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.
“I’m relieved and grateful, Captain McNelly. Thank you.”
“You may not be so grateful once you hear the rest of what I have to say.”
“Why’s that?”
“Do you really think this will go away, Wolfe, because two Texas Rangers and the adjunct general decided you were well within your rights to kill Pete Feders?”
Josiah shrugged. The numbness had vanished, and it felt like a ton of bricks had been removed from his shoulders. “I don’t know, sir. It seems to me . . .”
“You have made some serious enemies, Wolfe. You know that?”
Josiah nodded. “I have.”
“The Austin Statesman being one of them.”
“I suppose so. I think the Widow Fikes is behind that.”
“There is no thinking about it, Wolfe. It is true. Our decision will enrage a certain segment of the population, and I fear you will not be allowed to return to your normal life as easily and quickly as you think.”
“I can take care of myself and my family, sir.”
“I’m not saying you can’t. I just don’t think you understand the severity of the situation you’re in.”
“Maybe I don’t,” Josiah said.
“I have a plan for you, Wolfe. A new assignment if you like. I’m returning to my ranch in Burton, resting over the winter after that trouble in Dewitt County. The company will be on furlough, and our time will be portrayed as another budget cut by Governor Coke. I think it’s best if I retreat, pull myself out of the public eye. I think it would be wise for you to do the same thing. I think you need to get out of Austin until this blows over and another story takes precedence.”
“That could take some time, if you are right, sir, about the severity of the population’s rage.”
“Time is what I have in mind. I want you to go to Corpus Christi. There is a serious matter of cattle rustling going on in that part of the state, as you well know. I want you to assume another identity and develop a network of information for me concerning the movement of cattle and Juan Cortina’s plans.”
“Cortina? O’Reilly and Feders were going to do business with him.”
“You can see the importance when it comes to us, then?” McNelly asked.
Both men stood facing each other, talking in hushed tones.
“You want me to be a spy,” Josiah said, his words almost a whisper.
“Yes.”
“For how long?”
“For however long it takes, Wolfe, for you to get us the information we need and for the situation in Austin to blow over. Could be six months.”
“I have a son, sir.”
“I know. And a fine one at that. Your wet nurse cares a great deal for him and for you. She is willing to take care of him while you are away.”
“You’ve already asked her?”
“All of the arrangements have been made, Wolfe. Telling me no is not an option. Do you understand?”
“Six months,” Josiah whispered.
“It might not take that long. It might take longer. We will make arrangements, over time, if necessary, for you to see your son.”
“I’ve never been away from him that long, sir.”
“We—the general, the major, and I—think this will be best for you, and, ultimately, for the reputation of the Rangers. It is not just you the paper is haranguing, you realize that, don’t you, Wolfe? The organization is young, and though we’ve had our successes, there are many who still remember the days of the State Police and trust us very little, if at all. The Rangers need to be thought of as an institution founded on integrity, and this recent development has caused a great deal of questioning that is, at the very least, uncomfortable for all of us. Including Governor Coke.”
“I understand.”
“I’ll be sending Ranger
Elliot with you, in the same capacity.”
“Elliot as a spy? Are you sure that’s a good idea, sir?”
“I think it’s best that Ranger Elliot is out of Austin, too, Wolfe. Surely, you understand my concerns? He is young and untried in the ways of politics and battle, as far as that goes. He seems very loyal to you and you to him. Your relationship is a great example of what we’re trying to accomplish as Rangers, but unfortunately, that will be unseen by most people. You see my point?”
“I suppose I do. When do you want us to leave?” From McNelly’s tone, Josiah knew any objection would go unheard. He knew when not to fight a losing battle.
“I think you’ve made the right decision, Wolfe. You need to leave as soon as possible. Within the hour. Sooner would be better. We do not want the newspaper to get wind of this plan, or of our decision. You will take the name of Zeb Teter and work as a hide trader. Here are your orders and your contact information. Guard them with your life. You are jumping out of the frying pan into the fire, Wolfe. Caution must be utmost in your mind. Cortina is a worthy adversary, and he surely is none too happy that the union with Feders and O’Reilly was stopped. He may want revenge, or he may be in the process of setting up another deal with unknown parties. You need to keep an eye out for everything, and trust no one.”
Josiah took an envelope from McNelly and stuffed it in his pocket. “I suppose you’re right. Cortina will be on the lookout for another business partner.”
McNelly shook Josiah’s hand, then turned to leave, but stopped before he stepped off the porch. “Elliot will be here soon. Be prepared to leave when he arrives, and under no circumstance should you make contact with anyone in the Fikes household. Do I make myself clear, Wolfe?”
“Yes, sir, you do,” Josiah answered, knowing full well the captain was speaking about Pearl. He would not get a chance to tell her good-bye.
With that, Captain Leander McNelly departed, mounting his gray gelding without saying another word, leaving Josiah to stand there, feeling very much like he had just been sentenced to six months hard labor without the benefit of ever having a trial.
CHAPTER 10
March 1875
“You better tell me what you’re doing here, Ranger, or you’re a dead man,” the guitar player repeated.
There was no way Josiah could recount all of the actions that had led him to that very moment. Anger coursed through his veins at the realization that he had failed as a spy and ended up with a gun to his head, surviving four months without anyone so much as suspecting that he was a Ranger.
The time had flown, but he ached every day to see his son Lyle, to be home again. But that was not to be, not until he got orders from McNelly, or never, depending on what happened in the next few minutes.
Maria Villareal stood behind the guitar player, her position making it clear that she was in cahoots with the man on some level. Josiah was not sure whether he’d been double-crossed or not, but it sure looked and felt that way.
“I’m not a Ranger,” he said. “My name is Zeb Teter. I hail from Austin, originally. Been a hide trader most all my life. Do I look like a Ranger?”
“All Rangers smell like you do.” The guitar player chuckled. “Please do not treat me as a stupid man, Señor Wolfe. I know exactly who you are. What I don’t know is why you are here pretending to be another man, a hide trader at that. The role does not suit you well.”
“My name is Zeb Teter,” Josiah insisted, through clenched teeth.
The Mexican rolled his eyes. He had not wavered with the gun’s position. It was difficult for most men to keep a nine-inch barrel steady, but this man seemed to have no problem holding his aim directly at Josiah’s forehead.
Sweat beaded on Josiah’s lip. He had always been a bad liar. Which was one of the reasons why taking on spy duty had greatly concerned him when it was assigned to him. Still, when Captain McNelly handed him the assignment, Josiah could hardly have turned down the offer. He’d had no choice but to leave Austin and everything he knew and loved behind.
“Let’s take this upstairs, Miguel,” Maria Villareal said. “There are too many ears and eyes about. The cantina is close.” She stared at Josiah, her eyes penetrating his so deeply that he felt naked.
Miguel nodded and pulled the Walker Colt away from Josiah’s forehead, but did not holster it. “Do not do anything foolish, amigo, or you will die a quick death. I will be a hero to many for killing a Ranger, no less one who lies about who he is.”
Josiah was glad to have a name for the guitar player. Miguel. He still knew nothing of the man’s association, but he took his warning seriously. Being a bad liar didn’t make him a fool.
“Do as he says, Josiah Wolfe, and you will not suffer,” Maria Villareal said. “I promise you that much.”
“Suffering is the last thing on my mind at the moment.”
“It shouldn’t be,” she said. “If you wish to continue this charade, you will do exactly as Miguel says and nothing more.”
“This is no charade.”
“At its core,” Maria said, “I do not imagine it is. You were expecting me, and here I am.”
“I’ve been double-crossed before,” Josiah said.
Miguel raised his bushy eyebrow. “In a hide deal, no less?”
“How else?”
“You have conviction, I will give you that, Ranger Wolfe,” Maria said.
Miguel waved the Colt upward. “To the stairs. Now!”
The second-floor room overlooked the back of the cantina and another building. It held no view of the ocean, not that it mattered for its intended purpose—brief encounters with the doves who worked the cantina.
The room had a bed, a dresser, and a walk-out balcony furnished with two café chairs and a small wooden table.
A cigar smoldered in a glass ashtray on top of the table, and the thick aroma of tobacco hung inside the room, overpowering any other smell that may have existed there. Josiah immediately wondered if there was someone else waiting for them, but he saw no one.
Miguel pushed Josiah inside the door and immediately lowered the Walker Colt from his head. The guitar player stuffed the long-barreled revolver into his belt, as a smirk settled on his face.
Maria hurried to the balcony doors and closed them softly, like she was trying to avoid notice of any kind. “We are safe now. Do not try to escape, Ranger Wolfe, or do anything stupid. We are here to help you.”
Confused, Josiah stood in the middle of the room. He still had a full bounty of weapons on his person and could easily use them if he felt he needed to. “How do you know who am I?”
“A friend sent us,” Miguel said.
“I don’t have any friends here,” Josiah said.
Maria sat on the edge of the bed and smiled. “Juan Carlos would be disappointed to hear that.”
That was the last name Josiah had expected to come out of the woman’s mouth. The last he knew, Juan Carlos was still recuperating from being shot on the way to stop O’Reilly and Feders. “How do I know I can trust you just because you use Juan Carlos’s name?”
“If we had no reason to keep you alive, señor, you would already be a dead man, and the name Zeb Teter would be written on your gravestone,” Miguel said. He eased past Josiah and peered out through the curtains. “We haven’t much time, and getting you out of here will be difficult the way it is. We have both put our lives at risk to save yours. The least you could do is be grateful.”
Josiah shook his head. “You’re not making any sense to me. The last time I saw Juan Carlos he was gut-shot in Brackett, Texas. I sent word for him, but have heard nothing in return.”
“And that surprises you?” Maria said. The room was getting warm with the doors and windows closed. Sweat began to glisten under her throat and in between her breasts. There was a nervousness in her deep brown eyes that Josiah hadn’t noticed before.
“No, it doesn’t,” he said.
Josiah could still smell the cigar smoke, but now it was mixed with perspira
tion. The room smelled old and used up and was filling quickly with fear.
“It shouldn’t be a surprise to you,” Maria said. “I have known Juan Carlos longer than I care to admit, given him parts of myself that I would like to have back, but it is much too late for those kind of regrets. A man like Juan Carlos knows nothing of love or the fragility of a woman’s heart. But, still, here I am doing his bidding. What does that say about his strength and power?”
Josiah felt his face flush. “Juan Carlos has always been more like a wraith than a human being. I’m happy to hear he is still alive, though I did not really fear he was dead. I would’ve come to know, somehow. Was he here?”
“The cigarillo is mine,” Maria said. “Sorry to disappoint you.”
“I’m not disappointed.”
Maria nodded. “That is good. You must be important to Juan Carlos.”
“Why do you say that?”
“Because my allegiance does not come cheap.”
Miguel shot Maria an angry look. “You are sworn to gold and nothing else. Don’t let her fool you, Ranger Wolfe.”
The woman shrugged, obviously accepting Miguel’s words as the truth. She pushed a wrinkle out of her long black skirt, then looked away from both men.
“Would either of you mind telling me what’s going on?” Josiah asked. “You pull a gun on me, escort me upstairs, and now I am to understand that you’re on a mission from Juan Carlos, to what, protect me? I am in no danger. At least no danger that I can’t handle on my own.”
“Don’t be so sure of that,” Miguel said. “You do not stink enough to be a real hide trader. No man worth his salt was going to tell you anything that is about to happen, even though Agusto was trying to warn you.”
Josiah looked at Miguel curiously.
“He said the sky would change before the fall of night, and he was correct about that. Clouds are gathering.”
“You have played in the cantina for days,” Josiah said.
“Watching after you when your own Rangers would not. That and waiting for the beautiful Maria to appear.” Miguel smiled. “Has it ever occurred to you that you were sent here to die?”
Cougar's Prey (9781101544846) Page 7
