ahead, and Josiah could already feel the change of weather deep in his bones.
He hitched Clipper to the post in front of the house and walked up to the door, his shoulders slouched, each step taken, heavy and unwilling, though there was no question that he had to do what he was about to.
The door opened before Josiah came to a stop and prepared to knock. Pedro was standing there, an expression on his face equal to those usually seen at a funeral or a wake: sad and reflective. “It is good to see you Senor Wolfe.”
“I’m not sure I believe you.”
“The hour is late, and you were not expected, so your presence is news to us, your survival a relief. The last we saw of you was at the dinner, then you were off on another assignment in South Texas. There is always worry when our Rangers take to the road. Captain Fikes came home dead in the back of a wagon. Why would we not expect the same to happen to you?”
“All of you are relieved?” Josiah asked, peering over Pedro’s shoulder, wondering what the Mexican butler actually knew about the trip south.
The grand hall of the house was dimly lit, a few hurricane lamps burning low, casting soft shadows on the walls and ceiling. Down the hall, the dining room, where Pete Feders had asked Pearl to marry him publicly, stood in complete darkness. More out of function than in mourning, since, as far as Josiah knew, word of Pete Feders’s demise had not yet reached Austin.
“I have just returned to the city,” Josiah said.
“How is your son?”
“Fine, thank you, and not happy to see me leave again so soon after arriving home, but I need to speak with Pearl.”
“Like I said, Senor Wolfe, it is late, can this not wait until tomorrow?”
Josiah shook his head no. “I have news for her that I wish to tell her myself. Tomorrow will be too late.”
Before Pedro could respond, Josiah heard a shuffle of footsteps coming down the grand staircase. Again, he looked past Pedro. Disappointment coursed through his veins as he quickly figured out that the person raised by the voices at the door was Pearl’s mother, the Widow Fikes, and not Pearl herself. Josiah had been hoping to avoid a meeting with the widow.
“Who is it, Pedro, disturbing us at such a late hour?”
“It is Ranger Wolfe, ma’am.”
“Wolfe?” The widow pushed by Pedro, who retreated quickly into the nearest alcove. “You, sir, are not welcome in this house. There, I have made it official. Now, please leave.”
“I would like to speak with Pearl,” Josiah said.
“Did you not just hear me ask you to leave?”
“I did. With all due respect, ma’am, I would like to speak with Pearl before I do so.”
The widow was more than a head shorter than Josiah, so he had to angle his neck downward just to look her in the eye. She had obviously been preparing for bed, wrapped in a black robe, still mourning, still wearing her widow’s weeds, of a fashion, to the very moment she crawled into bed. Her brittle gray hair was unfurled from a tight bun and fell over her shoulders, hanging down almost to the small of her back. Her skin was nearly pale white. She looked like a ghost herself, albeit a well-fed one.
“Your persistence is not appreciated here, Ranger Wolfe. I don’t know what my husband ever saw in you, but I rue the day you stepped foot on this property, the day my daughter first laid eyes on you. You are a blight on my life. Do you understand that, sir? A blight.”
Josiah restrained his tongue, pushed it to the roof of his mouth. He wanted to respond, to participate in the fight she was laying the ground for, but he did not take the bait. He had the advantage of seeing the shadows behind the woman, saw what was coming before she heard it.
“Mother! What an awful thing to say. Josiah does not deserve such vile treatment,” Pearl said, descending from the final step, then hurrying to the door. She rushed past her mother, a smile on her face, the glow nearly lighting up the darkness of the night that lay beyond Josiah.
Pearl was wrapped up in nightclothes, too. There was a fragrance about her that quickly infiltrated Josiah’s nose. Cream of some kind, a freshness that smelled of spring and womanhood. He almost turned and ran away, but he didn’t, he held firm. Seeing her took his breath away.
“Why are you here, Josiah, is something the matter?”
“I would like to speak to you, in private,” Josiah said, his voice monotone, any emotions held as deep in his stomach as he could manage.
“There will be nothing done in private between you and my daughter, Ranger Wolfe. Do I make myself clear? If you have something to say, say it in front of me, as I will not leave you to a chaperone of any type,” the Widow Fikes said.
Josiah drew in a deep breath, and Pearl glared at her mother harshly. Her sweet cornflower blue eyes were harder than he had ever seen them.
“I would like a moment alone with Josiah, Mother.”
The Widow Fikes’s feet were set as solidly as the rest of her body. Her face was frozen in a state that offered no hint of negotiation.
“I did not come here to cause an argument,” Josiah said. “It is bad news that I bear, and your mother will hear it soon enough, too, Pearl. Maybe this way is best.”
“Something has happened to Juan Carlos?” Pearl said. “Hasn’t it?”
“That is part of it, yes.”
The widow Fikes stood firm, her glare never breaking away from Josiah. Pedro stood close by in the shadows, close enough to hear everything.
“Juan Carlos was shot in Brackett,” Josiah continued. “We were ambushed just outside of the sheriff’s office there.”
“He’s dead?” Pearl gasped, tears welling in her eyes.
Josiah shook his head no. “He is still hanging on, recovering in the doctor’s care in Brackett. He’s too weak to be moved. It was a gut shot that he took. A lesser man would have died straightaway. Not lasted a day. But Juan Carlos has a strong will to live. I didn’t want to leave there, alone, but I had to return to Austin immediately.”
“That man is despicable,” the widow sneered.
“Mother, that
“So he says. I say he’s a half-breed always on the lookout for a handout so he can go off with one of his whores and live a like a lazy king.”
“Mother, please,” Pearl said through gritted teeth, then dabbed the corners of her eyes with a pure white handkerchief that she’d produced almost out of nowhere. “Good, I am glad he is still alive. Thank you for the news, Josiah.”
“That is not why I have come here tonight, Pearl,” Josiah said. “I don’t know how to tell you this, but Pete Feders is dead.”
“Dead?” Pearl whispered. “I wasn’t expecting that.”
“Peter is dead? Dead?” the Widow Fikes yelled. “I don’t believe it. He can’t be dead. How did he die?”
“I shot him, ma’am. I killed Pete Feders in self-defense.”
Pearl’s mother barreled past her, knocking Pearl out of the way, and stopped within inches of Josiah, pointing her finger at his face, waving it like a mad sword. “I meant what I said. You are not welcome here, ever, not now, not tomorrow, not ten years from now, do you understand me, Ranger Wolfe? I will make your life miserable. Your days as a Ranger are numbered. I know people. I know
Josiah did not move. He stood watching the tears stream from Pearl’s eyes. His own mouth was dry, and his feet were firmly planted, unwilling to move, even though he wanted them to. There was a chill in the air, and Josiah felt downright cold. He wanted to reach out and touch Pearl, offer her some comfort, but he dared not touch her.
“The papers will have the story tomorrow, Pearl. But I wanted you to hear it from me first.” Josiah lowered his head. “I still must answer for what has happened. Major Jones, Captain McNelly, and the adjunct general, William Steele, are set to decide my fate. It is my word against a dead man’s. Ranger Elliot is a witness, but whether they will take his account of what happened is still questionable.”
