Free Captive Trail by Susan Page Davis

threw the tops aside.
    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 missedher 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 thesisters, 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
    N ed 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