The Gila Wars (11 page)

CHAPTER 18

Josiah settled uncomfortably on Clipper's back. The hard
saddle and the prospect of the impending journey were as much an unwelcome development as Scrap's return. Reality had ridden back into Arroyo long before Josiah was ready, but it was too late to lament the hard facts of his circumstances. It was time to leave.

A thin grayness grasped at the golden evening light in the far corners of the sky. Darkness would follow them to camp, quick on their heels. Josiah had thought about trying to waylay Scrap—reasoning it would be best to spend another night in Arroyo, but he knew he was just being selfish, that he was trying to steal away more time with Francesca. Any thought of such a thing was gone, had been gone the moment Josiah walked into the cantina and found Scrap in a surly mood with a prisoner in hand. He still didn't know the details of the capture, but he figured that would come soon enough. Scrap would have to relay the events to Captain McNelly, just like Josiah would have to tell his commanding officer of his new wounds.

Thankfully, there was no question that he was able to make the ride. His strength had returned, though he still felt like his body, head to toe, had been walloped with a big, heavy club. Soreness and stiffness consumed him every time he moved without honoring his injuries, reminding him of the close call he'd had, and of the great care given to him by Adolfo and Francesca. He had been lucky to have fallen on friendly ground, so to speak, in more ways than one.

It was hard to look at Francesca. She was standing next to her father in front of the entrance to the cantina, shoulder to shoulder. Her eyes were vacant, almost hard, staring past Josiah. She showed no sign of tears, or any emotion for that matter. Adolfo wore the same blank look, only he was focused on Scrap, whom he treated like a mad dog, a creature best to be avoided rather than tamed with kindness.

There was no sign of Juan Carlos, and Josiah was certain that the Mexican wouldn't show up to see him off. Disappearing was one of Juan Carlos's greatest skills. It was hard telling when he'd see the man again, but he hoped it would be soon, or at least afford him the opportunity to explain himself when it did occur.

Pearl had ended their relationship, and it was likely that Juan Carlos, who was overly protective of his only niece, didn't know that the relationship was over. Stumbling on Josiah in a romantic embrace with Francesca without knowing the full story could have sent the old man off in a huff. They'd had some problems in the past when it came to matters of the heart, a fissure between them that Josiah thought had been healed. Still, it was hard to tell about Juan Carlos and his whereabouts, and it was little to worry about given the state of things.

What had happened between Josiah and Francesca wasn't any of Juan Carlos's business. Josiah wasn't even sure if he could rationalize their moment together for himself, but it was harder leaving her than he'd thought it would be.

Scrap mounted Missy, the blue roan mare, after securing Garcia on an unknown horse, a shaggy gelding, the color of the muddy road, that Josiah had never seen before. Garcia's hands were bound, the long rope stretched out and tied to the horn of Scrap's saddle.

Josiah and Clipper waited behind Garcia, glad to let Scrap have the lead. At the moment, the farther away Scrap was, the more comfortable Josiah was.

The right side of Garcia's face was swollen from where Scrap had punched him. A mottled bruise, like a thicket of raspberries, protruded under and around his eye. He said nothing, avoided looking at Josiah, too, like he was as evil a man as he thought Scrap to be. What Garcia didn't know, couldn't know, was that Josiah had saved him from a harder beating. Scrap's anger was on a hair trigger, had been since they'd left Austin, and his attitude was getting worse, not better.

Josiah rounded his shoulders and straightened his back, settling in for the ride. There was an odd feeling in the air. Disappointment. Regret. Fear. He knew deep in his heart that it was best that they leave. He had only known Francesca a brief time, but she was mysterious, and a salve to another wound he carried, one that only she knew about, one that had been inflicted by Pearl, whether Josiah wanted to admit it or not.

Scrap clicked his tongue loudly, the sound echoing off the cantina's walls, then began to move forward, pulling Garcia, and his horse, along with him.

Josiah hesitated, held back, then flipped the reins and allowed Clipper to move forward. He questioned leaving so quickly and circled around, stopping in front of Francesca and Adolfo, facing them directly. “Thank you,” he said. “I'll always believe that you saved my life.”

He was staring directly into Francesca's surprised brown eyes. She nodded and leaned heavily against her father. “I will never see you again, will I?”

Josiah dropped his head. “I don't know. I'll do my best to come back this way.”

“But you cannot promise me that you will return?” Francesca demanded.

“I can't. I don't know what's going to happen. I'm a Ranger. I don't have control of where I go. The only way I can know what comes next in my life is if I quit the company, and if I did that, I would live in Austin, with my son. He is the place of my heart, my home.”

“You'll have a scar from your time here.”

“More than one, I think.”

Francesca started to say something else, but restrained herself—at least her tongue. Tears welled up in her eyes, and she fled quickly inside the cantina, taking her disappointment with her.

“You must forgive my Francesca,” Adolfo said. “She pines for the moon and believes in true love. Saying good-bye has never been easy for her. Not even as a girl. Loss is unbearable, but you would know that. She is young in ways of the heart and lonely in her daily chores. Your presence, and injury, took her away from that, gave her something to tend to, to attach to. She will be fine in a day or two, after you've gone. She will heal just as you are. I will see to it.”

“I'm sorry. I shouldn't have . . .” Josiah stopped and looked over his shoulder. Scrap and Garcia were completely out of Arroyo, almost on the horizon. He sighed. “I'll return if I can,” he said. “She deserves better than to be left behind, but I have no choice. I have my duty to attend to. A life in Austin that I should have thought more of. I failed to think ahead,” Josiah said, his voice dropping off softly with regret.

“You are always welcome here, Josiah Wolfe. Remember that.” Adolfo nodded toward the horizon. “You better go. I worry about the safety of your charge without your eyes on him.”

“I will remember that, and thank you again. I am in your debt.” With that, Josiah turned, nudged Clipper gently with his heel, and hurried to catch up with Scrap, pushing down the road with as much speed and restrained heart as he could muster.

For a brief moment, he thought he heard a woman wailing in pain, but he quickly decided that it was only the wind whistling behind him, pushing past him, around him, urging him to move on before he turned back again.

CHAPTER 19

There were no clouds in the black sky, and a fingernail
moon rose slowly in the distance, like it was being cranked upward by a weak bit of rope. Silence surrounded Josiah. Any animals who had made their living during the day had found places to rest, unlike the two men he now trailed after.

Traveling at night offered many threats. It was slower, and it was easier to get lost. Stumbling into, or upon, a camp of Apache or Cortina's
desperadoes
was always a possibility. Both had watches of their own. Or they were out, too, in the land, straying from camp, or on a devious mission, rustling cattle or worse.

If a horse stepped into a snake hole, it could be catastrophic. Clipper sustaining an injury traveling at night was not something Josiah wanted to think about. The Appaloosa was like a member of the family to him, the closest thing to a pet he would ever allow himself to possess.

And then there were the snakes themselves, roused from a deep sleep under their rocks, protecting themselves with a strike, no matter the distance or size of the interloper. There were other predators, too, like the big cats known to roam the area that could kill, or seriously maim, a man without warning.

The risk was more than apparent, but Josiah had allowed Scrap to keep the lead, to continue on traveling as the evening fell quickly into night. It was not a decision he was comfortable with, but they were too close to the Ranger camp to stop now.

The trail was clearly defined ahead of them, easy to see, even in the darkness—if they went slowly.

Stopping to make camp was really not an option. If Garcia had any valid information to be gleaned, then the clock was ticking. As it was, the man had offered nothing that Scrap and Josiah didn't already know. Cortina was set on delivering a herd of rustled cattle to an awaiting steamer in the Gulf, but Garcia claimed he didn't know when or where. At least that was his story. Just like Rafael Salinas's when Robinson had captured him and brought him into camp. Josiah wondered if it wasn't a ploy, a command given by Cortina about what to say if they were captured. They both were consistent, and Josiah thought their responses were too much alike for it to be coincidence.

Luckily, the land was relatively flat as they headed away from Arroyo. Josiah kept Clipper at a short, comfortable distance from the rear of Garcia's shaggy mount, close enough to have a conversation with the Mexican if he wanted or needed to, but so far had chosen not to.

Boredom had started to set in, and Josiah decided to take another tack, try and get Garcia to talk more if he could. “You need to get your story in order, Garcia. Captain McNelly will grill you on arrival. You have to know that.” He edged up alongside the captive man's horse. The horse smelled like it had rolled in wet cow shit then stood under the full sun to dry.

Scrap cast a nasty glance over his shoulder but held his tongue and turned his attention back to the trail.

“I already told you, Ranger, I was to serve under Camillo Lerma and
la
Aboja
, the Needle. We were to steal the cows from La Parra.”

“Rafael Salinas told McNelly the same thing. You'll need more than that to save your hide. McNelly is not a fair court jurist. He's a judge and lawmaker, at least out here. Your life will be in his hands.”

The swelling in Garcia's face had subsided a bit, but the raspberry bruise was still evident, even in the darkness. “I do not fear death.”

“You're brave,” Josiah said.

“I will show you how brave I am once I am free.”

“You'll not be free tonight. You'll be hanged, or worse, if you keep it up. Dying doesn't have to be this easy. Tell me what I want to know, and I swear I'll do my best to see you set free, or at least see that you are cared for humanely.”

Garcia cocked his head toward Josiah. “You speak with confidence and sugar, señor, while your friend speaks with his fists. Why should I believe you? It is a game you play, pitting me off of him, all the while pretending to be my
amigo
. You think I am
estúpido
?”

“You don't have to believe me, but I'm the closest thing to a friend that you have right now. I've seen enough blood fall in my day for a hundred men. I have no quarrel with you or your like. It's rough terrain here, difficult to make a living.”

“You know nothing of the land.”

“Suit yourself.”

“I am not your
amigo
.”

“You might want to rethink that.”

Garcia looked away then and refocused his attention on the back of Scrap's neck, boring into it with hate and anger. His jaw was set hard, and a vein in his forehead pulsed.

The sky was fully black now, and with the moon at just a sliver, it was becoming more and more difficult to see more than five feet ahead of their horses' heads, much less into Garcia's eyes, to see what he was thinking or feeling. Scrap had slowed his pace even more but had given no indication that he was going to abandon the journey and set up a small camp of their own.

A coyote yipped in the distance, quickly followed by a bird sound, a low whine, and then a one-pitch note that sounded like a screech. Josiah knew the bird to be a screech owl, either out for a hunt or calling to its mate. Or maybe neither, if he considered the call more closely. It could've been the watch call, letting them know they were getting close to the perimeter of the Ranger camp. The calls changed nightly, depending on the boys assigned to the posts. It was difficult to know for sure whether he was hearing man or bird. He would find out soon enough. He was sure of it.

“You need to make up your mind, Garcia. We're close.”

“I do not trust you. You killed two of my
amigos
. Cortina will want revenge.”

“I know all about Cortina and his ways, his revenge. Do you think this is the first time I am on his trail?”

“He hates the Rangers. He will hate you even more for killing his men.”

“In self-defense. There wasn't time to talk them out of shooting.” Josiah hesitated. “I pulled Elliot off you, doesn't that count for anything? If your welfare wasn't important to me, I would've let him finish you right then and there. We would've buried you in Arroyo, or set you out for the buzzards to pick at. But that didn't happen. You're alive because I saved you.”

Garcia glanced over at Josiah, his hard gaze softening. “You are his
sargento
, no?”

“I am.”

“Salinas was to be mine.”

“He will be happy to see that you are still alive.”

“But a captive like him.”

“McNelly promised him freedom once this was over . . . if he helped.”

“I have no choice, do I?”

“What do you know?” Josiah nudged Clipper closer to Garcia and tried not to show his disgust at the smell of the horse.

“It is tomorrow. The steamer is expected in the bay tomorrow,” Garcia said, a sense of resignation in his voice.