The Badger's Revenge (21 page)

The movement of the door stopped.

“Don't shoot, Señor Wolfe. It is me. Juan Carlos. Juan Carlos Montegné.”

Josiah took a deep breath, took his finger off the trigger, and headed for the door. He'd been through way too much in his life to be completely relieved. There was no way to tell if Juan Carlos was totally alone. For all Josiah knew, his friend had a gun to his back, and someone was using their friendship as a ruse.

“Are you alone, Juan Carlos?” Josiah stopped at the door and stood off to the side.

“
Sí, señor
. It is just me.”

Josiah wedged the barrel of the Colt into the crack of the door, then swung the door open with all of his might—catching it with his other hand, so it would not slam into the wall and wake up Lyle.

The color had drained from Juan Carlos's face. In the dim light, it was easy to see that Josiah's actions had frightened the old man.

Juan Carlos was only half-Mexican, but his skin was still dark, leathery from years spent under the sun. He had deep wrinkles in his face, crevices that looked like limestone cut by the wind and water. His hair was white as a cloud and just as thick as cotton. He was skin and bones, spindly, like his half brother, Captain Fikes.

“I am serious, señor. I am alone.” Juan Carlos put up his hands.

Josiah swept out of the doorway, his eyes searching for any sign of movement on the street that would indicate Juan Carlos was lying. Satisfied, he grabbed the old man by the shoulder, pulled him inside, and locked the door quickly.

“What is the matter, señor? What have I done?”

“Nothing.” Josiah edged over to the window, pushed the curtain back slightly, and checked again to make sure the street was quiet. “It is good to see you, old friend.”

Juan Carlos cocked his eyebrow. “How come I do not believe you,
mi amigo
? What has happened since I have left that you do not feel safe in your own home?”

“You don't know?” Josiah asked, pulling back from the window, facing Juan Carlos fully for the first time.

“No, señor, I don't. We have much to talk about.”

“Yes, we do,” Josiah said. “Yes, we do.”

The two men sat facing each other, waiting for a
pot of Arbuckle's to come to a boil on the small woodstove in the corner. For a long moment, the two of them said nothing. Josiah was glad for the company, glad to see his friend, and even gladder that Juan Carlos was alone. One more confrontation would have likely done him in. He would have fought to the death to protect his house, and Lyle.

It did not take long for the comforting aroma of the coffee to complete the task of relaxing Josiah. Hopefully any kind of confrontation would wait until another day.

The ride into Austin had been long and finding Pearl standing on his porch an uncomfortable surprise. He wondered what had become of Scrap, but didn't dwell on the boy's whereabouts too much. Scrap had gone off in a hotheaded rage more than once since they had been riding together, and would turn up sooner or later with some wild tale to bestow on Josiah's unwilling ears.

The rest of Josiah's concerns—Pete Feders's luck and accomplishments in Comanche and the fate of the company—were distant at best. Now that he was home, all in one piece, his own life a matter of uncertainty, he wasn't about to venture too far, too soon.

“Do you have news of Ofelia?” Josiah said, getting up from the table to pour two cups of coffee.

“She is well. From what I understand, she is on her way back here,” Juan Carlos said.

“Her daughter has recovered?”

Juan Carlos shook his head no. “She is bringing her with her, along with the rest of the family that remained east. There is a place for them in Little Mexico and she wants to be close to your boy.”

“She's moving her entire family here?”

“
Sí
. That is what I understand.”

Josiah poured the coffee and handed a steaming cup to Juan Carlos. “How do you know this?” he asked. He felt a moment of relief, but knowing that Ofelia was heading back to Austin changed nothing. Josiah knew now that he could not depend on her forever, not any longer.

The old Mexican stared at Josiah and smiled, taking the coffee, refusing to answer the question or reveal his source of knowledge.

“I am more concerned with your adventures,” Juan Carlos said, taking a silver flask from his pocket and emptying a healthy finger of whiskey into the coffee.

“I would not call the last few days an adventure.”

Juan Carlos had been eyeing Josiah carefully, watching every move he made. “You have a limp. Are you all right?”

“It's just a graze. Happened in Comanche.”

Juan Carlos nodded and started to say something, but Josiah cut him off before he could get a word out of his mouth.

“I wish you would have left Pearl out of this,” Josiah said.

His tone was hard, harsh. He was in no mood to rehash the events of the last few days at the moment. He was still reeling from being in Pearl's presence, from having her in his house, watching over Lyle, realizing that he had left his son in peril, in the company of strangers.

“I had no choice, señor. What was I to do? Take the boy with me? You were missing. I thought you were a dead man.”

Josiah glared at Juan Carlos. “Lyle doesn't belong with Pearl.”

“Do not be angry at me. I was fearful. Pearl is my niece. I know her heart, how she longs for . . .” Juan Carlos stopped talking, drew his thin mouth tight, and looked away from Josiah.

“Where'd you have to go that was so important?” Josiah asked, changing the subject.

Again, a wise smile returned to Juan Carlos's weathered face. “You should not be so angry about Pearl's presence. She is quite taken with you.
¿No estás listo para el amor?
”

“You know I don't speak Mexican.”

“Perhaps it is time you learned.”

Josiah shrugged his shoulders. “I know enough to understand the floors that Pearl and I walk on are completely different. She is accustomed to a palace, not a simple house like this. I cannot give her the life she is accustomed to.”

Juan Carlos laughed. “Then
you are
ready for love?”

Josiah's face turned red as he sat down at the table. After a long pause, he said, “I know you had no other choice but to leave Lyle with her. But please, don't involve Pearl in my life again.”

“If that is your wish,
mi amigo
, then I will abide by it.”

“It is my wish.”

Silence settled between the two men, and they both allowed it to continue. The night outside was quiet now that it was fully dark. There was still a liveliness to Austin, but the activity of rowdy cowboys looking for a good time with drink and women was blocks away. Another world away, really, and that was just the way Josiah liked it. He only wished that he was farther away, out in the hills somewhere, or even better, home in East Texas, where the only rowdy occurrence that presented any hint of concern was the hunters that came out at night—foxes and coyotes mostly. But that was not to be—still, the street outside of the house was reasonably quiet, void of travelers at that time of night.

All Josiah could hear was the steady breath of his son sleeping comfortably in the other room, and that was enough for him. He took a sip of the Arbuckle's and set the mug of coffee on the table.

“What of your travels, Juan Carlos? The last I saw of you was in that motte south of Dallas.”

Juan Carlos eyed Josiah carefully, then nodded. “I met up with an old friend, and headed south to the Nueces Strip.”

“A testy place, even for you, my friend,” Josiah said.

“I like it there.”

“The place is full of bandits and cattle thieves.”

Juan Carlos laughed. “Why do you think I was there?”

“I never know with you. Tell me of the mission, of your friend then.” Josiah wanted nothing more than to hear something else other than his own troubles, his own past.

“Ah, my amigo, señor, is a friend to us both, though you do not know it yet.”

“And who would that be?”

“McNelly. Leander McNelly,” Juan Carlos said.

Josiah was not surprised to hear the name. Once Richard Coke was elected to governor in 1873, he created the now financially troubled Frontier Battalion, but he also designated a special force of Rangers, financed mostly by ranchers, to quell the thievery and troubles along the Nueces Strip.

Captain John B. Jones, the commander of the Frontier Battalion, and potential suitor of Pearl Fikes, had recommended Josiah speak to McNelly after the Lost Valley incident that occurred the previous summer, about Josiah potentially taking up with the Special Forces, but Josiah declined, sure that the work along the strip would be even more dangerous than what the Battalion faced. He chose to stay within riding distance of Lyle at the time, and it looked like that had been a good decision.

“McNelly, uh?” Josiah said. “Why am I not surprised? I have always thought you would make a competent spy, Juan Carlos. Is that your mission?”

“You ask more questions than I can give answers to, señor, but I have done plenty of work for the captain that requires my tongue and appearance. Cortina is a fierce adversary and is committed to keeping his business pure and alive.”

“So Cortina is riled up in the south and the Comanche are fighting their last fight in the north?”

Juan Cortina had a long history of riling up Texas landowners near the border, most notably near Brownsville, where Cortina had maintained control over the town for a while, until he was ousted in 1859 by a group of men calling themselves the Brownsville Tigers and the early Texas Rangers, headed up by Rip Ford. Once the War Between the States started, Cortina gave up the attacks and went into politics, shoring up Mexico's side with the Confederacy. Once the war was over, Cortina fell out of favor and went back to stealing cattle, which obviously, was still going well for him.

“I have been in Dewitt County, señor, along with forty men including Captain McNelly.”

“The Sutton-Taylor feud?”

Juan Carlos nodded. “The trial is over.”

“Where is McNelly off to now?”

“You must not speak of this . . . McNelly is ill, señor. I fear his time on this earth is short.
Que Dios bendiga su alma
. May God bless his soul.” Juan Carlos tapped his forehead, then his chest, making the sign of the cross.

Josiah had never seen Juan Carlos make any reference to a religion and was surprised by the show of it. “I was surprised when I met McNelly the first time.”

Juan Carlos nodded. “He is a short, wiry, tubercular man.”

“Consumption has most certainly taken its toll on him.”

“
Sí
, that is why his family moved to Texas in the first place.”

“He is ill again?”

“Still,” Juan Carlos said. “I think he is all worn out from watching over the feud.”

“So he's back to Burton?”

“To the cotton farm,
sí
.”

“That leaves you free, then?” Josiah asked.

“I was never captured. Just serving a role, honoring my brother's legacy.”

“I miss Captain Fikes, but I cannot imagine your loss.”

“We have all lost something.
Y vamos a perder otra vez
,
sí tenemos la suerte
. And we will lose again, if we are fortunate . . .”

“. . . To live long enough,” Josiah finished the sentence. “Captain Fikes used to say that.”

“
Sí
, he did.” Silence filled the room again. Only it did not last as long as the last time. Juan Carlos stiffened, fidgeted in his chair. “I came back in hopes that all was well with you,
mi amigo
.”

“And so it is,” Josiah said.

“But I have to ask you to leave again.”

Josiah stood up. His coffee cup was empty. “I can't leave. Not until I hear from Captain Feders. If then. They are cutting the size of the companies, and I fear I may be released from the Rangers.”

“For some reason, I do not believe that you see that as a bad thing.”

“You are right, my friend. Lyle needs me.”

“Captain McNelly needs you.”

“What do you mean?”

“I asked that you accompany me. I am sorry, señor.”

“Where?” Josiah's jaw clenched, but he would not release his anger on his friend.

“To Mexico.”

“Why in the blue devil would I want to go to Mexico?”

“To stop Liam O'Reilly.
El Tejón
.”