Carnage of Eagles Read online

  “How much will we charge for the license?” Mayor Cravens asked.

  “How much is the fine?”

  “From what I hear, it is ten dollars,” Cole said. “Every month.”

  “Sometimes more than once a month,” Myles said.

  “That would be one hundred twenty dollars a year each. I suggest we charge them a one-time-only fee of thirty dollars for a year’s license,” Falcon said.

  “Yeah,” Denham said. “Yeah, the whores are going to like that. They are going to like that a whole lot.”

  “The next thing we need to change is the taxes,” Falcon said.

  “Look here, with all the taxes our people are paying to the sheriff, we can’t possibly add any more,” Mayor Cravens said.

  “What if we take away all of the taxes being imposed now and replace that with a five percent tax on all the businesses?”

  “How are we going to do that?” Smalley asked.

  “We are going to pass another city ordinance that prohibits the county from collecting any tax other than a one percent sales tax.”

  “Is that legal?” Myles asked.

  “It will be legal as soon as the city council passes the ordinance,” Van Arsdale said. “Of course, they can always challenge it.”

  “Challenge it? Challenge it how?”

  Van Arsdale smiled. “They would have to challenge it in the Texas State Supreme Court. So far, the only precedent of counties to collect taxes is a modest property tax . . . which is assessed at a fixed, yearly rate. What they have been doing will never stand the test in the Supreme Court. Which means, they won’t challenge it.”

  “They may not challenge it in the Supreme Court,” Myles said. “But don’t forget, Poindexter has been using his deputies to collect taxes. And they have been doing it by direct threat.”

  “You let me handle that,” Falcon said.

  “What do you mean?” Myles asked.

  “If any deputy attempts to collect taxes, other than a property tax, which by the way, we will assume has already been paid for this year, I will put him under arrest.”

  “Ha!” Smalley said. “Now that I want to see!”

  “You will see it,” Falcon promised. “The very first time an attempt is made, after the ordinances are enacted, and after those ordinances are published in the paper.”

  “And,” Van Arsdale added quickly, “filed with the state government.”

  “Why do we have to do that?” Mayor Cravens asked.

  “Once they are filed with the state government, they then have the authority of the state, which supersedes the authority of the county. That way, the county can’t claim a superior position over us, and can only overturn the statutes by appealing to the state.”

  “What if the taxes they have been charging are filed with the state government?” Doc Gunter asked.

  Van Arsdale smiled. “Do you think the state government would validate laws that allow a county to collect taxes as capriciously as Judge Dawes and Sheriff Poindexter do?”

  “No,” Doc said. “No, by damn, I don’t think they would.”

  “So, what you are saying is, we can pass any ordinance we want, and as long as we file it with the state government, it will take precedence over county laws?” Mayor Cravens asked.

  “Yes, as long as those laws pertain only to a jurisdiction within the city limits of Sorrento, and, unless, and until, those laws are challenged in court.”

  “Oh, that’s not good. If it goes to court, Judge Dawes can just throw them out,” Myles suggested.

  “No. Since he is a county judge, and would be a party to the lawsuit, it cannot be settled in his court.”

  Mayor Cravens smiled broadly. “You know what? Hiring you as city attorney may just be the smartest thing I’ve done as mayor.”

  “What do you say, Mayor, that we get these ordinances passed?” Denham suggested.

  It was no surprise to Falcon when he returned to the city jail to find Sheriff Poindexter waiting there for him.

  “Look here!” Poindexter said angrily. “What are my deputies doing in jail?”

  “They brought guns into the Malone Theater last night,” Falcon said.

  “That was in direct violation of my orders.”

  “Your orders? Who the hell are you to give orders?”

  “I’m the city marshal, or haven’t you heard?” Falcon said. “And I posted a notice in the front of the theater last night that all guns had to be checked before anyone could enter. They violated that notice.”

  “Let them out.”

  “I will, as soon as they pay their fines.”

  “Fines? Judge Dawes hasn’t imposed any fines on these men.”

  “Judge Dawes has no authority to impose fines within the city limits. Only I have that authority.”

  “What? Where the hell do you get that idea?”

  “They are being fined one hundred dollars each. They can either pay the fines or spend the next thirty days in jail.”

  “Sheriff!” Toombs called. “Pay our fines! Don’t leave us in here!”

  “One hundred dollars each,” Falcon said. “That’s a total of four hundred dollars. If, as you say, they are your deputies, then I’m sure you won’t mind paying it.”

  “The hell I will!” Poindexter said. He pointed at Falcon. “You are going to let these men out, and you are going to let them out now, or else you will settle with me.”

  Falcon turned to face Poindexter, letting his hand hang loosely near his pistol. “Now just when would be a convenient time for us to settle this little dispute? Is now all right with you? Because right now would be just fine with me.”

  Poindexter glared at him, and for a moment Falcon was sure the sheriff had a notion to draw against him. But something held him back and the notion passed. Falcon, who was very adept at reading facial and body language, knew exactly when Poindexter made the decision not to challenge him.

  “Now is not the time. But the time will come,” he said, starting toward the door.

  “Sheriff, no!” Toombs and the other three prisoners called out to him. “No, don’t leave us here!”

  “You boys just hang tight,” Poindexter said. “I’ll be back.”

  CHAPTER TWENTY-TWO

  City Council in Special Meeting

  NEW ORDINANCES PASSED

  In a special meeting conducted by Mayor Joe Cravens, much business was conducted. The appointment of Falcon MacCallister as City Marshal was confirmed by unanimous consent of the council. Marshal MacCallister’s appointment of Les Karnes as Deputy Marshal was also confirmed. In addition, James Earl Van Arsdale was hired as City Attorney for the town of Sorrento.

  Following these important appointments, the city council passed the following ordinances, which will take effect immediately.

  a. ORDINANCE PERTAINING TO PROSTITUTION: 1. Prostitution will be legal within the city limits of Sorrento, providing that those engaged in the profession adhere to the regulations herein listed. a. Each person engaged in the profession will obtain from the city a license for operation.

  b. Each person engaged in the profession will be examined by a doctor once per month.

  2. The licensing fee will be thirty dollars per annum without regard to the venue in which the profession is being practiced. It shall be illegal for any fines to be assessed provided the above requirements are met.

  b. ORDINANCE PERTAINING TO TAXATION: 1. Effective immediately, all residents and businesses are exempt from any county taxation, with the exception of 1% property tax to be paid once per year. All taxes paid in the year instant, shall be deemed as payment in full said property taxes.

  2. To the city shall be due a 5% tax applied to all businesses, said tax to be assessed one time per year.

  c. ORDINANCE PERTAINING TO LAW ENFORCEMENT: 1. Effective immediately, all local law enforcement will be handled by Marshal MacCallister or Deputy Karnes. The county sheriff or any sheriff’s deputy will, when investigating a crime that occurred outside the city limits
, go through the marshal or the deputy marshal before making any arrests within the city limits.

  The town’s reaction to the new ordinances was immediate and enthusiastic. On the very first day, within an hour after the paper was printed, Falcon went in to the Hog Heaven and ordered a beer. He put a nickel on the bar, and Beeson shoved it back.

  “Uh, uh. You drink free, here,” Beeson said.

  “No, I appreciate the offer, but I’ll pay for my own drinks,” Falcon replied. “If I don’t, how would I be any different from Sheriff Poindexter?” Falcon shoved the nickel back toward Beeson.

  “Yes, sir, I reckon you do have a point there,” Beeson said, taking the nickel, then drawing a beer from the keg behind the bar.

  Just then Les Karnes came into the saloon. “Marshal, Deputy Sharp come down to the jail. He’s paid the fine for all four of them, so I let ’em out. I hope that’s all right.”

  “As long as their fine was paid, you did the right thing,” Falcon said.

  The new ordinance against the collection of taxes was tested that very day. Falcon had just started to drink his beer when a man came into the saloon looking for him. He was in his mid-forties, with thinning hair and thick glasses. There was a pencil stuck behind his ear.

  “Marshal MacCallister?”

  “Yes? What can I do for you?”

  “My name is Deckert, Marshal. Hodge Deckert. I’m a clerk in Mr. Smalley’s store. There’s a couple of the sheriff’s deputies over there now, and they are demanding that he pay four hundred dollars in taxes. Marshal, that’s more tax than he’s been payin’ for a whole year, and they’re sayin’ he has to pay it now.”

  “Thanks, Mr. Deckert, I’ll look into it.”

  Leaving his unfinished beer on the bar, Falcon left the saloon and walked quickly down to Eb Smalley’s store, walking so fast that Deckert had to break into a trot to keep up with him. When he pushed through the door of the store, he saw Sharp and Toombs in the back, glaring at Smalley.

  “Smalley, you are either goin’ to come up with four hunnert dollars in taxes, or I’m goin’ to pistol-whip you and take the money from you. That way you’ll wind up without the money, and with a headache.”

  “Good afternoon, Mr. Smalley,” Falcon said. “I am in the market for a new shirt, and I wonder if you might show me a few.”

  “Not now, MacCallister,” Sharp said with a growl. “I’ve got business with Smalley at the moment.”

  “Oh? Well, if you are buying something, I’ll be happy to wait. I don’t want to get in the way of Mr. Smalley making a sale. What are you buying?”

  Sharp laughed, a low, mocking, guttural laugh.

  “I ain’t buyin’ nothin’. I’m collectin’ some tax Mr. Smalley owes. It’s exactly four hunnert dollars.” Sharp looked over at Falcon and smiled. “Four hunnert dollars. I reckon that amount should be a little familiar to you, shouldn’t it?”

  “Oh, I see. Now, let me get this straight. You figured that you would pay the fine for Toombs and the other three men, then make it up by trying to collect it in tax money. Is that right?”

  “Well now, you ain’t quite as dumb as I thought you was,” Sharp said. “Here you got it all figured out, ain’t you? Sheriff Poindexter was some upset about havin’ to come up with the four hunnert dollars, and he told me to collect it in taxes. Onliest thing is, he didn’t say I was to get it all in one place. That was my idea. So I come here for it.”

  “Mr. Smalley, you are a good businessman,” Falcon said. “How much money would you say you have paid Sheriff Poindexter since January of this year?”

  Smalley opened a ledger book and ran his fingers down the columns. “I have paid them two hundred and seventy-five dollars.”

  “And what is the latest appraised value of your land and store?”

  “I have twelve hundred dollars in it, not counting my inventory.”

  “All right, that means your property tax assessment at one percent comes to—twelve dollars. You have paid two hundred seventy-five dollars, that means you have overpaid by two hundred sixty-three dollars. Sharp, do you have two hundred sixty-three dollars on you?”

  “What?” Sharp asked with a surprised expression on his face. “What the hell are you talking about?”

  “I’m talking about the money Sheriff Poindexter has extorted from Mr. Smalley this year. You have collected two hundred sixty-three dollars more than you are authorized. Now, if Mr. Smalley wants to, he can forgive that debt. But he has every right to demand that the money be returned. Mr. Smalley, would you like to have that money back?”

  “Yes, sir, I would.”

  “All right, Sharp, Mr. Smalley has asked that his money be returned.” Falcon held out his hand, palm up. “Give it back.”

  “Are you crazy? I don’t have that kind of money on me.”

  “That’s all right. Technically, you don’t owe it, anyway. Sheriff Poindexter does. You might tell him that there is going to be an accounting.”

  “Oh, yeah, there’s going to be an accounting all right. I think you can depend on that.”

  Suddenly, and unexpectedly, Sharp went for his pistol. But he didn’t even clear the holster when he saw the gun in Falcon’s hand, the draw so fast that Sharp wasn’t sure Falcon hadn’t been holding the pistol all along.

  “Do you really want to go through with this?” Falcon asked.

  Sharp pulled his hand away from the gun, then held both hands out, as if pushing Falcon away.

  “No!” he said. “No, I ain’t drawin’ on you.”

  “Good idea.” Falcon holstered his gun. “I suggest you go tell the sheriff that he owes Mr. Smalley two hundred sixty-three dollars.”

  “I can’t tell him that. He’s goin’ to ask me why, and I don’t know what to tell him.”

  Falcon saw, on the counter, a small stack of newspapers for sale. He put a nickel in the bowl beside the papers, picked one of them up, and handed it to Sharp. “Show him this article.”

  Sullenly, Sharp and Toombs left the store. Falcon watched them leave, then looked back toward Smalley, who had a broad smile on his face.

  “Oh, that was good to see,” he said. “Didn’t you think so, Hodge?”

  Hodge Deckert, the man who had summoned Falcon, was standing back in the corner, behind a counter.

  “Hodge? Hodge, where are you?”

  “I’m here, Mr. Smalley,” Hodge said. “I, uh, didn’t know if there would be shooting or not.”

  “Well, I think you can come out now. It would appear to me that the excitement is over.”

  There were three saloons in Sorrento: the Hog Heaven, the Long Trail, and the Brown Dirt Cowboy. Sheriff Poindexter spent so much time in the Long Trail that there were some who, jokingly, made the remark that he had moved his office there.

  Like the other two saloons, the Long Trail paid taxes, and the bar girls who worked there paid their fines each month. But when the Long Trail paid its taxes, it was merely transferring money from one pocket to another. That was because, though very few people knew it, Sheriff Poindexter was the owner of the Long Trail saloon.

  Poindexter was sitting at “his” table in the back corner of the saloon playing solitaire when Sharp and Toombs came in.

  “Have you collected all the taxes already?” he asked as he put a red jack on a black queen.

  “We ain’t collected no taxes at all,” Sharp said.

  “What do you mean, you ain’t collected no taxes?”

  “Ever’one says they don’t owe no taxes. And Smalley, he says we owe him—how much was it did he say, Toombs?”

  “He says we owe him two hundred sixty-three dollars back from what he has overpaid in taxes.”

  “What? All right, I’ll handle him. What about the others?”

  “They didn’t nobody pay any taxes. They say that there’s been a new law passed that says they don’t have to pay us no taxes at all, except a one percent property tax, once a year.”

  “What law are they talking about? I never heard of no
law like that.”

  “I reckon it’s this law,” Sharp said, showing Poindexter the newspaper article.

  Poindexter read the article, and the more he read, the angrier he got. “We’ll see about this,” he said.

  “Legally, there is nothing we can do about it right now,” Judge Dawes said after reading the article.

  “What do you mean, legally we can’t do anything about it? You are the judge.”

  “I am a county judge, and I can try felony cases. But I have no jurisdiction as to the legality or illegality of city ordinances. In order to overturn these ordinances, we would have to take the case to the Texas Supreme Court.”

  “Well, why don’t we do that?” Poindexter asked.

  “Dewey, if we took this case to the Supreme Court, and some of our own activity came under scrutiny, we would both be out of office and in jail. Now, do you want that?”

  “No. But, what are we going to do about this? We can’t let them get away with this?”

  “You might find some way to persuade the mayor to issue an executive order overturning this new ordinance,” Judge Dawes suggested.

  “Can the mayor do that?”

  “Oh, I’m sure the city council would challenge it in court. My court,” he added with a smile.

  “But how are we going to get the mayor to do that?”

  “The mayor has a daughter, doesn’t he? A lovely young girl of about sixteen or seventeen, I believe?”

  “Yeah, what about it?” Poindexter asked.

  “Nothing. I was just making an observation, is all,” Judge Dawes said.

  CHAPTER TWENTY-THREE

  Although the dance was sponsored by the Cattlemen’s Association, it was an event that involved the entire town. The band that would provide the music arrived by stagecoach from Fort Worth in midafternoon, their arrival greeted by all the young people of the town.

  Then, that evening, as the band tuned their instruments, the high skirling of the fiddle and the thump of the bass fiddle could be heard, even before the first person arrived at the dance.