Cougar's Prey (9781101544846) (9 page)

Mary Morgan's boardinghouse was a block off Sixth Street, and for a brief moment, Josiah thought about turning around and going home.

He liked Billie Webb, was grateful to her, and maybe at another time, in another circumstance, he would have been attracted to her, thought about courting her in a proper way, if she was receptive to the idea. They had similar problems, raising their children on their own and losing their spouses in tragic ways. Both of them were alone. Billie more so than Josiah, as far as he knew.

The boardinghouse was two storeys, about ten years old, simple in structure, but painted recently, a fresh white with black trim. A little flower garden fronted the street, but all of the flowers were dead now, the bushes void of any leaves.

The smell of fresh baking bread emanated from the rear of the house, so instead of knocking at the front door and risking waking up any residents who were still sleeping, Josiah went to the back door that led into the kitchen. He didn't have to knock. A woman, surely the owner, Mary Morgan, met him at the door.

Josiah tilted his hat back, exposing his face.

“What do I owe the pleasure of a visitor this early in the morning?” Mary Morgan looked to be in her mid-fifties, with hair the color of a rising sun; red as red could be. Her skin was pale white, like a statue, and her eyes were emerald green, as shiny as the jewels they reminded Josiah of. She looked happy, curious, and demanding. “The house is full, you know, so if'n it's a room you're seekin', then you might check on down the street at the Riverts' house. They got more rooms than they know what to do with.”

“I'm here to see one of your boarders, ma'am,” Josiah said.

Mary Morgan wiped a bit of flour from her hands on the apron she wore. “And which one would that be?”

“Billie Webb, ma'am. A girl and a baby.”

“I know, I know. What you want with them this early on in the day? You look familiar. Do I know you?”

Josiah lowered his head. “No, I don't think we've ever had the pleasure of meeting.”

Mary Morgan squinted at Josiah, drew her head closer to him, but blocked the door solidly with her body, so he couldn't see beyond her. “I've seen you somewhere, now, but I can't place you. I sure do know I've seen that face of yours, though. You ain't been in trouble, have ya?”

Josiah hesitated. “Not with the law, ma'am.” It was true. No charges had been filed against him for shooting Pete Feders, and he'd never been in enough trouble to have his likeness printed on a wanted poster.

“All right, then. You wait here and let me get Missy Webb. Nice girl, that one. She sure could use a man in her life.”

“I'm a friend, ma'am.”

Mary Morgan trailed off with heavy footsteps echoing behind her. Josiah sighed, relieved that she hadn't recognized his face from the newspaper. He began pacing back and forth behind the back door.

The smell of the day's bread baking was almost overwhelming. Nothing smelled better than that to Josiah. It reminded him of his mother, of his life on the little farm he grew up on, that now seemed so far away, so distant.

He didn't know why he was nervous, but he was. A few minutes must have passed with him going to the street, then back, trying to figure out what he was going to say to Billie. Finally, he felt a pair of eyes on the back of his neck, and he turned around and met Billie Webb's gaze.

She was standing in the doorway. Mary Morgan wasn't that far behind, making noise in the kitchen, loud enough to let Josiah know she was keeping an eye on him. He liked that, was glad somebody was looking out for Billie.

“Well, there you are,” Billie said. She smiled, and for a brief moment she looked young and happy, dressed in a simple fresh white linen dress, her hair still damp, but combed out. Once the smile faded, the pain Billie carried was obvious. Her lips pursed together, and she looked hard as a rock as she waited for Josiah to come to her.

Josiah nodded. He didn't know whether to hug her, shake her hand, or kiss her on the cheek. What they were to each other was confusing. “It's good to see you, Billie. A big surprise.”

Billie shook her head. “You are the most foolish man I have ever met, Josiah Wolfe. Ain't you got a proper greetin' for me, or are you just gonna stand there like a silly schoolboy unsure of what to do with your hands?”

“Stand here, I 'spect,” Josiah said.

“Suit yourself.” Billie walked out the door, then padded in her bare feet straight to Josiah. She slipped her arms around his waist and hugged him close to her. She was nearly a head shorter than he was. The scent of cottonseed oil touched Josiah's nose, not the scent of spring, like Pearl. It wasn't an unpleasant fragrance, just different, not as expensive, not as flowery as Pearl's, but still feminine and just as attractive, if not more.

Josiah stood stiff, then pulled away when he felt the hug had lingered too long. “What're you doing here, Billie?”

“Well, that's a fine howdy-do to you, too, Josiah. I figured once you helped deliver the baby we weren't strangers no more.”

“We're friends, Billie. I'm glad to know you.”

Billie stood back from Josiah and looked him up and down. “This trouble's got you all wound up. You look ten years older than the last time I saw you, and that wasn't that long ago.”

“I suppose it's taken a toll, Billie. But it's trouble you don't need to be involved in.”

“You saved me, Josiah. I could have never delivered that baby on my own.”

“You don't owe me anything. I was there because I was running. We've talked about this before.”

Billie drew in a deep breath and exhaled. “That woman you care about makin' things any easier for you?”

Josiah shook his head no. “Let's not discuss that.”

“You still haven't told her you love her yet, have you?”

The best thing Josiah thought he could do was ignore the question. “I want you to stay out of this, Billie. It won't matter to the sheriff, or anybody else, what you think of me.”

“I moved here to be closer to you, Josiah. There ain't nothin' for me in Comanche no more. Just bad memories. I need a fresh start, and I figured this here place would be the best place to give it a shot. I know you, and it won't take me long to know other folks, too.”

The air went out of Josiah's lungs. He didn't know what to say, so he turned and walked away from Billie.

“Come back. Josiah Wolfe, come back here right now. I didn't mean to scare you off. I need you, damn it. This city of Austin is bigger than I thought it was, and I'm not sure how to set one foot in front of the other.”

Josiah couldn't stop. Once he reached the street, he broke into a flat-out run. This time, he willed himself not to look back. He never wanted to see Billie Webb again. He was afraid if he did, he'd scoop her up and take her home with him.

Then he'd really have problems—if he didn't already.

There was a horse tied up in front of Josiah's house that he didn't recognize. It was a big gray gelding, the muscles hard and well formed, its coat shiny and unmarred, with big flecks of black in the mane. The empty saddle was black and glossy, shining in the bright, rising sun like it was brand-new.

The day had drawn nearer to noon, and the sky was bright and clear, free of clouds, a fragile blue that went on and on forever. On a better day, the weather would have suggested a bit of optimism and a mild winter, but it wasn't a better day, and it might as well have been dark and gloomy as far as Josiah was concerned.

He hadn't stopped running until he was a block from his house. His heart was racing, and he was covered with perspiration, even though the morning air was cool, bordering on chilly. He hadn't cared what kind of attention he gained as he made his way home, all he wanted to do was get as far away from Mary Morgan's boardinghouse as possible.

Billie Webb's presence in Austin complicated things for Josiah in a way he had never considered possible. Courting Pearl would have its tribulations, even if it was possible at the moment, but having Billie near made Josiah reconsider if he even had the desire to court Pearl.

In reality, he didn't know either woman very well at all—just enough to leave him feeling confused and lonely. If it wasn't for the fact that Lyle needed a mother figure, then, at the moment, the only female company Josiah would consider would be the kind he could pay for. At least he could leave all of the emotion in the bed, and not carry it with him everywhere he went.

Upon seeing the gelding, Josiah picked his pace up, panting, curious at what, and who, was waiting for him at the house now.

He half-expected it to be the reporter from the paper, Paul Hoagland, come to collect his exclusive. If that were the case, Josiah was prepared to shoo him off. The last thing he wanted to do was add to the story at the moment, even though having his own say about what happened with Pete Feders was tempting. Still, he felt it was better to wait and hear from Steele before spouting off about the Feders incident. Not that he would say anything derogatory, but in his present state, Josiah had little trust in his own heart and mind, or what would come out of his mouth.

Josiah stopped at the porch and gathered himself, then walked into the house without an ounce of hesitation.

He was surprised to find Captain Leander McNelly sitting at the small table in the kitchen, drinking a cup of coffee and having a discussion with Ofelia.

Lyle was sitting on Ofelia's lap. “Papa!” he shouted, then jumped to the floor and ran to Josiah, wrapping his arms around his legs. It was a common greeting.

“Hey there, son.” Josiah patted the top of Lyle's head and eyed McNelly curiously.

The captain stood up. “That was a fine cup of coffee, ma'am.”

“
Gracias
,
capitán
,” Ofelia said, remaining seated at the table. A look of concern crossed her face when she took in the sight of Josiah, but she said nothing.

“I'm surprised to see you here, Captain McNelly.” Josiah lifted Lyle up, hugged him, then set him down on his feet just as quickly as he had picked him up.

“We need to talk, Wolfe. Privately,” McNelly said.

Josiah nodded, and motioned to the door that led out onto the porch. McNelly returned the nod and made his way outside.

“You stay here with Ofelia, Lyle.”

“I want to go.”

“No. You have to stay here.”

Lyle frowned, and before Josiah could say another word, Ofelia was out of her chair, her hand grasping Lyle's. Josiah and Ofelia made eye contact, a silent thank-you passed between them, then Josiah headed outside to face McNelly and whatever news he brought.

Josiah closed the door behind him. “I take it you're not here on a social visit.”

“Hardly, Wolfe. We all felt it was better I speak with you here rather than drag you back up to the capitol building and cause another uncomfortable mob scene.”

“I appreciate that, Captain.”

Josiah was numb on the inside. McNelly was hard to read. He was dressed similar to the day before—formal, in all black, with the exception of his heavily starched white shirt. As with all Rangers, there was not a uniform requirement for the captain, but every time Josiah had seen the man, he was dressed nearly the same. The fact that McNelly was standing on Josiah's porch was an unusual event in itself, one that on any other day would have been considered a rarity and an honor. Overall, McNelly was a hero to most Texans.

“We've made a decision, Wolfe,” McNelly said, his voice even, without emotion.

Josiah drew in a deep breath and waited to hear his fate. It was like time had stopped. All of the noises of Austin, wide awake now and in full motion, were amplified. Hammers sounded like giant mallets hitting a thousand gongs. The morning train, sitting at the station, hissing and spewing steam, sounded like it was right next to Josiah's ear instead of a block away. Even Lyle's footsteps inside the house sounded heavy, like drumbeats.

There was no need to plead his case any further, he had done that yesterday. From what he knew of the trio, once a decision was made by any one of the men, then it might as well be etched in stone.

“We believe,” McNelly continued, “that you acted well within your duty and had no choice but to shoot first. More investigation into the activities of Peter Feders has shown that he was connected to a bad strain, as you suggested, and his intentions and actions were beyond the law. He was an outlaw, Wolfe. There will be no trial for the killing.”

Josiah's legs suddenly felt like jelly. He couldn't believe what he was hearing. He had been sure he would have to go to trial, that he was in the midst of losing everything that he had worked so hard to hold on to.