The Badger's Revenge

by Larry D. Sweazy

  Scrap eased up alongside him, a comfortable smile on his face. “Your horse will be glad to see you.”

  “And I him. I thought Clipper was lost to me.”

  Scrap shook his head no. “He stayed close. Feders sent a runner back to Austin to make Major Jones aware of the attack from the Comanche. They brung him back to the livery, like I told ’em.”

  “I appreciate it. Clipper and I have been through a lot together.”

  “That’s a fine horse, too. What you gonna do with her?”

  Josiah shrugged. “Haven’t thought too much about it. I think the sight of her gave Billie Webb a heavy heart. Parting seemed to be a relief. I got other things to worry about at the moment. We’ll keep her fed and tended to. That’s the least I can do.”

  “Ought to bring a fair price if you decide to sell her.”

  “Now that doesn’t seem like the right thing to do, does it?”

  “I’m just sayin’ . . .”

  Josiah didn’t answer Scrap. His attention was immediately drawn down the street as his house came into view.

  There was a woman standing on the porch, looking up and down the street, nervously, like she was expecting someone, or had lost something, and the woman was not Ofelia.

  There was no mistaking her identity. Her shoulderlength blond hair shone in the fading evening light like a golden beacon welcoming Josiah home. She had an hourglass figure and was dressed in clothes that suggested she was still in mourning for the loss of her father, though not the formal widow’s weeds that her mother wore every minute of the day. She had on a comfortable black riding skirt, black boots, a black long-sleeved blouse, and no hat.

  Still, even at this distance, Josiah thought that Pearl Fikes was one of the most beautiful women he had ever seen. Her face was sweet as a China doll’s, and her eyes were cornflower blue, thoughtful and easy to read, but far from fragile. Pearl had received the lion’s share of her good features from her father. There was very little of her mother in her that Josiah could see.

  Regardless of that, of how he felt, her presence on his porch not only concerned him but frightened the hell out of him. She had never been at his house before, and he could not imagine what had provoked her to make a visit now.

  He urged Lady Mead on, kicking a bit of dust up onto Scrap. The rains that had plagued Comanche had obviously not been as heavy in Austin. The street was dry, the ruts as hard as they normally were.

  “What the heck is the matter with you?” Scrap yelled out.

  Josiah didn’t offer an explanation. He wasn’t sure he had one. There was a deep rile in his gut, a familiar feeling, one that he usually trusted, one that almost always told him something was wrong.

  Lady Mead played easily under his command, though not as easily as Clipper. The noise of the city didn’t seem to bother her, though running full out in a street that had traffic—wagons, coaches, and lone cowboys—appeared to be something the horse wasn’t too used to, or it had been a long time since she had experienced the exercise of ignoring city traffic. She lurched ahead of his directions, anticipating his moves wrongly, and then had to be pulled back.

  Josiah brought the palomino to a quick stop in the middle of the street in front of his house.

  Pearl had seen him by then, the expression on her soft face hard to read. But there was no mistaking the fact that she wasn’t surprised to see him, nor did it appear that she was especially glad of his return.

  No one else was in sight, not Ofelia or Lyle. Panic was setting in; memories of the past when both of them were in harm’s way rushed to the forefront of his mind. His fear was real, and the only way he knew to counter it was to touch his gun—Charlie Webb’s gun—and prepare to pull it if necessary.

  Josiah nodded at Pearl as he ran past her to the front door. “Ofelia! Ofelia, come out here! Ofelia!” he screamed, coming to a stop. He could feel his heart racing, taste the fear in his mouth. He gripped the Colt Frontier so hard it shot a pain through his shoulder.

  “She’s not here,” Pearl said. Her voice was soft, but the sad look on her face betrayed her intention, as her eyes grew glassy with tears. “She’s gone. Ofelia is gone, Josiah. Ofelia is gone.”

  CHAPTER 19

  All of the noise in the city vanished. It was like Josiah had stepped straight into a locked room made of six-inch steel. “Where’s Lyle?” he demanded, more directly than he had ever spoken to Pearl.

  “Sleeping. He was tired.”

  “He doesn’t know you.”

  “We didn’t have any trouble,” Pearl said, never once breaking eye contact with Josiah. There was a strength about her that was just as present as her physical beauty, and Josiah found it easy to understand why so many men were in pursuit of her affections. “I’ve been around children before, Josiah Wolfe.”

  He took a deep breath. “Where is Ofelia?”

  “She had to return home. There has been a tragedy in her family.”

  “What?”

  “Her daughter is very sick. The details are thin. To me, at the very least.”

  Josiah knew almost every member of Ofelia’s family. They were just like family to him, as well, even though there was a divide of culture and language. Ofelia’s daughter, Lita, was older, had children of her own, and had taken over the midwife duties around Tyler when Ofelia had come to Austin with him. The sickness had to be serious for Ofelia to leave Lyle.

  “I feared she was dead,” Josiah said.

  “The daughter?”

  “Ofelia. I don’t know what I would have done.” Josiah took a deep breath and settled the Colt back into his holster. “How did you come to be here, to care for Lyle?” Josiah asked.

  Pearl wiped the tear from her eye. “I feared you were dead once I heard of your capture by the Comanche.”

  “Oh.” It occurred to Josiah then that the tears were for him. Pearl was relieved to see him. He wasn’t sure how he felt about that, so he turned away, saw Scrap Elliot jump off his horse and run toward the house, gun drawn.

  “Easy there, Elliot,” Josiah yelled out. “Everything is fine here.”

  “You sure?” Scrap said, his attention quickly drawn to Pearl. It seemed like he couldn’t take his eyes off her.

  “Yes.”

  “Ma’am.” Scrap doffed his hat, swinging it low, overacting the gentlemanly role by more than a tad.

  Pearl Fikes smiled, then laughed slightly. “It is good to see you once more, Ranger Elliot.”

  Scrap looked embarrassed, almost bashful, when he stood back up. He held his tongue and didn’t say anything. His manners around women were always precarious and uncertain, as far as Josiah had seen.

  “Why don’t you take the horses back and tend to them,” Josiah said to Scrap.

  “Gladly.”

  Scrap grabbed the reins of both horses and stalked off. Pearl chuckled again, though this time it looked like a nervous reaction. “I’ve offended him,” she said.

  “Don’t pay any attention to him. He’s as sensitive as a baby’s skin in the sunshine.”

  “I should apologize.”

  “He tries too hard. Trust me, the next time he sees you, all will be forgotten and forgiven.”

  “If you say so.”

  Josiah looked past Pearl, inside the house. There was no noise, nothing stirring. He longed to see Lyle but didn’t want to wake him.

  “How did you come to be here?” Josiah asked, his voice soft. “I didn’t expect to find you here.”

  “Juan Carlos came for me. He did not think he could care for the child and was opposed to leaving the boy with strangers in ‘Little Mexico.’ He and Ofelia know a lot of the same people, but they are very unfamiliar with each other, so coming to get me seemed even more appropriate to Juan Carlos than caring for a child himself. If one can imagine.”

  Josiah chuckled then. “No, I can’t imagine that he’d be a good candidate to watch over Lyle. Where is Juan Carlos? I would like to see my old friend.”

  “Who knows? You know Jua
n Carlos. One minute he’s here, and the next he’s gone. You never know when he’s going to show up next.”

  “It’s been months since I’ve seen him. July, before we ventured into Lost Valley.”

  “I worry about him. His age will prohibit his adventures one of these days,” Pearl said, wistfully.

  Josiah silently agreed. But he also knew that Juan Carlos was the kind of man that lived for adventures, and he would most likely die in the middle of one of his great escapades rather than wasting away on a deathbed. “How long have you been here?”

  “Since last night. There was no word of your fate. I was prepared to wait as long as it took.” Pearl was facing him now, standing less than a foot away. In one easy step that couldn’t have been done more gracefully if she had been a professional dancer employed at the Opera House, she snuggled up into Josiah’s chest, her arms fully around him in a tight embrace. “I don’t know what I would have done if something had happened to you.”

  Josiah was surprised but didn’t resist, didn’t pull away. He welcomed her embrace and was immediately intoxicated by her sweet smell and the feel of her body against his. A thousand emotions shot through his entire body. Finding Pearl waiting for him on his porch was the last thing he had ever expected. Molding his body to hers in a moment of welcome and relief was beyond belief.

  Pearl cocked her head to Josiah. Her beauty was breathtaking. He kissed her. Kissed her long and hard, like she was his lover and he’d fought through an entire war just to return to her. She responded in kind, the kiss wholly returned.

  Questions floated away, the answers unimportant at the moment. The entire world—past, present, and future—fell away. Feelings began to surface inside of Josiah that he had restrained for a long, long time. And it was then that his body began to respond to his own desire just like his heart had, and he pulled away from Pearl as quickly as she had embraced him.

  “I’m sorry,” he whispered.

  She shook her head. “Don’t be.”

  It was then that Josiah sensed something else, a presence behind him. He turned just in time to see Scrap stalking off again, this time shaking his head in disgust.

  Josiah was sure the boy had witnessed the entire moment with Pearl, and he was certain that that would lead to nothing but trouble. Serious trouble.

  At his young age, Lyle wasn’t old enough to know or understand why his father had been away longer than he was supposed to have been. For all Josiah knew, Lyle had barely missed him, had been unaware of his extended absence since there was a normalcy to it. But Lyle reacted happily when Josiah woke him. The two-year-old—almost three-year-old—boy squealed in delight once the sleep was wiped from his eyes.

  “Papa! Me alegro a verte!”

  Josiah looked at the boy oddly. He didn’t understand a word his young son had spoken to him.

  “He said he’s happy to see you,” Pearl said. She was standing at the doorway and must have seen the confused look on Josiah’s face.

  “I’m going to have to talk to Ofelia.”

  Lyle jumped into Josiah’s arms.

  Pearl shrugged. “There are worse things than a boy learning to speak two languages. Especially here.”

  “It might cause him more trouble than it’s worth when he’s older.” Josiah didn’t mean to sound harsh, but his tone must have been harder than he’d intended because Pearl stepped back.

  “I’m sorry. He’s your son.”

  “Papa!” Lyle shouted again, not giving Josiah the opportunity to respond or apologize.

  Josiah smiled then. “It’s good to see you, too, son. It’s good to see you again.”

  “Don’t go,” Lyle said.

  “I’m home now.”

  The boy shook his head. “Don’t go. Missed you.”

  Night had fallen. Scrap had disappeared. And Josiah had no choice but to see Pearl Fikes home. He did not take the time to wash the trail off himself, or to settle into being home. There was no way he was going to just thank Pearl and send her on her way . . . but seeing Scrap, realizing that the embrace had been witnessed, had been a public display with them standing on the porch, made Josiah extremely uncomfortable.

  The last thing he needed was for Pete Feders to become an enemy. Major John B. Jones, too. One whisper to either man of Pearl Fikes’s affection for him would certainly be a nail in the coffin of his career as a Ranger. Though that seemed like an odd thing to be concerned about at the moment. Josiah was also concerned for Pearl. He wasn’t sure of her feelings for him, but more importantly, he wasn’t sure she could understand his lack of resources to court her properly. There was certainly no question of his desire for her; he most surely wanted to explore their mutual desire for each other as far as it would go. He was sad that it was impossible, that it could never truly ever happen. A relationship with a woman like Pearl Fikes was something beyond a dream for a man like him.

  Josiah set out to ready Pearl’s buggy. Missy, Scrap’s horse, was gone from the stable, and Lady Mead had been properly tended to. He was happy to see Clipper, but the horse didn’t show any emotion or gratitude upon seeing Josiah, not that he’d expected any. But Clipper followed Josiah’s lead outside and easily took his place, tied to the back of the buggy.

  For a November night the air was warm and dry. Any clouds of the day had departed, leaving the sky clear. Interior lights burned brightly in nearly every house and building, casting odd lots of shadows on the dirt street, making it look almost golden.

  Josiah pulled the buggy up in front of his house. Pearl was standing there in wait, with Lyle’s hand in hers, an odd sight for Josiah to see.

  There was a time when he could never have imagined another woman in his life. Josiah had loved Lily fully and completely. But he felt something for Pearl, even though those feelings seemed ill-fated.

  He helped Pearl into the buggy, settling Lyle between the two of them on the single seat. The horse, a large black stallion with no hint of white anywhere on its body, responded to Josiah’s “giddy-up,” and they were on their way.

  “I could have waited to return home until morning,” Pearl said.

  Josiah looked away. “That would have been inappropriate.”

  “I suppose, in some people’s eyes.”

  “Pearl,” Josiah said, his voice exasperated. “There is nothing that I would like more than to be able to court you.”

  “There is nothing stopping you.”

  They passed by the governor’s mansion. The lights inside were aglow—gaslights instead of coal oil—brighter, hotter, the gold glow reflecting off the street. It was another Greek Revival building set three hundred yards from the Capitol building, bounded by Lavaca, Guadalupe, Tenth, and Eleventh streets. The bricks had been made in Austin, and the pillars were made of pine logs, shipped thirty-three miles southeast, from Bastrop. The big house was a reflection of Texas through and through.

  “There is, Pearl, and you know it. Besides your mother never permitting my presence in a proper setting, I have other considerations.”

  “Peter.”

  “Yes, Captain Feders. I know of his feelings for you.”

  “You should let me worry about Peter and Mother.”

  “If only it were that easy, Pearl, but it’s not.”

  Lyle snuggled in between the two of them. The boy had been especially well behaved since Josiah’s return, more than happy to be at his father’s side.

  For a moment, Josiah let his imagination run with the image, the three of them in the buggy, the day sunny and happy, all of them dressed in finery, everything perfect, full of love. But it was just for a moment, and Josiah knew more than anyone that the idea of them as a family was just a fantasy.

  All he had to do was convince Pearl of that.

  CHAPTER 20

  Pedro, the manservant on the Fikes estate, met Josiah and Pearl at the door.

  The house was grand, not far from the governor’s mansion in both distance and style—smaller, but still impressive. The deceased Captain
Hiram Fikes had spent little time on the estate when he was alive, and Josiah knew little of the history, how the house had come into being and whose money had financed it, but he secretly suspected that the captain had married into money. If that was the case, then the past might be a predictor of his own future, one of the reasons, among many, that he felt incapable of courting Pearl.

  Captain Fikes had obviously been uncomfortable with his marriage arrangement, since he’d had a secret relationship with Suzanne del Toro, “Fat Susie,” purveyor of soiled doves and a savvy businesswoman of ill repute in Little Mexico, and spent so much time away from the house and estate on official Ranger business.

  There was little to convey the captain’s unhappiness based on outside appearances. The house was made of brick and had four white columns that held up a gabled roof over a two-storey portico. It looked as if a view had been important, since the grand house looked out over a calm meadow, with a pond nearly in the center of it.

  It was by the pond where Josiah had first encountered Pearl the previous spring, had felt an attraction to her even though he was still grieving for his own lost family, and had kissed her more by accident than on purpose, unlike what had just happened. This kiss had been no accident—it was like the long awaited arrival of sunshine after a horrifying storm. He could bearly stand to be near Pearl without touching her in some way or another.

  There was acreage to the estate, though Josiah did not know how much. There were two barns full of equipment and a bunkhouse for plenty of hands to plant and harvest crops, tend to the horses and other livestock, mostly a nice herd of cattle.

  If the estate had been far out in the hill country, it might have qualified for a ranch, albeit a small one, but inside the confines of Austin proper, Josiah doubted it held that classification.

  On his last visit, he had accidentally spied Pearl and Pete Feders in a heated conversation behind one of the barns, and it was there that he witnessed Pearl rejecting Pete’s offer of marriage. This return to the estate was uncomfortable for Josiah, especially when he factored in the obvious dislike the Widow Fikes held for him, even though he never could figure out why she disliked him so much.