MacCallister: The Eagles Legacy (24 page)

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

Tags: #Fiction, #Westerns, #General

BOOK: MacCallister: The Eagles Legacy
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Chapter Twenty-four
 
Cheyenne
 
“I think it would be ill advised of us to arrive at the bank simultaneously,” Malcolm said.
“What?” Asa Moran asked.
“He means don’t all of us show up at the same time,” Carter Hill said.
“Why not?” Pettigrew asked.
“Because if all of us ride up to the bank together, then dismount and enter the bank simultaneously, it cannot help but arouse suspicions,” Malcolm explained.
“I think he’s right,” McKenna said.
“All right. So how are we going to do it?” Pettigrew asked.
“We won’t ride up to the bank at all. Shaw, Pogue, McKenna, and Johnny Hill will be with me. We will come up Central from the south, then dismount about four buildings away and walk to the bank. Pettigrew, you, Moran, Carter Hill, and Garcia, will come down Central from the north, and you will also stop about four buildings away from the bank.
“Pettigrew, you and I will go into the bank first, but since we will be approaching from different directions, it will not appear that we are together. I will go to the table and start filling out a slip as if I am about to make a deposit. Pogue, you, Shaw, and McKenna will come together from the south; Moran, and Garcia will come down from the north. That will give us seven men inside the bank at the same time, certainly enough to take care of business. Johnny Hill will hold the horses from the south group; Carter will hold the horses from the north group. When you two see the last one of us enter the bank, both of you come riding toward the bank and stop out front, holding the horses. After we get the money we will make our exit from the bank as rapidly as possible, mount our horses, and ride away.”
“That sounds like a real good plan,” Moran said.
“I would add something to it,” Shaw said.
“What would you add to it?” Malcolm asked.
“I think as we ride out of town we ought to be shooting.”
“Certainly if we are shot at, we should return fire,” Malcolm said.
“No, I ain’t talkin’ about just returnin’ fire. I mean we should just start shootin’ at anybody and ever’body.”
“Why would you suggest such a thing?” Malcolm asked.
“You want to get away, don’t you?” Pettigrew asked.
“Yes, of course.”
“Then Shaw is right. If we start shootin’ up the town on the way out, there ain’t nobody goin’ to think about shootin’ us. Only thing they’re goin’ to be thinkin’ about is not gettin’ kilt. Near ’bout ever’one is goin’ to just try and find ’em a place to get out of the line of fire.”
“All right,” Malcolm said. “This is your country, I shall defer to your suggestion.”
When Malcolm and the others rode into town the next morning, approaching as planned from opposite ends of Central Avenue, Cheyenne was in the middle of its mid-morning commerce cycle. At the Wyoming Freight and Transport Company, three wagons were backed up against the loading dock taking on freight that had come into town by train, but would have to be delivered to the various destinations by wagon.
A boy of about sixteen was sweeping the front porch of Dunnigan’s General Store. A dog that lay sleeping on the porch made no effort to move, nor did the boy make an effort to move him.
There were two Chinese women doing laundry outside Wo Ching’s Laundry and they were carrying on a spirited conversation in their own language.
A man was standing on the porch roof of Sikes’ Hardware store, painting the false front.
Malcolm dismounted in front of White’s Apothecary, then started walking toward the bank. He saw Pettigrew approaching the bank from the other side. Arriving at the bank door simultaneously, they went inside without acknowledging each other. Malcolm stepped up to the table, while Pettigrew, holding a twenty-dollar bill, went up to the teller’s window and stood in line as if waiting to make change. There were four other customers in the bank, three men and one woman.
The others came as planned. When all seven were in the bank, Malcolm nodded at Pettigrew, who nodded at the others. Pettigrew drew his pistol, which was the signal for all to draw their weapons.
“Ever’body put their hands up!” Pettigrew yelled. “This is a bank holdup!”
“Oh, my!” Lisenby said.
“Open that safe!”
“I don’t know the combination,” Lisenby said. “Only Mr. Snellgrove knows.”
“Who is Snellgrove?”
“He isn’t here.”
“You are lying, Mr. Lisenby,” Malcolm said. “That gentlemen is Mr. Snellgrove.”
“Mr. Malcolm, you?” Lisenby said, surprised by Malcolm’s comment. “You are with them? But, you were going to make a deposit.”
“I decided I would rather make a withdrawal,” Malcolm said, laughing at his own joke.
“How the hell does he know your name?” Pogue asked.
“It’s quite simple, Mr. Pogue. I told him my name,” Malcolm said, purposely using Pogue’s name.
“That was a dumb thing to do,” Pogue said.
Malcolm looked over at Snellgrove. “Mr. Snellgrove, I appreciated the guided tour you provided for me yesterday. Now, if you would be so good, sir, please open the safe for us.”
“No,” Snellgrove said.
Pettigrew pointed his pistol at Snellgrove. “Open the safe, or I’ll kill you.”
“What would that accomplish?” Snellgrove asked. “If I am dead, then no one will be able to open the safe.”
“You’re right,” Pettigrew said. He pointed his pistol at one of the male customers. “Open your safe or I’ll kill this man here.”
“I have no intention of opening the safe.”
Pettigrew pulled the trigger. The pistol boomed and smoke poured out of the end of the barrel. Even before the smoke drifted away, the customer was lying on the floor of the bank with a bullet in his heart.
“God in Heaven, man!” Snellgrove shouted. “You murdered him!”
“No, Mr. Snellgrove, ’tis you who committed the murder,” Malcolm said. “You didn’t pull the trigger, true enough, but you were given the opportunity to cooperate with us, and you refused to do so. That sealed the man’s fate.”
“How can someone like you be in league with people like this?” Snellgrove asked. “You aren’t like them.”
“I would advise you to cooperate,” Malcolm said. “My friend does seem quite determined to see you open the safe.”
“No.”
Pettigrew pointed at one of the other men.
“No, please, I beg of you!” the man said. “I have a wife and children.”
Pettigrew looked over at Snellgrove. “Did you hear what he said? He has a wife and children. You want to be responsible for another one of your customers gettin’ killed?”
“No, please!” The man pleaded. He got down on his knees.
“Maybe your customers don’t mean anything to you,” Pettigrew said. “I reckon I’m shootin’ the wrong people. Maybe I should kill your friend here.” He pointed the pistol at Lisenby.
“No, wait!” Lisenby said. “I’ll open the safe for you!”
“You will open the safe? I thought you didn’t know the combination,” Malcolm said. “Tsk, tsk, Mr. Lisenby. It would appear that you lied to us.”
“That’s what Mr. Snellgrove told me to say if anything like this ever happened.”
“Lisenby, don’t do it!” Snellgrove said.
“Mr. Snellgrove, I’m not going to die for twenty dollars a week,” Lisenby said.
With shaking hands, Lisenby walked over to the safe and began turning the combination. It took only a few turns, then the big vault door swung open.
“Very good, Mr. Lisenby,” Malcolm said. He produced a cloth bag from under his jacket and handed it to Lisenby. “Now, if you would be so good, please put all of your money in here.”
“Lisenby, you are fired!” Snellgrove said.
“I can get another job, Mr. Snellgrove,” Lisenby said as he began dropping bundles of cash into the bag. “I can’t get another life.”
When the bag was full, he handed it to Malcolm.
“Thank you,” Malcolm said. He looked over at Snellgrove, who was seething with anger as he stared accusingly at Lisenby.
“Mr. Snellgrove,” he said. “Would you kindly step into the safe, please?”
“What! What do you mean, step into the safe? What are you talking about?”
“I know that ’tis a Scottish brogue I have,” Malcolm said. “But I’m for certain that you understood me. Step into the safe.”
“You don’t understand,” Snellgrove said. “I could smother in there!”
“Aye, you could indeed,” Malcolm said. “Unless Mr. Lisenby opens the safe door in time to let you out. Oh, but, wait. He can’t do that, can he? You just fired him.”
“Get in!” Shaw said gruffly, grabbing Snellgrove by the shoulders and shoving him toward the open door of the safe.
“Lisenby, get me out!” Snellgrove called out in terror as Shaw shoved him into the safe. “You aren’t fired! I take it back, you aren’t fired!”
The safe was large enough to hold Snellgrove, but barely.
“Mr. Lisenby?” Malcolm asked.
“Yes, sir?”
“Don’t let him out until we have left.”
“Yes, sir.”
Just as the outlaws reached the door, the man on his knees, the one who had begged for his life, drew a pistol from some unseen place and fired.
“Uhnn!” Garcia grunted loudly. The bullet hit Garcia in the back, just to the left of his right shoulder blade. He stumbled, but did not fall. McKenna grabbed him and, helping him stay on his feet, half walked and half dragged Garcia through the front door.
Pettigrew, with a shout of anger, turned his pistol and shot the customer who had shot Garcia, hitting him in the forehead. The customer fell back with his eyes open and unseeing.
“What happened?” Johnny Carter shouted as he held his hand down for the other riders to grab the reins.
“Garcia got shot!” McKenna called back. “Shaw, help me get him into his saddle!”
With Shaw and McKenna on each side of him, Garcia was able to climb into the saddle. After that the others mounted as well.
“Yee-ha!” Pettigrew shouted as they started out of town. He began shooting. “Shoot away, boys!” he called. “Shoot everything that walks, slithers, or crawls!”
With pistols blazing, and the townspeople running, the nine bank robbers thundered out of town, though, not without shooting down two more citizens.
St. Louis
 
Under the cavernous dome of St. Louis’s Union Station, the sounds of the many trains moving in and out of the great car shed were a distant, rumbling echo that one could not only hear but feel in the stomach. Angus Somerled was two days out of New York and, according to his schedule, three days from Denver.
As he waited for his train, he visited the newsroom, where several papers were on display. He read with amusement the advertisements for Extract of Buchu, guaranteed to cure headaches. Then, next to the newspapers, he saw a book entitled
Falcon MacCallister and the Desert Desperados
.
The name Falcon MacCallister jumped out at him, for that was the kinsman of Duff MacCallister. Somerled picked up the paperbound book and opened it to a random page.
Falcon stood at the opening to the canyon wherein Dangerous Dan and his villainous compatriots had gathered after the daring train robbery they perpetrated on the Express. They thought they had escaped all pursuit, but they were wrong. With the eye of an eagle and the cunning of a fox, Falcon followed, unerringly, the trail of the nefarious band until—suddenly—a shot rang out!
“That is far enough, Falcon MacCallister. Take one more step and it is at your peril, for surely, with six of us and but one of you, the outcome of a fight may be foretold!” The voice of he who called was none other than that of Dangerous Dan himself.
Falcon was in great danger for, as Dangerous Dan had correctly spoken, he was but one against an armed and desperate band of six. But Falcon was nothing if he was not a man of great courage and coolness under pressure. He gathered himself to hurl back a defiant response to the challenge issued by Dangerous Dan.
“Dangerous Dan, I do not fear you, nor the evil associates who are in your company!” Falcon called back. “For my cause is just, and I have the strength of many. I call upon you to surrender, or face judgment from the bullets of my Colt .45!”
 
Looking up toward the huge chalkboard, Somerled saw that his train had arrived on track number seven. He started to put the book back, but decided to buy it. If Duff MacCallister was, indeed, in league with Falcon, then it would be to his advantage to learn as much about him as he could.
With the book in hand he passed through door that had a sign overhead reading: T
O
T
RAINS
.
There were several trains under the huge car shed, some leaving, some arriving, and some backed in to discharge or to take on passengers. The shed captured the smoke and steam so that it burned his nostrils as Somerled walked up the long brick ramp between the trains. Stepping up into his assigned car, he settled down to read his book.
He had been traveling for two days by fast train, and yet he had two days remaining before he reached a place called Denver, Colorado. One could cross Scotland by train in but half a day. He had had no idea how large this country of America was until he arrived here.

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