Authors: William W. Johnstone
Destiny of Eagles (8 page)
“This here'n will do,” Thad said, nodding toward the first one.
“Come over here and stand on the trapdoor,” the sheriff said.
Thad complied, and as he stood there, they removed the chains, but tied his feet together with rope, then tied his arms down by his side.
“You want some time with the preacher?” the sheriff asked.
Thad looked over at the man who, but moments ago, had been haranguing the crowd.
“No. I'd rather go straight to hell than have that son of a bitch prayin' over my soul,” Thad said. “I don't even want him standin' up here on the scaffold with me.”
The crowd gasped in shock at his words.
“Repent,” the preacher shouted, pointing a long bony finger at Thad. “Repent, you sinner, before it's too late.”
“Get that son of a bitch away from me,” Thad growled.
“You heard him, Preacher,” the sheriff said. “Step on down now.”
The preacher left the scaffold, but halfway down the thirteen steps, he turned and pointed back toward Thad. “You have just condemned you soul to eternal torment!” he shouted.
“You go to hell!” Thad called back, and a few of the men in the front row chuckled nervously, though many mouthed quick, silent prayers.
“You got 'ny last words? Anything you want to say?” the sheriff asked.
Thad looked out into the faces of the men, women, and children who were gathered to watch him hang.
“I see a great many people here,” Thad said. “But not one I could call a friend.”
“Hell, you killed ever'one that ever called themselves your friend,” someone from the front shouted out, and the laughter over his comment moved through the crowd like a wave as his words were repeated.
The hood was placed over Thad's face, and everything went dark. As the hangman dropped the noose around his neck, Thad tensed up, lifting his shoulders and shortening his neck.
“Don't tense up, Mr. Howard,” the hangman said. “It'll go easier for you if you're relaxed.”
“How the hell does a body relax when you are about to break his neck?” Thad asked, through the hood.
“I'm just tellin' you for your own good,” the hangman said. “Whether you are tense or not, you're goin' to die. It'll just be easier on you if you don't try an' fight it. Just let it happen.”
“Stop your palaverin' and get this over with,” Thad said.
“Whatever you say, Mr. Howard,” the hangman replied. “I figure you got about thirty seconds left in this world.”
The hangman stepped back to the edge of the gallows platform, put his hands on the lever, then looked over at the sheriff.
Sheriff Merrill nodded, and the hangman pulled the lever.
* * *
Inside the jail, Corey and Ethan heard the snap of the trapdoor falling open; then they heard the gasps and shouts from the crowd.
“Looks like ole Howard is gone,” Ethan said.
“Yeah,” Corey replied, his voice sounding tight now.
Strangely, Corey wasn't as defiant as he had been earlier, Ethan thought.
“Corey, you think it's going to hurt?”
“Hell, yes, it's going to hurt, you dumb son of a bitch!” Corey replied. All bravado was gone now as he was on the edge of panic.
“Hey,” someone whispered from outside the jail. “Frank, Corey, Ethan, you in there?”
Corey and Ethan looked at each other in surprise. Then Corey got up from the bunk and walked over to look through the window.
Aaron was standing in the alley just behind the jail building, a big smile on his face.
“Howdy, boys,” Aaron said.
“Aaron, what are you doing here?” Corey asked.
“Me'n the boys have come to get you out,” Aaron replied. “Where's Frank?”
“That lucky son of a bitch ain't a-goin' to hang,” Corey said. “They sent him back to the territorial prison in Bismarck.”
“You're the lucky ones,” Aaron said. “He's in prison. But I'm about to get you boys out. You got somethin' you can get under? Like maybe a mattress or somethin'?”
“They's straw mattresses on these here cots,” Corey replied. “What'd you ask that for?”
“Well, my advice to you two boys is get over in the corner and cover up with them mattresses,” Dalton said. “'Cause I'm about to blow up this here wall.”
“Wait, do you think that's wise? We could be killed,” Ethan said.
Aaron chuckled. “Hell, you goin' to be killed anyway, ain't you?” he asked. “If you're goin' to die, you may as well die tryin' to escape.”
“He's right,” Corey said, grabbing one of the mattresses. “Come on, let's cover up.”
“Get back, I'm lightin' the fuse right now,” Aaron called.
The blast went off with devastating effect, blowing out the back wall and filling the jail, now hollowed out, with dust and gun smoke.
“Are you still alive?” Aaron shouted.
Coughing and wheezing, Corey and Ethan threw aside the mattress that had provided them with protection and stood up.
“Barely,” Corey said.
“Get mounted,” Aaron said. “Let's get out of here.”
Chapter 8
When the dynamite went off, it was so loud that it broke windows out on the street. The preacher, who had returned to the scaffold after Thad Howard's body was cut down, had started preaching again. At the explosion, he leaped down from the gallows and fell to the ground, covering his head with his arms. The crowd that had been waiting for the second act of the hanging screamed and scattered.
For several moments, nobody got around their fear quickly enough to figure out what was going on. It wasn't until someone saw smoke rising from the alley behind the jail that anyone got suspicious.
“The jail!” he shouted. “It looks like there was an explosion over at the jail!”
“My prisoners!” Merrill shouted, starting toward the jail on the run.
A half dozen of those nearest the sheriff ran along with him to see what happened. When they threw the front door open, all their questions were answered. The entire back wall of the jail building was gone, destroyed by a blast of some sort. The cell that had housed Corey Childers and Ethan Yerby was empty.
“Son of a bitch!” the sheriff shouted in anger. “They got away!”
* * *
The escaped prisoners were little more than five miles away when Corey's horse went lame.
“Hold it up! Hold it up, fellas!” he called to the others.
Aaron halted the group, then looked back at his brother. “What is it? What's wrong?”
“You give me a lame horse,” Corey said. “This here animal can't go another mile.”
“We can't stop now,” Ethan said anxiously.
“Look behind you, Ethan. Do you see anyone comin'?” Corey asked.
“No.”
“No, and you ain't likely too neither. They got 'em a new sheriff in that town, and he don't know whether to pick his nose or scratch his ass. And I don't see him getting' a bunch of citizens together to form a posse to run us down neither. More'n likely, he'll just wait 'n see what the U.S. Marshals do about it.”
“So, what are you sayin', Corey? That we can just stay here?” Percy asked.
“No, I ain't saying nothin' of the kind. All I'm sayin' is, we don't have to run around like chickens with our heads cut off. We got time to find me a horse that ain't broke down.”
“Looks like they's a farm or a ranch or some such place up ahead a piece,” Dalton said.
“All right, let's head for there,” Aaron suggested.
* * *
Mary Douglass opened the oven to check on her biscuits. The nineteen-year-old woman was a mail-order bride, married but three months to a man she had never met until he came to St. Louis to claim her, after she answered an ad in a magazine.
She was a very pretty woman, hardly the kind of person one would think would be a mail-order bride. But when she suffered a miscarriage, the result of an affair with the son of a local banker, her reputation in St. Louis had been ruined.
Mary had been advised not to tell her husband-to-be of her past, but she felt that would be dishonest, so she told him within an hour after meeting him.
“Hell, darlin', you ain't exactly gettin' yourself a Sunday School teacher,” Luke had replied. “What's past is past.”
The biscuits were a golden brown and she smiled, pleased with herself at the outcome. Luke loved her biscuits.
She heard the door to the kitchen open behind her.
“Luke, what are you doing in so early? It's . . .” she began, but turning, she saw three strange men.
“Well, now, lookee here, will you?” Aaron exclaimed. “I believe this little lady has dinner all ready for us.”
“Who . . . who are you?” Mary asked in a frightened voice.
“We're just some friendly neighbors, dropped by for dinner,” Aaron said. He walked over to the stove, picked up a biscuit, and took a bite.
“Neighbors? Are you friends of Luke's?” Mary asked.
“Luke's, yeah, we're friends of Luke's.”
“I'm Mary. I'm Luke's wife,” Mary said. “Uh, Luke didn't say anything about having guests for lunch. I'm not sure I cooked enough.”
“What you got here is fine,” Aaron said. He, Percy, and Ethan helped themselves to biscuits and bacon. Mary watched in shock, and not a little fear, as they tore open biscuits and layered bacon onto them.
“What the hell, Aaron, you takin' all the bacon?”
“They ain't that much,” Aaron replied. “Just dip your biscuit in the bacon grease.”
“I'll just put some of these fried taters on mine,” Percy said, scooping up a handful of fried potatoes and laying them on his biscuit.
“What . . . what are you doing?” Mary asked, shocked by the sight of the three men standing around the stove, eating with their hands.
At that moment Corey and Dalton came in.
“Better get some of this grub while you got a chance,” Aaron said, speaking with a mouthful of food. “Did you find a horse?”
“Yeah, they was a good-lookin' mare in the barn. I done got her saddled.”
“You saddled Rhoda?”
“That the horse's name? Good. They always ride a little better when you know their name.”
“You're not friends of Luke at all, are you?” Mary asked, putting her hand to her throat as she began to realize the truth.
Aaron looked at her, then smiled, an evil smile. “Never even heard of him,” he said.
“Then I must ask you to get out of my house,” Mary said.
Percy laughed. “Listen to her. She's got spunk, you got to give her that.”
“Aaron, look out!” Dalton suddenly shouted.
Unnoticed by all but Dalton, Mary had picked up a poker. She swung it at Aaron but, thanks to Dalton's timely warning, Aaron was able to jump out of the way. The poker hit the stove with a loud clang.
“Get out of my house!” Mary shouted angrily. She raised the poker for another swing, but a gunshot rang out and Mary gasped in pain and surprise as she was knocked back by the impact of the bullet. She looked down to see a dark, ugly wound in her left breast. Blood was spreading quickly over her dress. Luke had bought her this dress and, irrationally, she thought of how upset he would be to see it stained.
Then she felt her head spinning and she went down. Her body got cold as everything went dark around her.
Corey Childers stood there looking at her, holding a smoking gun in his hand.
“What the hell did you shoot her for?” Aaron asked.
“What do you mean what did I shoot her for?” Corey replied. “The bitch was trying to kill you. Or didn't you notice?”
“Hell, couldn't you have stopped her without killing her? As long as she was alive, we could've had a little fun with her.”
“Is she dead?” Percy asked.
Dalton got down to look at her, putting her hand on his neck.
“What about it?” Ethan asked. “Is she dead?”
Dalton nodded. “Yeah,” he said.
“What do we do now?” Percy asked.
“Look around, take anything we can use, then burn the house,” Aaron said.
* * *
Luke Douglass had been clearing land, and he was walking home for lunch when he heard the shot. He had no idea what it was, but it frightened him, and he broke into a run.
Just as he reached the clearing where his house stood, he saw five men standing outside. At first he was confused as to who they were, and why they were here. Then he noticed that one of the saddled horses was a golden palomino. It was Rhoda!
“Who are you men?” he called. “What are you doing here, and why is Rhoda saddled?”
At that moment the first flames burst through the windows of the house.
“My God! The house is on fire!” he shouted. “Where is Mary?”
“Was that your woman's name?” Aaron asked.
“Was?” Luke asked in a tight voice.
“Whatever her name was, you'll find her dead inside.”
With a shout of anger and grief, Luke ran toward the house. He tried to go inside, but by now the flames were so high that he couldn't get through the door.
“You bastards!” Luke shouted.
To the surprise of everyone, Luke launched himself from the porch, knocking Corey from the saddle as he did so. The two men fell to the ground and, in the struggle, Luke managed to get Corey's gun. Sticking the gun in Corey's belly, he pulled the trigger.
“Son of a bitch! He just shot Corey!” Aaron shouted.
Rolling away from Corey, with Corey's gun in his hand, Luke shot a second time, knocking Ethan from his saddle.
By now Aaron, Dalton, and Percy had all drawn their own guns, and all three shot at the same time, killing Luke.
Aaron got down to check on his brother, Corey, while Dalton checked on Ethan.
“Ethan's dead,” Dalton said.
“Yeah, so is Corey.”
Dalton walked over to look at Luke. “What the hell got into you, you crazy son of a bitch?” Dalton shouted in anger. He kicked Luke's body.
“Come on,” Aaron said, mounting his horse. “Let's get out of here before the fire starts bringing neighbors.”
“What about Corey and Ethan?” Dalton asked.
“What about 'em?” Aaron replied, looking down now from his saddle.
“Well, are we just going to leave 'em here?”
“Yes.”
Dalton shook his head. “No,” he said. “No way am I going to just leave my brother here.”
“Dalton, Aaron's right,” Percy said.
“What the hell do you have to do with this?” Dalton snapped. “Ain't neither one of them your brother.”
“No, but they was both my friends,” Percy said. “And if we leave 'em here, folks will think they kilt each other.”
Dalton was quiet for a moment, then he nodded. “All right,” he said. “All right, I reckon I can see that. But it don't seem right to just leave 'em lyin' here without doin' somethin'. I mean, shouldn't we say some words over 'em or somethin'?”
“Whatever words you wanna say, you can say from the saddle,” Aaron said. He jerked his horse around. “Let's get the hell out of here.”
* * *
Falcon MacCallister was about two miles away when he saw the smoke. He knew that only one thing could make that kind of smoke out here. Someone's house was on fire.
Falcon slapped his legs against the side of his horse, urging the animal into a gallop. He didn't know whether he could get there in time or not to help save the house, but from the looks of the smoke, he probably could not. He did know, though, that whoever owned the house would welcome any kind of help, no matter how little good it might do.
By the time Falcon reached the location, the structure of the house had collapsed in on itself so that only flames and smoke remained. Through the smoke, he saw three bodies lying on the ground and, dismounting, he hurried to them.
Two of the men he recognized immediately. They were the two men who had been tried and convicted for the murder of Billy Puckett. He had not stayed around for the hanging, and was surprised to see them here.
He went over to check the third man, and saw that he was still alive, though barely. Falcon knelt beside him.
“Who are you?” Falcon asked.
“Douglass,” the man said, barely able to say the word. “Luke Douglass.”
“What happened here?”
“My wife!” Douglass suddenly said. He tried to sit up, but fell back down. “She's in the house!”
Falcon looked toward what had been the house, but was now so much kindling wood.
“I'll see what I can do,” said, saying the words to comfort Douglass because he knew there was nothing he could really do.
“They took Rhoda,” Douglass said.
“Rhoda?”
“She's a palomino. I bought her for Mary.”
“I'll get her back for you,” Falcon said, but his words fell on deaf ears. Douglass was dead.
Shaking his head sadly, Falcon began looking around. On first sight it appeared as if Cory Childers and Ethan Yerby had fought it out with Luke Douglass. But as he examined the evidence, he saw that things weren't as they initially appeared.
Corey Childers didn't have a gun, not in his hand, not in his holster. Ethan Yerby did have a gun, but it was in his holster, and hadn't been fired.
Two bullets had been fired from the gun in Douglass's hand. Oddly, he was not wearing a holster, which led Falcon to believe that, somehow, he must have gotten Corey's gun.
On the other hand, Luke Douglass had three bullet wounds, so somebody shot him. The question was, who?
Making a wider examination of the area, Falcon saw that five horses had left the farm. However, from the depth of the hoof marks, it was obvious that two of the horses were not being ridden.
It was also obvious by the tracks that one of the horses had come from the barn.
When Falcon found the tracks approaching the farm, he saw that there were only four horses, though one of them was carrying double. Evidently they had come to steal a horse, and anything else they could find. The farmer and his wife had resisted them, resulting in both being killed.
Falcon walked out to the barn and found a spade. Then he dug two graves in the soft dirt of the woman's garden. By the time he was finished, the fire was burned down and, looking through the ash, he found what was left of Douglass's woman. He turned his head aside when he saw the blackened, twisted body.
“I'm glad you didn't have to see this, Mr. Douglass,” he said quietly.
Finding a piece of tarpaulin in the barn, he got her body onto it, and dragged it out to one of the graves. He put Luke Douglass in another piece he found, then closed both of them and stood there for a long moment, his hat in his hand, as the wind blew through his hair.
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