Then, when they were halfway along the aisle, Johnny took his place alongside Temperence.
He said to her, “Are you ready?”
Her face was covered with a veil but he could see her beaming smile. “I am, Pa. I only wish my parents could see me now.”
“They can, Sweetie. They can.”
She stood, smiling.
He said, “You’re like a daughter to me. I hope you know that.”
She said, her voice breaking a little, “I know, Pa. It means the world to me.”
He nodded. “Come on. There’s a boy waiting for you at the other end of the church.”
She placed her hand in the crook of his arm, and they began down the aisle, one step at a time.
They didn’t march, but walked slowly. Josh stood with Dusty now beside him and giving a big smile.
Hunter was there in the crowd with a huge grin. Johnny’s brother Joe was there. Kennedy stood in a range shirt but with the collar buttoned and a crooked string tie in place. The new man Josh had hired was there. Abe Taggart. Zack was in one of the pews, along with Ramon and a couple other men from his ranch. Harlan Carter stood in the fourth row, another of the tallest men Johnny had ever met. His wife was beside him, almost two feet shorter. Matt and Peddie were there, and pretty much everyone else. The place was full.
Temperance and Johnny got to the head of the aisle. Josh was looking at her like she was the most beautiful sight he had ever seen. The way a man in love looks at his bride.
And then Johnny stepped back, and Temperance stepped forward to stand at Josh’s side.
Johnny slid into the front pew beside Jessica and Cora. Ginny was there, and Sam Middleton. The man Ginny called Addison. Ginny had a kerchief in her hand, and a tear was already decorating one cheek.
Johnny leaned over and whispered to her, “Starting early, aren’t you?”
She said, “I’m entitled.”
“I suppose you are.”
Tom talked about love and marriage and commitment. How from the dawn of time a man and a woman have come together in matrimony, and so forth. Johnny had never been one for sermons.
Then came the vows. Pretty much the same vows given at every wedding. And yet, every time they were said, it was as though it was the first.
Then came the slipping on of the ring, and Josh didn’t wait to be told to kiss her. Dusty hadn’t with Haley. Johnny hadn’t with Jessica, and he hadn’t all those years ago with Lura.
Tom addressed the congregation, “Let me introduce Mr. and Mrs. Joshua McCabe.”
And everyone got to their feet and broke out into a roaring ovation. There were cowhands present and they made it known with whoops and hollers.
17
The reception was held at the Second Chance. Champagne was served. A fiddle and a banjo were providing the music. Ches joined in with his harmonica a couple of times.
Josh and Temperance had their first dance. Then it was time for the bride’s dance with her father. Since Temperance’s father had died, Johnny filled in. The groom was to dance with his mother, but since she was also gone, but Aunt Ginny had been a mother to him, she filled the role here and danced with Josh.
After a meal, some folks were standing and others were sitting, and the room was filled with the chattering buzz that comes from dozens of conversations going on at once. It reminded Johnny of a flock of wild birds in a tree.
Johnny saw Falcone at the doorway. Falcone motioned him over with a nod of his head. Johnny went on over.
“How’s everything going?” Falcone said.
Johnny nodded. “Fine. Everyone seems to be having a good time.”
“When’re you boys leaving for the trail drive?”
“I’m estimating two weeks. Separating out the stock, final head counts, and the like. And Aunt Ginny and Sam Middleton are getting married. They don’t want a lot of fuss, but I don’t expect there’ll be a lot of work done that day.”
Falcone nodded. “I wanted to let you know, there’s a group of men camped maybe five miles south of town. Off the trail a little. I sent Danny to scout them out yesterday and he told me their names. Trevor Jordan. Buck Peters. A couple of others. Those names mean anything to you?”
Johnny shook his head. “Not really.”
“I’ve seen their names on reward posters. Cattle thieves. Wanted for rustling off Virginia City way. I can’t do much about it because their camp is beyond the town line and out of my jurisdiction. But while Danny was watching them from a distance, he saw a man ride into camp. Do you know the name of Cornelius Chandler?”
“The man who works for Bertram Reed?”
“The very. It might be nothing, but I thought I should bring it to your attention. There could be trouble afoot.”
Johnny shook his head and felt exasperation wash over him. “Isn’t there always?”
PART TWO
The Fire
18
Johnny wasn’t sure how old Ches was. Somewhere between seventy and eighty, he guessed, but even Ches wasn’t sure. He had lost track over the years.
Old Ches was one of those old men who got older but never seemed to become frail. He might have lost a step over the years and his back hurt in the morning and his knees creaked when it was going to rain, but his hand was steady and he could still ride a horse as well as anyone Johnny had ever seen, and he could still drop a loop over a cow.
The thing that made Ches the most valuable, though, was his cooking. He had worked for Jessica for years, and before that, for her late first husband.
She had said to Johnny, “You haven’t tasted anything until you’ve tasted his chili.”
So when Johnny decided to go looking for a trail cook, someone to drive the chuck wagon and supply meals to the drovers, Ches was the first one he looked to.
Ches was outside the bunkhouse. He had rolled a smoke and was enjoying the early evening air. The sun had just set and the sky overhead was a steel gray. Here and there a bird would go swooping by, looking for a last meal before it got dark, and once he saw a bat go flitting by. A sort of hush was falling on the land, as though daytime was tucking itself into its blankets and nighttime was about to wake up.
“Trail cook, eh?” Ches said. “I’ve been on a few trail drives over the years. I was with Charles Goodnight and Oliver Loving in their first big drive. Back in sixty-six. Or was it sixty-seven? Bernard Swan was there, too. We were drovers. That’s where I Bernard. We went west after that together, and I helped him build his ranch. Never served as a trail cook, though. But I suppose there’s a first time for everything.”
Johnny had leather chaps strapped on over his jeans. He had been on the range all day, and he and his chaps were covered with a layer of dust that made his clothing look gray in color. He didn’t tie his gun down over the chaps, and since he didn’t want it to bounce around while he rode, he tightened his belt so his pistol was riding high on his hip.
He said, “Had me a trail cook by the name of Sanborn. We made a number of drives south to the railheads. But he married one of Alisha Summers’ girls, a girl young enough to be his daughter, and they lit out to Oregon.”
Ches chuckled. “Trail cooks. They are an eccentric lot.”
He shrugged. “Don’t know how eccentric I am. But I’m too old to work as a drover anymore. These old bones couldn’t take that many hours in the saddle, anymore. So if you want me to give bein’ a trail cook a try, I will.”
“Much appreciated.”
“Just don’t call me Cookie. A lot of trail cooks are called that. I had a dog called that when I was growin’ up. Just wouldn’t seem right.”
Johnny chuckled. “All right. I’ll resist the urge.”
When Sanborn had lit out for Oregon, he left the chuck wagon behind. The wagon had sat at Zack’s ranch since the last cattle drive. Johnny explained this to Ches.
Johnny said, “We’ve done some minor cattle drives since then. To Fort Logan a couple times. And the gold fields in Alder Gulch. But those were only
maybe a hundred head at a time. Nothing a small handful of drovers couldn’t handle. The last major cattle drive was to buyers we met in Dodge City the summer before I got all shot up when Falcone and his men attacked this place.”
Ches chuckled. “Falcone is a marshal who prob’ly should arrest hisself. Not the first one I met, though. Most lawmen rode the other side of the law for a while before they put on a badge. Maybe in the mornin’ I’ll ride on out to Zack’s ranch and see what kind of shape the chuck wagon is in.”
“We need you out at the roundup. We’ll be staying the night tomorrow night, and probably the next one too.”
“I’ll be there late tomorrow. Day after at the latest.”
Johnny knew a man like Ches was as good as his word. And his word was as good as gold. No matter what condition the chuck wagon was in, Ches would find some way to have it ready and stocked, and out at the round up and ready for service.
19
A longhorn was long-legged and could run like a horse, and after a winter of roaming about and searching for good grass, a herd the size of the McCabes’ could spread out over many square miles of rangeland. Hence, in the spring, there was a roundup or what they sometimes called a gather. The stock would be tallied, which would include any new calves.
The range used by the McCabes was all open range, like they had told Bertram Reed. But Johnny was thinking it might be a good idea to lay claim to some of it because as more and more folks moved into the area and laid claims of their own, the open range they used might become not so open anymore.
Zack and Johnny had never been all that particular about grazing rights. Cows from one herd tended to mingle with the other. During the round up, Josh kept a tally of the Circle M and Swan cattle, as well as the Circle T cows that had mingled in. Zack did the same and he and Josh compared notes to get an accurate count, but never bothered to separate the herds.
Spring round up had ended a few weeks ago, but now they were conducting another gather, specifically to separate the road stock from the breeding stock.
Johnny and the men planned to work right up until sunset. The valley was an hour’s ride away by daylight, a ride Johnny didn’t intend to make after dark. Too many rocks to ding up a horse’s leg, or holes for a horse to step into. So they brought their bedrolls along.
A campfire was built, and Johnny dumped some beans from a can into a skillet and heated them over the flames. As he was eating, scooping the beans with a fork directly from the skillet, Zack came riding up and swung out of the saddle.
Zack needed to take some cattle to market too, so he and Johnny had decided to combine both herds. Zack had eight hundred head ready, and going along with the larger outfit made good business sense to him. They had done this on their last trail drive, four summers earlier, and it had worked out well.
Zack walked over to Johnny like his back and legs were stiff, and said, “I’m getting too old for this.”
Johnny nodded. “You’re not the only one.”
Johnny was sitting on the ground. He had taken off his gunbelt but it was within reach.
Johnny said, “I sent Ches over to your place to check out the chuck wagon. I hope he’s here by tomorrow.”
“Me too,” Zack said. “Ain’t right for cowpokes to have to feed themselves.”
Zack fished a skillet out of his saddle bags and a can of beans.
Johnny had set a coffee pot in the flames and it was boiling over. Third boil. The coffee was ready. He used a bandana to grab the pot with, and filled a tin cup. Zack held out a cup and Johnny filled it, too.
Johnny said, “I want you to be our scout. I know it’s partly your herd, but with Bodine gone, I can’t think of anyone better suited for the job. Josh could do it, but since he’s the ramrod of my place, I’d like him to be on hand as my segundo. It’ll help him establish leadership among the men. Dusty’s a good scout, but he doesn’t know the terrain like you do.”
Zack nodded. “Most of the cows are yours. Makes sense.”
He took a sip of the coffee, and spit out some grounds. “Think we have enough men?”
Johnny nodded. “It’s the largest herd we’ve ever taken to market. But I think we have enough. We’ll have to mix the horses for one large remuda. Maybe use two wranglers.”
“I’ll use Ramon for that. He’ll work well with Fred.”
Johnny chewed and swallowed a mouthful of beans. “Fred ain’t coming.”
Zack looked at him.
Johnny said, “He asked to stay behind. He’s got too many years on him to sit in the saddle all day for five or six weeks. Gotta find a new wrangler for the drive. I’m thinking on asking Dusty. You won’t find anyone who knows more about horseflesh than he does.”
Zack nodded.
A horse walking like it was tired approached the campfire. The sky was nearly dark, but Johnny could see a man swinging out of the saddle. He approached the fire, long and tall and covered with dust.
“Chuck,” Johnny said. “Grab some coffee.”
Chuck nodded. He had left his cup at their makeshift camp earlier in the day. He didn’t even bother to shake any dirt out of the cup. He just snatched it from where he had dropped it in the grass and filled it with coffee.
He said, “We gonna give these critters a road brand?”
Johnny shook his head. “Don’t see the need to. Everything should have either a Circle M or a Circle T or the Swan brand.”
Charles dropped to the grass to sit cross-legged, his elbows resting on his knees. Nothing like a round up to make you weary to the bone.
He said, “I worked as a drover for two herds comin’ up from Texas. But none this big. We must have close to four thousand head, all total.”
Zack nodded. “We’ll handle ‘em, though.”
“Think we’ll have enough men?”
Johnny said, “We were just talking about that. Every man we have is an experienced hand. And Josh should be back from his honeymoon in a couple of days.”
Charles took a sip of coffee and spit out the grounds.
Johnny said, “Look, Chuck, I hope you don’t feel bad about staying behind. But I need a man I can trust to watch over the ranch while we’re gone. Sam Middleton will be there, but he doesn’t work for the ranch. Fred’s a good man, but he’s the wrangler. I need a man who can keep a watch over the whole operation.”
Charles said, “I’m all right. I appreciate the confidence you have in me.”
“Well, you’ve earned it.”
Zack said, “He just doesn’t want to be away from Bree that long.”
Charles tried not to blush, but wasn’t quite up to the job.
Dusty came riding in. Even though Fred wouldn’t be coming along on the trail drive with them, he was out here at the round up serving as wrangler. Dusty swung out of the saddle and handed the reins to Fred.
“Thanks, Fred,” he said.
Dusty walked up to the fire. He was in leather, batwing chaps that flapped as he walked. Like Johnny, he had tightened his gunbelt so his gun rode high on his hip. He was in a shirt that had been a faded blue at the start of the day but was now gray with trail dust.
He sat on the ground and flipped back his hat so it hung onto his back, and then rubbed his hands through his hair.
He said, “Any coffee left?”
“Help yourself,” Johnny said.
“Got me a question.”
They were all listening.
He said, “Those men Falcone mentioned to you. The cattle thieves camping outside of town. Have you given them any more thought?”
“I’ve been focusing on the round up and preparing for the trail drive, but I’ve kept what Falcone told me in the back of my mind. Why do you ask?” Johnny said.
“Because there’s a campfire off in the distance.”
Johnny climbed to his feet, despite the protest he got from his aching joints. He buckled on his gunbelt and he and Zack followed Dusty out into the darkness. Once they were beyond the edge of the firelight, Johnny
could see it off in the distance—a pinpoint of light.
“There it is,” Dusty said.
Johnny nodded. “A campfire.”
Zack said, “Could be nothing. Just someone traveling through.”
“Could be,” Johnny said. “But remember our old Texas Ranger captain? What he said?”
“Hope for the best, but prepare for the worst. What you get’ll usually be somewhere in between.”
Johnny said, “Dusty, in the morning I want you to ride back to the valley. Catch up with Ches. Tell him to load the chuck wagon with rifles. I want one for every man. And bring along my Sharps. Zack, in the morning you and I are going to ride out there and have a look. See just who’s camping out there.”
20
Johnny and Zack were awake before sunrise, saddling their horses. Johnny had left Thunder back at the ranch headquarters, because even though the horse was strong and had good stamina and was his first choice if he was traveling overland, Thunder horse was a half-broken stallion and of little use when it came to working cattle. Johnny saddled a mustang they had caught a couple of years earlier, a roan that stood almost fifteen hands.
Johnny had been trying to discourage Bree from naming the horses. They weren’t pets. But she had taken it upon herself to start calling this horse Gray, even though it didn’t strike Johnny as looking all that gray. Bree tended to get what she wanted, and now the horse was called Gray. Just like Fat was now called Charles.
“We got no rifles,” Zack said, as he tightened the cinch on a bay he had taken from the remuda. “The chuck wagon won’t be here with ‘em until afternoon, at the earliest.”
“We shouldn’t need ‘em,” Johnny said. “This is a scouting mission, only.”
Even still, Johnny drew his revolver. A campfire was burning which they had used to heat some coffee before they got going, and in the firelight, Johnny checked the loads.
Trail Drive (The McCabes Book 5) Page 8