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

“You didn’t think I’d let a man I’m not sure about stand watch alone, did you?”

“I should have known better.”

In the darkness, the room was a void of blackness. But Josh had grown up in this house, so he was able to work his way over to the hearth without bumping into anything, and sat down on the stone step.

“You’re wearing your gun,” Pa said. “I can tell by the creak of the leather of your holster and belt. And a man walks a little differently when he’s carrying a pistol at his side. And you’re not wearing your boots.”

“You’re good, I’ll give you that.”

“No. I’m smart. An old scout told me once, you got’ta learn by observing. Not only watch what’s going on around you, but listen and even sniff the air. Here in the darkness, using my eyes was useless, so I just closed my eyes and listened.”

“You know, I think I understand that. Just before you spoke, I caught a whiff of your pipe smoke.”

“Good. Now, how about you taking a walk out to the front porch and see if you can locate Dusty?”

“What am I going to tell him if he sees me? That I don’t trust him?”

“Might not be a good idea. Just make up a lie. Tell him you couldn’t sleep, or something.”

Josh rose to his feet. He flashed Pa a quick grin, even though he knew Pa could not see it in the darkness. “Aunt Ginny wouldn’t approve of telling a lie.”

Josh could tell by the way Pa spoke he was grinning, too. “Aunt Ginny is asleep.”

Josh padded his way across the wooden floor. At the doorway, which was ajar, he drew his pistol so the weight of it in his holster wouldn’t make the leather creak.

He wondered briefly why the door wasn’t closed tightly, then pulled it more open so he could step out, the hinge rubbing gently and letting out a low-level squeal.

He stepped onto the porch and glanced about. The moon had risen, and its pale light gave a silver glow to the expanse of meadow before the house. Beyond, dark shadowy ridges rose to meet a starry sky above. On one ridge was a fluttering point of orange. A campfire.

Josh approached the railing and leaned onto it with his elbows. His revolver was still in his right hand.

“You know,” came Dusty’s voice from the darkness, “if I had been one of them raiders sneaking up on this place, you might be dead now. Sound always travels better at night, and I heard the hinge of that door clearly. And the metal of your gun shines clear enough in the moonlight, once your eyes adjust to the darkness.”

Damn. Josh hated to admit it, but Dusty was good.

“So, what brings you out here?” Dusty asked.

“Oh, I found I couldn’t sleep,” Josh lied. “Thought I might catch a little night air.”

Dusty stepped from the darkness to stand in the moonlight by the porch. Cradled in the crook of one arm was his Spencer rifle, and his revolver rode low at his right side. “I guess I could believe that. I could, but I don’t. I’ve been circling the house every-so-often , and as I came by the porch, I caught an occasional draft of Pa’s pipe smoke. My guess is you two don’t really trust me much, yet.”

“Well..,” Josh fought hard to find some clever way of denying this and coming up with a plausible lie, but the words were not to be found. He guessed he was not a very clever liar.

Dusty continued, “I suppose, in your place, I wouldn’t have a lot of trust in me, either. Someone like me comes riding in here with an outlandish story, I guess I’d have a lot of questions, too.”

All right, Josh thought. Maybe honesty was the best policy, as Aunt Ginny had always said. At least, to a point. “I do have a lot of questions. I got’ta admit that. And I was out here checking on you. But I see you have things under control, and my questions can wait until this thing with the raiders is taken care of.”

“Go get some sleep,” Dusty said. “You take over for me in less than an hour.”

Josh nodded, feeling a little foolish that not only would Dusty have been able to get the drop on him so easily, but had seen through his lie. He turned, and started back for the door.

“And leave the door open,” Dusty said. “The sound of a door shutting might carry all the way to the woods in the night air.”

He sure was good, Josh thought, as he stepped past the open door. Maybe a little too good.

TWENTY-FIVE

Josh had slept little, but come morning he was out of bed and downstairs for his morning coffee at his usual time. This was a working ranch, and despite the threat of the raiders camping off in the ridges, work still had to be done. Fred had commented the pasture out back they were currently using for the horses had been pretty much grazed out, and Pa had said maybe it was time to move the remuda to another, fresher pasture they sometimes used, toward the center of the valley. Josh wanted to first ride over and make certain the fence posts and rails were all in good shape. If he found any in otherwise condition, he would be having to commence repairs.

Pa normally would be coordinating such things, but the night before, as Josh went back into the house after talking with Dusty, Pa had said he would be riding out first thing in the morning to scout. Josh would be in charge until he got back.

Josh usually stood by the counter as he had his coffee, because he usually had a long day in the saddle waiting for him and didn’t want to tax his backside any more than necessary in a chair. However, as he poured a cup, he found fatigue a little too demanding this