The Rattlesnake Season (38 page)

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Authors: Larry D. Sweazy

BOOK: The Rattlesnake Season
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The Texas capital was now his home. It was a far cry from living on the land he was born on in East Texas, where he knew exactly what to expect with the seasons and weather, where every step he took could be retraced to his boyhood, to his own painful—and joyful—memories. The new scenery was a relief from the tragedy he’d left behind.
City life was going to take some time to get accustomed to, but it was the choice he’d made and he knew he’d have to live with that decision.
It was for the best, he was sure of it, even though his heart caught in his throat as he tightened the saddle on his horse’s back.
Clipper, his Appaloosa stallion, stood firm. Josiah and the horse had been through a lot together. Outside of Ofelia, there was no other creature on earth Josiah trusted more than Clipper.
He climbed up on the horse, took a deep breath, settled himself in, then nodded solemnly at Ofelia, who was standing on the porch with Lyle still attached to her hip.
“
Adiós
, Papa.
Adiós
.”
Josiah waved, then turned and rode off slowly without saying good-bye. He had promised Lyle and Ofelia that he would be back soon. That was as close to saying good-bye as it came for Josiah Wolfe.
Austin was a crowded, noisy, town. Josiah missed the whip-poor-wills at night, even the baying of a lone coyote—all replaced with flat-out citified silence, at night anyway.
Daytime in Austin was louder than ever, day in, day out, people coming and going, horses whinnying, and train whistles blowing. It was the trains that unsettled Josiah the most. His house was less than a block away from the tracks, and it shook regularly.
He would be glad for the reprieve from the noise and from the shaking house, he thought as he made his way through town at an easy pace on Clipper’s back, taking in the coming day, in no huge hurry to get where he was going.
There was a lot to take in, a lot to learn about his new home, but Josiah knew enough to kind of understand what was happening around him, and that was important as far as he was concerned.
The Houston and Texas Central Railway had come to Austin in late 1871, a Christmas present to businessmen and those too eager to take advantage of the new opportunities the railway afforded. The capital city became the west ernmost railroad terminus in Texas. Construction boomed, and the population, helped along with an influx of freed slaves, had doubled since the first steam engine roared into town.
Along with the growing communities of Negroes, there were Mexicans living near Shoal Creek, and a healthy mix of Germans, Irish, and Europeans was scattered about the city in small enclaves.
A new governor, Richard Coke, had been elected and taken his seat in the capitol in January, and there seemed to have been a new leaf turned. The past, specifically Reconstruction, was thought to be over, but old social lines were still not crossed.
Very few Anglos dared venture into places like Little Mexico, the quadrant of streets and businesses just off Republic Square—even at midday. Josiah had visited there once, before moving to Austin, and made the brief acquaintance of a woman, Suzanne del Toro, but he had not visited her since moving to Austin permanently. He didn’t have the courage to make the visit. Though he did search the crowds for her face, hoping to get a glimpse of her—no matter how guilty the search for or thought of her made him feel.
The Anglos had their own section of town, just across the river, that was just as dangerous as Little Mexico and was certainly off-limits to the majority of polite folk in the city. Most big cities had their own version of Hell’s Half Acre, and Austin was no exception.
Even a Yankee had his place in the city . . . on the outside of the proper social circles, which constituted the hardest enclave to penetrate, if that were ever achieved. Money or fame usually broke down those doors, at least wore them down, opened them if there was enough of both. Josiah had neither.
The only thing he had going for him was his Texan birthright, his stature as a Texas Ranger, installed as a sergeant in the newly formed Frontier Battalion. He had connections to the powerful, but was reluctant to use them, or even acknowledge them in public.
There was no mistaking that he was welcome in the home of the now-deceased Captain Hiram Fikes—at least by the captain’s daughter, Pearl, if not by the captain’s widow. Pearl’s mother feared Josiah as a potential suitor of her daughter, and though she may have been right, Josiah was well aware that the new captain of his company, Pete Feders, had asked Pearl to marry him. She had used her grief and mourning to hold the decision at bay, and Josiah was glad of that . . . but he knew he stood no chance of winning the girl’s heart, and he wasn’t entirely sure he was ready to try . . . though he thought she was the most beautiful woman in the living world.
Josiah eased Clipper to a stop near the center of the capital city, a few blocks away from the Democratic operations of Richard Coke. He could have easily taken another route to the Red River camp, where his company of fellow Rangers was assembled for training, but he hadn’t.
He had one last stop to make before leaving town.
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