The Rattlesnake Season (31 page)
Read The Rattlesnake Season Online
Authors: Larry D. Sweazy
It was not purely out of ambition that he concerned himself with meeting the major. It was also the rescue of Pearl, and his need for his fellow Rangers and their help—even though O’Reilly had told him to come alone. That was not going to happen.
He was not a fool, not enraged enough by the threat of losing Lyle to completely vanquish his senses. He wasn’t going to walk into a trap set by Charlie Langdon without someone covering his back, and his guess was Charlie knew that full well.
The other possibility that Josiah needed to consider was that the message was not true at all, but a ruse to get him out and away from the proceedings at the Fikes home, an emotional response that would leave him more than vulnerable—alone on the trail, to be surrounded by a gang of outlaws from which there would be no escape. Charlie Langdon might not be anywhere near Seerville, or the pine cabin just outside of town. He might be just outside of Austin, lying in wait for Josiah to do something ignorant.
Josiah wasn’t sure how he was going to work things out, but he knew, as much as he possibly could at the moment, that he wasn’t going to rush off half-cocked. That would get him—and maybe Lyle—killed for certain.
“Excuse me, Major Jones,” Josiah said, tapping gently on the shoulder the man cornering Pearl.
Jones whirled around quickly, his dark blue eyes narrowing, the pupils barely visible, casting a gaze that made his face look squirrel-like, his eyes beadier than they normally might be. “What, good man? Can’t you see I am in the midst of consoling this poor grief-stricken girl?”
“I beg your pardon, Major Jones, but I believe I have some information that needs your immediate attention.”
“What kind of information?” Jones asked, his voice indignant. Then he looked Josiah over head to toe like Josiah was at a guard mount being judged fit for duty. “And who are you anyway to be intruding on this tragic day?”
The rainstorm had continued to rage outside, and Josiah’s clothes were soaking wet. His shirt clung to his chest, his boots squished when he walked. Comfort had left his person early in the day—after coming face-to-face with the Negro.
Being presentable was about as important to him at the moment as being polite to Mrs. Fikes, who was standing a few feet away from him, leaning forward on a divan, using it to steady herself as she feigned a conversation with her cousin, the mayor from Neu-Braunfels, A. L. Kessler. Kessler nodded at Josiah, recognizing him, and Mrs. Fikes glared at Josiah like he was the most hated man alive.
Before Josiah could reply to Major Jones, Pearl stepped forward. “His name is Josiah Wolfe, sir. One of your very own, Major. A fine Texas Ranger who rode many miles at my father’s trusted side.” Her voice was soft, but there was an air of agitation thinly coated on her sweet Texas tongue.
Jones caught his breath, swallowed whatever words were forming on his lips, which most assuredly were not going to be kind, judging from the sudden twist of his face, and said, “I see. My apologies, Ranger Wolfe. We have not yet met in person, but your reputation precedes you.”
Then he offered his hand, which Josiah gave a firm shake, which the major returned tepidly.
Josiah withdrew his hand quickly.
“If you two fine gentleman will excuse me,” Pearl said, coming to a stop away from the corner, directing her attention toward a path free of human obstruction to the curving, rising staircase, just beyond them and adjacent to the main entrance of the house. “I have had a very long day and feel the need to excuse myself from your company.”
Major Jones nodded and lowered his head. “Yes, of course. I would hope to make your acquaintance at some other time. Perhaps under more pleasant circumstances.”
“Of course,” Pearl said quickly, turning to Josiah. “And I hope to see you again, Josiah, before you depart. I assume you will be receiving a new set of orders soon?”
“I assume so,” Josiah answered, ignoring both the major and Mrs. Fikes’s twin glares of consternation when he spoke with Pearl.
“Be careful, then, in your travels.”
“I will,” Josiah said, looking to the door. “Thank you.”
Pearl stood staring at Josiah for a moment, then made her way to the staircase, stopping only briefly to again study Josiah, who was still avoiding her gaze, before disappearing completely upstairs. She had obviously detected his discomfort in her presence and was trying to determine its cause. The look on Pearl’s face was not difficult to understand, even to a man of Josiah’s experience. It was one of confusion . . . and hurt.
Josiah watched her vanish from view, out the periphery of his vision, with a heavy heart, regretful that he felt it necessary to put an emotional wall up to Pearl at an obvious time of need. Guilt was going to be a dark companion.
“This information, Wolfe, had better be important,” Major Jones said.
“I believe it is, sir. It concerns the man I think is responsible for the premature and senseless death of Captain Fikes, and I would feel much better if we were able to speak in private.”
A half-full bottle of brandy sat on the captain’s desk. The room was dark, heavy curtains pulled to a tight close, and there was a musty smell in it, like it had been sealed off for a long time. Three lamps flickered, the smell of kerosene a potent mix from the lack of use. One entire wall was lined with bound books of a number Josiah had never seen in his entire life. He wondered if the captain had read all of them, spent nights alone under the lamp, sipping on a drink, smoking a cigar. It was not an image of Captain Fikes he could conjure in his mind . . . He could only see the captain sitting happily at the gambling table in San Antonio, a pile of his opponents’ chips before him. Since arriving in Austin, he had yet to resolve the conflict of the man, the Ranger, he thought he knew so well.
Josiah coughed when he entered the room, an odd scratch forming in his throat. Even though it was an uncharacteristic desire, he made his way to the brandy, poured himself a glass, downed it in one gulp, and let the warmth pervade throughout his body.
The drink had a finer taste to it than the whiskey he’d swigged down in Fat Susie’s saloon the night before, but the taste was still an acquired one, and his palate still heartily rejected the expensive brandy. He coughed and shook his head, but welcomed the warming and easing effect of alcohol.
He was tempted to pour himself another, but he restrained himself, certain that he needed to keep his head about him.
Major Jones had been stopped on the way into the captain’s library by Mrs. Fikes. Josiah had had no desire to eavesdrop—he wanted to escape the widow’s hateful sneer as quickly as possible.
The major entered the library shortly after Josiah sat the empty glass down from where it came. Another man followed Jones into the room and closed the door heavily behind him.
It was Pete Feders. He, too, was shiny and adorned properly for the funeral. He stopped a foot from Josiah, staring at him eye to eye. Being near the same age and build allowed them a certain natural comfort with each other, but the fact remained that Josiah knew very little about Feders, and had learned more about him since arriving in Austin than he might have wanted: that he was a favored suitor, according to Pearl’s mother, but Pearl did not seem so keen on the Ranger’s affection.
“Wolfe,” Feders said, extending his hand. “I’m sorry I haven’t been able to meet up with you, but I’ve barely seen you since I arrived.”
Josiah shook Feders’s hand, not looking away, holding his gaze for a second longer than he probably should have, his own gaze fixed on the thin scar that ran from the corner of Pete’s right eye to his ear. He’d never heard Feders tell how that scar came about, either. It occurred to Josiah, again, that he knew very little of the men he rode with. Hopefully now that the Rangers were re-formed, the Frontier Battalion a true entity, he would gain some familiarity with Feders and the rest of the company, after they gathered together at the Red River camp.
“Is something the matter, Wolfe?” Feders asked, pulling his hand away from Josiah’s grasp.
Major Jones had made his way to the brandy, and poured himself a glass. He did not make an offer to the other two, and stood with his back to both Josiah and Feders, lost in thought.
“No, not at all. I’m glad to see you, too. Tell me of your chase after Charlie Langdon, and of Sam Willis’s welfare.”
“Langdon is still on the loose. Willis is still on his trail. They were heading northeast. I doubled back, thought my presence would be required here.”
Josiah nodded. “I figured as much. I was jumped by two of Langdon’s men this morning. One of them was killed, a Negro. The other fled, but approached me just earlier.”
Major Jones cleared his throat. “Sheriff Farnsworth has some questions about that Negro’s death. If it’s the same one that turned up on the banks of the river.”
“I can answer them,” Josiah said. “I was protecting my own life.”
“I’m sure that will be all he needs to hear.”
“I hope so.” Josiah thought about Juan Carlos, about the trouble the captain’s half brother had gotten himself into by saving him. He’s wasn’t about to put Suzanne, Fat Susie, in the same perilous position, so his intent was to leave her out of the story. It sounded like the Negro had been removed and deposited as far away as possible from the saloon the way it was, so there was no need to raise the subject of his indiscretion if it could be avoided.
“Did you recognize this second man?” Feders asked.
“I did. He was a tracker who rode with Sheriff Patterson’s posse. The one we met up with the afternoon before the captain was murdered, and we were ambushed.”
“We were tricked,” Feders sneered, “by that traitor McClure.”
Josiah chose not to argue his point or submit his doubts about the Scot’s guilt at the moment. It was a small point to make, when his son’s life was at stake. “Langdon sent a message. Says I should return home to settle our score if I want to see my son alive ever again.”
“It’s personal, then?” Major Jones said, pouring himself another glass of brandy.
Josiah nodded, gritting his teeth. “It is. We served in the war together. We have a history.” He paused and looked at Feders, who was staring off in the distance. “He told me to come alone or I’d regret it, and I believe he means it. We should make sure no one else knows of our plan, Captain. I fear my son’s life if Charlie Langdon knows we are coming his way with the full force of the Texas Rangers.”
CHAPTER 27
The sky had begun to clear overhead, and the rain had finally stopped its unrelenting gush. Lightning still flashed in the distance, east, toward home. The late afternoon air had a cool tinge to it, but Josiah could hardly feel a thing. He was anxious to be away from Austin.
He was loading his saddlebags onto Clipper, behind the carriage house, when he heard a recognizable female voice, followed quickly by a man’s voice. They obviously thought they were alone, just around the corner, out of sight. Josiah had no interest in slowing his departure by making himself known, but he couldn’t help but cock an ear toward the discussion.
“Peter, now is not the time.”
“Really, Pearl, if not now, then when?”
“I just buried my father today. Does this have to happen now? Of all days?”
“I’m leaving within the hour.”
“Then this can wait until you return.”
The man did not answer immediately. Thunder rumbled distantly, a low growl that seemed harmless. “So you will at least think about it?” he asked.
Pearl sighed heavily. “Yes, Peter, I will think about your proposal. But I don’t mean to encourage you.”
“That’s all I can ask for.”
Josiah edged to the side of the carriage house and peered around the corner just in time to see Pete Feders stand up off a bent knee.
Josiah stepped back and molded himself against the building once he realized that his shadow fell across the ground as the sun peaked through the clouds behind him. It only took a second to hear footsteps tromping off toward the house.
Josiah relaxed and returned to Clipper, who snorted with disagreement when Josiah tightened down the saddlebags a little too hard.
“You heard, didn’t you?”
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