The Badger's Revenge (28 page)

Rory Farnsworth's face turned red as the bowl of pickled beets that sat in front of him. “I didn't mean anything, Wolfe. I just meant . . .”

Josiah cut him off again. “I know what you meant.”

The sheriff pushed his chair back, the beef on his plate half-eaten. “I need some fresh air,” he said, standing up, wiping his mouth with the white cloth napkin, and throwing it on the plate.

Josiah watched Rory Farnsworth exit the dining hall. He felt bad but not too bad. He liked Farnsworth and was glad to have had his help in the past, but there was never any doubt that the two men were separated by the worlds they both walked in, just like Josiah and Pearl were.

The misunderstanding was another perfect example of why Josiah felt he shouldn't be sitting in Fikes's house at all. He should be home with Lyle, or out on the trail with Juan Carlos, bringing Liam O'Reilly to justice. After a brief touch of the gun on his hip, the Frontier Colt, he was reminded of Billie Webb, and he wondered about her fate, and the baby's. He hoped they were safe.

Farnsworth's father looked across the empty seat at Josiah with a questioning, then judgmental, look.

Josiah shrugged his shoulders and started to pick at his food with a heavy silver fork, ignoring the banker and his snobbish glare. He figured he might as well not let the food go to waste. The way things were going he'd never be invited back to the house again. Not that he minded.

The meat tasted like nothing that had ever crossed his tongue. The steak seemed to melt in his mouth before he could finish chewing. Surely, the cow was butchered just prior to cooking. The taste of the meat was a quick addiction.

Polite chatter surrounded him, but now that he had started eating, everything, including Pearl and Pete Feders, faded from his view or concern.

He ate the whole steak without stopping, without being concerned about his manners, whether he was using the proper fork or not. When he looked up, he realized a few people were staring at him. He smiled back at them and picked up the fine crystal glass that was filled with the deep red wine and drank it all down in one gulp. He wiped his mouth and let the smile stay on his face.

“More wine, Señor Wolfe?” a familiar voice said from behind Josiah.

Josiah smiled even more broadly. “Why certainly, Juan Carlos. I don't mind if I do.”

“As you wish, Señor Wolfe.” Juan Carlos poured a fresh glass of wine from a dark brown bottle. “You need to pace yourself,” he whispered in Josiah's ear, after filling the glass, disappearing before Josiah could protest.

He had captured almost everyone's attention, including that of the governor, who was looking his way with disdain.

Josiah raised the glass of wine to the governor, then downed it, too, like it was a shot of whiskey instead of fine wine.

He was instantly warm from head to toe, but it was a different feeling than he'd felt the few times he had drank whiskey or beer. He liked the wine. It was sweet, and he wanted more. Alcohol was not a vice of his, and whether he had any tolerance for wine was unknown to Josiah.

Before he could flag down Juan Carlos, who was on the other side of the table, filling a glass for the governor's wife, Pete Feders stood up and banged a silver spoon on the side of an empty crystal glass.

The chatter stopped immediately; everyone's attention had been forcefully garnered, including Josiah's. He was not drunk, though one more glass of wine would surely take him to that unknown place. He still had his wits about him. Dread settled suddenly in his stomach.

“I have an announcement to make,” Pete Feders said.

Pearl rustled in her seat.

“I have asked Mrs. Fikes for Pearl's hand in marriage, and she has obliged and given me permission,” Feders continued.

The room erupted in applause. Josiah didn't clap. His mouth went dry.

Feders smiled. “Now if only Pearl will say yes.” He bent down on one knee and started to say something . . . but was stopped by Pearl, who bolted out of her chair and ran out of the room, sobbing uncontrollably.

 

 

The night air felt good against Josiah's face. He
had mixed in with the crowd as they all sought to leave the dining hall and was standing under the portico, leaning against a tall pillar, trying to regain confidence in his feet.

At first, the guests had been shocked at Pearl's immediate exit from the room. They all just sat silently, staring at the befuddled Pete Feders and Widow Fikes.

Pete dashed out of the room after Pearl, and Mrs. Fikes feigned a hand on her forehead and promptly fainted in her chair, tumbling to the floor like a boulder pushed off a steep cliff. That was everyone's cue to vacate the house. The social page of the
Statesman
was going to have a lot to report the next day to those in Austin who cared about such things.

Carriages and buggies came and went, picking up their charges as quickly and comfortably as possible. It looked like a parade in front of the house, or like the last time Josiah had spent any time there, which was for Captain Fikes's funeral. The latter was probably more apt, a parade being far too happy an event to reflect the state of the faces of those promptly leaving the grounds.

There were times when Josiah wished for a vice like tobacco. It would make passing the time a little easier. As it was, he was beginning to feel more like himself, the fuzzy effect of the wine clearing away. It was time to go home, to leave all the unfinished business at the Fikes estate to work itself out on its own.

Now that Feders had clearly stated his intentions publicly, there was no question that he would not relent until Pearl accepted his proposal. Josiah knew that. Josiah wasn't sure why he was even there in the first place, other than showing gratitude to Pearl for watching over Lyle. He wished that was all there was to it. It was hard not to be attracted to a woman as beautiful as Pearl Fikes.

He took a breath and took a step away from the pillar, steadying himself, but stopped when he saw Pete Feders emerge out of the darkness, walking right toward him.

Josiah could smell alcohol on Feders's breath when
he spoke. “What are you doing here, Wolfe? You come to taunt me?”

“I'm just leaving, Captain.” Josiah had to restrain himself not to call him Pete. That would have surely brought out the worst in Feders. It was obvious that it wouldn't take much to provoke the man to a fistfight. His face was red with rage and embarrassment.

“You saw what happened inside? With Pearl?” Feders asked.

Josiah nodded. “I'm sorry, Captain.”

“Sure you are, Wolfe. I know you carry a torch for Pearl.” Feders gripped both of his hands, then let them fall to his side in tightly balled fists.

Josiah stepped back, putting up both of his own hands, flat out, as if to fend, or warn, off an impending attack. He didn't want to fight Feders here—or anywhere for that matter. “I have only become acquainted with Pearl Fikes since we returned to Austin in the spring with Captain Fikes's body. I'm in no position to court a woman like Pearl. You know that. I have a son to raise, and I have chosen my life as a Ranger. That leaves me little time to seek stature or a fortune, one that would entice a woman already of means. Besides that, I don't know that I can ever love another woman like I did my boy's mother.”

It was an unusually open confession for Josiah, but he knew he needed to disarm Feders, convince him that a fight wouldn't solve anything, wouldn't make Pearl accept his marriage proposal, or make what had just happened in the dining hall disappear from everyone's mind.

Feders glared at Josiah, his teeth clenched hard, then he drew a deep breath and looked away quickly. “I'm not sure I believe you.”

“That's your right.” Josiah drew a deep breath of his own, preparing to take a chance. “You've known me for a long time, Pete. I've never double-crossed you or anybody else before, why would I start now?”

Feders narrowed his eyes. “There aren't too many women in this world that are as beautiful and smart as Pearl Fikes. She is a gracious prize. One worth losing everything to gain, or dying for, as far as I am concerned.”

Josiah wasn't going to agree or disagree. “Maybe you're tryin' too hard, Pete.”

Feders exhaled loudly, then kicked the dirt, sending a heavy clump sailing into the darkness, soiling the shine on his boot. “I lose sight of myself every time I get within a mile of her.”

“I felt that way about Lily. I just had to give her some room. If you smother the sunlight from a bluebonnet, it's not going to bloom, now is it?”

“I suppose not.”

Silence fell between the two men. They had a history together. Time spent riding together as Rangers before the Frontier Battalion was formed, and after, both of them devoted to Hiram Fikes. He'd known Feders while Lily and the girls were alive, when the whole world for Josiah existed on a small piece of acreage in East Texas.

He ached to return to that little piece of Heaven every minute he was out riding with Fikes and Feders—still did as far as that went.

Josiah and Feders had never been friends, but he trusted his back to Pete then—and he had ever since he joined up with the Frontier Battalion. It had only been recently—ever since Pete took on being a captain—that Josiah began to doubt the man, or at least doubted his leadership capabilities. Pete led by his mood, not his brain like Captain Fikes had. That changed everything.

“I have some news for you, Wolfe,” Feders said. “You have been resolved of any wrongdoing or crime in Comanche. I want you to know that. I want you to know what I did for you, putting my neck on the line and saving yours from the rope. Those folks got a taste of revenge when they hung John Wesley Hardin's kin, and you're just a lucky man we showed up when we did or we wouldn't be having this conversation. Your belly wouldn't be full of good wine and beefsteak.”

Josiah didn't show the sigh of relief he felt upon hearing the news and the fact that Feders had seemed to finally stand down.

The wine had made Josiah a little unruly inside the house, but he had not lost a lick of his senses when it came to seeing a fight heading his way.

“I appreciate that, Captain,” Josiah said, noting the stiff difference in Feders's stance and tone.

“I'm sure you do. That was a fine mess you created.”

“I was just trying to stay alive.”

Feders let his fists fall open. “I probably wouldn't go that way again for some time, if I were you.”

Josiah agreed silently with a nod. “How'd you know to find me in Comanche in the first place?” It was not a question that had occurred to Josiah previously, but when he thought about the arrival of Feders and the company in Comanche as lucky, the timing seemed almost too perfect. The release made him feel emboldened enough to ask.

“Where else would you have been, Wolfe?” There was a crack in Feders's voice, and he looked away, then back directly at Josiah with a hard, accusatory glare. “What are you suggesting?”

“Nothing. Just asking a question.” Josiah felt odd, like he had just verbally attacked his father, with no reason, no cause for suspicion, just curiosity. Pete's reaction only made matters worse, but all things considered, Josiah chose not to pursue the question any further.

“I regret the loss of Red Overmeyer. He was a good man,” Josiah said, changing the subject. “I failed him.”

“Maybe. Maybe not.” Feders was still stiff, but he appeared to relax a bit. He drew a deep breath and took a step back, away from Josiah.

“What do you mean?”

“I had some concerns about Overmeyer's allegiance. He was always a little mysterious and unpredictable when it came to Indians,” Feders said.

Josiah was curious and uncertain about Feders's doubt regarding Red. It was the first he'd heard tell of any question of the man's character. There was never any doubt in Josiah's mind that Overmeyer was a fine Ranger, any more than Pete was a fine captain—albeit unpredictable. Now he was starting to doubt everything he'd ever believed.

“He stood and fought with us in Lost Valley against the Comanche and Kiowa,” Josiah said. “I'm not sure that you're making sense to me, Captain.”

“He was out scouting at the start. It never crossed your mind that the whole troop went down in that valley and the mass of savages suddenly appeared out of nowhere? He gave the all clear to Jones, if I am not mistaken.”

“Jones led us into the valley. It was his decision.” Josiah was getting defensive, and a little annoyed. Feders was not at the Lost Valley fight; he had stayed back at the Ranger camp along the Red River because of a conflict with Major Jones. Josiah didn't think much about it at the time.