Johnny McCabe (The McCabes Book 6)

by Brad Dennison

  “What about the law?”

  Grant gave a bitter chuckle. “In this remote part of Texas, we are the law. I’ve written to the governor about sending in some Texas Rangers. He’s written back that resources are limited but he’ll do what he can. That’s political double-speak for we’re not a big enough problem for him to bother with. When we had Jim Henderson in office, he would have done something about it. A good southern Democrat, he was. But this man Pease, he’s a glorified Whig.”

  Johnny knew little about politics, and so decided to say nothing.

  Grant took a draw on his cigar. “This is the first time those outlaws have done something as bold as attacking by daylight. To think what would have happened if they had gotten their hands on my Maria. I owe you much, son.”

  “Think nothing of it, sir.”

  Grant shook his head. “Just the opposite. I think everything of it.”

  He took another puff on his cigar and said, “Maria is not just my life, but she’s also my future. I’m an old man, O’Brien. I need an heir. I am hoping Maria can provide me with one.”

  Now Johnny was a little confused. “But you introduced Coleman as your son.”

  Grant nodded. “Yes. Quite right. He was an orphan boy I adopted, and I consider him my own. Coleman has been a good son over the years, but he’s not a leader. I need a son who can be a leader, a son I can trust with the running of this ranch after I’m gone. This ranch is my life’s blood. I built it out of nothing. I don’t want a stranger running it, some businessman hired by the family. I love Coleman like my own, but he’s not the man to run this place.” He held up his glass of bourbon and looked into it, “And I’m afraid I might be running out of time.”

  Grant sat in a chair behind his desk.

  He said, “You see, O’Brien, I have built something of an empire. It began as a few wild cattle I rounded up back in the twenties, and I used this land as what you might call today open range. I’m one of the original Texians. Moved here shortly after Mexico began allowing people in. Came down the Santa Fe trail with a wagon train of freight, and I stayed here. Learned cattle, and I built this ranch.”

  He took another puff of the cigar. Clearly he was enjoying it as much as Johnny was his own.

  Grant said, “Over the years, I invested in shipping. Then in a couple of gold claims in California. When I use the word empire, I don’t use it lightly. I own the tobacco plantation in Cuba where these cigars come from. I own a shipping company in Corpus Christi and another out in San Francisco. I was one of the major contributors to the election campaign of Peter Bell for governor, back in forty-nine, and Thomas Rusk for re-election to the Senate last year. He’s a good Southern Democrat, too.”

  “Sounds like you’ve done right well with your life,” Johnny said.

  “I have. I’ve been blessed,” Grant said. “O’Brien, what do you want out of life?”

  Johnny shrugged. The cigar was smoldering away in one hand, so he drew some more smoke.

  He said, “I was raised on a small farm in Pennsylvania, by good, God-fearing folk. I came West three years ago, and now this land has ahold of my heart. I suppose what I want is to build a small ranch somewhere and find a good woman and raise a family.”

  Grant nodded with a smile. “I felt the same way, many long years ago. This ranch just grew and grew, and now I’m afraid it owns me as much as I own it.”

  Johnny nodded. He supposed he could understand.

  Grant said, “I want you to know I am deeply grateful for what you did for my wife. I thought she would be safe if she remained within five miles of the ranch.”

  “If you don’t mind my saying, sir, she was a good deal more than five miles from the ranch.”

  Grant nodded and raised his brows in a sort of defeated gesture. “Maria is headstrong. She’s going to have her way. I’m just grateful you boys were there. I feel I owe you something more than just a job. Cash? Cattle? Horses? You name it.”

  Johnny shook his head. “With all due respect, you owe us nothing. Our father taught us that sometimes you have to do the right thing just because it’s the right thing to do. We just did what any decent men would have.”

  “True. Any decent men. And you’re proving you have even more honor and chivalry by refusing to accept any reward.”

  Johnny didn’t know what to say. Pa had always said if you have nothing to say, it’s best to remain silent rather than fill the air with nonsense. Johnny decided to take Pa’s advice, and took another draft of smoke from his cigar.

  Grant said, “Where are you and your brothers bound for?”

  Johnny didn’t like the way this conversation was going. He decided to be as vague as possible. “We were just riding. Looking for work.”

  Not totally a lie.

  Grant said, “I’m serious about that job offer I made you. Men as resourceful as you, and with your capabilities, I want on my payroll. All three of you. I can offer you eighteen dollars a month plus meals and a bunk. Those are the best wages in this part of Texas, and the Broken Spur has the cleanest bunkhouse. No lice or rats. Men like you would be an asset to this ranch, especially if your brothers can shoot even half as well as you.”

  Johnny shook his head. “Sorry, Mister Grant. I sympathize with the problem you’re having with those raiders from the Nations, and I can’t speak for my brothers, but my gun is not for hire.”

  Grant lowered his foot to the floor and sat forward in his chair. “You misunderstand me. I’m not hiring gunhands, I’m hiring cowhands. But I expect all of my men to be willing to fight for the ranch if need be. And you all demonstrated you are first-class fighting men, and more important, men of honor.”

  “I’ll need to discuss it with my brothers.”

  “Fair enough.”

  As Johnny went down the stairs to the entryway, he found Maria waiting for him. She was now in a dress with a lacy neckline that fell off the shoulder, and her black hair was piled all up on the top of her head.

  She gave a smile to Johnny, the kind of smile that can warm a man clean through and get him thinking all sorts of thoughts that could lead to trouble.

  She said, “Mister O’Brien. I wanted to thank you again. You and your brothers saved me from a horrible fate.”

  He nodded. “Just glad we came along when we did, ma’am.”

  “Now, don’t you call me ma’am. For you, I am forever Maria.”

  Johnny was becoming more uncomfortable by the moment. “If you’ll excuse me, ma’am—Maria—I’ve got some things to tend to.”

  “Well, of course, Mister O’Brien. Johnny.”

  “I hope we’ll be seeing you at dinner,” she said.

  He gave a smile, hoping it looked more polite than nervous. He touched the brim of his hat to her and was out the door.

  He stopped a moment on the front porch and let his gaze wander over the ranch yard. The long bunkhouse. A barn twice the size of the one at the farm back in Pennsylvania. Three small stables further out. A corral where a couple of horses frolicked about. The low-rising grassy hill out beyond where cows grazed.

  It didn’t feel right, the way this woman looked at him. She was about his age and more than just a little pretty, but she was married. Being with a married woman was a line he refused to cross.

  He liked Breaker Grant. He felt a sort of kinship in the old man’s attitude. But Grant’s young wife was trouble. No way around it.

  He decided he was going to present Grant’s job offer to Matt and Joe. They could decide for themselves what they wanted to do, but Johnny had already made up his own mind. There was a lot he could learn from a man like Breaker Grant, but come sunrise, Johnny would be riding on.

  46

  The ranch had a bath house for the men to use. It contained five tubs. The water was heated on an iron stove outside the bath house and hauled inside in buckets.

  One of the drawbacks was that you had to heat your own bathwater. A small price to pay, Johnny thought. Johnny and his brothers got a fire going in
the stove, and then he worked an iron pump to bring water up from a well.

  Johnny and his brothers each took a tub. Their first hot bath since Hannibal, Missouri. They wanted to be presentable for dinner with Breaker Grant.

  The other tubs were empty.

  Johnny held a mirror in one hand and lathered his face with shaving cream.

  Matt was sitting back with his eyes shut. “Now, this beats that cold river of yours, any day.”

  Joe said, “I have to admit, it is right nice.”

  Johnny began scraping away at his chin with the razor.

  Matt said, “Didn’t you shave just this morning?

  “Yeah. But you can’t get as clean a shave using river water for a mirror.”

  Joe was grinning. “He just wants to look his best for Miss Maria.”

  Johnny shot him a scowl. “She’s married. Remember?”

  “Don’t mean she ain’t pretty.”

  Matt looked at Joe. “So, are you going to shave that fur you have growing on your face?”

  Joe shook his head. “Not a chance.”

  The doctor had arrived and had a look at Joe’s knee. Like Joe had thought, it wasn’t broken. But it was sprained, and the doctor had said for him to stay off it entirely for a couple of weeks. After the doctor had left, Breaker Grant told them that Joe would still receive full pay while his knee healed.

  Matt glanced at the door to see it was closed. Even still, he didn’t want anyone outside to hear him, so he kept his voice down. “We have to make a decision. Do we stay, or continue on?”

  Joe said, “I’ve never seen a place like this. A bath house. This ranch has three stables.”

  Matt settled back in the hot water and closed his eyes again. “It would be awfully easy to become lulled into complacency.”

  Joe gave him a frown. “Is that English you’re speakin’?”

  Matt grinned. “What I mean is, we can’t let the luxuries of this place make our decision for us.”

  Johnny said, “I’ve made my own decision. I’m riding on in the morning. I hate to, in a way. But I can’t be here with that woman looking at me that way. It just ain’t right.”

  Matt and Joe were looking at him but saying nothing.

  Johnny said, “You think I’m seeing something that’s not there?”

  “No,” Matt said. “We’ve seen it.”

  “I just don’t want to stay here with her looking at me that way. I feel like I’d somehow be betraying the old man just by being here.”

  “What are the other options?”

  Johnny shrugged. “We keep riding.”

  “How far?”

  “Far as we have to,” Joe said.

  Johnny said, “Mexico, if it comes to that. We’d be safe there. We’re probably six days away, if we make good time. Maybe seven. Or maybe we could go further west. California. But traveling means going back to living like we were.”

  “Living on the run. Washing in rivers, and even then not on a regular basis. Sleeping on the open ground.”

  Joe said, “Maybe we should stay for a little while. Let ourselves rest up a bit from all of the traveling.”

  “I don’t know about resting,” Johnny said. “Ranch work is anything but easy.”

  “Maybe it’s hard, but it’ll be a different kind of hard. Let us earn some honest money for a while. We can keep going by the name of O’Brien. Maybe there’s a chance we could settle in here. But if not, then we ride on.”

  Johnny nodded. He had to admit, Breaker Grant had some great-tasting cigars. And the pay Grant was offering was better than most cowhands ever saw.

  Matt said, “And you can always avoid Mrs. Grant. After all, we’ll be sleeping in the bunkhouse. And by day, we’ll be working. I doubt any of us will be at the main house all that much.”

  “Let’s give it a try,” Joe said. “Stay a few weeks. A couple of months, maybe. Then we can move on.”

  Johnny said, “If I ride out, there’s no reason you boys can’t take the job offers.”

  Matt shook his head. “I think we should stick together. At least for now. I’m totally new to the west, and with potentially a price on our heads,” he glanced to the door again to make sure no one was there, “I’d like to have someone with me who knows their way around.”

  “Me too,” Joe said. “I know the mountains good enough up north of Laramie. But I’ve never been to Texas before.”

  Johnny was silent a moment, weighing one option with the other. “All right, then. I’ve got a bad feeling about this, but we stay. For now. At dinner tonight, we tell Mister Grant that he’s hired himself three cowhands.”

  47

  Johnny had never been to a shindig of this quality, and he hoped he didn’t look as out of place as he felt. The steak was from a steer butchered only hours ago and was probably the best he had ever tasted. But before the steak they had been served salad. Johnny had never heard of a meal served in sections, but it seemed to be what was happening.

  He reached for a fork—for some reason there were two of them at each setting. Matt made eye contact and shook his head, and he indicated the fork on the outside. Johnny had grabbed the one on the inside. The one with the longer tines.

  Then when it came time for the wine. Johnny expected the butler to come on in with a couple of bottles and then pull the cork and start pouring up. But that’s not what happened. The butler stood empty-handed by Breaker Grant, and Grant said, “Would one of you boys like to select the wine tonight?”

  Johnny didn’t know anything about wine. He didn’t know you selected it. He thought you just drank it.

  He looked at Matt, who said, “I think a hearty pinot noir might go well with tonight’s fare.”

  Grant nodded with a smile. “My thoughts exactly.”

  Grant looked at the butler, a Mexican man with a little girth and some gray hair. He was in a string tie and jacket.

  Grant said, “Alfredo. Bring us two bottles of pinot noir.”

  “We have some of the thirty-two vintage in the cellar.”

  “That would be great.”

  Alfredo left to get the wine.

  1832 vintage, Johnny thought. It sounded like this wine was older than he was.

  The table was made of raw oak but sanded smooth. It was covered with a cloth that Johnny thought might be pure silk. Not that he knew fabrics. In the center was a candelabra, and hanging overhead was a chandelier of what had to be maybe a hundred small crystals. Kind of like the one in the entryway.

  Grant was at one end of the table and Maria at the other. Johnny was sitting beside Joe and across from them were Matt and Grant’s son Coleman.

  Maria was in a gown that was a sort of canary yellow with a lacy neckline that fell gently off the shoulder. Not the same dress she had been wearing earlier. Rich folks must change their clothes a lot, Johnny figured. Her hair was done up all fancy-like and a yellow rose was in it.

  Alfredo came back with a bottle of wine, and a boy maybe Luke’s age stood behind him holding another bottle. Alfredo pulled the cork and then with a white towel over one arm, he handed the cork to Grant.

  Johnny had no idea what was going on. He glanced at Matt, but Matt didn’t seem the slightest bit puzzled, so Johnny decided to sit tight.

  Grant gave the cork a sniff, and he then nodded to Alfredo. The butler poured some into a goblet, but he didn’t pour enough to even be called a shot.

  Everyone was sitting and waiting patiently. Johnny glanced at Matt again, then he looked over at Joe. Joe shrugged and gave him a look that said, I ain’t got no idea what’s going on.

  Grant lifted the goblet to his nose and twirled the wine around while he gave it another sniff. These rich folks seemed to sniff their wine a lot.

  Grant then looked at Alfredo and nodded again, and Alfredo took the bottle and went to Maria and filled her glass, then filled the glass of each guest, then Coleman’s and finally he returned to Grant. A bottle of wine has only four or five glasses worth of wine in it, so while Alfredo
was pouring wine, the boy was pulling the cork on the second bottle. Grant gave that wine the sniffing test too, while the other glasses were being filled.

  The second bottle was now half-full, and it was left on the table.

  Eventually, the steak was served. It was porterhouse, served with vegetables dumped over the top of it. Among the vegetables were tiny tomatoes. Looked like a mess to Johnny, but Grant seemed all pleased with it.

  When Johnny and Grant had talked earlier up in Grant’s office, the old man had seemed to Johnny like a cattleman with maybe a little touch of gunfighter mixed in, who was missing the old days of living on the range and sleeping under God’s open sky. But as Johnny sat at the table, he had the notion that maybe Grant was even more removed from campfire living than he realized.

  After dinner, they retired to the parlor. Joe was on a pair of wooden crutches on loan from Grant, and strapped to his knee was a wooden split the doctor had given him.

  Grant had Alfredo serve bourbon, and cigars were offered.

  Maria said, “If you don’t mind, my love, I think I’ll retire for the night. I have the feeling the talk in this room is going to become downright masculine. Horse flesh and cattle prices.”

  Grant chuckled. “I should apologize.”

  “Nonsense. I’ve had a very trying day and need some sleep.”

  She gave him a peck on the cheek and swept away in her gown toward the door.

  “That’s a good woman,” Grant said to the boys. “A man is lucky to find just one good woman like that in his life. I was already on the other side of middle age when I met her, but she was well worth the wait.”

  Johnny had a glass of bourbon in one hand. With the other, he leaned against a wooden timber that was the mantelpiece to a hearth made of stones. He held a smoldering cigar between two fingers.

  He was thinking about what Mr. Grant had asked him earlier in the day. What did he want out of life? And he was thinking about his answer.

  For the first time in a while, he thought of Becky Drummond. He wondered if she and Trip Hawley were happy. And Johnny wondered if he had made the right decision. If he could have settled down on a farm outside of Sheffield or at the family store with Becky. If he could have done this without looking off to the western sky at night and wondering what if, like she said. But when he saw the Red River, and all that grass blowing in the wind and the springtime flowers, and felt the Texas wind on his face, he knew he had made the right decision. Maybe not the easy one, but ultimately the right one.