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

kind of accuracy can get you killed. A man with a slower draw can still drop you with one shot while you’re scattering bullets all around him.”

“They say you’re the fastest there is. Care to prove it?”

Pa shook his head. “I’m not the fastest there is. My brother Josiah was always faster, and Zack Johnson is no slouch. And from what I just saw, you’re much faster than I ever was. What I am is smooth and accurate.”

Dusty didn’t know what to make of this. “I’ve heard lots of stories..,”

“And they’re just that. Stories. Josh, set up ten cans, and I’ll demonstrate the way an old Texas Ranger shoots.”

“Ten cans?” Dusty asked.

Josh was smiling. He knew what was coming. He hurried to the fence and stood ten more cans along the top rail.

Johnny McCabe’s right hand fell to his side, hovering above the Remington waiting in the holster. His fingers were relaxed but not limp, as he had taught Josh. “Say when.”

Dusty said, “When.”

The pistol sprang into his hand and he brought his arm to full extension – all in one smooth, continuous motion – and he began squeezing off shots. His thumb reached for the hammer after each shot, and his finger squeezed the trigger so quickly Dusty did not see how the hammer had time to even lock into place. Each can jumped away, with the roar of the previous shot still ringing in Dusty’s ears.

When the pistol was empty, McCabe drew the left gun, and tossed both pistols across his chest. He caught the left-hand gun with his right, and the empty pistol with his left, and he continued firing with his right while he slid the empty gun into his left holster. The exchange had been so fast the roar of his final shot with his right-hand gun had barely faded when he resumed shooting.

When the second pistol was empty, smoke rising from its muzzle and dissipating over Dusty’s head, none of the cans remained on the fence.

Dusty’s mouth was hanging open. “That has to be the smoothest border shift I’ve ever seen.”

“You bet it is,” Bree said.

Pa said, “That’s the way to shoot. Smooth, not fast. Fast is great for putting on a show. But it’s smoothness and accuracy that’ll allow you to walk away from a gunfight, while your opponent is carried away feet first. I’ve had to face more than one man who’s faster than I am. A couple years ago, down in Cheyenne, I had to face a punk who wanted to say he beat Johnny McCabe in a gunfight. Thought it would make him famous, I guess. He was either too young or too stupid, or both, to realize killing a man is never a good thing. In the time it took me to pull a pistol, he drew and fanned three shots. Two into the ground by my feet, and one that whizzed by my ear. I placed one shot dead center into his chest.”

As Johnny spoke, he removed the cylinder from each pistol, and took a loaded cylinder from a vest pocket and snapped it into place. “Cock the pistol as you draw. Make your draw, your aim and your first shot all in one motion. And make the first shot count. You’re good, Dusty, and there are few who could beat you now, but it would take only one of ‘em to put you in the ground. No matter how good you are, there’s always room for improvement.”

McCabe took the rein from Bree. “I’m going to take Thunder to the stable and rub him down. Josh, are the line riders still here?”

“Yeah. They’re riding back out tomorrow morning. I was thinking of going with ‘em.”

“Go tell ‘em to hold tight. And then join me in the kitchen for a cup of coffee. We’ve got to talk.”

Dusty and Bree watched as Josh started for the bunk house, and Pa took the rein from Bree and began leading Thunder toward the stable.

“What do you suppose they’re going to talk about?” Dusty asked.

“Whatever it is,” she said, “it’s between them only. Pa has always been one to keep his business private. Whatever you say to him in private, will stay in private. And whatever he says, he expects likewise.”

“It’s a good way to be.” Dusty leaned on the fence. “Tell me something. I know how Aunt Ginny feels about me. And it ain’t no secret how Josh feels. Pa - he’s coming around, but I think he’s reserving full judgment, I guess, until after this thing with those riders is taken care of. But how do you feel?”

“Dusty, just what do you want here?” she asked, answering a question with a question.

“Well, I guess I just want to belong. Most of my life, I didn’t really feel like I belonged. Then, when I found out my mother’s name, I went to find my past. I didn’t really expect to find out who my father was, but when I did, I just had to go find him. And seeing what you all have here, I guess I just want to be part of it. To be a part of the family.”

“Well, I’d say your first day hasn’t gotten off to such a good start.”

“No, ma’am. I’d say it hasn’t. I guess I don’t know much about belonging to a family.”

Bree was silent a moment, collecting her thoughts. “You know, Dusty, you don’t want to push too hard. This may be hard on you, but it’s hard on all of us, too. You can’t just step into a family, announce, ‘Hi, I’m your brother,’ and expect to be welcomed in with open arms right from the start.

“Now, Josh and me, we were born into the family, and our whole lives have been spent defining not only who we are, but where we fit into it. It may not have been fair that you weren’t born into the family like we were, but now that you’re here, you’re going to have to take the