Johnny McCabe (The McCabes Book 6)

by Brad Dennison

  His gaze drifted to the hearth. He thought, if and when he someday built the ranch house he wanted, he would want a fireplace like this one.

  There was a Queen Anne chair upholstered in cowhide and placed at an angle to the fireplace. Matt had been offered it, and he sat with his legs crossed. He took a deep draw of a cigar.

  He said, “It’s mighty nice to sit on something other than a saddle. I’d almost forgotten what a good chair felt like.”

  Grant said, “I take it you’re not a cattleman?”

  Matt grinned and shook his head. “I’m a man of the sea. But it looks like my life is going in a different direction.”

  The talk then drifted to cattle prices in Chicago. A problem was the trail between Texas and Chicago was long, and it took a lot out of a herd. You could make some money selling a few head here and there in Missouri and Kansas, or to the Army, but if you wanted what Grant called real money, you had to be able to deliver a herd all the way to Chicago. There was talk of the railroad running across Kansas Territory and eventually reaching to the west coast. It would make taking a herd to market much easier.

  “That is,” Grant said, “if war doesn’t break out between the states.”

  Matt said, “Do you think that’s likely, sir?”

  Grant shrugged. “You never know, with those crazy politicians back east. There was talk of the south breaking away about seven years ago. In fact, there was talk of it more than thirty years ago, too. Both times, that senator from Kentucky, Henry Clay, stepped in. He came up with plans both sides could live with. But now he’s gone, and I don’t know if there’s anyone in Washington with the common sense needed to keep this country together.”

  Grant took a draw from his cigar. “Not that I’m all that in favor of keeping the Union together. The states in the north seem to be moving further and further away from the Constitution. Maybe it’s time for the states here in the south to form our own union. But what I object to is any war that might come of it would delay the building of the railroad.”

  Matt said, “But do you think war will definitely develop if the southern states pull away from the Union?”

  “I hope not, son. But I’ve met some of those senators and congressmen from the north. Seems to me they want war and are looking for an excuse.”

  Johnny noticed as the talk went on, Coleman Grant stayed off to the side. He had a cigar in one hand but was saying nothing.

  After a time, Joe decided it might be best to head to the bunkhouse and rest his leg. Matt said, “I’ll walk down with you. Make sure you don’t fall on your face using those crutches.”

  Johnny said, “I’ll be right along. I want to finish this cigar, first.”

  Then Coleman said, “I have some things to attend to,” and left the room.

  This left Johnny and Grant as the only two remaining.

  A fire was crackling low in the hearth. Not enough to warm the room, because the night wasn’t cool and no fire was really needed. Grant had asked Alfredo to start a small fire because sometimes he just liked to have a fire burning.

  Johnny understood how he felt. Sometimes it was nice to just sit by a fire with a good cup of coffee. It somehow eased the mind.

  Grant stood in front of the fire with his feet apart, like he was prepared for a fight or whatever life might throw at him. He had one fist on his hip and in the other hand he held a cigar.

  He said, “A lot of the young men I see today strike me as soft. Good enough men, I suppose, but they couldn’t hold a candle to the original generation of Texians I rode with when I was a young man. I took Coleman in as a young pup. I think he means well and has good business sense to a point, but he wouldn’t have been able to last five minutes in the Texas I knew when I was his age. I swear, those Texians could lasso a twister and pull it down.”

  Grant took a pull from his cigar. “O’Brien, you remind me of those men. You have a backbone. You can look trouble in the face and not blink. You have what it takes to do what has to be done. I built this ranch out of nothing, and I think you have what it would have taken to stand beside me.”

  “Thank you, sir. Coming from a man like you, that means a lot.”

  Grant looked to the guns at Johnny’s hips. Grant said, “Even if Maria hadn’t told me about that shot you made today, I can tell by the way you wear those guns that you know how to use ‘em. And I can tell by the look in your eye that you have had to use your guns more than once.”

  Johnny looked at him. “I suppose I’ve done what had to be done, over the years.”

  Grant nodded. “That’s what I mean. You have the spirit of Texas in you, boy.”

  Johnny took another draw on his cigar. It was almost down to a nub.

  Grant said, “Toss that away. Take a fresh one.”

  Johnny flipped the butt into the fire. A box of cigars was on an end table, so Johnny took another. He bit the end off and tossed it into the fire, and then struck a match to light the cigar.

  Grant said, “Think about the future, boy. Think about what you want. And think long.”

  Johnny wasn’t sure he knew what Grant was talking about, but he said, “Yes, sir.”

  “I’m heading upstairs. It’s late. Stay as long as you want and enjoy that cigar.”

  Grant left the room, and Johnny stood alone in front of the fire.

  48

  Bunkhouses were seldom hospitable places, and cowhands weren’t known to be great housekeepers. Some bunkhouses were so louse-ridden that the cowhands preferred to sleep outside. But not this one, Johnny noticed. The floor was swept, and the mattresses were fresh like they were aired out regularly. He decided if he ever owned a ranch big enough to require a bunkhouse, he would keep it like this one.

  Wearing only his long-handled union suit, he spread his bedroll out on the mattress of the bunk assigned to him and climbed in.

  He decided to keep his gunbelt rolled up beside him, so his guns would be within reach.

  On the bunk overhead, Matt was snoring away. Other bunks were filled and there was snoring going on, creating a staccato sort of rhythm. One man was muttering in his sleep. “Aw, but darlin’...”

  Johnny was so worn out, it actually hurt. It had been one long danged day. But he found as his head rested on the pillow that his mind was too filled with thoughts for him to sleep. He found himself thinking about what Breaker Grant had said. Think about the future, boy. Think about what you want.

  Johnny was thinking more and more that what he wanted was what he had been thinking about back in front of the hearth. A small ranch, a good woman and a passel of children.

  He wondered if when Breaker Grant had first started building this ranch, he had ever thought it would grow to the size it now was.

  Johnny didn’t think he would want an operation this big. A smaller place, he thought, with a house more like the one he had grown up in. But with a big stone hearth.

  He decided to get out of bed. Maybe a walk would help him settle his mind so he could get to sleep.

  He pulled back on his jeans and his boots. He moved as quietly as he could. He didn’t want to wake anyone up. These were hard-working men and needed their sleep.

  On the bunk across from Johnny’s, Joe was sleeping. On the top bunk, a man called Clancy was sleeping on his stomach and one arm was hanging down. His rifle was leaning on the wall beside the bed.

  Johnny tended to notice guns. The rifle was a Hawken, an old mountain rifle. There weren’t a lot of them left. Johnny had seen only one before. This gun was a .50 caliber. A muzzle-loader, but it was said a Hawken was well-balanced and durable. Johnny had heard a buffalo could be taken down at two hundred yards with one.

  Once Johnny’s feet were in his boots, he reached for his gunbelt and buckled it on. He intended to go nowhere without his pistols.

  He stepped out into the night.

  The stars overhead were bright, and they seemed so close you could almost reach up and pluck one down. Johnny loved the Texas sky at night.

 
The wind that was so constant and strong during the day had died down a little. It always seemed to at night.

  The barn and the bath house were a little ways off and looked dark. But the adobe walls of the main house were almost glowing in the moonlight.

  Johnny let himself walk aimlessly for a bit, while he wondered about his future.

  He found himself hankering for another one of Mr. Grant’s cigars. Funny, he thought, how quick you get used to the finer things in life.

  Johnny’s wanderings took him to the side of the barn, and he caught what he thought was a touch of cigar smoke on the breeze. He looked toward the main house and saw a small red glow from off to the side. Someone was out there drawing smoke from a cigar.

  He then heard a woman giving a quick giggle.

  Johnny decided to see what was going on. Probably nothing, he thought, and it probably wasn’t his business. But men who looked like banditos had tried to kidnap Breaker Grant’s wife earlier in the day and there was talk of cattle rustling. Grant had guards posted at the outer reaches of the ranch yard, but Johnny thought he still should see who was outside the main house at this late hour.

  Though moonlight was touching the front of the house, the side of the barn where Johnny stood was lost in shadows. He moved along, holding to those shadows. Then he crossed through a lighted section of ranch yard, but he figured the only way he would be seen from the house was if someone was standing in front of the porch, not off to the side.

  He was in riding boots, and the hard leather soles tended to make a crunching sound on the gravel of the ranch yard when he walked along with a normal gait. So he stepped down gently with the heel and then rolled off to another step.

  A row of white ash trees stood to one side of the house, and another stood to the right. Must have been planted early on, Johnny thought, because they stood nearly fifteen feet high. They also provided some cover for a man who wanted to advance toward the house without being seen.

  Johnny took advantage of the trees, and of the dark shade they provided from the moonlight.

  He was closer to the house now, and he heard the girl giggle again. He could also hear a man’s voice but couldn’t make out the words.

  From one tree, he moved with careful steps to the next. After a time, only two trees remained between him and a small yard at the side of the house.

  Moonlight fell to the yard, and Johnny could see a woman with dark hair. Had to be Miss Maria, he thought. And a man was there.

  They were standing close together, like they were hugging. But then Johnny saw the woman’s robe slide down on one side, and the moonlight caught her shoulder. The man’s face was on her neck and working down toward the shoulder.

  She said, “Oh, Coleman. We can’t. Not here. What if someone saw us?”

  He laughed. He had one arm wrapped around her back pulling her toward him, and he held the other hand away. In that hand was the cigar, Johnny figured.

  Coleman said, “Why not here? Where’s your sense of adventure?”

  She pulled back from him and slid the robe back up over her shoulder. Johnny could now see she was in a night robe or house coat. He wondered if she had anything on under it. By the look of the shoulder, he didn’t think so.

  She said, “Oh, I have a sense of adventure. I thought I had already proved that to you.”

  He gave a snicker.

  She said, “But we can’t let ourselves grow careless. There’s too much at stake.”

  “The old man is sound asleep upstairs. I checked before I came out here.”

  “Breaker posted guards tonight, because of the raiders who attacked me today.”

  He sighed and gave a reluctant nod of his head. “You’re right. It’s just that it’s been so long.”

  “Some day, Coleman, I will be yours. Every day and every night. But we have to be patient.”

  “Will you really be mine?”

  “Now, what’s that supposed to mean?”

  He turned away and paced a bit. He said, “I saw the way you were looking at that gunman today. The one who calls himself O’Brien.”

  “And how was I looking at him?”

  “Like you wanted him.”

  She laughed. “Oh, please, Coleman. Your jealousy isn’t necessary.”

  “I’m not jealous.”

  “Oh, sure you are.”

  He grinned. “Well, maybe a little.”

  “I can’t help but be a little impressed. He did rescue me today. He and his brothers. And the shot he made with his pistol was astounding.”

  “I’m sure it wasn’t the impossible shot you describe. You were frightened. You may not be remembering it clearly.”

  “Coleman, I’m not some dimwitted fragile girl who faints at the thought of danger. I know how to shoot. And I’m a Carrera. The daughter of Vincente Carrera. That means something.”

  “It does in terms of wealth, yes.”

  Her hands were on her hips. She was getting a little miffed. “My father carved his ranchero out of the Texas wilderness just like Breaker Grant did. With his own two hands. He is a man of courage and honor, and as his daughter, I will not shame him. I know what I saw today. Mister O’Brien and his brothers came riding practically out of nowhere, like knights out of some childhood fable.

  “One of those banditos had a gun to my head, and Mister O’Brien shot him in the arm, in a way that wouldn’t cause the bandito’s gun to harm me when it went off. I’ve never seen such a thing.”

  Coleman waved off the suggestion with the hand holding his cigar, then he took another draw of smoke and the end of the cigar lit up with a red glow in the night.

  Coleman said, “He and his brothers are two-bit gunfighters. As soon as my father’s fascination with them ends, they’ll be gone from here. I’ll see to it. I’m the ramrod of this place, and as soon as my father gives the word, I’ll be firing all three of them.”

  She said, “You’re jealous.”

  “Of two-bit gunfighers? Saddle bums?”

  She said, “There’s nothing to be jealous of. I assure you.”

  She laid one hand gently along the side of his face. He said nothing.

  She said, “I should be getting inside. The longer I’m out here, the better the chance of being seen.”

  She stepped away along the side of the house. Johnny heard a door open and then shut. A side door, apparently.

  Coleman Grant stepped up and onto the front porch and walked along until he stood in front of the main door. He then looked out toward the ranch yard. He had a fist on one hip, and with the other he brought the cigar to his mouth and took a long draw of smoke.

  He then turned and walked through the front door, and Johnny heard the door shut.

  So, Johnny thought. Coleman plans to not only inherit the ranch, but he’s working on the woman, too.

  When Johnny was certain no one was coming out of the house, he left the stand of trees and headed back to the bunkhouse.

  He found Matt standing outside, leaning against one wall. Matt had a tin cup in one hand.

  “I didn’t expect to find you awake. You were sawin’ ‘em off in there, like working the woodpile back at the farm.”

  Matt chuckled. “I woke up and saw you were gone.”

  “That coffee must be cold by now.”

  Matt nodded. “Just felt like having a taste. So, what have you been doing, wandering about the ranch at this time of night?”

  Johnny told him what he had seen and overheard.

  Matt shook his head, and took a sip of the cold coffee.

  He said, “We can’t go getting ourselves caught up in these types of complexities. It’s already quite clear that Coleman has little use for us.”

  “As soon as Joe’s leg is ready to ride, I think that’s what we should do. Ride. Clear out of here.”

  “Agreed. But in the meantime, we need to lay low. Not draw any attention to ourselves. Work as cowhands and earn a little money.”

  Johnny nodded. He stood in silence for a m
oment, and let his gaze drift back toward the house.

  Then he said, “It’s going to be a hard thing, not saying anything to Mister Grant about all of this.”

  “You like the old man, don’t you? Does he seem to remind you of Pa a little?”

  Johnny nodded. “Maybe. And maybe I’m seeing a little of what I might be like when I’m older. Except for sniffing wine corks. I don’t know if I can bring myself to do that.”

  Matt laughed.

  Then he said, “So, when you’re older, you want a place like this?”

  Johnny allowed himself to pace a bit, as he thought about it. “A ranch, maybe, but not one like this. A ranch this size operates almost like a small country. But I mean the man, himself. I kind of wonder if when he was our age, he was a man I could have ridden alongside. A man I could have understood. I met a few of them when I rode with the Rangers.”

  “Well, we can’t say anything to him about it. We can’t cause any trouble at all. None of this is our business, and if we interfere, all it’ll do is draw attention to ourselves.”

  Johnny nodded. He knew Matt was right.

  Johnny said, “I’m gonna turn in. The day starts early on a ranch.”

  “It does on a ship, too.”

  Johnny grinned. “Well, tomorrow, your education as a cowhand is going to begin.”

  49

  The days passed, and Joe no longer needed crutches. The swelling around his knee was gone, but he found he still had to favor his left leg. It made climbing up and into the saddle difficult.

  Joe hobbled his way outside the bunkhouse. He stood with his weight on his good leg, and leaned his back against the wall. He began to roll a cigarette.