Crusade of Eagles

by J. A. Johnstone

  “Damn!” Strayhorn said, laughing. “Is that true? Did Drew really hit you with a shovel?”

  “Yeah,” Loomis said. “It’s true.”

  “Strayhorn tells me that MacCallister is also the one that kilt Drew,” Seth said.

  “That’s right.”

  “Seems to me like this MacCallister fella is whittlin’ your family down pretty good,” Seth said. “First Drew, then Kelly. I wouldn’t doubt but what he has his sights set on you now.”

  “Yeah, well, that’s just fine,” Loomis said. “Because I have my sights on him.”

  “Yeah, well, I wouldn’t mind gettin’ him in my sights my ownself. Course, he never kilt no brother of mine or nothin’ like that, but he did kill a pard, and I’d like to pay him back.”

  “Do you think he’s got the money?” Luke asked.

  “What money?” Loomis asked.

  “The ransom money you was askin’ for to get his brother and sister back,” Luke replied.

  “What the hell?” Loomis said in obvious irritation. He looked at both Strayhorn and Logan. “Is there any part of our business you two haven’t been blabberin’ about? Think maybe we ought to go down to the newspaper office so they can print the story?”

  “It wasn’t just blabberin’, Loomis,” Strayhorn said.

  “It wasn’t? I’d like to know what it was then,” Loomis said.

  “It was recruitin’.”

  “Recruitin’? What do you mean it was recruitin’?”

  “Well, it’s like this,” Strayhorn explained. “Me ’n Logan here was talkin’ it over and . . .”

  “You and Logan was talkin’ it over, was you?” Loomis said, his voice dripping with sarcasm.

  “Yeah,” Strayhorn said, not catching the sarcasm in Loomis’s voice. “We was talkin’ it over and we decided it might not be a bad idea to let Seth and Luke in on our job.”

  “And why would we want to do that?” Loomis asked.

  “’Cause of MacCallister,” Strayhorn said. “I mean, he’s done kilt both your brothers. I don’t know how the fight went between MacCallister and Kelly, but I seen him with Drew. Hell, you seen him with Drew, too. And Drew was ’bout the fastest with a gun I ever seen, until I seen MacCallister.”

  “Strayhorn’s right, Loomis,” Logan said. “I wouldn’t want to go up agin’ MacCallister with just the three of us and the albino. I mean, there was five of us last time and he got the better of us.”

  Loomis stroked his chin and studied Seth and Luke for a moment.

  “I reckon you’d want a cut of the money if you come in,” he said.

  “Well, yeah,” Seth answered. “I mean, if we’re goin’ to be a part of it, we’d like our cut.”

  “Is this what you both want?” Loomis asked Strayhorn and Logan.

  “Yeah,” the two men said.

  “All right.”

  “Good!”

  Strayhorn and Logan shook hands with Seth and Luke.

  “Only, I should tell you that their money is goin’ to be comin’ from your cut,” Loomis said to Strayhorn and Logan. “I ain’t givin’ up none of my money.”

  “Wait a minute,” Logan said. “That ain’t no way fair.”

  “Fair or not, that’s the way it’s goin’ to be,” Loomis said. “So, you can take it or leave it.”

  “How much money are we talkin’ about here?” Luke asked.

  “Twenty thousand dollars,” Logan said.

  “Twenty thousand?” Luke said. “My God, that’s all the money there is in the world.”

  “I get half of it,” Loomis said. “You boys can split up what’s left.”

  “Why do you get half ?” Seth asked.

  “Because it was my idea,” Loomis said. “Now, that’s the terms. Are you in or not?”

  “That’d still be two thousand dollars apiece, Seth,” Luke said. “I ain’t never had no two thousand dollars in my whole life. Have you?”

  Seth shook his head. “No,” he said. “No, I ain’t.”

  “I say let’s do it.”

  Seth thought for a moment before he replied. “Is this money for real? I mean, does Falcon MacCallister actually have that kind of money?”

  “Yeah, he has that kind of money. Fact is, he has that money on him right now.”

  “What?” Strayhorn asked. “How do you know he has that kind of money on him now?”

  “He’s carrying it around with him in a pair of saddlebags,” Loomis said. “I heard ’em talkin’ about it over at the Long Trail.”

  “Twenty thousand dollars in saddlebags,” Logan said. “Think of that.”

  “So, what do we do next?” Seth asked.

  “Next, we go back to the way station, take care of some business there, then pick up the albino and start trailing MacCallister.”

  “What about . . .” Strayhorn said. Then, he paused in mid-sentence and looked around the saloon to make certain no one was close enough to overhear what he was saying.

  “What about what?” Loomis asked.

  “You know,” Strayhorn said. “The—uh—people we have there. What are we going to do with them?”

  “We’re going to take care of them,” Loomis said. “We don’t need them as insurance anymore. We know that MacCallister has the money. All we have to do is find him.”

  “It seems a shame to—uh—well, I mean, the woman is so pretty, it seems like a waste to just—take care of her.”

  Loomis smiled. “I didn’t say we wouldn’t have a little fun first,” he said.

  “Oh, Loomis, I don’t know,” Logan said.

  “What do you mean, you don’t know?”

  “There’s six of us.”

  “There was five of us back at the farm, and that went all right.”

  “Yes, but there was two women there. Well, a girl and a woman. Here, there is just one woman.”

  Loomis looked over at the soiled dove who had approached him when he first came into the saloon.

  “Hey, you,” he called. “Come here.”

  The woman, who was probably no older than thirty, but who looked fifty, flashed a gap-toothed smile at being summoned. She hurried over to the table.

  “There’s five of us here,” Loomis said. “If we paid you to go upstairs with us, could you handle all five of us?”

  “Good Lord, you don’t mean at the same time, do you?” the soiled dove answered, her eyes wide with wonder.

  “No, no, not at the same time,” Loomis said. “My question is, could you handle all five of us one at a time?”

  “Yes.”

  “What if we had one more friend?”

  “All of you will pay?”

  “Yes.”

  The girl nodded. “Yes, I could handle all six of you.”

  “What’s the most number of men you’ve ever done in one night?”

  “Nineteen.”

  “All right, thanks,” Loomis said.

  “So, are we going up?”

  “Do you really think I would want to share the sheets with someone as ugly as you are?” Loomis asked. He made a dismissive motion with his hand. “Go away.”

  Suddenly, and unexpectedly, the woman’s eyes filled with tears.

  “I’ll be damned,” Seth said. “Look at that. I don’t think I ever seen a whore cry before.”

  “Go away,” Loomis said again.

  “You are an incredibly cruel man,” the woman said as she turned and walked away.

  “Still worried about whether one woman can handle all of us?” Loomis asked Logan.

  “No, I guess not,” Logan said.

  Loomis stood up. “Come on, let’s go. It’ll be dark by the time we get there as it is. Too much later and the albino is likely to take a few shots at us.”

  Leaving the saloon, the five men mounted their horses, then rode out of town. As they left, they passed the two coffins, along with the sign saying that, if not claimed, Loomis’s brother Kelly and Dunaway would be buried in Potter’s Field the next day.

  Loomis did
n’t even bother to look in the direction of his brother.

  Chapter Twenty-six

  “There’s a house,” Rosanna said, pointing to a structure in the gathering shadows.

  “Thank God,” Andrew said, smiling broadly. “I hope they have some coffee!” He urged his horse into a trot.

  “Andrew, wait,” Rosanna called to him.

  “Wait? Wait for what?”

  “I don’t think there is anyone there.”

  “Well, we aren’t going to stand around on niceties, Rosanna. We’re going in, whether there is anyone home or not.”

  As they got closer to the house, more and more details began to be revealed, such as a barn with no door, a corral with no horses, and a fence with no gate. There was the remnant of a garden, and a couple of windows were broken out.

  “It doesn’t look like we are going to have to worry about being invited in,” Andrew said. “I don’t think anyone lives here.”

  “I don’t think so either,” Rosanna said.

  They rode on into the front yard, or what had once been the front yard.

  “Hello the house!” Andrew called.

  There was no response to his call.

  “Hello the house!” he called again.

  “Andrew, let’s keep going,” Rosanna suggested.

  “Why?”

  “I don’t know. Something about this house frightens me,” she said.

  Andrew laughed.

  “What is so funny?”

  “We were taken off a train in the middle of the night, we have killers after us, and you are scared of an empty house.”

  Rosanna laughed as well. “Yeah,” she said. “You’re right.”

  Andrew dismounted.

  “What are you doing?”

  “I’m going to go inside and have a look around,” he said.

  Rosanna dismounted as well. “All right, if you’re going in, I am, too.”

  They tied their horses to what remained of the front fence, then walked up to the house.

  “Careful of the first step, it’s broken,” Rosanna pointed out.

  The two went inside. As they had expected, the house was totally deserted, with not one piece of furniture.

  Andrew chuckled.

  “What’s so funny?”

  “So much for my cup of coffee,” he said.

  An old newspaper was lying on the floor and Andrew picked it up.

  “Look at this,” he said. “It says raids along the Kansas-Missouri border are continuing.”

  “What raids?” Rosanna asked.

  “It’s talking about the Civil War. This paper is dated April 1862.”

  “Oh, my. This house has been empty a very long time,” Rosanna said.

  Suddenly, there was the sound of tinkling glass, then the buzz of a bullet whizzing by and plunking into the wall behind them. The sound of a rifle shot rolled into the room.

  “What?” Rosanna said.

  “Get down! Someone is shooting at us!” Andrew shouted.

  Both dropped to the floor just as a second shot crashed through the window.

  “Are you all right?” Andrew asked.

  “Yes.”

  “You crawl over into the corner, away from the windows,” Andrew said.

  “What are you going to do?”

  “I’m going to shoot back,” Andrew said, pulling his pistol.

  The albino cursed himself for missing. Of course, with the failing light, it wasn’t that easy of a shot. But he should have taken a little more time, aimed a bit more carefully.

  He jacked another round into the rifle and fired a third time, even though he had no target in sight.

  “You two come out of there!” the albino shouted.

  He heard the crash of glass, then a pistol shot. The bullet from the pistol didn’t come anywhere close and he laughed.

  “I reckon not all you MacCallisters can shoot!” he called out to them.

  He fired again into the house and, once more, his rifle shot was answered with an ineffective pistol shot.

  “If you folks don’t come out of there right now, I’m going to burn you out!” the albino called. “You can see how dry the wood is. That ole house will go up like a prairie fire.”

  “Can he burn us out?” Rosanna asked, her voice betraying her fright.

  “Not if we stop him,” Andrew replied.

  “How are we going to stop him?”

  “By killing him,” Andrew said resolutely. “I should have done that when I had the chance.”

  “Do you think you can shoot him from here?”

  Andrew held up the pistol and looked at it. “No,” he said. “Not with this. Not unless we do something drastic.”

  “Like what?”

  “Did you hear what I said?” the albino’s voice floated in to them. “If you don’t come out of there now, I’m going to burn you out.”

  “I’ve got an idea,” Andrew said.

  The albino looked down at the house. It was still light, but the sun had already dipped below the western horizon. It would be dark soon. If he didn’t do something fast, they could sneak away in the night. He started studying the best way to move up to the house and set fire to it.

  Then, as he was contemplating the best route of approach, the front door of the house opened, and the man came running out.

  “Andrew, no! Don’t leave me!” he heard the woman scream.

  “I’m getting out of here! You’re on your own!” Andrew shouted back as he ran toward the horses that were tied out front. He held the pistol out and fired a couple of ineffective rounds toward the albino.

  “Andrew, you coward!” Rosanna screamed.

  “Well now,” the albino said out loud, chuckling at the drama playing out before him. “I reckon a coward like you needs killin’.”

  The albino raised his rifle and fired. Andrew grabbed his chest, spun, then went down.

  “Andrew, no! No!” Rosanna shouted. She came running out of the house and knelt on the ground beside him, crying uncontrollably. “You killed him! You killed him!”

  The albino grabbed the rifle by the barrel and held it across his shoulder as he sauntered down, leisurely, to where the woman was crying over her brother.

  “Why are you cryin’ over him, missy? It looked to me like he was runnin’ out on you,” the albino said. He came up to within about five feet of the weeping woman and the prostrate man. “I’d say he got what was good for him.”

  “No, you don’t understand,” Rosanna said. “He was a fine, sensitive man. We should have never come to this—this savage place.”

  “Yeah, well, you did come,” the albino said. “Now, what do you say me ’n you go back in the house and have us a little fun?”

  “Fun? You think I could be with you after you what you just did to my brother? How can you kill a man in cold blood like that?” Rosanna asked, getting to her feet and stepping away from Andrew.

  “Your brother was no man. He was a worm,” the albino said.

  Suddenly Andrew rolled over, a cocked pistol in his hand. He pointed it at the albino.

  “The smallest worm will turn, being trodden upon,” Andrew said.

  “What?”

  “That is a quote from Shakespeare, King Henry the Fourth, Act Five, Scene Six,” Andrew explained.

  “You son of a . . .” the albino shouted, dropping his rifle and making a grab for his pistol. That was as far as he got before Andrew pulled the trigger.

  The bullet hit the albino in the gut and he slapped his hand over the wound. Blood began spilling through his fingers.

  “You shot me,” he said in disbelief. “I can’t believe I was shot by someone like you.”

  “And just when you thought you had it all going your way,” Andrew replied.

  The albino fell on his back, gasped a couple of times, then lay still.

  “Is he dead?” Rosanna asked.

  As Andrew looked at the albino’s face, a strange thing happened. The eyes, which were pink, gradually dee
pened in color until they were a very bright blood red. Andrew felt of his pulse, and found none.

  “He’s dead.”

  “Good,” Rosanna said. “I never thought I would feel joy over the death of another human being, but I must confess that . . .” Rosanna paused in mid-sentence, then looked out into the gathering darkness. “Andrew!”

  “What?”

  “Someone is coming!”

  “Quick, back into the house!” Andrew said, and the two of them scurried back inside. It was quite dark inside the house now, and Andrew knew that he could stand in the window without being seen, while there was still enough light to keep an eye on the approaching rider.

  Andrew watched as the rider came closer; then he called out.

  “That’s far enough, mister!”

  “What’s the matter, Andrew?” the rider called back. “Don’t you recognize your own brother?”

  “Falcon!” Andrew shouted excitedly. “Rosanna, it’s Falcon!”

  Andrew and Rosanna ran outside just as Falcon rode up to the front of the house and dismounted. Rosanna rushed into his arms to embrace and kiss him. Andrew shook his hand.

  After the greeting, Falcon looked down at the albino’s body.

  “You did this?” he asked.

  “Andrew did,” Rosanna answered proudly.

  “We both did it,” Andrew said. “Rosanna did a superb job of acting.”

  “Acting?” Falcon replied. Then, with a laugh, he shook his head. “Never mind, I’m not even going to ask.”

  “How did you find us?” Andrew asked.

  “I tracked you to the way station. Saw a broken chair and some loose rope there, then saw that three horses came this way and three went the other, so I figured out what happened.”

  “How did you know which horse to follow?”

  “Because of Pretty,” Falcon replied.

  “Pretty?”

  Smiling, Falcon looked over at the two horses Andrew and Rosanna had ridden. One was a mare, and Falcon lifted the mare’s left forefoot.

  “This is Pretty. She has a tie-bar shoe,” he said. He went on to explain how he had visited the Landers family and learned the horse’s name. “And of course, there was this,” he said, holding up the little piece of cloth that Rosanna had torn from her dress and tied to the branch of the willow tree.