Destiny of Eagles (19 page)

“Is it possible that someone extinguished them?”

“Objection! Calls for speculation.”

“No . . . I think I will let this one go,” Judge Heckemeyer said. “Mr. Fillmore is the night clerk at the hotel. Who would be better qualified to hazard a guess as to whether or not the lanterns had been extinguished? You may answer, Mr. Fillmore.”

“Yes,” Fillmore said. “It is not only possible that someone extinguished them, now that I think on it, that probably is what happened.”

“Why would someone extinguish them, do you suppose?”

Fillmore shook his head. “I don't have the least idea why anyone would do that.”

“Suppose all the lanterns were extinguished. Would it be possible for someone, like Creed Howard for example, to sneak into Mr. MacCallister's room, shoot him, then use the cover of the dark hallway to slip into another room without being seen?”

“Yes!” Fillmore said, seeing where Roosevelt was going with his question. “It was Creed Howard put out them lights.”

“Objection! That's a conclusion not in evidence.”

“Sustained. Mr. Roosevelt, you have been cautioned about this before. Jury will disregard.”

“That's not enough,” Woodward said. “How is the jury going to disregard what they just heard? That's like trying to unring a bell.”

“That's enough, Mr. Woodward,” Judge Heckemeyer said. “I have sustained your objection. Any further discourse on your part and you will be flirting with a contempt-of-court citation.”

“I'm sorry, Your Honor,” Woodward said contritely.

“Continue, Mr. Roosevelt,” Heckemeyer said.

“Thank you, Your Honor,” Roosevelt said. Then to his witness: “Mr. Fillmore, if someone wanted to see who was in the hotel, indeed, determine even the room, could they do it?”

“Yes.”

“How?”

“By looking at the registration book.”

“Can they see it from the customer side of the desk?”

“No, not unless . . .” Fillmore started to answer, then he stopped in mid-sentence. “It
was
turned around,” he continued. “Damn! It
was
turned around. I didn't think anything of it, but the book was turned around, toward the customer side.”

“Thank you. No further questions, Your Honor.”

Woodward tried hard to undo the damage Fillmore had done to his case, but Fillmore stuck by his guns. He was convinced that someone had extinguished the lanterns in the hallway, and that someone had turned the registration book around. He also insisted that there was a key in the door lock, in addition to the key the sheriff took from MacCallister.

When a frustrated Woodward took his seat, Roosevelt rested his case.

Roosevelt's summation was short and sweet. He made each point with geometric precision and clear logic.

“Gentlemen of the jury, Creed Howard came into Falcon MacCallister's room, not by mistake, but with the clear intention of murdering him in revenge for the death of his two brothers, Thad and Bob. He believed, and rightly so, that MacCallister was responsible for both of them, and it made no difference to him whether or not those deaths were justifiable.

“In order to carry out his scheme, he first had to learn which room MacCallister had taken. A perusal of the registration book . . . which Mr. Fillmore found turned around toward the customer side of the desk . . . would reveal that to him. The fact that MacCallister was in the adjoining room was a convenient coincidence.

“Next, he had to have the key. This he got by reaching across the counter and taking the key from its hook, unobserved by Mr. Fillmore.

“Then, as he climbed the stairs and walked down the hall, he extinguished all the lanterns. This would have afforded him the opportunity to slip back into his room without being seen. His plan was to shoot Falcon MacCallister, use the cover of darkness to go back into his room, from which he would have emerged a moment later to join the others as if drawn to the scene by the gunfire.

“And finally, gentlemen of the jury, I ask you to consider the rhythmic pattern of the shots fired. Three out of four witnesses report the same rhythm. Bang, bang, bang, a pause, then bang.

“I submit that Howard fired three times in quick succession, bang, bang, bang, at the bed where he thought MacCallister was sleeping. One of his shots missed entirely, but two of them hit the bed where, but moments before, Falcon MacCallister had been lying.

“Unfortunately for Creed Howard, MacCallister wasn't in his bed. When Howard began firing, MacCallister had no recourse but to return fire . . . which he did by shooting one time, and one time only. We have already heard expert testimony as to the accuracy of Falcon MacCallister's shooting. One shot was all he needed.”

Woodward's summation was almost an exact duplicate of his opening remarks. He had thought that Roosevelt, not being a lawyer, would be an easy adversary. He was wrong, he had been outclassed, and the beads of sweat on his upper lip as well as his body language showed that he knew it.

With both cases rested, Judge Heckemeyer charged the jury with their responsibility.

“Gentlemen of the jury, you have now heard both sides in the case of the Dakota Territory versus Falcon MacCallister on the charge of manslaughter. And while you are not being asked to decide life or death, your decision is a weighty one because it could deprive a man of his freedom for as long as twenty years.

“Consider the arguments carefully, discuss the case among yourselves, and come to a conclusion based upon the fact that to find for the prosecution, you must be convinced, beyond a reasonable doubt, as to the guilt of the defendant.”

At the conclusion of the charge from the judge, the bailiff led the jury out of the courtroom; then court was adjourned.

Roosevelt and Anna were having lunch at Bessie's Café. During their lunch several came over to speak to Roosevelt, congratulating him on his job as a defense attorney.

“I tell you what, if I ever get in trouble, I'd be proud to have you represent me,” one man said.

“Thank you, but you are a bit premature in your congratulations. The jury's decision isn't in yet.”

“You'll win,” the man said. “I ain't got me the slightest doubt but that you'll win.”

Roosevelt had stopped eating during the conversation, and he waited until the man left before he continued.

He was interrupted two more times in the next few minutes.

“I think it's just awful how people won't let you alone,” Anna said. “Why, they won't even let you eat your lunch in peace.”

Roosevelt smiled. “I've chosen the life of a politician, Anna,” he said. “This is the price one pays for that choice. In fact, if people weren't interested in talking to me, I'd be totally ineffective.”

Anna shook her head. “I have no idea why anyone would choose such a life for themselves,” she said.

“Some might think it's because of a streak of vanity,” Roosevelt said. “And if I was to be honest with you, I'd have to say that there is some . . . no, there is a lot of truth to that.”

“I don't consider you a vain man, Teddy. Why, I think you are very unassuming.”

Roosevelt held up his index finger. “Ahh, that just means I am a skilled politician, able to cover up my streak of vanity,” he teased. “But seriously, there is more to it than that. I love this country, and I feel an obligation to serve the public in whatever capacity I can.”

“In whatever capacity?”

“Yes.”

“What about President? Would you like to be President of the United States?”

“What politician would not want to be President?”

Anna shook her head. “I don't know, Teddy,” she said. “That would be an awesome responsibility. I don't know how anyone could rise to that task.”

“I know. It is not a decision I would make lightly,” Roosevelt replied.

“On a more immediate subject, what do you think is going to happen in the trial?”

“I think he will be acquitted,” Roosevelt said. “But I hasten to add that it isn't because of anything I did. The wonder is that he was charged in the first place. It was clearly a case of self-defense.”

“I agree with you,” Anna said. She sighed. “But Mr. Woodward did make a telling point, I think, when he pointed out that while the normal person is never called upon to kill another in self-defense, it has happened many times with Mr. MacCallister. Why do you suppose it has happened to Falcon MacCallister so many times?”

“Falcon MacCallister is a man who lives life on the edge,” Roosevelt said. “And because of that, he is often challenged.”

“I'm sure that is so. But that is also why my father does not like him. Father believes that a man chooses his path and could change his life so that there are no more challenges.”

“I know,” Roosevelt said. “And he does have a point.”

* * *

“Is that her?” Percy Shaw asked.

Shaw, Childers, and Yerby were also at Bessie's Café, sitting at a table in the back corner of the dining room.

“That's her,” Childers said. “That's Heckemeyer's daughter.”

“She sure is a pretty thing,” Shaw said. “If you ask me, this could turn out to be fun.”

“No!” Childers said. “We'll snatch her, but we ain't goin' to do nothin' to her 'cept use her to force Judge Heckemeyer to order Frank released.”

“Well, now, wait a minute here,” Yerby said. ”You'll get Frank back, but what do me'n Shaw get out of the deal?”

“Frank is your cousin,” Childers said. “That makes him blood.”

“Yeah, well, he ain't no kin to me,” Shaw interjected.

“But he's your pard. Ain't that enough?” Aaron asked.

“I reckon it might be, but he's your brother, so it's more important to you than it is to either Dalton or me to get him back. But the thing is, me'n Dalton's takin' the same risk as you, and we ain't getting' nothin' in particular for it.”

“Frank ain't the only reason we'll be snatchin' her up,” Childers said.

“What other reason is there?”

“Well, look over there for yourself,” Childers said. “Do you see the way she'n Roosevelt is sparkin' it up? The way I figure it is, we'll grab her, then we'll send a message to Roosevelt and the judge tellin' 'em that we'll let her go when Frank is out of prison and Roosevelt pays ransom.”

“What's ransom?” Shaw asked.

“It means that if Roosevelt wants her back, he's going to have to pay money for her.”

“Yeah,” Yerby said. “Yeah, well, if you put it that way, it sounds like a good idea.”

“I hope it turns out better than your other two ideas,” Shaw said. “The bank robbery didn't work out none too good, and neither did robbin' Roosevelt on his way into town.”

“This one will work,” Childers promised. “And as long as we've got the girl, there ain't nobody goin' to be comin' after us, on account of they won't want to see the girl hurt.”

“I hope you're right.”

“So, you can see why there can't nothin' happen to the girl,” Childers said. Then he smiled. “Until afterward.”

“Afterward?” Shaw asked, perking up a bit at the suggestion.

“After they let Frank go and pay us the money.”

“What then?”

“After I'm finished with her, you two boys can have a little fun with her,” Childers said.

“What do you mean after you are finished with her? Why should you be first?” Shaw asked.

“If you don't like the arrangement, you can always go back to that toothless whore you and Dalton took up with back in Puxico.”

“No, no, however you want to do it is fine with me,” Shaw said. “Long as I get my turn.”

At that moment someone stuck his head in through the front door of the café. “Mr. Roosevelt, the judge wants you back in the court. The jury's reached a verdict,” he said.

Roosevelt thanked him, then he and Anna left. Within moments, Childers, Yerby, and Shaw were the only three customers left in the café.

“Damn,” Shaw said. “Did you see that? Most of them folks just got up an' left food on their table.”

“I reckon they're hurryin' to see if they can get in to hear what the jury's got to say,” Yerby said.

“I hope they find the son of a bitch guilty,” Childers said.

Shaw got up from the table and started wandering through the dining room, looking down at the plates left on the table.

“Lookee here, here's a whole chicken leg that didn't get et,” he said, picking it up from the plate. “And lookee over there. There's half a piece of apple pie.”

“The hell you say,” Yerby said. He got up from the table then and, like Shaw, began wandering through the dining room, looking for uneaten leftovers.

* * *

Anna was the only one in the gallery who didn't have to fight for her seat. That was because the bailiff had kept it for her. She was in her seat, and Roosevelt and Woodward were at their respective tables, when Falcon was brought into the courtroom.

Anna found Falcon MacCallister to be a fascinating man. One of the things that had impressed her when she met him back in New York was how handsome he was. But he wasn't handsome like the drawing room dandies she had met back in New York. The best description she could think of was “ruggedly handsome.” He looked like the mountain man that was his stock.

When you added that to his reputation, there was something frightening about him. And yet, beneath that rather frightening veneer, she knew that he was a man of honor and integrity. She knew also that no one who was in the right need fear him. It was hard to equate the picture that was being painted of him now, a man of danger and daring, with the gracious man who had invited her to join his theater box.

She remembered that she, Gail, and Emma Lou had discussed him after the theater that night.

* * *

* * *

“All rise!” the bailiff called, and the court stood as her father came into the room.

Despite the fact that Anna found herself in disagreement with her father over Falcon MacCallister, she couldn't help but feel a tremendous sense of pride in him. She could sense the honor and respect everyone in the courtroom had for him. But that honor and respect, she knew, was not limited to the courtroom. Her father's standing throughout the entire Territory of the Dakotas was impeccable. She knew that not all judges enjoyed that reputation.

“Be seated,” Judge Heckemeyer said and, as one, the gallery took their seats. “Bailiff, please bring the jury in.”

All eyes turned toward the door to the jury room, and a moment later the jury, twelve men good and true, trudged back into the room. One bearded gent expectorated a quid toward a spittoon as he walked by it, making it ring as he hit it perfectly.

The jury took their seats, then looked toward the judge. Anna studied their faces to see if she could detect any hint of what their decision might be, but all maintained a studied and stoic countenance.

“Gentlemen of the jury, have you reached a verdict?” Heckemeyer asked.

The foreman of the jury stood. “We have, Your Honor.”

“Please publish the verdict.”

With a great sense of drama, the foreman drew his glasses from his pocket, then put them on, looping them carefully over one ear at a time. He opened up a sheet of paper, then cleared his throat.

His posturing had the desired effect because every eye in the courtroom was fixed upon him.

“We the jury, after careful consideration of all facts presented, find the defendant, Falcon MacCallister . . .” Here, he paused, and stared directly at Falcon.

Falcon returned the stare with a steady, unblinking gaze.

“Not guilty,” the foreman said.

“Yes!” someone shouted, and the courtroom erupted in spontaneous applause.

Once again it was necessary for Judge Heckemeyer to use his gavel to bring the court to order. Finally, everyone grew quiet.

“Mr. MacCallister, you having been found not guilty by a jury of your peers, I order that all bonds and restraints be withdrawn. You are free to go. This court is adjourned.”

Once more he brought down the gavel; then he left the courtroom, exiting by a door behind the bench.

Several in the courtroom hurried up to the defense table to extend their congratulations to Roosevelt for a job well done, and to Falcon for being found not guilty.

Anna Heckemeyer was one of the first to congratulate both Roosevelt and Falcon.

“Thank you,” Falcon said. “Though I must confess that I was a little concerned for a while.” He smiled disarmingly.

“You had no confidence in me? Oh, you of little faith. I am wounded to my core. To my core, sir,” Roosevelt said, putting his hand over his heart.

Falcon laughed. “No, I had every confidence in you. It was the judge I was worried about.”

“You shouldn't have worried. I told you that my father is a fair man. I knew he would conduct an honest trial.”

“You did tell me that, that is true,” Falcon said. “And I must admit that I found no fault with his conduct of the trial. But I am relieved that this is all over.”

“So, my friend,” Roosevelt said as he began gathering his papers from the table. “What is next for you?”

“After two weeks in jail, the first thing I want is a bath,” Falcon said. “Then a good dinner, a few beers, then a hotel room for a few days.”

“No need for you to stay in a hotel,” Roosevelt said. “Why don't you come out to Elkhorn for a few days? You'll be a lot more comfortable in my guest room than you would in the hotel. And,” he added with an amused twinkle in his eye, “I can just about guarantee you that nobody will barge into your room in the middle of the night, bent upon killing you.”

Falcon nodded. “Sounds good to me,” he said. “I think I just might take you up on it.”