The Rattlesnake Season Read Online Free Page A

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