“It sounded like Susie. Like you said Fat Susie,” Francesca said softly, with curiosity in her voice.
CHAPTER 12
Josiah had to digest the meaning of his delirious outcry, the truth of it, if he could. In a flash, he saw the face of a beautiful Mexican woman whom he had known for only one night. He had fallen into her arms in a moment of need and desire, and she into his, he had always believed, for the same reason. She was the first woman he had been intimate with after Lily’s death, and she held a special place in his heart. Maybe more special than he knew.
“That is a funny name to call out for,” Francesca said. “Who is this Fat Susie, Josiah?”
He drew in a deep breath and turned his head away from Francesca. “She was a woman in Austin I knew briefly.”
“Was?”
Josiah turned back to face Francesca, could only see her outline against the wall. Any judgment was still hidden, and he was glad for that, at least. “Yes, she is dead. Killed by her own brother.”
“That is sad.” Francesca moved away from the window. The gray light under the door was growing brighter. Dawn was obviously rising in the east, the long night almost over. “But you must have cared about her.”
“I did care about her, at least as much as was possible in the short time I knew her. This is a hard story to tell a stranger.”
“I am no stranger, Josiah. Not now. I have seen you at your worst, and your best. You are a man of character. A decent man, I know that much about you, and it is enough.” Francesca’s words were halting, like she was searching for the right Anglo word to use to make the most impact. She seemed to have figured out that Josiah was clueless about her language, that she would have to explain every Spanish word she used.
“I don’t think you’ve seen me at my best.”
“You are wrong about that. I saw you as a man trying to do the right thing, just trying to do your duty. You didn’t come into the cantina with killing on your mind like those hombres did.”
“No, I didn’t.”
“I am no stranger, then,” Francesca repeated. “You can tell me about this Fat Susie if you like. Or not. It makes no difference to me. You just have an asombrado, um, astonished, I think, look on your face every time you say the woman’s name.”
Josiah lowered his head and sighed. “I’m sure it’s a sad look. Right after I joined the Rangers, we were on an assignment to bring an outlaw to trial. We had a history, the outlaw and me. More than a history, really. We went to war together, and came home together, luckily all in one piece. At least physically. Charlie lost the ability to tell right from wrong. The easiness of killing never left him.”
“Like it did you?”
“I’m not sure I ever had it. I only killed a man if I had to in the war. That doesn’t mean I don’t carry my own shame. A man learns a lot about himself on the battlefield. Things he may not like.”
“Nothing has changed. Killing is not easy for you now. I could see that in your eyes. It is why I fired the scattergun.”
“No, nothing has changed. I may have hesitated, I don’t know, I can’t remember. If I did, I’m sorry for putting your life in jeopardy.”
Francesca sat down gently on the edge of his bed. He could smell her sweet, clean scent, and tried his best to ignore it. “You have nothing to apologize for. You do not mind if I sit?”
“No.” Her presence comforted him.
“Stories make us stronger.”
“Charlie Langdon, the outlaw, had set up an ambush.” Josiah drew in a deep breath, trying to organize the past in his mind and continue where he’d left off. “And my captain was killed in the attack. Charlie escaped, but it was my charge to return Captain Fikes’s body back to Austin, back to his family, a wife and a grown daughter, a young widow herself.”
“Ah, I see. This widow, she is Fat Susie?”
“No, it’s not that simple—she was not Fat Susie. Susie, Suzanne del Toro, ran a whorehouse in Little Mexico.” Josiah stumbled on the words, not sure how Francesca would react, if she would become angry when he used the word “whorehouse.” When she didn’t flinch, didn’t offer any judgment, he went on. “She was Captain Fikes’s, um, companion when he was off the trail, back in the city. His wife was such in a legal arrangement only, I think, for a lot of years, though I don’t know the details of their daily life. The captain spoke little of his home life.”
“An Anglo taking up with a Mexican?” Francesca said.
“He was a good man. I didn’t know about Susie while he was alive. No one did, really, even though it was rumored he had a concubine. He named his horse after her. Whatever the morality of it all was escaped me, and I’m glad for that. He was a good solider, and the best captain I’ve ever known.”
“I can see you cared for him.”
“Captain Fikes is also Juan Carlos’s half brother. He had a history, too, with Mexicans, you see. I don’t think he could hate his own blood just for the sake of its existence.” Josiah could see Francesca nod. It was her turn to look away. “Anyway, one night after I returned the body to Austin, I found my way to the hotel Suzanne ran, El Paridiso. I was confused and drunk on my own grief and emotion. It had only been two years since my Lily died, and I was starting to find myself attracted to the captain’s daughter. I didn’t know what to do, so I ran from her, as far away as I could get.”
“You felt that you were betraying your love for your dead wife?”
“Yes,” Josiah whispered. “And I ended up in the arms of my captain’s woman. Our grief met like two trains crashing head-on on the same track. Somehow, we helped calm each other’s sadness, were able to make sense of it for a time. She may have been a tough businesswoman, in a trade that offered women for sale, but Suzanne had a heart, too, and it was broken by the captain’s death. They had shared many years together.”
Francesca sat silently for a long moment. A rooster crowed in the distance, offering validation to Josiah’s earlier assumption that morning was breaking beyond the door.
He could see Francesca’s features a little clearer, her own beauty becoming apparent in the soft light. It surprised him that he felt so at ease with her that he could talk about the past so openly. It was something he rarely did. Even Pearl didn’t know about his encounter with Fat Susie. It was a secret he wrestled with to this day, but he had reasoned that it was in the past, before he began courting Pearl, and therefore, he was not any more accountable to tell her about Fat Susie than about the women he’d slept with during the war. But there was a link to Suzanne del Toro that did not exist to any other woman, and Josiah knew that Pearl would find the brief episode intolerable, if not a reason to end their relationship entirely.
“And then this Susie was killed by her brother?” Francesca asked.
“Yes, for her business, her territory, her money. In the end, the Rangers and I went after him. Elliot fired the shot that killed him.”
“So revenge was not yours to be had.”
“I didn’t see it that way.”
“Why not?”
“He got what he deserved in the end. It was our duty to defend ourselves, to see justice served. A lot of women were freed to go about their lives after Emilio was killed. I’m just sorry Suzanne wasn’t one of them. There was much more to her life than I knew. I wasn’t able to help her, to save her, and I will always regret that.”
“What of this daughter, the one that sent you running into another woman’s arms? Where is she now?”
“Still in Austin.” Josiah hesitated. “Waiting for me to return.”
CHAPTER 13
Heat shimmered in the distance, rising up from the hard brown dirt like wavy glass curtains, and each minute brought Josiah more energy than the previous one. His recovery seemed expected by everyone around him—Adolfo, Francesca, and Juan Carlos. There had been no sign of Scrap, or of any of Cortina’s men, in Arroyo.
&n
bsp; Josiah sat on the veranda staring off into the distance, watching a couple of buzzards circle high in the air, uniformly, like hands on an unseen clock. He had eaten a hearty lunch and breakfast, and there was nothing for him to do but sit and wait for Scrap to return, with the hopes that he would be ready to leave when Scrap arrived.
Josiah was not in a hurry to leave Arroyo. He felt comfortable in the cantina, especially with Juan Carlos near.
Clipper was in a stall at the only livery, nearby, looked after nicely while Josiah had been unable to care for the horse himself.
His Peacemaker sat comfortable on his hip, the swing holster snapped closed, allowing Josiah to feel totally whole and safe. Even though he was comfortable, he knew there were still threats about, reasons that he should not completely let his guard down. His mere presence at the cantina had most likely drawn attention from some of the residents in the small town and surrounding area, and it would not have taken much of a bribe, or matter of coin, for them to get word to Cortina.
The news that a Ranger was recuperating in the cantina would surely reach the renowned rustler sooner or later. He had a network of spies that rivaled Captain McNelly’s. Hopefully, the news would reach Cortina after Elliot returned and they had left to rejoin the Ranger camp.
Sitting alone, with the afternoon yet to play out before him, Josiah realized, after thinking about his conversation with Francesca about Fat Susie, that he had not read the letter that had arrived from Pearl just as he was leaving camp.
He hesitated, then dug into his jacket pocket and pulled out the letter.
The familiar smell of Pearl’s toilet water immediately greeted his nose. It was sweet, springlike, always full of hope, much like Pearl herself. He smiled at the thought of her, though it made him feel a bit melancholy and lonely for home.
The envelope was sealed with a wax stamp, a crest and shield that belonged to her father’s family, and one of the few remaining artifacts that noted the Fikes family, and Pearl herself, as people of means and social standing. It was the furthest thing from the truth, at least now.
The captain’s widow was in a sanatorium, ailing, her estate lost, and Pearl was seeing her way through normal school to become a teacher, with the help of Juan Carlos, all the while sleeping in a small room in a boardinghouse. The loss of wealth and standing in society had taken a toll on Pearl that neither of them could have imagined, and it was easier for Josiah to be on the trail, at times, than walking through the streets of Austin with Pearl, as she was confronted daily by what she had lost through no effort of her own.
Not being a person of wealth, and knowing it was impossible for him to be such, there were many times that Josiah felt like he was not the right man for Pearl, but she insisted that she wanted a simple life, and she wanted him to be with her on that journey.
Josiah slowly opened the letter, the penmanship perfect and recognizable. He began to read it, and the rest of the world immediately faded away:
My Dearest Josiah,
It is my greatest wish that this letter finds you safe and in good health. The days seem longer than usual in your absence. Summer can be such a miserable time, and I have been lost without your company.
My schooling is nearing its end, and I am certain that by your return, I will have received my first teaching assignment. I am hoping to remain in Austin, but that is as uncertain as everything else at the moment. Mother has taken a turn for the worse, and I fear she is at death’s door. She hardly knows I am in the room when I visit, which is not as often as I should. Each time the door chime rings at Miss Amelia’s I am most certain that it is Pedro, come to tell me that Mother has passed on to the next life. I know this matters very little to you, as your relationship with Mother was strained and uncomfortable, more so than mine. But when she leaves this world, I will be all alone, especially with you seeing to your duty, out and away from the city. Whatever assignment comes my way, after the completion of my schooling, I will be forced to take it, regardless of the location. I cannot depend on my weary uncle forever.
I have made it a point to stop by and see Lyle at least every other day since you have been away. Ofelia is such a good mother to him that I know it will be impossible to wrestle his heart away from her and ever take her place. I cannot imagine trying, for either of their sakes. Honestly, the two of them seem very settled in their life, and while Ofelia sees to my visits hospitably, I can tell she is very uncertain about my intentions. I wish to hurt no one. I only want to love Lyle, and Ofelia, too, as far as that goes. They are all that remain of your family.
What hurts most is your absence, the long days and even longer nights. I know now what my mother must have faced when my father left her for months at a time, out pursuing Ranger business, or other forms of war and manliness. The loneliness drove her mad, made her angry at every small thing. I fear I see a mirror image of her growing in myself. I am lacking in tolerance since you left. I do not wish to repeat her path, it is too sad to see. As much as I loved my father, I now realize that he put her through more difficulties that I could not, or would not, see. I love her too much to let that knowledge go now.
So it is with certainty and a heavy heart that I must tell you that I do not wish to continue our courtship. I think it is for the best that our lives separate before it is too late and some great harm comes to either of our hearts. I truly hope you can understand why I must do this now, and I hope upon hope that you will not think less of me, and will forgive me, if that is possible.
With great admiration, Pearl N. Fikes
Josiah’s hands were trembling. He slowly put the letter back in the envelope and looked up to the sky. The buzzards were gone, and a series of clouds were beginning to build in the distance.
Somewhere from inside the cantina, laughter between a man and a woman, Juan Carlos and Francesca, rang out, shattering the silence, bringing Josiah straight back into the world he had left while reading the letter.
He had no desire to join the merriment, and instead, he got up and walked away from the cantina as silently and stealthily as possible.
CHAPTER 14
The first drop of rain fell just as afternoon began to tilt toward evening. A gray ratty blanket had fallen over the earth, the distance blurry with mist, the sky bumpy and full of roiling clouds. The air was heavy with salt and moisture. If he hadn’t known better, Josiah would have thought his eyes were filled with tears. But they weren’t. He had cried at Lily’s grave and had left his ability to shed any deeper emotion in the ground with her, hundreds of miles away. While he cared greatly about Pearl, he couldn’t bring himself to face a broken heart. He was only angry. Angry that she couldn’t wait until his return to Austin to end their relationship face-to-face. He would have burned the letter, and placed the moments with Pearl in a locked part of his memory, never to be opened again. But he had neither a match nor the ability to rid himself of such memories, so the effort was futile.
Josiah walked straight into the coming rain. He felt no fear, not until the cold rain finally roused him from his stupor, and he realized that he didn’t know where he was. With that, he stopped and looked behind him. There was nothing there but a wall of rain, threatening in its blackness, in its swirls of power. Even lightning seemed to fear it. There was none to be seen. Only the wind seemed to be in cahoots with the rising storm.
From Arroyo, he was coming into a flat area down and away from a low series of limestone outcroppings. The ground was swampy and full of knee-high reeds that grew taller on the distant horizon. A few seabirds scattered about, worried gulls and terns looking to find shelter, struggling in the wind like kites lost without the guiding pressure of a human hand. Other than that, there were no other creatures to been seen or heard. It was like Josiah was the only man in the world, alone at the edge of land, with nowhere else to go. He could not see the ocean, but he could hear the rumble of it in the distance, taste it on his lips, imagine the crashing
waves against the rocky beach.
In a matter of minutes, the rain began to steadily fall. The wind gusted up, meeting Josiah in a great thrust, pushing him farther away from the cantina. He wore no coat to protect himself with. He had nothing but the Peacemaker on his hip, his hat, and his wounds, which reminded him that he was not whole, that he was still weak, unable to defend himself fully. The wind nearly blew his hat off, a trusted felt Stetson that was irreplaceable as far he was concerned.
Recognizing that he was alone also brought back the reality of his exposure. He could be walking right into Cortina’s camp for all he knew.
Josiah wasn’t sure what he’d been thinking. It was a stupid way to react to the letter, running off from an unfamiliar place into an even more unfamiliar place. He should have expected Pearl to toss him aside a long time ago. They were too different. Maybe too desperate to find someone to fill the void left by those who had exited this world, and their lives. Or maybe he was too much of a reminder of her father, a rambling man, her concern more about trust than loss. He didn’t care. Not now.
Out of steam, certain that if he kept on walking he’d run into the ocean, or trouble, Josiah decided to turn back and return to Arroyo, if he could find it again. At least he had friends there, a comfortable bed, safety in numbers.
He was defeated and tired, all of the energy that he had gained in his healing almost lost. The unexpected turn of the letter had dulled all of his senses, but they were coming back alive, reminding him of the recent events, of his duty to move forward and be ready for Scrap when he returned. There was no way Josiah was going back to Austin anytime soon. He would rejoin the fight against Cortina no matter what shape he was in. Captain McNelly needed every man he could get, and even at half his normal capabilities, Josiah felt that his years of experience could make up for what he physically lacked.
The Gila Wars Page 8