Was Dusty indeed his brother? Josh reluctantly accepted that. Aunt Ginny, Hunter and Bree were right. Just looking at him, you could see he was indeed a McCabe, or it was one hell of a coincidence. Bree was more McCabe in her looks than was Josh, who looked more like their mother’s side, but Dusty was more McCabe even than Bree. But he hadn’t been raised a McCabe. Pa had said once the Shoshone believed your spirit grew from those of your parents, but Josh didn’t think so. Josh believed you were a product of your environment. Dusty hadn’t been raised by Pa and Aunt Ginny, so he wouldn’t necessarily have their values. Dusty had been raised by God-knew-who.
After dinner, Pa posted guards. He took the first watch himself, then Dusty the second, and Josh the third, then Fred, Long, and the other two men would finish off the final shifts before sunrise. But as Pa had said to keep an eye on Dusty, Josh wasn’t going to trust him to take the watch unobserved. Rather than sleep through Dusty’s watch, Josh would listen carefully from his open window.
Finally, after an hour, he thought he might sneak downstairs and make certain Dusty hadn’t ridden off to inform the raiders of the situation at the ranch. As Josh didn’t not have moccasins, he simply went in sock feet to the top of the stairs. He had pulled on his jeans over his long-handled underwear, and buckled on his gunbelt.
He moved down the stairs carefully, the only sound of his passing being an occasional creak of a board underfoot.
It was as he stepped down onto the parlor floor that he caught a smell of tobacco smoke, a quick subtle indication he was not alone, and which was all that kept his heart from stopping when Pa suddenly spoke from the darkness. “Going somewhere?”
“Son-of-a-bitch, Pa. You almost jumped me out of my skin.”
“When you’re moving about in the darkness, never assume you’re alone. Always be prepared, even for the unexpected. Because when your guard is down, even an opponent who’s not as fast or strong as you are, or as experienced a fighting man, will have the advantage.”
“I’ll remember.”
“And careful with the son-of-a-bitch talk. You know your aunt doesn’t like that.”
Josh snorted a chuckle. “I was coming down to check on Dusty.”
“You didn’t think I’d let a man I’m not sure about stand watch alone, did you?”
“I should have known better.”
In the darkness, the room was a void of blackness. But Josh had grown up in this house, so he was able to work his way over to the hearth without bumping into anything, and sat down on the stone step.
“You’re wearing your gun,” Pa said. “I can tell by the creak of the leather of your holster and belt. And a man walks a little differently when he’s carrying a pistol at his side. And you’re not wearing your boots.”
“You’re good, I’ll give you that.”
“No. I’m smart. An old scout told me once, you got’ta learn by observing. Not only watch what’s going on around you, but listen and even sniff the air. Here in the darkness, using my eyes was useless, so I just closed my eyes and listened.”
“You know, I think I understand that. Just before you spoke, I caught a whiff of your pipe smoke.”
“Good. Now, how about you taking a walk out to the front porch and see if you can locate Dusty?”
“What am I going to tell him if he sees me? That I don’t trust him?”
“Might not be a good idea. Just make up a lie. Tell him you couldn’t sleep, or something.”
Josh rose to his feet. He flashed Pa a quick grin, even though he knew Pa could not see it in the darkness. “Aunt Ginny wouldn’t approve of telling a lie.”
Josh could tell by the way Pa spoke he was grinning, too. “Aunt Ginny is asleep.”
Josh padded his way across the wooden floor. At the doorway, which was ajar, he drew his pistol so the weight of it in his holster wouldn’t make the leather creak.
He wondered briefly why the door wasn’t closed tightly, then pulled it more open so he could step out, the hinge rubbing gently and letting out a low-level squeal.
He stepped onto the porch and glanced about. The moon had risen, and its pale light gave a silver glow to the expanse of meadow before the house. Beyond, dark shadowy ridges rose to meet a starry sky above. On one ridge was a fluttering point of orange. A campfire.
Josh approached the railing and leaned onto it with his elbows. His revolver was still in his right hand.
“You know,” came Dusty’s voice from the darkness, “if I had been one of them raiders sneaking up on this place, you might be dead now. Sound always travels better at night, and I heard the hinge of that door clearly. And the metal of your gun shines clear enough in the moonlight, once your eyes adjust to the darkness.”
Damn. Josh hated to admit it, but Dusty was good.
“So, what brings you out here?” Dusty asked.
“Oh, I found I couldn’t sleep,” Josh lied. “Thought I might catch a little night air.”
Dusty stepped from the darkness to stand in the moonlight by the porch. Cradled in the crook of one arm was his Spencer rifle, and his revolver rode low at his right side. “I guess I could believe that. I could, but I don’t. I’ve been circling the house every-so-often , and as I came by the porch, I caught an occasional draft of Pa’s pipe smoke. My guess is you two don’t really trust me much, yet.”
“Well..,” Josh fought hard to find some clever way of denying this and coming up with a plausible lie, but the words were not to be found. He guessed he was not a very clever liar.
Dusty continued, “I suppose, in your place, I wouldn’t have a lot of trust in me, either. Someone like me comes riding in here with an outlandish story, I guess I’d have a lot of questions, too.”
All right, Josh thought. Maybe honesty was the best policy, as Aunt Ginny had always said. At least, to a point. “I do have a lot of questions. I got’ta admit that. And I was out here checking on you. But I see you have things under control, and my questions can wait until this thing with the raiders is taken care of.”
“Go get some sleep,” Dusty said. “You take over for me in less than an hour.”
Josh nodded, feeling a little foolish that not only would Dusty have been able to get the drop on him so easily, but had seen through his lie. He turned, and started back for the door.
“And leave the door open,” Dusty said. “The sound of a door shutting might carry all the way to the woods in the night air.”
He sure was good, Josh thought, as he stepped past the open door. Maybe a little too good.
TWENTY-FIVE
Josh had slept little, but come morning he was out of bed and downstairs for his morning coffee at his usual time. This was a working ranch, and despite the threat of the raiders camping off in the ridges, work still had to be done. Fred had commented the pasture out back they were currently using for the horses had been pretty much grazed out, and Pa had said maybe it was time to move the remuda to another, fresher pasture they sometimes used, toward the center of the valley. Josh wanted to first ride over and make certain the fence posts and rails were all in good shape. If he found any in otherwise condition, he would be having to commence repairs.
Pa normally would be coordinating such things, but the night before, as Josh went back into the house after talking with Dusty, Pa had said he would be riding out first thing in the morning to scout. Josh would be in charge until he got back.
Josh usually stood by the counter as he had his coffee, because he usually had a long day in the saddle waiting for him and didn’t want to tax his backside any more than necessary in a chair. However, as he poured a cup, he found fatigue a little too demanding this morning and the chairs at the table looking a little too inviting, so he allowed himself to drop into one of them.
Aunt Ginny stepped into the kitchen, an apron tied about her waist and her spectacles perched on the end of her nose. “Oh. Good morning, Joshua. You don’t usually sit down for coffee in the morning.”
He nodded. “Rough night, that’s all.”<
br />
“I don’t think any of us slept much, considering the threat up in the ridges.” She fixed herself a cup of amber tea, and took a chair to one side of the table. She didn’t drop into a chair. She descended gracefully. “I’m baking muffins for the men. Would you like one?”
Josh shook his head. When he was this tired, his appetite usually fled him. “No thank you, ma’am.”
“Now, I know you’re tired. Refusing food.”
“Especially your muffins. They’re the best around.”
She smiled. “Joshua, you are not without charm. It’s not many who can refuse a woman’s cooking and still make her feel good about it.”
Not only was he not hungry, he found he had a small headache, too. He took a sip of coffee, then reached with one hand to rub his eyes.
The night before, during what little sleep he had managed to gain, he had dreamt fitfully of riders descending on the ranch, with torches blazing into the night. He had dreamt of gunfire, and seeing the roof in blazes, and Pa and Fred lying dead, their shirts soaking with blood. And Dusty laughing, raising his rifle into the air, shouting, “You trusted me! You fools!”
It was a good thing he didn’t believe in premonitions.
Josh’s coffee was gone before he knew it. He knew it was going to be a long day when he scarcely remembered the first cup. He lurched to his feet, finding it more effort than usual, and poured a second cup.
“I’ll take my second cup outside,” he said. “I’ve got to find Fred.”
Aunt Ginny looked like she was about to say something, but then didn’t. Josh thought briefly about asking her what she was going to say, then decided against it and started for the door. He had enough to be concerned about. For one thing, lack of sleep. If he should have another night like the last one, he might not be alert enough to be of any use should those raiders actually attack.
He stepped outside, finding the sky overhead a steel gray and the eastern horizon beginning to come alive with the fiery rays of sunrise. Pa was at the corral fence, the stallion Thunder tethered to the top rail. Pa was tightening the cinch. Or the girth, as Pa called it. That seemed to be a Texas thing, calling the cinch the girth. Pa had spent many years in Texas, and the influence showed. As Josh approached, coffee in one hand, Pa unwrapped the rein from the fence, pushed a foot into the stirrup and swung into the saddle.
“Pa,” Josh said. “What’re you doing still here? I figured you’d be gone by now.”
“So did I. I couldn’t find Fred. I went to the bunkhouse, and one of the men said he saw Fred riding out an hour ago.”
“Riding out? To where?”
“Keep an eye out, will you? I expect to be back by mid-afternoon, maybe sooner. But same instructions as yesterday. If I don’t come back, don’t come looking for me.”
And with that, Pa turned Thunder west, and rode away. To anyone who might be watching, like with a spyglass from a tree, it would look like Pa was heading toward the small horse trail that would lead to town. But once in the mountains, Pa would turn his horse north and approach the raider’s camp.
Josh raised one arm, crooked at the elbow, and rested it against the fence. God, was he tired. Going to the tackle room himself for a rope and fetching a horse and then saddling it, all seemed like so much work this morning. He took a sip of coffee. Where the hell had Fred ridden off to?
The kitchen door closed, and Josh glanced in that direction to see Dusty approaching, cup of coffee in hand.
“Good morning,” Dusty said.
Josh nodded. “You wouldn’t have any idea where Fred rode off to this morning, would you?”
Dusty raised his brows and shrugged. “No idea at all. Is it normal for him to do that?”
“Not for him. He never just rides off like that. In fact, getting him to just take a day off at all is like pulling teeth.”
They finished their coffee, then Josh had Dusty ride with him to check out the condition of the corral at the center of the valley. Two posts and a handful of rails would indeed need replacing.
“Where do you get your fencing?” Dusty asked.
“This ain’t a very big outfit,” Josh replied. “You do a lot of the work yourself. We ride out to the ridges and cut what we need.”
Dusty shook his head, looking at the fence. “Can’t you get one of the men to do this?”
“I know what you’re thinking,” Josh said. “No self-respecting cowhand likes to work out of the saddle. But when you’re trying to operate a ranch yourself, you do what has to be done.”
“Do I dare ask who digs out the outhouse?”
“The new man,” Josh said with grin, and they rode back to the house.
“I’m going in for another coffee,” Josh said. “You coming?”
“No, I’ll be out here.”
Josh nodded, and headed for the house.
He found the coffee pot still hot, and poured one more cup. He had noticed Bree sitting in Aunt Ginny’s rocker on the front porch when he and Dusty rode back, and when he heard the front door open and then close again, he figured it was Bree. He was right.
“Josh,” she said, stepping into the kitchen. “Where’s Dusty riding off to?”
Josh snapped a gaze to her, his brows dropping questioningly. “I didn’t know he was riding off anywhere.”
He set the coffee cup down on the table and strode across the parlor to the front door, Bree at his heels.
From the porch, he could see Dusty in the distance, riding west. The same direction Pa had taken hours earlier.
“What do you suppose is going on?” Bree asked. “I heard the men saying Fred had ridden out this morning, and no one knows where he was going. And now Dusty rides off.”
“When he comes back, if he comes back, I plan on getting some answers.”
The sun was trailing toward mid-afternoon height as Dusty returned. His horse was lathered, and he was thirsty. He had ridden out without a canteen, and was grateful for the small stream he had happened upon in the ridges, but that had been too many miles ago.
He dismounted in front of the stable, plunged his hat into the water trough, and held it high and dumped it into his eagerly waiting mouth, most of the water splashing down over his shirt. He was so thirsty he did not at the moment care that he was drinking after horses.
He let the horse drink a little, then led it into the stable so he could peel off its saddle, and give it a rubdown.
Josh spoke from behind him. “Where have you been?”
“Looking for Fred,” Dusty said, hefting the saddle and setting across the side of the stall.
“Why didn’t you tell me where you were going?”
Dusty turned to face him. “Because Pa left you in charge, and I didn’t think you’d let me go.”
“So you just took it on yourself to go and do what you wanted anyway? We don’t do things that way here.”
“Josh, those aren’t just local boys out there in those ridges, looking for trouble. They have all the ear-marks of professional raiders. If something happened to Fred, we’ve got to find out what, and when. If they somehow lured him away, then they’ve got us one man short. We’re already outnumbered, as it is. I didn’t want to take the time to argue with you about it. I’ll tell Pa about it when he gets back.”
“And I don’t like you calling him ‘Pa.’”
“Sorry. He told me to.” Dusty returned to his horse, pulling a brush off a nail in one wall.
“Drop your gun,” Josh said.
Dusty glanced over at Josh curiously. Josh had pulled his revolver, and it was aimed toward Dusty.
“What’s this all about?” Dusty said.
“I said, drop your gun.”
Dusty shook his head.
Josh said, “I know you’re fast. Faster’n me. But you’re not so fast you can draw that gun before I can cock mine and fire.”
Dusty dropped the brush to the floor. “All right. But not because I think I couldn’t beat you, but because a man doesn’t draw on his own brothe
r.”
“You might be my brother, and you might not be. But regardless, I know why you’re here. Now, drop that gun if you want to go on breathing.”
Dusty reached for the grip of his pistol.
“Slowly,” Josh said, “and with the finger tips.”
“Whatever you say. You’ve got the drop on me.” Dusty gripped his Colt Peacemaker with the tips of his fingers, slid it from the holster, and let it drop to the stable floor.
“You’re lucky I don’t shoot you where you stand,” Josh said. “but just on the off chance that you might actually be my brother, I’m going to let you ride out of here with your hide intact. I want you to go out to the remuda and drop a loop on the horse you rode in on, saddle it, and ride out of here. And I don’t want to ever lay eyes on you again, because I won’t be so generous next time.”
“Not till you tell me why.”
“You’re riding with them. The men who’ve been camping in the ridges.”
“Now, how did you ever come up with such a notion like that?”
“I weighed it all in my mind. That story of yours is so far-fetched, I wouldn’t be surprised if it was just an attempt to work your way into our confidence. And if that story’s true, then you’re all that much more despicable, to think you could steal from your own family. You weren’t out looking for Fred just now. You were reporting to those men, on our strengths and weaknesses.”
“You know what I think the situation really is? I think you’ve got more than your share of pride. And my existence, which is because your father spent a night with my mother, is a slap to that pride. But if pride is all a man has, then he must be a pretty empty man.”
Josh’s face was starting to redden. “Get off this property now, or I’ll finish this where you stand.”
“Shooting down an unarmed man? Is that the McCabe way?”
“I don’t need my gun to finish this.”
Dusty’s temper had never been a volatile one, but when he got mad, he really got mad, and he was at that point now. He held his hands palm upward, his fingers waving toward himself in a beckoning motion. “Come on, brother. Let’s see what you’ve got.”
The Long Trail (The McCabes Book 1) Page 24