He said, “I figure I have about six more weeks before I can spend a full day in the saddle without falling over. Then, if you want, you can head off to Oregon. And I’ll probably send Josh with you, because that’s a lot of country for a man to be covering alone.”
“I’ve ridden over longer distances than that alone.”
“Yeah, but you’re not alone anymore. You’re part of a family, Dusty. This family. And I hope you come back here to us when you’re done in Oregon.”
“You’ll have to come back,” Josh said, looking at his brother. “I’ll be with you, and I’ll drag you back.”
That got a smile and a chuckle from Dusty and Pa.
Josh drained his remaining coffee with one gulp and said, “Let’s get moving. We’ve got a big day ahead of us.”
Josh was out the door, and Dusty a few steps behind, taking his last mouthful of coffee and setting his cup on the counter, when Johnny said, “Dusty?”
Dusty stopped and looked back. “Yeah, Pa?”
“There’s something I’ve got to say.” Johnny approached his son, and laid a hand on his shoulder. “I want you to know, if I had known about you, I would have come back for you.”
“I know that, Pa.”
“But I never actually said it. Some things have to be said. You’re my son. You’re as much mine as Josh and Bree and Jack. And I love you just as much. I do hope you come back here when you’re done in Oregon, son. This place will always be your home.”
“Thanks, Pa. You’ll never know how much being a part of all this means to me.”
Johnny nodded, one corner of his mouth twitching into a half-smile. “Yeah, I think I do, because I know how much it means to me. Now, you’d better get going before Josh starts bellowing for you and wakes half the countryside.”
Dusty grinned, and turned and headed out into the ranch yard.
Johnny turned toward the coffee pot, intending to fill himself a cup and then head out onto the front porch to watch morning take the land, when he saw Ginny standing in the parlor doorway, her face glowing with a smile, tears streaming down her cheeks.
“What are you looking at?” Johnny asked, as he reached into a cupboard for a coffee mug, knowing fully well what she was looking at. She had apparently been standing in the doorway, eavesdropping on his conversation with Dusty. He braced himself for one of her barbs, such as an I-told-you-so, regarding Johnny’s acceptance of Dusty as his son. But she surprised him.
“Nothing, John,” she said. “It’s already turning out to be a beautiful day, that’s all.”
* * *
Fred had left fresh mounts for Josh and Dusty. They were tethered to the corral fence. Josh took the rein in one hand and was about to step into the saddle, but then he glanced toward the house, and saw Temperence at the front porch.
He and Dusty had been rounding up strays. They had brought five hundred head into the valley, to graze on the lush, green grass growing at the valley floor. Then, a couple nights ago, a thunderstorm had sent them scattering. They had been working sun-up to sundown for the past couple of days at this. However, they were close enough to the house to allow them to return for lunch.
Aunt Ginny’s sandwiches and a cup of hot coffee sure beat chewing on jerky and drinking warm water from your canteen. And, Temperence was at the house. Josh found himself taking any opportunity to see her, even if was simply to sit with her and the family at the table. He found she was occupying his thoughts much of the time.
Dusty had swung into the saddle. He and Josh were about to return to rounding up strays. But Josh wasn’t getting into the saddle. Dusty saw him looking toward the house, and followed his gaze.
Dusty couldn’t help but grin. He said, “I’ll ride on ahead.”
Josh gave the rein a couple turns around the top rail of the corral, and then walked toward the front porch. He was covered with dust. Aunt Ginny had generously allowed him and Dusty to eat at the table without requiring them to wash up and put on fresh clothes. He was wearing leather chaps strapped on over his jeans, and his pistol was at his side.
He walked over, trying to look casual, and yet wanting to get to the porch before she went back inside.
But she saw him, and threw a smile his way.
He stopped below the porch. “I haven’t had much time to talk with you lately. Aunt Ginny keeps you busy, and there’s always folks around. Hard to get a moment alone.”
She nodded. Her hair was tied back in a bun, and she was wearing a blouse and a long, dark skirt. An apron was tied about her middle. She was now eating regular, well-balanced meals, and her color was good. She had been a little washed out looking when he had first met her. Now there was no sign of that. She looked like she belonged working on a ranch.
“I love it here,” she said. “I never thought I could have a life like this.”
“I’m glad,” he said.
“You’re family is so wonderful. I’ll never be able to thank you enough for bringing me here.”
He raised his brows and gave her a questioning look. “The way Aunt Ginny works you..,”
“The work is hard. But it’s good work. Honest work. At the end of the day, you feel like you’ve accomplished something.”
This drew a smile from him. It was what he liked about ranch work, too. At the end of the day, his butt might hurt from all of the hours in the saddle, his back might ache, but he had the feeling that he was building something.
“You know, there’s a creek out yonder. A couple miles that-a-way,” he nodded with his head in the general direction of northwest. “It’s in a little patch of woods. It’d be the perfect place to put a little house. Raise a family. With the right girl. Maybe I could show it to you sometime.”
“Josh,” she said, a little sadly, catching what he was hinting at. “I’m flattered. You need a good girl to build a life with. I’m just not worthy.”
“I think you are. I don’t think any of us should be judged by what we have to do to survive. We’re all human, Temperence. And we’re all damaged to some extent. But any man would be honored to have you at his side.”
She took a moment, letting his words sink in. No man had ever talked to her like this before.
Then she said, “I’m just not ready. Not to build a life with anyone. But,” she met his gaze with eyes as blue as the sky above, “when I am, if you still think you want me, I’d be honored.”
He nodded. “I can wait. When something’s worth it, I can wait a long time.”
She smiled. A big, beaming smile. A smile that warmed his heart like none other. She didn’t know what to say. Maybe there was nothing that could be said. She simply smiled at him, and he smiled back.
“I gotta be going,” he said. “Gotta join Dusty. Round up them strays.”
“I’ll be here when you get back.”
He nodded and turned toward where his horse waited for him by the corral.
“You know,” she called to him, and he turned back to her, “I think I’ll always be here when you get back.”
He turned and strode toward his horse. Nothing makes a man feel more alive than a woman he is in love with saying something like that. It makes you all warm inside. It makes you feel alive like nothing else.
His knee still hurt like hell. But it didn’t stop him from grabbing the saddle horn and leaping onto the animal’s back.
He looked back to the porch, and found Temperence was still there, watching him. He reared the horse back onto its hind legs, in a sort salute to her. She laughed, and waved back.
Josh turned the horse and rode off to catch up with his brother.
Temperence stood on the porch, watching him shrink with the distance. For the first time since she was a child, she felt like she was home.
* * *
Johnny stood on the porch, a half-full mug of coffee in his hand. Ginny stepped out onto the porch behind him, carrying a teacup and saucer, and noticed Johnny held his mug in his left hand so his right could be free should he need to reach
for a gun. Living in a perpetual state of war. She figured he always would.
The sun had set and the valley before them was falling into shadows. The breeze was turning cool, but brought with it a hint of balsam.
“My favorite time of day,” he said. “When Zack, Josiah and I wintered here with the Shoshone, I would stand in front of the lodge we used and just watch night descend onto the valley. It always brought a sort of feeling to me like what my Ma used to describe feeling in church. A sort of hushed reverence.”
Ginny said, “To the Shoshone, the land itself is their church. The forests, the mountains. The sky is their cathedral.”
He nodded. “Not just to them. I guess it is to me.”
“Oh, John. I kid you a lot about your Indian beliefs. But I really think you’re more Shoshone than you realize. At least in your heart.”
He tossed a grin back at her. “Why, Ginny. I think that might be the nicest thing you’ve ever said to me.”
“Don’t get used to it,” she said with a smirk, and lowered herself to her rocker, and took a sip of the steaming hot earl grey. Then she grew serious. “John, how are you feeling?”
“You ask me that three times a day.”
“Well, you get yourself shot and almost killed, and you have to expect people to ask you how you feel.”
“I’m feeling fine. Stronger every day.”
He still felt a twinge of pain when he exerted himself. Such as the day before, when he saddled one of the geldings himself, hefting the saddle and tossing it onto the horse’s back, and pulling the girth tight. He could feel the exertion at the point the bullets had entered, and he could feel it deeper inside. He then stepped into the saddle and rode for a few minutes, keeping the horse to a light walk, with Fred watching should something go wrong. His bullet wounds had long since healed on the surface, but he could feel the jarring of the horse’s steps internally. After a few minutes, he began to break out in a cold sweat, so he stepped down and sat in Ginny’s rocker on the porch until he felt better.
Of course, he hadn’t told Ginny any of this. As far as she knew, he had gone for a long walk.
He was sure, in time, he would regain all of his stamina, and the wounds would heal entirely. A concern he had, though, was that neither bullet had left an exit wound, meaning the lead was still inside. He had known men who carried lead from old wounds, and the effect it could have was unpredictable. Never affected any two men the same.
But this evening, as he stood with a cup of coffee in one hand enjoying the mountain air, he felt fine. Yesterday’s discomfort and fatigue had been only warning signs, he figured, to take it more slowly.
“So,” she said, “the plan, as I understand it, is Dusty and Josh are going to ride out to Oregon after the fall roundup.”
Johnny nodded. “If Josh can pull himself away from Temperence for that long.”
Ginny chuckled. “They’re falling in love, you know.”
“You can almost feel it in the air when the two of them are in the room together.” He turned to face her. “What do you think about all of that? I mean, what do we really know about Temperence?”
“She’s a good girl, John. A girl forced to make some bad decisions. But she’s a fighter. A survivor. She was able to survive the life she had been trapped in. And I’ve been thinking – she and Josh sort of remind me of a couple I knew years ago.”
He raised his brows questioningly. “Who?”
“Do I really have to tell you? He is your son. Dusty isn’t the only one who reminds me of you.”
Johnny turned back to look at the darkening valley. “Jack’ll be home in a few weeks. It’ll be good to see him.”
“I’ve written him a letter telling him about Dusty.”
“Good.”
Johnny stood in silence for a few moments. He took a sip of coffee. The breeze picked up a bit, then died down.
“John,” Ginny said. “You said something when you first woke up from being shot. You said that Lura loved me. Why did you say that?”
How could he tell her? How could he tell anyone without them thinking he was out of his mind? And maybe he had been. Out of his mind with the loss of blood, and the fever that had been setting in. Maybe it had only been a dream, as his head swum in delirium. But somehow, on a deeper level, he felt it had not been.
He hadn’t realized until after he had his experience in that dream state with Lura and the old Shoshone shaman, and he lied in bed recuperating, with lots of time to think about it, it had not been grief that he was carrying all of those years since Lura’s death. It was guilt. Guilt, because he had believed that bullet was meant for him. And now, the guilt was gone. He felt somehow lighter, as though a burden had been removed.
“I could never explain it,” he said. “But trust me.”
She nodded thoughtfully. There was probably no one on Earth she trusted more. “So, have you had any more thoughts about riding to California to visit Lura’s grave?”
“I think I probably will. But I won’t be gone long. I’ll definitely be coming back. My life is here. And for the first time in a long time, I feel young and alive, and I intend to live my life.”
She didn’t know what had happened. Maybe she never would. But she knew it was more than simply coming back from near death. Whatever had happened, she was grateful. She hadn’t seen him this full of life since before Lura died.
Welcome back, John, she said to herself, and brought her cup of tea to her lips. What a day this had turned out to be, indeed.
Ginny closed her eyes and took in a deep lungfull of the evening mountain air, relishing the scents of balsam, and the scent of grass and of earth. And the subtle yet unmistakable scent of peach blossoms.
The Long Trail (The McCabes Book 1) Page 41