Captive Trail by Susan Page Davis Read Free Book Online

clutching the quilt to her breast.
    Mr. Cunningham turned away. “She’s not our Sally.”
    “Are you sure?” Ned asked.
    “She’s much too old.” Mrs. Cunningham’s voice caught. “The poor creature.” Tears streamed down her cheeks, and she sobbed.
    The patient’s gaze roved from Mrs. Cunningham’s face to her faded calico dress, then to Ned. In her blue eyes, panic warred with fascination. Ned wanted only to protect her—in that moment and the future. The young woman clenched her teeth and crumpled the edge of the quilt in her hands. Her breathing became shallow as her glance bounced from one of them to another and settled, pleading, on the nun.
    “We don’t need to stand here gawking at her,” Ned said. “Thank you, ma’am.”
    “You are welcome,” Sister Adele said.
    Ned walked out to the entry with the Cunninghams. Sister Natalie waited near the door, her hands clasped before her.
    “Thank you, Sister,” Ned said. “These folks say she’s not their girl.”
    Sister Natalie nodded. “I suppose there will be others coming to try to identify her.”
    “Will that inconvenience you?” Ned wondered who would care for the injured girl—she looked hardly more than a girl now that she’d regained consciousness and had her face washed—if she was transported to the fort. Mrs. Stein, perhaps.
    “The Lord placed us here to serve.” Sister Natalie gazed at the floor.
    “That’s … kind of you,” Ned said. “I’ve asked the captain not to spread it around where she’s staying. We don’t know who might be looking for her. Of course, we all want to see her reunited with her family, but if the Indians are looking for her …” It was only fair to warn the nuns. “They say Comanche don’t like to give up their captives. If they come here, you would probably do better to give her up than to resist.”
    Sister Natalie met his gaze. “The Lord will show us what to do.”
    Ned nodded, but her attitude left him uneasy. He looked at the Cunninghams. “I’ll make the same request of you folks. If you hear of anyone else wanting to see that poor girl, tell them she’s being cared for, and to contact the captain. Don’t let on that she’s here at the mission.”
    “All right,” Mr. Cunningham said.
    His wife moved toward the door. “We’ll wait outside for the soldiers.”
    “We would be happy to bring you some coffee or tea,” Sister Natalie said.
    Mr. Cunningham looked hopeful, but his wife shook her head. “No, thank you. We do appreciate your hospitality for that woman.”
    Ned walked outside with them. Brownie waited for him near the stagecoach. He looked their way, and Ned shook his head.
    “Good-bye, folks.” Ned held out his hand to Mr. Cunningham. “I’m sorry it didn’t turn out well for you.”
    “Thank you for bringing us.” Cunningham glanced at his wife, who dabbed at her eyes with a handkerchief. “If you get someone in here who speaks her lingo, can they ask her about other captives? Maybe she’s seen our Sally.”
    “I’m sure the captain will question her along those lines when she’s had a few days to recover.”

    Taabe slept fitfully, but each time she awoke, the window slit was dark. Once one of the women came in with a candle and a cup filled with a warm drink. Taabe sipped it and recognized the taste of steeped willow bark, a common remedy for pain. She drank the entire cupful and lay back on the soft pillow, thankful for the women’s care.
    When she woke again, one of the women—the young one with fewest creases on her face—entered carrying an armful of clothing. She spoke to Taabe and smiled. She held up one of the long, black robes they all wore, spoke some more, and laid it on the foot of the bed.
    Then she held up Taabe’s Comanche dress and leggings. They looked fresh, as though she had cleaned the soft buckskins. The woman nodded to them, then pointed to the robe and raised her eyebrows as though asking which Taabe preferred.
    The choice was