Defiance of Eagles

by William W. Johnstone

  GOODBODY’S

  Groceries – Eats – Liquor – Beds

  Falcon and his two brothers tied their horses off out front, then went inside. The building was illuminated by bars of sunlight that filtered in through dirty windows and slipped in through the cracks between the boards. Gleaming dust motes hung suspended in the air.

  “Gentlemen, welcome to Goodbody’s, your home on the trail. What can I do for you?” a man asked.

  “We thought we might have supper if you’ve got anything to eat,” Falcon said.

  “Ham hock and beans, turnip greens, and cornbread.”

  “Are you Mr. Goodbody?” Falcon asked.

  “I am, sir. Thaddeus P. Goodbody at your service.”

  “Well, Mr. Goodbody, that sounds like a good supper. We’ll take it.”

  “Yes, sir, you just sit down over there, and I’ll be right with you.”

  Falcon looked around the building and found it quite well stocked for being so remote. It had canned goods, a variety of fresh vegetables, flour, sugar, and smoked meats. It also had household wares from utensils to stoves, blankets, rocking chairs, and baskets.

  It took but a couple of moments for Goodbody and a woman they hadn’t seen when they first arrived to bring out their meal.

  “You have quite a well-stocked store here,” Falcon said. “Do you get much business out here so far from everything?”

  “Yes, sir, I do, and I think the reason is because I am so far away from everything. People who live in the surrounding area know they don’t have to go into town to buy what they need. And, I don’t have any competition.”

  “What is the nearest town to you, and how far away is it?”

  “Well, sir, I expect that would be Corvallis. It’s about forty miles from here, so you can see that the local folks would rather come here than make that long trip.”

  “Oh, I can see that,” Falcon said. “What about Purgatory? How far is it to Purgatory?”

  The smile left Goodbody’s face, and his eyes reflected fear. He held both hands out and backed away from the table.

  “I . . . I don’t know any town named Purgatory. I don’t know what you are talking about.”

  Falcon knew, instantly, that he was lying.

  “Tell us about Purgatory,” Falcon said.

  “Please,” he said. “I don’t want no trouble. You folks don’t have to bother none about paying for your supper, it’s on the house. I just don’t want no trouble, is all.”

  “Whoa, wait a minute! Hold on there, Mr. Goodbody,” Falcon said, raising his hand. “We don’t mean to cause you any trouble. And we are going to pay for our supper. Why would you think we are trouble?”

  “I told you, I don’t know anything about Purgatory,” Goodbody said again.

  “I think you do,” Falcon said. “What I don’t know is why you are frightened.”

  “I . . . I’m not frightened,” Goodbody said.

  “Yes, you are. Something about Purgatory is frightening you.”

  “Are you men with the law? Because if you are, maybe you should know that they’ve got a cemetery there that’s got four dead lawmen in it. Deputy sheriffs and deputy U.S. Marshals, and mostly the law don’t even go there now.”

  “We’re not with the law.”

  “You don’t look like any outlaws I’ve ever seen before,” Goodbody said.

  “We aren’t outlaws, either,” Matthew said.

  “Then, if you are just curious about Purgatory, take my advice and forget about it. There ain’t no reason for anyone to be wonderin’ about Purgatory unless you are a lawman, in which case it’s too dangerous for you, or an outlaw. And you just said you fellers ain’t outlaws.”

  “Just a minute, Mr. Goodbody, I would like to show you something,” Falcon said. “But it’s in my saddlebag, and I’ll have to go get it.”

  Getting up from the table, Falcon walked outside, leaving Matthew and Morgan at the table.

  “What’s he goin’ to get?” Goodbody asked. “I told you men, I don’t want no trouble. I ain’t goin’ to tell no one that I seen you, so you don’t have to worry none about that.”

  “Why not?” Morgan asked. “We don’t care if anyone knows that you saw us.”

  “I mean if someone’s lookin’ for you, why, you don’t have to worry. ’Cause I promise you, I ain’t goin’ to say nothin’ to nobody.”

  Falcon came back in then, and as Morgan and Matthew had suspected, he was carrying the photograph of Mary Kate. He showed the picture to Goodbody.

  “Have you seen this woman?”

  Goodbody was hesitant at first, but at Falcon’s urging, he took the photograph and studied it closely for a long moment.

  “Who is this?” Goodbody asked.

  “This is Mary Kate McVey,” Falcon said. “We are brothers,” he added, taking in Matthew and Morgan with a wave of his hand. “Mary Kate is our niece. She was kidnapped and is being held for ransom.”

  “Oh,” Goodbody said. “Well, I can see why you might be worried about her.”

  “Have you seen her?”

  “I’m not sure.”

  “Either you have, or you haven’t,” Falcon said. “How can you be not sure?”

  “Several riders came by here this morning. They didn’t stop. And the funny thing was, they were all ridin’ in formation, like as if they were cavalry or somthin’. But none of ’em was in uniform. And one of the riders in front was smaller than the rest and, seemed to me like, was wearing clothes just like this.” He pointed to the picture.

  “Riding in formation, you say?” Matthew asked.

  “Yes.”

  “That’s Ackerman,” Morgan said.

  “Yes, sir, that’s who it was, all right. Major Ackerman. I wasn’t goin’ to say his name. But seein’ as you already know who it is, well, I reckon me sayin’ that ain’t exactly the same thing as tellin’ you, is it?”

  “Were they going toward Purgatory?” Falcon asked.

  “Yes, sir,” Goodbody replied with a slight nod.

  “Do you have a map?” Matthew asked. “Can you point Purgatory out for us?”

  “You ain’t goin’ to find Purgatory on any map,” Goodbody said. “Leastwise, not one that’s been printed.”

  “Can you tell us how to find it?” Falcon asked.

  “Look. Those people, they know that I know about them. Sometimes they are my customers. If it ever gets out that I . . .” Goodbody stopped in midsentence and looked at the picture of Mary Kate again.

  “You say they’ve kidnapped this poor little girl?”

  “Yes.”

  Goodbody showed the picture to his wife. “What do you think, Abby?” he asked.

  “Bless her heart,” Abby said. “You know the poor little thing is terrified to be there.”

  “Well, should I . . . ?” he left the question incomplete.

  “You have to, Thad. We can’t just stay here and do nothing. Not if we can help that poor thing.”

  “But it might put us in danger. It might put you in danger.”

  “There’s some things you got to do, just ’cause it’s right to do it,” Abby said.

  Goodbody nodded. “You’re right,” he said. Then to Falcon, “All right. Go north about another mile until you come to a creek. Follow that creek west through the pass ’til you reach another creek. Follow that creek north, always keeping it to your left until you cross three more branches. After you cross the third branch, you’ll see Purgatory.”

  “Thank you, Mr. Goodbody.”

  “I ain’t never told nobody before this, how to get there,” Peabody said. “We got an agreement, you might say. I don’t tell on them, and they don’t bother me. Also, and I’ll be honest with you, tellin’ somebody how to find it might just be sendin’ ’em out to die. There ain’t never been no lawmen nor bounty hunter that went in to Purgatory what didn’t get kilt there. I reckon you boys will probably get kilt there as well, so whatever you do, please keep me out of it.”

  “You c
an count on it,” Falcon said.

  “And if you got folks back home that’ll be worryin’ about you, I got to tell you that if you do get kilt in there, they ain’t goin’ to learn nothin’ from me. ’Cause I don’t intend to tell anyone I ever even seen you. I hope you understand that.”

  “We do understand, Mr. Goodbody. And we appreciate your help.”

  “Oh, one more thing,” Goodbody said. “They’ve got ’em a marshal there, named Moss. Well, he ain’t no real marshal, you understand, he’s sort of an outlaw marshal. I’m just tellin’ you that so’s that you know if you get into any trouble while you’re there and get to thinkin’ that maybe you could go to the marshal and get help, well, just give up that thinkin’. ’Cause that marshal ain’t goin’ to help you.”

  “Thanks, that’s good information to know,” Falcon said.

  “Well, I’ll just go away an’ let you fellas eat in peace now.”

  “We goin’ in tonight?” Matthew asked.

  “We may as well,” Falcon said. “We have an advantage, and that’s that none of Ackerman’s raiders are likely to know any of us.”

  “I wouldn’t count on that, Falcon. There aren’t that many people who haven’t heard of you.”

  “They may have heard my name, but that doesn’t mean they know what I look like.”

  “Didn’t you testify at Ackerman’s court-martial?” Morgan asked.

  “Yeah,” Falcon answered with a sheepish grin. “I guess I sort of forgot about that.”

  “Well, you can bet your bottom dollar that Ackerman hasn’t forgotten it.”

  “No, I don’t reckon he has.”

  In her room over the Bloody Bucket Saloon, Peggy was totally nude, lying on her stomach on her bed, with red streaks and welts on her back and buttocks. Ackerman had whipped her with his belt, and now she lay there, whimpering, trying not to cry out loud.

  “You know, on board a ship, a sailor can be brought up for Captain’s Mast, stripped down, and tied to the mizzen, then flogged before the entire ship’s company,” Ackerman said as he was putting his uniform tunic back on. “Fifty, one hundred, one hundred and fifty lashes, with a cat-o’-nine, mind you. And that means that every stroke of the whip administers nine lashes.

  “It’s too bad the army doesn’t have such a policy. I would very much have enjoyed watching a good lashing administered. Just think of it, Peggy, you know you would like it, too. The nude body of a young, muscular man, the skin unbroken until the moment the lash is administered. Then, seeing the red welts pop up on that smooth, unblemished skin as the lash falls across it.”

  “Surely, they don’t still do that in the navy, do they?” Peggy asked. She wasn’t really curious about the subject, but she would talk about anything to prevent Ackerman from repeating his performance.

  “I don’t know, but I think a ship’s captain can pretty much do what he wants. After all, when the ship is at sea, it’s as if it is its own little kingdom, with the captain as the king. Ahh, I should have gone to Annapolis, rather than West Point.”

  Ackerman had been dressing as he was talking, and now he wrapped himself with the gold sash and put on the saber so that fully dressed again, he looked as dapper as he had when they first came up to her room.

  “I won’t be needing you anymore tonight,” Ackerman said. “So you can go back to work and double your income.”

  “I . . . I don’t think I can work anymore tonight,” Peggy said.

  “Your back is a little painful, is it?”

  “Yes.”

  “Ah, yes, I see. Well, I will continue to teach you, so that one day you will learn that there can be as much pleasure in receiving pain as there is in giving pain. It would be so much better for you, for both of us, if you would just learn to appreciate that. But, if you’ve no wish to work anymore tonight, that is fine with me. I would just as soon nobody else know of our little game of giving and receiving, pain and pleasure,” Ackerman said. “Part of the pleasure of giving and receiving pain, is in keeping it a secret.”

  “I get no pleasure from pain, and I have no intention of ever telling anyone else about it.”

  “That’s because you aren’t trying. On the other hand, I am doubling your rate. So I suppose you’ll just have to appreciate the economics of it all. Good night, my dear.”

  Peggy didn’t respond. She heard the door close and she lay where she was, unmoving for several minutes longer. Then she got up and walked over to her vanity, where in the light of the lantern she turned her back to the mirror and looked over her shoulder to examine herself.

  From her shoulder blades, all the way down to her buttocks, and even farther down to her thighs, she could see red welts. As far as she could tell, though, the skin hadn’t been broken, and she was very thankful for that.

  Slowly, gingerly, she began to get dressed.

  When Peggy was fully dressed, she walked out into the hallway, then over to the rail where she stood for a moment, looking down onto the saloon floor below. It took her a moment until she saw who she was looking for. Marshal Moss was standing over in a corner talking to Hood and Fong. She smiled. She had only half formulated the plan in her mind, wasn’t even sure she was going to do it at all, until she saw Moss here.

  Now she knew that she would do it.

  CHAPTER TWENTY-FOUR

  Peggy went to the back of the hall, then passed quietly down the back stairs and stepped out behind the saloon into the alley. The alley reeked with the smell of the outhouse and stale beer. She heard the squeak and rattle of rats scurrying around in the piles of discarded garbage. She didn’t like being out here, especially at night. There was no place in Purgatory that was really safe, but the alleyways were the most dangerous of all.

  She came this way because there would be less likely a chance of Ackerman seeing her. And she, for sure, didn’t want him to see her, especially not with what she had in mind.

  Peggy moved quickly through the alley down to the end of the block, then she slipped between two buildings until she was standing just back off Street With No Name. She was far enough from any of the three saloons that she wasn’t worried about bumping into Ackerman.

  There were no streetlamps on Street With No Name, the only illumination being that which was cast onto the street through the windows of the few lighted buildings. None of the buildings down here were illuminated, so she was able to walk right out into the middle of the street with very little danger of being seen. The biggest threat she faced at the moment would be if she were to inadvertently step into a pile of horse droppings.

  “You son of a bitch!” someone shouted from the area down by the three saloons.

  The curse was followed by the explosive sounds of two pistols being fired in anger, the flame of the muzzle patterns flashing bright in the otherwise black of the night.

  Peggy froze, too frightened to go any farther until the situation calmed itself.

  “You kilt him, Perkins,” a voice said. “He’s deader ’n hell.”

  “I told the son of a bitch!” Perkins said. “I told ’im next time he pulled an ace out of his sleeve I was goin’ to kill ’im. And by damn, that’s just what I done.”

  “Yeah, that’s what you done all right. What are you goin’ to do with him now?”

  “What do you mean, what am I goin’ to do with him? Far as I’m concerned, he can just lay there ’til he rots.”

  “Huh, uh. You know the rules. You kill somebody, you got to take care of cleanin’ up your ownself.”

  After that last exchange, the conversation grew too quiet to be heard, so Peggy resumed her nighttime mission. She continued across the street, then tried the front door of the building that housed both the jail and the marshal’s office.

  The door was unlocked, and she was glad. She had no idea what she would have done had it been locked. Opening it, she slipped inside, then closed the door behind her. Though it was very dim inside the building, it was totally dark. There was a single lantern, burning very low and pushing
out a bubble of light that extended little more than a few feet in all directions. However, it did provide enough light for Peggy to do what she felt needed to be done, so she walked over to the wall and took the marshal’s ring of keys from a hook. After that she picked up the lantern and went into the back of the jail. It was good she was carrying the lantern, because there had been absolutely no light in the back, which meant Mary Kate was in total darkness.

  Assuming she was still there! What if they had moved her?

  “Mary Kate?” Peggy called, her voice but barely above a whisper. “Mary Kate, are you still back here?”

  “Yes,” Mary Kate’s voice replied.

  Peggy was relieved to hear her voice, and she hurried down the corridor to Mary Kate’s cell, then set the lantern on the floor. “That was a pretty dumb question I asked,” she said with a smile. “Where else would you be?” She didn’t share with Mary Kate her fear that something may have happened to her.

  There were five keys on the key ring, and Peggy started trying them, sticking them one at a time into the cell lock. The first two didn’t work.

  “It looks like I might have to try everyone of them before I find the right one,” Peggy said.

  “What are you doing?” Mary Kate asked.

  “What does it look like I’m doing? I’m getting you out of here,” Peggy said. The key turned and the lock clicked. “Ah!” she said. “It worked!” She pulled the door open.

  “Where are we going?” Mary Kate asked.

  “Well, now you’ve asked the hard question,” Peggy replied. “Getting you out of jail was easy enough. What I’m going to do with you is something else again.”

  “If I could find my horse, I can ride out of here.”

  “That’s not going to be all that easy. I told you, there’s nobody here but outlaws. But they are very strict with each other about some things, and one of those things is horses. They’ll hang someone for stealing a horse quicker than you can whistle. So the horses are all kept in a stable, and they have guards on them, day and night.”