William Johnstone - Thunder of Eagles

“I ain’t goin’ to draw on you,” he said. “If you kill me, ever’one in here will be able to testify that you killed me in cold blood.”

“Go home, both of you,” Falcon said. “Tell your pa he has thirty days to sell his ranch and move out.”

“What?” Cletus replied, practically shouting the word.

“You heard me,” Falcon said. “You have thirty days to sell your ranch and move out of the state.”

“What the hell! You can’t order us out of the state!”

“I just did.”

“And if we don’t?” Cletus asked.

Falcon didn’t say a word, but he smiled. It was the same smile he’d had just before he killed Tyree. The impact wasn’t lost on either of the Clintons.

Chapter Twenty-one

J. Peerless Bixby, the Higbee undertaker, put Tyree’s body in a wooden coffin, then stood him up in front of his establishment. One of Tyree’s eyes was closed, the other was half open. His hands were crossed in front of his body, and he was holding his gun. A sign was pinned to his chest.

JEFFERSON TYREE

Noted Murderer And Outlaw

Killed in a FAIR FIGHT

by Falcon MacCallister

The Vermillion was decorated with black bunting around the windows and a black wreath on the door. It had been closed since Travis was killed, and had just reopened for the first time tonight.

Rachael had accepted Falcon’s invitation to dinner, and the two of them were sitting at a table at the back of the restaurant.

When the waiter came to the table, Rachael ordered baked chicken, green beans with mushrooms, and a salad. The waiter nodded, then started back to the kitchen with her order. He didn’t ask Falcon what he wanted.

“Aren’t you going to order?” Rachael asked.

“I don’t need to,” Falcon replied. “He knows what I want.”

“And what would that be?”

“Steak and baked potato.”

“You have the same thing every time?”

“Yes.”

“Why?”

“I like it,” Falcon said simply.

For a long moment, Falcon and Rachael sat in silence, a single candle lighting the distance between them. Finally, Falcon broke the silence.

“You’re going back East,” he said. It wasn’t a question, it was a statement.

Rachael nodded, but said nothing.

“Edwin?”

“He wants me to come back and join him again for a series of performances.”

“You should go back,” Falcon said. “You are wasting your talent by playing piano in a saloon, even a saloon as nice as the Golden Nugget.”

“That isn’t the only reason I’m going back,” Rachael said.

“Oh?”

“May I be frank with you, Falcon?”

“By all means.”

“I have had romantic illusions about you, even before I met you, based in part on the way your brother and sister speak of you. Then, when I met you, I thought you were everything they said, maybe even more. But—”

“It’s the more, isn’t it?” Falcon asked.

Rachael nodded. “Yes, that’s a good way of putting it. It’s the more . Falcon, you are just too violent for me. No, wait, that isn’t fair. It’s this, this accursed West that is too violent for me. I had never known anyone who had been killed before. Since coming here, I have seen nothing but killing. And you—you are right in the middle of it. You killed the two men who killed the first Marshal Calhoun; then you killed the man who killed the second Marshal Calhoun.”

“I didn’t choose the life I live, Rachael, but I make no apologies for it. I’ve killed, yes, but I no longer kill anyone who doesn’t need killing.”

“You—you no longer kill anyone who doesn’t need killing? What an odd thing to say.”

“During the war, I killed men for no reason other than the fact that they were wearing a uniform different from my own. They were good men, with families that loved them. If I can kill such men during time of war, do you think I would hesitate for one minute to kill someone like the sorry example of humanity that J. Peerless Bixby is displaying in front of his mortuary right now?”

“I suppose there is some logic there somewhere,” Rachael said. “But for the life of me, I can’t see it.”

“Mr. MacCallister?”

Looking up, Falcon saw Kathleen Garrison coming toward her. He stood quickly.

“Kathleen,” he said. “Is something wrong? Is the general all right?”

“No, there’s nothing wrong,” Kathleen said. “No, wait, there is something wrong. It’s Billy.”

“Billy?”

“Billy is down at my house now, with my father. He asked me to come find you.”

“All right,” Falcon said. “Rachael, I’m sorry. I’m going to tell Troy to cancel my dinner. I have to—”

“There’s no need to apologize,” Rachael said. “You go ahead and do what you have to do.”

When Falcon stepped into the parlor of Garrison’s house, he saw Garrison sitting in a chair and Billy standing next to the fireplace.

“Billy, here’s Mr. MacCallister,” Kathleen said.

“Mr. MacCallister,” Billy said, turning toward him and nodding.

“Hello, Billy. What’s this about?”

“I came to warn you,” he said.

“Oh?”

“Tomorrow, Pa, my brothers, and just about every rider we have will be coming into town. There will be at least twenty men, maybe more, and they are all coming after you, Mr. MacCallister. Pa has promised one hundred dollars to everyone who comes with him.”

“I see,” Falcon said.

“Billy, why are you telling us this?” Garrison asked.

“Because I don’t want to see anyone else get killed,” Billy said. “Mr. True was a good man. I remember going fishing with him once. And Travis Calhoun always treated me well when I came into the café.” Billy looked at Falcon. “If you would leave town, there wouldn’t be anything happening tomorrow.”

“And you think my leaving town would end it?” Falcon asked.

“Yes, sir, I do, I truly do,” Billy said.

“Would your pa drop his fight against the general building his railroad?” Falcon asked. “Because if your pa would do that, I would leave.”

Billy glanced down toward the floor without answering Falcon’s question.

“I didn’t think he would,” Falcon said, discerning the answer from Billy’s reaction to his question.

“Mr. MacCallister, if Pa brings an army in here tomorrow, and he will, people are going to get killed. A lot of people. Maybe even—” He paused.

“Maybe even who, Billy? Kathleen?” Falcon asked.

Billy nodded, but didn’t speak.

“General, it’s up to you,” Falcon said. “Do I leave, or stay?”

“Whether you leave or stay, I intend to see this railroad built,” Garrison said. “And if that means an all-out war with Ike Clinton, then so be it.”

“I thought you might feel that way,” Falcon said. “I’m staying.”

“Well, I tried,” Billy said with a sigh. “I didn’t think I could talk you into leaving, but I figured I had to try.”

“Billy, does your pa know you came into town tonight?” Garrison asked.

“No, sir, he’d probably kill me if he knew.”

“Isn’t he going to wonder where you are?”

“I don’t know. Maybe.”

“Don’t go back,” Garrison said.

“I have to.”

“Son, I’m going to ask you something. Do you love my daughter?”

“What?” Billy asked, surprised to hear this question from Garrison. “Yes, sir, I do. I reckon I love her more than anything in the world.”

“And you, Kathleen, how do you feel about this boy?”

“I love him, Papa. You know that I love him.”

Garrison sighed, and ran his hand through his hair. “I never thought I would hear myself say this. But I’m going to say it anyway. Billy, if you will take my daughter away from here, go someplace where neither your father nor your brothers can find you, I’ll give you one thousand dollars. That should be enough for you and Kathleen to get married and start a life together somewhere. Then, when all this is over, maybe you could come back.”