Dreams of Eagles (27 page)

Sparks laughed and then held up a big, balled fist. “If it don't, this will!”

Ian had been pondering an idea that he thought his pa would approve of. Since the valley had long been homesteaded and his pa had written word from the government that the land would belong to those who laid claim to it, Ian began marking out sections in the adjacent valley and having those kids old enough to file on it do so. As soon as they did, he promptly bought it. Trappers and mountain men who knew Ian rode through, thought it was a good idea, filed, and then sold to Ian, since none of them had any inclination whatsoever to homestead. Before the fall was over, Ian owned the entire valley that lay east of MacCallister's Valley. He tore down the old cabins and barns and sheds that had been built a few years back—and not built all that well, either. Caroline worked right beside him with the baby close by.

There were more settlers coming in and passing through and many were unwilling to give the Indians a chance to be friendly, adopting a shoot-first-and-ask-questions-later attitude toward any Indian. Black Thunder decided to move most of his band and headed north. “Too many whites,” he said sadly. “Too much trouble coming. You tell Bear Killer that my heart is heavy because I do not get to say farewell to my friend.”

With the leaving of Black Thunder and most of his people, the valley seemed a little bit less lovely, for Black Thunder had been a good friend to the settlers for over a decade.

During the absence of Jamie and Kate, the late summer of '48 and the spring and early summer of '49 brought several wagon trains near the twin valleys now claimed by the MacCallister clan. Most of the movers took one look at the lushness and wanted to stay, but like his father, Ian was very selective, selling or granting permission to stay to only a very few of the pioneers. Ian had unknowingly set up the first zoning restrictions west of the Mississippi River.

One mover became so irate over Ian's refusal to sell (and all the choice spots had been claimed by Ian) he made the mistake of cursing Ian and then grabbing for a gun. The tiny cemetery on the east side of MacCallister's Valley grew by one.

Another mover saw Moses and his family and kin and wanted to know how come it was that a bunch of goddamn niggers could live there and a decent white man (like himself, presumably) could not. He was shown the way west and wisely took the not-so-subtle hint. MacCallister's Valleys, as the area was now known, became the first spot west of the Mississippi where racial tolerance was practiced. Color or creed meant nothing to the long-time settlers there, only what was in a person's heart. And the settlements grew by a few more families and one more store during the absence of Jamie and Kate. When the population in the valleys hit a hundred and fifty, Ian was approached by Swede, Sam, Moses, and some of the others and asked to become their sheriff.

Ian was amused. “I think not, gentlemen. Talk to my father when he returns.”

In California, the mild winter was over and spring was soft in the air. All that past winter Evans and Laurin tried unsuccessfully to locate Phil Packer and his gang, but they were never located. Jamie and the mountain men struck the camp of the outlaws at dawn one fall morning and wiped them out to the last man. They were back in the city two days later with no one the wiser.

Using his wealth to buy information, Jamie had built a solid case against Maurice Evans, known as Charles Russent, and Laurin, known as Robert Brown. But what law there was in the city was so corrupt, and the two men so rich and powerful, they were untouchable by any legal methods.

“Keep an eye on Kate,” Jamie said to Sparks and Preacher early one spring evening. “I'm going for my walk.”

Neither man thought anything about it, for Jamie always took a stroll that time of day. Nor did they think anything about Jamie tucking a Colt .44 behind his belt. Nearly everyone in the city carried a gun.

Jamie walked straight to Pierre's Restaurant, where he had learned that Maurice Evans ate his dinner every Friday evening.

It was known throughout the city that there was a blood feud between Jamie and an eastern businessman called Maurice Evans. It was not known that Charles Russent was Maurice Evans. The manager of the small and very expensive restaurant was delighted to see Mr. Jamie Ian MacCallister walk in. He rushed up to greet him, smiling.

“Stand clear,” Jamie told him.

The manager hit the kitchen at a fast walk and didn't look back.

“Maurice Evans!” Jamie called in a loud clear voice. “Stand up and face me, you son of a bitch!”

The cafe fell silent. Not one click of knife or fork against plate could be heard. Everybody knew who Jamie Ian MacCallister was.

“Now see here!” one of the so-called policemen in the city said, standing up from the table where he was dining with Maurice Evans.

“Shut up and back away from that table or drag iron,” Jamie told the man.

The man quickly stepped away from the table. He thought he might be able to sneak a shot at Jamie if the opportunity presented itself.

“There is no one here by the name of Maurice Evans,” a nicely dressed man said. “It is my understanding that Evans fled New York City for Europe.”

“Wrong,” Jamie said. “Maurice Evans sits yonder. Evans, you've sent men to kill my son, my wife, my family, my friends, and me. They've all failed. Now it's over. Your son, Blake Evans, called my son out. I've spent hard money learning the truth, and I've found that you did, too. Still you sent man-hunters out to kill me and mine, knowing that your son caused the trouble and forced the issue. You are directly responsible for the rape and death of a little girl. You're directly responsible for the deaths of good men and women. You're wearing a gun, Evans. You wear one tucked down in a holster on your left side. Stand up and face me and let's finish this once and for all.”

“You ignorant savage!” Evans said, throwing his knife and fork onto the plate. “I've killed a dozen men in duels.”

“You won't kill this one,” Jamie told him.

“My son was good decent boy!” Evans shouted, his face mottled with rage.

“Your son was a bully, a murderer, and a rapist. You bought him out of trouble until society finally said enough. The sad thing is you know all that I say is true. You're a liar and a cheat. You built your empire by bilking good, decent people out of their money. You're nothing more than a blood-sucking leech. Now, stand up, Evans, or I'll kill you where you sit.”

Evans smiled and stood up. “You're a damn fool, MacCallister!” he said.

Both he and the crooked cop reached for their pistols at the same time. Witnesses said that the nicely dressed big man's draw was so fast it was a blur. The Colt .44 leaped into Jamie's hand, roared twice and two men were down and dying.

Jamie tucked the .44 back behind his belt and walked out of the cafe. He headed straight for lawyer Laurin's home, located just outside the city.

Jamie kicked in the front door and nearly scared the piss out of Laurin. Crossing the room in great strides, Jamie grabbed the lawyer by the shirt collar and flung him against a wall.

“I'm not armed!” the man screamed. “I never carry a gun.”

“You're finished,” Jamie told him. “You will leave this city and disappear from public life forever. I don't care how you make your living; you can farm, trap, scout, run a store, do whatever you like, as long as it is not the practice of law. The reading of the law should be in the hands of honorable men. You are not an honorable man.”

“Maurice will have you killed for this!” Laurin shouted.

“Maurice Evans is dead. I just killed him.”

Laurin stood up, a man of better than average size, with good arms and shoulders on him. “You lie!”

“I never lie.”

Laurin lifted his hands and balled them into fists. “I know something about fighting, MacCallister.”

“Good. I was afraid this might be easy.”

“I'll have you arrested and sent to prison for this, you damned backwoods savage!” Laurin screamed.

Jamie advanced toward him. “You don't have to worry about anyone recognizing you when you start your new profession, Laurin, because I'm going to see to it that your own mother won't be able to tell who you are. Commencing right now.”

Jamie stepped in, brushed off a quick punch by Laurin, and hit the man flush on the mouth. Blood splattered and teeth flew and the lawyer bounced off a wall, sending books and vases and bric-a-brac tumbling and crashing to the floor.

Across town, in the home in the hills, Kate said to Preacher, “Jamie is taking a bit longer than usual with his walk.”

“Yes'um,” Preacher said. “I 'spect he found someone who needed a grubstake.”

“I'm sure that's it,” Kate said and returned to her reading.

Laurin got to his feet and tried to run. Jamie grabbed him by the seat of his tailored britches and spun him around and around in the living room. When he turned loose of the man, the lawyer sailed through a front window and went crashing into the street, rolling ass over elbows in the mud.

“When do you suppose Pa will come home?” Caroline asked of Ian.

Ian looked up from the catalog he'd been reading. The catalog had been brought to him by a trapper who'd gone back east for a visit. It was the most amazing thing Ian had ever seen. Even had ladies' bloomers in it. He had it hidden behind a week-old newspaper. If Caroline saw it, she'd snatch it away from him and toss it in the fire. That is, as soon as she got done looking at it. “Oh, I 'spect they'll be back this summer. Soon as Ma gets her fill of shoppin'.”

“You reckon Pa is having a good time?”

Ian smiled. “I bet you that Pa is havin' the time of his life out yonder.”

Lawyer Laurin got up from his belly-down position in the mud, stood swaying for a moment, and Jamie knocked him down again. Laurin cussed and got up and kissed the mud again. He ran his tongue over where his front teeth used to be. MacCallister's fist had broken them off at the gum and knocked them clean out of his mouth.

“You sorry son of bitch!” Laurin cussed, struggling to get to his feet.

Jamie's huge right fist exploded against his jaw and the world inside Laurin's head lit up like a skyrocket as his feet flew out from under him. The lawyer landed on his butt in the mud.

Jamie reached down and hauled the man to his feet. He held him there with his left hand and began pounding the man's face with his right fist. Each blow sounded like a watermelon being hit with the flat side of an axe. Jamie was so mad he gave no thought that the man might well be long past feeling anything. That is, until he woke up.

After a few minutes, Jamie cooled down and realized the man was unconscious. He slowly unclenched his fist, let his right hand drop to his side, and looked at the bloody mask that had once been a human face. It was unrecognizable. The nose was flat, the lips pulped, one ear was hanging by a thin bit of skin, both eyes were swollen shut, and the man's jaw was obviously broken, pushed over to one side.

Jamie dragged him over to the side of the wide street and let him drop to the mud, on his back. He didn't want a wagon to run over the man; he wanted lawyer Laurin to live a long, long time. Lawyer Laurin flopped unconscious in the mud and did not move and probably wouldn't move for an hour or so.

“Nighty, night,” Jamie said to the man, then turned and walked across the narrow road to the man's house. Laurin's office safe was open and Jamie went through it, finding stack after stack of stocks and certificates and bank notes. Laurin was a rich man, but he wasn't going to be for long. Jamie piled everything in the safe on the floor and tossed a lighted lamp onto the pile. Within seconds, the room was blazing.

Jamie waited until he was certain the house would soon be nothing but smoking rubble, and then he went out the back way, circling the road until the blazing house was far behind him.

He stopped at a horse trough and bathed his hands and face and brushed the drying mud from his clothes. He used an old cloth he found to wipe his boots clean. He smoothed his hair and replaced his hat, then stepped into a bar to have a cold beer. Just as he stepped in through the bat wings, the clanging of the fire bells on the pumpers reached him. Seconds later, the horse-drawn pumpers and ladder wagon raced by, heading up the hill, shouting kids and barking dogs close behind.

“This goddamn city catches on fire nearly ever'time I look up,” the barkeep said, shaking his head and wiping the bar. “What'll you have, mister?”

Jamie ordered a beer and stood by the bar, chatting agreeably with the bartender and the fellows left and right of him. He introduced himself and bought a round so all would remember him and recall that he had been in the bar at the time of the fire and not in the least disheveled or out of breath or muddy. No way did Jamie Ian MacCallister look like he had been in a fight. The law being what it was in the city, Jamie didn't think he would need any type of alibi, but when dealing with a shyster lawyer, one just never knew.

Jamie drank two beers, told a few jokes, and then excused himself, stepping out into the night. He walked back to the hotel, whistling a little tune and doffing his hat to the ladies and speaking to the men he passed.

The fireball that had been lawyer Laurin's house was no longer even a glow in the night behind him.

He and Kate would start back to the valley tomorrow. She had said she wanted to go home, and Jamie couldn't think of a better time to do just that.

For more reasons than one.

Five

The mountain men were hesitant to let Jamie and Kate travel back to the valley by themselves. But Kate merely laughed that off. “I know you boys want to head back east,” she told the men. “Jamie and I will be just fine. Just ask Preacher about the time two fourteen-year-old kids crossed from the Kentucky wilderness to the Big Thicket country.”

Preacher smiled. “They done that for a fact. How you headin' back, Jamie?”

“We're going up into Canada and ride east for time, then cut south in time to be home by late summer or early fall. I want Kate to see that country.”

“You watch them Blackfeet,” Lobo warned. “Them ain't the friendliest Injuns on the face of this earth.”

“I've encountered them before,” Jamie said.

Jamie and Kate rode out of San Francisco the afternoon following the killing of Maurice Evans and the beating of lawyer Laurin. MacDuff had ridden off to the east some weeks before without saying a word.

Horse had terrorized anyone who tried to come near him during the stay in the city and had broken down half a dozen stalls. The liveryman was delighted to see him go.

Preacher and the others were taking Kate's mare back to the valley, and for this long and rugged trip, where endurance and speed might be necessary to save their lives, Jamie had bought her a fine, rugged gelding named Star, who right from the first moment wouldn't take any crap from Horse. After circling each other and exchanging a few bites and kicks, they decided they'd best be friends, at least for this trip.

Jamie had scoured the city and found four Colt Baby Dragoons for Kate. They were .36 caliber, four-inch barrels, and held a five-shot cylinder. Jamie had a man cut down the handles to better fit Kate's hand and a leather worker make them matching holsters. They both carried rifles and both had a revolving shotgun in the boot. They might be set upon by hostiles or outlaws—the probability was high—but those who tried it would pay dearly for their efforts.

Jamie had given a goodly amount of cash to Sparks to take back to the settlement, and the rest was carefully banked or invested by reputable people. For the time, Jamie was a rich man.

All of Kate's shopping, some for herself but most for family and friends, would go to the valley by commissioned wagon train. Jamie had told her to spare no expense, and she hadn't.

Jamie and Kate had an uneventful ride up through northern California and into Oregon. Sometimes they followed established trails, many times they left the trails and blazed their own. This was a real vacation for Kate, the first time she had been away from the kids in twenty-five years.

The Indians they met riding through Oregon and then Washington were friendly and curious about the pair, many times inviting them to their villages to share their food. Settlers had been coming into this area since the late 1830s, so these Indians were accustomed to the strange ways of the whites and unlike the Indians of the plains, they had seen golden-haired women before. What they had not seen was golden-haired women who could handle a gun the way Kate could. They were impressed and warned Jamie and Kate that there were bad white men up ahead of them, men who robbed and raped and killed for no good reason.

“Do they have names?” Jamie asked.

“Oh, yes,” the chief of one tribe said. “We have heard the names of Jack Biggers and John Wilmot. They are very bad men.”

“Jack Biggers,” Jamie said, when he and Kate were once more on their way. “I had almost forgotten all about him. I dismissed him as being dead years ago.”

“That's the one who tried to ride Horse?” Kate asked.

“Tried is right.” Jamie patted Horse on the neck. “Ol' Horse here almost killed him. I'm going to put this fellow out to pasture when we get back. He's getting old. He's still got a lot of trails he could ride, but he's earned a rest.”

They were in north-central Washington, following an old Indian trail when both Horse and Star became tense, their ears pricked. They kept swinging their heads to look behind them. Jamie quickly left the trail and headed into the timber and brush. He and Kate dismounted, rifles in hand, ground-reined the horses, and slipped through the timber until the trail was in sight. Jamie bellied down and put his ear to the hard ground. He looked up at Kate and held up two fingers, then motioned for her to stay put.

He slipped up to within a few feet of the trail and waited. Soon he could plainly hear the sounds of the horses' hooves coming up the old trail. Then he could hear the men talking.

“I still think we better ride on up ahead and fetch Jack and Wilmot,” one said. “If this is MacCallister and his woman, my guts get all tight just thinkin' 'bout the two of us tryin' to take him alone.”

“All that talk 'bout how tough MacCallister is ain't nothin' but shit,” the second man said. “Jack Biggers whupped him, didn't he?”

“Jack says he did.”

“You callin' Jack a liar?”

“I didn't say that. But if he whupped him, why didn't he go on and kill him and take his head for all that reward money that was on him at the time?”

The two men reined up, studying the trail.

“I don't know, Axel. Do seem queer, don't it?”

“Yeah. The damn trail just quit, Clyde. What do you make of that?”

Before Clyde could reply, Jamie flung one of the stones he'd picked up and hit Clyde's horse solidly on the butt. The sharp stone scared the animal and he started buck-jumping on the narrow trail. Jamie flung another stone and the animal really went wild. Clyde was holding on and hollering as the horse started chasing its tail, going round and round on the trail.

Jamie left the brush, grabbed the other man and jerked him off his horse, slamming him on the ground so hard the wind was knocked out of him. Clyde was facing the other way and saw none of it. Jamie dragged the man into the lush timber and quickly trussed him up with lengths of rawhide he always carried on his belt. Kate crept forward and placed the muzzle of her .36 caliber Baby Dragoon against the man's head. He looked up at her through frightened eyes and nodded his head, indicating that he understood perfectly that he was to remain still and quiet.

Clyde finally got his horse calmed down and jumped out of the saddle, holding the reins. He looked around him, a rather confused expression on his face. He could see Axel's horse, but where the hell was Axel?

“Axel? Where you is, boy? You answer me, Axel. This ain't no time for games.”

Kate pressed the muzzle harder against Axel's head and the man peed his pants. Kate sniffed and glanced down at him, a disgusted expression in her eyes. Axel blushed under the dirt on his unshaven face.

“Damn it, Axel!” Clyde shouted. “You bes' talk to me, boy. You hear me?”

Jamie stepped out silently and tapped Clyde on the shoulder. When he spun around, his mouth open and his eyes wide with fright, Jamie popped him with a big fist. Clyde's eyes rolled back into his head as he hit the ground hard. He did not move. When Clyde awakened, he was lying on the ground beside Axel, both men trussed up tight.

“Oh, shit!” Clyde whispered. “MacCallister! Axel, we be in big trouble.”

“You got that right, Clyde,” Jamie told him. He slowly pulled out his big Bowie knife and laid the sharp cold steel against Clyde's cheek.

“Oh, LordyLordyLordy!” Clyde said. “Don't kill me, MacCallister. I didn't do you no harm a'tall.”

“Me, neither!” Axel whispered.

“You boys are riding with Biggers and Wilmot. Where are they camped?”

“Northeast of here,” Clyde quickly replied. “Over on the Chewack. It's the truth, I swear it.”

“How come you boys are such a long way from your friends?”

“We been down to the settlement to drink some,” Axel said.

“What settlement?”

“'Bout three days' ride from here, over to the south and west. It ain't been there long. Used to be just a tradin' post.”

Jamie stared in silence at the men for so long they both got very nervous. “Where on the Chewack?” he finally asked.

“Down to where it runs into that other river. I don't know the name of it,” Clyde said.

“Any unfriendly Indians around here?” Jamie asked.

“Not no more,” Axel spoke up. “Unless you run into some Blackfeet, and they can be downright quarrelsome.”

“How many members in the gang?”

“Oh ... near 'bout thirty, I reckon. They come and go.”

Jamie took Kate aside and said, “We'll set them afoot with ample food and the guns they have with them.”

“And the gang?”

“We avoid them. If there were four or five of them, I'd tangle. But twenty or so.” He shook his head. “No.”

Jamie returned to the men and stared down at them. They were plenty scared and made no effort to hide that fact. “I'm going to let you boys live,” he finally said.

“Oh, thank you, Jesus!” Axel said.

“But I'd think twice about returning to the gang. They're going to come to no good end.”

Staring down at the men, Jamie sensed his words had not gotten through to Clyde. Axel was too scared to do anything other than bob his head up and down. Jamie shrugged and walked off. Gathering up the reins to their horses, he led them back into the brush and dropped the men's saddlebags and bedrolls to the ground.

“Thank you kindly, Mr. MacCallister,” Clyde said, but Jamie could see the meanness in the man's eyes shining plain. “You're a real gentleman, you are. Is you goin' to loosen these bonds just a mite, kind sir?”

Jamie looked down at the man and decided he might as well get it over with here and now. Clyde wanted to kill him so bad the odor of it very nearly fouled the cool air. Jamie reached down and cut the man's bonds, then stepped back and kicked his saddlebags to him, figuring the man had a couple of guns in the saddlebags. Jamie took a couple of more steps back.

“There is no money on my head anymore, Clyde. Not a penny that I am aware of. And if you're looking to make a reputation, my advice would be to forget it.”

Clyde rubbed his wrists and grinned. “Man who kilt Jamie MacCallister could name his own price.”

“If that's the kind of business you want to be in, I suppose so,” Jamie said softly.

“What kind of a break is you gonna give me, MacCallister?” Clyde asked.

“Clyde!” Axel called. “Don't be a damn fool, man. He's give us our lives, let's take it and get clear of this whole damn dirty business.”

“Shut up,” Clyde said, slowly crawling to his knees and reaching for the saddlebags. “I axe you, MacCallister. What kind of break is you offerin' me?”

“None,” Jamie replied honestly. “When you reach into those saddlebags, you're dead.”

“Now that ain't sportin' of you.”

“I never said I was a sport.”

“Clyde!” Axel yelled. “Don't do it, man.”

“I knowed all along you was yeller, Axel,” Clyde said. “Shut up your trap. There ain't no way he can haul them big heavy pistols out of them holsters afore I can jerk and fire. He's a fool, he is.”

“You be the fool, Clyde,” Axel said.

“You been runnin' your trap for months 'bout wantin' to go back to Maryland and farm the old homestead, Axel. When I see MacCallister dead on the ground, I'll cut you loose and you can get gone to the farm. Me, I'll take me a taste of that there woman of his'n.”

Kate laughed at him. “Not you or ten like you,” she told him.

Clyde reached into his jacket pocket and came out with a pocket knife. He cut Axel's bonds. “You got a hide-out gun they didn't see, Axel. When I kill MacCallister, you knock a leg out from under the bitch. I'll pleasure myself whilst she's bleedin' to death.”

“I ain't a-gonna do it, Clyde. And that's that.”

“Then we ain't pards no more, Axel.”

“Good,” Axel said from his position on the ground.

Jamie's hands were by his side, and he appeared to be totally relaxed as he waited for Clyde to make his move.

Clyde slid the leather straps out of their buckles and slowly opened the flap to one of the saddlebags. “I reckon your woman is gonna shoot me after I shoot you, huh, MacCallister?”

“What do you think?” Jamie asked him, sensing that Clyde was having a lot of second thoughts.

“Well, hell! This ain't a bit fair.”

“What it is,” Axel said, “is stupid.”

“I agree,” Kate said.

“This is getting ridiculous,” Jamie said, and quickly stepped forward. He popped Clyde on the side of the jaw and the man dropped like a stone.

“I hate to say this,” Axel said. “But you should have shot him, Mr. MacCallister. ”He's gonna come after you for doin' this.”

“Then he's a fool.”

“I can't argue that.”

Jamie cut Axel loose and pointed to the man's horse. “You want to go back to your farm in Maryland?”

“More'n anything else in this world.”

“Then ride.”

Axel was gone in under a minute, heading south.

“Jamie?” Kate said.

“I have an idea.”

“What is it?”

“Let's go home.”

* * *

The wagon train from San Francisco with all the presents arrived in the valley just a few days before Jamie and Kate rode in. The crates and boxes were stacked unopened in a barn, awaiting the arrival of Jamie and Kate. The four mountain men had ridden in with the money Jamie had sent to Ian along with Kate's mare and told the settlers that Jamie and Kate would be along sometime in late summer or early fall.