Slaughter of Eagles

by William W. Johnstone

  “Did you hear what I said? I said this man just killed Cory Minner,” the marshal said.

  “I heard you say that, Marshal, but it must have been a fair fight. Otherwise the two of you wouldn’t have come just walkin’ in like that. You’d have him in shackles or something. Also,” Forbis pointed to Falcon’s belt, “he wouldn’t still be wearin’ his gun. So I figure the killin’ must have been legal.”

  “It was legal, all right,” the marshal growled. “But that don’t mean I gotta like it.” Cairns sat down at his desk, then opened a ledger book and picked up a pen and quill. “All right, for the record, tell me what happened.”

  “I saw a man threaten to shoot a boy in the back. I called out to him, and he turned his gun on me, fired at me, and I shot back.”

  “And killed Corey Minner.”

  “That was the whole idea of shooting at him, Marshal.”

  “Well, you needn’t be so haughty about it, mister. Shootin’ out there on the depot platform like you done, you could’a hit anybody.”

  Falcon shook his head. “I wasn’t aiming at anybody. I was aiming at Corey Minner.”

  “Hell, Marshal Cairns, what are you ragging him for? In my book, anybody that killed Corey Minner ought to get a medal. He was the biggest no-count in Maricopa County, and you know it,” the deputy said.

  “Well, it ain’t your book we’re concerned about, is it, Deputy?” Cairns replied. “When you get right down to it, it’s the judge’s book, and I’m just tryin’ to get the story straight so as to satisfy the judge, that’s all.” Continuing his questioning, Cairns turned his attention back to Falcon. “When you called out to him, was you holdin’ a gun?”

  “My gun was in the holster. I think the witnesses will verify that.”

  “You are talking about the feller Joe Henry that no one has ever heard of?”

  “He was one of the witnesses, yes. In fact, he was the one that Minner was about to shoot, before I butted in.”

  “Butted in, yes, that’s a good way to put it. You butted in where you had no business buttin’ in.”

  “If I hadn’t butted in, he would have shot the boy. You heard the others testify to that.”

  Cairns sighed, made the entry, then put the pen down. “Yeah, I heard ’em,” he said. “Let me ask you this, MacCallister. How come I haven’t met you before? How long you been in town?”

  “I just arrived on the train.”

  “Damn. You just arrived and you kill somebody the first minute you are in town. I sure as hell hope you don’t plan to stay long.”

  “Only long enough to find a young woman and take her back to her parents.”

  “Oh? And what young woman would that be?”

  “It’s someone you know, I believe. Her name is Janelle Wellington.”

  “Janelle Wellington?” the marshal said with a harsh, barking laugh. “Ha! I know her all right. But if you do find her, you won’t be takin’ her back to her parents. You’ll be turnin’ her over to me.”

  “Yes, I saw that you have paper on her, alleging that she murdered someone.”

  “Alleging? I ain’t alleging a damn thing. She shot down Mr. Montgomery in cold blood,” Cairns said.

  “I have to say from everything I have heard about her, it really doesn’t seem possible she would be the kind to shoot someone,” Falcon said.

  Cairn’s eyes narrowed. “You callin’ me a liar, MacCallister?”

  “I’m just suggesting your information might be wrong.”

  “It ain’t wrong, because I seen her do it my ownself. She was trying to rob the bank, and she killed the banker, C. D. Montgomery.”

  “You’re sure we’re talking about the same woman? I mean with her background, it seems unlikely she would be robbing a bank. Her father is a very wealthy man. If she needed money all she would have to do is ask. The thought of her murdering anyone is even more unlikely.”

  “Is the Janelle Wellington you are looking for a pretty woman? And is she from New York?” the marshal asked.

  “I’ve never seen her, but they say she is pretty. And yes, she is from New York.”

  “Then we are talking about the same woman. So if you find her, you have to turn her over to me. That’s the law.”

  “And you know all about the law, don’t you?”

  “Yeah, I’m the city marshal here.”

  “And before you became city marshal, you were a deputy to Wyatt Earp?”

  “That’s right,” Cairns said. He squinted at Falcon. “How did you know that?”

  “It’s just something I heard.”

  “Have you ever met Wyatt Earp?”

  “I’ve heard a lot about him,” Falcon said, purposely making his answer nonspecific.

  “What have you heard?”

  “I’ve heard he likes to play cards, has a lot of loyalty to his brothers and friends, and that he is a very good lawman.”

  Cairns nodded. “Yep. Ever’thing you just said about him is true, all right. I know, ’cause, like you say, I oncet deputied for him.”

  “Where was that?”

  “Beg pardon?

  “Where did you deputy for Wyatt Earp?”

  “It was in Wichita,” Cairns replied. “Why is it you are askin’ me all these here questions? What difference does it make to you?”

  “No particular reason. It’s just that I heard a story once, about something that happened in Wichita. You being Wyatt’s deputy, I thought maybe you would know a little something about it.”

  “What’s the story?”

  “It seems that a fellow was about to repossess an unpaid for piano from a whorehouse,” Falcon said. “But a lot of drovers got angry about it, so in order to keep the peace, Wyatt Earp paid for the piano himself.”

  Cairns chuckled. “Yep, that’s true all right. I was standin’ right there by his side when it happened.”

  Falcon stared at Cairns for a long moment. “Of course, I’ve also heard another story about that same event,” he said.

  “What story is that?”

  “Well, the other story I heard was that Wyatt Earp was the one who was going to repossess the piano. The drovers had to put up the money to keep it from being taken away and that made them mad. A group of almost fifty armed cowboys gathered across the river from Wichita, planning to come into town and raise hell. But Wyatt Earp stood right in the middle of the bridge and single handedly talked those cowboys into withdrawing, without so much as one shot being fired.”

  “Yeah,” Cairns said. “That’s the way it was.”

  “Which is the way it was, Marshal? I’ve told you two different stories, and you have agreed with both of them.”

  “I don’t know,” Cairns said, clearly agitated. “That was a long time ago. How am I expected to remember ever’thing that happened that long ago?”

  “Oh, I’m sure it’s quite hard to remember, so much has happened since then.”

  “Yeah, a lot has happened,” Cairns said. He closed the ledger. “I’ve got ever’thing I need from you now. You’re free to go.”

  “Do I need to stay around town for an inquest?”

  “Ain’t goin’ to be no inquest,” Cairns said. “I’m through with you now.”

  “Thanks, I’ll be on my way then.”

  Falcon started toward the door but before he reached it, Cairns called out to him. “MacCallister?”

  Falcon turned back. “Yeah?”

  “About you lookin’ for that woman, Janelle Wellington? You are free to look for her but like I said, if you find her, you bring her back to me. You got that? She’s a wanted murderer, and I intend to see that she hangs for it.”

  Falcon nodded, but said nothing as he stepped onto the boardwalk that passed by the front of the marshall’s office. He’d had his suspicions about the man who was calling himself Jimmy Cairns, ever since he had spoken with Troy Calhoun, back in Flagstaff. That was why he set the trap with the story about the piano in the whorehouse. It was the second story that was true, not the first. F
alcon had not been there, but his brother Matthew had, and told him all about it.

  Falcon did not know who the man claiming to be Jimmy Cairns was, but he knew who he was not. He was not Jimmy Cairns, and Falcon planned to keep his eye on him. Leaving the marhsal’s office, he walked down Central toward to the railroad depot to claim his horse. Then, he rode to the livery stable, not only to board his horse, but also to see why the young man Joe Henry had not come to give a statement for him.

  Janelle, riding Prince John and carrying a few bags of food furnished by Housewright, rode away from town. She headed toward Superstition Mountain. Once beyond the last structure, she leaned over and patted the horse’s neck a few times.

  “Prince John, I’m sorry I had to lie to Mr. Housewright like that, but I couldn’t very well tell him who I really am, could I? When you think about it, I didn’t really lie. I said I knew Janelle Wellington, and I do.” She chuckled at the private joke.

  “It’s just that I had to get away from town before I had an encounter with the marshal. While the disguise is working pretty well, I wouldn’t want to give that evil man the opportunity to get close enough to see through it. Now, what do you say we have us a little run?”

  Janelle slapped her legs against Prince John’s sides and let him gallop for at least a mile. The further away from town she got, the safer she felt. Her only regret was that she had not been able to testify for the man who had saved her life. From the immediate reaction of the other witnesses, she was certain Falcon MacCallister would get all the exculpatory testimony he might need to stay out of trouble.

  Chapter Twenty-three

  When Falcon stepped into the livery, he saw a short, slender man rubbing down a horse. “Would you be Mr. Housewright?”

  “That’s right. What can I do for you?”

  “A couple of things,” Falcon replied. “For one, I would like to board my horse with you.”

  “That’ll be twenty cents a day. Thirty cents a day if I have to feed him.”

  “By all means, feed him,” Falcon said, handing the reins over.

  “Good lookin’ horse,” Housewright said, patting the horse’s neck. “He don’t look like he’s been rode hard.”

  “Hasn’t been ridden at all. We just arrived on the train.”

  “Did you now? I heard there was a shootin’ down there shortly after the train arrived. Did you happen to see it?”

  “I saw it.”

  “The feller that got hisself kilt—a real lowlife he was. Don’t know nothin’ ’bout the feller that kilt him, but if it was up to me, he’d get a medal. Oh, you said there was a couple of things you wanted. Besides the horse, what else was it?”

  “I’m looking for a young man, not much more than a boy really, who works here. At least, I think he works here.”

  “You’d be talkin’ about Joe Henry, I reckon.”

  “Yes. I’d like to see him, if you don’t mind.”

  “I don’t mind a’tall, but he don’t work here no more,” Housewright said.

  “But I just saw him. He said he was picking up a horse for you.”

  “Yes, sir, he done that all right. Fact is, he picked it up from Corey Minner, the feller that got hisself kilt. But, it’s like I said, mister, Joe don’t work here no more. He quit, no more’n fifteen minutes ago. Why are you so interested in him?”

  “He was a witness to the shooting,” Falcon said. “He said he would make a statement to the marshal for me.”

  “What do you mean, make a statement to the marshal for you?” Housewright asked. “Why would you be needin’ a statement?”

  “I’m the one that shot Corey Minner.”

  A broad smile spread across Housewright’s face. “You would be Falcon MacCallster, wouldn’t you?”

  “Yes.”

  Housewright stuck his hand out, then pulled it back and wiped it off before sticking it out again. “Mr. MacCallister, I would like to shake your hand.”

  Falcon accepted the proffered handshake.

  “Sorry the boy didn’t come sign a statement for you,” Housewright said. “I don’t know why he didn’t.”

  “Well, as it turned out I didn’t need him. There were some other witnesses who spoke up for me. I was just curious as to why the boy didn’t come, is all.”

  “Oh, I know why.”

  “You do? Why?”

  “You just gettin’ into town and all, you might not know nothin’ about it, but the marshal’s done put paper out on a woman by the name of Janelle Wellington. She worked down at the Buckner Emporium, she did. ‘Near ’bout the prettiest woman I done ever seen.”

  “Yes, I saw the wanted posters on her,” Falcon said. “But what does that have to do with the boy that works, or did work for you?”

  “Just about ever’thing,” Housewright replied. “Joe says that Miss Wellington is his girlfriend. He also says she ain’t the one who killed Mr. Montgomery, that the marshal hisself is the one who done the killin’. Joe claims the girl seen it all.”

  “Does he know where she is?”

  “Well, he”—Housewright started, then stopped—“look here, you ain’t a’ lookin’ to find the woman and claim that reward for your ownself, are you? ’Cause if you are, I ain’t plannin’ on helpin’ you none a’tall. Me ’n Joe Henry’s in cahoots on this. I loaned him the horse and give him some food, and soon as he finds the gold, well we’re goin’ to split it.”

  “Finds the gold? What gold?” Falcon asked, confused by the sudden turn the conversation had taken.

  “I don’t know as I should tell you anythin’ else,” Housewright said. “I got nothin’ agin’ you, you understand. But I got me an investment to protect.”

  “Very well, Mr. Housewright, I won’t bother you any more. Please just see to my horse.”

  “You ain’t got nothin’ to worry ’bout there. I’ll take real good care of your horse.”

  Leaving the livery, Falcon considered his next move. Where was it Housewright said Janelle had worked? Buckley’s?

  Falcon walked Central from one end to the other but saw nothing that looked like Buckley. Then, on Adams, he saw Buckner’s Ladies’ Emporium and knew at once that it was the place he was looking for.

  The bell on the door jingled as he pushed it open, and he was greeted by an attractive woman in her late thirties or early forties.

  “Yes, sir, something I can do for you?” she asked with a broad smile. “You have a wife, or maybe a lady friend you want to buy for?”

  “No, ma’am,” Falcon replied. “Actually I’m here to ask you a few questions, if you don’t mind.”

  “Questions about what?”

  “About Janelle Wellington.”

  The smile left the woman’s face. “Mister, if you are a lawman or a bounty hunter out to collect the reward, then I don’t have a thing to say to you.”

  Falcon shook his head. “No, it’s nothing like that,” he said. “I came here to take her back to New York. Her parents sent me.”

  “You expect me to believe that?”

  “What’s going on, Nellie?” a man asked, coming up to the front of the store.”

  “Ken, this man says he is looking for Janelle. And get this, he says he isn’t a bounty hunter. He says he was sent by her parents to find her and take her back home.”

  “Is that true, mister?”

  “Yes,” Falcon answered.

  “Are you willing to put that story to a test?”

  “What sort of test?”

  “You say you have been sent by her parents. What are their names?”

  “Their names are Joel and Emma Wellington,” Falcon said.

  “That’s right.”

  “Ken, I don’t know.”

  “Nellie, I don’t think a bounty hunter would have the slightest idea as to what her parents’ names are. He gave me the right names, because that’s what is on the letters they sent her, Joel and Emma Wellington. You’ve seen them yourself. Those are the letters she never opened.”

  “
Do you still have those letters?” Falcon asked.

  “Maybe I do, and maybe I don’t. Why do you ask?”

  “Because I, too, have a letter from her parents,” Falcon said. “When I find Janelle, I am supposed to try and persuade her to read it. I thought if we compared the handwriting between the letter I have, and the ones you have, it would further ease Mrs. Buckner’s concern.”

  “What do you think, Nellie?” Ken asked.

  “I’ll get one of the letters,” Nellie replied. She disappeared for a moment, then returned carrying just one of the letters.

  “Let me see your letter,” Ken asked of Falcon.

  Reaching into the inside pocket of his jacket, he produced the letter and handed it to Ken.

  “Nellie, I believe the man is genuine,” he said after examining both letters, side by side. “Look at these. It’s clear they were both written by the same person.”

  “You’re right,” Nellie said. The expression on her face softened considerably as she looked back at Falcon. “I’m sorry I doubted you, Mister…uh, I didn’t get your name.”

  “It’s MacCallister. Falcon MacCallister,” Falcon replied. “And please, don’t apologize. I’m glad Miss Wellington was able to make some friends out here.”

  “Falcon MacCallister!” Nellie said. She gasped, and put her hand to her mouth. “You are the one!”

  Falcon found Nellie’s reaction puzzling and the expression on his face reflected that. “I beg your pardon? I am the one what?”

  “On the train,” Nellie said. “Janelle told me all about you. You came to her rescue on the train.” Nellie then related the story as told to her by Janelle, about the young man, dressed all in black. “She was particularly amused as to how when the young man tried to draw his pistol, it was already in your hand.”

  “That was Janelle Wellington?” Falcon asked.

  “Yes. Then you do remember,” Nellie said.

  “I certainly remember the incident,” Falcon said. “But I never got the young lady’s name. I had no idea it was Janelle Wellington.”

  “How odd life can be,” Nellie said. “Here you are looking for her and she was right there but you didn’t know it.”

  “I wasn’t looking for her then,” Falcon said. “That didn’t come until later, when I went to New York to meet her parents. Her parents are very good friends of my brother and sister, Andrew and Rosanna—”