MacCallister: The Eagles Legacy: The Killing (12 page)

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Authors: William W. Johnstone,J. A. Johnstone

Tags: #Fiction, #Westerns, #General

BOOK: MacCallister: The Eagles Legacy: The Killing
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“It will cost you a dollar,” Fred said. “And if you pay now, you won’t have to pay at the door. We are going to charge a dollar and a quarter at the door.”
“See what I mean?” Blanton said.
Chuckling, Duff pulled out his billfold and gave Fred a dollar. “Tell me,” he said. “Has Miss Parker bought a ticket yet?”
“No.”
Duff handed Fred another dollar. “Then I should like to buy one for her,” he said.
“Well, now, I’m sure she will appreciate that,” Fred said.
“Will you be taking your pipes to the ball?” Biff asked. He was asking about the bagpipes that Duff often played.
“I could be talked into it,” Duff answered.
“And believe me, it doesn’t take much to talk him into it, either,” Elmer said. “He has those things caterwauling all the time.”
“
Och
, Elmer, and would ye be for disparaging m’ pipes now?” Duff asked.
“Oh, no, no, I’d never do a thing like that,” Elmer said. “I know what them screechin’ things mean to you.”
Biff chuckled. “I will always remember the day you came into town to take care of Malcolm and his gang. You stood down at the end of the road and started playin’ your pipes. It was a glorious sight to see him so afraid.”
“’Tis the pipes!” Malcolm said, standing up so quickly that the chair in which he was sitting fell over with a bang.
“The what?” Pettigrew asked.
“The pipes! MacCallister is playing the pipes! Everyone get into position, he’s coming!”
The others moved quickly to get into the positions they had already selected. Malcolm, with pistol in hand, moved to the batwing doors and looked out into the street as Pogue and Shaw went about clearing it.
“Get off the street! Get out of the way!” Pogue and Shaw were shouting. “Get out of the street or get shot!”
The pipes continued to play “Scotland the Brave,” which only Malcolm recognized as the incitement to battle. The fact that pipes were being used against him gave him a chill, and though he wouldn’t mention it to any of the others, it had frightened him.
“With your skill with a pistol, it won’t be long before you’ll have a reputation to match that of your cousin, Falcon MacCallister,” Charley Blanton said. “I wasn’t the only one to pick up the story of what happened down in Cheyenne when you shot Tyler Camden while he was holding a knife to that lady’s neck. It has been run in papers all over the West. ‘The shot,’ they are calling it.”
“There wasn’t much to it,” Duff said. “It wasn’t as if I had to make a rapid extraction of my pistol.”
Elmer laughed. “Quick draw, Duff. How many times do I have to tell you that it is not a rapid extraction, it is a quick draw.”
The others laughed.
“Quick draw, aye, but whatever it be called, ’tis a skill with which I am not particularly proficient,” Duff replied. “But as I said, in this case, swiftness was not required, just a bit of accuracy.”
“A bit of accuracy?” Blanton said with a scoffing sound. “According to what they are saying, you took your shot from one hundred feet away, and hit a target no larger than a playing card.”
“Why, pshaw, that ain’t nothin’ at all,” Elmer said. “I oncet seen him shoot a gnat offen the hind leg of a fly from fifty feet away, and here’s the thing, he didn’t even hurt the fly.”
Again, everyone laughed.
“Elmer, I spent thirty years in the army, and the army is full of people who can tell tall tales, but I ain’t never heard no one that can top you.”
“Those eight men came after you here in Chugwater last year, then you had an encounter with Camden in Cheyenne, and three more men on the road as you were coming back home. It’s no wonder you left Scotland,” Biff said. “Trouble just seems to have a way of followin’ you.”
Duff was silent for a moment. “I fear you may be right,” he replied, the tone of voice more somber than anyone expected.
“I’m sorry about mentionin’ Scotland,” Biff said. “I didn’t mean to bring up old and painful memories.” Biff was one of the few who knew about Skye, and how she was killed.
“You didn’t bring the memories up, Biff. They never go away. And indeed, I just visited Scotland as you know,” Duff said. He finished his beer and stood up. “Well, gentlemen, I have had a pleasant visit here with my friends, but I’ve some more business to take care of before I leave, so best I get about it.”
“Do say hello to Miss Parker for us, will you, Duff?” Fred spoke up.
Duff had not said that he was going to call on Meghan Parker, but the way he smiled when Fred spoke proved that he had every intention of doing so.
“I will,” he said.
Chapter Twelve
 
When Meghan Parker was twelve years old, both of her parents were killed in a riverboat accident. She could still remember the pain and sorrow of their loss. And the fear, the absolute, mind-numbing fear.
What would happen to her?
She needn’t have worried, because even though her grandmother was already very old, she had stepped in and raised Meghan as if she were her own. It had been a wonderful relationship between Meghan and her grandmother, and when her grandmother died, three days after Meghan’s nineteenth birthday, the pain and sorrow was as great as it had been when her own parents had died.
Meghan was in college at the time, and although losing her grandmother was a terrible emotional blow to her, it wasn’t a financial blow, because she still had the money that had been left to her by her parents. And by selling her grandmother’s house, she had been able to add to her coffer. As a result, she was able to finish her education without experiencing any financial burden at all.
She had gone to college to be a schoolteacher, but her grandmother, a seamstress, taught Meghan how to design, cut cloth, and sew women’s clothes. It was a skill that Meghan picked up easily, and one that she enjoyed.
“I know you are studying to be a teacher and teaching is a good thing, but it is also good to have something to fall back on,” her grandmother had told her. “That’s why I think you should learn how to sew. Folks are always going to need clothes.”
What Meghan especially enjoyed was creating original dresses and gowns. She had a great talent for it, and as it turned out, that advice may have been the most valuable thing Meghan Parker’s grandmother had left her. Because though she had come to Chugwater to be a schoolteacher, she learned when she arrived that another woman had already been hired. She was about to return to St. Louis when she was given the opportunity to buy a dress shop, and she’d had just enough money left over to do that. That she had been successful in the enterprise was evidenced by the fact that her shop was now one of the most profitable business establishments in all of Chugwater.
Meghan had never been married, nor had she ever been serious about anyone before. And the question she asked herself now was: did she have a serious relationship with Duff MacCallister?
She couldn’t answer that question. She did have a proprietary relationship with him, though, ever since she had saved his life in the gun battle that had taken place right here in Chugwater, on the street in front of her store. The gun battle had been between Duff and eight men, which certainly meant that the odds against him were almost insurmountable.
Meghan had been an unintended witness to the battle from the window of her shop.
Seeing quickly what was going on, and understanding the odds against him, she was unwilling to stand by and watch the handsome Scotsman, whom she barely knew at the time, be killed. She made up her mind right there to help him in any way she could.
Meghan saw the two men behind the watering-trough cock their pistols and start to move toward the edge. If Duff had no idea they were there, they would have the advantage over him. Dare she call out to him?
Then she got an idea, and she hurried to the back of her shop.
“What is it?” Mrs. Riley asked from behind a trunk. “What is going on out there?”
“Stay down, Mrs. Riley. Just stay down and you’ll be all right,” Meghan said. She unscrewed the knobs that held the dressing mirror on the frame then carrying it to the front, she turned it on its side so that it had a length-wise projection. Holding it in the window, she prayed that Duff would see it.
Once he was safely behind the watering trough, Duff slithered on his stomach to the edge, then peered around it. He looked first toward the saloon to see if Malcolm was going to make another appearance, but the saloon was quiet. Then, looking across the street, he saw a woman in the window of the dress shop. It was Meghan, the same pretty woman he had seen step down from the stagecoach the first day he rode into town and had actually met for the first time at Annie’s funeral. At first, he wondered what she was doing there, then he saw exactly what she was doing.
Meghan was holding a mirror, and looking into the mirror, Duff could see the reflection of two men lying on the ground behind the watering trough that was directly across the street from him. He watched as one started moving toward the end of the trough in order to take a look. Duff aimed his pistol at the edge of the trough and waited.
His vigil was rewarded. Duff saw the brim of a hat appear, and he cocked his pistol, aimed, took a breath, and let half of it out. When he saw the man’s eye appear, Duff touched the trigger. Looking into the mirror, he saw the man’s face fall into the dirt and the gun slip from his hand.
 
 
Meghan was recalling that incident when she heard the tinkling of the bell on her front door. Putting down the bolt of cloth she was examining, she stepped out front. Duff MacCallister’s visit wasn’t entirely unexpected, but seeing him come into her shop did bring a broad smile.
“I saw you and Elmer ride into town earlier,” she said. “I was hoping you would stop by to see me.”
“Sure now, Lassie, and ye dinnae think I would be for leavin’ without m’ stoppin’ by to tell you good-bye, now?”
“Sure ’n t’was hopin’ I was that you would nae be for takin’ your leave without so much as a visit,” Meghan said, almost perfectly mimicking Duff’s Scottish brogue.
“
Och
, ’tis fun of me you be makin’,” Duff said, though there was no anger in his voice.
Meghan laughed, her laughter like the lilting music of wind chimes. “I’m having a bit of fun, but I’m not making fun of you, Duff Tavish MacCallister. Have you had your supper?”
“I have not.”
A fall of blond hair slipped forward to cover one of Meghan’s eyes, and she brushed it back.
“I have some fried chicken and potato salad in the back room, if you would care to join me.”
“I would be delighted.”
 
 
They ate their meal on the same table Meghan used to lay out her material when she was cutting up cloth for her sewing projects. She had made lemonade to have with their supper, and Duff was on his second glass when Meghan cleared away the residue of the meal, then returned to sit across the table from him.
“Tell me about her,” Meghan said.
“I beg your pardon?”
“Tell me about the woman back in Scotland. You never speak of her, but sometimes when you let your guard down, your eyes let me see all the way in to your soul. It is a good soul Duff Tavish MacCallister, but when I look that deep, I can see the scars and the pain. Tell me about her, Duff. I want to know.”
Duff was quiet, so quiet that for a long moment Meghan feared she may have overstepped her bounds.
“I’m sorry, Duff, please forgive me for asking. I had no right to pry into your affairs. If you would rather not talk about it,” she said, but Duff held up his hand.
“What can I say about Skye, Meghan? Would that I were a poet, that I could express myself in words that speak of a mist on the moors, of heather and cool lakes, and all that is beautiful about Scotland and she who was my love, I would do so, so that others might know her as I knew her.”
“You words are eloquent enough for any poet, Duff.”
“When she was murdered by Sheriff Somerled and his deputies, the self-same devils who came to America to try ’n kill me, I thought my world had come to an end.”
“Oh, Duff, I’m so sorry. Please forgive me for causing you to have to recall such painful memories.”
“There is nothing to forgive. The memory of her dying is painful, that is true enough. But the memories of Skye can never be painful. They can only be sweet.”
“How lucky she was to have known your love.”
“Not luck, I fear, but misfortune, for ’twas my love that got her killed.”
“Better to have loved and died than never to have known love at all,” Meagan said.
“For her sake, I pray that is true,” Duff said.
Meghan reached across the table and put her hand on Duff’s. “It is true, Duff,” she said. “Believe me, it is true.”
“Meghan, I ...”
Whatever Duff was about to say was interrupted by a knock on the front door.
“Mr. MacCallister? Mr. MacCallister, are you in there?”
“That sounds like young Lonnie Mathers,” Meghan said. “I wonder what he wants.”
Lonnie Mathers was the seventeen-year-old son of a widowed mother and, for the last four years he had taken every odd job in town to help his mother meet expenses. Most of the time, he worked for Fred Matthews in his mercantile, but he had also done jobs for R.W. Guthrie at his lumber shed, and had even driven a freight wagon for him a few times.
“There is only one way to find out,” Duff said, walking to the front of the shop and opening the door.
“Sorry to be botherin’ you, Mr. MacCallister, but the fellers down at Fiddler’s Green said you’d be here. And Mr. Murchison at the telegraph office said that, more’n likely, you’d be wantin’ to see this here telegraph right away.”
“Thank you, Lonnie,” Duff said, handing the boy half a dollar.
“Oh my, thank you!” Lonnie replied, smiling broadly at the size of the tip. Turning, he walked away quickly into the dark.
“I don’t like telegrams,” Meghan said. “Too often they bring bad news.”
“They’re used for things other than bad news,” Duff said as he opened the envelope. Pulling out the little yellow piece of paper, he read it, then frowned.
“You are frowning. Is it something bad?” Meghan asked, an obvious look of concern on her face.
“No, not really,” Duff answered.
“Not really? That means it’s a little bad, doesn’t it?”
“It is a telegram from the Kansas City Cattle Exchange.”
“Isn’t that where you are going to buy your cattle?”
“Yes. They have received my order and are putting together a herd for me, but in order to ship the cattle I am going to have to go there to make arrangements. It says they have mailed a letter with all the details.”
“That means you are going to have to go to Kansas City?”
“I’m afraid so.”
“When will you go?”
“I don’t know yet. Probably some time next week.”
The look of concern on Meghan’s face changed to a smile. “Oh. So you will be here for the Firemen’s Benefit Ball?”
Duff smiled as well. “Aye, Lass, I’d not be for missing that.”
“Good. I’ll be there too.”
“And would ye be for dancin’ with an awkward Scot such as myself?”
“Nothing would please me more,” she said.
“Good, being Scot as I am, I would not like to think I bought your ticket for naught.”
“You bought my ticket?”
“Aye, that I have done. I was about to tell you that when the young lad banged so loudly upon the door.”
“Why, Duff MacCallister, how nice of you.”
“I’ve been known from time to time to do nice things,” Duff teased.
“Oh, of that, I have no doubt. But now, I’ve something to ask you, and I hope the question doesn’t make you uncomfortable.”
“Lass, I hardly think you can ask a question that would make me uncomfortable,” Duff replied.
“In the letter that you had Elmer deliver to me, there was a paragraph that I found confusing,” Meghan said. “I was hoping that perhaps you could clear it up for me.”
“What was the paragraph?”
Meghan walked over to the sideboard to pick up the letter. Removing it from the envelope, she read aloud.
“While in Cheyenne I intend to make arrangements to bring cattle onto my land so that, after a year of preparation Sky Meadow will truly become a cattle ranch. I am sure that the news of my establishing a ranch is important to you only as a matter of the friendship that exists between the two of us. However,” she paused and looked directly at Duff. “And this is the part that I wanted to ask you about.” She continued to read, “
There may come a time when this information would be of much greater interest to you.
” She emphasized the last sentence.
Meghan folded the letter and returned it to the envelope.
Before Meghan could ask her question, they heard loud shouts from outside.
“Fire! Fire! Schoenberg’s is on fire! Everyone turn out!”
Both Duff and Meghan went outside to join the others of the town as everyone hurried down to the hardware store, where flames were already leaping up through the roof.
 
 

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