The Gila Wars (28 page)

CHAPTER 53

Pearl Fikes recognized Josiah almost at the same moment
he spotted her. She stopped dead in her tracks, her face draining pale as a sheet instantly. Rory Farnsworth, the sheriff of Travis County, which encompassed all of Austin, had kept on walking a step or two, until he felt the obvious tug and turned around toward Pearl to see what the problem was. His happy-go-lucky casual expression faded away just as quickly as Pearl's had when his gaze landed on Josiah, driving a wagon into town with a coffin loaded in the back.

Josiah brought the single horse pulling the wagon to a stop in the middle of Congress Avenue. The street was arid, and just braking kicked up a poof of dust. He could taste nothing but dirt, and oddly he was glad for it since it washed away the distaste in his mouth that had erupted upon seeing Pearl with Rory Farnsworth. He was immediately angry, jealous, and after a long breath, not surprised at all by the pairing.

There was little time to consider any other emotions. Rory Farnsworth broke away from Pearl, and marched directly to the side of the wagon.

“What is the meaning of this, Wolfe?”

Farnsworth was shorter than Josiah, and he stood dressed in his dandiest clothes, out and about courting as he was. He looked more like a Yankee carpetbagger than a Texas sheriff. The recent business with his father, a banker, who had been found guilty of murdering four soiled doves, had obviously not affected his financial standing or position in society. If it had, he wasn't showing it.

The sheriff sported a finely waxed mustache and wore a black bowler hat that matched the color of his fancy suit. The silver star on his chest remained highly polished and properly positioned, offering no clue to any shame, or lack of authority, that he might have carried.

Scrap and Tom Darkson stopped alongside the wagon, but both of them held silent, instinctively leaving Josiah to the business of handling the sheriff.

“This doesn't concern you, Rory,” Josiah said, through gritted teeth. “Unless you've found yourself in a new profession as an undertaker,” he added with a penetrating glare.

Without thinking, Farnsworth thrust his chest out and boosted his chin at the sky. “I am still the sheriff of this county, thank you very much. Now, tell me, what is this coffin you carry, and who occupies it?”

“A dead body, Rory. What the hell do you think I'm carting around, a treasure box full of gold?”

“There's no cause to get snide with me.”

Josiah broke his gaze with the sheriff and looked past him, to Pearl. She looked mortified and terrified at the same time. If that were possible. “I think there is plenty of reason to be snide, Rory. Plenty . . .”

Farnsworth looked over his shoulder, then back to Josiah just as quickly. “Your connection, and business, with Miss Fikes has come to an end from what I understand.”

Josiah sighed. “Not quite yet, Rory. I come to town bearing bad news.”

He hadn't taken his eyes off Pearl. She was as beautiful as ever. She was dressed in clothes Josiah had seen before, when she had worn them on an outing to the riverside on a lazy Sunday afternoon—not too long ago. Though it seemed forever since he had been in her company.

Pearl had long flowing locks of blond hair that cascaded over her shoulders, and she was wearing a boater hat with blue satin ribbons flowing off the back. The ribbons matched the color of her dress that highlighted her hourglass figure perfectly. Josiah knew from experience that her undergarments only accented a nearly perfectly shaped body—she needed little help from tight bindings. She had on her best kid-and-cloth shoes, but they were starting to show some wear. All of her clothes were worn, though from a distance she looked like the proper belle of the ball that she had been in the past. Since her father's death, when her fortunes had changed dramatically, the local dressmaker would not even extend her a line of credit.

Pearl slowly walked toward the wagon. Her fingers were trembling. Sweat was forming on her brow. She looked extremely uncomfortable, like she was weakening from some unseen sickness.

There was no wind, and the heat of the day seemed to press in around them from all sides. People walking the boardwalk and driving the street, whether in buggies or on horses, had started to slow, noticing the coffin and the presence of the sheriff.

“Josiah,” Pearl whispered, looking to the ground as she stopped next to Farnsworth. They were touching elbows. “What pray tell have you brought to Austin?” Her voice was weak, trembling to match her fingers. “I have seen you driving a similar task, and my life has not been the same since.”

Josiah drew in a deep breath. “I'm afraid this time is no different, Pearl. It is Juan Carlos I have brought home to bury. I'm sorry, your uncle is dead.”

Pearl gasped, whimpered, brought her hand to her forehead, and promptly fainted. Luckily, Rory Farnsworth looked to have experience for such moments and caught her handily, embracing her like he'd been waiting for such a moment to prove his worth and value.

CHAPTER 54

After seeing to Pearl, then standing back and letting
Farnsworth see her safely to a bench that sat in front of Sampson & Hendrik's, Josiah instructed Scrap and Tom Darkson to take the wagon to the undertaker.

Scrap hesitated. “What then?”

“Take the horses to the livery like I said. If I'm not there shortly, go ahead and get yourself settled in. I'll be at my house in a little while. This won't take long, and besides,” Josiah said, “I'm anxious to see Lyle now that I'm back in Austin. I keep looking for him and Ofelia.”

“I bet you are,” Scrap said. The condescending tone Scrap usually took toward Ofelia was not evident in his voice. He almost sounded respectful.

“I am.” Josiah stared at the boy's black eye. It had fully blossomed over the trip back to Austin. It looked as if a fading purple chrysanthemum was stuck on his face. “I'm glad to be back in Austin.”

“Home?” Scrap said.

“This city's never much felt like home to me, and Cortina knows to find me here, now.” Josiah looked over his shoulder at Pearl. Farnsworth was fanning her with his handkerchief, whispering words Josiah couldn't hear. He rolled his eyes and then turned back to Scrap. “Go on now, I got some business to tend to before I'm free to do as I please.”

Scrap nodded, climbed aboard the wagon, and grabbed up the reins. Before he could say anything, or get completely settled, Josiah put his hand up, stopping him from going on any farther.

“Hold on,” Josiah said. He walked around to the back of the wagon, climbed up gently, and made his way to the ammunition box, trying not to touch the coffin—but that was impossible. He opened the box and grabbed up Juan Carlos's satchel with the letters in it. “All right,” he said, climbing down. “You and Darkson take care to stay out of trouble, and I'll meet up with you later.”

Scrap nodded, and so did Darkson. The boy had a confused look on his face; he had no idea what was going on, what the past and present circumstances meant to the sheriff, Pearl, or Josiah, but Scrap sure did.

Darkson plodded off alongside the wagon without offering any words—like a good solider should.

Josiah stood and watched them disappear around the corner, then turned his attention back to Pearl and Rory Farnsworth.

He stepped up on the boardwalk and stared the sheriff directly in the eye. “Can we go to your office, Rory? I'd like to finish up some business with Miss Fikes, if you don't mind. There's too many ears and eyes about in the open, and what I have to say is not knowledge I want gossiped about or passed on around town.”

Farnsworth looked to Pearl for approval. She wiped the sweat from her forehead and nodded silently. “That would be fine, Josiah. Tell me, though, did Juan Carlos die a hero?”

The question surprised Josiah. “Yes,” he said, softly, after thinking about his answer. “He died protecting me, Scrap, and the rest of the boys.”

“So the Rangers have taken another man I loved?”

“I suppose so. Yes, they have,” Josiah said.

* * *

The inside of Rory Farnsworth's office was cool and comfortable. The walls were made of whitewashed stone and
beaded with perspiration. A fan circled overhead, offering a nice reprieve from outside. Two simple chairs sat in front of the ornately carved desk that Farnsworth usually sat behind, and one wall was lined with locked cabinets full of rifles, guns, and ammunition.

The most noticeable thing, at least for Josiah, was the bare spot on the wall where a picture once hung. The whitewash around it was fresher, whiter, suggesting the picture had been removed recently.

Farnsworth noticed Josiah looking at the spot where the picture of the sheriff's father had once hung. “That newspaperman of yours is set on seeing my father hang.”

“Paul Hoagland is not a friend, but he's not an enemy, either,” Josiah said. He pulled out one of the chairs for Pearl to sit in.

“You could have fooled me,” Farnsworth said. “I've moved my father to Tarrant County until the next trial convenes. Three down. One to go.”

“I'm sure you'll be glad when this is all over with, Rory,” Josiah said, respectfully. He felt some sadness for the man. Being the sheriff and having your father being tried as a murderer had to be difficult.

“Out of sight, out of mind. You know how that goes.”

“Yes, I'm well aware of the strategy.”

Pearl exhaled slightly, drawing Farnsworth's attention to her. “Can I get you a glass of water, Pearl?”

“Please,” she answered.

Josiah had remained standing. “If you could give us a few minutes in private, Rory, I would appreciate it. What I have to share with Pearl will not take long, then I'd like to see my son.”

Pearl cast Josiah a quick, disturbed glance, then looked away. “We'll be fine, Rory. Josiah Wolfe is an honorable man. You know that.”

“If you insist,” Farnsworth nodded.

Pearl nodded, and the sheriff turned, exited the office, and closed the door behind him with more than a gentle pull.

Josiah ignored Farnsworth's annoyed exit and put the satchel on the desk in front of Pearl. “Really, Pearl, Rory Farnsworth? You broke off our courting to take up with him?”

“It's not like that, Josiah. That didn't come about until after I had sent you that letter.”

“I have to believe that, don't I?”

“It makes no difference to me what you believe,” Pearl said. “And besides, why not Rory Farnsworth? We have a lot in common. The places we once ventured no longer welcome us. We have fallen from grace according to polite society. Me for my mother's instability and poor financial dealings and Rory for his father's misdeeds. He is the only man in this city who has shown me any decency at all.”

“Murders. His father murdered those girls. They were not misdeeds.”

“Call them what you want. Rory has been around me most all of my life, but we have never gotten to know each other very well. The turn of events brought us closer together. But if Juan Carlos's death does not demonstrate what I meant in that letter, then nothing will. I could not bear to wait for your body to be paraded into town, dead from a Ranger's mission like my father and uncle. It is even more apparent now, at least to me, that I made the right decision. No matter how much I loved you, I could not send you off and then wait for you to be killed. And I will not expect you to change. You walk the streets in Austin like they are ill-fitting clothes. You do not belong here, Josiah. We could never be happy.”

“It wouldn't matter who you were with,” Josiah whispered. He didn't finish the sentence. But he continued the thought silently to himself:
I would not be able to bear seeing you on the arm of another man.
He knew then that she was right, and what he had to do once he got the matters at hand settled.

“I beg your pardon?” Pearl said. She looked away from Josiah to the satchel.

He ignored her question. Their relationship was over. It had been the moment the letter arrived in camp, and most definitely soon after, the first time he laid eyes on Francesca. “That was Juan Carlos's. I took the liberty of going through it. It seems,” Josiah said, picking up the satchel and handing it to Pearl, “that you're now a very wealthy woman.”

Pearl accepted the satchel. “I'm sorry?”

“There are gold coins, deeds, bank notes, and more documents that I don't understand. But it seems to me that when you add them all together, your days of pursuing an education to become a schoolteacher are over if you want them to be. I'm sure once the ears belonging to high society hear of this, they will welcome you back with open arms.”

“That sounded spiteful, Josiah.”

He didn't offer to defend himself. “I'm sorry, Pearl, for what happened to Juan Carlos. He was a good friend to me, and I will mourn his death for the rest of my life.” He started to head for the door.

Pearl stood up, clutching the satchel tightly, with tears growing in her eyes. Josiah couldn't tell if they were from happiness or sadness. “And we are done? Just like that? There's no hope for us now? This money could change your life, too.”

“Money suddenly changed your heart?” Josiah scowled.

Pearl just glared at Josiah, all of her beauty gone for him. She looked like nothing more than the gossiping, heartless women she proclaimed to hate.

Josiah stopped at the door. “You're best off to stay with Rory. He'll know how to navigate the streets of Austin alongside you and get you where you want to go.”

“Where are you going, Josiah? What's going to happen to you?”

“I'm going home, Pearl,” he said, opening the door, coming face-to-face with Rory Farnsworth. “I'm going home.”