Song of the Mockingbird: My Journey with Josefina

I whisper to Daisy that I’ll see her soon, then raise the flute to my lips and blow. Just like that, I’m back in the plain little room. My mind feels much clearer now that I know I’m not going crazy. I throw back the blanket and roll the bedding up against the wall again.

From the courtyard, Josefina spots me coming out of the doorway and calls me over to sit with them. They’re husking a big pile of roasted corn, pulling back the pale husks. I sink into the ground and tuck my bulky skirt underneath me, and I can tell the girls are watching me.

Tía Dolores asks where my family is, and I hesitate, saying I don’t know where they are right now. Clara asks if I’ve gotten lost, and I vaguely say it’s something like that. Everyone goes quiet, until a voice behind us says that us cautivas sometimes find it hard to talk about our experiences.

I turn and see an older woman I hadn’t noticed before, her face deeply wrinkled and tanned, her hair bound by colorful threads. She’s rubbing a pot with sand. Josefina draws a sharp breath: a cautiva. Her hand grasps mine. Francisca and Clara murmur and shake their heads, looking distressed. Cautiva means captive. They think I’ve been kidnapped.

Tía Dolores hugs me and introduces me to Teresita, their servant, who was also a cautiva. Teresita was taken from her people, the Navajos, by enemies when she was a little girl, just as enemies took me from mine, the Spanish.

Captive? Enemies of my people? The others seem to know what Teresita means, nodding sympathetically. Francisca asks how old I was when I was captured. Before I respond, Clara asks if the Indians treated me kindly, and Josefina asks if I escaped. The questions come fast and I’m getting flustered. Not wanting to lie, I finally say I had a long journey, and gesture to the piles of corn, the chickens, and the sisters on their blankets.

Tía Dolores breaks in soothingly, saying this must all be distressing, and that I must’ve been captured very young since she’s heard cautivas taken that young hardly remember anything. Besides, I hit my head, which could be affecting my memory, too. Josefina asks if I remember which Indians captured me. The Apaches, perhaps? Or the Comanches?

Suddenly it makes sense. They think I’m Spanish, captured by Native Americans and living with them, and that Teresita, a Navajo, was captured by the Spanish.

Tía Dolores says we must tell Josefina’s papá, who needs to inform the officials in Santa Fe that we found a cautiva. Perhaps I can stay with them until my relatives are found. Tía Dolores reminds me of my favorite teacher, Mrs. Burton, take-charge, but not too bossy, and she always knew what to do.

Tía Dolores and Josefina get up and lead us outside the courtyard, through the big front gate, where a tall man is lifting a saddle onto a light tan horse. He wears a wide brimmed hat, like my grandfather used to wear hiking. Tía Dolores calls him Andres, introduces me as María, and explains that Josefina found me wandering outside, seeming to be a cautiva taken so young that I don’t remember anything. Señor Montoya studies me with grave eyes. Josefina stands beside me, hands clasped and head bowed, and I mimic her.

Finally, Señor Montoya says I am welcome here. He’ll notify the Santa Fe officials and make inquiries to see if anyone knows of a daughter taken years ago, and will send Miguel and other men to check the hills, since the rancho isn’t safe with enemies nearby. If they can’t find my family, they’ll find me a home. I’m immediately nervous. This family is going to so much trouble for me, searching for an enemy that doesn’t exist.

Choosing my words carefully, I explain that I’m very far from where I started and don’t think enemies are nearby. Señor Montoya raises his brows and I lower my eyes. Still, he says the area must be checked, and that Josefina takes good care of me. Josefina simply answers yes, and thank you.

Señor Montoya mounts his horse and trots away. I think of how Dad and I talk, argue, and laugh together at home. It’s different here, but it seems like Josefina loves her father just as much, even if she doesn’t show it the same way. Then Josefina turns to me with a wide smile, exclaiming she’s so happy to have another girl her age here.