Read The Rattlesnake Season Online
Authors: Larry D. Sweazy
The Rattlesnake Season (3 page)
It only took a little asking around, and Josiah found out the whereabouts of Captain Hiram Fikes. He was playing poker in the Silver Dollar Saloon, two doors down from the jail.
“Pull up a chair, Wolfe.” Fikes was a short and skinny man with a head full of solid white hair, barely taller, it seemed, than a whiskey barrel. His skin was leathery and wrinkled, and from a distance he looked like a stiff wind could blow him straight away into Indian Territory.
More than a few brash and arrogant outlaws had underestimated the captain and found themselves six feet under without the chance to beg for forgiveness. The captain was one of the best shots Josiah Wolfe had ever met. It was as if the new model Winchester Fikes carried was an extension of his arm instead of a weapon all to itself.
“Just checking in, Captain. I’ll take my leave if you don’t mind. I’d like to get the trail dust off my neck.”
Fikes shook his head no, pointed insistently to the chair, puffed heavily on the cigar that dangled from the corner of his mouth, and said nothing further to explain his command.
The other three men at the table looked impatient. It was the captain’s turn to deal, and by the size of the chip stacks, it looked like he was cleaning out some deep pockets.
The music and laughter seemed foreign to Josiah. He tried not to stare at the two painted women standing next to the piano, or at the picture of a naked woman over the bar. It had been a long time since he’d been in a room with women, even the lowly kind, and it stirred a deep longing inside him that almost made him blush.
Aside from going into town, Ofelia was the only woman he came into contact with these days . . . and not once had Josiah let his mind wander to the fence of desire since the day he buried Lily next to his three girls.
“I’ve been waiting for you, Wolfe, and we haven’t got much time.” Fikes shuffled the cards like a professional dealer, a smile growing on his face as he turned his attention back to the game. “I know you might be wondering why I had you ride all this way, other than that Charlie Langdon has a history with you.”
“I was, sir, but I’m glad to fulfill the request. It came at a good time.”
Fikes flopped out five cards to each man, then stared up at Josiah, the smile gone from his face.
“It’s time for you to decide if you want to keep Rangering. The last couple of years have been tough for you, but it’s time to realize there’s people that still count on you, Wolfe. There’s going to be more Rangers now than ever, and you’ve been around me long enough not to be considered a greenhorn. I’ll need you one hundred percent. There’s a lot at stake. The legislators in Austin are wasting no time in setting up the companies, and Governor Coke’s going to want quick results to prove we’re worth the money.”
“I understand, Captain.”
“I hope you do. There’s trouble brewing up your way, and I’m gonna need every man I can count on to keep a spark from turning into a wildfire. Ain’t none of the men I got are as familiar with that country up there as you. Some are going to be mighty disappointed because they signed up to fight with Comanche in the counties out west. They might not have their heads where they need to be, thinking an outlaw ain’t near as dangerous as a redskin. They’re going to need a strong hand, a strong aim, these new recruits, not a man with calluses from a plow.”
Wolfe understood the tone, the underlying meaning of the words just spoken. Captain Hiram Fikes wasn’t sure he could trust him in his current state of mind because he hadn’t fully committed to Rangering. He was still in mourning for his family, his demeanor was as black as widow’s weeds, and Fikes was telling him to snap out of it, or go home and be a farmer.
Josiah couldn’t blame the captain. You had to trust the man you picked to cover your back. He knew right then that the request to escort Charlie Langdon back to Tyler was a show of faith as much as anything else. There were other Rangers Fikes could have called on to make the trip.
“I don’t mean to be anything else other than a Texas Ranger, Captain.”
“Good. That’s what I was hoping to hear. There’s a room for you at the hotel across the street.”
“The Menger is a little out of my league, Captain. I was planning on staying down by the livery.”
“You let me worry about the hotel room this time around. You’ve had a long ride. Feders and Elliot are keeping an eye on Charlie Langdon for now, and I’d just as soon he not see you until he needs to. He’s got men all over town, and I hear he might try to bust out of jail. He’s got a grudge against you a mile long, and I figure he’s marked you with his boys. I’d rather you be at my side than at the smoking end of the barrel of one of those scoundrels.”
CHAPTER 2
Josiah left the captain at the Silver Dollar, the big pile of gambling chips getting bigger. He didn’t bother to introduce himself to Fikes’s card mates. Their identities were none of his business, and they looked like locals—but for all he knew, they could have been fellow Rangers that he did not know. Everything was changing pretty fast since Governor Coke took office. In any case, Captain Hiram Fikes was the last man in Texas who needed looking after.
Josiah paused, and thought it was a little odd that the captain was wasting away the night while his men were standing guard outside the local jail, but he figured even an old Ranger needed to blow off steam.
He made note of Feders and Elliot, one on the roof, one by the door, both about as inconspicuous as that skunk on the trail. He’d met Feders, a lanky true Texan like himself, before and ridden with him briefly on one of the early sojourns with Captain Fikes. He didn’t know Elliot at all. He was a new recruit. But they were both Rangers, and he was glad to see them, glad to know Fikes wasn’t just relying on the locals to keep an eye on Charlie Langdon.
If Charlie Langdon did have a gang in town, they knew there were Rangers to contend with, too, and might think twice about busting Charlie out. Neither Feders nor Elliot noticed Josiah; they looked bored, none too concerned about Charlie Langdon, or much else for that matter. But for all he knew, that could have been a ruse.
Josiah, on the other hand, was aware of every sound, of every man, woman, and child bustling about, and unsure of who was who since the captain told him he might be a marked man.
Having to think about the safety of his own person was enough to give any man pause, but Josiah instantly thought of Lyle, and what would happen to his young son if Langdon’s men carried out their intent.
Lyle would be an orphan—plain and simple. The boy would more than likely be pulled from the small pine cabin that had always been his home, out of Ofelia’s arms, and taken to the county orphanage. It was a thought Josiah could barely stand to consider, so he pushed the thought away and refused to consider it any further.
He headed quickly to the Menger Hotel, and stopped once he stepped inside the grand lobby.
It was a magnificent sight, three storeys of opulence—white tiled floors, with intricate geometric designs that looked like a sharp-edged number eight repeated over and over again, and ivory pillars, gilded with gold leaf paint, that held up a mezzanine and another floor. Plants of the like he had never seen before were scattered about the lobby, tall and jungle-like, as big as trees, but fragile-looking, adding to the expensive airs the hotel decorators had successfully put on.
It would have been the highlight of his life if he could have brought Lily to a place like the Menger Hotel, all fine and fancy, just the two of them, holding each other’s hand like they did when they were courting.
But that was not to be, and Josiah knew it.
His heart ached for Lily every day, and he still forced himself to think of her as living and walking on the earth, bustling about at home, taking care of the girls and Lyle, while he was away. He knew it was a lie to himself, but the matters of love, and of the future, were subjects he’d desperately tried to avoid, until lately. He kept telling himself that he had a job to do, a son to look after—that was enough for any man to worry about.
But for a brief moment, he allowed himself a glimpse into the past, into his imagination, and watched Lily, dressed in her Sunday best, stroll across the lobby floor of the Menger Hotel, like a queen.
He shook his head, cleared his mind, and made his way to the registration desk.
The clientele of the Menger Hotel was more apt to be businessmen and formal ladies than a Ranger fresh off the trail.
Josiah immediately felt self-conscious, and almost decided to head down to the flophouse by the livery, but he just couldn’t bring himself to leave. He didn’t want to insult Captain Fikes by declining his generosity.
Fresh pomade glistened in the hair of the mousy-looking man who stood behind the registration desk. There was not a speck of dust on his dark blue double-breasted uniform. Gold buttons tinkled on the little man’s sleeves as the clerk lifted a pen, a look of disdain rising on his face.
“May I offer some direction, sir?”
“A room is all I need at the moment.”
The clerk hesitated. “We are full up. You may want to check the other hotels for your needs, sir.”
Josiah stiffened, knew he was being looked down on, and he didn’t take too kindly to the man’s attitude. “I’m with Captain Fikes. He said there was a room reserved in my name.”
The clerk’s eyebrows arched with immediate recognition. “My apologies. Name, sir?”
“Wolfe. Josiah Wolfe.”
The man ran the pen down a piece of paper in a fancy big book that looked more like a ledger than a guest book, and nodded.
“That’ll be room 210. We usually ask our guests to check their weapons at the desk, but I understand that you’re a Ranger.” The man looked over his shoulder, then leaned in and whispered, “I voted against that snake Edmund Davis in hopes he’d be run out of the state. In all that commotion, we’ve all been wondering where the Rangers were.” The clerk smiled and squared his shoulders. “Welcome to the Menger Hotel, sir. I hope your stay is a pleasant one.”
Josiah smirked, even though he didn’t mean to, and took the key. He was more than a little uncomfortable with public discussions about politics, but the recent fracas in Austin obviously had everyone talking.
The election of Richard Coke was a good thing for the Rangers, and Josiah was more than enthused about the formation of the Frontier Battalion, but his political views were privately held. Even though he agreed with the clerk, he wasn’t about to let on to a stranger that he was happy to see Governor Coke take office.
Davis’s loss signaled the end of Reconstruction, and honestly, Josiah hoped the final curtain was about to fall on the War Between the States.
Those scars needed healing, just like his own, though he wouldn’t admit that the war had scarred him . . . but it had had an affect on every man who picked up a weapon and left home to fight for a cause he believed in. Or, like him, fought because it was a duty to his family and to his state.
The only strong feeling Josiah had about slavery was simple: A man was a man, regardless of his skin color, and how he lived was more important than where he lived. One man owning another had always seemed odd to him, and his family had never had the wealth to engage in such an idea, so it had never been an issue of true consideration for them, never mattered one way or the other. Folks had been forced to take a public stand on something private.
Some men still carried a torch for the Confederacy, but Josiah wasn’t in that crowd. And neither, obviously, was Governor Richard Coke.
Josiah made quick arrangements for a bath, then headed up the ornate staircase in search of his room. It had been a long time since he’d made the trip to San Antonio, so he was a tad bit saddle sore, and could still taste the trail grit between his teeth. He had a fresh set of clothes wrapped in his bedroll and was anxious to soak in a tub of hot, steaming water and get the stubble shaved from his face.
The room Captain Fikes had reserved for him was easy enough to find.
It was like walking into a palace suite. A brass bed with fresh linens took up only part of the room. A sitting chair, upholstered in thick red material that looked soft as a short-haired cat, sat regally in the corner. A writing desk and chair sat next to the bed. A pitcher with chunks of ice in it sat in a porcelain bowl with designs glazed onto it that looked like the lobby floor. A large hand-carved mirror was centered above the bowl and pitcher, reflecting a version of Josiah, and the room, back at him.
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