Cougar's Prey (9781101544846) (31 page)

Josiah closed his mouth, held his breath, and tried not to breathe in the smell, tried not to believe what his senses were telling him was true. Whatever unseen predator had attacked his family in Seerville had followed them to Austin. He squeezed his hands into tight fists.

Lyle was covered in blankets, a cold compress on his forehead. Only his eyes were visible, and they were closed. A small amount of movement at his chest was the only indication that the boy was still alive.

Ofelia held a pair of rosary beads in her hands and had stopped moving them as soon as Josiah walked into the room. He thought she might have been mumbling some prayers, but he wasn't sure and didn't care. There wasn't any tension between the two of them about Ofelia's belief in God, but they had a silent agreement not to discuss the subject.

“It is good to see you, señor,” Ofelia finally said in a hushed tone. “The telegraph came. We were expecting you.”

Josiah nodded and looked behind him. Billie was standing just outside the door in the shadows, her eyes fixed on him. He looked away, back to Lyle, then kneeled down beside the bed. “Lyle,” he whispered. “Papa is here.”

Lyle didn't move, so Josiah went to touch his shoulder to try and rouse him.

“No, don't, señor,” Ofelia said. “We don't want you to get sick, too.”

“I don't care.”

“We do,” Billie said, from behind him.

“I want him to know I'm here,” Josiah said.

“He'll know when he wakes up,” Billie snapped. “Now, let him be, and let him get some sleep. It took us hours and hours to get him calmed down in the first place.”

“What was the matter?”

“He was calling out for you.”

Josiah exhaled and stood up.

“It is all right, señor, I will watch over him.”

Billie nodded. “You need a bath. You smell like a wet pig who's been drug, headfirst, through a pond full of swill and mud.”

“I've been riding for days, trying to get here as soon as I could,” Josiah said, as quietly as he could, through clenched teeth.

“I don't care what you've been doing, you smell. And you need a bath. Now, let's get on with it,” Billie ordered with a point of the finger, out of the room.

 

 

The water was hot as it could be without scalding tender flesh. Josiah was up to his shoulders in the water, his eyes half-closed as he sat there, soaking. Billie, thankfully, had given him some privacy, but only after he had to chase her off, convincing her that he was more than capable of giving himself a bath. She'd looked spurned but had walked off, in a huff.

A little bit more dirt on his skin and the water would have been muddy. It had been a good while since he'd had a bath.

The tub sat under the overhang on the small porch just off the back of the house, and night had fallen. Clouds covered the sky, and there was a cool touch to the air. Insects chirped happily, a reunion of songs and desires set off by the arrival of spring. There were no frog calls, no songs of the woods that Josiah was accustomed to. Beyond the insects, he could hear the pulse of the city still beating: a piano clanking in the distance, a man screaming at his wife two houses down, a dog barking.

The bath felt good, but Josiah was still unsettled, his footing not certain, even though he was home. Finally home.

The kitchen door opened, and light filtered outside from the coal oil lamp that was burning dimly.

“Do you need anything, señor?” Ofelia asked, standing off at a respectable distance, the rosary beads still in her hand.

“No, I'm fine, thank you. Is Lyle still sleeping?”

“
Sí. Como un ángel
. Like an angel, señor. Like an angel.”

“Please don't say that.”

“I am sorry, señor. I meant nothing by it.”

Josiah laid his head back on the rim of the tub and looked out to the sky. “I know. I just can't think of him being any way other than how he was when I left. I can't lose him, Ofelia.”

“Neither of us can, señor.”

Josiah turned his attention back to the short, round Mexican woman and realized that he asked a lot of her, and Ofelia had given him even more. She loved Lyle like he was her own.

“How did Billie come to be here?”

“The señorita, she show up one day looking for you. Months ago. Not long after you leave for your duty. I tell her that you are gone, and I don't know when you come back. She comes to see me and Lyle,
cada vez en un tiempo
, every once in a while. But when she saw Lyle was sick, she stayed to help me. I am grateful for her help . . . but . . .”

“But what?”

“She thinks she live here now. Comes in the door without knocking.” Ofelia pointed to her chest. “I knock when you are home, señor. This is not my
casa
.”

Josiah wasn't sure what to make of what Ofelia was telling him. It made him even more uncomfortable. “She has a baby of her own . . .”

“
Sí
, the baby stay with someone at her boardinghouse. She don't bring him here to Lyle's sickness. You like this
chica
?” Ofelia was leaning on the doorjamb, her face serious and concerned.

“I helped her and she helped me. I think it's as simple as that. I hope so, anyway.”

“It is
not
that simple, señor.”

Josiah exhaled deeply. “I know.”

“
Tener cuidado
. Be wary.”

“I'm too tired to be anything else. But why do you say that?”

“She is a nice girl,” Ofelia said, bringing her voice even lower than it was. “But I think she is looking for something that is not here most of the time.”

“Like what?”

“A papa for her
niño
.”

Josiah nodded. “Thank you, Ofelia. You are a good friend. I don't know what I would do without you.”

Ofelia laughed, as if it were the only reaction she knew to make but she wasn't quite sure it was the right one. “There is no need to worry, señor, I am not going anywhere anytime soon.”

“I'll see you home,” Josiah said to Billie.

A curious look crossed Billie's face. “You don't have to. I've walked that walk a ton of times, thank you very much.”

“No, I'd like to.”

“Suit yourself.”

Billie walked out the front door, wrapping a white shawl around her shoulders. Josiah followed after her, closing the door behind him softly.

Lyle was still sleeping and probably would continue to for the rest of the night. As was her custom when Josiah was away, Ofelia had slept in the bed opposite Lyle's, albeit with one ear and one eye open. Though Josiah was back, due to Lyle's state of health, rather than return to her own lodgings in Little Mexico, Ofelia was staying put, sleeping now on a mat just outside the door to the boy's room.

The bath had revitalized Josiah, and a couple of healthy servings of Ofelia's
menudo
had sated his appetite. He had changed into a set of clothes that had been left behind four months prior, and they fit him loosely. Ofelia had said he looked like an
espantapájaros
, a scarecrow.

It was good to be home, but Josiah felt different, almost like he was waiting to catch up with himself. Clipper had been put away in the livery down the street where the horse was usually kept, and everything else, as much as possible, had been put back in its place—with the exception of Lyle, who still had not woken to find his father home, and Billie, who needed to be escorted to her own home.

Night had fully enveloped Austin. There were none of the new gaslights on the street Josiah lived on. Those were saved for the main thoroughfares. With the clouds thick in the sky, there was no moonlight to navigate by, but Josiah knew his way—and so did Billie. She walked five feet in front of him, her pace rapid, her arms wrapped tightly around her, to keep warm in the chilly air, Josiah supposed.

The air felt good to him. It was nice to be on solid ground, off the back of a racing horse.

“Billie, would you slow down?” Josiah asked, walking even faster to catch up with her.

They had walked about two blocks.

Billie stopped abruptly and turned to face Josiah. “I'm so mad at you I could just spit. Haven't you figured that out, Josiah Wolfe?”

Josiah stopped, too, about a foot from Billie.

There was music still playing in the distance, a raucous melody rising into the night air, mixing with other saloon music emanating from Congress Avenue. Cowboys from the trail were either taking a break, getting ready to head out, or coming back. Regardless, there was always something to celebrate. But Josiah was not in a celebratory mood and wanted nothing to do with saloons, liquor . . . or angry women, for that matter.

“Why would you be mad at me, Billie? I haven't been here to do anything,” Josiah said. His voice was firm, and he stared her in the eye.

“Just like a man to think you have to be here to make a woman worry and fret over you.”

Josiah stuffed his hands into his front pockets. “I didn't ask you to fret over me, Billie,” he said softly. “I did what I thought was best for everybody. I had no choice but to leave Austin if I wanted to stay a Ranger.”

“You left that little boy, Josiah. And now he's sick. You ever think he needs a daddy more than you need to be off traipsin' around bein' a Ranger?”

“It's my job. I don't know how to be anything else.”

“Well, it ain't right, and you damn well ought to figure out how to be somethin' else.”

The veins in Josiah's neck tensed up. “Come on, Billie. Let's get you home. We're not doing anybody any good standing here hollering at each other.” He grabbed her arm as he began to walk forward, but Billie pulled away. Josiah could see tears welling up in her eyes.

Billie stopped suddenly, then turned and lurched forward, throwing herself into Josiah's chest.

She wrapped her arms around him, holding on to his waist like she was about to drown.

At first, Josiah stood stiffly, his arms at his sides. This was not the first time Billie had surprised him by jumping into his arms. Each time was uncomfortable for Josiah, and this time was no exception.

Billie turned her face up to Josiah, her eyes wanting, almost begging him to kiss her.

The feel of her pressed against his body began to awaken something in him that had been dormant since he'd left Austin. The simple desire for a woman, to feel needed, to want something more than a piece of information, a drink, or a ride home. He wanted to be needed, and he wanted to feel alive again, know what it meant to be intimate for more than a fleeting moment.

“I worried about you. About your son,” Billie whispered. “Don't that mean somethin' to you?”

Josiah kissed her then, felt her welcoming and desire, and matched it with his own loneliness and forgotten needs. It was a long, deep, passionate kiss. The outside world around them disappeared, and if the air swirling about them had been cold when they first walked out into the night, then between them now it was warm, hot, and growing hotter.

Billie moaned and leaned into Josiah, pressing against him even harder, grinding at the waist.

He felt her, could taste her desire, and for a moment, he was glad to let himself go. It was nice to be wanted, to feel what he had been missing. But somewhere deep inside of him, he heard Ofelia's warning, heard the reminder that Billie was after something—a father, a husband, a life—he might not be able to provide. And then he thought about Pearl.

Josiah pulled away from Billie then, ignoring his own state of arousal, ignoring Billie's unspoken offer to love him, to show him a way to pleasure that could last, if he wanted it to.

“What's the matter?” Billie asked, a look of shock and concern crossing her face.

Words stumbled to the end of Josiah's tongue and stayed there. He didn't know what to say, so he said nothing, just looked down to the ground, kicked the dirt, and turned sideways, letting his embrace of Billie fall away and pulling out of hers at the same time.

“It's that other woman ain't it? The one you can't tell whether you love her or not?” Billie demanded, her face all twisted in a growing rage.

Josiah nodded yes. He didn't think about trying to not answer her or acting as if what she said wasn't the truth. It was. Billie had hit the nail on the head—mostly. He was afraid, too, of getting into something that he couldn't get out of. He didn't know Billie that well; he felt obliged to her for helping him escape from O'Reilly and the corrupt sheriff in the town of Comanche, but he'd already done as much as he thought he had to do to thank her. He was having a hard enough time being a father to Lyle; he wasn't sure taking on another child was something he could even consider.