“Is that what you think will make you feel better about all of this? Fighting with me? Giving me a good solid punch at the end of a fighting day?”
“Fair is fair, Wolfe. I thought you was my friend. I mean we’ve been cross with each other before, but this was somethin’ else. Somethin’ else entirely. You stepped over a line. We was on duty, fightin’ against the same enemy. I’m not the enemy, damn it! The Mexicans are, and here I am the one’s that beat up.”
Josiah exhaled and stood up weakly. “You are my friend, Scrap. What happened out there wasn’t about whether that’s true or not. I wasn’t myself, and neither were you. I’ve seen it before, felt it before, a long time ago when I fought in the War Between the States. More times than I like to remember. I thought those days were over, but I guess they’re not. Never will be as long as there’s somebody shooting at us and there’s a battle of some kind raging about.”
“It’s never happened to me before,” Scrap said, frowning.
“I know. Look,” Josiah said, extending his hand in an offer of friendship, “I’ll say it again, I’m sorry. If you want to take a swing at me, then go ahead. Now’s the time. I won’t fight back.” He relaxed his hand and opened up both arms, giving Scrap a clear and easy path to swing through. It was as close to begging for forgiveness as Josiah was going to get.
“You ain’t gonna fight back? You’re just gonna stand there and take it?”
Josiah said nothing, just nodded yes.
There were no sounds around them, at least that Josiah could hear. The fire was silent other than an occasional crackle, waiting for another log, and the camping spot was vacant of other Rangers—they were alone, so no one could intervene. The rest of the boys were probably gathered around a larger fire, close to the chuck wagon, finishing up supper. But it was more than that. It was like the rest of the world had vanished. All that was important was standing right in front of Josiah. He meant to put an end to this scuffle with Scrap—properly, if that was possible.
Scrap reared back and clamped his teeth hard together like he was going to put all the power and force he could muster into the punch. But he stopped at the last second, didn’t follow through. His eyes grew glassy, and a set of angry tears welled up, threatening to break out and stream down his cheek. He turned away then, not letting Josiah see that happen. “Damn it, Wolfe” was all he said.
Josiah dropped his head and allowed his arms to fold slowly to his sides. “Not everything that happens in a battle makes sense, Scrap. You pick up the pieces and put them back together the best you can. But there’s no doubt that things are different. What happened today will change the lives of more than just us.”
He was still uncertain if Scrap had given up the desire to fight with him. He might have just been gathering himself and could charge like a territorial bull at any second. Either way, it didn’t matter. Josiah had decided he’d take whatever came, though he would have preferred to have Scrap’s friendship over his rage.
Scrap sighed, and his shoulders dropped. He stood facing the fire, his back to Josiah. “All I ever wanted was to fight in a battle. Earn my salt as a Ranger, you know? I figured I would have tall tales to tell in my old age, like them fellas that came back from facing the Northern aggressors, like you. I was too young for that fight. This is all I have, and it’s not so pretty as I thought it’d be. That Mexican was kind to me in his own way, and now I guess I was pretty mean to him. I wish I could take back how I acted toward him.”
“Juan Carlos never took what you said to him to heart,” Josiah said. “He saw you as a spirited colt, and figured one of these days you’d tame down and end up leading us all through the days of blood and fighting. But I understand your regret. I made my own mistakes in that regard.”
Scrap turned around and faced Josiah with tears streaming down his face. “You never told me it would be this hard.”
“Some things you have to learn on your own. Don’t you worry, you’ll have your stories to tell. I’m certain of that.”
“Yeah, sure, I will.” Scrap drew up a deep breath and wiped his face on his shirtsleeve. “Blubberin’ about like a baby. I sure won’t tell anybody about that.”
“Maybe you should,” Josiah said.
Scrap glare at him, but it only lasted a second.
Only a few feet separated Josiah and Scrap, and it was easy to see in the glow from the embers of the fire just how young Scrap really was. Sometimes he forgot that Scrap was really just out of boyhood, and it had been a difficult, lonely journey for him.
“I’m sorry,” Josiah said, offering a handshake again.
Scrap took it this time, shook it firmly, then let go. “I’m pretty hungry. And you smell like a wallerin’ pig. I say we get ourselves cleaned up and find some of that beef I’m smellin’.”
“Sounds good,” Josiah said, walking past Scrap, picking up the saddlebag. “But we need to keep an eye on this.”
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.”
&nb
sp; “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, s
urprisingly, 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.”
The Gila Wars Page 23