The Long Trail (The McCabes Book 1) by Brad Dennison (books that read to you .txt) 📕

house.” The barkeep set a glass on the bar and poured a shot of whiskey. “You look like you could use one.”

Dusty downed the whiskey in one gulp, but barely noticed its burn as it traveled down.

“Was she awake?” the barkeep asked.

“No,” Dusty said quietly. “She was asleep the whole time I was there. It turns out she wasn’t the one I was looking for. I made this whole ride for nothing.”

“No. No, you didn’t. She’s the one.”

Dusty had been staring at his empty glass, but now he looked up to the barkeep, curiosity suddenly rising like a tide, washing away the weariness.

As if in reply to an unanswered question, the barkeep continued. “She might not be what you expected, but when a man goes searching for his past, he’d best be prepared for what he might find.”

“How did you know?”

“You wouldn’t remember me. You were too young when she gave you away. My name’s Lewis.”

The saloon woman stepped over. “And I’m Annie McGraw. We used to work with you mother, years ago. About twenty years, actually. We sort of take care of her, now.”

“But,” Dusty said, “how can she be my mother? She’s so old. She looks old enough to be my grandmother.”

“She’s not well, Dusty,” Lewis said. “I assume you still call yourself Dusty?”

Dusty nodded. “It’s the only name I know.”

“Like I said, she’s not well. Too much whiskey over the years. Her liver’s about gone. So’s her heart. She’s dying.”

“She’s forty-six,” Annie put in. “But sickness can age you. And she’s done a lot of hard livin’.”

Dusty said, “But I saw an empty whiskey bottle up there. Why are you letting her drink if she’s as sick as you say?”

“The doctor doesn’t think it will make much difference at this point,” Lewis said.

Annie continued. “She’s been out of her head, more or less, for weeks. The doctor says her liver is so badly gone it’s poisoning her blood. About a week ago, she took a turn downhill. Sleeps most of the time, now. When she’s awake, there are times she doesn’t even know her own name. The doctor doesn’t think she has much longer left.”

“Forty-six,” Dusty said. “I guess I’ve never seen anyone quite that sick. And I thought I’d seen a lot. I’ve seen a man die of a bullet wound. I’ve seen a cowhand dragged to death when he was thrown from the saddle and his foot stuck in the stirrup, and the horse started running. But I’ve never seen this.”

“It’s been hard. She, Lewis and me - none of us had a family, so we all sort of became each other’s family. Took care of each other, when there was no one else to. Now, she’s all but gone.”

Lewis said, “We always thought you might come back. Annie and I always told her so. Even as a child you were so determined. That doesn’t seem to have changed any.”

“Lewis, Rosie and I bought this place years ago. Lewis tends bar, and Rosie and I would wait tables. No more whorin’. This gives us a chance to have a little more of a decent life.”

“Why?” Dusty asked. “Why did she choose that life?”

“No one chooses it, Dusty. A woman has to do what she has to do when she finds herself suddenly alone in a land like this, where there are no jobs for unmarried women. I had met a man, a gold miner, through the mail. We corresponded for a year, then I spent what little money I had inherited from my parents to come west and meet him. Thought I’d surprise him, but he surprised me. When I got here, I found he had a wife and five children. I had no money to get me back east. Not even enough to eat on. So I did what I had to, to keep from starving.

“Your mother, she found herself in a similar situation. She had been raised by her parents in a cabin in the mountains. When they died, she found herself alone, with nothing. Her father had been a mountain man, running a line of traps which was their only source of income. He provided food for the table mostly by hunting. Deer, rabbit, occasionally a bighorn sheep. Then they both died suddenly, and Rosie had to find a way to feed herself. Her father had never taught her how to hunt or shoot, and once the supplies they had in the cabin were gone, she had no choice but to go down to the mining camps and make a living.”

“Don’t condemn her,” Lewis said. “She and Annie are two of the finest people I have ever met. You shouldn’t judge a person by the things they are forced to do to survive.”

Dusty nodded, and his gaze dropped back to his now empty glass. He had found his mother, after all. He had found Rose Callahan. And yet, he had still not found the past he had been searching for.

“There’s still so much I don’t know,” he said. “So many questions I’d like to ask her. I started out to find myself. To connect with my past. But I don’t really know much more than I ever did.”

“What kind of questions?” Lewis asked.

“Like, who my father is. What my name really is. I don’t even know my full name. I mean, what kind of name is ‘Dusty,’ for god-sake?”

Annie smiled. “Your name is Dustin. Dustin McCabe. I never heard Rosie mention a middle name. Your father is Johnny McCabe.”

Dusty blinked with surprise. “The gunfighter?”

She nodded.

Lewis said, “I see you’ve heard of him.”

“Who hasn’t?” Dusty asked. “They speak his name on a level with Hickok, Clay Allison, John Wesley Hardin.” He was going to add, Sam Patterson, but thought better of it.

Annie said, “Most of his reputation was established long before he ever rode into Carson City, which is where she, Lewis and I were at the time. But occasionally we hear something about him. He had gotten married a year or so