The Long Trail (The McCabes Book 1) Brad Dennison (top 10 books to read .txt) 📖

Dusty shook his head. “He’s not going to be the scout anymore. The job’s mine, once Vic decides to hire Josh and me.”

Loggins looked at him with surprise. “You seem awful sure of that.”

Dusty nodded calmly. “That’s why Kiowa wants me dead so bad. He knows there ain’t room for the two of us. And he knows I’m the better man.”

Loggins chuckled. “I hope Vic has the same faith in your abilities that you do.”

“So do I,” Josh said.

After a couple of hours, Loggins left them. He was replaced by the man with the Winchester, who had been patrolling the canyon rim with Kiowa earlier. The man was called Stew. However, unlike Loggins, he sat at a distance, smoking a hand-rolled cigarette and looking off at the trees.

Josh lounged back in the grass, enjoying the warmth of the late afternoon sun. He tipped the brim of his hat forward to shade his eyes. “I sure hope you know what you’re doing.”

“I do,” Dusty said quietly, so his words wouldn’t travel to their guard. “Falcone is a man with very little heart. He can put a bullet in you without even thinking twice about it. In his own way, he’s more dangerous than Kiowa. Kiowa is just plain stupid. He’s a cold-blooded killer because he’s an animal. But Falcone, he’s not stupid. He’s cold-blooded because he chooses to be. It’s the more efficient way for a man in his walk-of-life. The only way for us to remain alive is if he thinks we’re useful to him.”

“So, do you think they saw you when they were spying on the ranch from off in the ridges?”

“I’m not going to gamble against it. That’s why I’m playing it that you and I were hired hands, working at the McCabe spread. But I recognized some of the men who were shot, and knew it might be Sam and the boys, so we rode after them, looking for a better job.”

“So, things changed awfully quick, didn’t they? It’s gone from trying to get the jump on them and bringing them in, to just trying to stay alive. And to do so without joining their gang. So much for taking a couple days to scout their hideout.”

Dusty nodded. “Life can be like that.”

Josh smirked and snorted a chuckle at having his words turned back on him.

Dusty said, “Sometimes all the plans you might spend a lot of time laying out just fall away, and you have to think on your feet.”

“All right. I have another question for you. Why are you building such a reputation for me as being good with a gun? Sooner or later, one of ‘em might want to challenge me, considering how good you told him I was.”

Dusty shook his head. “The only time two fast guns will ever challenge one another is in them dime novels published back east. These men don’t want to die any more than you or me. And in a gunfight, the lesser man usually dies. Now that they think you’re hell on wheels with a gun, they’ll be more likely to leave you alone.”

“But what if they want me to do some target practice, to show how good I am?”

Dusty shrugged. “Then, show ‘em. I’ve seen how good you are with a gun. You aren’t bad, really.”

“Not as good as you or Pa.”

“Maybe not, but you’re a damn sight better than a lot I’ve seen. Better than either Kiowa or Falcone. I know that for a fact. And the way Loggins carries his gun, I’d wager you’re better than he is, too.”

“What about our shadow, over there?” Josh asked, meaning the man with Winchester.

“He’s not that good. Otherwise, he’d have a higher place in the pecking order. I saw that right off. You notice he didn’t go into the cabin with us? Kiowa told him to go take care of the horses, and he just did what he was told.”

Josh reached with one hand to lift the brim of his hat enough so one eye could focus on Dusty. “You sure do see a lot in a short time.”

“You have to, if you want to stay alive in a group of men like this.”

As the sun trailed toward the western rim of the canyon, the blonde girl stepped from the cabin carrying two tin plates. On each was a slab of deer steak, and a brown mess neither Josh nor Dusty could recognize by sight or smell.

She was now wearing a pair of levis, and a man’s range shirt with the tails hanging loosely, and the front unbuttoned carelessly low. And she still wore no shoes. Her hair was now dry, falling about her shoulders in a small sea of breakers the color of sunlight.

“I’ve never seen a girl in men’s trousers,” Josh said, as she set a plate before him in the grass. The wearing of trousers and a shirt intended for a man couldn’t have been more shocking than had she lighted a cigar.

She shrugged. “They’re easier for riding. And besides, Loggins seems to like it.”

“I don’t care much about what he thinks.” Josh sat up, and tipped his hat back and away from his face. “I care about what I think. And I think you’re way too beautiful to be dressing like a man.”

“A lot of men call me beautiful. I have yet to work a saloon where men didn’t call me that. But it was all for a reason.”

Josh nodded. “But we’re not in a saloon now, and I’m not saying it for that reason. I’m saying it because I mean it.”

She looked at him curiously, her brows dropping into a small frown. She started to say something, then stopped. After a few heartbeats, she turned away and set the second plate in the grass beside Dusty.

“What is that stuff?” Dusty asked, referring to the brown mush.

“Some sort of concoction Flossy comes up with, using roots she digs around here, and mixing it with refried beans.”

Another gunman drifted