Captive Trail (31 page)

“Good work,” Ned called.

She soaked the blanket, wrung it out, and passed it up to Tree. The horses still moved about, bumping one another and snorting. She reached for the nearest one’s halter and stroked his neck, speaking quietly to him.

Ned said, “Tree, give me a boost.”

“They’ll shoot you.”

“No, it’s quiet out there now. I want to get a good look.”

Tree left his bucket and went to Ned. A moment later, Ned climbed onto Tree’s shoulders. Billie watched, holding her breath. Ned grabbed the edge of the adobe wall and cautiously stood. Tree held his feet, and Ned struck his head through the gap in the ceiling. A few seconds later he ducked back down and hopped to the floor.

“The sun’s going down. It’ll be dark in an hour. The barn roof is still burning. The sod’s smoldering.”

“What about this roof?” Tree asked.

“I think we put it out,” Ned said.

“And the Comanche?”

Billie edged closer to hear his response.

“They galloped off, away from the road.”

“You don’t think they gave up?” Tree asked.

Ned peered at Billie. “What do you think?”

She shook her head. “Peca not give up. He rest and watch to see if house burn. He come back.”

“After dark?” Ned asked.

“Maybe.”

“He won’t wait until tomorrow, I’m guessing.”

Billie shrugged. “No, I don’t think he wait that long. Too close to fort. Someone come along and see, tell soldiers.”

“That’s what I’m hoping,” Ned said.

Tree pushed the buckets and wash boiler against the wall. “I hope so too. We don’t have feed for these horses, or enough water to spare them much of a drink.”

“Someone may have heard the commotion already,” Ned said. “Or seen the smoke.”

“Let’s hope we get some help soon.” Tree turned toward the doorway as Sister Adele moved the curtain aside.

“Everyone all right in here?” she called.

“Yes,” Ned said. “They threw a torch on the roof and it caught, but we’ve put the fire out.”

“Mr. Morgan says they’ve fallen back. He thinks he wounded one of them. We thought this might be a good time for everyone to eat.”

“Great,” Tree said. “Hadn’t thought about it, but I am hungry.”

“Me too,” Ned said.

“Come to the kitchen when you can,” Sister Adele said. “The others are fixing a light meal and letting the girls out for a few minutes.”

Billie waited until the men were gone, then spent a few more minutes calming the horses. When she stepped into the hall, she noticed the temperature was much cooler away from the warmth of the horses. The nuns hadn’t kept their fires going since the attack began. Passing the dining room, she saw Jud and Tree eating while standing near the windows. Ned must have taken his food to the front room so he could keep watch there.

She watched Jud, and a certainty settled over her. This was the tall man from her memories. Though he seemed a bit stern, the circumstances could account for much of that. There had been no time for her to talk to him or observe him closely, but an unmistakable affinity drew her to him.

He turned and caught sight of her. She waved, and he nodded with a half-smile. She moved on to the kitchen.

Quinta and another girl sat on the floor against the wall eating bread, apples, and cold chicken. Billie knelt beside them.

“You all right?” she asked, forcing a smile.

“Billie, we were so scared!” Kate said. “We thought those natives would get you.”

“No, I am still here.”

Quinta rolled her eyes.
“I
didn’t think so. I told them you were too smart to let them get you, and you’d fight if they tried.”

“That’s right,” Billie said.

“Do we have to go back in the cellar?” Kate’s eyes brimmed with tears. “I hate it down there, and we can’t have the candle lit when they shut us in. It’s awful.”

“We held hands and sang,” Quinta said, looking at Billie.

“Songs are good,” Billie said. “Stories too, and praying. You help each other.”

“Here’s your food, Billie.”

She stood and took the plate Sister Marie offered her.

Billie ate quickly while the nuns brought the other two girls their meal. She gave her empty plate to Sister Riva, who stacked the dirty dishes.

“We’re saving what water we have,” Sister Riva said.

Billie was glad they weren’t using any of their precious supply to wash dishes. “Horses hungry. You have carrots? Apples?”

“That’s a good thought.” Sister Riva put several of each into a basket for her.

Billie walked quickly back to the chapel. The horses were once more jostling and nipping at each other. She spoke firmly and ducked under the rope barrier. She whistled and stroked the nose of the first to approach her—one of Jud’s horses. Billie took a carrot and held it to his nostril while tucking the basket behind her back.

The horse sniffed at the carrot then took it with his lips and crunched it. Tree’s big black nosed her arm, and she gave him one. She tried to make sure all four horses received equal treatment, but the black gelding snapped at the others to keep them away. He nipped her sleeve, and she slapped his nose.

“You stop. Greedy horse!”

She couldn’t blame him—he was a big boy and hadn’t eaten all day. But that didn’t mean Ned’s pinto and the others shouldn’t get their share. She made sure Jud’s horses got equal consideration. They looked like the horse she had ridden the day the Numinu took her, and she stroked their faces and necks. They didn’t jump around as much as Ned and Tree’s horses, and they seemed content to wait for the humans to change their situation.

Billie leaned against one of the dark brown horses and
entangled her fingers in his mane. Carefully she formed English sentences in her mind.

Father God, thank You for bringing my brother. Help us to live. Do not let Peca hurt anyone here
.

All of those within the mission were dear to her—the sisters, who had treated her with compassion; Señor Garza, who had been kind to her; Jud, who had loved her and tried to find her for many years; the innocent little girls crouching in the dark cellar; and Ned. He filled her heart now, and she left it to God to understand how much Ned meant to her.

None of these people deserved to be shot or scalped, or to have the house burned over their heads.

If I walk out of here, Peca will leave them alone
.

Did she believe that? Señor Garza had forbidden her to offer herself to save them. But why should all these people die because of her?

Father God, show me wisdom. Give me a gift now. I do not ask for myself, but for them
.

The horses’ treats were gone, and she placed the basket outside and edged around the wall to stand beneath the hole in the roof. The horses lost interest in her and milled about, somewhat calmer now. She looked at the ceiling, where the light flowed in. It had the late afternoon slant that would soon haze into twilight.

All was quiet outside. How long before Peca and his followers returned? She, better than any of the others, knew he would be back. He would have promised his friends rewards if they helped recapture her. The horses, no doubt, and captives. Scalps of the men. But the Comanche’s greatest honor in battle was not scalps. It was counting coup, touching the enemy during the battle while he was still alive. These adobe walls prevented the warriors from doing that. Peca must be extremely frustrated. No wonder he had resorted to fire. He wanted not
so much to kill them as to drive them into the open, where they could count coup on the white men and rip her from their grasp.

Perhaps those inside the mission could gain an advantage if they could see where the enemy lay. The hole in the chapel ceiling extended almost a third of the way along the wall, but was mostly confined to the area near the edge.

The upturned bucket wasn’t high enough. Billie stretched, but she couldn’t even touch the top of the wall. She got down and put the bucket in the hall to refill later. She caught the halter on Ned’s horse and led him over to stand beneath the gap. The pinto stayed steady as she swung up on his back. Her moccasins slid on his smooth hair, but she found purchase and stood straight on his back until she grabbed the edge of the wall.

She tested her weight on a crossbeam to see if the fire had weakened it. The rafter felt solid. She drew in a breath and leaped upward, pulling with her arms. She rose through the gap and flopped onto the charred roof. Her tired arms felt useless. For a minute she lay panting and longing for the strength she’d had before her flight across the plains. But that would do no good. She raised her head and looked toward the barn. Smoke rose along the roofline—lazy wisps blending with the gray sky. The ridgepole had collapsed and fallen into the barn, leaving a black gulf.

Below her, the horses shifted about and huffed out their breath. Poor, hungry horses. They would have to wait at least until morning for food.

Probably her dress would be stained beyond repair from the charred wood. At least she was wearing the dark blue, not the lavender dress Señor Garza had sent. Later she would think about whether she could salvage it—if they made it through the coming night.

She lay still, watching a sliver of moon rise in the east. That was the direction where Ned and Señor Garza lived—the direction from which the stagecoach came on Tuesdays and Fridays. Tomorrow was a stagecoach day. She gritted her teeth. Would the stagecoach come with another driver on the box? What would Tree Garza’s sons do when he failed to come home tonight? She hoped the boys wouldn’t ride into a Numinu ambush. And what of the sisters and their pupils? Would they still be under siege tomorrow morning, or would she be riding northward with Peca toward the Valle de las Lagrimas? If she thought for one moment that Peca would ride away without harming the others, she would go to him, despite Señor Garza’s words.

She jerked her head up to listen. Hoofbeats. Not from the road—from the plain. Peca was coming back.

N
ed leaned against the wall, his ear to one of the window slits in the sitting room. “I hear them.”

From the other window, Jud said, “Me too. They’re galloping in, I think from the north.”

“Is everyone ready?” Ned asked.

Sister Riva stood. “I’ll go and make sure the trap door is closed and everyone knows they are coming back.” She hurried from the room. Sister Adele stayed, ready to reload for the men.

The Comanche swooped in, looped about the yard, fired a volley of arrows toward the mission, and headed out the lane. Ned ducked back as a couple of arrows bounced off the wall outside. He peeked out and got off a shot at a fleeing warrior, but the man concealed most of his body by dropping down along the far side of the horse. Ned was sure he’d missed.

“I don’t want to shoot their horses out from under them,” Jud yelled, “but they hang so low on the off side, that may be the only way to get them.”

Sister Riva returned. “All the sisters and the girls are safe.”

“What about Billie?” Ned asked.

Sister Riva hesitated. “I did not see her. I’ll check her room.”

Sister Adele stood. “She may be in with the horses. I’ll look there. Do you want me to reload for you first?”

Ned clenched his teeth and handed her his rifle. “Yes. No. Oh, I don’t know. Go on, and I’ll use my revolver when they come around again. Jud’s right—we can barely get a shot at them anyway.”

When she’d left, he said to Jud, “I thought there was one less horse this time. Maybe you did get one of them.”

“The white man,” Jud said. “I thought I got him, but he didn’t fall.”

“You’re right. He wasn’t in the pack this time.” Ned leaned heavily on the narrow window ledge, his heart still pounding. Had Trainer been wounded, or had he simply had enough?

“How you doing on ammunition?” Jud asked.

“I’ve got another thirty rounds or so for the rifle.”

“I’m down to a dozen.” They looked at each other bleakly.

“Wonder how Tree’s doing,” Ned said.

“The good thing is, they seem to be low on lead too,” Jud said. “They only fired arrows that time.”

“Billie! Billie, are you in here?”