Ellis lay awake on her soft mattress, a clean nightgown and a warm quilt covering her freshly washed body. Every ounce of her strength had gone toward staying awake until Clay returned. Only after she seemingly blinked twice and then opened her eyes to greet the early morning sun did she realize that she had fallen into a deep sleep.
A commotion outside drew her from her bed and into her clean dress. Draping her rebozo around her shoulders, Ellis hurried down the stairs and into the courtyard. There she found a group of women surrounding a younger woman in obvious distress.
Though Ellis spoke only a few words in Spanish, she knew enough to tell that the young woman was in the last hours of her first pregnancy and having difficulty delivering the child. Ellis stepped into the circle to regard the woman, now seated on a bench.
Immediately her mother’s instructions came to mind, and Ellis knelt down to speak to the expectant mother. “How long have the pains been going on?” she asked.
The girl shook her head and then cried out. A woman of approximately the same age as Ellis pushed forward through the crowd and knelt beside Ellis.
“I am Rose,” she said and then repeated something to the girl in Spanish.
“Two hours before sunset yesterday,” she told Ellis. “And it is now almost eight o’clock.”
Ellis peppered the girl—who she discovered was named Marianna—with questions, each one patiently translated by Rose. Finally she asked that the girl be lifted to her feet and brought to her bedchamber. She also requested the girl choose two or three women and then requested the others to wait in the courtyard.
An older woman grasped Ellis by the arm and complained loudly.
“Tell her I am a healer. I have done this before,” Ellis said.
Rose’s translation had the desired effect. The older woman stepped back and ushered them to a room just off the courtyard where the girl was settled onto a quilt. Ellis left instructions for Rose to translate her instructions to the women who were chosen and then left to return to her own apartment for her supplies.
By the time she returned, Rose had marshaled the team and the room was being prepared for the new arrival. She went to the woman’s bedside and set to work.
The hours passed in a blur of activity, but before the sunset, Marianna was delivered of a beautiful baby girl. With a tired smile, she motioned Rose to her side to translate.
“She wants to know your name,” Rose said. “The baby will be named for you as she owes you much for what you did for her today.”
“Ellis,” she said. “Although you owe me no thanks. I only did what I was taught to do.”
Word of Ellis’s abilities as a healer spread throughout the mission, and soon she had plenty of use for her time. From sprains and snakebites to men injured on the battlefield, her days began to run together. Soon it was December, and there was no sign of Clay.
Several times the padre visited her to say he had information that Thomas was safe under his protection but as yet not located. How he could know one but not the other was a question the priest was unwilling to answer.
Writing to Grandfather Valmont and Mama, she sent the letters with anyone willing to take them as far as Velasco or New Orleans. She told them of life inside Mission San Jose, of the women who had accepted her and had begun to teach her Spanish, and of the good news that Thomas was safe and under the protection of the padre. The letters painted a picture of hope that left out any mention of the cannons firing downriver and of the fact that she had not seen Clay in what felt like an eternity.
One afternoon in December, she was sitting in the courtyard writing a letter when Rose came to stand beside her. “Might I interrupt?”
“Please sit down.” Ellis put away her letter and smiled. “You are a welcome interruption.”
Rose took her place across from Ellis at the small table. She seemed to be uncharacteristically searching for the words to say as her attention drifted to the floor.
“Is something wrong?” Ellis asked.
“Marianna wishes to pay you back for your exceptional kindness.”
“Payment is certainly not necessary.”
“It is payment with information, not in coins.” Rose looked up at her. “Your brother,” she said slowly. “He has been found.”
“That’s wonderful news,” Ellis exclaimed. “Where is he? I want to go to him now.”
Rose reached across the table to clasp her hand atop Ellis’s. “You cannot. He is being taken to Mexico.”
“Mexico?” She shook her head. “How is that possible?”
As a pair of women entered the courtyard carrying laundry, Rose lifted her index finger to cover her lips. Once they passed by, she leaned forward. “Some of the prisoners were marched out of the Alamo in the uniforms of their captors. We believe your brother was among them.”
“So he is marching with General Cos?” At Rose’s nod, Ellis stood. “I cannot wait for Clay to return. I must go and find my brother.”
“Ellis,” Rose pleaded. “You cannot do that. They will not let anyone approach the army.”
“Oh, I think an exception can be made for someone who is willing to buy back a prisoner, don’t you?”
Rose shook her head. “You propose to buy your brother back? With what?”
Ellis leaned close, unwilling to spell out the fact that she was desperate enough to trade a freshly drawn treasure map for her family member. Let General Cos figure out where it was; she was confident she could convince him of the fact that there were riches to be found if only he looked.
“That is my concern. If Marianna knows of Thomas’s whereabouts, then she can certainly get word that a ransom will be paid.”
“You are asking for something that is dangerous at best,” Rose warned her. “But I will convey the message.”
The next morning, Rose slipped up next to her at the well. “I have an answer,” she whispered. “I will take you to your brother. Only nod if you are still in agreement.”
At Ellis’s nod, Rose continued. “I will come for you at night. Which night, I cannot say. Be prepared to travel quickly.”
Ellis smiled and went back to her work. Soon she would see Thomas. Thank You, Lord.
Three nights later as Ellis was about to undress for bed, she heard a soft knock at her door. Accustomed to such interruptions, she reached for her basket of herbs and then opened the door.
Clay pressed past her to step inside. Ellis hurried to close the door and then deposited her basket on the table and launched herself into his arms. “I am so glad you’re safely returned.”
He held her for a moment and then stepped out of her embrace. She allowed her gaze to travel the length of him, noting that he appeared not to look any worse for wear.
“Where have you been?”
“With the Greys,” he told her. He nodded to the chairs flanking the small table in her apartment. “There was some trouble a few miles from here and our men were sent out to quell the disturbance. I had reason to travel to San Antonio de Béxar on behalf of my commander, and I used that opportunity to come here first. But now that I am rejoined with them, my time is no longer my own.”
Ellis’s brow furrowed. “Did you expect that? And how did you come to rejoin with them, now that I think of it?”
He seemed to be sorting through answers. Finally he settled on one. “The padre did lead me to the meeting place as expected. It did not matter that I was early. The man I was to meet was on the other side of a blockade and could not get through. It was decided the only way I could be found by him was to rejoin my men. He will come looking for a Grey when he can, and I will be the Grey he seeks.”
“And is it Houston himself?”
Clay seemed reluctant to answer. “That is not clear.”
“I see.” She paused, suddenly ashamed of what she was about to ask. “And the treasure?”
He shook his head. “There has been no need to search for it, even if I knew where to start.”
“But the map I drew, that should make it clear where to find it.”
Clay shook his head. “I’ve had little time to search, but the starting point baffles me. You wrote, ‘Ventane Rosa.’” He slapped his forehead. “Of course, Ventana de Rosa. The Rose Window.”
“The window in the church?” Ellis’s hopes rose even as her heart dropped. Now she could easily find the treasure, and she could certainly tempt the general with something of actual value.
And yet she was completely ashamed that she was reduced to being willing to take treasure that did not belong to her in order to redeem Thomas. Clay reached across the table to thread his fingers with hers.
“Something is wrong,” Clay said. “Tell me.”
“I have news,” she managed. “Thomas has been found. He is marching as a prisoner with General Cos and heading toward the border.”
He gave her a strange look. “Who told you that?”
“A reliable source,” she said, although, as she thought of it, was that truly the case?
“Tell me how you came to have this information.”
As she told Clay the story, he listened in silence. When Ellis was done, she waited for his reaction.
“You are going with me this night,” he told her. “It is not safe here.”
“What?” She shook her head. “But I have friends here, and I am needed as a healer. How could it possibly be unsafe?”
“They are not your friends,” he told her. “Thomas is at the Alamo right now. I have seen him myself. That is why I came to see you.”
“How can that be?” Again she shook her head, this time in surprise. “But oh, it is true, isn’t it? That is good news.”
He nodded. “Pack your things. I am taking you to him tonight.”
“Yes, of course,” she said as she rose and took a step toward her bag.
Clay caught her hand and turned her toward him. “You told me once that in times of war you must make difficult choices about who is friend and who is foe.”
She nodded as he rose, her hand still in his. “These are times of war, Ellis. But we will not always be fighting. When that day comes, I would very much like to—”
A knock at the door interrupted him. Clay moved to a place behind the door, his pistol in hand, and then instructed her to open it. There she found a gap-toothed boy of no more than seven or eight. She thought of Lucas safely back in New Orleans and her heart twisted.
“My mama, she wishes you to help,” the child said in broken English. “My papa has the snakebite on his foot.”
“Tell her I will gather my herbs and come to her. But tell your papa to wrap a string around his ankle and then put his foot up on a pillow like this.” She illustrated by lifting her foot to show how she wished to find him. Then she asked where he lived and sent the child on his way.
Stepping back inside, Ellis slammed into Clay. “What?” she said. “The child’s father is in distress. It will take only a moment to offer comfort.”
“A moment that might get you killed, Ellis,” he told her.
She filled her bag as he continued to protest and then wrapped her quilt into a bedroll. When she was done, the apartment looked as it had when she first arrived.
“I am ready,” she told him. “But I will see to this man’s snakebite before I leave.”
Clay let out an exasperated breath. “I know you well enough to know that arguing will get me nowhere. Go and do your good deed. I will be waiting in the wagon just outside the gate.”
Clay tucked Ellis’s bag up under the bedroll and strolled casually across the plaza. Though it was very late, fires still lit the vast expanse of space and men still laughed and talked around them.
He kept to the shadows as he walked briskly, something he knew he had done before although obviously not here at the mission. When he reached the livery where the wagon and horse had been kept, he was surprised to find the same boy who had come for Ellis.
“Why are you here?” he demanded.
The boy nodded toward the back of the barn. “My papa, he has been bit.”
“And the healer has come to make him well again?” Clay offered.
At the boy’s nod, he left the bags in the wagon and moved toward the soft sounds of voices. He stopped then and turned back to the little fellow.
“I have coins here that I will give you if you take this wagon out beyond the gate. Allow no one but me to take the reins from you. If you are successful …” He reached into his pocket and pulled out enough coin to make the boy’s eyes widen. Still, he felt he should add, “This is for the healer, but please do not tell. You will do her a great favor if you do this for her.”
His smile broadened. “The healer does many good things here. I will do this for her.”
With the horse and wagon heading for the gate, Clay returned to follow the path to where Ellis was leaning over a man whose leg had indeed been elevated on pillows.
Though he could not hear everything she said, he could tell the man’s wife was being given instructions on how to care for the wound. As he watched Ellis offer kindness to these strangers, his blood boiled that someone inside these walls wished to harm her.
The woman smiled and nodded, and the man reached up from his sickbed to shake her hand. “We must pay you,” the wife protested.
Ellis shook her head and offered an embrace instead. And then she turned toward Clay. Whether she spied him there, he couldn’t tell, but she was smiling.
He caught her hand as she stepped into the barn. “Follow me and do not make a sound,” he whispered as soon as they were out of sight of the grateful wife.
She nodded and did as she was told. He kept to the shadows, this time with Ellis holding tight to his hand. An image appeared. Fog. A destination that was important. New Orleans. Magazine Street.
Thoughts slammed him, but he ignored them all. There would be time for memories later. For now, he had to remain solidly in the present.
He found the boy where he promised he would be. Slipping the coins into the boy’s hand, he hurried him away and then helped Ellis up onto the wagon. A moment later, they were off down the river road headed to the Alamo where Ellis would be safe.