“Can’t you leave that man’s fate to Juan Carlos?” Pearl said.
“Even if I could, I wouldn’t. Juan Carlos is spry, wise, and skillful for his years, but I fear he’s no match for O’Reilly. Especially if he has already matched up with Cortina. That is a well-fortified hornet’s nest. Juan Carlos can’t go it alone. It would be suicide—and I would carry his death on my shoulders for the rest of my life and still have to look over my shoulder. And yours.”
Worry crossed Pearl’s face. “Juan Carlos has more ways about him than you’re aware of.”
Josiah chuckled. “More ways than I want to know. Is it a family trait? These hidden skills?”
Pearl’s face reddened with blush. “Perhaps. I have my own secrets.”
“I’m sure you do.”
“Please reconsider, Josiah.” Pearl said, her face and tone serious.
“McNelly requested I go. I have to.”
“McNelly?”
Josiah found his socks and pants and nodded his head yes. “I’m not riding with the Frontier Battalion any longer. Pete Feders is no longer my captain. I’m not sure how that got arranged, but I am glad of it now.”
Pearl’s eyes grew narrow. She started to say something, then held her tongue.
Silence fell between them for a long moment. The robin drew closer, singing from the live oak just outside the door.
“I think it’s best.” Josiah slipped a suspender over his shoulder.
“You will be gone longer, farther away,” Pearl finally said.
“McNelly is at his ranch for the winter. This is a special assignment, one I would have leapt at if it hadn’t come my way with the release from the Battalion. We have to stop O’Reilly.”
“He feels the same about you.” Pearl stood for a long second, her search for clothes stopped, as she let the blanket fall away. It was one last sly attempt to derail Josiah’s departure. But it was, regrettably, too late for that.
“You’re sure a sight to behold,” Josiah said.
“I won’t ask you to stay again. Not this time.”
Josiah looked away. “I would stay if I could. There would be too many complications. Too many lives left at risk.”
Pearl walked to him then and slid her arms around his waist. “Promise me you’ll come back.”
“I will do everything in my power to make it back here. There’s nothing more I’d like than to see you in a proper bed.”
“Being improper?” A smile curled across Pearl’s lips.
Josiah didn’t answer her. He kissed her deeply, closed his eyes, and let himself reenter their special world one last time.
Josiah didn’t look back as he left. He knew Pearl would be standing in the shadows watching him go, her eyes still begging him to stay. He didn’t want to see that or take the risk of being seen.
He had eased Clipper out the back of the barn, taking an unseen exit from the Fikes estate.
The sun was nearly up over the horizon, and every man and woman who worked in the mansion was already up, or would be soon. The day had begun, and though he had gotten hardly any sleep, just a doze now and then, afraid he would miss one second of being with Pearl, Josiah felt invigorated, and oddly at peace with how the whole night had turned out.
The road was nearly a trail, one that led into town over a steep hill and through a healthy grove of oaks and maples. A creek cut through at the dip, with pecan trees and junipers as thick as he had ever seen them.
He had traveled this trail before, but only at night, his senses lost in confusion as he had sought an escape from the estate, when he wanted to be as far away as he could be. That seemed like so long ago—he was a different man on the same trail.
He felt alive now, fully himself, surprised at how much life had changed in a matter of a few short months. Facing reality would come sooner rather than later, but for the moment, he still wanted to bask in the joy and pleasure of the previous night.
Clipper was moving along at an easy trot, the light certain now and the trail clear. The horse seemed to sense Josiah’s mood and mirrored it thoroughly and implicitly until the Appaloosa heard something ahead and stiffened, piquing his ears.
Josiah heard the same thing as the horse, at about the same time. He pulled back on the reins, bringing Clipper to a stop, his hand automatically easing onto the grip of the Colt.
It only took a second for the rider to appear, pushing full out. To Josiah’s relief, it was Scrap Elliot.
Clipper relaxed as Josiah loosened his hold on the reins. They both sat there waiting.
Scrap saw Josiah just as soon as he cleared a bend in the trail, braking Missy, the blue roan mare, hard, but gentle. “There you are,” he said.
“What are you up to, Scrap?”
Scrap looked at Josiah oddly, not accustomed to the happiness in his voice. “Come to gather you up, that’s all.”
“I’m on my way home now.”
“Best hurry that up.”
Josiah furrowed his brow, noticing the sweat on Scrap’s forehead, the full complement of bullets in his belt, and the stuffed saddlebag tied over the saddle. “Where’s the trouble?”
“Ain’t none yet, but Juan Carlos is madder than a hot pepper at your absence.”
“What do you know about Juan Carlos?”
“Tarnation, Wolfe. I’m goin’ with you. I’m one of McNelly’s boys now, too.”
CHAPTER 34
The noise from the hustle and bustle of Austin reached them long before they left the trail. Morning had fully broken, the edge of the sun a quarter of a hot red plate on the horizon.
Clouds that looked like narrow fingers stretched out overhead, the soft light coating the underside with warm tinges of pink. It was hard to tell if the sky was angry or happy. The combination of colors was confusing, especially against the sky that seemed to suck up the hues like a sponge. In some places it was blue, mostly off in the distance, to the west, and in others it was almost pure white, void of any perceptible weather or attitude.
The sky over Austin itself turned from pink to fire red, the color of a warning flag, but that did not deter Josiah. He pushed Clipper as hard as he could, rushing home, riding as fast as he could—just so he could leave again.
Scrap and Missy had no trouble keeping up, and there was no question that on a good day, the roan mare could outrun Clipper by a fast mile. Today was not that day though. There was no need for Scrap to make haste any more than he already was; the boy had already done his duty.
The thought of the boy riding along to the border with him and Juan Carlos was both an aggravation and a comfort to Josiah. He was glad Scrap was still a Ranger, even gladder that he hadn’t followed after Donley and fallen into bad graces with Governor Coke, but it felt like there was a rope tied to Josiah that always ended up being looped around Scrap. It was something to get used to, and mostly, Josiah didn’t want to be partnered with anyone, especially a hothead like Scrap Elliot. He liked riding alone or with the boys of the company, not just one man.
Little puffs of dust flew up behind the two horses each time a hoof landed heavily on the ground. There was no need to worry about hiding their destination, but Josiah was tense anyway, constantly looking for the next ambush, sure that O’Reilly would kill him sooner rather than later.
Regardless of Juan Carlos’s knowledge of the Irishman’s trek to the border and potential union with Cortina, there were enemies to be on the lookout for right in the heart of Austin.