“How is it you expect me to help? I’m not my father. I’m starting to grow tired of people thinking I am.”
“You’re not your father, but you’ve got backbone and you can handle yourself in a fight. I’ve got a job to do and I’m going to need some help. This town doesn’t have enough of a budget to allow me to hire deputies, except when a herd arrives.”
Jack nodded. “All right. What can I do?”
“I need you to come with me. I think I’ve found the girl. There’s a group of men who have been camping outside of town. They rode in maybe five days ago. I think the girl is there. And you might have a personal interest in this. One of the men, the one she might be with, is Lewis Cade.”
“Do you think she went with them willingly?”
“Let’s go find out.”
5
The night was alive with a bonfire that rose as tall as Jessica. She stood thirty feet from it but felt the warmth against her face. She had been wearing a bonnet but now had pulled it back and was letting it hang against her neck.
A small voice in the back of her mind, the voice of common sense, was telling her maybe she shouldn’t be here. These were dangerous men. And yet, her sense of adventure was the stronger of the two. She found the danger somehow intriguing.
Four men were milling about the fire, lifting bottles and chugging whiskey as though it were water from a dipper. Each of these men wore his gun like he knew how to use it. Like the McCabe boy had, who had visited the wagons earlier in the day.
One of the men, the leader, spoke with a sense of sophistication, indicating he was a man of education. Yet, he was as dangerous as any of them, she sensed. Not just in the way he wore his gun, but by a look in his eye. A hardness in the way he smiled.
Women from the saloon in town were also here at camp, and each of the men had paired off with one of the women. The leader, who seemed to answer to the name Vic, was sitting on a large rock and staring into the flames while the saloon woman of his choice stood behind him and worked her hands into his shoulders, kneading away tension. He had a glass in his hand, and a bottle was standing on the ground before him.
Cade was here, and he was eyeing Jessica hungrily.
“I’m glad you’re here,” he said, walking toward her. “I will admit, though, it kind of surprised me to see you.”
“I came looking for you,” she said. “Life at the wagons can get a little boring. And in the morning, we’re heading out for parts-unknown. Some lonely stretch of land where we’ll all be putting up cabins and putting in a crop.”
A couple bruises decorated Cade’s face – he had apparently been in a fight. “That’s not the life for you?”
“I think life is something that should be tasted, savored. Explored.” She was smiling as she did so, but attempting to smile not like a country girl but as one who was willing to explore the more dangerous sides of life.
He reached a hand to her neck, and untied the bonnet she had pulled off and let it drop to the earth behind her. He then let his fingers trail against the side of her neck. She found his touch frightening, and maybe because of this, exciting.
“I hope you know what you’re in for, girl,” Cade said, “because there aint no backin’ out now.”
She decided she was definitely afraid. And yet, somehow, she found herself feeling a sense of thrill at the danger.
“What if I want to leave?” she said. “After all, I’m just an innocent, little country girl.”
“You came here of your own will, and you came here for a reason.”
A voice spoke from out beyond the circle of firelight. “Back away from the girl, Cade.”
Jessica recognized the voice as belonging to the McCabe boy.
Cade looked off into the night, following the direction of the voice, and Jessica followed his gaze. Jack McCabe stepped into the ring of firelight.
“What’s he doing here?” she asked, more to herself than to Cade.
But he heard her and said, “I guess he wants to get himself killed.”
Jack said, “I don’t want to fight, Cade. But that girl is leaving here. Now.”
“You’re mighty demanding, considering it’s just you against a whole passal of us.”
The man called Vic rose from where he sat by the fire. “Cade, would you introduce your guest to the rest of us?”
Kincaid stepped into the ring of firelight, from the other side of the camp. In his hands was a double barrel scatter gun.
Kincaid said, “His name’s Jack McCabe. And he’s not alone.”
All eyes turned toward the marshal, who stood with his boots planted three feet apart, the firelight glowing red against the badge pinned to his vest. He held his shotgun ready.
“Jubal Kincaid,” Vic said. “I was wondering if I would get the pleasure of actually meeting you during our stay here in your fair town.”
Kincaid stared at him a moment, tossing over the possibilities of who this man was. Finally, he said, “Vic Falcone.”
“The one and only. I see you’ve heard of me.”
“Your name is on reward posters from here all the way down to the Mexican border. And I see you’ve heard of me.”
“Your reputation precedes you.”
“So, what brings you and your little band of outlaws here, to this town? Our bank is a little small to get the attention of someone like you, I would think, and there are no payrolls for you to heist.”
“Just passing through. Marshal, is it? Of course, you have worked on both sides of that badge.”
“The past don’t matter. What matters is what side of the badge I’m on right now.”
“Indeed it does. I must ask, Marshal, what the reason for this visit is. After all, it’s not like we’ve broken any laws, per se. At least, not in this area.”
“We’ve come for the girl. We’re returning her to her family.”
Falcone turned to face Cade. “Mister Cade, I was under the impression that the young lady was here of her own volition.”
“Yes sir, that’s right,” Cade said.
Kincaid said, “The girl is sixteen, and we’re taking her out of this camp.”
Falcone suddenly turned to Jack. “McCabe, did you say?”
Jack said, “What about it?”
“You’re the young man who gave Mister Cade such a severe beating at the saloon, earlier in the day.”
“One and the same. He had it coming.”
Falcone chuckled. “Oh, I’m sure he did. But it’s the name that arouses my curiosity. Are you by any chance related to Johnny McCabe? The gunfighter?”
“That name precedes me as much as Marshal Kincaid’s reputation precedes him, apparently.”
Falcone outright laughed. “His son, then. And a man of education, apparently. A bit different than your brothers.”
“How do you know my brothers?”
“I know one of them quite well, actually. And even though I was never formally introduced to your father, we exchanged shots, maybe a year ago.”
“The gun battle at the ranch.”
“Indeed.”
Jack knew of the battle only from what he had read in Aunt Ginny’s letter. She hadn’t gone into great detail about the gun battle. But from what Jack surmised, a year earlier, a band of raiders, left-overs from the War Between the States, had ridden into the Montana foothills, scouting ranches to strike. Outlaws on the run were forever in need of horses and food. They struck the ranch, and though they were driven back, Pa was critically wounded.
Pa survived, but Jack learned about it only months later, when he opened a letter from Aunt Ginny.
According to her, Josh and their new-found brother Dusty had trailed the raiders all the way back to their hideout and confronted them, even killing a few of them. The leader, however, escaped.
Jack said, “You were a bit grandiose in the way you went about that. Not trying to make your presence a secret. You give my father time to prepare a defense, and you’re asking to get shot out of your saddle
.”
Falcone bowed his head graciously, conceding the point. “I do tend, at times, to be a little more theatrical than is good for me.”
“Regardless of any of that, I’m not here for revenge, or any such thing. I’m here with Marshal Kincaid to take Jessica back to her parents. Nothing else.”
“I know how good Mister Kincaid is in a gunfight. As I have said, his reputation precedes him. With that scattergun, he would take down two of us before we even got a shot off. And presuming you learned your skills with a gun from your father, you would get two more of us with your pistol.”
Cade said, “Come on, Mister Falcone! We can’t let them just walk into our camp like this and take the girl away.”
“When one is in command, Mister Cade, one must weigh all factors. Such as, what can be gained must outweigh the potential losses. I’m not sure this is the case in this instance.”
Jack said, “You don’t sacrifice a bishop to save a pawn.”
Falcone was delighted. “Precisely! A chess man, are you?”
Jack decided to ignore the question. “It’s been nice chatting with you, Vic, but we have to be going. And Jessica is coming with us.”
“Indeed. She may go. You have me not in checkmate, but shall we say a stalemate?”
Kincaid said, “Miss Brewster, step away from the outlaw and walk with Mister McCabe away from the fire.”
She gave Cade a final glance and then turned and walked toward Jack.
Falcone said, “Mister McCabe, do you play poker, possibly? That is really more my game than chess.”
Jack said, “I don’t like to leave things to chance. I’ll stay with chess.”
Jessica took her place beside Jack, and Kincaid said, “Falcone, we’re going to back our way away from the fire now. Anyone goes for their guns, and they’ll be doing some dying.”
Falcone said, “Rest assured, you are free to go. We will not be following you. Have a good evening, and I apologize for any trouble.”
Jack and Jessica backed away from the fire, and Kincaid did the same from the other side of the camp and then doubled around and joined them.
Jack and Kincaid had left the horses at a small hollow less than a quarter mile from the camp so they could move in quietly on foot. Now, as they reached the horses, Jack swung into the saddle and then pulled Jessica up behind him.
“You ever ride a horse?” he asked.
“Not really.”
“Just wrap your arms around me and hang on.”
And they started away.
“That was a foolish thing you did,” Jack said to Jessica as they rode. “And you worried your folks and everyone back there at the wagons. Your father was scared near to death.”
“I was in no real danger,” she said. “I just wanted a little adventure. I am so incredibly tired of the dreadful monotony of the day-to-day existence my family is trapped in.”
“Begging your pardon, ma’am,” Kincaid said as he rode along beside them, “but you were in real danger. More than you even realize, because you don’t know those kind of men.”
It was well past midnight when they rode into the Brewster camp, the canvas of the covered wagons taking on a pale glow in the moonlight.
“Hello, the camp,” Kincaid called out.
A fire was still going, and Brewster was standing before it, a tin cup in his hand as the riders approached.
“Mildred,” Brewster called out. “Riders coming. Looks like the marshal.”
Brewster’s wife stepped from a tent and Harding came running from his neighboring camp.
Jack reined up and lowered Jessica to the ground, and Brewster and his wife ran to her and took her in hugs.
Brewster said, “Girl, we were worried sick. What came over you?”
Mrs. Brewster said, “I am so glad you’re safe.”
“I’m so sorry, Momma,” Jessica said. “I don’t know what I was thinking.”
Yes you do, Jack thought. Except you were in over your head and would have been in for a seriously rude awakening if he and the marshal hadn’t shown up.
Brewster went to Kincaid, offering his hand which Kincaid reached down from the saddle to shake.
Brewster said, “Thank you, Marshal. I can never thank you enough.”
It wasn’t lost on Jack that Brewster was completely ignoring him, as though Jack wasn’t there at all. As though it hadn’t been on Jack’s horse that Jessica returned to them.
Kincaid said, “Just doing my job. Nothing more, nothing less. I couldn’t have done it without McCabe’s help.”
Mildred Brewster said, “Then, thank you too, Mister McCabe.”
Brewster and Harding tossed a glance at Jack. Brewster turned his gaze back to the marshal and said, “Would you like to stay for some coffee? The wife just put on a fresh pot.”
“Thanks, but no. I have a town to look after. But if you don’t mind, I would like to leave Mister McCabe behind. Those riders probably won’t cause any trouble, but I’d like a man here, just in case.”
Jack gave him a pained look, as if to say, sarcastically, thank you very much.
Harding gave a cautious look toward Jack. “Well, if you think that’s best, Marshal.”
“I do. I’ll ride back out at sunrise. See you then.” And he turned his horse and started away, back toward town.
Jack stepped from the saddle and loosened the cinch. A rifle would be nice, he thought, but this was the saddle he had rented from the livery earlier in the day – it was loaned to Jack so he could accompany the marshal tonight – and there was no scabbard to hold a rifle. Not that Jack had packed one in his trunk, anyway.
He helped himself to a cup of coffee while Harding returned to his own camp, and Brewster saw his wife and daughter safely to the family tent.
When Brewster returned, he said, “I really don’t think it’s necessary for you to remain here. We should be all right.”
“Begging your pardon, Mister Brewster, but you don’t know the kind of men they are. Your daughter picked a bad lot to go running off to.”
“It’s just that I hate for us to be any more of a burden to you than is necessary. Come sunrise, we’ll be moving on, and will be fully out of your hair.”
Jack shook his head. “Not the best idea. None of you have gotten any rest tonight. Staying over one more day won’t hurt anything. And when you do depart, you’ll be doing so with me. I’m going to ride along as your guide.”
“Because of those men?”
Jack shrugged. “Maybe. Though, I doubt they’ll be any trouble. The marshal and I hurt their pride a little tonight, and I did as much earlier in the day to one of them, but their leader is wise enough to pick his battles. Pursuing a band of farmers in covered wagons doesn’t provide a lot of profit, and this man is motivated by profit.
“No, I’ll be accompanying you because it’s the right thing to do. Because I was rude to you earlier, and I’m sorry. And I won’t take any money for it, because I’m doing it partly for me, too. It’s something I need to do.”
“You’re a man of mystery, Mister McCabe.”
“So it would seem.”
Brewster returned to his fire, and Jack moved to the edge of the circle of firelight.
Come morning, the stage would be leaving for Bozeman, making a detour along the way to the small community known as McCabe Gap. However, it would be leaving without him.
This was not fair to Aunt Ginny, he knew. She had paid for his train ticket and given him the money for his stage ticket. But it was something he needed to do.
He thought he would take a ride into town come morning and write a quick letter to the family to tell them he would be later than expected. He figured there would be at least three weeks of travel ahead of him, moving at the pace these wagons would make.
He hoped there would be no trouble tonight. He didn’t really expect any from Vic Falcone or his men. As much as Jack had stepped on Cade’s pride, Jack figured Cade was essentially a bully, and most bullies are cowards at
heart, and he wouldn’t dare buck Falcone. But it would be best to be prepared.
Jack slept lightly by the fire, using the rough, woolen saddle blanket as a cover against the night air, and his saddle as a pillow.
When the eastern sky began to lighten, he added more wood to the fire, and the settlers began to come out of their tents to begin their morning chores. There were a couple cows that needed to be milked and breakfast to be prepared.
Jack decided to ride into town and see what the restaurant offered for breakfast. He didn’t want to cut into the supplies the settlers had purchased for themselves, and figured he would be surviving the next few weeks on what he would shoot.
He pulled his wallet from his vest, and reached into it for the bills folded inside. All that was left of the money Aunt Ginny had sent him. He thought he might have enough to purchase a set of saddle bags, and maybe a sack of flour and of coffee, and some blankets to serve as a bedroll. And of course, he needed to purchase a horse and saddle.
He would also like to have a rifle along with him. A pistol made a poor tool for hunting. A .44 was not very accurate beyond maybe twenty or thirty yards. Even his father, the best Jack had ever seen with a pistol, preferred a rifle whenever he needed to do any serious shooting.
Yet, Jack’s funds were limited. He had enough for the saddlebags and supplies, but would have to make the ride north without a rifle.
He saddled his horse and was tightening the cinch when Jessica approached from behind.
“Good morning, Mister McCabe,” she said.
He nodded. “Morning.”
“You don’t like me much, do you?”
He shrugged. “I wouldn’t say that.”
“You hardly said anything to me on the ride back from that camp, last night.”
“Wasn’t much to say.”
“Are you expecting me to thank you for saving me?”
Jack turned to face her. He was in no mood for whatever game she was playing. “You went out there of your own free will. It’s not like you were kidnapped. I really don’t think you know what those men are like, or what kind of danger you were really in.”
“What makes you think I couldn’t handle myself?”
One Man's Shadow (The McCabes Book 2) Page 4