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

feet up, and he sent Josh flying over his head and to the floor.

Both again scrambled to their feet. Dusty’s hat had fallen and lay against his back from the chin strap.

Josh lunged at Dusty, who stepped aside, and wrapped an arm around Josh’s neck to hold him pinned at his side. With his free fist, Dusty punched at Josh’s face. Once. Twice.

Josh managed to get one hand on Dusty’s collar and another behind one leg, and lifted him from his feet. Both fell to the floor, and Dusty’s grip on him was broken.

Each, now huffing for breath, lurched to his feet and charged at the other.

Josh raised his fists and snapped his left out for a jab that landed on Dusty’s cheekbone. Dusty then swung a roundhouse punch, his fist glancing against the side of Josh’s jaw. Josh sent another jab to Dusty’s face, mashing his upper lip, then a right cross to an eye, and Dusty’s feet again went out from under him, and he was again on the floor.

Dusty propped himself up on one elbow, blood trickling from his lip, but he rose no further. His chest heaving for air, he brought up a hand to wipe the blood from his lip, and a gash on his cheekbone.

Josh stood over him. He was also sucking in air, and a red welt had started to rise above one eye, and another at his cheek. He was shaking his right hand, the knuckles of which had taken a beating against Dusty’s face.

“I can’t help it if you didn’t have a family when you were growing up,” Josh said, “and maybe you are my brother. I don’t know. But I want you off this ranch. And tell your partners out there we’re ready for ‘em if they decide to ride on us.”

Dusty rose to his feet, and staggered past Josh to the stall. He backed out the horse, leaped onto its back, and with only the halter to turn the horse with, he nudged it’s ribs with his heels and the horse burst into a gallop, carrying him out the stable door.

Bree stepped from the porch to see Dusty riding away, with no saddle, and with his hat still dangling behind him.

“Dusty!” she called out.

“Forget him,” Josh said, approaching the porch. His hat was once again in place, and his revolver in his holster. Tucked into the front of his gunbelt was Dusty’s peacemaker, which he had picked up from the stable floor.

“You’ve been fighting,” Bree said.

Josh nodded. “But he knows I know the truth about him, now. He won’t be back.”

TWENTY-SIX

Dusty kept his horse to a walk as he rode onto the single street of McCabe Town. Ahead of him was Hunter’s Saloon.

The bleeding had stopped from the pounding he had taken from Josh’s fists, but his lip was swelling and one eye had swollen shut.

Dusty had no money, but was hoping to exchange some labor for a glass of whiskey. Maybe two. He knew money wouldn’t be an issue for Hunter, but Dusty had his pride. Maybe he could resume his cooking and bartending duties. Or, he could just put this town and the McCabe family behind him, and head out for Oregon.

His quest was over, he decided. He had met the McCabes, told them who he was, learned a little about who they were and where he was from.

Dusty reined up beside a horse that was already tethered in front of Hunter’s. He swung from the saddle, feeling a tightness at one side of his ribcage. Not only were his ribs bruised, but maybe he had pulled some muscles, too.

As Dusty gave the rein a couple turns about the hitching rail, Hunter hurried out onto the porch, hastily slamming and locking an outer door over the swinging doors. It was as he turned from the door, starting toward the horse tethered beside Dusty’s, that Hunter noticed him.

“A little early to be closing up, ain’t it?” Dusty asked.

“Actually, I was heading out to your Pa’s place. Fred rode into town this morning and told me those raiders might be back. I was going to see if you boys needed any help.”

“Actually, I was hoping for one of your cold beers. Or maybe even a glass of whiskey.”

“Judging by the look of you, I’d say you needed one. Come on, we got time for one.”

Hunter unlocked the outer door, and Dusty eased himself into a chair in the barroom as Hunter fetched a bottle and a couple shot glasses from behind the bar. He took a chair across the table from Dusty.

“You hiring?” Dusty asked. “I’ve gotta pay for this whiskey somehow.”

“I’ll take your help any time you want to offer it. But I’ll never take your money. You drink and eat here for free.”

Dusty tasted a little blood, and realized his lip was bleeding again. He reached up to wipe it away with the back of his hand and then knocked back a mouthful of whiskey.

“You look like you got run over by a horse,” Hunter said.

“That’s about the size of it.”

“Can I assume it’s safe to say things aren’t going so well with the family?”

“With Josh in particular.”

Hunter nodded. “The boy can be quite a scrapper. He’s held his own in here on a Saturday night more than once.”

“Well, he’s made it clear I’m not welcome. He thinks I’m scouting for them raiders.”

“He doesn’t believe your story?”

“I think he does, or at least he’s leaning that way. But he thinks I’m a spy for the raiders, anyhow.”

“Josh tends to think with his temper. Sometimes it benefits him, but sometimes it can be a dangerous thing, and he ends up having to work twice as hard to pick up the pieces later.”

“I guess I was a fool.”

“For what?”

“For thinking...whatever it was I was thinking. You can’t just ride into a place, a grown man, and announce you’re a long lost son or brother, and expect to be welcomed with open arms.”

“You’re not a fool for wanting to