Caldwell laughed to ease the tension, then the others laughed as well.
“To answer your question,” Luke said. “It’ll be tomorrow, over in a place called MacCallister.”
MacCallister, Colorado, the next day
The Reverend Charles Powell and his wife, Claudia, were standing outside the bank when the teller, Clyde Barnes, opened the door to let them in.
“Good morning, Brother Powell, good morning, Mrs. Powell,” the teller greeted. “You’re here awfully early today. You must have some important business to attend to.”
“More pleasure than business,” Powell said. “We’re going to Denver to see our new great-granddaughter, and I thought we might need a little walking around money.”
“Walking around money? You mean you are going to walk to Denver? You aren’t taking the train?” Barnes teased.
For a moment Powell didn’t get it, then when he did, he laughed out loud.
“No train for us. I figured Claudia and I would just walk along the track ’til we got there,” Powell said. “No, sir, who needs an old, loud, smelly train?” He laughed again.
“You aren’t going to miss the dedication of Colonel MacCallister’s statue, are you?” Barnes asked.
“Oh, goodness no. I wouldn’t miss that for the world,” Reverend Powell said. “But that’s some time away, yet. We’ll be back in plenty of time for that.”
“I didn’t think you would want to miss it. I’ve heard you are giving the invocation.”
“I will be giving it, and mighty proud to do so,” Reverend Powell said.
“Come on up to the window, Reverend, and I’ll give you your money. Have you drawn the draft yet?”
“Yes, I have it right here,” Reverend Powell said, pulling the draft from his pocket.
“Well then, we’ll have you out of here in no time.”
Suddenly the front door burst open and five men came charging into the bank. All five had their guns drawn, and they were so sure of themselves, that none of them were wearing masks. One of them had only one eye, and Mrs. Powell had to turn her head away in revulsion, rather than look directly at him.
“Everybody, get your hands up!” one of the men shouted. He was a small man, but the gun in his hand made him look big enough. “This is a bank robbery. Teller, get behind the cage and give us all the money you got!”
Barnes stepped around behind the counter, opened his drawer, and pulled out a couple hundred dollars. He handed it through the window to the robbers.
“What is this?” the small man asked. “Are you tellin’ me this is all the money you’ve got in this bank?”
“There is more money in the safe, but it’s locked and I don’t have the combination,” Barnes said. “Mr. Dempster only lets me have what he thinks I’ll need durin’ the day.”
The leader of the group, the one who had given the teller his orders, turned his pistol on Claudia Powell and pulled the trigger. The woman let out a cry of pain, then fell.
“Now, you open that safe or someone else dies,” the little man with the big gun said.
“What have you done?” Reverend Powell shouted. Even though he was unarmed, he started toward the shooter.
Calmly, and without changing the expression on his face, the little man fired again, and the good reverend went down, collapsing on the floor next to his wife. At that moment a young woman came into the bank, and the little man pointed his pistol toward her.
“No!” Barnes shouted. “Please, don’t shoot her! That’s my wife! I’ll get the money for you!”
The small, evil man smiled. “So, you’ve suddenly remembered the combination to the safe, have you?”
“Yes, Mr. Mueller. Please, no more shooting.”
“Luke, the son of a bitch knows us,” one of the other men said. He was only a little taller than Luke.
Luke smiled. “What can I tell you, Clete? When you get as good at something as we are, people learn your name.”
“That ain’t good, is it?”
“It ain’t all bad. If the law in this one horse town knows that it was the Mueller brothers who held up the bank, they’ll be too scared to come after us.”
Barnes returned from the safe, carrying a sack.
“This is it,” he said. “This is all the money the bank has.”
“Open the top. Let me look down inside,” Luke Mueller said.
Barnes opened the top, disclosing several bound packets of twenty dollar bills.
“Now, that’s more like it,” Mueller said. He smiled, then took the bag. “It’s been a real pleasure doing business with you,” he said.
Chapter Two
The metal bit jangled against the horse’s teeth. The horse’s hooves clattered on the hard rock and the leather saddle creaked beneath the weight of its rider.
When Falcon MacCallister rode into town just before noon, he knew something had happened. It wasn’t due to some sort of psychic perception, though the clues were so subtle that there are many who would not have picked up on them.
Nobody was pitching horseshoes alongside Sikes’s Hardware Store.
No one was playing checkers in front of Boots and Saddles.
There were no clusters of women shoppers, standing on the corners, laughing and talking.
In fact there was a pall hanging over the town that was palpable. Wondering what was going on, Falcon stopped in front of the sheriff’s office, swung down from his horse, tied it off, and stepped inside. The sheriff and two of his deputies were looking at a map they had spread out on a table.
“Good morning, Amos,” Falcon said, greeting the newly elected sheriff, Amos Cody.
“Ah, Mr. MacCallister, am I glad to see you,” the young sheriff said.
“I keep telling you, Amos, to call me Falcon.”
“Yes, sir, I know you do, but it’s just that I grew up hearin’ about your pa’s exploits, then yours. Well, it just seems hard.”
“You are making me feel very old, Amos,” Falcon said. He glanced out the window and saw a little cluster of people engaged in an intense conversation. The somber expressions on their faces reinforced his feeling that something bad had happened.
“What’s going on, Sheriff?”
“You mean you haven’t heard?”
“No, I haven’t.”
“The bank was robbed this morning,” Amos said.
“And the Reverend Powell and his wife was murdered,” Deputy Bates added. Bates was a lot older than the young sheriff, and had been a deputy for many years.
“What?” Falcon said in surprise and anger. “Brother Charles and Sister Claudia have been killed?”
“Yes, they were in the bank when it was robbed.”
“But I don’t understand. Why were they killed?”
Sheriff Cody shook his head. “Who knows?”
“It was Luke and Clete Mueller,” Deputy Bates said. “From all I’ve heard about them two, they don’t really need no reason. Accordin’ to Clyde Barnes, the Powells were just standing there in the bank when the robbers came in. Next thing you know, Luke Mueller shot them. Then they got away, clean as a whistle.”
“The Mueller brothers, you say?”
“Yes. And three others,” Sheriff Cody said.
“Have you ever run across the Mueller brothers?” Bates asked.
“No.”
Bates smiled. “I didn’t reckon you had. ’Cause if you had, both them bastards would be dead by now.”
“Who were the other three?” Falcon asked.
Sheriff Cody shook his head. “We don’t know. Barnes recognized the Muellers, but he had never seen any of the others.”
“Are you going after them?”
“By now, they have more than likely left the county,” Sheriff Cody said. “Even if I found them, I would have to work with the sheriff of that county. But you hold a special deputy’s commission from the governor, which gives you authority all over the state. I was hoping you might take a personal interest in this. Reverend Powell was a fr
iend of yours, wasn’t he?”
“Yes, he was a close friend. He did the funeral for my mother and my father, and he baptized nearly every one of my nieces and nephews. I guess I’ve known the Reverend and Mrs. Powell for just about all my life. They were among the earliest settlers of the valley, and they were good people.”
“He had already retired when I came here,” Sheriff Cody said. “But I knew him, of course, and from what I knew of him, he was a good person. I heard that he could give one stem-winder of a sermon.”
“Yes, he could,” Falcon said. He remembered, as a young boy, sometimes getting very impatient with the length of the good parson’s sermons. Falcon was usually anxious to get to a fishing pond or some such place, and he would squirm until his mother or one of his older sisters would fix him with a steely glare.
“Did anyone see them leave? Do we know which way they were going?” Falcon asked.
“Yes, we had quite a few people who saw them ride out of town. The only thing we know for sure is they were headin’ east when they left here. Bates and I went out lookin’ for ’em, but didn’t see anything.
“I know you probably have other things to do, but I was hopin’ you’d take a look around for us, see what you could come up with.”
“Sheriff, they killed two people who were as close as family to me. I would go after those men whether you asked me to or not. Yes, I will find them.”
It did not escape Sheriff Cody’s attention that Falcon said I “will find” them, rather than I “will go after” them.
“Thanks,” Sheriff Cody said.
“I told you he would,” Bates said with a smile of smug satisfaction on his face.
“Good, good. So, what do we do next? What can I do to help you?”
“The teller was the only witness?” Falcon asked.
“Clyde Barnes was the only witness to the actual hold up, though several saw them riding out of town.”
“Let’s start with Barnes,” Falcon suggested.
For the next half hour, Falcon gathered as much information as he could about the robbers.
“Well, you know what the Muellers look like, don’t you?” Barnes said. “I guess just about ever’ one knows what they look like. They’re little short, dried up, evil looking men. As for the others, one of them has only one eye. That’s his left eye. There is nothing but a big old ugly mass of purple flesh where the right eye was. And another one had only three fingers on his left hand. Don’t know as I saw anything particular about the third man, I mean, he was pretty ordinary as men go.”
“What about their horses?” Falcon asked.
Barnes shook his head. “I didn’t see them. I’m sorry.”
“That’s all right,” Falcon said. “You’ve given me a good description of the men. It will be very helpful.”
At least half a dozen citizens who had seen the bank robbers ride out of town at breakneck speed reported two were riding roans, one was riding a black horse, one a white horse, and one was riding a paint. Falcon examined the ground where the horses had been tied up outside the bank and saw something that made him smile. One of the horses had a tie-bar shoe on his right forefoot.
Riding out to the east end of town, he looked around until he found that same tie-bar. He chuckled. They may as well have left behind a series of arrow shaped signs reading, WE WENT THIS WAY.
Somewhat farther into the trail, Falcon realized the Mueller brothers weren’t going to make it as easy as he first thought. They had been on the run for nearly all their adult life, so they knew how to confuse and disorient anyone who might be tracking them. They took great pains to cover their true trail, while leaving false trails for anyone to follow. To that end they rode through streams and over hard rock, trying every trick in the book to throw off anyone who might be following them. But Falcon hung on doggedly.
In trying to shake off anyone who might be following them, the Mueller brothers and their cohorts were actually helping Falcon. Since it was always the same five horses who broke the trail, he had a way of identifying each of them, not just the one with the tie-bar shoe. One of the horses had a slight turn-in of its right rear hoof. Two of the horses had noticeable nicks in their shoes, one on the left rear and the other on both rear shoes. Only one horse had no noticeable features and that, in itself, became a way of identifying it. In addition, all the horses had grazed together for the last few days, because their droppings were filled with the same kind of wild, mountain meadow grass.
“Whoever that feller is that’s a’ doggin’ us is still on our trail,” Terrell said.
Luke twisted around in his saddle. “Are you sure?”
“Hell yes, I’m sure. I just got me a glimpse of ’im on the other side of that far ridge.”
“That makes ’im a little more’n a mile back.”
“Ain’t they no way we can shake ’im?” Caldwell asked.
“You got ’ny ideas that we ain’t tried?” Luke replied. “We done ever’thing I can think of, an’ it ain’t even slowed ’im down none.”
“Whoever the hell he is, I swear, he could track a fish through water,” Poole said.
“I tell you what we ought to do,” Clete said.
“All right, brother, let me hear your idea.”
“We ought to just wait behind a couple rocks and shoot him, soon as he comes up on us.”
“If I thought for certain we would get ’im, I’d be all for it,” Luke said. “But we’re not likely to get a clean shot at ’im out here.”
The five men had stopped for a few minutes, not only to discuss the situation of the man on their trail, but also to give their horses a breather. All five were looking back, trying to get a glimpse of the man who was following them. When Luke turned back around, he chuckled.
“I got me an idea,” he said.
“What’s that?”
Luke pointed to a narrow draw in front of them. “If we can get through that draw, he’ll have to follow through.”
“So?”
“Look at them rocks up on the top there, on the right hand side. Do you see ’em?”
“I see ’em.”
“If we push the rocks down, it’ll block the draw and he can’t get through,” Luke said.
“Hell, why don’t we just wait until he gets into the draw, then push them rocks down on him?” Clete asked.
“Yeah, all right, we can try it,” Luke said. “Come on, let’s hurry through the draw.”
Fifteen minutes later, Falcon reached the spot where the five men had halted. He could tell by the tracks they had stopped there for a few minutes, and he could also tell they had left the spot at a gallop.
Why?
What would cause them, out there in the middle of nowhere, to suddenly break into a gallop?
Looking ahead, he saw the trail led to a very narrow draw. Slapping his legs against the side of his horse, he urged the animal on.
“Here he comes,” Luke said. “Get ready.
Clete and the others got in position behind the rocks and waited.
“Now!” Luke shouted. “Now!”
The word rolled down from the top of the rock wall, amplified by the narrow confines of the wall. The word itself got Falcon’s attention, and he jerked his horse to a stop. Then, he heard the scrape and clatter of rocks, followed by the thunder of a rockslide. Glancing up, it looked as if the entire wall was collapsing right on him.
“Ha!” Luke shouted. “We got him! There ain’t no way he got out of that!”
Clete, Terrell, Caldwell, and Poole stepped up alongside Luke to look down into the draw. They saw nothing but a large pile of rocks on the floor below.
“Who was it, do you reckon?” Poole asked.
Luke shook his head. “I don’t have no idée,” he said. “Prob’ly some deputy or somethin’. Whoever it was, it don’t make no never mind now, ’cause he’s deader than a doornail.”
“Ha!” Poole said. “And we’ve got away clean as a whistle.”
“Yeah, what say w
e divide up our money now, and each one of us go on our different way?” Caldwell said.
“Not yet,” Luke replied.
“What do you mean, not yet? Why not?”
“If they was one deputy comin’ after us, there’s just as likely to be another one. Or maybe two or three more. We’d be better off all stickin’ together ’til we’re sure.”
From the moment he heard the word Now, Falcon was on the alert. Jerking his horse around, he was at a full gallop by the time the rocks began falling, and well clear of the draw by the time the rocks started piling up on the floor below. Turning back toward the draw, he watched the dust rise as the rocks closed the passage.
Fortunately he had been there many times, and he knew another way around. Coming out on the other side no more than half an hour later, he picked up their tracks immediately. Thinking they were in the clear, they no longer made an effort to hide their trail. They were heading in a straight line for the little town of Black Hawk.
The sun went behind the clouds just before noon, and the clouds thickened and darkened.
“Purty soon it’s goin’ to commence to rainin’ here like pourin’ piss out of a boot. And we’re goin’ to be right in the middle of it,” Terrell said.
“What if it does rain? You ain’t made of sugar,” Clete said. “You ain’t goin’ to melt.”
Poole laughed. “You ain’t made of sugar,” he repeated. “I like that.”
“I ain’t goin’ to melt, that’s true,” Terrell said. “But it ain’t goin’ to be none too comfortable bein’ out here in it, neither.”
“Let the rain come,” Luke said. “The more rain the better.”
“What do you mean?”
“Think about it, Terrell. If anybody else is on our trail, why this rain will wash out all the tracks,” Luke said.
Terrell was quiet for a moment, then he nodded. “Yeah,” he said. He laughed. “Yeah, that’s right, ain’t it? It would wash out all our tracks. Hell, I say, let the rain come.”
“Not yet,” Luke said.
“What do you mean, not yet? You just said the rain would wash out all our tracks, didn’t you?”
Slaughter of Eagles Page 2
