Crusade of Eagles Read online

  “I told you he would find it,” Rosanna said to Andrew.

  “You were right,” Andrew admitted.

  “Falcon, you wouldn’t have any water with you, would you?” Rosanna asked. “We haven’t had a drop to drink since we escaped.”

  Falcon took his canteen down and handed it over. Both Rosanna and Andrew drank deeply.

  “I’m afraid we drank all of it,” Andrew said, returning the empty canteen.

  “That’s all right, we’ll get some more at the hotel.”

  “The hotel? What hotel?”

  “The hotel in Gem. It’s not too far from here. We’ll spend the night there.”

  “You mean a real hotel? With beds and sheets and a bath?” Rosanna asked.

  “Well, it’s nothing like the Bixby Hotel,” Falcon said, referring to the hotel he had stayed in during his last visit to New York. He nodded toward the old, deserted house. “But I’m reasonably sure it will beat this place.”

  “What will we do with him?” Andrew asked, nodding toward the albino’s body.

  “If you are asking me, I would say leave the son of a bitch here,” Falcon said.

  “Falcon, we can’t just leave him here,” Rosanna said.

  “Why not?”

  “I just wouldn’t feel right about it,” Rosanna said.

  “Believe me, it won’t bother him any.”

  “I wouldn’t feel right about it either,” Andrew said.

  Falcon chuckled, and shook his head. “Oh, my civilized siblings,” he said. “All right, if it will make you feel any better, when we get to town, we’ll pay the undertaker to come get him.”

  “Won’t we have to see the sheriff and explain why we killed him?”

  Falcon laughed.

  “What is it?”

  “There is no sheriff in Gem. There is no law of any kind except from the county seat in Colby.”

  “Won’t we need to explain this to him?”

  “Not much of an explanation needed. The story about you two getting taken off the train ran in every paper in the West. Hell, probably in just about every paper in the U.S. and Europe.”

  “You really think so?” Andrew asked.

  “I’m sure of it.”

  “Wow,” he said, his eyes sparking in excitement.

  “What is it, Andrew? What are you thinking?” Rosanna asked.

  “I’m thinking about the publicity,” Andrew said. “Can you imagine what that will do for our box office?”

  Rosanna laughed. “You are incorrigible.”

  Chapter Twenty-seven

  The town of Gem was little more than a small cluster of buildings rising from the prairie in front of them. Night had fallen by the time they arrived, but it was not so late that the town itself was dark. Nearly every house had light, ranging from the dim, golden gleam of candles in the smaller houses, to the brighter glow of lanterns in the more substantial homes, as well as the café and saloon.

  There was a post sticking up in the middle of the crossroads, right in the center of the town. The sign identified the two main streets of Gem as Lincoln and Pine.

  “Where is this hotel you were talking about?” Rosanna asked.

  “I imagine that’s it,” Falcon said, pointing to a ramshackle building that was somewhat larger than the others. A porch roof protruded from the front of the building, and on the roof was a sign that had clearly been broken in half, probably by a strong gust of wind. The sign read: TEL.

  “You’re right,” Rosanna said with a sigh. “It isn’t the Bixby.”

  “We could have stayed back at the deserted house,” Falcon teased.

  “No, no, I’m not complaining,” Rosanna said.

  “A bill of fare?” the waiter asked in response to Rosanna’s request.

  The first thing they had done after securing a room, was go to Aunt Emma’s Café.

  “A menu,” Rosanna explained.

  “Oh. We don’t have a menu, ma’am.”

  “What do you have?”

  “We have ham, eggs, and potatoes,” the waiter said. “Oh, and biscuits.”

  Rosanna smiled sweetly. “It sounds delightful,” she said. “I believe I will have ham, eggs, and potatoes. Oh, and biscuits,” she added.

  “Yes, ma’am,” the waiter replied, unaware of the sarcasm of her response. “And you gentlemen?”

  “That sounds good to me,” Andrew said with a little chuckle.

  Falcon just nodded, and the waiter left to fill their orders.

  “What do we do tomorrow?” Rosanna asked after the waiter left.

  “First thing tomorrow, I’ll take you two back to the railroad where you can catch the train and finish your trip to New York,” Falcon said.

  “Then you’re going back to the Valley?” Andrew asked, referring to MacCallister Valley.

  Falcon shook his head. “Not right away.”

  “What do you mean, not right away?” Rosanna asked. “What else do you have to do?”

  “I just need to take care of a little business, that’s all.”

  “I want to help,” Andrew said, looking directly at Falcon.

  “No.”

  “Help? Help what?” Rosanna asked. “What’s going on here?”

  “When Falcon says he is going to take care of a little business, he’s talking about the men who pulled us from the train. Right, little brother?”

  “Yes.”

  “Whatever beef you have with them, mine is larger,” Andrew said.

  “Oh,” Rosanna said.

  “I want to help.”

  “Andrew, these men are killers,” Falcon said. “You aren’t cut out for anything like this. I couldn’t live with myself if anything happened to either of you.”

  “Falcon, I’m Jamie’s son, same as you,” Andrew said. “And I’m going to take part in this with you, or despite you.”

  There was an edge of resolve in his brother’s voice that reminded Falcon of his father, and despite himself, he smiled. He reached out with his hand and put it on Andrew’s shoulder.

  “All right, brother,” he said. “I’d be proud to have you by my side.”

  After supper, Falcon found the town undertaker, identified himself, then paid to have the undertaker go out to retrieve the albino’s body. That taken care of, he returned to the hotel, knocked on the doors of both Andrew and Rosanna to make certain they were all right, then went to his own room.

  Lying in bed, watching moon patterns on the wall of his room, Falcon had a feeling that, tomorrow, everything would be coming to a head. He would rather Andrew not be with him, but he could understand Andrew’s need to participate. He just hoped that Andrew lived through it.

  “Lord,” he said, praying aloud. “If there is anything to the idea that those who’ve gone on can look down on us and take care of us, I want you to let Pa take particular care of Andrew.”

  It wasn’t until the next morning that a wagon left Gem to bring the albino’s body back. The sign painted on the side of the wagon read: EBENEZER POSEY—MORTUARY SERVICES.

  It was an ordinary farm wagon, pulled by a team of mules, and it was what Ebenezer used when he called for a recently deceased in the home. It wasn’t until afterward, after the embalming and dressing them in their funeral clothes, then putting them in coffins, that he would use the glass-sided, highly polished black hearse. The hearse was pulled by a pair of matching black horses, and Ebenezer would dress in a cutaway jacket, striped pants, ruffled shirt, tie, and high hat to drive it. He only used the hearse if there was to be an actual funeral. And from what he knew of these remains, there would be no funeral, just a burial in poorly marked grave.

  But from the moment Falcon MacCallister approached him about retrieving the body, Ebenezer was more than willing to do it. He had read about the two famous actors being taken from the train. He also knew who Falcon MacCallister was, and by burying one of the men responsible for such a heinous crime, he felt as if he was reaching out to touch history. And, of course, it didn’t hurt that Fa
lcon had paid him generously to see to the body.

  He knew exactly where the body was. It was at the old Dumey house, which was about eight miles west by southwest of Gem. It had been twenty years since anyone had lived in the Dumey house. In fact, one of Ebenezer’s first jobs had been to remove Mrs. Ella Dumey from this very house when she died. She was the last occupant.

  As Ebenezer drove his wagon out to the house, he tried to think of some way he could use this job to his advantage. It was interesting to be a part of history like this, but he wondered if there wasn’t also some way he could profit from it. Maybe he could put the body on display and charge a nickel apiece to anyone who wanted to see it.

  Of course, some would think that was wrong, but it wasn’t like a regular viewing. He was sure that the deceased, whoever he was, would have no family or friends coming to see him. The only people who would be interested would be the morbidly curious, and Ebenezer saw nothing wrong with charging them a small fee.

  He saw the old house as soon as he came over the hill, and he saw buzzards circling about. He hoped they hadn’t torn too much flesh away from the face. It would make it harder for him to prepare the body for viewing.

  As he got a little closer, he picked up a shotgun and fired it toward the buzzards. He didn’t hit any of them, but he wasn’t aiming at them. All he wanted to do was scare them away, and that he did.

  Ebenezer pulled into the yard, set the brake on the wagon, then climbed down to have a look at the body.

  He gasped, not because of anything the buzzards had done, because they had done nothing. It might have been better if they had.

  This man’s face was as white as chalk, and his eyes, which were wide open, were as red as cherries. Ebenezer had seen the pallor of death hundreds of times during his career. But he had never seen anything like what he was looking at now. The sight was so bizarre that it made him shiver.

  “Who’s going to pay to look at something like this?” he asked aloud.

  Then, almost as soon as he asked the question, he had second thoughts. This was not only one of the ones who took the MacCallisters from the train. This fella looked like some sort of monster.

  “Yes,” he said aloud. “As frightening as you look, I’ll just bet folks will come from all around to see you! Why, you could turn into a gold mine!”

  Ebenezer lowered the tailgate of the wagon, then started examining the body to figure out the best way to get him into the wagon. With rigor mortis setting in, it might be easier not to try and lift him, but just grab him by one of his arms and pull him into the wagon.

  “Ha! There’s someone down there! I told you they would be at the old Dumey House,” Luke said as he, Loomis, Seth, Strayhorn, and Logan crested a little hill and the old farmhouse came into view.

  “That ain’t them,” Loomis said.

  “What do you mean it ain’t them? There don’t nobody live at the Dumey house anymore so that has to be them.”

  “Where’d they get the wagon?”

  “Yeah, that’s right,” Strayhorn said. “They didn’t have no wagon.”

  “Well, it’s somebody,” Luke said.

  “Yeah, but who?” Logan asked.

  “When we get down there, don’t nobody do no talkin’ but me,” Loomis ordered.

  Ebenezer had just gotten the body into the back of the wagon, and the tarp pulled over it, when he saw the five riders coming toward him. They were nearly upon him, and he was startled that they had managed to get so close without him seeing them.

  “Good mornin’,” one of the riders said. The man who spoke had a drooping eye and a pockmarked face. “Who might you be?”

  “Good mornin’. Ebenezer Posey is my name. Who are you fellas?”

  “My name’s Jones,” Loomis said. He pointed to the sign on the wagon. “I see you are an undertaker.”

  “Yes, sir, I am.”

  “Do you have a body in the wagon?”

  “Indeed I do, sir. And you may have heard of him.”

  “Really? Who is it? What’s his name?”

  “Oh,” Ebenezer said. “Well, I don’t actually know his name. What I mean when I say you may have heard of him is that he was one of the outlaws who took those famous actors off the train a few days ago. Perhaps you read about it?”

  “Yes, yes, we did read about it.”

  “Well, sir, justice has been done. At least in the case of this one man. Because the MacCallisters are free, and this man, one of their captors, is dead.”

  “Do you think we could take a look at him?” Loomis asked.

  “Well, I—uh,” Ebenezer began. He had planned to charge a nickel apiece for people to view the body, and this would be a chance to try it out. On the other hand, there were five of them, and he was alone, and a long way from town.

  Deciding that discretion was the better part of valor, Ebenezer nodded.

  “I suppose you can,” he said as he pulled the cover down.

  “Damn! It’s the albino!” Logan said.

  Ebenezer squinted in curiosity. “Do you know this man, sir?” he asked.

  “No,” Loomis said, speaking quickly before Logan could answer. “It’s just that the man is an albino. I guess my friend has never seen one before.”

  “Yes,” Ebenezer said, looking at the chalk-white face. “Yes, death does drain one of color, but I must say that, in this case, the result has been quite dramatic. Perhaps he was an albino.”

  “How do you know this is one of the men who took the MacCallisters?” Loomis asked.

  “Oh, the MacCallisters themselves told me,” Ebenezer said. “They, and their brother, came into town last night. Mr. Falcon MacCallister himself made the arrangements. I—uh—didn’t come out until this morning, because I was certain the deceased wouldn’t be going anywhere during the night.”

  Ebenezer chuckled at his own joke, but stopped when he realized that nobody was laughing with him.

  “You said town,” Loomis said. “What town would that be?”

  “Oh, it’s Gem,” Ebenezer said. He pointed. “It’s about seven or eight miles in that direction. You can’t miss it, it’s the only town for miles around. Most folks figured the railroad would come through the town so it built up real quick. Course, the railroad didn’t come through, so now we purt’ near got more buildin’s than we got people.” He chuckled. “I reckon havin’ all them MacCallisters come to town at the same time is about the most excitin’ thing that ever happened to Gem.”

  “Are they still there?” Loomis asked.

  “Yes, sir, they sure are. I think they plan to hang around for a few days until Miss MacCallister is somewhat recovered from her ordeal.”

  “I see. Tell me, is there a saloon in town?”

  “Indeed there is,” Ebenezer said. “It’s called The Farmers’ Dell, and it’s quite good.”

  “Boys, it’s been a long hot ride,” Loomis said. “What do you say we ride into town and have ourselves a few beers?”

  “Have a few beers? Is that all we’re goin’ to do is just have a few beers? What about . . . ?” Logan asked, but a sharp glance from Loomis cut him off.

  Loomis touched the brim of his hat by way of good-bye to Posey, then led the others in the direction of town.

  “I wonder what happened to the albino,” Logan said after they were out of earshot.

  “He got hisself kilt,” Strayhorn replied.

  “Yeah, we could all see that. But the question is, who done it?”

  “What do you mean, who done it? Falcon MacCallister done it,” Loomis said.

  “Could be that one of them actors done it,” Logan said. “If I’d had a chance to talk to that undertaker any longer, I would’a asked him who done it.”

  “You talked too much already,” Loomis said. “It’s a wonder you didn’t give us up when you said that was the albino.”

  “Sorry, Loomis. I guess I just wasn’t thinkin’,” Logan said.

  “What are we goin’ to do when we get to town?” Seth asked.
r />   “We’re goin’ to kill the MacCallisters, take the money, and leave,” Loomis answered.

  “Just like that?”

  “Just like that. You heard what that old coot said about Gem. He said the town is about dried up. Is that right, Luke? You’re from here. What’s Gem like?”

  “Like Posey said, there ain’t much to the town,” Luke said.

  “Sounds like our kind of town,” Loomis said. He smiled. “As a matter of fact, after we get rid of the MacCallisters, we may just take it over. I always wanted me a town.”

  Chapter Twenty-eight

  When Loomis and the others reached the edge of town, they stopped. There was not one soul to be seen.

  “What is this?” Strayhorn asked. “Is this a ghost town?”

  “No,” Loomis said. “Look at the buildings. They all have glass, some of ’em is fresh-painted. This is no ghost town.”

  “Then where at is ever’body?”

  “I don’t know,” Loomis said.

  “I don’t like it. It’s givin’ me the willies,” Logan said.

  “Ever’thing gives you the willies,” Loomis replied, gruffly.

  “Loomis, look!” Strayhorn said.

  Logan pointed to the front of a hardware store. There were six coffins standing up in front of the store. Three of them were closed, and on the front of the closed coffins were three signs:

  DREW TATE

  KELLY TATE

  THE ALBINO

  There were signs on the empty coffins as well. These signs read:

  LOOMIS TATE

  MATT LOGAN

  KEN STRAYHORN

  “What’s going on here?” Loomis shouted, pulling his pistol.

  “They don’t have no coffins for Seth and Luke. They must not know about them,” Strayhorn said.

  “Shut up,” Loomis said.

  “There’s the saloon,” Luke said. “I need a drink.”

  “Get the horses off the street first,” Loomis said.

  “Where?”

  Loomis pointed toward a gap between the apothecary and a feed store. “Take ’em back there,” he said.