Josiah shot Scrap a look that was not hard to mistake: it meant keep quiet.
“I was never going to have her as long as you were alive, Wolfe,” Feders whispered.
“Why O’Reilly?”
“I needed him to help me grow the herd once I had the Fikes ranch. I needed to prove to Pearl’s mother I was worthy, that I had the kind of money Pearl was accustomed to—without money I would never have her as my own, as my wife. The old woman needs money, Wolfe; the financial collapse and Captain Fikes’s death have left her nearly penniless. Her way of life is at stake, and the only true asset she has left is Pearl; she has mortgaged the estate to the hilt, with little means to pay her debt. I was willing to do anything to have Pearl, to have that land, and the life I have always dreamed of. I was never good at being a captain, you know that.
“I needed the bank money from Comanche to give to Cortina as a down payment for a large herd, and that was the fastest way to get it. I gave O’Reilly a generous cut, and he knew as long as he was riding with me that he would always be protected by Rangers. He was free to do whatever he wanted, and I didn’t have to do the dirty work. I am no Charlie Langdon. Surely, you understand that I wanted nothing more than Pearl’s love in the end?”
Josiah shook his head no. He didn’t understand that kind of love and greed. All he knew was the difference between right and wrong, and the whole thing concerning Pete was . . . wrong. It didn’t make any sense to him. “Did Pearl’s mother put the bounty on my head to get me out of the way?”
“She’s desperate, Wolfe, but she’s not a murderer, though I often thought it would be easier to kill her than you. You have a talent for staying alive.”
“You would have killed me for Pearl? Left my boy an orphan?” Anger was coursing through Josiah’s veins upon hearing the cold truth.
Feders tried to answer, but he didn’t have the energy. Blood was leaving his body quicker than it could clot. He struggled to breathe, then gasped, clutching his heart. His hand fell to the ground, his eyes fixed on the sky, and in the blink of an eye, Josiah knew that Captain Pete Feders was dead.
CHAPTER 43
The cold November rain pelted Josiah’s face as he rode up to the grand Fikes house. It was late evening, darkness coming earlier and earlier in the day as winter bore down on Austin. Gloomy days lay ahead, and Josiah could already feel the change of weather deep in his bones.
He hitched Clipper to the post in front of the house and walked up to the door, his shoulders slouched, each step taken, heavy and unwilling, though there was no question that he had to do what he was about to.
The door opened before Josiah came to a stop and prepared to knock. Pedro was standing there, an expression on his face equal to those usually seen at a funeral or a wake: sad and reflective. “It is good to see you Señor Wolfe.”
“I’m not sure I believe you.”
“The hour is late, and you were not expected, so your presence is news to us, your survival a relief. The last we saw of you was at the dinner, then you were off on another assignment in South Texas. There is always worry when our Rangers take to the road. Captain Fikes came home dead in the back of a wagon. Why would we not expect the same to happen to you?”
“All of you are relieved?” Josiah asked, peering over Pedro’s shoulder, wondering what the Mexican butler actually knew about the trip south.
The grand hall of the house was dimly lit, a few hurricane lamps burning low, casting soft shadows on the walls and ceiling. Down the hall, the dining room, where Pete Feders had asked Pearl to marry him publicly, stood in complete darkness. More out of function than in mourning, since, as far as Josiah knew, word of Pete Feders’s demise had not yet reached Austin.
“I have just returned to the city,” Josiah said.
“How is your son?”
“Fine, thank you, and not happy to see me leave again so soon after arriving home, but I need to speak with Pearl.”
“Like I said, Señor Wolfe, it is late, can this not wait until tomorrow?”
Josiah shook his head no. “I have news for her that I wish to tell her myself. Tomorrow will be too late.”
Before Pedro could respond, Josiah heard a shuffle of footsteps coming down the grand staircase. Again, he looked past Pedro. Disappointment coursed through his veins as he quickly figured out that the person raised by the voices at the door was Pearl’s mother, the Widow Fikes, and not Pearl herself. Josiah had been hoping to avoid a meeting with the widow.
“Who is it, Pedro, disturbing us at such a late hour?”
“It is Ranger Wolfe, ma’am.”
“Wolfe?” The widow pushed by Pedro, who retreated quickly into the nearest alcove. “You, sir, are not welcome in this house. There, I have made it official. Now, please leave.”
“I would like to speak with Pearl,” Josiah said.
“Did you not just hear me ask you to leave?”
“I did. With all due respect, ma’am, I would like to speak with Pearl before I do so.”
The widow was more than a head shorter than Josiah, so he had to angle his neck downward just to look her in the eye. She had obviously been preparing for bed, wrapped in a black robe, still mourning, still wearing her widow’s weeds, of a fashion, to the very moment she crawled into bed. Her brittle gray hair was unfurled from a tight bun and fell over her shoulders, hanging down almost to the small of her back. Her skin was nearly pale white. She looked like a ghost herself, albeit a well-fed one.
“Your persistence is not appreciated here, Ranger Wolfe. I don’t know what my husband ever saw in you, but I rue the day you stepped foot on this property, the day my daughter first laid eyes on you. You are a blight on my life. Do you understand that, sir? A blight.”
Josiah restrained his tongue, pushed it to the roof of his mouth. He wanted to respond, to participate in the fight she was laying the ground for, but he did not take the bait. He had the advantage of seeing the shadows behind the woman, saw what was coming before she heard it.
“Mother! What an awful thing to say. Josiah does not deserve such vile treatment,” Pearl said, descending from the final step, then hurrying to the door. She rushed past her mother, a smile on her face, the glow nearly lighting up the darkness of the night that lay beyond Josiah.
Pearl was wrapped up in nightclothes, too. There was a fragrance about her that quickly infiltrated Josiah’s nose. Cream of some kind, a freshness that smelled of spring and womanhood. He almost turned and ran away, but he didn’t, he held firm. Seeing her took his breath away.
“Why are you here, Josiah, is something the matter?”
“I would like to speak to you, in private,” Josiah said, his voice monotone, any emotions held as deep in his stomach as he could manage.
“There will be nothing done in private between you and my daughter, Ranger Wolfe. Do I make myself clear? If you have something to say, say it in front of me, as I will not leave you to a chaperone of any type,” the Widow Fikes said.
Josiah drew in a deep breath, and Pearl glared at her mother harshly. Her sweet cornflower blue eyes were harder than he had ever seen them.
“I would like a moment alone with Josiah, Mother.”
The Widow Fikes’s feet were set as solidly as the rest of her body. Her face was frozen in a state that offered no hint of negotiation.
“I did not come here to cause an argument,” Josiah said. “It is bad news that I bear, and your mother will hear it soon enough, too, Pearl. Maybe this way is best.”
“Something has happened to Juan Carlos?” Pearl said. “Hasn’t it?”
“That is part of it, yes.”
The widow Fikes stood firm, her glare never breaking away from Josiah. Pedro stood close by in the shadows, close enough to hear everything.