William Johnstone - Thunder of Eagles

“Oh, Papa, thank you!” Kathleen said excitedly. “Billy, what do you think?”

When the three looked at Billy, Falcon thought he had never seen a more anguished face in his life.

“I can’t,” Billy said, barely able to say the words.

“What? Billy, didn’t you hear what Papa said? He’s given us his approval! We can go away somewhere and get married!”

Billy pinched the bridge of his nose and shook his head. “I can’t,” he said again. He started toward the door.

“Billy, no!” Kathleen screamed. She started after him, but Garrison reached out to stop her.

“No, darlin’, let him go,” he said.

With tears streaming down her face, Kathleen looked at Falcon. “You knew, didn’t you?” she said. “You told me about his honor. You knew.”

“I’m sorry,” Falcon said.

When the eastern sky was laced by the first streaks of dawn, the town of Higbee was prepared for a siege. A barricade of wagons and barrels blocked the east end of Front Street, behind which stood at least two dozen armed men. There were also men on the roofs of the leather goods store and Moore’s general store.

Every woman and child, plus the men who did not want to take part in the coming battle, had taken refuge in the church. The church was at the north end of town, set far enough off Front Street that it would be unlikely to catch any stray rounds.

General Garrison was in command of the men of the town, and he had strapped on his sword and put on his service hat.

“Where is Falcon?” Moore asked.

“Yes, where is MacCallister?” another wanted to know.

“Falcon should be here,” still another added.

“Don’t you folks be worrying about Falcon MacCallister,” Garrison said. “All you have to worry about is keeping your head down and making every shot count when Clinton and his men get here.”

In coordination with Garrison, Falcon was on a reconnoitering mission, having left town before dawn. He was actually on the Clinton ranch now, very close to the main house, and he lay flat on his stomach, looking through his binoculars at the activity below. Billy had said there might be as many as twenty riders come into town with them, but Falcon was surprised to see that there were at least twice as many.

From his position, he could not only watch them gather, he could hear them talking.

“Pa, we don’t have to do this,” he heard Billy say. “If we do this, a lot of innocent people could get killed.”

“Boy, you are either with us or ag’in us,” Ike said angrily. “Now I’ve put up with about as much pussyfooting from you as I can stomach. Make up your mind, and make it up now!”

“I’m coming with you,” Billy said.

“Good boy,” Ike said. “Lou?”

“Yeah, Boss.”

“You take half the men and go through Elbow Pass. Go all the way around town and come in from the west. I’ll take the rest with me and we’ll come in from the east. That way, we’ll have the town squeezed in between us.”

“Let me take the other group, Pa,” Ray said.

“No,” Ike said. “I want you three boys with me.”

As Ike and his men started saddling their horses, Falcon left.

Half an hour later, Falcon was sitting calmly on top of a large round rock watching as Lou and at least twenty riders approached Elbow Pass. The pass was so confined that they couldn’t go through without squeezing into a single file. It was a place that no one with any tactical sense would use. But these were not men with a sense of tactics. These were cowboys, fired up by the prospect of one hundred dollars for going after Falcon. Because of that, they were men who could be easily lured into a trap.

Falcon stood up so he could clearly be seen against the skyline.

“I’ll be damned! Look! There he is!” Lou shouted, pointing at Falcon.

“What’s he doin’ out here?”

“Who cares? Let’s get him!”

The riders galloped through the draw, bent on capturing or killing Falcon MacCallister.

A couple of the men in front thought Falcon made an easy target, so they pulled their pistols and began shooting up toward him as they rode. Falcon could see the flash of the gunshots, then the little puffs of dust as the bullets hit around him. The spent bullets whined as they ricocheted through the little draw, but none of them even came close enough to cause him to duck.

Falcon leaned over, almost casually, to light two fuses. A little starburst of sparks started at each fuse, then ran sputtering and snapping along the length of fuse for several feet alongside the draw. The first explosion went off about fifty yards in front of the lead rider, a heavy, stomach-shaking thump that filled the draw with smoke and dust, then brought a ton of rocks crashing down to close the draw so that the riders couldn’t get through.

The second explosion, somewhat less powerful, was located behind the riders. It, too, brought rocks crashing down into the draw behind them, closing the passage off. All twenty men were now bottled up inside the pass, and it was going to take them at least a day, maybe two days, to dig their way out. They were no longer part of whatever might happen in Higbee.

Leaving the trapped cowboys behind him, Falcon leaped onto his horse and urged it into a gallop. When he came galloping into Higbee from the west end of town a few minutes later, he saw everyone in position behind the barricade, and he knew that he had arrived before Clinton and his men.

“Here’s MacCallister!” someone said.

“Where’ve you been?” another asked.

“How did it go?” Garrison asked.

Only Garrison knew where Falcon had been, and why.

“I’ve got about twenty of them trapped in Elbow Pass,” Falcon said. “Another twenty will be coming from this direction. Is everything ready?”

“We’re ready,” Garrison said.

“Where’s the breach?”

“Right there,” Garrison said, pointing to a stack of barrels.

“You sure it’s wide enough?”

“Major, you may have come up with the plan,” Garrison said. “But I think I have the military experience to implement it.”

Falcon chuckled. “I would never question you, General,” he replied.

“They’re comin’!” someone shouted down from the roof of Moore’s general store.

“All right, men, get ready,” Garrison said. Then, spotting Denham, he scolded him. “Mr. Denham, what are you doing up here? I said I wanted only young men who could run up here.”

“I can get out in time,” Denham said.

“Get back there now before I shoot you myself,” Garrison said, pointing to the Golden Nugget.

“All right, all right, but don’t think for a minute I’m not going to write an article about overbearing generals,” he grumbled.

Falcon chuckled as he saw Denham moving back toward the Golden Nugget. Then, turning, he saw Garrison.

“General, you’re no spring chicken,” he said. “You need to get back there, too.”

“Since when does a major give a general orders?” Garrison replied.

“Go,” Falcon ordered.

“Hah!” Denham said as Garrison caught up with him. The two men went about fifty yards down the road, then stepped in behind the Golden Nugget.

Falcon watched them until they disappeared. Then he stepped up to the barricade with his pistol in hand.

“Are you boys ready?” he asked.

“Bring ’em on,” Tom said. Tom, Larry, and Frank, the three young men who had ridden as guards for the Thompson shipment of Garrison’s depot material, were among the five who were waiting behind the barricade with Falcon.

“Hold it up, men, hold it up!” Ike Clinton said when he saw the barricade stretched across the street in front of them.

Suddenly, a ripple of gunfire came from the barricade. Ike and the others started shooting back.