Thunder of Eagles

by William W. Johnstone

  It wasn’t fair. It just wasn’t fair.

  Out at La Soga Larga Ranch, the object of Kathleen’s mental meanderings was at the pump on the back porch washing up when he saw Sheriff Belmond riding into the front yard. Curious as to what might have brought the sheriff there, he walked around front, even as he was running the towel through his hair. Billy’s father and two brothers were standing on the front porch.

  “Hello, Sheriff,” Ike said warmly. “What brings you out here? Get down, come on in.”

  “Thanks,” Belmond said, swinging down from his saddle. He tied the horse off, then followed Ike and the others into the parlor of the large house. Billy went inside as well and stood, leaning against the wall next to the window.

  “Would you like something to drink, Sheriff? Whiskey? Lemonade?”

  Belmond laughed. “Whiskey in the morning is a bit much, even for me. But a glass of lemonade might taste just real good after a long, hot ride.”

  “Rosita, bring a glass of lemonade for the sheriff,” Ike called to his maid.

  “Sí, señor,” the large Mexican woman replied.

  “Hello, Ray, Cletus, Billy,” he said. Then, taking a second look at Cletus, he took in a short breath. “Damn, Cletus, what the hell happened to you?”

  Both of Cletus’s eyes were black and his nose was swollen and purple.

  “Nothin’,” Cletus muttered.

  “It sure don’t look like nothin’.”

  “What brings you out here, Sheriff?” Ike asked.

  “Deke Mathers and Seth Parker,” Belmond replied.

  “What about ’em?” Ike said. “I fired those two no-accounts a couple of days ago. What trouble have they got themselves into now?”

  “Wait a minute,” Belmond said. “Are you telling me them two don’t work for you?”

  “Not after I fired ’em, they don’t work for me. So, tell me, Sheriff, what have they done?”

  Rosita returned with a glass of lemonade. “Your limon-ada, señor,” she said.

  “Gracias,” the sheriff said. He drank the entire glass, then wiped his mouth before he responded to Ike’s question. “They’ve got themselves kilt, is what they’ve done,” Belmond replied.

  “I’ll be damn,” Ike said. He stroked his chin, then sighed. “Well, I don’t know as I can say it surprises me all that much. Get into a barroom fight, did they?”

  “No, sir. They was killed while they was attacking some freight wagons out of La Junta, headed toward Higbee.”

  “That was damn stupid of them, trying to rob some freight wagons,” Ike said. “But neither one of them boys was ever what you would call particular smart.”

  “I don’t think they intended to rob them,” Belmond said.

  “Well, then, what the hell was they after?”

  “The wagons belonged to Thompson Freight, but they was carrying goods bound for General Garrison. Lumber and the like, for building his railroad depot.”

  “The hell you say? Well, that might explain it then,” Ike said.

  “Explain what?”

  “Deke and Seth knew the way I felt about this railroad,” Ike said. “Once Garrison gets it built, he’s plannin’ on holdin’ up all the cattlemen in the county. Being the only railroad, he’ll charge us an arm and a leg to ship anything, and that’ll just make all the other railroad people raise their prices, too. I figure that Deke and Seth were probably thinking that if they could stop those wagons, then they could keep the railroad from being built. The way I see it, them boys was just trying to get back on my good side.”

  “So you’re sayin’ you didn’t have nothin’ to do with it?” Belmond asked.

  “I never left my ranch,” Ike replied. “After they stopped the wagons, I don’t have no doubt but that they was goin’ to come ask me for their old jobs back.”

  Belmond stroked his chin and nodded. “Yeah,” he said. “Yeah, I guess I can see that.”

  “Were any of Thompson’s men hurt?” Ike asked.

  “No. None of them were hurt.”

  “Well look here, Sheriff, if nothin’ was done to the wagons, and none of the drivers or guards was hurt, then why are you even involved? The only ones hurt was Deke and Seth, and they got themselves kilt.”

  “How did you know there were guards?” Belmond asked.

  “Didn’t somebody burn three wagons and kill the drivers the last time Garrison tried to get a shipment delivered?” Ike asked.

  “Yes.”

  “Then, don’t it stand to reason that they would have guards with them this time?”

  “I reckon that’s right. Turns out also that they had Falcon MacCallister riding with them.”

  “Falcon MacCallister? Funny you should mention him, Sheriff. I’ve been thinking about swearing out a complaint against him.”

  “A complaint? What kind of complaint?”

  “Why, an assault-and-batter y complaint,” Ike said. “You see the way Cletus looks here. That’s ’cause MacCallister hit him with a club the other night.”

  “He would’a never got away with it if I had’a seen him,” Cletus said. “He hit me when I wasn’t lookin’.”

  “Why would he have done that?”

  “No reason, Sheriff. No reason a’tall. What happened was, me’n Deke Mathers and Lou Reeder was in the Golden Nugget the other night, when Deke started gettin’ a little rowdy, yellin’ at that woman piano player they got. Well, I was tryin’ to calm Deke down when this here fella MacCallister pulled a gun on me. So, me bein’ unarmed, I went out to my horse to get a gun, and when I come back in to the saloon, MacCallister was waitin’ just inside and he hit me with a club. I never seen it comin’.”

  “That’s why I’m sayin’ I want you to arrest Falcon MacCallister,” Ike said.

  Belmond shook his head. “I’m afraid you’ll have to take that up with Marshal Calhoun,” he said.

  “Ha, a fat lot of good that’ll do,” Ike said. “Those town dogs have Calhoun in their hip pocket. He ain’t goin’ to take no cattleman’s word over anyone from town. Anyway, I thought you had jurisdiction over the whole county. You’re the sheriff. You tellin’ me you can’t arrest anyone in Higbee?”

  “I can, yes, but as a matter of professional courtesy, I tend to let the city marshals control their own towns.”

  “I see. So, what you are saying is, you’re just goin’ to let this MacCallister fella get away with it.”

  “I’ll keep an eye on him,” Belmond promised.

  “Yeah, you do that,” Ike insisted. “Only, it’s too late for Deke and Seth now, ain’t it? They’re already dead.”

  “You didn’t really fire Deke and Seth, did you, Pa?” Billy asked after the sheriff left.

  “Doesn’t make any difference whether I fired them or not,” Ike replied. “They’re both dead.”

  “They were worthless as tits on a boar hog anyway,” Ray said. “If they had listened to me instead of ridin’ out ahead like that, they would both be alive now, and those wagons would be nothn’ but burnt-out cinders.”

  “Wait a minute,” Billy said. “Ray, you and Cletus were with them, weren’t you. You set out purposely to destroy those wagons. Deke and Lou were with you—they weren’t doing it on their own.”

  “So what if we were with them?” Ray challenged.

  “So that means you got them killed,” Billy said.

  “Son, you might say we’re in a war with the railroad right now,” Ike said. “And in times of war, folks get killed. That’s what wars are all about.”

  “But I don’t understand,” Billy said. “Pa, can’t you see the advantages of a railroad?”

  “Of course I can see the advantage of a railroad if we own it,” Ike said.

  “What? What are you talking about?”

  Cletus chuckled. “I told you that boy wasn’t none too bright, Pa,” he said.

  “Think about it, Billy,” Ike said. “Whoever owns that railroad will control everything hereabout for five hundred miles.”

  “You—
you want General Garrison to fail so you can take it over,” Billy said.

  “Well, now, you were wrong about our little brother, Cletus,” Ray said. “It looks like he does understand.”

  “That isn’t right, Pa,” Billy said. “That’s no way right.”

  “I tell you what, Billy. You let me worry about what is right and what is wrong,” Ike said. “All you have to do is remember that you are a Clinton.”

  “You’re wastin’ your time talkin’ to him, Pa,” Cletus said. “He ain’t got no more gumption than a milk-fed puppy.”

  “Get on out of here, let me talk to Billy,” Ike said.

  “Why do you want to do that?” Cletus asked. “I’m tellin’ you, you’re just wastin’ your time.”

  “Get out,” Ike ordered.

  “I reckon it’s your time to waste, Pa,” Cletus said. Turning, he and Ray left. Billy started to go, too.

  “No, you stay,” Ike said to Billy.

  “Cletus’s right, Pa,” Billy said. “I don’t have the stomach for this.”

  “You stay and listen to me,” Ike said.

  With a sigh, Billy came back inside.

  “Have a seat,” Ike said, pointing to the sofa.

  Billy sat, and Ike sat on a chair across from him. Ike stared at Billy for a long time.

  “Billy, why do you think I’m doing all this?” Ike finally asked.

  “Why do I think you are attacking General Garrison’s wagons?”

  “No, not that. Well, yes, that, but more. Much more. What I mean is, why do you think I’m working so hard to make the ranch bigger and more successful? I mean, when you think about it, I’m already the richest man in the county. I wouldn’t have to do another thing for the rest of my life if I didn’t want to, and I could live out the rest of my life like a king.”

  “I don’t know, Pa. I’ll be honest with you, I have wondered about that very thing.”

  “Well, it ain’t all that hard to figure out, son,” Ike said. “I’m doin’ it for you.”

  “You’re doing it for me?” Billy asked in disbelief.

  “Yes, for you, Ray, and Cletus.”

  “I don’t understand.”

  “No, I don’t reckon you do understand,” Ike said. “Look, there are three of you. Right now, I do have a lot of money, but there is only one of me. After I’m gone, everything I have is goin’ to have to be divided up three ways. And if there’s not enough to go around, well, you know how Ray and Cletus are. It wouldn’t surprise me none if they didn’t start fightin’ among themselves. Only—and this here is where you come in, Billy—you bein’ the youngest, and you bein’ the, well, let’s say the meekest of the three, you’re the first one that would get hurt.”

  “No, I wouldn’t get hurt,” Billy said. “I’d walk away and let them have it.”

  “You would, huh? And where would that leave you and that little girl you’ve been sniffin’ around?”

  “Do you mean Kathleen?”

  “Yes, I mean Kathleen. You ain’t exactly keepin’ it a secret how you feel about her. And I wouldn’t be surprised if she didn’t feel the same way about you.”

  “Well, she does, I think,” Billy said. “Only—”

  “Only right now things ain’t goin’ too well between her pa and me,” Ike said, finishing Billy’s sentence. “I can see how that might be a problem. But after one of us is gone, either Garrison or me, it won’t be a problem no more. And then you’ll need money to make her happy.”

  “I don’t think Kathleen is the kind of girl that needs money to make her happy.”

  Ike chuckled. “All women is that kind,” he said. “Whether you’re talkin’ ’bout the whores that work for Maggie, or girls like Kathleen. It takes a heap of money to keep ’em happy. And if I can take over the railroad from Garrison, you won’t never have no money problems. And look at it this way,” he added. “If you wind up marryin’ his daughter, why, all the money goes back to him anyway.”

  Chapter Fifteen

  Saturday morning, a large banner was stretched across Higbee Avenue.

  DANCE TONIGHT!

  MORNING STAR HOTEL

  Come one, come all

  The musicians had come to La Junta by train from Denver; then arrangements were made for them to have a special stagecoach that would take them to Higbee. They arrived in Higbee just after noon, with their instruments securely lashed to the top of the stage.

  The arrival created a great deal of excitement as children and dogs met the stage at the edge of town, then ran alongside it as the coach came the rest of the way. Occasionally, one of the children would run up very close to the stage and poke a stick into the whirling wheels, laughing as the stick was jerked from his hands and thrown back onto the road.

  By the time the coach reached the Morning Star Hotel, several of the townspeople had gathered as well to watch the musicians disembark.

  “Careful with that violin, my good man!” one of the musicians called up to the top of the stage when an eager onlooker took it upon himself to help.

  “With the what?” the would-be helper replied.

  “With the . . . fiddle,” the musician said.

  “Oh, hell, don’t worry ’bout that. I ain’t goin’ to drop it or nothin’.”

  The musician cringed as the fiddle was handed down to him. Soon, all the instruments were off-loaded and the band was met by Mayor Charles Coburn.

  “Welcome, welcome, gentlemen, to Higbee,” Mayor Coburn said, extending his hands to all of them. “We have a nice lunch prepared for you, and have rooms for you here in the hotel. Which one of you is Edwin Mathias?”

  “I am Edwin Mathias.”

  The man who answered was a tall, very dignified-looking man, with a neatly trimmed beard and a touch of gray at the temples.

  “Ah, good, good, you are the one I have been corresponding with, I believe. Do you have any questions?”

  “If you don’t mind, I would like to see where we are to perform tonight,” Edwin said.

  For a moment, the mayor looked confused. “Perform? Uh, Mr. Mathias, you do understand that you aren’t actually going to perform, don’t you? You have been hired to provide music for a dance.”

  “Mayor, I am a professional musician,” Edwin said. “Indeed, we are all professional musicians.” He took in the others with a wave of his hand. “Do you think for one minute that providing music for a dance isn’t performing?”

  “I—I suppose if you put it that way,” Mayor Coburn said.

  “Good, then we are in agreement.”

  “Yes, yes, I suppose we are,” he said. “Well, come with me then, and I’ll show you the ballroom.”

  Edwin and the other musicians followed the mayor into the hotel, where they were greeted by the concierge and the desk clerk as well as several others.

  “I must tell you, Mr. Mathias, this annual dance is the highlight of our social life.”

  “Social life,” Edwin repeated, and though he didn’t slur the words, there was an implied degree of condescension in the tone of his voice.

  “Yes, sir, social life,” the mayor repeated. “Oh, I’ll admit, Higbee doesn’t look like much now, but we’ll be havin’ our own railroad through here soon. And once that happens, we’ll grow like weeds. I’ve seen it happen time and time again.”

  “Yes, of course,” Edwin said. “Please forgive me, Mayor, I didn’t mean to be patronizing.”

  “That’s all right. I know people who see Higbee for the first time, and who don’t know ’bout the railroad, don’t really understand. But you might be interested in knowing that we already have a famous musician living right here among us. I’ll admit, she hasn’t been here very long, but she’s here now, and that’s all that counts.”

  “Oh? And who would that be?”

  “Rachael Kirby,” Mayor Coburn said.

  Edwin had turned away from the mayor to walk over and examine more closely the platform upon which they would be performing that night. He had asked the question without
any real curiosity, because he was certain that the “famous” musician the mayor was about to name would be of no interest to him.

  But when he heard the name Rachael Kirby, he stopped and turned back toward the mayor.

  “Who did you say?” he asked.

  “Rachael Kirby. She plays piano in the Golden Nugget Saloon.”

  “Are you sure it is the Rachael Kirby?”

  “Aha!” the mayor said with a broad smile spreading across his face. “So you have heard of her?”

  “If she is the person I’m thinking of, yes, I have heard of her,” Edwin said. “But I don’t understand. What is Rachael Kirby doing in a place like this?”

  “I told you, she’s playin’ the piano.”

  “What I mean, my good man, is, how did the likes of Rachael Kirby wind up in a—a—” He searched for a word, then shook his head. “Place as small as this,” he concluded.

  “The way I heard it, she was with a group of players, some acting company called J. Garon or something like that. Well, sir, this fella Garon took all the money and ran away, leaving all his actors stranded.”

  “But, Rachael isn’t an actor,” Edwin said. “She is a pianist.”

  The mayor laughed and pointed at Edwin. “You know, that’s a funny thing,” he said. “That’s exactly what she calls herself. She says she’s a pianist, not a piano player. Can you believe that?”

  “Yes, Mayor,” Edwin said. “I can believe it.”

  Edwin’s knees felt weak and his stomach turned. He’d had no idea he would ever run into Rachael Kirby again. Especially not in a tiny town like Higbee, Colorado.

  Rachael was playing the Fantasie in C Minor by Mozart. Falcon was seated at one of the tables, enjoying the music while eating a ham sandwich and drinking a beer. There was a spattering of applause when she was finished. Then, after acknowledging the applause, Rachael walked over to Falcon’s table.