Day of Reckoning Page 2

  “The difference is, the other two men were trying to shoot me,” Duff said.

  “Hell, the way I heard it told, all four of ’em was shootin’ at you.”

  “Aye, but these two changed their mind and threw down their weapons. And I’m for thinking that it would nae be a good thing to shoot an unarmed man.”

  “You mean the way these two sons of bitches shot down Reverend Pyle ’n his wife?” Wallace asked.

  “We didn’t know they was unarmed,” Manning said.

  “A man wearing preacher’s garb, ’n his wife standin’ right beside him, ’n you didn’t know he was unarmed?” Deputy Wallace asked. “Ha. Try that in court ’n see how far it’ll get you.”

  “What are we goin’ to do, Callahan?” Manning asked, his voice on the edge of panic.

  “We’re goin’ to hang I reckon,” Callahan replied.

  “That’s the first thing you’ve said that’s right,” Deputy Wallace said.

  * * *

  News of what had happened in Archer had already reached Cheyenne, and more than a hundred people lined up on both sides of the street, watching as the little parade of men rode down Central Avenue. Many of them followed the riders, so that by the time they dismounted in front of the sheriff’s office, more than a dozen of the citizens of the town were there.

  “Is it true they kilt Reverend Pyle?” someone shouted.

  “Yeah,” another answered. “Shot him ’n his wife down in cold blood they did.”

  “You two are goin’ to hang, ’n I plan to be there to watch,” another shouted.

  “Hell, why wait? Let’s hang the bastards now!”

  “You gotta pertect us,” Manning said.

  “Why?” Wallace asked.

  “Because you do! That’s your job!” Manning said, his voice breaking with the terror he was feeling.

  By now Sheriff Sharpies had come out of his office, accompanied by two more deputies.

  “Don’t you worry any,” the sheriff said. “I’m not going to let anything happen to you two boys. If you’re lynched, I won’t have any hand in it. But if you’re hung legal, I’m proud to say that I’m the one that’ll march you two up those thirteen steps to meet the hangman.”

  “It’s goin’ to be a public hangin’, ain’t it, Sheriff?” someone from the crowd asked.

  “Oh, yes indeed, it will be public,” Sheriff Sharpies answered.

  “Then hell, that’s as good as us doin’ it our own selves, I mean, if we get to watch it ’n all.”

  “Sheriff, I think you need to know that it was Duff MacCallister that caught these two, ’n he’s the one that kilt the other two,” Wallace said.

  “Yes, I’ve already been told.” The sheriff smiled at Duff. “There was already a two-hundred-and-fifty-dollar reward on each of these men, even before they tried to rob that bank. Looks like you’ve got a thousand dollars comin’.”

  “Sheriff, if it’s all the same to you, I’d like you to give that money to the orphanage.”

  “That’s damn decent of you, Duff. I know the orphanage will be most appreciative.”

  When Sheriff Sharpies took the two prisoners into the jail, Duff, Elmer, and Wang rode out to the railroad depot. Elmer and Wang had helped Duff deliver the cattle to the holding pens at Archer, and even had there not been prisoners to escort to Cheyenne, Duff, Elmer, and Wang would have come anyway.

  With a wave, Elmer and Wang started back toward Sky Meadow. Duff, who had arranged to meet Meagan in town, decided that he wanted to be a bit cleaner and smell somewhat better for the rendezvous, so he stopped at Mac’s Barbershop for a haircut and bath.

  * * *

  “Is that him?”

  “Yeah, that’s him. That’s the son of a bitch that kilt both my brothers.”

  Eric LaFarge and Ira York were standing just outside Nippy Jones Tavern, which was across the street from Mac’s. Eric had been part of the planning of the bank robbery gone wrong in Archer. He had not gone into the bank with the others because his job was to stay back in town to see what sort of posse was put together, then to meet the others at a prearranged place and give them warning.

  But there was no prearranged place for them to meet, and there was no posse. One man, Duff MacCallister, had stopped the bank robbers before they even got out of town. And Eric LaFarge had stood helplessly by as he watched MacCallister shoot down both of his brothers.

  Blood was strong, and even Ira York felt the connection because he was a first cousin. And it was the blood connection that brought LaFarge and York to this place and this time.

  “The son of a bitch just went into the barbershop,” York said.

  “Yeah, well, he won’t come out alive,” LaFarge said.

  Drawing their guns and holding them down by their sides, LaFarge and York started across the street toward the barbershop.

  * * *

  Mac was just building up some lather when Duff happened to glance out the window. He saw the two men crossing the street with what could only be described as a purposeful stroll. He also saw that both men had drawn their pistols and were holding them down, tight against their legs.

  “Mac, get out of here, go into the back room,” Duff said in a stern order.

  “What?” Mac replied, confused by the unusual demand.

  “Just do what I say!” Duff said, even louder. “There are two men coming in here, and there’s going to be shooting.” Duff drew his own gun and was holding it under the apron.

  Mac didn’t need any further persuasion.

  “Oh, my!” he said in a worried tone as, holding the lather cup in one hand and the brush in the other, he hurried into the back of the shop.

  The bell on the door tinkled as the two armed men pushed it open.

  “You gentlemen might want to come back a little later,” Duff said in a calm voice. “I’m afraid the barber had to step away.”

  “Yeah?” one of the two men said. “Good, that’ll just make killin’ you easier.”

  “Oh? And why, may I ask, would you want to kill me?”

  “My name is LaFarge,” one of the two men said. “Eric LaFarge.”

  “Oh, I see,” Duff said. “And you were related to the two men I killed?”

  “They was my brothers,” LaFarge said.

  “And do ye be a LaFarge as well?” Duff asked the second man.

  “No, I’m Ira York, ’n Dan ’n Don was my cousins.”

  “Gentlemen, I’m sorry it came to the point where I had to kill them, but they had just robbed a bank and they were trying to kill me. I had nae choice; ’twas either them or me.”

  “Yeah, well, now it’s down to you ’n us,” LaFarge said. He brought his pistol up and pointed it at Duff. York followed suit.

  “Aye, so it would appear,” Duff said. “’N that bein’ the case, I would advise the two of ye to drop your guns now before this goes any further.”

  “Ha! You would like that, wouldn’t you?” LaFarge said.

  “Aye, I would like that. I plan to have a good dinner with a beautiful lady tonight, ’n it always puts me off my feed a bit when I have to kill someone. I’d just as soon not have to kill the two of ye, but if I have to, I will.”

  “I would tell you to say your prayers,” LaFarge said. “But you didn’t give my brothers time to do even that, did you?”

  “Their choice, not mine,” Duff replied.

  “Now!” LaFarge said, thumbing back the hammer on his Peacemaker. York followed suit.

  Duff had cocked his pistol even before the two men came into the barbershop, so when he saw them pull the hammers on their pistol, he didn’t hesitate. He pulled the trigger twice, the shots so close together that to anyone who may have heard them, they would think only one shot was fired.

  Both Eric LaFarge and Ira York went down with a look of surprise on their faces and a bullet in their hearts.

  Duff stepped out of the chair and examined both men. They were dead.

  “Mac?” Duff called. “You can come out now.�
�

  * * *

  After explaining the situation to Sheriff Sharpies, with corroborating testimony from Mac the barber, the sheriff had the two bodies removed. Duff finished his shave and haircut, then topped it off with a bath. An hour later he checked in to the Mixon Hotel on Central.

  “Yes, sir?” the desk clerk said, greeting him with a practiced smile.

  “I’d like accommodations for the night if such be available,” Duff said.

  “Yes, sir, we can take care of that,” the clerk said, turning the book around to allow Duff to register.

  “I’m expecting a lady friend; if she should inquire, please tell her the number to my room,” Duff said. “I hope that will nae be a problem.”

  “No problem at all, sir,” the clerk said. “Cheyenne’s ladies of the evening are quite familiar with our hotel and need fear no harassment for the practice of their avocation.”

  Duff looked up from the registration book with a flash of anger in his steel-blue eyes.

  “She is not a lady of the evening,” he said, coming down hard on the word “not” and using the more Americanized negative instead of his more comfortable Scottish “nae” to emphasize his response.

  “Of course not, sir, and I beg your pardon for the inference,” the desk clerk replied. He took a key down from a marked board on the wall behind him. “Your room is two oh five, sir.”

  “Very good.”

  Not long after Duff checked into his room, there was a light knock on his door.

  “Duff?” It was Meagan Parker’s voice.

  Duff opened the door and Meagan stepped inside to an embrace and a kiss.

  * * *

  After dinner that evening, Duff took Meagan to the Cheyenne Theater to see Annie Mack Berlein in a production of Oliver Twist. There was a reception after the play, and the theater director, James Anderson, introduced the star to Duff MacCallister.

  “I know you have heard of our ‘wild west,’” Anderson said to the actress. “Mr. MacCallister here is a part of that wild west. Why it was just this morning that he broke up an attempted bank robbery in Archer, killing two of the perpetrators and capturing the other two. Then this afternoon, two other outlaws, seeking revenge, tried to kill him, but Mr. MacCallister bested them as well.”

  “My,” Annie said, flashing a broad smile toward Duff. “I have certainly dealt with ‘heroes’ on the stage, but I’m not sure I’ve ever encountered such a person in the flesh.”

  “Sure ’n ’tis not a word I would apply to m’self,” Duff said.

  “The accent! Scottish born, are you?”

  “Aye.”

  “Then we share a kinship, for I am Irish born.”

  “We share a connection beyond that,” Duff said. “I met ye ’n your husband once before.”

  Meagan, who had been standing at Duff’s side from the time of the introduction, smiled and breathed a bit easier when she heard that the beautiful young actress had a husband.

  “We have met before?” Annie questioned.

  “Aye. ’Twas working backstage at the Rex Theater I was, for the production of The Highlander.”

  “Ah yes, The Highlander. It starred Andrew and Rosanna MacCallister, brother and sister, and two of the most skilled and famous actors in New York. Wait a minute. MacCallister? And would you be kin, Mr. MacCallister?”

  “Aye, I would be, for ’tis my cousins they are.”

  “Oh, how exciting. I’ll be seeing them again next month; it will give me a great pleasure to tell them that I met their handsome cousin . . . and to pass on news of your heroic exploits.”

  * * *

  The next morning Duff and Meagan rode back to Sky Meadow and Chugwater. Chugwater was some sixty miles north of Cheyenne, but Sky Meadow was only thirty miles, so Meagan would spend the night at the ranch.

  “It will give me a great pleasure to tell them that I met their handsome cousin,” Meagan said, mimicking the actress. However, the smile on her face gave evidence that she was teasing, and not jealous or upset.

  “Here now, lass. ’N would ye be for saying that I am nae handsome?” Duff replied, his smile as broad as Meagan’s.

  “You’ll do,” Meagan said.

  Chapter Three

  One week later Duff returned to Cheyenne and was, at the moment, standing on the depot platform with his friends Elmer Gleason and Wang Chow. Elmer and Wang were both holding railway tickets to San Francisco. Their baggage had been previously brought to the depot by stagecoach and had already been checked through.

  When Wang first came to work for Duff, there had been times when travel by train had caused problems. No matter what class of ticket Wang bought, he was often relegated to the immigrant car. But over time, and with frequent train trips taken with Duff or Elmer, the Union Pacific Railroad informed Duff that they no longer had such stringent restrictions on travel for those Chinese passengers who could pay full fair.

  “From what I’ve heard,” Duff said, “there wouldn’t even be a Union Pacific Railroad without all the work done by the Chinamen.” He looked at the two men. “I want ye to do me a favor ’n keep him out of trouble.”

  “Don’t you worry none about Wang,” Elmer replied. “I’ll keep him on the straight ’n narrow path.”

  Duff laughed. “Elmer, ’tisn’t Wang I’m worried about. ’Tis Wang I’m asking to keep you out of trouble, old reprobate that ye be.”

  “The man who does wrong is a lonely man. The man who is virtuous is surrounded by friends,” Wang said.

  “There he goes again,” Elmer said, “making one o’ them comments that I don’t have no idea what he is a-sayin’.”

  Duff chuckled. “Think about it, Elmer. It’ll come to ye.”

  “Yeah, well, I think what he is sayin’ is, nobody likes a bad man but ever’body likes a good man,” Elmer said.

  “Aye, see there, ye do understand.”

  “Then why don’t he say it like that?”

  “Woo, woo, woo! Look at me, Mama, I’m a train!” a little boy shouted, and he darted around the depot platform, moving his arms as if they were the long piston rods connected to the driver wheels. “Woo, woo, woo!”

  Before the railroad, the inhabitants of the far western settlements felt totally isolated from the rest of the world. But they didn’t feel that way anymore because they had the telegraph system, which kept them in instantaneous contact with the huge metropolises of the East, and even with great cities of Europe and Asia. There were also the trains, which could traverse in a matter of days vast distances that, but a few years previous, had taken months to cover. The trains meant that produce from farms and ranches could go to markets all over America, while bringing the manufactured goods from factories of the East that could be enjoyed by settlers in the West.

  Because of what the railroad meant to the people in the far-flung settlements, the daily arrivals and departures of the trains, even in a town as large as Cheyenne, were cause for spontaneous celebrations. The depot platform filled with people who were neither departing nor meeting arriving passengers, but were merely meeting the trains. There was always a buzz of eager anticipation as the time drew near. And due to the miracle of the telegraph, they were able to keep abreast of the approaching trains so that at any given time they knew whether the train was running a few minutes early, on time, or a few minutes late.

  “She’s right on time!” someone shouted after the stationmaster made an entry of the latest update on the schedule board. “She’ll be here in no more’n ten minutes!”

  A few minutes later they heard the sound of a distant whistle, then the chugging of the engine.

  “Here she comes!”

  There was, of course, no need for the announcement. The approaching train was obvious to everyone now, not only by sound but by sight, for the huge engine arriving from the east came chugging into the station, its bell clanging. Finally it came to a halt with a squeal of brakes and a loud hiss of vented steam.

  After the arriving passengers had detra
ined, the conductor made a big show of examining his pocket watch.

  “Board!” he shouted.

  “All right, Duff, if you think you can handle Sky Meadow without us, me ’n Wang will be on our way now,” Elmer said.

  “I’ll do the best I can,” Duff replied with a chuckle, and with a final round of handshakes, Elmer and Wang boarded the train.

  Duff stood on the platform watching as the train pulled out of the station. Riding his horse, Sky, he then led the two horses that had been ridden by Elmer and Wang. Before starting back he decided he would get something for Meagan. He would have done it when he was here a week earlier, but she was with him for practically the entire time and he wanted it to be a surprise. Stopping in front of a jewelry store, he tied off all three of the horses, then went in and began looking at the display.

  He saw a Scottish Celtic knot worked in gold and hanging from a gold chain. It would, he thought, be a perfect gift for Meagan.

  “I’ll take that,” he said, pointing to the pendant.

  “Oh, what a wonderful selection, yes indeed,” the jeweler said, smiling at the prospect of selling the valuable piece.

  With the little gold piece of jewelry tucked away safely in his pocket, Duff left the store.

  “Paper, mister?” a young boy said. He was standing on the corner, holding at least a dozen newspapers under his arm.

  “Aye, lad, sure ’n I would be happy to buy one.”

  “Thanks!” the boy said.

  Before starting back, Duff took the paper into the Rendezvous, a saloon that he often visited while in Cheyenne. Ordering a scotch, he found a table near the back of the room and began to read the paper.

  TRIAL DATE SET For Murderers and Bank Robbers

  On Monday, the 8th, instant, Clay Callahan, Zeke Manning, and the LaFarge brothers robbed the bank in Archer. During the robbery, the well-respected and beloved minister of the Gospel, the Reverend Nathan L. Pyle, and his wife, Anna Marie, happened into the bank to deposit the collection made in church on the day previous.

  Callahan, Manning, and the two LaFarge brothers turned their guns toward these two innocent disciples of God’s Holy Word, energizing their pistols with deadly effect. The Reverend and Mrs. Pyle went down under a hail of bullets, perhaps dead before they even realized they were in danger.