The Gila Wars (25 page)

CHAPTER 47

The night passed quietly, without episode. Morning came
along sooner than Josiah wanted it to, and truth be told, he could have exercised a certain amount of laziness and slept until noon. But he had orders from Doc Tinker to report to Captain McNelly first thing in the morning, so he couldn't afford the extra sleep if he wanted to stay in good graces.

He arose from the bedroll stiffly, stretched and surveyed his surroundings. Five other Rangers lay sleeping, scattered around the fire pit haphazardly. There was little warmth emanating from the fire, but the air was thick and humid. It wasn't like the cool nights in winter—hardly cold—but a fire was always welcome.

The sky was gray and puffy, like someone had laid a blanket of dirty cotton in between the earth and the blueness of yesterday. There was a hint of rain in the air, a refreshing fragrance that offered no immediate threat. A steady breeze shimmered through the trees, just enough to caress the back of Josiah's neck and let him know it was there.

Scrap lay sleeping on the ground on the other side of the fire pit. Josiah hoped the trouble between them had passed. It seemed to have after they'd had their talk and gone for supper. It had been late when they'd returned to their spot, after a little entertainment and baths, and it had felt like nothing had happened. But if anybody knew how Scrap held a grudge, it was Josiah. He would be watchful of it in the days to come.

He carefully put a few fresh logs on the coals, and they started to smoke right away. After washing his face with water from his canteen and relieving himself, Josiah saw no need to wait. He grabbed up Juan Carlos's saddlebag and headed dutifully to McNelly's tent.

* * *

The canvas tent glowed from the inside out, but the flap
was pinned shut. Josiah stopped, and thought about going back to the camp. But he stood fast. He wanted to put yesterday behind him with McNelly, as much as he did with Scrap.

A shadow passed the flap from inside the tent, allowing Josiah to relax, seeing that McNelly was present, and up and about. He tapped on the canvas. “Excuse me, Captain, it's Sergeant Wolfe. Doc Tinker said I was to see you first thing this morning.”

McNelly coughed three times consecutively. “Well, come in then,” he said with a gasp.

Josiah drew in a deep breath, squared his shoulders, glanced up at the cloudy, gray sky, and made his way inside the tent.

Captain McNelly was dressed and looked ready for the day. Fresh pomade glistened in his hair, and his clothes were free of mud and blood. Any sign of battle had been washed away from him, as well. He stood at the planning table, looking down at a map. “What is that?” he asked, looking up, catching sight of the saddlebag.

“It was Juan Carlos's. There are contents in it that are quite valuable,” Josiah answered. He stood stiffly just inside the flap. “I didn't want to leave it unattended, and thought you should be made aware of the contents.”

“The man's personal belongings are of little concern to me.”

“I understand, Captain.”

“Are you saying that there are thieves among us, Wolfe?” McNelly's lungs rattled so loud that the sound echoed off the tent walls.

“No, no, I just wouldn't want to take a chance, sir. I'm not accusing anyone of anything.”

McNelly nodded. “All right then.” He eyed Josiah from head to toe, then sat down in the chair that faced the table. “Relax, Wolfe, this is not an inquisition or trial for your life, or freedom. You've been through those, and should recognize that this meeting offers little in the way of unwarranted consequences.”

“The previous day's events leave me little to relax about, sir.”

“I understand. All I need you to do is recount the incident as you saw it.”

Josiah knew that Scrap had talked to McNelly already—but he wasn't sure what was said between them, whether Scrap's version had been filtered through anger and vengeance, or truth. “Juan Carlos's death?”

McNelly nodded. “Howerson's death seems explainable. Mind you, I am in need of details, only to send in a report to General Steele and the governor. They need to be made aware of the losses we encountered in this fight. What they do with the information is out of my control, though I do have some influence over it, as you well know.”

“It was a victory,” Josiah said.

“Indeed. The shipment of stolen cattle to Cuba was stopped, and the vessel destroyed, thanks to you and Ranger Elliot. But Cortina is still a free man, walking this earth, plotting, I assume, to regain what he has lost. So, the victory falls short of our intent. There will be another fight, another day when we will face Cortina. The war is not over.”

Josiah let the word “war” fully settle before he spoke. He was starting to believe that there was always going to be a war of some kind to fight in. “I apologize for the loss, and my behavior toward Ranger Elliot, sir. I have apologized to him directly, and gratefully, he has accepted it like a gentleman.”

“Your actions were unbecoming a man in a leadership role, Wolfe, there is no question about that. I witnessed the act itself, but lack the knowledge of what prompted such an outburst. I have known you to be both friends as well as comrades. Your partnership with Ranger Elliot has appeared strong, which is why I pair you together as frequently as I do. I was surprised, but not shocked. Hardly so. Youth compares to idiocy in such a way no mirror is needed.”

“I hope you will continue to see Elliot and myself as partners, sir.”

“Perhaps. It will depend on Elliot's desires, as well, but I doubt he will argue with any assignment from me. My need of your services will continue, I suppose, as long as that is what you want.”

“I beg your pardon?”

“It is up to you to continue on as a Ranger. There is no enlistment here.”

“Oh, I see. I have not considered leaving the Rangers, sir. Though I was concerned about your position on my continued presence.”

“We have had this discussion before, Wolfe, been in situations even more dire than this. I expect you to continue riding with us, simple as that. Could what happened to Juan Carlos have been prevented?”

“I think so, but improperly, if I had allowed Ranger Elliot to shoot the man when he first stepped foot on the beach.”

“And Juan Carlos walked up to the man freely, knowing full well that he was the enemy?”

“Yes. It was too late to back away once the man produced the knife. He took Juan Carlos by surprise.”

“It was his error, not yours,” McNelly said, his voice cold and hard. “A man of his experience should have known better than to trust a rat.”

“But . . .”

“There are no buts, Wolfe. The only mistake you made was striking Ranger Elliot, and even that seems like a stretch. Something tells me he deserved it.”

“I'm not sure of that,” Josiah said.

“This wasn't your first battle, Wolfe.”

“Hardly.”

“Exactly my point. It wasn't Elliot's either. He was in Lost Valley, and there have been some other scuffles since, but he's still green behind the ears. Emotions run high. The boy lacks the knowledge to know when to keep his mouth shut—but he's a fine marksman. Grade A as far as that goes. A remarkable talent. We went to extra lengths to free him when he got himself in that trouble in Austin, and now he's learned a lesson. Let's hope it sticks.”

“It won't happen again.”

“I wouldn't go that far,” McNelly said. He stood up and faced Josiah. “Now, about Juan Carlos. He was a good man. A better spy than most, and one of the most private men I have ever met. But still, I am well aware of his personal connection to Captain Fikes. Hank made me aware of that relationship a long time ago. It is why I have instructed Doc Tinker to preserve the body. It needs to be dispatched to Austin if I am to understand correctly? That is where his family resides?”

Josiah nodded yes. “He said he wanted to ride alongside his brother again. I assumed he meant he wished to be buried there. There were no instructions in his satchel. Just papers and currency that require the attention of his surviving kin.”

“Pearl?”

“Yes.”

More silence followed. McNelly knew Pearl Fikes, and he also knew, thanks to the newspaper in Austin, of Josiah's entanglement with her. What the captain didn't know was that Pearl had severed the relationship between them recently.

“Well, then, this currency you speak of, this money of Juan Carlos's, it is of a substantial amount, I assume?” Captain McNelly asked.

“Yes. Enough to make an honest man reconsider his morals for a moment, and a dishonest man to salivate at the possibilities the money would afford.”

“I understand.” McNelly rubbed his chin with his index finger. “Then you will need an escort to ride along with you on your return.”

“I'm sorry?”

“An escort. You'll be taking Juan Carlos's body back to Austin, and all things considered, I think it would be best if you shared that journey with Ranger Elliot.”

CHAPTER 48

The freshly built coffin sat squarely in the back of the
wagon. Where the milled wood came from was lost to Josiah, but he knew there were more than a fair share of carpenters among the boys, so its construction was no mystery. Like the formaldehyde, the wood had probably been brought along in case something happened to McNelly or one of the other officers in the company. The logistical effort to stop Cortina was far more complex than Josiah knew, but was obvious from the size, and scope, of the Ranger camp.

It was early afternoon, and the gray, puffy sky had yet to change. It didn't look like it was going to anytime soon. Rain had yet to show itself, and it didn't look like they would be riding into a storm, or any foul weather. At least, Josiah hoped not. The dry ground turned to impassable mud, almost instantly, with little more than a cloudburst. That would slow, or stop, the journey entirely.

Clipper was tied to the back of the wagon, and Josiah was packed, ready to go, with the reins in his hands.

The wagon was well stocked with enough supplies for the journey, but there wasn't enough room in the bed for two coffins. Pip Howerson was to be buried not far from where he fell, on higher ground. Word, of course, would be sent to his kin, and his grave marked simply with a white wood cross. Like a lot of simple foot soldiers' graves, time would wash away any evidence of its existence, but Josiah wouldn't forget Pip, or his amazing horse.

Juan Carlos's saddlebag was behind Josiah, not far out of reach, and locked in an ammunition box. Captain McNelly had decided that the shaggy black horse should stay behind at the camp. It probably wouldn't have survived the long trip back to Austin in the shape it was in and would only have served to slow them down.

Scrap sat comfortably on Missy, next to the wagon. He'd had no objections to the trip. He seemed eager to be away from the coast and, surprisingly, from the promise of more battles with Cortina. He'd calmed down around Josiah, but held little reserve for any of the boys stupid enough to make a comment about his black eye. Josiah had to stop him from fighting three separate times as they prepared to leave.

“This feels a bit familiar, don't it, Wolfe?” Scrap said.

“It does,” Josiah said. “I was thinking about that trip once Captain McNelly told me what he wanted from us. I started to object, but realized the honor he bestowed on us by asking us to take Juan Carlos back to his family. On one hand, I'm sure it wouldn't matter to Juan Carlos where he was laid to rest. Anywhere on the trail, in Texas, was his home. But I think laying him next to his brother is more than fitting, and an effort I'm willing to see through. I know he would have done the same for me.”

Josiah and Scrap had both been charged with returning Captain Fikes's body to Austin when he'd been killed by the outlaw Charlie Langdon's gang. It had been at the start of the Frontier Battalion, and it seemed like ages ago, but, in truth, only a few years had passed between that journey and this one. A lot had happened since then.

It was on that trip that Josiah and Scrap had begun to form their friendship, as it was, and when Josiah had met Pearl, the captain's daughter and Juan Carlos's niece, upon their arrival in Austin. Just the memories of it all were enough to muddle Josiah's emotions, especially considering that now they had to fulfill the same duty with Juan Carlos's body.

Josiah was glad that Scrap had agreed to come along; he had seen it fitting to both the present and the past. There was no one else Josiah would have wanted to make the trip with, but he would have done it regardless.

The trip would be long, and there would be plenty of time for reflection along the way. Still, the sadness of the past days weighed on Josiah's shoulders, slumped them a bit.

“Well, at least we have a coffin from the start this time around,” Scrap said. “Won't have to battle the stink and flies much.”

Josiah cast a furtive look toward Scrap, but said nothing. McNelly was approaching, and besides, Scrap was just being Scrap. There was no changing that.

“I see you're packed and ready to venture out,” McNelly said.

Lieutenant Robinson was a few feet behind the captain and stopped in McNelly's shadow. Robinson said nothing, just stood stoically, with a look of disapproval plastered on his face.

“We are,” Josiah said.

McNelly reach up and handed Josiah a bundle of letters. “Please deliver these to General Steele. He will know what to do with those that do not concern him.”

Josiah took the letters and immediately swung around, snapped open the lock to the ammunition box, and put them in with Juan Carlos's satchel. “I will do that,” he said. “Is there anything else, Captain?”

McNelly nodded yes. “Tom Darkson's been notified that he is riding along with you two. He's on the perimeter, keeping watch, and will join you when you pass. The value of your cargo may draw attention from Cortina, his bandits, or other wayfarers along the way. I doubt you'll have trouble with the Apache, but you never know. It's imperative that you reach Austin safely, and as soon as possible. I thought Darkson would be a worthy addition to your charge.”

“I'll keep an eye out,” Josiah answered. “There was a lone rider come to see me off after you and the company left me there to bring back Juan Carlos. I couldn't get a clear sight of the man, but I figured it was a scout come to see the damage done to the plan, or it was Cortina himself. But he was gone before I could get a shot off.” He watched McNelly process the information, and waited for a response. When none came, Josiah continued, “And thank you for sending Darkson along with us. I know you need every man here to finish the fight with Cortina.”

“I am counting on your return, and reinforcements from the other companies, if General Steele sees fit to send them along. Otherwise, we will do the best we can with what we have,” Captain McNelly said. He looked away from Josiah and settled his gaze on Scrap. “You keep a sharp eye out, too, Elliot. If there was a scout, then you'll be in danger the whole way.”

“No worry there, Captain.”

“Well then,” McNelly said, “be off with you now. Have a safe journey.” He coughed then—so deeply the power of it bent him over. Robinson was at the captain's side in two shakes, guiding him back toward his tent.

Josiah nodded with concern but knew there was nothing he could do about the captain's consumptive fit. He flipped the reins and headed the wagon slowly out of the Ranger camp—without fanfare, or much attention from the other boys at all.

* * *

Tom Darkson sat on his horse, a paint gelding that was
more brown than white, at the top of a hill, waiting for Josiah and Scrap to arrive. Once they met up, Darkson pulled up alongside the wagon and tipped his well-worn black felt Stetson to Josiah, offering a silent hello.

“Nothing I could see for miles,” Darkson said. “Ain't seen hide nor hair of no Mexicans or Apache. I think we sent 'em runnin' back to their holes.”

“Just because you can't see them doesn't mean they're not there,” Josiah said. “We didn't kill every man that's loyal to Cortina. There's still eyes about that answer to him. This is a long ride. You ready for that?”

“Sure am. I ain't been up Austin way in a coon's age. Last time I was there, I was punchin' longhorns on the way to Dallas. I got to tell you, I don't miss those days. I'll take my forty a month with the Rangers, and be glad to do whatever the captain says, just like you fellas.” Darkson glanced back at the coffin, then to Josiah. “Can't you cover that up with a blanket or somethin'? Who wants to see a reminder of a dead man every step of the way?”

“It might ward off some trouble,” Josiah said.

“Never thought of that,” Darkson replied, nodding his head as a flash of recognition crossed his face. “That's a good idea.”

“Wolfe has those every once in a while,” Scrap said. He was on the other side of the wagon, keeping pace. “You got enough supplies to make the trip?”

Darkson eyed Scrap curiously and shrugged his shoulders. “Enough is enough, I 'spect. We can all split off and share huntin' duties, unless you want to take that on, Elliot.”

“Sharin's just fine with me. It's the cookin' I can do without.”

Josiah chuckled—he'd eaten Scrap's cooking. The boy could burn water and make a rabbit taste like jerky without trying. It was nice to ease into the trip with some decent conversation and, better yet, to have Tom Darkson along. “How's those ribs holding up? Doc Tinker tell you what to do?”

“Still pretty durn sore, I'll tell you. But I'll be fine. I think that's one of the reasons the captain sent me along. I ain't much good to him other than standin' watch or pickin' up duty at the camp. I can ride, but the pain tires me some. I'll be fine, though. Doc just said to keep wrapped tight, that's all. Not much else I could do to heal but give it time. That's all he said. Give it time.”

“Like the rest of us,” Josiah said. He had the scabs on his face from the scattershot wound, and the gunshot wound on his shoulder. Scrap had his black eye and damaged ego. Along with Darkson's broken ribs, they were a broken trio, hobbling north toward the promised land of home, bearing a dead body, bad news, and wealth of an unimaginable amount, at least to Josiah, to an unsuspecting woman.