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

before. A sort of edge, but also a sort of wilting sound. If Josh didn’t know better, he would think it sounded like pain. The kind that can slowly gnaw away at you. But surely not from Pa. He was not the kind of man who succumbed to anything. Pa wouldn’t allow anything to eat away at him. He took a-hold of a problem with both hands, wrestled it down, and conquered it.

Pa had never talked much about Ma to Josh and Bree and Jack. He had told them stories about her, like how he had first met her and such, but he had never really talked much about how he felt about her. About her passing. He had heard from Zack and Hunter how Pa had ridden out in search of the man who killed her, and had never found him. He had been gone two months, and had come back empty handed. According to Zack, Aunt Ginny had a talk with him, and said she understood his desire for vengeance, but he had to let it go. The children needed him home. So, he gave up the search, and to Josh’s knowledge, the killer had never been found.

All of this was before Josh was really old enough to remember. He did have a couple fleeting images of Ma in his mind. One of a blond woman with a smile that made you feel all warm inside, and one of a woman singing him to sleep at night – he did not remember the song, but he could still hear the silky smoothness of her voice. And there was one photograph of her and Pa on their wedding day. Pa kept it on a stand in his room.

Pa and Aunt Ginny remained silent for a while. Josh lowered himself to sit on one of the steps, moving carefully so as not to make a sound. He winced a bit as his sore backside made contact with the wooden step.

Then, Pa spoke again. “It’s been getting worse than usual, lately. It’s like, I expect her to be there in bed with me at night. I roll over and find myself reaching for her, and she’s not there. It startles me right out of my sleep. Sometimes more than once in a night. And sometimes she appears in my dreams, smiling. Reaching out for me. Taking my hand. That’s why I was gone so long. Trying to come to grips with all of this.”

Aunt Ginny said, “Does she say anything in those dreams?”

“Two nights ago, she said, I’ll see you again, soon. I woke up shaking, all by myself, in the middle of the mountains. Tears running down my face, like a baby.”

Josh’s mouth was hanging open. Crying? Pa? Of course, Josh knew in theory that everyone cried at one time or another, but to hear this from Pa seemed somehow unsettling.

Aunt Ginny said, “Those are just dreams, John. Nothing more.”

“I don’t know. How do I know it’s not something more?”

Josh knew Pa believed in spirits. During Pa’s winter with the Shoshone, he had spent a lot of time with one of their shamans, and learned about the Indian view of life and death. That the body may die, but the spirit lives on. Pa spoke of that old Shoshone shaman as one of his most revered teachers.

Aunt Ginny was a little more traditional in her approach, keeping a Bible by her bedside and insisting the family give a traditional prayer of thanksgiving before each meal together, and she sometimes rode into town for church on Sunday.

Josh asked her about all of this once. Which belief was right? What was the actual way things worked?

“No belief is necessarily right or wrong,” she said. “We each approach God in our own way. Or, more appropriately, God approaches each of us in whatever way we can understand him best.”

“Then, why do so many have no toleration for the beliefs of others?”

“Of all the good qualities that can be found in mankind, sadly, open-mindedness is among the most rare.”

“Then, why do you call Pa’s beliefs silly Indian superstitions?”

She chuckled. “Your Pa and I have a unique way of communicating, that’s all.”

As Josh sat on the stairs listening, Pa said, “Sixteen years she’s been gone. Sixteen years, eight months, and an odd number of days. I don’t really know what the date is. Out in the mountains, it’s easy to lose track.”

“June twenty-fifth,” Aunt Ginny said.

“June twenty-fifth. Sixteen years, eight months, and..,” he was silent a moment as he did the arithmetic in his head, “fourteen days. The more time goes by, the more I find it hard to believe I’ve actually lived this long without her.”

“You’re a strong man.”

“I’m not as strong as you might think.”

Yeah, you are, Josh thought. You’re one of the strongest men I’ve ever known. And yet, Josh often got so caught up in looking at Pa as a larger-than-life figure he could never measure up to, he sometimes forgot Pa was human. Hearing Pa talk like this brought it all home to him in an abrupt way. Like being slapped in the face.

Pa continued, “I’ve held on for the children, that’s all. They were so young, and needed at least one of their parents with them. Without them needing me, I probably would have drunk myself to death by now. Or just ridden off into the mountains and not come back. When I’m out there in the mountains, I can almost feel her spirit on the wind. But now, Josh is grown and ready to take over the ranch. Jack will be out of school soon and starting his life as a doctor. And Bree is nearly grown.”

“They still need you, John.”

“I suppose.”

He was quiet for a few moments, then said, “You know, I’ve been told that even though people think I’m brave and strong, the truth is I’m really too stupid to know when to quit.”

She chuckled. “Whoever told you that?”

“Zack. One time with the Rangers, a long