He climbed out of bed and pulled on his pants and grabbed his shirt. When his boots were in place and his gunbelt was buckled on, he went over to Matt’s bed and touched Matt shoulder.
Matt woke with a start. Johnny said, “Come on. It’s four o’clock. Time to get moving.”
The bed springs creaked as Matt sat up and swung his feet to the floor. “What’s that I smell?”
“Smells like Ma’s cooking.”
“What’s she doing up?”
Johnny shrugged, though he knew Matt probably couldn’t see it because the room was mostly dark. Johnny said, “I have no idea. You know, I’ve been a little concerned about how things would go this morning. I don’t want for us to just ride out, and she wakes up and finds us gone. But leaving a note doesn’t seem enough.”
Matt was running his hands over his face, trying to rub the sleepiness away. He said, “She talked with me last night. She was awake. Somehow, she knew of our plans.”
“This is something we’ve gotta do. We can’t just let the guy who shot Pa ride off free.”
Matt nodded. “I know.”
“But I so hate the idea of leaving her and Luke here alone. We could be gone for weeks.”
“What about the spring? You and Joe riding off with Thad for the West. Are you still planning on doing that?”
Johnny shrugged again. “I don’t know.”
Johnny left Matt and stepped into the doorway of the room Joe and Luke shared. Joe was already up, tying together the strips of rawhide at the front of his shirt. It was still dark outside, but a lamp burned low on a bed stand. Johnny could see the second bed in the room was empty.
“Where’s Luke?” Johnny said.
Joe said, “Ma came and got him a while ago. Don’t know what for.”
Johnny went downstairs and found Ma in the kitchen.
“Ma?” he said. “What’re you doing up? It’s four in the morning.”
She was at the stove, with bacon sizzling in the skillet and coffee brewing. Muffins and bread were in the oven.
“I’m not going to let you boys leave with empty stomachs. I know you want to be leaving early, so you can eat your breakfast on the trail. The muffins and bread will give you some lunch.”
“Matt said you talked with him last night.”
She nodded.
Johnny said, “I hate just riding out like this.”
“You’re doing what has to be done. Someone takes a stab at the McCabe family, and we stab back. Had it been your Pa and Uncle Jake in your position, they would be doing the same thing.”
“But will you be all right here?”
“I’ve sat and looked at the fire long enough. It’s time to live. There’s work to do.”
She stopped fussing with the bacon in the pan and looked at him. “I loved your Pa dearly. I always will. And someday I’ll join him, when God calls me home. But now is not the time for dying, or sitting by the fire and thinking of what was. Now is the time for living. For doing.”
“Where’s Luke?”
“He’s out fixing packs for the three of you, and saddling your horses.”
“The thing is, we don’t know when we’ll be back. It could be weeks.”
“Could be longer.” She went back to the stove. The bacon was popping away and had to be flipped over so it wouldn’t burn. “You boys have a big job ahead of you, and it’s something that probably can’t be done in just a few days. And if you don’t come back at all, if the land out West keeps calling to you so much that you can’t resist it, that’s all right, too. I know how the West has taken hold of your heartstrings, and how it has with Josiah.”
He looked at her with a little surprise.
She said, “Don’t think I don’t know that you’ve been looking west ever since you’ve been home. A mother knows what’s in her son’s heart.”
“But Ma, I hate the idea of you being here alone.”
She waved off the notion, waving a hand like she was swatting at a fly, and went back to the stove. Bacon was sizzling away with a passion. She started scooping some of it out onto a plate.
She said, “I’ll be fine. Life goes on, for all of us. Luke is almost a man, now. Come spring, Luke and I’ll put in the crop. We’ll run this place.”
She looked at him again. “We all have to live our lives, and that means you boys, too. You can’t just turn away from what you need out of guilt. My life is here, and I’ll be fine. Luke’s life is here too, for the moment. When he’s grown, maybe he’ll stay here and maybe he won’t. Time will tell. But promise me two things. Find a good woman to bring children into the world with, and build a good home for them. And like I asked Matthew last night, write to your ma, once you get settled.”
Johnny said, “You’re one of a kind, you know that?”
She grinned. “I’ve been told that a time or two. Now grab a plate and sit down. Breakfast is almost ready.”
When Johnny stepped out of the house, the stars were gone and the eastern sky was a steel gray.
Bravo was waiting for him. The saddle was in place, and his Colt rifle was in the scabbard. His bedroll was in place on the back, and his saddle bags were full. All thanks to Luke.
Johnny had been a little concerned that Bravo would have given Luke some problems. But Luke had apparently handled it. He was indeed becoming a man.
Not just a man, Johnny thought. A McCabe.
Joe’s horse was beside Johnny’s. Johnny didn’t know if Joe had given a name to the animal. And beside Joe’s horse was the old family horse Matt was going to ride.
The door opened and they stepped out behind him. Matt and Joe. Ma was with them, and so was Luke.
Ma was saying, “Don’t you boys worry about Luke and me. We’ll be fine.”
Matt said to Luke, “I know you wanted to come with us.”
Luke shook his head. “I did, but I’ve been thinking about it. It’s like you said. My responsibility is here. This is where I need to be. Ma and I’ll run the farm. You boys go and catch that killer.”
Johnny said, “Luke, I’ve been thinking you’re almost a man. But I was wrong. I realize now, you are a man.”
Luke was giving a wide grin. Johnny extended a hand, and when Luke took the hand, it was with a man’s grip.
Johnny said, “And you’re every bit a McCabe.”
Johnny could hear a horse coming up to the house. It was Thad.
“Morning everyone,” Thad said. He tipped his hat and said, “Aunt Elizabeth.”
“Morning, Thaddeus,” Ma said. “I’ve said this to the boys, so I’ll say it to you. Take care of yourself, out there on the trail.”
He nodded. “I will, ma’am.”
The dog came running up. He had been out chasing rabbits, or whatever a dog did in the morning.
Johnny knelt down and rubbed the dog’s neck and the top of his head. “You take care of things, Jeb.”
Johnny swung into the saddle. Joe did the same. Matt climbed up onto the old mare, but there was nothing graceful about it. Johnny grinned.
They started out, turning their horses toward the hill out beyond the house. The hill they had rode down when they first came home, all those months ago.
Ma stood on the porch waving at them, and Luke stood tall and strong beside her. Old Jeb ran alongside them until they were partway up the hill, then the dog stopped and stood looking at them. Then he turned back for the house. A dog’s way of seeing them off, Johnny supposed.
Johnny wanted to rein up at the top of the hill and take a long look at the place. When he had ridden out three years ago, he didn’t have such feelings. He had been a kid, not much older than Luke, riding off on a grand adventure. But now, he was aware that he might never see the old farm again.
After all he had seen and done and especially after Pa’s death, he was feeling more world-weary than he thought a man of not quite twenty-one should feel. And as much as the West was calling to him, he knew this old farm would always be tugging at a piece of his heart.
> He decided not to give himself the long last look he wanted, because if Ma and Luke were watching, they might think something was wrong. But as Johnny topped the hill, he glanced back over his shoulder. Bravo felt the motion and slowed down his pace.
The house stood as it always had. The porch, the white clapboards. The upstairs window to his and Matt’s room. The brick chimney rising from the center of the roof. The old oak standing tall out front.
Matt said, “So ends our return home.”
Johnny nodded. “Maybe it’s like you said. A man can never really return home.”
The horses continued on, and they rounded the crest of the hill and the farm was gone from view.
“Let’s ride,” Johnny said. “We got us a killer to catch.”
PART THREE
The Outlaw Trail
31
Montana, 1881
Bree said, “So that’s how you left Pennsylvania?”
Johnny nodded. “It was a fool’s quest, I know. But at the time, we were young and angry. Angry at the man who had shot our father, and angry at the constable who we felt was not doing his job.”
Dusty said, “So, at least we know where Josh got his temper.”
“Hey,” Josh said. “I don’t have a temper.”
Temperance giggled and Ginny smiled.
Bree said, “You don’t ever really mention your cousin Thad. I think I’ve maybe heard the name only once.”
Johnny nodded. “There’s a reason for that, and I’ll get to it.”
“Did you ever see the old farm again?”
Johnny shook his head. “No, Punkin. I always wanted to, but we never went back. I never saw Ma again. Your grandmother. We exchanged letters. Lots of them. It sometimes took months for her to get our letters, or for us to get hers. Especially from here.”
“Grandma died when I was fourteen. I remember when you got the letter.”
Johnny nodded. “And now Luke runs the old farm. Him and his wife, and their kids. But my memories of the old farm live on in his house, in a way. The reason I built it the way I did. It’s shaped a lot like the old farmhouse.”
Jack said, “I got to visit the place a few times when I was back East, in school.”
“So,” Josh said, “what happened when you started hunting down Grandpa’s killer?”
Bree said, “Did you ever catch him?”
“One step at a time, Punkin,” Johnny said. “The search led us through Pennsylvania, and then on to Ohio.”
And Johnny continued the story.
32
Ohio, 1856
They stopped in taverns and restaurants and the offices of constables. They gave a description of the man they were hunting and asked if anyone had seen him. They stopped at farms and stagecoach way stations.
A farmer in Ohio, in the loft of his barn and with a pitchfork in his hands, said he had seen a man who looked like that.
“Come through maybe two weeks ago,” he said. “Thought it was kind of strange. He was riding a horse without no saddle. Asked if he could split wood in exchange for some supper. I ain’t about to turn away a stranger in need, so I let him fill the wood box, and then we gave him some supper. He slept here in the barn and then moved on.”
Matt said, “Did he say anything about where he was going?”
The farmer shook his head. “Not that I remember. Didn’t say much, really.”
“Thank you kindly,” Matt said, and they continued on.
“That horse was probably stolen,” Thad said.
Johnny nodded. “Come on. Let’s ride.”
The winter winds were strong and there were patches of snow on the ground. Johnny pulled his jacket tight as they rode along.
Matt had his thick, woolen pea coat, and Joe had a buckskin coat that kept out the cold and a coonskin cap he had made himself. But Johnny had come home with only his waist-length jacket.
Ma had apparently thought of this, because when he checked the saddle bags after they left home, he found Luke had packed Pa’s old coat in there. He was thinking it might be nigh onto time to put the old coat on, even though the coat fell almost to his knees and didn’t allow for easy access to his guns.
A town was just a few miles ahead. A farming town, just on the other side of a small stream that was covered with a wooden bridge. They figured the rider would have had to pass through here.
They asked at the constable’s office and at the lone saloon they found in town. No one remembered seeing him.
They slept the night beside a livery barn. They built a fire, and the barn blocked them from the cold wind. But it was still winter.
Johnny stood by the fire, a cup of coffee in one hand. The coffee was warming him from the inside out, and he had finally dug out Pa’s coat and was wearing it. It was made of tan leather, with a sheepskin lining. He wouldn’t be able to get to his guns, but at least it would keep him warm.
Matt walked up beside him and poured a cup. Matt said, “What’re you thinking?”
“I’m thinking, what if we don’t ever catch up to him?”
Matt gave him a look of surprise. “It’s not like you to be pessimistic.”
“Just being realistic. We’ve been gone six weeks, now. We spent Thanksgiving with canned beans, out in the cold night with only a campfire for heat. But we don’t seem to be getting any closer. That farmer today saw him, but that’s the first person we’ve found in over a week who’s seen him.”
Matt nodded. “We’ll find him. It’s just a matter of time.”
But Johnny wasn’t so sure. He had been on manhunts before, with the Rangers. He had seen a man ride off into the open land and just seem to disappear.
In the morning they rode on. Down the trail to the next town and other farms.
They came to a fork in the road. One branch bent to the south west, and the other went directly west. The only other choice was to go back the way they came.
“Now, this is a real pickle,” Thad said.
Johnny looked off toward the sky, like he often did. It was gray and overcast. The wind was bitter cold, and he thought he felt snow in the air. The scientists will say you can’t feel when it’s going to snow, but Johnny had always thought the wind had a different feel to it when there was snow in the clouds.
Matt said, “Is there really any way to know which way he would go? What would you do?”
The question was directed at Johnny, but it was Thad who answered. “West. I’d go west. With a murder charge hanging on my head, I’d put as much distance between me and the State of Pennsylvania as I could.”
Joe was silent, letting what Thad said settle in and deciding what he thought about it. While he was thinking, he glanced at the clouds again and the snow he thought the clouds held.
He said, “I’d take the southern branch. If I was in his place, I’d be figuring there’s probably no one behind me, and if there were, I’d have a six-day lead on ‘em. We’re this deep into Ohio, and we’ll probably be in Indiana by tomorrow or the next day. Dugas said he wired all the nearby towns with the man’s description, but we’re way beyond that area, now. I think I’d figure, in that man’s place, the biggest concern now is staying warm. Winter’s upon us and the worst of it’s yet to come. Those clouds up there are going to bring snow. I think I’d be heading south.”
Joe nodded.
Thad shrugged. “All right. If you say so.”
Johnny was about to say, It don’t matter what you think, Thad. But he caught himself.
Matt said, “I’m convinced.”
Johnny turned Bravo toward the road that went south and said, “Let’s ride.”
33
Ohio was now long behind them, and they weren’t finding anyone who had seen the man. But Johnny’s main concern at the moment was the weather.
Snow was coming down hard, and when they came to a way station, they decided they could go no further that day. They split wood and filled the wood box in exchange for their supper, and they slept on the floor in the k
itchen, in front of the woodstove.
The hostler at the way station was a man with a deeply lined face and white hair. He hadn’t seen any riders come through that met the description Johnny gave.
“Did have a horse stolen, though. Almost two weeks ago. Took a saddle, too.”
“Could have been him,” Johnny said to Matt. “No way of knowing.”
The boys continued on the next morning.
They followed roads that skirted along the southern end of Indiana, and then into Illinois.
The weather turned warmer and they slept in a clearing off the trail. A stand of pines blocked most of the wind, and Johnny shot two rabbits for their supper.
Just across the Illinois border, they found a farmer who remembered seeing a rider come through.
“He might’a been about the age of you boys,” he said.
He himself was a man about Pa’s age, with a face that was hard and weathered. The kind of face a man sometimes gets from years of working in the sun and wind.
Johnny told him the boy had hair that was a little wavy, and he described the face. Prominent cheekbones. A jaw that was a little narrow. Scared-looking eyes.
The farmer shrugged. “Could be. He was wearing a wide hat, so I didn’t get a look at his hair. Eyes that looked like eyes. I don’t remember him looking all that scared. I don’t really remember his cheekbones or jaw or anything like that. Just come in and did some work around the farm for a place to sleep for a couple of nights. I let him sleep on the kitchen floor. Too cold this time a’year to sleep in the barn. I do remember he had two horses. One he rode and one he led.”
The boys rode on past the farm a little ways, then reined up.
Matt said, “Could be the one. I mean, who else would it be?”
“I don’t know,” Thad said. “Why would he need two horses?”
Johnny said, “So he could switch horses when one got tired. You cover more ground that way.”
Joe piped up. “Indians’ll do that, sometimes.”
Johnny McCabe (The McCabes Book 6) Page 15
