Destiny of Eagles by William W. Johnstone Read Free Book Online Page B

nodded. “Yes, my ruling,” he said. “I’m going to rule that these three men died by the hand of Falcon MacCallister—”
    â€œJudge?” Puckett interjected quickly, but before he could go any further, Judge Heckemeyer held up a finger.
    â€œBy the hand of Falcon MacCallister,” Heckemeyer continued, “in an act of justifiable homicide. I have no choice, the facts compel me to do this.” He wagged the finger that he was holding up. “But I shall be keeping an eye on you, Mr. MacCallister. Yes, sir, I will be keeping an eye on you.”

Chapter 4
    It had rained earlier in the day, and when Thad Howard rode into the little town of Sheffield, the street was a quagmire. The mud, worked into the consistency of quicksand by the horses’ hooves, had mixed with the droppings to become one long, stinking, sucking pool of ooze. When the rain stopped, the sun, yellow and hot in its late-afternoon transit, had begun the process of evaporation. The result was a foul miasma, rising from the offal of the street.
    The saloon wasn’t hard to find. It was the biggest and grandest building in the entire town. Because of the shadows, there was an illusion of coolness inside the saloon, but it was an illusion only. The dozen-and-a-half customers who were drinking had to keep their bandannas handy to wipe the sweat from their faces.
    Thad looked over everyone in the room. No one was wearing a badge, and none of the drinkers seemed to pose a problem. From all he could tell, there were only cowboys and drifters here, and less than half of them were even wearing guns. A couple of the cowboys were wearing their guns low and kicked-out gunfighter-style, but Thad could tell at a glance that it was all for show. He was certain they had never used their guns for anything but target practice, and probably were not very successful at it.
    The bartender stood at the end of the bar, wiping the used glasses with his stained apron, then setting them among the unused glasses. When he saw Thad step up to the bar, he moved down toward him.
    â€œWhat’ll it be?”
    â€œI’m supposed to meet my brothers in here,” he said.
    â€œYour name Thad?”
    â€œYes.”
    â€œThey’re here. You owe me six dollars.”
    â€œSix dollars? What the hell for?”
    â€œThat’s how much a tab they’ve already run up,” the bartender said.
    â€œGet me a beer.”
    â€œI ain‘t getting’ nothin’ till you pay up the six dollars,” the bartender said. “You got it or not?”
    Although Thad had buried most of the money just outside of town, he had brought over a hundred dollars with him.
    â€œYeah, I got it,” he said, taking out a roll of money. He counted out six dollars and gave it to the bartender. “I’ll have that beer now,” he said.
    The bartender drew the beer and gave it to him.
    â€œNow, where are my brothers?”
    â€œUpstairs in their room.”
    â€œYou rent rooms here?”
    â€œI do.”
    â€œFor sleepin’ or sportin’.”
    â€œEither way you want.”
    â€œWhat room is my brothers in?”
    â€œNumber twenty-three, just at the top of the stairs.”
    Thad climbed up the stairs, then opened the door.
    â€œHey, what the hell?” a man’s voice called out angrily.
    In the bed, he saw two men and a woman. The woman scrambled to cover her nakedness.
    â€œI got it,” Thad said, smiling broadly. He waved the money in front of them.
    With shouts of excitement, Creed and Bob Howard jumped out of bed and started toward him.
    â€œWhat’s going on here?” the woman asked.
    â€œThis here is our brother,” Creed said.
    â€œIf you expect me to take him on too, it’s going to cost more,” the woman said.
    â€œOh, yeah, hey, you want to join in?” Creed asked.
    Thad shook his head. “No, to hell with that.” He held up a wad of money.