Captive Trail

by Susan Page Davis

  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.

  CHAPTER TWENTY-THREE

  Ned 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?”

  Sister Adele’s call wafted up to where Billie lay flat against the blackened shingles. She inched toward the edge of the burned-out section and stuck her head over the gap.

  “I am up here.”

  Sister Adele gasped and pushed past Tree’s horse to stare up at her. “What are you doing? The Comanche will see you.”

  “I came up to see if I could tell where they were, and then they came back. But it is getting dark, and my clothes are dark. They didn’t see me.”

  A yell in the distance made her gasp.

  “They come again.”

  Billie turned her face away from the sound of galloping horses and lay as flat as she could. Father God, don’t let them see me. She suspected she was so much higher than the horsemen that she couldn’t be seen unless they spotted her from a distance, and the growing darkness and the position of the barn and the garden wall favored her.

  “Come down,” Adele pleaded.

  Billie lay still until the horses thundered past and surged toward the front of the building. She stuck her head through the hole. Sister Adele was staring up at her, cradling a rifle in her arms.

  “How in the world did you get up there?”

  “I stood on one of the horses.”

  “Well, come down! You’re scaring me to death.”

  A yell in the dusk sounded closer than before. Billie looked over her shoulder. A pinto horse leaped over the garden wall and pounded toward the side of the house. The warrior on it waved a blazing torch.

  Billie’s heart hammered as she lay down and willed her body to be still. The horse thundered
closer, closer. She heard the torch hit the shingled roof over the kitchen. She ducked her head as the painted warrior passed below her.

  When he’d ridden away, she raised her head and looked toward the torch. She gasped then called into the hole, “Adele! Fire on the kitchen roof!”

  Without waiting for a reply, she rose on her knees. Perhaps she could creep along the edge of the chapel roof to the place where the kitchen jutted out at the back. She would make a fine target in the light of the torch. As she watched, the flames licked at the edges of the dry shingles. On her hands and knees, she scrambled across the low pitch of the roof. She seized the end of the torch and flung it to the ground, then used her skirt to smother the flames. When she was certain the shingles wouldn’t flame up again, she sat back to catch her breath. Thank You, Father God.

  She started back toward the break in the chapel roof.

  Across the barnyard, another horse leaped the low adobe wall of the garden. This warrior also wielded a torch. By its flickering light, she recognized the hideously painted face of Peca.

  As the horse careened closer, Billie sent up a wordless prayer. One of the pole rafters, stripped of its burnt shingles, extended a foot or so past the edge of the roof. The eaves near her had burned away, but the pole might still hold her weight. She reached for it. No time to test its strength.

  The horse galloped toward her. Peca swung his arm back and then forward. As he released the torch, his eyes widened. He had seen her. Billie swung down on the rafter as he wheeled his horse in a tight turn.

  She pushed out as far as she could before letting go. Her feet hit Peca’s flesh with a satisfying thud. She fell to the ground and lay gasping for breath. A confusion of shouting and hoofbeats surrounded her.

  Her arm throbbed. Billie rose on her knees clutching it. Ten yards away, the dismounted warrior struggled to his feet. She managed to stand and face Peca, with his garish red-and-black mask of paint. He had no weapon in his hand, and his horse ran loose toward the front of the house. Billie’s heart thudded as she met his furious gaze. With her injured arm, she fumbled for her pocket. Through the fabric she felt the hilt of Tree’s knife.

  Out of the shadows came another horse. It stopped beside Billie, pawing and snorting. She looked up, expecting to be trampled.

  A man with his eyes outlined in streaks of red-and-black paint stared down at her. He looked at Peca and shouted in Comanche, “Your horse get away.”

  Peca eyed him stonily, then turned and slunk into the shadows.

  “Taabe Waipu.”

  Billie gasped as she recognized the voice and form of the horseman—Pia’s husband, Chano.

  “You counted coup on Peca,” he said.

  Billie clenched her teeth. What would he do to her? She set her jaw and met his stare.

  “Well done, Sun Woman.” Chano urged his horse a step closer and held out his hand. “Come. I will help you if you wish to go back up there.” He looked to the roof. “Or I will take you to the Numinu village if you wish, but … I do not think you want that.”

  Taabe stood still for a moment. Would Chano go back on his word? Would he turn his horse toward the north as soon as he had her on it?

  “You will not take me back against my will?”

  He smiled. “I would not so dishonor a woman who has counted coup on a chief and shamed him.”

  “Billie!”

  She turned and looked up at the roof. Sister Adele’s head and shoulders stuck up through the hole in the chapel ceiling. A chill struck Billie as she realized Adele held a rifle and was aiming at Chano.

  “Don’t—”

  Adele pulled the trigger.

  The shot was surprisingly loud amid the other sounds. The startled horse leaped to one side. Chano clutched a hand to his chest and tumbled to the grass. Billie ran to him, and he stared up at her.

  “Chano! I am so sorry. They didn’t know—”

  He grasped her wrist. “Let them take me.” He slumped on the ground.

  Billie’s head whirled. Her position was more dangerous than ever.

  “Billie!”

  She looked up at Adele.

  “Billie, hurry! You’ve got to come back in.”

  Chano’s skittish horse danced close to the barn wall. Billie dashed across the open expanse, seized his bridle, and led him to the spot where she had jumped.

  “Hurry,” Adele said.

  Billie stood between the horse and the wall, looking toward the front of the house and speaking softly to the mustang. The other warriors yelled and thundered about the yard. She swung onto the horse’s back and stood precariously on the saddle.

  “Help me!” She reached up to grasp the roof, ignoring the pain in her arm. The horse began to move, and she gave a desperate push with her feet. Adele dropped the rifle down the hole and pulled Billie’s upper arms until her moccasins gripped something solid and she was able to join Adele on the roof.

  Adele embraced her for a moment. “God be praised. Quickly! You must get inside before they come back for you.” The sister wriggled down through the hole. The horse no longer stood beneath her in the chapel, and Adele hung for a moment from the exposed rafter, then let go.

  Billie thrust her feet into the hole.

  “Hurry,” Adele called. “I’m afraid I broke Ned’s rifle stock when I dropped it on the floor.”

  The Comanche riders circled the barnyard once more. Billie lowered her feet and legs, but she couldn’t tear away her gaze. Four riders charged around the yard between her and the barn. One caught the reins hanging from Chano’s bridle. Another dismounted and lifted the fallen warrior. He laid Chano’s body over his saddle and leaped onto his own horse. The four Comanche men rode out of the dooryard, turning behind the barn. Last of all Peca, mounted once more, emerged from the shadows and rode away in their wake.

  As their hoofbeats faded, the wind was the only sound competing with Adele’s anxious cries.

  “Billie, please! Come down!”

  “Sister!” Ned shouted. “What’s going on?”

  Billie lowered herself and hung for a moment by her hands. Strong arms surrounded her waist and hips.

  “Let go,” Ned said.

  She plummeted into his arms. The chapel seemed very dark after the twilit roof. Ned pulled her close and stroked her hair. “What on earth were you doing?”

  “I …” How could she tell him all that had happened in the last ten minutes?

  “The Comanche rode away again,” he said, still holding her close. “They may come back. I was worried about you.”

  “I am not hurt,” she said. “Well, not much. But they will not return.”

  “How do you know?”

  “Please,” Billie said. “I tell you. Not here.”

  He looked around at the crowded chapel and the snuffling horses. “All right. We’ll go somewhere else.”

  “Mr. Bright, I’m afraid I damaged your rifle,” Sister Adele said. “I have it here.”

  Ned took it from her. He kept his other arm around Billie and drew her toward the doorway.

  When they reached the hall, he said to Sister Adele, “Please tell me what happened.”

  “Perhaps we should go out to the front room and let everyone hear.”

  “Go ahead.” Ned held the rifle out to her. “We’ll come right along.”

  Sister Adele took the rifle and walked toward the sitting room.

  By the light of the lantern in the hallway, Ned studied Billie’s face. “What happened on the roof?”

  She drew in a deep breath. “Numinu come with torch and throw on kitchen. I crawl over and throw torch away.”

  Ned’s jaw dropped.

  “Then I see Peca come with torch. I jump …” She held her breath and waited for his reaction.

  “You jumped? What do you mean?”

  “I kick Peca hard. Horse not … not on all feet.”

  “Off balance?”

  “Yes. He turn, he off balance. Peca fall off horse. Chano come. He say, ‘Taabe Wa
ipu, you count coup.’ And Peca go to catch his horse.”

  “What?” Ned grinned and shook his head. “You counted coup on the leader?”

  Hesitantly, Billie nodded. “Not my thinking—I just want to stop him burning mission roof.”

  “Oh, you amazing woman.” Ned hauled her back into his arms. “I wish I’d been there to see it, but in some ways I’m very glad I wasn’t.”

  She pulled away from him and put her hand to his cheek.

  “Ned.”

  “Yes?”

  “Sister Adele have your gun. She kill Chano.” Ned sobered. “Oh, no.”

  Billie nodded. “I not tell her.”

  “She didn’t know?”

  “She knows she shoot him, but she did not know he help me. Not know it was Chano—my sister husband.”

  “Slow down,” Ned said. “This Comanche that Sister Adele shot—it wasn’t Peca?”

  “No. Peca … disgrace. Woman count coup on him.”

  “I understand that part.”

  She nodded. “Chano tell me he help me get back into mission. But Sister Adele not know. She think he kill me, so she shoot.”

  Ned let out a deep breath. “What should we do?”

  “I think … nothing. They take him away.”

  “Yes,” Ned said. “Comanche always take their dead if they can.”

  “I not tell her who she shoot.”

  “But he was a friend?”

  Billie shrugged. “Taabe love sister Pia. She marry Chano. He treat me well. But … he tell me to marry Peca.” She looked up into his brown eyes. “How can friend help Peca chase me and raid mission?”

  Ned stroked her cheek gently with his thumb. “Billie, sweet Billie. I’m afraid there will always be difficult times for you. I’m very sorry.”

  “You tell brother?” she asked.

  “Do you want me to?”

  Billie nodded. “When sisters not there. You tell him Chano help me. And we not tell sisters what he did. Sister Adele is my friend. I don’t want her to …” She shrugged.

  “You don’t want her to feel guilty.”

  Billie nodded.

  “All right. Did you see the buffalo hunter when the Comanche rode in close?”