The Scorpion Trail: A Josiah Wolfe, Texas Ranger Novel by Sweazy Larry D

Author:Sweazy, Larry D.
Language: eng
Format: epub
Publisher: WordWise Publishing Services, LLC
Published: 2024-01-06T00:00:00+00:00

Chapter 19

Fort Worth didn’t seem as populated as Austin, or at least it wasn’t near as strung out. The courthouse that Scrap had spoken of was still under construction, and there was a bunch of hubbub going on in town, because the first westbound stagecoach had set up a stop along a route that would take a person to Yuma and beyond. A ride had just left the stop, a crowd cheering at a cloud of dust.

The morning ride for Josiah, Scrap, and Mae had been an easy one, and it had stretched into afternoon without hardly any notice.

The thought of the men in the posse out of Waco, perhaps on their trail, perhaps not, was never far from Josiah’s mind. Nor was Juan Carlos. He was concerned about his friend, but he also knew there was nothing more he could do than worry about his well-being and acknowledge that the Mexican had probably saved him a lot of trouble, once again.

Mae sat comfortably behind Josiah on Clipper.

Scrap had refused to take her onto Missy, had refused to get near her, or even speak to her. There had been more tension in the air when Josiah cooked up some breakfast, but Mae seemed to be glad of Scrap’s sudden distance, even though she didn’t know the why of the boy’s actions.

Josiah felt a little regret about that, about Scrap’s obvious fear of contamination or infection, but who would knowingly choose madness for a moment’s pleasure? No one that Josiah knew, and he couldn’t blame Scrap for his fear, but Mae had probably been treated less than human most all her life. If she was sick, the last thing she needed now was to be treated like she didn’t exist. But Josiah had decided at some point through the night, as he sat watch, that he wasn’t even going to broach the subject of her sickness with Mae, or anybody else for that matter.

Once they’d ridden into the outskirts of Fort Worth, if it could be called that, Josiah hung back and let Scrap take the lead since he knew where his aunt’s boardinghouse stood. Besides, it had been a while since Josiah had been to Fort Worth, and it was almost unrecognizable. He wouldn’t have known Main Street from First Street if it wasn’t marked.

Of course, everybody called Forth Worth Cowtown, because of its proximity to the Chisholm and the array of opportunities for a cowboy to rest up and raise a little ruckus in Hell’s Half Acre on the way north to Abilene. A lot of the northern cattle buyers had established their headquarters in town, and that, of course, drew other businesses to Fort Worth.

“I always heard a girl could make a good livin’ in Fort Worth,” Mae said. “I shoulda run off from that riverfront a long time ago.”

Josiah ignored her. As they passed by several businesses, B. C. Evans Dry Goods, and Martin B. Lloyd’s Exchange Office, a few proper women glanced up their way, spied Mae, then looked to the ground quickly.

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