At the end of an hour, Sister Adele came out of the mission house, smiling and calling to her. Taabe rose, using the crutches to help her balance. Adele beckoned and pointed to the house. Time to go in. Taabe waved to Sister Riva and followed.
The next morning, her fever was back. Taabe wanted to fight the sickness, but every time she tried to rise, her head swam and she fell back on the pillow.
For several days she had risen and dressed herself, then gone to the eating room for breakfast. Now she heard the bell, one Sister Marie rang when a meal was ready, but she couldn’t answer the summons. Sister Adele came in search of her.
“Taabe! Are you ill?” She came to the bedside and laid a cool hand on Taabe’s brow. “You poor thing. You’re hot again. Let me bathe your forehead.” She brought one of the pills the uniformed man had left and a cup of water. “Take this, my dear. You must.”
Though her words were gentle, Taabe understood her urgency and forced herself to swallow the bitter medicine.
Sister Adele smiled and crooned over her. She poured water from the pitcher into the big bowl and wrung out a white cloth in the water. She pulled the stool beside the bed and sat down.
Taabe closed her eyes and let Sister Adele dab at her forehead with the wet cloth. The nun began to hum. Taabe let her mind drift. She missed the open skies, the camp of many Numinu beside a stream, the laughter and camaraderie with the others. She missed the babies and the horses. She missed her sister, Pia, and Pia’s husband. She missed their little girl, her smiles and cooing. Her memory stretched further back to another child—a little boy. Tears burned in her eyes and she made herself stop thinking of the Numinu. She listened to Sister Adele’s quiet melody.
How long would she stay here with the sisters? They treated her kindly, but at times she felt imprisoned. They would not let her stay outside long. Taabe understood they feared she would weaken if she tried to do too much. Perhaps they were also concerned that prying eyes might see her. Sister Riva had let her sit in the shadow of the garden wall, but not in the open.
Perhaps Peca and the other men had given up looking for her. But she had known them to chase an escaped slave for weeks. They always brought back the runaway. Or his scalp. She shivered.
Sister Adele began a new tune. After a moment, Taabe caught her breath and listened closely. The words meant nothing, but the tune seemed familiar. She lay perfectly still, anticipating the rise and fall of Sister Adele’s voice. She had heard this song before. Not here, and not in the land of the Numinu. Her heart ached as she listened.
The nun stopped singing and spoke quietly, under her breath, on and on. The sisters did that often. Taabe had decided they were speaking to spirits. Sometimes they looked at the little figure on the wall and touched themselves on their foreheads and chests. They all did it the same way, and Taabe felt it was a ritual of some kind. She couldn’t fathom its purpose. Someday maybe she would speak their language well enough to ask. If she stayed that long.
When she was well and her ankle would support her again, perhaps she could go on to another place. She must have a family out there. Certainly she didn’t belong here with the sisters, though she was beginning to know and even appreciate them. She could be friends with Sister Adele, she was sure.
Sister Marie glided into the room. Taabe heard the rustle of her black dress and opened her eyes.
“She is ill again?”
“Yes,” said Sister Adele. “Some tea perhaps, and a little gruel.”
“I will bring it.”
Taabe was surprised that she understood the brief conversation. In time, maybe she would feel she belonged here.
CHAPTER SEVEN
Ned followed Sister Riva around the back of the mission house. The sister pointed to a low adobe wall with a gate. “That is our garden. Taabe likes to sit there. We don’t leave her outside alone very long, but she cannot be seen from the road when she sits inside the garden wall.”
“Thank you. How is she?” Ned asked. “She is getting stronger.” Sister Riva smiled. “She tries to help us. Though she is still too weak to do heavy work, she washes dishes and helps with the laundry. She seems amazed at the quantity of hot water we use.”
“Is she picking up English?”
“Oh, yes. Sister Adele has begun daily sessions with her, and we all converse with her. It’s a bit odd, since we normally don’t speak much. But having Taabe here is like having a child about the place.”
Ned smiled. “It will be quite a change when you begin to take pupils.”
“Oh, yes.” Sister Riva frowned. “The Lord will give us grace.”
“I’m sure He will.” Ned looked toward the garden wall. “Taabe is no longer frightened?”
“Only when strangers come.”
“Does that happen often?”
“Almost daily now. The captain sent two men from the fort yesterday with some supplies. He said it was because we’ve used our resources to care for her. We can always use a bit extra.” She smiled. “We don’t see much meat, and they brought a quarter of beef. Imagine, for the five of us. Sister Marie is drying some of it. And another man came hoping to find out where his son is.”
“His son?”
“Yes. These poor parents, Mr. Bright. They are distraught and would do anything to find their children. This gentleman had lost a boy, but like the rest, he hoped Taabe could tell him she’d seen him.”
“Did Taabe speak to him?”
“She looked at the photograph the man brought and said no.” Sister Riva sighed. “These visits wear on her, but I think she hopes the right family will come one day.”
“You believe she really wants to find her own people?”
“I think that is why she came.”
Ned nodded, thinking about that. Had Taabe risked her life to escape the Comanche and find her birth family? It was unheard of—at least for a captive who had been with the Comanche for any length of time. Six months to a year, it was said, and the children would not go back voluntarily. “God works in ways we don’t understand.”
“Oh, yes.” Sister Riva smiled at him. Ned wondered what had brought this woman—all of them—into her role as a nun. Had she fled some dire situation, or run toward what she believed was God’s best for her?
“You haven’t seen any sign of Indians hereabouts?”
“No, nothing. Of course we don’t stand about looking for them, but we have no reason to think they are aware of her presence.”
“Thank you, Sister.” He ambled to the gate.
Inside the garden, he could hear a lilting voice. Sister Adele, no doubt. She and Sister Marie kept a strong French accent. Would Taabe end up speaking English like a Frenchwoman?
Ned entered the garden, and Sister Adele jumped up from a small wooden bench against the inside of the wall. Taabe scrambled to her feet, using crutches for leverage.
“Oh, Mr. Bright. You startled us.” Sister Adele smiled at him and glanced at Taabe. “It’s all right. You remember Mr. Bright and the stagecoach.”
“Ned Bright.” Taabe pointed to him, and he laughed.
Taabe’s smile was warmer than the sun on his shoulders. Maybe that was why they called her Sun Woman, though he could now see that golden highlights rippled through her luxuriant hair. Most women wore their hair up, or at least tied back, but Taabe’s flowed in generous waves over the shoulders of her lavender dress. The sight of her set his heart pounding, and Ned had to look away.
“It’s wonderful to see her looking so well,” he told Sister Adele.
“Tell her yourself.”
Ned stepped closer and looked into Taabe’s blue eyes. He spoke the Comanche greeting he’d badgered Reece into teaching him.
Her eyes widened, and she answered him, smiling. “You look well, Taabe.”
“Thank you,” she said carefully.
Ned grinned wide enough to swallow an ox. He glanced at the items Sister Adele held—a small slate and chalk. “English lessons?”
“Yes. Isn’t she progressing marve
lously?”
“Yes, and your English is very good too.”
“Thank you.” Sister Adele’s cheeks pinked. “Sister Natalie insists we speak English only with our guest.”
“Is that difficult for you?”
She shrugged. “I grew up in New Orleans, speaking French at home, but I learned English in school and from some friends. When I entered the convent, I continued to study English. My superiors felt it was important for our missions.”
“Will you be teaching in the school here?”
“I hope so. Teaching Taabe is a fulfillment of my dreams. I never thought I’d have a pupil with a background like hers—or one so apt.” She held out the slate, which held several small drawings. “We are using this to learn new vocabulary.”
“Horse,” Ned said.
“Horse,” Taabe repeated.
He chuckled. “Very good.” He pointed to a small drawing of a bird and looked at her.
“Bird.”
“Yes.” He pointed to her. “Waipu. Woman.”
Taabe eyed him with raised eyebrows. “Yes. Woman.”
Ned pointed to himself and offered one of the last Comanche words he’d learned. “Tenahpu. Man.”
Taabe reached out and touched the front of his leather vest. “Yes. Ned Bright. Man.”
Sister Adele laughed. “In no time she’ll be communicating fluently.”
“I think you’re right,” Ned said. “Taabe, soon I hope to bring another man here. A man who speaks your language.” Taabe frowned, watching his lips.
Ned puzzled over how to get his meaning across. He pointed at her and then at Sister Adele. “Woman. Woman.” He touched his chest. “Man.” Taabe nodded.
Ned gestured as though someone else stood near him. “Man. Another man.” Slowly she nodded.
Ned touched his mouth. “Talk. Man talk … to you.” He pointed to her.
Taabe turned an uncomprehending frown on Sister Adele.
Sister Adele touched her arm. “Ned Bright will go.” She made walking motions with her fingers. “He will come back.” She demonstrated, and Taabe nodded. “Another man will come with him.” She handed Ned the slate and made two sets of walking legs from her fingers. “He will talk.” She moved her lips and at the same time moved her hand, close to her mouth, opening and closing the fingers to signify talking. “To you.” She pointed to Taabe.
Taabe nodded, but she still seemed unsure.
“When will you do this?” Sister Adele asked Ned.
“I’m not sure. The next time I take the stagecoach to the fort—which will be Friday—I hope to find someone who can translate for us.”
“You’re not with the stagecoach today?”
“No. I came with my partner, Patrillo Garza. He brought his daughter to meet Sister Natalie. He hopes she can come here as a pupil.”
Sister Adele’s eyes lit. “I would like to meet her.”
“I’m sure she’d like to meet you,” Ned said. “Especially if you are to be one of her teachers. Of course …” He glanced at Taabe. “She’s especially eager to meet Taabe. Do you think that’s possible?”
“I think it’s a wonderful idea.” She turned to Taabe and made a fluttering motion near her cheeks, like flowing hair. “Woman.”
Taabe nodded.
Sister Adele held her hand palm down, about waist level. “Girl.”
“Girr.”
“Girl.”
Sister Adele seized the slate and drew a hasty portrayal of a stick woman wearing a long, triangular skirt. “Woman.” Taabe nodded. Beside the woman, Sister Adele drew a smaller figure like it. “Girl.”
“Girl.”
“Yes. Come, let’s go and meet a girl.” Sister Adele took Taabe’s arm and led her out through the gate.
Ned followed at a leisurely pace and closed the gate. When he reached the front of the house, the door was open, so he went into the cool hallway. In the sitting room to the side, Quinta was chattering eagerly. He stepped into the room and saw that Taabe was the object of the girl’s excitement. Patrillo, Sister Adele, and Sister Natalie stood by watching with amusement. Taabe’s bright eyes were riveted to Quinta’s face.
“Did you have your own horse?” Quinta asked. “Did they let you ride?”
“Horse,” Taabe said.
“I knew it! What did it look like?”
Taabe frowned and shook her head.
“Your horse. What color was it?”
“I’m afraid her English isn’t that good yet, my dear,” Sister Natalie said.
Taabe turned to Sister Adele and took the slate and chalk. She wiped out the simple figures with her palm and sketched the outline of a horse, then added splotches on the animal’s side and face.
“You had a spotted horse!” Quinta grabbed Taabe’s hand and bounced up and down. “You must have had a grand time with the Comanche.”
“Quinta,” Patrillo said sharply. “Her time with the Comanche was not for fun.”
“But she got to have her own horse, Papa.”
Patrillo sighed and shook his head. “I’m sorry, Sisters. My daughter has much to learn.”
“She is charming,” Sister Natalie said. “As you know, we expect to take other students. We’re preparing rooms for them now. So far we have two interested families. If you think you would like to place Quinta here, just let us know. She is welcome any time.”
Patrillo hesitated. “Sister, do you think you will be safe, you and the girls? You have no one here to protect you.”
“Yes, we do.” Sister Natalie’s serene smile seemed to calm him. “We’ve come here in answer to God’s calling. We believe He wants a school here—one where girls can receive a spiritual education as well as an academic one. He will watch over us, Señor Garza.”
“But the Indian trouble …”
“We have heard of none since we moved here,” Sister Natalie said. “Of course, it has only been about two months. I’m sure there will be incidents, but we trust the Lord to protect us.”
“Papa,” Quinta said.
“What is it?”
She looked down at the floor. “Nothing.”
“We can talk later.” He smiled at Sister Natalie. “Thank you for showing us the mission. If I decide to send Quinta, I will bring her and her things when the stagecoach comes.”
“Very good, Señor Garza.” Sister Natalie bowed her head.
“All right, Quinta. Say good-bye.” Patrillo nodded at his daughter.
Quinta glanced up at Sister Natalie and Sister Adele. “Adios. I mean good-bye.” She turned to Taabe, and her face brightened. “Good-bye. I hope to see you again, and you can tell me more about your horse.”
Taabe chuckled. “Good-bye.”
Patrillo led Quinta out, and Ned nodded to the sisters and Taabe.
“Ladies. I hope to see you again soon.” His gaze lingered on Taabe.
She was watching him, and his pulse galloped. Carefully and distinctly, she said, “Good-bye, Ned Bright.” He nodded and clapped his hat on as he hurried out the door to where Patrillo and Quinta waited.
As soon as she was strong enough to walk about the mission, Taabe began to work. Women always did the work of the family, and in a family of only women, they all had their chores. Sister Marie did most of the cooking. Sister Riva prepared the garden for planting in the spring. She also kept their water buckets and the box beside Sister Marie’s stove full. Sister Adele did the laundry and much of the cleaning. Sister Natalie helped with all these things and many others, but she also spent many hours in the dim room the sisters called “chapel.”
Taabe saw her coming and going from the room. Once Taabe had drawn back the curtain over the doorway and peered in. Several candles flickered within. Unlike the other rooms, this one had a floor of flat stones. Sister Natalie was kneeling at a low bench, facing the wall farthest from the one slit of a window. On the wall was a figure like the one in Taabe’s room, only larger. The dying man on the torture rack. Taabe shivered and dropped the edge of the c
urtain. Someday, when she knew enough words, she would ask Sister Adele about that man.
Since Sister Adele spent more time with her than the others, and since she seemed so eager to teach Taabe new words, she was the one Taabe most wanted to help. Taabe couldn’t carry heavy loads yet, but she could help Sister Adele when she wiped dust from tables and shelves, scrubbed floors, or washed clothing. When Adele went to Sister Marie’s kitchen to wash dishes, Taabe followed her. She made her intentions clear by taking the scrub cloth from Sister Adele’s hand and saying, “Me.” The sisters understood and allowed her to do light work.
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