Carnage of Eagles Read online

  “Yes, well, it isn’t entirely just for enjoyment,” Denham said. “One of the reasons I want you to come tonight is so you can see what we have been putting up with under Poindexter. There is gunplay in the theater nearly every night. I have personally counted over one hundred bullet holes in the curtains and screens around the theater, as well as on the advertising posters.”

  “Gunfights?” Falcon asked.

  “No. So far it has been just drunken cowboys letting off steam, and nobody has been hurt, but if we don’t put a stop to it, someone is sure to get killed.”

  “Why hasn’t Poindexter done anything about it?”

  “There’s no money in it for him,” Denham said. “Poindexter’s enforcement of the law goes only as far as he can see a way to make money.”

  “All right, I’ll go. Les and I will both go. But let’s do this, shall we? Before the show tonight, we’ll post signs ordering everyone to surrender their guns upon coming into the theater,” Falcon said.

  “Good idea. I’ll print them up in my shop and help you post them.”

  “Come on, Les, we’ll walk down to see the mayor and get you a deputy’s badge,” Falcon said.

  “Wow,” Les said. “I never thought I would be wearing a lawman’s badge.”

  “A deputy’s badge?” Cravens said. “Yes, I know I have one, I saw it when I found your badge.”

  “Good. As of now, Deputy Karnes is on the city payroll.”

  “Oh,” Cravens said. “Uh, that’s going to be a problem.”

  “Why should it be a problem?”

  “The deputy is a volunteer position. There’s no money allocated to pay a deputy.”

  The smile left Les’s face. “You mean I ain’t goin’ to get paid? I got to have me a job that pays money. How else am I goin’ to live?”

  “I take it there is pay for the marshal’s position?” Falcon asked.

  “Oh, indeed there is. Forty dollars a month.”

  “I will forgo my salary. I want you to see to it that the forty dollars a month goes to Deputy Karnes.”

  “Forty dollars a month?” Les gasped. “That’s a fortune!”

  “Well, I don’t know if I can do that,” Mayor Cravens said.

  “You can do it,” Falcon insisted.

  From the mayor’s office, Falcon and Les walked down to the newspaper office. Several of the townspeople greeted them along the way.

  As they passed a grocery store, they saw Julie Cravens carrying a bag of groceries toward a buckboard that was drawn up out front.

  “Excuse me, Marshal,” Les said as he hurried toward the pretty young woman.

  “Miss Julie, may I help you with that?” Les took the bag from her and put it in the buckboard.

  “Why, Mr. Karnes,” Julie said. “You are a law officer now?”

  “Yes, ma’am, your pa just give me the badge. I’m the deputy city marshal. So if you have any problems with anything, why, you just come to me and I’ll take care of it.”

  “Well I will, Mr. Karnes, thank you.”

  Les helped her into the buckboard.

  “Uh, Miss Julie, there’s goin’ to be a dance Saturday night at the Cattlemen’s Association Hall. Will you be going?”

  “That is my intention, Mr. Karnes.”

  Les smiled broadly. “Good. Then I’ll see you there. I hope you save a dance for me.”

  “I would be delighted to,” Julie said as she snapped the reins to move the team forward.

  Les tipped his hat to her as she drove off. When he turned, he saw Falcon standing nearby, watching with bemused enjoyment. Falcon was smiling at him.

  “That’s Julie Cravens,” Les said. “She’s the mayor’s daughter. I just thought I would help her get the groceries in the wagon is all.”

  “Oh, I don’t blame you, Les,” Falcon said. “A pretty girl like that shouldn’t have to load her own groceries now, should she?”

  Denham was already printing the signs when Falcon and Les stepped into the newspaper office, and he held one up for Falcon’s approval.

  By Order of the City Marshal:

  NO FIREARMS ALLOWED

  Inside Theater.

  “What do you think?” Denham asked.

  “It looks good,” Falcon said. “I don’t think there’s much chance of anyone not understanding it.”

  That night Falcon stood leaning against a post at the rear of the Malone Theater. Les had taken a walk around the inside of the theater and returned to stand next to Falcon.

  “How are things looking?”

  “There are four men down front, passing a bottle back and forth around and talking a little loud.”

  “Are they armed?” Falcon asked.

  “Yes, they are. But they are sheriff’s deputies.”

  “My sign didn’t say everyone check their guns but sheriff’s deputies. It said everyone. I think I’ll just mosey on down there by them.”

  Suddenly, the band played a fanfare and, amidst shouts, hoots, and whistles, the theater owner walked out onto the stage. He stood in front of the closed curtains and held his hands up, asking for quiet.

  “Ladies and gents,” he called.

  “There ain’t no ladies present!” someone from the audience yelled, and his shout was greeted with guffaws of laughter.

  “Oh, yeah? Well, what do you call me, you low-assed, pig-faced son of a bitch?” a painted woman replied.

  There was more laughter, but the theater owner finally managed to get them quiet again. “Lovers of the theater,” he said. “Tonight we have an especially thrilling show for you.”

  The audience applauded and whistled.

  “We begin our show with the loveliest dancing girls to be found in all of Texas. Here they are, the Dames de charme!”

  Amidst a great deal of whistling and stamping of feet, six beautiful and scantily clad young women began the show. After the girls performed, there was a comedy act between a mustachioed man and a beautiful, innocent young girl. It was set up as a drama director, describing to his ingénue, the particulars of her role.

  DIRECTOR: In the first scene, my dear, the young man grabs you, binds you with rope from head to foot, then smothers you with hugs and kisses.

  YOUNG WOMAN: Is the young man tall, dark, and handsome?

  DIRECTOR: Yes, he is. Why do you ask?

  YOUNG WOMAN: Because if he is tall, dark, and handsome, he won’t need the rope.

  The joke was concluded with a drum-roll, then loud laughter from the audience. There were a few other jokes of that ilk, then a man billed as the “World’s Greatest Magician” made his appearance. He introduced his assistant, a lovely young woman who looked suspiciously like one of the dames de charme.

  “And now, friends, I shall perform a feat the likes of which you have never seen before. My lovely assistant will fire this pistol at me, and I will catch the bullet with my teeth!”

  Falcon had seen the trick before, and he knew how it worked. The magician’s assistant would fire blanks while the magician would jerk his head back in a bit of ham acting, then spit out the bullet he held concealed in his mouth.

  Suddenly, one of the “deputies” stood up and pointed a revolver toward the stage.

  “Catch this one, professor!” he shouted.

  Quickly, Falcon managed to reach him just in time to deflect his shot, while the terrified magician and his assistant hurried from the stage to the guffaws of the audience. One blow from Falcon’s big fist knocked the deputy out, and Falcon turned to the others.

  “I believe I had a sign posted out front telling everyone to check their guns. Now I’ll be taking yours.”

  “Mister, who are you to tell us to give up our guns? We’re sheriff’s deputies.”

  “I’m the city marshal.”

  “I told you, we’re sheriff’s deputies. We don’t have to listen to no city marshal.”

  “Yeah, you do. Now take off those gun belts.”

  “You want my gun belt, you’re goin’ to have to take it. Because I ai
n’t . . .”

  The deputy didn’t get to finish saying whatever it was that he wasn’t going to do, because without another word Falcon drew his pistol and brought it down on the deputy’s head. Now, with his pistol in hand, he pointed to the remaining two.

  “Drop your gun belts,” he said.

  They complied, meekly, and even relieved the two unconscious deputies of their gun belts.

  “Would you get their gun belts please, Deputy?”

  “Yes, sir, Marshal, I’d be real pleased to take ’em.”

  “Get those two on their feet,” Falcon said, pointing to the two who were coming to, but still on the floor.

  “What are you going to do with us?” one of the men asked.

  “You four are going to have the honor of being the very first occupants of our new city jail,” Falcon said.

  “The hell you say! You ain’t puttin’ us in no city jail. I told you, we are sheriff’s deputies!”

  “Let’s go, sheriff’s deputies,” Les said, giving one of them a slight shove.

  “Folks, I’m sorry for the disturbance,” Falcon said loudly. “We’ll get these men out of here now and let you enjoy the rest of the show.”

  The audience applauded and even as Falcon and Les led the four sullen men through the lobby, the orchestra began playing music again as the show resumed.

  City Jail Put to Use for First Time

  FOUR MEN USE THE ACCOMMODATIONS

  For too long now, ruffians have made it difficult for the citizens of our fair city to enjoy the theatricals, which from time to time visit Sorrento. Indeed, some traveling troupes have made it known that they would not return out of fear of injury from these ruffians. Boorish behavior, obscene shouts, unwanted physical contact with the actors and actresses, and indiscriminate gunfire have become the norm at the Malone Theater.

  But now, thanks to Falcon MacCallister, our new city marshal, order has returned. Last night’s Programme of the Grand Combination of the Celebrated Artists, Heckemeyer and Vaughan, Robert Wilkerson the elocutionist, with comedy, dancers, vocalists, and pianist, was interrupted when Albert Russell attempted to employ his pistol in the direction of Professor Heckemeyer during one of the acts. He was interrupted by the timely intervention of Marshal MacCallister and Deputy Karnes.

  The marshal and his deputy took Russell and his three companions, Josh Peters, Harry Toombs, and Lou Hamilton, in custody, depositing them in the city jail. Our readers will recognize that Russell, Peters, Toombs, and Hamilton are deputies for Sheriff Poindexter, and many is the businessman who has come under their rough treatment when they have been dispatched to collect taxes.

  CHAPTER TWENTY-ONE

  The next morning, Falcon was sitting at the desk in the marshal’s office writing something on a sheet of paper when Deputy Sheriff Sharp came into the city marshal’s office. As soon as he came in, the four deputies who were back in the cell yelled at him.

  “Sharp! Get us out of here! He ain’t got no right to arrest us!” Toombs called.

  “What do you think you are doin’, MacCallister?” Sharp asked. “Why are these men in jail?”

  “Last night I posted signs saying that no guns would be allowed in the theater,” Falcon said.

  “So?”

  “So they came into the theater with guns.”

  “Yeah, they are sheriff’s deputies. They can wear a gun anywhere they want to.”

  “No. In my town, they can wear guns only where I say they can. They violated the law, and I put them under arrest.”

  “The sheriff ain’t goin’ to like this, MacCallister. He ain’t goin’ to like it one bit. If I was you, I’d turn those men a’ loose, right now.”

  “Would you now?” Falcon asked.

  Sharp stared angrily at Falcon as Falcon returned to his task at hand. After a moment, Falcon looked up.

  “You’re still here, Sharp?”

  Sharp raised his hand and pointed a finger at Falcon. “You ain’t heard the last of this,” he said.

  “I don’t reckon I have.”

  Sharp glared at him for just a moment longer, then he turned, angrily, and started toward the door.

  “Hold on there, Sharp!” Toombs called from the cell. “You ain’t goin’ to just leave us in here, are you?”

  Sharp didn’t answer.

  “MacCallister, you’d better let us out of here, if you know what is good for you,” Toombs said.

  “You boys just relax for a while,” Falcon said. “You aren’t going anywhere.”

  Standing, Falcon folded the paper he had been writing on and stuck it in his shirt pocket.

  “Hey, what about supper? Are you goin’ to feed us any supper?”

  “You had breakfast and dinner, didn’t you? Don’t worry, you aren’t going to starve.”

  Falcon left the office and walked down to the newspaper, where he found Denham laughing and talking with two other men.

  “Ahh, here he is now. Gentlemen, may I present Marshal MacCallister. Falcon, this is Ken Cole and Jim Myles. They are members of our city council.”

  “City council, are you? Good, good, you are just who I want to see. How many are on the city council?”

  “There are five of us,” Denham replied.

  “Us? You are on the city council?”

  “Yes. So are Eb Smalley and Doc Gunter.”

  “Good, good. Now, let me ask you this. Do we have a city attorney?”

  “I guess that would be Burt Gillespie, wouldn’t it?” Cole asked.

  “No,” Denham said. “Gillespie is the prosecuting attorney for the county. As far as I know, we don’t have a city attorney.”

  “Is there another lawyer in town? One we could appoint as the city attorney?”

  “James Earl Van Arsdale,” Myles said.

  “Who is nothing but a damn drunk,” Cole added.

  “No, now, that’s not necessarily the case anymore,” Denham said. “Since he got drawn into acting as prosecutor in that sham murder trial for Poindexter, he has quit drinking. And if truth be known, he is one of the smartest men I know.”

  “We’re going to need a city attorney for what I have in mind,” Falcon said.

  “What do you have in mind?”

  “I’ve written out a list of city ordinances I would like to propose,” Falcon said, taking from his pocket the sheet of paper he had been working on.

  “I tell you what.” Denham looked up at the clock on his wall. “About this time of day, I generally meet Eb and Doc over at the Hog Heaven for a beer. Ken, why don’t you go to Eb’s store and ask him to come down here? I’ll get Doc and James Earl Van Arsdale. We’ll just have us a council meeting.”

  “What about Mayor Cravens?” Myles asked. “Shouldn’t he be there if we’re goin’ to have a council meeting?”

  “Good idea, Jim. How about you stop by for him, tell him what this is about. I’ll get us a table set up in the back.”

  “The only thing, isn’t the mayor the one who calls a city council meeting?” Myles asked.

  “Ordinarily, that would be so. But if the mayor gives you any trouble, you tell him we are going to have a city council meeting with or without him. And we will be able to pass whatever ordinance we want.”

  Myles laughed. “Yeah, that’ll get his attention, all right.”

  Half an hour later, Falcon, Mayor Cravens, Harold Denham, James Earl Van Arsdale, and the entire city council were gathered around a table in the back of the composing room of the office of the Sorrento Advocate.

  “All right, gentlemen, you called this meeting,” Mayor Cravens said. “Now, suppose you tell me what this is all about.”

  “The first thing we want is for Mr. Van Arsdale to be appointed city attorney,” Denham said.

  “James Earl Van Arsdale? Are you serious? You know how he is. We all know how he is.”

  “I wish you wouldn’t speak of me as if I weren’t here,” Van Arsdale said. “And, strictly speaking, Mr. Mayor—you would have to say that is how I was. I
have been sober for two weeks. I intend to remain sober.”

  “Intention and doing it are two different things,” Mayor Cravens said.

  “You aren’t being fair, Joe. I’ve known many people who have beaten the devil.”

  Cravens ran his hand through his thinning hair and looked at Van Arsdale. “Do you think you are up to the job?”

  “I would like to be given the chance,” Van Arsdale said.

  “We can’t pay you anything.”

  “Yet,” Denham said.

  “What do you mean, ‘yet’?”

  “The marshal has some ideas he wants to put before us,” Denham said.

  “What kind of ideas? Nothing that is going to cost the city any money, I hope. I warn you, we have very little money in the treasury.”

  “On the contrary, Mayor. The plan I have will make the city some money.”

  Mayor Cravens smiled. “Well now, I’m all for that,” he said. “Let’s hear what you have.”

  “My first proposal is to make prostitution legal within the town limits.”

  “I don’t know,” Mayor Cravens said. “I’m not sure the church people would take to that. Why would you want to do a thing like that, anyway?”

  “I have two reasons,” Falcon said. “The first reason is, if we make prostitution legal, we can charge a license fee for anyone who is in the business.”

  “Oh, I don’t know. With these monthly fines they are all paying now, like as not adding an additional fee would just . . .”

  Falcon interrupted the mayor in midsentence.

  “That brings up my second reason. If we make it legal, then Poindexter and the judge will no longer be able to fine them.”

  “Ha!” Smalley said, slapping his hand on the table. “I like that. I like that a lot! I . . .” Smalley looked over at Van Arsdale. “Is that right? If we make it legal for the whores to do business, that Poindexter can’t fine them anymore?”

  “If it is legal, he will have no authority to levy a fine against them, that is true,” Van Arsdale said.