take them to water and he will know you marry him. But I don’t want to marry. When I tell Pia and Chano this, they get angry. Chano say they can’t feed me forever.”
“How cruel.”
“I think now he wanted to … to push me. Make me take the horses and marry Peca. But I work hard, and I help Pia much with her baby. Not right to say they won’t feed me. So I wait until night, and I take the best horse. And I run.”
“That’s when you came here?”
Billie nodded, but realized her friend probably couldn’t see that from several paces away. “Yes. But the horse … he fall. Fell. We go down.”
“I understand. And yes, you would say he fell. Today he falls, yesterday he fell.”
Billie smiled. Even in a crisis, the teacher came out in Adele. “I was hurt. When I wake, horse is gone. So I walk and Ned Bright find … found me. You and Sister Natalie and Ned Bright.”
“Yes.”
A faint sound from outside the adobe walls reached Billie through the narrow window. She nudged the curtain aside and turned her ear to the slit through the thick wall.
“Horses. Someone comes.”
A flicker of movement and the sound of hoofbeats drew Ned’s attention. As he turned to look south, Jud yelled. “Rider to your left!”
The Comanche warrior galloped his horse at an angle that would allow him to intercept them where the road curved.
Ned reached for his rifle. Tree had his out already. Ned glanced to the other side. Two more horsemen were coming up on their right flank. Champ and their other mounts were tired. The Indians had probably been resting their horses while they lay in wait. Ned gauged the distance to the mission. They were within half a mile. He worried about Jud, slightly behind him and leading the extra horse.
“Let go of Billie’s horse.”
“No!”
Ned gritted his teeth and hoped the animal wouldn’t cost Jud his life. To his surprise, Jud pulled Billie’s horse beside his and leaped from his own saddle to the one on the other horse. He leaned back toward his horse and yanked his rifle from the scabbard attached to the saddle. All the while, he kept hold of his own mount’s reins. Ned wondered if Jud could outrun the Comanche and keep both horses, but he certainly had a better chance on the back of the horse that had carried only a saddle’s weight all morning.
Jud spoke to the horse he now rode, low and urgent. Both Morgan horses surged forward, coming even with Ned.
“Go!” Ned yelled. He turned to his left as Jud swept past him. The first Comanche was closer—within range if Ned could hold a rifle steady, but he doubted he could. And several more warriors were coming on strong in his wake. One let out a chilling yell, and Champ poured on a burst of new speed. The Comanche were closer, and there were half a dozen of them now.
As they rode into the
turn, Ned saw that some scrub trees would obscure the view of those behind him for a few precious seconds. He only had one chance and wouldn’t be able to reload. He swiveled in his saddle, took the best aim he could, and let off a shot. He didn’t think he hit anyone, but prayed it would give the pursuers pause. He faced front and dug his heels into Champ’s sides.
Seconds later, Tree galloped into the short lane leading to the mission’s dooryard with Jud close behind him. They stopped so fast in front of the house that Tree’s black horse nearly sat on its haunches. Champ barreled up alongside Jud’s horse, and Ned jumped down, his empty rifle in one hand. Tree was already pounding on the mission door. Ned drew his Colt revolver and turned to face the lane.
CHAPTER TWENTY
It’s Quinta’s papa!” Billie ran out of the sitting room. By the time she reached the front door, Adele was beside her. They tugged away the heavy chest they’d dragged in to block the door. A gun went off outside. Billie flung the bar off, and Adele yanked the door open.
Patrillo Garza almost fell in on them, his rifle clutched in his hands.
“Comanche!”
“Come in,” Adele said. Another man behind Mr. Garza crowded close, holding the reins of two horses. Ned Bright stood beyond him near his mount, facing the road and holding a pistol.
“The horses,” the tall stranger called.
“Put them in the barn,” Sister Adele said.
“No, they’ve burned a barn up the line.”
“They’d steal them anyway.” Garza glanced at his magnificent black. “I hate to just give them to the raiders.”
“Sister Adele, what is it?”
Billie whirled around. Sister Natalie had come from the chapel, and Sister Marie and Sister Riva hovered behind her.
“Friends,” Sister Adele said. “Ned and Mr. Garza and one more, with—four horses. But the Comanche are just beyond the wall.”
“Bring them in,” Sister Natalie said.
“Yes, but the horses?” Sister Adele’s face pleaded. She, too, loved animals.
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