Captive Trail (18 page)

Ned knelt and held out his arms to Quinta, who had waited impatiently, dancing about on one foot. “Come here,
chica
!” She catapulted into his arms, and Ned placed a hearty kiss on her cheek. “That’s from your papa. He asked me to tell you that he’ll try to come and see you Thursday, when I’m at home to tend to business for him. And he sent you this.”

Ned held out a silver chain with a diamond-shaped pendant.
The necklace held a blue stone, and Quinta sucked in her breath and grabbed it.

“Oh! Where did he get it?”

“From one of the Mexican traders.”

Quinta examined it briefly, then flung her arms around his neck, spewing Spanish.

Sister Adele laughed. “What did she say?”

“That he’s the dearest papa in the world.” Ned smiled. “I’m not sure how you say ‘spoiled’ in Spanish …”

Quinta slugged his shoulder.

“Hey! First hugs, then hitting?”

“Quinta,” Sister Natalie said. “That is not how ladies behave.”

“Gentlemen don’t go about insulting ladies.” Quinta drew back, her lips in a pout, and carefully pulled the chain over her head.

“That looks lovely on you. I’ll tell your papa.” Ned ruffled her hair. “Shall we go? We haven’t much time to spare today.” He turned his smile on Taabe.

Her heart lurched. So he wasn’t angry with her for wearing the black robe. Was that gleam in his eyes all for Quinta, or was a little of it for her? She hoped he was happy that she was going with him. She would ride in the tall stagecoach for the first time. No, that wasn’t right. Sister Adele had told her that Ned had brought her here in the coach when they’d first found her, lying in the road injured.

She barely remembered when she’d opened her eyes and stared into a horrible white face. She’d feared for her life. Now she knew that face well—it was Sister Natalie, who was kind if somewhat severe. In her haze of pain and confusion, she’d wondered if a skeleton had come to steal her spirit. Sometimes the Numinu spoke of such things. And there had been a man. Ned. He’d lifted her and carried her. She didn’t remember
riding in the coach. But she would never forget that she’d felt safe for the first time she could remember when he lifted her. She had relaxed and stopped trying to fight the pain and fear.

They all walked out to the stagecoach. Brownie nodded and called, “Good morning.”

The three sisters who weren’t going along watched as Ned gave each passenger his hand and helped them into the coach. Quinta slid across the middle seat and stuck her head out the window on the other side. Sister Adele climbed in carefully and smoothed the skirt of her habit as she settled on the back seat, facing Quinta.

Ned held out his hand to Taabe. She reached for it, as she’d seen the others do. When he clasped hers in his big, warm hand, she caught her breath. Why did this man have such an effect on her? She lifted her skirt enough to allow her to put her foot on the metal step. Sister Natalie had insisted she wear a pair of black shoes belonging to Sister Marie, and they felt heavy and awkward. But no one would believe she was a sister if she wore her Comanche moccasins.

As she pushed against his firm hand and rose, Ned placed his other hand gently on her shoulder. She wanted to linger there in midair, but that was impossible. She leaned forward and brought her other foot up, into the stagecoach. Several bulging sacks sat on the floor between the front and middle seats. She settled beside Sister Adele, so she’d have the cushioned back to lean against. Quinta’s seat was covered in leather, but had no back so the passengers using it could face either way. The inside of the coach smelled like leather and wood.

Ned closed the door firmly. Sister Adele leaned forward and looked past her, waving at the three somber figures standing outside.

“Good-bye!”

Kneeling on the seat, Quinta leaned out the other window and yelled, “Blow your horn, Ned!”

A moment later, a clear, loud blast sounded, making Taabe’s spine shiver. Quinta pulled back inside, laughing and clapping.

“Ned’s a very good driver. I’ll bet he’s the best driver on the whole Overland Mail route.”

Sister Adele smiled faintly. “Don’t say ‘I’ll bet,’ Quinta.”

The stagecoach started forward with a slight jerk, and Quinta’s knee slipped off the edge of the seat. Sister Adele caught her arm and slowed her tumble to the floor.

“There now, sit down as you should.”

Quinta frowned but took her seat, bracing herself with her feet and holding on to a leather strap that hung from the ceiling.

Taabe gazed out the near window as they bowled along the dirt road. She didn’t recognize anything. The hills and fields wore drab shades of brown. The few scrubby pines they passed didn’t impress her. Nothing about this land drew her.

They passed a small adobe house that had a barn four times its size and several holding pens.

“Do you think you’ve been here before?” Sister Adele asked.

Taabe shook her head.

In less than an hour, Ned guided the team into the barnyard at another house, but this one lay close to a town. Taabe had seen several large buildings, and many people walking about, riding horses, and driving wagons. She couldn’t remember ever seeing so many people, except at a winter camp of the Numinu, when several bands settled close together along a river for a few months, and never so many whites.

Another blast of the horn sounded, and Taabe jumped. Quinta shrieked with delight.

“Settle down, Quinta,” Sister Adele said. She seemed to
have taken on Sister Natalie’s role.

The coach came to a stop, and Ned appeared at the door. He opened it and swept off his hat. “Welcome to Fort Chadbourne, ladies. If you wish, you can eat dinner with Mrs. Stein, in that house, for twenty-five cents each. If not, I’d be happy to escort you to the trader’s after the mail is seen to.”

Taabe looked to Sister Adele.

“We brought our luncheon, to eat on the way home.” Sister Adele patted the bag that hung from a strap across her habit.

“I want to pat the horses.” Quinta dashed toward the nearest corral.

Sister Adele opened her mouth, but closed it again. She watched Quinta with anxious eyes. “I suppose it’s all right, so long as we can see her.”

“Her father knows the people here very well,” Ned said. “I don’t think you need to worry.” He reached into the coach and hauled out one of the gray sacks. “I’ll take this inside and be right back.”

A few minutes later as they walked toward the trading post, Taabe was surprised to see several groups of Indians mingling with the whites and Mexicans about the fort.

“Are those Numinu?” Quinta asked, tugging Taabe’s hand.

Taabe swallowed hard.

“Quinta, please keep your voice down,” Sister Adele said.

Taabe stooped and said softly to Quinta, “Kiowa.” She avoided looking toward the Indians as they continued their walk.

Just outside the door of the trader’s establishment, Sister Adele touched Quinta’s shoulder. “My dear, please remember that we do not wish to call attention to our friend. You must call her ‘sister’ if you speak to her, and please avoid speaking about anything related to the Comanche while we are inside. Can you do that?”

Quinta’s stricken face showed she realized her mistake.
She nodded and looked up at Taabe with tears in her dark eyes. “I’m sorry, Ta—Sister.”

Taabe smiled and took her hand. “Come. You show me trader.”

They went inside, with Ned right behind them. Several women were among the shoppers. Taabe eyed their costumes, gratified that all of them wore dresses of calico or plain materials that hung in the same general shape as the dresses she and Quinta wore at the mission. Most wore their hair pulled up on their heads, though none wore the constrictive head coverings the sisters chose. Instead they wore cotton bonnets or hats of woven straw. One woman’s hat had a wide brim and a band of green ribbon around the crown. A bird perched on one side. Taabe stared at the bird, waiting for it to move, until Sister Adele lightly pushed her further down the store.

“My dear, it’s impolite to stare.”

Taabe blinked at her. “Bird.” She looked over her shoulder. “It’s stuffed,” Sister Adele hissed. Taabe’s jaw dropped.

“I think it’s awful to put a dead bird on your hat.” Quinta placed her hands on her thin hips and glared back toward the offending woman.

“Please, dear,” Sister Adele said, “we’ll discuss it later. Let’s not be rude. Sister Marie asked me to get some cloves and sugar for her, as well as a supply of dry beans. We must ask the trader to get those for us.”

While the trader filled the order, they walked slowly about the store, past shelves, barrels, and bins of merchandise. Taabe stared, unable to take in the abundant array of goods. Enough food lay in this one room to feed her band for a year.

A tiny sound startled her, and she whipped around.

Quinta said, “Ohh!” and stooped, extending her hand before her.

Taabe looked beyond Quinta to a shadowy crevice between
a barrel and a stack of crates. A small, furry animal peered out at them. It rubbed against the bottom crate, watching Quinta’s approach, and made its noise again—
meow!

Taabe’s heart leaped. This wasn’t a wild creature. She knew this orange animal, and the knowing sent a warm, happy feeling surging through her. This animal belonged to her past, before the Numinu.

She whirled and grabbed Sister Adele’s sleeve.

“Fluffy!”

N
ed stared at Taabe. “Fluffy?”

She nodded, laughing, with tears spilling down her cheeks. “Fluffy. Kitty.”

Ned looked to Sister Adele, who seemed as astounded as he. “Have you talked about cats?”

“No, I don’t think so. It hasn’t come up.” Quinta reached for the cat, and it flitted between the crates and a rack of shoes. A muffled mewing came from within.

“She’s got kittens in there,” Quinta cried. A moment later, she stood with a small ball of orange fur in one hand and a calico kitten in the other. “Look, Ned! Aren’t they
precioso?”

Ned laughed.
“Si!”
He reached for the orange kitten and held it in his palm. The little creature wriggled, and he patted it gently. He smiled at Taabe. “Would you like to hold it?”

“Me?” Taabe wiped away a tear.

He nodded. “Hold out your hands.”

Taabe cupped her trembling hands, and he deposited the
kitten in them. A look of wonder came over her face. Slowly she raised the kitten and touched her nose to its furry back. The kitten reached up a paw and swiped at her cheek. Taabe laughed and lowered her hands slightly. She adjusted her hold and patted it. The kitten purred and licked her finger. Taabe laughed again and looked up at him with such joy, Ned’s heart tumbled.

“You like cats?” he asked.

She nodded, her eyes glowing.

“Did you have a cat when you were young? Fluffy?”

She caught her breath. For a moment, her blue eyes darkened. “Fluffy.” She nodded, then smiled. “I … my … kitty.”

Ned looked over at Sister Adele, who was also teary-eyed. “Those kittens look as though they might be big enough to leave the mother.”

Sister Adele nodded. “I agree. And I’m sure Sister Natalie would not object. Sister Marie has found mice in her pantry of late. Oh, Mr. Bright, this is the first thing she’s remembered, or at least that she’s told us she remembered. Except one song—I thought she was trying to tell me once that she knew a song I sang to her, back when she was ill.”

Ned bent down and peered at Taabe until he caught her gaze. “Would you like to have a kitty? At the mission? I can ask the trader.”

Taabe’s mouth opened in incredulous delight.

Ned chuckled. “I’ll take that as a yes.”

“Are we really getting a kitten?” Quinta bounced. “Can I have one too?”

Sister Adele held out her hands. “Let me hold that one.”

The mother cat meowed plaintively.

“She’s got two more.” Quinta passed the calico kitten to Sister Adele and dove for the dark recess. A moment later, she stood up holding another orange fluff ball.

Ned shook his head at the sight of the three cooing over the kittens. He’d have to tell Patrillo’s sons he’d discovered the way to a woman’s heart.

“Excuse me, ladies. I’ll go have a chat with Mr. Lassen.” He walked to the counter and waited while the trader finished a transaction with a trooper from the fort.

“Help you, Bright?”

“You selling those kittens?” He nodded toward the back of the store.

Lassen smiled. “A lot of people want ’em.”

“I’ll give you a dollar for one.”

“You’ll have to pay more than that.”

Ned leaned on the counter. “How much? It’s for the nuns at the mission.”

“Oh, well, for the sisters …” Lassen scratched his chin. “Of course, I’ll lose a good sale if I let them have one cheap. Five dollars?”

Ned straightened, eyeing him critically. “Are you serious?”

“I am. I’ve only got four, and I could sell every one of them five or six times.”

Ned reached in his pocket and pulled out all the cash he had on him. He didn’t have much to spend money on—if you didn’t count things like hiring Isaac Trainer. Tree paid Ned whenever they got money from a freight contract or from the federal government for the mail contract, but his living costs were part of the business expenses and came out of the ranch funds.