Wispy clouds rolled east, pushed by a strong unseen breeze. Rain fell from the sky in a slant, and there was no brightness in the distance. Not a single hint that the storm and the rain had run their course. The only certainty, the only promise, was that night was coming soon.
Josiah was, in a gentle way, glad of that. It would be nice to settle in for the evening. Build a fire. Tend to Billie’s needs as best he could. And worry about what lay ahead of him tomorrow . . . with the hopes that the weather would pass, allowing him to figure out what to do.
Any thought of comfort left Josiah immediately as he took a swig of coffee, still standing at the window, surveying the landscape, peering over the top of the cup. He stopped drinking and blinked his eyes to make sure he was seeing what he thought he was seeing.
It only took a second to realize he was right. A lone rider, sitting on a horse, about fifty yards north of the barn, sat staring at Billie’s house.
The rider was well protected from the rain, a slicker in the shape of a poncho covering his guns—with the exception of the rifle that was settled firmly in his hand. It was hard to make out any definite features through the gloom and rain, the horse and man were black to the eye; an unknown silhouette on the horizon.
But there was no mistaking who the rider was. It was Liam O’Reilly.
Josiah turned away and fetched the Spencer from next to the door, moving quickly but trying to be quiet so he wouldn’t alert Billie.
When he got back to the window, O’Reilly was gone.
Gone like a wraith disappearing into the depths of Hell.
CHAPTER 12
A warm ray of sunlight filtered into the cabin through the window. Sometime during the night, Josiah had awoken from his spot on the floor and realized the rain had stopped. The storm was over. The only sounds he could hear were Billie breathing gently and rain dripping off the roof. He’d stirred at daybreak, then pulled himself up off his makeshift bed of clothes and blankets. His leg hurt and he was stiff, but the bleeding had stopped. There didn’t look to be any infection.
Now that it was full on into the morning, with the sun up, the ground was soaked and muddy but navigable.
Josiah had kept himself busy. He tried to be as quiet as he could, stacking a fresh pile of wood by the stove, gathering whatever he thought Billie would need, without his assistance, in the coming days.
A few times he was certain he’d heard Billie and the baby stir in their bed, heard suckling sounds, figured if there was any need for him to invade the girl’s privacy, she would call out for him. She hadn’t.
“What are you doing, Josiah?”
Her voice caught him unaware. Josiah turned his head to see Billie standing in the sunlight, cradling her baby, a certain glow about her that Josiah recognized from his days as a new father. Lily was never more beautiful than right after she’d had a baby.
Billie had combed her long brown hair and let it fall over her shoulders. She had on a fresh yellow dress and was barefoot. Her feet even looked like they were sparkling. Her eyes, nearly the same color as her hair, twinkled, too, and her skin looked healthy and well scrubbed. Somehow, she had managed to clean herself up without Josiah knowing it.
The baby girl was wrapped in a blanket, but Josiah could see her head topped by a full head of hair that was black as coal. A hand reached up out of the blanket, fingers reaching and grabbing for the first time.
He’d been stooped over, straightening the last bit of wood into a proper stack. “Making sure you have everything you need,” he said.
The color drained immediately from Billie’s face.
Josiah stood upright then, still dressed in Charlie’s clothes, and exhaled deeply with resignation. “I think it’s best if I go.”
“You can’t leave in broad daylight.”
“They know I’m here, Billie, I’m sure of it. If they don’t, they will soon. Daylight will be their chance, too. I saw O’Reilly watching the house. My presence is putting you and the baby in danger. It’s hard telling what they’d do to you for helping me.”
Billie walked over to him, her eyes hard and unyielding. The baby gurgled and cooed. “They won’t hurt me.”
“I can’t take that risk.”
“They’ll hunt you down. You think I want to live knowin’ that you died because of me?” Billie said.
“If they kill me, it won’t be because of you. I told you, O’Reilly and I have a history.”
“Looks more like unfinished business to me.”
“I suppose you’re right. Neither of us will rest until one of us is dead. If he found out for certain you gave me food and shelter, he’d take his anger out on you, I’m sure of it.”
Billie turned away from Josiah, tears streaming out of the corners of both her eyes. She was biting the corner of her lip to restrain a full-out cry. The beauty that had previously held her in such grace was now completely gone. She stopped at the door, her back fully to Josiah, and rocked the baby.
“I was hopin’ you’d stay,” Billie said, softly, staring down at the baby. “I knew you’d have to leave sooner or later. But I was hopin’ to have at least a day or two with you here. More really. At least till I got my strength up. I could keep you well hid, Josiah. There’s a root cellar out yonder that ain’t too infested with critters. If the need arises for you to disappear there.”
“It’d be the first place they’d look. I’d have no way out.”
“In the barn, then,” Billie pleaded.
“I’m sorry,” Josiah said. “I don’t think we have a day to spare. The sooner I leave, the better off you and the baby will be.”
Billie turned and faced Josiah. “There’s nothing I can do or say to make you change your mind?”
“No, ma’am, there isn’t.”
He wasn’t sure of her offer, but there was a different look in Billie’s eyes. One he knew, too, and it was not just the glow after having a baby. She was lonely. She missed her husband. She needed a man. But Josiah was not that man . . . and they both knew it. Or, at least, he hoped she knew that was true. He had a life in Austin that was as fragile and new as Billie’s baby. He needed to go home—or at least, try to go home.
Billie said nothing as she let a look devoid of emotion fall over her face. She disappeared back into the room where she’d given birth, back to her marriage bed, back to her loneliness and new responsibilities.
The baby began to cry. After a long minute or so, the baby’s screams and whimpers were matched by Billie’s sobbing, echoing a hunger and need that could not be filled.
Josiah grabbed up the Spencer, peered out the door cautiously, then walked outside into the bright sun, more determined than ever to face Liam O’Reilly one last time.
The horses had obviously weathered the storm, huddling in a lean-to about twenty yards beyond the barn. Josiah didn’t even know the lean-to existed, or that there was any livestock at all on Billie and Charlie’s farm, until he’d set about replenishing the wood for the stove.
At first glance, the little farm had looked to be in serious disrepair, suffering from neglect because of Charlie’s death and the effects of the lingering summer drought that had just been sated by the torrential rains. Now that the sun was out, the air clean, and the wind gone, Josiah could see beyond the neglect.
The degradation and disrepair was a recent occurrence. There were signs that at one time, not so long ago, the farm had been well tended; the fences whitewashed, the barn stalls cleaned regularly, the house well cared for. All of the prideful chores had since gone by the wayside, lost in the depression and reality of death.
A few chickens appeared out of nowhere, happily pecking at the mud, searching out gravel and dirt anywhere they could find it, clucking as if they didn’t have a care in the world. They didn’t notice the red-tail hawk circling overhead, but Josiah did.
A small garden stood at the back of the house with herbs and a few stalks of corn still struggling to survive, even though it was November. Weeds were thick, gon
e to seed, and there would surely be no sign of the garden next year if Billie’s luck continued on as it had.
The horses didn’t look like they had been cared for properly in a good while, either. Josiah couldn’t fault Billie for the neglect. He just felt sad for her. Surely there were town folk that could have come out to help her, but it didn’t look like that had happened. He wondered why.
Of the two horses, only one looked to be of use. It was a tall palomino mare, her buckskin coat still shiny, but not nearly as much as it could be with some tending. Her mane was almost pure white. She looked to be about fifteen hands tall.
The other horse was a mare, too—a swaybacked black horse, graying at the snout and a good deal shorter than the palomino. The black mare eyed Josiah cautiously, backing up and snorting as he made his way toward the lean-to.
He found a catch box about a third full of moist oats, scooped out a handful, and offered it to whichever one of the horses would come to him.
“That there black one is Sulky. I’ve had her since I was a little girl. She’s been skittish and leery of men ever since I knowed her.”
Sulky looked up and seemed to calm down right away at the sound of Billie’s voice. Billie had a habit of sneaking up behind people much like Josiah’s old Mexican friend Juan Carlos.
Josiah spun around to see Billie standing a few feet behind him. He had not heard her approach. She’d startled him, and his hand immediately went for his six-shooter, which, of course, wasn’t there. “Sorry, you caught me unaware.”
The baby was nowhere to be seen.
There was still no emotion on Billie’s face. None that Josiah could read, anyway. She seemed as cold as a block of ice in January.
“The other one is Charlie’s horse. Lady Mead. He just called her Mead, but I liked it when he said her full name. He was awful damn proud of that horse.”
The palomino accepted Josiah’s offer and took the oats from his hand eagerly.
“She likes you,” Billie said.
“Seems so.”
“She tries to bite me when she thinks I’m not lookin’.” Billie walked up to Josiah’s side as Lady Mead finished the oats. “You’re really leavin’?”
“Yes.”
“What are your plans? Runnin’ off in the daylight don’t seem to be too wise, to me.”
He turned and faced Billie. “I’m not running.”
“What do you mean?”
“Rangers don’t run.”
“So you’re just gonna waltz right into town and confront that ugly Mick?”
“Something like that.”
“Something like that?” Billie echoed, putting each hand firmly on a hip, digging her feet into the ground. “They’ll kill you. They’ll just straight-out kill you. Do you want to die, Josiah Wolfe? Is that it?”
“No, Billie, I don’t. You know that. I got reasons to live, but this fight needs to be over. If I run, I’ll be looking over my shoulder the whole way. Even worse than that, I’d just be leading them back to my home. I’ve already seen my son in the hands of an evil man intent on doing me, and him, harm once. I’m not about to let that happen again.”
“Your son ain’t gonna have a ma or pa the way you’re goin’. It ain’t gonna matter whether you’re brave or not. Dead is dead. I know that firsthand.”
“I know you do, but I’m not changing my mind. I figure if I go into town I can appeal to the sheriff’s sense of justice. If I’m guilty of a crime, I deserve a fair trial. I just need to get to him and tell him my side of the story. I was captured by two Comanche, because O’Reilly has a bounty on me. He doesn’t have the right, or the power, but somehow, he’s using it. Used it to bring me here.”
“Are you just foolhardy? There’s a mob in town that dragged two men out of the jail and strung them up without one mention of a trial. Now, I ain’t defendin’ that dead Hardin boy, he was rotten to the core and all, but he got nothin’ but a long rope, and not a second of justice. If there was such a thing for him. You think you’re any different?”
“I’m a Ranger, not a gunfighter’s brother.” Josiah stared at Billie. “And, it’s the only way you’ll be safe. Today, tomorrow, and thereafter. They won’t ever know you helped me. It’s the only way, Billie.”
Billie drew in a deep breath. “They’d kill you if they thought I’d had anything to do with you. I don’t want you to die because I gave you shelter, I couldn’t live with myself, not after losin’ Charlie like I did.”
“I won’t.”
“All right then . . . there are a few things of Charlie’s I want you to have so you can at least have a fightin’ chance. The first being Lady Mead. She can run like the wind when she has to.”
“I can’t take the horse,” Josiah said.
Billie exhaled. “It’s one less thing I have to care for, all right?”
“I’ll consider her a loan.”
“Consider it what you want. It tears out my heart just to look at that horse. Now I got Charlie’s eyes starin’ right back at me from his little girl’s eyes. Ain’t that enough of a reminder of what I don’t got?”
The palomino nudged Josiah with her long, elegant nose, begging for more oats. He couldn’t tell her no any more than he could decline Billie’s generous, but painful, offer.
CHAPTER 13
Once Josiah cinched the saddle tight on Lady Mead, there was nothing else left to do but leave.
Billie stood on the stoop holding the baby. “You sure I can’t talk you out of this?”
“I’m sure, ma’am.”
“All right, then. I guess I understand. No man wants to live his life lookin’ over his shoulder. I could tell certain things about you the second I laid eyes on you, and that was one of ’em.” Billie’s eyes looked past Josiah to Lady Mead. “That rifle all you got?”
Josiah nodded. “It’ll be enough.” It was a lie, and he knew it. He had five shots left in the Spencer. He was a good shot—but he wasn’t a great shot. Every one of them would have to count—and even then that probably wouldn’t matter at all. He knew he was most likely walking into a firing squad.
“Hold on,” Billie said.
She didn’t give Josiah time to protest—she disappeared back inside the house in the blink of an eye.
For once, Josiah didn’t voice an objection, though his instinct told him to get on the buckskin palomino right then and there and take off at a good run, test out the horse and see if she ran as fast as Billie said she did. But he couldn’t leave without a proper good-bye. At least a proper thank-you. Josiah wasn’t real good at saying good-bye.
Billie returned quickly. She’d left the baby behind, inside the house, but was carrying a hand-tooled leather gun belt with a full holster that was packed with a six-shooter and enough bullets to get him through a long gunfight. Billie held it out to Josiah. “Here, take this, too. I ain’t got no use for it.”
“I can’t take Charlie’s gun, Billie. You need something to protect yourself with.”
“I got a shotgun. If that ain’t enough, then I got more problems than I can handle anyways.”
“You’re sure?”
“Lord almighty, Josiah Wolfe, consider it a loan, too, if you have to. Either bring it back when you can, or I’ll have Roy pick it off your dead body and return it to me. He’ll know where it came from once he sees it.”
“Thanks for the vote of confidence.”
“You’re the fool that’s walkin’ into a hornet’s nest in broad daylight. Ain’t got nothin’ to do with confidence.”
“All right.” Josiah walked over and took the gun belt. It only took a second to realize that the gun was a Colt Frontier.
Colt had introduced the Frontier not long after Winchester came out with the new Model 1873. It was chambered to handle the same .44-40 cartridge. That way a man only had to buy one kind of shell for the rifle and gun he carried. “Frontier” was acid-etched on the barrel or Josiah wouldn’t have recognized it so readily. The interchangeable cartridges wouldn’t do him
any good since he was carrying a Spencer—but the thought made him wonder if Charlie had a Winchester, too. Billie had just said she only had a shotgun to protect herself.
Josiah pushed the thought out of his mind; questioning Billie was of no use to him. In reality, Charlie Webb had himself set up with a good horse, a good gun, and most of all, a good woman.
Life had obviously been pretty good for Charlie—at least until he had the misfortune of recognizing John Wesley Hardin. There was no need to question anything beyond that tragedy now—Billie had shown him a kindness that was too deep to ever be repaid in full. Taking out Liam O’Reilly was the only thing he knew to do that would help Billie see a future void of any kind of trouble.
“Charlie liked that gun a lot,” Billie said.
Josiah strapped on the gun belt but resisted the temptation to pull the gun out of the holster and feel its weight, see how it handled. He’d wait until he was out of sight before he did that.
“Thank you,” he said.
“This is it, then?” Billie said.
They were about a foot apart. Josiah could smell fresh soap on her skin. He looked down to the ground, away from her deep blue eyes. “I have to go, Billie.”
“I know you do.” There were tears welling up in her eyes.
Behind her, from inside the house, the baby whimpered in two short bursts, growing louder, until the whimpers erupted into a full cry.
Billie turned to go inside, and Josiah walked away, his back to her, without saying another word.
By the time she came back to the door, Josiah was nearly past the barn. He looked over his shoulder, waved, then urged Lady Mead on to a full-out run.
If Billie said, or shouted, anything after him, he didn’t hear it.
Josiah stopped just over a slight ridge. Billie Webb’s house had disappeared from sight behind him, and the town of Comanche lay fully in front of him on the horizon. Coming in from the north, the town looked bigger, more sprawled out than it had coming in from the south. Still it was a decent size for a supply town.
The Badger's Revenge Page 9