Johnny McCabe (The McCabes Book 6)

by Brad Dennison

  “This is a man’s world. A woman cannot succeed without the right man at her side.”

  He shook his head. “Don’t marry because it seems like the right business move. Don’t throw yourself at a man because you think he might fit into a certain plan for the future. You don’t really need a man, Maria. I believe you’re capable enough to build the future you want, yourself. You’re a lot stronger than you know.”

  Then he said, “I don’t know of many men who could take two head-first tumbles from a saddle as well as you did.”

  She smiled.

  He said, “Marry because of love. Not because of opportunity. Don’t marry because you feel you need a man. Marry only if and when you find the right man.”

  “But it has to be a man who can stand at my side.”

  He nodded. “A man worthy of your love will be worthy of standing at your side.”

  “You don’t think you’re worthy?”

  He shrugged. “I don’t know. My life seems to be filled with uncertainty. People are seeing things in me that I didn’t see myself, and it’s giving me something to think about. But the timing isn’t right for us. You’re married, to a man I greatly admire. Maybe the love isn’t what you wanted, but marriage is an institution you have to take seriously. When the timing is right, you’ll find the right man. Or he’ll find you.”

  Johnny realized the mouthful he had just said.

  He said, “I’m starting to sound like my brother Matt.”

  She gave a chuckle. He did, too.

  She said, “I’ve never met a man like you before.”

  “Yes you have. You’ve said it yourself.”

  “Breaker.”

  “Maybe if the ages were right, he could have been the right man to stand at your side. You never know. But even with the ages not being right, you can still have a few years with him.”

  “You’ve given me a lot to think about, Johnny McCabe.”

  He blinked with surprise. Not the first time tonight. “You know?”

  She smiled. “There’s not much that goes on in this household that I don’t know about. But don’t worry. Your secret is safe with me. Coleman will never know. I don’t think even Breaker knows that I know.”

  Johnny said, “You have been with Coleman.”

  She cast her eyes downward. “Yes.”

  “Are you in love with him?”

  She looked up at him again. “I thought I was. I’m young, I’m beginning to realize. Making foolish mistakes. He swept me off my feet. Maybe I knew what he was doing, and I let him. But I have been realizing more and more, in recent weeks, it isn’t really love.”

  “Well, then your secret will be safe with me.”

  “Thank you. Breaker would never understand.”

  “I guess we both have a lot to think about.”

  She said, “I think it’s time I went inside. I think I’m finding that I want to go be with my husband.”

  “You do that.”

  She turned and started away. Then she looked back at him and said, “Thank you.”

  He nodded.

  She planted a light kiss on his cheek, and he watched her walk away.

  He stood alone in the moonlight and took another draw from his cigar.

  60

  Springtime passed, and the full force of a Texas summer descended on the Broken Spur.

  Early in the summer, Johnny led another small cattle drive to the town of Jefferson. Then he took another two hundred head to Fort Belknap. Later in the summer, he put Goullie in charge of taking fifty head to a small Army post by the name of Camp Colorado, within riding distance of the Colorado River.

  The trick to business, Johnny was learning, was to keep the cost of doing business low. Breaker Grant called it low overhead. If the cost of doing business is low, then even if the prices aren’t high, there will be at least moderate profit. When it came to cattle, this meant delivering a herd that wasn’t too thin or distressed from trail conditions.

  Breaker Grant talked, and Johnny listened. Often in the evening, with a cigar in one hand a glass of bourbon in front of him, Breaker would ramble on about various cattle drives he had conducted over the years. Once he had taken a thousand head to New Orleans. And he talked about the cattle drive to Chicago. He drove smaller herds to Sedalia, and he sold a lot of cattle to various army posts.

  Breaker would talk cattle. Raising them. What was good grass and what wasn’t. He would talk how to find water in Texas in the spring and how to find it in the fall, which is not necessarily the same thing. He talked about what would happen when it rained hard and the Red flooded. Apparently it could become a mile wide if it flooded enough.

  Johnny also listened when Goullie talked. Shelby and Clancy had experience with cattle, too. Not all of them agreed on the best methods, but he listened to it all and then used his common sense to decide which way he thought was best.

  Johnny found part of the cattle business was negotiating the right price. If you started a little high, the buyer would start low, and you’d settle somewhere in the middle, which was the place both parties were shooting for in the first place. Not much different than Pa dickering over the price of his crop, back in the old days.

  Coleman was hardly seen all summer, and Johnny found Coleman’s absence quite pleasant. Johnny had dinner with Breaker and Maria a few times, and he found the atmosphere about the house much more relaxed without Coleman there.

  Maria no longer slipped discreet smiles to Johnny. Her attention now seemed to be on Breaker. One time, as she and Breaker were sitting on the sofa in front of the fire, and Johnny was standing by the hearth and talking with Breaker about ranch business, Maria reached over and laid a hand across Breaker’s hand and gave him a smile. Johnny found that right nice.

  A few days after Johnny’s talk with Maria out by the barn, Coleman hopped a stern-wheeler that took him down the Red to Jefferson. Somewhere throughout the summer, he took a few weeks to visit the tobacco plantation in Cuba.

  Coleman had also talked Breaker into letting him buy into a shipping outfit based in Corpus Christi. It was showing that Coleman had a head for business, and Johnny thought he saw pride in Breaker’s eyes when the old man talked about it.

  Then summer began to fade toward fall.

  Fall roundup was a week away when Johnny and his brothers rode into Clarkston. Johnny knew roundup was going to be long, hard work, and he wanted the men to rest up a bit beforehand. He even moved payday up two weeks so they could have some jingle in their pockets while they rested.

  Johnny now had a waist-length gaucho jacket. It was gray colored, because Johnny thought neutral colors would blend into the Texas countryside better. He might now be the ramrod of a Texas ranch, but he had been a Texas Ranger and had been shot at by Comanches and Kiowas and Mexican Border raiders more than once. He still found himself watching the terrain for snipers or riders, and the thought of wearing colors that were too light or dark, colors that would have stood out starkly against the Texas countryside, made him a little jittery.

  He was in brown vaquero pants with silver conchos running down the side of each leg, and his Colt .44s were at his hips.

  When Matt had first seen Johnny’s vaquero pants, he had said, “Why, aren’t you becoming the new face of Texas fashion.”

  Johnny had ignored him. He had seen pants like this worn in the border country and he thought they looked stylish. He was being paid thirty dollars a month now, more than twice what a cowhand could expect, so why not spend a little of it?

  They swung out of the saddle in front of the saloon. Joe looked like he usually did. A dusty range shirt and canvas pants. He wore his buckskin sheath at his right side, and in the sheath was his big knife. His pistol was never holstered, but tucked into the front of his knife belt. Johnny had learned not to ask a man about the way he carries a gun or knife. Every man had his preference.

  Johnny and Matt had trimmed their hair recently, and were freshly shaven for their night on the town. Joe hadn�
��t cut his hair since Pennsylvania, and it was now touching his shoulders. His beard was long enough to touch his collar bone.

  Matt said, “You look like a mountain man.”

  Joe said, “Then I guess I look like what I am.”

  Matt was in a white shirt and a black string tie. He had replaced his navy cap with a new black hat that had a flat crown and a flat, stiffly blocked brim. What they called a Boss of the Plains hat. He was wearing his Navy Colt in a holster he had bought from an old Mexican man. The belt and holster were engraved with lots of swirls and had a few conchos here and there. Matt had spent some of his money, too.

  Matt no longer bounced in the saddle when he rode. He now moved like he and the horse were one. Maybe not quite as natural as Johnny and Joe looked on a horse, but he was getting there.

  Once they were in the saloon, Joe bellied-up to the bar and ordered a bottle of beer. Miller, all the way from Milwaukee. The bartender was an older gent with no hair at the top of his head, and the hair at the sides was white and thick and bushy. He pulled the cork and handed the bottle to Joe.

  Joe’s knee had healed to the point that he no longer limped at all when he walked, and he could climb up into the saddle with ease.

  Johnny said to the bartender, “Do you have tequila here?”

  The bartender said, “Of course, boy. This is Texas.”

  Johnny grinned at Matt. “Then you know what I’ll be having.”

  In one corner was a table, and a card game was in progress. Clancy and Shelby were there, and two other men Johnny didn’t recognize. Cowhands, by the look of them.

  Johnny had a glass of tequila in one hand. “I think I’ll go join that game.”

  Matt nodded. He also had a glass of tequila. “I think I’ll go find a quiet corner and maybe start writing a letter to Ma.”

  Johnny nodded. “When it comes to letter-writing, you’re probably the one for the job.”

  Johnny stood by the table watching the game. Clancy and the two Johnny didn’t know folded, and Shelby had increased his wealth by two dollars.

  “Mind if I set in?” Johnny asked.

  “Not at all, Boss,” Shelby said. “Pull up a chair.”

  The two men Johnny didn’t know were introduced as Caleb and Pike. Cowhands for a small ranch called the Bar 20. They were both about Goullie’s age.

  Johnny was handed the deck, and he began shuffling. “All right, men, the game is five card draw. Nothing wild. Ante up.”

  Pike said, “Is it true, what I heard? Coleman Grant is back in town?”

  Clancy nodded, and looked to Johnny.

  Johnny was dealing out the cards. He said, “I just found out this morning. He’ll be staying for a few days and then he’ll be going back to his office in Jefferson.”

  Clancy said, “Not a moment too soon, if you ask me.”

  Matt took an empty table in one corner. He reached into a vest pocket and brought out a small bottle of ink and a pen, and two sheets of paper folded together. He unfolded the paper on the table and opened the bottle of ink.

  Now, how to begin? He and Johnny had talked about it on the ride into town. There was a lot to tell Ma and Luke about, but a lot they didn’t want to tell them, as well. Words usually came easy to Matt, but not this time.

  Dear Ma and Luke,

  That part was easy. Now for the rest of it. He took a belt of tequila.

  He glanced at the card game. One man shook his head and folded. Shelby said, “I’ll raise you fifty cents.”

  Matt put the pen to the paper again.

  How are you both? I hope you are fine.

  Johnny, Joe and I are in Texas. We long ago lost the trail we were following, and we settled in to work on the Broken Spur ranch seven months ago. We’re becoming real cowboys. I am becoming more accustomed to the bouncing and rolling motion of a horse, and I am becoming quite handy with a lariat. Some of the men joke that they are going to introduce me to bronco busting, but I have not yet worked up the courage or the foolishness to try it.

  Matt stopped and took another belt of tequila.

  Johnny had taken the first pot, and Shelby was now shuffling the deck.

  We all seem to be well-liked here, especially Johnny. The natural leadership qualities he has always seemed to possess are manifesting themselves even more here. He has been given the job of ramrod, which means he’s the boss. He has a natural way with men, who seem to want to follow him without even being asked to. Some people simply have the gift. I think Pa did, and Johnny does, too.

  Matt grabbed his glass and walked across the room to Joe.

  “How’s the letter-writin’ goin’?” Joe said.

  Matt shook his head. The bartender was down at the other end of the bar, so Matt felt free to talk. “There’s so much I want to say, but there’s so much we can’t say. Like Missouri. And that Thad rode on and we have no idea where he is. Or that it was Thad who killed that marshal. What would Ma think? What would Uncle Jake and Aunt Sara think?”

  “I wonder where Thad is now?”

  Matt shook his head. “As long as he’s not here, I’ll be happy.”

  “Just thought of another problem, too.”

  “What’s that?”

  “How do we give them a return address? If you use the name O’Brien on the letter, then you’ll have to explain why. And you cain’t use our real names.”

  Matt placed his elbows on the bar and hung his head. “I hadn’t thought of that.”

  There were cheers from the card table. Joe looked over his shoulder at them, and Joe said, “Looks like Johnny just won another pot. There’s a small crowd gatherin’ around the table.”

  Matt looked over. Five men were standing with bottles of beer in their hands, watching the game.

  More cowhands were coming in. Mostly men from the Broken Spur. They had been paid early and were determined to burn up that money before spring roundup began.

  Matt went back to his table. The ink had dried on the letter so he folded up the two sheets of paper and tucked them into one vest pocket, and then he tucked the bottle of ink and the pen in another. He would work on writing the letter later.

  He went over to the card game to watch.

  Johnny had just won seventeen dollars. More than most cowhands made in a month.

  “Hey, Matt,” Shelby said. “Want to join the game?”

  Matt shook his head. “Thank you kindly, but chess has always been my game.”

  It was Clancy’s turn to shuffle. He was grinning at Johnny as he split the deck. “No one can be that lucky twice in a row.”

  “What’d he have?” Matt said to one of the men watching the game. A man called Tanner.

  Tanner said, “A full house.”

  Matt shook his head. “Johnny always was lucky.”

  “I’m not lucky,” Johnny said from the table. “Just good.”

  “Yeah, yeah,” Shelby said. “Let’s see just how good you can be two times in a row.”

  Matt worked his way around so he was standing behind Johnny and could see his cards.

  “If I lose this time, I’ll be out of the game,” Clancy said. “I’m going to have to save some cash to get me through to the next payday.”

  Johnny grinned. “I’ll try to go easy on you.”

  Shelby said, “You can’t draw a full house two times in a row.”

  “A good poker player doesn’t need luck to win.”

  Matt grinned. He understood poker wasn’t just about how well you played a poor hand, it was how well you played a good hand. A metaphor for life, he thought.

  Matt’s problem with poker was he had a terrible poker face. It took nerves of steel to draw something like a full house and not flinch or in any way react like you had just drawn a hand that couldn’t be beat.

  Clancy dealt the cards. “All right, gentlemen. Five card draw. Nothing wild.”

  Johnny picked up his hand and Matt was able to catch a glimpse. The eight of diamonds and four deuces. Four.

  Matt took a
gulp of the tequila in an attempt not to let his eyes pop open at the sight of the four deuces. He had seen a little poker played aboard ship and in seaport saloons and had played some himself. He had played countless rounds of gin rummy with Ma and Aunt Sara over the years. He had never seen anyone ever draw four deuces.

  Johnny didn’t flinch. Didn’t react. Just looked at the cards. He glanced at the other players. Clancy was rubbing his chin with a motion that said, Okay, now what do I do? Pike was shaking his head. Shelby was looking at his cards and scratching his head. Caleb didn’t react.

  The only way Johnny would make any money with this hand would be if he could keep the betting going for a while.

  “I’m out,” Shelby said, and slapped his cards on the table, face down.

  Johnny started the betting, keeping it low. Five cents. The price of a beer. Clancy matched it. Pike and Caleb did, too.

  Clancy drew two cards. Pike and Caleb folded. Johnny tossed down the eight of diamonds.

  Clancy looked at him long and hard. Matt knew what Clancy had to be thinking. Is your hand really that good, or are you bluffing?

  Clancy put down a silver dollar and called. Johnny put down a dollar and then raised another dollar. Clancy matched the dollar and called, and Johnny put down a dollar and raised one more.

  “I’ve gotta see what’s in your hand,” Clancy said. “But if I do, then I won’t have anything left until next payday.”

  Shelby said, “Don’t do it, Clancy. Ain’t worth it.”

  Johnny said, “What about that rifle of yours? That Hawken?”

  “My old rifle?”

  “Sure.”

  Shelby said, “Clancy...”

  “All right,” Clancy said. “I’ll wager the rifle and what I’ve put in this pot against your hand. I’m thinking about getting a new rifle, anyway.”

  “All right,” Johnny said.

  Matt had never known Johnny to have much of a flair for the dramatic, but Johnny had some tequila in him and didn’t want to waste an opportunity.

  He laid down one deuce. No one said anything. He laid down a second one.

  Pike said, “We folded for a pair of deuces?”