Captive Trail by Susan Page Davis

Author:Susan Page Davis [Davis, Susan Page]
Language: eng
Format: epub
ISBN: 978-0-8024-7852-8
Publisher: Moody Publishers
Published: 2011-08-21T04:00:00+00:00

After two days of rain, Taabe chafed to get outside. Quinta and the kittens, as well as an unexpected visit from Señor Garza, provided welcome distractions, and she plunged into the work of preparing the mission for additional pupils. Her ankle had healed to the point where she felt only an occasional twinge of pain. She insisted on helping with the heaviest work—laundry, mopping floors, and moving furniture into place for the students the sisters expected.

At times of prayer, Taabe went to the chapel and sat behind the nuns. She thought much about God and His Son, Jesus. The idea of the cross no longer seemed strange, and she wondered if facts and impressions she’d long forgotten were gradually making their way back, sifting into her heart. At the same time, painful memories of hurts and sorrows during her time as a Comanche began to heal. She would not forget, but she would move beyond that life.

Of one thing she was certain—she’d made the right decision when she left the Numinu. The longing in her heart would never have let her be content with them. She might not belong here at the mission, but somewhere in this world she would find her place.

The weather broke on Friday, and Sister Natalie consented to let her walk outside—if she would wear the black habit.

“My dear, I hope it is not distasteful to you, but I fear for your safety. If you wear these garments and have another sister with you, and perhaps if we put Quinta on watch to warn us if anyone comes, then perhaps you could walk about the yard for a few minutes in safety.”

The compromise did not take away Taabe’s restlessness. She ambled about in front of the mission house with Sister Riva, longing to be free of her new constraints. In this she felt a kinship with Quinta, who bemoaned the loss of her mustang. Give them a pair of spirited horses, and the two of them could have a good gallop across the plains. Both would probably be more content afterward with the quiet life of the mission.

Instead they had to content themselves with exploring the barn and chasing Sister Riva’s chickens back into their pen.

“One of the hens is missing,” Sister Riva said.

Taabe counted and looked carefully at each one. The sister was right—the chicken that often followed her about the garden was nowhere to be found.

“I suppose a coyote got it,” Sister Riva said.

“Or an Indian.” Quinta’s dark eyes gazed at them, defying them to say that was nonsense.

They searched for the hen halfheartedly and even walked out to the road, but never toward the woods, and never out of the sister’s sight.

That evening Sister Natalie came to her room and sat down on the stool. Taabe sat on the edge of her bed, waiting for her to speak.

“Taabe, are you frightened? We could take you to Fort Chadbourne, and you might be safer there.”

“I stay here.” Unless … she searched Sister Natalie’s face. Did the nuns want her to go? Her presence could bring trouble on them.

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