Johnny said, “So they say.”
“I know I have mine. But there are people like Peddie in the world who simply would not betray someone. You can’t buy them off, no matter what the price.”
Johnny took another sip of coffee. A little weak for his tastes, but it was coffee.
Middleton continued, “McCabe, what would it take for you to put a bullet in your brother? Hide his body somewhere in the desert. What would it take?”
Johnny said, “What kind of a question is that?”
“A hypothetical one. Let’s say you had a chance to gain total control of his holdings. It would make you a very rich man. Your brother might very possibly be the richest man in the state. And that says something, considering the level of prosperity down around the Frisco area. Let’s say, hypothetically, you could have it all just by placing one bullet in the man’s back. Sure, you’d feel bad about it. Probably for the rest of your days. But money can sure go a long way to compensate a conscience.”
“I would never do it. Some things are more important than money.”
“Let’s say you could gain that kind of money by putting a bullet in my back. I’m not your brother. Just someone you met a few days ago.”
“I’ve never shot a man in the back for any reason, and never would.”
“Bravo. You just proved my point. Not for any reason, or any price. There are those who would. More than you might think. Betrayal is something many people are capable of, if the situation is right. If the price is right. I honestly don’t believe you’re capable of it. And neither is Peddie. At the risk of flattering you, I greatly admire that trait. I don’t entirely understand it, but I greatly admire it.”
He took a sip of coffee. “Whenever Peddie and I wind up in the same town, we take care of each other. We watch each other’s back. I’ve saved her life a couple of times, when customers got a little too rough. She put me up one time when I got cleaned out by a couple of highwaymen and was left with broken ribs and nothing but the clothes on my back.”
Matt said, “And she knows Jessica Swan.”
Middleton nodded. “That’s a story for one of them to tell. Not me. It would be spreading gossip, and I don’t do that.”
Johnny said, “At least you have your standards.”
Middleton shrugged. “Better than nothing.”
“So, who’s the Indian out by the pass?”
Matt answered. “That’s Lone Wolf Martinez. They usually just call him Wolf. He was riding with Swan when they came to this area. I never heard the story from Swan himself, but they say Swan was in the Army, fighting the Apache, and Wolf was an Army scout. Apparently he stayed on after Swan died.”
Middleton said, “According to Peddie, old man Swan saved his life at one time, and Wolf felt a loyalty to him. He made a crusade out of being Swan’s right-hand-man, and now serves that function for his widow.”
Johnny said, “Does anyone else work for her?”
Middleton nodded. “Ches Harding. He rode with Bernard Swan a lot of years. Helped him build this place. He’s stayed on due to loyalty. Probably the oldest man I’ve ever met, but one of the most capable.”
Jessica Swan spoke from the doorway to the bedrooms. “You seem to have a lot of questions.”
Her eyes met Johnny’s again, and again it struck him that she was one of the most breathtaking women he had ever seen.
He said, “I don’t mean to pry. It’s just that you seem to be in a bad situation, here. I’m thinking of lending my assistance, Mrs. Swan.”
Middleton smiled and nodded at Johnny, as if to say, you just made my point. Johnny shot him a sidelong glance.
She stepped into the room. “We don’t really need any assistance. We can take care of ourselves.”
From behind her stepped a little girl. Maybe six or seven. Dark hair like her mother, and the same sky-blue eyes. She was in a nightgown and robe, and she held her mother’s hand.
Jessica Swan said, “Lettie told me of your situation. You’re all free to stay here for a few days. I don’t have a lot of supplies but I would never turn away anyone in need. I’m going to make breakfast for Cora and me, and you’re all welcome to join if you’re of a mind.”
Johnny’s stomach was letting him know it was indeed of a mind. “That’s mighty kind,” he said.
18
Johnny was tired to the point that his joints were hurting. It seemed when he was younger he had to go a lot further to get to this point. But a lack of sleep combined with all of the hours in the saddle had a way of wearing on you. Not to mention the fact that he had added one more to the long trail of bodies that stretched back through the years. Killing a man still wore on him, even though he had to kill the man to protect Lettie and the others. Johnny had never killed a man who didn’t need to be killed, and in his opinion, a man who would endanger women or children was a man who was on that list. Yet it was still killing and even though he didn’t talk about it much, it weighed on him a little, and left him feeling weary and a little edgy.
There were two extra bedrooms in the house. Tom and his wife and daughter were given one, and Peddie already had the other. Middleton had said he was bedding down on the sofa. Johnny told her he would be perfectly happy to take the barn. Matt said that would be fine with him, too.
But before Johnny went to the barn to literally hit the hay, he thought he might pace about outside, and breathe the morning air. Try to take off a little of the edginess. In his younger days, patrolling the Mexican border with the Texas Rangers, he would have worked off the edginess with whiskey or tequila in a cantina in one of the border towns, but that had often led to more trouble than it was worth.
He stood at the edge of the stone wall, looking down at the canyon below. The Apache who apparently went by the name of Wolf was standing guard at the pass into the canyon. Johnny looked down at the pass, but couldn’t see him. Johnny supposed if he could see him, then the man wouldn’t be worthy of the label Apache.
Matt stepped out of the barn and walked over. He pulled out a couple of cigars and handed one to Johnny.
Matt said, “Beautiful morning.”
Johnny nodded, and bit off the end of the cigar and spit it away. He then struck a match and soon the cigar was smoldering.
Matt said, “In some ways, this is a lot like the old days.”
“You and me, side-by-side. And outside this canyon there’s a whole passel of folks who would be happy to see us dead.” Johnny grinned. “A lot like old times.”
“Seems strange without Joe here with us, though.”
Johnny nodded.
Matt said, “Wonder what ever happened to him?”
“No telling. I wonder if we’ll ever know.”
Matt took a draw on his cigar, and blew the smoke out slowly. The smoke formed a bluish gray cloud in front of him that spread out into the morning air and then was gone.
Matt said, “It still does this to you, doesn’t it? Killing. Puts a sort of uneasiness on you. Just like in the old days.”
Johnny nodded again. “Seems to. But there was no other choice.”
“I couldn’t count the number of men I’ve seen you kill. Maybe I could if I tried, if I could remember all of ‘em. But I’ve never tried. But every single time, there was no choice. The first was when you saved that Mexican woman, back in Texas. Breaker Grant’s young wife.”
Johnny nodded.
“That Mexican bandito had her around the neck, not much different than that man Bardeen with Lettie. And you made an impossible shot and saved her life.”
Johnny chuckled. “Coleman didn’t seem all that appreciative. He hated me from the first time he saw me.”
“Jealous, I think. He wanted his father’s wife for himself. And remember how his old man took to us the moment he saw us. Old Breaker Grant was the kind of man who could chew nails. But he liked us, and I think it somehow didn’t set right with Coleman.”
“Coleman was spineless. Angry at the world. Hard to figure how a man like B
reaker Grant could have a son like Coleman.”
Matt nodded.
Johnny took another draw on his cigar. “I suppose I should write a letter to Ginny and the kids. Tell ‘em it looks like I won’t be home for a while. I had hopes of maybe getting home by Christmas, though I knew it was a long shot. I figured I’d visit Lura’s grave, see you for a few days, and then start back. Traveling through the mountains in the early winter can be done, if you know how to do it. And Thunder's a good mountain horse. The best I’ve ever seen. But I just can’t leave this woman and her daughter and the two men with her to face those men out there.”
Matt grinned. “Are you saying that card shark is right about you?”
Johnny said, “Not that I’ll ever admit it to him.”
Matt chuckled.
Johnny said, “Don’t know how I’d ever get a letter sent, though. Not like I can just ride into town without getting my back filled with lead.”
“I can get it sent. There’s a railroad water tower about thirty miles east of town. We can ride out there and meet the train. I’m an owner, remember? I’ll have them take the letter to the train station in Cheyenne, and from there it’ll go by stage coach to that little town you call McCabe Gap. Ginny should have the letter within a couple of weeks.”
“That’s faster than the postal service.”
Matt nodded with a grin. “Pays to know an owner.”
They stood a moment in silence, each enjoying the taste of a good cigar.
“You know,” Johnny said, “the last time I think I had a cigar this good was from the desk of Breaker Grant, himself. All those years ago.”
Matt held the cigar out in front of him. “I’m going to allow myself to savor every single puff off of these. I doubt I’ll ever have cigars like this again, once they’re gone.”
This got a curious look from Johnny.
Matt said, “I’ve got to fight Verna and Hiram. In court, this kind of thing could take years to resolve. Assets will be frozen. Court order versus court order. Verna’s lawyer against mine. And I don’t even have a lawyer. I’ll have to go to San Francisco and find one who has the expertise to go up against someone like Verna, and all of her financial clout. That is, if I can get there without someone hired by Verna putting a bullet in my back.”
Time to ask, Johnny decided. “Exactly what happened at the house? I take it that fire was no accident.”
“Well, it was. Sort of, I guess.”
Johnny waited. Sometimes things that were hard to say took a little time in coming.
Matt took a draw on his cigar, and blew the smoke out and then stood looking at the cigar.
Finally, he said the words. Words Johnny wasn’t really all that surprised to hear. “Verna tried to have me killed.”
Johnny said nothing. There wasn’t really anything to say.
Matt said, “She had her man, Timmons, try to do it. You remember his father? A bull of a man. Maybe the strongest man I’ve ever met. Timmons wasn’t quite that strong, but he was somewhere in the same range.”
Johnny caught the past-tense of the verb. “Was?”
Matt nodded. “He’s dead. He came at me in my sleep. I was so exhausted from all the hours in the saddle. Somehow I came awake at just the last minute. Maybe somewhere deep inside me the old gunhawk still exists. I don’t know. But he attacked, and we fought. And it was bad.”
Matt stopped because he needed to. This was emotionally exhausting to talk about. Your own wife trying to have you killed. Her butler, essentially her henchman, attacking you in your own bedroom. Matt’s voice had started to shake a little, and no man wants his voice to shake. Not even in front of his brother. Johnny gave him the time he needed.
Matt said, “I was never the fighter you are. And that Joe was. And I’m too many years removed from it. We struggled and I held my own, but just barely. He was clearly trying to kill me. I wound up killing him...” he had to draw a breath, as though he was trying to find the strength to say the words, “with a fireplace poker. That old mansion had a fireplace in every bedroom. But somewhere in the struggle we knocked over a lamp, and I didn’t even realize it until the fight was over, and by then it was too late. My bed was entirely on fire, and the fire was reaching up the wall.”
“What’d you do?”
“I got out of there. I had to think fast, something else I hadn’t done in years. I knew Verna had put Timmons up to it. I don’t think he would blow his own nose without her say-so. And if Verna put him up to it, it means Hiram was at least aware of it. He was always her son. He and I never were able to communicate. He always gravitated toward her.”
Johnny was again struck with the thought that you could see a lot of Verna in Hiram, but nothing of Matt. But he could see Timmons. The square jaw, the cleft in his chin. Johnny had to wonder just where Timmons drew the line as to how far he would serve Verna. But he thought now was not the right time to bring such a thing up.
Matt said, “How do you face that? How do you find some sort of reconciliation within yourself about that? Your own son, trying to have you killed? Or at least being aware that his mother is trying to have you killed, and not doing a thing to stop it?”
Johnny tried to imagine that. Josh or Dusty or Jack, trying to have him killed. Or even Bree. Those four, along with Ginny, were more precious to him than life itself. They were family. And part of being family was a level of trust. Blind trust, actually. They had to trust each other without reservation. Just like the way you have to go into a marriage, if you want the marriage to work. It saddened him that Matt had married and produced three sons, but they didn’t have that level of trust. When it came to Verna and Hiram, there seemed to be no trust at all, and Matt was only now realizing this.
Johnny said, “I don’t know what to say. I really can’t even imagine it.”
Matt said, “In the heat of the moment, I had to think fast. I knew Verna had to be behind it. I figured it might be better if they all think I was dead. The house was blazing. Nothing I could do to stop it. I figured if I snuck out and the house just burned to the ground, then they would think I went with it and maybe that would buy me a little time to get my head in order. To figure out just what had happened. But that plan failed the moment Marshal Wells in town saw me.
“I had gone to Tom’s to get him and his family out of there. I figured Wells and his henchmen would come after them. Verna might suspect I was still alive, and send them to Tom’s just in case I showed up there. But I was too late. They were already there when I got there. If you hadn’t showed up, then they probably would have shot me, and they would have done even worse to Lettie.”
Johnny said, “I suppose the practical thing to do would have been to shoot Wells. Not leave him alive. But I just can’t shoot down a man like that. In cold blood.”
Matt shook his head. “Me neither. And I wouldn’t ask you to.”
“So, now what? We try to figure a way to get you to San Francisco, so you can find an attorney?”
Matt said, “I don’t know if I even want to fight.”
“That’s just the fatigue talking. You’re tired. Who could blame for being tired?”
“It’s more than that.” He took a draw on his cigar, and looked off at the canyon floor below.
“What is it, then?”
“It’s that I don’t like the person I became. Rich. Lazy. Filling my day with scotch. Playing billiards with Hiram or Dan. Taking the train to San Francisco with Verna and having dinner in fine restaurants, or attending the theater. That’s not the life I want.”
He turned to face Johnny. “You know when I was happiest?”
Johnny shook his head.
“When you and I and Joe were riding across the country, with a price on our heads. Using assumed names. Remember what we called ourselves in Texas?”
Johnny nodded with a smile at the memory. “O’Brien.”
“And when we first arrived in California we were calling ourselves Reynolds.”
“I remember.�
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“Those were the happiest days of my life. At least as an adult. I was really happy in that old farmhouse in Pennsylvania, when we were growing up. Sometimes I wondered if maybe I should have done like Luke did. Stayed in Pennsylvania. Built a life there.”
Johnny didn’t know quite what to say about that. He knew he would never have been happy staying back home, working a farm. Not after he had gotten a taste of life in the west. And Joe even less so. But he wasn’t so sure about Matt. Maybe Matt was right about himself.
Matt said, “Part of me thinks that maybe when this is over, I might want to just ride on. Just me, my horse, and what I can carry in my saddle bags. Leave everything else behind.”
“If you want to come north, there’s always room for you where I live. There are millions of acres surrounding the little valley where I live. Mountains heavily forested with pine to the west, grassy foothills to the east. A man can run cattle, or even farm.”
“Thanks, Johnny. That means a lot. You never know, maybe I’ll take you up on that offer.”
Then they stood in silence by the stone wall, looking down at the canyon below and smoking their cigars.
Once their cigars were finished, Matt said, “I think I’m ready to get some sleep now.”
“Yeah, maybe me too.”
They went to the barn and Johnny rolled his bedroll on a layer of straw on the floor. His saddle was set for use as a pillow. Matt wrapped himself in his bedroll and was soon snoring away. But Johnny still wasn’t feeling quite ready for sleep. He fished in his saddle bags and found a sheet of paper and a pen and a bottle of ink. He sat the paper on a small workbench attached to one wall, and scratched out a letter.
He didn’t go into details. In fact, he didn’t want them to think anything was wrong. No need to worry anyone. He just wrote that he was staying with Matt—not a lie—and some things were going on and Matt needed his help, so he would be staying the winter. He hoped to see them all sometime in the spring.
While he had never been the eloquent speaker Matt could be, he was even less so when it came to putting words on paper. But he figured it would be good enough. He had an envelope and addressed it to The McCabe Family, McCabe Ranch, Montana.
Return of the Gunhawk (The McCabes Book 3) Page 17