William Johnstone - Thunder of Eagles

Horses and buckboards began arriving, and soon all the hitching rails on Higbee Avenue, as far up as Front Street and as far down as Bent Road, were full. Men and women streamed along the boardwalks toward the hotel, the women in colorful ginghams, the men in clean, blue denims and brightly decorated vests.

Once they were inside, the excitement was all it promised to be. Several young women were gathered on one side of the room, giggling and turning their heads in embarrassment as young men, just as embarrassed, made awkward attempts to flirt with them. At the back of the dance floor, there was a large punch bowl on a table, and Billy saw one of the cowboys look around to make certain he wasn’t being seen, then pour whiskey into the punch bowl from a bottle he had concealed beneath his vest. A moment later, another cowboy did the same thing.

Billy had been there when the doors opened because he wanted to be there before Kathleen arrived. Now his wait was rewarded when he saw Kathleen step through the front door, pause, and look around the room. When her eyes caught his, she smiled. Billy nodded toward the table that held punch and cookies, then started toward it.

“Good evening Miss Garrison,” he said when Kathleen joined him at the table.

“Good evening, Mr. Clinton,” she replied. She reached for a cup, but he put his hand on hers to restrain her.

“I wouldn’t drink any of that punch if I were you,” he said.

“Oh? Why not?”

“There may be a little more in it than you think.”

“I don’t—” she began, then she paused in mid-sentence and smiled. “Oh, I think I see what you mean.”

“The coffee is all right,” he suggested.

“Well, I don’t really need anything right now,” Kathleen said.

“We have a few minutes before the dance actually starts,” Billy said. “Could we take a walk?”

“No, I—” Kathleen began, then she paused in mid-sentence again. “All right, why not? There can be no harm in a walk.”

Stepping outside, Billy and Kathleen walked the entire length of the board sidewalk until they reached the edge of town. They continued on for another hundred yards or so until the sounds and the lights of the town were behind them. The Golden Nugget was closed for the dance, but the Hog Waller was still open and its patrons seemed to be trying extra hard to prove that they didn’t have to be at the dance to have a good time. Billy and Kathleen heard a woman’s scream, not in fear obviously, because it was followed by her laugh, which carried clearly above everything else.

Ahead of them lay the mountains, great slabs of black and silver in the soft wash of moonlight.

A sudden blaze of gold zipped across the sky, and Kathleen squealed with delight.

“Oh, look!” she said. “A falling star!” She shivered. “Oh!”

“What is it?” Billy asked.

“Someone has just died.”

“Why do you say that?”

“That’s what a falling star means. There is a star in heaven for every person on earth. And when someone dies, their star falls.”

Billy chuckled. “You’re serious, aren’t you?”

“Yes. At least, that’s what I’ve always heard.”

“That’s not true. Besides, stars don’t fall.”

“What? Of course they do. We just saw one.”

“What we saw was a meteor,” Billy said. “Aunt Emma has a book about meteors, and I’ve read all about them. They are actually small chunks of rock which are traveling through space. From time to time, one of them falls to earth. I saw one once.”

“What do you mean, you saw one once? We just did see one.”

“No, I mean I saw one after it hit. I held it in my hand.”

“Oh, I bet it was beautiful,” Kathleen said. “They must look like a large diamond, they glow so when you see them at night.”

“They glow because they are heated up as they are falling. Actually, they just look like any other rock. There isn’t anything spectacular about them.”

“That’s a shame,” Kathleen said. “I rather like thinking of them as beautiful things.”

“Well, they are beautiful when you see them the way most people see them,” Billy said. “So they will always be beautiful in your eyes.”

You are a strange one, Billy Clinton.”

“Why do you say that?”

“You aren’t like any other man I know. You are different.”

“I hope that is a good different,” Billy said.

“It’s a very good different.”

They heard music from the hotel, not disjointed bits and pieces as if the band was warming up, but a complete number, indicating the dance had begun.

“I think we should get back now,” Billy said.

“Yes,” Kathleen said.

Turning, they walked quickly back to the hotel, stepping in through the door as the caller shouted, “Choose your partners for the Virginia reel!”

Billy offered Kathleen his arm. “May I have this dance, Miss Garrison?”

“I would be honored,” Kathleen replied.

The music began then, with the fiddle loud and clear, the bass fiddle carrying the rhythm, the guitars providing the counterpoint.

Although the band supplied the music, Prentiss Hampton had stepped in as the caller.

“All go forward and all go back,

Once more time forward and back.

Make a turn with your right elbow.

A big wide swing and around you go.

Those in front sashay down

And sashay back.

Now let’s have the elbow reel.

A right to the middle and a left to the side,

A right to the middle, then reel on down.

Touch in the middle and a’work your way back.

Sashay around and down you go.”

Around the dance floor, those who were without partners watched the dancers, including those who were too old and those who were too young. A few danced along the sidelines as if they had partners, but most participated in the dance by clapping their hands and stomping their feet.

“Oh, my,” Kathleen said when the dance was finished. She fanned her hand back and forth in front of her face. “That was most invigorating.”

“Would you like to step outside for a breath of fresh air?” Billy suggested.

“Yes,” Kathleen said enthusiastically. “Yes, I think I would enjoy that.”

Kathleen and Billy were standing out front when Falcon and Rachael Kirby came walking up.

“Good evening, Miss Kirby, Mr. MacCallister,” Kathleen said.

“Good evening,” Billy added.

“Good evening,” Falcon replied.

“Now, there’s a sight I never thought I would see,” Rachael said as she and Falcon stepped inside.

“What is that?”

“General Garrison’s daughter with one of Ike Clinton’s sons. Those two men are bitter enemies.”

“Surely, being in the business you are in, you know that such a thing isn’t without precedence,” Falcon said.

“What are you talking about?”

“Romeo and Juliet?”

Rachael laughed. “Why, Falcon MacCallister,” she said. “Who would have ever thought you were such a romantic?”

When Ray and Cletus stepped into the hotel ballroom, the dance was already in progress and out on the floor couples moved and skipped, swayed and bowed as the music played and the caller called.

“What we comin’ to the dance for?” Cletus asked. “We ain’t got us no women to dance with.”

“Looks like there’s some women over there that ain’t dancin’,” Ray said.

Cletus looked toward the women. “Damn,” he said. “No wonder they ain’t dancin’. They’re uglier than cow plop.” He looked around the room. “I’m thirsty. Ain’t there no bar in this place?”

“There’s a punch bowl over there,” Ray said.

“Hell, I don’t want punch. I want somethin’ to drink,” Cletus said.

Ray chuckled. “Believe me, at things like this, punch ain’t what you think it is. Come on.”