Cougar's Prey (9781101544846)

by Sweazy, Larry D.

  The smell of fresh coffee hit his nose, and when he looked over to see the empty little bed that Lyle occupied in the small bedroom they shared, he jumped up, hopped into his pants, and hurried out to see where Lyle was.

  The boy was sitting in the middle of the floor while Ofelia puttered around the kitchen, trying to be as quiet as she could.

  Josiah stopped, letting his panic subside, glad to see Lyle, and Ofelia, too. She was as consistent as the rising sun and just as dependable. Guilt struck him upon seeing the two of them, then he pushed it away, assured by Ofelia’s own admittance, more than once, that she was only there because she wanted to be.

  Still, he didn’t know how much longer he could expect the Mexican to be the sole woman in his life, responsible for raising Lyle and tending to Josiah when he was home.

  “Papa!” Lyle said, running to Josiah, tackling him at the knees and hugging him tightly.

  Josiah had never been the kind of man who was openly affectionate to his children, but he had grown to be more so with Lyle. After the loss of his three girls, and nearly losing Lyle himself to the despicable outlaw Charlie Langdon, Josiah had found the value of a hug to be far greater than he’d ever thought it would be.

  He reached down and hoisted the boy upward, settling him comfortably on his hip. Lyle favored Lily, had her eyes and facial features, and some days it was like looking at a ghost, seeing a glimpse of the woman he’d loved so dearly. Other days, there was no question that Lyle was a Wolfe and then he reminded Josiah of his father with his stubbornness, or his mother with his gentleness.

  All in all, the boy was a fine mix of everyone Josiah had ever loved, and that in itself was more than enough reason to treasure every moment they shared—and why every moment away was becoming harder and harder to take as the boy grew older, into his own person.

  “How’s my boy this fine morning?” Josiah asked. The train had passed, and the rumbling had ceased, leaving the house calm and peaceful.

  “Bueno, Bueno,” Lyle said.

  “Lyle, hablan Inglés,” Ofelia ordered, her back turned to Josiah and Lyle.

  Lyle sighed. “I like to speak Spanish, ’Felia.”

  “Not here, not to your papa, we have talked about this.”

  Josiah did not interfere. He had mixed emotions about Lyle speaking Spanish. On one hand, it would be a great benefit to the boy when he grew up.

  There was no question that any Anglo who could speak both languages had an upper hand, wasn’t cajoled or lied to by translators, or left to sign language. But there was also the need for Lyle to mix with Anglos as easily as he mixed with Mexicans. If he got too used to speaking Spanish, the boy could be an outcast when it was time for school.

  Ofelia knew more than anybody that Josiah himself did not speak Spanish, and had never taken an inclination to learn, though they had never spoken about it.

  “Okay,” Lyle said. “I’m good, Papa. Happy to see you.”

  “That makes two of us,” Josiah said, hugging Lyle a little closer and a little tighter than he had the day before. “That makes two of us.”

  CHAPTER 8

  The cool air carried the smell of freshly cut lumber, but the sound of hammers was yet to be constant, like an invasion of angry woodpeckers in an unseen forest. It wouldn’t be long though, before the carpenters and laborers began their daily work.

  At almost every glance there was a building in Austin under construction. Some of the buildings neared completion and others were stalled due to the current financial collapse, but mostly there was still a sense of reasonable prosperity up and down Congress Avenue, thanks to the arrival of the Houston and Central Texas Railway three years earlier, in 1871, and the demand for cattle north, and then, ultimately, in the east.

  Josiah had hoped the early morning would be easier to navigate, offer less chance that he would be recognized and accosted. It was a risk stepping out into the world when you were the lead story in the newspaper, but he didn’t want Billie Webb to get caught up in the shenanigans of the day, pulled into his troubles, when she had plenty of her own.

  Billie hailed from Comanche, a small town north of Austin. A few months back, John Wesley Hardin, the outlaw and gunfighter, had visited some kinfolk of his in Comanche and was celebrating his birthday at the local saloon when a deputy recognized him. The deputy was Billie Webb’s husband, Charlie.

  John Wesley Hardin killed Charlie Webb in cold blood. Shot him in the back and left town in a hurry, ran like the coward he was, as far as Josiah was concerned. Billie was left a widow, at nearly nine months pregnant, in a sorrowful spot in her life.

  Josiah had met Billie purely by accident, taking refuge in her barn, running from two Indians who had captured him, intent on getting a bounty from Liam O’Reilly. The bounty was a ploy to get Josiah out of the way early, so Pete Feders and O’Reilly could carry out their bank robbing and cattle rustling plans.

  Billie had put Josiah up after finding him hiding in her barn, and in the end, he helped deliver her baby, a healthy little girl, then he borrowed Charlie’s clothes, gun, and horse, so he could take care of what needed to be done. It was from there that Josiah tracked O’Reilly and Feders and ended up in the mess he was in now.

  The last time Josiah had seen Billie was when he returned Charlie’s horse and gear. By that time, she had recuperated from the birth of her baby, and had hinted that she was interested in Josiah in more than a friendly way, which Josiah had ignored, then rebuffed, saying he was interested in a woman back in Austin. Which, was true, but when Billie asked Josiah if he loved this woman—Pearl, of course—he couldn’t answer her. Still couldn’t as far as that was concerned. When he left Comanche, he figured that was the end of his relationship with Billie.

  It wasn’t that Billie was not attractive. She was not classically beautiful, not like Josiah thought Pearl was, but Billie was pretty in an earthy sort of way, and she was younger than both he and Pearl by about ten years. Billie already had a hard edge to her, one that Josiah understood and recognized immediately.

  Loss shatters some people, and they never figure out how to put themselves back together. Billie looked to be the kind that was ready to pick herself up and dust herself off and get back to living life—though with some hesitation when it came to trusting people. That in itself made Josiah curious as to why Billie Webb was in Austin and why she had sought him out.

  The offer to talk to the sheriff and serve as a character witness would do little to help Josiah’s situation, as it was. He feared the newspaper would draw Billie into the story, and that’s the last place she needed to be. He intended to thank her for her offer, then ask that she stay as far away from him as possible until everything was settled.

  Josiah passed by the Jacoby-Pope Building, a brand-new structure that had gone up at the same time as the building next door to it, the Hannig. The two buildings looked to be from two different worlds. The Jacoby-Pope was a simple building, just a regular storefront, stick-built from the ground up to serve a simple purpose: sell dry goods and add another mercantile to Congress Avenue. The Hannig Building, on the other hand, was an architectural marvel, an expensive proposition with a facade carved intricately from Texas limestone and fitted with ornate wood-framed doors and windows. It smelled new, just walking by, the stain on the trim not completely dry.

  The difference in the two buildings was a perfect reflection of the growth in Austin, one Josiah had a hard time not noticing. All of the movement in the city was new to him, and honestly, since he’d spent very little of the time he had lived in Austin actually in Austin, he still felt more like a visitor than a resident. Maybe, someday, he would feel like an Austinite, but he didn’t expect that to happen anytime soon. He wasn’t sure he wanted it to.

  He hurried past the Hannig Building and pulled his wool Stetson down to cover half his face. There were law offices on the top floor of the building, and the last thing he wanted was to cause a spectacle there, meeting face–to-face with an attorney set on making
a name for himself, or anywhere else as far as that went.

  The morning was still young, the sun barely poking up over the horizon, but there were horses on the street, and a few people on the boardwalks heading from one place to another. Sometimes, Josiah wondered if there was ever a time when there wasn’t somebody coming and going on the streets of Austin.

  He hurried down East Sixth Street, not running, but walking as fast as he could. He could easily have been mistaken for a bank robber or a criminal of some other sort on the run if he picked up his pace, acting as nervous as he was. Still, he wanted this chore over with.

  It didn’t take long to come up on the St. Charles House. It was more of a building than a house, built to service the passengers from the railroad, three storeys tall with a flat roof, and a fine restaurant on the main floor. Josiah could never afford such an extravagance, but he knew Pearl had visited the restaurant often. She had raved about the salads, steaks, and fine dishes in a way he could never understand. Food was food to him. Beans and biscuits, on the trail, were more suitable to him than the fanciness of a real restaurant where you had to act formal and wonder what fork to use. Manners were just another gulf that existed between Josiah and Pearl.

  Mary Morgan’s boardinghouse was a block off Sixth Street, and for a brief moment, Josiah thought about turning around and going home.

  He liked Billie Webb, was grateful to her, and maybe at another time, in another circumstance, he would have been attracted to her, thought about courting her in a proper way, if she was receptive to the idea. They had similar problems, raising their children on their own and losing their spouses in tragic ways. Both of them were alone. Billie more so than Josiah, as far as he knew.

  The boardinghouse was two storeys, about ten years old, simple in structure, but painted recently, a fresh white with black trim. A little flower garden fronted the street, but all of the flowers were dead now, the bushes void of any leaves.

  The smell of fresh baking bread emanated from the rear of the house, so instead of knocking at the front door and risking waking up any residents who were still sleeping, Josiah went to the back door that led into the kitchen. He didn’t have to knock. A woman, surely the owner, Mary Morgan, met him at the door.

  Josiah tilted his hat back, exposing his face.

  “What do I owe the pleasure of a visitor this early in the morning?” Mary Morgan looked to be in her mid-fifties, with hair the color of a rising sun; red as red could be. Her skin was pale white, like a statue, and her eyes were emerald green, as shiny as the jewels they reminded Josiah of. She looked happy, curious, and demanding. “The house is full, you know, so if’n it’s a room you’re seekin’, then you might check on down the street at the Riverts’ house. They got more rooms than they know what to do with.”

  “I’m here to see one of your boarders, ma’am,” Josiah said.

  Mary Morgan wiped a bit of flour from her hands on the apron she wore. “And which one would that be?”

  “Billie Webb, ma’am. A girl and a baby.”

  “I know, I know. What you want with them this early on in the day? You look familiar. Do I know you?”

  Josiah lowered his head. “No, I don’t think we’ve ever had the pleasure of meeting.”

  Mary Morgan squinted at Josiah, drew her head closer to him, but blocked the door solidly with her body, so he couldn’t see beyond her. “I’ve seen you somewhere, now, but I can’t place you. I sure do know I’ve seen that face of yours, though. You ain’t been in trouble, have ya?”

  Josiah hesitated. “Not with the law, ma’am.” It was true. No charges had been filed against him for shooting Pete Feders, and he’d never been in enough trouble to have his likeness printed on a wanted poster.

  “All right, then. You wait here and let me get Missy Webb. Nice girl, that one. She sure could use a man in her life.”

  “I’m a friend, ma’am.”

  Mary Morgan trailed off with heavy footsteps echoing behind her. Josiah sighed, relieved that she hadn’t recognized his face from the newspaper. He began pacing back and forth behind the back door.

  The smell of the day’s bread baking was almost overwhelming. Nothing smelled better than that to Josiah. It reminded him of his mother, of his life on the little farm he grew up on, that now seemed so far away, so distant.

  He didn’t know why he was nervous, but he was. A few minutes must have passed with him going to the street, then back, trying to figure out what he was going to say to Billie. Finally, he felt a pair of eyes on the back of his neck, and he turned around and met Billie Webb’s gaze.

  She was standing in the doorway. Mary Morgan wasn’t that far behind, making noise in the kitchen, loud enough to let Josiah know she was keeping an eye on him. He liked that, was glad somebody was looking out for Billie.

  “Well, there you are,” Billie said. She smiled, and for a brief moment she looked young and happy, dressed in a simple fresh white linen dress, her hair still damp, but combed out. Once the smile faded, the pain Billie carried was obvious. Her lips pursed together, and she looked hard as a rock as she waited for Josiah to come to her.

  Josiah nodded. He didn’t know whether to hug her, shake her hand, or kiss her on the cheek. What they were to each other was confusing. “It’s good to see you, Billie. A big surprise.”

  Billie shook her head. “You are the most foolish man I have ever met, Josiah Wolfe. Ain’t you got a proper greetin’ for me, or are you just gonna stand there like a silly schoolboy unsure of what to do with your hands?”

  “Stand here, I ’spect,” Josiah said.

  “Suit yourself.” Billie walked out the door, then padded in her bare feet straight to Josiah. She slipped her arms around his waist and hugged him close to her. She was nearly a head shorter than he was. The scent of cottonseed oil touched Josiah’s nose, not the scent of spring, like Pearl. It wasn’t an unpleasant fragrance, just different, not as expensive, not as flowery as Pearl’s, but still feminine and just as attractive, if not more.

  Josiah stood stiff, then pulled away when he felt the hug had lingered too long. “What’re you doing here, Billie?”

  “Well, that’s a fine howdy-do to you, too, Josiah. I figured once you helped deliver the baby we weren’t strangers no more.”

  “We’re friends, Billie. I’m glad to know you.”

  Billie stood back from Josiah and looked him up and down. “This trouble’s got you all wound up. You look ten years older than the last time I saw you, and that wasn’t that long ago.”

  “I suppose it’s taken a toll, Billie. But it’s trouble you don’t need to be involved in.”

  “You saved me, Josiah. I could have never delivered that baby on my own.”

  “You don’t owe me anything. I was there because I was running. We’ve talked about this before.”

  Billie drew in a deep breath and exhaled. “That woman you care about makin’ things any easier for you?”

  Josiah shook his head no. “Let’s not discuss that.”

  “You still haven’t told her you love her yet, have you?”

  The best thing Josiah thought he could do was ignore the question. “I want you to stay out of this, Billie. It won’t matter to the sheriff, or anybody else, what you think of me.”

  “I moved here to be closer to you, Josiah. There ain’t nothin’ for me in Comanche no more. Just bad memories. I need a fresh start, and I figured this here place would be the best place to give it a shot. I know you, and it won’t take me long to know other folks, too.”

  The air went out of Josiah’s lungs. He didn’t know what to say, so he turned and walked away from Billie.

  “Come back. Josiah Wolfe, come back here right now. I didn’t mean to scare you off. I need you, damn it. This city of Austin is bigger than I thought it was, and I’m not sure how to set one foot in front of the other.”

  Josiah couldn’t stop. Once he reached the street, he broke into a flat-out run. This time, he willed himself not to look back. He never wanted
to see Billie Webb again. He was afraid if he did, he’d scoop her up and take her home with him.

  Then he’d really have problems—if he didn’t already.

  CHAPTER 9

  There was a horse tied up in front of Josiah’s house that he didn’t recognize. It was a big gray gelding, the muscles hard and well formed, its coat shiny and unmarred, with big flecks of black in the mane. The empty saddle was black and glossy, shining in the bright, rising sun like it was brand-new.

  The day had drawn nearer to noon, and the sky was bright and clear, free of clouds, a fragile blue that went on and on forever. On a better day, the weather would have suggested a bit of optimism and a mild winter, but it wasn’t a better day, and it might as well have been dark and gloomy as far as Josiah was concerned.

  He hadn’t stopped running until he was a block from his house. His heart was racing, and he was covered with perspiration, even though the morning air was cool, bordering on chilly. He hadn’t cared what kind of attention he gained as he made his way home, all he wanted to do was get as far away from Mary Morgan’s boardinghouse as possible.

  Billie Webb’s presence in Austin complicated things for Josiah in a way he had never considered possible. Courting Pearl would have its tribulations, even if it was possible at the moment, but having Billie near made Josiah reconsider if he even had the desire to court Pearl.

  In reality, he didn’t know either woman very well at all—just enough to leave him feeling confused and lonely. If it wasn’t for the fact that Lyle needed a mother figure, then, at the moment, the only female company Josiah would consider would be the kind he could pay for. At least he could leave all of the emotion in the bed, and not carry it with him everywhere he went.