Scrap took a drink of his coffee, looking over the rim of the cup. “You and Feders have always been doin’ a hat dance around each other, and the captain’s daughter is right in the middle of it all.”
Josiah stood straight up, his body tense and tight at the mention of Pearl. “You leave Pearl out of this.”
“I’m just sayin’ maybe Pete Feders was trying to shift the blame on Red Overmeyer for a reason.”
“And what reason would that be?”
“To take the attention off himself,” Scrap said. “Maybe he’s the spy for O’Reilly—or Cortina. Maybe he wants you to be taken in a bad light. Or dead and out of the way.”
Josiah took a deep breath and relaxed. He was surprised that Scrap had said aloud what he had been thinking, what Juan Carlos had warned him of.
He knew that Feders had a reason to get Josiah out of Austin, out of Pearl’s life. Even more so now that he and Pearl had spent the night in the barn together. Pearl would never agree to marry Pete Feders. Feders didn’t know about Josiah’s tryst with Pearl as far as Josiah knew, but maybe he suspected it would happen. Pearl had always been less than secretive about her feelings for Josiah—she showed her desire in plain sight of everyone.
Before Josiah could say anything to Scrap, Dixie Jim hobbled into the cave, sweat glistening from his deep brown brow, his eyes wide open and white with the exception of a fully engaged blue pupil. “Set me a nip of whiskey there, Wolfe. I found a fresh trail.”
“You found the company of Rangers?” Josiah asked.
Dixie Jim nodded yes. “They broke off about three miles from here and headed south.”
“Broke off from what?” Scrap asked.
“Two horses, heading west.”
Josiah sighed deeply, walked over to his saddlebag that he’d taken into the cave, dug out Dixie Jim’s bottle of whiskey, and handed it to the scout. “Just one nip, and then we head west.”
CHAPTER 41
Dixie Jim proved to be a wise scout, though nearly any man could have found the horse tracks leading due west, since there didn’t look to have been any effort made by the riders to hide them. The question remained who the tracks belonged to, but according to Dixie Jim, who was on his knees studying a new set of tracks in the soft, loamy dirt, they were gaining ground on the riders since they didn’t seem to be in a hurry of any kind, not riding full out.
“Within an hour, we’ll see their tails. Then we will know for sure,” Dixie Jim said.
“Know what?” Josiah asked.
“Whether this is your Badger or not.”
Scrap was sitting on Missy next to Josiah and Clipper. It was late afternoon, and the sun still burned in a wide, cloudless sky. It was as blue as Pearl’s eyes, and Josiah continued to feel like they were all being watched, but he had nothing but gut instinct to prove his feeling. The land all around was desolate and quiet. They had not seen a ranch house, a longhorn, or any animal or human for that matter since Dixie Jim had found the tracks and they’d headed due west. Could have been Apache or Kickapoo scouting them out, or one of O’Reilly’s men, keeping an eye on them. Either way, Josiah would have bet his life that somebody was staring straight into the back of his neck.
Scrap cleared his throat and scowled at Dixie Jim. “If those tracks do belong to O’Reilly, then why ain’t he tryin’ to hide himself?”
Dixie Jim stood up. “Seems to me he don’t think he has anything to be worried about since Juan Carlos was shot in Brackett. If he knows you fellas, then he knows you ain’t no trackers.”
“Makes sense,” Josiah said.
Scrap continued to scowl. “I can track.”
“Sure you can, boy,” Dixie Jim said.
Josiah ignored both men. A couple of vultures circled the sky just to the south of them, silently riding the air, not flapping a wing. “You might be right,” he said to Dixie Jim, staring at the vultures.
“Am right.” Dixie Jim walked to his horse, slid his crutch into the scabbard, then mounted the paint with a hop and a pull, all in one fluid motion. “What you gonna do when you find them two men? You got a plan?” he asked Josiah.
Josiah stared at Dixie Jim, then glanced over to Scrap. “Elliot here is probably one of the best long shots I know. He can hold the high sight, stay back. We can get closer, circle around them, confront them if there’s an opportunity, give O’Reilly a chance to come in easy.”
“We?” Dixie Jim laughed.
Josiah nodded.
“Not gonna be a we. I find them. That’s all I agreed to do,” Dixie Jim said. “Just gonna be you and the boy when it comes to that duty. Juan Carlos is a friend, and I owed him a favor, but no sirree, I sure don’t owe him my life. If he was here, I’d be gone now. But as it is, once we sight those two and make sure they’s the men you be lookin’ for, then I’m back off to Fort Clark.”
“I have your whiskey,” Josiah said.
“I have my own.”
Scrap pushed Missy past Josiah. “Told you there wasn’t no trustin’ a half-breed, Wolfe. Looks like it’s just me and you. We can head back if you want, try and get the rest of the boys to help us take these two in.”
“We’re not going back,” Josiah said, urging Clipper on, catching sight of the tracks Dixie Jim was looking at, and taking the lead.
Night was about to fall before Josiah caught the first sight of the two riders. The sun had already dropped below the horizon, but gray daylight still reached up from beyond the curve of the earth. Pinks and reds pulsated on the underside of a few wispy clouds in the sky, drops of fading blood on a growing black curtain. Nary a star dared show itself yet as the day fought its last battle with the overpowering pull of darkness and the coming of night.
It was almost like the colors of the clouds had reached down and touched the head of one of the riders—it glowed red, without a hat. There was no question the man was Liam O’Reilly. But the other rider’s identity was not so easy to discern from the distance they were at, and neither Josiah nor Scrap had possession of a sighting scope. For a moment, Josiah thought he recognized the second rider’s horse, a tall black stallion, but he was too far away to see any of the markings, so he turned to ask Dixie Jim, who had been riding behind the two men, to see if he had a scope, and discovered that the Negro-Seminole had left their company without saying a word.
“I’ll be . . .” Josiah said.
“What?” Scrap asked, looking over his shoulder.
“Dixie Jim’s gone.”
“Well, it ain’t no big surprise to me.”
“He could’ve said something,” Josiah said.
“He did. Said as soon as we caught sight of O’Reilly he was out of here. What more you need, Wolfe, a big good-bye?”
Josiah shook his head no. “Just thought he’d be more friendly after spending a few days with us.”
“Speakin’ for myself, I’m glad to be rid of him. He smelt like he was carryin’ a dead fish in his pockets. You notice that?”
Josiah wasn’t paying attention to Scrap. The light on the horizon was nearly gone, and the bottoms of the clouds were losing their color so they were almost black. “Damn it,” he said. “I’ve lost sight of them.”
They eased their horses next to a large reach of limestone about a hundred feet tall. Might have been taller, but now that night had fallen completely, it was hard to tell exactly how high the rocks and mountains around them really were.
Josiah felt a little out of his element, not knowing the ways of the land this far southwest. He was a long way from the piney woods of Tyler, out among the prickly pear, mesquite, and a host of unknown creatures. Especially at night.