The Long Trail (The McCabes Book 1) by Brad Dennison (microsoft ebook reader .TXT) 📗

“Do you really think this is the end of the road?”

He lowered his gaze and nodded. “I suppose I do. Soon one of the men, probably Kiowa, is going to place a bullet in my back. Then Loggins will probably take over. Kiowa might try, but does not have the gray matter to lead men.”

“So, what do you do? Just stay in this cabin, whoring and drinking and going through the motions of leading these men, waiting for one of them to kill you?”

He nodded. “I suppose.’

“It doesn’t have to be that way, Vic. Listen to my proposal. It might be just what you need.”

Falcone sighed, long and wearily. “All right. I’m listening.”

“You need a right-hand man. Someone you can count on. Someone other than Loggins or Stew, or, god-help-us, Kiowa.”

“You?”

“I’m young, Vic, and have enough energy and stamina for both of us. But I need your savvy, your experience. Together, we can form a new gang.”

He shook his head and chuckled. “I’d like to believe you, Dusty. Really, I would. But there’s that problem with integrity, again. I just don’t believe you’re cut out for a life like this.”

“How can I prove it to you?”

“I don’t know.”

Dusty turned, and began pacing impatiently to one side. He would have to make what he was about to say sound like a spontaneous idea, not something he had pieced together before he had even started baiting Kiowa.

He stopped short, then turned suddenly to Falcone. “I know. A trial by combat. Me and Kiowa. At sunrise. If I kill him, then that can be my way of proving myself to you.”

Falcone shook his head. “You could never just kill a man like that. You don’t have it in you to fight a man to the death. In self-defense, maybe, but never just to prove a point.”

“And if I do? Then will I have proven myself to you?”

Falcone was silent, letting all of this toss itself about in his whiskey-addled mind. A smile of amusement crept across his face. “Kiowa is the most deadly hand-to-hand fighter I have ever encountered, you know.”

Dusty shook his head. “Second most deadly. Sam taught me all he knew, and I’ve learned a bit more on my own, and I’m willing to use all of it. If I kill Kiowa, then two of your problems are solved. You’ll have a man you can rely on, and you won’t have to worry about Kiowa. And you won’t even miss Kiowa as a scout.”

Falcone nodded as he let the ideas work their way through his mind. One hand went to his chin.

“All right, Dusty. I’ll give you the chance. In the morning, a trial by combat it is.”

It was Loggins’ turn to stand guard. He crouched on his heels, his rifle balanced across one knee. Josh and Dusty sat in the grass. They were no longer tied – apparently Dusty had again won at least some trust from Falcone. The sun set behind the ridges, and the canyon slowly descended into blackness. Behind them, a window from the cabin flickered with the pale light from a lamp. Overhead, stars speckled the night sky. There was no moon this night. The wind from the mountains was cool, and the grass beneath Dusty and Josh was becoming wet with dew.

Loggins rose to his feet and said, “Oh, hell. I ain’t gonna sit in the wet grass. It ain’t like you two can go anywhere, anyway.”

He walked over to the cabin, dropping onto the bench that rested against the back wall. Had it been daylight, he would have been within sight of Josh and Dusty, but in this darkness, all they could see of him was the faint red glow of his cigarette every time he took a draw.

Dusty whispered, “Josh?”

“Yeah?”

“Can you run fast?”

“Pa used to say I ran like a jack rabbit. Why?”

“When the fight begins, I want you to get out of here. They’ll all be paying attention to me. I want you to slip past them and run like hell.”

“No. I ain’t leaving you.”

“Yes, you are. That’s why I set up this fight. You got to get back to the ranch, to warn Pa. If Kiowa kills me, then Vic and the men will be attacking with a new plan, trying to sneak in by daylight, when the ranch is mostly unmanned. Once you’re out of the canyon, keep moving. Once they realize you’re gone, they’ll probably come after you. Find a horse somewhere, and get back to the ranch.”

“Dusty, it should be me that’s fighting him, not you. You’re great with a gun, but I’m the better one when it comes to scrappin’. I handled you, remember?”

“Have you ever fought with a knife before?”

Josh shrugged with his brows. “Well, no.”

“I have. And I’ve seen it done many times. That’s the weapon he’ll use. I’m the best one for this. Do like I ask. Once the fight begins, you run like hell.”

“All right. But I’ll be coming back for you.”

“No. Don’t bother with me. Just get back to the ranch. Warn Pa.”

Loggins called over to them, “Shut up, you two!”

Dusty figured he and Josh wouldn’t find another chance to speak before the fight. He hoped Josh would do as asked, or the entire plan would be in vain.

Dusty knew Falcone was right. He could never kill just to make a point. The only reason he could kill was in self defense, or the defense of others. Like back at the ranch when Falcone’s men attacked, or at the way station in Nevada.

The thought of that way station brought Haley Anderson to mind. He imagined her, now in Oregon. Working a small farm alongside her father, and thinking of the young gunhawk who had saved her life. Waiting, wondering if he got the letter she left for him, and if he would be coming for her.

He didn’t believe he would live to see another sundown, and he found himself feeling a pang of regret that he might never taste Haley’s kisses again.