Josiah glanced toward Pearl, though he couldn’t see her clearly, just her tight profile. “It’d take more than that for me to be sitting up there.”
“Yes sir, looks to me like you’d have to be a captain in the Rangers, a man of fine stature instead of . . .”
“Instead of what, Farnsworth? An uneducated man like myself? A meager sergeant with little to show for his life?”
Josiah had seen how Farnsworth looked at him on arrival, judging him head to toe, knowing his clothes were the best he had but nowhere near the best that could be bought. His pants were so tight at the waist he could hardy breathe when he sat down. But still, he did not regret his decision to return the suit of perfect clothes to Pedro. He might have fit in and been more comfortable with his appearance, but he wouldn’t have known how to move or who he really was.
Rory Farnsworth’s face turned red as the bowl of pickled beets that sat in front of him. “I didn’t mean anything, Wolfe. I just meant . . .”
Josiah cut him off again. “I know what you meant.”
The sheriff pushed his chair back, the beef on his plate half-eaten. “I need some fresh air,” he said, standing up, wiping his mouth with the white cloth napkin, and throwing it on the plate.
Josiah watched Rory Farnsworth exit the dining hall. He felt bad but not too bad. He liked Farnsworth and was glad to have had his help in the past, but there was never any doubt that the two men were separated by the worlds they both walked in, just like Josiah and Pearl were.
The misunderstanding was another perfect example of why Josiah felt he shouldn’t be sitting in Fikes’s house at all. He should be home with Lyle, or out on the trail with Juan Carlos, bringing Liam O’Reilly to justice. After a brief touch of the gun on his hip, the Frontier Colt, he was reminded of Billie Webb, and he wondered about her fate, and the baby’s. He hoped they were safe.
Farnsworth’s father looked across the empty seat at Josiah with a questioning, then judgmental, look.
Josiah shrugged his shoulders and started to pick at his food with a heavy silver fork, ignoring the banker and his snobbish glare. He figured he might as well not let the food go to waste. The way things were going he’d never be invited back to the house again. Not that he minded.
The meat tasted like nothing that had ever crossed his tongue. The steak seemed to melt in his mouth before he could finish chewing. Surely, the cow was butchered just prior to cooking. The taste of the meat was a quick addiction.
Polite chatter surrounded him, but now that he had started eating, everything, including Pearl and Pete Feders, faded from his view or concern.
He ate the whole steak without stopping, without being concerned about his manners, whether he was using the proper fork or not. When he looked up, he realized a few people were staring at him. He smiled back at them and picked up the fine crystal glass that was filled with the deep red wine and drank it all down in one gulp. He wiped his mouth and let the smile stay on his face.
“More wine, Señor Wolfe?” a familiar voice said from behind Josiah.
Josiah smiled even more broadly. “Why certainly, Juan Carlos. I don’t mind if I do.”
“As you wish, Señor Wolfe.” Juan Carlos poured a fresh glass of wine from a dark brown bottle. “You need to pace yourself,” he whispered in Josiah’s ear, after filling the glass, disappearing before Josiah could protest.
He had captured almost everyone’s attention, including that of the governor, who was looking his way with disdain.
Josiah raised the glass of wine to the governor, then downed it, too, like it was a shot of whiskey instead of fine wine.
He was instantly warm from head to toe, but it was a different feeling than he’d felt the few times he had drank whiskey or beer. He liked the wine. It was sweet, and he wanted more. Alcohol was not a vice of his, and whether he had any tolerance for wine was unknown to Josiah.
Before he could flag down Juan Carlos, who was on the other side of the table, filling a glass for the governor’s wife, Pete Feders stood up and banged a silver spoon on the side of an empty crystal glass.
The chatter stopped immediately; everyone’s attention had been forcefully garnered, including Josiah’s. He was not drunk, though one more glass of wine would surely take him to that unknown place. He still had his wits about him. Dread settled suddenly in his stomach.
“I have an announcement to make,” Pete Feders said.
Pearl rustled in her seat.
“I have asked Mrs. Fikes for Pearl’s hand in marriage, and she has obliged and given me permission,” Feders continued.
The room erupted in applause. Josiah didn’t clap. His mouth went dry.
Feders smiled. “Now if only Pearl will say yes.” He bent down on one knee and started to say something . . . but was stopped by Pearl, who bolted out of her chair and ran out of the room, sobbing uncontrollably.
The night air felt good against Josiah’s face. He had mixed in with the crowd as they all sought to leave the dining hall and was standing under the portico, leaning against a tall pillar, trying to regain confidence in his feet.
At first, the guests had been shocked at Pearl’s immediate exit from the room. They all just sat silently, staring at the befuddled Pete Feders and Widow Fikes.
Pete dashed out of the room after Pearl, and Mrs. Fikes feigned a hand on her forehead and promptly fainted in her chair, tumbling to the floor like a boulder pushed off a steep cliff. That was everyone’s cue to vacate the house. The social page of the Statesman was going to have a lot to report the next day to those in Austin who cared about such things.
Carriages and buggies came and went, picking up their charges as quickly and comfortably as possible. It looked like a parade in front of the house, or like the last time Josiah had spent any time there, which was for Captain Fikes’s funeral. The latter was probably more apt, a parade being far too happy an event to reflect the state of the faces of those promptly leaving the grounds.
There were times when Josiah wished for a vice like tobacco. It would make passing the time a little easier. As it was, he was beginning to feel more like himself, the fuzzy effect of the wine clearing away. It was time to go home, to leave all the unfinished business at the Fikes estate to work itself out on its own.
Now that Feders had clearly stated his intentions publicly, there was no question that he would not relent until Pearl accepted his proposal. Josiah knew that. Josiah wasn’t sure why he was even there in the first place, other than showing gratitude to Pearl for watching over Lyle. He wished that was all there was to it. It was hard not to be attracted to a woman as beautiful as Pearl Fikes.
He took a breath and took a step away from the pillar, steadying himself, but stopped when he saw Pete Feders emerge out of the darkness, walking right toward him.
CHAPTER 31
Josiah could smell alcohol on Feders’s breath when he spoke. “What are you doing here, Wolfe? You come to taunt me?”
“I’m just leaving, Captain.” Josiah had to restrain himself not to call him Pete. That would have surely brought out the worst in Feders. It was obvious that it wouldn’t take much to provoke the man to a fistfight. His face was red with rage and embarrassment.
“You saw what happened inside? With Pearl?” Feders asked.
Josiah nodded. “I’m sorry, Captain.”
“Sure you are, Wolfe. I know you carry a torch for Pearl.” Feders gripped both of his hands, then let them fall to his side in tightly balled fists.
Josiah stepped back, putting up both of his own hands, flat out, as if to fend, or warn, off an impending attack. He didn’t want to fight Feders here—or anywhere for that matter. “I have only become acquainted with Pearl Fikes since we returned to Austin in the spring with Captain Fikes’s body. I’m in no position to court a woman like Pearl. You know that. I have a son to raise, and I have chosen my life as a Ranger. That leaves me little time to seek stature or a fortune, one that would entice a woman already of means. Besides that, I don’t know that I can ever love another woman like I did my boy’s mother.”