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

‘Frisco with her, including a collection of fine wines.

After lunch, Zack accepted a glass of brandy and one of Johnny’s cigars, and he drifted over to the gun rack while Aunt Ginny and Bree cleared the table. A couple Winchesters were present, and an older Henry that was the predecessor of the modern Winchester. Also, there stood a muzzle-loading Hawken mountain rifle, which Johnny had carried with him as a young man. It was an old weapon, its bore now eaten by corrosive black powder to the point it was no longer safe to fire, and Johnny had long since started using a Sharps buffalo rifle in its place. He kept the old gun for sentimental reasons. He said it was a connection to his younger days.

Zack had been present when Johnny won the old Hawken in a poker game down in Texas, years before Josh, Jack and Bree were even a twinkle in his eye. That rifle had ridden in his saddle boot back in ‘66, the year he and Zack had first found this valley. That winter, Johnny brought down an elk at one hundred-fifty yards with that gun, and kept them and a small band of Shoshones they were living with from starving.

Zack was standing in front of the rifle rack, the smoldering cigar in one hand and the brandy snifter in the other, as Aunt Ginny drifted from the kitchen.

“Would you take a walk with me?” she asked.

He followed Aunt Ginny out the front door. Bree had complained about being left to wash the dishes alone, but Aunt Ginny told her chores build character.

They strolled casually, commenting on the fine summer day and the refreshing northwesterly breeze that was keeping the flies away. Zack talked about his new home, and plans he might have for expanding the house should he ever find the right woman to take as his wife – he was older than most men when they start a family, but he did want children.

“Have you heard from Jack lately?” he took a sip of brandy.

“Yes. We received a letter three weeks ago. He’s in his final year of college, two full years ahead of the others his age.”

“I know he makes Johnny proud. But all his children do.”

“Indeed. As they should. They come from fine stock, on both sides.”

“They surely do.” He took a sip of brandy. He knew Aunt Ginny had asked him to join her for a reason. She never did anything unless there was a reason. But he also knew he would have to wait for her to get to the point on her town time.

Their stroll brought them beyond the corral. They stood watching the horses of the McCabe remuda grazing in the meadow behind the house. One horse, a brown gelding, galloped about, feeling frisky at the touch of the northwesterly.

“Zack,” Ginny said. “You’ve known Johnny longer than anyone. Longer than even I have.”

He nodded. “I suppose I have. Rode with him with the Rangers, when we were Josh’s age. What seems like a lifetime ago.”

“And you do know that he considers you his best friend.” It was more of a statement than a question.

He nodded again. “I would have to say he is definitely the closest friend I’ve ever had, too. Sometimes more like brothers than friends.”

“I think it might be safe to say that you know more about him than anyone else.”

“I suppose so.” He raised his brandy for another sip.

“Then you could tell me – is it possible that he might have another child, a son, about Josh’s age? Or maybe a little older?”

Zack choked on the brandy, a small spray escaping him and barely missing her. “No, ma’am. No chance of that at all. Excuse me for spittin’, but you kind of caught me by surprise.”

“Don’t answer so quickly, Zack. Think about it. Any women, other than Lura?”

“Never. He would never have cheated on Lura.”

“Of that, I have no doubt. But perhaps, before her?”

“Well, there was..,” he did not know quite how to say this. These were times when bawdy or even suggestive language was never spoken by a man while in the presence of a woman. “I mean..,”

“Say it, Zack. I’m not one of these prissy ladies who is going to pretend she has never heard a goddam or a shit or a son-of-a-bitch, or that she has no clue where babies come from.”

“Yes’m.” He glanced toward his boots. He was not accustomed to hearing such words from a woman’s mouth. But then, he should learn to let nothing about Aunt Ginny surprise him. “Well, ma’am, I mean, there were times when we were with the Rangers...well, we were just kids, really. And there were saloons there, and women who worked the saloons..,”

“Whores, I believe they are called.”

“Yes’m. Them kind of women. Well, there were times that...well, we were young and foolish. And drunk. Especially Johnny, sometimes. Drunk, that is.”

He stopped, as though he had said something he should not have.

Ginny drew an impatient breath. “It’s all right, Zack. I am well aware of his past battles with whiskey. Could any of those, shall we say, to ease your discomfort, encounters, have produced a child?”

He shook his head quickly. “No, ma’am. Of that I’m sure.”

“How sure?”

“Very sure. We followed up with them ladies to make certain nothing came of it at all.”

Then, his gaze suddenly darted off to a point somewhere ahead, but he was not seeing the horses or the trees beyond. He was seeing something in his memory. “Wait a minute. Maybe..,”

Ginny was silent, letting him piece together the events time had dimmed in his mind.

He said, “It was a long time ago..,”

“How long?”

“Well, I would guess about twenty years.”

“Twenty years. Are you saying that he did cheat on Lura?”

His gaze shot to her. “No, ma’am. He would never have cheated on her. But well, it’s kind of hard to explain.”

“Try me. I have all afternoon.”

Zack had not thought about this in years, but he told her about the events as