Return of the Gunhawk (The McCabes Book 3)

by Brad Dennison

  If he remembered right, it was a box canyon with sheer walls made of mostly rock. Walls that were impossible to climb from the inside or the outside. The pass into it was flat with no obstacles, but was narrow. No more than ten feet at the widest. The floor of the canyon was large and grassy. Two hundred acres Matt had said, and that went along with Johnny’s memories of the place. Johnny remembered an occasional juniper attached to the walls, and in a few places, a stunted tree.

  He remembered a ledge that was maybe halfway down the highest wall, putting it at maybe twenty feet above the canyon floor and at least as much from the rim. The ledge was sturdy, and ran flat for a while and then gradually sloped downward to meet the floor of the canyon. You could actually ride a horse up and onto it. Johnny and Matt had done this so they could look down at the herd of mustangs they had corralled below. Johnny remembered thinking if the canyon had been further from the ranch, they could have used that ledge to make a camp.

  Johnny looked down at the Winchester he was holding. It was a carbine and held twelve shots. Forty-four caliber. A fine weapon, but it had a lot of moving parts and could jam. Johnny was old-school when it came to weapons. A single-shot rifle like the Sharps in his saddle couldn’t really jam. His Sharps had been a cap-and-ball originally, but had been retooled to take metallic cartridges. A gunsmith in Helena had hacked off the cap lock and replaced it with the more modern mechanism. It could now be reloaded in five seconds, if you hurried, and had much more range than a Winchester.

  The sun climbed higher in the sky and the chill of the night began to fade. Johnny pulled off his jacket and stuffed it into a saddle bag. He was in a flannel shirt and a buckskin vest, which would suffice.

  The cliffs ahead were rocky, and Johnny knew they were getting into the ridge country where they would find the canyon. However, travelling overland it was sometimes kind of hard to come out specifically where you wanted.

  Matt rode up beside him. “I think it’s a little south of here. The trail from town goes right up to it, but travelling this way is sometimes requires a little more guesswork.”

  They followed the ridges south. Johnny heard Mercy saying, “When’re we gonna get there?” And Lettie hushing her.

  Johnny said, “It’s been a long ride for a little girl.”

  Matt nodded and raised his brows. “It’s been a long night for all of us, I think.”

  Then there was a gap in the rocks, which indicated they had arrived. Johnny saw a trail worn through the grass that wound its way from the gap, away toward the south and east.

  Johnny reined up and the others did so too, and Matt again rode up to sit alongside him.

  Johnny said, “I don’t remember a trail being here before.”

  Matt said, “Not long after you moved north, a man named Swan set up in there and ran a small ranch. He’s gone, but the ranch is still there, run by his widow. She comes to town. Folks from town ride out. I’ve been there a couple of times, before her husband died. Verna and Matt know all about it. Obviously.”

  “Which means someone could have guessed we might be bound this way, if they know the lay of the land and know we couldn’t travel fast but needed a place that’s well-fortified.”

  Matt nodded. His cigar was down to a stub. A long, flat outcropping of rock stretched out beside them, and Matt tossed the stub onto it. No need to risk starting a grass fire.

  He said, “You think you and I should go in first?”

  Johnny nodded.

  Johnny nudged Thunder to take a few backsteps, to where Tom sat in the saddle. Johnny held the Winchester out to him and said, “You know how to use it?”

  Matt said, “All my boys do. Even Hiram. I saw to it.”

  Tom took the rifle, and then held it out before him, looking at it as though he was looking at a gun for the first time.

  He said, “I made a vow before God that I would never take a life.”

  Johnny was about to say a lot of good that did him when Wells and Bardeen pushed their way into his house. But he didn’t. Instead he turned Thunder toward the gap that would lead into the canyon.

  The gap was actually a winding pathway through abutments of rock. Johnny pulled his pistol and quickly checked the loads. Matt did the same. Johnny didn’t like the idea of openly riding into someone’s gunsights, but there was no other way to enter this canyon.

  Matt said, “I should go first.”

  Johnny shook his head, at first thinking Matt was showing some sort of unnecessary bravado.

  But Matt said, “You’re the better shot. One of them gets me, you have a lot better chance of getting them than I would if one of them got you.”

  Johnny couldn’t help but give a rueful smile. This was the kind of thing the Matt of old would have said. Johnny brought Thunder to a stop and let Matt ride on past him.

  After they had ridden maybe five hundred feet, the narrow pass began to widen, and there were rounded rocks to either side. As they rode past one boulder the size of a wood shed, Johnny heard a gun cock from behind them. A man had been there, waiting for them, stepping around the rock to come out behind them.

  The man said, “You make this too easy.”

  16

  “You make this too easy,” the man said. “I would have expected more from a titan such as yourself.”

  Johnny recognized the voice, and let out a small sigh of relief. He looked over his shoulder to see Sam Middleton standing by the rock, pistol in hand.

  Matt said, “Huh? Did he just call you a titan?”

  But Johnny said to the man, “You’re about the last person I would have expected to see out here.”

  Middleton eased back the hammer and returned the gun to his holster. “I could say likewise.”

  Matt said, “I take it you know this man.”

  Johnny said, “Sam Middleton. Card shark.”

  Sam said, “Card shark, cad, and general ne’er do well, at your service.” Sam gave a sweeping, theatrical bow.

  Matt glanced at Johnny and gave a what the hell? look. But Johnny was grinning. As little as he actually trusted this man, he did owe him.

  Johnny said, “We have some people with us. A man, a woman and a child. They’re waiting outside the canyon for us.”

  “Then, by all means, go get them and we can ride up to the house.”

  When Johnny returned with Tom, Lettie and Mercy, Sam Middleton was now on a horse. It was an appaloosa with one white stocking. It was a little smallish, maybe a little more than fourteen hands. Johnny figured it had probably been a mustang caught and saddle broke.

  A man stood by the rock. He was holding a Winchester in his hands, and Johnny figured him to be Apache by the look to his face. High cheekbones, darker skin tone. But his hair was cropped short and a sombrero was perched on his head, and he was wearing cowhand clothes. Except for the revolver at his side that was hanging low and tied down. Only a fool would wear a gun like that for show. This man was a gunhawk.

  Sam said, “Allow me to introduce Wolf. He’ll watch the pass. We always have someone watching it. Now, if you’ll follow me...”

  And with a theatrical wave of his hand that meant, come along this way, he started across the canyon toward the north wall.

  This place was about how Johnny remembered it. There had been a little tree growth in spots, mostly near the walls, and a few scattered alders and oaks along a stream that ran through the center. Johnny had forgotten about the stream. Too many years away, he figured. It began at a crack in the wall at the eastern side of the canyon and trickled its way to a small pond toward the center. Now the trees were taller, and there were more of them.

  Cattle were in random spots throughout the canyon, grazing contentedly like they had all the time in the world. Which, Johnny supposed, they did. He estimated possibly three hundred head in total. Not enough for a hugely prosperous ranch. At his own ranch in Montana, he and his boys ran close to two thousand head. He figured Matt ran more than triple that.

  Against the northern wall of
the canyon was the section of flat ledge Johnny remembered. Except now a house and barn were there. The house was a single-level, with white adobe walls and a roof that was tiled in the manner Johnny had seen Mexicans do. The barn wall was made of boards nailed into place upright, and had a peaked roof. The boards looked gray and weathered. A corral stood behind the barn, and a buckboard waited near the house.

  In the corral, a black mare with three white stockings pranced about. Once as they were riding in, she reared up and pawed at the air with her front hooves, like she was feeling a little stir crazy and wanted to run. There were four others, all geldings. Three bays and another appaloosa.

  A stone wall had been built along the edge of the ledge. It reminded Johnny of the old stone walls that criss-crossed their way through the woods and pastures of the northeast. In the colonial days, farmers had built their fences this way, so every scrap of wood could be used either for building or for burning. This wall stretched more than two hundred feet. Johnny figured every rock had been hauled in here by wagon and meticulously laid into place. This told Johnny two things. The man who had built this place was not afraid of hard work, and he knew how to fortify a position.

  As they rode toward the house, Johnny fixed his eyes on the canyon rim.

  “Is there any way up there?”

  Middleton shook his head. “Not that I’ve found. Jessica, Mrs. Swan, says there’s not. Not from outside the canyon, either.”

  The house had a small porch attached to the front of it, and a sloping overhang to serve as a roof. As they approached, a woman stepped out, a Winchester in her hands.

  Middleton reined up, and the others followed suit. He said, “Everyone, allow me to introduce Jessica Swan.”

  Johnny reached up to touch the tip of his brim, and as he did so his eyes met hers and he found himself freezing in mid-motion. She stuck him as one of the most incredible-looking women he had ever seen. Something about the curve of her cheekbones made the breath want to catch in his chest. Her eyes were the color of the sky, and her hair was dark. Not quite the color of coffee. She was not in any way glamorous. She was dressed for ranch work, and her hair was pulled back into a bun, and her face was a little flushed. Probably had been working in front of a hot stove, Johnny figured. And yet he would have challenged any woman in a ball gown to keep up with her.

  Her eyes were fixed on Johnny, and the two simply stared at each other for a moment. Johnny sitting in the saddle, and the woman standing on the porch with the rifle in her hands, the barrel aimed down and away.

  Thunder didn’t move. The horse had learned over the years if Johnny became stock still, the horse was to accommodate. He probably figured Johnny was about to begin shooting at something. But Johnny simply stared at the beauty standing on the porch before him.

  Middleton caught the silent exchange, and grinned a bit. “Jessie, allow me to introduce the legendary Johnny McCabe.”

  Johnny tossed him a sidelong glance. He wished Middleton hadn’t put it that way.

  But she raised a brow and one corner of her mouth quirked into a little half smile. A smile that made something in his chest grow warm.

  She said, “The legend himself. Here in the flesh.”

  Johnny said, “And my brother Matt.”

  She looked at Matt, and a less than friendly tone came into her voice, “I know who you are. What do you want here?”

  Matt touched the brim of his hat, and said, “Refuge, ma’am.”

  Time for her brow to rise again, and she looked at Middleton.

  He said, “I’ll vouch for them all, Jessie.”

  She hesitated a moment. Johnny figured she was weighing the whole thing in her mind. After all, she probably saw Matt as evil. As the one trying to force her out of her home. But for some reason the word of this arrogant card shark Middleton weighed heavily with her.

  While she was waiting, a second woman stepped out of the house to stand beside her. Johnny recognized her as the tired-looking saloon whore from town. The one who had been helping Middleton rig a card game.

  “All right,” Jessie said. “Come on in.”

  17

  The front door opened to a small parlor, with a hearth made of stones. They looked a lot like the stones the wall at the edge of the small plateau was made of, in size and texture. A rack of long horns was mounted above a rough cut mantel, and a large bear skin served as a rug. One doorway to the parlor opened to a kitchen, and another to a small hallway where the bedrooms were. No dining room. Meals were taken on a large wooden table in one corner of the kitchen.

  Jessica and Peddie took Lettie and Mercy down to one of the bedrooms. Lettie was hurting so bad from four hours on the back of a horse that she could hardly walk, and both needed sleep.

  Middleton went to the kitchen and came back with a tray containing tin cups, the kind Johnny took on the trail with him, and a kettle of coffee, and he poured up.

  Tom took a cup and sat at one end of a sofa. He was saying very little.

  Johnny stood by the hearth, a cup in his hand. His left hand, which kept his gun hand free. A fire crackled low, and the heat felt good after riding through the cool air of the night and early morning.

  Johnny said, “This place has a nice way about it. A good man built it. It’s got his touch.”

  Matt sat in a chair made with a wooden framework and leather stretched over it. “Bernard Swan was that kind of man. Kept to himself, for the most part. But he just had a strength about him. The way he moved. The way he spoke. I’ve only been here a couple of times, and those were a years ago, but I’ve always liked this place.”

  Sam Middleton had hung his hat on a peg on a wall, and had a tin cup of coffee in one hand.

  Johnny said, “Middleton, can you give me an answer?”

  “Of course,” he said. “Have I ever been anything but straight with you?”

  Johnny shook his head. “No, but I haven’t known you long enough for you to lie to me. Yet.”

  “Well, there you go. I’ve never lied to you. What’s the question?”

  “What brings you here?”

  “To this house? Trying to avoid being shot by the good marshall and his band of thugs in town. Right before I came to your aid back in town, I gave Peddie a pre-arranged signal, which was for her to go and get two horses saddled. I always plan for a hasty exit, should one be needed. As it turns out, I seem to need such a thing wherever I go.”

  Johnny said with a little sarcasm, “I can’t imagine that.”

  Middleton shot him a sidelong glance.

  Matt said, “Johnny, how is it you two know each other?”

  “I met him a few nights ago in town. He and the one called Peddie were running a crooked card game, trying to cheat some miners out of their hard-earned money.”

  Middleton gave a theatrical cringe. “Why, McCabe, you don’t have to put it quite that way.”

  “How would you put it?”

  Middleton gave a moment of thought. “Well, okay. You’ve got a point.”

  Matt said to Middleton, “You vouched for us. The good lady has every reason to hate me and suspect I am up to no good, considering the way she has been treated by Hiram and my wife. But you said you vouched for us. How did you know I wasn’t here to try to harass her?”

  Middleton said, without missing a beat, “Because you’re with him.” With a nod of his head he indicated Johnny. “I’ve heard the stories, many of them from Peddie. I know you want this canyon because you think there’s gold in these cliffs, and Bernard Swan, God rest his ever eternal soul, never filed the proper paperwork for a legal claim.”

  Matt shook his head. “I don’t want this canyon. As far as I’m concerned, this was Bernard Swan’s, and now belongs to his widow. My wife and son, I’m ashamed to admit, are the ones trying to strong-arm Mrs. Swan out of here.”

  Johnny said to Middleton, “Why does Matt being with me hold any weight with you?”

  “Because, my dear McCabe, you are the proverbial knight-in-shining-a
rmor. The perennial do-gooder. Protector of the innocent, righter of wrongs, and all of that. You see a wrong being committed, and you cannot help but step in. Just like back in town, with the card game. I haven’t met many like you, but just your very nature prevents you from doing anything under-handed. If your brother were here to cause trouble, then you wouldn’t have allowed him to ride with you. In fact, if anything, I expect you to join in Mrs. Swan’s struggle against the evil oppressors trying to take her land.”

  “It’s not my fight.”

  “Of course, not. But can you really just ride away and leave a woman and her young daughter to face the likes of Verna and Hiram McCabe?”

  Johnny took a sip of coffee, and didn’t say anything. He wasn’t sure if Middleton was complimenting him, or somehow laughing at him. Or in a complicated, bizarre way, both.

  Matt said to Middleton, “Your word seems to carry a lot of weight with Mrs. Swan.”

  “She hardly knows me. My word holds a lot of weight with Peddie, and hers holds a lot of weight with Mrs. Swan.”

  “Why?” Johnny said.

  Middleton gave him a curious look. “Your question could actually go two ways. Why do Peddie and I mean so much to each other, or why does Peddie mean so much to Jessica?”

  “I think the first answer is obvious.”

  “Not as much as you might think. Peddie and I are not romantically involved. Never have been. I met her in St. Louis maybe..,” he looked off into the air while he tried to figure the years, “maybe seven years ago. She’s become like a daughter to me. She’s another of those true and noble souls. Sort of like yourself. I pulled her out of a bad situation. Not my place to tell the story. But let me just say this about her. They say everyone has their price.”