Free Captive Trail by Susan Page Davis Page A

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