William Johnstone - Thunder of Eagles

“Fantastic,” he said, smacking his lips in appreciation. “Absolutely fantastic.”

“Wine?” Kathleen asked, pouring some into a glass.

After they had eaten, they sat on the blanket enjoying their wine. They talked of inconsequential things for a while, then Kathleen laughed.

“What’s so funny?”

“Tomorrow night, at the dance,” Kathleen said, “you and I will have to pretend that we are practically strangers. Yet all the time, we will know about this wonderful day we have shared today.”

Chapter Fourteen

When Kathleen awakened the next morning, she lay in bed for a long moment, enjoying the gentle breeze that lifted the muslin curtains and brought on its breath the fragrance of roses that grew just outside her window.

She thought of the picnic yesterday and of the time she and Billy had been able to spend together, without having to look over their shoulders, without having to explain their relationship to anyone else.

What a bittersweet time that had been; sweet because she and Billy were together, bitter because they both knew that it was stolen time—it could not, and it would not, last.

Billy kissed her yesterday, and smiling, Kathleen touched her fingers to her lips. Because the kiss was so recent, and because Kathleen was blessed with a strong imagination, she was able to recreate that kiss, almost as if it were happening now.

Thinking about it, Kathleen reached under her mattress where she was hiding the poem Billy had written for her, and took it out. She reread it for what had to be the tenth time.

Billy had not wanted anyone to know about the poem because he was afraid of the ribbing he would take from his brothers.

His brothers, Kathleen thought. What evil and despicable men they were. How was it possible that Billy had been born into that family? So many people who didn’t know Billy the way she did thought of him in the same way they thought of Ray and Cletus. Even her own father thought of Billy in that way.

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 limonada, 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-battery 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.