The Badger's Revenge (38 page)

The door opened before Josiah came to a stop and prepared to knock. Pedro was standing there, an expression on his face equal to those usually seen at a funeral or a wake: sad and reflective. “It is good to see you Señor Wolfe.”

“I'm not sure I believe you.”

“The hour is late, and you were not expected, so your presence is news to us, your survival a relief. The last we saw of you was at the dinner, then you were off on another assignment in South Texas. There is always worry when our Rangers take to the road. Captain Fikes came home dead in the back of a wagon. Why would we not expect the same to happen to you?”

“All of you are relieved?” Josiah asked, peering over Pedro's shoulder, wondering what the Mexican butler actually knew about the trip south.

The grand hall of the house was dimly lit, a few hurricane lamps burning low, casting soft shadows on the walls and ceiling. Down the hall, the dining room, where Pete Feders had asked Pearl to marry him publicly, stood in complete darkness. More out of function than in mourning, since, as far as Josiah knew, word of Pete Feders's demise had not yet reached Austin.

“I have just returned to the city,” Josiah said.

“How is your son?”

“Fine, thank you, and not happy to see me leave again so soon after arriving home, but I need to speak with Pearl.”

“Like I said, Señor Wolfe, it is late, can this not wait until tomorrow?”

Josiah shook his head no. “I have news for her that I wish to tell her myself. Tomorrow will be too late.”

Before Pedro could respond, Josiah heard a shuffle of footsteps coming down the grand staircase. Again, he looked past Pedro. Disappointment coursed through his veins as he quickly figured out that the person raised by the voices at the door was Pearl's mother, the Widow Fikes, and not Pearl herself. Josiah had been hoping to avoid a meeting with the widow.

“Who is it, Pedro, disturbing us at such a late hour?”

“It is Ranger Wolfe, ma'am.”

“Wolfe?” The widow pushed by Pedro, who retreated quickly into the nearest alcove. “You, sir, are not welcome in this house. There, I have made it official. Now, please leave.”

“I would like to speak with Pearl,” Josiah said.

“Did you not just hear me ask you to leave?”

“I did. With all due respect, ma'am, I would like to speak with Pearl before I do so.”

The widow was more than a head shorter than Josiah, so he had to angle his neck downward just to look her in the eye. She had obviously been preparing for bed, wrapped in a black robe, still mourning, still wearing her widow's weeds, of a fashion, to the very moment she crawled into bed. Her brittle gray hair was unfurled from a tight bun and fell over her shoulders, hanging down almost to the small of her back. Her skin was nearly pale white. She looked like a ghost herself, albeit a well-fed one.

“Your persistence is not appreciated here, Ranger Wolfe. I don't know what my husband ever saw in you, but I rue the day you stepped foot on this property, the day my daughter first laid eyes on you. You are a blight on my life. Do you understand that, sir? A blight.”

Josiah restrained his tongue, pushed it to the roof of his mouth. He wanted to respond, to participate in the fight she was laying the ground for, but he did not take the bait. He had the advantage of seeing the shadows behind the woman, saw what was coming before she heard it.

“Mother! What an awful thing to say. Josiah does not deserve such vile treatment,” Pearl said, descending from the final step, then hurrying to the door. She rushed past her mother, a smile on her face, the glow nearly lighting up the darkness of the night that lay beyond Josiah.

Pearl was wrapped up in nightclothes, too. There was a fragrance about her that quickly infiltrated Josiah's nose. Cream of some kind, a freshness that smelled of spring and womanhood. He almost turned and ran away, but he didn't, he held firm. Seeing her took his breath away.

“Why are you here, Josiah, is something the matter?”

“I would like to speak to you, in private,” Josiah said, his voice monotone, any emotions held as deep in his stomach as he could manage.

“There will be nothing done in private between you and my daughter, Ranger Wolfe. Do I make myself clear? If you have something to say, say it in front of me, as I will not leave you to a chaperone of any type,” the Widow Fikes said.

Josiah drew in a deep breath, and Pearl glared at her mother harshly. Her sweet cornflower blue eyes were harder than he had ever seen them.

“I would like a moment alone with Josiah, Mother.”

The Widow Fikes's feet were set as solidly as the rest of her body. Her face was frozen in a state that offered no hint of negotiation.

“I did not come here to cause an argument,” Josiah said. “It is bad news that I bear, and your mother will hear it soon enough, too, Pearl. Maybe this way is best.”

“Something has happened to Juan Carlos?” Pearl said. “Hasn't it?”

“That is part of it, yes.”

The widow Fikes stood firm, her glare never breaking away from Josiah. Pedro stood close by in the shadows, close enough to hear everything.

“Juan Carlos was shot in Brackett,” Josiah continued. “We were ambushed just outside of the sheriff's office there.”

“He's dead?” Pearl gasped, tears welling in her eyes.

Josiah shook his head no. “He is still hanging on, recovering in the doctor's care in Brackett. He's too weak to be moved. It was a gut shot that he took. A lesser man would have died straightaway. Not lasted a day. But Juan Carlos has a strong will to live. I didn't want to leave there, alone, but I had to return to Austin immediately.”

“That man is despicable,” the widow sneered.

“Mother, that
man
is your husband's brother.”

“So he says. I say he's a half-breed always on the lookout for a handout so he can go off with one of his whores and live a like a lazy king.”

“Mother, please,” Pearl said through gritted teeth, then dabbed the corners of her eyes with a pure white handkerchief that she'd produced almost out of nowhere. “Good, I am glad he is still alive. Thank you for the news, Josiah.”

“That is not why I have come here tonight, Pearl,” Josiah said. “I don't know how to tell you this, but Pete Feders is dead.”

“Dead?” Pearl whispered. “I wasn't expecting that.”

“Peter is dead? Dead?” the Widow Fikes yelled. “I don't believe it. He can't be dead. How did he die?”

“I shot him, ma'am. I killed Pete Feders in self-defense.”

Pearl's mother barreled past her, knocking Pearl out of the way, and stopped within inches of Josiah, pointing her finger at his face, waving it like a mad sword. “I meant what I said. You are not welcome here, ever, not now, not tomorrow, not ten years from now, do you understand me, Ranger Wolfe? I will make your life miserable. Your days as a Ranger are numbered. I know people. I know
important
people. You will be lucky to get a job as a stable boy in this town after I've had my say. Now leave. Get off my land.”

Josiah did not move. He stood watching the tears stream from Pearl's eyes. His own mouth was dry, and his feet were firmly planted, unwilling to move, even though he wanted them to. There was a chill in the air, and Josiah felt downright cold. He wanted to reach out and touch Pearl, offer her some comfort, but he dared not touch her.

“The papers will have the story tomorrow, Pearl. But I wanted you to hear it from me first.” Josiah lowered his head. “I still must answer for what has happened. Major Jones, Captain McNelly, and the adjunct general, William Steele, are set to decide my fate. It is my word against a dead man's. Ranger Elliot is a witness, but whether they will take his account of what happened is still questionable.”

“I said leave,” the Widow Fikes demanded.

“Mother, for the last time, keep quiet. Let Josiah speak,” Pearl snapped, her face hard and twisted with grief and danger now.

“Well!” The widow turned to walk away, the look on her face akin to having been slapped by Pearl. She stopped at the stairway, still within earshot, glaring and whimpering like a sullen pup at the same time.

“Tell me, Josiah, tell me what happened.”

Josiah drew in a deep breath. He caught a glimpse of Pedro, who had not moved, and who was not showing any emotion other than surprise. “Pete was desperate to win your love, you know that?”

“I do,” Pearl said, softly.

“He was also desperate for money. I do not know the hows, whens, or whys, but when the outlaw Charlie Langdon was hanged, Pete stepped in to fill the void. He took control and began accumulating money. He wanted enough to buy a large herd of cattle and have a pot of money to win your mother's favor and to pay her debts. From what Pete said, she, too, is desperate for money. He and Liam O'Reilly were forging a relationship with Juan Cortina, a cattle rustling scheme that would have made them very wealthy, very quickly. I was sent to stop that union. At the time, I only knew of O'Reilly's involvement. But I didn't know Pete was involved. Not then.”

The Widow Fikes suddenly appeared at Pearl's side, almost like she had flown there. “You, sir, are a liar. Now, I will not ask you again. Pedro, have this man removed from the property. That's an order!”

“I'm sorry, Pearl,” Josiah said, ignoring the widow. He was bound and determined for Pearl to hear the rest of his story. “Pete pulled his gun. I have never killed a man that I didn't have to. It was me or him.”

Pedro stepped out of the alcove, his shoulders squared and a rifle in his hand. “Señor Wolfe, please respect the madam's wishes and leave.”

Josiah nodded, and he stared directly into Pearl's eyes and said, “I'm sorry,” one more time, then turned and walked toward his waiting horse.

Just as he was about to climb up onto the saddle, Pearl rushed to Josiah and threw her arms around him, burying her tearstained face in his neck. “Don't you see, Josiah, we are free. This is not bad news,” she said, in a soft voice so only he could hear her.

“No,” he whispered. “We're not free, Pearl. I have only made things worse for you. Not only has a division been drawn between your mother and you, you now know the truth. Your entire way of life is at stake, and there's nothing I can do to help you.” He pulled away, quickly kissed her on the forehead without lingering, then climbed up on Clipper as quick as he could.

Pearl trembled, the tears flowing heavily, as she crumpled to the ground in a pile of sobs. Pedro and her mother rushed to her as Josiah moved Clipper slowly away and headed down the path, urging the horse to go as fast as it could once he was certain that he wasn't going to flip dirt or mud on the trio, fighting the whole time not to look back, not to turn back, not to sweep Pearl up and ride off with her forever.

 

 

Ofelia sat on the porch, waiting, as Josiah hitched
up Clipper. The moon had risen high in the sky, and there was not a cloud to be seen. A soft glow emanated from inside the small house, and the familiar smell of
menudo
wafted on the cool night air. There was a solemn look on the Mexican woman's face as Josiah made his way to her.

“It's good to be home,” he said.

“For a short time, again, señor?” Ofelia asked. There was hardly ever a change in her appearance. She was the one constant in his life. Her clothes—a simple skirt, apron, and white blouse—were always the same, and no matter how many days passed, her face did not acquire wrinkles, and her hair did not seem to add any new gray strands. She was as ageless as a rock . . . at least to Josiah.

“I don't know what the future holds, Ofelia. Do you need more time away, now that your family is here?” Josiah stiffened, feeling a little unsure if Ofelia were going to leave—or wanted to. He wouldn't blame her. She had sacrificed so much for him, for so little in return. The guilt he felt about that was immeasurable.

Ofelia smiled. “
Usted está mi familia
. You are my family. You and Lyle. I do not know what the future holds, either. But I wish only happiness for you, señor.”

“Happiness seems as far away as the moon,” Josiah said, releasing a breath, relaxing.

“I see you happy when Miss Pearl is near.”

Josiah shook his head and sat down next to Ofelia. “I am happy when I am here, with Lyle. And you, of course.”

They both looked out onto the empty street. A train blew its whistle in the distance, and Josiah knew that before long, the house would rumble as the train pulled into town. He was not used to the sound and the shake of the house, but he got the impression that Ofelia and Lyle paid little mind to the comings and goings of the trains. They had adjusted to city life, while he had not, was not sure he ever would—or that he ever wanted to.

“Someday, Lyle needs a
mamacita
, and you need a soft place to fall into after you have exhausted yourself. This life you live will make you a hard man, señor, and that is not the true Josiah Wolfe that I know.” Ofelia looked up at Josiah, a knowing look on her face. “Miss Lily would want you to love again. It is time, señor, to leave the past behind.”

“I don't know what to think about that,” Josiah said. “There's a storm coming.”

“The sky is clear.”

“Oh, trust me, it's coming.”

The train blew its whistle again. This time, Josiah felt the first vibration under his feet, felt the shake of the earth grow stronger, closer, and he knew all he could do was sit there and wait.