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Crusade of Eagles Page 25


  “What about Lucas and Cooper?” Taggart asked.

  “They’re dead.”

  “I know they’re dead, what are we goin’ to do about ’em?”

  “Leave ’em.”

  “We can’t just leave ’em here.”

  “Why not?” Payson replied. “It ain’t goin’ to bother ’em none.”

  Garvey laughed.

  “Come on, let’s go.”

  “What about the wagon?”

  “Burn it.”

  “You sure? We might get somethin’ for it if we took it into town some’ers.”

  “Burn it,” Payson repeated.

  Taggart held a match to the bottom of the canvas cover, and a couple of minutes later, the entire wagon was aflame.

  Matt could no longer hear them. He wasn’t sure if they had actually left, or if they had just pretended to leave, so he stayed where he was, listening to the sound of burning wood, smelling it, and watching the smoke roil into the sky.

  He stayed the rest of that day, then the whole night, then most of the next day. Finally, he decided to take a look, so he came out from the crevice and climbed up on one of the rocks to look down on the scene.

  There was nothing left of the wagon except blackened residue, the iron bands around what had been the wheels, and the chain of the tree. There were five bodies, his mother, father, and sister, as well as the two he had killed. Four of the bodies were on the ground; one was still wedged in the crevice between the rocks.

  Matt started to climb down when he saw another wagon approaching. This wasn’t the kind of wagon he and his family had been traveling in; this wagon was somewhat smaller and squared off with wooden sides. It was making a terrible racket as it rolled across the plains and, as it got closer, he could read the big red sign on the side.

  MOE GOODMAN

  Pots–Pans–Knives & Notions

  Matt slipped back behind the rock and waited until the wagon approached. He watched as it stopped and the driver stared, in shock, at the carnage.

  “Oh, my,” he said, shaking his head. “Oh, my, what has happened here?”

  The driver set the brake, then climbed down from the wagon and walked over to look at the bodies. He examined Matt’s father, then his mother and sister, for a long time. He also looked at Cooper, then took a cursory glance toward Lucas, who was still wedged in the crevice.

  Shaking his head sadly, the driver walked back to his wagon and untied a shovel that hung on the side. He started digging.

  Matt continued to watch for several more minutes; then, deciding that anyone who would take the time to dig a grave for someone that he didn’t even know must be a good man, he climbed down from the rock. He walked up behind the man, who, because of his digging, didn’t notice Matt’s approach.

  “That’s my ma and pa,” he said. “And my sister.”

  Startled by the unexpected appearance, the man jumped and grabbed his chest.

  “Sorry,” Matt said. “Didn’t mean to scare you.”

  “Well, you did, boy, you like to give me a fit,” the man said. His expression softened. “Your ma, pa, and sister, eh?”

  “Yes, sir.”

  “And who might these two be?”

  “They’re the ones I killed,” Matt said.

  The man looked shocked. “You killed?”

  “Yes, sir. I killed ’em.”

  “How old are you, boy?”

  “I’m ten.”

  “What’s your name?”

  “Matt Cavanaugh.”

  “I’m Moe Goodman,” the man said.

  “Thanks for buryin’ my folks.”

  “Seems like the only decent thing to do.”

  “If you’ve got another shovel, I’d like to help dig,” Matt said. “I mean, seein’ as they’re my folks and all.”

  “I can understand that,” Moe said. “And it so happens that I do have another shovel.” Moe walked over to his wagon. He opened the back door, reached inside, and pulled one out. “Brand-new,” he said, “but I reckon using it one time won’t keep me from sellin’ it.”

  Matt took the shovel, and for the next several minutes, the only sound was the sound of the spades turning dirt.

  “I’ll say this for you, Matt,” Moe said, finally breaking the silence.

  “What’s that?”

  “You’ve got yourself one hell of a start in life.”

  PINNACLE BOOKS are published by

  Kensington Publishing Corp.

  850 Third Avenue

  New York, NY 10022

  Copyright © 2007 William W. Johnstone

  All rights reserved. No part of this book may be reproduced in any form or by any means without the prior written consent of the publisher, excepting brief quotes used in reviews.

  PUBLISHER’S NOTE

  Following the death of William W. Johnstone, the Johnstone family is working with a carefully selected writer to organize and complete Mr. Johnstone’s outlines and many unfinished manuscripts to create additional novels in all of his series like The Last Gunfighter, Mountain Man, and Eagles, among others. This novel was inspired by Mr. Johnstone’s superb storytelling.

  If you purchased this book without a cover, you should be aware that this book is stolen property. It was reported as “unsold and destroyed” to the publisher, and neither the author nor the publisher has received any payment for this “stripped book.”

  PINNACLE BOOKS and the Pinnacle logo are Reg. U.S. Pat. & TM Off.

  ISBN: 978-0-7860-1842-0

  ISBN-10: 0-7860-1842-9

  Notes

  1 Rage of Eagles