Pride of Eagles

by William W. Johnstone

  “Prosecution calls Mr. Falcon MacCallister to the stand.”

  Falcon walked to the front of the court, raised his right hand, and was sworn in as a witness.

  “Would you please tell the court in your own words what happened on Thursday, July 17th, of the year current?”

  Falcon told how he had come into the bank with Miss Kathleen Coyle. He said also that the bank was empty except for the bank owner, Mr. Frazier, and the bank teller, Mr. Mitchum.

  “They were standing at the front window, looking at the fire,” Falcon added.

  “And what fire would that be?” Nye asked.

  “The feed store had been set on fire by the bank robbers in order to create a diversion,” Falcon said.

  “Objection, Your Honor, the witness has made a conclusion based on facts not in evidence. We don’t know that the bank robbers started the fire.”

  “Sustained,” Judge Blair said.

  “Mr. MacCallister, how do you know that the bank robbers started the fire?” Nye asked.

  “Purvis told us he started the fire,” Falcon answered.

  “Objection, Your Honor, hearsay,” Norton said.

  “Sustained. The jury will disregard the comment referring to who started the fire. Abandon this particular line of questioning, Mr. Nye.”

  “Yes, Your Honor. Go ahead with your narrative, Mr. MacCallister.”

  “We, that is, Miss Coyle and I, were getting ready to conduct our business, when six masked men came into the bank.”

  “Was Carney one of the six?”

  “He was.”

  “Objection, Your Honor. If the men were masked, how can he be sure Carney was one of them?”

  “That’s a good question, Your Honor,” Nye said. “May I ask that of my witness?”

  “By all means, Mr. Nye.”

  “If the men were masked, how do you know that one of them was Carney?” Nye asked Falcon.

  “Well, for one thing, look at him,” Falcon said. “You don’t see many men as large as he is. And for another, he and Johnny Purvis pulled their masks down while they were in the bank.”

  “So you saw his face during the robbery?”

  “I did.”

  “Withdraw the objection, Your Honor,” Norton said.

  “Good. That saves me the trouble of having to overrule it,” Blair said.

  Falcon continued with his narrative, describing the consternation of the robbers when they learned that the bank didn’t have as much money as they thought it should have. He concluded his testimony with the shooting of Gene Frazier.

  “Mr. MacCallister, did Carney shoot Gene Frazier?”

  “Yes.”

  “Thank you. Your witness, Counselor.”

  Norton approached the witness.

  “Mr. MacCallister, the bank robbery took place on what day?”

  “The 17th of July,” Falcon replied.

  “Is that the first time you ever saw Mr. Carney?”

  “No.”

  “No?”

  “No.”

  “So you had seen him before?”

  “Yes.”

  “Where did you see him?”

  “In the Gold Strike Saloon.”

  “And what was the occasion of that meeting?”

  “I beg your pardon?”

  “The meeting that you and Mr. Carney had in the Gold Strike, prior to the bank robbery. Would you say that the meeting was convivial?”

  Falcon chuckled, then shook his head. “No, I wouldn’t say it was friendly.”

  “In fact, didn’t you and Mr. Carney have an altercation? And didn’t he give you a black eye?”

  “Your Honor, I object!” Nye said. “Whether or not Mr. MacCallister saw Carney before the bank robbery is irrelevant.”

  “I can establish relevancy, Your Honor,” Norton said quickly.

  “Then by all means, Counselor, please do so,” Judge Blair said.

  “It calls into question this witness’s objectivity,” Norton said. “After all, if he had his eye blackened by my client in an episode of fisticuffs, he might be looking for some way of extracting revenge.”

  “You are an idiot, Mr. Norton,” the judge said.

  “I beg your pardon, Your Honor?” Norton replied in a huff.

  “Do you have any idea who Falcon MacCallister is?”

  “I . . . I seem to have heard the name,” Norton said.

  “You seem to have heard the name,” Judge Blair said scornfully. “Well, let me tell you, Mr. Norton, Falcon MacCallister has earned a reputation for honesty and fair play. Based upon what I know about the man, I can say that your worries as to whether or not he is testifying in some manner to seek revenge against Carney is without foundation. The objection is sustained. Go to another line of questioning.”

  “Yes, Your Honor,” Norton said. Then, gathering his composure, Norton continued with his questioning of Falcon.

  “You said that you saw my client shoot Mr. Frazier,” he began.

  “Yes.”

  “Did he, and he alone, shoot Mr. Frazier?”

  “No.”

  “No? What do you mean no? I believe you just stated that you saw him shoot Frazier. Now you say he didn’t?”

  “The question you asked was did he, and he alone, shoot Frazier,” Falcon replied. “The answer is no. All of them were shooting at Mr. Frazier.”

  “All of them were shooting at Mr. Frazier,” Norton said. He walked back to his table and picked up a piece of paper. “Mr. Falcon, I have here the coroner’s report. According to the coroner, Mr. Frazier suffered four bullet wounds.” He looked up from the paper. “I believe you said there were six men in the bank, and all six were shooting?”

  “Yes.”

  “All six were shooting, yet only four bullets hit Mr. Frazier,” Norton said. He continued. “That means at least two of the shooters missed, doesn’t it? And in fact, isn’t it possible that all but one may have missed?”

  “It’s possible, I suppose,” Falcon admitted.

  “What is impossible is that all six shooters hit him.”

  “Obviously, not all six shooters hit him.”

  “Obviously,” Norton repeated. “All right, let us, for the sake of argument, say that four of the shooters hit him. One bullet struck Mr. Frazier in the lung and, according to the coroner, would probably have proven to be fatal. Another struck him in the abdomen, which may have been fatal. A third struck him in the arm and would not have been fatal. A fourth struck him in the forehead and, according to the coroner, it was this shot that killed him.”

  Norton put the paper down. “Did Mr. Carney fire the shot that hit Mr. Frazier in the head?”

  “I don’t know,” Falcon answered.

  “No, of course there is no way you could know that, is there? Did he fire the shot that hit him in the lung?”

  “I don’t know.”

  “Did he fire the shot that hit Mr. Frazier in the abdomen?”

  “I don’t know.”

  “Did Mr. Carney fire the shot that hit Mr. Frazier in the arm?”

  “I don’t know,” Falcon repeated for the fourth time.

  “Indeed, sir, the truth is, you can’t even testify as to whether or not the bullet my client fired hit Mr. Frazier at all, can you?”

  “No,” Falcon said.

  “Let me ask you this, Mr. MacCallister. Given the testimony we have just heard, if you were sitting in the jury, could you say, without a shadow of a doubt, that Mr. Carney killed Mr. Frazier?”

  “Objection, Your Honor, calls for a conclusion,” Nye said.

  “Sustained. You do not need to answer that, Mr. MacCallister, and the jury is instructed to draw no inference from the question.”

  “Your Honor, I have no further questions of this witness,” Norton said.

  “Redirect?” the judge asked.

  “Mr. MacCallister, can you state, from observable fact, that Carney was shooting?”

  “Yes, he was shooting,” Falcon answered.

  �
�I’m sure the jury knows, and if they do not know, I will remind them during my summation, that in the commission of a felony, all participants are equally guilty,” Nye said. He walked over to the exhibit table and picked up the coronor’s report. “So you see, it doesn’t matter which one of these bullets came from Carney’s gun . . . or indeed . . . if any of them came from his gun.”

  Nye sat down.

  “Witness is excused,” Judge Blair said.

  Falcon took his seat beside Kathleen. “Whew,” he said, shaking his head. “I sure hope you do better than I did.”

  Kathleen mumbled something, but didn’t look directly at him.

  “Prosecution calls Miss Kathleen Coyle,” Nye said.

  After being sworn in, Kathleen took her seat. At the beginning, her testimony was very much like Falcon’s. She told of going to the bank to make a deposit for the Gold Strike. She also told of seeing the fire, and seeing Frazier and Mitchum standing by the window, watching the fire.

  “And then what happened?” Nye asked.

  “Well, like Mr. MacCallister said, six masked men came into the bank.”

  “Was Mr. Carney one of the six?” Nye asked.

  Kathleen nodded. “Yes.”

  “And you know this because at one point during the robbery he pulled his mask down?”

  “Yes.”

  “Did you see Mr. Frazier get killed?”

  “Yes.”

  “How was he killed?”

  Kathleen was quiet for a long moment and Nye, who had looked toward the jury to gauge their reaction to her testimony, turned back toward her when he realized that she had gone a long time without answering the question.

  “Miss Coyle?” He said. “Can you tell us what happened?”

  “I don’t know. It all happened so fast, it was all so confusing with everyone shooting. I mean, I know it was an accident and he was only trying to help, but I think it is entirely possible that Mr. Frazier was killed by a bullet from Mr. MacCallister’s gun.”

  “What?” Falcon shouted, leaping from his seat.

  “Order!” Judge Blair shouted, banging his gavel on the desk. “Order!”

  Twenty-two

  When the jury was dismissed for deliberation, Falcon turned to Kathleen.

  “Kathleen, how could you possibly say that one of my bullets might have killed Frazier? I wasn’t even shooting. You know my gun was in the spittoon.”

  “But you were shooting,” Kathleen said. “You killed Jerry Snyder that morning, and you wounded Will.”

  “Yes, but that was afterward,” Falcon said. “That took place on the street in front of... who’s Will?”

  “Hey!” someone shouted. “The jury is comin’ back.”

  “What do you mean, comin’ back? They just left,” another said.

  Everyone in the gallery looked toward the side door and saw Ed Wales, the jury foreman, coming back in. They also saw a tall man with dark eyes and a black, sweeping mustache with him. Johnny Purvis was holding a pistol to Wales’s head.

  “Order in the court!” Johnny shouted. Then he laughed a high-pitched, almost insane giggle. “Order in the court,” he repeated. “I’ve always wanted to do that. Ever’body sit down now!”

  “How dare you come into my court!” Judge Blair shouted angrily.

  “How dare I? Because I’m holdin’ a gun to this man’s head, that’s how dare I,” Johnny said. “Now, when I said for ever’body to sit down, that means you too, Judge. Sit down now, or I’ll blow this man’s head off!”

  “I knew you’d come for me, Johnny!” Carney said.

  “We’re family, Carney, and family always sticks together. Ain’t that right, Girly?” he said to Kathleen.

  Kathleen didn’t answer.

  Johnny pushed Wales in ahead of him. There was another man behind him.

  “Poke, give your gun to Carney,” Johnny ordered the man behind him.

  “What? What do you mean, give my gun to him? What am I goin’ to use?”

  “Girly, get the sheriff’s gun and bring it to Poke,” Johnny ordered.

  “Keep her out of it, Purvis,” Falcon said. “She doesn’t have anything to do with this.”

  “It’s all right, Falcon, I’ll do it,” Kathleen said. “There have been enough people killed already. I don’t want anyone else to get hurt.”

  Kathleen got up from her seat in the gallery and walked over to Sheriff Gibson to relieve him of his gun.

  “Be careful with that, Miss Coyle,” Sheriff Gibson said as she took the gun from him.

  “I will be,” Kathleen said in a quiet, hesitant voice.

  Holding the pistol by her thumb and forefinger, Kathleen took it over to Johnny, then held it out toward him. The gallery looked on in fear and nervousness.

  Johnny shook his head. “No, don’t give it to me. You take the gun, Poke.”

  Poke walked over to Kathleen. “Give me that!” he growled at her, jerking the gun away from her.

  Falcon pointed to Johnny. “I’m warning you, Purvis,” he shouted angrily. “Don’t you hurt that girl!”

  Johnny smiled, then put his arm around her and pulled her to him. He kissed her on the cheek, and to Falcon’s shocked surprise, Kathleen kissed him back. The rest of the gallery gasped in surprise as well.

  “Now, tell me, MacCallister,” Johnny said to Falcon. “Just why would me ’n Carney want to hurt our sister?”

  “Your sister?” Falcon asked in a shocked voice.

  Johnny nodded. “Yep. Girly is our sister. Her real name is Kathleen, but me an’ Carney has always called her Girly. Right, Girly?”

  Kathleen said nothing, but she continued to look at Falcon with what looked like an expression of shame and contrition.

  “Oh, and that business up in Miles City where I broke into her room? We set that up just so’s she could get close to you. And the whole reason she took a job here in the saloon was so’s she could help set everything up for us to rob the bank. Only thing is, we didn’t know nothin’ about there not bein’ no money there yet.” Johnny laughed out loud. “The money didn’t get there till today.”

  “You son of a bitch!” Sheriff Gibson shouted out loud. “Are you saying you robbed the bank today?”

  “Yep, while you folks was all busy with the trial, we was busy robbin’ the bank. Pretty smart, huh? One hunnert and eleven thousand dollars we got,” Johnny said. “Not as much as I thought, but you got to admit, that’s not bad. Come on, Carney and Girly. Poke, you keep this fella covered till we get out of here.”

  “Don’t worry, I got ’im,” Poke said.

  Poke stepped up behind the frightened Wales and pointed his pistol at his head.

  Johnny Purvis, Carney, Kathleen, and Poke started to leave. As they passed by Falcon, Sheriff Gibson, who was on the opposite side of the room, suddenly threw a chair through the window.

  Distracted by it, Poke looked toward the sound. As he did so, Falcon pushed the jury foreman out of the way, then jumped Poke and grabbed his gun. They struggled for the gun and it went off.

  “Oh!” Kathleen shouted. “Johnny, I’ve been shot!” She fell.

  Carney looked back toward her and stopped.

  “Come on, Carney, let’s get out of here!”

  “Girly’s been shot,” Carney said.

  “Let’s get out of here!” Johnny repeated. Johnny shot back into the courtroom, and everyone screamed and yelled and fell to the floor.

  “I’ll kill the first man that sticks his head out the door!” he shouted.

  During this time the struggle between Falcon and Poke continued; then there was a second shot, muffled because it was at point-blank range.

  Falcon backed away, now with the gun in his hand. As Poke went down, clutching the wound in his stomach, Falcon ran to the front door.

  Johnny, Carney, and the three who had waited out front were gone, leaving Kathleen and Poke behind them.

  “Damn!” Falcon said angrily.

  Falcon went back into the courthouse. The
doctor, who had come to see the trial, was kneeling beside Kathleen.

  “How bad is she?” Falcon asked.

  The doctor looked up at Falcon, and though he said nothing, he made a small, barely perceptible shake of his head.

  “Falcon,” Kathleen said in a weak voice.

  Falcon knelt beside her.

  “I’m sorry,” she said. “They were my brothers. We had different fathers, but the same mother. Johnny Purvis and Will Carney raised me. I . . . I had to do it.”

  Falcon didn’t say anything.

  “All the killing,” she said. “Poor Mr. Keith and Mr. Garrison, Mr. Mitchum, and Gordon. I . . . I had no idea they would be doing anything like that. I’m so sorry . . . I didn’t know.”

  “Was anyone hurt when Purvis shot into the courthouse?” Falcon asked.

  “No,” the doctor said. “The only other one is the man you struggled with, and he’s dead.”

  “Falcon, do you . . . do you really think I could have made it on the stage in New York?” Kathleen asked, her voice growing weaker.

  “I’m sure you could have,” Falcon said.

  “That would have really been something,” she said. “Johnny and Will laughed at me for it. But that would have really been some . . .” she breathed her last.

  “Go after them, Falcon,” Kohrs said. “Don’t worry about the cattle. For you, I will get some prime stock, and at a good price.”

  Falcon nodded. He knew and trusted Kohrs, and if Kohrs said he would get prime stock at a good price, Falcon could take that to the bank.

  “Thanks,” Falcon said.

  “Falcon?” Sheriff Gibson said.

  Falcon looked up and saw that the sheriff was holding his guns out to him.

  Falcon gave the sheriff’s pistol back to him; then he took his own Colt and slipped it into his holster. After that, he took the derringer and pushed it down into the top of his boot.

  “I know you aren’t much for badges,” Gibson said. “But in front of these witnesses, I’m deputizing you. It’ll keep you legal, at least as long as you are in Albany County.”

  “I’m not going to stop at the county line,” Falcon said.

  Gibson nodded. “Nor would I expect you to.”

  “I’ll just be getting my things; then I’m going after them.”

  * * *

  Back in his room at the boardinghouse, Falcon changed from the black suit and white shirt he had worn during the court case into trail clothes of jeans, long-sleeved shirt, and vest. He put his hat on, and was just tying up his bedroll when he heard the door open behind him.