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the man asked.
    “Yes.”
    “Mr. Bright, these are the Cunninghams,” Tapley said. “They have a place a few miles south of here.”
    “We came to the fort to do a little trading this morning and heard the news.” The man extended his hand to Ned.
    “We lost our daughter,” his wife said, her voice choking. “Please, can you tell us about this young woman?”
    “Well, she’s … When was your daughter taken? And how old would she be?”
    “Two years ago, when the Indians stole the mail.” Mr. Cunningham glanced at his wife.
    Ned nodded. “I remember.” Before the nationwide contract was assigned, the soldiers received sacks of local mail and helped deliver it to settlers in the area. “The raiders came into the fort to trade a few days later, and they had some of the cavalrymen’s things on them.”
    “That’s right,” Mrs. Cunningham said. “The same day they ambushed the soldiers and stole the mail, our girl disappeared out of our yard. We never found a trace, except hoofprints and—and Sally’s—” She sobbed.
    Her husband eyed Ned apologetically. “They threw her clothes on the ground.” He put his arm around his wife.
    “I’m sorry,” Ned said. “That doesn’t mean they abused her. Seems they like to put their captives in their own type of clothing right away.”
Or some have reported they were made to ride naked for days. But then they gave them buckskins to wear
. Ned didn’t voice his thoughts.
    Mrs. Cunningham sobbed louder, and her husband drew her close.
    “She was ten,” Captain Tapley said. “From what you’vetold me, this young woman you found is probably not Sally Cunningham.”
    Ned shook his head. “I strongly doubt it. Not if your Sally would be twelve now. This woman is older than that.”
    “We need to see her,” Mrs. Cunningham said.
    Her husband looked to Ned. “If we see her, we’ll know, one way or the other. If we don’t, we might keep wondering. And if she’s not Sally, well, it’s possible she might know something about her.”
    Ned nodded. “All right. The stage is about to leave. Can you come along now?”
    “Yes,” they said together.
    Ned glanced at the captain. “The thing is, we won’t come back through until Friday. But the mission is only a few miles from here …”
    “I’ll send a detachment with a wagon,” Tapley said. “Better to see them safely back here today.”
    “All right, then,” Ned said. “You can come on the stage now, and Captain Tapley’s men can follow to bring you back to the fort.”
    Mr. Cunningham nodded and reached for his hat. “Thank you. Come along, my dear. You must be strong for Sally’s sake.”

CHAPTER FOUR
    T he door’s creak wakened Taabe Waipu. She caught her breath. Two of the black-garbed women entered, carrying items in their pale hands.
    One held a wooden tray with dishes. The other brought a roll of white cloth and a tool. Taabe had seen such a tool—two knife blades fastened in the middle, with handles that made cutting easy—but she couldn’t remember what it was called.
    She raised herself on her elbows and shrank toward the wall. The woman carrying the tray set it on the table beside the bed. The other sat on the edge of the bed. Taabe winced as the shifting of the bedding caused a stab of pain in her ankle.
    The sitting woman smiled and spoke softly in a flowing language Taabe couldn’t understand. She raised her own foot and touched her ankle then rubbed it, talking all the while. Taabe guessed she wanted to examine her injury.
    The woman stood and lifted the edge of the blanket, raising her eyebrows as if seeking permission. Taabe inched herbandaged foot toward the edge. The woman bent and peered at the ankle, then touched the skin with fingertips so gentle, Taabe barely felt it at first. A slash of pain seized her, and she gasped. The woman raised her hands as though to say, “I won’t touch it again.” She put a hand beneath Taabe’s calf, raised her leg a bit, and slid it