The Badger's Revenge by Larry D. Sweazy

runnin’ after a young’un and tryin’ to do all of Charlie’s work, too.”
    â€œI’m sorry,” Josiah said.
    â€œJust the way it is. I couldn’t just stop, not with my belly growin’ every day. Maybe if’n I would’ve been without it, then I could have.”
    Josiah fidgeted in the chair. “I understand.”
    â€œI imagine you do.” Billie put the pot on the stove to boil. “You look like a man who’s seen more than his fair share of ugliness. You was in the war, wasn’t you?”
    â€œYes, ma’am. The Texas Brigade.”
    â€œI figured. Looks like you came back all in one piece.”
    â€œMostly.”
    â€œThat’s what Charlie would’ve said, too. I knowed him since I was knee-high to a grasshopper, but I sure didn’t know him when he came back from that fight.”
    â€œWar changes a man.”
    â€œUgliness does. Sure does. Charlie softened some after we married. But some nights he’d scream out, tremble like a scared little feller. You know what I mean?”
    â€œI do,” Josiah said. “I do.”
    â€œI ’spect bein’ a Ranger is a lot like still bein’ at war.”
    â€œNot so much. It’s a different war, at least.”
    â€œThey’re all the same.”
    Josiah nodded in agreement.
    â€œYou got family?” Billie asked.
    â€œA son, in Austin. He’s two.”
    â€œNo momma?”
    Josiah shook his head no. “Her and my three daughters died. Fevers took ’em.” He wasn’t about to tell Billie that Lily had died giving birth to Lyle.
    Billie took in a deep breath. “I’m sorry to hear that.”
    â€œThanks.”
    Neither of them said anything for a minute or so. A long minute. Time enough for the drafts to push much of the sadness and death out of the house—at least as much as was possible.
    â€œYou drink all of your coffee?” Billie asked.
    â€œNearly.”
    â€œNot hungry?”
    Josiah nodded his head yes. “I was waiting for you.”
    Billie smiled. “You go on while I get out of these wet clothes.”
    â€œYou sure?”
    â€œI appreciate you bein’ a gentleman and all, Josiah Wolfe, but I’m not much for food at the moment. Now, go on, eat.”
    â€œYes, ma’am.” Josiah didn’t need to be told twice. He dug into the plate as if he hadn’t had a decent meal in a year, like he had upon returning home that first day from the War Between the States.
    Billie disappeared into the same room Josiah had changed clothes in. The house creaked as a gust of wind pushed against it. Rain pelted the single window, and for a brief moment, Josiah felt safe.
    He lost himself in the meal, in the warmth from the stove, in Billie’s kindness. He nearly forgot about everything. The pain in his leg. O’Reilly’s presence in Comanche. Scrap’s fate . . . And most of all, Lyle and Ofelia, waiting for his return in Austin. He was only supposed to be gone two days.
    It was a moment to savor, just like the bacon, the fried bread, and the beans . . . because just as soon as he finished eating the meal, Josiah heard a loud thump in the other room and felt the floor shake.
    A scream that matched the wind and the storm outside echoed inside the house, and without thinking, Josiah was on his feet, knowing full well what the tone of the scream meant.

CHAPTER 11

    Billie lay on the floor motionless. Her face was drained of color, and there was a huge puddle seeping out from underneath her. The room smelled wet and sour.
    â€œSomethin’ broke,” she whispered, her eyes flickering in pain—or maybe fear.
    Josiah nodded, and exhaled deeply. “I sure wish Ofelia was here,” he said, looking to the ceiling. He was kneeling at her side.
    They never had got around to bandaging his leg, but that seemed to be a distant concern at the moment. The wind outside whistled as loud