Crusade of Eagles

by J. A. Johnstone

  “No, it ain’t. But it would be somethin’ just to see ’em. I mean they’re about as famous as you can get,” another said.

  “Hell, their brother’s just as famous.”

  “Out here maybe, but not back East. And not in Europe. No, sir, I for one intend to be down to the train station to see ’em when they come through.”

  Loomis and the others bought a beer apiece, then found an empty table. One of the bar girls came over to the table.

  “Hi, boys,” she said, smiling. “My, what a handsome bunch of . . .” Seeing the albino, she stopped in mid-sentence, but bravely held her smile. “ . . . cowboys you are,” she said, completing her sentence. “Do you want some company?”

  “Why, yeah,” Strayhorn said. “Come on over and join us.”

  “Go away,” Loomis said.

  “Loomis, come on, we’re . . .” Strayhorn began, but Loomis glared at him.

  “Go away,” he said again, and pouting, the girl retreated.

  “What did you do that for?” Logan asked. “One of the reasons you come to drink in a saloon is because of the women.”

  “You can have women later,” Loomis said. “Fact is, with the idea I got, you’ll have enough money to have all the women you want.”

  “Idea? What kind of idea?”

  “I know how I can get even with MacCallister, and make a lot of money besides.”

  “Really? How are you goin’ to do that?”

  Loomis didn’t answer Strayhorn directly. Instead, he turned to his brother.

  “Kelly, when’s the last time you was in these parts?”

  “Not more’n six months ago,” Kelly answered.

  “There used to be a stagecoach way station up at Gopher Creek. You reckon it’s still there?” Loomis asked.

  “Yeah, I suppose it is,” Kelly replied. “But since the railroad come through, they don’t use it anymore. There’s nobody there.”

  “Good,” Loomis said. “We can hole up there.”

  “Yeah, that might not be a bad idea,” Kelly said. “How long do you plan to hole up?”

  “For as long as it takes.”

  “As long as it takes for what?”

  “For as long as it takes to get the money,” Loomis said with no further explanation.

  “I need me another drink,” Strayhorn said.

  “We ain’t got enough money to waste on another drink, and we ain’t got the time,” Loomis said. “We need to get goin’.”

  “Get goin’? Get goin’ where?”

  “You want in on this or not?” Loomis asked.

  “Well, yeah, I want in on it.”

  “Then just do as I say without bellyachin’.” Loomis stood. “Come on, let’s go.”

  Chapter Twelve

  They were about five miles out of town when Loomis stopped and pointed to two horses that were tied to a cottonwood tree.

  “Let’s go get them two horses,” Loomis said. “We’re goin’ to be needin’ ’em.”

  “What for?” Kelly asked.

  “For my plan.”

  “You ain’t told nobody what your plan is yet,” Kelly said.

  “I’ll tell you when it comes time to tell you,” Loomis said. “For now, we need them horses.”

  Loomis and the others rode up quietly to the two horses. Then they stopped and looked around. “You see anybody?” Loomis asked.

  “No.”

  They heard the sound of laughter from just over a hill. The laughter sounded young.

  “You give me my clothes back, Johnny, or I’ll tell Mama!” a boy’s voice said.

  “Jesse is a baby, Jesse is a baby, run to Mama, Jesse.”

  The taunting voice was also that of a young boy.

  “Take the horses,” Loomis said, and Logan got down to untie them. Just as he did so, a young boy appeared at the top of the hill. His hair was wet and it was obvious he had been swimming. He was carrying a pair of britches and a shirt with him.

  “You want your clothes, Jesse, come get them!” Johnny shouted back down the hill. Then, laughing, he turned and saw Loomis and the others taking the horses. The laughter left his face.

  “Hey, mister! Get away from them horses! They belong to us!”

  Throwing down the clothes, Johnny started running toward Logan.

  “Brave little shit, ain’t he?” Kelly said with a chuckle as they all watched him running toward Logan.

  Suddenly, they were startled by the sound of a gunshot, and they saw a little spray of blood come from the hole in the middle of Johnny’s forehead. He fell back.

  Looking toward Loomis, they saw him holding a smoking pistol.

  “Damn!” Logan said.

  “Johnny! Johnny, what’s going on?” another voice shouted.

  Another boy, much younger than Johnny, appeared at the top of the hill. He too was wet from swimming, and because he was naked, it was obvious he had been skinny-dipping. When he saw Johnny, he cried out and ran to him.

  “What the hell did you shoot that boy for?” Logan asked.

  “Because he seen us,” Loomis answered. “And we don’t need anyone in these parts knowing who we are or what we look like.”

  Loomis turned and lowered his gun to shoot Jesse, but he wasn’t there.

  “What the hell?” Loomis said. “Where did he go?”

  “I don’t know, I don’t see him,” Kelly said.

  “Look for him. We have to find him,” Loomis said. “What did the boy call him? Jesse?”

  “Yeah.”

  “Jesse!” Loomis called. “Jesse, come on out, we ain’t goin’ to shoot you! I’m sorry ’bout shootin’ Johnny, but he run toward us and I thought he had a gun.”

  “You knew he didn’t have no gun,” Jesse called back.

  Loomis started toward the sound of the voice. “I didn’t mean to shoot him, and I won’t shoot you. We just need to borrow a couple of horses, is all.”

  Quietly Jesse slipped down into the water. Then, he lay on the bottom of the pond, breathing through a reed, the reed lost in a sea of reeds. It was a game he and Johnny often played, but this time it was for real.

  Looking up through the shimmering surface of the water, he could see that a rider had come right down to the edge of the pond.

  “Where are you, Jesse? I’ll pay you for the horses.”

  “Loomis, there’s someone comin’ up the road,” the albino called.

  “Damn! All right, let’s get out of here,” Loomis said.

  Jesse watched the rider turn and leave, but he knew better than to show himself yet. He made himself stay on the bottom for almost half an hour, longer than he had ever stayed underwater before.

  Finally, Jesse got out of the pond and crawled up the side of the hill. Looking over toward the road, he saw that the riders were gone. Not until then did he put on his clothes. He didn’t go back to look at Johnny. He knew that his brother was dead, and he didn’t want to see him that way.

  Later that same night, Loomis, Logan, Strayhorn, the albino, and Kelly were waiting near a water tank alongside the Union Pacific track, some fifty miles east of Eagle Tail. It was nearly eleven p.m. and the rails, reflecting the full moon, formed parallel streaks of softly gleaming silver to stretch off into the distance.

  One of the horses whickered, and another stomped its foot.

  “Keep an eye on them horses, Michaels,” Loomis said. “If they get away out here, we’ll be left suckin’ hind tit, and that’s for sure.”

  “They ain’t goin’ nowhere,” Michaels replied. “It’s them two we just picked up that’s a little nervous, but I’m keepin’ a tight hold of ’em.”

  “Kelly, go up and see if you can see anything,” Loomis ordered.

  Kelly walked up to the track and stared back toward the west.

  “You see anything?” Loomis asked. “A light or anything ?”

  “No, not a thing,” Kelly answered. He got down on his knees, then leaned forward, putting his ear to the rail.

  “What are you
doin’?” Strayhorn asked.

  “Sometimes you can hear a train comin’ through the rails ’fore you can see it,” Kelly explained.

  “Well, do you hear anything?”

  Kelly stood up, brushed off his knees, then his hands, and shook his head.

  “No, I didn’t hear nothin’.”

  “Are you sure the train will come this way?” Logan asked.

  “No, it’s prob’ly goin’ to take a dirt road,” Strayhorn said, and the others laughed.

  “You know what I mean,” Logan said. “I mean, what if it took another track?”

  “There ain’t no other track,” Loomis said. “This here is the main line. It will come here.” He pointed to the water tower. “And it will stop here to take on water.”

  “Hey, Loomis, how much money do you think we can get?” the albino asked.

  “Well, the MacCallisters is rich people,” Loomis said. “And I don’t mean just the actors. I mean the whole damn family is rich. Especially Falcon MacCallister. He owns a silver mine down in Arizona, he has a big ranch, and him and his brothers own MacCallister Stage Lines. I expect they’ll pay a lot to get their famous brother and sister back.”

  “Strayhorn, what you goin’ to do with the money when you get it?” Logan asked.

  “I’m goin’ to go back East someplace, like maybe St. Louis or Chicago, and buy me some new duds,” Strayhorn answered. “Then, after that, I’m going to get me a cold piece of pie and a hot piece of ass.”

  On board the St. Louis Flyer, Andrew and Rosanna sat in facing seats in the Pullman car.

  “This time next week we’ll be back in New York,” Andrew said.

  “Yes,” Rosanna answered.

  Andrew chuckled. “That was a rather pensive yes, wasn’t it?”

  “Was it? I’m sorry, I guess my mind is somewhere else right now.”

  “You’re thinking about our next show, aren’t you? I understand Clinton Stuart is writing a new play called Our Society. I think it may have parts for us.”

  “Yes, I suppose so.”

  Andrew was puzzled by Rosanna’s less than enthusiastic answer, and he cocked his head and stared at her for a moment.

  “What’s wrong?” he asked.

  “Wrong? Nothing is wrong.”

  “Something is. You aren’t yourself tonight.”

  Rosanna sighed. “Andrew, have you ever thought about coming back?”

  “Coming back? Coming back where?”

  “Coming back here, back home,” Rosanna said.

  “Rosanna, I can’t believe I’m hearing you talk like this,” he said. “Ever since we were children, practically from the first time we could talk, we have wanted to be performers.”

  “That’s true.”

  “And we have done that, Rosanna. We have lived a life that others can only dream of. We performed in the White House for President Rutherford B. Hayes; we were received by Queen Victoria herself. Surely you haven’t forgotten that.”

  “Of course not,” Rosanna replied. “No one can ever forget something like that.”

  “But now, you are saying you want to give it all up?”

  Rosanna shook her head. “No, I didn’t say that. I just asked if you ever thought about coming back home—someday.”

  “Someday? Sure, someday,” Andrew said. “What got you started on this?”

  “I don’t know. It’s just that, well, everyone was so wonderful to us, and there was such a freshness about it. I guess I was just getting very nostalgic, is all.”

  Andrew laughed softly. “Next thing I know, you’ll break out singing ‘I’ll Take You Home Again, Kathleen.’”

  Rosanna laughed as well. “Touché,” she said.

  The porter stopped and touched the brim of his hat as he made a slight bow.

  “Would the lady and gentleman like their beds made?”

  “I think so,” Rosanna said. “It has been a long day.” She looked over at Andrew. “I’ll take the top bunk,” she said. “That way, if you aren’t ready to go to bed yet, you won’t have to.”

  “No, I’m ready as well,” Andrew said. “You’re right, it has been a long day.”

  The porter made the two beds quickly and expertly, then set the ladder so Rosanna could climb up to the upper bunk. She and Andrew exchanged good nights; then she lay in her bunk, listening to the rhythm of the wheels on the rails and rocking gently with the train’s motion until she fell asleep.

  “Loomis,” Kelly called down from the track. “The train’s a’comin’, I can see the headlamp.”

  “All right,” Loomis said. “Michaels, you stay with the horses. The rest of you, come with me.”

  Loomis led the others to a stand of scrub willow that grew alongside the track. This would provide them with concealment from the train as it arrived, but keep them close enough to act quickly.

  The train was approaching at about twenty miles per hour, a respectable enough speed, though the vastness of the prairie made it appear as if the train was going much slower. From this distance, the train seemed small, and even the white smoke that poured from its stack made but a tiny iridescent scar against the starry vault of midnight sky.

  They could hear the train quite easily, the sound of its puffing engine carrying across the wide, flat ground.

  “What if the train don’t stop?” Logan asked.

  “It has got to take on water,” Loomis said. “It’ll stop.”

  “Well, look at it, it ain’t a’slowin’ down none,” Logan said.

  Almost as soon as Logan said the words, they heard the steam valve close and the train began to brake. As the engine approached, it gave some perspective as to how large the prairie really was, for the train that had appeared so tiny before was now a behemoth, blocking out the sky. It ground to a reluctant halt, its stack puffing smoke, and its driver wheels wreathed in tendrils of white steam that seemed to glow as it drifted away in the darkness.

  “All right, wait until the fireman starts putting the water in,” Loomis ordered. “They’ll be payin’ so much attention to that, they won’t notice us.”

  “We’re goin’ to get us some money too, right, Loomis?” Strayhorn asked.

  “Don’t worry, when MacCallister gets wind that we’ve got his brother and sister, he’ll come up with the money.”

  “I mean some money for right now,” Strayhorn said.

  “Yeah, I’ve already got that taken care of,” Loomis said. He showed Strayhorn a cloth bag. “We’re goin’ to take up a little collection. Folks that can afford to travel in a Pullman car will, like as not, have a lot of money with ’em.”

  “What about the other cars?” Strayhorn asked. “Don’t you think we ought to go through all them as well?”

  “No, we won’t have time for that,” Loomis said. “We’re here to get the MacCallisters, and that’s what we’re goin’ to do. We’ll rob the folks that’s in the Pullman, take the MacCallisters, and be on our way.”

  “What about the express car?” Strayhorn asked.

  “Look, Strayhorn, if you don’t like ridin’ with me, go somewhere else.”

  “No, no,” Strayhorn said, putting up his hands. “You’re the boss.”

  “Try remembering that,” Loomis said.

  Chapter Thirteen

  When the St. Louis Flyer made a midnight stop for water, Rosanna, who was asleep in the top berth of the Pullman car, was only vaguely aware that the stop had been made. She was too comfortable and too tired from all the hoopla of the last two weeks to give it too much attention.

  Rolling over in bed, she pulled the covers up and listened to the conversation between the engineer and the fireman as they prepared to take on water.

  “How’s that, Austin? Am I lined up?” the engineer called back to the fireman.

  “Yeah, Doodle, that’s just fine,” Austin answered.

  The water started drumming into the tender.

  “Hey, Doodle, do you have a valve open somewhere?” Austin called.

  “No
, why?”

  “We must have a leak. The tank’s damn near empty. It shouldn’t be this far down.”

  “We’ll have it looked at when we get to St. Louis,” Doodle said.

  “Yeah, if we make it that far. Don’t forget the run between Hays City and Russellville has a sixty-mile stretch between water tanks.”

  “Yeah, I know what you mean. I’ll slow down through there; we’ll use less water that way.”

  Although Rosanna could hear them talking quite clearly, it seemed as if they were very far away, and she felt herself drifting back to sleep.

  Just outside the stopped train, Loomis, Kelly, Logan, and Strayhorn were waiting.

  “All right, get your hoods on!” Loomis hissed.

  The four men pulled hoods from their pockets and put them on. Then, with Loomis in the lead, the four men moved quickly alongside the railroad track, ducking occasionally so as not to throw any shadows onto the yellow squares that were projected onto the ground from the few windows that were showing light.

  The train was alive with sound; from the loud puffs of the driver relief valves venting steam, to the splash of water filling the tank, to the snapping and popping of overheated bearings and gearboxes.

  “Which car do you think they are they on?” Kelly asked.

  “Well, they’s only one Pullman car,” Loomis said. “So that’s the one they have to be on.”

  “All right, we know which car, but how are we goin’ to find ’em?” Logan asked.

  “We’ll find them,” Loomis answered. “Shhh,” he said and, holding his hand out, signaled for everyone to get closer to the train. Then, looking toward the tender, he saw that the fireman had his back to them as he was directing the gushing water from the spout into the tank.

  Loomis held out his hand. “All right, he ain’t lookin’ this way,” he hissed. “Get up onto the vestibule.”

  Loomis waited until the other three had climbed onto the vestibule; then he climbed up behind them.

  “Inside, let’s go,” he hissed.