Destiny of Eagles (21 page)

“What do we do now?” Shaw asked.

“Get her in the buckboard,” Aaron said. “We're going to take her out to the shack.”

“What if she comes to and starts screaming?”

“We'll put a gag in her mouth.”

“Maybe we ought to give her some more chloroform,” Dalton suggested.

“No,” Aaron said. “Any more might kill her. We need her alive.”

Taking her back to the alley, the three men put Anna's limp form into the back of a buckboard. Three minutes later they were out of town. For once, something Aaron planned had gone off without a hitch.

The first thing Anna noticed when she woke up was that she had a terrible headache. She had never had a headache as bad as this one, and she had no idea what might have caused it.

The next thing she was aware of was the rough texture of the bed. Instead of the smooth satin sheets she was used to in her own bed, this was a very coarse texture, almost like a burlap bag.

And the smells. She was aware of a mélange of fetid, sour odors.

Obviously, this was not her room. But where was she, and how did she get here?

She tried to sit up, then discovered that, wherever she was, she was tied to the bed.

Why was she tied in bed? Why was she here?

On the verge of panic now, Anna looked around to try and determine where she was. But the room, if indeed it was a room, was so dark that she couldn't see anything.

Even the dark was unusual for it was so total, so absent of any ambient light that it was almost overpowering. She had never seen any place as dark as this, and for a moment, she wondered if she was still alive.

“Hello?” she called out. “Hello, is anyone here?”

“I'm here, girl,” a man's voice answered from the darkness.

“Who . . . who are you?” Anna asked.

“The name is Percy. Percy Shaw.”

Every nerve ending in Anna's body called out for her to scream, but she held the impulse in check, intuitively knowing that panic would only make things worse. She decided to take a conciliatory tone toward her captor, for surely that was what he was. She forced herself to be as congenial as she could.

“I'm pleased to meet you, Percy. My name is Anna.”

Percy chuckled, an obscene-sounding laugh that came from somewhere in the darkness.

“I know who you are, girl,” he said. “That's how come we snatched you.”

“We? You mean there are other people in this room?”

“Not now there ain't,” Shaw answered. “Right now there ain't nobody here but me'n you. Aaron and Dalton has gone to take a note to your pa.”

“A note? What kind of a note?”

“It's one a-tellin' your pa that iffen he wants you back he's got to come up with some money.” Shaw was quiet for a moment. “Oh, yeah, and he's got to let Frank go too.”

“Frank? Who is Frank?” Anna asked.

“Frank . . . he's Aaron's brother what's in the territorial prison. Your pa's the one what put him there, so Aaron figured to make your pa tell the folks at the prison to cut him loose.”

“Pa won't do that,” Anna said. “He won't tell them to let Frank go.”

“What do you mean he won't tell them to let Frank go? You ain't tellin' me your pa would just sit back and let you die, are you?”

“I think he will do whatever his conscience tells him to do,” Anna said. “He might give you the money, but I can guarantee you that he will not turn a convicted criminal out of the territorial prison.”

“Yeah, well, we'll just see about that,” Shaw said.

Anna was quiet for a long moment as she contemplated her situation. She didn't know exactly how her father would react to this, but she was reasonably certain that he would not bargain for her release. He was nothing if not a man of principle. And when it came to being true to his principles, he would do so to the death—or, she realized with a shudder, her death.

“Mr. Shaw?” she called after a few minutes of silence.

“Yeah? What is it?”

“Could you light a lantern, please?”

“Haw!” Shaw replied.

“What is so funny?”

“We ain't got no lanterns,” Shaw replied.

“A candle then?”

“Can't do that neither,” Shaw said.

“Why not?”

“'Cause I'm lyin' on this here bunk over here and I'm pretty nigh naked. All I got on is my under-drawers.”

“I promise I won't peek,” Anna said. “I just don't like the dark.”

“You ain't got to be scared of the dark with me in here,” Shaw said.

“Oh? But aren't you one of the ones who brought me in here? And didn't you just say that if my father doesn't meet your demands you will kill me?”

Shaw chuckled evilly. “Yeah, I guess that's right, ain't it? I mean, I am one of the ones you need to be scared of. But if it'll set your mind to ease, I ain't a-plannin' on doin' nothin' to you now. And I won't do it in the dark.”

“Thanks,” Anna said.

She was quiet for a few minutes longer. Then she called out to him again.

“Mr. Shaw, I have to go to the privy.”

“Just hold it.”

“I can't hold it. I had a lot of punch at my friend's house tonight. I have to go.”

“Then go.”

“I can't. I'm tied to the bed.”

“I mean just go right there in bed.”

“Please, Mr. Shaw! I can't do that!” Anna said with a shocked voice.

“Then you don't really have to go all that bad, do you?”

“Please. You can go with me and keep an eye on me.”

“You mean I can watch you?” Shaw replied, his voice showing a bit of interest.

“I mean you can stay outside the privy and watch to make sure I don't run away.”

“Ha!” Shaw said. “There ain't no privy. If you go outside, the onliest thing you can do is just squat down on the ground somewhere.”

Anna sighed. “Then you can come with me and watch me squat down somewhere. But please, just let me go.”

“All right, but I'm comin' with you,” Shaw said with a resigned sigh. “And don't you tell Aaron or Dalton nothing about this.”

“I won't, I promise,” Anna said.

Anna heard the sound of Shaw getting up from his bunk, then walking over toward her. He ran into something, then let out a yelp of pain.

“Damn, I kicked my toe against the table,” he said.

She heard Shaw shuffling things around; then he struck a match. There was a flare as the match caught, then the flare died so that the only light was the single flame of the burning match. The light grew somewhat brighter when Shaw lit a candle. The candle provided a soft, golden bubble of light. It was dim and yellow, but it did serve its purpose.

Shaw walked the rest of the way over to her bed then, and she noticed that he was, as he said, in his underwear. As he leaned over to untie the rope that held her secure, she realized that his almost overpowering body odor was one of the smells she had detected when she first awoke.

Anna sat up on the side of her bed for a moment, rubbing on her wrists and ankles to get the circulation restored.

“Well, you said you had to go, so go,” Shaw said. “Don't just sit there.”

“Hold on for a moment,” Anna said as she continued to rub the rope marks. “It'll take a minute before I can walk. You had those ropes awfully tight.”

“Wasn't me that done it,” Shaw said. “It was Aaron.”

Finally Anna stood up.

“All right,” she said. “I'm ready to go now.”

“Good.”

Suddenly, and without any indication of what she was about to do, Anna sent her foot whistling up toward Shaw's crotch. The point of her shoe caught Shaw in his most tender place and, grabbing his crotch and crying aloud, he doubled over in pain.

Anna saw a nearby chair and she grabbed it, then brought it crashing down over Shaw's head as he was bent over. Shaw went down under the blow.

With a surge of excitement, Anna dashed across the room, jerked open the door, and ran outside. She had no idea where she was or how she would get home, but she didn't care. She was free!

“Here, girl! Where do you think you are going?” Aaron shouted, grabbing her as, unexpectedly, she ran right into his arms.

Anna had the misfortune of choosing to make her escape at the exact moment Aaron and Dalton were returning from their mission of delivering the ransom note to Anna's father.

“Let me go!” Anna said, struggling with her captor. “Let me go!”

“Well, now, didn't we come along at just the right time?” Aaron asked.

“How did she get away? Where's Shaw?” Dalton asked.

“I hope she killed the son of bitch before she ran out of there,” Aaron said.

“You don't mean that, Aaron. He's one of us.”

“No, Shaw ain't one of us. Me'n you's blood kin. Only cousins, but that's blood kin. Percy Shaw ain't nothin'.”

* * *

When Anna did not come down to breakfast the next morning, Judge Heckemeyer wasn't too concerned. He knew that she had visited Millie the night before, and he assumed that she had just stayed over. Anna and Millie had been the best of friends since they were young girls in grade school together, and over the years Millie had spent many nights with Anna, and Anna with Millie.

When they were younger, of course, Judge Heckemeyer always knew where she was because she was careful to ask permission.

Heckemeyer chuckled. Perhaps not asking permission to stay last night was Anna's way of establishing her status as an adult. After all, when she was in New York, she didn't have to ask permission for everything that she did.

Well, of course she didn't have to ask for permission to stay, Heckemeyer thought. But it would have been nice if she had at least shared her plans with him. That way, he wouldn't be worried.

“Judge?”

Looking up from the breakfast table, Judge Heckemeyer saw his housekeeper. There was a strange, pained expression on her face.

“Yes, Sally, what is it?” Heckemeyer asked.

The gray-haired woman who had been his housekeeper since his wife died, many years earlier, held out a piece of paper.

“I found this slid under the door,” she said.

“What is it?”

“I think you better read it,” Sally said.

Curious, and somewhat concerned by his housekeeper's strange attitude and demeanor, Heckemeyer looked at the note. It was a hand-printed note in large, block letters. The first thing he noticed was that his name was misspelled.

Judge Heckemeyer sent for Roosevelt as soon as he read the message, and the young rancher was now sitting in the parlor of Heckemeyer's house, drinking coffee and listening to the judge.

“I didn't think anything about it at first,” Heckemeyer said. “After all, Anna's a grown woman and Millie has been her friend for many years. I just assumed she stayed over last night. Then this morning I got the ransom note I told you about.”

“If you are worried about money, Andrew, I'll gladly pay the five thousand dollars,” Roosevelt said.

“No, it's not that,” Heckemeyer said with a dismissive wave of his hand. “I'm not worried about the money, I have five thousand dollars. It will break me, but that would be a small price to pay to get my daughter back. It's the other thing I'm worried about.”

“The other thing?”

“They are also demanding that I issue orders releasing Frank Childers from prison. I can't do that, Teddy. I won't do that.”

“Even if it means Anna's life?” Roosevelt asked.

“Yes, even if it . . . if it endangers Anna.” He couldn't bring himself to say “even if it means her life.”

“I see,” Roosevelt said quietly.

Heckemeyer shook his head. “No, I'm not sure that you do see,” he said. “Teddy, if I issued orders to free Frank Childers, I would be repudiating everything that I have ever stood for. I can't do that.”

“So, what do you plan to do?”

Heckemeyer lowered his head and pinched the bridge of his nose. He was silent for a long time before he sighed and lifted his head again. He wasn't weeping, but Roosevelt saw that his eyes were red-rimmed, and filled with the pain of his situation.

“I don't know,” Heckemeyer finally said. “Lord help me, I don't know.”

“I have an idea,” Roosevelt said. “You probably won't like it. In fact, I'm sure you won't like it. But it is a possible answer.”

“What is it?” Heckemeyer asked.

“I'm warning you, you won't like it,” Roosevelt said again.

“Look, if it will get Anna back safely, I will like it, no matter what it is.”

“All right. Send Falcon MacCallister after her.”

“What? Are you serious?”

“I told you you wouldn't like it,” Roosevelt said.

“Well, you were right. I don't like it. I don't like it at all.”

“It's the only way,” Roosevelt said.

“What do you mean, it's the only way? There has to be another way.”

“I'm sure there is, but nothing comes to my mind right now. What about you? Do you have any ideas?” Roosevelt asked.

“No,” Heckemeyer admitted.

For a long moment the two men sipped their coffee, the silence of the room interrupted only by the tick-tock of the old grandfather clock.

“What . . .” Heckemeyer began. He paused for a moment, then continued. “Just what do you think MacCallister would do? For that matter, what could he do?”

“As for what he would do, I believe he would do whatever it takes to get Anna back safely.”

“Why would he? I mean, he knows what I think about him.”

“Because he is a man of honor,” Roosevelt said.

“Ah, yes, I remember you telling me that. Still I can't see him—”

“And he regards you as a man of honor,” Roosevelt said, interrupting Heckemeyer.

“How so?”

“Despite how you feel about him, you conducted the trial fairly and honestly. Men of honor see that in each other, Andrew. I believe Falcon MacCallister would go after Anna if you asked him to. And what's more, I believe he would bring her back safely.”

“You really think so?”

“I know so,” Roosevelt said resolutely.

“All right. I'll ask him. When do you think would be a good time to see him?”

Roosevelt smiled. “How about right now?” he asked.

“Right now? All right, where can I find him?”

“He's waiting on your front porch. Stay right here, I'll bring him in.”

* * *

Falcon sat on the porch swing while Roosevelt was inside talking to Judge Heckemeyer. Falcon hadn't said anything about it, but he was going to go after the men who kidnapped Anna with or without the judge's blessing.

That was because Falcon knew something that neither the judge, the sheriff, nor anyone else knew. He knew who it was that kidnapped the girl. The note had asked, specifically, for Frank Childers to be released from prison.

Only one person would want Frank Childers released, and that was Aaron Childers. Falcon knew that Aaron Childers was one of the three men he was chasing.

As Falcon sat in the swing, he felt a soft, warm breeze start up, carrying on it the scent of the red roses that grew in such profusion at the end of the porch. A few houses away, he could hear the sound of happy children laughing and playing some game. A little farther down, he heard the ringing of the blacksmith as he pounded on a piece of hot metal, and farther yet, the lyrical whistle of an approaching train.

At moments like these, Falcon envied those men and women who could find satisfaction in living tranquil lives in bucolic settings. A part of him wanted to own a house in a town like this and live quietly.

But even as the thought crossed his mind, he knew that it wasn't what he really wanted, because if he did, he could have it. He certainly had all the money he would need to be able to live such a life. In fact, he had enough money that he could have the biggest and most elaborate home in any place he chose to live in, even a place as large as Denver, or San Francisco.

But he could not do that. He could not settle down. His father once told him that he was born under a wandering star, and when the young Falcon asked him what that meant, his father said, “It means you can never be satisfied by settling down in one place.”

“Falcon,” Roosevelt said, stepping out onto the porch to interrupt Falcon's reverie. “Could you come inside for a moment?”

Falcon nodded, but said nothing. Getting up from the swing, he followed Roosevelt into the house. The judge lived in one of the nicer houses in Medora. It was a large, two-story, brick house with a wide front porch. Just inside the door was a foyer, with the parlor off one side and the dining room off the other. From here a wide, grand staircase climbed to the second floor. The foyer was open all the way to the ceiling of the second floor, from which hung a long chain, supporting a chandelier filled with dangling crystal prisms that caught the morning sun and projected little splashes of color on the walls.

Judge Heckemeyer was standing just inside the foyer.

“Mr. MacCallister,” he said. “Would you come in and visit for a few minutes?”

“All right.”

“Coffee?”

“Yes. Black.”

The judge nodded at the housekeeper; then Falcon and Roosevelt followed him into the parlor. The judge offered Falcon an overstuffed chair, and as Falcon settled into the dark maroon upholstery, he got the idea that this was normally the judge's chair. The judge had offered it to him, which meant the judge wanted something from him.

Heckemeyer waited until the coffee was brought before he spoke.

“I'm sure you have heard the news about my daughter being kidnapped,” Heckemeyer began.

“Yes, I've heard.”

“Teddy . . . that is, Mr. Roosevelt, suggested that you might be able to . . . uh . . . get her back.”

“I might.”

“Then, I'm asking you . . . no, I'm begging you, please do so. I'll pay you any amount of money you want, just . . .”

Falcon held up his hand and shook his head. “I don't want any money,” he said.

“All right, I . . . I'm sorry, I didn't mean to demean you by offering money. It's just that . . .”

“You want her back,” Falcon finished for him.

“Yes.”

“Judge, during the recent trial, you heard Mr. Woodward make reference to the number of men I have killed in self-defense, did you not?”

“Yes, of course I heard it.”

“And, if truth be told, you agree with him, don't you? I mean with regard to how many times I find myself in situations where it has been necessary for me to kill.”

“I, uh, have some concern about that, yes,” Judge Heckemeyer admitted.

“But clearly, if I undertake this mission for you, I may well find myself in this same situation again.”

“You mean you might have to kill to save your life?” Heckemeyer said.

“Yes,” Falcon said. “Or to save the life of your daughter,” he added.

“Then do it,” Heckemeyer said. “I know this is unmasking me for the hypocrite I am. Here all this time I have derided you for killing in self-defense, and now I am telling you that I would understand it if you killed the men who took my daughter from me. Understand it? God help me, I would welcome it.”

“Do you have the note they left?”

“Yes, it's right here,” Heckemeyer said as he handed the note to Falcon. This was the first time Falcon had seen the note, though he already knew what the note said, for the messenger the judge had sent for Roosevelt this morning had told them.

“Have you heard anything else from them?” Falcon asked. “Since this note, I mean.”

Heckemeyer shook his head, then pointed at the note. “As you can see there, they say they will get in touch with me again when I have authorized the release of Frank Childers.”

Heckemeyer was silent for a moment as Falcon looked at the note.

“I must confess that I am totally at a loss as to what to do now,” Heckemeyer said.

“Do you want my opinion?”

“Yes, of course.”

“Release Childers,” Falcon said.

“What?” Heckemeyer responded in surprise. He shook his head vehemently. “No, I can't do that. I won't do that.”

Falcon handed the note back. “Then I'm sorry. If you don't release Frank Childers, there's nothing I can do to help you.”

Judge Heckemeyer glared at Falcon. “What on earth are you saying?” He turned to Roosevelt. “Teddy, what is this? You told me he could help me. If the only way to get my daughter back is to release Frank Childers, then I could certainly do that with no help from Mr. MacCallister.”

“Let me talk to him,” Roosevelt said.

“You can talk all you want,” Falcon said. “Unless he releases Frank Childers, there is nothing I can do.”

“Why must I release Frank Childers?”

“How else are we going to find your daughter?” Falcon asked.

“What do you mean?”

“After Frank Childers is released, he is going to go straight as an arrow to his brother. That's where your daughter is. I'm going to follow him and I'll get Anna back.”

“What about Frank Childers?”

“I'll take care of him too,” Falcon said.

“What do you mean, take care of him?”

“Do you want your daughter back?”

Judge Heckemeyer nodded.

“Then issue the order releasing Frank Childers,” Falcon said again.

Judge Heckemeyer closed his eyes and pinched the bridge of his nose. It did not escape his notice that Falcon had not answered his question as to what he meant by taking care of Frank Childers. The judge held that pose for a long time before he sighed and spoke.

“I don't feel very good about doing this,” he said. “But if it is the only way . . .”

“It is the only way,” Falcon said.

“Very well. I'll send a telegram ordering his release today.”

“No,” Falcon said. “Send a letter. That will give me time to get there. I need to be there when they let him out.”

“All right.”

“Oh, and hang up the red cloth. If Frank's brother doesn't know he's being released, he won't be there to meet him. And if he doesn't meet him, I won't be able to follow them to find out where they are holding Anna.”

“All right, Mr. MacCallister. Whatever you say,” Heckemeyer agreed.

When Falcon and Roosevelt left the house, they walked down to the Golden Spur. After greeting several of the regulars, they took a table in the back of the room.

“You are convinced that Aaron Childers is the one who kidnapped Anna?”

“He is one of them.”

“One of them?”

“There are three.”

“My word, I just realized,” Roosevelt said. “It's the same three, isn't it?”

“The same three?”

“The three men who attacked me that day. The ones you drove off. They are the ones who have kidnapped Anna.”

“I believe that is true.”

“It wasn't just a happy circumstance that you came by that day, was it? You were already looking for them, weren't you?”

“Yes, I was.”

“Why?”

Falcon told Roosevelt about finding Luke Douglass dying, and his wife, Mary, already dead in a burning house.

“Childers and the other two murdered them,” he said. “I made a vow that day to hunt them down and bring them to justice.”

“I get the feeling that, regardless of what Judge Heckemeyer might have said today, you were going to go after them.”

“I was.”

Roosevelt was silent for a moment, then he nodded. “Well, it is indeed a noble cause for someone like you,” Roosevelt agreed.

“Someone like me?”

“A roughrider.”

Falcon chuckled. “A roughrider? I don't think I've ever heard that term before.”

“Of course you haven't. I just coined it.”