Captive Trail (32 page)

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 Waipu, 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?”

She shook her head. “Not see buffalo man.”

“We think he may be out of it, but we’re not sure. Are you ready now?”

“Yes. They not come back.”

“You’re sure?”

“Yes.”

Ned walked with her, keeping his arm about her. It felt warm and safe to walk next to him. Billie felt more secure than she had in twelve years.

As they entered the sitting room, Sister Adele was telling Jud Morgan, “… and the next thing I knew, she wasn’t there. She’d jumped down off the roof. I climbed up to where I could see the barnyard, and she was on the ground below me. An Indian was reaching to take her up on his horse. I shot the savage right out of the saddle.”

Jud looked toward the doorway and saw Billie. He strode forward.

“Are you all right?” He took hold of her shoulders and looked deep into her eyes.

“Yes.” Billie glanced at Ned. “Comanche gone.”

“That’s right,” Ned said. “She assures me they won’t come back.”

“But why?” Sister Natalie asked.

Ned sighed. “Can someone get Tree, please? And I think we can let the girls out of the cellar.”

“They should stay in there,” Jud said. “We’d better keep watch until morning at least.”

Sister Natalie eyed Ned and Billie. “I think we’ll let them out for a while, Mr. Morgan. Let’s all hear what Billie has to say, and then we can decide what to do.”

Sister Marie hurried to the kitchen, returning with Tree and the four girls. Quinta settled in the armchair with her father, and the other girls sat on the floor.

When all of them had gathered, Billie told her halting story, with embellishments by Sister Adele. She left out the words Chano had spoken to her and his offer of help, ending the story with her recovery of his horse and Adele’s aid in getting back on the roof.

“She was so brave,” Sister Adele said. “I couldn’t believe she’d done what she did.”

“We must thank God for her safety,” Sister Natalie said. “Shall we pray?”

They all bowed their heads, and Sister Natalie said, “Dear Father in heaven, we thank Thee for Thy goodness to us. We beseech Thee for wisdom now.”

After the “amens,” Quinta, from the comfort of her father’s lap, gazed at Billie with huge brown eyes. “I wish I’d been there.”

“Be thankful you weren’t, little one.” Tree squeezed her.

Jud, who had insisted on keeping watch at one of the windows, called out, “A big section of the barn roof caved in. I’m afraid the fire’s done its job, even though the sod slowed it down.”

“At least the house roof is intact,” Sister Natalie said.

“Maybe we can get the horses out of the chapel now,” Ned said. “It’s quite a mess in there.”

“We can’t put them outside tonight.” Jud turned from the window and stared at him.

“They not come back,” Billie said. She didn’t want to sound defiant, but she knew Peca would not return.