It was Ern Cabot.
“Don’t move, Reynolds,” he said. “Or should I call you McCabe?”
Johnny cursed himself. He always rode along alert, watching the trail in front of him as well as behind. Always, but not this time. He had been too wrapped up in his own miseries.
“Ern,” Johnny said. “We haven’t heard from you since my brother whupped you in that fight outside the hotel.”
“I whupped him, if I remember right.”
Johnny shook his head. “You might have thrown the final punch, and you might have been the one on your feet when it was done. But he was the one who rode home with the girl. He whupped you, and you didn’t even know it.”
“Well, now it’s my turn. There’s a reward on you, a thousand dollars. Dead or alive. That’s a whole lot of money. I know I’d never get you back to Greenville alive. I know the reputation of Johnny McCabe. But all I have to do is put a bullet in you. Simple as that. They’re sayin’ Johnny McCabe is the fastest there ever was with a gun. You know that?”
“I wish they wouldn’t. It’s embarrassing.”
“So you don’t deny you’re Johnny McCabe.”
“That rifle looks like a Harper’s Ferry.”
“It’s brand new. It’ll take your head right off your shoulders. What about it?”
Johnny was squinting in the sun. “It holds one shot, and you’re about a hundred feet away. You have to make that shot count. You ever shoot a man, Ern?”
Ern said nothing.
“I didn’t think so. You’re a cowhand, not a gunfighter. So let me tell you, from experience. It’s hard to make a shot count when your target is shooting back at you. And I’ll be shooting back at you.”
“How? You don’t even have your gun out.”
“Because in a few seconds, I’m going to draw my gun and put a bullet into you. Even if you fire first. Even if your bullet hits me, mine is still gonna hit you. Think about that.”
A shot was fired from off to one side and back a ways. Ern lurched in the saddle and his rifle went off, but the bullet went wide of Johnny.
Ern had been hit somewhere in the upper chest or shoulder—Johnny couldn’t be sure. But it had been fired from a distance and the bullet was partially spent before it hit him.
Ern and Johnny both looked off to the direction of the shot. Two riders were about five hundred feet away, in front of another small grove of scrub oak. One rider was Verna, and the other, the one holding the rifle, was the son of Moses Timmons.
The boy jacked the gun. It was a Volcanic repeating rifle. Johnny had seen a few of them. Jacking the trigger guard chambered another round, and then the Timmons boy sighted in on Cabot.
Cabot tried to raise his rifle to shoot, but realized it was now empty, so he reached for the pistol on his belt.
The Timmons boy fired again.
The second bullet caught Ern in the head, and even though the bullet was partially spent, it was enough to snap Ern’s head back.
The rifle fell from Ern’s grip. Then he toppled from the saddle. His foot caught in the stirrup and the horse started to run. Ern was dragged a few yards before his foot came free, and he came to a sliding stop face-down in the grass.
Johnny leapt out of the saddle and left Bravo’s rein trailing, and he ran to Ern.
Johnny rolled him over. Ern’s face was scraped up from being dragged, and Johnny saw there was a bullet hole in his forehead. He knew Ern was dead, but he checked the side of Ern’s neck for a pulse, anyway. There was none.
Johnny rose to his feet as Verna and Timmons rode up.
Johnny said, “What are you doing?”
She said, “Saving the life of my future brother-in-law.”
“You didn’t have to shoot him. You could have just ridden up. You had the drop on him.”
“He was going to shoot you. For all I know, he would have put a bullet in you before we could have ridden up.” She smiled. “Besides, he had pretty much figured out who you, Matthew and Joe were. He had told me at church, last Sunday.”
“You killed him so he wouldn’t talk.”
“Oh, Johnny. When you put it that way, it sounds so cold. Of course we didn’t kill him for that reason. But, if there’s a little side benefit to it,” she gave a little shrug, “who am I to complain?”
Johnny didn’t know what to say.
She said, “We have to talk.”
She looked at the Timmons boy and said, “Ride on ahead.”
The Timmons boy nodded and nudged his horse on.
Johnny swung back into the saddle. Timmons was soon fifty feet ahead of them.
Johnny said to Verna, “Would he roll over and play dead if you told him to?”
“Timmons is loyal. Actually, he’s in love with me. The poor fool. He’d do anything I told him to.”
“And, of course, you use that to your advantage.”
“Why, Johnny,” she said, putting on a look of mock surprise. “Whatever kind of person do you think I am?”
Johnny started Bravo forward at a walk, and Verna did the same with her mount. She was in a shoe-length skirt and was riding side-saddle. She wore a hat with a stiff, wide brim, and the hat was held in place by a chin strap.
Johnny said, “I will admit, that was a good shot he made.”
She nodded. “Timmons is useful to keep around.”
“So, we leave the body right there? We just ride on?”
She shrugged. “Why haul it into town? We’ll have to answer a lot of bothersome questions.”
“The remorse you feel at his passing is touching.” Johnny let the sarcasm rise to the surface. “He was a suitor of yours at one time. He cared about you enough to be jealous of Matt. Driven to distraction by it, apparently.”
“Why, of course I feel remorse. Ern Cabot was a good man.” She looked off toward the distance, and she batted her eyes as though there were tears she was blinking back. Except Johnny could tell her eyes were dry.
She said, “Ern was driven to a jealous rage. And I, the naïve little girl that I am, didn’t realize how he felt about me until it was too late. Until Timmons and I just happened to be riding along, perfectly by chance, and saw Ern with a gun aimed at the brother of the man I love.”
“And Matt is the man you love.” His sarcasm was still present. He was starting to think this girl didn’t know the meaning of the word love.
She nodded. “Why, of course. Matt is the right man for me to marry. He’s an eloquent speaker and exudes a charm I simply do not have. I have grand plans for my father’s ranch, McCabe. I have a head for business, and I intend to use it. This ranch will all be mine, one day.”
“Yours and Matt’s.”
“Same thing. We are going to build an empire.”
Johnny glanced up ahead to Timmons, who was now nearly a hundred feet ahead of them. Timmons had slipped his rifle back into the scabbard and was riding along as though he hadn’t just shot a man to death.
She had said nothing that would give Johnny reason to believe she was lying. It was something almost intangible in her voice, something in her energy, that made her statements seem somehow hollow.
He thought again of what he had learned from Pa and Apache Jim. Trust your gut. And his gut was telling him somehow Verna knew fully well Ern would be out here.
He couldn’t prove it. He doubted he ever would. And there was nothing he could say to Matt without driving more of a wedge between them.
Johnny said, “Is Matt aware that he’s going to be building an empire?”
She shrugged. “He will be, as it happens. As it unfolds, one step at a time.”
She looked at Johnny again. “You don’t like me much, do you?”
He shrugged. “I don’t really know you.”
“You don’t have to. All you have to know is your brother loves me and I love him, and I intend to make him happy. Isn’t that enough?”
He nodded. “It should be.”
Her words were still ringing hollow. Or like they wer
e somehow manufactured. Like her words were orchestrated to lead Johnny along a certain path.
He could tell by the look in her eye that she knew he wasn’t fully convinced.
She said, “Is it true? All of the things that are being said about you? All of the men you’ve killed?”
“True enough.”
“So, you’re a dangerous man.”
He shook his head. “I’ve never killed a man that didn’t need to be killed. I plan to never do different.”
“You’re an idealist.”
“Miss Verna, quite frankly, I don’t know exactly what I am.”
She laughed. “Neither do any of us, Johnny.”
She called to Timmons, who turned his horse back.
She said, “Timmons, we’re going home.”
She looked to Johnny and said, “Would you like to join us?”
He wanted to be alone, to deal with the pain of not being with Lura. Of knowing he would probably never be able to have her in his life. But he wasn’t sure he wanted to turn his back on these two.
He said, “I’ll ride along with you, if you don’t mind.”
93
Johnny had Monday morning coffee with McCarty.
“Are you all right, Johnny?” he said. “You seem a little sullen this morning.”
Johnny said, “No, I’m all right. Just didn’t sleep well.”
After their meeting was done, on his way toward the front door, he passed Verna in the corridor.
“Why Johnny,” she said. “How pleasant to see you this morning.”
She gave him a big, beaming smile. But it didn’t seem real. She was like an actress on a stage.
“Good to see you again, Miss Verna,” he said, and continued on his way.
He wasn’t just trying to avoid her. He needed to get out to the ranch yard. There was work to be done.
It was time for Matt and Corry to get to working with the new mustangs. And Johnny sent Quint and Hardy into town with two buckboards. A load of lumber was waiting for them at a saw mill. Johnny wanted to start expanding the corral.
Evan, Chip and Valdez were on their way to watch the horse-breaking, and Joe was with them.
Johnny said, “Joe, will you hold up? I want to talk with you for a minute or two.”
Once they had the bunkhouse to themselves, Johnny told him about Timmons killing Ern Cabot and the talk Johnny and Verna had.
Joe said, “So, what do we do?”
“I’m not staying here. That’s for sure. I don’t want to be near that girl or the lapdog who follows her around.”
“Lapdog?”
Johnny shrugged. “Well, what would you call it? He follows her around like a dog follows its master. Moses Timmons is a good man, but there’s something wrong with his son.”
“There’s something wrong with anyone who can just kill because he’s told to. I don’t want to stay around here either. But we’ve got to tell Matt about her.”
Johnny held his hands out to either side. “How? You see how starry-eyed he is over her. All we’ll do is push him away from us.”
Joe thought a moment. He ran his fingers through his beard. “You know, if we ride on, then we’re leaving Matt alone with her. If we stay, then at least we’ll be here to watch his back.”
Johnny let that settle in for a moment. Then he said, “Maybe you’ve got a point.”
There was a knock at the bunkhouse door and Johnny called out, “Come on in.”
A man stepped in, a man Johnny had seen at the main house but never in the ranch yard. His name was Juan, and he was about Mr. McCarty’s age. He was in a black jacket and a tie. Johnny knew little about the doings and ways of the rich, but it seemed Juan had the role of butler. Like Alfredo, back at the Broken Spur.
He said, “Senor Reynolds. The master of the house has requested you. Both of you.”
He and Joe followed Juan toward the main house. Johnny saw a horse tethered by the front door.
They found McCarty and Matt in the study, along with Marshal Brannigan.
Matt said, “Juan went to the corral and got me, too.”
“Have a seat,” McCarty said.
They did.
Brannigan had a sheet of paper in his hand. “I got a letter from a territorial marshal in Nebraska. It seems a Thaddeus McCabe was arrested there. He confessed to everything about the murder in Mansfield, Missouri.”
McCarty said, “The marshal knows who you are. I told him everything this morning, after he rode out here with that letter. He had pretty much figured it out, anyway.”
Brannigan said, “You boys are off the hook. The reward has been rescinded, and the murder charge has been dropped. Considering how slow the mail travels, the charges were actually dropped more than three months ago.”
Johnny wasn’t sure he was hearing this correctly. He looked at Joe and then at Matt. Looked like they were having the same reaction.
Brannigan said, “The robbery charge is still there, but if you pay the store owner back, he’s willing to drop those charges too.”
It took Johnny a moment to find his voice. “How much do we owe him?”
“Twenty-four dollars.”
“It’s over,” Joe said. “It’s finally over. No more runnin’.”
Johnny looked at Brannigan. “What about Thad? Where is he now?”
“He was extradited to Missouri. They hanged him for the murder.”
Hanged. Thad was gone.
Johnny sat a moment, letting everything Brannigan had said settle on him.
“So,” McCarty said. “No more of this Reynolds or O’Toole business. My daughter will be taking the name McCabe.”
Matt was giving a big smile. “That she will, sir.”
McCarty called out for Juan.
Juan couldn’t have been far away, because within five seconds he was in the doorway. “Sir?”
“Drinks. For all of us. Get the glasses. Those wild horses can wait. We’re going to celebrate!”
When the McCabe brothers left the main house, it was nearly noon. Johnny had put down three glasses of tequila, and he was feeling it. Not that he was by any means staggering, but he wouldn’t have trusted his accuracy with a pistol.
Matt said, “I’m going to go try those horses.”
“No you’re not,” Johnny said. “You have the day off. No need to break your backside on those mustangs today.”
“Nonsense,” Matt said. “I feel like I could walk on air.” He spun in a complete circle as they walked.
Joe said, “That’s the tequila talking. You had two of ‘em.”
Matt ignored him. “I don’t want to let Corry have all the fun. I’m no longer Matt O’Toole. Now, the whole world can know, I’m Matt McCabe. Ace bronc buster.”
“All right,” Johnny said. “Go get ‘em. Don’t break your neck.”
Matt started away toward the corral.
Johnny said, “Oh, and Matt.”
Matt looked back at him.
“I want you to know, I’m sorry about the hard words between us. I want you to know, no matter what, I have your back. Always will.”
Matt nodded. “I know that, Johnny. I always knew that.”
And he was off to the corral.
Joe said, “I’m gonna go watch the action. You coming?”
Johnny shook his head. “I’m heading to town. I’m giving myself the day off. Tell Quint he’s in charge.”
Joe said, “You’re going to town?”
Johnny said, “There’s a girl in town. The daughter of Doc Buzzard. And I’m riding in to see her.”
Joe smiled. “About time.”
Johnny slapped Joe on the shoulder and said, “I’m gonna marry that girl.”
Joe watched his brother run to the stable, and he laughed.
EPILOGUE
Montana, 1881
The winter winds blew strong and hard outside. Snow drifted against the side of the house and rattled the window panes. But the fire in the hearth roared and kept the cold of wi
nter at bay.
Bree was still on the sofa beside her father, and she said, “Gunman of the Rio Grande? I still can’t believe they actually called you that.”
Joe had gotten another glass of scotch. He said, “They sure did call him that.”
Bree said to her father, “How come you never mentioned that before?”
Johnny drew a long, patient breath. “I was hoping people would forget about it.”
Ginny was in her rocker, and she gave a little chuckle. “You’ve been trying for so long to outrun the growing legend, but you’ve never quite been able to.”
He shook his head. “Can’t fault me for trying.”
“So tell us,” Bree said. “What happened when you rode into town to see Ma? Did you start courting her right then?”
Johnny found sleepiness was finally starting to descend on him. “Punkin, that’s a story for another day. I’m bushed, and I think we should all get to sleep.”
Josh and Temperance headed upstairs. Johnny gave Bree a kiss on the forehead and she followed them. Haley and Jonathan had long since fallen asleep, wrapped in blankets, and Dusty joined them. Joe had spread his bedroll on the kitchen floor.
And yet Johnny found himself still on the sofa, looking at the fire. The sleepiness he had been feeling a few minutes before was now slipping away.
Ginny was still in her rocker. She had gone to the kitchen and poured herself one more glass of wine.
“You’re thinking of Lura,” she said.
He nodded. “For so many years I felt pain when I looked back on my days with her. But now I feel peace.”
“Jessica’s good for you. I haven’t seen you this happy since your days with Lura.”
“Most men never find a truly fine woman to love them. I have found two. I’m blessed, and I know it.”
“Three, I suppose, if you count Becky Drummond, back in Pennsylvania. You never mentioned her.”
He shrugged. “No need to, I suppose.”
“And four, if you count the woman down in Texas. What was her name?”
“Maria Carerra.”
Ginny nodded. “Almost musical, the way you say it. A woman you cared about, and yet it was love from afar.”
“I don’t know that it was love. There was something about her, something smoky and sensual that almost drew a man in. Like a moth to a flame.”
Johnny McCabe (The McCabes Book 6) Page 43
