One Man's Shadow (The McCabes Book 2)

by Brad Dennison

  “So,” Dusty said. “Wanna talk?”

  “About what?”

  “Oh, I don’t know,” Dusty said, in the way someone says when they actually do know. “Let’s see. A college man who has invested two years in medical school comes home to see the family, but winds up taking the trip up from Cheyenne by horseback instead of by stage coach.”

  “Those families needed someone along who knew something about the trail.”

  “So, you were planning to take the stage until they asked you to ride along with them?”

  Jack said nothing. He had pretty much decided to make the way by horseback even before he joined them.

  “That’s what I thought,” Dusty said, taking Jack’s silence as confirmation. “There’s a restlessness in you. Something I wouldn’t expect from a college man who was following his life’s goal of becoming a doctor.”

  Jack said, “You should play poker for a living.”

  Dusty snorted a chuckle. “So, like I said, anything you want to talk about? We’re brothers, but we don’t really know each other all that well. Sometimes it’s easier to talk to someone you don’t know.”

  “All right. What would you say if I told you I didn’t really want to be a doctor?”

  Dusty shrugged. “I don’t know. I guess I’d say, ‘Okay.’ Maybe I’d ask what it was you did want to do.”

  “What if I told you I just wanted to be a rancher? I just wanted to work alongside you and Josh and Pa. I wanted to marry a good girl and put up a cabin, maybe here in the valley or somewhere nearby, and raise children and cattle and live my life right out here in these mountains?”

  Dusty was looking at him curiously. “Then, why’d you go off to school in the first place? Why didn’t you just stay here and work with Pa and Josh?”

  They still had a couple miles of trail left, so Jack told him the story. A boy who could remember everything he could read, who everyone thought was brilliant and should have a classical education. To live his life here on the frontier would be a disservice to him.

  “So, Pa and Aunt Ginny sent me off to school in the East. I didn’t have the heart to tell them all I really wanted was to be right here. It’s not my fault I remember everything I read. I don’t even like to read.”

  Dusty said, “Me, I can barely read at all. Like I said earlier, it took me two months to get through that Dickens book.”

  “Doesn’t mean you’re stupid. Just means you never had a chance to get education.”

  They rode in silence for a few moments. Then Dusty said, “Why didn’t you just tell them you didn’t want to go?”

  “I didn’t know how. Pa and Aunt Ginny were both so excited about giving me the chance for a higher education. Aunt Ginny offered to pay for the whole thing. She has a boatload of money.”

  Dusty nodded. “She never said exactly, but I kind of figured.”

  “Her father, our grandfather, was a merchant seaman. Had a fleet of three ships, making regular runs to China and back. Aunt Ginny grew up wanting for nothing.

  “When Ma died, Aunt Ginny closed up her house in San Francisco and came to live with us, to help him with us children. When Pa moved us here, to this valley, Aunt Ginny came with us. The arrangement they made was Pa takes care of the ranching itself, but she has the household. This includes sending for some of her fancier belongings from Frisco, and even spending money on the household furnishings without Pa complaining. Pa’s not normally one to accept charity. And she told him that he should consider my education as part of her contribution.”

  “I still think I would have said no, if I didn’t want to go.”

  “You think so. You don’t know what it’s like growing up in that man’s shadow. You’re just like him, anyway. Probably wouldn’t have bothered you. You look a lot like him. Walk like him. But for Josh and me, it’s a different story. Maybe it’s because of the larger-than-life way people have of looking at him. Josh and I found ourselves encouraged to look at him the same way. The two of us want nothing more than to earn his praises.”

  “Pa thinks the world of both of you. You should see his eyes glow with pride when he talks about you, off at that medical school.”

  “Part of me wants to die rather than disappoint that man.”

  “But you’re not goin’ back.” It was more of a statement than a question.

  Jack shook his head. “I’m not going back.”

  “So, when do you plan to tell them?”

  “I wasn’t really planning to. I don’t really know how, so I was actually considering taking the coward’s way out. I was just going to visit for a few weeks and then leave. Take the stage to Cheyenne. But instead of catching the train there, I was just going to buy a horse and keep on going. Maybe to California. Maybe Texas. I know enough about cowpunching to hire on somewhere. Or maybe work as a drover. Maybe use a different last name so people wouldn’t look at me like I’m some sort of royalty whenever I tell them who I am. Maybe call myself Jack Brackston. Aunt Ginny’s last name.”

  Dusty let his gaze travel along the trail ahead, looking for any sign of motion in the darkness. “But then Nina came into your life.”

  Jack nodded. “But then Nina came into my life.”

  “So, what’re you going to do?”

  “I really have no idea.”

  They rode in silence for a little while more. Then Dusty said, “They’d have figured it out anyway, you know. Sooner or later, they’d have figured out you never arrived at school. And wherever you went – California, Texas or somewheres else – they’d have figured out who you are there, too. Because you can hire yourself out as a cowpuncher all you want, or a drover, but the way you wear that gun and the look in your eye all say gunhawk. Two and two has a way of getting put together, and people would start figuring out who you must be.”

  Jack nodded. People did indeed have a way of putting two and two together. Dusty sure did.

  “So,” Dusty said, “how much does Nina know about what her father said to Pa?”

  “Nothing. I didn’t know how to tell her.”

  “I still say you could handle him. But that’s a terrible place to put Nina in. She has no idea the kind of man her father is.”

  Jack nodded, and they rode along in more silence for a while.

  Then Jack said, “I have a confession. When Aunt Ginny first wrote me about you, I was so jealous I couldn’t see straight. All my life, I wanted nothing more than to be like Pa, and here you were, riding in out of nowhere and were more like Pa than I could ever be. But I have to admit. I’m glad you’re my brother.”

  Dusty nodded. “Likewise, you know. But I will say I’m glad you’re different than Josh. We get along fine, now. He’s become one of the best friends I ever had. But it was rough goin’ for a while. My face had the bruises for days.”

  Jack laughed. “That’s Josh.”

  They followed the trail through the pass known as McCabe Gap. A wide pass between two gently rounded slopes. Wide open and easy to navigate by moonlight. Then ahead were shapes that looked simply like chunks of darkness. Jack knew them to be the buildings of the little town most folks called by the name of the pass. They rode past a building that had no sign out front, but it was known by ladies in the area as Alisha Summers’ House of Ill Repute. Most of the men simply referred to it as Miss Alisha’s. The windows were dark, though Jack knew it didn’t necessarily mean everyone was asleep, considering the activities that went on at Miss Alisha’s.

  Then they rode past Franklin’s store. He lived in a small room out back. The store was dark, as could be expected at this time of night. Jack carried no watch, but judging by the position of the moon, he figured it to be somewhere between ten o’clock and midnight.

  Dusty said, “These folks offered me a job last year.”

  Jack looked over at him.

  “They wanted me to be the unofficial town marshal. I would have had no real authority, other than to lock up offenders and hold them until a territorial marshal could come and haul the
m away.”

  “But there’s no jail.”

  Dusty nodded with a smile. “Franklin has a tool shed. Apparently they wanted me to use that until one could be built.”

  “I can’t imagine a community this small has a need for a marshal.”

  “Doesn’t look like it now. But last summer, folks were scared. Those raiders. They would camp in the mountains and light a huge bonfire, big as you please. Like they were saying to the world, ‘Here we are, and there ain’t nothing any of you can do about it. We’ll take what we want, and you can’t stop us.’”

  Dusty indicated with a nod of his head the darkness off toward the eastern end of the small town. “The ridge up there – they had a fire going there one night. So big you could see it from Hunter’s. And then off there,” he nodded in the other direction. “Maybe a couple miles away, up on that ridge. It scared folks.”

  Jack nodded. “I guess I can see how it would.”

  “And there’s prospectors up in the hills, diggin’ and pannin’. Sooner or later one of ‘em’s bound to find something. They did out in Helena, which isn’t all that far away. And in Bozeman. And when they do, folks will start swarming into the area.”

  Jack had never really thought about gold being found in these ridges. “You think that’ll happen?”

  Dusty shrugged. “I don’t know. But the idea that it could makes people like Franklin think we’d be better off with a town marshal. I would have stayed at Hunter’s, sleeping in a bedroll in one corner, or sometimes in a room at the hotel. And they were offering meals and ammunition. They couldn’t really offer any pay.”

  They approached Hunter’s, and Dusty swung out of the saddle.

  “This is as far as I go,” Dusty said.

  “What are you going to do? Wait for me here?”

  “I’ll knock on the door. Wake Hunter up. Grab me a cold beer and sit on the porch. Or maybe challenge Hunter to a game of five card draw. Like you said, I make a good poker player.”

  “All right. I won’t be long.”

  “Take your time. Remember, I know how it feels to have a girl like that in your life.”

  “I appreciate it.”

  “Oh, and one other thing.” Dusty opened the flap on one saddle bag and produced a pair of buckskin boots. “I made these last spring, after Josh and I got back from Oregon. Pa always carries a pair with him. You and I look like about the same size. You’ll want to go into camp in these, so you don’t make too much noise and maybe wake up her gunhawk father.”

  Dusty tossed them to him.

  “Thanks,” Jack said. “I seem to be saying that a lot tonight.”

  “I’ll get my turn. That’s what happens with brothers.”

  “Absolutely.”

  Dusty knocked on Hunter’s door. While he waited for the big man to answer, Jack sat in a wooden upright chair on the porch and began tugging at his riding boots. They were worn tightly by most cowpokes because you didn’t want your foot to come loose in your boot while the boot was in the stirrup. They were hard to walk in, though, and even harder to pull off.

  Finally, the boot he was working on came free. With a feeling of suction letting go, the boot slid off. Jack felt a wave of relief in that foot. He then went to work on the other.

  Dusty heard Hunter’s footfalls from behind the door.

  Hunter called out, “We’re closed!”

  “Hey, it’s me. Dusty.”

  They could hear a wooden bar being pulled back, and then Hunter opened the door. “What’re you doin’ way out here at this hour?”

  Dusty nodded with his head toward Jack, who was still in the chair, pulling at his second boot. Dusty said, “He’s heading over to the wagons to visit his lady.”

  Hunter’s face broke in a smile. “I know who you mean. I saw them two stealin’ glances at each other.”

  Jack was finding this whole thing embarrassing. Despite his talk with Dusty on the way to town, he was starting to wish he had ridden in alone.

  Hunter said to Jack, “You think she’ll be awake at this hour? Must be close to midnight.”

  Jack sighed with resignation. He was going to have to tell them. “Last night, she and I met outside her tent after her father fell asleep. I told her once we were here, I would give a hoot owl call and she would know it was me.”

  Hunter’s mouth fell open with a silent, incredulous laugh.

  Dusty said, “A hoot owl?”

  Jack said, “I do a really good hoot owl. I used to entertain the boys at the college with it, when we were having some drinks.”

  “I’ll bet you had a lot of drinks.”

  Hunter said, “But what if a real hoot owl should call out, and she goes out and finds you not there?”

  “I told her I would do two calls close together, wait a minute and then do another.”

  Hunter was shaking his head.

  Dusty said to Hunter, “Hey, I could use a cold beer.”

  “Go in and help yourself.”

  “Want to lose some money in a game of cards?”

  “Lose some money? Me? Are you forgetting who you’re talking to?”

  “How much did you lose last time we played?”

  “That’s not the point. I’m feeling lucky tonight.”

  Dusty tossed a glance to Jack. “I’ll be here when you’re ready to go home.”

  Jack’s second boot came free with such violent force that he was almost knocked from the chair. He then began pulling on the buckskin boots. They were cut like moccasins, rising almost to the knee and tying with a strip of rawhide.

  Jack stood his leather boots beside the chair and then stepped off and toward the meadow where the settlers were camped. These buckskin boots felt good after having his feet packed into tight-fitting boots. And he could feel the contours of the earth in the soft buckskin soles. Every little tuft of grass, every rock. At one point he stepped on a dead stick that would have cracked under his weight, but he could feel it through the buckskin and pulled his foot back.

  He decided he was going to have to make himself a pair of these. He didn’t know exactly where he was going when his visit home was done, but he knew it would not be back to school. And he figured wherever it was, he would need a pair of boots like these.

  Not that he could imagine being anywhere without Nina. Her presence in his life sure complicated things.

  The wagons were ahead of him. Four of them. One buckboard, which was the Harding’s wagon, and three conestogas. Two of the conestogas belonged to the Brewsters, and one to the Ford family. The white canvas of the conestogas picked up the moonlight and took on a sort of dull gleam. The grayish tarp over the cargo in the buckboard didn’t do so as much.

  The tent by the buckboard was where Nina would be. Jack stood in the darkness at the edge of camp and let loose with his hoot owl call.

  He had learned this from Pa, when he was a kid. Pa had learned it from a Shoshone warrior when he had wintered with them in this valley, years ago.

  Jack waited a bit, then made the call again. High pitched, forming his mouth in just the right way. Pa said it would not have convinced an expert in such things, like the Shoshone themselves, but it could fool pretty much anyone else.

  He then made the owl call a second time, like he told Nina he would. Two calls, then a hesitation. The he waited. The oxen were down for the night, in the grass off to the edge of the pasture. In the moonlight, one lifted its head and looked Jack’s way, but otherwise didn’t react. After all, the oxen were all familiar with Jack.

  After a time, the tent flap opened and Jack could see someone step out. He couldn’t see precisely who it was, but it was not tall enough to be Harlan Carter. It was either Nina or her mother, and he doubted it was her mother. He felt his heart beat pick up in anticipation. He started toward her.

  As he drew closer, he could see in the moonlight it was indeed Nina. Her hair was tied into a braid that was flipped over one shoulder. She was in a robe tied together in front.

  She saw him appr
oach and broke into a broad smile. They didn’t dare speak should her father hear them, but they needed no words. They collided with each other, wrapping their arms around each other and diving into a deep kiss. One of her feet came off the ground. His hat fell to the grass.

  “Come on,” he whispered into her ear.

  With her hand in his, they walked from the meadow and out into the open expanse between Hunter’s and the hotel. The expanse that would probably develop into a street, Jack figured, if more people moved in and this place developed into an actual town.

  “Jack,” she said. “I was hoping you’d come.”

  “Did you really think I could stay away?”

  She drew in a deep breath of mountain air, letting her gaze travel from the hotel to Franklin’s. “Oh, Jack. It’s just what you said it would be. It’s so beautiful here. The mountains and ridges that surround this place.”

  “Wait’ll you see the valley. And as soon as we can, I want to get you out to the house to meet Aunt Ginny and Bree. Josh is off with the herd, but he should be back in a few days.”

  Her gaze drifted over to a building beyond Franklin’s. “What’s that place down there?”

  “Oh, that belongs to Alisha Summers. She runs a..,” he wasn’t sure quite how to put it. “Let’s call it a men’s club.”

  “Oh.” She got the meaning. “I wouldn’t think a town this small would have need of such a place.”

  “There are five cattle ranches within riding distance, including ours. Cowhands work hard, and men who work hard tend to play hard. Not only is Hunter’s filled on the first Saturday after payday, but there’s a small barroom in the hotel that fills up, too. Even a town this small can turn into a wild place when it’s overrun by cowhands who have worked hard all month and want to howl. Miss Alisha finds wall-to-wall business. Even on a regular Saturday, between paydays, cowhands come in on a Saturday night looking to make some noise.”