CHAPTER 22
Josiah sat on the bench staring at the pond. It was the first time he’d been totally alone since leaving San Antonio. He felt like he could finally breathe, think things through, now that Scrap had stalked off, angry again—still in search of some elusive sort who would listen to his tales and tolerate his wearisome attitudes.
The silence, like the bath, was refreshing.
The Mexican had given him a nice shave and provided him with a clean pair of trousers and a shirt that nearly fit him perfectly. Now he almost felt like the last couple of days hadn’t happened, since the dirt had been washed off his skin, out from under his fingernails, and from behind his ears. He almost felt like a new man. Almost. A good meal and then a good night’s sleep would complete the circle.
The day was coming to an end, and he wasn’t any closer to knowing when he’d return home to his son, Lyle, than he’d been the day before. That was his only concern, the only pull on his soul, at the moment.
Lyle was never far from his thoughts, and there hadn’t been any word from Feders. No orders. Nothing. All he could do was wait . . . in this place where he wore a stranger’s clothes and did not know the rules or where he fit in.
Mayflies buzzed and swerved about the pond. Frog eyes peered up at him along the banks, uncertain if he was a threat, reacting to every movement he made.
The sun was about to sit its bottom on the horizon, a rolling, bumpy set of hills that stretched on for as far as the eye could see. Cattails swayed in a slight breeze, and across the shallow pond, a heron stalked after its prey, one slow step at a time, watching, listening, for any opportunity to kill its next meal successfully.
Josiah watched the bird for a long time, allowing himself not to think about much of anything. It was a nice change of pace. Until he realized that he was expected to have dinner at the main house.
The sun was nearly gone, and the sky was fading from blue to gray, but not before several fingers of soft pink light reached out from the west, creating a spectacular sunset.
He started to stand up, but immediately sat back down on the bench when he heard footsteps approaching behind him.
He had seen her out of the corner of his eye, blond hair shimmering in the dusky evening light, and knew immediately that he was trapped and needed to flee.
Josiah looked every which way for an escape route, but there was no way he could leave without being seen and taken for rude. Manners, man, manners, he said to himself, standing quickly, and coming face-to-face with Pearl Fikes for the first time.
His chest vibrated and he nearly quit breathing, she was so beautiful. Even in her state of mourning, she was a rare, shining flower in a field of darkness.
The heron squawked angrily as it lit into the air, flushed from its preferred hunting spot. The bird’s long blue wings barely cleared the cattails as it flew off, opposite the sunset.
“Good evening,” the woman said. “I hope I’m not interrupting anything.”
She was dressed in black widow’s weeds that were far more simple than those that her mother had been wearing earlier in the day. Her dress fell to the ground, over her feet, her boots hidden, and she didn’t wear a hat or veil of any sort. Her hair flowed over her shoulders like a river of gold cascading over a waterfall in some imaginary land. Her eyes were blue, deeper than the color of the heron’s wings, and not fragile at all.
There was an ache in her eyes that Josiah recognized. Death always sucked the sparkle out of a mourner’s eyes first, then aimed to steal the will to live after it was done grinding away any sight of joy.
“No, ma’am.” Josiah removed his hat, and nodded deeply, so much so that the action was almost a bow. “I was just taking a moment to enjoy this pond. I will leave you to yourself.”
“No,” she said, reaching and touching his arm, stopping him from walking away, “please stay.”
The warmth of her touch pierced the long sleeve of the linen shirt he was wearing. She pulled her fingers away quickly.
“I’m sorry, I haven’t introduced myself. I’m Josiah Wolfe. I was a Ranger with Captain Fikes.” He didn’t want to assume the woman was Pearl, but she most certainly had to be.
“I know. Pedro told me. I’m Pearl. The captain was my father.”
“I assumed as much.”
“We can sit.”
Before he thought about what he was about to say, the words jumped out of his mouth, “Is that proper? I mean, sitting out here with a stranger . . . without a chaperone?”
“Please, Josiah, I am long past needing a chaperone. Unless, of course, you’re a dangerous man.” A smile flittered across Pearl’s face, then disappeared quickly, like the bird flying away from the sunset, out of sight, dim light making its wings glow for the longest time.
It had been an eternity since a woman had spoken his name, requested an action of him that he knew he had no choice but to submit to. He was numb. “You have nothing to fear from me,” he said.
“I didn’t think so. Sit, please. I mean, if you would like to.”
Josiah did bow this time, then swept out his hand and said, “After you, ma’am.”
“You’re an odd man, Josiah Wolfe,” Pearl said, settling herself on the bench.
“Thank you . . . I think.”
Josiah sat on the bench, as far to the other side of Pearl as he could be, clutching the arm, his other hand flat out on one of his locked knees. The breeze swirled around them, a cool, blanketing rush, offering comfort.
He could smell Pearl, a slight hint of a flowery fragrance that was familiar yet foreign to him. Bluebonnets were bold, while the scent that adorned Pearl’s lustrous skin was not intent on attracting anything. It was a duty, a choice, a feminine mystery that Josiah lacked any knowledge of.
Lily was never afforded the opportunity to wear toilet water. Instead, she smelled of their sparse land, of the pine cabin, of their children, and of living. He knew how to react to that scent, even though he had almost lost his memory of it.
Suddenly, he was even more desperate to remove himself from Pearl.
Regardless of intent, he found her scent more than intoxicating. What he really wanted to do was to nuzzle her neck, draw closer to her, no matter how inappropriate that desire was. He was on the verge of losing control of himself, of his thoughts, all of which were a continuing surprise and a matter of serious discomfort.
“Are you well, Josiah?”
“Yes, yes, I’m fine.”
“Your face is pale.”
Josiah forced a smile. “It has been a trying day.”
“I am keeping you from a fine meal. I apologize. Mother will be furious, of course.”
“Please don’t apologize. Your company is just . . . unexpected.”
For the first time, Josiah allowed himself to look for a sign of Pearl’s marital status. She wore nothing to indicate she was married, but she could be engaged, promised, in love.
How was he to know? The fact that he even cared made him even more uncomfortable.
Pearl stared across the bench at Josiah, looked down to judge the distance between them, then looked back out across the pond, matching Josiah’s gaze exactly. “You are far too nervous for a man of your age and experience, Mr. Wolfe.”
Josiah jerked his head toward her, reacting to being called mister instead of by name. He wasn’t sure what had precipitated the change, and he wasn’t sure he liked the coldness attached to it.
Pearl grinned, staring straight ahead, meeting Josiah’s look out of the corner of her eye. “You prefer to be called Josiah, I take it?” The grin faded quickly away.
He nodded. “I fear saying something that will offend you.”
Pearl relaxed. “My father was a Ranger, a soldier, and no matter how briefly we were together, my dear deceased husband was a man of similar nature. I am not easily offended, Josiah. Please, relax.”
Josiah sat there, uncomfortably silent, staring at circles forming on top of the water. “I am sorry for your loss. Both
of them,” he added after a brief pause.
Pearl lowered her head. “I did not mean to solicit grief from you, Josiah. I thought perhaps since you knew my father well, then you would know a little about me.”
“I had only just recently rejoined your father’s company. I am sorry, we had troubles to attend to, and there was little time for familiarity. The captain spoke little of his family to most of the men who rode with him. Sergeant Feders would probably be more aware of his personal situations than I am.”
“Peter, yes, I’m sure he would.” There was an exasperated tone in her voice.
“Is something the matter?” Josiah was curious if a message had come from Feders that he didn’t know about.
“No, no. Peter is a fine man. I am just not ready for a proper suitor at this point in my life. Mother has certainly welcomed his overtures, and pushed me to accept them. There has been plenty of time since Warren’s, my husband’s, premature death—three years. But, honestly, I am in no state of mind to take up with a man who wants to be just like my father. What am I supposed to do? Sit at home by myself and wait for him to come back in a pine box, too?”
“This is a difficult time for you. I really should leave you to yourself.” Josiah stood up.
He didn’t really want to leave her, but knowing now that she had been widowed by some unknown and unfortunate tragedy, and was also the object of Pete Feders’s affection, disheartened him as much as learning about her fear and obvious distaste for the Rangering life.
If she did marry Feders, she was absolutely right; she would sit at home for months at a time with one eye on the lane that led up to the house, expecting her dead husband to arrive anytime, just like her father had. He couldn’t blame her for her concerns.
Pearl stood, too. “I wish you would stay. I know so little about you, Josiah.”
“I’m a Ranger.”
Pearl sighed and looked up at him with her deep blue eyes, searching. “I have offended you. For some reason we seem at odds before we’ve had a chance to know one another.”
“I was warned not to take you lightly, and I have tried not to.”
“Who would warn you of such a thing about me?”
“Juan Carlos. I believe he meant it as a compliment.”
Pearl stepped toward Josiah, coming face-to-face with him and stopping within inches.
Even in the dimming light he could see the worry lines sprouting in the corners of her eyes. She was no more in the early spring of her life than he was. She knew heartache and pain. Life had forced her to look at situations differently, with less naïve hope, as it had him. He was glad she was more than a girl.
“You know Juan Carlos? Where is he?” Pearl demanded.
“I don’t know where he is. The last I saw of him was right after our arrival in Austin, in a section of town he called ‘Little Mexico.’ He saved my life.”
“He’ll be safe then. That is one less worry. Thank you, Josiah. I couldn’t bear the loss of Juan Carlos, too.” Pearl reached out and took Josiah’s hand into hers, held it softly for a moment, then let it fall away.
Josiah felt like his chest was going to explode. He had to look away to regulate his breathing. Her fragrance was almost too much to take.
“I think Juan Carlos will be safe wherever he goes.”
“Do not be so sure. He has his enemies, just like my father.”
“Enemies?”
Pearl nodded. “Last year, before the new governor took office, and the State Police were still trying to do the job of the Rangers, my father rode with them for a short time. It was not for the money. He never lacked resources, as you can surely tell. But he was restless, you must know that. Anyway, Juan Carlos rode with him on a few of the trips. Something must have gone wrong on one of the sojourns they took down near San Antonio, because ever since, Juan Carlos has been like a shadow. He wouldn’t tell me what happened.”
“I bet it had something to do with Sheriff Patterson. Does that name sound familiar?”
Patterson had mentioned something about the State Police in San Antonio. There had been a lot of tension between the sheriff and the captain, even then, and it had not escaped Josiah’s attention. Somehow, Charlie Langdon was involved, too; Josiah just didn’t know how. Yet. All he had to go on was McClure’s insistence that Patterson was among the riders who fled the ambush. Nothing was clear to him.
“I don’t know. Maybe. Did this Sheriff Patterson kill my father, Josiah? I must know what happened.”
“I do not think I am the one to tell you.”
“You were there when he died?”
“Yes. Maybe it would be better coming from Feders. Or your mother.”
“They will try and protect me from the truth. Please don’t be like them and treat me like a fragile child. I am far from that.”
“I can see that.” Josiah sighed, reasonably resigned to telling Pearl what she wanted to know. As far as he was concerned, she had a right to know how her father had died. And the last thing he wanted to do was treat her like less than she was . . . It would be an insult to her father, and to Juan Carlos.
Just as he was about to tell her, her mother’s voice echoed loudly over the grounds of the estate.
“Pearl!”
They both froze, said nothing, just stared at each other. Josiah felt like a young schoolboy for the first time in years, on the verge of getting caught in a place he shouldn’t be.
Pearl finally smiled. “I should go. It’s grown dark. Won’t you see me to the house?”
She put out her hand for Josiah to take it. He hesitated only for a moment, but finally complied, holding her hand lightly. He wondered if she could feel him trembling inside.
The evening air had cooled drastically.
Twilight had almost passed as they talked—soft gray evening light, racing into pure darkness. Josiah wasn’t sure how much time had gone by, but they had been there for a long time. Long enough for Pearl’s mother to become concerned about her whereabouts.
“Pearl!”
“I swear, she still treats me like a child,” Pearl said. She stepped away from the bench and headed toward the house, with Josiah uncomfortably at her side.
He thought it odd that she needed an escort, when she had probably made the trek from the pond to the house more times than she could remember, but that was no matter. Josiah was just glad to be near her.
“I’m here, Mother. Please, I’ll be there in a moment,” Pearl called out as they crossed the lane to the house.
Her mother was standing on the balcony, looking out into the darkness. Josiah could only make out her silhouette in the dark; dressed in black as she was, she was almost impossible to see. But there was no way he could mistake the shadow she cast.
“You’re going to worry me to death,” the captain’s wife said, then turning and going inside the house with a huffy slam to the French doors.
“She’s not going to give me a moment’s peace,” Pearl said with more than a hint of resignation in her voice.
They walked to the door and stopped.
“Thank you, Josiah. It has been a pleasure to come to know you. I hope I will see you again, after the funeral.”
“It will depend on my orders.”
Josiah felt off balance.
Even more so when he realized that Pearl was leaning in to kiss him on the cheek. He turned away quickly, their lips brushing as he did. The touch, the unintended kiss, startled them both, sending each spiraling away in the opposite direction from the other.
Josiah stood there for a moment, gathering himself, then ran into the darkness, fleeing the house, unsure of where he was going, but certain he needed to get as far away from Pearl Fikes as possible.
CHAPTER 23
Pedro was leading Fat Susie out of the barn, forcing Josiah to stop before he really got started. “No,” he yelled. “I won’t let you put her down.” He bent over, catching his breath, surprised at how winded he was.
“It is the madam’s wishes, Ra
nger Wolfe.” Pedro brought the tall chestnut mare to a halt.
The horse was restless, and wary of being led out into the darkness without a saddle and no bit. Pedro was leading her with a simple rope halter in one hand, and carrying a shiny new Winchester ’73 in the other. There was no question of his intention.
Josiah stood, and could still feel his heart beating in his chest. “Will she know if I take the horse into town, and let it free? Give her away? The captain loved this horse. You have to know that.”
“I know he loved Fat Susie, that is true.”
“Let me take her. I need to be free of this place myself. Please. It’s not in my nature to beg, but I’m not sure I could bear seeing this horse shot at the moment. She is all that remains of the captain’s life that I can see. His home is a beautiful retreat, but for the life of me, I can’t see how Captain Fikes lived here.”
“Now you understand his need for adventure. He married into his life in Austin, and never quite found his place.”
Josiah nodded. “What of Pearl? She surely offered him some comfort?”
“Pearl worshipped the ground her father walked on. When he was here. She hated him for leaving her alone when he was gone.”
“I can’t let you shoot the horse, Pedro. It’s not right,” Josiah insisted.
“She will demand proof. You do not know the madam very well.”
“Trust me, I’ll provide proof. Somehow, I will. I promise. You will not suffer for disobeying your madam, not if I can help it.”
Pedro studied Josiah for a moment. There was very little light between them. They were standing in the shadows, their voices low.
Spring frogs croaked behind them, the pond now a chaotic social gathering of night creatures, frantic to find a mate. The constantly repeating, rising and falling, chattering noises and chirps were almost too much to take. Josiah’s insides burned with similar emotions and desires. It was like he had just awoken out of the mud after a long winter’s sleep himself.
The Rattlesnake Season Page 18
