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

He did a man’s job, taking care of this place while I was gone, and he rode with me as a man this afternoon. A man’s entitled to a drink if he wants one.”

It was not unusual for Josh to down a beer at Hunter’s, but Aunt Ginny had never been there to see it. Not that he intentionally drank his beer in secret, it was just that he had never happened to mention it to her. And truth-to-tell, he did not like scotch, but he wasn’t going to refuse an offer to share a glass with Pa.

Without a word, Aunt Ginny returned her gaze to the fire. Bree’s eyes were gleaming, like she wanted to cheer. A victory for our side! But she held her silence, discretion being the better part of valor, and all.

“I’ll get it,” Josh said before Pa could rise from his chair. Partly out of simple courtesy, and partly because it would give him more of a reason to be on his feet and not sitting, without being obvious about it. He walked with an intentionally steady gait as he crossed the floor of the large, open room to Pa’s desk, not allowing himself to hobble as he moved. Beside the desk was a small end table on which stood a decanter and some glasses. By firelight, Josh poured two scotches, and brought one over to Pa.

Father and son shared their scotch in silence, Pa in his chair, firelight flickering over him, his pipe now resting in a small ash tray on a table beside him, and Josh standing beside his Pa, gazing into the crackling fire.

Josh took a sip, then another, the scotch burning its way down. My God. How do men drink this? He didn’t care for this at all. Pa, Zack and Hunter could drink it like it was water. But regardless of the taste of the stuff, Josh wouldn’t trade this moment for the world.

After a time, Bree excused herself to bed. Once the scotch was gone, Josh did the same, setting his glass on the table beside Pa’s chair. He gave Aunt Ginny a quick peck on the cheek and then climbed the stairs to the second floor, and his bedroom. He was glad the stairway was mostly hidden in darkness, so Pa wouldn’t see Josh’s grimace as his sore back and leg muscles complained about the climb.

Josh sat on the edge of his bed with intentions of pulling off his boots, but his bed looked so inviting that he simply dropped onto his side, and swung his booted feet up onto the bed.

Ah. Sweet relief. How could those iron-assed old men like Pa and Zack do what they did, year after year, in the saddle? Twenty years earlier, when Pa and Zack had found this valley, they had done so by riding, on horseback mind you, all the way from California. Day after day in the saddle.

He lied there for a while, staring at the darkness of the ceiling. He wanted to sleep, but he found he was beyond sleepiness. When he got this way, his mind would work too fast, almost like it was spinning. He thought about those riders, and wondered if they would be back. Maybe, he thought. They had spent a lot of time watching the house, and if they were indeed raiders, they would be back. This was the biggest spread in the area, with the most to offer. Horses, ammunition, food.

His gunbelt was draped over a bed post. He hadn’t worn it downstairs, because the weight of it had bothered his sore back muscles. He had come downstairs casually, and no one mentioned the fact that he was not armed.

He thought of the way Pa slept, with a wooden chair at his bedside, and one of his pistols on the chair. Just in case he had to get to his gun in a hurry. However, Josh thought about maybe doing something like that tonight, just in case those raiders decided to come back and try this ranch.

He lied there a while. He heard a mantle clock above the hearth downstairs striking the hour. Josh counted ten. It was late, but sleep was eluding him. He thought, maybe if his aunt had turned in, he would go back downstairs, and have a second glass of scotch. As much as he hated the taste, it might help him unwind so he could sleep.

He sat up, and realized he felt a little better. His muscles, overly tensed from too much exertion, had relaxed a bit and some of the ache was now gone. He reached down and pulled off his boots, giving his pinched-up toes room to breathe, and then started across the floor in his socks.

He was part way down the stairway when he heard talking downstairs. Pa and Aunt Ginny. She had not yet gone to bed.

“You’re proud of Josh, aren’t you?” Josh heard her saying.

“He did a man’s job.”

“He also made an error in judgment. He was quite upset about that just before you rode in.”

“But he owned up to it. I’m proud of him for that, too. And he learned from his mistake and won’t make the same one again. That’s also part of being a man.”

“You were gone a long time, John. Longer than usual.”

Then, they were quiet. Josh could visualize Aunt Ginny in her rocker, sipping on her tea. Pa in his chair, taking a draught of smoke from his pipe.

After a few moments, she said, “You’re missing Lura, aren’t you?”

“More than usual, for some reason.”

“They say that when a loved one dies, you grieve for a while, then you put it behind you, and move on. But that’s not how it works, not if you really love the person. You might get used to it, but you never seem to really move on.”

“No, you never really do.”

There was something different in Pa’s voice, Josh thought, as he listened to Pa and Aunt Ginny talk. Something Josh had never heard