“We were about to go out to eat,” Rosanna said to Falcon. “Will you have dinner with us?”
“Dinner at eleven? I’m more used to supper at six than dinner at eleven. But I’ll be glad to go with you. I’ll have some coffee.”
“And dessert,” Rosanna said. “The chocolate cake at Delmonico’s is delicious enough to die for.”
Falcon chuckled and shook his head. “There are things I would die for, Rosanna,” he said. “But I don’t believe chocolate cake at Delmonico’s is one of them.”
“Well, then, let’s just say that you will enjoy the cake,” Rosanna said. “You must take dessert with us.”
“You don’t have to twist my arm for that,” Falcon replied.
Delmonico’s was on Twenty-sixth Street, north of Madison Square. The beautiful and fashionable restaurant was five stories high, with an elegant crest mounted in an arch on top. The windows were protected by awnings, as was the ground level. An ornate iron grillwork fence surrounded the restaurant, creating a place for sidewalk dining.
“Isn’t it beautiful?” Rosanna asked as they stepped out of the cab. It just moved here four years ago. It used to be down on Fourteenth and Fifth.”
A uniformed policeman, wearing a domed pith helmet, was standing on the corner. He nodded a greeting at the MacCallisters as they left the cab.
Two men and two women were leaving the restaurant as Falcon, his brother, and his sister started in. One of the women, recognizing Andrew and Rosanna, stopped and smiled broadly.
“Oh! You are the MacCallisters,” the woman gushed. “I simply must have your autographs.”
Smiling, and exchanging pleasantries with her, Andrew and Rosanna signed their autographs on a paper the woman presented, and then they went into the restaurant. There, they were greeted as old and valued customers, then escorted to a table. A few moments later, the chef himself, Allesandro Filippini, came to their table to greet them.
“This is our brother,” Andrew said, indicating Falcon. “He lives in Colorado.”
“Colorado. That is in the West, is it not?” Filippini asked.
“Yes, it is.”
“It must be quite exciting to live in such a place.”
“For our brother it is exciting,” Rosanna said, “for he has performed many heroic deeds in his lifetime. In fact, he is well known for his exploits and his derring-do.”
“Yes, I can imagine this is so,” Filippini said. He looked at Andrew. “For I have read that before you came to New York, you, too, were a wild man of the West.”
“A wild man of the West?” Falcon repeated with a little chuckle.
“Yes, well, I’m quite civilized now,” Andrew said, interrupting Falcon before he could say anything else.
“Tonight, I am glad to say that I will personally see to the preparation of your dinner,” Filippini told them.
“Venendo alla nostra tavola lei c’onora, Signore Filippini,” Andrew said.
“No, il mio amico. L’onore è ogni miniera perché Lei e Sua bella sorella scegliete di venire a Delmonicos,” Filippini replied.
“What was that language?” Falcon asked after the chef left. “It wasn’t Spanish.”
“Chef Filippini is Italian,” Andrew said. “I told him that, by his visit to our table, he honored us. He replied that we and our beautiful sister honored him by coming to Delmonico’s.”
“I’m impressed,” Falcon said.
“Because I speak Italian?” Andrew chuckled. “There are one million people who live in New York, Falcon, and half of them are immigrants. Sometimes, just to walk through the streets of the city is like taking a world tour. You will hear dozens of languages being spoken.”
The food was delivered then, and as they ate, Falcon answered questions about their mutual brothers, one of whom was sheriff of the county, and another of whom was mayor of the town of MacCallister.
After dinner, dessert was brought and this time Falcon, who had sat out the main course, joined them, eating a piece of chocolate cake with his coffee.
“This is good,” Falcon said.
“Uh, Falcon,” Andrew began. “About what I was saying to Filippini earlier . . . the wild man of the West thing.”
“What about it?” Falcon asked.
“What you have to understand is that I must allow certain—illusions—to exist in order to enhance my persona.”
“Enhance your persona? That’s pretty highfalutin talk for a wild man of the West, isn’t it?” Falcon teased. “Just exactly what illusions are you using to enhance your persona? It would help me to know that in order that I not step on your toes, so to speak.”
“Well, I, uh, was a gunfighter in the Johnson County War,” Andrew said. “And I had a showdown with Billy the Kid.” Andrew sighed. “Also, I was standing by Wyatt Earp’s side in the gunfight in Tombstone.”
“They are calling that the Showdown at the OK Corral now,” Falcon said. “You might want to refer to it that way.”
“Thanks,” Andrew said. “As you can see, I’ve pretty much taken all the things you’ve done—and told them as if I had done them.”
“I’m flattered,” Falcon said.
“You won’t give him away, will you, Falcon?” Rosanna asked anxiously.
Smiling, Falcon made a clucking sound as he shook his head. “Andrew, Andrew, Andrew,” he said. “No, of course I’m not going to give you away. But what I don’t understand is why you would want to borrow anything from my life. I’ve been nothing but a drifter since Marie and our pa were killed. I’ve certainly done nothing as glamorous as all this.”
Falcon took in the restaurant with a sweep of his hand, but all knew that the gesture encompassed much more than just the restaurant.
“What have we done but speak a few lines, sing a few songs, and dance a little?” Andrew replied in a self-deprecating way.
“On the contrary,” Falcon replied. “I was at the theater for the performance tonight. I watched how the audience reacted to the two of you. They love you.”
Andrew and Rosanna looked across the table at each other, smiling at Falcon’s words. It was easy, at this moment, to see that they were twins.
“It does have its satisfying moments,” Andrew admitted.
Falcon took the last bite of his cake, then wiped his lips with a table linen before he spoke. “You were right, Rosanna, this is very good cake. I’m not sure I would die for it, but I would kill for it.”
“What?” Rosanna gasped.
Falcon laughed. “I’m teasing.”
“Perhaps,” Rosanna said. “But with everything I’ve heard about you, one never knows when you are teasing and when you are serious.”
“Oh? And what have you heard about me?” Falcon asked.
“I have heard that, while you have no fear, your very name instills fear in others,” Rosanna said.
Falcon looked at Andrew. “And that’s the reputation you want for yourself ?” he asked.
Andrew coughed nervously. “As I said, little brother, a degree of élan is absolutely de rigueur if one is to succeed on stage in New York.”
“Tell, me, Falcon, what brings you to New York?” Rosanna asked. She held up her hand. “Don’t get me wrong—as I said back in the theater, you are certainly welcome to come anytime you want. But you must admit this is not a place you visit often.”
“I guess this is as good a time as any to bring it up,” Falcon said. “I just didn’t want to jump right into it.”
“Jump right into what?” Andrew asked.
“Into the favor I’m going to ask of you.”
Andrew and Rosanna looked at each other for a moment. “Falcon, if you need money, please don’t hesitate to ask. You know that Rosanna and I will gladly give you . . .”
Falcon interrupted Andrew with a laugh and a raised hand.
“Andrew, have you forgotten that much about our family? Don’t you know that Pa left us a fortune? And I’ve had some pretty successful ventures of my own, including a silver mine down
in Arizona, a stagecoach line, and a very successful ranch. I have more money than I could spend in three lifetimes.”
“Then, what is it? What kind of favor could Rosanna and I possibly do for you?”
“You do remember Colorado Springs, don’t you?”
“Yes, of course we do,” Rosanna said. “It’s a place where people with consumption go to take the waters and the cures.”
Falcon nodded. “Yes. My old friend Doc Holliday was there. But it’s much more than a place where people come to take the cure now. It is also a place where people come to see the mountains, enjoy the West, and to stay in the Broadmoor.”
“The Broadmoor?” Andrew said. He shook his head. “I don’t remember the Broadmoor.”
“No, you couldn’t remember it because it wasn’t there the last time you were in Colorado. How long has it been anyway?”
“How long has what been?”
“Since the two of you were in Colorado.”
“Oh, heavens, I don’t know. Six or seven years at least.”
“You should come for a visit,” Falcon said. “It will not be a hard trip. There is train service from New York all the way to Colorado Springs now. You’ll have to change trains a few times, but that’s not a problem.”
“Yes, well, I would like to get back out there sometime,” Rosanna said. “I would like to see our brothers, and to visit our parents’ grave, and just have a look around at the place of my youth.”
“Good, then it’s all settled,” Falcon said. “You’ll come to Colorado Springs and you’ll play at the Broadmoor.”
“What? What do you mean it’s all settled?” Andrew said. “And what do you mean we will play at the Broadmoor? That’s the second time you have mentioned that. Just exactly what is the Broadmoor, anyway?”
“The Broadmoor is the best hotel west of the Mississippi River,” Falcon said. “It is also a restaurant, nearly as good as this one, as well as a gambling establishment and a theater. When I say that you will play there, of course I mean that you will perform your act there.” Falcon smiled. “Think about it. You’ll win over thousands of new admirers.”
“Why in heaven’s name would I want to do something like that?” Andrew asked.
“Because I told James you would,” Falcon replied.
“You told James? Who is James?”
“Count James Pourtales,” Falcon said. “He has seen you perform, both here in New York and in Europe. He is one of your biggest admirers, and when he learned I was your brother, it really lifted me in his eyes. I must say, it made me very proud to be able to claim you.”
“No,” Andrew said determinedly. “I will not go to some jerkwater town in the wilds of the West and perform like some court jester. It is a matter of artistic integrity.”
“Andrew,” Rosanna scolded. “What is wrong with you? Of course we will go. It sounds to me as if Falcon has given his word. Surely you haven’t forgotten the lessons we learned from Papa, have you? He always told us, it is family above all other things.”
“I remember. And I’m sorry that Falcon gave his word, I really am. But this family thing goes both ways. He should have checked with us before he did such a thing. Anyway, even if we did agree to go, can you see us convincing our manager? He gets ten percent of all our earnings. How are we going to explain to him that we are going to play at some hotel establishment in Colorado Springs in order to generate goodwill for our brother? What is ten percent of goodwill?”
“About twenty-five hundred dollars,” Falcon said easily.
The expression on Andrew’s face changed from one of anger to one of shock.
“I beg your pardon? Did you say twenty-five hundred dollars? What do you mean, twenty-five hundred dollars?”
“That would be your manager’s percentage of goodwill.”
Andrew shook his head. “I’m sure I have no idea what you are talking about.”
“Unless my math is faulty, ten percent of twenty-five thousand dollars is twenty-five hundred dollars,” Falcon explained.
“Twenty-five thousand dollars?” Andrew said, coming down hard on the word “thousand.”
“That’s the amount Count Pourtales has agreed to pay you if you will come for two weeks.”
“Wait a minute,” Andrew said, his interest clearly piqued now. “Are you saying he will pay us that much just for two weeks’ work?”
“Yes.”
“But that’s impossible. We don’t get that much in six months on the New York stage.”
“I told you, the count is a very big admirer.”
“A count?” Rosanna asked. “Is that just something people call him, or is he . . .”
“He is a real count,” Falcon said, interrupting Rosanna’s question.
“Two weeks, you say?” Andrew asked.
“Two weeks.”
Andrew looked across the table at his sister. “What do you say, Rosanna? Should we take two weeks from our busy schedule to go to Colorado Springs for twenty-five thousand dollars?”
“I already told him I would go for nothing,” Rosanna said. “With or without you, I would go. After all, he is our brother.”
“That’s true,” Andrew said, more acquiescent now. “He is our brother, and what sort of siblings would we be if we did not answer his call for help?”
Sighing, Rosanna shook her head. “What sort of siblings indeed?” she asked quietly.
“Very well, Falcon, since you have given your word to the count, we will go,” Andrew said.
“Thank you,” Falcon said. He smiled. “It’s good to see that your artistic integrity can be bought.”
For just a moment Andrew flashed an expression of anger; then, suddenly, he broke out laughing.
“Touché, little brother. Touché.”
Chapter Eight
As they were leaving the restaurant a few minutes later, a policeman came toward them and held up his hand.
“Aren’t you the MacCallisters?” he asked Andrew.
“Yes,” Andrew replied. “We’ll be glad to sign an autograph, but you are going to have to furnish the paper and pen, I fear.”
“No,” the police officer said. “It’s nothin’ like that. I’m going to have to ask you to come with me.”
“Come with you? Why?” Andrew asked, surprised by the officer’s request.
“We’ve received a warning that your lives may be in danger. I’m to protect you.”
“How do you plan to protect us?” Falcon asked.
“Who are you?” the policeman replied.
“This is my brother, Falcon,” Andrew said.
“You can go your own way,” the policeman said to Falcon. “My orders were to protect you and your sister,” he added to Andrew, “not all three of you.”
“Whatever you have in mind for us must include Falcon,” Andrew insisted.
The policeman sighed. “Very well, but we must move quickly. I want you folks to come this way,” he said, pointing toward the alley.
“You want us to go into that alley? What on earth for?” Andrew asked.
“It’s police business,” the policeman said, a bit more gruffly this time. “Don’t give me any trouble now.”
“It just seems odd that you would want us to go into an alley with you,” Andrew said. “In all the time I’ve lived in New York, I’ve tried to avoid dark alleys, particularly at night.”
“Into the alley with you now, and don’t give me any more of your trouble!” the policeman said. This time his words were much gruffer than before, and he reached out to give Andrew a slight push.
“What is your badge number?” Falcon asked.
“My badge number? Why do you want to know my badge number? Are you going to report me for doing my job?” the policeman asked.
“No,” Falcon said, stepping up to the officer. He put his hand over the shield. “I just want to know if you know your number.”
“Of course I know it,” the policeman replied. “It’s . . .” He paused. “It’s . . .” h
e started again, then glanced down toward his badge, only to see Falon’s hand covering it.
“It’s two, seven, one, five,” Falcon said without moving his hand.
“All right, it’s two, seven, one, five. What does that mean?”
“Here is a funny thing about this badge number,” Falcon said. “When we arrived, we were greeted by a policeman who was wearing this very badge. In fact, he was also wearing this coat, because I remember seeing this repair.” He pointed to a mended spot on the police tunic. “You are a fake,” Falcon concluded.
“You’re crazy,” the policeman said.
“What did you do with the other officer?” Falcon asked.
Suddenly, the policeman made a grab for his pistol, but when his hand reached the holster, it was empty.
“What the hell?” he grunted in surprise.
“Are you looking for this?” Falcon asked, holding up the policeman’s gun.
“How did you . . . ?” the policeman started to ask. Then, deciding his personal safety was more important than his curiosity, he turned and started running.
“Help me find him,” Falcon said to his shocked brother and sister.
“Find him? Find who?” Rosanna asked.
“The real policeman. He has to be around here somewhere.”
Falcon stepped into the same alley the fake cop had wanted them to enter.
“Falcon, be careful back there,” Andrew called. “Maybe we should find another policeman.”
“We may not have time to find another one,” Falcon called back.
“This frightens me,” Rosanna said quietly to Andrew. “I wish he would come out of there.”
A moment later, they heard Falcon’s voice calling from the darkness of the alley.
“I’ve found him, but he has been hurt. Stop a carriage; we need to get him to a doctor.”
Two passing carriages failed to stop, and Falcon reappeared from the alley as a third was approaching. Like the other two carriages, it was a carriage for hire, and though the driver wasn’t carrying a fare, he made no effort to stop.
Both Andrew and Rosanna waved at the driver.
“Stop, please, you must stop! It is an emergency!” Andrew called.
Crusade of Eagles Page 6
