Billie’s English lessons continued with Sister Adele, and Quinta broadened her vocabulary considerably, including a sprinkling of Spanish sayings.
Ned was right about Billie’s quickness—she learned to write her new-old name perfectly by the next time he returned. He brought another visitor, a white-haired man looking for his granddaughter. Billie met with him, but the gentleman left disappointed. His lost grandchild would have been only eleven now, and she had green eyes. Billie wondered why people made these arduous journeys when the captain had written to them and told them she was likely not their loved one.
While Brownie helped the tired old gentleman back into the stagecoach, Ned stole a moment with her. He hadn’t received any news from the Morgan family yet—not enough time had elapsed—but, to Billie’s delight, he still wanted to spend a few minutes with her.
Sister Natalie sat nearby, reviewing the four students’ most recent essays, while Ned assured Billie he would bring her any news the moment he received it.
“I practice,” she said to him.
“What do you practice?”
“I talk English. I write. I sew. I play the song about God’s grace.”
Ned smiled and glanced toward Sister Natalie. “It’s hard to believe how far she’s come since she arrived here.”
Sister Natalie looked up and nodded. “We shall miss our Taabe.”
“Billie.”
They both looked at her, and she repeated her true name. “Billie. Not Taabe.”
“Of course, child.” Sister Natalie’s face held a wistfulness that Billie regretted. She had put that expression there, had caused new worry lines near the dear sister’s mouth.
Ned had almost the same set to his face. They were grieving already. Grieving because she would be gone.
But she couldn’t ignore the joy that burgeoned inside her when she thought about meeting her brother. Anxiety, however, was that joy’s constant companion.
She turned to Ned. “This man—brother …”
“Judson Morgan.”
“Yes. What happens …” She reached for the small word that changed a meaning so drastically. “If … what happens if he does not love me?”
Ned inhaled and looked at her for a moment before speaking. “They already love you. They want you at home. They have loved you all this time. If you are Billie Morgan, they have been looking for you and hoping for twelve years.”
She nodded slowly. Had it been that long? She supposed it had. So much had happened to her since she went to live with the Numinu.
“If that happened,” Ned said, “and they changed their minds—I’m sure it will not, but if it did—you must remember that you have people here who care about you. You will never be without a home again.”
Sister Natalie spoke with a tremor in her voice. “That is true, child. You will always be welcome here. No matter how many pupils we gain, you were our first, and we will always love you. If you leave us and you have troubles in the world, you may come back at any time.”
Billie knew it was true. Even if the sisters knew every detail of her life in the Comanche camp, they would accept her and treat her with compassion. And now that she had spent time with them, she truly loved each of them, and she felt their love in return. “Thank you,” she whispered.
But what about Ned? He sat beside her, so confident, pouring out his friendship. His feelings for her went beyond what a man would normally feel for a neighbor in need—she knew that. But did she dare think he would love her?
Her emotions soared whenever he was near. She must be careful for many reasons. Because Ned did not know everything. When Judson Morgan came, she would tell him—her brother. But she wasn’t sure she would tell Ned. Mr. Morgan could decide whether he would claim her for a sister—or not. But what about Ned? She felt the risk was greater with him. Would he feel the same about her if he learned all?
Ned rode with Tree to the mission several days later. Tree had clothing and sweets for Quinta, and gifts of cheese and beef for the sisters. Ned just wanted to see Taabe—Billie—again, when he didn’t have to hurry to keep the stagecoach schedule.
She had seemed worried about meeting her family, and he didn’t blame her. She had every reason to feel insecure. Everywhere he went he heard stories about captives who couldn’t make the adjustment back into normal life, and about the families who tried to rehabilitate them but were afraid of their own children. Some returned captives were shunned. Others were stared at and pestered by the curious. What was Jud Morgan thinking as he made his way north?
Ned tried to look at the situation from Billie’s perspective and couldn’t imagine her turmoil. Though he’d meant every word he told her—she was loved here—he couldn’t speak for the Morgans. They might reject her or treat her badly because of her past. Ned only knew that if he were in her shoes, he’d be petrified.
Quinta dashed out from the dining room, where she’d been having lessons with the other girls, and into her father’s arms. Ned smiled as he watched Tree shower her with kisses. He was forgotten when her papa was near, and that was the way it should be.
Sister Natalie brought Billie into the sitting room. She entered with a shy smile for Ned. He stood and held out his hands to her. She wore the dark blue dress with her beadwork at the collar and cuffs. Her hair still floated free about her shoulders, though all the girls wore theirs in plaits. As he took her hands, Billie caught her breath. She cast a quick glance up at him, then lowered her gaze.
“Sit down,” he said softly. “Talk to me.”
Once they were seated on the sofa, Sister Natalie withdrew. Tree had claimed an armchair—a new acquisition the freighters had brought the previous week—and sat with Quinta on his lap, hearing her excited account of a spelling bee Sister Adele held among the students.
“Billie,” Ned said.
She looked up at him, her blue eyes wide, her face calm and expectant.
“I know I’ve asked you before, but the captain wants me to inquire again, now that your English is better. Billie, when you were with the Numinu, were there other children? Other white children they had taken?”
She nodded slowly.
“Did you meet other children who were captured like you were? We’ve read names to you and asked you about specific children who were kidnapped, but it seems to me you wouldn’t know their English names. But you’ve seen others among the tribe? Ones they’ve adopted? White Indians?”
“Yes.” She spoke in a small voice, and her eyes took on an anxiety Ned didn’t like. “Sometimes. They don’t stay where I am. Was. Most of them go with other bands.”
“Remember the first man and woman I brought to see you here—the Cunninghams? At the time, I’m sure you didn’t understand most of what we said to you. But they had a daughter, Sally. She was also taken, about two years ago, not far from here. She was younger than you. She’d be twelve years old now.” He held up all ten fingers, then two. “Twelve. You understand?”
“Yes.”
“Have you seen a girl like that in the last two years?” Billie shook her head. “Not now.”
“Not recently?”
She nodded doubtfully, and Ned wasn’t sure she caught his meaning.
“Other girls?” he asked. “Boys?”
“Boy.” She touched her hair. “White hair.”
“A boy with white hair.”
She nodded and pointed to Quinta. “Small like her.”
“When?” Ned asked.
Billie shrugged. “Hot. Men raid much. Very hot.”
“Last summer?”
“Yes, summer. Bring back boys. One is … brown face. One is white. Hair very white.”
“A Negro boy and a blond white boy?”
“Yes. But … they trade them. Peca trade the white hair boy.”
“Peca?” Ned caught something in her manner when she said the name. A slight squint of her eyes and a touch of hardness to her voice.
Quinta climbed down from her father’s lap and walked o
ver in front of them. “Peca is the man who chased Billie,” she said.
“What?” Ned stared at Quinta. “When? Why?”
“When she left the Comanche. Peca wanted her for his wife, and she ran away. She took one of the horses he left outside the tepee.”
Ned looked at Billie. “Is this true?”
Billie nodded.
“I don’t understand,” Ned said. “She didn’t say anything about this Peca fellow when I brought Cat Thompson here.”
“Did you ask her?” Quinta’s expression made Ned feel like a witless schoolboy.
“No, I guess we didn’t. We talked about when she was captured, but not much about when she left them. She did say she took a horse and ran away from them. What else do you know, Quinta?”
“Billie is afraid of Peca. That’s why we have the whistles and the hiding place. If Peca comes, she’ll get in the hole.”
“What hole are we talking about?” Patrillo came over to stand beside her.
Quinta looked up at him. “I’m not supposed to tell.”
“Well, the sisters already showed me,” Ned said. “And your father won’t blab about it.”
“Of course not,” Tree said. “What’s this about a hole and a whistle?”
Quickly Quinta explained the nuns’ defense system. Tree gazed down at her for a long moment. At last he pointed his finger at her. “You be careful, young lady.”
“I will, Papa.”
Tree stepped closer to Ned. “That place where Cat Thompson told you the Indians take their captives to hide them—the Valle de las Lagrimas—I wonder …” He turned to Billie. “Do you think you could lead a detachment of soldiers to the place where the Comanche hid you?”
Billie stared at him.
“Tree,” Ned said, “I don’t think this is the time to consider that. She probably has no idea what you’re talking about, anyway.”
“They would not come out alive,” Billie said.
“That’s right. It would be foolish to try.” Ned jerked his head around and stared at her, then smiled. “You understood it all, didn’t you? I’m so proud of you.” He longed to ask her more about her life with the Numinu, but perhaps it was better to wait until Morgan arrived. He didn’t want to add to her distress during this period of waiting, but clearly there were many things he didn’t know.
Sister Natalie returned carrying a tray with coffee for the men, a glass of milk for Quinta, and a plate of small frosted cakes.
“Mr. and Mrs. Stein are keeping our cow until spring,” the sister said, “but they send out milk quite often. They have one cow of their own that hasn’t gone dry yet. It is such a blessing, to have milk for the girls.”
“Thank you.” Ned accepted a cup of coffee. “I told Herr Stein I’ll bring it twice a week when I bring the stagecoach east.”
“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.
Captive Trail (The Texas Trail Series Book 2) Page 19