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

and now he had a chance to actually meet the man. To look him square in the eye, to shake his hand. Could he simply turn away from this and ride to Oregon?

He supposed he could go to Oregon, spend some time with Haley and see if something permanent developed – he could never push a plow, but Oregon was also good cattle country, or so he had heard. Montana wasn’t going anywhere. It would always be there, for a time when he was ready to go there and find Johnny McCabe.

Yet, he had the feeling if he went to Oregon now, the opportunity to go to Montana would simply never arise. Running a ranch, especially a little one-man operation, was a seven-day-a-week job, with no time off for vacations. And if Haley would have him, they would be raising children. The years would pass. Johnny McCabe would grow old, and eventually die, and Dusty would be in Oregon, never having met the man.

No, if he was to ride to Montana, he had to do it now. Then, once he had met Johnny McCabe, there would be Oregon. He supposed he could he could catch up to Haley and explain the situation, so she would know how he felt and not be left wondering, but he knew if he looked into those eyes one more time, he would never be able to ride away from her, and he would always be left wondering about his father.

He decided he would ride to Montana first. He would cut overland, avoiding trails. This would give him a more direct route, and get him to Montana sooner so he could meet his father, and then be on to Oregon.

He considered writing her a letter. Leave it here at the way station for the next stage bound eastward. It would eventually get to her, probably, though it might take months. Mail delivery in the west was extremely slow, and he did not even have her address. Miss Haley Anderson, Oregon, was all he had. He could add, in care of her father. Dusty had not gotten the man’s first name, but he was sure he could get it from Timmons.

But then he dismissed the idea of doing this. Even though Patterson had taught Dusty how to read well enough that he could decipher the flowing script of Haley’s letter, his own handwriting was awkward, like a child’s compared to her own. He would be embarrassed for her to see how limited his education was.

No, he decided. He would not write a letter. He would ride to Montana as quickly as he could. He would leave this afternoon. As soon as his horse was rested. And then, once he had met his father, and maybe spent a few days and got to know him a little bit, he would be off to Oregon.

Was he a fool? Probably. After all, what might be developing between him and Haley came along rarely. Once in a lifetime, and that was if you were lucky. Would his decision leave him with regrets? Maybe. Only time would tell. But he knew what he had to do.

He accepted a free meal of beans, bread and hot coffee from Timmons, then rode out, bound for Montana.

PART TWOJOSH FIVE

Pa had ridden out two weeks earlier. A cattle auction was being held in eastern Montana on a large spread near Virginia City, and he intended to look over the stock. If he found any that might be a good addition to the McCabe herd, he would offer a bid. If his bid was good, he would hire some hands and bring the new stock back to the McCabe range.

Pa never traveled by stage coach. He would instead saddle up and light out on horseback, seldom even taking established trails. He would often shoot his supper and roast it over a small fire. He would sleep under the open sky, almost never in a hotel room. Aunt Ginny, with her tiny spectacles riding low on her nose, and her brows dropped in a perpetual frown, a reprimand always cocked and ready to go, told him he would get himself killed doing fool stunts like this. Civilized people rode stage coaches when doing extensive traveling, and trains if they were available. But Pa told her riding through the wilderness, free of the trails and roads and all of the trappings of civilization, made him feel truly alive. It was the way man was intended to live, he would say. This would usually get a reaction of, “Oh, poppy-cock,” and Pa would laugh.

This discussion had been replayed more times than Josh could ever count. It had been going on when he was a small kid, and now he was twenty and it was still going on.

Pa was a calm man, seldom speaking sternly, but instead had a sort of quiet power about him. Presence, Aunt Ginny called it. Leading came naturally to him, and people seemed to spontaneously flock about him, almost looking to him for guidance. The more demanding a situation, the more they turned to him. But when he was riding in the wilderness, a sort of serenity fell over him. He still had the presence Aunt Ginny spoke of, but his eyes got a faraway look. Almost like he was in some sort of quiet communion with the mountains, the forests, the rolling grasslands. Josh did not quite understand this, but he wanted to. Yet, he also somehow knew it could not be learned. It was something he had to let come to him.

This was a big time for Josh, this time of Pa’s absence. For the previous five years, Josh had been taking an active role in the operation of the family’s ranch, working alongside Pa and the men. But this time, for the first time, Pa had left Josh in command.

Usually Josh accompanied Pa on business trips, meeting with prospective buyers such as mining company owners or sometimes the U.S.