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

morning and the chairs at the table looking a little too inviting, so he allowed himself to drop into one of them.

Aunt Ginny stepped into the kitchen, an apron tied about her waist and her spectacles perched on the end of her nose. “Oh. Good morning, Joshua. You don’t usually sit down for coffee in the morning.”

He nodded. “Rough night, that’s all.”

“I don’t think any of us slept much, considering the threat up in the ridges.” She fixed herself a cup of amber tea, and took a chair to one side of the table. She didn’t drop into a chair. She descended gracefully. “I’m baking muffins for the men. Would you like one?”

Josh shook his head. When he was this tired, his appetite usually fled him. “No thank you, ma’am.”

“Now, I know you’re tired. Refusing food.”

“Especially your muffins. They’re the best around.”

She smiled. “Joshua, you are not without charm. It’s not many who can refuse a woman’s cooking and still make her feel good about it.”

Not only was he not hungry, he found he had a small headache, too. He took a sip of coffee, then reached with one hand to rub his eyes.

The night before, during what little sleep he had managed to gain, he had dreamt fitfully of riders descending on the ranch, with torches blazing into the night. He had dreamt of gunfire, and seeing the roof in blazes, and Pa and Fred lying dead, their shirts soaking with blood. And Dusty laughing, raising his rifle into the air, shouting, “You trusted me! You fools!”

It was a good thing he didn’t believe in premonitions.

Josh’s coffee was gone before he knew it. He knew it was going to be a long day when he scarcely remembered the first cup. He lurched to his feet, finding it more effort than usual, and poured a second cup.

“I’ll take my second cup outside,” he said. “I’ve got to find Fred.”

Aunt Ginny looked like she was about to say something, but then didn’t. Josh thought briefly about asking her what she was going to say, then decided against it and started for the door. He had enough to be concerned about. For one thing, lack of sleep. If he should have another night like the last one, he might not be alert enough to be of any use should those raiders actually attack.

He stepped outside, finding the sky overhead a steel gray and the eastern horizon beginning to come alive with the fiery rays of sunrise. Pa was at the corral fence, the stallion Thunder tethered to the top rail. Pa was tightening the cinch. Or the girth, as Pa called it. That seemed to be a Texas thing, calling the cinch the girth. Pa had spent many years in Texas, and the influence showed. As Josh approached, coffee in one hand, Pa unwrapped the rein from the fence, pushed a foot into the stirrup and swung into the saddle.

“Pa,” Josh said. “What’re you doing still here? I figured you’d be gone by now.”

“So did I. I couldn’t find Fred. I went to the bunkhouse, and one of the men said he saw Fred riding out an hour ago.”

“Riding out? To where?”

“Keep an eye out, will you? I expect to be back by mid-afternoon, maybe sooner. But same instructions as yesterday. If I don’t come back, don’t come looking for me.”

And with that, Pa turned Thunder west, and rode away. To anyone who might be watching, like with a spyglass from a tree, it would look like Pa was heading toward the small horse trail that would lead to town. But once in the mountains, Pa would turn his horse north and approach the raider’s camp.

Josh raised one arm, crooked at the elbow, and rested it against the fence. God, was he tired. Going to the tackle room himself for a rope and fetching a horse and then saddling it, all seemed like so much work this morning. He took a sip of coffee. Where the hell had Fred ridden off to?

The kitchen door closed, and Josh glanced in that direction to see Dusty approaching, cup of coffee in hand.

“Good morning,” Dusty said.

Josh nodded. “You wouldn’t have any idea where Fred rode off to this morning, would you?”

Dusty raised his brows and shrugged. “No idea at all. Is it normal for him to do that?”

“Not for him. He never just rides off like that. In fact, getting him to just take a day off at all is like pulling teeth.”

They finished their coffee, then Josh had Dusty ride with him to check out the condition of the corral at the center of the valley. Two posts and a handful of rails would indeed need replacing.

“Where do you get your fencing?” Dusty asked.

“This ain’t a very big outfit,” Josh replied. “You do a lot of the work yourself. We ride out to the ridges and cut what we need.”

Dusty shook his head, looking at the fence. “Can’t you get one of the men to do this?”

“I know what you’re thinking,” Josh said. “No self-respecting cowhand likes to work out of the saddle. But when you’re trying to operate a ranch yourself, you do what has to be done.”

“Do I dare ask who digs out the outhouse?”

“The new man,” Josh said with grin, and they rode back to the house.

“I’m going in for another coffee,” Josh said. “You coming?”

“No, I’ll be out here.”

Josh nodded, and headed for the house.

He found the coffee pot still hot, and poured one more cup. He had noticed Bree sitting in Aunt Ginny’s rocker on the front porch when he and Dusty rode back, and when he heard the front door open and then close again, he figured it was Bree. He was right.

“Josh,” she said, stepping into the kitchen. “Where’s Dusty riding off to?”

Josh snapped a gaze to her, his brows dropping questioningly. “I didn’t know he was riding off anywhere.”

He set the coffee cup down on the table and strode across the parlor to the front door,