The McEllis Boys

Chapter Twelve

Chapter Twelve

"Okay, so my uncle Silas is a pretty cool guy," Nicole said, breaking the very thick and heavy tension filled silence in the cab of the truck as she pulled onto the gravel road that led to the sixty year old mans barns and home.

"It's still pretty hot out, why is he cold?" Andrew asked.

Nicole snorted and pinched her nose, "Cool has different meanings nowadays," she replied. She glanced at Cavanaugh through the rear view mirror but he had his hat low and was staring out the window. Jamison was beside her with a bloody napkin in his hand and a split and swollen lip.

"So what does it mean?" Andrew asked as his knees methodically pushed against her seat.

"It means that he is pretty go with the flow and hard to ruffle," she replied.

"Who are you going to tell him that we are?" Jamison questioned.

"Cowboy brothers from the 1800's," Nicole replied with a shrug as she felt around the cup holders for her sunglasses before slipping them on.

"Won't he think you're a little crazy?" he asked and Nicole just shrugged.

"Maybe at first but he'll believe me. There isn't much that uncle Silas won't believe."

"Why do you call him uncle if he isn't your uncle?" Andrew inquired with a smile as he put his head over her shoulder so he could see out the windshield better.

"Everybody calls him uncle. I'm not sure why."

"Can we keep our guns on?" Ian asked hopefully.

Nicole smiled, "Uncle Silas wouldn't think you were men if you didn't keep your guns on." Nicole was fairly certain she saw Cavanaugh smile but just as quickly it was gone so she couldn't be sure.

The barns came into view and Nicole slowed down to avoid hitting the hounds that were always running loose. She pulled her truck to a stop beside the largest of uncle Silas's three barns and turned off the engine.

Cavanaugh took a deep breath and sighed, "I sure did miss the smell of horses."

Ian curled his nose, "All I smell is manure. Aren't there some gambling halls where a man like me can burn off steam?"

"No. We're fresh out of those." Nicole replied dryly.

Ian sighed, "I'm really not a worker...." he stated with a whine. "I don't like to sweat, unless of course it's because I'm bedding a hot young...."

"Ian!" Jamison snapped. "You didn't hear a word mama said on her deathbed did you?"

Ian grinned sheepishly, "Sure I did. But mama wouldn't have wanted me to be lonely."

"Okay so let me do the talking because Uncle Silas is unique....." Nicole's voice trailed off when Uncle Silas came out of the barn with his sawed off ten gauge shot-gun that he lovingly called 'baby' in his hand.

"Oh it's you!" he exclaimed, his grizzled, leathery, mustached face splitting into a wide smile when he recognized Nicole stepping out of the truck.

"Hi, uncle Silas." Nicole replied happily as she went to him and threw her arms around his neck. He hugged her with the arm not holding the gun and then cast a suspicious glance at the brothers who were standing beside the truck.

"Who are they?"

"This is Jamison, Cavanaugh, Ian and Andrew." Nicole replied, pointing at each of them in turn. "And, believe it or not, they are brothers from the late 1800's."